OUT OF FOCUS

Swallow or Spitzer; the tell-all autobiography by Ashley Alexandra Dupre

the tell I always wanted to be the person who brainstorms the witty headliners for the New York Post, but it seems that if notoriety is what I am seeking, I better start partaking in illegal activities considered 'disgraceful' by the majority of society.  It's a sure guarantee that after the story of my shameful illicit affair breaks, I will be immediately rewarded with a book deal, record deal or perhaps my own talk show. 
I am never one to judge call girls, hookers, male gigolo's or whatever you want to call them.  Hell, if I too, really wanted that limited edition Prada purse, I would probably consider selling my services to Al Gore in exchange for three grand and a handful of carbon credits.

I have to give the young, rich and beautiful Ashley Alexandra Dupre some credit: 

At 22, I certainly was not living in an upscale apartment in the Flatiron district but if I had had a john to run my career I would not have been housed in a dilapidated Queens apartment with decorative gunshot piercings on the front door. 

At 22, I didn't think of having a glossy 8 x 10 black and white photo of me sporting a black leather jacket, pursed lips over my shoulder and a bottle of Johnson's baby oil slathered in my hair. I just wasn't that creative. 

And at 22, I certainly did not have Ashley's gifted singing abilities. If I had, I would not have been working as a traveling elf entertaining preschoolers in remote regions of Pennsylvania.   

According to Freakonomics, the name Ashley is the most common low-Income white girl name, and if that is in fact true, the real brilliance of Ms. Dupre is her ability to prove she is anything but low-income.  The name Kali never got me free rides on a yacht, enchanted evenings at five star D.C hotel or a concierge  service  that would greet me with a head-bow and a hello whenever I came home after a night of political  shenanigans.

I have faith that Ashley a.k.a 'Kristen' will grow up and become a great motivational speaker. In the meantime, I'll friend her on Facebook and maybe my Jersey roots will give me V.I.P access to her little black book, or even better, an autographed copy of her soon-to-be-released tell-all book, Swallow or Spitzer; My Decision to Do the Dirty.

 

One Night In Charo-Save Elliot Spitzer Foundation

Last night, I attended a fund raiser for the Save Elliot Spitzer Foundation.  Since the most publicized photo of his gang-bang pal, "Kristen" has been a photo on a boat, we decided to go with a Love Boat Theme.

I went as Charo, the "coochie-coochie" musical star of the 70's.  I think the make-up job is pretty amazing. 

That's Charo with Stubing.  And that's me on the right.

To protect the anonymity of those still secretly shocked by Spitzer's naughty-boy behavior, I have disguised their identity although I think its still pretty obvious who attended the event last night:

That's me and Latoya Jackson. 

And that's me dancing with one of Spitz's favorite girls.

Spitz approached me last night and said he would consider "One night in Charo" only if I were twenty years younger.

OK. So that means I would have to 12.

Will these  photos will ever prevent me from running for office? I'll just say it was for a good cause.

A night of free drinks and free herpes tests.  What can be better?

And for those of you who are too young to remember Charo....

Script It Out; A New Form of Therapy

I tried something new today with my therapist.  That's right. We occasionally meet for a Sunday coffee, sit on a park bench and make fun of people walking by.

We tried a new form of therapy today: Scripting it Out

Shrink: "If I were to ask you, what do you think of when I say marriage?, can you script it out?"

Kali: "What the hell are you talking about?"

Shrink: "I want you to write a script"

Kali: "I pay you, you're the one whose supposed to come up with a script of what I'm supposed to say."

Shrink: "Since you have a tendency to hurl hot coffee in the middle of a heated conversation with a loved one, I think this would be a wonderfully soothing exercise."

Kali: "An Aveno bath is soothing."

Shrink: "You like to write?"

Kali: :"I like to bitch?"

Shrink:  (handing me a pencil and paper).  "Try it..."

Kali: "What is this?"

Shrink: "Its a pencil, a writing instrument consisting of a thin stick of graphite. Write what comes to mind."

Kali: "Like a Public Service Announcement?"

Shrink: "If that's what you see marriage as." (insert creepy smile here)

This is what I wrote. 

EXT. CENTRAL PARK. TRAIL
Dressed in a wedding gown, a FRANTIC FEMALE runs through desolate wooded trails, hurling over fallen tree logs as she trudges up small hills.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK. FOUNTAIN
She trips through a park fountain, mouthfuls of water, gasping for air.  The killer is not far behind.

EXT. CENTRAL PARK. TRAIL
The KILLER is closing in. In a tiresome crawl, she struggles up a small hill but the killer closes in on her.  He grabs her ankle.  For the first time we see the killer is a handsome GROOM dressed in a starched tuxedo.  With a look of insanity, he holds up a noose in his hand and asks,

GROOM
Will you marry me?

CUT TO:

A GOLD WEDDING BAND falls against a BLACK SCREEN.  A woman's blood curdling scream is heard.  The gold ring hits the bottom, spins and stops.
A hangman's noose made of crude rope swings from each end of the screen.  The following words light up against the dark screen, Thinking abut tying the knot?  Think again.

FADE TO BLACK.

V.O. This has been a public service announcement.

 

**********

She thinks we need to double up on sessions.

Stand Up New York Rocks for the Lyn Stacie Getz Foundation

Its not often that I have been entertaining myself at comedy clubs lately but tonight I'm glad I did. Produced by comedy manager, Jason Steinberg, New York City's legendary comedy club, Stand Up New York, rocked a benefit tonight on behalf of a very well-missed and well loved woman, Lyn Stacie Getz, who passed away November 15,1999.

It was a hilarious star studded line up: 

Esther Ku of NBC's upcoming season of Last Comic Standing and Animal Planet's "the A-list".

Erin Jackson of Comedy Central's upcoming season of Live at Gotham
 
Nate Bargatze CMT's Comedy Stage and Comedy Central's upcoming season of Live at Gotham

Rich Vos; Finalist NBC's Last Comic Standing Season 1 and Comedy Central Presents

Mike Vecchione Comedy Central and the New York Comedy Festival

Kevin Brennan (HBO's One Night Stand, Late Night with Conan O'brien

Todd Barry Comedy Central Presents, The Late Show with David Letterman

Jeffrey Ross (Comedy Central's Roast master General

Check out the  Lyn Stacie Getz Foundation.  

Thanks for tonight's laughs...

Here's a little Jeffrey Ross roasting Pamela Anderson...yummy

Where to Buy Marijuana in New York City

I have anger management issues.

So do these people:

This is the header of daybreakservices.com. Now if I were to take any anger issue classes, it would definitely be with this company b/c I think these three are an excellent selling point.  If these photos were flashcards and I was asked, "Kali, with whom do you identify most?", I would say the guy in the middle.

In the last two weeks, I have been told by three very different people that I should attend an Anger Management Class.  Is it the ADD?  Or is it me?  Or is it me in NYC?  Or is it
Me+NY+ADD=Anger Management? 

There was no fifth grade molestation so I can't blame it on that. My Dad was nothing like Lindsey Lohan's Dad, so I can't blame it on him.  For now, I'll blame it on Barack Obama and his issues with NAFTA trade Agreement.  Mexico will be angry. The idea of paying double for pickled jalapenos makes me angry. And quite frankly, I really don't like Canada.  (Enough with the seal clubbing!)

A friend suggested that I start smoking pot.  That should make me less angry.  But the fact that I cannot openly buy it makes me angry. So I Googled:

And I was happy to find some great leads. One was a site called Legal Buds. Here's the picture that's on their home page:

I'm interested in the Blueberry but I am more concerned about the woman in the picture.

Are the breasts symbolizing "buds of ecstasy"? Did she mix it with ecstasy? Or is she simply bugging out?  Will it act like an aphrodisiac? Or will it affect my nervous system like it has affected hers?

This is where the ADD and difficulty making decisions kicks in:

Do I simply purchase the smoking lamp oil and let it smoke up when the bulbs get hot?  Would that be considered "healthy" second hand smoke?

Does the Dream smoke bring about Lucid Dreaming? 

And what about the little volcano resembling a space craft?  Do you smoke from it and then have hallucinations of abductions?  That's too scary.

The Red Bliss look too much like Red Hots.  Will I be able to enter a Drug Free School Zone?

And what the hell is a Hotbox? Do I really need a toaster oven for weed?

Since when has smoking marijuana become so complicated? This decision making alone is making me angry.

What ever happened to the good 'ole dime bag?

Cockroaches; Psychological Long-Term Effects

I haven't been feeling the same since last night.  Today, on a New York City sidewalk,  a torn page from a Maxim magazine blew my way and I screamed.  I can only imagine what I must have looked like to anyone walking past me.  Perhaps I was a strict Holy Roller and had never seen a female in a bra before?  Perhaps I was another sad victim of Tourette's?

Or perhaps I am just still scarred from the two water bugs renting space from me.

Yes, I killed them and yes they are gone.  But I still f eel their presence.  I know their families know what happened and are just waiting for the right time to crawl out from under that wooden side table. 

This scenario keeps playing in my head:

Two cockroaches hanging out in a kitchen water pipe:

Roach #1: "Hey, so did you hear what happened to Gary last night?"

Roach #2: "Yeah, it was pretty bad.  And poor Sammie-"

Roach#1: "What are you talking about?"

Roach #2:  "Oh my God, you didn't hear?"

Roach #1:  "Hear what?"

Roach #2 "He was killed right after Gary."

Roach #1:  "Impossible!  We never show up in pairs!  Who was the last person to see Sammie?"

Roach #2: "No one really knows.  I mean the rumor out there is once Sammie found out about Gary, he just bugged out. Went to hold his lifeless body in his arms-etcetera.."

Roach#1: "Was it the fat guy from Apt 2B?"

Roach#2:  "Hell no. The crazy chick who's screams when she sees her shadow. The big mouth. Get this-"

Roach #1: "-don't freak me out-"

Roach #2: "Apparently, after the autopsy, they said that she chased both of them around her apartment with a bottle of Rite Aid Glass Cleaner.  I mean, the bitch is nuts!"

Roach#1: "That's sick!"

Roach #2: "No, it gets even worse.  She then sucks them down with this six foot tube of a vacuum from the 70's!  Only a sick, deranged person would ever do something like that."

Roach #1: "This is awful..."

Roach #2: "She didn't even have the decency to put them in the same bag.  She actually changed vacuum bags and then double bagged! Just a sick drunk."

Roach #1:  "My God, you would've thought that maybe after Gary, she would have left the room?"

Roach #2: "Well apparently she did.  She went back to grab her wine bottle and a bat and then she caught a glimpse of Sammie.  Poor kid-"

Roach#1: "So did anyone decide what we're gonna do?"

Roach #2: "I dunno.  A couple of guys suggested that like ten or twelve of us show up at her place at once and that might just get her skinny ass out of the building.  I mean, this bitch is unstoppable."

Roach #1: "Man, I wish there was some sway he could hear us talk and we'd just freak the shit out of her!"

Roach #2: "You can't write that sort of comedy (sigh).  I gotta blow-"

Roach #1: "It's a day of mourning.  Where the hell do you have to be?"

Roach #2: "She showers at eight. Grant it, she's the most inventive roach killer we know, but I might as well get something out of it-"

Roach #1: "That's baaad...Which pipe?"

How to kill a Cockroach, Psycho Style

I could not decide whether to categorize this post as Humor or Horror.

I would do prison time- I repeat- I would do prison time-two years- in exchange for never seeing another cockroach a.k.a water bug in my
apartment again.

I must admit, after living in New York City for 15 years, the city for which I kiss the ground that I walk on, I must admit, that my city is filthy.

I take out my garbage. I don't litter. I recycle. I'm the best damn Samaritan as they come, yet I have been cursed on and off with the presence of mice and cockroaches for the last fifteen years. Photo

Tonight, I saw a cockroach aka water bug. I guess when they grow big enough to do pool laps, they become water bugs.

This particular one was bigger than a Keebler cracker.

This has not been the first time I've received visit nor will it be the last. So now, in a drunken stupor, I must pass on my knowledge and expertise in:

STEPS TO TAKE WHEN ENCOUNTERING A WATER BUG:

1. Scream maniacally informing all neighbors of a break-in.

2. Chase cockroach with bottle of Rite Aid Glass Cleaner and spray until immobilized (you as well as the cockroach). This should take anywhere between 30 and 55 minutes.

3. Get kitchen size garbage bag, vacuum bag, foam ear plugs and Elexctrolux vacuum with three-to-six foot attachment.

4 . Plug in Electrolux vacuum while inserting earplugs to prevent the sound of a cockroach being sucked up the tube of vacuum. Place vacuum tube inches away from the immobilized cockroach.

5. Turn on Vacuum.

6. Turn away. Wait.

7. Look and see if water bug has been sucked up by vacuum. If not, reposition nozzle.

8. Wipe tears from eyes. Look again. If successful, turn off vacuum, take out vacuum bag and place in plastic kitchen bag. Seal tightly.

9. Walk to dark street corner, deposit bag in public trash receptacle as if nothing happened.

10. Smile to passing pedestrian and make predictable joke about cold weather.

11. Go back home,pour double shot, curse and listen to Pink Floyd's, The Wall like angry, stoned teenager.

12. Repeat if necessary.

After listening to side B of the album, I do to get a drink of water and I see something dark walk by. IMPOSSIBLE!! I looked more shocked than George C. Scott in The Changeling. It was either a family member of this bug pulled a total Houdini on me.

After reliving this drama twice in one night, I'm ten years older and ten drinks drunker.

How can one be so weak?

Wellbutrin Warning: Do not mix Alcohol with Auctions

Last night, I made a $3,000.00 mistake.  I spent $3,000.00 for a night in a men's locker room.  I swear its not what it sounds like.

I was invited to a gala fund raiser and by gala I mean the type with the flashing bulbs, tripping over casino cups full of money.  That kind of event.  It's not often that I rub elbows with the rich and athletic, but last night I found myself stuffing down button-sized hor deuvres and washing them down at one of their many open bars.

And then all I remember was a bell, and like Pavlov's dog, the sound of the bell made me drool for the taste of glamor and temptation. In front of was a stage with a suited auctioneer standing behind a podium.

I had never attended an auction before but I remember seeing one years ago on an episode of Dynasty. I always wanted to know what it would feel like wearing a feathered-to-the-floor ball gown and raising my ping pong paddle to the highest bid while looking smugly at those around me.

I swore to the two friends that accompanied me, that I could bid and get away with it.  Whatever the hell that meant at the moment (?)  "Watch.  Do you guys wanna see something really funny?  I'll start bidding like the rest of 'em and then just stop after awhile before I have any chance of winning. You just have to know when to pull out before you get sucked in". Huh?

Auctioneer: Next, an evening with box seats and champagne, followed by a night in the locker room of  (enter team name here)!  The bidding starts at 800.00.  Do I hear 800?

With an uncontrollable reflex, I shouted:

Kali: Eight hundred!

Auctioneer:  Do I hear nine..nine hundred?

Lady in Heavy Jewels: Nine fifty!

Auctioneer:  One thousand?

Kali: (arm goes up again)

Auctioneer:  I have one thousand over here!

Lady in Heavy Jewels: Fifteen hundred!

Kali: Two thousand!

Auctioneer: Two thousand. Do I hear twenty two?

Lady In Heavy Jewels: Twenty two!

Kali: Twenty four!

Auctioneer: Can I get twenty five?  Twenty five?

And this is where the Wellbutrin Warning comes in: Do not take this medication with alcohol.

Kali: Three thousand!

Auctioneer: Three thousand!  Going once, going twice...

Lady in Heavy Jewels: Thirty four!

My heart racing, I turned to my friends and said, "I told you so.  I'm out".

And then all of a sudden, the spotlight was back on me and the auctioneer said, "OK, I can make both you ladies happy. I'll take off your four hundred and I'll give it to you both for three.

Gavel Slam! 

Auctioneer: Sold!

What the hell just happened?  I wasn't on the streets of Cairo haggling for a ten dollar rug!  Was that even legal what he did?  I guess it was considering that most people who bid are serious?

Then I was thrust up on stage and led towards that back where I was asked by another Bejeweled woman for a credit card. 

There was my moment to run.  But instead I signed on the dotted line.

I cannot blame my clouded judgment on just three glasses of white wine.  I think I channeled the spirit of Alex Carrington last night.

Now, 24 hours later, the truth has sunk in and I have decided it would be best if I were to pass on the locker room visit and hand it over to some inner city youth or mentally challenged kids who would consider this a "dream come true". 

I've learned my lesson and consider this charitable deed "paying my debt to society".

In the meantime, I've got credit cards to cancel.

Outsourcing to Inuits? What next?

ADD Symptom: Road Rage.

On the rare occasion when I drive in the city, I go Zipcar. Its a car sharing company that allows me rent a car by the hour. 

No counter help. 
No hassles.
Just swipe my card on the windshield and off I go.

So I'm about to drop my car off in the parking lot where I picked it up from and I see that three firetrucks and four police cars barricading 12th Avenue and my parking lot entrance.

I kept driving towards the firetrucks as I had an ADD moment where the spinning police car lights hypnotized me in a trance behind the wheel.

A cop walks up to my windshield.

Cop: "Turn the vehicle around, NOW!"

Kali: "Excuse me, I need to park this car in that lot (insert smile).

Cop: "Sorry, not now. Let's go!  Let's keep it movin!".

I call Zipcar. After ten aggravating minutes of "press one, press two, press four, press eight" , I was routed  to a representative.

Rep: (overly chipper voice) "Good afternoon, how can I help you?"

Kali: (disgruntled) "Yeah, I got a Zipcar and the parking lot is on fire.  Can I drop off the car at a different location?"

Rep: Whoa!  Well, that's a shocker, eh? To whom am I speaking to?

Kali:  "Kali.

Rep: "OK, Collie, can you please hold?"

Sure, just bring my a bone when you get back, I thought to myself.  How hard is it to pronounce Kali?

15 minutes later.  I hand up.  She calls back.

Rep: "Sorry about that.  Collie, just park it."

Kali: "What do you mean park it?"

Rep: "On the street".

Kali: "There's is no parking where I am.  I'm on 12th Ave.  No parking."

Rep: Well how about you go find a parking. Because the next person who is renting will need to find it.

Kali: "That's impossible. Its gonna take me another hour".

Rep: "Tell ya what, I'll add on two hour driving hours at no additional charge and then you can park it".

Kali: "Park? Park where?"

(I can feel the urge of wanting to assault her with profanity.  Deep breath.)

Kali: "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

Rep: "Vanessa!"

Kali: "Let me ask you, Vanessa.  Are you in the city?"

Vanessa: "No, I am not".

Kali: "OK, well, you don't exactly PARK in New York City.  That's a false notion. Ask me to walk on water but don't ask me to park."

Vanessa: "Uh...huh".

Kali: "Where are you, Vanessa?"

Vanessa: "I'm at work-"

Kali: "Where? What city?"

Vanessa: "Oh, well I'm not in the city.  I'm in Canada.  Not far from the Arctic.  Do you know where Great Bear Lake is?"

Kali: "I'm sorry I haven't had the privilege".

Vanessa: "Not far from the Yukon!  Hahahaha...."

I can't tell if that was her laughing or her teeth chattering.

So at that point, it all became clear.I was on the line with an Eskimo:

An Inuit if you will.  Or whatever the latest rule is out out of the Book of Political Correctness.

So I kept it moving.  Spinning around, just like the truck lights, in dizzying circles, the same block for hours trying to find a parking.

And all I could picture was Happy Vanessa.  Cutting a whole in a frozen water with an X-Acto knife, fishing pole in right hand, phone in the left.  "Please hold...a representative with be right with you".

I now understand why Canada is hot on cheap pharmaceuticals. 

If only I can have Vanessa's happy pill.

Stick to the syrup, will you?

U.S. Search; Officially on My Hit List

If anyone has information regarding the person who has been tracking my every move at U.S. Search, I will offer a large reward.  Of your choice:

1. An all-day excursion to Great Adventure.

2.  A free therapy session to one of Manhattan's top pet therapists.

3. A water taxi ride around the Hudson.

I plan on holding this person for ransom until he or she decides this "lets-follow-Kali-game" is no longer funny. 

It happened like this:

I have a friend who is in AA and she's telling me that she's at Step Four; Apologies.  Or something like that.  Let's just say she has to make amends with the very worst of them.  So it made me think of those who I may owe an apology to.  I thought of my dentist.  The cashier at Pioneer Supermarket. And Pam Bogart.  A straight girl I tried kissing when we were both waiting tables at a Seafood Restaurant.  We used to work the lunch and Early Bird shift. It was near the soda gun.  It was one of those ADD "why-did-I-just-do-that?" Moments.

I tried  Googling her.  No luck.

LinkedIn.  No luck.

 

White Pages.  Not the Pam I'm looking for.

And then I found this:

WHO THE HELL ARE THESE PEOPLE AND HOW COME THEY HAVE FOLLOWED ME TO THE 23 ADDRESSES THAT I HAVE LIVED AT? WHY ARE THEY MAKING THIS INFO PUBLIC? 

I never thought I would say this.  Or even think this?  But I am officially speechless.
Over the next couple of weeks, this blog is going to start looking like Fight Club.

This is about to get nasty.