May I Take a Message?

I woke up with very good intentions yesterday.  My handy-dandy to-do list was at the ready, filled with phone calls to make during Moo’s afternoon nap.  Only problem?  Moo decided that napping was not on her personal to-do list yesterday.  I sat there on the couch listening to her jabber and sing in her bed, mentally tossing my to-do list in the trash.  Then I finally realized that Moo singing in bed does not mean I can’t make a phone call.

Oh, but I tried very hard to convince myself otherwise! 

I HATE talking on the phone.  Always have.  I was never one of those teenagers lounging on her bed with the phone cord wound three times around her fingers, babbling away happily.  Notes passed between classes – that was my thing.

It’s not as though my parents made the phone some big off-limits taboo, either – from a young age we were allowed to answer the phone, like so:  “Hello, Mama Rose residence, Mama speaking.  Who may I say is calling?”

Or was it “whom?”

And most of the jobs I’ve held in my life have depended on the phone.  In New York, I worked as the switchboard receptionist for Samuel French, the play publisher (yes, Samuel French, I did steal some plays from you – terribly sorry, that was my dark period), which meant I spent eight hours a day talking on the phone, often fielding phone calls like this: 

“Samuel French, how may I direct your call?”

“I’d like to speak to Mr. French, please.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, he doesn’t exist.”

“What?  Mr. French’s office, please.”

“I’m sorry, sir, Mr. French isn’t here anymore.”

“Then I’ll leave a message.”

“You can’t leave a message, sir.  He’s dead.  He’s very, very dead.”

But even with all my years of receptionist and secretarial work, I still hate the phone.  It can take me weeks to call someone, especially if it’s a stranger.  I don’t know what my problem is – just that my fear of an awkward phone exchange at times threatens to prevent me from reaching my goals in life.  On the phone, there’s no body language, no facial expressions – how can I get across my meaning without those?  How can I charm strangers without a wry smile?  I cannot.

“Get over it!” my loved ones say.

“#&@*$%*!” I kindly reply.

I still need to schedule appointments for two auditions this weekend.  Which means I need to call both Theater Works and Desert Foothills Theater.  After listening to Moo sing for a good 30 minutes yesterday, I finally called Desert Foothills – and got their answering machine.  I tried twice more – does that count for anything?

So here I am with the same to-do list today, same phone calls to make.  Let’s hope I’m a little more successful this time.  Even I can see that it would be pretty pathetic to mess up my entire quest just because I’m afraid of punching some numbers into the damn phone.

Pardon Me, Do You Have Any Grey Poupon?

I had an entire dream about trying to find the mustard in the refrigerator last night. 

That’s the most boring dream in history – well, with this one exception.

My mother kept insisting the mustard was up on the “19th floor.”  And then she told me I couldn’t use it all because she’d promised the mustard to my cousin.  I must have some unresolved condiment issues from childhood.  Guess I need to spice up my life by subjecting myself to abject fear and humiliation in the form of theatre auditions!

Weekend Tidbits

I stumbled through the weekend, somehow managing to clean the house, let the cousins loose to run rampant around my mom’s house, bake and frost a three-layer cake that did not taste awful (although I did spy Clara spitting hers out into her napkin, but 4-year-olds cannot be trusted as taste experts), sing Happy Birthday to my mom with my whole family, do some mother/daughter/sister bonding at an antique store, and even spend some much-needed time with a friend watching the Golden Globes (we collectively roll our eyes at you, Tom Cruise).

Somehow I did not manage to actually give my mother her birthday present in the midst of all the chaos.  Oops.

Perhaps I was a bit distracted by this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Or this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or this:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or even this, which kind of says it all:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Either way, I must clear my head and focus on the coming auditions this weekend.  GAH!  First goal:  Actually make the appointments to audition.  Kind of important.  “Gather!” as Kate Winslet scolded herself during her Golden Globes acceptance speech.  Gather thoughts, gather focus, gather courage – gather.

…And eat more cake.

Why Do They Even Have Shows on Thursdays?

We had maybe 44 people in the audience, and after the intermission – about 35.  Ouch.

The show went – fine, I guess.  For the first time, it felt more like a job (drive, get dressed, la la la, go home) than a fantastic adventure.  Bound to happen, I suppose.  I suspect my stage lethargy (which I tried to shake off by jumping up and down repeatedly in the wings, which only gave me a headache) is partly due to my immune system furiously fighting off Moo’s cold germs, in which I have been marinating all week.  So far, my two-day hiatus plus lots of echinacea is doing the trick, but I am definitely lacking some pep, as my mom might say.  Gotta pep it up for this weekend’s shows, because rumor has it a Critic (from where? Who cares!  It’s a CRITIC!) and the Arizoni adjudicators might be attending sometime this weekend.

There are lots of rumors floating about, actually – whozee hooked up with so-and-so, whazzername is suchabitch!, OMG, That Guy is totally just pretending to be gay.  My favorite piece of gossip was when our Fred was running around frantically pre-show trying to find his misisng tights.  “He should just forget the tights,” said our lighting designer.  “Go naked.  He looks like he’s got nice legs.  Like, not scrawny little chicken legs.”  Then she made us swear not to tell him she said that.  The Blog Gods do not recognize such promises!  Your naked calf fetish has been exposed to all the world, haha!

But more than gossip, the talk amongst the cast consisted mostly of the Next Show.  Auditions, auditions – what’s coming up?  What’s next?  I thought I’d take off the entire month of December, but I checked, and I didn’t include anything about holiday vacations in my Quest Rules.  Oops.  This means I have two auditions I could potentially attend one day after our show closes.  No Sleep For You!  I thought I would only be interested in musicals, but these two shows peaked my interest:

Desert Foothills Theater, “Last of the Red Hot Lovers,” by Neil Simon.  Show Synopsis:  “Barney Cashman has been a faithful husband to his wife for 23 years. But it is 1970, a time of sweeping change, and Barney dreams of one glorious extra-marital affair before life and the sexual revolution pass him by. So, he decides to secretly use his mother’s apartment (while she is at work), to rendezvous with his potential love conquest. On three different afternoons, Barney tries desperately to seduce three singularly odd women. He is determined to triumph, but will he ever succeed at sinning?”  Ooh, sounds fun!  And, let’s face it, I am singularly odd.  But how would Herbie feel about this?  And how would I feel acting sexy-cozy with someone so Not Herbie?  We haven’t discussed this actorly issue at all.  Now might be the time…

Theater 4301, “My First Time,” by Ken Davenport.  Show Synopsis:  “My First Time is a documentary-style theatre piece in the style of The Vagina Monologues featuring true stories about first sexual experiences submitted online from people all over the world. The stories are sweet, funny, tragic, absurd, heterosexual, homosexual, young, old, and everything in between. While obviously MY FIRST TIME deals with some adult subject matter, My First Time is not a “sex show”, but rather a study of this intimate moment in almost every human being’s life.”  Intriguing!  And probably something I wouldn’t want my mom to come see…

Roadblocks:  Both auditions require a headshot and resume – I don’t have either of those, but hey, at least now I have something to put on my resume!  Also, I would have to perform a monologue.  Don’t have one of those, either.  And the only thing scarier than singing in front of strangers is trying to act to a blank spot over the heads of strangers who are judging, judging, judging.

Guess I’d better dig out all my old monologue books.  Oh no, this means I might have to go into my office.  I’ve been trying to pretend it doesn’t exist.  But!  Lest you think I achieved nothing during my blog hiatus, I did succeed in packing up all the Halloween decorations, AND our new oven and microwave will be delivered next Tuesday, just in time to make pumpkin chocolate chip bars.  Success!

Weekend Stats – Plus Monday

Roses Received:  46

Dishes Cleaned:  You’d have to ask Herbie

How’s Moo Doing?:  Screaming in bed with a cold

Oh Crap!:  I know.

Blisters: 3

Bandaids: 7

Bruises: 4

Kind Strangers Who Complimented Me After the Show:  3

So How Did That Whole ‘Finding-the-Note’ Thing Go?  Ehhhh.  Not so good.

More Ice Cream?  Yes, please.

Books Read By Clara (4 years) to Moo (19 months): “Corduroy,” “Barney’s Colorful World,” “Peekaboo Bunny”

Moo’s Response:  “Again! Again!”

Mama, What Are You Doing Instead of Finishing Up this Blog Post and Going to Bed?:  If you MUST know, I’m looking up current audition notices.  I think I’ve got the bug.

Casting Notices – 9/18

So let’s take a look and see what’s on the horizon:

Darknight Productions, “Football: The Musical”
Character Breakdown: “Need one male with a large body type to play the giant lineman for the football team.  Lumbo Drumm appears to be slow-witted but is actually surprisingly bright.”   Well, Herbie does often say I’m surprisingly bright, but alas – not a large male.

Arizona Renaissance Festival
No.  Just – no.

Guerillastar Productions, “The Ruffians”
Show Synopsis:  “Jim, a dissatisfied business professional, wanders into a tunnel by his work and discovers an underground society living there called the Ruffians. Led by one Ruffian named Kikei, he explores this alternate world, changing his perception of life as he conflicts with his boss at work, who dresses as a hunter and hunts the Ruffians by night. “  I swear I would do this, since I’ve always been fascinated by tunnel-based societies (like bunnies!) and the business people-hunters that dress as hunters, but alas, it’s a film and requires nudity.  Darn!

Reigning Men Drag Troupe
This whole born-a-female thing is really getting in the way this week!

Dearing Acting Studio/Arizona Virtual Studios, Improv Troupe
Show Synopsis: “We are looking for flexible, dedicated actors who are passionate about the art of comedy. This high-energy, dynamic group will be the Valley’s premiere Friday and Saturday night performance. With all-new, innovative improv games and an incredible performance venue, this troupe brings a new edge to the Arizona comedy scene!”  Improv!  The scariest word in the world to the timid auditioning actor!  (Except to Herbie, who, like, majored in improv or something.  Smartypants.)  If someone says the word “improvise” to me, all of a sudden the only word I can think of is “snork” (which I don’t even think is actually a word), and then I fall over – boom!  I have lost consciousness so many times in improv classes, it’s really quite a hassle.  Also, I am not high-energy or dynamic, and I’d say I’m really more lethargic than passionate about the art of comedy.

 So, um, nuthin’ much this week.  Unless I want to consider a quickie sex-change.  I’ve always wondered… No!  I like having boobies too much (except when an infant is gettin’ all baby-fish-mouth on them).