Come Check Me Out! The Rebel Deb Will Be Appearing at the Sandpiper in Atlanta -- this THURSDAY!

Xoxo,

Rebel Deb

This Week's Celeb Rebel Deb? Winnie Cooper!

If you were a boy growing up in the late '80s or early '90s, odds are you had a crush on Danica McKellar. She played Winnie Cooper, the object of Fred Savage's obsession on "The Wonder Years." The nostalgia-fueled sitcom has been off the air since '93, but Ms. McKeller still has legions of fans. Today, most of them are heartbroken. Their fair Winnie is officially off the market.

Yep, this past weekend, Danica got married. The nuptials caused a huge surge in Search. Men pushed queries on "danica mckellar married" and "winnie cooper married" through the roof. McKellar, who is now an author and mathematician, also saw queries rise on her famed photo spread for Stuff Magazine. Searches on the groom, composer Mike Verta, also hit a high note. Not surprisingly, the majority of Danica's lookups came from male Gen-Xers.

But it wasn't just the bride who saw a boon in Search. The maid of honor got some love as well. Danica's sister, Crystal McKellar, was in the wedding party. Crystal is best known for playing Kevin's ex-girlfriend turned archrival, Becky Slater. She memorably punched Kevin in the stomach after he broke up with her. Fans of the show haven't forgotten about the oft-spurned Becky. After news of the wedding hit, queries surged on "crystal mckellar photos."

According to E! Online, Mr. Savage (now a director of dubious talents) didn't attend the wedding, but his TV parents, Dan Lauria and Alley Mills, were there. No word on Josh Saviano, who played Kevin's best friend, Paul Pfeiffer. Regardless, queries surged on the Pfeif. Also spiking: the popular urban legend that states that Mr. Saviano and shock-rocker Marilyn Manson are actually one and the same. They're not, but the truth is a lot scarier: Saviano is now a lawyer.


xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Maybe We DID Start the Fire....?

Yesterday, my apartment building caught on fire.

I shit you not, my friends.

At about 2pm, I’m sitting quietly at my desk – happily enjoying a rerun of “Working Girl” on AMC and scratching my puppy, Jax’s, belly – when BAM! BAM! BAM!

I hear something loud and slick and rubbery fall outside my window.

At first, I thought it was construction outside. Or maybe a cab driver had blown his tire. Could be anything – this is New York, after all, and things get pretty noisy around here.

Only then, I heard the running. Footsteps outside my door – running up and down the stairwell. Then shouting. And then finally…

I smelled the smoke.

I finally looked outside, and there they were: THREE full-sized fire trucks, right outside my window! And debris falling down from above, bouncing off the walls and landing on the fire escape.

I felt like Chicken Little – the sky was falling!

I wasn’t sure what to do… I’d never been caught in a fire before… and so I did whatever seemed sensible at the time:

I PANICKED!

Then, after a brief freak-out, I grabbed Jax, my beloved computer, and a coat and threw open my apartment door…

Only to find the doorway – and the entire stairwell – covered in long black firemen’s hose!

Jax was immediately on guard. The hose was moving and pulsating with water, which made him bark and growl. He was just as freaked as I – now trapped inside our apartment by the huge hose. Finally, I crawled under a kink in the rubber and forced him to follow me. We ran down the flights of stairs, then finally out the door…

Where a huge crowd of on-lookers were staring, taking pictures… and some, even crying.

It was rainy and cold outside, and I felt lucky to be alive. That’s when I finally saw the fireman and cops.

I went up to one of them and demanded, “Why wasn’t the building evacuated?!”

“It was.”

“Um, I live on the second floor, and I only got out because I took it upon myself to get out.” I said. Then the Cop just sortof shrugged his shoulders and walked away.

Then, a fireman came up to me and asked him the same question – why didn’t anyone evacuate the building?

“Why should we?” he answered. “People self-evacuate.”

O.MI.GAWD.

I almost laughed!

“What if I were a seven-year-old child? Or a dog? Do you think I would’ve known to self-evacuate?”

“Oh, “ he said. “That’s true.”

DUH squared?

The NYFD has got to be the most inept in the world. And the NYPD isn’t much better.
Moral of my story: Don’t get caught in a fire. And whatever you do – don’t expect the fire department to save you!

Xoxo,

Rebel Deb

The Crazies are Everywhere!

Two days ago, on my flight from New York back to North Carolina, I was sitting on the tarmac in seat 11F. For two whole hours. Minding my business, like any good frustrated frequent-flyer. Good thing I'd also packed an egg-salad sandwich and some organic green tea to ride me over. But as soon as I took them out and started to lunch...

There they were: The Crazy Couple in seats 11A and C.

Every five minutes, the Wife would pull out her cell phone and push speed dial. Inevitably, the same "I'm not here, can you please leave a message..." recording would come on. (I know this because they had the volume turned up so loud that EVERYONE could hear it.) Then, she would pass the phone to her Husband, who'd sing the same inaudible, random song into the phone -- full of nonsensical words from no language I'm familiar with. A few seconds later, he would hang up the phone.... only to start the whole process over again in another five minutes.

Were these two stalking somebody? Were they singing a lullaby to some newborn childchild? If so, it wasn't a song I'd ever heard -- and it didn't even have any kind of soothing rythym. It just sort of started and stopped with no ryhme or reason.

The next day was even crazier.

At about noon, I check my email to find some rambling, intense email from a girl (I'll call her "Big Nose"), whom I barely knew back in college.

Big Nose was once pretty famous around Phi Kappa Psi fraternity. Back then, she and I once dated the same guy (at different times), and I only knew her through all the jealous, nasty rumors she spread about me.

Long story short, about a year or so ago, I saw her picture on a mutual friend's Facebook page and befriended her, simply to be nice... to be the "bigger person," as it were.

She accepted my request, but I never contacted her. I just left it as my polite attempt to be civil to a former evil slut.

Sounds simple enough, right? After all, it's just Facebook. No need to freak out and get all crazy, right?

WRONG.

Apparently, a full year after I Facebook-friend her, Big Nose decides to go crazy and email me a two-page testimonial, describing how much she's now "let go of the past," and how she "doesn't care" about how we'd once dated the same guy (though, back then, she was so jealous that she started calling me "Shiksa Barbie").

Her email-tome went on and on about how "over the past" she was now... and how she remembered very little of college -- "only a few amusing stores," she said. Which, I'm sure, is true -- considering she was probably post-coital for most of it.

Also, given that the reason why my ex broke up with her (according to him) was because she slept with his entire fraternity... and given her supposed habit of making "sex pacts" with guys (like another college boyfriend of mine, whom she made promise to sleep with her before we all graduated. This never happened, but still... tre gross, no?)...

Considering all the things she's "forgotten" about college, I'm sure "amusing stories" are probably the least of Big Nose's worries.

And, of course, emailing me all her random, blathering feelings at 1:30 AM clearly demonstrates how "over" the past she now is.

What's going on? Why are all the crazies coming out lately? Is it just me, or is the economy turning up the crazy in normally sane (or maybe just slightly strange) folks?

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Doggies Say the Darndest Things

I haz a puppy. His named is Jackson Smith. My boyfriend and I call him "Jax," for short.

Jax is about 1.5 years old, fully black, with a wet, healthy nose, big, floppy paws...

And a HUGE appetite. No joke, our little man weighs about 75 lbs!

This is mostly my fault, I think. I'm an indulgent doggie-mommy. I over-treat. He looks at me? I give him a Milkbone. He whines cause he's bored? I share my chicken cutlet.

Every time, his eyes say the same thing...

"Mom, you're totally boring. And you're making me fat. The other dogs laugh at me, the fat kid, whenever we go to the park."

Plus, I'm writing full-time, so I spend most days locked behind my desk. As a result, Jax, needless to say, gets restless and starts chewing things up out of boredom. When this gets old, he eats to entertain himself. And since we live in the East Village of Manhattan, we don't exactly have backyard he can play in. As a trade-off, I take breaks from working to cuddle with him on the couch, and I often send him to play at Happy Paws, the local doggie center, for a few hours each week, and Justin and I take him to the dog park at Tompkins Sqaure most nights...

But this just isn't enough exercise to counter-balance his huge puppy hunger.

If only my gym had doggie treadmills! Then we'd BOTH get a well-needed workout.

Am I a selfish, overly indulgent pet-owner, or do we just need to move to suburbs and get a yard? Only time will tell.

xoxo,

Rebel Deb

Thanks for Coming, Betches!

Hey Ya'll!

Thanks so much for attending my latest Rebel Deb events -- both this past January at the LaMaMa Theatre and last night at PINK in Richmond! I SO appreciate your support!

Please contact me any time re: Rebel Debutante shows, merchandise, new up-and-coming clothing and gifts, book signings, or to join the Rebel Debutantes Facebook group.

Also, via the links below, you can check out my blog and sign up for my bi-weekly Rebel Deb Diary with updates on all upcoming readings, coupons off all merchandise, and a link to pre-order a SIGNED COPY of my book!

In the meantime -- would love to see you at another Rebel Deb event:

Thursday March 26- Sandpiper, Atlanta GA
Pre-release reading
6 pm

Thursday April 2- Gwynn's, Mt. Pleasant SC
Pre-release reading with Skirt! Magazine
6 pm

Friday April 3- Coffee to a Tea, Greenville SC
Pre-release reading
6 pm

And until then:

Stay Rebel, stay Deb -- but always stay true to yourself!

xoxo,

Anna

the Original Rebel Debutante

Beware the "Fake Girl"

There's always that one girl. Or, truly, many of them, that make me want to cringe and cry and crawl out of my skin.

And why?

Because they are undeniably, categorically FAKE.

Tonight, for instance, as I was coming out of NYU, this girl -- I'll call her, appropriately, "FG" (Fake Girl), comes up to me on the street and starts randomly asking me all sorts of polite, "friendly" questions: How are you, Anna? How've you been? I think your outline for that Grey's script is getting SOOOO much stronger!"

Meanwhile, she's been completely rude to me in every single notes session I've ever had, written mean, derrogatory things all over my scripts, and even when I tried to make peace (though I'm not exactly sure why she hates my guts) by sending her a conciliatory Facebook friend request, she denied it... twice.

Clearly, FG hates me. She's made this obvious for over a year now.

And why? I'm no so sure. My only guess is that, since she's one of those chubby brunettes from the South who grew up hating her home state, and all the blonde, blue-eyed cheerleader-types in it, she now hates me simply because I, too, am blonde, blue-eyed and Southern. Except I wasn't a cheerleader. Far from it, in fact. Yet, I'm now being the subject of fat-assed FG's rage.

Anywho...

When she started insisting on how much she now "loves" my work, and then tried to give me a HUG (of all things) at the end of our bizarro conversation... most of which involved her bullshit apologies for her bad attitude and my completely shocked responses, "Oh, well, okay, um... thanks for apologizing?"... I left the whole thing wanting to take a shower as soon as I got home.

Ugh. Why can't people just be honest with each other?

What I REALLY wanted to say was, "Thanks for whatever you're trying to say, I guess, but honestly, I don't believe you're really all that sorry for being an asshole to me. I mean, if you were me, would you believe yourself? Really? I don't think so. So, yeah, could you please stop wasting both of our time and just, ya know, go away and stop tormenting me with pettiness? Yeah. Thanks a bunch."

Moral of the story: FG's suck. And it sucks when you're so shocked by their random attempts at "sincerity" that you can't think of a witty response until a full five minutes AFTER they've slunk back under the rocks from wence they came!

xo,

Rebel Deb