Excellence

I have witnessed it.

You must witness it alot, TiZ?

Yup. I do. But rarely in the form of company management. It's a haaaaaard job. Honestly. Cranky, whiny actors not knowing their way around a new town and the company manager is the local tour guide and adoptive parent du jour.

I've come across a bunch recently who are the parents who got knocked up and should have dumped their child swaddled in a hole-riddled blankey at a church. I've come across a bunch who are absentee parents. I've come across a bunch that would put Susan Smith and Andrea Yates to shame.

But not SR. (Remember, we aim to be name-free here at TiZandAsS.)

Oh, SR, we love you.

She's so good, all you have to do is think about her and she's there. (It's true. It HAPPENED.)

She so magical, she made a 14-hour travel day a-okay. AND took me grocery shopping at midnight.

She loves actors. (This is the part that's most-oft forgot.)

She provides the most comprehensive welcome packet ever assembled--including maps highlighting where we go. And she doesn't laugh when we still get lost. She decorates the apartments personally. And they're stocked. STOCKED. Theaters insist we leave apartments clean (as they should), but rarely provide us with the goods to do so. (Honest to Jesus, I once had to beg for a vacuum cleaner.) SR provides everything--dish soap, dishwasher detergent, window cleaner, tub and tile cleaner, laundry detergent, dryer sheets, mop, broom and, lest we forget, the oh-so-necessary vacuum cleaner.

Think it's too good to be true? She supplies all non-perishables that have to do with coffee and tea...the coffee and tea, of course, but also two kinds of sugar, two kinds of dietary sweetener, and some fake milky stuff that's dry.

At 1 in the morning, she remembers that the guys mentioned in passing that you love yoga, so she regales you with all the options.

And when you've had a bad morning because your tv and tub don't work and your cashmere sweater is ruined by the stupid stupid paint guys who didn't tell you your door was freshly painted, SHE MAKES IT ALL BETTER BY THE END OF THE DAY! This includes taking said cashmere sweater to her favorite dry-cleaner, and if that fails, paying for it.

I poop you no.

And she's shiny and funny and dry and real every inch of the way.

I love SR. I love excellence.

secret of life

I think I've discovered the secret of life: you just hang around until you get used to it.

- Sally Brown

always

Always do whatever's next.

-George Carlin

Yesterday

All my troubles seemed so far away.

Now it looks like I had all these ideas for the blog

And today they're gone.

It doesn't scan. Neither does my brain. Doesn't compute a stitch. I honest to the witty bitty Jesus baby had all these great ideas for a week's worth of blogs, so brilliant I said to myself, "Self, you don't need to write these down. They're far too brilliant to be forgotten."

Uh huh.

Oh...one is a memorial service. It's a good one. There it is. I'll write it tomorrow.

Ooooh...I hope the other ones come back.

Ooooh...ideas for the book. Ueberstudies. And getting along with colleagues. And...and...

Damn it.

We're Going to Disney

Or maybe not...

I'm massively in love with these little weasels. Wise parents drive them through the night, telling them they're going to Dick's house. Then, as they've reached the ends of their itsy bitsy teeny tiny kid ropes, the grown-ups let them know...THEY'RE GOING TO DISNEY!

I don't think this is the response the rents were looking for when they whipped out the video camera in anticipation of their seedlings' responses.

Some think the kids spoiled. I think not. They have their wee noggins on straight in my world.

They wanna see Dick. Dick is obviously very important to them. Dick's important to me too.

Hail to the Dick!

h/t DLC for finding this delicious snippet of life on the Tube of You and posting it on the Book of Face.

You Know WHy

I don't always blog?

#1 Like the rest you, contrary to popular opinion, I have a life.

#2 Like the rest of you, my day starts with some breathing room and then, unless I'm vigilant, ends with me in one of those plastic bags with a hoover sucking the life from my lungs so I can be packed away for the winter.

#3 I start a blog, feel the need to research something, hit Google, and BANG! Blog is gone. Didn't open a new tab (not TaB) cause I'm a dumb-AsS.

I know...I research. I actually research some of the things mentioned in my blog. Usually I would be able to tell you what those oxygen-free storage bags are and link you up to the website, but not today. No way. 'Cause I'm gonna post this blog before my daily life begins and I get cold-cocked by circumstances.

Fuckety-fuckety-bye.

Once More Into the Fray

I had an audition yesterday. My first in more than 5 months.

DAUNTING.

And I really couldn't wear any make-up.

DAUNTING.

And I really couldn't wear anything pretty.

DAUNTING.

And I kinda sorta had to pull my hair all the way back, thereby revealing my shar pei puppy forehead.

DAUNTING.

And I chose to sing 4 octaves.

EASY PEASY.

Let's say I have been blessed. Blessed with a buttload of fulfilling, exciting, love-filled work. I haven't always enjoyed the circumstances, but the work...YES! And all that work has rendered auditions unnecessary.

But since the work must eventually end, and I am in the city of dreams, I'm now getting these auditions...GREAT auditions...for women who wear black and no make-up and have hair scraped straight off their faces. Daunting, but I LOVE THIS! It's so much easier. It doesn't take an hour to get ready. I don't have to pretend I'm young. I don't have to pretend I'm pretty. I can just look like me.

Me...unplugged.

And I don't have to be perky.

WHOSE LIFE IS THIS????

I AM AN ASS

A TiZandAsS to be exact.

Where have I been? I don't know? That's not a question, actually. I really do know that I don't know. I'm running through my days so freakishly happy that I don't actually remember what happens from one moment to the next. Honestly, I know I did something before two classes on Monday, but I have NO clue what it was. I'm pretty sure I did something after class, too. BUT I REALLY CAN'T RECALL...*

Oh yes. I remember the "after." Mel.

Mel is a dear one. A dear one from the past that upon the passing of a mentor became a dear one of the present. We can go a decade without seeing one another and within minutes we know everything and have everyone being naughty. It's easy. It's audacious. It's smart. It's a lot of heart.

And she let me crack open her bottle of wedding anniversary Veuve Clicquot. What more can you ask for from a dear one?

Oh. And she likes the blog. And she's pretty sure I'm ADHD. She is not the first.

*I'm beginning to think it's because I had champagne three days in a row. Oopsy.

Just What You Never Wanted to Learn

Don't worry. I didn't either. But I read about it weeks ago...

Chocolate-Covered Bacon.

Yes, you read it rightamente. God's itty bitty, fatty, greasy treats covered by a light blanket of dark goodness.

Don't go to a fancy shmancypants place to purchase it. MAKE YOUR OWN. All you need is dark chocolate, bacon, a microwaveable cup and plate, paper towels (do NOT forget the paper towels), a microwave and a fridge.

Sandwich the bacon (cut in thirds) between two paper towels, and nuke the crap out of it. Say for two minutes. Change the paper towels (which will be tres slimy) and do it for another minute until it's REALLY crispy. Remove and dab with some more paper towels.

Place enough dark chocolate to cover half the bacon with a light coat in a bowl (use your best judgment...I trust you) and slowly nuke and stir until it's juuuuuuuust riiiiiiiiiight (about 20 seconds at a time). Remove from the magnetic cooker (that's what Nana has called it since her stroke) and...DIP THAT BACON. Place the chocolate-covered bacon back on the greasy plate (the grease will keep the chocolate from sticking to the plate too much) and place in refrigerator to let set.

It's freakin' delicious. Don't let anyone anywhere tell you otherwise.

Tons,

Me

Appetizer? Dessert? Breakfast? It's your choice.