There's Always a Tranny

I visited my mom recently and went to church with her, as is expected. I can go through the prayers by rote and don't much have to pay attention...but I certainly can people-watch while the hour goes mind-numbingly by. One person I can't keep my eyes off of...is a tranny. I think.

Remember "Tootsie" and "Mrs. Doubtfire" and how Dustin Hoffman make really unconvincing women? Not behavior-wise, but LOOK-wise. Middle-aged, house frau-ish and just, well, something ain't right about them? This woman fits every single category: Too much make-up. Not very attractive. Hair looks like a wig. High-collars. Lots of jewelry. Low voice. Mom's tranny happens to have a low voice (I overheard her) and never sings along with the hymns. She's not very tall, and her hands and feet aren't large, but other than that - I'm certain she's got a secret.

I've been to church with the boyfriend's family a few times now...and THEY have a tranny, too!! She hands out programs before service. She's got all of the above PLUS the height, large hands and feet. ...and she's blonde. Which reminds me of the Flight of the Conchords song, "Leggy Blonde," which is about a REAL woman, but still...worth a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7syyywL9JuM

Modern Family

“There’s a reason why this family wants to be together, and there’s a reason why people come to visit and want to stay.” Our director has some lovely ideas about what “belonging” is, and how important this family is to one another.

Those of us who are visitors to the Vanderhof homestead have been asked to think about what we like about the house and what draws us to return. The milk man stayed five years, the ice man (Mr. DePinna) has been there for eight years and counting. Lucky me - my character shows up once and the play is over before she leaves.

I've been thinking a lot about the closeness of some families. There's mine...close, but really more at a distance. There's the boyfriend's...who are so close that they gather at least monthly for a big family dinner AND spend a full long week together in a summer beach house and seem to get along beautifully. Now that I've experienced it with them, it's not just for show - they actually like each other! I've been catching up on the TV phenomenon "Modern Family" as well. Each show's wrap-up points out why they all love each other even though there are arguments, disagreements, misunderstandings, quirks and teasing. (A great, clever show, by the way.)

So that brings us back to the Vanderhof/Sycamore house. Alice knows her family are unusual - to say the least - and goes to extraordinary measures to create the illusion of a "normal" home when her boyfriend's parents come to visit. Yet when those plans are ruined - she makes the incredibly difficult decision to leave and be on her own for a while. Leaving is the last thing she wants to do, but feels a need to have some time by herself. They're her family, odd or not, and they love each other, they love her, and they accept all comers. No apologies, no excuses.

Would I live there? Heavens, no! They be crazy. Would the Grand Dutchess? Probably not. She is brought there by her friend Boris Kolenkhov, with the promise of a free meal. "She has not had a good meal since before the Revolution." Clearly the Grand Dutchess hasn't missed many meals...but they're probably leftovers grabbed from the restaurant taken home to eat later. She and Boris can maneuver their way into the homes of generous friends and share good food and good company. Better than a bread line, wouldn't you say?

Before my entrance at rehearsal yesterday, Andrew (Kolenkhov) came offstage to get me, and said quietly in his non-Russian voice: "They fell for it...now, remember you're supposed to be Russian royalty!" Wouldn't that be awful - but an entirely different plot - if they were shysters and just in it for the food?

You Can't Take it With You

Today marks the first day of rehearsals for our university theater production of You Can't Take it With You. In other words: today is the first day of the rest of my life.

My journey began this past April when I received a call from the production manager saying that the artistic director wanted me to audition. Beg PARDON?? I enjoy staged readings and I certainly would LOVE to act...but that's not what I do! For reals? For reals. I was asked to audition for the role of The Grand Dutchess Olga Katrina.

What's great about her: she's Russian royalty - which means her costume is going to ROCK. She shows up literally ten pages before the end of the play, has her moment, and we're done. Not a ton to memorize - bonus!

She speaks english, but with a Russian accent, so that's a challenge. I emailed my friend Elisa - a vocal coach - post-haste and asked for the best dialogue sources possible, and she was happy to oblige. Ordered a CD and went to work.

The audition was terrifying and exhilirating all at once. In a stage-managerial capacity, I have watched actors audition for years, and I don't envy them a bit. It's part-skill, part-luck, part-game. An actor can give it their all and just not be what the director is looking for. The audition was fun, but I was glad it was over.

Shock of all shocks - the production manager called me back about a week later and offered me the role. Wow. Do you have the right number?? For reals? For reals. I accepted, but fully believe that our artistic director has lost his mind.

Two weeks ago, I met the costume designer at her shop and was measured within an inch of my life for the costume. Again, I've watched actors go through this process for years - but having someone take a tape measure to YOU and know that someone's going to make a dress especially for YOU - it feels pretty darned great.

Meanwhile - I have taken the plunge and officially applied for undergraduate study at the University. This means: I'm registered as a student this semester and am doing the show for course credit hours. Bringing back my blog posts for the rehearsal and run of the show will be cathartic, and I plan to turn them in to my faculty director as a surprise side-project to prove I was doing something besides goofing off - I mean - memorization in my non-rehearsal hours. I hope to have interesting things to say. I'm nervous and excited!! Stay tuned...

Where Babies Come From

I love that I have a life...but hate that it keeps me from random blog posts. Speaking of random...

I want the truth and I want it now. I know I should be much older before I ponder life-altering questions such as this, but, honestly, Where Did I Come From? The useless answers I’ve found so far:
• A stork flew me here (plausible)
• Jesus brought me (less plausible than the stork, but I hear He’s pretty cool)
• Mom & Dad went to a cabbage patch (funny, I don’t feel like a cabbage)
• A 1-800 number from the back pages of Rolling Stone (that makes me feel wanted)
• South Korean laboratories (I don’t feel Asian, either)
• A sea monkey packet that mom & dad “overfed” (that would make me King of the Sea People!)
• The one I’m completely throwing out is the LEAST obvious: mom & dad had “sex” … whatever that is.

Choose Your Own Adventure

OK, so I'm at my gynecologist's office for an 8:15am appointment. When I arrived, there was an older couple sitting in the waiting room. Older, like, 70s. They looked tense. I assumed maybe it was some kind of cancer diagnosis result day - because clearly they're beyond the age to have children.
About five minutes later, in walks a pretty younger woman (I'll give her 30), not visibly pregnant, with a younger guy. They greet the older couple, hugs all around, and sit with them. They do not check in. I think - oh how cute - I bet they're getting a sonogram and want the grandparents to be there. Small talk ensues - though they're not especially chipper or elated.
Some time goes by.
Another young woman walks in, walks up to the counter and checks in. She turns around, timidly says hello to everyone, hugs the OLD GUY ONLY, says, "I'm not sitting down," ...and dashes off to the restroom. Younger guy calls after her: "Why not?" Then looks at everyone else, shrugs, and sits down. Sadly, that's where the story ends. I got called in, and didn't see them again.
Congratulations - if you've read this, you're in the Choose Your Own Adventure mode about this group like I am. Theories??

Subliminal Web Shopping

An earlier post, Happy Belated New Year, about the glorious web site "your baby is an asshole dot com" is now null and void. Said web site now directs you to: buy Xanax. Awwwwwww. Silly web hackers. If you didn't get a chance to see the wonder that was "your baby is..." you missed out. RIP, glorious web site. You are missed.

Dangling the Carrot

I can't let March go by without at least ONE post! Today's rant: paychecks. I work, as I've mentioned before, at a large southeastern university. Today is Thursday, March 25th. Salaried employees such as I get paid at midnight of the last work day of the month (in arrears). We routinely receive e-mails to tell us when our paychecks will be viewable online...a week ahead of time. So, though I won't actually GET the money for seven days, I can LOOK AT the money. It's like window-shopping and it gets me down every single time. I don't live hand-to-mouth and I don't need that paycheck any sooner than it's going to get to me...but still. Why you gotta dangle it in front of my face, you know?

Rejection Never Felt So Good

Times in life when one can be rejected:

• Receiving an F on a test or in a class entirely
• Being in the lane that just closed (bank, grocery store, toll plaza, etc.)
• Being fired
• Breaking up

So...internet dating. Another fun place to be rejected. I e-mailed someone interesting yesterday, and this morning I received this. You know, if everyone could take the time to (a) acknowledge and respond, and (b) use candor, this world might be a better place:

"I hope you are having a great week. Thank you for the email and interest in my profile, I'm very flattered. I feel like we have common interests, but I wanted to take a moment to let you know that I have met someone on match that I think may turn into a relationship and I'm the kind of guy that doesn't like to juggle women, I don't believe it is fair to anyone. With that being said I hope you understand if I don't continue to get to know you better until I'm certain of where this may lead. Maybe if things don't work out you will consider giving me another chance at getting to know you. I wish you the best of luck finding a match."

Fantastic. So much better than silence. (I kind of want to copy it to use in replying to people, myself!!)

Buncha Wusses

Please refer to my post of December 3, 2009 (Man Overboard) for a bit of background. I took the ball and ran with it. I met with both the Human Resources Manager as well as her boss, the Associate VP. I told them the basic situation: EVERYONE who comes to my desk scrunches up their face and goes, What The Hell IS That Smell??? I have headaches, and the situation needs to be addressed.
Both HR folks are hemming and hawing as I talk to them about how tricky the situation is, and how we can't force people not to smoke. Oh, really? Can we not force people to lighten up on the cologne? Can we not look them in the eye and tell them there is a legitimate concern regarding their health (the smoking) and the health of others (the slathering of cologne to cover up the smoking)? No, these HR people apparently can't. Because they're wusses.
I've been in the business world since I was 16...I worked corporate in the 80s and 90s. I get how HR should work, and I get what HR's job is. HR's job is, among other things: to address valid employee concerns. The health and welfare of an employee is a valid concern. So, I even help them out! I bring with me to these meetings a print-out of the University No Smoking Policy 4.69. It's a great read. The item that I high-lighted and suggested HR could use to begin the conversation: "Smoking is prohibited within 25 feet of all entrances to all [University] buildings."
I pointed out that this guy is in violation of that policy all day, every day. We are the healthcare unit of this University. The guy stands either directly in front of the doors to the building OR - and this one is classic - directly underneath the sign about 10' down the building that says "Making People Healthy."
I'm not in HR, but if I were, that would be the starting point of my conversation. Scenario:
Hey, fella...you've got to step awaaaaaay from the building (hand him University policy...because that doesn't make ME look like the bad guy, I'm just sharing Policy. Oh, and have you heard about how bad smoking is for you? Yeah, it is. Furthermore, we here are concerned about your health. Did you know that this University offers FREE smoking cessation programs here on campus? Yes, really. Lots of them. Through the Counseling Center, through the Faculty/Staff Assistance Program, through our Cancer Institute. It's true. We suggest that you at least look that the information I've printed for you (handing him a pile of brochures and web site info). I've heard you cough at least twice while I've been talking, and in my non-medical opinion, your lungs don't sound so great. Oh, and one more thing: you've been in my office, what, 5 minutes now? I am telling you that I can smell your cologne and it's a bit overpowering. Do you, by chance, use cologne after you come back inside so that your colleagues don't smell your cigarette smoke? (He will answer yes, because he's a nice guy and I can tell has a healthy fear of authority) I must ask you to not re-apply cologne after you leave your house in the morning. I can suggest chewing gum, Binaca, Altoids...something like that instead, OK? So. Here's a letter (handing him letter) re-capping everything I've just explained to you, and I'm going to need you to sign it saying you understand the University Policy and that you will strive to improve your health habits. Good day, sir.
How hard is that? Apparently really, really hard. Completely expected, HR totally took the coward's way out. Smoky McSmokes-A-Lot (smelling like he always does) comes up to my desk this morning looking super-sad and says, "I am told I have new office in Clinic. I must move by end of day."
So, there you have it. A FINE way to solve the problem. I'm 99.9% sure that's all he was told, "We're relocating you." No reason given. Wonder how many more complaints will arise - and trust me, unless they're relocating him to a cave all by himself, there will be - before someone actually does sit him down and tell him the truth. Buncha wusses. Sure, I got what I wanted and my cube area will be a nicer place to visit, Renuzit-free, by next week. Badly handled, though. I'm very disappointed.

Happy Belated New Year

Since I can't seem to get around and be clever enough to post something from my own brain, please enjoy: http://www.yourbabyisanasshole.com/

I was on an airplane today from Atlanta to San Francisco with a screaming baby. Nearly five hours of screaming baby. ...and was he perfectly screamed-out and adorable at baggage claim?? Oh, yes, he was. His poor mom looked like hell.