Archive | September, 2012

Conflicting Schedules & Farty-Chairs

30 Sep

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I have conflicting schedules today.  I think.  I’m not totally sure, because the latest updated rehearsal call email went MIA and I haven’t heard back from the SM as yet…which is perfectly understandable, as I just figured this out at around 1:30 A.M. when I sent her an email request for updates.  The woman was prob’ly sleeping, (and possibly still is) which, however logical, doesn’t help the fact that I may or may not have a call in 20 minutes, or according to the first schedule at 3:30…or according to “M,” (who was the only human conscious when I started freaking out), possibly 6 P.M.

…What I’m saying is: this is really important, cuz I also booked a movie premiere and theatre tickets for today.

…I kinda have to know, you guys.

Wait! A phone ping!

**later, after reading text, and sending others to the four corners of the globe**

…Alrighty then.  Collisions averted.

(It is at 6…in case you were wondering.)

…Geeze.  Now I need to go make another thing of coffee and defreak a bit.

…And maybe put my eyes in. 

Head’s already wrapped up and sealed in hot curlers so can’t do glasses, and I hate contacts first thing in the morning. Have elected to just go semi blind until now.  Hate how itchy my eyes get…even with the uber fancy Alka Selzer-like cleaning fluid that costs $15 per bottle and special drops to keep them extra hydrated.  It’s like my eyes don’t even WANT some foreign plastic disc hugging the breath out of them for 12 to 18 hours a day, non-stop.  As if they don’t even CARE when they cloud up, like your car windows on a cold morning, (which no amount of swiping, blinking or squeezing can undo), and I can’t see a goddamn thing.  My eyes are selfish assholes, really…when you get down to it.  Everything is all about them.  They’re tired, they’re itchy, they’re dry then strangely teary… 

…Meanwhile…have you ever tried putting all that under stage lights and baking it for two hours?  It doesn’t help the situation.  And neither does the occasional required crying. 

…Cuz when you’re in the middle of being strangled, with tears, sweat and snot running down your face (and 200 people watching), the last thing you wanna be thinking is: “Fuck.  My left contact just washed out.  HOLD EVERYTHING YOU GUYS! I gotta find it real quick…”

In Other News: I am writing this from my farty-chair, which is an amazing feat because I just now realized it…which means it finally “made it” as an official edition to my house. Until now, it’s been “that new foreign thing,” I had to work around and get used to.

…We all know how I hate change. That is by no means limited to major life events…it’s also inclusive with furnishings, habits, and routines in general. I first purchased the farty-chair about two weeks before Puff came up to visit, on the inclination that should we (for instance) both want to watch something on TV at the same time, there would be too many butts and not enough places to comfortably put them to achieve this. So, I bought this chair. I spent THREE HOURS re-arranging my living room, back and forth and back again, to find out where in the hell it would fit best…which was nowhere…because it was “new” and “different” and I never know what to DO with those kind of things…so finally just picked a place and PUT it there. Then I stared at it for a couple of days, like an alien had landed in my house and I didn’t know what to do with it. Well, I DID know, I just didn’t like the answer.

…I was gonna have to “bond” with it.

…So, I girded my loins and began the long and painful process of changing my daily routines and habits JUST to fit in the fucker. Every time my butt hit the mini-sofa, it would pop up again and have to go settle instead in the farty-chair. Every time I settled in with a book, or opened the laptop, I’d have to stop, get up, and relocate to the farty-chair. Everything became ABOUT the farty-chair. And the FACT it WAS a “farty-chair” didn’t help the situation. Every time you’d settle or move in the thing, it would omit a variety of groan-squees…which, because I was still trying to break it in and get comfortable in it, made every evening in front of the TV for two weeks sound like the after effects of a baked-beans eating contest. Just HIGHLY uncomfortable, and not right.

…But by the time Puff came, it had become a thing I could tolerate. I could be in the same room with it and not give it dirty looks and cuss at it’s every flatulence rip. I figured out how to replicate its sounds so that if a small movement happened to manufacture a mock-grossness, I could immediately echo it with movement, thus proving to the public at large that it was the chair that had gas problems, not me. And by the time Puff left that week, I actually had to remind myself a couple times that it was OK to default back to my sweet home base on the mini-couch once again. And did.

…And so, the farty-chair has remained now…mostly dormant. That is, until (for some reason) today. Today, I didn’t think about it. Today, I had multiple schedules in my head and a cup of coffee and laptop in hand. I settled in for a flush of manic emailing, and opened my blog, tucked in with a blanket and got to work.

…And then my coffee ran out. And I looked at the cup forlornly, there: on the side perch footstool-table, beside the…farty-chair? I’m in the farty-chair?!

…”Groan-squeeeeee, ” it replies with my sudden shift in seat of surprise.

“Huh.” I pat it on the armrest. It wags it’s tail.

“Welcome to the family, bub. Looks like you finally made it.”

It passes a gassy sigh of relief.

And I go back to my blog.

~D

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Ode To My Bed

29 Sep

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Is there anything better than a good night’s sleep going into a Saturday morning?  S’pecially when the fan is blowing just enough, that you gotta snuggle deeper into your blankets…burrow for a bit, just your face poking out, like a papoose.

…Pillows hugging your head…the rested “you” smell, mixed with fabric-softened bed linens. You lay on your side and look at the sunlight struggling to get in through the drawn blinds.

What will you do today? 

…So few Saturday mornings now, when a rehearsal won’t immediately push you outta bed and into the shower.

…Morning nibbles? Maybe you’ll bake some scones.  With that strawberry/champagne jam, from World Market.  Melted butter.  Coffee.  Not the heavy Italian roast. Something more mellow, and easy…a breakfast roast or Oooo…some of the Kona, your friend brought back from the Big Island. Now, is to enjoy the taste of the roast…not chew it. It doesn’t need to smack you in the face today, just tickle you awake…softly.

…And a walk.  It’s prob’ly amazing out in the world right now…all sunny with that fall-snap breeze to it.

You roll over and look at the clock.

10:30.

…Such good sleeps…no one in the world had gooder sleeps that you last night.  The deep kind, where dreams don’t even register. Like you died, over night, and were resuscitated with the morning…which could prob’ly be seen as kinda creepy, but it isn’t…not in the way that you are thinking of it.  Souls resting peacefully, with plant friends, and a layer of fall leaves to keep them cozy and in good company.

And a streeeeeetch!

You yawn.

Yes.  Coffee.  Coffee, prob’ly while snuggled back here in bed.  Prop up the mountain of pillows, pop on the laptop, and sip and read…catching up on all the blog-friend posts you’ve missed this week.  Then, a little breakfast.  After that: a walk.

…The house is already cleaned.  The Fish are bathed.  You did well with lines yesterday and are on pace with where you wanted to be, and know what is needed of today.

But not yet.

…Just a minute or two more of this.

Of bed. And sheets. And quilted blankets. 

…Of pillows in great mounds and starfishing stretches.

Saturday mornings…

Mmmm…

~D

A Lunch Posting

28 Sep

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Writing this in m’car while eating my lunch.

…Its a sad turn of events when you have to cloister yourself in the car (in the parking lot) just to get away from the phones and nonstop influx of month-endiness. Sometimes I shut myself in the bathroom too…but it doesn’t always work. If Boss is there, he’ll just talk at me through the door…whether or not a tinkle can be heard throughout.

“I’m going pee!” I will often yell, enroute, “don’t bother me!”

…Sometimes he doesn’t, sometimes he does. Mostly he just can’t understand why I won’t continue to do business while “doing business”…because he does all the time.

…Apparently, that’s what a well-timed “mute” button is for.

I’m really tired today.

…My own fault.

Stayed up until two, on back-to-back nights.

…All the month-end prep hit today, checks were sent to wrong addresses again, and I have a headache.

But DAMN my lines are doin’ good!!

Boss keeps lookin’ out the window at me. Like a dog waiting for his people to come home.

…There’s prob’ly another paper travesty.

…Or he lost his car keys again.

…Or maybe the phone rang, and he answered it, but doesn’t know what happens next.

I’m exaggerating, of course.

Sorta.

…Temples beating in a pulse. I need to get some serious sleep tonight, or I’m gonna be sick. Sooo much alliteration right there, I sound like a snake.

Enough.

Must go back in, and face the desk and papers and whatever mess is brewing that has Boss pacing the lobby back and forth.

…So glad that it is Friday.

You don’t even know.

~D

Travel Writing & Lines

27 Sep

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So yesterday’s post was composed on the way to, (and in the parking lot just before), rehearsal. 

…Because that is when I had time.

We are only in blocking now. Clearly, I need to figure out how to get a few blogs in draft form holding ready for immediate posting as needed.  Because if I hadn’t had a particularly funny rehearsal to write about yesterday, I would have had to settle for the bird eating a french fry off the sidewalk, or nomad (of the homeless persuasion), cussing at his invisible friend while looking for something that had fallen to the bottom of his shopping cart.

…When you have all of fifteen minutes to write in, you can’t be picky, people.

Also, I’m already having “line guilt.”

…This is the guilt you feel when you are not yet off book, and yet try to enjoy things like your new “Thor” Bluray specials, but can’t because the whole time you are trying to tell yourself you’re “having a good time,” but are secretly freaking out about how you have like ten gillion lines that haven’t been learned yet. Because of Theatre religious connotations, its a lot like Jewish and Catholic guilt really. Only a little bit worse. Cuz you can’t just “absolve” it later when you still don’t know the lines, and really, really, really wanna watch the “Castle” season opener. But can’t.

…So I’m going with the “rewarding” plan of attack. This is based on the “buy one, get one free” schematic.

For every French Scene I memorize, I getta do one thing NOT having to do with lines. (Like write a blog for instance.) Then I go back and kick another one’s ass and get to play with another thing. Only, my memory has always been a little for-shit in that temporary storing part where lines live? Which means I spend twice as long learning them, then taking a break and re-learning them…over and over and over again, until they finally stick.

…It took me three hours just to get my first scene down yesterday, mid phone bookings at work. And then I had to relearn the entire fucking thing on the way home. And again while in the shower after my walk, but before rehearsal. When I woke up this morning and tried it, all of a sudden I actually remembered it. Which could totally change by noon today…who even knows. The fact I’m not even using the meter to help me learn ’em, (so I don’t get all stuck in it later), hasn’t been the greatest help either.

…Which means, I’ll prob’ly still be on scene three when next we speak, and I STILL won’t fucking know what happened “the morning after” for Kate n’ Castle.

Basically, this is just me bitching about the essential necessities of acting, because, “poor me,” I have a job and lines to learn…and how it is TOTALLY getting in the way of my fav TV show fixations. Which is not to say I am ungrateful…cuz I do love me the theatre…I just hate that I’m not one of those photographic memory people who can look at a law book once through, then pass the Bar, all in one afternoon.

It would be a super handy skill, no lie.

…Meanwhile, I have to go back to my Open Order report now. So I can finish it and spend the next five hours afterward, trying to slam three monologues into my brain, while I file.

It’s a glamourous life I lead.

You only WISH you were me.

~D

The Crying Game

26 Sep

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So…there’s gonna be an issue with keeping a straight face in this show. 

…I’m pretty hard to break when I’m “in” it, but holy hell am I being set up to fail in this one. 

…Scenes where I either walk in all reprimanding because of loud party-going of frat-like proportons…or try to play jokes on an idiot who just DOES NOT understand what in the hell I’m doing….or have to stand straight-faced, while the audience (I promise you) will be peeing their pants and braying like donkeys over the TOTAL loss of dignity of the most love-to-be-hated character…are killing me at the moment.

I am so screwed.

…Also, we are all of two scenes into my own personal blocking and I’ve already been poked, pinched, sniffed, picked up, ass-grabbed, and motor-boated.

Comedy. Its a good thing.

…Except when you can’t react to it.

Then its “evil.”

Like now, for instance.

…Well, actually, “now” is the time that it doesn’t count. I can laugh NOW as much as I like. In hopes to get it all out before its time for other people to laugh at it. Which it good. Cuz last night I was ripping it so hard, I was ugly-faced-crying in the corner, up stage left, waiting for an entrance I seriously could NOT FUCKING MAKE, because I was afraid if I stood up from the crouched laughing position, I would just pee all over myself.

…Which, I think, (though validating to the other actors on stage), would not really be appropriate. ‘Specially as it isn’t “technically” our stage yet…it’s still borrowed until the current show closes. Explaining those kinda stains on the Sherlock set, might add a whole other layer of “mystery” than they are really intending.

…But so goes “theatre.”

Sometimes…its just hilarity. And unexplainable pee stains.

~D

Our Casual Reader

25 Sep

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One of m’favorite bonus reports in WordPress stats, is the search engine results section where it tells you how people outside of the network or Facebook, have found your blog.  Sometimes they make me straight up laugh out loud.  And then, kinda feel bad.  Because I’m betting that what they THOUGHT they were getting as they clicked on my link, and what they ACTUALLY got were so grossly different that they were too pissed to even smile about it.

…Maybe.

…Or, maybe they are now subscribed readers, who only stay with me because I’m exactly as twisted as they were hoping for when they started their google search that one day.  There is no real way to be sure. But here are a few of my particular favorites used in finding SWAL.  (And my theories on the true purposes they were up to, when they pressed the “search” button.) They are in no particular order.  And their spelling et al, are as entered.

* “Snuggle Pinup”
(Pics of women in underwear hugging the Snuggle Soft bear from those one commercials.  Possibly has a stuffed animal fetish.)

* “Spandex”
(They just bought a “How To Make Your Own Superhero Suit” book, and need to order material in bulk.)

* “She coffee yes”
(A Dom’s “sub,” trying to find the closest coffee cart in the vicinity, while she is mid-whipping him, demanding he get her some caffeine immediately.)

* “I love not camping”
(They just heard a friend’s horror story of THEIR trip, and wanted to plant a meme on FB about how awesome it is to not be them.)

* “Girl pees for ass”
(A golden shower/butt man.  Boy was he disappointed when he clicked the link.)

* “Weight lifting wedding cake toppers”
(A tiny figurine wherein the Bride is bench-pressing the Groom. And I bet they eventually found one.)

* “Sexy lady flagellation”
(Pictures of naughty nuns, undergoing self discipline.)

* “Dame Wars”
(Possibly looking for spoof Mexican Fighting videos wherein Helen Mirren, Judi Dench and Maggie Smith take turns beating the shit out of one another.  Hold on. I’m gonna go google that too…it sounds awesome.)

* “End of an era young and restless”
(Fan sites with posting boards where people can wail in type about the loss of their whole noon-day purpose in life. They are now one of my most avid readers.)

* “She was too fucked up in her head”
(Clearly looking for a song lyric. That one about a psycho ex-girlfriend. They are STILL trying to narrow the search down right now, from 50 billion results.)

* “Gigolo want for wife”
(An Italian man is trying to get an American Visa the old fashioned way. I tried to reply once, but I don’t have enough funds to keep him in the living style to which he wants to be accustomed.)

* “Sneezing + feet fetish”
(Searching for a very specific fetish group wherein members sit around snurfing things up their noses to induce sneezing while taking turns painting each other’s toenails.)

* “Dorothy Parker love snarks”
(Whoever they are, I want them to woo me. But they are too busy making fun of wooing to do it.)

* “Cooking torture”
(S&M techniques involving hot frying pans, searing oils, how to convert onion layers into contact lenses, and various uses for wasabi and ghost chilies.)

* “Sally Field Audrey Hepburn lesbian”
(A severely specific fetish group – containing only the one member – looking for anyone…anyone…ANYONE who might like to share in their fan fiction delights.)

* “Consumer fury”
(Super stressed-out YouTubes of customers just letting it rip on weeping sales clerks, as caught on camera phone. Because they just lived that frustration and need to acknowledge it before they accidentally explode and do it for real.)

* “Agatha christie & then there were nun murder mystery”
(The well known cult fan fiction retelling of all Agatha Christie murder mysteries relocated in convent setting, featuring an array of postulents, novices and Mother Superiors from different orders. + Spoiler alert: the “Priest” always “did it.”)

* “50th kitchen pin ups”
(Remember that movie about all those older women in Yorkshire who got together, took off their clothes, and did a naked picture calendar to raise funds for a Hospital? It’s like that. Only themed around cooking and kitchen utensils.)

* “Sad flagger”
(That one website with pictures of depressed and zombiefied road workers, taken by motorists waiting in the line-up, via their cellphones.)

* “I’m crying out, loud loud to my father, cos he only knows”
(That beat rapper poem. You know. The one about crying. Out loud. Out loud. Cos my Father? HE knows!)

* “Happy Birthday fucked up”
(Some dude wants to throw his buddy a BD party, but wants that shit to come unglued…even more than those “Girls Gone Wild” bus parties. Otherwise he woulda typed, “Happy Birthday Co-ed Boobs”)

* “Pin up fruit seller”
(A foodie who likes to enact Adam & Eve scenarios in the bedroom. “Apples for sale, sir…penny a bite”)

…And all these sick-twisted people somehow managed to find this blog. Pretty wondrous, ain’t it?

Am so proud, my buttons are popping.

~D

Short, Sweet & Simple

24 Sep

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Nooooot a great day, you guys.  But it ended well.

…A walk to separate the “work” day, from the “life” part.

…Rehearsal, to side-track and refocus a little “purpose” and “joy.”

…And a two hour conversation with a new “old” friend.

It’s funny what happens when you try to condense and catch up ten years of time in one conversation. Almost impossible.  You end up laughing lots.  And getting suddenly very real about things.  More “real” than the more conservative you, is usually comfortable with.  But for some reason, in this case, it’s okay.

…Which is really nice, from where I sit right now.  If I’m telling the truth.

Sometimes it is exhausting to be so protective and conniving.  Today is one of those days. So, possibly, they planned the call really, really well…and it was fate.  Or I’ll never hear from them again. It might be a toss up. I dunno.  But for two hours, we managed to air some grievances, and voice some frustrations, and laugh at some jokes…and there are worse things that people who haven’t spoken in a decade could do.

I think.

…I’m still pretty new at this.

Anyway…a short post.  Lots of ellipses.  It’s been one of those days, But, most of my daily writing therapy went into an actual “person” today…no need to burden it all on you, now.

Suffice it to say…I think I’ll break the 3-day anti-sleeping record tonight, and dream of better things.  Or at least funnier ones. 

…And Mrs. Johnson will behave herself…because the two glasses of wine I just consumed, pretty much require it.

…And I might feel a little squirrely and happy in “possibility” ways…like a ridiculous teenager.  Which I’m gonna say is totally fine, and also, “good for me!”

Good for me!

…And it is.

…Because I am entirely too predictable as a human being.  Even The BFF says so.  So, here I am, mixing shit up and being TOTALLY random! God, she would be so proud of me right now!

Yep.

Yep.

…Yep.

That’s all I’ve got to offer tonight. 

Short.

Sweet.

Simple.

…Sweet.

Huh.  Now there’s a change.

🙂

~D

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