Who Wore It Best

My current employer had a fab fund-raiser this evening. Best eats, best music I's evah had at one of these here fancy schmancy thingamajigs. Well played. It really was quite gorgeous.

And I'm all dressed up in the ONE dress-up dress I brung. I looked cute.

And wearing the same dress? A 12-year-old from Summer On Stage, the education program.

Why Lord?

And instead of being embarrassed, because I am who I am (and probably a little bit tipsy am who I am), I run up to her, lifting my dress the entire journey, yelling, "Look, we're twins!"

Why Lord?

My moronability rose 20 points this evening.

Why Lord?

Expectations

Expecting the world to treat you fairly because you are a good person is a little like expecting the bull not to attack you because you are a vegetarian.

- Dennis Wholey

lessons

If you hold a cat by the tail you learn things you cannot learn any other way.--Mark Twain

National White Chocolate Day

September 22nd, yesterday, was National White Chocolate Day. And to that I pose the oft asked question,

WTF?

What is white chocolate? Does anyone like it? Does anyone eat it?

I believe it is a National Wax Association conspiracy to rid itself of surplus product.

What it most definitely is NOT is chocolate. To be labeled chocolate, a product must have cocoa solids from chocolate liquor (which is not alcohol). White chocolate does not have these solids. Therefore, I think it should be relabeled...

White Shite.

And thus, yesterday was National White Shite Day.

Celebrate good times, come on. It's a celebration.

Identity

Let TiZ be Tiz.--TiZ

Can you tell I watched a West Wing re-run this morning? Honestly, insert your name, Let ________ be _______ and see how you feel.

Exercise

Exercise is the yuppie version of bulimia.--Barbara Ehrenreich

My TaRot

says I'm in for some shit today.

FantAsStic.

Money

I've been rich and I've been poor. Rich is better.--Sophie Tucker

Something Else I Love Right Now

...actually...ALWAYS.

The Daily Show with Jon Stewart.

I don't have cable in my flat in la citta so I have to partake of his glory online, and while glorious, it's still not a full-on, full frontal glory.

But I'm not in my flat right now, so I have cability.

And tonight his guest was Jimmy Carter. I admire Jimmy Carter for so many reasons...his candor, wisdom, joy, brute intelligence, deductive powers, self-effacing humor and sheer tirelessness. In ten days he turns 86, and he is out hawking the 23rd book he's penned since his presidency. 23rd. Come ON!

Was he a good President? An effective POTUS? Hells, no.

But damn, look at what he's done since. And he got all up in Fox News' junk...wheeee!

Okay...that's all. Just a few other things I love.

And the $4 yoga class I'm attending tomorrow. I'm AsSuming I'm gonna love that.

And the fact it's supposed to POUR tomorrow. Sweet Candy Christ. I know I'm gonna love that.

Moving Forward

We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we're curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.--Walt Disney

Things I Love Right NOW

Enough Debbie Downer. Enough Wendy Whiner. Down with Calamity Jane.

A list of things I love, in no particular order, 'cause love is love...

The crew. Them I love A LOT.

My BIHH family.

My bathtub.

That the HOUSE season premiere is tonight. Wheee.

The pretty tree out my window.

Cable TV.

Being able to stream Netflix onto my computer that sits on the toilet while I bathe.

Pictures of my family.

Slatted blinds.

Air-conditioning.

Humidifiers.

Knowing all I have to do is walk five feet and I'll have someone to play with.

Knowing all I have to do is close my blinds and I have myself to play with.

Coloring books.

Yoga.

Performing.

Writing.

Generous friends.

The South Beach Diet.

The GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO series.

Slap-dash orthotics.

Horoscopes.

Kittens and candy.

There's more...obviously. But that's all for now.

Rigmarole, Fol de Rol and Outlets

You all know when I write it's more about me, right? It's, in fact, all about me. What I write says more about me and my current state of mind and soul than anything I'm commenting on.

Okay...I'm a hard-AsS.

My life is spent on the road. More often than not, half my year is spent away from my home and my loved ones. This, and the fact I'm a maniac, has killed many a relationship.

By nature of my business, I am told where I'll be living, if I'll have a bathtub, if I'll have a car, who I'll share the car with, when I go to the supermarket (sometimes), how much room I'll have in a fridge, and who will be my friends for the next couple of weeks or months. I now also have to put a security deposit on an apartment that I don't get to pick out.

I have no control over anything...other than how I react.

That's just the social/personal aspect of the whole kit and kaboodle. Sometimes where I'm living is gorgeous. Sometimes there's a bathtub. Sometimes I get to live in a city near a friend and her new family. Sometimes I love the people I'm working and driving with, Bitch.* This is one of those times. They are keepers, each and every one.

But this can get old. At least for me. I think a lot of it has to due with the fact I'm getting old. I LOVE to work, don't get me wrong. I fucking LOVE what I do. My time onstage gets me through a lot of la vida's shenanigans and I'm always grateful for the opportunity.

But change is hard. Especially when you're the type of person who cried when her parents changed the upholstery on the dining chairs. Don't you know, they saved a swatch of it for me.

They were wise.

I know I am responsible for 100% of my life. I'm even pretty sure I was responsible for the strange suckiness of tonight's audience. Honestly, I was the laugh vacuum...with great sucking power.

I am responsible for 100% of my life. I have invited all of this, shaken its hand and said, "Howdydo, partner."

Now...what to do with it?

Your feedback is always welcome. Especially when it results in an apology, and a reassessment (both situational and textual) from me.

See...it IS all about me. (Somewhere there is an emoticon for that, but hells if I know what/where it's at.*)

*Remember, never end a sentence with a preposition, Bitch.**

**That Bitch was for good measure.

Controlly McViceGrip

I know I know. I have control issues. Maybe even control tissues since it's basically a muscular reaction at this point.

But I may have been outdid.

The last 2 months have just let me muttering (Okay, screaming), "Stop trying to control me." And this is not to directors. I LOVE direction. Sadly, most of my direction the past couple of years just includes the word "Don't." This must be because I am VERY creative.

Let me give a list of some of the strangest offenses...

1. Being given a line reading...in conversation.

2. Being told by an employer that they want me here early so I will be well-rested for the first day of rehearsal. Well...I'm being nice enough to come a day earlier and you obviously don't know this cast, 'cause we're gonna go out and get drunk.

3. Having a colleague say, "I run this rehearsal."

4. Having stickers on the back of company cars that ask, "How's my driving?" and include a phone number so any bored tea partier can call the insurance company and narc on you for "unsavory lane changes."

5. Being asked, "Who was driving the company car at noon yesterday?" and not being told why.

6. A colleague having to sign a release saying she would drive better (aka, no unsavory lane changes).*

7. A suggested group warm-up pre-show.

8. Having my clothing eyed and "fixed" by other than someone employed to do so.

9. Being called once a week for each claim (so 3x a week) by Worker's Comp to see if I still need medical treatment.

10. Being called to the office and never being told why.

And of course...All Things Pandermonium.

It's become cold sore central for me. Haven't had any blossom in nine months. Two in the past three weeks.

But it's a good lesson in what controlling tendencies can do to those around you (and my lips). I guess. I gave up caring three days ago and it's worked wonders on my disposition.

Can't you tell?

*This is weighing particularly heavy on my mind at the moment, as I cut someone off at a four-way stop traffic circle. He was directly opposite and turning left. I was turning right...into the same lane...BECAUSE HE DIDN'T HAVE HIS BLINKER ON. So, there I am smiling and curtsying with an "I'm so sorry" wave, because he can just dial up a number and say I did an unsavory turn WHEN IT WAS HIS FAULT. This is what I'm worrying about while I'm driving instead of DRIVING. I'm honestly thinking of driving around wearing a Nixon mask.

Eine Kleine Tea Party

So...here I am in AZ. And I'm asked to do a radio interview...a 6:30 am radio interview. I turn it down, because...well...I couldn't do it...'cause...well...I didn't want to.

So...I do a 9:30 am radio interview. They lure me with a venti iced green tea unsweetened and the company of my buddy Matt. As we're riding over, our press rep turns on the radio and it's...

right wing.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

He claims the station is well-balanced and our guy is pretty middle of the road.

I listen some more.

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

This be a Christian radio station, praise sweet candy Christ.

We're sitting in the anteroom and I can hear more commentary that makes my ears bleed. I'm beginning to twitch--I have no interest in embarrassing the theater, but as witnessed in the West Wing during the Bush League, I can be pretty mouthy if I feel injustice and/or thoughtlessness is being tossed about in the name of righteousness.*

Matty and I enter to meet our host. Within 30 seconds I learn he grew up two blocks from my Tante. Let the softening begin.

Not mine. His.

Okay, a little bit me.

And we are jolly and intelligent and fun. But I make sure to talk about being a female drag queen. The host asks Matty to show him a few moves. (We were simulcast on the web.) Matt suggests they partner. Matt wangles the host into being the girl 'cause Matt has to be the guy 'cause Matt is taller.

Brilliance.

And the guy is a good sport about it all. We leave all shades of proud that we have softened him.

They cut the dance from the archives of the show that are now available on the interwebs. And it's not his producers who have done this. He is his own producer.

Our work here is obviously not done.

*God does not talk to me. I do not talk to him. We have an understanding.

Pandermonium

I'm in the midst of it. Pandermonium. I've voiced my concern so it's not like I'm going to surprise colleagues by writing about it here.

I'm in the midst of a co-production. And the show is being altered to suit the new theater.

Now, the stage was built incorrectly, so we've had to change blocking and set moves. This was a mistake. This I get.

But altering the integrity of a piece to pander to an audience and its current political climate? Not their intelligence. Not even their sensibilities. Their beliefs.

Slippery slope we're being thrust down. In my eyes, it turns the theater into a bordello and the actors into prostitutes.

This is a mistake, I believe.* This I will never get.

And I've always preferred to think of myself as carny trash.

The audience is reacting less and less enthusiastically the more we sell ourselves.

This I will sadly have to get used to.

This and feeling dirty.

* Even the Nana said, "Oh no!" And when the Nana says, "Oh no!" people should listen.

SNICKERS!!!!

Nine years and one day ago I left Manhattan on the 8:35 am train to Baltimore.

The Universe is good at keeping me out of harm's way.

And I slept through it. In its entirety. It wasn't until I awoke right outside of B'more that I had a feeling something had gone wrong. Everyone on the train seemed to be making alternate plans. I exited the train to find my new company manager, Katie Burns. I simply asked, "What's wrong?"

"You have no idea at all?"

"Nope. I was asleep."

"Well, I'll tell you in bits and pieces as we walk to the car. It's a lot to take in."

And that's what she did. Every hundred feet or so, she'd drop another nugget of information.

When we reached the car, she handed me my welcome bag full of delightful treats. And after every nugget, I would find another treat to revel over.

"And then the Pentagon was hit."

"Oooh, a violet plant."

"And then the South Tower fell."

"Oh, look. Notepaper."

"And then the North Tower fell."

"SNICKERRRRRRRRRS!!!!!"

That's what I remember most vividly. For a few seconds, a Snickers bar was the most comforting thing in my world.

For years, I would contact Katie Burns on the date...with the single word, "Snickers."

I don't know where she is now but I thought of her. And I did buy some Snickers.

9-11-2010

When the power of love overcomes the love of power, the world will know peace.--Jimi Hendrix

Pie

The pies have pleased.

Years ago, back in my Disney days, some delicious, anonymous soul would leave a 2-liter bottle of TaB in my dressing room. AMAZING. What's better than starring in a Broadway show? Starring in a Broadway and receiving anonymous TaB.

Knowing that not everyone is smart enough to enjoy the Nectar of the Gods (and wanting to hoard it all for me, Me, ME), I started a tradition--when a beloved colleague does a Broadway gig, I deliver a homemade chocolate chip cookie pie. Who doesn't love a ginormous, gooey chocolate chip cookie? No one, says I.*

The tradition extends to any show I am doing at any theater...for tech. Chocolate chip cookie pies show up during the ten out of twelves. Even under the best of circumstances, ten out of twelves suck. Who doesn't love a ginormous, gooey chocolate chip cookie during tech? No one, says I.*

Everyone gets a little happy and feels a little cared for and that's a little bit of goodness.

And for some reason I feel a little happier and a little more cared for when I do it.

PIE!

*I recently jauntily delivered one to a favorite executive cross-dresser who was back on Broadway after many years. It never occurred to me that he was of such fame that he wouldn't be able to accept a gift from a stranger. I sure hope the crew enjoyed it.

Song for the Day

h/o/t/ Jim Sweeney

I Took a Dislike

...a dislike to someone recently. A pretty strong dislike. And I couldn't figure out why. Was it a mix of bossy know-it-allness with a touch of incompetence (like we alls got)? That will usually do the trick. Was there the added dash of megalomania (it's like lookin' in a mirror)? If so, I'm truly in a crank stew.

But this was different. This made steam come rushing forth from every orifice.

And then I figured it out.

He sounds like Rush Limbaugh.

Enough said.

At least if you know me. He could be Mother Theresa and I'd still have issues.