All posts by Tracey Stone

Tracey Stone is a writer living in NYC. Her blog Not Quite A Cougar chronicles the adventures of a never married 40-something as she navigates the Big Apple in search of love, success and the perfect champagne brunch spot. Tracey is originally from California where she graduated from UCLA with a BA in theater. After many years of success as a commercial actress she hung up the drama, started writing and moved to Manhattan.

99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, 99 Bottles of Beer. Take One Down, Pass It Around…(Well, you know the rest).

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“Okay. So it’ll start like this: ‘You know those movies, those movies you can watch over and over and never get sick of? They might not be particularly good but for whatever reason they strike something in you and they become your go-to movies whenever you can’t figure out what to watch. I have three. In no particular order, they are: ‘Rock Star,’ which I love because the music reminds me of high school and it makes me nostalgic for my hometown’s illicit parties when parents were out of town. We’d lift our beers together and scream out Motley Crue and make out on porches and it honestly felt like life couldn’t get any better. The next is ’17 Again.’ I love this one because Zac Efron is brilliantly hysterical in it. No really, he is – ‘”

“No really, he is.” Marlie said nodding and took a sip of her coffee. We were wrapping up our Sunday-After-New-Year’s-Brunch at Park Avenue Winter and I was telling her about my next post. Continue reading 99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall, 99 Bottles of Beer. Take One Down, Pass It Around…(Well, you know the rest). →

Sometimes, It Just Is What It Is.

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“So what’s going on with The Crush, Trace?”

“Oh that,” I replied, as I pulled a rumpled denim shirt from my suitcase.

“Yeah, that.” His voice was tinny, as I had him on speaker. It was New Year’s Eve and Zeke had called to check in. He and Boomer were visiting his family in Oregon and I was in NYC unpacking from my California Hometown Holiday trip. “You seemed so into it. And then we never heard about him again.”

“I found out he was seeing someone.” I smelled the armpit of the shirt. Had I worn this? I couldn’t remember. Continue reading Sometimes, It Just Is What It Is. →

Beware of the Wordsmith. Part Four.

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“So, when it snows we don’t come to work, right?”

Stan gave me a quizzical look. “No,” he said slowly. “We still come to work.”

“Oh,” I said and offered a strangled, fake laugh. “I know. I was just joking.”

He frowned.

Fuck! What was I thinking?! How could I ask such a stupid question?! This was New York City! Of course people went to work when it snowed. It wasn’t like Los Angeles where a light sprinkling of rain would shut down the city and you would break your dinner plans. Continue reading Beware of the Wordsmith. Part Four. →

Beware of the Wordsmith. Part Three.

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When I was 16, I was an exchange student to Japan. There were a lot of incredible things that transpired on that trip, such as – I lived with a Buddhist Priest and his family in a house attached to the temple, got to attend a Japanese high school and, since my small fishing town did not get a lot of visitors, people took my picture everywhere I went, chanted my name when I entered a room and strangers gave me presents. It was like I was Britney Spears. Continue reading Beware of the Wordsmith. Part Three. →

Beware of the Wordsmith. Part Two.

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“I guess it’s a good thing I got more wine.”

I opened my eyes and lifted my head painfully. I tried to figure out where the voice was coming from. And where I was. Slowly I focused in on her and the room surrounding her, and it all came back to me. I was on the couch. In Nicole’s living room. At her house in San Diego. With an almost empty wine bottle on the coffee table next to me. I rolled away from her, trying not to cause my head anymore trauma. I was using her dog as a pillow and he shifted his large, comforting chest beneath me. I snuggled into him.

I could hear Nicole move to the kitchen. She was home from work, so it must be around 6pm. I wished I hadn’t woken up. “Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” I said. I closed my eyes again.

Running the span of Manhattan, East to West, is 57th Street. You can literally take a bus on 57th from the East River all the way to the Hudson. Not that John and I ever took the bus. We took cabs, like civilized people.

It had been a little less than a year since we’d met on that sound-stage. And as promised, we’d both traveled back and forth to see each other until, eight months into the relationship, I’d sold my car, gotten rid of my apartment, said goodbye to my agents and moved to John’s townhouse in Michigan.

A few months later, he was transferred to the NYC office of his agency, which had been all part of the plan. Once we arrived in New York and were set up in the company-paid-for luxury 57th Street apartment with multiple doormen, rows of elevators and a huge, marble lobby, I was to revive my acting career and spend the rest of my time working on the sorority book. John didn’t want me to get a day job – he said I didn’t need to since he made enough money to support both of us. This was a good thing as, although I’d made a very lucrative living as a commercial actress, my union had been on strike for awhile and work had been lean before I’d left LA. I was running out of money quickly. I was really happy at that time. I was engaged to the man I loved, had my days free to myself and man, oh man, did I ever love New York.

So you see, Shannon? Things really were awesome. Just like I said they would be.

🙂

Continue reading Beware of the Wordsmith. Part Two. →

Beware of the Wordsmith. Part One.

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“Guess where I am!” I squealed, as I flopped backwards on the luxurious bed, still managing to hold the phone to my ear. The white, plush, down comforter puffed up around me.

“I have no idea!” Shannon exclaimed. “Tell me!” Shannon was my best friend from high school and I’d been dying to tell her my news.

“Shutters! Shutters on the Beach! In Santa Monica!” I rolled over to my stomach as the phone cord wrapped around my chest. It was 2003, so land-lines were still pretty prevalent.

“What are you doing there? Is there something going on at your apartment?” Confusion made her voice sound wary.

“No, nothing like that.” I sat up quickly and began to untangle myself. “I met someone,” I breathed. “I MET SOMEONE.”

“What? Who?!”

“His name is John and he’s funny and smart and successful and cute and creative and awesome!”

“Wait – what?” Shannon said.

“He looks just like Luke Wilson!” I shrieked.

“Tracey-,” she started.

“Did you know,” I said, as moved to the balcony to have an illicit cigarette. Smoking is not allowed literally anywhere in California. “That half a grapefruit for breakfast here is seven dollars? SEVEN DOLLARS.”

“Okay, stop,” Shannon said firmly. “Start at the beginning.”

“Okay, okay,” I said, and lit the cigarette to try to calm myself. “It was a few weeks ago and I was shooting that car commercial and…” Continue reading Beware of the Wordsmith. Part One. →

Come for the Chicks, Stay for the Wings.

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“It was so great to see you guys,” I said, as I pulled my sleeping-bag jacket firmly around me. Everyone hates this jacket because it’s totally unflattering, (“Boxy,” Sheri has decreed). But I like it because it’s long enough that if I wear tall boots, no one can tell I’m wearing my pajamas while I run errands around the neighborhood.

“You too, girlie,” Thalia said. She zipped up her own coat. Cold weather had officially settled in NYC.

“If I don’t talk to you ladies beforehand, have a great Thanksgiving,” said Sean. I moved in to give him a hug and he hugged me back tightly.

Thalia, Sean and I had met for our usual two-month catch up session. Normally, we meet on a Saturday evening at my place so I can wow them with my culinary skills with such menu-dazzlers as, ‘Make-Your-Own-Taco-Bar’ or ‘Make-Your-Own-Burrito-Bar’ or, if I am feeling especially creative, ‘Make-Your-Own-Taco-Salad-Bar IN A TACO SHELL BOWL.’ But since it was almost the holidays and everyone was busy, we decided to meet on a Tuesday. Which meant Hooters. Continue reading Come for the Chicks, Stay for the Wings. →

A Change in Plans.

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Lux was the last to arrive, breezing in and saying, “Sorry I’m late! Did you guys start already?” Naturally, we hadn’t. She settled into her chair, looking chic in her skinny jeans and high-heeled boots. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled. I bit my lip. Since my trip to Venice, I’d slipped back into some old habits. Well, okay, yeah, all of them. I’d been so busy writing, I’d stopped working out, was eating pizza for every meal and, I’m sick to admit it, even having the occasional cigarette. Okay, maybe not so occasional. I was also back to wearing my old uniform of ill-fitting dresses, black leggings and knock-off Uggs, as these renewed habits were doing no favors for my waistline. I couldn’t fit into my Sheri-approved outfits anymore. I just was so tired of trying to keep it all together.

I looked around the conference room as everyone was involved with chatting and laughing and catching up on company news. “Okay, guys,” I said. No one paid any attention. I cleared my throat. “GUYS.” I may as well have been shouting into the wind. I sat there for a second and shook my head. What a collection of characters. The Fun Committee, Emily and Anna were there, of course. As well as our intern, Tara. Archie was to my right, with our graphic designer, Lux, to my left. There was also a newcomer today, Lainie, who now worked with Emily on her team.

This, was my Social Media Marketing Team. Continue reading A Change in Plans. →

I Believe the Technical Term is ‘Googly.’

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There’s something I haven’t told anyone. Not my friends, not my family. Not even The Fun Committee.

But here it is:

I have a crush on someone.

:)!
Continue reading I Believe the Technical Term is ‘Googly.’ →