Video of the Week

The following pretty much says it all about how Ye Olde TiZ is faring today. Okay, that's a lie. The "says it all" part, that is. IIIIIIIII have to say that I'm not one of the fristky kittens. I'm the OTHER kitten.

I'm just sayin...

I Dreamt...

...last night that my past grievances and hurts had become limbs. Actual working limbs. And I couldn't get rid of these ancient hurts and grievances because cutting them off would cause me to bleed to death.

Not my favorite dream.

At least the limbs worked. Perhaps it means I've AsSimilated the distress. That's something, right?

Uh oh.

What TiZ Wishes She Had Also Said...*

Many thanks to young stage manager extraordinaire, Sarah Luedloff, for always lacing me up and never posting the Parson Hat Picture.

And to Courtney for being my pre-party date on a moment's notice.

And to Sara Brickey for the Ted Drewes concrete that almost killed me.

To Cody for the bunny ears and his risk of imminent death EVERY NIGHT.

To Stacy for calling a great show and never REALLY freaking out when I missed half hour...which somehow became habitual.

To Mindy for not really minding my practicing my brand new ukulele at three in the morning.

To Lou for making me look faaaaaaabulous (which ain't easy nowadays).

To Soon for her wig magic and for lending me her sanity on a consistent basis. And for lending me Tom for this delightful award ceremony.

To Lisa for not letting me sound too much like the drag queen that I am.

To Dana for not letting the world know I don't dance...don't ask me.

And to the Council...thank you so for the honor.

*Afraid of being played off, I was. And also of forgetting just ONE important person's name.

The Acceptance Speech (as play)*

Judi Davis

And the winner is...TiZ.

(TiZ stands up)

TiZ

Holy shit. Are you kidding me?

(Spotlight hits TiZ in her beautiful red satin cocktail dress that she got on a wicked sale thinking her boyfriend was going to invite her to the Tonys. He didn't. She's also wearing her grown-up Dorothy shoes from Opera North in England. She looks pretty good despite the fact she's full of a Ted Drewe's concrete and might die. TiZ hits her date and hugs Ed Juvier. Runs onto the stage past podium around to the beautiful man holding the statue (not statuette...this thing is huge), grabs it, makes a beeline for centerstage, does a deep-split bow bending over with the statue straight out in front of her and begs the audience for applause. They indulge her. She skips to podium.)

TiZ

Wow. Thank you. Umm...I've been told I should never speak in public. 'Cause I suck at it. Really. Suck. At. It. So I'm gonna call my mom.

(TiZ pulls cellphone out of pocket of beautiful red satin cocktail dress that never saw the Tonys. She speed dials her mum and turns on the speaker phone.)

Random Audience Members

No. No she's not. What? Krazy kats and ishkebibble. Peas and carrots.

TiZ

Nana's cute and old and she couldn't come.

(Phone starts to ring. Random audience members laugh. TiZ starts to say something and phone rings again. She looks startled. This happens two more times and then in mid-ring....)

Brother Bob

Hello?

TiZ

Hey. Put Nana on.

(long pause)

Nana

Hello?

TiZ

Nana. I won.

(Beat)

Nana

ConGRAtulations.

(Audience screams. TiZ looks relieved.)

TiZ

Nana...I have to hang up the phone now. I'll call you later. Love you.

(TiZ hangs up the phone, gasps and dives in.)

TiZ

5 1/2 years ago I was called to be a last minute replacement for Anne Hathaway...yeah...that's right. 'Cause I'm the one you call when you can't get Anne Hathway...to play someone named Janet Van de Graaf(?) in this funny little bachelor party musical(?) that some crazy Canadians wrote(?). Well...Drowsy Chaperone took off and I...stumbled along. For a number of years. Until I found Stages St. Louis. This company...cast, crew, administrative, creatives...are filled with such passion and joy and so much skill. Amazing. A few special thank-yous. To Michael Hamilton-for his specificity and loopiness. (Audience laughs.) And his generosity with my loosey-gooseyness 'cause I can't do anything the same way twice. To David Schmittou, the Man in Chair-if he hadn't loved Beatrice Stockwell, none of you would have, 'cause she really is quite terrifying. Awful, really. To my partner in crime, Ed Juvier (Audience cheers.) I would honestly be WAITING for him onstage every night. So excited to play with him. And my acting teacher, Sande Shurin-she's awesome. And my friend Richard Roland, who coached me on the material. I soooo wouldn't have booked without him. Oh, oh, OH...to the Rep for Emma and to the MUNY for Annie. St. Louis kept me employed for fifteen weeks last year.

(Audience goes a little crazy. TiZ looks surprised.)

TiZ

Oh, finally, Drowsy, the one 5 1/2years ago, was the last performance NanaPop ever got to see together. They loved it. So this is for them. You heard Nana...she loves this. I'm sure Pop does too. Thank you.

(TiZ exits stage. Her red satin dress finally getting the recognition it deserves.)

*As best as she can remember it because she didn't plan it or write anything down 'cause that's the kinda girl she is. Travels six hours to an awards ceremony really just so she can attend a rockin' party. If you were there and this isn't what she said, please let her know.

Yous Guys is Great

So, the other day I won a major award. I like to say that. I like the movie "A Christmas Story." I am fra-gi-le.

But before I won it I decided to go to St. Louis for the ceremony. Why St. Louis? Because it was for work in St. Louis. St. Louis kept me employed for the better part of last year and if they all were going to be pleasant enough to nominate me for a major award then I was going to be pleasant enough to attend, goddammit.

And I won the major award.

Sweet.

Even sweeter? My friends. My colleagues. Now...I have a recent ex who informed me it was unreasonable of me to expect yous guys to ever be supportive-to share in the ups and downs. He felt I was asking an awful lot of yous guys and that I would end up sad and lonely.

How wrong he was.

And I study Buddhism and I KNOW expectation is the straw that broke the even-toed ungulate's back. But it does happen. And quite often, yes, it does make a mess of my life.

But not this time. Not with yous guys. You prove the ex and expectation wrong at every turn.

Because you were all so fucking happy for me winning this major award. Okay...what does ALL mean? It doesn't matter. SO MANY of you were SO FUCKING HAPPY for me. Not to downplay the major award, but your beautiful notes and texts and thumbs ups and pictures and phonecalls mean more to me than anything else.

How can I not have expectations about friendship when yous guys douse me with buckets of love and joy?

I don't know if any of the above makes sense emotionally or grammatically, but thanks. Thank you from the bottom of my shrivelled little heart "that grew two sizes that day." Yous guys are amazing and I appreciate you so.*


*And please forgive if I write about this for a couple more days, 'cause there are other aspects of it that were pretty AWESOME yet not quite relevant in this post. Okay. Okay. Forgive. Or am I asking for too much?

I WriTe...

...NeW YoRk listens.

(That doesn't quite makes sense, does it? Go with me anyway.)

I received a message from a friend this morning. The article has seemingly been online for two days but showed up in the New York Times Regional Section today. Sunday. Now officially TiZday.

His Offense: Taking 2 Seats on a Nearly Empty Train

He was a Seat Hogger and he got a ticket...for fifty dollars. Fifty buckaroos. Fifty crisp dollar bills. The "One Ass-One Seat" Law in full-frontal effect.

Vindication.

TiZification.

Now, if we could only do ciTiZen arrest under Section 1050.7 of the Rules of Conduct, I would be golden. Manhattan would no longer feel the need, purge the urge to impose a city tax because I'd single-handedly be scoring AsSloads of revenue for them.

I wrote this NeW YoRk. Now be a good city and listen to TiZ and AsS.

If I do good, can we rename it TiZhattan?

Dear Anonymous

Dear Anonymous--

Women have prostates too, though we call it the Skene's Gland.
If we had to sit with the Grand Canyon between our legs to make ourselves comfortable, I'm sure we'd stand. I know I would and have (and I won't go into details over THAT).

In fact, guys, STAND! AT LEAST ON THE SUBWAY! Don't put any pressure on the precious prostate at all. See how much more comfortable you'll be.

I'm just sayin...

XXX

The Word of TiZ

Thanks be to TiZ*

*I'm somehow gonna get in sooo much trub over that.

On the 35th Day of Christ*&^%*$

On the 35th Day of Christ*&^%, TiZ reveals to you...

35 Things I Would Do If I Were Queen of New York

1. Convince men their balls aren’t as big as they think they are, so they sit with their legs approximating each other like proper gentleman. (Because if I yell at them again like I did today, I might not survive.)

2. Enforce the “one ass—one seat” law.

Make it illegal to…

3. Dawdle in front of subway turnstiles.

4. Dawdle on the other side of subway turnstiles.

5. Go through 23 bjillion Metrocards at subway turnstiles.

6. Check iPhone, Blackberry, mobile or other device while walking up subway steps.

7. Stand on platform in such a manner as to block passengers’ egress from said subway.

8. Stand in subway door blocking entrance or exit of other passengers for 5 stops.

9. Stand in subway door blocking entrance or exit of other passengers for 4 stops.

10. Stand in subway door blocking entrance or exit of other passengers for…you know where I’m going with this, right? You’re not gonna make me do this, right?

11. Wipe your nose with the palm of your hand and then proceed to grip subway handrails with dung digits.

12. Ride subway with the hint of a cold.

13. Lean against your neighbor while standing or sitting if there is room elsewhere. Me no likey subway snugglers.

14. Stroll more than two abreast on any NY sidewalk.

15. Stroll.

16. Ash me. EVER. I’m a fucking ash magnet.

17. Display FUPA or muffin-top…male or female.

18. Wear jeggings.

19. Wear perfume. (I don’t trust people if I can’t catch their original scent. What are they trying to cover up? And I’m allergic to perfume.)

20. Sport a mullet. (Self-explanatory. And I'm allergic to mullets.)

21. Shave in the sauna.

22. Hold the RNC here again.

23. Slough in the sauna.

24. Lube up in the sauna.

25. Use your cellphone in the locker room. (I have more pix of naked asses on my mobile. Payback is a bitch. And so am I.)

Okay…that’s enough of the illegalities.

26. Install girth-o-meters that include a sway factor. I’ve been made tardy by the hearties who waddle in my way.

27. Supply more affordable housing for artists. We’re losing our footing here, friends.

28. Enforce please and thank you and excuse me in the appropriate moments.

29. Always have a barstool available.

30. Behead cab drivers who rip you off. We're all trying to make a living but stealing is not an option.

31. Make monthly unlimited ride Metrocards $80 again.

32. Install free Wi-Fi all over city. A city that plays together stays together.

33. Let Starbucks do their refills using the SAME cups. They were doing something good, kids.

34. Entrance fee for those just visiting. Those just visiting—you’re very disruptive.

35. A mandatory weekly Mike Errico gig in a fab spot.

Video of the Week

An honest to jesus ad from 1980.



So many shades of wrong i've gone all color-blind.

Have I got a packed to go pie for you...

MOMMY!

Hellish Alfrer

dear pajama king--


do you remember this asshat mindfuck? (really, tiz, how do you feel? deep down in that special place. don't hold anything back.)

hellish alfrer found me on facebook. hellish alfrer, the strange strange man with whom i would sing the music of hector wiley-loco. yes...the man for whom i played "la loon" at cami hall. yes...the concert where we all met ultra violet.

this guy used to push my buttons like nobody's business. always said i was angry. said he could tell because he could see my bottom teeth when i spoke. well, sweet jesus, if he'd had teeth like mine he'd be showing them off, too. but he'd always tell me i was angry...in an angry manner. well, that really doesn't help the anger, does it? kinda exponentiates it. (the squiggly red line is telling me that's not a word but bite me, little red line, i like it.)

can you tell he's pushed my buttons again?

he i.m's me which i don't notice because...well...i kinda hate i.m.s.

he writes...

"wow. haven't heard of you in ages."

well...that's belittling.

and when i don't respond within one minute, he continues...

"you're probably angry with me for the review you wanted where you weren't even mentioned."

what?

keine clue what he's talking about. (should be "keine clue what he's talking about, bitch." so i don't end my sentence with that pesky preposition.) and why would he bring up something that might have been painful TWENTY YEARS AGO? if there's no apology attached, who'd wanna hear it?

can you say "defriend?" i bet you can.

okay. thanks. i'm done.

smoochers and squeezes,
me


p.s. dear chakras yoga--


you wanted to spend an afternoon in my head? well...


this is what it looked like in my noggin a coupla minutes ago.

but the sunshine and lollipops and floppy-eared puppies have returned. never you fear.

tons,

tizzy

PiC of the WeeK

worst theme park ever

Dear Glass House Tavern

Dear Glass House Tavern:

Thank you for the speedy response. As expected, I have heard nothing from the Universe.

Thank you for holding onto the credit card. However, the bra must belong to someone else as I do not wear one.* Did they mistake your environs for Hogs and Heifers? Girls Gone Wild?

While I have you, may I tell you your libations are far too pricey. Honestly, if you're going to charge $8 for a Blue Moon, please make it a full pint or I will be frequenting your fine establishment once in the name of the aforementioned beverage.

Yours,

Hangy McOverson

*Before you comment, no, my funbags are not around my ankles. If you must know, I sling them over my shoulder like a purse.

An Open Letter to the Universe

Dear Universe:

I am confused by your recent need to barrage me with a hangover after a mere two beers. TWO BEERS. And they weren't even full pints, Glass House Tavern, so why are you charging me $8?

Because of your actions, I was unable to attend yoga class and/or a meditation seminar. Hanging upside and/or sitting cross-legged staring at a spot on the floor six feet in front of me not only did not appeal, but would have resulted in chunks spewed vehemently.

Perhaps I overstate.

I have been a good girl, spreading peace, love and joy where e'er I walk, so an explanation of your recent actions would be greatly appreciated.

Thank you very much. As you know, I can be contacted in a myriad of ways. Please refrain from doing so corporally

Very truly yours,
TiZ

Livin' La Vida Normal

I went looking to translate the word "normal" into espanol. Did you know it's the same?

And for one sweet weekend I was the same as everyone else...I had a normal weekend.

How are my weekends normally abnormal? I don't really think of them as weekends. No performer does. We tend to do 4-5 performances during the weekend when we're employed. And when we're unemployed? We sussing out ways to get employed.

Every once in a while I will do a meditation weekend. Now that is far from normal as well. It's not even next to normal.

I haven't had a normal weekend in ages. But with the pinky promise of an impending partnership on the boards, I treated myself. And was treated. And was hopefully a treat to others.

Friday night was a potato vodka tasting set up by a new/old friend/soul. I had asked "What's the best potato vodka?" and he'd responded with a contest.

Just say, "Da." Or "Tag." Or nod your head vigorously up and down.

Delicious vodkas, delicious chocolates, delicious rosemary potatoes (Закуски to soak up the delicious vodkas), and delicious company in which to soak my soul. Delicious company who generously toasted me and my pinky promise partnership. Delicious company who touched and skirted and dove into a myriad of subjects in a mere three hours. And when one delicious member left, hide the post-it-notes commenced in the workplace. One of the reasons I'm not allowed in real workplaces...my dangerous house-blend of joy and disruption.

By the way, Luksosova (and I) won.

Saturday was cleaning. I hear that's what the simple folk do on Saturdays. And cooking. I hear that's what the simple folk do as well. But do they make Julia Child's Boeuf Bourguignon?

I think not.

I had missed my friend Spanky's birthday and this was her present. 'Tis dangerous for TiZ to give meals as presents. Chocolate chip cookies pie? Okay. Entire meals? My family members and last boyfriend would say run.

And NEVER ask for a cup of coffee.

But that Julia Child's beyotch knew what she was talking about. If you do exactly what she's written down,* you can't fail. Really.

Really.

I dare you to try.

Spanky really liked it. She stayed for almost four hours. And we ate and talked and drank a delicious sancerre she'd proffered. We ate stinky cheese, too.

I'm always surprised when people choose to chill in my flat. As I've explained, it's a kinda silly place...looks more like an Edwardian child's attic playrooms. But the juju is supposedly good...and most often there are fewer juju-er places I'd rather be.

Maybe people stay because they're exhausted after the climb. I certainly am.

Somewhere along the line I had a nap, too. But not while Spanky was there. That would be rude.

And Sunday? Sunday? A trip to the movies. A walk around the reservoir. A lovely schwitz in the sauna. A trip to the bookstore and a good long read. The good long read is something I haven't done in ages. I can't seem to concentrate on the good long read when I don't know where my next paycheck is coming from. But there will supposedly be a good long run so a good long read there was.

And that was my weekend. A normal weekend methinks. Methinks I liked it.

Did it make Monday any easier?

Jesus God, no.

*I admit I actually added butter to a Julia Child's recipe. I think she'd approve.** ***

**I now sport a Fat AsS.

***And she's dead.

I MiSs

the days when there were beautiful photos of TaB. And friendly competition. And creativity. And dreams of fame. Of a CoFfee TaBle BooK.

And then the giant named Coca-Cola came in and squashed all those dreams.

Once upon a time there was a TaBern

Where we used to raise a glass or two

Remember how we laughed away the hours

And think of all the great things we would do

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

For we were young and sure to have our way

La la la la la laLa la la la la la

Then the busy years went rushing by us

We lost our starry notions on the way

If by chance I'd see you in the TaBern

We'd smile at one another and we'd say

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days

Oh, yes, those were the days

La la la la la laLa la la la la la

Just tonight I stood before the TaBern

Nothing seemed the way it used to be

In the glass I saw a strange reflection

Was that lonely woman really me?

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days

Oh, yes, those were the days

La la la la la laLa la la la la la

Through the door there came familiar laughter

I saw your face and heard you call my name

Oh, my friend, we're older but no wiser

For in our hearts the dreams are still the same...

Those were the days, my friend

We thought they'd never end

We'd sing and dance forever and a day

We'd live the life we choose

We'd fight and never lose

Those were the days

Oh, yes, those were the days

La la la la la laLa la la la la la

Slurp.

On the 34th Day of Christ*&^%$

On the 34th Day of Christ*&^%$, TiZ reveals to you...

1. Sometimes the world feels very unsafe to me.
2. When the world feels very unsafe it always reunites me with or introduces me to the loveliest people, thus proving me wrong.
3. I think poop is very funny.
4. I like to make jokes in yoga class.
5. I think any song is improved by a ukulele.
6. I don't play the ukulele particularly well.
7. I am always ill at ease after a visit to the family manse.
8. The longest dry spell of my career may be ending very soon.
9. I worked out maybe three times in the month of February. I now have a FaT AsS.
10. My eyes are very sensitive and infect easily.
11. I wish I had different eyes...ones that don't infect so easily...and maybe green.
12. My breath is taken away by generosity.
13. I was recently nominated for a Kevin Kline Award and I'm going to the ceremonies. I figure if they were pleasant enough to nominate me, then I should be pleasant enough to drag my FaT AsS to St. Louis.
14. I do impersonations.
15. Until three weeks ago I didn't know I did impersonations...except Looney Tunes characters and they don't often come in handy.
16. I was the best female Elmer Fudd the Looney Tunes people had ever heard.
17. I do my best work when I think I'm off my game.
18. I have a pair of powder blue cowboy boots that have the most satisfying heel strike.
19. My refrigerator has been a little broken for 8 years.
20. When I'm cold my teeth actually chatter. REALLY chatter. Very loudly.
21. All my recent boyfriends have been freakishly loud snorers. What is that about?
22. I believe in separate bedrooms.
23. I actually kinda believe in separate homes and am looking for someone else who believes the same.
24. My ex-therapist does not live with his wife.
25. I love my ex-therapist.
26. For years I would finish a book no matter what. Now? Not so much.
27. I was an awful baby.
28. My mother wished a baby like me on me. I think that may be why I don't have a baby.
29. I have a feeling I'm going to outlive all my friends and this worries me, so I keep making younger and younger friends.
30. I've hit a wall.
31. I think it's good when I hit a wall.
32. I love Love LOVE yoga toes.
33. I wish I had my old bathtub back.
34. I'm sorry I've been such a bad blogger...a sloggy blogger.

Pic of the Week