Wrong Side

I don't care what kind of bad day you *think* you're having.

Because there's no way it beats mine!

The only thing that's still fun about this morning is the Japanese pop star on my iPod singing, "Doh-oon'tuu woo-ddee baayuu-bee."

It's been a New York morning.

So I'm working with the impossibly famous classical realist (at least, impossibly famous by painting terms) Yacob Collans. Right now he's working on the portrait or, to speak in the vernacular, my mug. So I have to make sure I'm clean-shaven.

The problem is, this new electric razor uses the patented "PainTech" which means it doesn't really *cut* the hair so much as it *pulls it out*.

After dropping three F-bombs over the bathroom sink (and all before breakfast!), I decided to switch back to the regular razor and shaving cream combo and contemplated throwing out the electric one once and for all.

Only the blade was dull. And in my grogginess, I failed to realize that was why it was painfully snagging on my neck and conjuring images of Sweeney Todd.

By this time I was running late. There would be no time for breakfast today. Just pack food to last through the ten hour session and pick up an oatmeal at Morebucks.

I got the new latte and oatmeal combo. I usually add a dash of cinnamon to my bowl of porridge but the cinnamon shaker wasn't on the counter. I asked the barista making my coffee drink for the cinnamon.

She picked up the shaker from her barista station and started dumping its contents into my latte.

"Want more cinnamon?" she asked.

"Actually, I was going to put that in my oatmeal."

She apologized eight times.

Outwardly laughing but inwardly crying, the Bad Idea Fork appeared on my shoulder.

"Good morning!" it said. "I have a good idea! Today, instead of going your usual way, why don't you take a *different* train to the upper east side?"

"Good idea!" I said to the Bad Idea Fork.

"And relax! You've got plenty of time. Why don't you just put your brain on auto-pilot?"

"Good idea!" I said to the Bad Idea Fork.

The auto-pilot remembered that the alternate way to get to the 6 train was to hop one of the uptown blue trains.

Just as I swiped my metrocard, a train pulled up. My New Yorker instinct screamed, "DON'TSTOPGO!!!!" and I hopped aboard.

When we arrived at Columbus Circle I remembered the C train doesn't go across town.

I hopped on the next downtown train.

Only you can't cross the platform at 50th without going above ground and paying to get in again.

So I rode down to 42nd.

I crossed over to the uptown-bound side.

A train pulled up. My New Yorker instinct went off again. "DON'TSTOPGO!" So I did as I was told and hopped on.

Fortunately I realized I'd climbed aboard *another* uptown C train before it was too late.

Then came modeling. We're doing a shoulders-up portrait which means I can wear pants this time. It's a very simple pose--chest out, shoulders back, head turned slightly to the right.

But after doing four ten-hour sessions, chinking away at the 50th hour today finally became a little...torturous.

Because Yacob is a little crazy. He's got so much energy the only way he can focus is by listening to audiobooks. So that means I stand stock-still in complete silence from 8:30-6:30, Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays.

I had a difficult time keeping it together today. I almost went bananas.

Then I got an email from ol' Ally Adkins, the costume lady from Alma Mater U. She informed me that my arch-nemesis Dan deDeman was in town with his wife and entourage doing some show. And he wanted to network with Alma Mater U alums once they were finished.

I felt a little bit like the witch in Sleeping Beauty. I probably wouldn't've gone anyway, but I'm pissed that I wasn't invited.

So that was my day. Oh, and I found out they're turning my beloved Times Square Virgin MegaStore into...

...a Forever 21.

Shoot me in the head.

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