Looking for a Fox

Hello reader – so.  I have never blogged before.  I had a brief stint with livejournal and zenga in the past, and a short-term relationship with myspace which ended in a deleted account and me clicking back to facebook. 

So let’s see how blogging works out.

I work at a restauraunt in New York where the dress code includes a button down shirt (any color but black), dress pants (only black) or skirt (any color).  This doesn’t sound like a difficult combination, but somehow I always find myself racing around my apartment 40 minutes before work, hair wet, face made up, clad in pantyhose and an appropriate non-black shirt but sans appropriate bottom, OR in an appropriate but dirty black skirt from my laundry, minus a button up shirt.

So last Wednesday before work was no different from any other day.  But I managed to arrive at work in the nick of time, wearing un-de-linted high-waisted black velvet pants (from the dirty laundry) and a poly-blend button up red jacket with a collar.  A bold combination.  So I’m out of the house and in the subway, relieved and a little impressed by my ingenuity and fashion instincts, when I see an ad for Manhattan mini storage – the one that makes fun of Sarah Palin and her experience in politics.  She’s wearing a red, poly-blend looking button jacket, and if my memory serves me correctly, black bottoms.  Shit.

At work, the outfit goes down okay.  No condemning comments from my coworkers, no admonishing side glances from the manager (because technically a button down jacket is not a button down shirt).  Then, two women in their fifties or sixties enter the restaurant at around 11 am (still in time for breakfast) whom I sit at a nice window table near the front of the restaurant.  The sweet-looking woman in yellow sunglasses mentions my outfit – she likes it, she says, and then inquires when the fox hunt is commencing.  She laughs, then politely takes and thanks me for the menu while she and her friend continue their conversation.  ”When does the fox hunt commence.”  I wonder – is she indirectly comparing me to Sarah Palin?  Does Sarah Palin even hunt foxes?  Can one hunt foxes from a helicopter?  Do foxes thrive in Alaska?  I uncomfortably shift from my left foot to my right foot (both feet wearing socks from the laundry basket), and quietly do the math in my head.

Sarah Palin.  

Fox hunter.  

Sarah Palin = Fox hunter?  

Olivia Whelan = Vegan

Olivia Whelan = Sarah Palin?   

Sarah Palin = Fox Hunter

Fox Hunter = non Vegan

Olivia Whelan = non Vegan

Olivia Whelan = non Vegan fox hunter from Alaska.

Hmmm. 

Math interrupted by some other interesting costumers who have come in this Wednesday.  Three twenty-something male Australian tourists.  Do foxes thrive in Australia?  Yes. Yes they do.  This is their second time in this week. One of the servers and I watch and drool as they rifle through a NY guide book and enjoy their granola and pancakes.  We contemplate our means of successfully engaging these three strapping young men ((((foxes)))), but our means are limited.  We could clandestinely pass them a note asking for their 63 digit cell phone numbers, utilizing our large supply of crayons and paper napkins.  Too extreme.  Maybe we could refill their glasses of water, or offer them extra ice for their ice-coffees; an unlimited supply of escargot forks and table wedges.  Too subtle.  Offer them a free dessert, on the house.  Too expensive.  Aware that we are lacking the appropriate tools (both financial and practical) to pursue our attractive customers, we throw in the towel, and politely wave and smile as they leave the restaurant to visit the Empire State Building,  see Spamalot, swim in the reservoir, etc.   

Work comes to a close, with nothing else extra eventful occurring.  Then off I go to our FoxStamp Murphy meeting.  FoxStamp Murphy is, of course, the sketch comedy group that I am a part of, along with Gabe Miner, Elizabeth Varner, Matt Kantrowitz and Shira Danan.  We have a show coming up December 6th which I encourage you, reader, to come see.

On the subway, I contemplate what to say at Gabe’s upcoming roast – I’m supposed to be funny when I make fun of him.  Hmmm.  I wonder if I will undergo a light roasting when I arrive at our FsM gathering, dressed like a right-wing politician / fox hunter.  I arrive, and roasting is negatory.  Nonetheless, the theme of the day has definitely been foxes.  My red fox-hunting outfit, the australian foxes at table 34, and my friends in a sketch comedy group named FoxStamp Murphy.  

Anyway, that’s all for now.  I am extraordinarily unfoxy this Friday evening, as I sit congested, unshowered and viral in my New York apartment.  Mmmm.  The hunt is on.  Another day.  

Until next time, xo, -Liv