TROUPE THAT! (The birth of The Beatnik Syndicate)
- Thread starter BEATNIKSF
- Start date
Sore. Mark Prior In Union Square. Upcoming Auditions/classes. Snl In The 80's...
I am sore all over. It's like I was in a car accident or something. Sore, sore, sore, sore... I have discovered bruises on my lower back, upper arm and side. What the fuck? Seriously. What did I do on Saturday night that I don't know about? Throw myself into oncoming traffic?
Geezus.
The bruises on the tops of my thighs are really, really ugly. I guess that rules out the wearing of the horridly short skirt I planed on wearing... not. Really purple - almost black - greenish... OUCHIE!
What the fuck?
Goal for tonight - no bodily injuries. No extreme inebriation - especially since I called the temp service to tell them that I am available to work this week.
My agent wants me to register to do some background work. I don't want to do this. Why? Because, I've done that. And, at this point I can make more money and be intellectually stimulated far more by doing temp office work than I can by doing passes in deep background for $108/day... and, any background I do is just going to add into the $$ I'm going to have to pay a percentage of at the end of the year to SAG.
Not worth it. Get me some real work and we'll talk.
I won't bitch too much about my agent - because, they did get me foley work, two voice overs and some ADR matching work in the past three months.
Which is more than some actors get per year.
***
So, yesterday I was walking to Beatnik rehearsal and I cut through Union Square... and, I swear to Christ I saw Mark Prior (the hottest - physically and talent wise - pitcher for my beloved Chicago Cubbies, EVER) signing an autograph for a young child... I called my Mom to tell her this & she was like "What the hell would Mark Prior be doing in Union Square, Kate?"
I don't know - but, I swear it was him. Considering I have poster of him on the inside of my closet door (where my Cubs posters have always resided - on the premise that Sparky once called me a "closet baseball fan" - Prior only recently replaced Mark Grace... mmmm... Mark Grace... mmmm,) I know what Mark Prior looks like. And, it was him. At the very least it was someone famous - otherwise why would he be signing an autograph for anyone?
Maybe he was on vacation... ?
***
So, I have an audition for KML. I'm excited and nervous about it. KML is one of the theater companies I moved to SF thinking I wanted to work with.
I also have an audition for Eastenders Rep... which could turn out to be cool. As they are doing a one-act festival of really good plays about sex... Williams, Lorca, Churchill and a couple of other playwrights I haven't heard of... I am about to spend the next several hours preparing for that audition - which is on Sunday.
I'm pleased - despite the initial error - with how my new, revamped resume looks - it eliminated a lot of the fussy bullshit I had on there for years and years and highlights credits that are more important. And, everything I want actually fits on there now - as I decided to do a separate resume for film/tv/voice work - so I don't have to eliminate good improv or theater credits to make room for Boston Public or NYPD Blue... I just have the tag lines at the bottom of each stating "further credits available upon request."
Nice.
I learned that my spring movement workshop at Hamlin has been cancelled. Why? Because, Heidi Abbott has decided not to return to Hamlin after her baby is born - so they hired a new theater person... Sara Kraft. Who, as she states it, gets offered every job I take first.
So, Sara - being on staff there - has decided that since SHE can teach movement, herself, that there is no need to have an independent workshop. Even though the focus of that workshop is on a concentration which she has no training in or experience teaching.
Oh the fuck well.
Hamlin was a pain in the ass to work at, anyhow - I was on edge all during Music Man, JR. last year...
I guess I will just call up KR at the Bay School and let her know that I am available to music direct for her spring musical.
I'd rather work with her, anyhow --- as I miss working as a directing team with her... we work so well together.
I have four workshops in December - I need to finish my curriculum. Provided these workshops go well, I will have rejuvenated income three or four times through out the next year.
And, enough income so that I don't have to work in January.
Though, I will.
***
SNL in the 80's... I watched this last night. I thought it was really interesting to hear about the process... It was a night of "must see tv" for me - as the Penn and Teller thing preceded it...
That's all for me today. Back to work.
:up:
I am sore all over. It's like I was in a car accident or something. Sore, sore, sore, sore... I have discovered bruises on my lower back, upper arm and side. What the fuck? Seriously. What did I do on Saturday night that I don't know about? Throw myself into oncoming traffic?
Geezus.
The bruises on the tops of my thighs are really, really ugly. I guess that rules out the wearing of the horridly short skirt I planed on wearing... not. Really purple - almost black - greenish... OUCHIE!
What the fuck?
Goal for tonight - no bodily injuries. No extreme inebriation - especially since I called the temp service to tell them that I am available to work this week.
My agent wants me to register to do some background work. I don't want to do this. Why? Because, I've done that. And, at this point I can make more money and be intellectually stimulated far more by doing temp office work than I can by doing passes in deep background for $108/day... and, any background I do is just going to add into the $$ I'm going to have to pay a percentage of at the end of the year to SAG.
Not worth it. Get me some real work and we'll talk.
I won't bitch too much about my agent - because, they did get me foley work, two voice overs and some ADR matching work in the past three months.
Which is more than some actors get per year.
***
So, yesterday I was walking to Beatnik rehearsal and I cut through Union Square... and, I swear to Christ I saw Mark Prior (the hottest - physically and talent wise - pitcher for my beloved Chicago Cubbies, EVER) signing an autograph for a young child... I called my Mom to tell her this & she was like "What the hell would Mark Prior be doing in Union Square, Kate?"
I don't know - but, I swear it was him. Considering I have poster of him on the inside of my closet door (where my Cubs posters have always resided - on the premise that Sparky once called me a "closet baseball fan" - Prior only recently replaced Mark Grace... mmmm... Mark Grace... mmmm,) I know what Mark Prior looks like. And, it was him. At the very least it was someone famous - otherwise why would he be signing an autograph for anyone?
Maybe he was on vacation... ?
***
So, I have an audition for KML. I'm excited and nervous about it. KML is one of the theater companies I moved to SF thinking I wanted to work with.
I also have an audition for Eastenders Rep... which could turn out to be cool. As they are doing a one-act festival of really good plays about sex... Williams, Lorca, Churchill and a couple of other playwrights I haven't heard of... I am about to spend the next several hours preparing for that audition - which is on Sunday.
I'm pleased - despite the initial error - with how my new, revamped resume looks - it eliminated a lot of the fussy bullshit I had on there for years and years and highlights credits that are more important. And, everything I want actually fits on there now - as I decided to do a separate resume for film/tv/voice work - so I don't have to eliminate good improv or theater credits to make room for Boston Public or NYPD Blue... I just have the tag lines at the bottom of each stating "further credits available upon request."
Nice.
I learned that my spring movement workshop at Hamlin has been cancelled. Why? Because, Heidi Abbott has decided not to return to Hamlin after her baby is born - so they hired a new theater person... Sara Kraft. Who, as she states it, gets offered every job I take first.
So, Sara - being on staff there - has decided that since SHE can teach movement, herself, that there is no need to have an independent workshop. Even though the focus of that workshop is on a concentration which she has no training in or experience teaching.
Oh the fuck well.
Hamlin was a pain in the ass to work at, anyhow - I was on edge all during Music Man, JR. last year...
I guess I will just call up KR at the Bay School and let her know that I am available to music direct for her spring musical.
I'd rather work with her, anyhow --- as I miss working as a directing team with her... we work so well together.
I have four workshops in December - I need to finish my curriculum. Provided these workshops go well, I will have rejuvenated income three or four times through out the next year.
And, enough income so that I don't have to work in January.
Though, I will.
***
SNL in the 80's... I watched this last night. I thought it was really interesting to hear about the process... It was a night of "must see tv" for me - as the Penn and Teller thing preceded it...
That's all for me today. Back to work.
:up:
It's Not About Me... It's About You... It's Always About You.
INEZ: Yes, Garcin, she's right. Carry on with it, press her to you until you feel your bodies melting into each other; a lump of warm, throbbing flesh... Love's a grand solace, isn't it, my friend? Deep and dark as sleep. But, I'll see that you don't sleep.
Well, what are you waiting for? Do as you're told. What a lovely scene: coward Garcin holding baby killer Estelle in his manly arms! Make your stakes, everyone! Will coward Garcin Kiss the lady, or won't he dare? What's the betting? I'm watching you, everybody's watching. I'm a crowd all by myself. Do you hear the crowd? Do you hear them muttering, Garcin? Mumbling and muttering. "Coward! Coward! Coward!" -- that's what they're saying... It's no use trying to escape, I'll never let you go. What do you hope to get from her silly lips? Forgetfulness? But, I shan't forget you, not I! "It's you I must convince." So come to me. I'm waiting. Come along now... look how obedient he is, like a well-trained dog who comes when his mistress calls. You can't hold him, and you never will.
-from "No Exit" by Jean-Paul Sartre
Digging into this monologue from "No Exit" which I haven't used in about ten years... remembering the last time I used this piece for an audition - it was before I used the whole piece as my thesis performance in 1999... this character, Inez, she is the most ego-centric character I have ever played... and, part of what attracted me to the work (ten years ago - back in my early twenties) was the power that the character radiated... the control... I wanted to be like Inez. I wanted to look in the mirror and see that character reflected back. I thought if I were that character I wouldn't ever feel the hurt, betrayal and loneliness that I, Kate, felt as a young woman.
I was a little bit in love with Inez. So much so that I focused much of my energy on cultivating that image... heartless, overtly sexual, brash, willing to sell their Grandmother up the river Styx if it meant that they'd get ahead... that was the type of person I wanted to be. I considered that strong and invincible.
In ten years I have learned much about myself. And, much about the type of person that I want to be. I learned several years ago that I wasn't willing to sell my soul to the devil to be a working actress in LA. At that point I EXPERIENCED more success than many of my contemporaries did & was on a good track to doing the things I'd outlined for myself as important goals.
I walked away from it.
I also learned that I don't need to kill myself slowly to fit someone else's physical image of how I should look. That my image - the one I actually saw in the mirror each morning - was just perfect and beautiful. And, that what is inside influences what is outside far more than anyone ever admits to... that you can have the perfect size six ass, straight teeth, luscious curly flowing hair, flawless skin and that if you are vapid, empty, rotting, evil on the inside - you are the most ugly person in the room.
I learned that talent doesn't equal integrity. I learned that actors are basically liars and that you should never wholly trust someone you've just met - no matter how charismatic they are. No matter how badly you want to believe their lies... as you will be the one hurt in the end. That liars live in their own reality and believe their own un-truthful reality... and, that it's a sickness which cannot be cured - like alcoholism and chemical addiction.
I learned that having a few, close, truthful friends is better than being surrounded with people who think you're "cool." Your close friends - the ones you can always count on, the ones who are as close to that line between friend and family that they can get - they will think you're cool, too... but, they will also tell you when you're being an asshole. And, that's so much more valuable than having sunshine blown up your ass all the time. The fact is, that even when you are an asshole - and, you will be, as everyone is at sometime or another - those people will love you anyhow. And, that is golden.
I have learned that the people I most respect in the world are kind and generous. They may be fucked up in other aspects - they may have demons and darkness and may inflict pain upon themselves due to these conditions. But, the people who have my respect and my heart are two things consistantly - kind and generous... with love, with material things... with themselves.
I learned that some things in your life should be private. That being a performer, actor, improviser or whatever you want to label yourself doesn't mean having to live your life like an open book for everyone to dissect and pick over... that you can have secrets. That real people don't want to share every aspect of themselves with strangers... that people who do want to do that usually state some higher purpose for doing so - but, it really boils down to wanting validation or attention that they lack.
I have also learned that positive attention is so much better than negative.
I have learned that being alone is better than being with the wrong person.
That you have to love yourself before anyone else can love you. And, it's hard to love yourself. I struggle with it to this day. It's hard to look at all which is dark and icky inside and show the person who deserves your compassion more than anyone on earth kindness - it's hard work to love yourself.
I have learned compassion - how to love people that I don't really like. How to have sympathy for those who don't deserve it. That every human being on the earth no matter what their situation deserves to have their humanity acknowledged. How to truly let go of hate and anger... to find some peace.
I have learned a lot in ten years. A lot that I cannot articulate here, even. Much that I shouldn't articulate here. I don't know that this makes me a better person. I do know that it makes me think more. It makes me try harder. It makes me strive to be better... I don't know that I succeed ever - sometimes I might. It's not up to me to judge that. It's up to me to just live my life to the best of my ability.
To reach for my higher self.
I do know that this knowledge I posses - these lessons I've learned will make me approach playing this character with a different perspective than I had when I was twenty-three.
Thank god I can say this.
Thank god.
It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. Get over yourself.
INEZ: Yes, Garcin, she's right. Carry on with it, press her to you until you feel your bodies melting into each other; a lump of warm, throbbing flesh... Love's a grand solace, isn't it, my friend? Deep and dark as sleep. But, I'll see that you don't sleep.
Well, what are you waiting for? Do as you're told. What a lovely scene: coward Garcin holding baby killer Estelle in his manly arms! Make your stakes, everyone! Will coward Garcin Kiss the lady, or won't he dare? What's the betting? I'm watching you, everybody's watching. I'm a crowd all by myself. Do you hear the crowd? Do you hear them muttering, Garcin? Mumbling and muttering. "Coward! Coward! Coward!" -- that's what they're saying... It's no use trying to escape, I'll never let you go. What do you hope to get from her silly lips? Forgetfulness? But, I shan't forget you, not I! "It's you I must convince." So come to me. I'm waiting. Come along now... look how obedient he is, like a well-trained dog who comes when his mistress calls. You can't hold him, and you never will.
-from "No Exit" by Jean-Paul Sartre
Digging into this monologue from "No Exit" which I haven't used in about ten years... remembering the last time I used this piece for an audition - it was before I used the whole piece as my thesis performance in 1999... this character, Inez, she is the most ego-centric character I have ever played... and, part of what attracted me to the work (ten years ago - back in my early twenties) was the power that the character radiated... the control... I wanted to be like Inez. I wanted to look in the mirror and see that character reflected back. I thought if I were that character I wouldn't ever feel the hurt, betrayal and loneliness that I, Kate, felt as a young woman.
I was a little bit in love with Inez. So much so that I focused much of my energy on cultivating that image... heartless, overtly sexual, brash, willing to sell their Grandmother up the river Styx if it meant that they'd get ahead... that was the type of person I wanted to be. I considered that strong and invincible.
In ten years I have learned much about myself. And, much about the type of person that I want to be. I learned several years ago that I wasn't willing to sell my soul to the devil to be a working actress in LA. At that point I EXPERIENCED more success than many of my contemporaries did & was on a good track to doing the things I'd outlined for myself as important goals.
I walked away from it.
I also learned that I don't need to kill myself slowly to fit someone else's physical image of how I should look. That my image - the one I actually saw in the mirror each morning - was just perfect and beautiful. And, that what is inside influences what is outside far more than anyone ever admits to... that you can have the perfect size six ass, straight teeth, luscious curly flowing hair, flawless skin and that if you are vapid, empty, rotting, evil on the inside - you are the most ugly person in the room.
I learned that talent doesn't equal integrity. I learned that actors are basically liars and that you should never wholly trust someone you've just met - no matter how charismatic they are. No matter how badly you want to believe their lies... as you will be the one hurt in the end. That liars live in their own reality and believe their own un-truthful reality... and, that it's a sickness which cannot be cured - like alcoholism and chemical addiction.
I learned that having a few, close, truthful friends is better than being surrounded with people who think you're "cool." Your close friends - the ones you can always count on, the ones who are as close to that line between friend and family that they can get - they will think you're cool, too... but, they will also tell you when you're being an asshole. And, that's so much more valuable than having sunshine blown up your ass all the time. The fact is, that even when you are an asshole - and, you will be, as everyone is at sometime or another - those people will love you anyhow. And, that is golden.
I have learned that the people I most respect in the world are kind and generous. They may be fucked up in other aspects - they may have demons and darkness and may inflict pain upon themselves due to these conditions. But, the people who have my respect and my heart are two things consistantly - kind and generous... with love, with material things... with themselves.
I learned that some things in your life should be private. That being a performer, actor, improviser or whatever you want to label yourself doesn't mean having to live your life like an open book for everyone to dissect and pick over... that you can have secrets. That real people don't want to share every aspect of themselves with strangers... that people who do want to do that usually state some higher purpose for doing so - but, it really boils down to wanting validation or attention that they lack.
I have also learned that positive attention is so much better than negative.
I have learned that being alone is better than being with the wrong person.
That you have to love yourself before anyone else can love you. And, it's hard to love yourself. I struggle with it to this day. It's hard to look at all which is dark and icky inside and show the person who deserves your compassion more than anyone on earth kindness - it's hard work to love yourself.
I have learned compassion - how to love people that I don't really like. How to have sympathy for those who don't deserve it. That every human being on the earth no matter what their situation deserves to have their humanity acknowledged. How to truly let go of hate and anger... to find some peace.
I have learned a lot in ten years. A lot that I cannot articulate here, even. Much that I shouldn't articulate here. I don't know that this makes me a better person. I do know that it makes me think more. It makes me try harder. It makes me strive to be better... I don't know that I succeed ever - sometimes I might. It's not up to me to judge that. It's up to me to just live my life to the best of my ability.
To reach for my higher self.
I do know that this knowledge I posses - these lessons I've learned will make me approach playing this character with a different perspective than I had when I was twenty-three.
Thank god I can say this.
Thank god.
It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. It's not about you. Get over yourself.
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One Of Those Nights
I had very low hopes for the Jam last night - the way that things had been going lately it seemed only appropriate that I keep my thoughts in check regarding the potential for the wind to be taken out of my sail again by a sucktastic jam experience.
However, I would like to say for the record that when I left my apartment at 6 pm last night - all was right with the world. I made the decision not to take pub trans to the Climate - as it had been about 75 degrees all day and the crisp night air was just begging to be walked through.
I walked through Union Square - the lights of the city making me happy and calm, for some reason. Stopped to get a cookie and cup of coffee as I walked - dropped off a few postcards for Seth Morris's class, the Jam and the December BS show as I went - bopping down the street to show tunes on my little ipod... there are very few times in modern life when you just happen to stumble into that really fucking happy mood space with no provocation - and, I've learned that when it happens to just embrace it.
Got down to Market street - walking along - suddenly noticing that I'm smiling at everyone I meet - smiling, smiling - and, odder enough, getting smiles back. Until I got to 8th and Market - where crossing the street I smiled (inadvertently) at some woman crossing and she glared and stated, "What are you smiling at bitch?"
Which - of course - made me burst out in laughter. I am a sick, twisted fuck... but, my mood of happy was not to be quelled.
Bought some beer to share - as it was slightly more than five hours until my b-day - dropped off more postcards and let myself into the theater.
Got to the Climate - all the lights in the front stairwell were out. I don't have access to the ladder... crap. The front hallway smells like piss and shit. Double crap.
Now - as guilty as it made me feel - I knew I had to call Shaun Landry.
Shaun, obviously, is going through a lot right now. And, the last thing I wanted to do was haul her out of bed and into the Climate to deal with light bulbs and stinky bathrooms... but, I knew that if I called Paul Nathan (the guy who actually owns the theater) nothing would be done -- I knew this from previous experience. So, I called her - apologizing profusely - and, she said she'd come fix the problem... as, after all, we did have a show to do.
Shaun has been on my mind a lot, lately. She is one of two people I know who are going through what she is going through. And, as a woman, it's a scary thing to watch someone you know deal with that... as, it's something which could (and, may) affect any woman...
I am not a big physical contact person - when my friends try to hug me I tense up. When Martin (my roommate) tries to give me a friendly back massage - I wiggle out of it... I have to normally be on intimate terms w/someone before I am cool with hugging and stuff... but, when Shaun showed up to fix the petty ass problems at the Climate - all I could do was give her a hug. And, tell her if she needed anything that she should call.
And, then I had to go in the other room - because, I couldn't really think of anything else to say. And, it seemed so inappropriate to make bullshit conversation about things I'd seen or a television show or the news or any other trivial conversation topic...
So, I cracked open a beer and sat quietly in the theater.
Just thinking.
I don't know that my mood was ruined as much as I was humbled...
I really, really, really hope she's okay.
Really.
When she was done she came over and I told her that she rocks. And, reiterated that she should let me know if she needs anything. I think I handed her a flyer for Seth's class - I don't know. I just didn't know what I should say.
I continued to sit there quietly - just thinking - until CL showed up - when the topic of conversation turned to watching friends improvise and why I like AE as an improviser... slowly, people began showing up... CH and the loverly AH... AE... Revolving Madness... the San Jose guys...
It was a good little group. SS showed up after the show started... so did Paul White and little Josh. DF showed up with a bag of french fries that smelled like a little slice of heaven (oh, how I jones for fast food sometimes...) and, the Jam was really, really fun.
I played set two and three - at the bar following SS laughed at me and said "What happened to those characters as a thin veil?" Well - what came out came out... DF and I had three scenes together as lisping children who were arch nemesis... it was fun stuff. The game was being hit hard in all three sets. The San Jose boys were fun to watch - as ever...
Dan Burt - whom I love to hate - said something smarmy to me... and, I was like "oh, yeah - that's because you hate me, right?"
Of course - he's like - "Yeah."
When I introduced 15 Minutes at the SFIC '05 I said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you five of my favorite Bay area improvisers... and, Dan Burt..."
I did ask if it was okay if I introduced him like that - because, the last thing I want to do is to offend someone when I'm bringing them out on stage... but, the hatred and love I have of the hatred required I say something smart-ass about them...
For some reason Dan brought that back up last night... I :love: Dan... really, I do. He's an odd duck. Funny. Makes too many whore jokes. But, I do really like him... he's just Dan Burt. Funny, strange... Dan Burt.
The Revolving Madness kids are really fun to play with. I have to say that I think they really have their shit going on... it's fun. They have a show coming up this Thursday - I think I'm going to try to go catch it - maybe make Martin go with me... I will now shamelessly plug it for them on my journal:
REVOLVING MADNESS
in
FAR FROM GOOD
Thursday, November 17th
10:30 pm
Lila Theater
965 Mission Street #250
SF
Tix: $10, bring a friend and get in for ½ price!
www.revolvingmadness.com
We went to Rich's following the jam - where I was bought drinks - the East Bay contingency had to leave early... I sat talking with SS and another improviser - Steve - for an hour... my drink kept mysteriously refilling it's self... Gary (my Monday Night Husband) buying me drinks all night long - telling me (and, my friends) that my $$ isn't any good tonight... aw.
SS bailed with instructions that I was to sell Steve on taking Seth Morris's class in December - which I did... and, I sat talking with Steve for another hour and a half... with many comments from us both about really needing to go home... blah, blah, blah...
We talk about boys... living in LA... improv... more boys... it was nice to just sit and chat with someone.
He ended up giving me a lift home - even though he lives two blocks away from Rich's... which I thought was really nice - as I had been prepared just to take a cab.
Got home - realized I was STARVING - made myself nachos and watched Conan... Liz Green called me to say "happy birthday." She's the only person I know who actually calls me in the middle of the night and thinks it's perfectly reasonable.
We chatted for a bit and decided we would go do something this weekend... and, then I watched Carson Daly... and, fell asleep.
One of those nights. Don't know what else to say about it other than that.
I had very low hopes for the Jam last night - the way that things had been going lately it seemed only appropriate that I keep my thoughts in check regarding the potential for the wind to be taken out of my sail again by a sucktastic jam experience.
However, I would like to say for the record that when I left my apartment at 6 pm last night - all was right with the world. I made the decision not to take pub trans to the Climate - as it had been about 75 degrees all day and the crisp night air was just begging to be walked through.
I walked through Union Square - the lights of the city making me happy and calm, for some reason. Stopped to get a cookie and cup of coffee as I walked - dropped off a few postcards for Seth Morris's class, the Jam and the December BS show as I went - bopping down the street to show tunes on my little ipod... there are very few times in modern life when you just happen to stumble into that really fucking happy mood space with no provocation - and, I've learned that when it happens to just embrace it.
Got down to Market street - walking along - suddenly noticing that I'm smiling at everyone I meet - smiling, smiling - and, odder enough, getting smiles back. Until I got to 8th and Market - where crossing the street I smiled (inadvertently) at some woman crossing and she glared and stated, "What are you smiling at bitch?"
Which - of course - made me burst out in laughter. I am a sick, twisted fuck... but, my mood of happy was not to be quelled.
Bought some beer to share - as it was slightly more than five hours until my b-day - dropped off more postcards and let myself into the theater.
Got to the Climate - all the lights in the front stairwell were out. I don't have access to the ladder... crap. The front hallway smells like piss and shit. Double crap.
Now - as guilty as it made me feel - I knew I had to call Shaun Landry.
Shaun, obviously, is going through a lot right now. And, the last thing I wanted to do was haul her out of bed and into the Climate to deal with light bulbs and stinky bathrooms... but, I knew that if I called Paul Nathan (the guy who actually owns the theater) nothing would be done -- I knew this from previous experience. So, I called her - apologizing profusely - and, she said she'd come fix the problem... as, after all, we did have a show to do.
Shaun has been on my mind a lot, lately. She is one of two people I know who are going through what she is going through. And, as a woman, it's a scary thing to watch someone you know deal with that... as, it's something which could (and, may) affect any woman...
I am not a big physical contact person - when my friends try to hug me I tense up. When Martin (my roommate) tries to give me a friendly back massage - I wiggle out of it... I have to normally be on intimate terms w/someone before I am cool with hugging and stuff... but, when Shaun showed up to fix the petty ass problems at the Climate - all I could do was give her a hug. And, tell her if she needed anything that she should call.
And, then I had to go in the other room - because, I couldn't really think of anything else to say. And, it seemed so inappropriate to make bullshit conversation about things I'd seen or a television show or the news or any other trivial conversation topic...
So, I cracked open a beer and sat quietly in the theater.
Just thinking.
I don't know that my mood was ruined as much as I was humbled...
I really, really, really hope she's okay.
Really.
When she was done she came over and I told her that she rocks. And, reiterated that she should let me know if she needs anything. I think I handed her a flyer for Seth's class - I don't know. I just didn't know what I should say.
I continued to sit there quietly - just thinking - until CL showed up - when the topic of conversation turned to watching friends improvise and why I like AE as an improviser... slowly, people began showing up... CH and the loverly AH... AE... Revolving Madness... the San Jose guys...
It was a good little group. SS showed up after the show started... so did Paul White and little Josh. DF showed up with a bag of french fries that smelled like a little slice of heaven (oh, how I jones for fast food sometimes...) and, the Jam was really, really fun.
I played set two and three - at the bar following SS laughed at me and said "What happened to those characters as a thin veil?" Well - what came out came out... DF and I had three scenes together as lisping children who were arch nemesis... it was fun stuff. The game was being hit hard in all three sets. The San Jose boys were fun to watch - as ever...
Dan Burt - whom I love to hate - said something smarmy to me... and, I was like "oh, yeah - that's because you hate me, right?"
Of course - he's like - "Yeah."
When I introduced 15 Minutes at the SFIC '05 I said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you five of my favorite Bay area improvisers... and, Dan Burt..."
I did ask if it was okay if I introduced him like that - because, the last thing I want to do is to offend someone when I'm bringing them out on stage... but, the hatred and love I have of the hatred required I say something smart-ass about them...
For some reason Dan brought that back up last night... I :love: Dan... really, I do. He's an odd duck. Funny. Makes too many whore jokes. But, I do really like him... he's just Dan Burt. Funny, strange... Dan Burt.
The Revolving Madness kids are really fun to play with. I have to say that I think they really have their shit going on... it's fun. They have a show coming up this Thursday - I think I'm going to try to go catch it - maybe make Martin go with me... I will now shamelessly plug it for them on my journal:
REVOLVING MADNESS
in
FAR FROM GOOD
Thursday, November 17th
10:30 pm
Lila Theater
965 Mission Street #250
SF
Tix: $10, bring a friend and get in for ½ price!
www.revolvingmadness.com
We went to Rich's following the jam - where I was bought drinks - the East Bay contingency had to leave early... I sat talking with SS and another improviser - Steve - for an hour... my drink kept mysteriously refilling it's self... Gary (my Monday Night Husband) buying me drinks all night long - telling me (and, my friends) that my $$ isn't any good tonight... aw.
SS bailed with instructions that I was to sell Steve on taking Seth Morris's class in December - which I did... and, I sat talking with Steve for another hour and a half... with many comments from us both about really needing to go home... blah, blah, blah...
We talk about boys... living in LA... improv... more boys... it was nice to just sit and chat with someone.
He ended up giving me a lift home - even though he lives two blocks away from Rich's... which I thought was really nice - as I had been prepared just to take a cab.
Got home - realized I was STARVING - made myself nachos and watched Conan... Liz Green called me to say "happy birthday." She's the only person I know who actually calls me in the middle of the night and thinks it's perfectly reasonable.
We chatted for a bit and decided we would go do something this weekend... and, then I watched Carson Daly... and, fell asleep.
One of those nights. Don't know what else to say about it other than that.
The Garbage Truck Outside My Window At Midnight...
You know what I hate about living here?
They collect the garbage at midnight.
Seriously.
Last night I couldn't get to sleep because there was a garbage truck on block for forty-odd minutes.
And, apparently they're doing road work around here (complete with jackasses... um, I mean JACK HAMMERS) that starts at 6-fucking-am.
Bah.
I'm kind of bummed out that my temp service hasn't gotten me any work this week - I'm about to call them again to remind them I'm available... that's what you've got to do w/temp services - sit on their asses.
I got called in the middle of the day - yesterday - to come teach a movement class at Hamlin... hm... odd... but, I accepted - predicated that John Carlestrom cut me a check after the class was over, due to short notice... and, that they had to pay my full day fee, as opposed to trying to get away with shitty hourly...
It was a good class - Deb was out with an injury, again - and, I guess the great Sara Kraft couldn't be bothered to take over her class...
It was interesting to see how much some of the girls I had last year had grown-up... the difference between 7th and 8th graders is immense...
Thankfully, they remembered most of the warm-up, etc... so I didn't have to waste a lot of time doing that... we were able to get right into Laban work... it was fun.
At the end of class three or four of the 8th graders I had last year (as 7's) came up to me and spent five minutes begging me to come see their play in December... I might.
Fun, fun... I told K (one of the students) that I ran into her sister (the great lady, C - who now goes to the Bay School) on Muni a couple of weeks ago... and, K told me that C had told her and also told her "You know what?! Ms. Kotler has tattoos and a boyfriend!"
Ha, ha... C thought Martin was my boyfriend... that's funny.
K & C are two students whom I really enjoy - they're smart-asses and incredibly bright...
Anyhow.
It was weird being back at Hamlin... I always feel so out of place there. It's such a high pressure environment - and, it's just a middle school. I don't know how those girls survive it...
Fucking private schools.
The bread and butter of my teaching career... the only places which can still afford arts programing... they pay-so-good.
That - in it's self - makes it almost worth it to deal with over-programmed teenagers, teachers who walk on egg shells and parents who have more money than god.
Le Sigh.
After I was done at Hamlin (around 2 pm) I took flyers for BS, the SFIC and SM's to a variety of places in Northbeach, Chinatown, Union Square and out to Limelight Books... I got home pretty late - in enough time to watch "My Name Is Earl" (mmm... Jason Lee... mmm...) And, Martin gave me my b-day present - which is The Grifters on dvd... (mmm... John Cusack... mmm...)
I talked with my Aunt and Annie (who played video games the entire time we were on the phone) and got an email from my Uncle Joe... and, my Uncle Niel... both my parents called me multiple times... thankfully, the biological asshole did not... oddly enough - neither of my brothers called me... nor my Grandmother.
Although I did get a card from my Dad's mother w/$25 in it...
Overall it was a pretty okay birthday... though, I'm somewhat peeved that neither of my brothers called me... I left a message for Michael... but, didn't talk to him.
Bastards.
Anyhow.
That's where we started - me trying to go to sleep at midnight with the fucking garbage truck outside my window.
Welcome to my exciting life as a swinging single in San Francisco... :up:
You know what I hate about living here?
They collect the garbage at midnight.
Seriously.
Last night I couldn't get to sleep because there was a garbage truck on block for forty-odd minutes.
And, apparently they're doing road work around here (complete with jackasses... um, I mean JACK HAMMERS) that starts at 6-fucking-am.
Bah.
I'm kind of bummed out that my temp service hasn't gotten me any work this week - I'm about to call them again to remind them I'm available... that's what you've got to do w/temp services - sit on their asses.
I got called in the middle of the day - yesterday - to come teach a movement class at Hamlin... hm... odd... but, I accepted - predicated that John Carlestrom cut me a check after the class was over, due to short notice... and, that they had to pay my full day fee, as opposed to trying to get away with shitty hourly...
It was a good class - Deb was out with an injury, again - and, I guess the great Sara Kraft couldn't be bothered to take over her class...
It was interesting to see how much some of the girls I had last year had grown-up... the difference between 7th and 8th graders is immense...
Thankfully, they remembered most of the warm-up, etc... so I didn't have to waste a lot of time doing that... we were able to get right into Laban work... it was fun.
At the end of class three or four of the 8th graders I had last year (as 7's) came up to me and spent five minutes begging me to come see their play in December... I might.
Fun, fun... I told K (one of the students) that I ran into her sister (the great lady, C - who now goes to the Bay School) on Muni a couple of weeks ago... and, K told me that C had told her and also told her "You know what?! Ms. Kotler has tattoos and a boyfriend!"
Ha, ha... C thought Martin was my boyfriend... that's funny.
K & C are two students whom I really enjoy - they're smart-asses and incredibly bright...
Anyhow.
It was weird being back at Hamlin... I always feel so out of place there. It's such a high pressure environment - and, it's just a middle school. I don't know how those girls survive it...
Fucking private schools.
The bread and butter of my teaching career... the only places which can still afford arts programing... they pay-so-good.
That - in it's self - makes it almost worth it to deal with over-programmed teenagers, teachers who walk on egg shells and parents who have more money than god.
Le Sigh.
After I was done at Hamlin (around 2 pm) I took flyers for BS, the SFIC and SM's to a variety of places in Northbeach, Chinatown, Union Square and out to Limelight Books... I got home pretty late - in enough time to watch "My Name Is Earl" (mmm... Jason Lee... mmm...) And, Martin gave me my b-day present - which is The Grifters on dvd... (mmm... John Cusack... mmm...)
I talked with my Aunt and Annie (who played video games the entire time we were on the phone) and got an email from my Uncle Joe... and, my Uncle Niel... both my parents called me multiple times... thankfully, the biological asshole did not... oddly enough - neither of my brothers called me... nor my Grandmother.
Although I did get a card from my Dad's mother w/$25 in it...
Overall it was a pretty okay birthday... though, I'm somewhat peeved that neither of my brothers called me... I left a message for Michael... but, didn't talk to him.
Bastards.
Anyhow.
That's where we started - me trying to go to sleep at midnight with the fucking garbage truck outside my window.
Welcome to my exciting life as a swinging single in San Francisco... :up:
A True Story:
Do you remember the first time that you realized your parents had sex?
I do.
I was eight. We had been to the county fair that day and I had won a goldfish in the ping-pong ball toss. I had been brave enough to ride the tilt-a-whirl with my Uncle... and, I was the happiest kid on the planet because I hadn't been sick that day.
You see - up until that point - every year I could remember when we'd get ready to go to the county fair, I'd come down with some childhood illness or injury which prevented me from going to the fair. When I was five - I'd broken my wrist falling of my bicycle. When I was six - chickenpox. When I was seven - summer flu. And, each year my brother would go off with my Mom, Dad and Uncles to have the time of his life -- and, I would get stuck at home with Gramma Ruth and Grandpa Jim watching "All in the Family."
It sucked.
But, not this year. This year - I rode the rides, I ate the crappy food, I played the games... and, I won a goldfish. Which - right before I went to bed - I named 'Francis.'
In the middle of the night - I woke up. I was sticky and wet... and, I felt like I was going to throw up. You know how when you're a kid that you will try to will yourself not to be sick in the middle of the night because you're more afraid to get up and go to the bathroom than to be sick? I must have laid in that bed trying to will myself not to puke for twelve years that night... finally, I just knew it was no hope.
I sat up. Feeling like I was going to barf - that's when I noticed the strange noise coming from outside my door. And, that Francis's bowl was shaking ever so slightly on the dresser against the wall. My eyes grew wide - I started to cry. I was positive that not only was I going to hurl - but, I was going to be eaten by monsters in the process.
I knew I had to get my Mom. She would keep the monsters away so that I could puke in peace.
I got up - long, flowing little girl nightgown - curly red hair matted to my head from the night sweats. At eight I was still too short to flip the light switch in the hallway... so terrified, sweaty and gagging I padded in the dark towards my parent's room.
As I got closer - the noise got louder.
The monster sound began to sound like my Mom... like she was hurt.
I slowly opened the door.
The noise was so loud now that with every step I took into the room it pulsed in my brain - making me more nauseous.
"Mommy?" I whispered.
"Katie... oh... crap... not... now..." came a reply from the bed.
There was this lump of moving blankets on the bed... the monsters had my Mom! A lump rose in my throat causing me to gag. What had happened to my Dad? Did the monsters get him, too?
"Mommy? Are you alright?"
"Katie... go... back... to... bed..."
"Mommy - I think I'm going..." my statement was interupted by the moon shining through the window - at that exact moment the blanket fell away from the moving lump... I tried to be brave - I opened up my mouth to shout for the monster to get the heck off my Mom - instead a pyrotechnic stream of hot dog, cotton candy and soda vomit came spewing forth... onto... my Dad's big, white, hairy ass...
Of course I started crying... and, he started swearing... and, my Mom in a deft "Mother-move" swept me up - still vomiting in between tears - to haul me into the bathroom where she positioned me over the toilet...
When all had calmed down she asked me, "Why didn't you say you were going to be sick?"
I asked her, "What were you and Daddy doing?"
It was at that point that she realized that I had seen what I had seen and I realized what I had seen was what I had seen... and, some sort of tacit agreement was made without a word - to never speak of this night again.
But, whenever the fair comes to town - I remember.
Do you remember the first time that you realized your parents had sex?
I do.
I was eight. We had been to the county fair that day and I had won a goldfish in the ping-pong ball toss. I had been brave enough to ride the tilt-a-whirl with my Uncle... and, I was the happiest kid on the planet because I hadn't been sick that day.
You see - up until that point - every year I could remember when we'd get ready to go to the county fair, I'd come down with some childhood illness or injury which prevented me from going to the fair. When I was five - I'd broken my wrist falling of my bicycle. When I was six - chickenpox. When I was seven - summer flu. And, each year my brother would go off with my Mom, Dad and Uncles to have the time of his life -- and, I would get stuck at home with Gramma Ruth and Grandpa Jim watching "All in the Family."
It sucked.
But, not this year. This year - I rode the rides, I ate the crappy food, I played the games... and, I won a goldfish. Which - right before I went to bed - I named 'Francis.'
In the middle of the night - I woke up. I was sticky and wet... and, I felt like I was going to throw up. You know how when you're a kid that you will try to will yourself not to be sick in the middle of the night because you're more afraid to get up and go to the bathroom than to be sick? I must have laid in that bed trying to will myself not to puke for twelve years that night... finally, I just knew it was no hope.
I sat up. Feeling like I was going to barf - that's when I noticed the strange noise coming from outside my door. And, that Francis's bowl was shaking ever so slightly on the dresser against the wall. My eyes grew wide - I started to cry. I was positive that not only was I going to hurl - but, I was going to be eaten by monsters in the process.
I knew I had to get my Mom. She would keep the monsters away so that I could puke in peace.
I got up - long, flowing little girl nightgown - curly red hair matted to my head from the night sweats. At eight I was still too short to flip the light switch in the hallway... so terrified, sweaty and gagging I padded in the dark towards my parent's room.
As I got closer - the noise got louder.
The monster sound began to sound like my Mom... like she was hurt.
I slowly opened the door.
The noise was so loud now that with every step I took into the room it pulsed in my brain - making me more nauseous.
"Mommy?" I whispered.
"Katie... oh... crap... not... now..." came a reply from the bed.
There was this lump of moving blankets on the bed... the monsters had my Mom! A lump rose in my throat causing me to gag. What had happened to my Dad? Did the monsters get him, too?
"Mommy? Are you alright?"
"Katie... go... back... to... bed..."
"Mommy - I think I'm going..." my statement was interupted by the moon shining through the window - at that exact moment the blanket fell away from the moving lump... I tried to be brave - I opened up my mouth to shout for the monster to get the heck off my Mom - instead a pyrotechnic stream of hot dog, cotton candy and soda vomit came spewing forth... onto... my Dad's big, white, hairy ass...
Of course I started crying... and, he started swearing... and, my Mom in a deft "Mother-move" swept me up - still vomiting in between tears - to haul me into the bathroom where she positioned me over the toilet...
When all had calmed down she asked me, "Why didn't you say you were going to be sick?"
I asked her, "What were you and Daddy doing?"
It was at that point that she realized that I had seen what I had seen and I realized what I had seen was what I had seen... and, some sort of tacit agreement was made without a word - to never speak of this night again.
But, whenever the fair comes to town - I remember.
Argh... Loud Noises... Addicted To The Internet
So - midnight garbage collections... six am jackhammers.
I'm SO fucking tired. And, it's only 1pm.
Got to sleep at 1 am, ish... in the middle of Conan - garbage collectors - again... bah. Woken up by construction at six fucking am... how many hours of sleep is that? Five?
It's not like I had to get up today. I don't have anything to do - really. Just some SFIC pr stuff... some audition prep... stuff which could have started being done at 10 am or 11 am...
Bah.
So, it's all done. The rest of the afternoon is mine. I should go do something - it's yet another beautiful day here in SF.
Lovely... warm... sunny.
Yet - all I can think of is a nap - my eyes are so tired and I have a headache...
The landlord lied to us. He said that this apartment was pretty quiet - that you couldn't hear a lot of street noise from our floor... LIAR.
I was going to do laundry - but, I discovered that the asshole construction people have moved their operation to right in front of the laundry place... bastards.
***
I had a pretty good audition for a local radio station voice over... I should find out about it soon.
Tomorrow I have the Eastenders Rep. audition.
***
You know - blogs are the most ego-centric, self-indulgent invention on the face of the planet. Like anyone really cares what I have to say about improv, life, etc... ?
Sometimes I wonder why I maintain this habit. It annoys me. I think it may annoy some other people. (Not that this is a huge concern of mine.) Yet, I am inextricably drawn to blogging... brain vomit. Doesn't someone have a journal named that? It's so apt.
There was a point where I had three or four blogs in various locations of the internet. One was completely private. One was completely public. One was under an assumed name on which I would write pithy insults of myself in order to provoke people to comment about me... to see who would slam me... who would defend me... because... why? I don't know - I thought it was funny.
BLOG X (actually me): You know that Kate Kotler - she's a hack - I fucking hate that Kate Kotler.
COMMENTS:
"You don't even know Kate - how can you say you hate her?"
-Random Internet Friend
"Kate = crazysupercool... I :love: KK... I< K8.. ur da hack... fu!"
-Random Internet Friend
"Yeah, that Kate is a total tool."
-Kate's Mom
...okay, that's just an example. There were a couple of people who knew that it was my blog. I only posted on it every couple of weeks. And, it was linked to an actors forum I was actually a member of... someone once theorized that it was a disgruntled student who started the blog... or, my ex-friend, Lynette (who stopped being friends with me because I'm a liberal Democrat & she's a stupid Republican... but, that's another story.) It was even speculated that it was my other friend - also named Kate - whom people thought I had a rivalry with... really it was just me - fucking with people for no reason.
It was so absolutely transparent that I couldn't believe that people couldn't figure it out. The damn blog never said anything about anyone other than me... and, who the fuck am I?
No one that special.
Of course - in public I professed to have no knowledge of who the author of the blog was... and, to be wholly outraged that someone would start a blog just to tell everyone how much they hate me... (In reality I am actually a pretty nice, innocuous person and to me it is shocking to think that anyone would have such a viceral reaction to me that they would need blog about what a bitch I am... really... except if that person is me.)
I started that blog because I noticed a trend on my public blog - whenever I would post something considered contriversial - about politics... advice encouraging some of the teenagers who would ask me for advice on "how to be an actor" to go to college first... anything considered not sunshine and rosy... would elicit a stream of negative, baseless insults in the comments section of the blog from random people who had never met me. People who couldn't spell their way out of a paper bag and had no advanced opinions or theories of their own jumped on the opportunity to try to discredit what I was saying through unrelated statements about what an asshole they thought I was... or, how "ur sooooo mean!"
Fucking twits.
I deleted that journal a couple of years ago. It ceased to amuse me. I just stopped using the other blogs - I think that they still float around out there on the internet somewhere....
The internet is such an odd, immature place. It's like high-school no matter what age you are... it's addictive - look at me - I have nothing to do... so what do I fucking do?
Go outside - to the park - on this beautiful day? Take the nap I so profess to want? Read a book? Watch a movie?
Oh fuck no. I dick around on the internet for two hours - under the auspices that I'm "working" - im'ing with Molly Roberts (who's in London) and surfing various websites I find interesting - including the IRC.
I hate it - yet I am inexplicably drawn to it.
The most intelligent minds I know get sucked into the drama and bullshit on the internet... even if they aren't visible or vocal... somehow people seem to know what it is I've said on various forums, blogs, etc... even if you don't see them online - ever.
Blogs:
There are blogs I read because I want to see what that person has been doing... usually someone that I have an actual friendship with that I don't see often.
There are blogs I read because I want to see if I - or, anyone I know - are mentioned on them...
There are people who read this blog to see if they've been mentioned - even though I purposefully try not to gossip about people on here...
There are blogs you read because they're filled with gossip or non-reality...
There are blogs you read because they're funny... like Will Zone's blog. It's fucking funny. Or "I Am the Boss of Applesauce" - hysterical... those kids are hysterical... the author is hysterical... it's a hysterical slice of life.
There are blogs you read because the person writing it has something in common with you... like "Battery of OA" - he's a theater teacher, I'm a theater teacher... you know?
There are so many fucking blogs and so many reasons to read them...
Whoever invented the internet blog is among the most brilliant minds of our time - giving an outlet for all the narcissism that a person can posses...
It's so fucking self-important.
Yet - I'm drawn to it.
Inexplicably drawn to it.
Sigh.
There is no point to this mini-rant.
I am not ending this blog. It's the only one I have left - which is a step in the right direction... but, I do enjoy it, too... but... but... but...
Sometimes I wonder what it is I miss in the hours I spend dicking around on the internet. And, I'm getting to a point where I may just stop long enough to find out.
So - midnight garbage collections... six am jackhammers.
I'm SO fucking tired. And, it's only 1pm.
Got to sleep at 1 am, ish... in the middle of Conan - garbage collectors - again... bah. Woken up by construction at six fucking am... how many hours of sleep is that? Five?
It's not like I had to get up today. I don't have anything to do - really. Just some SFIC pr stuff... some audition prep... stuff which could have started being done at 10 am or 11 am...
Bah.
So, it's all done. The rest of the afternoon is mine. I should go do something - it's yet another beautiful day here in SF.
Lovely... warm... sunny.
Yet - all I can think of is a nap - my eyes are so tired and I have a headache...
The landlord lied to us. He said that this apartment was pretty quiet - that you couldn't hear a lot of street noise from our floor... LIAR.
I was going to do laundry - but, I discovered that the asshole construction people have moved their operation to right in front of the laundry place... bastards.
***
I had a pretty good audition for a local radio station voice over... I should find out about it soon.
Tomorrow I have the Eastenders Rep. audition.
***
You know - blogs are the most ego-centric, self-indulgent invention on the face of the planet. Like anyone really cares what I have to say about improv, life, etc... ?
Sometimes I wonder why I maintain this habit. It annoys me. I think it may annoy some other people. (Not that this is a huge concern of mine.) Yet, I am inextricably drawn to blogging... brain vomit. Doesn't someone have a journal named that? It's so apt.
There was a point where I had three or four blogs in various locations of the internet. One was completely private. One was completely public. One was under an assumed name on which I would write pithy insults of myself in order to provoke people to comment about me... to see who would slam me... who would defend me... because... why? I don't know - I thought it was funny.
BLOG X (actually me): You know that Kate Kotler - she's a hack - I fucking hate that Kate Kotler.
COMMENTS:
"You don't even know Kate - how can you say you hate her?"
-Random Internet Friend
"Kate = crazysupercool... I :love: KK... I< K8.. ur da hack... fu!"
-Random Internet Friend
"Yeah, that Kate is a total tool."
-Kate's Mom
...okay, that's just an example. There were a couple of people who knew that it was my blog. I only posted on it every couple of weeks. And, it was linked to an actors forum I was actually a member of... someone once theorized that it was a disgruntled student who started the blog... or, my ex-friend, Lynette (who stopped being friends with me because I'm a liberal Democrat & she's a stupid Republican... but, that's another story.) It was even speculated that it was my other friend - also named Kate - whom people thought I had a rivalry with... really it was just me - fucking with people for no reason.
It was so absolutely transparent that I couldn't believe that people couldn't figure it out. The damn blog never said anything about anyone other than me... and, who the fuck am I?
No one that special.
Of course - in public I professed to have no knowledge of who the author of the blog was... and, to be wholly outraged that someone would start a blog just to tell everyone how much they hate me... (In reality I am actually a pretty nice, innocuous person and to me it is shocking to think that anyone would have such a viceral reaction to me that they would need blog about what a bitch I am... really... except if that person is me.)
I started that blog because I noticed a trend on my public blog - whenever I would post something considered contriversial - about politics... advice encouraging some of the teenagers who would ask me for advice on "how to be an actor" to go to college first... anything considered not sunshine and rosy... would elicit a stream of negative, baseless insults in the comments section of the blog from random people who had never met me. People who couldn't spell their way out of a paper bag and had no advanced opinions or theories of their own jumped on the opportunity to try to discredit what I was saying through unrelated statements about what an asshole they thought I was... or, how "ur sooooo mean!"
Fucking twits.
I deleted that journal a couple of years ago. It ceased to amuse me. I just stopped using the other blogs - I think that they still float around out there on the internet somewhere....
The internet is such an odd, immature place. It's like high-school no matter what age you are... it's addictive - look at me - I have nothing to do... so what do I fucking do?
Go outside - to the park - on this beautiful day? Take the nap I so profess to want? Read a book? Watch a movie?
Oh fuck no. I dick around on the internet for two hours - under the auspices that I'm "working" - im'ing with Molly Roberts (who's in London) and surfing various websites I find interesting - including the IRC.
I hate it - yet I am inexplicably drawn to it.
The most intelligent minds I know get sucked into the drama and bullshit on the internet... even if they aren't visible or vocal... somehow people seem to know what it is I've said on various forums, blogs, etc... even if you don't see them online - ever.
Blogs:
There are blogs I read because I want to see what that person has been doing... usually someone that I have an actual friendship with that I don't see often.
There are blogs I read because I want to see if I - or, anyone I know - are mentioned on them...
There are people who read this blog to see if they've been mentioned - even though I purposefully try not to gossip about people on here...
There are blogs you read because they're filled with gossip or non-reality...
There are blogs you read because they're funny... like Will Zone's blog. It's fucking funny. Or "I Am the Boss of Applesauce" - hysterical... those kids are hysterical... the author is hysterical... it's a hysterical slice of life.
There are blogs you read because the person writing it has something in common with you... like "Battery of OA" - he's a theater teacher, I'm a theater teacher... you know?
There are so many fucking blogs and so many reasons to read them...
Whoever invented the internet blog is among the most brilliant minds of our time - giving an outlet for all the narcissism that a person can posses...
It's so fucking self-important.
Yet - I'm drawn to it.
Inexplicably drawn to it.
Sigh.
There is no point to this mini-rant.
I am not ending this blog. It's the only one I have left - which is a step in the right direction... but, I do enjoy it, too... but... but... but...
Sometimes I wonder what it is I miss in the hours I spend dicking around on the internet. And, I'm getting to a point where I may just stop long enough to find out.
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No Exit
My new approach to the character of Inez in "No Exit" is soooooooo good.
Really, really good. Reaching way down into emotional and physical places I didn't even know I had as an actor.
I watched myself on tape doing this monologue this morning... and, the physical transformation I undergo in the process is so fucking amazing.
I'm proud of myself. Really proud.
And, it isn't often that I say that.
I guess it only took me - oh, what? - almost ten years to process and have my Grotowski training really affect my process.
Holy cannolis.
Off to the audition. I cannot imagine how it's going to change doing this in front of an audiance. The work is making me want to get someone to produce this play again - so I can approach the role for a fifth time.
That's a thought.
My new approach to the character of Inez in "No Exit" is soooooooo good.
Really, really good. Reaching way down into emotional and physical places I didn't even know I had as an actor.
I watched myself on tape doing this monologue this morning... and, the physical transformation I undergo in the process is so fucking amazing.
I'm proud of myself. Really proud.
And, it isn't often that I say that.
I guess it only took me - oh, what? - almost ten years to process and have my Grotowski training really affect my process.
Holy cannolis.
Off to the audition. I cannot imagine how it's going to change doing this in front of an audiance. The work is making me want to get someone to produce this play again - so I can approach the role for a fifth time.
That's a thought.
My computer is a piece of shit... something went kaplooy and I cannot connect to the internet via it... I called my geek and asked him what it all meant (after spending 2 hours on the phone with AOL) -- and, indeed -- it is kaplooy.
Fuck my computer. I am lucky that Martin has a spare computer that we can both use for internet access. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck.
Someone please win the lottery and then decide to gift me with a new Mac laptop... please?
Make it so.
Fuck.
Fuck my computer. I am lucky that Martin has a spare computer that we can both use for internet access. Fuckity-fuck-fuck-fuck.
Someone please win the lottery and then decide to gift me with a new Mac laptop... please?
Make it so.
Fuck.
Dreams
Last night I dreamt that I (in this order) had a fight with my Mom, lost my favorite denim jacket, fell off a trolley and left a note on my parent's refridgerator which said (in scrawly handwriting) "I don't love you anymore." But, then denied that I wrote it and blamed my cousin - who got grounded.
I seem to be processing something.
Odd.
Off to rehearsal.
:nervous:
Oh yeah - it's 72 degrees in SF today... HAHA!
Last night I dreamt that I (in this order) had a fight with my Mom, lost my favorite denim jacket, fell off a trolley and left a note on my parent's refridgerator which said (in scrawly handwriting) "I don't love you anymore." But, then denied that I wrote it and blamed my cousin - who got grounded.
I seem to be processing something.
Odd.
Off to rehearsal.
:nervous:
Oh yeah - it's 72 degrees in SF today... HAHA!
Disillusion
I am so nauseated by some of the competitive bullshit that goes on in the SF improv community. While the majority of companies, troupes and individual players go out of their way to be encouraging, supportive and inclusive... There is a small group of people who go out of their way to be the opposite - catty, vindictive and competitive.
This is the bullshit which makes me hate improv.
All I want is someplace positive where I can work on fostering my creative process... where I can grow as an artist. Where I can work with people who are positive and drama free.
Is that too much to ask?
:tsk:
I am so nauseated by some of the competitive bullshit that goes on in the SF improv community. While the majority of companies, troupes and individual players go out of their way to be encouraging, supportive and inclusive... There is a small group of people who go out of their way to be the opposite - catty, vindictive and competitive.
This is the bullshit which makes me hate improv.
All I want is someplace positive where I can work on fostering my creative process... where I can grow as an artist. Where I can work with people who are positive and drama free.
Is that too much to ask?
:tsk:
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By the way... for those of you NOT in San Francisco... it is, again, over 70 degrees here today.
And, I find it really funny that in the movie "Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back" that Ali Larter says "Months of planning all blown by a fucking fart!"
And, the book "Son of a Witch" is shaping up to be pretty good.
I guess I just wanted to leave this journal today on a positive note.
Fuck negativity. Fuck it in it's stupid ear.
Ha, ha!
And, I find it really funny that in the movie "Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back" that Ali Larter says "Months of planning all blown by a fucking fart!"
And, the book "Son of a Witch" is shaping up to be pretty good.
I guess I just wanted to leave this journal today on a positive note.
Fuck negativity. Fuck it in it's stupid ear.
Ha, ha!
Oh, My Poor Noggin...
I'm sure that some people believe that the title of this post is meant to imply that I am hung over today.
It is not.
It is meant to comment on the fact that I got kneed in the head last night during the improv jam.
Yes. You read that correctly.
We'll come back to that in a bit.
Let's start this journal entry by stating that SS is out of town for a week - meaning that there was the very real possibility that I would be left at the only SFIC "core company member" at the MNJ... a fact which did not please me at all. So I sent out an email to everyone else stating that I'd love it if they came to the MNJ so that I didn't have to be there by myself.
CH & BB responded that they'd be there - AE didn't know if she'd be able to... at 5pm she called me to tell me she was stuck at work & it was a no go. Okay CH & BB are still going to be there. Plus, we'd gotten an email in the SFIC account from one of my favorite SF people - CB - saying that he'd be there for the first time in a month.
I was hopeful. There was the potential for it to be a very good Jam.
Let's now review this list which I wrote myself while doing laundry to filter through my consciousness during the MNJ:
"GOOD IMPROV HAS:"
1. Agreement
2. Cooperation
3. Visible Game
4. Realistic Characters
5. Action
6. Listening
7. Well Defined Space
8. Truthful Responses
9. Characters Who Know Each Other
10. Timely Edits
I was hopeful. Oh, yes I was.
I didn't even leave my house until 6:45 pm. Normally I'm the anal retentive one who insists on opening the theater at precisely 7pm, even though no one EVER has shown up for the MNJ (besides me) before 7:30 pm.
I walked. It was a beautiful night. Beautiful.
Got to the theater at 7:05 pm (oooo... breakin' all the rules!) Opened up, set up, sat down.
7:30 pm... no one.
7:40 pm... no one.
7:45 pm... SS calls me from where ever he happens to be and tells me that he just talked with CH and learned that he and CB are stuck in traffic at the toll plaza for the Bay Bridge.
Well, fuck - what are the chances they'll be here before 8 pm?
7:46 pm... a random guy wanders into the theater asking "is this the place for the comedy?"
Oh, great - I'm going to have to do one woman comedy for a random non-improv savvy individual who saw our listing in the pink sheet (at least I know my PR is working.)
7:50 pm... BB shows up. Thank goodness.
7:51 pm... CH & CB show up.
8:00 pm... Jerrod, Steve and Paul White come in. We decide to hold the house for 15 minutes on the premise that perhaps more improvisers might show up.
8:15 pm... we start the show. Every improviser on stage - Paul on lights - one guy in the audience.
Hurm... All I have to say about the improv is that my list got completely thrown out the window.
Oh yes, it was one of those nights.
I really don't understand improv sometimes. I don't understand how six very talented improvisers can get on stage together and make muck like we made last night.
There was no game. There was no story. Fuck, there weren't even any funny jokes.
I know that the turnout was low because it's the week before Turkey Day and (for some reason) a lot of SF people flee the city a whole week early... (example: MD and ZS are out of town - left last week for the holiday)... and, that many other people are in rehearsal for various holiday projects.
All the people who were there were solid, though - I just don't understand why/how it works out that solid, funny people can create muck.
Don't get it.
Third Set:
Everyone is killing everyone. 1st scene - CB and I are doing a scene about a party... horrible guest from hell shows up... dies. (Because, CB stabbed him in the neck with a hypodermic needle... but, that's irrelevant.) The theme becomes "everyone must die or be stabbed"... okay - let's run with it.
Last scene of the set. I'm not sure what was happening. It started with CB and me playing "1st Date" ... or, something like that. And, there are people in closets, people drinking formaldehyde... a call back asking for a mint frappe... weird lesbian wedding gown designers... and, I just can't take it any more - so I go to kill myself... (CB is already dead...) Jerrod stops me... so, I kill him... he dies... I kill myself... and, am in the process of dying (aka - falling down)... I am faced upstage... and...
Paul White decides to edit at the exact moment my head is at knee level.
Whammo! Knee right to the back of the head.
So hard that my head actually snapped forward and back... I heard this sick little "thwack" noise...
And, I fell down.
I think I may have screamed.
It hurt. Bad.
I didn't think too much of it - other than I was going to have a big knot on the back of my head... people asked if I was okay... I got up... shut down the theater... that was it.
The night ended with me getting kneed in the head.
I'm sure that there are some people out there who think that would be a most excellent end to an evening. However, let me assure you, it was not at all funny or glorious as one might expect.
It was painful.
CH reminded me of the time that I accidentally punched him in the balls during an improv scene... actually, it was a flick - but, with the way that guys are sensitive down there I might as well have punched full out.
This incident has made me think of my mentor - Jim Slowiack. Who told me after an onstage accident that "he has no sympathy for sloppy actors."
Last night if Jim had been there he would have requoted himself.
BUT: Who had the greater control in this situation? Me - blind to the fact that Paul was crossing - with no idea that my head was on a collision course with his knee? Or, Paul who could see what the fuck was going on and could have waited to cross until I had fallen completely to the floor.
You know?
Anyhow - I'm not upset - shit like this happens.
I will say at this point that our ENTIRE audiance (think about that for a moment) stated that we were "better than Monday Night Football."
We should quote that on our website.
We all went to the bar afterwards - for one drink. I had one drink and walked home - head swimming.
Didn't really realize that this was from being kneed in the head - thought it was because Gary served me what must have been the strongest rum n' coke ever made...
Crossing under the Stockton tunnel - some guy in a sports car pulled over to ask me "how much."
OH MY FUCKING CHRIST.
Do I really look like a hooker? You have to be kidding me. I had on jeans, a t-shirt (not even low cut,) a jean jacket and sneakers... and, I was listening to an ipod. It was 10:45 pm on a Monday night.
WHAT THE FUCK?
I told him to fuck off and kept walking.
Then what happens?
THE FUCKER GOES AROUND THE BLOCK AND COMES BACK.
And, again asks me "how much?"
I briefly looked in the car to see if perhaps this tool was with friends who were putting him up to harassing the lone girl walking through the tunnel - just minding her own business.
Just him.
"Hey do you want a ride? How much?"
I just looked at him and gave him the finger. I pointed in the direction of the Tenderloin and said, "the hookers hang out down there, man. Fuck off."
He circled around the block and came back through the tunnel... at this point there was another woman - coming under the tunnel on the opposite side of the street, going the opposite way. I pulled my cell phone out. He slowed down next to me and rolled down the window... and, I pulled my fucking ipod buds out of my ears and said: "If you do not fuck off right now I'm going to call the cops!"
He fucked off. Thankfully.
I think that's the last time I walk home after a Jam by myself. Funny that I experienced no trouble what-so-ever walking all along Market Street and up through Union Square. None. It's not until I get into my neighborhood - two blocks from my apartment - that I get hassled.
It is the first time that I've been so hassled in SF in almost a year.
And, I know for a fact that I look nothing like a hooker.
Damn it.
Anyhow, I made it home and went to bed.
LAST NIGHT WAS FUCKED UP.
I woke up several hours ago (construction outside my window - fuckers.) And, my head feels like someone took a baseball bat to it. My last thought before I fell asleep was "what if I have a concussion?" Guess I don't. As I woke up and all. But, my head hurts and my neck is really stiff and painful... like I have whiplash. I cannot turn my head to either side w/out it being horridly painful... and, I cannot bring my chin to my chest, either.
I'm going to go find the heating pad and lay down on the floor to try to ease it out.
My temp service sucks my anus. They haven't gotten me jack-shit in three weeks. I have taught one day out of that time (my b-day.) And, while I have a workshop (which will net me a goodly sum of $$) scheduled for Dec. 5 - Dec. 17th... I won't get paid for that until the 17th... making me really nervous about bills, etc...
I'm about to go on craigslist and begin whoring (no pun intended) myself out for babysitting jobs or something over the weekend.
Fucking Xmas time... fuck, fuck, fuck.
This is going to be one of those weeks.
I'm sure that some people believe that the title of this post is meant to imply that I am hung over today.
It is not.
It is meant to comment on the fact that I got kneed in the head last night during the improv jam.
Yes. You read that correctly.
We'll come back to that in a bit.
Let's start this journal entry by stating that SS is out of town for a week - meaning that there was the very real possibility that I would be left at the only SFIC "core company member" at the MNJ... a fact which did not please me at all. So I sent out an email to everyone else stating that I'd love it if they came to the MNJ so that I didn't have to be there by myself.
CH & BB responded that they'd be there - AE didn't know if she'd be able to... at 5pm she called me to tell me she was stuck at work & it was a no go. Okay CH & BB are still going to be there. Plus, we'd gotten an email in the SFIC account from one of my favorite SF people - CB - saying that he'd be there for the first time in a month.
I was hopeful. There was the potential for it to be a very good Jam.
Let's now review this list which I wrote myself while doing laundry to filter through my consciousness during the MNJ:
"GOOD IMPROV HAS:"
1. Agreement
2. Cooperation
3. Visible Game
4. Realistic Characters
5. Action
6. Listening
7. Well Defined Space
8. Truthful Responses
9. Characters Who Know Each Other
10. Timely Edits
I was hopeful. Oh, yes I was.
I didn't even leave my house until 6:45 pm. Normally I'm the anal retentive one who insists on opening the theater at precisely 7pm, even though no one EVER has shown up for the MNJ (besides me) before 7:30 pm.
I walked. It was a beautiful night. Beautiful.
Got to the theater at 7:05 pm (oooo... breakin' all the rules!) Opened up, set up, sat down.
7:30 pm... no one.
7:40 pm... no one.
7:45 pm... SS calls me from where ever he happens to be and tells me that he just talked with CH and learned that he and CB are stuck in traffic at the toll plaza for the Bay Bridge.
Well, fuck - what are the chances they'll be here before 8 pm?
7:46 pm... a random guy wanders into the theater asking "is this the place for the comedy?"
Oh, great - I'm going to have to do one woman comedy for a random non-improv savvy individual who saw our listing in the pink sheet (at least I know my PR is working.)
7:50 pm... BB shows up. Thank goodness.
7:51 pm... CH & CB show up.
8:00 pm... Jerrod, Steve and Paul White come in. We decide to hold the house for 15 minutes on the premise that perhaps more improvisers might show up.
8:15 pm... we start the show. Every improviser on stage - Paul on lights - one guy in the audience.
Hurm... All I have to say about the improv is that my list got completely thrown out the window.
Oh yes, it was one of those nights.
I really don't understand improv sometimes. I don't understand how six very talented improvisers can get on stage together and make muck like we made last night.
There was no game. There was no story. Fuck, there weren't even any funny jokes.
I know that the turnout was low because it's the week before Turkey Day and (for some reason) a lot of SF people flee the city a whole week early... (example: MD and ZS are out of town - left last week for the holiday)... and, that many other people are in rehearsal for various holiday projects.
All the people who were there were solid, though - I just don't understand why/how it works out that solid, funny people can create muck.
Don't get it.
Third Set:
Everyone is killing everyone. 1st scene - CB and I are doing a scene about a party... horrible guest from hell shows up... dies. (Because, CB stabbed him in the neck with a hypodermic needle... but, that's irrelevant.) The theme becomes "everyone must die or be stabbed"... okay - let's run with it.
Last scene of the set. I'm not sure what was happening. It started with CB and me playing "1st Date" ... or, something like that. And, there are people in closets, people drinking formaldehyde... a call back asking for a mint frappe... weird lesbian wedding gown designers... and, I just can't take it any more - so I go to kill myself... (CB is already dead...) Jerrod stops me... so, I kill him... he dies... I kill myself... and, am in the process of dying (aka - falling down)... I am faced upstage... and...
Paul White decides to edit at the exact moment my head is at knee level.
Whammo! Knee right to the back of the head.
So hard that my head actually snapped forward and back... I heard this sick little "thwack" noise...
And, I fell down.
I think I may have screamed.
It hurt. Bad.
I didn't think too much of it - other than I was going to have a big knot on the back of my head... people asked if I was okay... I got up... shut down the theater... that was it.
The night ended with me getting kneed in the head.
I'm sure that there are some people out there who think that would be a most excellent end to an evening. However, let me assure you, it was not at all funny or glorious as one might expect.
It was painful.
CH reminded me of the time that I accidentally punched him in the balls during an improv scene... actually, it was a flick - but, with the way that guys are sensitive down there I might as well have punched full out.
This incident has made me think of my mentor - Jim Slowiack. Who told me after an onstage accident that "he has no sympathy for sloppy actors."
Last night if Jim had been there he would have requoted himself.
BUT: Who had the greater control in this situation? Me - blind to the fact that Paul was crossing - with no idea that my head was on a collision course with his knee? Or, Paul who could see what the fuck was going on and could have waited to cross until I had fallen completely to the floor.
You know?
Anyhow - I'm not upset - shit like this happens.
I will say at this point that our ENTIRE audiance (think about that for a moment) stated that we were "better than Monday Night Football."
We should quote that on our website.
We all went to the bar afterwards - for one drink. I had one drink and walked home - head swimming.
Didn't really realize that this was from being kneed in the head - thought it was because Gary served me what must have been the strongest rum n' coke ever made...
Crossing under the Stockton tunnel - some guy in a sports car pulled over to ask me "how much."
OH MY FUCKING CHRIST.
Do I really look like a hooker? You have to be kidding me. I had on jeans, a t-shirt (not even low cut,) a jean jacket and sneakers... and, I was listening to an ipod. It was 10:45 pm on a Monday night.
WHAT THE FUCK?
I told him to fuck off and kept walking.
Then what happens?
THE FUCKER GOES AROUND THE BLOCK AND COMES BACK.
And, again asks me "how much?"
I briefly looked in the car to see if perhaps this tool was with friends who were putting him up to harassing the lone girl walking through the tunnel - just minding her own business.
Just him.
"Hey do you want a ride? How much?"
I just looked at him and gave him the finger. I pointed in the direction of the Tenderloin and said, "the hookers hang out down there, man. Fuck off."
He circled around the block and came back through the tunnel... at this point there was another woman - coming under the tunnel on the opposite side of the street, going the opposite way. I pulled my cell phone out. He slowed down next to me and rolled down the window... and, I pulled my fucking ipod buds out of my ears and said: "If you do not fuck off right now I'm going to call the cops!"
He fucked off. Thankfully.
I think that's the last time I walk home after a Jam by myself. Funny that I experienced no trouble what-so-ever walking all along Market Street and up through Union Square. None. It's not until I get into my neighborhood - two blocks from my apartment - that I get hassled.
It is the first time that I've been so hassled in SF in almost a year.
And, I know for a fact that I look nothing like a hooker.
Damn it.
Anyhow, I made it home and went to bed.
LAST NIGHT WAS FUCKED UP.
I woke up several hours ago (construction outside my window - fuckers.) And, my head feels like someone took a baseball bat to it. My last thought before I fell asleep was "what if I have a concussion?" Guess I don't. As I woke up and all. But, my head hurts and my neck is really stiff and painful... like I have whiplash. I cannot turn my head to either side w/out it being horridly painful... and, I cannot bring my chin to my chest, either.
I'm going to go find the heating pad and lay down on the floor to try to ease it out.
My temp service sucks my anus. They haven't gotten me jack-shit in three weeks. I have taught one day out of that time (my b-day.) And, while I have a workshop (which will net me a goodly sum of $$) scheduled for Dec. 5 - Dec. 17th... I won't get paid for that until the 17th... making me really nervous about bills, etc...
I'm about to go on craigslist and begin whoring (no pun intended) myself out for babysitting jobs or something over the weekend.
Fucking Xmas time... fuck, fuck, fuck.
This is going to be one of those weeks.
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Update In Happy Land:
I got a gig working as a casting assistant for some ABC reality show which is going to be filming in SF this spring... only two days - tomorrow and Friday - but, still. Who would think that my days casting background actors for Ally McBeal would finally pay off... well, it hasn't really - but, you know.
The anus sucking temp service finally got me a fucking job... working for UBI SOFT - doing something in the PR department for the release of their new game: Peter Jackson's "King Kong" ...this probably sounds cooler than it actually will end up being... but, it's three solid days of work at an ungodly high hourly rate. Meaning - starting tomorrow - with the exception of Thanksgiving - I will have shit to do, daily - up until I leave for Ohio on Dec. 18th.
AND - Thomas called me to tell me that Prophagandi is playing at Slims tomorrow and he's buying me a ticket! Meaning I'll get to go get out my inner punk goddess for free!! Where's my manic panic?
Yay, me!
:up:
I got a gig working as a casting assistant for some ABC reality show which is going to be filming in SF this spring... only two days - tomorrow and Friday - but, still. Who would think that my days casting background actors for Ally McBeal would finally pay off... well, it hasn't really - but, you know.
The anus sucking temp service finally got me a fucking job... working for UBI SOFT - doing something in the PR department for the release of their new game: Peter Jackson's "King Kong" ...this probably sounds cooler than it actually will end up being... but, it's three solid days of work at an ungodly high hourly rate. Meaning - starting tomorrow - with the exception of Thanksgiving - I will have shit to do, daily - up until I leave for Ohio on Dec. 18th.
AND - Thomas called me to tell me that Prophagandi is playing at Slims tomorrow and he's buying me a ticket! Meaning I'll get to go get out my inner punk goddess for free!! Where's my manic panic?
Yay, me!
:up:
Insane In The Membrane
My roommate - Martin - just left to go down to Union Square to do some holiday shopping. I think that you either have to be insane or a masochist to shop on either the day after Thanksgiving or the day after Christmas. Having worked retail in college, I still get a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach when someone mentions going to or near a mall or mall type facility on either day.
Blah. Not for me. I don't care how much I want to see Santa and sit on his lap to tell him what I want for Xmas... no way, no how.
On the topic of Martin - I note, with some amusement, that he is perhaps more competitive than I am at board games... in particular, Trivial Pursuit. This observation started to formulate shortly after he got to SF... when, bored off our asses one evening, I suggested that we play Trivial Pursuit.
What occurred was that I whipped his ass pretty quickly (I AM the useless trivia queen, after all...) And, Martin sulked for three days.
Seriously. Sulked. This man is thirty-something years old and he SULKED over losing a board game.
Granted - he has titled him self "super geek" - somewhat in competition with our friend, Tony, who is actually the super geek of the western world... so I can understand that losing at Trivial Pursuit, first, would be an affront to his ego... but, then to lose to a GIRL... and, a girl who isn't even a "geek" per se... (I fall under the category of "dork" if anything.) That would suck, yes. And, be worthy of sulking for twenty minutes or so... but, THREE DAYS?
Anyhow. What happened next was even more comic. So, I asked him a couple of times if he wanted a re-match... and, he got testy and left the room each time. Finally, one night he asks me if I want to play TP again... we do. And, I'm up pretty substantially - four pie pieces to his one.
He starts to sulk, be huffy and pissy every time I get a question that I answer correctly DURING the game.
So what do I do? (Not wanting to deal with a big, sulking roommate guy for three additional days...)
I let him win.
Which he lords over me like no one who's ever met Martin would believe.
It's annoying. Really, really annoying. And, I'm tempted to tell him that I missed the "for the win" question on purpose in order to give him an opportunity to catch up... which he did in a stunning run of super-easy questions... and, that if I had answered it correctly (Answer: Vladimir Putin) that I would be the one doing the "I rule, you suck" dance all over the living room.
So, last night - we're at AE's house for Turkey Day - and, AE pulls out the latest version of this timeless game... to play.
This new version involves a dvd and stealing pie piece questions, etc... it's a version where if you're a competitive asshole (like both Martin and I are) you can seriously screw your opponents and win quickly. And, most of the questions are seriously easy. So easy that it's almost not even fun...
But, I don't know all the rules to this new version - Martin, apparently does, as he's holding the rule sheet. Of which he picks and chooses portions of information to disseminate to myself, AE, T and Mamma Obe... only one of which cares if they win... well, AE kind of cares, too... as she's pretty competitive... but, I'm the only one getting pissed when Martin steals three pie pieces from me. I sulk. Yes I do. Because, I hate not understanding how to play games. But, then I don't really care - because, it's far more fun to play the game with AE and T - cheating the whole way. In fact, there is the declarative statement that the only people who are allowed to give and/or receive clues are people who are NOT winning... i.e.: everyone EXCEPT Martin.
Which makes Martin sulk. In kind of a funny way.
It's all in vain, anyhow - as he ends up winning. And, doing the "I won, you suck" dance on AE's couch. Meh. Whatever. I'll kick his ass the next time.
I love AE, M, T and Mamma Obe... because, they make me laugh so hard that veins pop out on the side of my neck. They truly are my California family and I am thankful for them. :love:
It was an awesome dinner. It was awesome company. I cannot remember a better day in a long time... not since this summer when I was home with my parents at the lake. Or, maybe since the last weekend of the SFIF Redux... ? There are many great moments with family and friends in my life... many. And, for that I am blessed. I really love laughing more than anything in my life and I am very, very lucky to be surrounded by people who make me laugh like a retarded five year old.... (Yay! Cinco de Mayo! Yay!)
Thank you to you all.
I talked to my Mommaship yesterday a couple of times. She was blue because this is the first holiday where NONE of the kids have been home. But, she and the Sparkster were safely ensconced at the lake - where they had received 6 inches of snow - and, they were fighting about Spark wanting to deep fry a turkey.
My Dad has very high blood pressure and his father died of a major heart-attack when he was about the same age as my Dad. My Mother is insistent that he not eat crap which will kill him... and, every year for the past ten they have had this argument.
Deep fried turkey may be good - but, I would much prefer that my Daddy hang around for another twenty or thirty years - so I tend to support my Mom's position on this. Where as, both of my brothers state that she is nagging my Dad too much about it; and, what can it hurt to have fat saturated meat one time each year?
Obviously, my Mom wins. Because - she IS the God-dess. All must bow before her. (Anyone who wonders where I get my sense of royalty from should meet my Mom... she's been telling me since I was born that I am a goddess-in-training and the princess... one thing about my parents, they love their kids - oh, yes they do.)
Hey. This time next month and I'll be home. YAY!
***
I'm excited about my date. I don't want to go into it too much - but, suffice it to say that this person is the first person in a long, long time that I feel like I have enough in common with to spend more than the time it takes to consume a cup of coffee with them. Dorky, geeky, tall, sarcastic... very cool. I am going to the Un-Scripted show (which BB and LR are in) on Saturday night and then meet this person at Crowbar to play pool and have a drink. We'll see how it goes.
So the ABC reality show I'm working as a CSA on is a "dating reality" show. And, the woman in charge of making the casting decisions for the the show spent Wednesday trying to talk me into being part of the project. I told her that I can't because I'm SAG. And, that if they really want me to do this show and have my life interrupted by cameras and people... and, to endure the humiliation of knowing that my friends and family will see me on television as someone who's "looking for love in all the wrong places" that they will have to pay me a SHITLOAD of money... and, in advance.
I would do a reality show - don't get me wrong - but, preferably one where you are stuck in a house with a bunch of people you don't get along with... not one where you admit to your greatest foibles and flaws. (Although, I do love the show "The Greatest Loser" ...I'm so pulling for Suzy to win. She's awesome. Quit laughing - it's on before "My Name Is Earl" - which of course I watch because of my obsession with Jason Lee... mmm... Jason Lee.)
If they could promise me that I would only go out with intelligent, sarcastic guys who look like Jason Lee or John Cusack... then I'd do it.
The people who we've seen for this project are really, really funny. And, not in a good way.
It's not really a surprise that we're getting such vapid, ego-centric, idiots in for this... as, they are pitching it as "Sex in the City" meets "Bridget Jones."
WTF?
Anyhow - I have to go into the office for more interviews this afternoon.
Who knows - maybe they will cave and actually offer me an obscene amount of $$ to humiliate myself on national television.
:loopy:
My roommate - Martin - just left to go down to Union Square to do some holiday shopping. I think that you either have to be insane or a masochist to shop on either the day after Thanksgiving or the day after Christmas. Having worked retail in college, I still get a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach when someone mentions going to or near a mall or mall type facility on either day.
Blah. Not for me. I don't care how much I want to see Santa and sit on his lap to tell him what I want for Xmas... no way, no how.
On the topic of Martin - I note, with some amusement, that he is perhaps more competitive than I am at board games... in particular, Trivial Pursuit. This observation started to formulate shortly after he got to SF... when, bored off our asses one evening, I suggested that we play Trivial Pursuit.
What occurred was that I whipped his ass pretty quickly (I AM the useless trivia queen, after all...) And, Martin sulked for three days.
Seriously. Sulked. This man is thirty-something years old and he SULKED over losing a board game.
Granted - he has titled him self "super geek" - somewhat in competition with our friend, Tony, who is actually the super geek of the western world... so I can understand that losing at Trivial Pursuit, first, would be an affront to his ego... but, then to lose to a GIRL... and, a girl who isn't even a "geek" per se... (I fall under the category of "dork" if anything.) That would suck, yes. And, be worthy of sulking for twenty minutes or so... but, THREE DAYS?
Anyhow. What happened next was even more comic. So, I asked him a couple of times if he wanted a re-match... and, he got testy and left the room each time. Finally, one night he asks me if I want to play TP again... we do. And, I'm up pretty substantially - four pie pieces to his one.
He starts to sulk, be huffy and pissy every time I get a question that I answer correctly DURING the game.
So what do I do? (Not wanting to deal with a big, sulking roommate guy for three additional days...)
I let him win.
Which he lords over me like no one who's ever met Martin would believe.
It's annoying. Really, really annoying. And, I'm tempted to tell him that I missed the "for the win" question on purpose in order to give him an opportunity to catch up... which he did in a stunning run of super-easy questions... and, that if I had answered it correctly (Answer: Vladimir Putin) that I would be the one doing the "I rule, you suck" dance all over the living room.
So, last night - we're at AE's house for Turkey Day - and, AE pulls out the latest version of this timeless game... to play.
This new version involves a dvd and stealing pie piece questions, etc... it's a version where if you're a competitive asshole (like both Martin and I are) you can seriously screw your opponents and win quickly. And, most of the questions are seriously easy. So easy that it's almost not even fun...
But, I don't know all the rules to this new version - Martin, apparently does, as he's holding the rule sheet. Of which he picks and chooses portions of information to disseminate to myself, AE, T and Mamma Obe... only one of which cares if they win... well, AE kind of cares, too... as she's pretty competitive... but, I'm the only one getting pissed when Martin steals three pie pieces from me. I sulk. Yes I do. Because, I hate not understanding how to play games. But, then I don't really care - because, it's far more fun to play the game with AE and T - cheating the whole way. In fact, there is the declarative statement that the only people who are allowed to give and/or receive clues are people who are NOT winning... i.e.: everyone EXCEPT Martin.
Which makes Martin sulk. In kind of a funny way.
It's all in vain, anyhow - as he ends up winning. And, doing the "I won, you suck" dance on AE's couch. Meh. Whatever. I'll kick his ass the next time.
I love AE, M, T and Mamma Obe... because, they make me laugh so hard that veins pop out on the side of my neck. They truly are my California family and I am thankful for them. :love:
It was an awesome dinner. It was awesome company. I cannot remember a better day in a long time... not since this summer when I was home with my parents at the lake. Or, maybe since the last weekend of the SFIF Redux... ? There are many great moments with family and friends in my life... many. And, for that I am blessed. I really love laughing more than anything in my life and I am very, very lucky to be surrounded by people who make me laugh like a retarded five year old.... (Yay! Cinco de Mayo! Yay!)
Thank you to you all.
I talked to my Mommaship yesterday a couple of times. She was blue because this is the first holiday where NONE of the kids have been home. But, she and the Sparkster were safely ensconced at the lake - where they had received 6 inches of snow - and, they were fighting about Spark wanting to deep fry a turkey.
My Dad has very high blood pressure and his father died of a major heart-attack when he was about the same age as my Dad. My Mother is insistent that he not eat crap which will kill him... and, every year for the past ten they have had this argument.
Deep fried turkey may be good - but, I would much prefer that my Daddy hang around for another twenty or thirty years - so I tend to support my Mom's position on this. Where as, both of my brothers state that she is nagging my Dad too much about it; and, what can it hurt to have fat saturated meat one time each year?
Obviously, my Mom wins. Because - she IS the God-dess. All must bow before her. (Anyone who wonders where I get my sense of royalty from should meet my Mom... she's been telling me since I was born that I am a goddess-in-training and the princess... one thing about my parents, they love their kids - oh, yes they do.)
Hey. This time next month and I'll be home. YAY!
***
I'm excited about my date. I don't want to go into it too much - but, suffice it to say that this person is the first person in a long, long time that I feel like I have enough in common with to spend more than the time it takes to consume a cup of coffee with them. Dorky, geeky, tall, sarcastic... very cool. I am going to the Un-Scripted show (which BB and LR are in) on Saturday night and then meet this person at Crowbar to play pool and have a drink. We'll see how it goes.
So the ABC reality show I'm working as a CSA on is a "dating reality" show. And, the woman in charge of making the casting decisions for the the show spent Wednesday trying to talk me into being part of the project. I told her that I can't because I'm SAG. And, that if they really want me to do this show and have my life interrupted by cameras and people... and, to endure the humiliation of knowing that my friends and family will see me on television as someone who's "looking for love in all the wrong places" that they will have to pay me a SHITLOAD of money... and, in advance.
I would do a reality show - don't get me wrong - but, preferably one where you are stuck in a house with a bunch of people you don't get along with... not one where you admit to your greatest foibles and flaws. (Although, I do love the show "The Greatest Loser" ...I'm so pulling for Suzy to win. She's awesome. Quit laughing - it's on before "My Name Is Earl" - which of course I watch because of my obsession with Jason Lee... mmm... Jason Lee.)
If they could promise me that I would only go out with intelligent, sarcastic guys who look like Jason Lee or John Cusack... then I'd do it.
The people who we've seen for this project are really, really funny. And, not in a good way.
It's not really a surprise that we're getting such vapid, ego-centric, idiots in for this... as, they are pitching it as "Sex in the City" meets "Bridget Jones."
WTF?
Anyhow - I have to go into the office for more interviews this afternoon.
Who knows - maybe they will cave and actually offer me an obscene amount of $$ to humiliate myself on national television.
:loopy:
Brussel Sprout Soda; Un-scripted Theater; The Date
My roommate - Martin - has been obsessed with finding the Jones Soda Holiday Pack since last year at this time when he got ganked out of purchasing one for last season. So, it came as little suprise that earlier this month he went on the hunt for it - procuring the variety pack which included such epic titles as "Pumpkin Pie Soda" and "Brussel Sprout Soda"... all with as disgustingly sounding names. There are just some things which should never be consumed as a beverage... and, "Turkey Gravy" is one of them. Two days ago he broke into the first - "Pumpkin Pie Soda" - one of the few which sounded as if it might be palatable.
He took a swig and then passed it to me so I could taste... giggling the entire time. It was awful. Just awful.
Today he tried the "Brussel Sprout Soda"... the smell of the soda, alone, was enough to prevent me from trying a sip. That and I was wise to the fact that Martin would pretend it was good just so that I'd try it and he could watch the expression of digust sweep across my beautiful face.
He dumped most of it.
I cannot believe that he's going to continue to work his way through this pack... culminating in "Cranberry Dressing" soda. Then he plans to go back for the other pack which includes a soda flavor titled "Salmon Pate."
Ewww.
uke:
***
Last night - prior to my date - I went to see LR and BB in the Un-Scripted Theater production of "Let it Snow"... their holiday improvised musical.
I have to say - the show was fantastic. Very fun. Very funny. I'm continually impressed with how the UST guys work the crowd to gain their affection... I think they run a 1st class organization. And, I like them all a bunch.
So - shameless plug for them - if you're in SF anytime in the next three weeks - go catch their show. Very, very, very good. Worth the price of admission:
LET IT SNOW
Fri & Sat Nights @ 8pm
Sundays @ 3pm
Through December 18th
THE PHOENIX THEATER
414 Mason @ Geary (next to Ruby Skye) - Suite 601
SF
Tix: $15/$10 - students & seniors
www.un-Scripted.com
:up:
***
After I saw the show - I high tailed it over to the Crowbar to meet my date... J. I really don't care to reveal too many personal details... suffice it to say, I had a very good time. The conversation was excellent. And, it was refreshing to be out in a social situation with someone who was NOT an improviser... We started at the Crowbar - but, it was way too loud and raucous... so we went to Mr. Bings - then to Tosca... by that time the bars were closing - along with everything else. It's very rare that I ever meet someone that I get along with so awesomely the first time I hang out with them that I don't want the conversation to stop at some point... it was like that last night. He walked me home and we stood outside my apartment building in the freezing cold talking for an hour. I then went inside and he went home... where he emailed me right away to tell me what a good time he'd had & how he'd wished that we had had more of the evening to hang out together. (The Un-Scripted show - as great as it was - kind of cut into my date time... ah, well.)
It was wonderful. He makes my tummy woobly. In a good way. Yes, I will see him again. I hope.
That is all.
My roommate - Martin - has been obsessed with finding the Jones Soda Holiday Pack since last year at this time when he got ganked out of purchasing one for last season. So, it came as little suprise that earlier this month he went on the hunt for it - procuring the variety pack which included such epic titles as "Pumpkin Pie Soda" and "Brussel Sprout Soda"... all with as disgustingly sounding names. There are just some things which should never be consumed as a beverage... and, "Turkey Gravy" is one of them. Two days ago he broke into the first - "Pumpkin Pie Soda" - one of the few which sounded as if it might be palatable.
He took a swig and then passed it to me so I could taste... giggling the entire time. It was awful. Just awful.
Today he tried the "Brussel Sprout Soda"... the smell of the soda, alone, was enough to prevent me from trying a sip. That and I was wise to the fact that Martin would pretend it was good just so that I'd try it and he could watch the expression of digust sweep across my beautiful face.
He dumped most of it.
I cannot believe that he's going to continue to work his way through this pack... culminating in "Cranberry Dressing" soda. Then he plans to go back for the other pack which includes a soda flavor titled "Salmon Pate."
Ewww.
uke: ***
Last night - prior to my date - I went to see LR and BB in the Un-Scripted Theater production of "Let it Snow"... their holiday improvised musical.
I have to say - the show was fantastic. Very fun. Very funny. I'm continually impressed with how the UST guys work the crowd to gain their affection... I think they run a 1st class organization. And, I like them all a bunch.
So - shameless plug for them - if you're in SF anytime in the next three weeks - go catch their show. Very, very, very good. Worth the price of admission:
LET IT SNOW
Fri & Sat Nights @ 8pm
Sundays @ 3pm
Through December 18th
THE PHOENIX THEATER
414 Mason @ Geary (next to Ruby Skye) - Suite 601
SF
Tix: $15/$10 - students & seniors
www.un-Scripted.com
:up:
***
After I saw the show - I high tailed it over to the Crowbar to meet my date... J. I really don't care to reveal too many personal details... suffice it to say, I had a very good time. The conversation was excellent. And, it was refreshing to be out in a social situation with someone who was NOT an improviser... We started at the Crowbar - but, it was way too loud and raucous... so we went to Mr. Bings - then to Tosca... by that time the bars were closing - along with everything else. It's very rare that I ever meet someone that I get along with so awesomely the first time I hang out with them that I don't want the conversation to stop at some point... it was like that last night. He walked me home and we stood outside my apartment building in the freezing cold talking for an hour. I then went inside and he went home... where he emailed me right away to tell me what a good time he'd had & how he'd wished that we had had more of the evening to hang out together. (The Un-Scripted show - as great as it was - kind of cut into my date time... ah, well.)
It was wonderful. He makes my tummy woobly. In a good way. Yes, I will see him again. I hope.
That is all.
Rainy Days And Mondays... What Are The Chances... Date #2 (hasn't Happened Yet...)
Well. I have recieved my comeuppance (Did I spell that right?) for all the gloating I've been doing about the weather in SF as of late. It is freezing and raining. It's fucking December. (Almost.) And, here me, without my umbrella.
The dreaded temp service has me working a three day project at UBI Soft (video game company)... it is the most boring of the temp assignments, yet. Thank goodness it's a short term thing -- I cannot work past Wednesday. I have a pick-up class to teach Thursday during the day... then the BS show on Friday... class to administer w/SM this weekend... two week workshop (days) starting on Monday... sample sale (evenings) starting Monday.
Busy, busy, busy. Better than not busy. Let me tell you. Tomorrow I teach the Lab. I better come up with a lesson plan. This means I'll have to corner CH at the Jam tonight to find out what he taught last week... build on that.
***
What are the chances that the Jam will be good tonight? I want to go (as I have to hassel students to get their tuition $$ in for the intensive this week)... yet, I want to sleep, too. And, SS said that I didn't have to go this week -- as I pretty much manned the ship all over Turkey Day and such. Well, me, CH and BB. Le Sigh.
To go and have the energy sucked out of me - or, to stay home in my toasty apartment, bake some cookies, bake some other things, call J and go to sleepies... I have to turn in my keys to the Climate (this is our last show there)... perhaps I'll head in for that and make my decision once I get there. If AE had called me today and I knew she was going for sure, I might be more inclined.
Bah. I need a vacation from the SFIC. *MANTRA OF THE MONTH: December 22, December 22, December 22...
(That's when I fly home for a week.)
***
Date #2 will be occuring sometime this week. More than likely on Thursday. We are going to go see the documentary about Wal Mart.
We'll see what happens with that.
That would make date #3 to Dickens Fair. Where he would have to meet some of my friends (AE, Richard Maritzer...) yipes!
The more I think about this - the more I'm positive, that despite any other factors, I want to get to know J better.
That's about it for now.
Off to the theater.
Well. I have recieved my comeuppance (Did I spell that right?) for all the gloating I've been doing about the weather in SF as of late. It is freezing and raining. It's fucking December. (Almost.) And, here me, without my umbrella.
The dreaded temp service has me working a three day project at UBI Soft (video game company)... it is the most boring of the temp assignments, yet. Thank goodness it's a short term thing -- I cannot work past Wednesday. I have a pick-up class to teach Thursday during the day... then the BS show on Friday... class to administer w/SM this weekend... two week workshop (days) starting on Monday... sample sale (evenings) starting Monday.
Busy, busy, busy. Better than not busy. Let me tell you. Tomorrow I teach the Lab. I better come up with a lesson plan. This means I'll have to corner CH at the Jam tonight to find out what he taught last week... build on that.
***
What are the chances that the Jam will be good tonight? I want to go (as I have to hassel students to get their tuition $$ in for the intensive this week)... yet, I want to sleep, too. And, SS said that I didn't have to go this week -- as I pretty much manned the ship all over Turkey Day and such. Well, me, CH and BB. Le Sigh.
To go and have the energy sucked out of me - or, to stay home in my toasty apartment, bake some cookies, bake some other things, call J and go to sleepies... I have to turn in my keys to the Climate (this is our last show there)... perhaps I'll head in for that and make my decision once I get there. If AE had called me today and I knew she was going for sure, I might be more inclined.
Bah. I need a vacation from the SFIC. *MANTRA OF THE MONTH: December 22, December 22, December 22...
(That's when I fly home for a week.)
***
Date #2 will be occuring sometime this week. More than likely on Thursday. We are going to go see the documentary about Wal Mart.
We'll see what happens with that.
That would make date #3 to Dickens Fair. Where he would have to meet some of my friends (AE, Richard Maritzer...) yipes!
The more I think about this - the more I'm positive, that despite any other factors, I want to get to know J better.
That's about it for now.
Off to the theater.