Packing avoidance

Right, so I'm in the process of packing for subzero weather and need a quick break. Trying to remember that I'm really going to be wearing the same jeans and fleece the entire time and not overpack. Wish me luck on that!

So, I stopped by Ann Taylor and got 2 items at a ridiculous 60% off. Thanks, recession! One is a cute sweater dress and I really need a slip for it. I went to the Kohl's website to see what they had and this was it:



Does this mannequin need to stop doing so many chest presses, or is it just me? It's not like she's bowed in because of the weight of her tremendous bosom, or anything. Is she malnourished? Is that the problem? Maybe she's overwhelmed by the plainness of this slip...would it have broken the bank to add some lace? I have a feeling it feels like being wrapped in a cheap, waterproof slicker. (heh, I said 'slicker')

I'll keep looking.

Back to packing.

Watch this

My awesome sister has written, produced, and posted an hysterical short on Funny or Die. If you have kids and can't remember what it's like to have a moment alone, you'll love this. OR if you're like me and all your friends have kids, ditto.

Watch this!

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

2nd Horseman

There are often really creepy applications or ads that pop up on Facebook, but this one takes the cake.

We're in so much trouble.

Has anyone else seen this application? http://www.new.facebook.com/apps/application.php?id=38703062348

"Create your Mr. Right: Why look for Mr. Right when you can make him yourself? Design your Mr. Right now and start your virtual relationship." If you click on the application, it takes you to this page:

And He's STARING at me...staring! Like the creepy droid that He is, with His big feet and...baguette? You can buy yourself gifts that 'he's' giving you? Listen, the only reason He's buying you chocolates is so He can hide sleeping pills in them so you won't hear Him slip out to meet His male lover(s) in the middle of the night. Every night. For always.

Shudder.

Wow. If you aren't single, I don't imagine this is popping up in your feed, but it sure is in mine. I feel like this represents all that is wrong in the social world. Why bother going out to meet men when you can just create a two-dimensional, anime-esque 'boy' to...look at? To write copy for? Could 'he' be more disturbingly androgynous or child-like? Probably. He could be Goofus or Gallant, the charming duo from Highlights magazine...no, they'd be better. Actually, Goofus is pretty butch, maybe I need to 'date' him...

Towels! That's right, towels.

I think I've found The Perfect Towel.

Do you have those things you're super finicky about? There are some things I could care less about, clothes, for example. If it's $0.99, sort of fits, and serves a purpose, I'll wear it until it it falls off my body. I'm not a fashionista. Don't get me wrong, I have some great pieces, too, but if something doesn't fit perfectly, I'll still wear it.

Towels can make me crazy. If it's too soft and doesn't absorb anything, leaves huge amounts of lint that pills up when I apply lotions, is too small to wrap around my, ahem, non-petite frame, or snags on a hangnail and unravels...irritating.

Recently, after realizing I really needed to upgrade some things to make my apartment more fit for massage clients, I decided to get new towels for the bathroom. Now, standing in the towel department of Bed, Bath and Beyond, is my version of hell. Talk about sensory overload! Add the fact that, in Manhattan, you are literally hundreds of feet underground, no outside world ascertainable, looking up at a wall of towels. Blegh.

Also, I'm a Libra, I can't make this kind of decision. Give me two choices, even three, I might be able to choose something in under an hour. Maybe. Faced with an infinite number of price points, types of cotton, colors, sizes, looks...come on.

After a lovely customer gal noticed my glazed look and helped me, I bought a few of these Wamsutta Hotel Towels. After using them for a day, I went back and got a full set. Thick but absorbent, very little lint (and I haven't washed them yet), great weave that looks and feels high quality.

Go get 'em.

I'm ba-ack

So, I had all these plans to blog my ass off while in Colorado on my summer gig. I was partially so disappointed by the town (not in the mountains, air pervaded with eau de derriere du vache, terrible paycheck shenanigans, all sorts of professional merde) that I couldn't bring myself to write about it. Then, after a time, my computer got stolen out of my locked room in housing.

I will describe my experience in a nutshell: I have been hit over the head, about the neck, and smacked on various extremities with the ruler of wake-up-and-smell-the-last-time-you-work-at-this-level-dodohead. I have several girlfriends who are instructed to punch me full in the face if I start to hem and haw about taking more work like this.

I did get the chance to play an amazing role I will play roughly 40 more times in my life for the first time, made some wonderful new friends who will be on Broadway in a matter of years, and be close enough to my family to make a much needed trip home. Yay that...and scene.

Soooo, I'm back in The City. Today, I jumped back into things by being a reader for a Broadway workshop. I'm the person people act with when they come in to audition. In this case it was a musical, so people come in and sing one or two songs, then do sides (portions of the script) for the character they're auditioning for. I read the other character(s) in those scenes, usually while sitting in a chair. Often I'm playing up to 3 different people in the scene, male and female. My job is to give the actor something to work with, be as present as possible, and make them look really good.

There are many wonderful things about this gig. First of all, it's like an audition workshop. Even when it's not everyone on Broadway coming in, like in this audition today, I witness some fascinating behavior, see some great pieces (which I totally write down and use), and remember that no matter how talented you are, you still have to bring it when you're in the room. This is a musical, fairly broad although it still has some good meat to it. They were asking people auditioning for ensemble to bring in a short, comic monologue in addition to the two songs they ask everyone for. One guy came in with two dark songs (even the up-tempo! I wish I could remember what it was, but it's hard to find an angry up-tempo) and his monologue was even more so. After he left, the book writer deadpanned, "I can't imagine a better monologue choice for a musical comedy."

Another woman sang a really cute up-tempo and the director asked what it was from. She told him and he asked who had written it. "I'm so bad," she said, "I just can't remember!" She had probably gotten the song from the actual score of the show, so the composer and lyricist weren't listed at the top.

"I wrote it." The book writer said from behind the table.

Ho. Ly. Shit.

Now, luckily, it was low-key room, fairly good spirits, all egos stealthily cloaked. He wasn't pissed or making a point, just stating a fact. The poor actress handled it well and even sang another song but, seriously, I died a little.

Second, it's a great reminder that even if you're fantastic, sometimes you're just not right for the show or role. The lead role in this show is a nebbishy, Woody Allen type, except translate that to musical theatre. One man came in, I'll call him the Jewish Clark Kent, gorgeous black hair with, seriously, a curl on his forehead, great horn-rimmed glasses, khakis and a button-down. The kind of guy you knew was ripped underneath his Arrow shirt. He had a great voice, was a great actor, but was too serious and understated. A legendary film actor, who was in the original movie the show is based on, came in and was brilliant, but may not end up being as broad as they want. Totally honest and amazing, but not it.

[I just remembered something else. The director regularly asked people about their special skills. One guy had "Yanni-esque" piano playing listed, for example. Well, Jewish CK had "Old English pronunciation" down. Damned if he didn't give the first 4 lines of Canterbury Tales in a perfect, Old-e English-e accent. Of course, his rendition was somehow romantic and hot, unlike the priggish hilarity of my junior English teacher - the same teacher I talk about here. I did get a little hysterical but managed not to embarass myself or anyone else. JCK also listed Greek pronunciation, explaining that he had to choose between acting or linguistics. He sure chose the more lucrative career... Mind you, the director's sister is the head of the Medieval Literature Department at the University of Edinburgh. Do. Not. Lie. On. Your. Resume.]

Third, you experience some amazing stuff you would never see anywhere else. A huge Broadway star rocked an R.E.M. song that no-one else would have done. Another Broadway regular did an amazing up-tempo where he did cartwheels made other choices no one else could have pulled off. One guy sang a song called "Marry Me" directly to me. One man sang a Maury Yeston song and, at the end, the door to the hallway opened and Maury Yeston poked his head in. "I just heard my song being sung so beautifully and I had to see who it was!" He was down the hall having a meeting and happened to pass by. "I'd have to say that's a first." The auditioner said after the composer left.

Fourth, I have a 6-hour audition for something I would never, ever get seen for right now. I just don't have the credits. I get to play 4 characters, and do some fabulous back acting, since I'm sitting front of the team. At the end of the day they asked me to sing. I rocked it. Correction, the pianist rocked it because I didn't have my book because I'm a complete spaz. I never, ever go to one of these without my book of audition songs, I just spaced it. I did have a headshot but a lot of good that does me. So the pianist asked what I wanted to sing and just played it with me. Now, my second one was a standard, but the first was not. I marked through it and she just followed when I sang it (a good 7th below where I normally do, but whatevs). Un-freakin-believable.

So, I'm back.

On the road

So, I'm in Greeley, Colorado.

Um.

Before anything, I really need to get up to the drive across the Midwest. For someone who is terrible at planning ahead (ahem, 'in the past I have been bad about planning ahead') I was pretty effing ready to leave town, and not just emotionally. I don't know if it was that I have a friend's parents coming to stay in my place around her due date that made me get my act together or not, but I was on it.

I. Mopped. My. Kitchen. 'nuff said.

There is a weird melancholy that accompanies a gig on the road. It's been a while since I've done a show where I'm not going to work with 5 of my closest friends (I've been so lucky, that takes some time). On this gig, I know the director from regional and that's it. I'm the only Equity Guest Artist working with college students. It's really weird to leave town so you can do the one thing that makes you the happiest in the world and know that it affects absolutely no one's life back at home. Sure, I have friends that will miss me, but we can talk on the phone (when our schedules mesh) or email and maybe not see each other any less than we do when I'm in town. No one is directly affected by my being gone. I'm not complaining, just an observation.

Years ago, when I was doing a production of The Miracle Worker, one of the girls playing Helen asked me if I was married. When she found out I wasn't married or dating, she asked me if I got lonely. Whoof. No! No. No. Who needs real men when you can meet, fall in love with, and marry fake, gorgeous men on stage all the time. Puh-lease.

Plus the digressing.

So, I set out last Sunday from Omaha in the car my parents have graciously lent me since they're not in Nebraska at present. I was worried the Memorial Day traffic would be heavy, thinking, apparently, that I was in a highly populated area. It was fine.

I stopped a couple of hours later to get some food. I had been craving eggs and biscuits so stopped at a Petro truckstop that had a diner attached, an Iron Skillet. I passed on the terrifying buffet and ordered some standard breakfast fare. This is what I got:



Please click on this to zoom in. I really should have taken the photo before I removed the 4 TABLESPOONS of butter from the egg skillet. Note that the eggs are already swimming in butter. Holy Mary. I gained 4 pounds and 20 cholesterol points just being this close to this meal.

In case you're not getting the magnitude:


Four. And at least that much in each biscuit already. I ate the eggs and both biscuits and instantly felt hurl-a-riffic. Wow. There was also a smoking section in the restaurant. I didn't take a picture for fear of getting my ass kicked. I was way too cosmo in my tank top, cargo pants, and non-permed hair already. I ain't stupid.

The drive was largely non-eventful until I neared Greeley. A) no mountains to be seen from 50 minutes away; B) stockyards, and by that I mean a good 5-10 miles of stockyards like I've never seen or smelled before (and my air was on recirc). If I wasn't already mostly veg, that would have sent me that way in a hurry. I have never been so much about animal rights, but this is highly disturbing. An unfathomable amount of animals in shocking conditions. I can't even go into it.

So, it turns out Greeley is about 40 minutes from the actual mountains. Sigh. Ok. Apparently I'll be spending more gas money than anticipated. Housing is great. All is well.

Thus ends installment one. Tune in soon for stories of cast, rehearsals, and the supermarket.

Ruby et Violette

Renew your gym membership, call your jogging buddy, or dust off that Buns of Steel VHS...you're gonna need it.

A client of mine, an amazing baker/pastry chef, has opened a cafe/coffee shop in the heart of Midtown - Ruby et Violette.

Now, I have a sweet tooth, I won't deny it. But I never really find what hits the spot. I don't really do chocolate but will in a pinch...I'm more of a baked goods person. Holy Mary! I am in LOVE. With a cookie menu that is devoid of Chocolate Chip but ranges from "Root Beer Float" to "Perfect", I'm in.

Of the ones I sampled, Lemon White and Cassis were my favorite. These are truly amazing and like nothing I have ever tasted before. Really. The layers of flavor are astounding, light but full at the same time. I also had Strawberry Champagne, Praline, Peach Cobbler, and Espresso (I had a small bite, y'all know I don't do caffeine, I'd be up until next Wednesday). All were stupendous.

I was a little worried that the flavors would be odd, you know, for the sake of being intense? Like Bertie Botts. Nope. Beautiful. This woman is gifted. NYSC thanks her for my lifetime membership.

The shop is a beautiful little retreat at 457 W. 50th between 9th & 10th. Decorated in white with black and red accents, it has a delightful French feel (except the part where the barristas smile and make eye contact while gladly serving you). There are about 8 small tables that seat two.

Get there.