How is it...

... that mother's always know exactly the right thing to say?

Here's the e-mail my dear Mummy sent me in response to my last post.

One of my favorite quotes suggests that "we don't find ourselves, we create ourselves"

While Kati Trottier is magical and elusive, she is not some mythical being who can fade into the forest never to be seen again. No Precious, She was forged in the fires of LA as they were stoked by a parade of roommates, a wild boy, a divorce, crazy folk with bad teeth, inappropriate theater trolls with evil ladders, fine elves with theatrical inclinations and high expectations, a gay republican nut case, and keepers of outer space monsters.

She was made strong on wine laced cooking and food from friendly pubs. She is made strong of flesh and blood, muscle and bone. Her intellect is keen and her instincts are excellent. No Precious, She will not be diminished by mere geography or altitude. She is heading north with her familiar, the tender Brigid. Together, they will rise to new levels of creativity. They will master skills that will allow them to wander wherever they wish.

Blessed Be! They are heading in our direction. Prepare the wine and start the music.

Therapy and a Friday Quote

“If I never met you, I wouldn't like you. If I didn't like you, I wouldn't love you. If I didn't love you, I wouldn't miss you. But I did, I do, and I will.”

This quote says it all for me right now.

I'm leaving LA, my apartment, my friends, and everything that's been my heart and soul for the past five years.

It hurts a hell of a lot more than I thought it would. And I thought it would hurt like a son of a bitch.

I know this will be good for me, but it's the hardest thing I've ever done.

I found myself here and I'm terrified that when I leave, I'll lose myself again.

I feel better now. Thanks.

Friday Quote

"You don't have to act with me, Steve. You don't have to say anything and you don't have to do anything. Oh, maybe just whistle. You know how to whistle, don't you, Steve? You just put your lips together and... blow."
-To Have and Have Not

Was Lauren Bacall amazing, or what?

Cool Word of the Day

We don't use the word "fisticuffs" nearly enough, don't you think?

Things I’ve learned from stage managing…

It’s possible to make tar that you can get out of everything except a pair of suede pumps.

Fake barf is almost as nasty as real barf, especially after it’s started to go bad.

Actors need lots of reminding, but not as much as directors do.

I hate paraphrasing.

No matter how many line note forms you have, you don’t have enough.

An apple is better than a Coke for keeping you awake, but lasts about an eighth of the time. (Minty gum is good too.)

My nose starts to run as soon as we start working on a really quiet scene.

The first dress rehearsal will always suck.

Live theatre is fun and scary as hell.

Stage managing in a dress may not be practical, but for me it’s necessary.

It’s also necessary to do as much as I can barefoot. Deal with it. (I think it’s a leftover dancer thing.)

Make damn sure you check that Gene's spotlight is off.

Make damn sure you make your cell phone is off.

No matter how tired you get of it, never EVER skip the dimmer check/sound check.

As soon as you go out on the sidewalk to call someone and find out where they are, they'll pull around the corner.

Saying "The Scottish Play" instead of "Macbeth" may seem stupid to you, but the other actors will have your head if you ignore it.

It's MUCH easier to exercise when you're not in rehearsal.

It's much easier to do everything when you're not in rehearsal.

God I miss it.

A Sick Joke

So, my period starts on Friday the 13th.

Is that supposed to be funny?

I hate you all.

I Have No Good Title for This Post, Sue Me

You would think from my lack of posts lately that I was horrendously busy. In a way I have been, but nothing fun, I assure you. My world has been full of trying to find a roommate which is it's own kind of hell. Suffice it to say that (fingers crossed, knock on wood, please God) there might be an end in sight.

In between posting on Craig's List and petting my lonely cat, I've been exercising (miracle of miracles) by walking to the theatre for our many play readings, the latest of which was called Mutabilitie. Through a lack of attendance, I was called upon to read the role of Annas, a sweet Irish princess who falls for a licentious Englishman. After fairly little convincing from a character known as "The File," Annas betrays him to his bloody death.

There was also a character named William who kept talking about writing plays and poetry, being a "bard," and the river Avon. And yet, it took me a disgusting period of time to figure out that it was William SHAKESPEARE! Even after he said, "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day..." I STILL didn't get it. I'm losing my touch, obviously.

Coming up on Saturday is The Lieutenant of Inismore which I've been hearing about for years. My entire knowledge of it is that it involves a trained cat, two disembowellings on stage, made Barry fall out of his chair with laughter, and that we've been trying to get the rights for it for years. My morbid curiosity is killing me.

And next Monday? A Streetcar Named Desire, which I'm less than excited about. But since I've never seen nor read it, I'm reserving judgement until I can make an educated decision.

Such is the mayhem of my life.

Endless Summer

Spring has definitely sprung here in the City of Angels. (Crap. What do you mean it's almost June?!) What does that mean? Well, the jacaranda trees are blooming purple, the mock orange trees are exuding their musk, and the jasmine is making the nights fragrant.

It also means that it's getting very close to time for our company picnic, which is at Magic Mountain! The last time I was there I was 17 and I went on the Viper about 5 times in a row. I'm completely stoked, to say the least. The fact that it's free makes it even better! (Maybe I'll get my picture taken with Wakko this time.)

My cousin Amanda is getting married in a week to a very sweet guy who thinks the world of her. We knew they were destined for each other when he bought her Mickey Mouse Croc's for Valentine's Day. Now that's true love.

We've postponed the Banshee show for this summer, so I find myself with an appalling amount of time on my hands. Time to go to the gym or jog around the neighborhood and get rid of my pudgy belly. (Read with a Scottish brogue.) Maybe I'll finish the two cross-stitching projects that I've had in the works for years.

We're having a reading on Monday night for another prospective show for Banshee's upcoming season. One of the critics who loves us best, suggested we give Macbeth a go. (We'll see how many Blackadder jokes come out during the evening. "Hot potato, off with her drawers, Puck will make amends!") I'm hoping not very many women come, so I can read one of the witches. "Something wicked this way comes."

Recently, I found out that one of my favorite books The Killer Angels (read it yet, Ang?) has had a stage adaptation done of it. Needless to say, I got my anxiouus little hands on it in short order and read it immediately. Hopefully, the Banshee's will like it as much as I have.

Come Closer, My Child

During a lovely day at the Huntington Botanical Garden today, we took the guided tour. I've never done it before, but we found some pretty interesting things. Such as, this African Fever Tree.


Now, my auntie and I had exactly the same thought at exactly the same time. (And now my mother is too...)


They grow my the banks of the great, grey, green, greasy Limpopo River.


Don't know what we're talking about? Read "The Elephant's Child" by Rudyard Kipling and then come back.

A Warning

I just watched the biggest squirrel in the history of the universe set off a car alarm. Keep an eye out for those wily little buggers. Who knows what they're after this time.

May Day

A happy May Day too all of you.

Some lovely little pink things that grow in the parking lot at work. Yes, the parking lot.

Here's the bougainvillea growing outside my apartment. It's one of things I love most about my building.

And look at this horse! How cool is that? I love that it's tail is so carefully braided.

Dropping Like Flies

It's so hot today, the cat tipped over.

To a Mouse...

Of Mice & Men is officially closed as of 4:30 this afternoon and, I have to admit, I don't quite know what to do with myself. I thought I was glad for this one to close, but now... I'm not so sure.

We did the show, we went to Timmy Nolan's and ate and drank, and we went back to the theatre and dismantled the set. Ten hours ago when I got to the theatre it was Soledad, CA complete with bunkhouse, barn, and riverbank.Now it's (mostly) a black box with a strange wall in the middle.

I'm in mourning.

I'll miss the prologue. Mike's great lights with Troy's exquisite music. It did so much to set the tone and bring the audience into the world of the play.

I'll miss watching Josh go between Bruce Willis, himself, and Clint Eastwood in his portrayal of Curley.

I'll miss the looks on people's faces as they leave, wiping the tears off their cheeks.

I'll miss the way Mark said, "Whing... ding."

I'll miss the way every time I gave a call (like "ten minutes") Gary would say, "Till what?"

I'll miss Annie's fantastically awesome, old-school movie star hair and the way she "flops her can around."

And I'll miss Sean and Andrew period.

Thank you Steinbeck, thank you Banshee, thank you Auntie. It was a memorable tenth show.

"If we shadows have offended,
think but this and all is mended,
that you have but slumbered here
while these visions did appear.

And as I am an honest Puck,
if we have unearned luck
now to 'scape the serpent's tongue
we will make amends ere long.

Else the Puck a liar call
and so good night unto you all.
Give me your hands if we be friends
and Robin will restore amends."
-A Midsummer Night's Dream(Not Mice, but the sentiment is right.)

Home Again... Home Again...

One of the quirkier parts of my new job is the drive home.

First, there's the landfill from which emanates fascinating smells when the weather is over 60 degrees. Most of them have a hint of pine. Figure that one out.

Second is the "District of Sin" (my name for it). First, I pass the wholesale ice cream store and then, two blocks later, the wholesale XXX DVD store. Sounds like a good time, right?

Third is the very cool tree. It's on the parking strip in the District and the trunk is completely hollow, but one side is worn away so you can see inside. And despite all this, it's flourishing. Green and glorious. I'm hoping to get a picture of it one day.

Fourth is the cement "river" with four inches of stagnant, rat-infested water in the bottom. It's strewn with grafitti and all sorts of unsavoury garbage. The best part is the "No Swimming" sign right by it.

Last, and this is the best part, was the Lexus I was behind yesterday. In the back window, with a fluffy towel below it and a luxurious sunbeam above it, was a gigantic white cat. You know, like that cat that the Bond villain had. (What was his name, Josh?) It looked out of the window at me as if to say, "Yes, Jeeves and I are out on the town today. A trip to the Turkish baths, a stint on Rodeo Drive, and then off to the Club for brandy and cigars." It made me wish I could join him.

What about the grocery story with the mini carnival in the parking lot? Well, it's long gone.

And what about the latino gentleman riding the dappled grey horse that would mike mother go all giggly and googly-eyed? I still see him occasionally.

This is why I take surface streets instead of the freeway. You never see this stuff zooming along at 70 mph. Try it sometime. You might see the sign for the restuarant "HUNAN TASTE" that (I swear to God) looks like it says "HUMAN TASTE." Really.

Inquiring Young Minds...

Today, we had the first ever "School Matinee" at the Banshee. Two English classes came from a local highschool for a morning of Steinbeck. They snickered at inappropriate moments, dropped brownie crumbs on our floors, and generally were... well, highschool students. But, during the Q&A after the show, they asked some intelligent questions (and some that only Steinbeck could answer from beyond the grave).

Many students have come to see Of Mice & Men, whether it's been for extra credit or because their parents made them, and it seems that all of them have enjoyed themselves immensely. They cringe when the gun is fired, groan when the puppy ends up dead, and occasionally sob at the end. One of them even said, "Oh, shit," one night when Lennie mentioned that his puppy was dead. You've gotta love live theatre.

And after the show's over? They swarm the stage, take pictures on the set, and swoon over the slightly-perplexed actors. This is the first crowd I've seen ask for autographs. Mark was even accosted at the bar one night, when a swarm of adoring girls found him there.

All in all, I couldn't be happier with the interest they've shown. After all, our box office has done better for this show than the last two combined! And what does that mean? It means we get to do another show! Year of the Hiker by John B. Keane is coming up in July. But, we still have two weeks of Mice left, so bring on the students. We've got plenty of brownies left.

More and More...

...like my mother every day. I'll slip an arm into a sleeve and when the hand comes out it will be Mum's hand. I'll INSIST on having levels on the buffet table at a party and think, "Oh, that was Mum."

And then there was this past Saturday. The infamous "Tech Day," when lights and sound are finally added into the mixture and all hell breaks loose. Oddly enough, that's the fun part. All the sitting around and "paying attention" finally pays off on Tech Day when I get to do what I do best.

The bit of Mum that permeated through me was the part of her that's emotionally susceptible... that it to say, the part that weeps at the drop of a hat.

Not to worry, the big bad mean director didn't make me cry. The lights, however, did.

No, really.

Mary, our usual lighting goddess is out of town at the moment and Mike the Awesome has taken over for her. He did the lights for Power a year ago and did a wonderful job. Well, he set up a prologue for Of Mice and Men that slowly fades the lights up on the area for each scene, brilliantly showing off our very cool set. Not only that, but Troy Sterling Nies has composed some original music for us too. The first time we played the song "Someday" with the lighting cue, it took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes.

I have to say, my dear auntie was also brought to tears, so I'm blaming it on genetics.

Pictures to follow...

The Evolution of Dance

A friend at my new job showed this to me the other day. Apparently I'm the only person on the planet who knew nothing about it. I'm hoping I can share the joy with a few other people out there.

This guy's awesome.

Not Every Day

Not even in L.A. is this a common occurence.

Sunday night/Monday morning. 2:17am.

I awaken to the sound of four, very drunk morons, loitering outside my bedroom window. One of these morons is barfing LOUDLY, while his friends say eloquent things like, "Fuck you!" "No, man, fuck you!"

I sigh, hoping they'll take Mr. Drunk-Off-His-Ass home to sleep it off.

A few minutes pass and the barfing noises increase in obnoxiousness and... violence, I suppose is a good word for it. Ick.

Finally, I lean out the window and yell, "Shut the hell up! Some of us have to sleep!"

The ass-munch leader of this band of merry men, looks up at me and says, "Sorry, whore."

I roll my eyes and go back to bed and apparently my admonition works, because 20 seconds later, they're gone.

It's not every day I get called a whore. Ali and I are still laughing about it.

Winnie the Pooh and Banshee Too

So, the runner lights have been broken at The Banshee for a year now. And what are "runner lights?" say the poor theatre-deprived plebs out there. Runner lights are the lights on the edge of the stairs that keep you from falling the 20,000 feet from the nosebleed seats to a horrid and bloody death at center stage. In our case, they save you from falling six inches and slightly bruising your ass. A few months ago, we had a general work call to fix a few of the more pathetic eyesores, one of which was the runners. We pulled out the old ones and decided the best way to fix them would be to take one of those long chain lights, drill a hole in the edge of each step, and thread it up, along the edge, down, up to the next step, and so on. With two chains we could fix them all.

Here's the catch. To thread them back up, we'd have to get under the stairs. Being that the Banshee is a converted tile store and not the Royal Albert Hall, it wasn't built with this kind of maintenance in mind. we decided to bang a hole in the box office, behind the fridge, and from there we could crawl underneath and get the job done. Our boys took great delight in smashing a suitable hole. Suitable for them, because there was no way in hell they could fit through it. With studs on two sides, an electrical outlet on one, and the floor on the last, it could only be made so big.

Now to find a spelunker and bribe them to make friends with the spiders. First was Mary, who (like a lunatic) volunteered. She got in up to her ass and got stuck. She wriggled back out and Sean and Andrew looked for their next victim. You could hear the wheels turning in their overly-enthusiastic minds. It should be someone who caves easily when we talk sweetly to her. Someone like... And their heads turned as one to look at me.

Swell. I kept envisioning Alfred Molina in Raiders of the Lost Ark with all those creepy-ass tarantulas crawling all over him. I kneel down, peer into the Pit of Despair and keep going. I can hear Mary and the boys saying encouraging things from behind, but all I can think about is how cool it is that my boobs are getting stuck. I give myself a drywall mammogram and manage to squeeze them through, but I too am stopped by my hips. (I prefer to say "hips" instead of "fat ass.") Naughty words echoed in my head at this point and probably escaped my lips too, but only my arachnid cohorts could hear me.

And so, I shift into reverse and find the hole to be even smaller going in this direction. And now my shirt is caught on the drywall... and now my bra is stuck on my shirt and the drywall... and I vaguely hear Mary shooing the guys out of the box office and closing the door, so I don't flash all of Magnolia Blvd.

And then it hits me how funny this whole thing is and I start to laugh. I'm stuck on my knees, halfway in a half-assed hole, boobs blowing in the wind, shirt in my armpits, plaster all over me, and a show to run in about an hour and a half. I can just picture the handy-dandy Burbank firemen cutting my topless self out of the wall. Still snorting with laughter, I finally manage to get out of the damned hole and get my girls back under wraps.

Covered in plaster and trying not to snicker, I attempt an evil glare at Sean and Andrew and fail miserably. They know I love this stuff.

Next is Josie's turn and she decides to go in backwards, because if my boobs barely fit, hers DEFINITELY won't. She actually makes it in all the way, but then remembers how claustrophobic she is. Oops. I took some pictures of her head sticking out the wall and Sean and Andrew looking on in concern. In deference to Jos, I won't post them.

After she calms down, she turns around only to find that there's nowhere to go. The studs are too close and there's no way in hell our genius plan will work.

And how did it turn out, you ask?

Well, I got all the plaster out of my hair, changed into a fantastic dress, and ran the show without incident, the hole is now covered by the fridge, I've got two boxes of chain lights in my booth, and the runner lights are still broken. I love the theatre!

Extra credit points to those of you who get the Winnie the Pooh reference in the title.

What I Learned on My Christmas Vacation

Don't wear a blue velvet track suit and leave the plastic sleeves on the handle of your purse. You look like a fool.

Bring something sharp with which to jab the asshole next to you, who kept his drink cup so he could spit tobacco juice into it every two seconds.

Deny yourself that chai from Starbucks, if only to spare yourself the humiliation and discomfort that come when you remove it from the seat pocket in front of you to give to the nice Southwest flight attendant for disposal and end up spilling your Coke onto your crotch. Or, if you must, wait until the second leg of the flight rather than the first.

Do your best not to hurl onto the happy, gibbering, smooching, cuddling couple that you wind up sitting next to. Ah, isn't it sweet, they fell asleep on each other. Where's my barf bag?

And these lessons were just in the airport and on the planes! What did you learn in Utah, Kati?

If you're going to wear your chartreuse muppet-skin hood to the grocery store, be prepared for people to stare at you and laugh. And by "people," I mean me and my mom.

Grand Marnier makes a damn fine Cosmopolitan.

My dad doesn't like risotto, because it's too "glutinous." Yeah, I don't get it either.

The second National Treasure was better than the first.

Toast racks kick ass.

Snow is fun, but only for short periods of time.

Two door cars suck.

Being 28 feels pretty much the same as being 27.

Happy New Year, all!