Words. Words. Words. Words. Naw

This is the part that is my least favorite.

I have to be off book. When you get off book, everything that you've been doing is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. I know I'm pretty adept at having a script in my hand all sneaky like and tying to do stuff, but it usually comes across as awkward and messy.

And I'm usually no where near as well dressed as this corgi.

I know that the minute that script goes away I can play and play. I'm no longer clutching my safe script in my hand like it's some sort of rainbow, glitter, stuffed manly unicorn named Rex (shout out to Rex, thanks for the snuggles). My brain, has no interest in this, it's just sitting in my skull going "Hey, man you spent waaaaay too long not using me and abusing me so I'm going to be a little slooooooow on the uptake." (incidentally, I think I just realized that the inside of my head sounds like The Dude as a muppet.) and that is not going to work for me, I'm not getting any younger here.

Some of it comes from taking the time to actually sit and work on it. I just have to tell myself that I have to do it, which means when I have a free minute I have to tell my self: "Self, I know you'd rather spend this free minute shotgunning beers while napping and doing crossword puzzles on a pile of kittens, but you need to hop to, get that shit memorized." (It's never actually that fun when I have free time, there is napping and kittens, okay it's a full grown cat but he's really good at naps)

If there are any tips and tricks out there, I would like them please. All of them. Every. Last. Trick. 

Now excuse me while I get back to doing other stuff, like finding time to make a dress. 

Naw, I know what I'm doing, but they have these for EVERYTHING I couldn't pass it up! 

It starts with a Venti....

...iced coffee with an extra shot of espresso and a grande mocha-y, whipped cream-y blended delicious heavenly treat thing around 10:45 AM

Labor day. 

Then Marcy and I hoofed it to the Jo-Ann fabrics and crafts as Labor Day sales are the best at fabric stores. There we encountered a gentleman patiently waiting for his wife, after overhearing what we were working on he showed us a picture of his grand father arresting Machine Gun Kelly in 1933, super cool. Dude emailed it to me. 

Oh hey notice how all of the police officers aren't wearing uniforms...

Then we stood in an extremely long check out line. The only thing that made it longer was a gremlin hell beast that had sobbed the ENTIRE time we were in the store. That fuck topped out at well over a half an hour, which is about 25 minutes longer than it needed to be doing anything.

I will openly admit that I gave that little bitch some side eye the likes of which he couldn't even comprehend, which caused it to hide behind it's awful mother.

Pictured: Actual photo of Shitty Child.

Next we punched it over to SLU where we frolicked in the child free world of costumers on their "day off" (It's funny, because there's no such thing). Pants were found. Suspenders dug through. It was a grand time had by all.

Remember earlier when I said that fabric stores have the best sales on Labor Day? I need to amend that statement to:

 Hancock Fabric jizzes all over Jo-anns face when it comes to sales.

The pattern we already bought? We paid 11 bucks for it. 

At Hancock...1.99. Not to mention 50% off fabric. 

Which is huge.

Why is this huge do you ask?

Oh I don't know...

Maybe because some ass hole decided that Bonnie needs to wear some fancy dress.

I have never in my life bought 20$ a yard fabric...until yesterday. 

After sticker shock and amazing coupons we trucked it over to what will undoubtedly be the next thrift store in the St. Louis area to close: SAVERS! 

For their out of control, one of a kind, you have to slap yourself in the face to believe it could be real, 50% off every damn thing in the store sale. 

Don't forget to bring your walking shoes because you will park half a mile away.

Also, don't forget your mace, bear or otherwise you will have to deal with over zealous old women.

Oh and let's not forget your patience--because yes, you are working, and yes you are measuring mens shirts, and no thank you guy with the eyes that are a little too light and unsettling, neither one of us really wants to be hit on in a thrift store. 

Thanks though (coincidentally that's the second time that's happened at the Savers...something about chicks measuring mens shirts and the smell of lysol I guess.).

Ya, you're cute and all but there's just something not quite right here...are you even old enough to drive?

We had done it. 

We had saved so much money. 

...all for the price of our sanity

and we had never really had that any way, right? 

Leftover pizza. Nap. Repeat. 

Oil Can!

Remember that time that I get to do new and exciting theater? The time that I get to play an amazing part based on an actual woman who was a total badass? And remember that time that I haven’t had to learn new music for anything in over a year….? (Record scratch sound for emphasis please)

But seriously...no idea. 

That’s right. I am out of shape. Woefully out of shape. When your body is out of shape, you can tell. You can feel it, you can see it. It’s wicked obvious.  Like this here, usually that man possess an ass that I want to gently gnaw on, here I want to take his blood pressure because I’m genuinely concerned.

I think there's probs an "I am the Fatman" joke that can be made here, but I don't want to make too much fun of someone who was once arrested for assault...of his own mother.

I’m vocally fat.

I am vocally picked last for dodge ball.

My voice is stained with Cheeto dust and code red mountain dew.

I think sometimes that I have a bizarre form of seasonal affective disorder, I’m fine with the winter, I love winter, scarves are great and I have a fur collection that would make a hairless cat jealous. No, in August I become a hideous zombie that drags its ass around. I don’t know if it’s the weather or that there aren't any holidays in august (except my birthday which is totes a holiday) but my brain just turns off. It’s like in some sort of awful sleep mode. Which means now the time has come for rehearsal and I have to dust off the cobwebs and add some wd-40. I need a training montage for my brain, but you can’t just put it in a grey sweat suit and expect it to box meat in a deep freezer. I have to hop in and stretch and condition or I’m going to get left behind in the dust.

Oh ya, and I have to find clothes for everyone…

Except for Patrick Bateman. He gets no clothes. 

 That’ll help for now I guess….

Ooooo Scary!

It's really sad and awesome how this blogging works out. I start out all amped up about what sort of blog posts I'm going to make, which quickly disintegrates into "blog posts? Pffft, more like time to eat a burrito really fast and nap, posts...(I have never claimed to be articulate)".

I have several ideas for posts that are just churning around my head and when I actually have a moment to make a post I either do the above or freeze up and have nothing to write about. So let's remedy that, and by us I mean me and the stuffed, pink sparkle pony that lives in my office, because I have an adult job dammit.

This week we were treated to an incredible luxury that most actors couldn't even dream of: We were given a set. Not just a "taped out", "Those are steps, you can't just walk through steps, even 1 dimensional steps", but an honest to god set. Not a set that will give us splinters, but a set that is primarily done (with the exception of a floor and aging. AGING. Yes, you read that correctly, they have to come back through and make the set MORE bad ass) it's so done that an audience could have walked in last night and watched the show. Thank Christ they didn't, we looked like a hot mess, but a hot mess in progress.

This is what appeared when I image searched "Hot Mess" it was either this or Mischa Barton looking like Pete Doherty.

I have complete confidence that when we roll around to Monday, we're going to slap this show in the taint. Once we do that, there is no going back either, and for that I'm stoked. I'm so ready to be able to finally get lost in this world, even if it scares the shit out of me, and not have to search for my words or blocking or motivation. 

Not to mention once this week gets rolling, there's no looking back, we're stuck and it's going to be tiring and stressful and awesome and when we get done we may all look like this: 

I never promised that I wouldn't use this photo.

In the Name of all Holy Bejesus!

Okay Okay, I've been slacking with the blogging I get it! I will slack no more and I will get you all together on the same page as me for this Night of the Living Dead drama!

I've now watched NOtLD again as well as several documentaries (recommended by Scott and my cast mates) in order to prepare. The version of NOtLD was some special edition that had some bizarre added filler crap with some leader of Satanist Church, or Goatee Enthusiast Club President, I wasn't really clear on that part. The fact of the matter is whoever decided that those scenes were necessary in their telling or retelling, should be taught the whole "If it ain't broke, don't add weird facial hair to it" mantra (that's totes a mantra, look it up I swear I didn't just make it up right now...).

                            Awwwww ya, there's that sweet sweet goatee...said no one ever. 

Somewhere during my Junior or Senior year of high school one of my good friends and myself decided to go to the Loop (because we're obviously the coolest.) and do cool Loop activities that you do when you're 17. Incidentally, the same activities that now as a 28 year old crotchety woman I find annoying when they're taking place in my neighborhood, which is the Loop (because remember I'm the coolest). We took our selves straight into Vintage Vinyl and we purchased several DVD's (cutting edge for 2002) one of which was NOtLD, after buying bottomless root beer, (and drinking it RESPONSIBLY, the Scientology root beer story is for another day, trust me.) clove cigarettes (rebels!) and god knows what else it was time to head home and review our movie purchases. 

This was a more simple time for myself, I did not watch anything scary, the first two and a half minutes of The Ring scared me so shitless I only watched PBS for a good 3 months 

                                   EHMEHGED!!! I need Reruns of Are You Being Served NOW!!!! 

                                           

                                 Phew. That was a close one. Thanks for saving me Mr. Humphries. 

                     

Wait...where was I going with this...right:

This was the very first movie that I had managed to sit through start to finish that scared the bejeesus out of me. It scared me and began my love of all things zombie. Now I know that in recent years Zombies have gotten extremely sexy and over used but these zombies were the original, they were vacant, slow, eating machines that you had to kill first. Ever since that day I've wanted all things creepy and gross in my life. 

                                                                   Quack the Ripper! 

And he's available on Etsy: http://www.etsy.com/shop/shrunkenheaddotcom?ref=l2-shopheader-name Just remember that if for some reason you missed my birthday...ahem. 

Seriously.

Remember that time that I had a career of blogdom in my future ? Me neither, I made up that first part I really don't have a future in it but it sure is fun.

So here we are more than a year later reattempting a blog that has been long since forgotten. If I was someone who used my head more I would have blogged for every show I've ever done and even when I'm not in a show (what, what WHAAAAAT?!).

That being said the remount of Stupefy! goes up at the end of the week this time it's a little different, a little less dirty and just as goofy as it should be. I'm not too worried about how it's going to go, after all currently there's more than one sold out performance. What I'm wicked concerned about is what the fuck I'm going to do when the show wraps up. For real, this is going to be the longest that I've gone in a while without a project in the works. What. The. Fuck.

Excuse me now while I attempt to get my life (waaaaaaay easier said than done that's for sure)

Neglecting my blog like a drapes parents neglect they kids.

The past ten days have been bitchin'. We've gotten our sets and our costumes and everything we need to get a show happening. Our band is the shit. A few times Scotts been like "hey we have a sub _____" if he didn't say anything I wouldn't know because these musicians are ass kickers!
Tonight we get the most important part of any show. Not the lights, or sound, or baller music, tonight we get a real audience. Real people who have given their time and money in exchange for the hope that we can entertain them for a few hours. People who don't have to come and see anything, they could sit at home and clean out their DVR's instead they have decided to let us strut our stuff just for them. Without an audience we would all be standing around jacking each other off in the dark (well, eww, sorry.) (it would be dark though cause lighting guys have better things to do then hang out with a bunch of actors who aren't working toward a main goal). Tonight we get to strut our wild stuff because if we didn't have an outlet for strutting that stuff we'd all probably be strippers or criminals, anything for the attention.

I'm going to take this moment to thank every audience I have ever had, without you guys my life wouldn't exist, thank you!