Don't You Die On Me!

Wow, this update is looong overdue.

The curtains closed on Earnest weeks ago. I survived my audition for Oklahoma! and came out with another leading role as Laurey Williams. My precious little Geeb is playing Aunt Eller. Whitney, a childhood friend I've been lucky enough to have returned to my life is playing Gertie Cummins, along with a fabulous selection of players for the rest of the cast.

Wow, this post is lively, so far, isn't it? Damn, I'm tired. So tired. Rehearsals have been running until about 11:00 for the last two nights and there's no relief in sight. I just hope I don't actually fall asleep during "The Surrey with the Fringe on Top" or the Dream Ballet.

I suppose it isn't just rehearsals wearing me thin. Life has become a horse of a different color. Not that I'm one to complain about a good pony show, but--. O_o Never mind.

In the good news category, Edy has returned to his art. He's painting a mural for the lovely folks at Raycliff Manor, and it is looking great. I'm so proud.... *sniffles*

Enough of that weepy crap. *kicks an orphan* That's better.

Becki Gooch, my fabulous director from Earnest is starting her own theatre troupe called Dream Theatre. The outdoor stage is being built at Raycliff Manor as I type this. Don't check my facts on that last bit. I can't say for certain that the guys are actually driving nails at this exact moment. If I'm going to be a liar, I don't want to know. No sense in lying to you if I can't join in on the fun. I like surprises. Sue me.

Anyhoo, Becki has been kind enough to invite Whitney, my dear little Bobbit, and me to be members of the original cast of Dream Theatre in an original production called Dementia Faire. I'll be playing Absinthe. I'll save the rest of the details for later. Got to give you a reason to check back once in awhile. My hit counter appreciates your curiosity...so does my ego.

Umm...on what else shall I drone? Ooh, thanks to Earnest, I have a whole new batch of vict--friends, yeah, friends to stalk...yeah, stalk. Last weekend, I went shopping with Bobbit and her wonderful mother for Dementia Faire costume pieces. I enjoyed some Shake's frozen custard, homemade potato chips, and a trip to the park with Jon, Imma, and their wonderful boys. Then I went with Edy to Raycliff to check out his progress on the mural and got to spend a few minutes with Becki, Earl, Whitney, and Korey.

Oklahoma! is also giving me concern about the size of my backyard and crawlspace. I went to another park with Whitney and some of our cast mates after rehearsal on Friday and had a lovely time lying on a bridge, looking at the stars, talking about everything we should never discuss in public, and feeding ants with our expendable flesh. Good times.

Before I go, pop over to the WSPA website and sign this petition to ban the fur industry in Israel. Why do they need fur? They're too warm over there anyway. Taking fur from animals is just plain old bullying that should be punishable by bad things, like lighting offenders' nose hairs on fire. Yeah, that should do it. So sign the petition. Now. Sign it, or risk becoming a victim of a random, not-associated-with-Duh-Pesh-in-any-way minionosity. You don't want to be a victim of a minionosity. You'll look like the definition of squibbly.

I haven't been able to get this song out of my head since I signed on for Dementia Faire.

Today's quote goes out to everyone who is ready for 2010 to be finished. What a year it's been.

"If you're going through hell, keep going." ~Winston Churchill

Pesh's 50th Post Extravaganza!

Go on, get some confetti. I'll wait.

...

...

You ready? You didn't bother, did you? What kind of party will this be if no one is throwing confetti in the air, getting it in each other's eyes, drinks, keyboards, air passages...hair? This won't be a party at all. It will just be another blog post. It won't matter that this is my fiftieth post. It will make no difference in the fate of the universe. There will be one less rush of endorphins, one less ray of light to make an orphan smile. What? Didn't you know that? Every time someone chokes on confetti at a 50th blog post extravaganza, an orphan gets to smile. They're not allowed to otherwise. Some sort of union regulation....

Ah, fuck it.

On to even more exciting things! Well, I think they're at least worthy of wet pants. The Importance of Being Earnest opened Thursday night and is having a fantastic run. The audiences are rolling in their seats, which could be delightfully dangerous, as this is a dinner theatre, and laughing too hard after a meal might serve to present dinner as a sequel. Ew.

The crowds laugh at the jokes. They "ooh" at the cat fight between Cecily and Gwendolen a la "Oh, no she di'nt!" They "ooh" and "ah" at the set change when we go from a plain black curtain behind our phenomenal pipe organ to an elaborate garden with metal columns, mechanical gizmos and lights on the walls, and an airship that floats by throughout the second act. Seriously, even if the acting wasn't superb and the script hilarious, the set alone is worth buying a ticket to bask in its glory.

In addition to all these wonderful elements congealing to make this one of the most incredible projects in which I've ever had the privilege of participating, last night was particularly rewarding for me. My mother, aunt, and grandparents attended last night, and so did my favorite elevator repairman, Karl (who I love to torture with threats of doughnut-based elevator sabotage). My darling husband, my favorite brother-in-law, and our close friend, Asian Dave, volunteered their time as servers. So, I had many of my beloved family and friends present, which always generates warm fuzzies.

On top of having a great audience, I knocked my performance out of the park. My hubby, his brother, and Asian Dave said I stole the show. True or not, having those three think so does wonderful things for my confidence as an actress. I did notice, however, that all of my jokes got laughs. I love having to wait for the audience to settle its guffaws enough to deliver my next line. It's a rush, a hell of a rush.

One of the audience members, who sounded like someone who knows his theatre stuff (you know, one of those professor-type fellows), approached me during our post-show meet-and-greet, and told me that I had given the best performance he had ever seen of my role. He said it was exactly as crisp as it should be. It made me want to cry. Tears of joy, of course. I like sincere, educated-sounding compliments. They're quite lovely when they wrap around the heart and squeeze.

Dim the lights and cue the violins, Duh Pesh is about to all serious and stuff.

Becki, thank you so much for letting me be a part of this show. This experience has done amazing things for my confidence, my skills, and my collection of people I love to call friends. You're an incredible director, and I will forever jump at the chance to work with you again.

I love the theatre. Fuckin' A.

Oh! Last week was Bob's seventeenth birthday. So, if you've finally gotten off your ass to shred a valuable document into confetti, as you know you should have (cheap confetti has no place at this party, car titles be damned), then now would be a good time to send it skyward and commence the choking, and the spitting, and the crying, and the screaming. Lots of screaming. If you're not screaming, consider adding razorblades to the next batch. The spastic dodging will make you look like a one-dork party, and all the hot singles love joining a one-dork party.

And now for the most fucked up music video ever to grace my blog. It's weirder than "Rock Lobster". Not kidding. You love the song though. You know you do. Enjoy!

Quote!

"Success is getting what you want; happiness is wanting what you get." ~Author Unknown

Bonus material!

Here are some of the publicity spots floating around the webs for Earnest.

Tom Steere as Algernon
Globe/T. Rob Brown Tom Steere, as Algernon Moncrief, rests at a steam-powered piano Wednesday during a rehearsal for "The Importance of Being Earnest." Crew rescued an old piano and equipped it with steampunk-themed elements for use on the set. Globe/T. Rob Brown

The Joplin Globe Article - June 11, 2010



Link to KOAM video.

Aren't they fabulous? I love my cast mates. Ah, warm squibblies. ^_^

I Is So Excited!

^___^

My costume for act two has evolved from a vague idea to full-blown awesome. My skirt is under construction to convert from ankle-length to a short-in-front and long-in-back number. I have a red waist coat with black velvet "filigree" covering it. I get to wear fishnet wrist gloves and thigh-highs. I have a beautiful red and black satin breath-inhibiting corset. And the icing on this multi-tiered, pudding-filled cake? I will be wearing my stiletto heels. These are not just any stiletto heels, mind you. These are the very heels that I wore in my first ever lead role as Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. This pleases me immensely. Immensely.

Imma described my new look as very Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge!. Need I say how elated I was to hear that? I didn't think so.

Random tangent! This afternoon, as I was about to take my adorable panda mug to the break room to scour away the remnants of my PG Tips, my Security buddy, Travis, stepped around the door frame and nearly collided with me. We stopped to chuckle at the near miss. I grinned, held up my mug and informed him that I needed to wash my dirty panda. We laughed with great enthusiasm and decided that a dirty panda is something you can probably buy on a dark corner for ten bucks.

In addition to all this awesomeness, I got to make some creative contributions to my costume tonight. Becki was lamenting over our lack of a parasol, which I need for an exchange with Bob's lovely portrayal of Cecily. As Imma cinched away my will to live in the oh-so-sexy corset, the solution slammed into my head like a hooker taking a Dirty Panda. I remembered a relic of my youth tucked away in my garage. I took riding lessons as a girl...I mean, when I was young. I've always been a girl. Well, a female anyway. I think I'm generally considered a woman now. I own a riding crop. Who the hell needs a parasol when you have a fucking riding crop? I think I just might pee where I sit if I think about it much longer.

Let's add another layer of happy, shall we?

Another of my props is a lorgnette. Becki and Earl have constructed a very steam punk contraption out of toilet paper tubes and some wire. There are two thick wires that extend from the bottom then curve up to frame my face as I look through the tubes. I posed a possibility to Becki and Earl, and the response was delightful. I asked, "What if we actually mount the lorgnette to my arm?" Awesome. Now, my hands will be free for my purse, my flowers, and my riding crop. And it's extremely steam punk to have such mechanical wonders utilized so casually.

Dave is definitely going to have to burn this chair by the time I finish tonight's blog.

Let's throw some road flares on top of this cakegasm! Because candles will never do in glee of this magnitude.

Edy and I went to our favorite haunt, Taiwan Buffet II, to harass the lovely Carissia and enjoy some good ol' grub. Not grubs. That would be gross. I meant food. People food. Not food made of people. Food made for people. ...Moving on.

When we arrived, Mary, the owner's daughter quickly introduced us to the fish inhabiting a new aquarium next to the register. Edy gave a quick acknowledgment then moved on to the food. I stayed and learned all the little guys' names, making sure to pronounce them properly. I'd hate to insult my new hosts. They might blow bubbles at my food. Anyhoo, after learning the identities of the fish, one little fellow remained. When I asked what his name was, Mary cheerfully replaced, "I want you to name him!" Aaaw! The Pesh is loved! Publicly even! The name came to me instantly. It was too obvious not to blurt it out.



His name is Karl. Karl with a 'K'. He's got a stripe of fucking orange.

I hope he's at least half as amusing for the restaurant's customers as the man with a head like a fucking orange, Karl Pilkington, is for me.

That's it. Dave's chair is done for.

A sexy song!

"Ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands. But like the seafaring man on the desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them you will reach your destiny." ~Carl Schurz, address, Faneuil Hall, Boston, 1859

It's Blo-og! Blo-og! It's Big! It's Heavy! It's Wood.

Whee! Rehearsals are progressing fantastically! I’m off book for act one and I’m nearly there for act two. Every night lets us develop our characters with bigger personalities and more innovative interactions. My Gwendolen Fairfax has evolved from a proper lady to a bawdy tart.

This pleases me...immensely.

It’s exhilarating to be able to really cut loose on stage and throw caution off a freeway overpass for the sake of the audience’s pleasure. Not that kind of pleasure. There are no poles on the stage. Well, okay. There are four poles on the stage, but they’re way too big to wrap my legs around to slide down them in a manner that garners tips. There’s just no point in trying.

Our fantastic director, Becki, has a fabulous mind. Tonight, she choreographed our scene change. It involves a whistle and a bike. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

Moving on!

I have two topics to discuss with you that affect all that is right and good on a global scale.

First, my hero, Ricky Gervais, is leading a campaign with the WSPA to bring about a ban on bullfighting in the Catalonia region of Spain. Please, take a moment to add your name to the petition and join this noble cause to end this cruel atrocity. Tradition and culture are not excuses for cruelty of any kind.

While you’re visiting the WSPA signing the petition, as you are doing right now, because you are my minion, and I have commanded you to it, toss a few bucks into the donation page. Look at your happy, loving, pet opossum--or cat, rabbit, mule, whatever--you would spend twenty-five bucks to keep him/her/it healthy and happy, wouldn’t you? You probably have, unless you buy cheap kibble. Tightwad. But your pet is already healthy and happy, right? So there you are with twenty-five dollars burning a hole in your pocket and no tragedy to avert. What to do...?

I have an idea! Send it to the WSPA! It would please me so. You like to please me, don’t you? Don't you?

Well, if not, you should do it to please a fellow earth-dweller in need. In turn, it will give you warm squibbly feelings, and everyone likes warm squibblies. Yes, you do.

Next topic!

Again, my hero, Ricky Gervais, has flexed his will, and I am bowing to it. A few days ago, he wrote:

“A Call To Arms.

I've had another one of my great ideas. Remember the poster campaign? Remember me trying to get Karl on TV?

OK, now listen carefully. I love the fact that Pilkophiles have been leaving random quotes and messages on You Tube. I like it for many reasons. I love it confusing people that went there to discuss Bruce Springsteen or God or something. I love it annoying the haters. But most of all I love the fact that it makes Karl uncomfortable.

Let's up the stakes. I want quotes and comments on every You Tube video, every iTunes product, every Amazon product and every blog in the universe.
And Twitter. Ah twitter... Go fucking mental. Introduce everyone to the world of the man with a head like a fucking orange. Make it the twatosphere, i.e. the space where people talk about a spherical headed twat.

It's in your hands...

Will he be working in B&Q in 5 years or ruling the world?”

I vote for ruling the world.

In an effort to help with this magnificent endeavor, I am obeying Ricky’s most recent order to see that the following pictures of Karl Pilkington and his feline lookalike are spread to every computer in the universe. Enjoy.





And now for a song!

And now for a less silly song! My internet at home is still kaput, so this tune was selected in honor of Dave, for letting me hijack his 'puter. ^_^

Tonight’s quote was found in a quest for a nugget of thought to pay proper tribute to the wonderful memories I’m collecting at rehearsals and the joy that Ricky and Karl (and Stephen) bring me on a daily basis. I don’t think I found what I was looking for, but this quote is dirty. And it pleases me.

“Laughter is an orgasm triggered by the intercourse of sense and nonsense.” ~Author Unknown

Ah, bliss. Now sign that petition! And start spreading the word of Karl! Now!

The Joy of Corpsing

Pardon my absence. Our internet is experiencing technical difficulties. I'm writing this at a friend's house at the moment.

So let me take a moment to sum up my week thus far. Monday, I was flashed on the freeway on my way home, so I hit the offender with my SUV. Splattered his butt all over my windshield. It left a lovely green bioluminescent smear, as fireflies do. Grob rest his little corpse.

What?

What did you think I was talking about?

Moving on!

Um...Tuesday was canceled for lack of interest. At least, that is what the koalas told me to say.

Wednesday...happened. Methinks my days are becoming one big blur.

Thursday. Today? Yup! Today. I corpsed. I corpsed hard.

As I stood on stage next to my character's love interest, Jon, he warned me that he would be using his "stalker" face during our scene. I only asked that he not say anything about fava beans and a nice Chianti. He quickly supplied the line in one of the creepiest renditions I've ever heard then said, "Clarice," with an equally creepy approach. All I could think of was my buddy Dave's former cat. I'll leave that one for you to ponder. Because I'm a Pesh like that.

During another moment of hilarity, we encountered a bit of awkward blocking, and Jon supplied a bit of bawdy shtick to correct it. At one point, I sit next to Jon on a sofa. As I go to sit, I bend over to brush off the seat, and present my bum to him. Jon's improve for our community theatre production to be presented to legions of elderly patrons? An awkward crossing of his legs. A very awkward crossing of his legs.

Fast forward!

In another scene, Jack has just proposed to Gwyndolen, and while he is still kneeling, I sit on a stool in front of him. My mother charges in and demands that he stand. I admonish her and pull Jon back down to his knees, but our director is having us take things a bit further. I also pull his face into my lap. In our first attempt at this blocking, I grabbed him by the shoulder. He dropped to his knee then slammed his face in my lap. It was fantastically awkward, so we were already laughing. When he affirmed that he was uninjured with a face-full of my lap, we howled. Subsequently, my lines were barked out between brays. I was semi-worthless for the rest of the scene, and somehow, it pleased me.

Add to that a dirty, dirty note from the gal playing a servant delivered on a platter to my dear Bob that took forever and a day to read, and the night was officially a bonding experience for this cast. You should have heard the laughter when Fox, the servant, struggled to get through some curtains while carrying a huge stack of luggage then failed and landed on her bum in a pile of suitcases and hatboxes. What a fantastic rehearsal.

After rehearsal, Bob and I took a moment to ponder why the world decided that while women are desired with an hourglass figure through the ribs, waist, and hips, no one has mentioned that men are desired with an hourglass figure as well, in profile. And that thought calls for a song! Pay attention to the scene about the hat. Could they really not afford any fishing line? They're English. I know that island has a few fishing supplies lying around somewhere.

An end to the stupidity...for now.

"Drag your thoughts away from your troubles... by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it." ~Mark Twain

Ciao, Othello!

Well, the final performance of Othello ran today. The set is struck. The curtains are down. Well, not literally. The curtains are a pain to move, so they stay open all the time, but you know what I mean.

We ended the run with a great performance. I'm feeling particularly chuffed.

(Ooh! I just Googled "chuffed" to make sure I wasn't confusing it with something horrible and I came across this dandy site. Totally bookmarking that one.)

Ahem, back to being chuffed. I managed to start dropping tears when Othello murdered Desdemona. They always do that struggle so well. Karen's face turns red. The veins in her neck strain over her throat. It's brutal, powerful. By the time poor Emilia joined her lady, I had the tap totally open. Rowland handed me his emergency handkerchief that he's had in his pocket through every show in case of facial fluid emergencies that warrant absorption because a Kleenex would be a bit out of place. What a mistake that turned out to be. By the time we left the stage, the edges of his white handkerchief were smeared with black mascara. I hope it washes out.

After the show, we struck the set and painted the floor black. Poor Geeb. All her hard work was torn apart and painted over in a few brief hours. Oh well, now she can start over for The Importance of Being Earnest. And after that is all said and done, I will yet again have opportunity to publicly humiliate her with a gift buried in pink tissue paper. Yea!

Tonight, as we discussed some of our game plan with our new director, Bob asked Becki what kind of music we will use for Earnest. She said it will be steam punk, of course. One of the bands she has in mind is Abney Park. I have to say, I like them. You should give them a listen too. This show is going to be incredible. How I am lucky enough to be involved, I'll never understand.

Tonight's quote isn't as strong as I prefer them to be, but after reading it, how the heck could I not use it?

"If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say, in a pleasant and hopeful voice, "Well, this isn't too bad. I don't have my left arm anymore, but at least nobody will ever ask me whether I am right-handed or left-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of "Aaaaah! My arm! My arm!"" ~Lemony Snicket

I'm reminded of a conversation I had with Bob and Rowland tonight. Our lines mention Desdemona's mother (we had Brabantia, not Branbantio in this production) dying of a broken heart. For reasons I never question, I could not help picturing poor little Carole lying in a mangle heap at the bottom of a tall staircase with inspectors standing over her, shaking their heads.

"She's dead."

"Yup."

"What do you think caused it?"

"Well, judging from the height of the stairs and the unnatural angle of her neck, I'd say she broke her heart."

Good Grob I'm weird. Just the way I like it.

EEEEeeee!

Oh, look! My tea is on.

Ahem, I'm so excited! Asses are being kicked all around! We have a fantastic ensemble for The Importance of Being Earnest. Our director, Becki, is hitting the ground running with a solid plan and a schedule in place. The set is going to be amazing. The costumes will be works of art. Everything about this production excites me enough to wet my pants...in public...openly. Hmm...that could be damaging to future roles. Maybe I'll just wet Geeb's pants instead. Yup. Sounds like a plan.

Speaking of Geeb, you know that little ol' novel she wrote that was released on the e-book market Tuesday? Well, it seems to be catching some attention by credit card owners. That little darling of a rom com, better known as My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute, has not only broken into the My Bookstore & More top ten list, but it has also risen to number nine! Now, number nine might not seem like a glorious number when it comes to top ten lists, but one must keep in mind that My Bookstore & More distributes books for not merely Geeb's publisher (Samhain Publishing) but also thirty-one other publishing houses. That means Geeb's book is number nine out of thirty-frickin'-two publishers' worth of books! Thirty-frickin'-two!

Personally, I'd be throwing a real fit of elation if it had been out of thirty-frickin'-three, but you can't win them all, can you?

Yes, this week has been a good week, and it has ended on an excellent night. I can only hope that tomorrow starts another round of greatness.

Ah, my tea is now at a drinkable temperature. I'm looking forward to trying out my new electric kettle at work tomorrow. I hope it passes the Life Safety Code, especially in my hands.

I love tea. I try to take it as it should be taken with all the rituals deemed necessary by the British. Boil the water. Pour it over the tea. Steep it without dunking the bag about. Add milk and one sugar at most. Mmm, a fine cuppa.

With that note, let's move from all the sophistication of tea, theatre, and smutty novels to much higher octaves.

Food for thought. That'll be one penny. Just leave it in a jar with my picture on it. I have them stationed on convenience store counters across the country.

"Nobody trips over mountains. It is the small pebble that causes you to stumble. Pass all the pebbles in your path and you will find you have crossed the mountain." ~Author Unknown

Just Call Me Fairfax, Gwendolen Fairfax.

That's right, folks. Mission #2 accomplished. As of tonight, I have added another role to my resume, that of Miss Gwendolen Fairfax, the would be fiancee of John 'Jack' 'Ernest' Worthing, in the Stone's Throw Dinner Theatre production of The Importance of Being Ernest.

^_______^

The main reason I auditioned for Othello was to get my stage legs back under me before auditioning for Ernest. I cannot thank Paxton enough for including me in his show, and the same goes for Becki and Bill for casting me in theirs. Thank you all from the cockles of my heart and other pieces of it too.

The fact that I landed a major role is the icing on the cake, but the diabetes-inducing flowers that stain your teeth blue are working with Bob and Tom again! Bob is playing a major role as the lovely Cecily Cardew. Tom will be wooing a lady of his own as Dr. Frederick Chasuble. Watch out world, Bob, Tom, and Pesh ride again! I wonder if Becki knows what she's in for.... She must. She even invited my most favorite chew toy, Geeb, to paint the set.

I love this troupe.

Everyone should start placing bets now on how many bald patches Bob and I will acquire in this production. We will only have three and a half weeks to rehearse, and I can't wait!

In other fantabulous news that warrants a complimentary ear-fuddling, the Geeb is celebrating the release of her first novel tomorrow!

Yea! And the crowd goes wild! Right before they run away to read their dirty novels in private! Woohoo!

That's right folks, pick up your e-copy of My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute at Samhain Publishing. I know I will. I'd better see you in line. Elbows will be nibbled should you fail in this mission. You won't like it when I nibble your elbows. I drool. And I nibble at an angle that will make said drool run into your armpit. Just buy the book and save us all some moisture.

On a final note of good news, tornadoes didn't eat the theatre tonight!

I'd say this was a good day.

Watch out, Ricky, I'm one toe closer to kicking down the doors of your casting calls.

In honor of Geeb's finest hour to date, I present a song.

And for the purists, a less silly version.

Cue the brainy stuff!

"Don't aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally." ~David Frost

Edit: My cat just tried to eat my hair. Just thought you should know. There will be a test over the matter.