Is it wrong to get tipsy on live television? On the early show?
Granted, I didn't get tipsy, per se, but I was damn close. And don't get me wrong...I'm the last person to point fingers. It's always "five-o-clock somewhere" in my book...even if it's just 6:00AM where I am. However, when the producer of said early show told us to "cut the booze in segment two" I got to thinking...
My wonderful, loving Grandfather would wake-up and have his eye-opener (four fingers of vodka with a splash of orange juice) before he went to work...and after work as well, of course.
His mother, my Great-Grandmother, would give me whiskey when I had a cold, when I was up too late, when I got on her nerves...I just thought she didn't like to drink alone, but who knows?! I didn't complain.
His wife, my Grandmother, loves her Cocktail Hour... Now, we just did A.R. Gurney's "The Cocktail Hour" at The Kav and it made my family chuckle...a lot. Honestly, we thought they were writing about us. My Grandmother (with whom I spend a lot of time) loved it.
My Grandma is the type of woman who says "Joey, just give me a little splash...I mean it now, just a little splash." And then, when I give her the cocktail she says, "Did you put any vodka in this? It tastes like straight soda water...if I wanted soda water, honey, I would have asked you for soda water." I love her remarks... I'll list some here:
"Just a weak one."
"Freshen me up, will you honey?"
"Someone must be drinking my vodka...look how much is gone already."
"That's OK, I have another bottle in my bedroom."
I'd totally write more about my family's WASPish habits...but I have a hangover from the three bottles of champagne I had this morning.
Friday, September 29, 2006
Is it wrong to get tipsy on live television? On the early show?
Thursday, September 28, 2006
How the fuck should I know? I mean, come on.
This question was posed to me this morning by one of our local TV personalities in regards to a spot I'm supposed to be doing tomorrow morning. Here's the rundown...
I was meant to be at the theatre at 5:15AM to await the illustrious camera van and make-up-less news reporter. Then, when they arrive at 5:30, I'll would probably be nice enough to give them coffee and listen to them bitch about how their Egg McMuffin was soggy. Then, much to my dismay, I would get dressed-up and sip champagne with Mary Kate O'Connell and tell funny stories until it was our "turn". The lights would blind us and the local TV personality would ask us silly questions about the "thee-ay-ter" for 90 seconds. 50 minutes later we would do the same thing with more silly questions, then it'd be over. Cute, short, sweet, simple.
Now, I just got off the phone with this local TV personality and she told me that interviews don't make for good TV. She recommends that, instead of featuring a THEATRE on Curtain Up, we should go to Spot Coffee and talk to the weather man. Like that's not COMPLETELY different from what I agreed to.
I think she's just lazy...
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
It's funny how infrequently people wear a tuxedo. I shouldn't really say "funny" or "people", should I? I mean, men are the only one's who wear tuxedos (for the most part) and there's really nothing funny about the frequency a man wears one... I just thought it was a good start in describing what's on my mind right now.
I used to work for Tuxedo Junction. For four years I worked for Tuxedo Junction. One of the first things we learned is that the average man wears a tuxedo 2 1/2 times in his life. His wedding, his child's wedding and, possibly, his prom. I own 3 tuxedos and I have worn one at least 2 1/2 times per year. Where in God's name do they get their statistics from?!
Why is it? Men, for well over 150 years, have worn the same goddamn monkey suit to a formal affair. Women get to wear gowns. "Gowns." That is so ambiguous it's not funny. The word "gown" makes it sound glamorous...it ain't. Say, "dress with sparkly beads" or "see-through chiffon with pasties." Honestly. Women can wear anything...they're innately sexy for Christ's sake. Men have to wear cardboard pants with a jacket (a jacket in which the man is unable to MOVE!) Add a piece of cloth that is so tight around your fucking neck and a band of fabric cinched around your waist. I mean, come on. If we have to do this, I think women should still wear lace-up girdles and large hats on Easter. Give me a break.
Now...don't get me wrong. I think men look hot in tuxedos. I think there's something very sexy about James Bond. BUT...is it really necessary? Really?
I suppose the main reason I'm so antsy about the whole monkey suit is because I have to wear one at 5-fucking-30-in-the-AM on Friday...for a 3 minute stint on some local television news "early show"...because it's "funny."
I'd much rather show up in a jock strap and a string of pearls...call me old fashioned.
I decided that I should write about the show that The Kavinoky Theatre (where I work) is doing. (I feel like a huge loser...nobody even knows I have this fucking blog and I'm writing like it's a colum in the New Yorker.) Oh well, I can think of it as my way of learning how to incorporate links in my postings.
We're currently running A FUNNY THING HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO THE FORUM, a musical by Stephen Sondheim. It's really a great production (and no, I'm not saying this only because I'm in it.) It's always been a favorite of mine.
The cast is phenomenal and I'm really having a lot of fun. Wait...let me steal Playbill's plot description... Oh, fuck it. Just click here and see what they have to say.
Our cast includes Norm Sham (I call him Normasha.) He is the best person in the world and I totally want to have a slumber party with him. Also in the cast is Lou Colaiacovo (playing the role I wanted but much better than I ever could have done), Sheila McCarthy, Tim Newell, Jim Mohr (he's old and hilarious...he plays Erronious...very awesome), Tom Loughlin, a girl from NYC called Rosie Mattia (she plays my love interest...she has a lovely, beautiful singing voice), Marc Sacco, Bobby Cooke, Nicole Marrale Cimato...the list continues...I'm just too lazy to type everyone's name right now.
We did it at The Kav in 1979 (I was far too young to be in it then, of course). The president of the college (D'Youville College) remembers it as being "very funny." She's right.
This Friday is Curtain Up and it's the 25th anniversary. I'm kind of bitter about CU this year because it was SUCH a hassle last year. I served as Marketing Chairperson and it was an awful lot of work. This year, to many theatre's dismay, it is being held very late...ticket sales are suffering for most theatres. But it is a fun night nonetheless.
OK, I'm not really selling the show but I wanted to at least mention it. I'll likely write more about the goings-on backstage but, not now.
I really hate dirty ashtrays. Although I smoke, I despise the smell and yuckiness. Yuck...but I love to smoke.
It's funny how life can sometimes seem like a dirty ashtray, too. I mean, like smoking, I don't normally complain about something while I'm doing it...it's the results or the after-effect that I bitch about. I don't know if this metaphor makes any sense but...let me try and explain.
- Every year I try to make my Christmas tree look perfect and then I cry when I have to take it down.
- Three years ago on Thanksgiving morning, I made the best butternut squash casserole and then dropped and shattered the fucking dish while transporting it to my car.
- I spend a gorgeous sunny day mowing the lawn, bathing my dogs, washing my car, sweeping the goddamn DRIVEWAY and then it rains...while the dogs are playing outside.
- You finally understand and cherish what your Great-Uncle Chet has been babbling about for 15 years but he dies before you have a chance to thank him.
- (For the actors who are reading this...) You bitch and complain that you're never cast in a show. You get cast in a show. You bitch and complain all during rehearsals. The show opens. You bitch and complain about everybody in the show. The show closes. You don't have another show this year...and you bitch.
I don't mean "dirty ashtray" as in disappointment. I don't even mean mistakes. I'm not even very depressed about it. It's life! We know that a smoker's ashtray is going to be dirty but, when it is, we still bitch and complain about it (well, at least I do.) Maybe that's why I like smoking in my car so much...I can throw the butts out the window.
I think that's going to me by new mantra: throw the butts out the window...piss in the ocean...dance like nobody's watching...love like I've never been hurt...fart in a tornado. Really.
Don't get me wrong... I'm not saying "what you don't see can't hurt you." I'm trying to say "don't worry too much if you see it and it hurts." Am I wrong? Maybe. Does it make sense to me? Yes. Will I practice what I preach? Probably not.
I need a fucking cigarette...where's my dirty ashtray?
This is the first post I'm writing for my new (and first) blog. To be completely honest, I don't even know where the word "blog" came from...I also don't know how long this is going to last. I do know people who have blogged before and they say that it is a good way of keeping track of what you've done and also a good "theraputic release." I think that both reasons are vaild. The main reason I'm doing this is so I look busy at work when I'm really not.
My Chinese friend, Jen, is sitting next to me. I think I'm going to have a quick cigarette with her right now. I'll write more later...