bekah brunstetter
Bekah Brunstetter I care deeply. About a lot of things. Like really, really deep. Ow
playwright in brooklyn, NY
playwright in brooklyn, NY

new roomies!

August 30th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Just fyi, I have new roommates, Ms.’s Anne and Sarah Kilby, and I am clinically obsessed with their collected and individual awesomeness. They hail from Mt. Airy, NC – and are the daughters of my Dad’s friend Bud Kilby (‘Great guy, Bud Kilbly, Great Guy.’) He is a CEO of a sock company, which means free socks for everyone!

Sarah came to NYC to get her MFA in Poetry at Brooklyn College; Anne has a job at NYU working with international students. As roommates can be such a nightmare, I feel very lucky that my roommates do not suck. Most importantly, having no sisters myself, I revel in their cute sisterness, which basically means that they love and respect each other, a lot, and refrain, at all times, from booty dancing in each other’s faces.

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Yeah, they never do that.

Posted in Uncategorized, i am lucky, mes amis, what my friends are doing | No Comments »

erin mccarson

August 26th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Yes, I write lots and lots of plays for her. How could I not? Look at that puddum.

Most recently, erin starred in my new play Minerva’s Muscles in Working Man’s Clothes 3rd annual Binge festival: The Binge Olympiad. The festival ran the last few weekends from 11 til 3 in the morning, and featured plays, free shots of whiskey, craigslist ladies dressed like raccoons serving said shots, burelesque, performance art act things, magicians,  and that big Black guy who almost one the Nathan’s hot dog eating contest ‘rapping’ into a microphone. It was hot.

In Minerva’s Muscles, Minvera, crushed after her big loss in Shot put in the 1932 Olympics, meets Little Man at a run-down bar. To lift her spirits, she lifts him over her head.

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Naturally.

This play was inspired by a brief conversation Erin and I had a few months ago:

Me: Hey E, I’m gonna write a Binge play for you, what do you wanna do?

E: I don’t know, lift a man over my head?

 Me: Done.

Let it be noted that in previous years, with no if, ands or butts about, I have made erin lick dirty floors, have a giant camel toe, and dance around with a broken foot singing broadway baby, all for the sake of a drama play. And she’s totally into it – most likely because every now and then, I give her a cute boy to kiss.

A match made in heaven.

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what do you want from me?!

August 26th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

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So he* saw my short play  I Have It in LA and wants to film it.

However, he cannot, because I’ve already signed an option with a pair of young filmmakers, giving them exclusive rights.

As much as I’d like to be excited about this, it’s turned into a smallish nightmare that compells me to point all inquiries to my agent. This is the proveberial ‘talk to the hand, because the face does not understand’ of the industry.* I’m much too much of a pussy to handle these things on my own. But the minute I start to dial 212 to reach him/her/it, I remember that my agent, at this point, lives in my inbox, in my laptop, and next to it, in my printer. Essentially, je do it myself. Gah, I’ve got to grow some balls. Proverbially.

* Bekah Brunstetter does not really know Ashton Kutcher, nor has she ever met him. This information has all been passed down through an actor (a marvelous one, at that) who knows him.

* Bekah Brunstetter does not really know anything about the industry.

Posted in LA angst, arrogant art things, famous people stuff, i am lucky, i am scared, le film, the writing of drama plays | No Comments »

chocolate sorbet

August 24th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

chocolate_sorbet.jpgShe was skeptical at first – as she was, by nature, skeptical of all things that vegans like or that or supposed to be good/better for her.But from the moment she put in her gob, she knew, oh, she knew. At only half a gram of chocolately buttfat per serving, and all of the retarded amounts of chocolateyness one could want – she knew she could eat seven times as much. So naturally, she did. 

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A roast chicken, m’lady?

August 23rd, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

robe600.jpg Steve and I did this last night. (For his birthday, I allowed him to be a total nerd.) (Okay. I was a giant nerd, too.) There is not much else I get would get on a bus to Jersey for (ew) but it was totally worth it.  The whole shebang is money. I think the appeal is that parents can go with their kids and get completely tanked, and this okay.  Part feast, part drama play, part sound/lights spectacular, I firmly recommend doing this odd, odd thing.   Let’s just say that I am now the proud owner of a ceramic Knight mug. Let’s also say that you stuff your gob with tomato bisque and spare ribs while (most likely homosexual) knights joust at each other, and Horses prance about rythymically. Get ye to Lyndhurst New Jersey, to the castle betwixt the parking lot, or what have you!

Posted in i am lucky, life, theater | No Comments »

fsshhhh

August 19th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

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I officially own my first Free People Dress (purchased like 80 percent off, of course.) Look at how pensively I sport it.

I have learned of this prestigious brand from the likes of Blaine and Carrie – but never knew what the big to do was until I put this number on in the awkward community dressing room at Loeman’s. Um, I may never take it off. Apparently, in terms of this dress, being a ‘free’ person entails sporting a frock with fishes upon it. Oh, sundresses.

Posted in what I'm wearing | No Comments »

the godfather

August 18th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

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Ahhhhhh I just watched it for the first time ever. Don’t judge.  (Now I finally understand the approximately 800 godfather references that have furrowed my eyebrows throughout my life.)

I am so thoroughly wowed and stoked I could blow somebody’s brains out. Hang onto your horseheads. I’m gonna make you an offer you can’t refuse.

Posted in arrogant art things, famous people stuff, le film | No Comments »

butt olympiad

August 17th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

Oh, the Olympics. Dog sitting once again on the Upper West Side, i find myselc abandoning all responsibilities to take in the flat screen and a mirage of summery sports.

An observation: while boys may watch the Olypmics for antiquated man-reasons, girls have a whole other motive alltogether. That’s right. The buttlympics. Jealous, observing, we spitefully (and objectively) discern whose butt is superior to our own, and why.

Though I have to say, my tendency towards the obsessive taking of spinning classes has increased the overall quality of my butt – Any olypmic butt is far superior to that of an average citizen.

The volleyball butt,

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The gymnast butt,

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Swimmy butt,

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and the root of my most intense envy, runny butt.

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Arguably, if I were super serious, I could spend the next five years at the gym, lifting and squatting and crunching things. I, too, certainly, could have a runny butt.

(Ew. She said runny butt.)

Or maybe instead I’ll just watch the Olympics while the dog licks my belly button. Maybe I’ll just do that.

Posted in Uncategorized, what i am NOT wearing, whining | No Comments »

an intricate series of Lies

August 14th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

he-kexin2-050308_392.jpgShe is not a nine year old.  avacado.jpgThat is not an avacado.  mad-men.jpg This show is bad.My blog is profound.  

Posted in arrogant art things, factual smarts | No Comments »

just look

August 12th, 2008 by Bekah Brunstetter

 Adoring fanbase, I’d like you to meet the longest blog post in the history of personkind. At least in my book.

I tripped so hard. I mean, you know, I went someplace. And it was great.

I ventured with Steve to his home turf of Maple Valley, 30 minutes outside of Seattle. We ventured there, and to Portland (um, amazing,) as well as to Yakima (eastern washington) for one heck of a family reunion.

The trip began with an extremely jet lagged roust about Seattle, in which we crammed the city’s best into one stumbly fantastic day:

The Seattle public library with giant red hall to bathroom thing:

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A tour of the city’s underground (the place burnt to the ground in the late 1800′s; instead of, you know, cleaning up, they built over it.) A chipper tour guide was happy to lead this tourist through the muck.

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Behold, the Space Needle. All Spacey and needle-y. Not pictured are the Science fiction museum, where one can gaze thoughtfully at the life-size replicas of Yoda and marvel at the tininess of authentic Star Wars dress things; and the Experience Music Project where one can view nearly every outfit Hendrix sweat through.

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Next, we were joined by Steve’s family. It was then imperative to play mini-golf, which Some of us took very seriously.

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It was then imperative to ride the ferris wheel. Some of us were scared.

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Nextly, we (Steve, Steve’s family, my sideboob and I) ventured to the top of the Space needle just in time for a stellar sunset!

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We then dined on fresh fishy dishes in the rotating restaurant -

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and topped the dinner off with a dessert that smoked like so. (It’s dry ice. Don’t freak out. It’s not REALLY not fire.)

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The next day, we ventured to Southern Washington to visit Steve’s grandparents in the nursing home (pictures not provided, for obvious reasons.) We stopped at his uncle’s house for dinner, where Someone beat his Son in ping pong, like, Hard.  (Also to be noted downstage right is Jake, the family dog. He is blue. No, he really is.)

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His uncle’s house boasted the most impressive overgrown swimming pool I have ever seen.

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After dinner, in celebration of the superbly beautiful day, we shot Guns. I hit the target once. Take That, Brothers Brunstetter.

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From there, we headed off the Portland, OR – where neither of us had ever been. With no real plans besides getting lost and getting to know the city we’d heard so much about, we selected a random hotel which turned out to be quite aesthetically pleasing.

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Steve called a good friend from college, and before we knew it, we were neck deep in a dive bar: $4 cocktails, go-go dancers dangling from the ceiling.

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The next day, we fought the Tired of the previous night’s debauchery. I took a small nap on an anonymous counter.

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We wandered around (it is only the best wandering city EVER) and finally made our way up to Washington Park, which sits above the city and holds a fantastic rose garden.

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Driving home later, Steve manned it up and ran against traffic, through the grass, to retrieve the gas cap to his Mother’s car, which took off into the wind when we sped away from the most Nastiest Subway ever.

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The next day, we took off to Eastern Washington for Steve’s family reunion in Yakima, a sort of desert-ish place. To get there, you are forced to spend an hour driving through THE MOST AMAZING MOUNTAINS EVER. Ho, hum. Life is so hard. We stopped here because it was pretty, and perhaps because we had to pee.

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The family reunion was at a charming little camp ground thing, which was brand new to me, having never been camping save nights in my own backyard. Activities included eating, eating, chatting, messing with the irksomely bratty little girl pictured below, playground-ing, and malciously attacking the ducks.

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The next evening, we took a red eye out of Seattle which left at Sunset. The whole time I was in Seattle it was a bit hazy – I kept asking, where the heck is Mt. Ranier?! Never got to see it, UNTIL -

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See that? Freaking amazing. God bless America.

Don’t worry. I have no serious aspirations for travel journalism.

Posted in Uncategorized, vacay's | No Comments »

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