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….

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. 

Throw in a chicken for good measure

This afternoon I did it. I sat down and watched Pink Flamingos, the smuttiest of smut, the filth of all things filthy, the holy grail of nast. It lived up to its name. Maybe I'm not easily bothered by things because all I know is there wasn't one scabby pein to be seen, and that makes my day.

Few things about the movie: 

Edie is terrifying, she freaks my freak and I can't help it. Until the bonus footage where there's a scene of her playing with hard boiled eggs and it's probably the cutest thing ever. Also, it is coincidental that she is vaguely reminiscent of Big Edie Beale, right?

Mary Vivian Pierce is gorgeous, she's nasty and hot all at the same time and I have a friend who looks far too much like her. 

Divine did it, she is the most vile thing ever and I love every second of it. From the receding hairline to the meat shoved between her thighs, I worship the fame hunger that is Divine. 

Dog shit. Yea, it happened, but I'm glad to know that it looks like a good chunk of it was spit right back out, and that it didn't happen like I had pictured it either, thank god ( or thank Divine I suppose because she does proclaim herself god there at the end). Topping it off, that was one of the cutest dogs ever, so at least there's that. 

I must have been ruined by the internet or my imagination or something because on a whole there wasn't a  lot that made me gag, once that asshole got a little runny I did avert my glance. For the most part that "shock" did what it was intended to do, caused laughter. I love Raymond Marbles (David Lochary) and his ridiculous attempts to be a perv as well as his over the top ridiculous mustache (and all of the great wig work, that man was a god with a rat tailed comb)

Now onto my new personal lord and savior: Mink Stole. 

She is who I want to be when I grow up damn it, from her tiny little tits to her fur coats, I want it all. 

                           currently I'm attempting that hairstyle and typing at the same time...

Any one who utters the phrase : "I love you more than anything in this whole world! I love you even more than my own filthiness! More than my hair color! " is a winner in my book, and must be in love.

There are two major lessons that this movie has given me to apply to Crybaby:

1.) Babs, Connie and Raymond act out their filth but do it in the biggest most declarative way possible. It isn't enough for Connie and Raymond to have girls chained up in their basement so they can sell black market babies, oh no. They have to sell those babies to lesbians AND use the money to sell heroin...in elementary schools. 

It's the mentality of " Hey, everybody look over here, I'm about to do something depraved...are you watching? You had better get your cameras because it's going to be one hell of a doozy of a nasty thing I'm gonna do". That's what the drapes do. They aren't perpetually doing terrible acts of no-good-ed-ness, they're playing music, hanging out with their friends until someone comes along who they have to prove themselves to. they have to make a big deal in a public place so everyone knows that they're the baddest kids around. 

2.) I'm also reading Role Models by Mr. Waters and it has one of the most pertinent quotes, in regards to his movies and this show.

"...and I knew that not only did I want to be a teenager-I wanted to be an exaggeration of a teenager." 

Whether it's being a teenager necking (facing?), the eyebrows drawn onto the side of Divines head, or the killer acting I have to keep thinking: Exaggerate That Shit. There is soooooooo much bigger than what I've got going on, I have only hit the level of actor whose gotten comfortable and is ready to play a little. I have to be, "Holy moses what drugs did that girl take before she walked out here." 

Last thing I swear! 

One of my favorite Online Magazines Rookie Magazine (Tavi Gevinson one of my all time girl crushes heads it), just had a post  about John Waters, I lost my shit when I signed in and their photographer had her collection of photos with an interview on it's way. Seriously, it is not to be missed: 

Please lets all thank Hazel from Rookie

Check out the rest, you know you wanna

Countdown to Football

I am not a sports girl, I enjoy the energy and the trash talking. Let's be honest, I really like the trash talking, and the ability to yell whatever I want with impunity.
Last year I gained a new friend, she pretty much rocks my face off: She curses, fights with strangers twice her size, swills beer and manages to do all of this whilst wearing a tutu. The one thing that will make or break her mood is the state of the Greenbay Packers. The recent lockout sent her in a spiraling depression that was almost inconceivable, all I could think was, "Damn, I want to be dedicated to something like that". That being said last year I got into football, not entirely sell my house change my address, give me a tattoo dedication , but just an interest.
This year before the season starts I want to be ahead of the game (I'm going to laugh here, I don't expect anyone else to do so...but feel free, this will not be the first pun) I want a team that I can cheer for, or cry into my beer with, wear a jersey for that I never wash, stalk a player to a point of danger and restraining orders in short I want to  belong to a team!

Over the next month I will be researching a different team each day  to get me a team! I've heard the call and I would like to be ready for some football.