hmmm. Straight Night.

   It's funny how so many people sort of hate Mondays and what they usually stand for--back to work, the end of a free weekend--while I LOVE Mondays.  They are my one free, totally-up-to-me day of the week.  Sometimes I think I might like Sunday nights even better; the anticipation of a great thing weighing even stronger with me than the thing itself, but still Mondays are pretty darn near lovely.  

   Today was a great day.  I did so much.  Really.

   I voted (absentee-style. And DE is kind enough to send me an already-addressed-envelope, now that's what I call service!).

  I made reservations for a birthday soiree for my friend Ian at a, or rather the only downtown restaurant that stays open past our show here in Cleveland.

   I went and picked out one of those huge birthday cards for him so that the whole cast could sign it.  I had a whopping five to choose from and believe me when I say that none of them really had Ian written all over it. Heck, none of them had Ian written anywhere on it.

  So I settled for the puppy-dog card.  I figured most people likes puppies, especially the kind that are on a card and will not have an accident on your carpet or be inappropriate with your friend's leg.  

   The puppy-dog was the better choice, especially when the other cards had either a cartoon drawing of a butt on it or some sort of lame joke about getting older.  

   But the card store did have a special: buy three, get three for free.  I figured since I already bought one...I might as well just pick out two more, and then I can pick out three more!  I mean, it made sense at the time.  

   So thirty minutes later, I left the store with six cards in tow--including the huge one with a puppy-dog on it, but you already know about that, I guess.

   I also went online and picked out a birthday present for a very special person in my life (that's all I will say about that, though, because that person reads this blog).

   And I bought two pair of leggings that ended up being way too short for my legs.  Great. Now I have to make a trip back to the depressing mall where I found the puppy-dog card.  

   And you thought I was being sarcastic when I first stated that I did so much today...But wait--there's even more...Some of the guys were hosting (I kid you not) Straight Night. The plan was to watch football and play poker.  And I got invited...

   So I went.  It was pretty fun; for a while I was the only girl in attendance, but nobody seemed to hold that against me.  We talked, we watched football, I glared at Bill Belichick whenever I got the chance (I know he couldn't see me, necessarily, but I bet he felt my glare somewhere down deep in his soul.  That's assuming he even has a soul).  I did draw the line at playing Bloody Knuckles, however.  Hitting another person over and over again is not my idea of a good time (and don't even try to bring up that monster. I only hit him once!). 

   So all in all, it was a good day. Quiet. Restful.  And there was a nice to-do list that I got to mentally check off.  Oh, but I didn't end up playing poker, which is probably a good thing because I've never played poker. When the guys asked me if I wanted to attend Straight Night and play poker, I said, Poker's like Yatzee, right? They just looked at me with a big old question mark written all over their faces. You know, full house, three of a kind, four of a kind, large straight...I totally got it. They were like, Sure Jess, I guess it's kinda like yatzee, if that's how you like to think about it...). My roommate is out for the night so I went back to my hotel to take advantage of a room all to myself for the evening.  

   And to fill out the six cards I bought on impulse this afternoon...

  

scatting? REALLY?

         While standing on the line tonight, I literally thought to myself, Not so much is going on right now, maybe I will take a night off from blogging.

          Well, first let me say that I don't usually think about blogging too much while doing my show and I don't necessarily condone letting my mind wander while on the job.  With that said, I will mention that there are a few spots in the show that it is possible for me to let my mind wander and not hinder the show...

       But truly, the aforementioned thought struck me a moment too soon.  

        Because then Zack said, Okay. Kristine.  And I was on.  The monologue went well, the beginning of the song went well, the middle of the song went well, and then the last verse hit.  I know I have mentioned this before, but I will just recap it for the purpose of this story.  Al (my husband) finishes every one of my sentences in our song.  Every one.  So tonight I sang, 

      I'm a birdie on the...

     And dear Al was supposed to sing ...wing!

    But my wonderful show husband could not, for the life of him, remember that dang word.  So what does he do?  He mimes it.  Yes, he puts his hands together and motions two wings flying through space but does not sing a word.  

    I am looking in the opposite direction at that point, so I don't see the game of charades going on; I simply hear the deafening silence.  

   And I lose it.  Lose it! I guess I caught whatever he had, because I can't remember my lyric that follows his.

    My next lines go something like this,

    doo be doo be da ba, la dee do doo dum dum...

      Yep, not one word of English in the whole mix.  Kristine is just scatting her little brains out on stage, not making sense, and (according to Clyde, who informed me of this later) waving her arms around wildly with eyes open wide in terror.  Later, my dance captain mentioned the terror in my eyes to me, as well, and he was sitting in the 6th row.  Just perfect.

     After what feels like an age and a half, I finally remember the thread of lyrics and catch up with a sentence that makes actual sense. Imagine that.  Singing a song that makes sense. What a novel idea for a musical.  

      We finish the song and I cannot believe what transpired.  Colt and I hold hands just as tight as can be, both silently commiserating with the other over the train wreck that was our song.  The audience cheers loudly and I can't tell if it's because they felt sorry for us, were impressed by my impromptu scatting, or actually thought the number was good.  

     I guess I'll never know.  

    Anyway, I had to share this gem with you.  It was awful, but hey, it happens. Especially in live theater.  I just hope it doesn't ever happen again to me.

           

  

tonight I punched a monster in the face

     I didn't mean to.  Honest.

     A group of us went to a haunted house tonight--actually, more like a haunted structure.  Or rather, structures. It was called The 7 levels of Hell, though I do believe that hell would be tons worse than what I saw tonight.  

     I mean, really, if you can buy a corn dog in hell than well, it's definitely not hell.  

     Oh, and tonight I had my first corn dog ever!  It was absolutely delicious.  So delicious, in fact, that I got another one before the end of the night. Don't judge...

      Anyway, we were going through one of the structures--this one was a corn maze, I believe--and I was clutching on to Ian's arm with all the strength and determination of a woman anticipating a monster to jump out at her at any moment (though, I did notice that Ian was just as happy to clutch my arm right back), when I saw this fake face peeking out at me through the fence.  

    Well, I am not sure what, exactly, came over me because it is generally not my style to just punch inanimate objects in their inanimate faces, but maybe I will toss it up to the corn dog, or rather, corn dogs because when  I saw it's ugly little weedy face, I just punched it.  

    And then, horror of all horrors, it came to life!

     IT. CAME. TO. LIFE.

     And started growling and moving and being altogether NOT inanimate at all.  I screamed and jumped back (making sure to not let go of Ian's arm, mind you).  As soon as I was at a safe distance away from the monster I apologized to it profusely because I really do not want to promote violence--even if it is towards a monster that you think is inanimate.  

    People in my group started informing me that I would have to go to jail because there was a sign at the ticket booth that stated: Punch a monster, go to jail.  

   Oh crap, I thought, I hope they serve corn dogs in jail, I hoped.  

    Turns out that was an empty threat, though, because well, I am blogging now and obviously not in jail. But yeah, I punched a monster in the face.  How many people can say that, I wonder?

some pics, some text, for your viewing pleasure...

   I thought I'd share some pics with you--some from tour, some from other shows.

   Here we are, grooving, with Anthony jumping over our heads like it ain't no thang.

   And you can't very well be in A Chorus Line, without showing this, right? And (she tries to act all nonchalant, but is actually very excited...) you might have seen this same photo on a billboard.  You know, one of those really big advertisement things that are hovering over highways...? Oh, you're familiar with the concept of a billboard? Right, of course.
  This is from the National Tour of the Will Rogers Follies.  I am dead center, on the top stair.  Did I mention that I did a show for almost a year on stairs?!  Yeah...And for any of you who are country music fans, Larry Gatlin is shown here downstage center as our Will:
Quick story about that show: At our opening in TX we were enthusiastically giving it during the seemingly endless tap extravaganza that was the top of our show.  We were all on the stairs tapping and singing when, in the space of about a minute, three of us went down.  Either from our chaps getting caught on the stairs or just from plain falling, we lost some of the ensemble.  From the audience's perspective it must have looked like there was a sniper in the house.  I wouldn't have been surprised if they had taken cover, too.  

 Oh, and here is me as Belle! I mean, what girl doesn't want to be Belle? It was a dream. Truly.
  And here is the gang, during the 4th montage, about to go into our nervous breakdown on stage.  Most of us really like this part of the show because we get to yell whatever we want and have temper tantrums, respectively, on stage.  Awesome, right? And this is my job!!!
  And here we are in our backyard at my L.A. digs.  I would like to point out that I am really helping these spindly-armed, out of shape, weak excuses of men that happen to be friends of mine in the cast.  It's a very good thing I was there...
  In addition, I will say that Jay (the one directly in front of me) is helping maybe just a tad bit more than I am.  But not by much, not by much.

   And here we are in L.A.--John, Kevin, Jay, and me.  Oh, and it's my birthday!  I like these guys a lot. Okay, so I love these guys.  So much...  
Making the face that pretty much only I can make.  It's a way I have of plugging my nostrils with my lips.  And get this--I swim that way! I never need to hold my nose or wear nose plugs or nothin!  It might be very strange looking, but hey, it gets the job done.
Wine Country, USA.  Riding in style outside San Fran, and I am rocking albino-white skin for some reason. Jealous?!?!
  In the back of the corvette I surprised Drew with in San Diego.  I am wearing Drew's pin-striped jacket and Anthony is showing you a dangerously low-cut shirt.  Gabi is to my left and John is giving you face over Anthony's shoulder like he's on the cover of a magazine (maybe because he has been on the cover of a magazine!),
One more thing: Today I found myself lost at the bottom of my friend Derek's apartment complex here in Cleveland.  Contributing factors to my wandering was that the  bottom of the apartment complex is a strip mall as well as being adjacent to a college, with connecting hallways and everything.  I mean, sure I had been there just last night, up in one of the apartments, but come on--that was like 12 hours ago!  

 It's not like my mind is a computer! Or a GPS, for that matter...

  So, I was wandering around, trying to figure out how I was gonna find Derek in his apartment when three ladies walked up to me.

  Are you Kristine? asked one of the ladies.

  Not Are you in A Chorus Line? or even Do you play Kristine? but Are you Kristine? Just like that, as if she just happened to watch the real me audition for a show, along with my husband and about 16 other people.   

  I thought about it for a second, took in the fact that I was lost at the bottom of a building that I knew housed the apartment I needed to get to, was intimidated by my confusing surroundings, and really could use Al's help right about now (if you haven't seen the show, Kristine is truly dependent upon her husband Al), and could only smile as I replied,

   Yes. I definitely am Kristine.  

   She went on to say some very kind things, for which I am grateful. I went on to ask a security guard how the heck I get to Derek's apartment and did, eventually, find it.   

isn't it ironic?

     Sorry I couldn't post last night; sometimes blogger doesn't believe that it's me--even though I use the same exact password and user name--and so won't allow me to post.

     I guess it's just doing it's job.  But still, I find it very irritating. 

     Anyway, just wanted to give one more addition to my travel day story, though it has transpired in the days since Monday.

      After our first difficult day at the Wyndham, a few of us visited the Radisson down the street, asking for availability and rates.  They were delighted to have us, sympathized over our staying in a hotel that was currently under construction, and let us know they would match those rates and do whatever else they could to make our stay with them comfortable.

   The only issue for us was that our company had already hired the Teamsters (which is a rather tough union that pretty much is on parr with the mafia here in Cleveland) to move our extremely heavy trunks that travel with us.

   Seriously, these trunks are probably about 200 lbs each.

   We didn't know how we were going to move them from one hotel to the next.  And we weren't about to try to contact the Teamsters...

   But we wanted out of our current hotel and the tap-tap-tapping on the walls.

    Anyway, an angel in the form of Gina the Italian (and no, she is not a Teamster) heard of our plight at our opening night party here.  She is the VP of the Playhouse Theater and owns the Wyndham (where we were staying, albeit somewhat unhappily).  She was sad to find out that the construction was bothering us and told us that she would do anything she could to help us move to a better-suited location.

   Great.

   So, we called Gina the Italian the next day and she sent over the maintenance men from the theater, complete with dollies and a large white van.  They were gracious enough to move our trunks for us and we checked into the Radisson with no further problems.  We were even pleasantly surprised to find that they put us up in a spacious suite and we had tons of room (plus sleep number beds!).

   We went to lunch and on the way back passed a parking structure that was under construction.  We couldn't help but notice it was practically adjacent to the Radisson.  I said, Wouldn't it be ironic if we got into our room and could hear the drilling from the parking garage?!

  We all had a good laugh at that and shook our heads at the improbability of it.

   Famous last words, right?

    Me and Gabi got into our room that was conveniently situated on the side of the building that practically shares space with the parking garage.  And we heard drilling.

   But this time it was louder than we'd ever heard it in the Wyndham.  We laughed, but just a little because it meant we had to pack up everything again and move those blasted trunks again.  

   We called the front desk and explained to them that we couldn't stay in this room due to the loud drilling noises coming through the walls.  They understood and moved us.  

  We didn't get a suite again, but it was a fine trade for peace and quiet.  Hopefully we will stay here at least until we go to Toronto in a week and a half.  

   And anybody who can create a silent drill would have my vote for president. I'm just saying.

thank God for comfortable pants

     I think yesterday may have been my worst travel day ever.

      Even worse than when I went all the way to Africa and then freaked out when I got off the plane because I suddenly remembered how many dangerous animals reside there.

      Even worse than when I went all the way to Korea, boarding the plane with a whole slew of people that made up a cast I had yet to know and could only hope held a few friends for me.  

     It all started with my anxiety over having to wake up early for my flight from Greenville to Cleveland.  I am such a night owl, that going to bed earlier than say, 2 am--even when I know I need to because of an early morning--proves generally difficult.  I end up laying in bed, lights off, eyes closed, willing myself to drift into sleep.  But the harder I try to force it, the further it fleets from me.  

   Combine that with the large amounts of midol I took on Sunday (which turns out has tons of caffeine in it. oops), and well, I just couldn't sleep.  After it seemed like an endless amount of tossing and turning (that cliche really is true. believe me), the clock finally struck 6 am and since my alarm was set for 6:15 anyway, I gave up the charade of sleep and just got up.  

   I got on the bus en route to the airport and was in a great mood, even despite my lack of sleep.  I was joking with my friends, wearing comfortable pants with an elastic waistband, and overall feeling good.   

   Even standing in line to check my luggage was no problem.  Again, I was with friends, we were making fun of each other and laughing, I hadn't slept, was still wearing those comfortable pants with the elastic waistband...Still good.

   I didn't even mind when, for some reason, one of our company managers started calling up people from behind me in line to get in front of me and check their bags.

   I figured that we were all getting on the same plane, so no big deal.

   I mean, sure, I noticed that somehow I had started out in the middle of the line and then ended up as one of the last to check my bag...But I was rolling with the punches, barely even feeling them at that point.

   We board the plane.  The, ah, tiny, plane. All but 4 people in the plane are part of the company of ACL.  The stewardess grabs the microphone and apologetically explains that though they tried their darnedest to get all of our luggage on the plane, some just didn't make it.  Of course they would do everything they could to get the luggage that didn't make the cut back to us as soon as possible.  

   Uh-oh. I have a sinking feeling that I was about to start feeling the punches.

   

   And then I start to crash. I mean, really crash.  I feel absolutely exhausted and start having fantasies of a bed and me stretched out onto it.  When the usual boarding-a-plane-and-it-could-very-well-go down thought strikes me, it is immediately followed by this thought:

 

  Well, at least then I would be able to sleep for a very long time...  

    The plane trip is mostly uneventful, save for the one time I find an as-close-to-comfortable-position-possible--I had taken the seat tray table down and was resting my head on it, with my furry jacket for a pillow--and was almost sleeping.  All of the sudden, halfway through the flight, mind you (so I had been lulled into a false sense of security that the seat in front of me was already in its final resting place), the seat in front of me reclines and squishes my head in the process.  I carefully extricate my head from the furry jacket and then contract back into my own seat so as to unstick myself from the newly-reclined seat in front of me.

   And here I thought that passenger wasn't going to recline, not when we'd already been flying for so long. What a tease.  

    We get off the plane and go to baggage claim.  I watch all of my friends gleefully grab their bags off of the conveyor belt; first one and then the other.  I am simply waiting for one bag, since I have downsized to a single suitcase, and that one bag just doesn't come.  

   The few of us who didn't make the cut are directed to the LOSER AREA, and yes that is the official title for it, don't even try to tell me it's not.  We shuffle over to the lost baggage counter like refugees with only the clothes on our bodies and a back pack.  One by one we describe our bags to the kind lady behind the counter and it's finally my turn:

    Well, my bag is a lovely shade of red, big and rolly, and...um...it has a sea horse on it!

   My friend Clyde cannot help but add some commentary as he says, Of course it has a sea horse on it...

   Clyde seems to think that I am childlike and different, but in a good way.  He is the one who calls me wholesome.  Actually, one day we were discussing some of the choice words that some characters choose to use as add libs on stage; there was a group of us and we mentioned how one actor in particular says f#@** a lot.  Clyde then pointed out that that wasn't all she says, She says worse words than f*#@*, actually.  

  

  I thought about this for a bit, and then leaned in to ask him, What's worse than a f#@*#?

  Clyde just looked at me and started laughing before finally saying, And that is why you're wholesome.  

  Anyway, when I asked Clyde why he thought it made such sense that I had a sea horse on my suitcase, he simply said, Easy. If you were a magical sea creature, you'd be a sea horse.

  Oh, I replied. That makes sense, I guess.

  Then it was my friend Kevin's turn to describe his suitcase.

   He starts, Well, my one suitcase is named Elphaba and she is big and green and rolls, and then there's Nessarose, and she's smaller and is red, like the shoes she wears that Dorothy steals at the top of Wicked...

   The lady behind the counter is typing all of this quite seriously and we are cracking up.  I love my friends.

   We get on the bus to get dropped off at our hotel.  I don't have my stuff, sure, but at least I will have a bed very soon...We check in at 12 but are told that we won't have a room until 2.  Some of the people in the company have rooms, but me and Gabi do not.  

   I try to remain positive. I remind myself that some people have very bad problems and wear extremely uncomfortable pants, while, if you remember, I am still wearing my very comfortable pants with an elastic waistband.  

  The lobby does smell like vomit, however, and that is somewhat bothersome...It becomes even more bothersome when we are allowed to store our luggage (or my back pack, as the case may be) in their back office/den of throw up. At least that is how it smelled.  I reluctantly leave my back pack there, hoping that it won't become too contaminated from that awful smell in the time it takes for me to find some food.  

   As politely as I can, I do ask the lady behind the counter if she could tell me why the lobby smells like vomit.  I don't think she loves my question, and she certainly makes it clear that she doesn't agree with me, though she does tell me she will check on it and promptly leaves.

   I can't help but wonder what, exactly, she is checking on--the huge vat of vomit that they apparently store in their offices?!?!

   We go to lunch. I am really dragging.  Clyde is sitting next to me and tells me I look a little crazy and that he understands why I can't string together sentences so well. I can cry at any moment. I eat a bacon cheeseburger in three bites, which is due to either my extreme exhaustion or how delicious that burger is.  

  Or maybe it is due to the fact that I am well aware of my comfortable pants and their elastic waistband.

   We call the hotel at 2 pm. Our room is still not ready. I can really cry now.  

 

    We wait a little longer and decide to just walk back to the hotel anyway.

    By 2:45 I am in my room, even better, in my bed.  I pull the sheets up around me and stretch my body out, so very happy to be laying down. I am anticipating maybe the best nap of my life.  

    And then I hear drilling noise right above me. Really, really loud drilling noise.  And I am not even kidding.

   Apparently the hotel is under construction. Perfect. I call the front desk.

   Hi. Listen, I haven't slept for a very very long time and it's gotten to the point the I need to sleep. Now.  How long will the drilling continue?

  Just until 3:30.  

  Well, I don't think the "just' is justified at all seeing as 3:30 feels like a very long time from now, but try to remain calm as I say,

  And at 3:30 the drilling will stop?  Forever?

   Ah yes, at 3:30 the drilling will stop forever, he promises.

   I thank him and hang up the phone.  I turn over and fall asleep.  Finally. 

Not Me Monday, in my own words...

      So, in honor of one of my favorite blogs , I am incorporating something of hers (at least for this week): Not Me Monday!

       It's an honest look at some of our blunders that we did, er, DIDN'T do this week...so (deep breath) here goes!

• While singing my one big number in A Chorus Line, I did not forget the last word that I have to belt out, bringing the song home.  Although the entire duet is about me singing and is in fact titled Sing, and that one word I had to sing at the end was, well, sing, I most certainly did not just wail out the word La! And right at the button of the number I did not hear a fellow cast member whisper La? to another cast member in complete incredulity.  And I certainly didn't have to stifle laughter at my own faux pas. Nope, not me!
• I did not fake a "hamstring issue" with stage management in order to allow my understudy to do the show for her family and friends in her hometown.  I also did not loose a little sleep, due to my anxiety over lying, reminding myself over and over again that it was for the greater good--much like the people who lied about hiding Jews during the holocaust.  I didn't go through any of that because it didn't happen.
• I did not then go to a haunted house the same night of said "hamstring issue," allowing my stage manager to find out about my excursion and even question me about it.  He did not pointedly ask me how I attended the haunted house with my "hamstring issue" and I did not scramble to lamely answer, Ah...I'm pretty sure the adrenaline was good for my hamstring...I mean, it didn't happen--but if it had, I would have come up with a much better reply than that.
• At that same haunted house, I did not have to cheat by refusing to enter an abandoned school bus and instead jump the ropes, run into the woods and around the bus, and meet all my friends on the other side of it.  I was not absolutely terrified when I saw the supposedly deceased bus driver jump to life and then brandish a chain saw and start chasing my friends.  First of all, I wasn't at the haunted house and second of all it's all make believe.  So no way did I just skip the bus altogether; nope, not me!
• I did not only take 2 showers this week.  That would be gross.  But if I did (which I didn't), I would have made sure to put deodorant on everyday, thereby marginalizing the grossness.  But it didn't happen, remember?
• I did not kill a spider and then accidentally allow it to slip out of the tissue paper and fall into my purse. And I do not still have a creeped-out feeling in the pit of my stomach because I never did recover it's body.
• I did not, upon discovering that my computer was coughing and spluttering, but not quite kicking into gear, lay hands on it and pray as if it were an actual person. And God did not, in turn, heal it.
• I did not go into a candy store this week and get overly excited at recognizing my favorite, usually-only-seasonal brand of jelly-beans for sale, not even in their trademark bag. I was not able to recognize them right away, turn around and ask the salesman if these were indeed Just Born jellybeans.  He did not look torn somewhere between wanting to hire me because I was that good a candy connoisseur and thinking that I should maybe get out more because I was a little crazy and obsessed with something as trivial as a jelly bean.  And he most certainly did not have to call the owner of the store from the back just to confirm to me that they were what I thought they were before I would commit to buying them.  

    Well, I feel pretty relieved knowing that none of these things actually happened.  It's kind of like that feeling of relief you get right after waking up from a bad dream and realizing that none of it was real...;-)

       Is there anything that you, ah, didn't do this week?