Blog 22 - The Perfect Thanksgiving meal

~

Here's my recipe for the most amazing Thanksgiving dinner:

1 live turkey
3 cups fresh corn, decobbed and washed
6 potatoes, whole
1 bottle of fine red wine

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees. Take the live turkey, feed him the corn, then push him out the front door. Throw the potatoes at him to make him run away. Take the bottle of wine, sit on the porch, and laugh at all the people who have been up since 5 AM cooking for a meal that will last 20 minutes. Go back inside and warm yourself by the oven. Call your favorite Chinese take-away and watch "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and "A Christmas Story" until you pass out.

Enjoy!

~

Blog 20 - Woah, Woah Woah, Feelings

~

I was talking with Grasshopper the other day about the "feelings" I used to get after an audition. I knew instantly whether or not I got a role. Well, more precisely, I either knew I got it or I would stress about it...and if I stressed, I didn't get it. I know it's kind of hard to believe, but I was never, ever - in the whole of my brief, but exciting, career - wrong.

At first I shared these "feelings" with my friends...they would ask, out of politeness, how I did after an audition and I would answer them with either, "Oh, I know got that," or "I don't know!! I'm so nervous! What if they didn't like me?! Have they cast it yet??? Should I call them??!!"

I quickly learned that alternating between conceit and paranoia did not sit well with my peers.

So, I adopted the shrug and the "either I got it or I didn't" attitude...but behind the scenes I always knew. Surprisingly, my hit ratio was pretty good...I usually got the roles I auditioned for. Not because I was some kind of super-genius-talented actor, but because I knew my limitations. I knew which roles I could get and which roles I couldn't...and rarely did I venture out of my comfort zone. I didn't have to - there were few actors who were perfectly fine with playing the wacky neighbor or the character with only 3 lines. Everyone went for the leads...and I know I'm not a lead. In fact, I think I only played a lead once...and that's only because I can do a kick-ass British accent.

"Mousetrap" has to be the most boring play on the planet...why it was the longest-running show in London is a mystery in itself. But I was thrilled to get the part (thrilled as soon as I left the audition...because I knew I had it) and the fact that it was a show in LA made the role all the more sweet.

There isn't much in the way of theatre in LA...everyone does theatre to "pass the time" until they get a pilot or a speaking role in a film. God, I hated LA. The parties were the worst. Everyone walks around with their resumes in their hands, and the first thing anyone says is, "I know (blank). Who do you know? I'll introduce you to mine if you introduce me to yours."

Blech.

Theatre is the undiscovered goldmine in California. That's where you meet all of the people you need to know. By the time the run started I was pregnant with Sir Xander (two months of "morning" sickness on stage...more like morningnoonandnight sickness. The role I was playing rarely had to go offstage, so I had to wait for a moment when I knew I didn't have a line for a few minutes, walk to the back, open the door, and puke in the grass) so my career was effectively over, but had I so chosen I could have milked it for all it was worth. Because that's where the husbands and wives of the writers, directors, and actors go. If you befriend the significant other, you're in, baby. I met writers for NBC, actors on famous (at the time) sitcoms, and directors of major motion pictures. If I hadn't had to excuse myself constantly to go to the bathroom at parties, I might have even been able to impress them.

But I digress.

Grasshopper and I were talking about an audition that Xander had for an upcoming show. It's "The Trojan Women" by Aeschylus, and the role is the young Prince who gets thrown off a mountain because the Greeks are afraid that if he becomes a man he will try to avenge his father. Tragic, tragic play. She asked how I thought he had done. Quite honestly, he kind of flubbed a few times and got nervous when the director (a very charismatic and intimidating woman) was chatting with him. He clammed up in classic Tween style. Can't blame him, though - it was his first real audition.

Grasshopper asked me if I thought he got the part. "You know, I think he did. I don't know if this "feeling" thing works on him or if it's just my wishful thinking. But...it's the same feeling. It just feels like he got it."

And I was right. He did.

~

Blog 19 - Keep on Truckin'

~

Even though I blew it I'm still going to try and keep this up. Like John, I'll call a mulligan and see if anyone notices.

I'm not sure if making an excuse will help my plight, but I'll give it a go.

This weekend was the "Christmas" weekend. My brother and his wife, Satan, came to grace us with their presence - fully expecting us to grace them with presents. (If that wasn't so cheesy I'd be proud of the alliteration....)

To be fair, it isn't my brother's fault any more. He's so dead inside that he just moves around like a robot in Satan's wake. I suppose it is, technically, his fault since he married a gold-digging, manipulative, back-stabbing, super-bitch...but it's gotten beyond his control now. He's in his own private Hades and not even the gods could save him now.

Why is she Satan? Let me wax poetic for you:

- Before they were married I was staying with my brother (and paying rent) but she knew I didn't like her and was against them getting married...so she fabricated a story that made my brother upset to get me out. He sided with her, wouldn't listen to anything I said, so I moved out. It was only later that I discovered what she had done - and felt a right fool for falling into her manipulation.

- When she walked into my parents' nice home for the first time she said, "Oh! I'm going to inherit THIS?!"

- She lied about her age by 8 years. So, when they married (Black Sunday) she couldn't have children. She had already gone through "The Change."

- They adopted, and on the first night (they were at my parents' house) of my nephew's life she said, "I can't do this. We have to take him back." If my parents hadn't stepped in, I'm willing to bet she would have done it.

- When they come to visit, she guilts my 75-year-old mother into taking care of her children while she sits on the couch and does her nails.

- After the children were born she made my brother quit the job he loved because he traveled a lot (he was a project manager for the CDC and went all over the world teaching hospitals how to use software to track infectious diseases) and she insisted that it wasn't "fair" that she had to take care of the children by herself. After he found a job that involved 4 hours' drive time with less pay she got a job where she travels...a lot.

I could go on...but I'm feeling ill just going over this.

The reason for the missed posting is because my mother is quite ill, and I had to go out there to ensure that Satan didn't over-work my mother while she convalesces. It was tiring, thankless work.

I love my nephews and I feel for them. Satan is the type of mother who treats her children with contempt. At first I was hoping they wouldn't be able to adopt another child, but now I'm glad - at least my two nephews will have each other to support.

And I'm making sure I have enough space for when they are old enough to walk away from her. They'll always have unconditional love and respect from at least one member of the family.

~

Blog 18 - Oops, I Did it Again

~

I blew it. I missed yesterday. This is the way most of my "commitments" go...so no huge surprise here. I have a half-assed excuse, of which I'll write about tomorrow. It involves family, Satan, and a shitload of wine.

In the meantime, enjoy this little ditty I rediscovered. This is from the early '90s...but it's a timeless piece.

.



~

The Nail

~

For the want of a screw the wire was lost;
For the want of a wire the connection was lost;
For the want of a connection the battery was lost;
For the want of a battery the car was lost;
For the want of a car her world was lost;
And all for the want of a god-damn screw.

~

The car is fixed, but I've realized just how scary it is to be attached to a 2-ton metal box. And how scary it is not to have a network of friends.

The car broke down in the parking lot of Zach Scott Theatre...I thought that was going to be just fine since I work there. "At least I won't be stranded alone," I mused.

I might as well have been in the Sahara. People I have worked with for over a year walked past me and my open hood with nothing more than a furtive glance. These are people I have partied with...gotten drunk on roofs with...bailed out at the last minute.... And they all walked by without asking if I needed anything.

I'm not taking it too personally, since everyone does that to everyone else. It's like they're all walking around in their own little personal bubbles. No one connects with anyone else...EVER. I would expect that kind of attitude from corporate monkeys, but this is a THEATRE! These are supposed to be artistic people, and artistic people, by nature, cannot survive alone. But these people, apparently, can and do.

It makes me a little sick.

Which is why I will finish the dates I committed to and then never set foot in that elitist, pompous, arrogant, snob of a place again.

~

Blog...Something

~

Battery loss is a theme for me this week. My car battery flipped out, my computer's motherboard battery fizzled, and my camera batteries died at a very important moment.

All have been rectified...with the exception of the latter. If you would be so kind, I shall rectify it now.

(This was taken 20 minutes before my car fitzed. I watch it now and think, "Oh, if only she knew what will happen when she walks out of that room....")








Special thanks to Laura, the best piano teacher in the Universe.

~