Monday, August 31, 2009
So...what to talk about? It has come to my attention that my blog reaches approximately 35 people a day, 31 of which return on a daily basis. So there are 31 of you? Hello, darlings. I love each and every one of you, unless your name happens to be Patti LuPone. Honestly, I never expected to have an audience at all. For the longest time I thought I was just talking to the wall, plus Lenora. It's good to know I reach approximately .000000000000000000000000001% of the population. It gives me some kind of hope.
Thanks to a new application, I can now see how each of you linked yourselves to my blog. I'm sorry if you find that creepy. Today, one of you searched "Karen Ziemba" and found yourself here. Sorry, friend. You will find nothing positive about that woman on my blog. Another lonely cyber-wandered searched "shirtless Aaron Tveit." Why, you sly boots. You won't find that here, either, but we're working on it, my friend.
Knowing exactly how many of you there are makes me kind of nervous. I feel judged. How long have you folks been reading? Do you mind when I get ornery? Am I boring you? I am no performer. I've always been terrified of the spotlight, and my many literary endeavours have gone largely unread, at my own intention. I don't let my own mother read this stuff, folks. To be honest, I was more comfortable talking to the wall than I am talking to all of you.
Oh, well. You're here, and apparently you keep coming back, like a kitten I fed once and can't get rid of. Not that I want any of you to leave. Jesus. There are only 31 of you. How many people can I afford to chase away? No, friends, I'm very grateful that there are people who pretend to care what I am saying. Still, don't flatter yourselves into thinking I'm doing this for all of you. Please, I'm not that nice. I've long suspected that I have some kind of Momma Rose complex. Bottom line - "I guess I did it for myself." Folks, it's been almost a year. Let's not convince ourselves that I'm anything but an insomniac girl who got bored with Broadwayworld.
I am very tempted to share some more of my writing with you folks. I've been rereading my countless unfinished manuscripts from back in the day. Some are mind-bendingly hideous, some are actually pretty damn good. The problem with my main project now is that I know I am capable of doing better, but I'm too lazy to try. This is not my career, this will not be my career. What am I wasting my time on?
Moving on to something completely different - religion. I am Catholic. I have been educated Catholic, and I think I've turned out fine. As for the whole "kill the gays and abortion should be illegal" scene, I'm not sure I buy that crap. Here's what I know - I believe in God. I believe in love. I believe in heaven and hell, and I'd like to think everyone goes to heaven. If that makes me Catholic, then let me be called Catholic. It makes no real difference in the long run. But there are some areas when I deviate from the beaten path - For me, it is easy to feel close to God when I am watching a once-in-a-lifetime performance, or dancing onstage at Hair, or hearing my baby cousin tell me she loves me. When I'm sitting in an over-heated church listening to an Indian pastor drone on, not so much. Which is why I'm not that much of a church-goer. Let me clarify - theatre is not my religion. The Al Hirschfeld Theatre is not my place of worship, and when I pray, I pray to God, not Alice Ripley. (Although I freely admit that I offered up a small prayer to Bea Arthur that Angela Lansbury would win the Tony. I figured if anyone could help out with that, she could. Thanks for that one, Bea.) But there are things that help us to know that God exists, and if you want to say that theatre has taught me that, I guess you can. It brings me happiness, and happiness is the only thing I am looking for in this world.
I have not had a bad life so far, but there have been long stretches of time when I have been unhappy. When you've gone months without happiness, you learn how precious it is. And now, friends, I know more joy than I have ever seen in my life, and I am grateful, happy, peaceful, and enjoying the blue skies.
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Anyway, it's late, it's hot, the Kerrigan and Lowerdmilk is abundant, and the blue Powerade is flowing freely. You know what that means. It's time for...A BLOG POST! I think I need my own theme song. Before I continue, I would like you all to know that I'm watching Two Strangers, and when I toggled between the tabs, Caissie Levy looked for one shining moment like a drugged cow. It was amusing. You're welcome. So...I love quotes. I build my life around them, memorize them, chant them like some kind of ancient Hindu mantra. There are just so many wonderful ones, and whenever the situation warrants I just pluck one from my extensive repertoire and blab it out. It's kinda like the way I can take any situation and liken it to something that happened in a Family Guy episode. Only I'm not so proud of that. But I thought I'd share some of my favorites with you, my very, very tiny audience.
"Bon appetit, douchebag." - Stewie Griffin
"It's much harder to make an audience laugh than it is to make them cry." - Vivien Leigh
"You're an asshole." - Pearl the Landlord
"If God brought you to it, He will bring you through it." - anonymous
"Leastest thing that they could teach you is not to talk on what you're wholly, completely,
abysmally ignorant of." - Caroline, or Change
"Jeez, if you wanted to put on a bad show why didn't we just do Rent?" - Peter Griffin
"You can't sell me, you fat son of a bitch!" - Meg Griffin
"Deliberate cruelty is not forgivable." - Blanche DuBois
"Just goes to show ya, Blanche, ya never know what's comin'." - Stanley Kowalski
"We all gotta keep goin'. No matter what happens, we gotta keep goin'." - Eunice Hubbell
"Are you box outta your mind?" - Harold Mitchell
"You look like a lesbian." - Violet Weston
"You don't wanna break shit with me, muthaf*cka!" - Barbara Fordham
"I'm a tool." - Robert Pattinson
"Some hurts never heal, but the darkest skies will someday see the sun." - adapted from Next to
"You sound like an unbelievable douche." - Brian Griffin
"Son of a bitch, I guess I'm doing something right." - The Last Five Years
"Start by admitting from cradle to tomb, it isn't that long a stay." - Cabaret
"If you're going through hell, keep going." - Winston Churchill
"You're a lot of fun. I hope you don't die." - Edie Beale
"Every day is just another and another and another..." - Next to Normal
Confucius say thanks for reading all those quotes. Before I go, we're gonna talk Ragtime. Full casting was announced today. Two problems. Problem Number One: I've never actually heard of anyone that's been cast. That's pretty rough. I like to know what I'm getting myself into. Problem Number Two: Savannah Wise got Evelyn Nesbit, and she's from Rock of Ages. Damn. I'm not trying to be pre-judgemental, but, well, I guess I kinda am. Oh, well. Guess this means Leigh Ann Larkin got Petra in A Little Night Music, and will be over at the Kerr with Angela Lansbury and Catherine Zeta-Jones. I think Leigh Ann Larkin is great, and this is swaying me a bit. But I am still backing Ragtime 100% for that Tony.
The role that will be left open when Savannah leaves Rock of Ages will be filled by Kerry Butler. She can do better than that, but I guess the bills still have to be paid. I like to think that's the only reason Brian d'Arcy James and Sutton Foster took the embarrassing pratfall-fest that was Shrek.
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Sunday, August 23, 2009
But really, who am I to judge them? Even though they were chronically middle aged, badly dressed, and listening to an awful band out on a soggy deck that smelled of smoke and rotting fish, they seemed to be having a good time. Still, it was difficult to suppress the urge to shake them and say, "Open your eyes, people! You're not twenty-one! You're in freaking Belmar, for Christ's sake!" My parents kept telling me how much fun these people used to be when they were young. I simply could not imagine any of those folks ever being fun or young. While we're on the subject, I'm gonna bash Jersey. There is nothing there. Literally. Nothing. I don't care how much fun "going down the shore" is. It's not fun for me. Renting a house in Belmar and sleeping somewhere else may be where it's been but it's not where it's at. I have no interest in any of that. Why would anybody want to lay on the beach for hours, slowly subjecting themselves to skin cancer, and then going out clubbing with a bunch of guidos you could find anywhere else in the tristate area? The fact that a bunch of middle-aged folks still think that this is fun, and have conditioned their children to believe that it's fun, depresses me. Really. It's sad, kinda like drinking alone in an apartment out in Queens. Apparently, it doesn't matter where you are as long as your with your friends. Is it so terribly awful of me to say that I don't believe that's true at all? Because really, I'd much rather be sitting with my enemies and watching some indie band play Joe's Pub than be out out in Belmar, Seaside, or anywhere else on the Jersey Shore doing shots with my friends. It's okay if you want to call me a bad person. My own mother tells me that every day.
Depressing factor aside, going to that bar today was actually a pretty educational anthropological study. There was this one woman there, with sun-mottled skin, sagging boobs, platinum hair, and a skintight red dress, who was just sitting at the bar doing shot after shot. She was by herself and looked to be about fifty. It was so sad, but then I realized that looking at her was like looking through a time portal. She was some kind of Little Edie Beale, a relic left over from the past. This woman could remember a time when it was alright to wear red dresses after age 25 and people actually went to Belmar bars on purpose. The saddest part was that she wasn't the only poor unfortunate soul out there. Really, was there anybody there who didn't witness the Kennedy assassination? I have my doubts.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Look at that loony mallet-wielding lady. One look at her and you just know she could gut you and bake you into a Lindzor Torte as soon as look at you. I don't care what all ye olde Rachael Ray fans say, Julia Child is great. And when was the last time you saw Rachael Ray bone a duck from six feet in the air? Never, I'll venture. Big declaration coming up. Proceed with caution. I love Julia Child, and everything she stands for. She is the ultimate anti-stereotype, and she took a lot of crap for that. (While typing that sentence, I accidentally typed "crap" as "carp." Irony.) She was a real chef, ya know? The kind that wasn't afraid to plunge her hand into a pot of boiling water. I can't imagine Giada or any other of the glossy-haired Food Network vixens doing that. This old gal was one of the boys.
But the movie was just soooo long, and I happen to think that Meryl Streep, while being ridiculously talented, is also getting ridiculously played out. I'd bet any amount of money that she'll be Violet in the August: Osage County movie. And that would be fine with me, so long as Laura Linney is Barbara and Elizabeth Ashley is Mattie Fae. As for Amy Adams, I think she's bland. Blander than Karen Ziemba, which is saying something. And, I was pleasantly surprised to see another familiar face on the oversized screen in the undercrowded theatre. Kacie Sheik was in it. For a whole two seconds. She said one word. Two syllables. And then I blinked. And it was over. Really, I don't know why I even bothered to tell you that. The time it took to tell you about it was longer than she was on the screen.
So, thanks to the occasional wonders of Facebook, I recently saw some pictures of the most obnoxious, glitzy, and downright hideous sweet sixteen I have ever seen in my life. I did not go to this party. I was not invited, and I am actually proud of that. The pictures were the most fun I've had all day. I saw strippers, a sedan chair, an anorexic girl, scary wide-eyed blonde matrons, parental-approved teen drinking, slutty pictures that I assume were a result of the aforementioned drinking, and a birthday girl who honestly looked like a drag queen. I'm not trying to be mean here, folks. But I'm a people observer, and a labeler. It's a habit I have yet to kick. But I've observed and I've labeled, and here's my take on the situation: Dear Girl In Pictures, and The Parents Who Let Her Dress Like RuPaul: Happy birthday. You're an asshole. There. Now I feel better. And before I get tagged as some sick psychopath who judges books by their cover, let me tell you all that I've known the girl in question all my life. I regret nothing. Jeez. It's girls like this that make me afraid for the future of this country. Just being around them makes me feel like I'm at least successful in not ending up like them. Okay, I'm getting the feeling that I'm being too hard on them here. So I'm shutting up.
Now for something completely different: Pot. Legalize it. Now. Alright, that sounded suspicious. Let me rephrase it. I'm a Democrat, so much so that sometimes I feel ashamed to be writing with my right hand. But I am, indeed, a Democrat. (The only one in the family, actually. Thanksgiving is a time for turkey eating and health care debate. Obama's not a socialist, people. Don't go for the scare tactics.) Back to pot. Personally, I'm not a fan. I've never smoked it. I don't plan on it. Maybe I've been brainwashed just as much as everyone else. But I do know the facts, and here they are: Marijuana is less harmful than alcohol and cigarettes. http://www.mpp.org/states/alaska/news/akclu-experts-say-pot-less-harm.html See for yourself. As Seth MacFarlane says, "Everything is better with a bag of weed." That may be true, but as for me, I like to keep it straight and narrow. Just my opinion. However, that does not mean that I am going to take away other people's right to smoke. Two reasons for that: If the government could just legalize pot, and then slam it with a heavy tax, then they could be making so much more money, since everyone just does it anyway. Also, legalizing it would get rid of all the back-alley deals that are so dangerous, and it would also cut down on the use of heavy, dangerous drugs. Dealers are in it for the money, first they give you the pot, then they give you the hard stuff. That's why so many people say marijuana is a gateway drug. And, of course, since when is it the government's business what consenting adults do in the privacy of their own home? While they're at it, they might as well make being gay illegal, and and then abolish abortions. Free speech and freedom of choice for all, and for God's sake, a woman has the right to decide what she wants to do with her own body.
Monday, August 17, 2009
Morning Person - Shrek
Friday, August 14, 2009
And there's plenty more insanity where that came from. Find it here http://community.livejournal.com/broadwaysecrets/101429.html#cutid1, along with a bunch of secrets that question Alice Ripley's sanity, and one in which someone finally has the guts to say that Allison Case acts like a child.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
I'm also pretty damn fond of this one. It's just so wonderfully creepy. When I was little I used to be afraid of Santa. Thanks for setting me back about fifteen years, folks. I don't know about you guys, but this picture really speaks to me. It says, "He sees you when you're sleeping."
Monday, August 10, 2009
And now for some more good news: Brian d'Arcy James has been cast in a new play and will therefore soon be free of Shrek. For those of you not familiar with this technique, it's known as "getting the hell out while you still can." Now, please, will some kind soul please cast company members Foster, Sieber, Tartaglia, and Burton in something that is new and exciting and doesn't suck?
Well, that's just jim dandy, I suppose. On to my new obsession: yoga. Courtesy of my sister's new Wii Fit, I am a newly inducted yoga enthusiast. It's so relaxing and earthy. I am neither relaxed nor earthy, but I dream of the day when I am. I guess Wii Fit as a whole is pretty damn fun, but I love yoga the best. I love Half Moons and Trees and Palm Trees and all those other poses that have nature-related names. But my favorite, my very favorite, is the Sun Salutation. It reminds me of Hair, because really, what else would you have me think about when I've just come home from seeing the show and I'm bending over backwards in a cotton print dress and peace sign earrings and the infuriatingly calm virtual trainer girl is reminding me to keep breathing? It may seem a little stupid that I have to be reminded to breathe, but trust me - snapping your spine in half and attempting to visualize the recommended oceans and lakes has a way of making you forget.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Friday, August 7, 2009
But screw all that. I said it then and I am saying it now, because things are simply not going my way. I feel like a bride on the night before her wedding. Everything's supposed to go absolutely out of control, right? Please say yes. It would make me feel so much better. So my dress makes me look like a pirate. All of my makeup has mysteriously disappeared. The perfume I was planning on wearing fell from the table and smashed. My throat and ears hurt. And apparently, the understudies are running rampant at Hair. I already knew Allison Case had something wrong with her hip and wasn't gonna be there, but now apparently Gavin Creel is sick, and Will Swenson's skipping the show tonight. Son of a bitch. Pray for me, friends. If not, oh well. You get what you get.
Now, if we could just get Next to Normal to recoup before the end of the summer...
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Holy crap. What the hell did you people do to Milky White? Why is he so freaking HUGE? Did you jump Dainty June and steal the cow while she was down? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w4XFg5bTQIM I'm not the biggest fan of Into the Woods as a whole, but this doesn't exactly look like a gem of a production. I love that Hunter Foster is The Baker. Classic theatrical move: When you can't afford the Broadway starlet, go for her less popular, less talented brother. The poor rubes in the audience'll never catch wise.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
I'd ask if you like it, but I'm gonna get it and wear it regardless, so there is really no point. No offense. I hated this dress when I first saw it. But it is an acquired taste, much like escargot and Sunday in the Park With George. Nevertheless, purchase it I will and wear it I will. And that's all I have to say about that.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Holy crap, look at that. Just look at that. This picture is the most beautiful thing I've seen all day. I wonder what they would think of me if I just went to Shoprite right now and walked out with five boxes of cream puffs. No, that wouldn't do. I'd probably have to go to some place where they don't know me. It would probably be like Maisie said, as we waited in line at our hotel gift shop, her holding Cool Ranch Doritos and cheese puffs, and me with a box of cheesecake and chocolate doughnuts to stock the room with: "I feel like a fatso." God, I miss Disney. The hotel. The late nights. The rides. The anonymity. Come on. Where else on the planet would I be able to walk around in a Marge Simpson wig? Did you actually think I'm that cracked? Of course not. The only reason I did it was I knew I would never see any of those people again. The marvelous anonymity Disney offered also prompted me to do a few other things I'm not exactly proud of, such as wearing no makeup, wearing an obnoxious giant tourist hat, going to see Finding Nemo: The Musical, and allowing a bunch of Brazilian kids to sing me Happy Birthday. In Spanish. Twice.