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!

The devil in Elvis

This morning I read the Rookie article with John Waters, he talks about how Elvis was terrifying. Scott keeps pushing this point home and I have been trying hard to get it.  Elvis scared the shit out of people, he made weird noises and wiggled and just looked scary in a time where people moved politely and deliberately.
Then I started thinking of what I have to compare that to, I'll tell you what, it isn't a whole hell of a lot.
Sure, last weekend Nicki Minaj pissed off a slew of people by having he "pope" accompany her to the Grammys. Truth be told, every other minute catholics are lambasting one person or another for acting inapro, whether it was The Gahg eating a rosary, Sinead O'Conner ripping up the pope or whatever else Madonna has ever done. By the time Nicki had been exorcised wasn't most of the world over it?
In order to do something controversial in music these days you would only have to...wait there really isn't anything left now is there.
The fact is Elvis freaked the worlds freak by doing nothing too crazy, in all fairness if you watch some of his videos it is slightly bizarre, he was super twitchy and wiggly and I can sort of see what it was that made everyone scared. He wasn't coated in blood, meat or stuffed animals, he wasn't triple kissing with a celeb old enough to be his mom, and he never once had to be suspended above a crowd with flames and indoor fireworks.
Elvis paved the way for the shock. Did he have any idea that the shock he would provide would just give us tired old antics of trying to piss off the right group of people?
Every time I open my gossip websites and see: "Nicki Minaj pissed off an old dude", " Lady Gaga is carrying around a mutilated crocodile", "Madonna is still doing shit even though she looks like the crypt keeper" or "Beyonces baby was awarded to her from the devil in a super secret Illuminati pact that will cause the end of the world" all I can do is give it a good jack off hand with an extra noisy "sploot" at the end.
I need to get into the mentality of "Elvis is evil because he is aware of his hips, I want to be aware of my hips therefore I must be evil."

Pictured: Someone in need of a squeegee and nap:

 Pictured: Hide your families because your eyes will be seared from their very sockets, behold the evil filth of the hip swivel!

Seriously, how do his legs do that?

I have been duped and neutered

I am livid, for reals livid.
I recently bought "A Dirty Shame" and did you know that the MPAA has raped this film?! I'm sorry, has coerced the film to have relations that it did not ask for.
No joke, like didn't say balls, and has cut out minuscule frames, it makes no difference if it's in there.
If you were going to watch this movie you know what you're in for, for fuck's sake didn't I just blog about how I watched a chicken get smushed by humans while boning, and now I'm watching something that won't let people say the word boner?! I watched Mink Stole, naked, with a dyed electric red snatch suck a guys big toe, and now I watched her with redubbing of the word boner.

I'm pissed, for real.
Now pardon me for a moment while I post something obscene:

Not obscene enough.

Now pardon me while I take my top off and run around for a bit.