Tag Archives: Cats

W.C Fields, (When He’s Right)

21 Apr


This guy was known for his one-liners and one of his finest, “Never work with children or animals,” was spawned by his loathsome hatred for both, and frequent forcing to work with them anyway.

…P.S., he was an actor. 

(In case you didn’t know.)

…A profession where people without patience or discipline are not long for the world. 

…Talent frequently has nothing to do with it.  So we won’t cloud the atmos with any of that right now.  Here, we are only talking basic mechanics.  Can you physically sit still, or stand, or recite on command, or change costumes, or move to where you are supposed to be, on a specific cue? And can you shut the hell up and behave, the rest of the time.

…That’s all.

These two species, frequently cannot. 

…They fidget, and steal focus, and play to the audience, or refuse to play at all, or act out when they aren’t supposed to, and don’t when they are. 

…And they are cuter than you.  So every fucking person in the audience is going to be ten times more intrigued with whatever it is they are doing on total accident (like picking their nose, or peeing in the corner) instead of you with all your months of dedicated hard work invested in this highly emotional scene.

This is why W.C. Fields is a genius. 

Because he said it: the truth, that no one wants to admit, but know is true…which if you do admit, makes you a giant asshole.

I am a giant asshole. 

…And I’m totally okay with that, frankly.

This is why you will never see me doing a show like, oh..”Annie” for instance. 

That would be like hell. 

…Unless I was Hannigan, in which case I getta hate all the children on purpose anyway.

…And you’ll never see me in a film like “101 Dalmations,” made up almost entirely with animilia of every size, breed, and type, each trained in doing one thing that they never do on cue, but will do any time  you like, when the camera isn’t on them.

I frankly super lucked out with “Oliver!”…only cuz it was a bucket-list role and totally worth all the pain, added to the fact that our kids were all freaks of talent, and really good, delightful human beings.

…This is not usually the case.

It sorta broke the mold.

…And in “Anne” our under-agers are serious-minded young artists, that attack the work as such, so I tend not to think of them as anything other than “peers,” outright…

…But the cat?

Ohhhhhh….the cat.

We have a live Mouchie. 

Peter’s cat is a “cat”…not a “something in a box they talk to from time to time”…and as such, lives with us in the first act, and back stage for the second. On a harness and leash, he exists primarily in Peter’s room, for a few spotlight moments, and isn’t thought of much again ever after. 

…But he is real. 


…A giant, Buddha-like tabby with slothful inclinations…which works perfect on a stage full of screaming hysteria (mostly sourcing from me) and much door slamming.  He is usually quite good to just smoke his little peace-pipe of hooka-catnip-hash and stone out for the act, then exit at intermission and be done with it.

…But not tonight.

Tonight, Tinker was a pissed-off individual, and by GOD everyone was gonna know it!!

…We didn’t know why, or how, what was different than the norm, what may have happened to spawn it, but it began not long after intermission with small vocal complaints (mostly only heard by cast on stage), magnified in the Anna/Peter date scene with a gigantic dump of uncovered poop that clogged the air with putrification…at almost gag levels…for the following scene and a half, then ended…at the most poignant of scenes…the second to the last…with Anne, gazing out the attic window speaking her most famous words…before the Nazis come storming in to collect us all…with a collection of yowlings that grew, and grew, and grew…until the audience was in absolute titters.

…After all that we had worked for…

…One FUCKING cat was completely ruining it all.

By the time it was carried, still yowling, and stowed away in the dressing rooms, more than a few pissed casties rallied the end of our strength and focus and worked to regain what was left of our dignity and solemnity in the moment. 

We rallied.

…Because it was our job.

…And a large number of them were FAR more forgiving of the fur-creature afterwards than I was. 

Again, that “cuteness” factor wins people over, all the time.

…But not the hard-asses.

I didn’t speak to that bastard on PURPOSE…even while everyone else baby-talked to it, and scratched behind it’s ears, and wondered over it’s emotional state, and what could have bothered it so to act out today, when it had never done so before.

Me, I just slapped it dirty looks whenever I could and silently threatened to kill it if it sprayed my bag of theatre crap, sitting beside in on the floor.

…Admittingly: I am not a cat person. 

I like dogs. 

…But I don’t care if it is Fido, a finch, a frog, a 30-hand-tall horse: you fuck with something I’ve worked two months and two-and-a-half hours to build: We are enemies, pal.

It’s ON, Tinker!

It. Is. ON.



Just Checking In

24 Aug


I’m house sitting right now for one of my favorite people of all time. 

…We immediately clicked, and I think it’s cuz she reminds me of my family, in that she’s really loud, likes to carry conversations on into the bathroom with the door wide open while she pees rather than break her stride, laughs inappropriately  (in loudness and at specific times), is a giant art-nerd, swills booze like a sailor and views everything in the world from a slightly bent perspective of hilarious amazement. 

…God, I’m really homesick right now…


…She lives in a tiny apartment with her Husband (K.L — Army-strong and kickass), Great-Dane-Greyhound-Mastive-mix dog (Bruce — A 150 lb substitute for the horse she never got as a kid) and Cat (Kaliopi — which I can’t spell, so just call “the cat.”)

They are away right now getting married. For the second time.  And they didn’t even have the decency to get divorced in between, like Elizabeth Taylor has taught us. 

…The first time was at a Justice of the Peace, which The Moms immediately vetoed as not being legal…on account there was no white dress involved.  Then “M” had to tell them that she had already lost her virginity that one time…several years ago…and not even to her husband…and everyone went all up in arms about it (cuz they’re from the midwest), and insisted that they fly their happy asses back home and have a “proper wedding” if only so “M” wouldn’t look like a giant whore to the in-laws.

…So they did.

Bruce was boarded away at some stable where they keep all the other local horses, and I was nominated to watch the plants, house and cat.  Occasionally I check in with “M” and “K.L”, just because I feel its the right thing to do.  Also, if I didn’t they might start to worry that I burnt the place down on accident or something.  But I don’t know why…since I almost never start accidental fires in other people’s houses.  I’m extra careful about that. Now.

Following is the last note I sent them, yesterday afternoon:

“Dear The Mr. & Mrs.,

Just writing to assure that the place you live is still there, and your cat too. Incidentally, she asked me to relay you a quick message…hold on, I wrote it on a piece of paper here so I’d get it just right. Here it is.

Quote: “Whatthefuckyouguys?!?!”

…She also wanted to know when you might be coming home, so I told her. She suggested maybe you forget to pick up Bruce altogether and it’d go back to being the “good ol’ days again.” I told her this was highly unlikely…but then we discussed the new house and all, and she wondered if it had really high counters and good window perches. I told her I hadn’t seen it yet, so she’d have to wait until you all got back to find out. And then she gave me this look like, “Holy shit, you really are just totally useless aren’t you?” I felt really bad about that, so opened the big can of wet food and hoped she wouldn’t gorge too much and puke on the carpet.

…Also I cleaned out her poop. And she watched me to make sure I did it right. Like The Queen of Egypt breaking in a new unic. It is so much work being her, you guys…you just don’t know.

In other news: this last heat wave was exceedingly abusive to the flower-plants. I boozed ’em up real good every other day…but then I skipped one in the middle, so it was three days this one time, and when I got there they were all hanging from the baskets like melting death. So I panicked and came back-to-back days once, just to watch them. In Hospital-talk, they are now out of ICU, but are still being kept for observation.

Also, I think a bunch of people are trying to bribe you.

…Or maybe you have a Sugar Daddy who occasionally mails you gifts? Or maybe he’s “K.L’s” Sugar Daddy…I’m not judging you or anything, alternative lifestyles are awesome and everyone should have them.

Anyway…package notices keep popping up. Like 50 of them. I kept writing on the stickers to forward them to the office, and today out of curiosity, decided it was prob’ly time to go check and see if that was actually happening. But did you know, I’m not “you?” Apparently that is the only person aloud to ask about packages.

…I said I didn’t need to “see” them, just assure that they in fact “existed.” They said if you drew up papers at a local Law firm, put me in your wills, selected me as legal guardian of your unborn children in case of your untimely demise…and I got my immunization shots done…they’d tell me. But not until then. So, sorry. I guess you’re on your own. I tried. Except for the immunization part. I don’t do needles.


Your Official House Sitter and Cat Unic.”


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