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The Adventures of an Underemployed Urban Elf

Rev. Jen test drives future affordable housing options, while remaining hopeful that a recent benefit and a current gofundme.com campaign will prevent her Trolls from losing their home.  Photo by John T. Foster
Rev. Jen test drives future affordable housing options, while remaining hopeful that a recent benefit and a current gofundme.com campaign will prevent her Trolls from losing their home. Photo by John T. Foster

BY REV. JEN (rev-jen.com)  |  When I saw the envelope that had been slid under my door, a chill ran up my spine, the kind I get when I see a massive water bug or some other gross thing unwelcome in my apartment. I knew what it was. Since having my unemployment cut off, I have struggled to pay my rent. Selling off much of what I own, excluding my ass, has hardly helped. I have looked for work, pretending to be “normal” — though no amount of smoke and mirrors can conceal the fact that I’m a 42-year-old elf who suffers from hypomania, panic disorder and a skewed sense of reality.

The fact that I’ve written seven books and had five published isn’t taken into account when applying to become a Target Team Member. Despite the fact that I was recently on the cover of Time Out New York, I have approximately as much money as I did when I was seven.

Opening the dreaded envelope of doom, I saw what was expected: a date with Landlord Tenant Court and the threat of eviction. I always knew I would end up in either a straightjacket or a cardboard box. I placed the letter on the table next to my $500 overdue Con Ed bill. You can have one fridge, a single light bulb and a hairdryer you use once a week and somehow always owe 100 bucks at the end of the month. Therefore, many New Yorkers let the bills pile up, making believe gas and electricity are free. Con Ed is used to this game of make-believe, so they generally only send turn-off notices when the bill is exorbitant. And mine was. Life is Dickensian enough with electricity. I can only imagine it in the dark.

I needed a plan, money, a job, a therapist, a lawyer and a whole lot of things that seemed out of my reach. Luckily, a beer was well within reach.

A little background on my apartment: It’s on the Lower East Side and I’ve lived in it for 19 years, before the magical land below Houston was infested with people who subscribe to the Wall Street Journal, order overpriced drinks containing more than two ingredients and reenact what appears to be “Girls Gone Wild Cancun” on Ludlow Street every Friday and Saturday night. Living in a crumbling tenement hasn’t been easy.

In 2002, my kitchen ceiling collapsed. I was eating a sandwich at the time, and was already so used to crap falling apart that I calmly finished my sandwich amidst the rubble before calling my super.

In 2010, a steam pipe explosion caused by a rotted valve flooded my entire apartment while I was at work. The heat and steam were so intense that my singular cabinet fell off the wall, my paintings warped in half, my computer was destroyed and my beloved Chihuahua [Rev. Jen Junior] almost died. There are still holes in the walls and my ceiling still bears cracks the size of the San Andreas Fault. When you are rent stabilized, requests for repairs go largely ignored. Despite this, I love my apartment. The light is great for painting, the ceilings are high and my neighbors are cool. Because of its convenient Downtown location and because of my friends’ predilection for booze, it has also served as an aging youth hostel for many art stars, especially during the polar vortex (despite inefficient heat).

More importantly, it has also served as the world famous Lower East Side Troll Museum for 14 years, an undertaking that began whilst having a pint (or several) with my friend, Tony, at the old Ludlow Street Luna Lounge.

Slide show quiz: In an effort to make boys like Troll Dolls, in the 1990s the series mashed up the Trolls with what action figure brand?  © Walter Wlodarczyk
Slide show quiz: In an effort to make boys like Troll Dolls, in the 1990s the series mashed up the Trolls with what action figure brand? © Walter Wlodarczyk

“You know, Tony,” I said, “people pay good money to go to the Tenement Museum and view a place that looks exactly like my apartment but is nicer. I should take my massive Troll Doll collection, put it on shelves and invite visitors over. Like the Met, I’ll make admission a suggested donation, only I’ll make it a 3,000 dollar suggested donation and maybe some rich person will throw me a bone.”

“Great idea,” he said.

Actually, it was an insane idea — but one of my mottos is “Carry through on even the craziest ideas.” So, a few weeks later, the Troll Museum was created. It has since gotten more worldwide press than the Kardashians and has become a haven for celebrities — including actor Alan Cumming, who once marched in front of the Met with me, handing out flyers promoting the Troll Museum.

Clearly, I cannot let this important cultural institution go to ruin. Otherwise, 400 Trolls, a Chihuahua, a rescued cat, a dude and an elf will all end up on the streets. Luckily, I have friends who sometimes give me good advice (but mostly bad advice given at four in the morning). My friend, Kat, suggested I start an account on gofundme.com, which has been an excellent resource wherein I’ve been trading art for donations and have almost reached my 5,000 dollar goal. You can donate to the Troll Museum and get cool art at gofundme.com/by5bzs.

The next solution was obvious: Throw a big goddamned party. This is my solution to everything (when the steam pipe explosion happened, I threw a “Troll Hairdressing Party”). The kind folk at Cake Shop (152 Ludlow St.) provided a venue, and my celebutante friends performed — including actress and long-term Troll Museum supporter, Janeane Garofalo, along with Faceboy, The Slut Junkies, Mr. Lower East Side Matthew Silver, and more. It was an action-packed night full of fabulosity, despite my inability to afford a red carpet.

Janeane Garofalo, at the recent Save the Troll Museum Benefit Party.  © Walter Wlodarczyk
Janeane Garofalo, at the recent Save the Troll Museum Benefit Party. © Walter Wlodarczyk

Unfortunately, Landlord Tenant Court wasn’t so awesome. How does one find escape from such a nightmare? Because I never want this column to be absolutely depressing and because it’s my job to promote fun things to do, here are some suggestions on how to avoid reality.

Decked out in blue and white stripes to support Argentina, avid World Cup fans CC John and Rev. Jen are on their way to “hang out like idiots” at tolerant bro bar, Hair of the Dog.  Photo by John T. Foster
Decked out in blue and white stripes to support Argentina, avid World Cup fans CC John and Rev. Jen are on their way to “hang out like idiots” at tolerant bro bar, Hair of the Dog. Photo by John T. Foster

HAIR OF THE DOG 

(168 Orchard St. at Stanton St.)

Community Board 3 hates this place, but I love it. It is noisy and it might be viewed as a “bro bar,” but it has two very important things going for it: cheap ass drinks and working televisions that show sports. As an avid sports fan with a broken TV and not a lot of money to spend on drinks, this is vital to my survival. The bartenders there are kind — so kind, they let my friend CC John and I hang out dressed like idiots, painted in blue and white stripes, in support of Argentina, during the entirety of the World Cup. Argentina might have lost, but we won in savings. Note: Lucky Jack’s (129 Orchard, btw. Delancey & Rivington) is still my fave bar — but unless I’m going to move a cot into the place and actually start sleeping in the bar, I have to limit my hours spent there.

They love that dirty water: Rev. Jen and CC John are cleansed, spiritually at least, by a dip in the East River.  Photo by John T. Foster
They love that dirty water: Rev. Jen and CC John are cleansed, spiritually at least, by a dip in the East River. Photo by John T. Foster

SWIMMING  IN THE EAST RIVER

A lot of people say that the East River is filthy. Guess what? So am I. The East River can only improve me. CC John and I recently tested the waters to find out. Maybe we were trying to drown ourselves over Argentina losing in overtime, but what we discovered is that the East River gets a bad rap. Plunging in, fully clothed at our friend, Jessica Delfino’s album launch party (on the shore of the river), we were pleasantly surprised, as the water seemed to cleanse us of negativity. Maybe my landlord should go for a swim.

THE ALLEN STREET MEDIAN STRIP

This is an underused venue. There are benches you can sit on and enjoy the end of the most perfect summer ever while carrying on conversations with questionable characters. Just don’t take my bench!

Sure cure for the blues: “Bayside! The Musical!” has “Saved by the Bell” star Dustin Diamond — and much more — going for it.   Photo by Matt Greenstein
Sure cure for the blues: “Bayside! The Musical!” has “Saved by the Bell” star Dustin Diamond — and much more — going for it. Photo by Matt Greenstein

“BAYSIDE! THE MUSICAL!”

(at Theater 80 St. Marks | baysidethemusical.com)

Personally, I never watched “Saved by the Bell.” I was too busy going to college and taking LSD — but even if you’ve never watched the show, this musical is hilarious, well-choreographed and acted. And it stars Dustin Diamond, who played Screech on the show and went on to make a salacious porn video!

GETTING’ A GOOD HAIRCUT

(Misin Shin Salon, 122 Orchard St., btw. Delancey & Rivington)

These guys cut hair as if they were performing brain surgery. Every strand is valued. Because they knew I was broke and in need of fabulousness, I was thrown a freebie. Normally, I would be traumatized if someone cut off four inches of my mane (being a Leo), but my hair looks frigging awesome. There’s nothing like a superficial solution to internal problems. I now look like an existential, aging “That Girl” and it suits me perfectly.

BOSTON

I know I’m supposed to write only about Downtown NYC, but something very strange happened to me this summer: I went to Boston three times. I had never been there in my life — but in rapid succession, I was invited. The first time was for a dog-sitting gig, the second was to go to my friend, Tom Tenney’s high school reunion and the third was for a wedding. The high school reunion was by far the wackiest event, as Tom requested I dress as my male alter-ego “Steverino” in order to freak out his former classmates. My identity as a woman was quickly discovered when my ‘stache fell off, but the event was much like living a “Three’s Company” episode. The dogs I watched were awesome, as was the wedding where I was surrounded by trees, flowers, smart people and my BF. I never thought I’d say this, but I don’t hate Boston that much. Maybe we should all try to get along.