thisisnotreallyablogforreal

I woke up at 6am today so I could go the gym before work. I was on the treadmill and I just wasn’t into it. I was tired, and after 5 minutes I was ready for my ‘you got through almost half the week here have a Cinnabon’ breakfast. I needed something to motivate me, to trigger a chemical message to my brain telling it that I had to keep running. So, logically, I pretended someone was chasing me. It sounds shady, but it was so fun. Every five minutes I would vary the scenario, but the structure remained the same. I was being chased and I had to get away. Here are some examples.

1.
Running from my pimp
Dress: I’m scantily clad and wearing high heels.
Weapon: metal pipe
Dialogue: “I’m gonna kick your ass you cheap ho!”


2.
Running from a rapist:
Dress: jogging clothes
Weapon: none
Dialogue: heavy breathing

3.
Running from a girl I went to high school with
Dress: casual daytime attire
Weapon: she’s got out her cell phone to get my number.
Dialogue: “leave me alone I don’t want to keep in touch with you!”

4.
Running from a guy who sent me flowers and chocolates after only two boring dates.
Dress: pajamas
Weapon: Inappropriate, premature love
Dialogue: “I just want to get to know you better, that’s all. I’m sorry I woke you up. COME BACK!”

5.
Running from internet-journal-guy who came to NYC to visit me without asking
Dress: winter attire
Weapon: None
Dialogue: “Why don’t you want to have a long distane relationship with someone you meet through your blog?! I think it’s romantic! COME BACK!”

6.
Running from hot pretzel vendor guy
Dress: jeans, sneakers.
Weapon: Mustard
Dialogue: “It’s not free! You think it’s free! No! Come back! You have to pay! YOU DID NOT PAY!!!"

And that’s how I ran for thirty minutes this morning.

I get a lot of fun e-mails.
However, this takes the cake.
Someone recorded an original song for me!
Ok, so it’s not an original song, it’s a cover, and you can’t really tell what song it is until you get to the chorus, and the whole song is accompanied by one guitar chord, but still he recorded a song for ME!
How cool!
And here at mindyraf.com we believe—and by we I mean me, the voices, the imaginary friends, and the blow up dolls—we believe in sharing.

So go ahead
LISTEN

Do you have a unique dancing style like no one else's? Would you like to shake your money maker and possibly win $1000? This Friday night at Situation! a camera crew from VH1 will be taping dancers and if you get picked to be a finalist in America's Most Extraordinary Dancer contest you could win big moolah. Call 212-404-4890 for further details about the contest. The camera crew will be arriving at 11pm and when you get there please sign up for the contest in the DJ booth. See ya there -- and don't forget me when you win and get rich! -- Mister X

This Friday, January 21, 10pm – 4am
Situation!
Upstairs: DJs Mister X and Miss Fabulous spin New Wave, Electro and more
Featured Band: Blondie
In the Lounge: DJ Gauntt spins Gothic-Industrial and Synthpop
Free Before 11pm, $5 after

@ LUKE+LEROY'S
21 7th Avenue South
betw Carmine & Leroy Sts.
NEW YORK CITY
212-645-0004
1/9 Train to Houston Street
A,C,E,B,D,F,V to W. 4 Street

A sampling of bands you will hear Mr. X & Miss Fabulous spin:
Depeche Mode ~ New Order ~ Yaz ~ Dead Or Alive
Apop ~ Ladytron ~ Siouxsie and the Banshees
Gary Numan ~ Fad Gadget ~ Book of Love
David Bowie ~ Camouflage ~ Covenant ~ Trans-X
Fictional ~ Miss Kittin and The Hacker ~ OMD
Modern English ~ Ministry ~ Soft Cell ~ Visage
...and a whole lot more!

DJ Gauntt will be spinning Nitzer Ebb ~ Front 242
Covenant ~ VNV Nation...etc!

FOR FURTHER INFO ON ALL OUR PARTIES PLEASE VISIT:
http://www.lofientertainment.com/parties

Last week, while visiting family in Michigan, I mistakenly watched Garden State on DVD with my parents. I had already seen the movie, and I liked it a lot. Yet, I knew my parents would hate the movie—they hate watching movies where exposition leaks out slowly— but I agreed to watch it with them anyway.

I wish I had a recording of the conversation that took place during the movie.
Here is what I remember:

Mom: Is he dreaming?
Dad: Kitty, he’s on a plane and it’s crashing. Just watch.
Mom: Why does he look so sad?
Mindy: Just keep watching mom.
Mom: He has to be dreaming, he can’t die at the beginning of the movie.
Dad: I don’t like this already.
Mom: See, he was dreaming. Why is he on all that medication?
Dad: Is this going anywhere, or should I just turn it off now?
Mom: Mindy, his mom died?! You said this was a comedy.
Mindy: It’s a black comedy
Dad: That means it’s not going to be funny.

That was the first 5 minutes.

Mom: What are they doing? Drugs?
Mindy: Ecstasy, I think, and some other drugs probably.
Dad: I don’t understand what’s going on.
Mom: Why did the girls take their clothes off?
Dad: I’m giving this 20 more minutes.
Mom: Oh, isn’t that’s what’sherbutt from Designing Women?
Dad: 16 more minutes.
Mom: I’m confused about where he is and what’s going on.
Dad: 15 more minutes.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Mom: Is Natalie Portman supposed to be retarded. Is that her character?
Dad: Who’s Natalie Portman?
Mom: The girl, the retarded girl.
Mindy: She’s not retarded, she’s just . . . quirky.
Dad: I’m not into this.
Mindy: Well, if you paid attention you might be into it.
Dad: There’s nothing to get into because nothing’s happening.
Mom: Why does she have a helmet? Wait she did have an appointment with the doctor? She lied!
Dad: 8 more minutes.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -


Mom: Ooooh, is that what’shisbutt, from Scrubs?
Dad: Mindy, you liked this movie?
Mom: She likes artsy movies.
Dad: Well this is a boring movie.
Mom: Do they get together . . . Natalie and the Scrubs boy?
Mindy: You have to watch mom.
Mom: I think we’re going to bed; so just tell us how it ends.
Mindy: No, you have to finish it guys.
Mom: Does he commit suicide at the end?
Dad: Goodnight Mindy.
Mom: I bet he commits suicide at the end.
Mindy: What? Who?
Dad: Shut the lights off down here when you’re done
Mom: The guy from Scrubs. Does he commit suicide at the end of the movie?
Mindy: You’re really going to bed?
Mom: Yeah.
Mindy: You’re not finishing the movie?
Mom: Sorry.
Mindy: Yes, he does.
Mom: I knew it!
Dad: Drugs, hamsters, suicide . . . Nice pick Mindy.

Believe it or not, that’s pretty accurate. My parents, to this day, still believe that the guy from Scrubs commits suicide at the end of Garden State

The lack of comments has led me to think otherwise, but people actually read this blog. Thank you so much for all the “get well” e-mails. Yeah, that’s right, I received “get well” e-mails from total strangers. I can’t even count the number of people I actually know on one hand that called me to see how I was doing. Maybe I was too hasty in my previous post about how blogging is freaky. Maybe soon all my true friends will be via cyber space. Along with the ‘get well’ e-mails in my inbox today, was this little gem.

Mindy,
I just recently viewed your column and find it to be very entertaining. However, you are probably the most bitter, lonely, vindictive person on paper. I don't know you personally and you could be completely different outside of your column. I completely understand if you want to play the jaded, better-than-everyone-else, impossible to please NYC trixie in your column. But if this is who you really are, my God! You need to get some ass soon, or people could get hurt.
I really don't know why I wrote this. Probably because I've got nothing better to do at work. But I want to commend you on your success and that your column made me laugh and think. If you are as bitter in your column as you are in person, there is a part of me that kinda admires it. Keep up the good work.
Pat - - - - - -

Ok, let’s break this down.

Mindy,
[Nice, cool, calm beginning]
I just recently viewed your column and find it to be very entertaining.[ok, so far so good] However, you are probably the most bitter, lonely, vindictive person on paper.[ I don’t have a problem with those adjectives. In fact, they are kind of cool in a soap opera characer sort of way but, "on paper?" Um, Pat. . .I write my column on-line. So, unless you’re printing them out--which is kind of weird--that doesn’t make sense. Maybe you’ve hired a sketch artist to reproduce my likeness on paper for you from my headshots on-line. Maybe every night before you go to bed you stare at my cartoon face and whisper “Goodnight you bitter, lonely, vindictive person on paper you!” If so, then it all makes sense.] I don't know you personally and you could be completely different outside of your column. [I think you’re trying to say that maybe the persona I create in my column isn’t really the real me. Bingo Pat, you get a gold star] I completely understand if you want to play the jaded, better-than-everyone-else, impossible to please NYC trixie in your column. [No. I am jaded, I am better than everyone else, and I am impossible to please. But a trixie, well yes that's just a role I play] But if this is who you really are, my God![I love that you got so worked up here that you had to take the lord’s name in vain. Cool.] You need to get some ass soon, or people could get hurt. [I do need to get some ass soon. Why don’t you come over to my apartment right now and F**k me. And don’t bother bringing condoms cause I’m not that kind of girl.]

I really don't know why I wrote this. Probably because I've got nothing better to do at work.[yeah probably] But I want to commend you on your success and that your column made me laugh and think. [ok, that was nice. Thanks Pat] If you are as bitter in your column as you are in person, there is a part of me that kinda admires it. [so now you love me?] Keep up the good work. [ah, thank you?]
Pat - - - - - -

I got nothing else, go
read my new column

Three times. I wish I could say that I was on my way home from the bar with a stomach full of tequila and some cute guys saliva still lingering on my lips ( no, I don’t. Not really. I mean making out with a guy while feeling the warm, fuzzy effects of tequila is fun, but the thought of a strangers saliva lingering on my lips kind of grosses me out. So I wasn't drunk coming from the bar, although I did go to a bar last night, well it was a CD release party for my friend David (go buy his cd) and I had two cups of herbal tea so . . .) I digress.

So I wasn’t on my way home from the bar but from the radio show. I have been getting over a bad cold and that morning I was feeling extremely nauseated. I work in the morning at WABC . . .or the evening -whatever 4:30am means to you- I left the station after our producer took a long look at me and sent me home. As I left, my friend Andy looked at me and said, “You want to take a bag with you?”
I shook my head with the knowledge that in almost 25 years I’ve thrown up twice (once when was 6 and again last year on Valentines day-which is another entry entirely-)
I was not going to be sick, I just needed to lie down.

Yet, once the cab started bumping and zigzagging across town, I realized that I wasn’t going to make it. I ordered the cab driver to, “pull over, pull over, stop the car, oh god, I’m gonna be sick”
The cab moved to the next lane with a sudden jerk, and that was all I needed.
I puked. I puked in the cab. Not outside the window or out door onto the street. Why would I do a classy thing like that when I could puke right inside the cab where future patrons would want to put their feet.

The driver, who had finally maneuvered to the side of the road, looked back and yelped,
“No! No, lady! Why?!

I replied with a short, “ugh eh ah ug ”

He then seriously inquired,

No more?”

I gestured for him to drive. I felt better and knew I could make it for 15 more blocks.
Five blocks later I was wrong. Four more blocks I was wrong again.

Now, as I sit here at my computer sipping a large orange juice— that I had delivered from a diner for $3.50, which I paid for by credit card since, in a gesture of kindness and humiliation, I handed the last of my cash to my unlucky driver—I feel a little better.

On a side note, my column was mentioned in the New Yorker this week. I think only because one of the titles of my articles contained the word, “Ovulation” but still . . .pretty damn cool!

I also got two great IMs just now as I am writing this post.

SexyMegan23a: Hey, daisymae20. Get into some fun erotic action
Start Checking out Profiles and Photos from your choice of age, gender,Location, and other special interests. FreeDateSearch.ca.tt This is the ONLY erotic match making service around and with over a million members, daisymae20 you will surly find what your looking for.

MaggieCam94: not doing anything tonight? welcome yourself to cum inside me Daisymae20.

Nice to know that people out there are thinking of me.

I think it is effective as a means to write or promote, but that's all. I've never been a crazy internet prowler, or one who uses the internet to meet new people. Don't get me wrong, I love that people read the blog, and I love receiving e-mails about the posts and the columns and, of course, reading comments. But, I would just like to state that I think meeting people from stalkerish on-line encounters is a little freaky.

Does that sound judgmental and harsh? I don't care.

So, to the guy who e-mailed me confessing,
"I check your blog every day, how come there's no new posts or pics?" "have you read my blog? Why don't you leave comments?" "Can I come to NYC, will you entertain me? Maybe I can entertain you. LOL" "Can we hang out so I can learn everything about you that I don't already know"

Listen, I'm sure you're really nice and you looked great in your picture, but no.
You're freaking me out!
I think you should get off the computer and go out and get some fresh air. Don't solely communicate your ideas via e-mails, chat rooms, or comment links. Go out and meet some people in your neighborhood. Don't hide beyond cyber space. Join a book club, take up skiing, call your family and tell them you love them.
Live, for God's sake, LIVE!

OK, maybe I'm being too closed minded. Maybe I'm missing out on a great friendship, or a crazy 48 hour, out of town, animal sex session with an internet obsessed hottie who can simultaneously pleasure me and check his e-mail. Yeah, that's a chance I'm willing to take.


Although Mindy Raf stands behind the views of this post, she will admit that she has received many nice, funny, and respectable e-mails from men wanting to meet her. It's just a small handful of scary ones that are freaking her out. In addition, Mindy still wants you to use the internet because she's about to post a new column. So use the internet, just don't make it your whole life. And if you're stalking Mindy, be a little more sublte. And go check out her column later this week.

My friend called me responsible last week when I was apologizing for not making it to the bar after a comedy show. I told I was “so wiped and just needed to sleep.”
And she said,
“No problem. I know babe. You don’t go out and drink until 4 am when you have to work the next day and that’s good . . .you’re responsible.”

I don’t know why, but that scared the crap out of me. I thought to myself: “Mindy, you’re 24 years old. That means you only have 6 good months of partying left before you turn 25 and really have to start acting like an adult.” That’s right, I decided that for the next 6 months I am going to be a hardcore party girl. I know that most of you are thinking, “Mindy, you like to stay home and read, you’re happy taking in a Lifetime flick and a pack of gummy bears, you don’t smoke, you don’t do drugs, you don’t sleep around, and you hold on to the hand rails when going down a steep flight of stairs.”
I know. I know. But I have the rest of my life to avoid STDs and accidents on staircases.
And that, fellow readers, is why I am becoming a party animal.
That’s right.
I, Mindy -2 beers is all it takes- Raf, am now one of those crazy girls that mother’s warn their sons about.

Thursday night:
Did comedy show at a fellow comedians apartment.
Wild!
I know that most of you are thinking, (and by most I mean the 7 people who read this) “Mindy, when a male comedian asks you to go back with him to his apartment for a “comedy show” don’t expect to see an audience. And you’re right. Every time I accompany male comics back to their apartments for “comedy shows” I end up being consumed like an expensive piece of Kosher Chicken, but this time was different.
I actually did a comedy show in Jeff Cerulli’s small apartment. There were about 30 people there. The talent hung out in a small bedroom and then performed in the kitchen via a microphone connected to a small amplifier. Yes, the kitchen. It was completely legit and very professional. So what if you had to walk straight through the audience to get to the bathroom, and so what if a drunken audience member took over the mic for 15 minutes and then retreated to an open bedroom, and so what if one of the comics performed in his boxers with a towel on his head. Hardcore partying!

Ok, so stand-up comedy in a small apartment is not hardcore, and I didn’t even sleep with the drunken audience member.
Lame.

Friday night:
Met up with friends at bar. Stayed out past midnight.
Ah, that’s it.
But I had 5 drinks, and I didn’t pay for any of them, and I danced to country music with a guy named Lance who weighed over 400 pounds. And I only know that because someone told me the next day. Yeah, hardcore partying!

Ok, so dancing to country music until 1AM is not hardcore, and I didn’t even sleep with the 400-pound guy.
Lame.

Saturday night:
Went out with friends for a birthday dinner, which consisted mostly of birthday drinking. Since the dinner was mostly couples that were all heading home to spoon and watch late night TV, I decided to meet up with some comics from Joe Franklins to celebrate another birthday. By the time I headed to the second birthday celebration I was quite gone. I got in a fight with an unattractive girl over a bathroom line, consoled a girl who crying for no reason, yelled at a guy I have never met for invading my privacy, gave out and received numerous hand massages, and, according to a reliable witness, made out with a guy in a photo booth. Hardcore baby!

Ok, so verbally fighting with a girl over a bathroom stall is not hardcore, and I didn’t even sleep with the photo booth guy.
Lame.

Sunday night:I celebrated my half birthday (the official start of my party girl identity) by cleaning my room . . .while drinking a glass of wine . .on Nyquil! HARDCORE.

Ok, so I’m a work in progress, and I guess, regardless of its’ details, the mere existence of this post proves that I am not a hardcore party girl.
Why?
Because a hardcore party girl would not be sitting at a computer writing about it in her stupid blog, she would be out partying.
Lame.

Last night I was approached by a modeling scout who told me that he could, “make me a star.” I was standing outside a comedy club minding my own business when this man approached me and said,

Shady Scout Man: You ever think about modeling?

I look seriously into his eyes

Mindy: All the time

SSM: You got the eyes for it, and the ass.

Mindy: Thank you so much for your professional opinion.

SSM: I work for X-clusive modeling management.

He pauses dramatically and then really stares at my ass as if he is deciding whether or not it really is the ass of NYC’s next top model. He continues.

SSM: We get girls for Maxim and Playboy.

He looks at me with pride. I stare back at him with a feigned enthusiasm that only a trained stand-up comedian can muster.

Now I have always had high self esteem, coupled with a realistic perspective. I am not one of those girls who slumps around wishing she were taller or thinner or blonder or darker or bigger or smaller. I know who I am, and I know what I look like. Most importantly, I am not one of those delusional women who flip through Maxim magazine and think, “You know, with the right trainer and a brand new wardrobe, I could totally look like that!” So when this man told me that he could see me on the pages of Maxim and Playboy, of course I was elated and finally felt that my career was taking off.

He hands me his “business card” and I put it away telling him, “I’ll check out the website and definitely contact you. Thank you so much for making my dreams come true”

So I went home that night and joyfully searched the web. I came up with nothing. (Although I did download some awesome 'X-clusive' porn, and made a lot of new internet chat room friends).But no X-clusive model website. And that's when the truth bitch slapped me across the face and pinned me up agaisnt the bedroom door. I realized that this guy must have had fake business cards, and really regretted going back with him to his 'studio' to 'take some pictures.'

Now, as I sit here in my bedroom,-- posing naked in front of the mirror and practicing sultry facial expressions--I can't help but feel used, lost, naïve, and disappointed.

I know what most of you are thinking,
“Mindy, don’t give up on your dream of becoming a model. There are a lot of successful, short, Jewish women in the modeling world! Go out and get em tiger!”

And I will!