Archive | September, 2013

General FYI

28 Sep


I try not to “chug” Jameson.

…First of all, it’s “crass” and rude.  One should only “chug” bottom-shelf. But it’s been a week.  Plus, WHS Pimp has YouTube’d video’d me to a duel.  He was doing Jagger shots, with Red Bull chasers. I figure, I already pull ahead by doing a legit booze challenge with a “medium shelf.”

…At home (alone) after a particularly well received Friday performance, (after a particularly shitty week at work), I am two full glasses of Jameson, down.  Two swigs, like they were water.  I recorded the last to turn in (as WHS pimp did) his own.  I feel that I “win.”

…No “chaser.”

…Mine was two full tumblers. Straight. After a week we have shared. From hell.

….So, maybe, I’ll give him some lee-way.

…Anyway.  I am writing this now: toasted. As I deserve to be.

…The show tonight was well received.  We made people “gasp” and “laugh” and “yearn,” and I am home, directly after, reviewing my week.

It was the day in the life of an actor.  In that it was repleate with shit having nothing and everything to do with it,  And it was real,

My whole life has suddenly become, “real.”

This means something like: ” there are consequences.”

Decisions were made this week, which equal “that.”  And  decisions were NOT made, and equaled “that.”  This is what it is to be a human, in today’s era.  I kinda suck at it (is what I’ve learned from this week,)  But never-the-less, here we are.

…From all the “shit” accumulated…the fact that WHS Pimp still exists (however short his voluntary term is), I consider, the ONE  “blessing” in disguise.

…For now, else, we wait.

…As I do my final show in however many months it turns out to be.


…They are a bitch.

…But, perhaps, a necessary lesson.


Welcome To Purgatory, This Is Your Captain Speaking…

24 Sep


…In the event of an emergency, please hang out unobtrusively where you are, and someone might (or might not) be with your shortly.

In the meantime, please enjoy your free packet of peanuts. Unless you are allergic. In which case:

…Welcome to Hell, this is your Captain speaking…


I’ve gone dormant and underground.  For a couple of days.  I have found out that in this day and age of constant status and text updating, it really freaks people out.

…So this is to the freaking out people: don’t freak out. That’s my job.  I’m basically on retirement pension.  I’ve covered the whole field so well, they decided just to give it to me as a whole package deal. With stock options.  Like when a sports player leaves and they retire the jersey number.  That’s me.  I’m just that good.

Anyway, this is where I’ve been for these past days.  In purgatory.  Which is a lot like free-floating space, really.  No general direction or force to be pushed in, so you just “be.” Floating there.  Waiting.


…Which we all know that actors are totally awesome at, right?

…So…where (at the moment) I can recognize that I am in “purgatory”… in reality, it’s felt a lot like the other place, with hellfire damnation and anxiety episodes riding one right after the other.  Prob’ly because they have, and it is, and has been.

…And that was just to do with shit at the office.

Other decisions needed to be made, that really sucked, as well.

And none of this is really “finished,” per se.  I’m still floating here. Still waiting.

Every day at the office, this week, is a possible “last.” I’ve pulled myself from casting possiblities in a show I’ve been wanting to do for like…oh, a decade… and I had a MOTHER of an anxiety attack Sunday night, to show for it all.

Because I’m a human.

That’s all.

And I know that.

But, still.

It sucks.

And now, we have reached the halfway mark. 

…The cusp of Wednesday. 

…I’ve thrown my hat into a new casting ring, last minute, which will offer more role challenge bang-for-my-buck…I’ve got two MORE top-brass Corporate big-wigs arriving at the office tomorrow…I’m on day two, of minion training.  They tell me the warehouse inventory numbers are off by around $118,000…I’ve spent two days now, trying to divorce my mind from performance-based Scottish, to re-invigorated Irish dialect by tomorrow’s callback at 7:30, and no matter WHAT, I HAVE to get my shit together by Thursday, so I can…you know…go on stage and be “funny” for two hours each, across the next four days.

And I will.

Cuz I’m an “actor.”

…We are pretty fucking amazing when it comes to resilience and crap.

In “real” life, not so much, but on stage? Move over Baby Jane.

So for now, I’ll just keep my head low, hug the turf, position my pads accordingly, and get ready for the inevitable whistle blow, when they finally pop the ball and this shit starts getting real.  Until then…

…Until then, I’ll just wait here.

…Floating in the nothingness.

…Waiting for whatever the hell comes next, to just show up and finally fucking happen.


Minion Afoul, Laughers Wanted

18 Sep


Lost my Minion today due to tinkle-test fail.  So, am back to square one.

…I have an office now, though…so there is something to be said in that.  It has that “new carpet” smell, battling the new paint high. Which, I mean, if the Minion was so keen on recreational substances, all she had to do was walk in the door and breathe deeply to get her daily fix…but nooooo.  Instead she has to totally screw me over, four days before Corporate walks through the door.

Swine Minions…

…Meanwhile, we are in the final days of tech at the theatre, performing to total silence.  I mean: total.  For several days now. So that’s a thing.  They’ve decided to “sneak peek” an invite-only group in tonight, just so we know what other people (besides us) sound like when they are laughing.

Assuming (of course) that they do.


…Which will lead us into Preview on Thursday: then Opening.

Not gonna lie…dead silence definitely does a number on your brain, when you KNOW there are people sitting there watching it.  Suddenly your start wondering if this whole thing is a bunk, full of inside jokes that no one will think are funny, or what.

…Perspective is shot.  I have no idea.  I hope people come tonight. I hope I mostly don’t know them. I hope they laugh.

This is where I am at people…basically waiting for something to go right in either sphere of life, so I can turn the tide over on the battle fronts. 

…But as Patton found out: it’s pert near impossible to win, spread between multiple fields of war.  I don’t have time or the luxury to choose which one to focus on, and relocate all my troops.  I ain’t GOT no troops. I’m the troop. 

Just gotta make it happen.

…And right now, as I regroup my brains for part-two of the day, I’ll lock up the office (and its non-occupied front desk), moving on to the other battle front:

Shower. Pincurl hair. Wig cap. Commute.  Do a show.

…And try to stay awake while I’m at it.

Let the rally call begin!

“BE FUNNY, DAMMIT!  BE! FUNNY!!!!!!!!!!”

The end.


Sometimes No News Is Better

16 Sep


It’s been several days since a real blog post, for good reason.  Not because I haven’t written them, but because one tires of the negative.

…I’ve been writing for a week, just to get it out. 

…Even though it feels like the never-ending-buffet-table of excessive “I won’t go away no matter what.”

…So my frustrations have accumulated and sit there, in the draft box, waiting for day-never.

You all certainly don’t deserve to have it show up in your inboxes.  Bills are bummer enough.  And as nothing seems to be going right at the moment, and everything from the office, to theatre, to finances is screamingly fucking frustrating beyond explanation, I have yet to find the spin on these matters wherein I can turn it into something I can make fun of.

Everything is just shit right now.  Period.

…What I’m walking into at the office tomorrow, god only knows.  I haven’t the faintest idea what to expect, which could equally be said with tomorrow’s rehearsal. 

I’ve yet to get approval from Corporate on the minion I picked, who after passing the drug test, still needs to give a two week notice to her current employer, which means she won’t even be here before I host the Corporate top-brass take-over, as well as do contracts on a fourth road show. Meanwhile I’ve already spent a week at a makeshift table by the trash can, in the warehouse, because the offices were three days behind on the fact lift by Monday. As of Friday, we were at eight days behind schedule, without even a toilet to pee in, let alone doors, or carpeting.

…We won’t even discuss the theatre fiasco, it would take too long and work me all up again.

…Meanwhile, I may (or may not) still be employed by next Friday, which means I may (or may not) even give a flying shit if I have an office door, OR a minion by then…but either way, at the moment, I’m mostly irritated because I’m home right now, after only a 3 hour cue-to-cue/tech, and can’t even toss back some whiskey so I can shut my head up from all this stress, and get some sleep tonight.

…I have this stupid personal rule about “not drinking when I’m depressed.”

And I have to tell you: the thought of being a teetotaler for the next foreseeable future is ALSO really pissing me off.

In short: I’ve got nothing amusing to share with you. Or positive. Not even a joke at someone elses expense, or a bitchy one-liner you can make a meme of, later, featuring cats in people clothes or Victorians talking about penises.

Out of a week’s worth of blogs, THIS is the least depressing one I have to give you.

…So it’s good I’ve moved onto other arenas besides “post-a-day” then, ain’t it?

It’s technically now Monday.

If I make it 24 hours without breaking something or sobbing in a bathroom, I’ll be very surprised.

Place your bets, now.


Indiscreet Ink – Week 5

13 Sep

This week’s prompt was folded into the literal building of the piece , as well as theme suggestion. 

…More or less an essay of sorts.

A nod to our teachers.

***Read this week’s writing blog here***


A Quick Breather

10 Sep

Office paint chunked all over my fingernails, horrendous day, still set up in the warehouse as a slipshod work space, as the real ones are still stripped and dripping with paint.

…Also, I lost my toilet today, and sink. This is the world I am living in while processing over $100,000 in orders since yesterday morning.


…Finally had a blowup at Boss today about his total lack of facelift help, prep or even acknowledging its existence by helping us out a little. By doing *anything* at all. Even his own job.

I felt no better afterwards. It’s gone beyond releasing frustration, to fix the stress.

…Meanwhile, am off tonight while they dry tech “39 Steps,” up north.

Apparently our fog machine just died.

…I dunno why they are using the fog machine during a dry tech to begin with…unless it’s for establishing their own sense of eerie atmos, while writing cue numbers in their call book, but whatever.

…One hopes now that they know it’s broken, they fix it, and everything is good to go by tomorrow.

Last rehearsal was a good one, lotsa work and specifics…also, my first toss with the German spy costumes (most difficult), and ended up working fine. Very few adjustments needed, and I was expecting a small train wreck of them, so this is good. Though the teddy will be ousted in favor of a full black slip (for death stab apparatus anchoring.)

…Incorporating new oompf to her as well. Found some goodies mid run, with the costume actively feeding the scene bits. It is weird how much a pair of fishnets, some long, velvet, black opera gloves, and a slit in you dress up to the who-ha can seriously influence a character.

…Can’t wait to see the wigs.

Blonde, brunette, and redhead.

All in one!

Booyuh, babes!


War Wounds

7 Sep


Three of  the eight hours in rehearsal today were spent in handcuffs getting yanked around.  I’ve a beaut of a bruise in full color already, and tender muscle surrounding, which means more is yet to come.

…I’m generally pretty proud about my theatre wounds. (Except that time I broke a finger doing “Noises Off.”)

…It’s like any battle scar, showing that you were here on this day, at this time, and did a thing.  I mean REALLY did it.  These are not “accident” happenings, they are well earned trophies, from hours of working and re-working bits, putting everything you’ve got into them…like sore muscles and body aches are the repercussion for a good workout the night before.

…(Which I’ve got too, btw.)

If I didn’t have to carb up so much to get through the show, I’d prob’ly lose ten more pounds before opening, in sweat loss alone.  Gallons of hot water and tea back stage, and today’s working of what we like to refer to as the “handcuff ballet” sections, ramped that all up well before noon even.  Ten A.M. call for voice-over work, then ballet call, then line run, lunch, then full run and notes.

…Meanwhile, major set pieces have finally started to show up, and we wrangled our way through, out, and around all the remaining incidentals.

Two more runs before tech.  Wherein all hell will break loose as costumes, wigs, 70 sound cues, plus lights, will explode this all into overdrive.

Two more runs where it is just about the core “Us’s.”

It’s a good team.  We play well, work well, improv well, and manage to turn 90% of the mistakes, accidents, and open season opportunities into full fledged added bits, winks and major features further profiting the production as a whole.

…Because we ain’t afraid to look like idiots.

You’d be surprised how often that turns out well for you, on stage.

…Anyway, totally exhausted.  Came home to a sauna-hot shower, out with the girls for a bit of a Rum-fest at a tiki cabana place, and am home now…legs and feet aching, cuz of eight hours in heels, and plenty of constant physical everything.

Time to wash m’face again, and set in for some write-time on my weekly prompt, I think.  Until sleep slaps me in the face, and I wake up and start all over again, tomorrow.

Night, friends.


Indiscreet Ink – Week 4

6 Sep


This week’s writing lab came fast n’ easy. 

…The prompt flashed a million memories that I had to side step, as the song figured very largely into the soundtrack of the first show I wrote and it’s production.  Happy memories, but the challenge was to start from scratch in a new way and find a new story that the music could create.

So: here it goes.

…Shared memories, mixed in here and there, from a couple kids I know.

***Click here to read this week’s work***

A Temporary Fix

5 Sep


A storm coming in.

…Lightening like mad, all the way home from rehearsal.

…Which was a mixed bag.

Gutted my office today, for the paint to start tomorrow.  Carpeting, supposedly as well.  Both things were to have been bought and delivered today, but they never arrived.  Boss could be half way to Havana with the stipend, for all I know. Have no idea at all what I’ll be walking into on Monday, but whatever it is, will be hosting interviews for a new minion.

…Yes, at last, for the first time in seven years, I will finally get someone to help do all the shit I’ve been doing.  “Finally,” in that I’m the only department with the last multi-million dollar contract, NOT to get someone to help them in the rise of daily duties.  It’s been just me.  Same as ever.

…But don’t get too excited about it.  This person is only on loan until November.  And only if we somehow survive this whole Big Brass Convention of 2013. And only cuz they still refuse to give me a pay raise.

This is my “compensation.”

Which means nothing. 

…Because getting them two weeks later than I was promised, means they will be trained in how to answer a phone and not much else, before people show up, poking their noses into all our shit and asking questions that said person will have no way of knowing.

Because I don’t have time to train a new person right now.  (Not that I have a computer, or desk or chair or place to put them, even if I did.) I’m doing half-a-million in open order contract sales, between Canada, Western and Eastern WA and Idaho, with five road shows between now and then.

…Oh, and putting the main offices together. And the new Warehouse ones. And dealing with the Utility room.  And the bathroom. And recruiting contractors.  And dealing with customers, in the meantime.

Honestly, I no longer have the mental resources to view this as anything but a set-up for failure.  Even if we do managed to salvage our jobs out of this whole ordeal, what we will have left (when it is all over) is still the same combo that ruined it in the first place.  Throwing good money after bad in an effort to make it all better, doesn’t work. 

Getting rid of Boss was the only viable solution. 

…With him still infecting the barrel, it really doesn’t matter how many times we empty it out and start with a new crop.  Rot is destined to set in again.

You can’t paint over, re-carpet, or de-germ “corruption,” people.

…Which is really unfortunate.  Cuz WHS Pimp and I totally had a contingency plan.  Back when we assumed the truth would set us free.

…You know…in the days of innocents, when all those rainbows shone from our asses while blue birds perched on our shoulders, singing songs of wonder with all their chipmunk friends, because SURELY if one knew the TRUTH about the circumstances of unabashed theft, and incompetence coming FROM Boss, one would want to fucking actually DO something about it.

Apparently: nope.

Good ol American ingenuity, ass-kissing, buddy-drinking, and buying a Vegas hooker with a company credit card, outranks sense, longevity, and hard work. 


So it be told to ye.

…Anyway.  To the person who wanted to know where we were in the “working world updates,” here yuh go.

Depressing, ain’t it?

See.  This is why I tried to shield you from it.  By talking about bubbly, and sex farce, and handcuff bruising.

Tell yuh what though, there’s one more tater tot on my plate. And you can have it.  If you want.

I find tater tots fix a whole lot of things. Temporarily. S’pecially “gross dissatisfaction” and “the grumps.”

Just ask my scale. 


Auld Lang Syne

3 Sep


Bonus night off from rehearsal as one of m’home Theatre’s got a mayoral proclamation for it’s own day (Sept. 13th), tonight.  This lost us our director for the night, as he’s the Artistic Director of said theatre, so: am home celebrating artistic awesomeness by partaking in some artistic awesomeness.

Tonight is old favorites night.

Currently “West Wing” is in the BluRay player, uncorked champagne (brut) on the coffee table (minus a little in my glass.) This has been limited to this final DVD.  A bit of work on a blanket I forgot I was working on back in the “Anne Frank” knitting days…

…After that: a hot bath.  Bath salts (out of bubbles), then to bed and finish another one of those zillion books by my bed.

Wednesday to follow, at the office, is infinitely better than a Monday or even Tuesday (also known as a late month-end.)

Our numbers are reached.  Our weekend orders are booked. Our contracts are printed and done.  Wednesdays.  They are this whole other thing. 

…A crazy week at the office anyway, as the facelift FINALLY fucking begins.

Paint and carpets show tomorrow (in raw form.)  My desk system (the first new thing I’ve EVER owned, besides a ballpoint pen, at this place of work in SEVEN YEARS) is still in it’s Staples box, in the lobby, waiting to be put together.  We are without the new computers, using the old crap, but what can you do with these people?  The fact that we got this far is a nigh miracle.

T-minus 2.5 weeks before the Big Brass Corporate office audit AND my show’s Opening Night.

So, no stress or anything.

…Least, not right now. Right now, I’m partaking of a lovely Port Townsend boutique wine shop purchased Spanish cava bubbly. 

Suck it, stress. 

I burped you out with dinner.

Meanwhile…how awesome is bubbly? Am I right?  It’s been far too long since I had this kinda fun. Weird how a little air and squished grapes could end up so happy, but damn if it don’t.  You should have you some. Just cuz.  I promise, you won’t regret it.  Unless you have the sweet stuff. Then there is plenty to regret.  Buy Brute! Always! 

I am just here to help you, guys!

And know what ELSE is awesome?  Tomorrow opens our city detour street after like a year or something of traffic being re-routed to down town and adding fifteen to twenty minutes to the daily commute.


…Plus, I’ll be riding a three day work week, as the paint begins on Friday.  We will all be remote-officeing via tablets and phones for the day, as they gut the offices and (God I only hope) paint the right things the right colors, and don’t put the carpeting in until afterwards.

(Again: always a gamble when betting on “competency,” and the person who calls the shots at this place.)

…But that’s DAYS from now.  Now, I have bath salts to pick from.  And whether I want some Sci-Fi, Austen, Murder or History to take a bath with.

(I think we all know, it’ll  be Austen. I mean, lets be real.)

Joy, oh joy, for well spent nights off! 

…And so ready to hit the stage tomorrow and tear that shit up.  With three days off my handcuff bruises have practically healed…time to re-brand and re-mark, babes.


Does Your Doog Bite?

2 Sep


Tonight was schooling in farce, via Peter Sellers. 

I have always loved that guy and always will.  Anyone who can keep a straight face while doing a quarter of  the shit he does, should earn ten or twelve awards.  He deserves an entire movement of comedy, named after him.  Formerly known as “straight man farce extremism.” As he is the only human besides Buster Keaton to achieve it, in the whole of history, it would be a small club.  But a memorable one.

…For horribleness of accent and self-pain-induced physical trauma, he would even win over Keaton. Which is really saying something.

…For what I needed to study for: it was perfect.  Even grabbed a specific moment from “Pink Panther Strikes Again,” that will easily sandwich into the show, and then “voila!,” another cinematic Easter Egg is achieved.

Mostly, tonight was German study, for Schmidt, on the total importance of holding a straight face, no matter what. 

No. Matter. What.

We WILL be breaking in this show.  Even being usual hard-asses in that field.  It’s almost impossible, with the nightly improv of new things built from happy accidents that occur.  Things that there is no way to be prepared for, which WILL inevitably happen (as they already do), and for which we are nightly challenged.  (As if the other stuff isn’t enough to keep a straight face through.)

My Schmidt just plain can’t.  Not at all. Not ever. Or it’ll ruin her whole deal.

…But if Peter Sellers can do it, by god, so can I (and three other people who AREN’T Peter Sellers.)  Because: it’s been done.

So that’s the goal.

Meanwhile, I have like two weeks left to enjoy the inadvertent spews of guffaw when they happen from nowhere.  So, I’m gonna. Then it’ll be, “dial in for hardass time.”



1 Sep


Have been awake since 6:30. I have no idea why.

…Thought I’d google my way back to sleep, but that didn’t work. Maybe a cup of some hot tea? Nope. 

Can’t even blame my neck I tweaked in rehearsal the other day, I have full rotation back now (finally) without grimacing every time I look left.

…Body is ache-n-painy, and a bit stiff, but that’s the norm morning-after-rehearsal on this show.  We are beating ourselves up pretty good over there, and yesterday’s work was slotted for eight hours of it.

Today: we have off.

…And no office work as well.

…Which means a total, legitimate, ACTUAL “Day Off.” So of course, I’ve popped awake by 6:30, for no reason, at all.

It’s pro’bly cuz I didn’t blog yesterday. On purpose. 

…At some point I need to let go a little…the commitment was complete a month ago, but still…every day…even when I’m busy and cranky and gloomy and tired and really don’t want to: I’ve blogged anyway.

It was an “out” I guess, and some of the time a forceful focus on something other than office-hell, but I’ve got other things I should be doing now.  Creative junk.  And line runs.  And bit work for scene stuff.  Not to mention the forty or fifty books that have been laying around in every room of my house, waiting for me to finally, FINALLY finish them.

Maybe I’ll do that today.

…See how the weather turns out.  If its cruddy: maybe hit up a bookstore cafe for a few hours.  If it’s nice: pop on some shades and ten gallons of SPF-3000, pack a blanket and some eats into the car, and go off to look for a patch of green somewhere to lay on, and finally finish one of these paper tombs I’ve been messing around with.

Course, it’s only just barely 8:00, now.  Even if it’s nice out, everything will still be all dew-damp n’ sluggy.  So I’ll have to wait a bit.

…And I might as well do that from bed, I suppose.

With a hot cocoa maybe, and this Hitchcock book, just sent me care of The BFF.


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