The best way to end a week.

It's been proven--heathens make the best audiences. Our show today was the complete antithesis of yesterday. We performed at Shiloh High School, in Snellville, GA, and from the very beginning, the kids were engaged, interested, and raucously responsive. But not in a distracting or disrespectful way. Rather, they were responding enthusiastically to what they were seeing because they were allowing themselves to be pulled into what they were witnessing. Wild applause and gasping reactions greeted all of our moments. They were energized by us, and they then in turn gave us energy. That's the way it's supposed to be. So take note of that--apparently a life of sin makes you a kick-ass audience member. Public School: 1, Jesus: 0.

The space today was also the diametric opposite of yesterday. We were in a real theatre space--with wings and fly rails and lights and everything! It was almost like we were a professional theatre company! And there were dressing rooms--with mirrors! And no mops or music stands or large papier-mache projects or things like that. And the best part was we had 6 teachers there to help us unload the truck. Sadly, they disappeared soon after, so they weren't there for the fun stuff like lifting the proscenium, but something's better than nothing. And we had a 7:00 load-in for a 10:00 show, so we ended up with over an hour before the show started once we had finished getting everything up. That was a lovely feeling. Add to it the absolute rockstar-like reception we got, and our incredibly long and tiring week came to a more than satisfactory end. The only blot on the day was the fact it rained during load-out. And that i got my arm caught between the metal ends of the two proscenium legs. It hurt like hell and left my upper wrist with a rather impressive divot. But it felt a lot worse than it was, and by now it's reduced itself to a dull ache. I'm sure I'll be right as rain by Monday, when we have the next show here in beautiful Albany, GA.

Albany, GA is what you might call a study in contrasts. On one end of the town you have all the expected chain restaurants, including everyone's favorite, home of the renowned Plaid Tidings collection, Cracker Barrel, along with a Golden Corral (Mmmmmm buffet!) as well as a mall (A Galleria no less!) and on the other side of town, while you do have a Krispy Kreme, you also have what has to be the largest per capita number of pawn shops and dollar stores. You may think that I exaggerate, but I kid you not. I walked quite a ways through this lovely burg, and I saw a pawn shop two doors down from a pawn shop which was next door to a cash for titles store which was a few doors down from a dollar store which was across the street from a Family dollar which was of course next to a pawn shop. And it just went on like this, both sides of the street, for what had to be ten or twelve blocks. There was one plumber, a liquor store/check cashing store, and a sports bar that was such a dive it had three judges outside with score cards. All in all, exactly the type of place I would expect Chamber to stick us for a weekend. Oh well, looks like the Galleria is going to get some attention. And they do have a Fun Park, where one can bowl or play mini-golf, among other varieties of fun. It's rather uncreatively named Fun Park, but when your clientele is hungover from the sports bar, possession-less fro hocking all of their stuff to get money for the sports bar, and poor because they've spent that money AT the sports bar (Thus leaving them with just enough to buy groceries at the Dollar General) then you don't tax their mental capacities by using clever names for your establishment. I'm hoping sometime this weekend to get a chance to bowl. We'll see. I don't count candlepin, so it's been a while since I've been able to do it. Although, I doubt this place will be handing out free ice cream. Of course, if they did, then they'd live up to their name.

So wish me luck, gentle readers, on being able to get through this weekend without losing what little is left of my mind to tedium. And I hope there will be much adventure to regale you with upon my return tomorrow night. Until then, remember--raise your kid atheist in a public school--he'll have the greatest imagination in the world, and I'll have something I haven't had since I left my job at the library 14 years ago--job security!

Atheists Unite!

I hate private schools. And I particularly hate parochial schools. To me there is no greater argument for the separation of education and religion than religious schools. You are attempting, in building such institutions, to connect two things which are diametrically opposed--learning and mythology. You cannot teach children hard facts like science and mathematics and also fill their heads with fairy tales about people living inside of whales and rising from the dead and expect it not to screw with their ability to think. And while all private schools have a far more draconian approach to education than do their public counterparts, parochial schools have raised blind obedience to an art form. (I'd say science, but they aren't really fans of that. To be fair, they aren't fans of art either, but we do what we can.) One can't really be surprised. After all, blind obedience is a necessity if you're going to demand people follow rules sent down by a being it is completely impossible to prove the existence of rationally. And what's even more amazing to me is that while the belief they require necessitates the ability to imagine the most outlandish things as being true, imagination is actually not encouraged, because having an active imagination can lead to things like questions your teachers can't answer because they fall outside the very narrow strictures of the faith. So while they attempt to instill myths in the heads of their charges, they succeed more often than not in producing an almost Vulcan inability to appreciate anything that has not already been checked and approved by someone in authority. Doubly ironic considering the myths they like to beat into their students all center around someone who was for all intents and purposes a revolutionary.

Can you tell I performed in a Catholic school today? We performed in the Holy Redeemer School. (Holy Redeemer, Batman!) Our load-in was at 7:00 a.m. for a 9:30 show. except we couldn't really set anything up until 7:40, when all the kids were released from the cafeteria (yep, another cafetorium! But all of our set pieces fit in this one. That was about ALL that fit.) and most of our boxes and carts had to return to the truck. Our dressing room was their teacher's lounge, which believe me, did NOT go over well with the teachers. Oh, and they wanted us to start the show at 9:00 instead of 9:30. It's understandable, though, because we did have to be finished with the show no later than 11:00 because that's when they had to start putting the tables back into the room so they could start their 75 lunch periods. (Which also meant they wanted us tearing down our front of house lights asap after the show came down--preferably immediately after, while still in costume.) Personally, I think we could've just never put them up, since there was more than enough sunlight streaming into the room from the windows no-one bothered to even try to block in any way shape or form to make blackouts absolutely impossible. The other fun fact was that we were not allowed to break anything down or pack anything up until 1:15, when the last of the kids finished lunch. Apparently one thing they CAN'T teach these kids is not to walk into equipment blindly. That must be the case, since there's no other reason for keeping us from rolling things past tables where children are seated. I guess they plan on trying their hand at transubstantiating themselves through our scrim tubes. And yet, five minutes after the show comes down, while we're all frantically getting out of costumes and makeup in order to break down the lights before we get to eat (which you'll love to hear about in just a few paragraphs) the teachers are asking when we'll be done since they really need the space for eating. A direct quote--"You need to get this stuff out of here because we need to eat." Mind you, there were four empty tables at the time they could've sat at. I understand that teachers need a place to eat their lunch, but adaptation is a very important survival skill, and every so often, you have to be flexible. But then again, Catholics aren't fans of the concept of adaptation either. (I mean, at least teach the controversy!!!) They were the rudest teachers we have ever performed for. But I understand why. When you believe you are favored by God, you don't need to be polite to the sinners. It explains why all the old Jewish people in South Florida are so damn rude.

I hate when educators treat their students as if they cannot comprehend the most elementary concepts without having them painstakingly explained to them in the manner one would explain things to a mildly retarded houseplant. The argument is that you can empirically see their inability to carry out the simplest things without strict supervision. The only problem with this is that the children are strictly supervised and treated as unable to handle anything themselves that after a few years of this, they are conditioned to be unable to do anything without having it explained in the manner mentioned above.  There is no other explanation for why any but the youngest children (and even then I don't really buy the necessity) need to be instructed in painstaking detail that for today AND TODAY ONLY, since there are people on the stage and around the stage, the trash cans are on the other side of the cafeteria. This means you have to walk towards THAT end of the room and then exit the door you usually come in. Now, anyone who hasn't taken one too many Mike Tyson blows to the head should be able to see that the trash cans are not in their usual place, and that if you want to throw out your trash, you should walk toward where they ARE. I mean, 8th graders? Really? They need to be told how to walk toward a trash can? Pathetic. Parents--stop doing this to your children! This is not safety! This is not security. This is not keeping your children from being exposed to drugs, violence and sex. Trust me, as a person who has toured to WAY too many Catholic schools, all those problems exist in Catholic schools, sometimes in worse degree since if there are ever kids who need to rebel against authority, it's overly-repressed religious kids who are forced into taking inane vows to live up to standards of behavior that the people in charge can't even HOPE to come close to living up to.

Here's a lovely example of just how whacked-out the whole concept of this blind obedience is. We went through their lunch line once we were done taking down what we could. At every other school we've gone to, if we go through their lunch line, we have a number of options to choose from and we make our decisions based on our own desires, likes, and dislikes. Apparently Catholicism does away with those nagging side effects of free will (remember that, guys? That thing God supposedly gave us? Yeah, I didn't think so.) As we passed through the line, the lunch ladies handed each of us a prepackaged chicken salad and a breadstick. They then tried to push a BBQ chicken sandwich on each of us in addition to the salad we were given. There were NO other choices for lunch. The salad and then the sandwich. And you should have seen the furor our refusal of the sandwich caused. The lunch lady kept repeating, "Barbecue Chicken sandwich?" over and over, regardless of how many times we said that we felt the salad would be enough. The look on their faces also carried dismay, suspicion, and distrust. The fact they were saying this over and over in a heavy Korean accent made it that much more difficult not to laugh at. I mean what the hell is that? It's like the Army, except the Army even gives you a few options to pick from. And why the hell would you pair a salad with a bunch of chicken on top of it with a BBQ CHICKEN sandwich??? Not only are they overly strict, they're completely uncreative! It's depressing to the nth degree.

And all this would be acceptable, or at least countered to a decent degree if the group of kids we performed for hadn't sat there like an oil painting making no sound WHATSOEVER through the whole show. I swear to whatever God there is that we did a show for the Children of the Corn this morning. Nothing affected them--they weren't dismayed by the fate of the lady in the Necklace, they weren't terrified by the implications of the Monkey's Paw or dismayed by the violence and madness in Tell Tale, they didn't laugh at Ichabod, or the Frog. I mean, what the hell? He's a grown man dressed like a FROG for Chrissakes! That's funny to everyone! Not to the Catholics. It was the quietest, saddest, least enjoyable show I have ever done. But what can we expect from a bunch of kids so devoid of imagination? There is no sense of play or fun in these kids. I mean hell, they have a huge quilt hanging in the hallway of their school which is a remembrance of 9/11. Putting aside the fact that not a single kid in grades K-8 can really remember the events of 9/11, I find the fact that their quilt depicts the actual attack on the Twin Towers tasteless beyond belief. I shit you not, gentle readers. The center of the quilt contained two towers with quilty smoke pouring out from them. I'm surprised there weren't tiny quilty figures leaping from the quilty windows. This is what these kids pass by every day of their lives.This is the attitude of this school. A school where they hover over the kids the entire lunch period, reminding them over and over again how little time they have to eat and to hurry up and get done. Forget any chance these kids have to socialize in any kind of human, kid way. Sit down, shut up, stuff your face, get up, leave, go to your next scheduled activity which you won't be allowed to enjoy because beforehand you will be instructed in no uncertain terms that anything besides complete silence equates with misbehavior and will be punished. I believe stoning is the accepted form for snickering at a talking Frog.

Please, send your kids to public school. If you are concerned for their safety and the quality of their education, then get involved and do something rather than giving away your responsibility to a bunch of religious Nazis. Besides, it'll make my life easier--they have much better coffee in public schools. And THAT is truly a blessing from above.

To all my peeps in the ATL

Don't I sound hip? Anywho, here we are in Alpharetta, GA, just to the north of Atlanta. Drove almost 600 miles yesterday, and save from having some difficulty with getting fuel at a truck stop due to issues with the company card, not much happened of note. Levitt and I were in the truck, and we experienced something I haven't seen, much less had, for awhile. The KFC buffet. In Alachua, FL (which, perhaps NOT surprisingly for anyone who knows me from that state, is a town I HAD been to before) has a KFC with buffet right off of I-75. Now, considering the size of the buffet (miniscule) and the selections (limited) the price of $6.99 may seem out of line, especially if you take into account the fact the drink is extra, BUT you must remember, grasshoppers, not to be taken in by the side dishes. Stick with the chicken. Then, like me, you can get five pieces of chicken out of them for the price of a two-piece meal. HA! Take that, Colonel Sanders, you freak! A word of warning, though--stay away from the BBQ chicken in the buffet. It sits out and the BBQ sauce honestly hardens into an industrial-strength epoxy. I kid you not-I actually had trouble releasing the piece of chicken from my fingers. I'm thinking of using it in place of spirit gum for the show--lord knows it smells better. The guy who waited on us was a jovial bloke with a heavy (I believe) Haitian accent and an obvious desire to talk to anybody who happened to walk through the door. He warned me to stay clear of Levitt since she obviously had dangerous Chinese fingers (her injured finger is in a splint) and asked me if I would like whiskey with my lunch. When I answered in the affirmative, he said sadly, "Only on Saturdays." This of course means I need to get my ass back to Alachua on Saturday. WHo's up for a road trip?

The evening here in Alpharetta was quite enjoyable. It was Carol's birthday last night, so the whole group trotted out (at 10:15--it is NOT easy to get these people moving) to a local sports bar with Mardi Gras specials. Before I go any further--Happy Ash Wednesday to all the people out there who like to besmudge themselves! And a happy start of Lent to you all. Here's to 40 days of doing without something you like in order to bribe jesus into loving you. I, as in all years, am giving up self-denial for Lent. I know the whole thing is very Biblical, but remember--the Bible has been misinterpreted for centuries. Did you know that new evidence has come out that the concept of the Host, so central to Catholicism, is actually the result of a mistranslation? I shit you not, gentle readers. Apparently, at the Last Supper, instead of saying, as is widely believed, "Take this and eat of it . It is my body" (Or whatever, I'm paraphrasing because let's face it, that whole concept is creepy) Jesus actually had just turned to Judas and said "Eat me!" See? So it's very possible that the whole idea of Lent is a mistake as well. Maybe you're just supposed to let someone borrow something for 40 days and get it back with interest. Or perhaps it's completely messed up and the real idea was to remove all the little fabric fuzzies from you and try to stay LINT-free for 40 days. That makes sense to me, seeing as many of the Biblical strictures were health-based. So for Lent this year, embrace the concept of misinterpretation, and give up blindly following the herd. Go ahead, have a burger on Friday in a church. If anyone complains, tell them to show you where on a list of fruits vegetables, grains and dairy you can find FISH. You can't, because it's MEAT. 

Anyway, back to Carol's birthday. The place was not too full, so there was ample space for the eight of us. (Yes, only Carol's birthday could get the entire group out at the same time) Alcohol was imbibed, fried food was ingested, I lost a game of pool to Alice (she didn't beat me, I accidentally sank the eight ball prematurely--make of that what you will) and beat Ted at a game of pool, so I broke even for the night. Carol had drinks purchased for her throughout the night, and Levitt won her a couple of stuffed animals out of a claw machine. Well, she won one animal, the other was just hanging out in the pickup compartment. Apparently someone was so drunk they had forgotten to retrieve it after winning it. Those are the kinds of drunk people you like. Both Carol and I showed off our Michael Jackson moves to both Beat It and Thriller, and Bob made all of us feel just a tad uncomfortable grinding up against Carol, though we did get some lovely pictures of her shocked and laughing reaction. I have no idea if any of these pictures will ever see the light of day. One of these days I have to buy a disposable camera and take my own blackmail photos. Though it's a pain because then you have to find a place to develop them on a tour schedule, and that's just something I know I would forget. The guest bartender at the place (which I believe is code for drunk friend of the real bartender who was allowed to step behind the bar just long enough to pick up more beer money in tips) befriended us (We did, after all, have four women with us) and offered to take us to a strip club. FOR THE RECORD (listening, honey???) it was NOT my idea. Alice and Schneider are gonzo to hit a strip club SOMEWHERE on this tour. So drunken guest bartender, who is named Mike but for purposes of this story and because he was wearing far too much gold I shall call Vinnie, proceeded to get on his phone and not only reserve us a table at the Pink Pony in Atlanta (I am not making that up) but he also decided to try to get us a limo. Thankfully for all involved (well, those of us sane enough to realize just how bad of an idea this was turning out to be) he was too drunk or too ineffectual to actually procure a vehicle, and whilst he stumbled off for a moment, we hightailed it outta there. Though I firmly believe that at least four of our cast would've gone had the limo shown up.

Today will be interesting--we are staying in an Extended Stay hotel, which basically means we have a kitchenette. That is lovely, except for the fact THAT means we have no free breakfast. We do have coffee in the room, so I now have enough energy to go in search of food. But everything costs extra here. It's like since they give you all the comforts of home, you have to do just as much work as if you WERE home. Hell, even the internet costs a one-time fee to get the passcode. And we're only here for two nights. If we were here for a week, i could understand going to the trouble of booking a hotel like this. Spring must be getting a discount or something. Anyway, there are stores and even an entire mall nearby, so I'm sure I will find some way to kill an entire day here. Or maybe I'll go into Atlanta. I'm sure that won't be difficult. I just go out, make aright onto Peachtree lane, then drive to Peachtree Court, then a left on Peachtree Ave...wait, or was that a right on Peachtree Circle? Maybe it was pass Peachtree Blvd to Peachtree.....oh hell, I think I'll just watch TV.

Never again

Oh my dear god. The double show day today was insane! We ended up at a middle school where, I shit you not gentle readers, our set could not fit into the room. Now, I don't mean it was tight and made some of the blocking difficult, or the stage was barely big enough to fit our set, or that we ended up having to hang all of our costumes on set pieces stored in what passed for wings. I mean the set did not fit in the room! We cut the proscenium because the ceilings were too low for them to fit. Hell, the doorframe was almost too high to fit. What this meant, of course, was that the Headless horseman had no scrims to hide his entrance, we had to cut half of the wing extensions since they attach to the legs of the prosceniums, causing us to lose 50% of our backstage area, and all the costumes and props had to be placed in rooms adjacent to the stage since there was no room to put them onstage. Oh, and did I mention the deadlift of everything up onto the stage? And the fact that Schneider had somehow managed to wreck his back overnight so he was unable to lift anything, meaning I had to unload the truck with Ted, who is game for anything, but doesn't know how everything goes. Flo helped me load the truck back up after the show, and while she did less jumping ahead in order, she isn't as able to lift things as Ted. And let us not forget this as in Naples, FL, so it was WARM. VERY warm. I was NOT a happy camper, and spent much of my time during setup telling myself I would never do this job ever again because there is no excuse for bringing this show into a space that is so unable to handle it that most of it gets cut and even what we do keep doesn't fit well at all. I swear to GOD, if they insist on continuing to take any booking at any dinky space, regardless of the measurements and dimensions, then they HAVE to put together some sort of backup system that utilizes fewer set pieces, fewer lights, and is just plain easier to deal with. The actors should not be running around until 15 minutes before curtain putting things together because there's no realistic way to make all the pieces fit. ARGH!

Our crew was a mixed blessing. They were all very enthusiastic about the concept of theatre and of being actors, but they were a little weak on the practical skill of being a stagehand. There was a lot of standing around. But when they did help (and in fairness, it's not like they know what to do until someone tells them something) they certainly got into it. The reason we did two shows today is because since we were using their cafeteria, they had to keep half of it set up for lunch, so they could only fit half the eighth grade in the room at a time. Surprisingly enough, the two shows we did today were, I think the best so far in terms of performance. Technically, they were what they were, and I make no complaints considering the dumbass situation we found ourselves in. But amazingly, I think all the stories had their strongest performances. Perhaps it was because the audience was very into the show and very vocal about their appreciation. I mean hooting and cheering at the ends of stories. That's always a wonderful thing to have happen, especially after such a tough load-in. It wasn't quite as bad as I was making it out to be in my head during setup--I think I was just tired and not happy about any of the situation. I mean hell, the space we were in would have given the other two local touring programs I've worked with, either in FL or IL, trouble. And then Levitt gives us notes in between shows. Really? considering it's lucky that we even got a show up in the first place, and all of your actors are dealing with the fact that not only is all their blocking different since we couldn't put up any of the prop shelves that put things within easy reach, but all the wigs and facial hair are coming unglued because it's so damn HOT. But I do have to admit, when you end up performing for a group of kids that are so taken with what you do, then it does kind of make it worth it. But only KIND OF.

In between shows, before we ate lunch, we did a Q&A session with the students taught by the teacher who had written the grant that got us there. That's always fun. I know a lot of actors dread talkbacks, but I really enjoy them. I like getting a chance to talk to the kids who have just seen the show, and also in helping them learn more about what they've seen. I don't understand some of the approaches to it though. For example, some kid asked us how much money we made. Now, that's a perfectly understandable question for an eighth grader who may be planing on breaking his mother's heart and becoming an actor. And as far as I'm concerned, I have no problem answering it. But Levitt jumped on it right away, saying, "That's something we don't discuss." Now I understand not getting into specifics of each person, since I believe we are all being paid different things, but I see no reason why it's a problem to say, "The job typically pays $500/wk." Where's the harm in that? Thankfully, we were able to talk around it, reminding all of them that they really shouldn't think about the money if they want to be an actor, but I don't understand what the hell we were guarding against. That's an annoying habit of adults--knee-jerk denial instead of taking half a second to figure out a way to answer a question that may have a delicate nature. But the kids seemed happy with how it went, and like I said, the second show also went very well. Load out was a little slow, partially because we had to shift the stuff that had stayed on the truck around to get the other stuff back in, and partially because we had to wait for levitt to get the stuff we needed out in the right order. Unfortunately, she sends it out in the order she chooses, regardless of what we ask for. In fact, when I sent someone back in to ask for the wig boxes and makeup cases prior to the platforms (like I've done every day for the past two weeks) they came back out and said she snapped at them. Now part of it seems to be personal issues with her on-another-tour-than-her husband, but even so. But it was all forgotten once we had gotten into the van. We had a mere two hour drive, and that was lovely--until we all wanted to stop for beverages (I'm not kidding about the dehydration--I believe I sweated more today than I have in the past 6 years!) and Levitt wanted to stop for food. So we all stopped for beverages, then drove her across the street to get food. She then got pissed no-one else came in, even though we all had told her none of us were hungry. So she got a salad to go and was apparently all pissy. AND I get to be stuck in a truck with her tomorrow for 500 miles. Why did I do this again? Oh right--no other jobs.

It wasn't all bad. Bob, Ted, Flo and I went out to dinner and after following Bob around until he found food more to his liking than the gay dive bar we stopped at, we went back to the gay dive bar where the three of us got food and drinks and Bob got to experience the sight we all had of Ted dancing. I am trying to get pics of that night, but it seems everyone who had a camera that night either has a busted computer or no computer at all. I shall continue the fight, though, and hopefully there will be photographic evidence of the night in Savannah. That's what I'm willing to do for you, gentle readers. I'd say I was willing to undergo deep personal embarrassment, but we all know that precious little, if anything, embarrasses me. I mean, hell, I deal with a rubber chicken every day and work with a guy dressed up like a frog. What the hell could embarrass me? But now I am tired and ready for bed. The two show day and all the other stuff has wiped me out, so I am going to crawl into bed and sleep until I have to be in the truck tomorrow. These people are so lucky I like them....

And the winner is--

Happy Oscar night! I hope you are all having a wonderful time watching the awards. I understand they tried a whole new format this time. Instead of a monologue by a comedian, they opened with an actor (Hugh Jackman) doing a musical number talking about the nominees. That's amazing! It's revolutionary! It's--exactly what Billy Crystal did for years, until everyone was talking about how predictable that became, so maybe we should have a monologue! And apparently they have the intros if the nominees done by earlier winners of the same award, giving personal reminiscences or tidbits about the nominee. Great, so now I get to sit through a four-hour long episode of the View. That'll get the ratings up! Did it not occur to anyone that the reason the ratings were down last year was because no-one was even sure the things were going to go on thanks to the writers' strike, the economy was in the shitter, and thanks to that the interest in the general public in listening to over-blinged celebrities yammer on with Joan "I look like a Muppet" Rivers about their designer clothes was at an all-time low. I remember when they were convinced that if they got rid of the dance numbers (choreographed by Debbie Allen, she of Fame fame) the show would cease to be three days long and people would watch it. Then they decided the real problem was letting the people who won awards actually talk, so they instituted the "kick them off the stage by playing loudly over them" policy, convinced that would shorten the program and people would watch in droves. What they seem to not understand is that the problem with the Oscars is that there are 3,997,446 awards and every single acceptance speech, thanks to the time limit is a hurried and stammering list of people that must be thanked, making them all sound exactly the same. Oh, and let's not forget the fact that whoever writes the banter for the show needs to be shot in the head. Repeatedly. These are professional actors and even THEY can't make that shit funny. So either hire new writers or just have people come out, read a list of nominees and give the time that you normally wasted with brainless chatter to the recipients so they can actually make a speech worth listening to. Do away with all the bullshit and go back to being an awards show. Make the show about the awards and the people who win them, not the people who present them or the clothes those people wear. The Oscars do not need a four hour preshow. It's not the Super Bowl, for god's sake. Show the people walking in, have the awards awarded in a manner befitting the reputation the Oscars USED to have (rather than the one they have now, which is the precursor to the biggest drunken debauch this side of Fatty Arbuckle's apartment) and give the recipients the respect they deserve by treating the night as if it's actually ABOUT them. The only moment in any Oscar presentation I've watched that is handled with any smattering of decorum every year is the death filmstrip. There are highlights, of course, and some people do manage to eke out something worth listening to before the strings sweep in, but by and large, it's like most American TV--a lot of fake, manufactured drama and tension which gets in the way of any REAL drama or tension or interest that might be lying around. So please, for the love of all that' holy, just hand out the damn things....

Can you tell I drove 500 miles today? It actually wasn't that bad. I mean, i was driving out of Georgia and down to Naples, FL. That's the definition of flat. Only way to get more flat is to drive through Indiana. That's so flat it's concave. (Which, contrary to popular belief is not a hideout for people in jail...nor is convex when you annoy  the aforementioned jailbirds. Now you know, and knowing is half the battle.) But the lovely part is that we are now out of winter! Yep, that's right. It's WARM. Take THAT, northeast! It's wonderful to realize that i will not need any sort of jacket tomorrow when I load in. Ahhhhhh....it's times like this that I ask myself, "why did I ever leave?" I very quickly remind myself of the myriad of reasons, three of which are June, July, and August. Oh, and the annoying people. And the lack of work. And the bugs. But other than that.... We do two shows tomorrow in the same venue--a middle school. I shudder to think what the space is going to be like, since the word "cafetorium" has been used. Please, for the love of whatever deity you may hold dear, stop making "multi-purpose" rooms. They serve none of the purposes you purport in any way that is even close to adequate. I foresee many things getting cut tomorrow, unless for some reason the space is enormous because this is the only middle school in a 50 mile radius. Which in southwest Florida is alway a possibility. The fun part is immediately after the two shows, we load out and drive to Sarasota. I am repeating to myself, "It will be okay..." So please keep your fingers crossed, gentle readers, and send good thoughts that whatever else may happen tomorrow, there will be no staircases.

Heath Ledger just won Best Supporting Overdose. (sigh)

You should be dancing....

I come to you from beautiful Savannah, GA. After the 500 mile drive today, I personally didn't think the rest of my evening would include anything more exciting than a trip to the local gas station to pick up beef jerky for dinner and a lot of Barney Miller online. Oh, foolish mortal that I am, I underestimated my castmates' determination to party in Savannah. They wanted to go into the city for dinner, and I, being a good tour buddy (and realizing I would more than likely be required to be designated driver) decided to go with them. We all (save for Bob, who went out to dinner with his mom) piled into the van and headed off to a place that Flo found online. It turned out that the Bar Bar (yes, that's really the name of the place) didn't serve anything approaching solid food, but it had a lovely selection of whiskey. That pretty much decided it for us, and we stayed to imbibe and play some free games of pool (I wiped the floor with Levitt, then got beat like a redheaded stepchild by some random guy.) Contrary to all appearances, I really don't know what the hell I'm doing when I play pool. It comes from not really paying attention in geometry and blowing off physics altogether. So let that be a lesson to you, kids. Study your practical sciences and angular mathematics, and you can avoid the humiliation of being kicked around a billiard table in Savannah, GA. I am here to teach. I was also accosted at the bar (the actual bar within the bar named Bar, not the bar named Bar within which WAS a bar) by a woman named (are you ready for this?) Sunday, who apparently liked the look of the leather jacket I was wearing and asked if I rode a motorcycle. I answered no, and attempted to extricate myself from the conversation because there's nothing more uncomfortable than being hit on by a woman you could very easily call "mom", especially one who insists on introducing you to the two guys she's hanging with (her bodyguards) one of whom is so drunk the only words I could make out were "I worry about chew." I informed him that Sunday was the last person in the bar to worry about, and headed off to find the rest of the gang at the pool tables. Let THAT be a lesson to you, gentle readers. Don't talk to strangers. Especially ones named after days of the week. Nothing good can come of it. 

Once I lost control of the table, we discovered that the Bar Bar (I just love typing that) had a back room, in which dancing was taking place. Well, the ladies immediately made a beeline there, and since it has been many a year since I have busted anything close to a move, I decided to head over there with them and see what was shaking. I won't go ito too much detail, because there really isn't that much detail to go into, but suffice it to say, I decide to bust every move i could find. I mean what the hell? It's not like the cast doesn't already know I'm nuts, and it's not like I was ever going to see any of the people in that bar ever again. (Especially after I get the restraining order against Sunday. Which should only be a problem during football season) So I let loose, as the kids say. I learned a new line dance so easy that even I was able to learn it, and I actually shit down the dance floor during "Don't Stop til You Get Enough". You haven't seen anything until you've seen this Irish boy do Michael Jackson's moves. I kid you not, gentle readers, the crowd moved back, formed a circle and watched me go, with varying levels of disbelief, entertainment and outright fear. I don't give a shit as long as there's an audience. If you doubt me, ask the cast. Believe me, Savannah, GA got served, Ichabod-style. All in all, it was a fun evening with much drinking (I had one bourbon as I was, surprise surprise, the DD) much grinding (Flo is a magnet for strange and borderline creepy guys) and revelations (Apparently Alice and Schneider are a bit of a couple, which makes me happy because it allows me to imagine the crossover episodes that might have been of One Day at a Time and Alice) Once we remembered that dinner had been the plan, we made our way out of the Bar Bar and to a nearby pizza place, where we demolished a large pizza and learned of Ted's love of anchovies. Yes, he's the guy.

We have another 500 mile drive tomorrow, and I'm sure we'll be rueing having to be up in the morning, but tonight was a good thing for the tour, since we won't have a day off where we neither perform nor drive until Wednesday. Steam was blown off, and silliness ensued. That is quite possibly the most important part of touring. The nice thing is my silliness can ensue for far less money since I'm already silly even before one adds alcohol. That's me--efficiency is the name of MY game. And thankfully (at least when they're drunk) people are able to handle being kidded about the things that are kind of annoying, like Levitt's tendency to just yell at Ted whenever he opens his mouth. When she's had some drinks, I can say pretty much anything about it, and she finds it funny. I'm very happy that this group is the kind who can give and take jokes with each other. If you can't laugh on tour, then it's gonna be REALLY long. I don't think it's really hit me all that much that I'm not going home until June. I really would like to be back. I enjoy touring, and this group is great, but it's been a long time, and I do miss my friends and my wife. Thankfully, she's flying down to Fairfax in a couple of weeks to celebrate our anniversary, so that's something I am very much looking forward to. I am very lucky that she is so understanding about the way this life works, and can handle the fact I'll have spent, by the time this tour is over, about two weeks at home in a year's time. But hey, at least I'm not making a mess at home :-)

Anywho, I need to hit the hay, since I drive the truck tomorrow. Naples, here we come! And considering I did the splits tonight for the first time in a about five years, I'm gonna be FEELING it tomorrow morning. I hope you appreciate what i go through for you, Savannah, I really do....

Virginia is for

touring! Yep, here we are, in Ruther Glen, VA. We drove from Pottsville, PA today after doing a show for a wonderful group of kids; the interesting thing is that the group I'm talking about didn't attend the school. They were the crew we had helping us--high school kids who were in the show there. It was very funny, since they were completely gobsmacked by all the equipment we had. I use that word not out of any attempt at pretentiousness, but because it's the most accurate. They were really taken by the whole thing. I don't think I've ever seen a group of kids more into putting up lights in my life. I am heartily sorry I missed the part Ted overheard. Apparently two of the girls (and of course the majority of them were girls--the were high school theatre students for god's sake. It's a law that only three guys are allowed into high school theatre per year.) were talking with each other about how cool we were and one said to the other, "I think they're great. You know they must all be from New York and live like 'Friends'." So apparently I now have to find an oversized loft in New York that can fit us all. Hopefully we can end up being filmed and make a million dollars an episode. I'm at least as funny as Matthew Perry. And three million times funnier than David Schwimmer. We won't even discuss Joey. It was also pretty fun when we were eating lunch, they sent a student over from the high school to interview us for the district newsletter. I'm always taken aback whenever something like that happens, because I spend a lot of my time not taking myself at all seriously and focusing (some would say too much) on where I'm NOT in my career. When something like being interviewed, even for something like the Pottsville school district newsletter, happens, I kind of have to realign my thinking. I have to remember that to these people, and to pretty much all the people who come out and see us on this tour, we are in many ways the same as the people they see on TV and in the movies. As far as they know, there's little difference. I know those kids helping us today thought we were the coolest thing on two legs. It helps deal with the times when you didn't get much sleep and the stupid crap-ass set didn't want to go together because this set uses hinge pins to hold the wing extensions together instead of coffin locks and hinge pins are just crappy from the word go and when you mention how much of a pain it is that the hinge pins get bent the stage manager shrugs and says hinge pins are crappy but that's how we tour even though the last set had coffin locks and all you want to do is throw coffee in her face. It doesn't fix it, but it does help.

I have a word for middle schools who are looking into spending oodles of money on putting together a great performance space, replete with high-tech gadgetry and a stage that rivals some of the smaller Broadway spaces. Please put some of your money in facilities for the people who will actually be appearing ON that stage. It makes very little sense to put together an up-to-the-second stage and then not have a single dressing room anywhere around it. Your actors shouldn't have to trek for ten minutes through your school in order to find a place to change. And that place should not be a bathroom. Or a broom closet. It should be a dressing room. It doesn't have to be huge. It doesn't have to have hot and cold running champagne. It doesn't have to have overstuffed sofas or anything like that. It just needs mirrors and tables and chairs. Period. It's not easy to put makeup on when you're squatting in front of the one mirror over a sink in the boy's room. (which, in case anyone's wondering, in the middle school in Pottsville, PA, has a diaper changing station...) I don't think that's too much to ask, especially when you take into account how much money and time they're putting into building these spaces to begin with. That having been said, the Pottsville space was extremely nice to us, and the audience was very responsive and had a blast. It was also our best show, technically speaking. I think I can safely say that save for one tiny little moment at the end of Tell-Tale, when the curtains wouldn't close (which was fixed by the start of Sleepy) nothing technical went wrong. It was amazing. Hopefully we can keep that streak going. (Yes, I do count one as a streak. At this point, I'll take whatever I can get.)

So then came the drive. Another 250 miles. And I was in the truck again. Driving it this time. Tomorrow I navigate the van for our 500 mile drive. Anybody want to come hang out in Naples, FL? We'll be rolling in there on Sunday. So if you want to see a really cool show on Monday, come on over. Ted and I drove down to Ruther Glen VA, which let me tell you, is exactly as exciting as it sounds. You know you're in the south when the Waffle Houses start popping up. I do have many memories of late nights at the Waffle House. They're repressed and can only be accessed through deep hypnosis, but I do have them....somewhere. So we'll see if anything exciting happens tomorrow on the road, but I promise nothing. It'll likely be nothing more than 500 miles of people trying to stay awake. (One of those people being Ted, who's driving tomorrow and has already told me about his difficulty staying awake when driving. I'm feeling really good about my chances of survival here....) 

Keep On Truckin'! 2

Pittsburgh--home of the Steelers, who claim to have won more championships than any other football team in history. Well, in the Super Bowl era. We all know that if you go to the entire history of the NFL, the Green Bay packers hold that title. When Pittsburgh wins 7 more, then they can brag. 

Speaking of football--and yes, I was, just look at the preceding paragraph--Brett Favre has retired. No really. For sure and ever this time. I know there may be some who doubt the veracity of his statement since he retired last year, but I for one believe it. He had the time he wanted to make the decision, rather than being pushed into it by management, and the tone of his statements about it are different than they were last year. I think the year with the Jets was an eye-opener. I think it showed him that yes, he can still play, but not like he used to. And that he can no longer be the whole team. I would've liked to see him retire Elway-style, with a Super Bowl victory, but he has one of those, so really, he's got nothing to prove to anybody. I'm sure at some point, we'll see him giving analysis on TV, which I'm sure will be hilarious. As a football fan, I am sorry to see him go, because the game won't ever be as fun or interesting as it was with him. This is very much like when Larry Bird and Magic Johnson retired for me. I wish him well. He was a hell of a player, and thankfully one of the few people in the NFL that came across as a decent human being and not a wife-beating, gun-toting, coke-snorting asshole. Which is why he never played for Dallas.

Speaking of Pittsburgh--again, upper paragraph--that's where we did the show today. The school was very nice--had an easy load-in situation, and a large crew of small kids, all of whom were theatre students. I have to tell you--when I was in middle school, we didn't have theatre. (We had to act uphill both ways, barefoot in the snow!) Our auditorium was a cafeteria with a stage in it. These schools we're going to on this tour have fly space! And better equipment than some of the theatre I work in professionally! These kids are beyond lucky. Besides the venues they get to deal with, just the fact they have a drama program at all is wonderful. I didn't go to a school with a drama program until high school. Though when I think about it, that was probably for the best. It allowed me to have some sort of experience doing other things than this. If I had discovered theatre in like 6th or 7th grade, I think I would've ended up dumping the cello far earlier than I did, and that would've been a shame. The drama teacher at today's school, who was responsible for bringing us in and who was just ridiculously adorable and apparently thought we were the greatest thing since bread. (Yeah, not even sliced, just bread. I'm telling ya--she's a BIG fan...) was very helpful and got us a perfectly adequate lunch of several types of wraps, chips and water. When I say several types, I mean there was one for each of us, they just weren't all the same, so we kinda had to search through them to find stuff we would eat. (Levitt refuses to eat ham) I ended up with what I assume was a caesar salad wrap. We also got a little salad with our wraps, so I was all saladed out. It was kind of relaxing--we had a 9:00 load in for a 12:00 show, and even though we did take a little longer than I would've liked to get stuff set up, we still had time to eat and get ready before 12. Kinda. Part of the issue is that Levitt is only half-handed due to her injury, so when we do have a crew of kids, they have to do a majority of the set construction, under the tutelage of Bob, who knows exactly how everything goes together, he's just a little slow and methodical about doing it. Which believe me, is great when you're dealing with 8th graders, but it does make for some slow mornings. What made today even slower was me dropping the dock plate on my foot. Good thing I'm made of rubber, or that would HURT. Oh wait....

The show itself went very well. The kids were really into it--not particularly vocally, but you got the feeling they were paying close attention. I do wish we were getting more laughs during Sleepy Hollow. I think part of the problem is that due to our shortened rehearsal schedule, we never really got the timing and crispness of some of the moments down, so we're losing some laughs that we used to have last tour. Of course, some of those laughs developed over time, so maybe once we really start being able to run this and get a rhythm, they'll come back, or we'll get new ones to replace them. The show is fine, don't get me wrong, I'm just a whore for laughter. It's the hack in me. :-) I do enjoy the school shows due to the fact that since we use kids as the load-in and load-out crew, we get to talk to the kids who just saw us doing the show afterward, and that's always a cool experience. They're all really taken with what we do and how we do it, and that's refreshing for the bitter cynics amongst us. It's also nice to get to talk to them afterward because you get immediate feedback about how the show went over. And being the attention whore that I am (I'm all kinds of whores) I like to know how the audience liked the show. I was made fun of again because Alice and Carol are convinced I am the pre-teen girl magnet of the cast. This is disturbing for two reasons. First, if they are into me due to the Tell Tale Heart, then they are obviously on track to be the women writing to serial killers in prison and proposing marriage. If, however, they are into me because of Icahbod, then they are obviously freaks. Either way, it's a little frightening when I'M the Paul McCartney of the group. 

Then came the drive. This week is all about long ass drives. Today we drove from Pittsburgh, which is in western Pennsylvania, to Pottsville, which is in eastern Pennsylvania. Pennsylvania is a wide state. It took us from 4:00 until 10:00 to make the trip. And I was navigating in the truck. Oy. Tomorrow, when we have a similar drive, I will be driving the truck. On this tour, the truck and I are going to become very close. Some may think that would annoy me, but I look at it as insurance that the truck will not lose its top. Tomorrow we have another 9:00 load-in for a 1:00 show. We should have adequate time to set up, eat lunch and get ready before the show. There's nothing more fun than being halfway through putting on your makeup when you get a five minute call. After having scarfed down lunch. That's perfect for one's equilibrium. It doesn't really affect me, since I'm not a real actor, but for the castmates of mine who attempt to use those things called emotions I've heard of, I can imagine it's difficult. I'll say one thing about this tour versus the last one. If I survive being the truck packer, I am never ever EVER complaining about how much movers cost ever again. They are worth every penny. And I now know that you could never pay me enough to DO that job. That's it--after this, I am finding myself some kid's show that stays PUT! (Anybody know of anyone who's hiring????)

All I can say is...

...it is a very long drive from Connecticut to Pittsburgh.

A Chicago Yankee in Connecticut

Yes, gentle readers, I am in Connecticut tonight. Vernon, Connecticut, to be exact. It's a lovely little exit off the expressway, with a Big Y supermarket, (I say, Y not?) a Panera (where we had dinner tonight. I do love me some creamy tomato soup) and, rumor has it, a mall. That will have to stay a mystery at this point, since we did not see the mall tonight in our search for sustenance, and we are leaving tomorrow bright and early (well, not that early, which means it'll actually BE bright) at 9:00 to head on down (over?) to Bethel Park, PA. Yep, that means a drive day, which is the closest this job ever gets to being a vacation. I actually enjoy drive days, since there's no real schedule to keep to and since you haven't killed yourself unloading the truck, setting everything up, doing the show, tearing everything down, and reloading the truck before you get on the road. The drive days we had at the beginning of the tour last fall were quite enjoyable, and I hope that trend will continue. I think it will.

Today was interesting. We performed in Stratham, NH, at the Cooperative Middle School. I of course wondered if there was another middle school somewhere on the other side of town that was less helpful. (Hey, don't blame me--sometimes they just write themselves and I am powerless to stop them) This school certainly lived up to its name, with a crew of 5 8th graders helping us unload the truck and set everything up. While we were all crammed into a tiny little room off the band room (not IN it, but trust me, when the band started practicing, it felt like we were really there....) the school also provided us with a table full of breakfast foods, including bagels, cream cheese, little Clementine oranges, a fruit plate of pineapple and melon, huge doughnut holes of varying flavors, and two types of mini-muffins. And considering the fact we loaded in at 7 for a 10:30 show, we actually had time to relax and enjoy ourselves prior to the curtain. Which in retrospect probably explained the just slightly off nature of today's show. That and the three-day weekend. It wasn't anything major--nothing that anyone who wasn't us would've noticed. Well, save maybe for the bench not being set for Tell-Tale. You know, the bench the Inspector has to sit on while I go slowly and not so subtly off my rocker. Thankfully, Bob just brought it out with him for his entrance. What can I say? The old man's eccentric and doesn't believe in furniture. You want to visit, you have to bring your own. Or the piece of wood that folds down from the proscenium during the Necklace to hold the curtains back that refused to fold down as we were starting, o my curtains didn't get held back until I spent some time futzing with it while another scene was going on. The irony of that is the holder had been just falling down constantly ever since we hit the road. It refused to stay up. Well, Levitt apparently fixed it. The problem was I didn't know about it, and have not been checking it before the Necklace starts because it always falls down. Ah, live theatre.

We also had a pretty vocal crowd today, which is always fun. From whistles and borderline catcalls for Carol when she comes out as her Vice-Principal character at the top of he show to try to intimidate the kids into behaving, there were very audible comments made about the action on stage. I think my favorite was during the Monkey's Paw when I come in and inform the couple their son is dead. The mother asks me, "Is he hurt?" I reply, "Badly hurt, but he is not in any pain." As soon as I said, "But he is not in any pain," I hear an incredulous, "What?" from the audience. Silly, and probably not in the spirit of Carol's curtain speech: "Talking, or making noise of ANY KIND distracts the people around you and the actors on stage." Yep, nothing like telling them to just sit on their hand and whatever you do, for god's sake, DON'T LAUGH! Lots of reaction at the end of Necklace, which is always refreshing. Nice to see cynical 11 year olds can still be shocked by something. Of course, the Necklace was the scene of two other major faux pas. (How does one pluralize that? I mean, there's an s on the end of it in the singular, and faux pases just looks silly.) First, Bob put Mathilda's old lady shawl on her shoulders upside down, so it was impossible for me to put the cowl up over her head, thus resulting in a mini-ballet of her and I trying to nonchalantly readjust the shawl in the middle of the scene in ten seconds, neither of us knowing exactly what the hell was wrong. Oh, and the lights all went out. Yep. Apparently all the onstage lights were plugged into four outlets that were all on the same circuit. Up until that point in the show, we never had a sufficient number of lights on at once to trip the breakers. But then, near the top of Necklace, damn near every light comes on, and POW! All of our onstage and upstage lights go dark. All we have are the two light trees in the audience serving as our front lights, which thankfully were on a separate circuit. So the rest of Necklace, and all of Frog were a trifle...dim. But we managed to get through it, even though it meant we had NO lights upstage behind the proscenium, so we were making entrances and exits in complete blackness. I am very impressed that no-one got hurt. But it's just one more thing to chalk up to experience when dealing with performing in a school with a theatre' worth of equipment. Oy.

We also got fed here, and while I do love the schools for being sweet enough to feed us, and they do get high marks here at the Cooperative Middle School for going above and beyond by providing us all that lovely breakfast food (which, by the way, they did NOT offer to pack up for us....) Dudley's title of Greatest School Lunch Ever is in no danger of being stolen. We ate in the cafeteria today, and our choices were a box of iceberg lettuce with a tomato and a bunch of cheese on it, a hot dog bun with Tuna fish, or an ice cream scoop of pasta with meat sauce. (And they wonder why kids eat at McDonald's....) Suffice it to say, we stopped a couple of times on the way to the hotel afterward to get something akin to food. The ride to the hotel was nice. I didn't have to drive anything for a change so I sacked out i the back seat of the van for awhile, and then just sorta zoned looking out the window. Saw something quite pretty actually, and I really only had the ability to form this type of thought because I wasn't driving. The sun was down behind the horizon, but there was still light above it, so the entire countryside was backlit, making all the trees we were driving past (and there were a lot of them) look like flattened out black silhouettes, and I found myself thinking they really did look two-dimensional, like construction paper cutouts against the refrigerator door of the evening sky. That's the way my mind thinks. I may do something with that, I don't know. I'm also rolling around the idea of a one-man show about touring, or children's theatre in general. I don't know. But they say write what you know, and I know kid's theatre....and vaguely childlike poetic images of the New England landscape. Thank goodness I have something to fall back on! See honey? We'll be okay!

Curiouser and Curiouser

Not much new to report, save for the fact that I have discovered yet another new place in Portsmouth to eat. Yesterday's breakfast/lunch was had at a nice little café, the most unique feature of which was our waitress, who when she noticed my IL driver's license, asked me if I lived near Chicago. When I mentioned I had, she then asked me what it was like to live near the ghetto. Apparently and those of you living in Chicago may want to know this--anywhere near the city it's a veritable war zone. When she asked if I was packing heat (I'm not making this up) I told her I often carry a lot of Icy Hot with me, just in case. SHE TOOK ME SERIOUSLY and laughingly told Flo and Levitt (with whom I was eating) that I didn't understand ghetto lingo, but she did because she was (are you ready for this?) FROM MAINE. I was shocked and horrified. I mean, how could NH let someone from those mean streets serve unsuspecting, upstanding family people? I continued to play with her, suggesting that I was out on work release from an institution, and Levitt was my doctor and Flo my muscle. She was quite amusing in a "I can't believe this is happening" kind of way, and I did tip her well. I can afford it--I mean with all my bitches and network of pushers bringing in the big bucks.

Today I was planning on going back to the Coat of Arms Pub for lunch, only to discover once we got there that it doesn't open until 4 on weekdays. Oy. So I discovered a new place--the Friendly Toast. If the dive last night was the place where all the thuggy wannabes and the redneck congregate, then the Friendly Toast is where all the emo wannabe NYU film students hang out. The place is forcibly eclectic. Not to mention a tad disturbing. The entire place looks like a senile antique dealer threw up. Their specials board was in a frame decorated with pin-up playing cards and dice. Then, inexplicably, there were two cutouts of 10 year old girls in what looked like old nighties. Japanese cigarette and beer postes from the 60's adorned the wall. Thankfully, I studied Japanese in college so i was able to translate the poster of the happy couple offering each other a cigarette. Roughly translated it said, "After Hiroshima, how much damage could THESE do?" (That is a very rough translation. And by rough, I mean incorrect...) Their bar was decorated in covers from old time sex novels, like Sin Camp, and Lust Carnival! Everywhere you looked, your eyes were being yelled at. LOOK AT US! AREN'T WE HIP AND EDGY??? WE'RE SO ECLECTIC!!!! GIVE IN TO THE IRONY OF KITSCH! RESISTANCE IS FUTILE! ( I did like the Superman pogo stick. Though it had to be about three times the size of any small child...) The food was good, though, if a little heavy on the black beans and veggies and a little light on meat. I ordered the one thing on the menu that wasn't some sort of weird vegetarian thing. It was an omelette with sausage, bacon, and ham in it along with jalapeno jack cheese and Swiss.  And some sort of weird pecans. Don't ask me why they put pecans in it. I'm sure it's something kitschily ironic I'm too square to understand. But that's about all I did. Which is fine, because we've got enough going on this upcoming week. We drive to PA tomorrow after our show. Well, halfway there, then the rest of the way on Wednesday (no show). All I can say is that everything about Portsmouth is a little off-kilter. I mean, restaurants that don't open til 4 when so much else closes at 8, candlepin bowling, bars with no whiskey and microwave burgers, and breakfast places staffed by gang chicks from Maine. To tell the truth, I'm looking forward to the sanity of New Orleans....

Sing, sing a song...

This is the singingest group of people I have hung out with in a long time. Which is cool, believe me. We hit a karaoke bar tonight. Well, not exactly a karaoke bar. It's a bar that had karaoke. Well, more like a dive that had karaoke. What the hell is it about Portsmouth, NH? There is no middle ground in this town. Everything is either colonial or ghetto. I cannot tell you how many tattoos, bad goatees, sideways baseball caps, and shorts long enough to be called highwaters I saw tonight. The reason I can't tell you is that I lost count. And yet, this was a bar that served no whiskey. I shit you not, gentle readers. If there was EVER a bar which should've served whiskey, which needed to serve whiskey, which gave every appearance of being a bar where one could walk in and get blotto on Wild Turkey, it was this bar. And yet, no whiskey. Lots of PBR, though. Which is more than likely why it was not a bar one could find whiskey.

I do believe my favorite moment of the evening came rather early, when we noticed a young man making eyes at Flo. (The group tonight consisted of everyone save Ted and Carol, as both of them are at home this weekend) He was on the other side of the room, and was staring intently at her, as if attempting to bore through her with her eyes until he made his way into the center of her being and took control, bending her to his bidding. Or he could've just been stoned, I'm not sure. But what made him so amusing, beside the name he gave the KJ--J Blue (how's that for fun?)--was his appearance. Baggy pants, camo hoodie, leather jacket, a do-rag (the kind tied in the FRONT) and a sideways baseball cap. The presence of the baseball cap, turned jauntily to the side, served to hide most of the do-rag, save for one of the ties, which hung down into his face. Ladies, believe me, if you were in the market for a guy that just screamed, "I enjoy smacking my bitch around to the sound of Eminem and long walks down dark alleys. I also have a passion for freebasing and mainlining," then this man had it going ON! He started the evening hanging by himself, but as the evening wore on, more and more of his cronies (I believe the technical term is "posse") began filtering in, being greeted with backslapping man-hugs. He was the most stylishly dressed of the bunch. I am convinced that beings such as this hang out in large groups in order to confuse natural selection. If they stayed on their own, they'd be culled from the herd rather quickly, but when they gather in a mini-herd, then they have a greater rate of survival.

It was, all told, quite the evening. Alice's parents came by to see her this weekend, so they came out with us, and they seemed to have a good time, save for the few times some song that was a thinly veiled call for suicide came on. I will never understand why people who go to karaoke cannot understand one very simple fact--it is a performance. There is an audience. It's a bar full of drunk people who want to have a good time. Singing a speed metal/death metal song about how screwed we all are and how we should all just give into the inevitable downfall of society is not what a crowded bar wants to listen to on a Sunday night. They want to hear "Margaritaville". So save the Pantera for Rock Band when you and the rest of your cynical rebellious individualistic just like everyone else group gets together to bemoan the commercialism and empty soul of modern society and eat Doritos. There was also a rather inebriated black lady there named Ollegra. (No, I am not making that up) She was what could politely be called a barfly. She was what could impolitely be called a drunk skank. And I say that with all the love in my heart. To be honest, I doubt that would've upset her. I believe she would more than likely have asked for it to be screen printed on a T-shirt. Or tattooed on her tits. But it was very enjoyable. People watching is a wonderful way to pass the time as you're waiting for the KJ to get back around to your song which he puts in wrong resulting in you having to sing the slow version of Suspicious Minds even though you definitely gave him the Aloha from hawaii version's number which would've been a much bigger crowd pleaser but what can you do because the guy obviously didn't get into this business due to his keen intellect. Flo had a lot of attention, as one of the other singers, a guy in a white shirt, sideways baseball cap (they do realize those brims are there for a reason, right?) and a soul patch rubbed up against her during one song. Now, as we all know, that is a long and storied mating ritual, and shows a great amount of affection, since the man is basically attempting to mark the woman with his scent and you don't want to just run around scenting things will-nilly. Flo, however, was not responsive to being so approached, so the random rubber rumbled off into the ether. A very nice young man who I'll call Chuck even though his name is Josh, came over and complimented Alice after she sang "Don't Get Around Much Anymore". He stayed until we left, hitting on her with all the subtlety of a four car pileup. It seemed to be working, however. Not enough for her to stay when we left, but well enough that she didn't kick him somewhere sensitive. Flo sang Janis Joplin and Bonnie Tyler, Schneider entertained us all with 2 rap songs of varying degrees of lasciviousness, Alice sang the Shoop Shoop Song and Nat King Cole, and I did two Elvis songs and ended the evening with Bon Jovi, because I understand my audience. Hey, say what you will, but I'm a professional.... Levitt and Bob did not sing, but rather drank in support of us. I was the designated driver, so did not imbibe, and as any of you who know me know, i don't need alcohol to make a complete ass of myself in public, so I at least saved money. I may be old, but thank goodness my hips are still limber enough to earn me free soda. (It's not what it sounds like, I swear...)

So we have another day off tomorrow--Yay for the presidents!Then a show on Tuesday in NH, then we start heading south--first to PA, then down to FL, and then the driving gets underway in a serious way. I really am enjoying the show--it helps that everyone in the show is enjoying it as well, and looking upon it as something worth doing. Please, pleasepleasePLEASE, I beg of any of you reading this who are actors, don't get involved in children's theatre unless you're willing to take it as seriously as the other work you do. This is a soapbox of mine, I understand, and I know I may be a little annoying with this, but just because your audience can't vote (or in some cases tie their shoes) doesn't mean that you don't owe them a good show. And it doesn't mean that the material is beneath you. I know there are hierarchies in theatre--in all the performing arts, and I understand that for many, if not all, actors, children's theatre occupies a place just slightly above mime and ventriloquism (not necessarily in that order) but...ah hell, I'm just rambling so I have something to type in order to make this cataloging of karaoke cavorting sound deep. And most of you who read this know me from doing children's theatre with me, or at least being forced to watch me do it, so really, I don't have to reiterate my feelings about it to you.  So anyway, another day off tomorrow, then off to the southern climes. If I'm in the area around ny of you, wherever you may be, come on by and see the show. I think you'll like it Where else can you see dismemberment, madness, hallucinations, tampering with life and death and a talking frog all before noon? Who says THAT'S not art???

New Hampshire...

...continues to surprise. Today (a day off!!!) the group hit the mall (which was slightly larger than the one in Auburn, MA) and discovered that thee are more things in Portsmouth that stay open past 8 than just the English Pub. They have a karaoke venue (which we shall hit Sunday night) and a bowling alley (which we decided to attend this evening). They were running a Valentine's Day special for couples, so Flo, Alice, Schneider, and myself broke up into faux couples to get a discount. I'll leave it to you to figure out how we split up.

What is so surprising about Portsmouth, New Hampshire--other than the fact that their mall is filled with white guys dressed like gangstas and tractors (yes, you read that right--tractors. Apparently, while most malls display cars, NH malls display farm equipment. Perfect for when you need your ersatz rap star son to plow the back forty)--is how things you wouldn't expect to find in either this country or this century seem to be the norm. Par exemplum: the Coat of Arms has a snooker table. Now, I guess that's not too out there for an English Pub, but I've been in a lot of pubs in this country and I haven't seen a snooker table anywhere except (get this) a Dave and Buster's. So that was quite interesting. They even had the rules for snooker on the back of their menu. (Bless them) If that wasn't odd enough, when we got to the bowling alley tonight, we discovered that their idea of rock n bowl was candlepins. For those of you not familiar with the game (like me, for instance) candlepins is played with ten pins which are straight, rather than...well, bowling pin shaped. The ball is also far smaller than a typical bowling ball, being roughly the size of a small grapefruit. Or an orange who plays for the Yankees. (Take THAT A-Rod) You also throw three balls in a row before you score. They have strikes and spares, though let me tell you, getting a strike is nigh on impossible (not completely impossible, since I did it--thank you, thank you...) because the space between the pins is larger than with normal pins, and the ball is smaller, so you don't get the explosiveness you get with regular bowling. And the ball has no holes, so it's a little harder to control. And this isn't something this alley decided to do for a lark just this weekend or something--their equipment is only set up to handle candlepins. AND they are the only bowling alley in the area. So what we have here is the only option within a reasonable distance offering a game that was in vogue around the time of the Revolutionary War. Combined with finding a snooker table, it suggests to me that New Hampshire, and Portsmouth in general, is firmly entrenched in the 18th century. Which also explains why it's so easy to get liquor around here. 

The addition of the karaoke venue which has quite possibly the greatest selection of songs I've ever seen (they have them up on their website) does put a crimp in my theory, unless you take into consideration the fact that it was highly likely colonists got together in pubs over a snooker table after a rousing match of candlepins and sang off-key for the enjoyment of equally inebriated audience members. I'd be surprised to find that WASN'T the case. And I'm even sure that once the level of intoxication got high enough, someone had to write out the lyrics and point to them to assist the drunken revelers in keeping up with the rhythm to some extent. See? And you thought the Japanese invented it. As with all great innovations, the Americans made it, the Japanese just made it digital. So there!

Lunch at the pub tomorrow. Those scotch eggs aren't going to eat themselves. And what is sure to be a scintillating tale of New England karaoke. I hope they hand out powdered wigs. I'd hate to look like a tourist....

The light at the end of the tunnel....

IT'S OVER! This week is over! And the theatre we were in today was far easier than the hellish school from yesterday. In fact we ended up with a slew of people to help us load in, so we got everything into the theatre in like 20 minutes. After that, things started going downhill. Not anywhere near as bad as yesterday, but again, we're in an auditorium in a government building with next to no wing space or anywhere to store the empty carts and boxes, so there's a lot of leaping over lights to get to what passes for wings. BUT no-one had to wrestle anything up a flight of stairs, so I'm not looking a gift theatre in the balcony....or something. The only thing that's really marring these load-ins is Levitt's attitude toward Ted. It's getting ridiculous. She snaps at him whenever he tries to do anything. He went to pick up some rope hanging from one of the scrims to get it out of the way before we raised the proscenium, and she yelled at him to stop, then came over, took it from him and moved it over. Exactly what he was doing. I really hope this doesn't get any worse, because the whole thing with her snapping at him is getting uncomfortable. It's getting to the point where I've started making jokes about it to try to keep some levity in the situation, since he's feeling like he's ot allowed to bring anything up or help anyone do anything for fear of being yelled at. And I really don't know why she has such antipathy toward him. It's sad, really, since in every other way, this group is getting along gangbusters. Though tonight she seemed okay around him when we all went out for dinner at the coolest English pub in Portsmouth. (In fairness, it may be the ONLY English pub in Portsmouth for all I know, but that fact does not reduce its coolness.) Of course, she WAS drinking, so maybe that's the thing--she only gets a sense of humor that appreciates him when she's smashed. Time to start trading out her water for vodka....

As for the show, while the load in and set up went smoothly the show again was met with a quiet crowd. Of course, it was one school in a large theatre, so you get the small audience disease--solo laughaphobia--but I am a little concerned. It's just odd that we're not getting more vocal reactions. Though I do hear kids during the show, so I know they're paying attention. It'll probably get better once we hit the larger venues. And to be honest, it's only been like the at one or two places. Other than that, we've gotten really good reactions from the kids. I'm sure I'm just paranoid due to the fact I'm still not 100% comfortable with Tell-Tale. That one feels more artificial to me than any of the other ones I do, but I do get good reactions and the people I work for certainly liked it. Once I'm not rushing around doing three people's jobs before we start and finishing my makeup and getting into costume as the curtain speech is finishing I'm sure I'll relax a little more.

Portsmouth, NH closes at 9. I am not shitting you, gentle readers. Well, okay, maybe a little. But not as much as you think. Finding a place to eat around here when you roll into the hotel at 8:00 p.m. is nigh on impossible. I looked up places to eat and all of them were closed by 8:30. Until I happened upon the Coat of Arms, the aforementioned (and afore-raved-about) English Pub. They served dinner all the way until 10:00! So we all rushed out of here to get some food, since we hadn't eaten since lunch, and lunch had been some sorry ham sandwiches and bags of Cheetos. The Pub, on the other hand, had sausage rolls and Scotch Eggs. I was in heaven. There's not much better on this planet than a Scotch egg. For those of you unfamiliar with this delicacy, it is a hard-boiled egg, wrapped in sausage, then fried. It is served with hot English mustard. And when I say hot English mustard, i don't mean, "Oh, someone added something akin to spice to some French's Yellow Mustard," I mean this stuff clears your sinuses. It's incredible, and everyone should try it, because there are very few things on this earth better than a Scotch egg that don't include cheese. Much alcohol was imbibed (Well, by most of the others. All I had was one small....well, not so small Irish coffee.) and much laughter ensued. I can't wait to see how easy it's going to be to spend three more days here. Yep we're staying put until Tuesday, due to the holiday weekend. Whee! Luckily, my position as wrongest person in the group is still safe, for while everyone has a twisted sense of humor and likes to color the language blue, I'm still the one willing to go that extra mile to say something no self-respecting person would say. I made Schneider laugh like crazy at load-out today when Levitt said she was feeling grumpy, and she didn't know why. She was just in a bad mood, like something in her gut just made her crabby, and I said, "What, it's been 28 days already?" He couldn't believe I had said that to her. I couldn't believe it was that shocking. But then that's just me--call it my Twilight-esque vampire super power--inappropriateness. All I have to do now is learn how to sparkle in the sunlight and I can have a movie made about me. And have more middle school groupies. What a future....

Happy Valentine's Day, by the by, to all of you. Except you single people reading this. You are not allowed to have a Happy Valentine's Day because, as you know, your lives are worthless due to the fact you are not in a relationship. Or at least not in one worthy of flowers and candy. Try harder--men, buy some body spray that makes you smell like a rutting wildebeest and pretend to give a shit about things like feelings. Women, for the love of god, dress like the latest rehab darling and get comfortable doing body shots with your best girlfriend. There, no go forth and find true love. Or at least someone willing to have sex with you every February 14th. Bless you all. (Just in case you missed it--and I understand how you could--Valentine's Day blurs people's perceptions) that was sarcasm. Good night all.

How the Mighty Are Fallen....

I ache. Everywhere. Why? you ask. Because, I answer, our show today took place in a middle school which had its auditorium on the second floor. I will pause while you go back and read that sentence again, in order that you may realize and understand the full implication of those words. Yes, the auditorium was upstairs. Now, this isn't the first time we have had to load into a space which was higher than where we parked the truck. Of course, most of the time those are actual theatres with huge cargo elevators which can hold a good third of our equipment at a time. Sadly, today was not one of those times. They DID have an elevator, which is lovely, but it was merely a slightly oversized passenger elevator, meaning that some pieces of our equipment couldn't fit. In yet another cruel twist of fate designed, I'm sure, to try to unseat me from my atheistic perch, the pieces of equipment which were too big to fit in the elevator were both completely necessary to the show AND freaking heavy. Oh, and awkward to muscle up 4 flights of stairs. Can't forget that. (I would humbly beseech fate to stop attempting to unseat me from my perch because all its cruel twists do is convince me more fully that no compassionate deity would do such things to His creation. So there.)

This school did attempt to supply us wit a crew--an ADULT crew which consisted of about 4 female teachers and one male parent. The four female teachers were lovely people and very keen to help, as long as they didn't have to lift anything heavy. But hey, I did get to hear a lot of snippets of juicy gossip as I passed by where they were standing, my arms full of heavy stuff. The male parent was far more helpful with the heavy lifting, but he also didn't show up until we were almost finished. I do not say any of this to demean or diminish their help. They are wonderful people to volunteer for this, not really knowing what it is we need. I appreciate them being there, they just weren't of much assistance. Of course, they probably could have been of MORE assistance if the school hadn't seen fit to put an auditorium on the SECOND FLOOR. And they wouldn't have even been NEEDED if Chamber had the good sense not to BOOK a show in a school where the auditorium is on--say it with me, class--the second floor! Getting everything off the truck and into the space, which had taken us 30 minutes yesterday, took us 90 today. Part of that reason is that Schneider and I, when it came to the heavy awkward, we-need-to-get-it-up-the-stairs stuff, had to come off the truck and be the ones who muscled it up the repeatedly aforementioned stairs. And that is not including putting things together, just getting it on the stage. That left us with 90 minutes to get everything put together in a space which was--are you sensing a theme here?--too small for what we had. The stage was very wide but very shallow, so while the set fit, we had barely any upstage space behind our proscenium, nor any downstage playing space in front of it. And I swear to you all I shall never complain about changing in a band room again nor will I ever bring up any of the hardships suffered during the last tour, because right after discussing the storage closets we had to change in this past fall, where do you think we had to change? You guessed it--a storage closet! So we had to get everything ready by 11:00(we had started at 8:00) because we had to go downstairs and eat our free lunch (which was cafeteria food, and believe me, the quality of the lunches is dropping steadily) before our 12:00 show. Eat really isn't the right word--snarf, I believe is far more accurate. So bruised, battered, and uncomfortably swollen, we headed back upstairs to do the show, which we HAD to start on time because the students were to be dismissed immediately following our performance.

The show, surprisingly, went very well. Perhaps it was the adrenaline, perhaps it was the fear of falling off the front of the stage in the dark, perhaps it was the lead weight of a cafeteria cheesesteak in one's gut, but we did a very good show. The children were responsive and attentive, and enjoyed it, and somehow we managed to feel pretty loose and energized. I'm not sure what about our morning contributed to that, but I am NOT interested in doing any follow-up experiments. Once the show was over, we had to do a slow, painful reversal of the events of the morning. The best part was me trying to get the truck back into the circular drive in front of the school where--there's just blog post references aplenty in today's events--everyone was stopped to pick their kids up from school! I informed Levitt about this and she said I should just block the drive. I tried to point out that would merely keep the people who were in our way IN our way with no way to get out of our way (no way! Way.) but she insisted. Thankfully, a few people left their spots right in front of our doors and I was able to pull in and keep a lane of traffic available. We started the load out at 3 and finished by 4:30. In that time, I believe I incurred more bruises than the "He always says he's sorry afterwards" episode of Jerry Springer, and then had to drive the truck for 2 1/2 hours to our next destination, lovely New Haven CT, where I am presently typing this to you, my gentle readers, even through my aches, because it's important you know what horrors await you in Danvers, CT. Consider yourself warned.

Tomorrow we have a 7:00 load in for a 10:00 show, BUT the school has rented a theatre. With a loading dock! And we still get FED. It could be the best Friday ever......

Which witch is which?

Hello all you witches and warlocks! No, I'm not confused as to the month or the upcoming holiday. I am fully aware that Saturday is the celebration of the horrific death of a saint through the trading of flowers for sex. The reason my salutation is of such a Halloween-y nature is that I have just returned from Salem, MA, the home of the mother of all witch hunts. We are staying only 15 minutes away, in lovely Danvers, MA, so a number of us decided to head into Salem for dinner. I was looking forward to that since I had heard that they are whizzes at fire-roasted delicacies. (I know I know--it's not historically accurate, but you all knew what I was talking about, so it counts.) I also knew that there's no better place on earth if you just feel like hanging around. (There--satisfied?) The place was quite quaint, even though most everything you would want to see as a tourist was closed by the time we finished dinner at the Salem Brew House. (Which has absolutely killer chili, wonderful jalepeno poppers, and an espresso stout that is definitely worth your time.) We did, however, get to see the House of the Seven Gables. Bob was very much into seeing that, though I did try to tell him it just hasn't been the same since Clark died. The party consisted of me, Bob, Schneider, Alice and Flo. It was extremely enjoyable, especially since we have a later load-in tomorrow (8:00) and a later show (noon). That meant we weren't worried about rushing back to the hotel so we could cram as much sleep as possible into a few hours, so we had a chance to walk around Salem leisurely. Which is good because it too us long enough to get there. Schneider is from around here, but didn't REALLY know how to get there easily, so there was a lot of driving around aimlessly. But thankfully, everyone was okay with that. 

We did see two lovely things, and the experiences we had there proves to me that this group all seems to be on the same wavelength--at least the ones I was with tonight, and I know that Ted and Carol are also the type to go for this stuff. Near the House of the Seven Gables was a building called the Seamen's Club, or something similar, and we all lost it, because deep down, we're all 12. In fact, everyone got pictures of the sign, and we spent a good ten minutes sniggering. I know, sniggering doesn't usually go on and on like that, but we're professionals. I did feel it necessary to point out that while the sign was funny and all, there was a down side to the Seamen's Club. You know what it is? Wait for it....

It's full of jerks.

They laughed. I do love these people.

The other place we saw was a liquor store named (and I am NOT making this up, gentle readers) The Bunghole. Yes, you read that correctly. The name of the place was Bunghole Liquors. (How's that for a band name?) And in case you thought they put the name up in ignorance, allow me to dissuade you of that notion. They sell T-shirts, one of which does give the actual definition of a bunghole--the hole in a barrel, cask, or keg through which spirits flow--but one of them also said "I got it in the Bunghole". Bob, who is our resident homosexual, bought one of the T-shirts, but just the one with the definition. And we all had to take pictures by that sign as well. It's lovely when one is surrounded by one's peers.

That being said, I do want to say something about Salem. I do realize that Salem doesn't have much except the witch trials that you can point to, and I do understand that there's a certain amount of sense in trying to make lemonade out of historical lemons. But the way that the town trades on its witchy past borders, for me, on missing the point, and reveling in something that might be better left unmarketed. Tours through the historic landmarks and places where the actual trials took place makes sense, and educating people about the events is a worthwhile thing. But everything and every place in that town, as far as we saw, is witch-themed. (Except the Bunghole--that's got enough personality all by itself!) I mean hell, we saw dolls of hanged women. Considering what was done in that town, plastering witches all over everything (remember--they weren't ACTUALLY witches) seems to be celebrating the wrong thing. It's like Berlin throwing swastikas all over the city and inviting you to the Final Solution Beer Garden and Gift shop, where you can get an Auschwitz Burger and a little souvenir oven. Maybe I'm overreacting. I probably wouldn't have had any problem with it if I hadn't seen the dolls. I mean stuff like the Witch City Pub makes light of the fact that religious bigotry, paranoia, and classism sent innocent people to their death. I guess people could cry foul on me since I make jokes about everything, but I don't make any money off of them. Of course, maybe that's the problem--I'm jealous. It could be.

I'm also a little worried about Ted. He and Levitt seem to be butting heads a lot lately. She seems to have some sort of problem with him. I admit he can be a little annoying--he's like Cliff Clavin only without the good writers. But he's a sweet guy and very well-intentioned, and always trying to help. I think Levitt just doesn't like him because he's very talkative and has a vast storehouse of trivial knowledge that he likes to share at all times, so whenever he says anything or attempts to help, or point out something that might need dealing with, she snaps at him. I mean hell, she got on his case because we got to load-in this morning and he needed to use the bathroom. As if he did it on purpose just so he could shirk his duties. I'm hoping they iron this out soon, because it is very early in the process right now, and if she's going to dismiss anything that comes out of his mouth because he said it, this is going to cease being a cool tour. And it's a shame because up til now everything and everyone's been doing very well. Hopefully they can come to some sort of meet-in-the-middle thing. Send good thoughts!

So ultimately,w e had a very good show today--the lights worked, the sound worked, the actors worked, so we did great. And we had the able help of several middle school students to assist us. Lunch was whatever was in the cafeteria, so today was not as incredible a lunch as the last couple of days, but the price was right. All the ladies in the cast were convinced that the gaggle of girl helpers had some sort of incredibly jailbaity infatuation with me, since they did have a tendency to hang around and talk to me. Alice, Flo and Carol all insisted there was giggling that accompanied that, but I didn't see any of it. What I did find out was that I am one year younger than the father of one of them. After I stopped weeping, I (rightly, I believe) pointed out that it was obvious that the entourage was drawn to me because I represented a father figure, and they could keep their sniggering to themselves. As is usual when i try to correct the misapprehensions of the female gender, the sniggering increased. I really don't know why I bother. So aside from learning today that Salem proudly displays both its bunghole and its seamen, I also learned I am old enough to be the father of a 7th grader. And somehow all I can do is wonder if Salem's bunghole results in Witchie-poo.....

Like you didn't see that coming.