Here’s one shot from me from the TimberBrit shoot this weekend. Found a wig!! In the meantime, I’m going CRAZY getting ready for this show… like I need to get off my computer RIGHT NOW…..

I’m off to spend the day with my monkey in search of a blond Britney wig for a photoshoot tomorrow. I’ll post pics later.

“So, like, I just can’t come when I’m on top anymore…. It’s kind of like during my undergrad when I lost my trill…….”

Thai iced coffee comes out Melly’s nose……

At DC comics, where the previous executive assistant was apparently fired because she's already been completely disabled in the system….. Translation: it's gonna take at least a day or two to generate a new username and pasword and get my computer mapped and back on the system…. Good thing I have about 50 comic books on my desk…..

And the wonder woman is on my wall, and yeah, I have my own office….complete with a V for Vendetta mask on my desk, it's kinda hot….. So is the poster of Viggo Mortenson on my wall… Alla the History of Violence….. Mmmmmmm
Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

I know this looks like an image someone drew on a facebook wall, or something from MST3K, but believe it or not, this is a new Russian designed robotic suitcase, complete with infrared technology, light sensors and gyroscope. It uses a card that you keep on your person and follows you around like a puppy dog in love, or a Russian mobster you can’t shake…It can detect stairs and objects without bumping into them, won’t fall over, and if stolen without your card, emits an obnoxious alarm… and breaks kneecaps, dismembers assailants and scatters fingertips and teeth to the far corners of the world. My only question is at $2,000 bucks why can’t it make me a martini??…yowzas! I’d like to see it handle the 59th Street platform at rush hour, but my guess is if you can afford a $2,000 suitcase, you’re not taking the A train. It will be available in 2009, which gives me plenty of time to save up for it, because my $75 purple beauty has definitely seen better days.

Via RawFeed

Dear Mr Bishop,

Please stop talking. You have been preaching for 30 minutes, and I still am not sure what you are talking about. I don't really go to church here, but they pay me nicely to sing pieces that are kind of pretty so I do…. In exchange for this service that I provide, I get to sit in the bank of the church in a choir loft where I can sleep, or blog, or read the paper for twenty minutes while someone up front preaches…you keep it short, we sing pretty. We sort of have this unwritten code… But you sir, are getting dangerously close to the 35 minute mark…. And that's not cool.

We in the choir feel that we should have been given fair warning of you not honoring our agreement. This is the west village, we have brunch to get to, mimosas to drink, shopping to attend to, s&m sales… Don't you want to put on your fabulously pointy hat and get Eggs Benedict with us ? You can bring your little scepter thing too, it's cool…. But we need to get a move on.

40 minutes now…. Ok, any longer and you're gonna pick up the tab..yes, I believe we are about to stage a mutiny in the choir loft. We will walk out, forcing the organist to finish out the rest of the service without us…. Have you heard his variations on a theme from the Flinstones??? Of the nine of us, I believe four of us are still awake….

Ok, we're making a coffee run, since apparently we have a lot of time on our hands. Todd's gonna grab me a dark roast and a pumpkin loaf…. Which i might add, if I had consumed before your sermon, may have helped me actually pay attention to your ecstatic ramblings….ok they're bringing you your hat now….. That's a strong hint…. Take it!!

Thank you

Mellissa Hughes

Agnostic soprano in the choir loft

PS you are officially uninvited to brunch.

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Why must you make pretty sparkly things??????

The little voices in my head are screaming Buy me!! Buy me, I'll make you happy !!!!! Buy me, I look so nice next to your thrift store purse!!!!!!! Buy me, look how your Birkenstocks cower to my sex appeal!! ! Buy me and you'll be a star!!

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

Thursday October 25th

9:15 pm Mafoo and Melly order half anchovie half plain pie….
9:43 pm the first doseage of cold medicine is distributed…. Melly’s Lost Marathon begins…
10:50 pm break for milk and oreo’s

Friday October 26th
12:25 am Melly’s heart breaks after it becomes abundantly clear that Charlie must die….. Why, why, why?????
2am cold medicine and sleepytime… Except Melly wants to play, “which Lost character are you?”
8:00 am alarm….. Snooze…
8:10 am alarm, coffee for Mafoo
8:40 call contractor about gig… They want me even if I have to miss rehearsal on the 9th… Yay!! Money!!
9:00 am coffee and google reader time for Melly
9:30 call from conductor of gig… Can’t use me if I can’t make rehearsal on the 9th… Boo!! No money!!
11:00am to 2 pm… Laundry. I’d like to say that I spent this time in deep reflection or meditation, or reading a intriguing novel, or balancing my checkbook, or even scouring my bathtub…… But I spent it surfing the net for Lost conspiracy theory sites…
2:30pm buy sandwich at subway
2:40 on F train studying balls hard score
2:43 creepy dude wants. To talk to me about my balls hard score……. Balls hard???? Why do we say this????
3:18 transfer to 7 train
3:29 arrive grand central terminal
3:32 pm train to Stamford
4:51 arrive Stamford
4:54 get on train jack’s on as jack’s daddy gets off, no high fives are exchanged, but there is a passing of an apple juice box…
5:42 arrive grand central…. Again….
5:56 4 train…
6:07 6 train
6:14 F train … Good karma…
6:40 arrive at babysitters house drop off jack..
6:45 leave teary-eyed monkey, and wipe my own eyes as I sprint for the F train… Again..
6:54 F train….. Where’s the karma??
7:10 pm A train ….. Better karma
7:37 miss the 1 train…
7:40 1 train…. Chances of coffee pre-recording diminishing by the second…. And sooo not warmed up….
7:54 arrive….. No coffee for Melly
My life as a gig whore continues…..

You can't really tell by the quality of the cell phone pic, but that is the jay street/borough hall station f track…. On fire.

Matt and I were coming back from a Haydn concert I sang with the Clarion Music Society at 99th and Amsterdam. Although we were a little but tipsy, it still seemed a little off that we smelled smoke on the platform when we got off the A, but no one seemed that alarmed at the fire in the tunnel!!!! A girl ran up to the booth area to tell someone and Matt and I decided that before we got the hell out of there we needed to take a picture. I got as close as I could, and as soon as I took this one a huge chunk of debris fell onto the track and we booked it.

Precisely one bus ride, a sausage egg and cheese on a biscuit and a chocolate cream donut later, we decided to hit the ATM and cab it home…

I think we left Abbey Pub around midnight and finally went to bed at 3….this is why brooklynites don't hang in the uws, we need to factor track fires, subway stabbings, dudes masturbating on us, and natural disasters into our travel time…

Sent via BlackBerry from T-Mobile

A cold beer, a good book, a hot sudsy bathtub, and good tunes….. mmmmmmmmmhmmmmmmm……

Seriously, I had a pretty shitty week. I’ve spent far too much energy hunting down a check for a gig that I spent far too much energy organizing rehearsals for, and as a result of that missing check and the fact that I handed over a shitload of money that I worked my ass off to make to my new landlord, I’ve been REAL poor, like my checks were bouncing off the walls poor, and think I may have gone 24 hours without eating between yesterday morning and this afternoon… I also dealt with some real petty bullshit in a rehearsal this week that was so incredibly childish and immature it does not warrant describing, and I was called a slut while walking down my street. Kensington does not share the same appreciation for my love of fishnets.

I still haven’t figured out how to be superwoman yet. This week I had myself pretty convinced that I was a shitty Mom, a crap-tastic lover, a fair-weather friend, a scatterbrained sister, an invisible daughter and a dangerously close to being out-of-work singer. I was so down on myself that tonight, when an A train (which had no business being where I was, and confused a lot of passengers besides myself) appeared at the Broadway-Lafayette stop , I sort of wondered if I was supposed to throw myself in front of it….. Ok, not really.

At the end of the day, my bathtub doesn’t judge me, and it’s amazing how good you can make yourself feel when for one moment you are the only person whose needs you are responsible for…….

But ya know what? That’s the thing about relationships, whether they be mother-daughter, friend to friend or the harder kind…. it’s always easier to take care of your own emotional and physical needs because they’re your own. It’s quite another to undertake the well-being of a friend struggling with depression, an autistic son, or a relative struggling with cancer… But it’s a real lonely life when we don’t reach out and try to share in each others joys and sorrows.

So tonight, I retreat to my bathtub, and pull the covers up over my head, and remind myself that it’s okay to fail day in and day out at life, because I’m still in the game, and I refuse to meander mindlessly through the motions. Tomorrow’s another day, and I’ll still be playing.