NYC vs. LA

For those of you who don’t know… I took a week-long trip to LA.

It all started when I got an executive callback for the NBC show, The Voice, back in August.


I got a callback from The Voice.

I flew out to LA last Sunday, determined to show NBC that I was the best damn singer/performer that they’d ever seen!

Well. They cut me.

I was shocked, especially since I gave my best audition to date, but that’s show business people!

The real story of this blog post starts when I asked miss Christina Brehm to pick me up from the hotel after I got cut.

The producers (who were incredibly nice and AWESOME) were nice enough to delay my flight so that I could spend the rest of the week with my best friend on the West Coast.

And then began one of the CRAZIEST, most memorable, half weeks of my life!

Let’s just say it was so nuts that I feel like it’s best left as a big secret to live on in infamy in my own brain.

But for those of you who want hints as to what this infamy entailed….

Here is “Shannon Allen’s guide to NYC vs. LA”

We’ll start off easy.

1. In LA, you drive. In NYC, you walk, take the subway… or if you have expendable cash… take a cab.

2. In LA, we have beaches. In NYC, you have Central Park.

3. In LA, you speak in highways and exits (Get off the 101 and take Mullholand, to blah blah blah blah.. (I have no clue). In NYC you speak in cross streets (drop me off at 59th and Broadway)

4. In LA, everyone smokes weed. In NYC… everyone smokes weed.

5. In LA, everyone is a bartender/actress/model/musician. In NYC, everyone is a bartender/broadway hopeful/artist/musician.

6. In LA, you have big, high gates. in NYC, you have doormen.

7. In LA, you have traffic. In NYC, you have train delays

These are some of the more obvious differences.

Now here is “Shannon Allen’s PERSONAL guide to NYC vs. LA”

1. In NYC, all my friends are gay. In LA, all my friends are lesbians. (Hey… I’m just a Queen Queen, what can I say??)

2. In NYC, I’m the “cool” girl FRIEND who watches football with the guys, talk politics, and music. In LA, I’m the cute, mysterious girl from New York who works in the music industry.

3. In NYC, I buy my own drinks or go to the gay bars when they have open bar. In LA, boys (and girls) buy me drinks… LOTS of drinks…

4. In NYC, I have yet to have my first New York date. In LA, I met a boy who wants to take me on a date when he comes to visit.

5. In NYC, I have yet to have my first New York kiss. In LA, I had…. a few kisses…

6. In NYC, everyone likes that I can identify my surroundings by cross streets (or else it’s a pain in the ASS to meet up with friends.) In LA, everyone rolls their eyes when I talk about that place on 101 and Broadway that has the BEST BRUNCH in town.

7. In NYC, I drink whiskey, beer, and wine, then go out at 4 a.m. for a fresh slice of New York style pizza. In LA, I drink cocktails… and whiskey, beer and wine… and get sick.

8. In NYC, I live in the “poor” part of town. In LA, no one fucking knows me. Hell! I live in Beverly Hills if that’s what you wanna hear! 🙂

9. In NYC, I take a walk in Central Park, and see a bum shitting on a tree. In LA, I walk a canyon and am almost on the show where Betty White has old people prank young people. Fucking NUTS!

And finally… my favorite comparison (although there can never be a comparison between these two entities) between NYC and LA…

10. In NYC, my #1 bitty/partner-in-crime/singing buddy on the subway/beer drinking bimbo/fruit fly dancing/shake our asses in the street and not give a shit/wing-woman is Miss Jennifer Chianesi AKA Lady Nesi.  In LA, my #1 bestie/beautiful blonde babe/make me feel okay when I embarrass myself/watch ridiculous chick flicks/stand up for what we believe in till we die/dancing divas/walking around the city telling people who don’t like us to “FUCK OFF”/cry on each other’s shoulders/hold each others’ hair back/wing-woman is Miss Christina Brehm AKA Brehmy.

I wish I could carry them both in my pockets, along with all my other best friends from around the country.

And SPEAKING of best friends… don’t think that the rest of you aren’t loved!!! You know at my wedding I’m going to have just as many bridesmaids as bridesmen. Hay Hay!

Love the bi-coastal, big booty, babe who can pick up guys around the world, Lady Business chick,

Shannon Fucking Allen.


Shit My Friends Say: 2nd Edition

Here are the best quotes of the week:

“Actually I’m in Manhattan! I went to a spa and got a facial. Wow… I’m so gay…” (I heart my gay boys!!)

“What IS that… a condom on his head???”

“I tried to poop at work and the toilet wouldn’t flush and I was like, ‘What am I gonna do?” So I though in my head: ‘my co-workers can’t see my poop! So I’m gonna have to scoop it out with my hands and throw it in a clear plastic bag…'”

“There is nothing like having a girl’s thighs try to crack your head like a walnut while going down on her. It’s EXHILARATING!”

(While I’m using mouthwash) “Shannon! Titty Fart!” (I almost spit out my mouthwash!)

“I had to WASH myself after that.  We didn’t fuck for like… 3 weeks!”


(on a voicemail) Hey Shan… so I just went to call in my prescriptions to CVS and I looked at the bottle and it said Shannon Allen and I was like… HOLY SHIT! I’ve been taking your pills for the last week because we take the same pill and the same milligrams.  Whoopsie! Good thing we are on the same pills! So if I start acting crazy, like Shannon Allen, you know why!

Glad to know that my friends and I can share pills….

Shannon Allen: The girl with crazy friends… who are on the same pills as me…


Shit my Friends Say

I’m going to try to do an edition of “Shit my Friends Say” on a weekly basis.

Here you go.

“Don’t run over a homo! That’s a hate crime!”

“Everyone has a shit story…”

“We are NOT watching anymore reality TV tonight… I need to regain my manhood…”

“I shit behind the Rocky statue. There was a couple getting engaged… and I’m shitting on a statue…”

Quoting Stefon: “New York’s hottest night club is bbbbbbbbbbbbbRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRBBBBBBBBBBBbbbbbbbbbbbb”

Me: “Why are these people crying??? It’s so dumb.” Roommate: “BECAUSE THEY ARE THE WORST PEOPLE ON EARTH. THERY ARE THE REASON EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD HATES US.” Me: Okay… I’m still watching it anyway”

Me: (show my roommate a shirt with a rock and a star on it that says “Rock Star”) “I think this is SO funny! I bought it for like four dollars at H&M because it’s so cute and funny.”  Roommate: “You think that’s funny, but not Two and a Half Men?!?!   Me: yes.

Quoting the viral YouTube video: “I love cats. I love every kind of cat. I want to hug them all, but I can’t. Can’t hug every cat. Can’t hug every cat.”

“The night is young, Shan… the night is young…”

“Should we split a bottle of wine. (Pause) YES!”

“Fairytail?? That has to be the gayest sounding gay bar ever. Let’s go!” -one of my gay friends 🙂 (and yes… that’s how it’s spelled)

My friends are gems 🙂


Diamonds, Studs, Roaches and Bugs plus one DAMN good guitar player!

I tried to make the last part of my title rhyme, but that didn’t work…

Anyway… This post is basically the highlights of quite a crazy week! My life has continued to be a spider web of crazy happenings, all weaving into one eventful, hilarious and jam-packed week filled with some interesting highs and lows!

Side note: Sometimes I don’t mention names of people on my blog, because I’m not sure if they want their “lady businesses” exposed.  Until they tell me it’s okay… I won’t refer to some people by name. 🙂

High: Obtaining the Brazilian visa for my boss.

I think my blog post about this says enough.  SHIT! Glad that’s over.  Luckily I have an AMAZING boss who was incredibly understanding through the entire process.

I’m tired of talking about it. moving on.

High: Seeing a good friend from Berklee after not seeing him for months! Plus… dancing the night away at several gay bars!

It’s always great to see an old friend! Meeting up with him was like we never spent time apart. Is anyone surprised that I ended up at a bunch of gay bars??? Neither am I.  🙂

Guess it’s just my lot in life to be surrounded by sexy men… although I can never pursue them. Sigh…

I don’t think I have ever sweated so much as I did at the gay bars.  Our entire group of friends was the LIFE of the party.  We were singing, posing, laughing, whipping out hair back and forth and doing runway walks that would make Tyra jealous! We definitely had  quite the Kiki, and I was surprised to know that I knew more about gay life in New York than my gay friend from Berklee! Don’t worry… I will teach him my ways! 🙂 And introduce him to many, many sexy men.

I think I want to become a gay match-maker.  I can see the reality show title reading “The Fruit Fly Matchmaker.”

(In a dramatic voice) “Watch as Shannon Allen, self-proclaimed Princess of Pride and Fruit Fly, as she sets up the sexiest men of New York City… WITH EACH OTHER!”

I’d watch it 😉

Low: Although I was happy to see my future roommate, waking up at 5:30 a.m. to let him in the door after dancing the night away, was not so much fun!

When my phone rang at 5:30 a.m. I was so delirious and I probably looked like a sweaty hooker with my raccoon eye makeup and Dark Knight Joker-looking smeared lipstick.  Not to mention my messed up high bun that I sleep in because my apartment is 100 degrees.  I think I must have thrown a pillow at him, and flopped back onto my bed.  I knew we had to be up in a few hours to go to apartment showings, so I went to sleep like a rich housewife on sleeping pills.

Low: Seeing some terribly overpriced apartments and dealing with shady brokers.

The next morning, we woke up and got ready to head downtown for a few apartment showings.

We had a broker basically lie to us about the initial price, and were shown four apartments that were so out of our price range, I wanted to barf.  Not to mention the vapid group of girls who came on the tours with us, who said “like” every other word and complained about everything.  We got the fuck out of there ASAP and headed to our second apartment showing.

When we got to the apartment, there was a line outside of potential renters.  This apartment was a little over our budget, but we figured it wouldn’t help to see what this two bedroom looked like.

It was a closet.

A fucking closet.

My first apartment in Boston was bigger than this apartment.  And that thing was TI-NY! Again, I almost threw up.

High: Meeting an honest, AMAZING broker, who later showed me some AMAZING apartments!

Even though the apartment seach was looking bleak, we met an incredibly nice broker who gave us the harsh reality of looking for apartments in New York. I appreciated her honesty, as well as her willingness to work with our lack-luster budget.   We gave her a realistic wish list, and she promised to show me apartments on Monday, since I had taken a few days off work to get all my ducks in a row for my permanent move to New York.

High: The Upper, Upper East Side Supper Club

My ex boyfriend’s old roommate was born and raised in Queens, and he invited my new roommate and I to his girlfriend’s place for a dinner party.  I am SUCH a fan of his cooking, and this dinner party did not disappoint.  I made some new friends, ate some good food, and had some GOOD mint juleps! My new roommate and I are now officially a part of the Upper, Upper East Side Supper Club!

High: Spending all of Saturday night listening to live music and dancing.

After a delicious dinner, we headed down to the village to see some live music.  We went to about 3 different clubs before hitting up a bar with a live cover band.  This band was incredibly talented and reminded me a lot of what my nights used to be like in Boston, listening to hit songs from across the decades. Drinks were reasonably priced and the lead male singer was killing it!

Low: Douche bag men at the last bar.

After the cover band I really liked went off stage, another cover band took their place.  It was a 90s cover band, which in normal circumstance I would be psyched about, but then all the bros showed up at the bar.  I felt like such a loser next to all these men who would NEVER be interested in some poor girl with cut off jean shorts, purple chucks, and a screen printed tee shirt.  No… these men were douche-tastic idiots who took one look at me, and drunkenly fumbled around to the hot girls, all the while almost knocking my whiskey diet right out of my hand and all over my shirt.

Now, I’m not attempting to be self-deprecating here, because I’m well aware that I’m a decent-looking human being, but it was SO glaringly obvious that these men were not interested in anything to do with me… and honestly… I’m pretty much putting the whole looking-for-a-guy thing WAY on the back burner for now.  I’ll stick to my gay friends who get me drinks, NOT spill them all over me, and dance with me, no matter if I’m in stilettos or chucks!

See you later straight boys, I’m off to have a kiki!

High: Having a mid-day wine kiki at my roommate’s salon.

Chetan was planning on going out in drag Sunday night, and had forgotten to bring his lady business to work with him.  My new roommate and I went downtown to run several errands and to drop off Chetan’s clothes really quick.  Little did we know that we walked into the salon and were greeted with glasses of wine along with rich conversation.

My new roommie is straight, and BOY did he get schooled on gay culture! He now feels great about himself because the owner of the salon was DROOLING over him as well as giving him pointers on how to dress and act in his new city!

What we thought was going to be a quick drop off was a two hour kiki. I didn’t want to leave, but I knew I had a lot of things to get done.

High: Seeing four awesome apartments and picking out my (hopefully!!!!) new place!

The next day I went with Chetan to look at some potential apartments. My broker was again, very honest and friendly.  We saw four place, two of which I LOVED! I immediately talked to all parties involved and decided to move forward with our favorite apartment: number 3 which is currently being renovated with a NEW bathroom, NEW kitchen and two HUGE rooms! Not to mention a killer living space for parties and hangouts!

I was expecting to get this deal locked down within a few days.

Little did I know what signing a lease in New York meant…

Low: Learning how difficult it is to sign a lease.

Being New York, we expected to pay a broker fee, which sucks, but at least it was expected. Our potential new landlord want bank statements, tax forms, letters from employers, pay stubs, proof that we pay utilities, social security cards.

Should I just bend over and get it over with??? Jesus… what do they want, my first born too??????

So it’s safe to say this week I’m going to bust my ass to get all this sensitive documentation, JUST so I can be CONSIDERED for a lease.  Not to mention that my roommate’s parents and my dad are acting as guarantors and there are background checks subjected to all leasing parties.  Great…

Low: Chasing around a cockroach (that we later found out was a water bug) around my room at 3 in the morning when Jen and I got up to take cough medicine.

That night I went to bed early, but woke up after feeling a little chest congestion.  Jen was feeling bad too, so we both were taking our respective cough medications when I spotted THE LARGEST BUG I’VE EVER SEEN crawling on our wall.  It was obviously some kind of roach-like thing, but we were later told it was too big to be a roach and was probably a water bug.  It makes sense, since our shower has been leaking, and it probably plopped out of the shower and scuttled into our room.

Mind you, this is around 3 a.m. and our windows are WIDE open.  I started screaming, and Jen ran away, only to return with a large skillet, ready to kill this GIGANTIC bug!

We chased the roach around for about 20 minutes and this fucker was GOOD! He ran away from all our attacks and then we lost him behind my bed.  We shined a flashlight under the bed and then WE FOUND HIM CRAWLING ON MY SHEETS!!!!!!!!! I jumped up and down, screaming like an idiot, while Jen yelled at me for not helping.  I didn’t care… I don’t fuck with roaches.  No, no, no sister friend… I don’t do bugs! Especially after all my bouts with bed bugs.

When we lost him again… we tip toed around the bed trying to shine light under the bed, so we could finally catch him.  After another five minutes of sweating and panicking, we were done for the night.  I took all twelve of my stuffed animal friends and put them on top of my wardrobe because I didn’t want no bugs all over my cuddle buddies! Then I grabbed a sheet and a pillow and slept in Chadd’s room.

We still do not know where the mystery bug is. I can only hope he’s in roach heaven… or HELL.

High: Getting my hair dyed by Chetan for next to NOTHING!

I woke up after a sleepless night to my phone ringing.  Chetan was calling from his salon to tell me that I could get my hair dyed simply for the price of the dye because he’s still in training! I went to the salon and got my hair dyed a beautiful dark chocolate brown and it looks fabulous. 🙂

I told him if he screwed up, that I know where he sleeps! 😉

High: Finally filling out my application for Theta’s alumni chapter and Women in Music

After the salon, I was on a MISSION to find a fabulous pair of spiked shoes that I’ve been eyeing for a while, so Jen and I ventured out into the heat.  I found a post office and am not OFFICIALLY a dues paying member of both Kappa Alpha Theta’s New York City Alumni Chapter as well as BMI’s Women in Music network!

Yay for networking.

Low: 99 degrees on Tuesday while walking around the city

On a shitty note: IT WAS 99 DEGREES ON TUESDAY! The sun was brutal, and it was so humid, you could cut the air with a knife. I always heard how bad New York summers were, but DAMN, it’s HOT! I sometimes take up to three showers a day because of all the sweat and grime that is layered on my skin after a day like that.


High: buying the most FABULOUS pair of studded platform boots and a matching bra!

After all the heat, I reached my destination: Necessary Clothing in SOHO.

Yes: these now belong to me!

And so does this:

Look for these at my next gig.

Low: Tourists

The biggest misconception about New York: the people aren’t friendly.

I will explain to you why this misconception exists:

New York people HATE tourists but love other New Yorkers.

If you are going to a foreign country, it is polite to learn the new culture’s way of life. I expect non New Yorkers to have that courtesy when visiting the city. Yes, the city is confusing and YES it is large and filled with a lot of people, BUT THAT DOES NOT GIVE YOU THE RIGHT TO ACT LIKE A DAMN FOOL!!!!!!! Get out of the middle of the sidewalk and for Christ’s sake: WALK FASTER! THIS IS NEW YORK PEOPLE!

If you simply cannot move faster, I don’t mind; there are lots of elderly people in the city. But if you are young, fit and capable of walking faster down the street, across the crosswalk, up and down the subway stairs, and in and out of trains, PLEASE DO.  Not all of us are here on vacation, and we can’t STAND when you hold the subway door because your wife is standing on the platform looking at her subway map upside down instead of moving her sweet ass into the train! I HAVE TO GO TO WORK! Stopping the train from leaving 42nd street station leaves me irate.  My commute is long enough without your stupidity.

On a lighter note, New York people are extremely friendly (to non-tourists that is).  Actually, I should rephrase that; not ALL tourists make me this mad… only the fucking idiots… which is most of them.

I will tell you that I’ve met more people on subways, streets, restaurants and coffee places than I ever did in Boston.  No one is afraid to compliment you on your style, or ask you how your day is going.  The lady who make my DELICIOUS Italian subs for lunch is incredibly nice.  Today we talked about how we make our spaghetti sauce and what other family dishes we love to make.  The people who work at my favorite coffee house (ironically named Grumpy’s) are so nice to me, that I always find myself giving them a tip because they are so friendly.

So a tip to everyone who wants to visit New York: DON’T ACT LIKE A TOURIST!

AND THE BIGGEST HIGH OF ALL: Watching my guitar player of THREE YEARS, Mr. Ed Ricco, win Guitar Center’s Battle of the Blues regional competition after TWO TIE BREAKERS!

My long-time guitar player, Ed Ricco, was in a pool of around 3,000 people and has climbed his way into the TOP 6 BLUES GUITARISTS! There was some tough competition, with TWO tie breakers that (of course) left Ed the winner.

Here are some videos! Jen and I are probably pretty obnoxious in the background, but we were definitely the most “spirited” fans of the bunch!

There are no words. Just none. Incredible.

I really do have the best friends and an unbelievable love-filled life.  I am so thankful that my lady business is exactly where it needs to be: here in New York!



Just a Rock and Roll Queen, looking for my Dave Grohl…

It’s been a while since my last post, and for that I apologize.  Lots of things going on in the busy world of Shan Halen, and I’m finally starting to put my big girl life together.

I’ve been in New York for about a month and 1/2 now and there’s something I want to discuss.


Yes, I’ve talked about this before in posts, but this post is not some jaded, just-broken-up-with Shan post, this is a post about FINDING a man.

As nice as everyone has been in New York City, I find that 20-something men, (in general) are incredibly unapproachable.

Not to mention I hang out at gay bars most of the time… but we’ll get to that in a minute.

Here’s my main problem: I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO DATE!!!!

The last time I dated, it was 2009, and I had just moved to Boston.  I remember how exciting it was when I received my first number at a bar and how grown up I felt that some guy ACTUALLY picked me up! It was exciting meeting new people and exploring my options as a young, 21-year-old girl.  Oh how those years passed me by…

I don’t regret my last relationship… it’s just that I thought I was done searching for men.  I thought that my last relationship was the one to last forever, so I never bothered to think about the fact that I would be in my mid-twenties, living in New York, and looking for love.

I feel like Carrie Bradshaw… except I like to fart and burp, and I definitely don’t have enough money to buy the kind of clothes or shoes she wears.

I’m just a fucked up rock and roll bitch, looking for my own personal Dave Grohl….


So back to my original problem… I have NO idea how to date a guy!

First of all, why does everyone want to text… ALL THE TIME!?!?!?! I love talking on the phone.  I like hearing someone’s voice.  I’m not into this whole, let’s exchange flirty texts and then be super awkward in person thing. Why is it that men can seem incredibly charming over text and then be total duds on actual dates.  I’m all about actually having human contact with a person.  I’m not sexy over text… not even CLOSE.  I have a loud voice, a big personality and a LOT of things to say, that just don’t translate into a 160-word text that may carry unwanted connotations.

And what is up with people “sexting!?!?!” I just don’t get it.  Again, I’m NOT charming or sexy via text.  I like writing, but if I wanted to hear about some hot, sexy love making scene, I would rather read “50 Shades of Grey,” than listen to your awkward text about how sexy you think I am.  Call me crazy… I like a man whose voice I actually recognize because we talk on the phone instead of exchanging texts with one another.

On to my next problem…. I have no problem calling people out on their bullshit… AKA…. I’m not appealing to men who want to control their women.

Ladies… I’ve read all three “50 Shades of Grey” books.

FUCK those books.

Yes… I said it. FUCK those books.

Every single time Christian Grey yells at Ana for “disobeying” him, I want to punch a man in his balls. Literally, I would NEVER put up with the kind of blatantly disrespectful behavior that goes on in these books. Yes, I read them all, but that does not mean that I want, nor condone the behavior in the book.  If you’re into S&M, that’s fine, but there’s a difference between that and being a closet freak and wanting to beat the shit out of the woman you “love.”

No man will ever “control” me… nor do I want, or fantasize about that.

Man… it feels good to get that off my chest.  Sorry America, I disagree with your taste in novels.

If you don’t believe me, listen to my song, “Easy.” (It basically outlines everything I just stated)

Here’s another problem I have with meeting me: I have been taught to fear for me life, via my father.

Every time I speak to him on the phone he says, “Shan… just BE SAFE.”

This is what my dad things dating a stranger in New York means :

Every time a man approaches me, I am trained as a child of my father, to believe that this means he is going to kidnap me and sell me into sex slavery.  It’s not an easy emotion to deal with.  I know that there are many perfectly, normal men in New York, but NOT according to my dad! Everyone is an enemy!

Next, a problem with dating is that I prefer to go out to gay bar, instead of hanging out with heterosexual men.

Call me crazy, but gay men make me feel much more myself than ANY straight man has EVER made me feel.

My gay friends are comfortable with who they are, and they embrace themselves completely.  I never feel like I have to be a certain kind of person around them… I’m just myself.  When I try to impress a straight man, there is always an underlying worry that I’m not what they or looking for, or I’m not the typical, beautiful, seen but never heard girl.  That’s not me.

And I’m not sorry.

So in conclusion… if there are ANY straight men STILL out there, who MIGHT want to date me, I’M HERE!

I’m loud, crazy, obnoxious, emotional, and plenty of other traits you probably AREN’T looking for in a person… but that’s me.

Dave Grohl… I wish you were still available… but you aren’t 😦

So I’m looking for the next best thing! 🙂


Your Crazy Lady Business Chick,

Shan Halen

My life should be a reality TV show…

My life should be a reality TV show.

For real.

I cannot even begin to describe to you how bat-shit crazy it is living in what I call, The Crazy Cave.

There are four of us roommates, and we ALL get along so well, we might as well be the same person.  Jen and I are basically gay men trapped in straight women’s bodies, so living with gay men suits us just fine.

My favorite days in New York, have probably been sitting around in the living room with 500 fans blowing (because we have no air conditioning) and watching reality television in nothing but our underwear because it’s FREAKING HOT IN THIS CITY.  Watching reality television with four crazy people, gives it a heightened level of entertainment because we ALL have commentary to  add while the shows are on.

Picture Mystery Science Theater 3000… except gay… and in underwear… and wine.  If you can’t picture this… here are some visuals



And finally…

Our favorite reality shows are the following…

Real Housewives of New York

Real Housewives of New Jersey

Mob Wives (especially BIG ANG!)

The Bachelorette (We love Jef!)

The Kardashians

Mrs. Eastwood and Company

Ru Paul’s Drag U

Dance Moms

So you Think you can Dance

And there’s more…

Here’s a show that I wish was on television… The Real Housewives of South Boston.  Google it… your life will be better. 🙂

I don’t care what people think about the fact that I watch too much crap TV. For me, it’s escapism.  Some people waste their time on drugs to escape from the troubles of their everyday lives.  I use Reality TV and wine.

Sorry I’m not sorry! 🙂

So the other day, we discussed how we would have the BEST reality television if someone decided they wanted to film us.

Highlights of this show would include:

1. Jen/Shannon/Chetan/Chad singing everything we do.  We don’t talk… we just sing.  Not even joking about this.

2.  Chetan borrowing Shannon and Jen’s clothing every night to go out.

3. Shannon falling asleep face down on the floor because she couldn’t climb into her high bed one night

4.  Jen and Shannon playing piano and singing Amy Winehouse

5. Jen and Shannon talking about poop/farts/hemorrhoids

6. Chadd listening to gospel music in the mornings and singing at the top of his lungs.

7.  All four of us DROOLING over the men’s Olympic gymnastics team

8. Dancing to the song  “Let’s have a Kiki” at every gay rooftop party we go to.

9.  Chetan waking Jen up by humping her.

10.  Cleaning the house to Lady Gaga’s full catalog.

Here are our head shots:

Meet Jen: “Sorry I’m not sorry… Bye…”

Meet Chadd: “Praise him. GUUUUURRRRRRL PLEASE!”

Meet Chetan: “Let’s have a Kiki!!!!!”  (He looks better than me and Jen when he’s a chick. No joke.)

Meet Shannon: “Guys… I gotta fart.”

Just kidding… this is what I actually look like….

The tutu is part of my regular garb 🙂

Message me with ideas for the name of this TV show!

Love, crazy bitch and her roommates

Shan Halen

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to… The Brazilian Consulate????

Today I went on an errand for my boss.

All I had to do was go to the Brazilian Consulate, downtown, and get a visa for my boss’s upcoming trip to Brazil.

That’s it.

Little did I know that it would turn out to 4 hours of running around New York City feeling like I had been given the Quest to find the Holy Grail.

It all started when I agreed to volunteer for the New Music Seminar taking place in Manhattan’s Webster Hall.  All the interns at my work were asked to volunteer at least two shifts during the seminar.  I was scheduled today (Monday, June 18) from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m.

I know what you’re thinking… working a twelve hour day as a VOLUNTEER = no pay. Yes… you’re correct.

However, the badges for NMS are HUNDREDS of dollars, and volunteering long hours is a small price to pay to hear industry executives speak on music business panels.

So back to how I came to have the most ridiculous journey ever in life…

My boss wanted me to run an errand for her today, but I realized that I was double booked between getting her visa and working NMS.  So… I got my shift at NMS switched from 6 a.m. to 6 p.m. and instead was set to work 1 p.m. to 8 p.m.

Why is this a problem, you ask?

Well if I WERE scheduled to work at 6 a.m., there would be no question whether I would be at Webster Hall when my boss arrived.  BUT since my shift was switched last minute, I realized I had no idea when I should meet her at the venue to pick up her appropriate papers to get her visa.

I texted my boss yesterday (Sunday), asking to confirm the time I should arrive the next morning. Little did I know, the Apple iPhone would fail us.  My boss DID send me a text… but for some reason, it did not arrive until the next morning.

I remember one of my co-workers saying something about getting to NMS around 9:30, so after not hearing back from my boss, I woke up at 8:15, planning to get on the 9 a.m. A train downtown.

I sent one more text to my boss, to confirm that I was going to pick up her papers, and I got back her reply from the night before, telling me to be there by 8:30 a.m., as well as a text saying, “I send you this information last night!”


All I could think was, “Holy shit! This is my third week of work, and I’m already pissing off the boss!”  I knew it would take me FOREVER to get all the way from West 170th street all the way down to East 11th, so I RAN out the door and hailed the first cab I could find.

I felt like I was in the movies when I told the driver, “I NEED TO GET TO WEBSTER HALL ASAP!” I was so flustered and could only IMAGINE how bad New York traffic would be on a Monday at 8:30 a.m.  My cab driver was incredibly nice and told me he would do my best to get me there in 20-15 minutes.


This cab driver must have almost gotten into about ten different accidents, not to mention almost run over 3 people and 6 bikers.  I was trying not to let myself have a panic attack in the back seat of this cab, but it was becoming quite difficult, especially as time began to tick by.

Was I going to be Andy from Devil Wears Prada!?!?! Not that I would EVER compare my boss to the Devil, who wears Prada, because she is incredibly sweet and a wonderful mentor, but I felt SO MUCH PRESSURE to get there in time! I would HATE to let my boss down on the third week of my internship!

I finally arrived after several brushes with death, only to find that it wasn’t absolutely imperative that I arrive ASAP.  I could have very well taken the time to grab the A train and been just fine.  We both discovered the miscommunication with the faulty text and she was not mad at all.

WHEW! I may have spent a lot of money on a taxi, but at least I still remained in my boss’s good graces!

We headed to the bank so she could take out the money for the visa and I was on my way to what I THOUGHT was the Brazilian Consulate.  My boss said she was told it was on 49th street, so I Googled it, and sure enough an address popped up for 241 E. 49th as a Consulate.

At this point I was so exhausted with my cab ride of horror, that I stopped to get the LARGEST iced coffee I could get my hands on at Starbucks.

Riding the 6 uptown was a piece of cake.  I got off at 50th and used Google maps to find my address.  When I got there, I recognized the address, noticed that all the signs were in Portuguese, and everyone was speaking Portuguese.  I thought to myself, “I must be in the right place! People in Brazil speak Portuguese! Here I am!”

After about ten minutes waiting in a line where literally NO ONE was speaking English, I noticed a map on the wall.  That map was NOT of Brazil… it was of Peru.

Uh Oh.

I asked someone in the line, and they told me in broken English, that I was in the wrong place.  When I asked him where I could find the Brazilian Consulate, he shrugged his shoulders.

When I Googled again, I found the OFFICIAL site of the Brazilian Consulate, and it was NOT on 49th, it was on 6th Avenue.  When I looked at the nearest Subway, it seemed like it would be faster for me to walk across town.

Walking from the Peru to Brazil took me about 25 minutes (ha ha ha!) But it also entailed walking through an huge touristy area near Rockefeller Center. I had to push through a bunch of annoying, non-New Yorkers, as they took pictures of buildings while holding up the peace sign.  Seriously tourists!?!? So unoriginal.  What are you, 13-year-old emo girls???

When I got past the pack of blithering idiots with fanny packs and those camel-backpacks, I made it to my destination.  Going through security included showing my ID, getting my picture taken before I had enough time to smile, and printing out a dorky card telling everyone I was a “Visitor.” They might as well print out a card saying, “Hi! I’m Shannon Allen and I’m a loser visitor with a loser name tag! I’m not actually successful enough to work in this building, I’m just ‘visiting!'”

21 floors on a crowded elevator later, I was in line behind an incredibly attractive male pilot.  He began to flirt with me and I felt like the day was beginning to turn around!  He asked me if I traveled often and I told him that I was just obtaining this visa for my boss.  He asked me if I had the extra 20 dollars because apparently when you file for a visa that is not your own, it costs 20 more dollars.

YEP! My boss gave me 40 extra dollars just in case! My day really WAS picking up.

Then he dropped the bomb when he said, “I hope you remembered to get your money order, because they won’t accept cash or credit.”

Are you FUCKING kidding me!?!?!

After ALL this I have to get a FUCKING MONEY ORDER!!!!! And it couldn’t just be ANY money order, it had to be an official US Postal Service money order.

The closest USPS is in 30 Rock.

Fucking tourists.

By the time I got to 30 Rock I was both exhausted and sweaty.  My mascara and eye liner were melting, and my feet were starting to feel like they were going to fall off with every step.

Then I had to deal with the raging bitches of the USPS.  I was in the wrong line and this lady just NEEDED to scream at me until I almost turned around and went “Cleveland, Ohio” on her ass! Luckily, I got the money order and got out of there before the One-eyed-Shan-Monster made an appearance.

Two New York blocks and 21 flights up an elevator again, I felt like I had finally defeated this seemingly menial task.  I was IN LINE! I had my Nook to keep me company and finally felt like I was catching a break reading a magazine and bathing in the air conditioning.

A man with a beautiful accent called me up to the counter after about 30 minutes of waiting in line.  I gave him everything my boss had given me as well as the money order and he looked at me quizzically.

“Do you have the form, Miss?”

What form, miss??? Was I missing something after all this time?

I was then given a lecture (in an extremely condescending tone) about how I needed to have a specific form.

“Great!” I said, “Can you give me that form and I’ll fill it out with my boss’s information???”

Nope.  The form could only be obtained online and needed to be signed and dated with my boss’s signature.

Oh my.

And then I walked back to 11th street.


at noon on a Monday…

with several hours left in the day to volunteer….

Signed: a Tired Lady


P.S. This was my path.  One big circle. (A and D are the same point… which is why you can’t see the “A”)