Archive | March, 2013

Camera Hateness

24 Mar


Press photo day. 

Hair and makeup done, an hour and a half before call.

…This gives it just long enough to run and sag before they break out that damn camera.

God, how I hate photoshoots.

…On the list of humans in the acting industry, my photos are always just the worst.  There is never any saving grace. 

I’m not built to be on camera.  I found that out rather early in my career.  Once I passed what everyone calls the “awkward High School years” when NO ONE takes a decent picture.  But everything even after that period in my life, is a disaster area in print. 

…This is why I’m still using my headshot from 13 years ago.



This is ridiculous.

It’s black and white, for shit’s sake.

…From back when ALL theatre photos were black and white.

…Mercifully making us all look somehow better than our color-self versions.

…And the only ones who used color stock were the print models and film actors.

Who really cares what color my eyes are from the 8th row of a theatre?  No one.  Any actor you meet would WILLINGLY dye their hair fucking fusia if it would get them a role with you, so the original version we were born with is also immeterial. 

Case in point: Mama Frank and both Anne and Margot are BLOND blonds.


That’s what wigs and a box of Loreal are for.

…This is all to say: I do theatre on PURPOSE.  It is my “medium.”  It agrees with me, from the 8th row.  And I agree with it. Because I don’t have to sit down afterwards ever, and be forced to watch myself.

And yet…

And yet, there will ALWAYS still be press photos to deal with. 

They must be had.

I know it.

You know it.

We all know it.

…But it doesn’t mean I have to LIKE it.

…And I don’t.

Taking them makes me nervous and itchy and in an odd way sorta “shamed.”

There is something in the camera eye translation that just hates me.  No matter if the mirror tells me, (with the 5 pounds of makeup, and my hair all curled and up), that I look pretty decent, by and large.  And I should look better with a filter and good lighting (one might tell oneself.)  But it just never works out this way. 


In the history of ever.

…So here I sit, all “done up” and twitching in my seat, waiting for it to hit 5:00 so I can get on the road and get this shit OVER with.

…Over (that is) until it pops up in all the newspapers and the theatre website and Facebook and Twitter and the programs.



Free Day

23 Mar


Slept in.



Double-fisting coffee and hot cocoa.

Country potatoes and a breakfast scramble.

More BBC.

Yarn balling.

Dyed hair.

…And part of my forehead.


Long drive to peninsula.

Swedish pastry cookies.

Lunch by the water. 

Salad with almond slivers.

Fanta orange.

Why do I love it so much?


More BBC.

Next series.

(Killed the last one.)

Want salt.

Other than in a shaker, I have none.

Crochet some more to  keep my mind off it.

Two fingers of gin.

Bombay Sapphire.



…Poured out in a Casablanca glass.

Remember I forgot to blog.

Hope bullet updates fill up enough space to make it look like I actually wrote something today.

Know that this is lame, and admit it.

Sip on my gin.

…Always reminds me of Christmas. 

It’s like drinking a pine tree.

But in a good way.

…In a good way?

Consider washing face so can move this all into my bed.

No, you can’t come.

Get your mind outta the gutter.

It’s ALWAYS in the gutter.

…And lets be real: this is why we are friends.



And Not A #$@% Was Given That Day

22 Mar


I knew ahead of time that this was gonna be “a day.”  Only cuz at 6:00 last night, WHS Pimp (who had been working since 4 am) texted me the following:

“FYI: tomorrow, absolutely no fucks will be given. At all.”

…It’s another show-opening day on the road, plus payday, plus Boss (as usual) is MIA.

…And by 1:52 our pay packets still have not arrived. They are due by 10 am.  No one at Corporate is answering the phone, and Boss won’t respond to text, vm or email.

…That’s a looooot of pissed off contractors that’ll be screaming his way come 4:00, when I book it the hell outta here and no one responds to their phone calls.

It’s been a hardcore paperwork-hell of a week.  98 contracts in the first three days.  We are booked out through the second week of April, with 31 jobs on hold.  Which will just make it more fun in April and May as we quadruple up on these poor bastards who are already pulling double-duty.

…At least it’s decent weather today…

…And speaking of: I’m gonna be taking a long walk in that sexy atmos, directly after work.  Maybe to the water.  Grab it while it’s hot!

…Which it technically isn’t.  But “sunny” is good enough for me.  Even with a wind chill factor of “holy shitfuck!”

Two. More. Hours. To. Go.

Why are Friday afternoons always so endless?

Back to m’last two reports of the week, with “Time Gentlemen Please” streaming in the background.  It’s perfect for today. Totally inappropriate language, and content, as a prime example of when we reach the limit of just no longer giving a ripping fuck.

Which, I don’t.


Twits & Set Pieces

21 Mar


I’ve done it now.  Have joined Twitter. 

…But never under any circumstances in order to post or update it. 

I just want to stalk famous people. 

So in answer to your question: no, I won’t be giving out my handle.  It doesn’t matter anyway. Because, as of right now, I can’t understand a cocking word that is written on the damn thing.

…I’d be totally useless to you at this point.

It’s like html coding for fucks sake.

…At first I just thought it was Stephen Fry being Stephen Fry with this 3000% more intelligence than me, posting witticisms that were just too far over my head.

…But then, I can’t understand but about half of Jennifer Saunders’ tweets either.  And not that she is exactly of the average brainage herself, but I figured at least her humor stylings were of the norm-masses and I’d be in on it.

…Which I am.  But only the parts not involving 30 numbers and random punctuation marks.

…And then there are re-tweets.  And random links.  And this whole abbreviation language I don’t understand.

Clearly, I’ll be googling a lot this afternoon, just to figure all this shit out.

…See!  This is why I didn’t want to join up in the first place!  I have enough jobs to do as it is!!

…Meanwhile:  There have been crazy wind and hail storms slamming the shit out of my office by day, and Harriet on the freeway by night.  It’s frickin’ freezing everywhere I go…so all heaters in the all the environments that I have control over have been blaring non-stop for a little over 48 hours.  I don’t even want to think about my electric bill next month. 

…So I won’t.

Done with work-and-runs at the theatre until Sunday, as the theatre has a music gig taking over.  Which should be interesting on our current stage set.  What do you suppose the theme for that concert would be? I dunno.

…But speaking of the set: It’s coming along quickly.  New pieces in every day, first two layers of paint up, primed and ready for final coat and distressing.  They keep adding more and more furniture pieces, filling in absolutely every crack and cranny. By next rehearsal, they will be finished with the paint and start adding in the dressings for details…loading up the cupboards, bringing in the bed linens, all the little tchotchkes, framed photos, sewing stuffs, cooking utensils, books, bathroom items,work papers and files, and our personal props. We’ll be shoved in like sardines by the end…exactly as it should be.

Last night was a focus on stage combat for all falls, fights, and quick moves…taking up a surprising amount of time, as you don’t exactly think of this show as running heavy in those details, but it actually is. Especially when you consider how every square inch is filled with people or furniture, to knock into, stairs and platforms to fall off of, doors to slam your hands in, and a perpetual graveyard of screws and nails hiding just out of sight to knick your fingers, or barefoot feet, no matter how careful they are in sweeping before call.

…For now, we wait until Sunday. Press photos, costume fittings…meaning I’ve gotta figure out m’hair and face soonish. Need to dye it tonight prob’ly…bust out the hot curlers and some German period photos and have at it. Really liked Corinna Harfouch’s very German “doo” as Magda Goebbels in “Downfall,” (which I was streaming the other day.) Very elegant, and European versus the more youthful Americanized victory-curled look we had over here.
…Also, because it requires a “rat,” it will help to hold the style in place through sleeping scenes and quick costumes changes without falling all limp to hell. Then, by act two, it’ll be let more loose and less “kept.” Mrs. VD is very specific about her style, until the support products for achieving it are no longer made available to her. This will also visually soften her up a bit, as she emotionally begins to legitimately break down.

…It’s like: I have a cunning plan or something.



Ding, Dong…The Witch Is Dead!

20 Mar


Can’t even begin to tell you how satisfying it was to dump my LAST email from the Accounts Corporate Manager back east, into the trash bin this morning. 

…So satisfying that I dumped it without even reading beyond the title header: “Thank you and farewell.”

…A blanket letter to all branches…looooong in the making.

She is at last leaving! 

Fucking PARTY AT MY HOUSE!!!!!

This woman has been the bane of my numbers-existence for the past three years, having graduated from just being a general pain-in-the-ass “specialist” before that.   She’s one of those people who would rather bicker and fight  over incidentals across a stream of 15 emails, than just look up information herself and get the shit DONE.

I can’t HANDLE people like that. 

It completely nuts me up.  

…She would rather SIT on 5 emails on separate accounts, across a full week, never really answering or resolving any of them, only coming up with 45 reasons as to why she hasn’t gotten around to finalizing them yet. I (being the exact opposite) HATE having shit in my inbox, and work my ass off to get that fucker cleared by 10 am each day.  Except I never really can.  Because all her outstanding follow-up account crap is always still there. Staring at me.  So I send her reminders AGAIN.  And get more excuses back. Our email conversations go something like:

She:  We don’t DO account calls here.  Or collections. 

Me: I’m sorry, but aren’t you the “accounts DEPARTMENT?”

She: We are merely the “facilitator.”

Me: Okay. I don’t understand what you need.

She: Collection letters.

Me: Okay. Go for it.  Do you need my authorization?  All the account names and contact info are lower in this stream.

She: We need the collection letters.

Me: Yes.  Okay.  Go for it.  Is there a form??? I don’t understand.

She: You need to send out collection letters.

Me: But you’re the “Account Department.”  Isn’t that what you do?

She:  No.  We “facilitate.”

Me: Again, I’m sorry, I don’t understand what that means. 

She: We watch the accounts and tell you when they are outstanding.

Me: I was the one who told you, six emails ago, that this needed collection.

She: We need collection letters…


Me: “X” contractor has still not been paid for job “Y.” It was closed out correctly on “date” in batch number “Z”, and is not on the current Pay Report.

(two days later.)

Me: (resend of:) “X” contractor has still not been paid for job “Y.” It was closed out correctly on “date” in batch number “Z”, and is not on the current Pay Report.

She: What job is this for?

Me: “Y.”

She: Was it a contractor swap?

Me: No. Regular pay out. No changes.

She: When was it closed?

Me: On “date” in batch number “Z.”

She: Who needs to be paid?

Me: Again: Contractor “X.”

She: It’s not on the Pay Report.

Me: I know. That’s why I sent this to you.

She: Well, something got mixed up in batching then. Do you know the batch number you used?

Me: (OMFG!!) Yes. Batch “Z.”

She: Here it is. On “date.”

Me: I know. I just need to make sure it hits the paychecks this Friday.

(a day later.)

Me: Hi. I’m just making sure this job pay hits for tomorrow’s check run.

She: What job pay?


THIS has been my entire relationship with the woman since she first took over management. Thankfully her under-employees have their heads at least halfway out of their asses…enough to understand and read streams of information, and (most of the time) actually get some shit done.

…And now…the woman voted Most Likely To Be Punched In The Boob By Me is OUTTA HERE!




…Off to make a living hell outta someone ELSES lives! That aren’t me!!

And I’m so happy, I could just pee.

Oop. I think I did.

I peed.


Dear: The People

19 Mar


It’s been 80 contracts in two days at work.

…Which (because I’m apparently a sadist), I’ve been doing, while streaming hours of Nazi documentaries in the background.

…Then making booking calls in 4 hour blocks.

…Then grabbing a quick bite and driving through traffic to the theatre.

…Working and running scenes in act breakdowns.

…And by 11 or so: jumping back into the heavy needlework.

…Until about 2 a.m.

…While watching BBC.

Two yarn balls have given their lives thus far, for this blanket.

…And four Band Aids.

We be busy in my world.

We also be “cheaty.”

I had an affair with a pizza at 1:30 today. Pepperoni. Because I couldn’t take it any more.  “It” being too many tiny numbers, and Nazis, and constant phone calls, and no alcohol, and the urgent bodily need for grease and sanity.

…It’s been over a month since I last tasted the amazement that comes from a pizza box.  My god, absence makes the taste buds orgasmic.

In keeping, my butt is now back on the couch, surrounded by grey yarn. I sit here, post-rehearsal going on night two: glued to the telly, getting sucked into my little BBC world while further bruising myself with my crochet hook.

Here is the progress so far:


…And much as I love you: I wanna go back to it.

…And Miss Lane and Laura and the Timmins’, and the Misses Pratt, and Queenie…

…In fact — all of Lark Rise and Candleford put together.

So: Until tomorrow.

…I leave you with a friend’s suggested gift:

Cats That Look Like Pin-ups.

You’re welcome.



18 Mar


Hand cramp galore.

…Band Aid fingers…from crochet needle wear and tear.

Eyes wigging out with forced focus change: TV to my fingers.

Must finish this row and go to sleep.


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