Tag Archives: sneezing

…And Then There Were Exploding Biscuits

8 Nov


Last night was a first.

…I dunno how I’ve gotten this far in costume drama and have never experienced it before…but last night I sneezed in a corset, for the first time.

…And we aren’t talking a wimpy, lacy lingerie version, here…we are talking a steel band, reinforced, Ren-Fair, stiffened leather, armpit to crotch, kind.

It was ‘tween scenes, waiting for a cross-over from the lobby.  Our Feste was standing next to me, and almost completely lost his shit with my reaction.  I dunno what in the world it looked like, but it felt like my ribs exploded into about 20 steel-ribbed reinforcements at roughly the speed of 40 MPH. 

…Maybe because they did.

…And because it was mid a scene on stage, I tried my best to muffle it.

I’ve never had cause to think of it before, but that shit will actually break your ribs. It’s sort of a notorious hazard, in fact…according to Google over here…which in all of my years, no one has seen fit to relay to me before. I guess common sense would inform you of it, but then when you have 11-hundred other things to worry about at the moment, accidentally sneezing doesn’t register that high on the list, strangely enough.

…So let it be known, you S & M/Period Drama/Renaissance Fair/Fashionistas: Kill the inclination. Kill it however you must. You don’t wanna go there- trust me.

…Like a very violent biscuit can tube, exploding when you’ve pulled the tab wrong and it doesn’t open the ceal properly.

(And thank you JM for that little nugget-example.)

…Honestly, I’m just glad that the front stays, along my bladder, didn’t push me into instant release.  Cuz it hurt pretty awesome, and I’m fairly sure if I had to go pee at that moment, it would have been all over for me at that point. A whole new direction to take the Character.

Tonight is Preview.

At. Fucking. Last.

…The energy yesterday on stage, was like negative 3…which some then tried too hard to over compensate for, in the form of milking the hell out of shit just to get a reaction…at all…anything…even a nose sniffle…or a sigh…or even the crinkle of a candy wrapper…just SOMETHING!

…I found early on that I had a crap case of chew-mouth…where every word was eaten, coming out in a miss-mash of anti-diction (despite all my warm-ups.) By the third scene, I realized I was driving precariously close to mime-intensity with my facial reactions, as if it would somehow make up for the fact that you probably couldn’t understand what the hell I was saying. Signing, over-gregariously, might help bridge the language gap in a foreign country, but not on this stage.

I am (sorry to say) one of those actors who tries much too hard to compensate for their failings, in endless spirals of self-consciousness, whenever I don’t happen to be feeling quite up to par. Its a dangerous place to live, difficult to control and navigate, and almost impossible to ignore. Last night, I spent nearly every single moment on that stage, inside my head…every line, every movement…an exhausting enterprise of constant second-guessing…which I blame on both being far too tired to trust it would happen as it needed to naturally, and also the fact that we are still playing to a vacuum of silence that is almost painful, it is so present, with anti-matter.

We’ve been ready for an audience since Monday, and are sapped of joy and urgency, in playing to an empty theatre of seats. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. And when we try to fix it at this point, it all just goes to hell. Not in a devastating way…more in a molasses-pull of slow suckage. Which is almost worse.



…At LAST, we will have viewing eyeballs, and butts in the seats, and people to interact with, and new infusions of energy, and purpose and design and play!

Tonight, we will finally start to figure out what is really funny, and what are just inside jokes which amused us that other people are never gonna get. Tonight we learn the balance of the comedy…how delicate we can make the somber moments…how conniving we can make the shenanigans. Tonight we get to dip into that little inkwell of nerves that gives performers their extra oompf.

…So thank you, ahead of time, to our Preview patrons! We’ve waited forever to hear you. So don’t be shy! Come whoop yourselves into a tizzy. We saved the first dance, just for you!


Didja Know?

21 Aug


Here’s a game, like when we were kids: I tell you ten things you don’t know about me, and you tell me ten things I don’t know about you.  Explanations are optional.



1) I went like fifteen years without eating a PB&J. 
(It’s because I ate them every day for five solid years, cuz it was a thing I decided would be a good idea.  And then it wasn’t anymore.)

2) The longest relationship I ever had with the opposite sex was in middle-school.
(It was over the course of a year.  We broke up and got back together, once.  Then I dated someone else in seventh grade.  When that ended, it took me eighteen years before I got around to dating again.  For “real.” I’m not very good at it.  Obviously.)

3) One of my all-time heart’s-desires is to be able to burp on command.
(I have this friend who can belch the whole alphabet in one long, loud roar.  He tries to teach me how to do it, but I’m just lousy with burp-action.  I refuse to accept this, however, and continue to work at it.)

4) I feel bad about my feet.
(Feet are just generally not the greatest looking.  I mean, they serve a major function, so I guess they shouldn’t have to be all beautiful and things.  But mine are one of the funkier looking ones.  I have this little “hitch” thing in the big toe? And they’re really wide. Also, the middle toe is longer than all the rest. It’s just wrong. And I wish it wasn’t.)

5) I can’t take naps. 
(It just doesn’t happen.  Unless I’m totally and completely exhausted.  But then I’ll wake up in the worst mood of all time.  Everything will make me angry and irritated without any provocation whatsoever. “You want the blue one?! I want the blue one!” “I hate commercials! Change it back! I was watching that!”  “Star Trek is stupid! So lets fight about it!”)

6) I can’t pronounce the words “wolf,” “ostensibly” or “Wednesday” correctly.
(Wolf = woof…like a dog.  Deal with it. I had to.  OBstensibly gets an added “b”  – I don’t know why – but it just does. Every time.  And I am convinced that Emma Thompson is the only person in the world who can fit the “d” into Wednesday and make it all sound like it’s supposed to. Watch “Stranger than Fiction.”  She does it like eleven times in a row.  It’s mind-blowing.)

7) I hate sneezing.
(There are few things I actually hate more.  Cancer is one of them.  And germs in general.  But sneezing actually pisses me off irrationally.  To the courtesy “Bless you,” I nine times out of ten will reply with a resounding “Fuck!”  This is not meant to counteract the blessing by any means. I will take any that I can get.  I just hate the act of sneezing is all.  So there’s that.)

8) My job at the Brothel is not nearly as amusing as it’s made out to be.
(If you are confused by this, it is my fault.  And I’m sorry.  When actually in the moments of pure and utter mind-numbing frustration and rage that I am often forced into, the last thing I wanna do is make light of the matter and laugh at it.  Which is why I  have to figure out a way to make light of the matter and laugh at it.  If I didn’t?  I’d prob’ly be in jail on charges of manslaughter by now.)

9) I am afraid of sunflowers.
(Actually “afraid,” of them. Yes.  They are this wrong kind of Jurassic monster flower that looks down on you like a tree.  I don’t like it.  It makes me feel the world proportional gauge thing is all outta wack. I mean, what next? Teradactyl sized horseflies and dog-hamsters?!)

10) I have to make my bed every morning.
(Even if I’m running super late.  Even if I’m puking-sick.  Even if I’ve been up for 53 hours straight.  Or the building was on fire.  If I don’t make my bed, I wouldn’t feel right for the rest of the whole day. And then when I went to bed  that night, it’d be all mayhem blanket clumping and sheets all over the place.  Not acceptable, you guys.)

…Now its your turn.


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