February 20, 2024 • 22 mins
Holly Hudson lands in NYC and begins to chase her American Dream in the Big Apple. She quickly begins to realize what doesn’t kill you makes you a true New Yorker.
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(00:01):
FUNYCbased on real life for the most part.
And just for the record, I love New York.
Wakey Wakey, ma'am.
Ma’am?
Wakey wakey.
Wakey wakey. Shit.
I had fallen asleep in a yellow cab,my first yellow cab,
(00:24):
and in the process, brokenrule number two in the safety manual.
New York Public Transportationfor Dummies.
The first rule.
You never fall asleep on the subway.
Oh. Oh. Sorry about that.
I tried to get myself together.
The cab driver was staring at mein the rearview mirror.
No problem, ma'am.
You talk in your sleep,you know, and fart.
(00:45):
Well, that's embarrassing,but I guess I don't have to see him again.
I started rifling in my purseto pay the asshole.
I had 60 bucks in it.
45 at this golden chariotand another 15 to eat for however long
it would take me to find some work.
Here we go. Yeah. This ain't enough.
I'm sorry.
It's a flat fee with a bit of a tip.
(01:05):
And tolls. Tolls?
Yeah.
When you were dreaming about Tom Cruiseand muttering something in your sleep
about fixing you a cocktail,we drove through six tolls.
Adds another 30 bucks to the fare.
Are you serious? Yeah.
You ordered a mojito because apparentlyyou're fatter than Carrie Bradshaw.
Whatever that is.
Well, there's a lot of sugar,and I'm out here now,
(01:26):
so that may not be the best option.
I meant about. Tails, right?
Yeah.
Sorry, lady.
I don't make the rules,so pay up and get out.
30 bloody bucks. You kidding me?
I don't even have that.
Listen, I don't have that money.
I'm sorry.
Oh, well, I guess I'll call the copsand we can go from there.
(01:47):
The cab driver reached for his phone.
If he called the cops,I would be in violation of my visa.
And, in other words, deported.
Is there any way I can take your numberand pay you as soon as I have it?
I'm super honest. You know where I live.
Shit balls.
Maybe you didn't knowthis was where I live.
I could have been staying with a friend.
Oh, there goes my Get out of jail freecard.
(02:10):
This ain't a layaway type of thing.
Pay up and get out or I'm down 911.
Don't cry, Holly.
Whatever you do, don't cry.
But I don't have to watch.
I took a deep breathand looked down at the watch on my wrist.
I hadn't even set it to the new timezone yet.
It'd be my grandmother's.
The only kind motherfigure I'd known in life.
(02:32):
I liked feeling as if she wason this journey with me, looking after me.
And the watchreinforce those feelings of comfort.
And before I could
even think twice about it,I had given my watch to the driver.
I pulled down the leverand opened the cab door.
I was ready to put this nightmarebehind me and hit the ground
(02:53):
running as I was about to placea red ballet pump style shoe.
Yes, Red. In honor of Dorothy.
I noticed somethingwhite and soft on the ground.
It gently fluttered in the wind.
It was a pigeon.
A dead pigeon. Oh.
I record. And I felt sad.
This wasn't
(03:13):
what I was supposed to be feeling rightbefore I buzzed up to my new home.
The pigeon looked peaceful,
helpless and beautiful.
The feathers were mostly white, with a fewthat had specks of black and gray
that were around its beak.
I had never seen a dead pigeon before.
As kamikaze as they seem.
They somehow managed to remove themselvesfrom danger at the very last second.
(03:36):
I couldn't help but wonder whyit hadn't flown away.
Perhaps it loved New York so much.
It wanted to die here.
Welcome to F-you
NYC and IDC production starringEmily Eden,
written and created by Emily Eden, SoundDesign and Engineering by Lewis Fisher.
Executive Producer Marci Gilbert.
(03:57):
Co-created, Producedand directed by Eric Wickstrom.
So we struck her
with all the foresighthad to give with the shovel.
Her head made this loud crack similarto that of a boiled egg.
A shatter, you may say.
(04:19):
She fell to the cold, dark floor,and having observed her
and her spilling bloodlike ruddy yolk for a while,
I decided to bury her.
I paused for a moment, staring hard
at the floor, playing gilt.
Then, after a few seconds longer,you know, for dramatic effect,
(04:40):
I looked up everyone in the roomlooked pretty uncomfortable.
The bald man behind the tablepushed his red rimmed glasses up his nose.
Thanks for coming in.
The rest of the production teamremained silent.
A womanscrunched her nose up at my resumé.
The man next to her was looking at me,squinting and scowling.
I could tell that they all wanted meto exit the room as quickly as possible.
(05:02):
They were hoping for something morelighthearted from the next person coming
in. Oh, I knew I should have pushedthe bosoms up and done my Moliere piece.
This monologue was clearly too grim.
Thank you so much for your time.
I gave a fake smile as I left the room.
I couldn't help but think aboutthe first time I performed this monologue.
(05:22):
It was from my first yearexam place, acting school.
My acting teacher had the same responsethat the production team
had just had to it.
I had discovered the only way to get longterm entry into the United States
other than a marriage of convenience,which had almost happened with a guy
called Keith, was by coming to schooland getting a student visa.
Keith and I had met onlineand a WWE fans chatroom.
(05:43):
We connected by way of mutual lovefor Hulk Hogan, Jake the Snake
and the Hardy Boys.
He was from Ohioand suffered with chronic halitosis.
I couldn't quite bring myselfto go through with our marriage,
so I auditioned for the American Academyof Dramatic Arts instead.
Lucky for me and unlucky for Keith,I was accepted
into the school's programwith a pretty decent scholarship.
(06:05):
I was coming to America.
I had always longed to try to make it inAmerica.
I'd always felt it was my destiny.
I am unsure
as to why I decided to leave my amazingand supportive friends, my London agent
and my job as a plus size underwear model,which was actually pretty fun
and involved a never ending supply of freeover the shoulder boot orders,
(06:28):
Tolkien wrote.
Not all those who wonder are lost.
Well, even though I've been in this cityfor a couple of years, I still get lost,
especially when I leave one of these Indyaudition studios and find myself
in the middle of Times Square somewhere.
Photo. Photo.
Ms.. Ms..
Bloody touched me.
(06:49):
Take a bit.
Blimey.
I yelled at Minnie Mouse.
Minnie Mouse had just accosted meand grabbed me by the waist,
greasy my teethand barged through many and other panels,
which included an anorexic looking CookieMonster, a sinister looking Elmo,
and a five foot big bird who looked likehe had contracted bird flu.
(07:12):
A nightmare on Sesame Street
like any New Yorker would.
I held my body strong as I continuedwalking through them.
I paused and looked back
just in time to watch Minnieremove her head and tucked under her arm,
the sweaty bearded man underneath tooka hit of his bape and scratched his crotch
using his oversizestuffed mouse and typical New York.
(07:34):
Even Minnie Mouse was a pervert in a suit.
The thing about New York Cityis when you visit for a holiday
or first move here,you arrive with so much excitement.
Everything appears fucking fabulous.
You were awestruck by the brightlights of Times Square.
You thrive off of the energy
from the copious amounts of inhabitantstaking to the streets at all hours.
(07:56):
You don't notice the dark part.
You stand and pose in front of some streetart to create a castle photo
for your dating profile pic
and ignore the man pacing up the walljust three feet to your left. Hey.
You see opportunity everywhereas opposed to the truth, the smart.
At some point, you'll find those designershoes for a bargain price.
(08:16):
You'll have a never ending rotationof hot dates for the weekends.
You will land that dream jobyou have always wanted.
And this will result in youfalling more in love with the life
that you are living in. New York City.
The best city in the world.
Just being able to call it homefills you with pride and you can't help
but feel a sense of accomplishment.
(08:38):
You fucking live here?
The toughest yet,coolest city in the world.
More movies are set here than any othercity in the world for a reason.
You move here full of optimism.
You keep holding on to the hope.
That is hope when you start to believeanything is possible.
You can get everything you want,but the reality is,
at some point you simply run out of road.
(09:01):
I was so annoyed about being gropedby a mouse man
in a poker skirt that I decidedI needed a cup of tea before heading home.
I saw an orange coffee shopand headed towards it
as I sat drinking my teeth.
I contemplated my auditionand tried to decide why it tanked.
I was sure I performed it truthfully.
Maybe too truthfully. Hmm.
(09:24):
I remember when I performed the pieceat school.
My acting teacher, Mr.
Peterson, had been pretty appalled, too.
Okay, well, that was interesting.
Very realistic.
A little too realistic,to be honest with you.
Actually,I saw my neighbor's dead decomposing body
this morning before I left the school, soI was finding the truth in the monologue.
(09:44):
I wasn't boasting about my performance.
I was just simply trying to explainmy choices.
Really?
Okay, then.
I could tell he was wishingI hadn't said anything at all.
I think he much preferredour conversations of all things Brit
culture,like Fawlty Towers or Downton Abbey.
Oh, he loved discussing LadyMary and Ugly Edith.
Poor Edith.
(10:06):
This was the first time I'd ever seen Mr.
Peters and lost for words.
He was the cool liberal teacherwith an unmatched wit.
Everybody loved him.
The man who once called my namein the class register.
And it stated loud enough for all to hear.
Holly Hudson.Sounds like a porn stars name.
To which I had then retorted loud enoughfor all to also hear. Oh.
(10:26):
How do you think I'm paying my tuition?
Although, of course, I didn't doporn to pay the rest of my tuition fees.
I'm sure I considered itat some point. Yep.
I love the city so muchI contemplated becoming a hooker
or escort as I'd been tryingto talk myself into calling.
It just seemed classier.
In the end, I couldn't bring myselfto meet up with any of the Weinstein
(10:47):
impersonators, muchto the rumbling protests of my stomach.
Some nights.
Oh, and I did alwaysbecome a Playboy bunny.
I was going to join their Texasdivision of playmates.
Texas?
Oh, that reminds me.
My first apartment in New York.
The home that will always remind meof death and fat naked men.
Oh, and Texas, apparently.
(11:08):
My first home was on the Upper EastSide of Manhattan,
also known as Spanish Harlem,depending how fancy or potentially woke
you were trying to sound.
The apartment itselfwas pretty decent for a student home.
It was a three bedroom space with a largeliving area between Fifth and Madison.
It had light colored wooden floors,and in spite of only having one window
at the end of the living room,the apartment always felt bright and airy.
(11:30):
I said this spot with a couple of spoiledrich kids
who probably could have affordedthe $3,000 per month student halls,
but opted to have their own spaceas it was perfect for throwing parties
made evident from the dried vomitsaround the toilet bowl.
One of mythen roommates was a girl from Texas.
She was tall, skinny and resembleda female during the Gatsby era.
(11:53):
She was alsothe laziest person I'd ever met.
The wisp.
The wisp would eat endlessbags of Doritos, bowls of crusty queso,
and boxes upon boxes of cheese,it must admit, was a little envious.
She was an anomaly,a person who ate all the shite in a world
never moved, and yet her body fatwas in the minors percentages.
(12:13):
I'm not even sureif she ever goes up to use the bathroom.
I hope she did.
Or maybe she was so thin her body was tooafraid to release anything.
The other was a Brit like me.
Well, not exactly like me.
He was a tremendouslywell funded teeth grinding coke head.
I see.
When you moved to New York City,the city tests you.
(12:34):
It will put you through more challengesand Frodo face in search of more doors.
If you survived your first year, here
you are on your wayto becoming a real New Yorker.
Oh, how I wish my first yearhad simply consisted of hobbits and elves.
May I take that from you?
I was so lost down memory lane.
I hadn't even realized I'd finish my tea.
Or would you likesome more water for that?
(12:55):
No, thank you.
Oh, my God. Liam boy.
So great to see you. How you been?
Liam hugged me as I stood up.
Oh, I couldn't believe it. Especially now.
Good. This is so strange.
I was just thinking about you in schooland, well, you know, my first apartment.
Liam and I had been BFFsduring my first year of acting school.
(13:19):
He was a pretty boy type.
Big brown eyes and amazing hair.
He could have been relatedto Ricky Martin, right?
How could I forget?
That was a horrible time for you.
I'll go grab you another drink. Abbey.
Liam picked up my cup and headed backtowards the serving counter.
His looks that only improved with age.
He had filled out in the last coupleof years.
(13:41):
Everywhere.
Even in places I shouldn't be looking.
Our relationship was once fluid,you may say.
I could never tell if he was into me.
As in trying to get into my knickerswhenever we shared a bed or if he was gay.
Well, gay, bi queer, asexual him.
He or they that it didn't matter.
He was an amazing
bloke and had been a good friend to meduring a pretty tough time.
(14:04):
My first year in the city was not easy.
I had no money.
I shopped in cockroach infested bodegato eat and slept on bedding.
Just kidding.
It took me a while to save for a mattress.
I worked several jobsto keep a roof over my head.
It wasn't just
a hustle that had been rough back then,and that to this day hadn't changed.
It was my then living situation.
(14:26):
The cokeheadhe was responsible for paying our bills.
Never paid them.
He had spent the money on. You got it.
No matterthe time of year, it snowed for him.
And as he and the whisperer ahead of meat school, they left me all alone
during the summer weeksto deal with our debts.
And then there was the incidentwith my super.
One day I came home from school to realizeI'd forgotten my keys that morning.
(14:49):
I was locked out,so I texted my delightful roomies. Hi.
Sorry to bother you, but I'm locked out.
Oh, that stands anywhere.
Luckily, the wisp responded with a minuteuntil the super.
How do I do that?
Do you have his number? Yeah.
Just go see him at his place.
Where is this place?
The basement. Bye.
(15:11):
I traipsedown the stairs of all four floors.
Once I finally reached the bottomof the stairs, I saw the fire exit door.
I pushed it open and managed to prop it upwith a handily put there plank of wood.
I remember stepping outside into whatappeared to be an overgrown garden.
As I walked down five concrete steps,I noticed another door.
I was convinced I was going to dieamongst the weeds and eventually be eaten
(15:34):
by rats, but hadn't found any secondhand street pizza in a while.
I not too bravely thumped on the door.
I could hear musicfaintly coming from inside, as well
as some commotion and indistinct voices.
Moments later, the door opened.
They're standing in front of me.
Was a heavyset Mexican man, starkfucking naked and holding a gun.
(15:58):
I had never seen a gun before,and yet somehow
I wasn't entirely distractedby the revolver being pointed at my face
as I was still able to noticehis incredibly small dick.
I'm so
sorry to bother you,but I appear to have misplaced my keys.
Please, may you help me?
I could not have soundedmore fucking British.
To be fair,
I was amazed that got Edwards out at allwith all the things pointing at me.
(16:21):
Sure. No problem. Give me a minute.
And with that,he put the gun down and closed the door.
He was quite polite.
Really high as a kite, but lovely.
Shortly later, the door opened againand he emerged dressed in a white robe.
I rememberbeing very thankful and surprised.
He owned a robe.I mean, I don't own a robe.
Who owns a robe and isn't Hugh Hefner?
(16:43):
We walked back up the five concrete stepsand into the apartment building.
A few minutes of ushuffing and puffing our way up the stairs.
He then used the spare key to let me inbecause of the tiny
love gun and the literal one,both of which were probably loaded.
I was a little hesitant
to ever call on the super again for help,which is where Liam comes into the story.
Liam often took the subway
(17:04):
all the way uptown with meto make sure I got home safe after school.
The part of townwhere my first digs was wasn't quite yet.
The hubbub of frat boys yet.
You sure you're going to be okay?
You know,you can sleep in my dorm for the night.
We can smuggle you in.
I'll be fine, I promise.
Go homeand I see you tomorrow for our exam.
You have to arise
as a creepy man of the clothand I a deluded, yet violent housekeeper.
(17:27):
We need our restfor these dramatic undertakings.
I remember this evening as clear as day.
I had kissed him on the cheek, saidgoodbye, and entered my building.
The few weeks leading up to this,there had been an odd smell
wafting throughout the building.
So to now thinking about it.
I have a metallic taste in my mouth.
I remember telling myselfa cat had gotten into the building
(17:49):
and pissed on someone's welcome mat.
It smelled worse than Cat piss, though.
I recall running up the stairsand the smell intensifying.
I most likely wanted to vomit up the uberbeauty I always used to drink back then.
The rancid smell went so far upmy nostrils
it started to ingrain itself into my brainand was now permanently stuck there
(18:10):
as I was about to turn my key.
I noticed there were three flies
flying and repeatedlybumping into my neighbors door.
I turned my key in such a hazethat I practically fell into my apartment.
I tried not to think about whatthese creeps meant.
Sometimes in New York,
you have to pretend stuffisn't really happening.
That night, I remember dreaming aboutdigging up the body of a young woman.
(18:33):
Her body was still fresh,and she looked as if she was sleeping.
I started sniffing the air
after a deeper inhale of vomitedall over her dead corpse.
I then woke up to a fly on my face.
I wanted it away. GROSS.
Then I could smell it immediately.
It was worse.
You cannot describe itas it's a smell unlike any other.
(18:55):
It is almost as unique as death itself.
I took my usual shower
that morning and used all the strawberryjam shower gel I could.
After I sprayed an entire bottle of ParisHilton perfume over my clothes in fear
of smelling like corrosion.
It's funny
how you remember even the little eventsthat lead up to those forever memories.
I remember that I grabbed my keysalong with my script for my exam play
(19:18):
before I exited my home that morning.
At first I saw yellow and black,
then brown, then a purplish greenand then more black.
I was police tape warning menot to enter right outside my door.
It enveloped me like a cheapHalloween costume.
I yanked it off my bodyas if it were a low hanging cobweb.
(19:38):
I then saw the gun loaded,sitting on the stairs, head in a bucket,
vigorously vomiting amidst vomit.
We made eye contact.
I found. I thought he was pale.
I don't know why I did it.
I can't rememberif a police officer said something,
but I turned and looked into the apartmentnext door.
I recall I covered my mouth with thebottom of my shirt as I stared vacantly,
(19:59):
not blinking.
I just took in the sight of my neighbor'sleftovers, his old body,
a purplish green, yetmarred with moving black spots.
Except they weren't black spots.
They were disgusting horse flies that werevery much living life at the moment.
Of course, I kept my composure,stiff upper lip and all that
and headed for school,patting the good Lord
(20:21):
back for some sort of comfortas I passed by him.
Liam asked if I wanted to spend the nightat his later that day.
As we left school.
I said yes.
I mean one of the lesser of the LGBTQalphabet.
So I needed a cuddle that night,but I also needed
my bloody contact lenses.
I wear dailies and we had our examperformance the following day.
(20:43):
I was pretty sure they didn't have snazzypink glasses in 1901.
I had no choicebut to go back to my apartment
to grab my lenses, so Liam and I hoppedon the six train uptown.
Once there,
I traipsed up the four floors aloneas I did.
I noticed the flies were increasing.
Some people would even adorn their doorsa fly trap.
When I got to my floor,I stuffed my face back into my shirt
(21:05):
so I wouldn't swallow any of the fuckersas I fumbled for my keys.
The tape was still there.
I opened the door to swarms and swarmsof loitering and nonstop breeding flies.
They reminded me of the Candymanhorror film.
I ran down the hallway as fast as I could,only stopping
briefly to glance into my kitchen.
My eyes that were buried incloth were drawn to the window.
(21:25):
The window with the sea of moving black.
I batted several flies awayand ran into my room.
I grabbed my contact lensesand fled as quickly as I could.
It wasn't until I passed the kitchenon the way out that I noticed
the hallway floorand a crunching sound after every footstep
and looked at my
feet to see billions of dead flies.
(21:46):
Turns out fliesdon't have a long lifespan.
Not in New York anyways.
I wanted to scream, but couldn't.
They say you no longer smell stench.
Says after 8 minutesof being in that presence.
For the brief moment that I was insidethe apartment, I forgot about the smell
too deafenedby the sound of buzzing and crunching.
I have no idea how I didn'tfaint from shock and fear.
(22:08):
I did manage to get out pretty quicklywith everything I needed.
I gave myself huge fucking props for that.
Oh, if it hadn't been for Liam,I would have been homeless
for the next month after that ordeal.
Liam always looked after me.
Here he is, right on cue.
I also got you one of our Linzer cookies.
I remember. You love those.
What a night in. I live in La Vida Loca.
(22:30):
Amen. Come on.
Next time on F-you, NYC.
Mama's coach and Alice.
Fucking Alice.
Have you NYC and IDC Prediction.
Guest starring Gary Kahn.
Mike Trick. Mario Luis Guzman.
FUNYCbased on real life for the most part.
And just for the record, I love New York.
Wakey Wakey, ma'am.
Ma’am?
Wakey wakey.
Wakey wakey. Shit.
I had fallen asleep in a yellow cab,my first yellow cab,
(00:24):
and in the process, brokenrule number two in the safety manual.
New York Public Transportationfor Dummies.
The first rule.
You never fall asleep on the subway.
Oh. Oh. Sorry about that.
I tried to get myself together.
The cab driver was staring at mein the rearview mirror.
No problem, ma'am.
You talk in your sleep,you know, and fart.
(00:45):
Well, that's embarrassing,but I guess I don't have to see him again.
I started rifling in my purseto pay the asshole.
I had 60 bucks in it.
45 at this golden chariotand another 15 to eat for however long
it would take me to find some work.
Here we go. Yeah. This ain't enough.
I'm sorry.
It's a flat fee with a bit of a tip.
(01:05):
And tolls. Tolls?
Yeah.
When you were dreaming about Tom Cruiseand muttering something in your sleep
about fixing you a cocktail,we drove through six tolls.
Adds another 30 bucks to the fare.
Are you serious? Yeah.
You ordered a mojito because apparentlyyou're fatter than Carrie Bradshaw.
Whatever that is.
Well, there's a lot of sugar,and I'm out here now,
(01:26):
so that may not be the best option.
I meant about. Tails, right?
Yeah.
Sorry, lady.
I don't make the rules,so pay up and get out.
30 bloody bucks. You kidding me?
I don't even have that.
Listen, I don't have that money.
I'm sorry.
Oh, well, I guess I'll call the copsand we can go from there.
(01:47):
The cab driver reached for his phone.
If he called the cops,I would be in violation of my visa.
And, in other words, deported.
Is there any way I can take your numberand pay you as soon as I have it?
I'm super honest. You know where I live.
Shit balls.
Maybe you didn't knowthis was where I live.
I could have been staying with a friend.
Oh, there goes my Get out of jail freecard.
(02:10):
This ain't a layaway type of thing.
Pay up and get out or I'm down 911.
Don't cry, Holly.
Whatever you do, don't cry.
But I don't have to watch.
I took a deep breathand looked down at the watch on my wrist.
I hadn't even set it to the new timezone yet.
It'd be my grandmother's.
The only kind motherfigure I'd known in life.
(02:32):
I liked feeling as if she wason this journey with me, looking after me.
And the watchreinforce those feelings of comfort.
And before I could
even think twice about it,I had given my watch to the driver.
I pulled down the leverand opened the cab door.
I was ready to put this nightmarebehind me and hit the ground
(02:53):
running as I was about to placea red ballet pump style shoe.
Yes, Red. In honor of Dorothy.
I noticed somethingwhite and soft on the ground.
It gently fluttered in the wind.
It was a pigeon.
A dead pigeon. Oh.
I record. And I felt sad.
This wasn't
(03:13):
what I was supposed to be feeling rightbefore I buzzed up to my new home.
The pigeon looked peaceful,
helpless and beautiful.
The feathers were mostly white, with a fewthat had specks of black and gray
that were around its beak.
I had never seen a dead pigeon before.
As kamikaze as they seem.
They somehow managed to remove themselvesfrom danger at the very last second.
(03:36):
I couldn't help but wonder whyit hadn't flown away.
Perhaps it loved New York so much.
It wanted to die here.
Welcome to F-you
NYC and IDC production starringEmily Eden,
written and created by Emily Eden, SoundDesign and Engineering by Lewis Fisher.
Executive Producer Marci Gilbert.
(03:57):
Co-created, Producedand directed by Eric Wickstrom.
So we struck her
with all the foresighthad to give with the shovel.
Her head made this loud crack similarto that of a boiled egg.
A shatter, you may say.
(04:19):
She fell to the cold, dark floor,and having observed her
and her spilling bloodlike ruddy yolk for a while,
I decided to bury her.
I paused for a moment, staring hard
at the floor, playing gilt.
Then, after a few seconds longer,you know, for dramatic effect,
(04:40):
I looked up everyone in the roomlooked pretty uncomfortable.
The bald man behind the tablepushed his red rimmed glasses up his nose.
Thanks for coming in.
The rest of the production teamremained silent.
A womanscrunched her nose up at my resumé.
The man next to her was looking at me,squinting and scowling.
I could tell that they all wanted meto exit the room as quickly as possible.
(05:02):
They were hoping for something morelighthearted from the next person coming
in. Oh, I knew I should have pushedthe bosoms up and done my Moliere piece.
This monologue was clearly too grim.
Thank you so much for your time.
I gave a fake smile as I left the room.
I couldn't help but think aboutthe first time I performed this monologue.
(05:22):
It was from my first yearexam place, acting school.
My acting teacher had the same responsethat the production team
had just had to it.
I had discovered the only way to get longterm entry into the United States
other than a marriage of convenience,which had almost happened with a guy
called Keith, was by coming to schooland getting a student visa.
Keith and I had met onlineand a WWE fans chatroom.
(05:43):
We connected by way of mutual lovefor Hulk Hogan, Jake the Snake
and the Hardy Boys.
He was from Ohioand suffered with chronic halitosis.
I couldn't quite bring myselfto go through with our marriage,
so I auditioned for the American Academyof Dramatic Arts instead.
Lucky for me and unlucky for Keith,I was accepted
into the school's programwith a pretty decent scholarship.
(06:05):
I was coming to America.
I had always longed to try to make it inAmerica.
I'd always felt it was my destiny.
I am unsure
as to why I decided to leave my amazingand supportive friends, my London agent
and my job as a plus size underwear model,which was actually pretty fun
and involved a never ending supply of freeover the shoulder boot orders,
(06:28):
Tolkien wrote.
Not all those who wonder are lost.
Well, even though I've been in this cityfor a couple of years, I still get lost,
especially when I leave one of these Indyaudition studios and find myself
in the middle of Times Square somewhere.
Photo. Photo.
Ms.. Ms..
Bloody touched me.
(06:49):
Take a bit.
Blimey.
I yelled at Minnie Mouse.
Minnie Mouse had just accosted meand grabbed me by the waist,
greasy my teethand barged through many and other panels,
which included an anorexic looking CookieMonster, a sinister looking Elmo,
and a five foot big bird who looked likehe had contracted bird flu.
(07:12):
A nightmare on Sesame Street
like any New Yorker would.
I held my body strong as I continuedwalking through them.
I paused and looked back
just in time to watch Minnieremove her head and tucked under her arm,
the sweaty bearded man underneath tooka hit of his bape and scratched his crotch
using his oversizestuffed mouse and typical New York.
(07:34):
Even Minnie Mouse was a pervert in a suit.
The thing about New York Cityis when you visit for a holiday
or first move here,you arrive with so much excitement.
Everything appears fucking fabulous.
You were awestruck by the brightlights of Times Square.
You thrive off of the energy
from the copious amounts of inhabitantstaking to the streets at all hours.
(07:56):
You don't notice the dark part.
You stand and pose in front of some streetart to create a castle photo
for your dating profile pic
and ignore the man pacing up the walljust three feet to your left. Hey.
You see opportunity everywhereas opposed to the truth, the smart.
At some point, you'll find those designershoes for a bargain price.
(08:16):
You'll have a never ending rotationof hot dates for the weekends.
You will land that dream jobyou have always wanted.
And this will result in youfalling more in love with the life
that you are living in. New York City.
The best city in the world.
Just being able to call it homefills you with pride and you can't help
but feel a sense of accomplishment.
(08:38):
You fucking live here?
The toughest yet,coolest city in the world.
More movies are set here than any othercity in the world for a reason.
You move here full of optimism.
You keep holding on to the hope.
That is hope when you start to believeanything is possible.
You can get everything you want,but the reality is,
at some point you simply run out of road.
(09:01):
I was so annoyed about being gropedby a mouse man
in a poker skirt that I decidedI needed a cup of tea before heading home.
I saw an orange coffee shopand headed towards it
as I sat drinking my teeth.
I contemplated my auditionand tried to decide why it tanked.
I was sure I performed it truthfully.
Maybe too truthfully. Hmm.
(09:24):
I remember when I performed the pieceat school.
My acting teacher, Mr.
Peterson, had been pretty appalled, too.
Okay, well, that was interesting.
Very realistic.
A little too realistic,to be honest with you.
Actually,I saw my neighbor's dead decomposing body
this morning before I left the school, soI was finding the truth in the monologue.
(09:44):
I wasn't boasting about my performance.
I was just simply trying to explainmy choices.
Really?
Okay, then.
I could tell he was wishingI hadn't said anything at all.
I think he much preferredour conversations of all things Brit
culture,like Fawlty Towers or Downton Abbey.
Oh, he loved discussing LadyMary and Ugly Edith.
Poor Edith.
(10:06):
This was the first time I'd ever seen Mr.
Peters and lost for words.
He was the cool liberal teacherwith an unmatched wit.
Everybody loved him.
The man who once called my namein the class register.
And it stated loud enough for all to hear.
Holly Hudson.Sounds like a porn stars name.
To which I had then retorted loud enoughfor all to also hear. Oh.
(10:26):
How do you think I'm paying my tuition?
Although, of course, I didn't doporn to pay the rest of my tuition fees.
I'm sure I considered itat some point. Yep.
I love the city so muchI contemplated becoming a hooker
or escort as I'd been tryingto talk myself into calling.
It just seemed classier.
In the end, I couldn't bring myselfto meet up with any of the Weinstein
(10:47):
impersonators, muchto the rumbling protests of my stomach.
Some nights.
Oh, and I did alwaysbecome a Playboy bunny.
I was going to join their Texasdivision of playmates.
Texas?
Oh, that reminds me.
My first apartment in New York.
The home that will always remind meof death and fat naked men.
Oh, and Texas, apparently.
(11:08):
My first home was on the Upper EastSide of Manhattan,
also known as Spanish Harlem,depending how fancy or potentially woke
you were trying to sound.
The apartment itselfwas pretty decent for a student home.
It was a three bedroom space with a largeliving area between Fifth and Madison.
It had light colored wooden floors,and in spite of only having one window
at the end of the living room,the apartment always felt bright and airy.
(11:30):
I said this spot with a couple of spoiledrich kids
who probably could have affordedthe $3,000 per month student halls,
but opted to have their own spaceas it was perfect for throwing parties
made evident from the dried vomitsaround the toilet bowl.
One of mythen roommates was a girl from Texas.
She was tall, skinny and resembleda female during the Gatsby era.
(11:53):
She was alsothe laziest person I'd ever met.
The wisp.
The wisp would eat endlessbags of Doritos, bowls of crusty queso,
and boxes upon boxes of cheese,it must admit, was a little envious.
She was an anomaly,a person who ate all the shite in a world
never moved, and yet her body fatwas in the minors percentages.
(12:13):
I'm not even sureif she ever goes up to use the bathroom.
I hope she did.
Or maybe she was so thin her body was tooafraid to release anything.
The other was a Brit like me.
Well, not exactly like me.
He was a tremendouslywell funded teeth grinding coke head.
I see.
When you moved to New York City,the city tests you.
(12:34):
It will put you through more challengesand Frodo face in search of more doors.
If you survived your first year, here
you are on your wayto becoming a real New Yorker.
Oh, how I wish my first yearhad simply consisted of hobbits and elves.
May I take that from you?
I was so lost down memory lane.
I hadn't even realized I'd finish my tea.
Or would you likesome more water for that?
(12:55):
No, thank you.
Oh, my God. Liam boy.
So great to see you. How you been?
Liam hugged me as I stood up.
Oh, I couldn't believe it. Especially now.
Good. This is so strange.
I was just thinking about you in schooland, well, you know, my first apartment.
Liam and I had been BFFsduring my first year of acting school.
(13:19):
He was a pretty boy type.
Big brown eyes and amazing hair.
He could have been relatedto Ricky Martin, right?
How could I forget?
That was a horrible time for you.
I'll go grab you another drink. Abbey.
Liam picked up my cup and headed backtowards the serving counter.
His looks that only improved with age.
He had filled out in the last coupleof years.
(13:41):
Everywhere.
Even in places I shouldn't be looking.
Our relationship was once fluid,you may say.
I could never tell if he was into me.
As in trying to get into my knickerswhenever we shared a bed or if he was gay.
Well, gay, bi queer, asexual him.
He or they that it didn't matter.
He was an amazing
bloke and had been a good friend to meduring a pretty tough time.
(14:04):
My first year in the city was not easy.
I had no money.
I shopped in cockroach infested bodegato eat and slept on bedding.
Just kidding.
It took me a while to save for a mattress.
I worked several jobsto keep a roof over my head.
It wasn't just
a hustle that had been rough back then,and that to this day hadn't changed.
It was my then living situation.
(14:26):
The cokeheadhe was responsible for paying our bills.
Never paid them.
He had spent the money on. You got it.
No matterthe time of year, it snowed for him.
And as he and the whisperer ahead of meat school, they left me all alone
during the summer weeksto deal with our debts.
And then there was the incidentwith my super.
One day I came home from school to realizeI'd forgotten my keys that morning.
(14:49):
I was locked out,so I texted my delightful roomies. Hi.
Sorry to bother you, but I'm locked out.
Oh, that stands anywhere.
Luckily, the wisp responded with a minuteuntil the super.
How do I do that?
Do you have his number? Yeah.
Just go see him at his place.
Where is this place?
The basement. Bye.
(15:11):
I traipsedown the stairs of all four floors.
Once I finally reached the bottomof the stairs, I saw the fire exit door.
I pushed it open and managed to prop it upwith a handily put there plank of wood.
I remember stepping outside into whatappeared to be an overgrown garden.
As I walked down five concrete steps,I noticed another door.
I was convinced I was going to dieamongst the weeds and eventually be eaten
(15:34):
by rats, but hadn't found any secondhand street pizza in a while.
I not too bravely thumped on the door.
I could hear musicfaintly coming from inside, as well
as some commotion and indistinct voices.
Moments later, the door opened.
They're standing in front of me.
Was a heavyset Mexican man, starkfucking naked and holding a gun.
(15:58):
I had never seen a gun before,and yet somehow
I wasn't entirely distractedby the revolver being pointed at my face
as I was still able to noticehis incredibly small dick.
I'm so
sorry to bother you,but I appear to have misplaced my keys.
Please, may you help me?
I could not have soundedmore fucking British.
To be fair,
I was amazed that got Edwards out at allwith all the things pointing at me.
(16:21):
Sure. No problem. Give me a minute.
And with that,he put the gun down and closed the door.
He was quite polite.
Really high as a kite, but lovely.
Shortly later, the door opened againand he emerged dressed in a white robe.
I rememberbeing very thankful and surprised.
He owned a robe.I mean, I don't own a robe.
Who owns a robe and isn't Hugh Hefner?
(16:43):
We walked back up the five concrete stepsand into the apartment building.
A few minutes of ushuffing and puffing our way up the stairs.
He then used the spare key to let me inbecause of the tiny
love gun and the literal one,both of which were probably loaded.
I was a little hesitant
to ever call on the super again for help,which is where Liam comes into the story.
Liam often took the subway
(17:04):
all the way uptown with meto make sure I got home safe after school.
The part of townwhere my first digs was wasn't quite yet.
The hubbub of frat boys yet.
You sure you're going to be okay?
You know,you can sleep in my dorm for the night.
We can smuggle you in.
I'll be fine, I promise.
Go homeand I see you tomorrow for our exam.
You have to arise
as a creepy man of the clothand I a deluded, yet violent housekeeper.
(17:27):
We need our restfor these dramatic undertakings.
I remember this evening as clear as day.
I had kissed him on the cheek, saidgoodbye, and entered my building.
The few weeks leading up to this,there had been an odd smell
wafting throughout the building.
So to now thinking about it.
I have a metallic taste in my mouth.
I remember telling myselfa cat had gotten into the building
(17:49):
and pissed on someone's welcome mat.
It smelled worse than Cat piss, though.
I recall running up the stairsand the smell intensifying.
I most likely wanted to vomit up the uberbeauty I always used to drink back then.
The rancid smell went so far upmy nostrils
it started to ingrain itself into my brainand was now permanently stuck there
(18:10):
as I was about to turn my key.
I noticed there were three flies
flying and repeatedlybumping into my neighbors door.
I turned my key in such a hazethat I practically fell into my apartment.
I tried not to think about whatthese creeps meant.
Sometimes in New York,
you have to pretend stuffisn't really happening.
That night, I remember dreaming aboutdigging up the body of a young woman.
(18:33):
Her body was still fresh,and she looked as if she was sleeping.
I started sniffing the air
after a deeper inhale of vomitedall over her dead corpse.
I then woke up to a fly on my face.
I wanted it away. GROSS.
Then I could smell it immediately.
It was worse.
You cannot describe itas it's a smell unlike any other.
(18:55):
It is almost as unique as death itself.
I took my usual shower
that morning and used all the strawberryjam shower gel I could.
After I sprayed an entire bottle of ParisHilton perfume over my clothes in fear
of smelling like corrosion.
It's funny
how you remember even the little eventsthat lead up to those forever memories.
I remember that I grabbed my keysalong with my script for my exam play
(19:18):
before I exited my home that morning.
At first I saw yellow and black,
then brown, then a purplish greenand then more black.
I was police tape warning menot to enter right outside my door.
It enveloped me like a cheapHalloween costume.
I yanked it off my bodyas if it were a low hanging cobweb.
(19:38):
I then saw the gun loaded,sitting on the stairs, head in a bucket,
vigorously vomiting amidst vomit.
We made eye contact.
I found. I thought he was pale.
I don't know why I did it.
I can't rememberif a police officer said something,
but I turned and looked into the apartmentnext door.
I recall I covered my mouth with thebottom of my shirt as I stared vacantly,
(19:59):
not blinking.
I just took in the sight of my neighbor'sleftovers, his old body,
a purplish green, yetmarred with moving black spots.
Except they weren't black spots.
They were disgusting horse flies that werevery much living life at the moment.
Of course, I kept my composure,stiff upper lip and all that
and headed for school,patting the good Lord
(20:21):
back for some sort of comfortas I passed by him.
Liam asked if I wanted to spend the nightat his later that day.
As we left school.
I said yes.
I mean one of the lesser of the LGBTQalphabet.
So I needed a cuddle that night,but I also needed
my bloody contact lenses.
I wear dailies and we had our examperformance the following day.
(20:43):
I was pretty sure they didn't have snazzypink glasses in 1901.
I had no choicebut to go back to my apartment
to grab my lenses, so Liam and I hoppedon the six train uptown.
Once there,
I traipsed up the four floors aloneas I did.
I noticed the flies were increasing.
Some people would even adorn their doorsa fly trap.
When I got to my floor,I stuffed my face back into my shirt
(21:05):
so I wouldn't swallow any of the fuckersas I fumbled for my keys.
The tape was still there.
I opened the door to swarms and swarmsof loitering and nonstop breeding flies.
They reminded me of the Candymanhorror film.
I ran down the hallway as fast as I could,only stopping
briefly to glance into my kitchen.
My eyes that were buried incloth were drawn to the window.
(21:25):
The window with the sea of moving black.
I batted several flies awayand ran into my room.
I grabbed my contact lensesand fled as quickly as I could.
It wasn't until I passed the kitchenon the way out that I noticed
the hallway floorand a crunching sound after every footstep
and looked at my
feet to see billions of dead flies.
(21:46):
Turns out fliesdon't have a long lifespan.
Not in New York anyways.
I wanted to scream, but couldn't.
They say you no longer smell stench.
Says after 8 minutesof being in that presence.
For the brief moment that I was insidethe apartment, I forgot about the smell
too deafenedby the sound of buzzing and crunching.
I have no idea how I didn'tfaint from shock and fear.
(22:08):
I did manage to get out pretty quicklywith everything I needed.
I gave myself huge fucking props for that.
Oh, if it hadn't been for Liam,I would have been homeless
for the next month after that ordeal.
Liam always looked after me.
Here he is, right on cue.
I also got you one of our Linzer cookies.
I remember. You love those.
What a night in. I live in La Vida Loca.
(22:30):
Amen. Come on.
Next time on F-you, NYC.
Mama's coach and Alice.
Fucking Alice.
Have you NYC and IDC Prediction.
Guest starring Gary Kahn.
Mike Trick. Mario Luis Guzman.
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