seriously

You guys, this is a serious blog. Really. It's not tongue in cheek. My tongue is totally where it should be: lightly resting against the back of my upper teeth so as to avoid unconscious jaw tension.

I saw Michelle Williams yesterday at Urban Spring on DeKalb in Fort Greene eating a sandwich of what looked like beets and goat cheese. Her daughter was drinking a smoothie and dressed in an awesome fairy-princess ballet outfit. Her kid looks JUST like Heath Ledger. The resemblance was so striking, it made me sad to think about the recent tragedy. Michelle looked totally beautiful, but totally had that single-mother-tired about her. Not to mention that the-father-of-my-child-recently-died look behind her eyes.

It made me think about how a long time ago, I got a call back for Dawson's Creek. I was pissed when I didn't get cast, and I remember watching the show and hating all the actors on it for getting to be television stars in Hollywood while I ate hot-dish and did nordic skiing in Minnesota.

Now one of them is a Scientologist married to arguably the biggest gay-rumor in Hollywood and the other is a single mother widow. I work at a wine store.

I guess seeing single-mother-widow-Williams reminded me that life is usually insanely unglamorous no matter who you are. It is difficult in varying levels and varyings ways. Surely the Dawson's Creek girls have things that I covet: nice jeans, enough money to eat at Urban Spring, the prospect of getting acting work ever again. But maybe I have things that they think I'm really lucky to have and they wish they had too.

Like 25% employee discount at Thirst Wine Merchants?

Tongue back in to normal cheek position.

Friday night

These things really happen.

Me: what can I bring you?
Lady w/big weird headband who looks like Velma from Scooby Doo: Um, well, I need your help
Me: OK, sure, what do you need?
Velma: Well, cheese.
Me: OK
Velma: What do you like?
Me: Oh, well have you tried the Humboldt Fog? That's a popular one that's kind of famous, or the Robiolo is delicious if you want something mild.
Velma: Well . . .
Me: . . . yes . . .
Velma: yes but which one tastes the most like cheese?
Me: . . .
Velma: . . .
Me: . . . the most like cheese? I guess I don't know what you mean.
Velma: you know, like, cheese, like . . .
Me: . . .
Velma: . . . I'll have the olives.
Me: great

Obama Brown

Maybe I shouldn't be an actress because whenever I watch myself on tape, it makes me hate myself.

These British guys stopped me in Union Square on the way to have brunch with Katy. I of course thought that I gave them thoughtful, intelligent answers to their questions, but they managed to make me look like a douche bag anyway.

Hotlanta

Just when I had dug my apron out of storage, reminded myself of the difference between Bordelaise and Béarnaise, memorized the 13 varietals in Chateauneuf-du-Pape, and braced myself for another year of bullshitting my way through wine sales and memorizing specials in the name of tip-groveling servitude, the acting Gods smiled on me and threw me a little bone. Not that little I guess. Probably like an Osso Buco bone though that still had a little marrow inside of it.

Somehow, after showcasing my acting prowess by awkwardly improvising dialogue with a stuffed bear, I managed to book an AT&T commercial. That's really what happened in the audition. First they were like, "pretend you're walking around and that you are going to use your phone to broadcast your friend singing karaoke in his room, unbeknownst to him." I think I said something like, "Oh, wow, this AT&T videoshare thing is so great, I'm going to make Alden look ridiculous. I hope he sings Journey." (Sorry Alden, for some reason your name was the first that came to mind. You know I'm terrible with improv). They thought that was good so I got to graduate to the next ridiculous audition requirement which was to sit next to a stuffed bear and to react when the bear said weird, mean things to me.

B: hey, hey, will you go out with me?
L: um, no you're a stuffed bear.
B: yeah, but, are you hungry?
L: no I'm f-
B: do you want a sandwich?
L: no really I'm n-
B: do you want swiss cheese on it?
L: no cheese makes me fart
(the director and producers laugh)
B: can I come to work with you?
L: no, I'm a waitress, you'd get-
B: do you wait tables so you can get free food?
L: no I wait tables so I can get tips. I'm a whore.
(directors and producers laugh)

When I left I thought, "wow, there is no way I will never get that job." Especially considering the fact that every other person called back had a UCB resume 3 pages long. But here I am in Atlanta through the end of the week to film this series of viral videos for AT&T. It's not like I'm starring on Broadway or anything, but at least now I can pay my rent for the next couple of months which is always very exciting. And to think all it took was fart jokes and self-deprecation. Maybe improv isn't so scary after all

a couple of things

These video clips of a Fabulous Entourage interview kind of make me hate myself (do I really talk like that? Do I really have a hand gesture for every word I say?) but it seems like the kind of thing someone would post on their blog if they had a blog. And I do. So here you go. Here's me talking about my Midwestern guilt complex:
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You can watch like 20 more of these video clips (don't worry I don't talk in most of them) at www.uncensoredinterview.com. Kind of weird. But it does make you want to come over and hang out in my backyard right?

Tell me What you Want to Hear

You guys, now that I'm moving back to New York (official return date is Sunday February 3rd!) there's no reason to really keep this blog anymore. That is unless ya'll want to hear stories about going on musical theater auditions and playing in a rock band and living in Brooklyn. That might be interesting to someone. I guess I could just try and write witty, pithy stories about funny things that happen to me and all the precious life lessons that I learn as I go through my days. Hmmm. That sounds exactly like the kind of blog I would never read. How about reviews of things? Restaurants? Music? Musicals? Celebrity gossip? Whitman alumni gossip? Musical theater audition gossip? Cute guys on the L-train sightings? Hmm, I just don't know. Maybe I'll start writing songs and post them in unfinished form on here and then people can write in and tell me what they think of them. That puts a lot of pressure on you guys though. Well, I won't make any major decisions yet, but I'm taking suggestions. Tell me what you want to hear and I'll give it to you.

Homecoming

Wow. I am lazy. I wish I had a better excuse for not posting for an entire month, but the truth is that there were episodes of Heroes to be watched, trips to Whole Foods to be made and lame, rambling riffs on the guitar to be played ad nauseum. And those things just took precedence over blogging. Also Christmas happened. And before that my Grandma died, and before that Thanksgiving happened. And in between there were lots of people visiting. So, hopefully those excuses will suffice.

So after 6 months of ABBA, gambling, palm trees, high winds, a walk-in closet, a Ford Focus and a Mucinex addiction, the time has come to return home. Hooray! My last performance will be on Sunday January 27th after which I'll go home to Minnesota for a few days and then head back to sweet, sweet, delicious New York.

So we should totes party when I get back. And I extend that invitation to anyone who finds themselves reading this. Bring your plus-one and let's hang out because chances are I've missed you. And if I've forgotten you in the hustle and bustle of my fabulous Vegas life, then once you remind me who you are I'll totally realize that I have missed you all along. I will be accepting congratulatory drinks, dinners, lunches, shows and yoga classes through February. xoxoxoxoxoxo