My NYC Trip.

I'm blogging this because people keep wanting to know what happened in NYC and I'm tired of talking about it so hopefully this blogsby will solve my problems. [EDIT: I wrote this while hopped up on cold medication, so it may be rife with errors. You've been warned.]

Tuesday, August 16
We were somehow bumped to a different AIRLINE. But this made us have a non-stop flight, which was awesome. Our choreographer (and my good friend) George Ferrie had his birthday at midnight! We went to Daly's in Astoria and drank for a long time. Some weird dude talked to us for a while. My friend Wes likes to ask "top 5" music questions when he's drunk and it makes me disgruntled when I'M drunk. Then, I bought a pitcher of beer, but everyone was ready to leave, so I got MORE disgruntled because my pitcher didn't get completely drank (drunken? drinked?) ... but really, I didn't care, because I was very drunk.

Wednesday, August 17
The rest of our brethren made it in safe. We found out how to get to our venue, and how to get to FringeCENTRAL. I vowed to buy a Fringe t-shirt at some point. We were accosted by a lady who was angry at our overloading of a postcard slot (dude, even if I explained it to you, you wouldn't get it unless you already got it), and THEN accosted by a dude who was German-esque and had come to Fringe because he was doing a Jeffrey Dahmer cabaret one-man show. SERIOUSLY. And he was super sassy. The whole thing felt surreal, and I wasn't even drunk. THEN! Some of us had dinner at Monster Pizza. Lemme say this: NEVER EAT AT MONSTER PIZZA IN NEW YORK. It is clearly a front for some kind of Eastern European money-laundering scheme. So unless you want to wait 25 minutes to get your check, avoid Monster Pizza at all costs.

Thursday, August 18
We had tech at 11:30am, and it was required that everyone show up at 10:30am. This didn't happen. The group I was with was in charge of transporting the props and costumes, and we spent a good 40 minutes looking for a cab. We managed to get to the space by 11am. Our stage manager had to go back for something and showed up around 11:15am. And one actor didn't show up until 12:15pm. Needless to say, the show was off to a rough start in NYC. Somehow, we got a full run in during our tee-tiny tech, and we all went our separate ways. I honestly remember nothing else that happened, which means I probably stayed in for the rest of the night. Oh! Did see a show that night, in the space in which we were performing. It wasn't great, but it was about an open mic night and used all different kinds of art, so I kind of loved it despite its crappiness. We DID find out about Fat Baby tonight, though, which made everything worth it. EVERY BAR SHOULD BE NAMED FAT BABY. I mean... FAT BABY. So amazing. The name wins everything, all at once.

Friday, August 19
Touring the city! Bought some liquor, wandered around Union Square, met up with some people to eat at Two Boots Pizza, which would have been cooler if they had more places to sit. And then I went to see another play, with my friends, at our venue. It was about a one-night stand, and two people's problems emerging during the night thanks to alcohol. It was better than the show from the night before, but there were still some issues (paging Terrible British Accent, party of one...). Nonetheless, I STILL didn't hate it. You have to understand: I'm a very hateful theatre person. I expect greatness from everything. And yet something about these Fringe shows made me all, "I LOVE THEATRE AND ART AND ARTISTS WORKING TOWARDS A GOAL SO EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE NOT GREAT I STILL LOVE THEM BECAUSE YAY NEW WORKS AND STUFF." Or something. I was just more forgiving, is the point. Anyway, Kelly's is a great dive bar off of Houston in NYC, if you're visiting. After Kelly's, a bunch of us also went to something called the FringeCLUB, where Fringees (I just made that up) got together to network and mingle and whatnot. (Note: The "whatnot" in that sentence might be unnecessary.) Mostly, it consists of people pushing their shows on you. Lots of show pimping, not a lot of getting to know people. I got drunk, and stopped listening to everyone.

Saturday, August 20
Went to visit our rehearsal space. Walked around Times Square, which is horrendously overwhelming. Also, I am the queen of "city walking." I will push by any motherfucker in my way, and I will complain loudly about people moving too slow or taking up too much of the sidewalk. This makes some people uncomfortable. I bought a $3 New York keychain, not because I wanted a New York souvenir, but because it had nail clippers, a nail file, AND a bottle opener all in one! For only $3! I couldn't pass it up. Then we went to Rockefeller Plaza, which was the shit. It's not the MOST awesome thing ever, but I love a good amount of NBC shows, so it was fun to see all of the weird shit they were selling in the NBC Experience Store. I really wanted a "Troy and Abed in the Morning" coffee mug, especially since it was MONSTER-sized, and I love big mugs for my tea. But it was $12, and I really didn't want to spend that kind of money on something like that. (At the end of my trip, when I saw that I had money left over, I felt very sad about not buying that mug.) I WAS willing to spend $5 on some old Law and Order: Criminal Intent stuff (because it amused me), but I knew it was useless, so I managed to talk myself out of that one. That night, I went out with my friend David and his girlfriend Elizabeth to a place called Bareburger (I think it's one word), and it was DELICIOUS. It was also amazing to talk to two people who have a lot of experience in the NYC theatre world. I have no interest in moving there, but I loved the conversation.

Sunday, August 21
We had a rehearsal. It went. I had never gotten to see some things from the show, so it was cool to be able to do that. After, I had planned to go to something called Fringe on the Fourth, which was another mixer-type thing. But by the time I got over there, a torrential downpour started. I tried to hide out under an awning for a while, until eventually I ran to the nearest place, which was a tavern called Plebe's. Had a delicious turkey burger, and then had to wait around FOREVER because my waitress was some vapid American Apparel-looking bitch and she forgot my beer. (The service was terrible in New York, for the most part. Not incredibly surprising, but I couldn't believe how rampant it was.) Went to a dance/multimedia show that night which was incredibly unfocused; however, instead of making me feel overwhelmed, it just made me sleepy. Seeing as the show was about dreams, and that our stage manager Natalie actually FELL ASLEEP during the show and still somehow liked it more than me, we wondered if maybe that was the point.

Monday, August 22
Didn't do much. Our first show was at 10pm, so I took my time getting ready. I got to wear my RIDICULOUS wig and makeup on the subway. Got a lot of strange looks, but not much else. I figured that if anyone said anything, they'd be crazy, because normal people don't talk to those who look weird. While I was stretching outside of the theatre, I heard some chick say, "WHAT is that hair?" but when she walked by me, she said, "I LOVE your hair." Bitch, I COULD HEAR YOU. Don't lie to someone you don't even know. Show went well, although I almost fell off my "tightrope" due to the nerves. Went to Fat Baby afterwards with friends Lindsay and Mary, who brought some hipster people with them to the bar. Hipster people scare the ever-loving shit out of me. THEY'RE GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD.

Tuesday, August 23
Saw a one-man show that was about virtual reality. It was not at ALL what I was expecting, but I ended up getting teary-eyed at the end. The performer was INSANELY good. Then we had to find a new parasol because the original BROKE during Monday's performance. GAH. We ended up getting a red one instead of a black one, which made the fact that it was part of how I killed myself in the show much sadder. If you didn't see the show, this might not make sense to you. But trust... sad red parasol is sad. Then we planned to see something called a harbor lights cruise, but got on the train going the wrong way, and had to fucking POWER WALK in order to get there on time. (Because of the amount of walking that had happened in the past week, there was no fucking way anyone was running.) We got there on time, spent 2 hours doing that, which was awesome. Then we ate at some place called the Theatre Row Diner, which consisted of a lot of mediocre food that made me have to poop.

OH GOD. I forgot that this was the day of the "earthquake." So ridiculous. I didn't feel anything, and this was my first inclination that New Yorkers are dramatic. If you know anyone in NYC who said they felt it, they're lying to you. [EDIT: My friend Shannon convinced me that she really DID feel it in her office building, so I feel obligated to note that here. FINE. SOME PEOPLE REALLY FELT IT.]

Wednesday, August 24
Second show! Despite our composer Patrick going to the hospital for a sesame allergy, it went more smoothly than the first. Went out with Wes and Allison (his girlfriend) to a place called Treehouse, which was chill, and had some sort of weird projector that showed movies on a brick wall across the street. Later in the night, it projected some guy filming people in the bar. Oh, New York, you have a lot of ridiculousness. A few of us grabbed a drink in Astoria afterwards, on our way home.

Thursday, August 25
The weather started getting worse, and the rain (and alcohol from the previous night) made me sleep through a show at noon that I planned to see. I saw another afternoon show, though, WHICH WAS AWFUL. The premise was cool on paper (two friends in a life or death contest), but the script was weak, the directing was staid, and the acting was excruciating. I laughed a few times (and was embarrassed about it), but mostly my face was one of disgust and incredulity. Worst play I saw at the Fringe. I bought my Fringe t-shirt and then walked around K-Mart until David was off work. THERE IS A K-MART IN NEW YORK CITY. Dude. I didn't even know those EXISTED in thriving neighborhoods. Anyway, David showed me around his new job, which is as production manager of the Vineyard Theatre - they're an off-Broadway theatre that is where Avenue Q, [title of show], How I Learned to Drive, and many more plays originated. It was AWESOME to experience. I then saw my final Fringe show, which was my favorite. The directing was extremely problematic, but the script was great and the acting was amazing. It was fantastic.

Friday, August 26
As I was getting ready for an afternoon performance, the festival posted on Facebook that all Sunday shows were cancelled (along with the closing night party) due to Irene. About an hour before our performance started, we found out that the Saturday shows were cancelled as well because the city ordered all pubtranspo (TM Brittany) to be shut down at noon on Saturday. Needless to say, we were devastated. Four months of work, and all of a sudden, we're doing our final show. It was our weakest of our Fringe shows, in my opinion, and I chalk that up to all of the drama with the cancelled shows. We had to strike EVERYTHING in 15 minutes after the performance, so there was a lot of "let's just throw it away" mentality. Our toy piano is gone, as are the canes and trapeze sticks. George's friend Amara got our trunk, and thus, a new coffee table. That night, our friend Rawb hooked us up (I would never say "hooked us up," but it feels very Rawb-esque, and if you know Rawb, you know that to be true) with free drinks at Webster Hall, which is an epic hipster club. People got shitcanned, some of us got neck injuries from whipping our hair back and forth, and some lady we didn't know did a striptease that weirded us all out. It was intense and awesome, and quite a way for all of us to spend our last night together. (We were in New York for longer, but couldn't meet up because of the pubtranspo stoppage.)

Saturday, August 27
HURRICANE IRENE HITS. At, like, 9pm. The city shut down pubtranspo at noon. DUMB. Our house started drinking around 2pm. I mean, how else do you cope with a hurricane? Wait, I mean... a "hurricane." Look, I'm aware that other places along the East Coast got hit HARD by Irene, and I'm not trying to trivialize that. But I don't understand how fucking METEOROLOGISTS saw that Irene would be a Category 1 by the time it hit NYC, and still felt like they had to overreact. I know hurricanes don't usually hit that far north, but there are NATIONAL meteorologists that should know better. Also, I hate the word "meteorologists." Anyway, we drank a lot, played some games, and then everyone went to sleep and I watched Grey's Anatomy. Drunk Tashina loooooooooves Grey's Anatomy even more than Sober Tashina. This is probably the girliest thing I partake in; you can judge me all you want.

Sunday, August 28
We got to get out of the house! We ate at some douchey place called Grand Cafe that was filled with Jersey Shore wannabes, and then we got some drinks after. I think we all drank too much on Saturday, though, because everyone was ready to go after one drink. Very uneventful day. Thanks to George, we all found out our flights would leave as scheduled. Yay! Unfortunately, the boys in the play who are still students booked their flights separately, and THEN their flights got cancelled, so they ended up leaving after everyone else. Oh, the irony. Is that irony? I feel like Alanis Morissette ruined the concept of irony for me. That's an old joke... except it's not a joke for me. It's reality. I DON'T UNDERSTAND IRONY ANYMORE. I think I need to go back to school so that I can be better about things.

Monday, August 29
We got home! That's all that's important. Oh, and Charlotte, North Carolina is a shithole.

Mark Lowry from Theater Jones asked us to do some posts about our trip for the website; if you want to read them, go here: FringeNYC Diary. That is the link to the last post, but there are links to all the other posts within it. I wrote two of them!

Aaaaaaaaaaand... I'm done. If you read the whole thing, I'm impressed. I'm pretty sure it got really boring at parts. Or maybe all of it is boring. Whatever. It's my blogsby, so I do what I want.

I'm KINDA drunk.

But only "kinda." Let's see what happens by the end of this blog.

So what is it about my personality that makes me inclined to want to blog when I'm bored and/or drinking? Also, why am I bored when I drink? Something is very wrong with my life. Someone should figure that out.

Did you know that there are still people who hate Twitter? WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE? I mean, I understand that people don't want to LIVE on Twitter (like I do, because I'm lame), but there's nothing inherently wrong with Twitter. It's far more tolerable than Facebook. I do appreciate the fan pages and groups and other shit that's on Facebook, but honestly, it's more for my theatre company than anything else. Otherwise, I just use it to Facebalk people or look at pictures of myself when I was younger and hotter.

Sigh. I wish I was still in my early 20s. FUCK YOU, ALL OF MY FRIENDS WHO ARE IN THEIR EARLY 20S. Seriously, most of my friends right now are in their (now, see, I have a problem with pronouns in this context. YES, I WENT TO COLLEGE AND TOOK ENGLISH CLASSES, SHUT UP. AND NO, I DIDN'T SAY IT THE FIRST TIME BECAUSE I WAS IN CAPS LOCK AND YOU DON'T INTERRUPT CAPS LOCK. I just don't use the "his/her" and "their" pronouns in the right places all the time. I get frustrated when I think about it) early 20s, and I am definitely NOT, so it gets a little frustrating sometimes. I need more people my age. Or closer to my age. Or something. And listen, some of my friends are in their (ARGH "THEIR") early 20s and they are SUPER DUPER (yes, I said "duper") cool, but a lot aren't. And they forget you're [not the same age because BITCHES I AIN'T TELLIN' MY AGE], so you start talking about things and then you want to murder your friend because your friend is a BABY and you don't hang out with babies.

Man, pronouns were all over the place in that last paragraph. Also, I'm pretty sure I lost my thought along the way. Yay tipsy!

I need a job. But it needs to be after I get back from New York. Then... seriously, I need a job. Someone find me a job. If you get me one, I'll pay you back in delicious meals! I'm a really good cook. Promise.

Does anyone watch America's Got Talent? Because you shouldn't. It's stupid. I watch it because I don't have access to cable. There are some legitimately awesome acts on that show, but they will never get anywhere because they went on AMERICA'S GOT TALENT and fucking ruined any good will they might have. Unless a magician wins that competition, it doesn't mean shit. (Well, some ventriloquist guy won once, and he did really well, but that's just because he kind looks like Jeff Dunham, and also mimicked the same routine.)

Ooh, speaking of that parenthesized bit, did anyone see the latest Louie? (I just wrote "Louise" at first, on accident, which would make that show VERY different.) That interaction between C.K. and Dane Cook was fucking amazing. If you haven't watched it, you should. DO IT. Oh, look, I'll attach it for you here: http://warmingglow.uproxx.com/2011/08/the-louis-c-k-dane-cook-scene. Blammo. I'm like the Godfather of links... or something. Like, instead of putting a horse head in your bead, I'll put a link on a blog that you may or may not read. IT'S THE SAME THING. SHUT UP.

This blog is less amusing than I hoped. I'm talking about TV shows again. I need a life that doesn't revolve around TV shows. Someone get me one of those ASAP, please.

OH MY GOD I WANT SOME TORTELLINI. I just saw some on TV. I love making tortellini skewers with mushrooms and Muenster cheese and tomatoes and cucumbers and grilled chicken and shrimp and AH GAH WHY AM I NOT MAKING THEM RIGHT NOW???? Oh right... because it's late, I'm not sober, and I'm too poor to buy all those awesome ingredients.

Time for "ladies only." You know what's lame? When you're peeing, and your pee is SO strong that somehow it bounces off the toilet water and onto your wrist. What the fuck is that? That pee is rude. And then you have to wash your WRIST as well, and if you're in a public bathroom, you get a strange look from other people for washing up so high. Fuck those people, though, because they should understand the wrist pee issue. IT HAPPENS TO ALL OF US.

So Ricky Perry did some prayer bullshit whatnottery this weekend. Fuck that guy. Even if you're the type of person who is super-Christiany and all that (and good for you if you are), I would hope that anyone with COMMON SENSE understands that whatever Ricky Perry was going for was a big bag of bullshit. If I was sober, I'd go on a well-thought diatribe on why I think it was a big bag of bullshit, but as it is... I'll leave it at that. I just hope that "normal" Republicans realize what a fucking joke Rick Perry is.

You guys. Football is coming. I'M EXCITED!! I'm in a fantasy football league this year, and I'm scared shitless. It should be exciting, though. I'll probably write football blogs, because that's what I do. And then my friend Brittany will be annoyed at them because she won't understand.

I wish I had a million dollars.
I wish I lived in Chicago.
I wish my eyeballs weren't angry.
I wish my underarms didn't sweat so much.
I wish my hair was longer.
I wish I didn't have to dye my hair.
I wish I was krumping RIGHT FUCKIN' NOW, BITCHES.
I wish that my bones wouldn't feel like they don't exist when I'm drinking. Because sometimes, I'm like, trying to pick up my drink or whatever, and my wrist is like, "Whatever, bitch, I DO WHAT I WANT," and it does what it wants. So then I knock over my drink, which is weird and embarrassing. Speaking of weird, don't you think it's weird that the word "embarrassing" has two "R"s and two "S"s? I HATE IT. Worst double/double ever created in the WORLD. No joke. I took a poll, and everyone in the world agreed. Oh, did you not agree? That's because YOU'RE NOT A PERSON SO STOP READING MY BLOG YOU ROBOT ASSHOLE.
I wish I would end this blog.

Apologies for it not being as ridiculous as the other blog. This is what happens when I'm not fully drunk... also, when I'm not surrounded by adorable dogs. WHY DIDN'T I PUT THAT ON MY WISH LIST?!?! I wish I was surrounded by adorable dogs.

Didn't we almost have it all?

I have a Whitney Houston song in my head (see above). This cannot be good. Don't you find it odd that "can" and "not" are separate words, but "cannot" is allowed together? Also, homonyms are weird... like "allowed" and "aloud." Remember that movie with Holly Hunter, Queen Latifah, and Danny Devito? Living Out Loud? I never saw it, but it looked mediocre. That is one random-ass cast, though.

Listen, all you Twitter people (that saw my drinking tweets) who may be reading this: I AM NOT DRUNK. I may be drinking, but I am not drunk. I am bored, and thus amusing myself by writing inane shit. I SHOULD be working on important shit, but it's late, and I don't want to worry about that. SO THERE. CAPS LOCK. Anyway, I read something earlier today about how people should never say "I'm bored" because the world is so beautiful and full of things to do and we should all come together and hold hands and say kumbaya or whatever the fuck. That is stupid. People get bored. Yes, our lives are short, and we should live each moment to the fullest, but I prefer to just be BORED sometimes and entertain myself (by blogging). Or complain about it (by blogging). Or annoy a friend until he/she decides to hang out with me (this option rarely involves blogging). This is LIFE. You can tell people to "grab the bull by the horns" or some shit for your entire life, and there will still be people complaining about being bored. Gah, I hate upbeat people.

You guys. I love Cold Case. And it is a TERRIBLE show that rightly got cancelled a season or two ago. But I watch it a lot in reruns, and I can't get enough. Like, there is a lot of shitty TV on late at night, and I usually pay no attention to it because I'm fucking around on the internet, but I watch Cold Case every damn time. IT'S SO BAD. AND CHEESY. AND BAD. The whole premise is about old cases that never closed (hence the term "cold," and if you don't know that, you've never seen a crime procedural in your life, and I don't know if we can be friends), so there are these flashbacks to the events leading up to the crime, and they use the most OBVIOUS (but usually meticulously time-appropriate) music ever to set up each flashback. And THEN each show ends with a montage, using a flashback-appropriate song. They've done a lot of different time periods, but my favorite are the '80s episodes, of course. because there are so few legitimately sincere songs from that period. Once, they ended an episode with a montage set to "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon (man, I just Googled that, to make sure I had the band right, and I DID, and I felt sad about knowing who sings "Can't Fight This Feeling")... and I mean, HAVE YOU HEARD THAT SONG? In this day and age (what am I, 70?), you can't sincerely set a montage to that song. Yeesh. The point is, you should all be watching this show, and we should make a drinking game out of it.

So I had a birthday recently. I turned... an age that's fairly significant. Some people know exactly how old I am, but I'm refusing to say from now on. I have friends (even some who are close to my age) who think I'm being stupid for not talking about it, but I don't care. I have my own feelings about my age, and I'm allowed to have them, and no one can change my mind about those feelings. The fact is, there is a stigma placed on women (particularly those involved in the performing arts), especially in regards to age, so I'd just prefer to avoid that stigma until I'm forced to reckon with it. Given the fact that I look younger than I am, I figure I have at least 7 years before I have to do that. However... I should stop using words like "reckon" if I want to sound younger, AND not like a country bumpkin. (Aw, "bumpkin," another word that I probably shouldn't use. I'm old and adorable. Oldorable... ew. That kind of sounds like someone who is old and smelly.)

It doesn't help that I'm currently jobless, homeless, and without a checking account (I guess the last thing probably makes sense, considering the first two things). On top of that, nearly all of my friends that I've had since I was in my late teens/early twenties are married and/or having babies. None of my mind can wrap itself around that. Hell, I'm not sure I WANT to get married, and I'm almost positive I don't want to have babies. So it's not so much that I feel like I have to keep up, as much as I feel like I'm supposed to be wanting certain things in my life that I just... don't. Right now, I don't actually feel bad about those things, but that just might be the white trash Sangria talking.

GOD. This got weirdly depressing.

WHAT THE FUCK?! WHY ARE THEY MAKING A FINAL DESTINATION 5?!?!?! And why have I not seen a commercial for it before now? (Wait, why am I upset at not having seen a commercial? THIS is the problem with watching too much TV. Well, this, and the fact that I watch too much TV. That's a problem within itself. This is getting awfully existential.... about TV.) I hate people. WE are the reason these terrible fucking movies get made. Do you REALLY feel the need to watch horror movies in the theater? Are the scares that much scarier on the big screen? STOP FEEDING THESE MOVIE SHITSTORMS. Sigh. Okay, but really, I just hate horror movies with a passion, because they scare the ever-loving shit out of me. I cannot handle the big-jump scares OR the gore. In other words, I'm a big scaredy-cat. Also, Tony Todd is fucking cool (he's in Final Destination 5, if you didn't know, AND YOU SHOULDN'T), and I wish some Tarantino-esque director would get him out of the horror movie slums and put him in something awesome.

I feel sweaty.

In response to "Copyright or Wrong?"

http://www.tcgcircle.org/2011/06/copyright-or-wrong/

(via Mandy Rausch)

I finally got around to reading this (which you should before you read this blog). I don't think the author is trying to "pity party" at all (as some people thought when I read this on Mandy's Facebook). He accepts the consequences of his actions. And frankly, I agree with him. Shakespeare can be adapted (sometimes almost beyond recognition) just because it's more than 100 years old, but a musical that was based on a cult film from the 50s can't be adapted by using the same material its based on? The owners of the musical rights HAVE to be paying rights to the original film every time the show is presented somewhere - that payment will trickle down to the company who is doing the musical. If he had decided to do a mash-up of Little Shop and some completely different show/movie/whatever, that's a different issue.

However, as a director, I find it imperative to be able to give my own interpretation to a show. And if we're dealing with legalities, TONS of (smaller) theatre companies use pre-existing music as background or foreground in a play, and rarely do they pay the rights to those songs. Small theatre companies are constantly working under the hope that the Big Bad Corporations won't notice if they're doing something innovative with pre-existing art without necessarily going through the proper pipelines. I don't think people should put up shows without paying the proper rights for the show ITSELF (which Boxcar seems to have done), but to be penalized for adding an innovative spin is a relic of old-school theatre, and needs to be done away with, in my opinion.

That said, he did sign a contract, and WAS aware that it was against what he signed, so it's absolutely understandable that the show was cancelled. The director seems to get that. The issue that he presents is that the general idea of WHY it happened should be discussed further. He mentions Charles Mee, who I love and am planning to use in a show soon. Mee says the same thing: no art is truly original anymore. We all "steal" ideas from other people, art forms, architecture, whatever. So Mee has every single play he has ever written available on his site FOR FREE. He says that if you do a play as is, you have to pay rights on it (and I believe it's still actually a fairly small fee). However, if you want to take his text, or idea/concept, or even just the title, you can do whatever you want with it and get no penalization. Richard Foreman does the same thing, although he only offers general "notebooks" to use, rather than his full plays.

People want to get paid for their work, absolutely. But often, younger artists are more likely to share their work more freely, because they want it to get out there. Free publicity is better than none, and I think there are more new writers nowadays that get that. The more precious people are about their work, the more likely we are to deal with people constantly claiming that theatre is dead. We need to evolve. Yes, we need to pay rights on a show, but if everyone is living under the stifling conditions of some copyright person who probably went to school for business or law (and most likely knows nothing about theatre), our creativity will die.

Basically, I'd rather have to cancel a show because the copyright people told me they didn't like my choices than live in fear of being TOO creative. From what I can tell (having had this conversation with many people over the years), I am in the minority here, but I'm glad that Boxcar is willing to step out there and admit it on a larger scale than most would. 

H. Jon Benjamin has pretty, pretty eyes.

That has nothing to do with this blogsby. I've just been reading a lot of AV Club, and there's an advertisement for his new Comedy Central show on the site, and I keep staring at his eyes. SO PRETTY. Plus, balding and beardy. 3 STRIKES AND YOU'RE OUT! Or something. I don't know what I'm saying... his eyes distracted me. Man, I'm sad I missed out on the last few episodes of the second season of Archer. I miss that show. I saw the first season on sale at Target for only, like, 10 dollars, but I don't even HAVE that much money. BITCH BE POOR. That's me... I'm the bitch. Someone buy me the first season of Archer!

Anyway. This blogsby has no purpose, so feel free to click away now.

I find it odd that on South Park, Cartman is obsessed with little boys putting their mouths on his cock and/or balls, but in the Jonas Brothers episode, he finds the idea of a girl doing the same thing disgusting. I REALLY hope that this resolves itself in their final season as Cartman being gay. (NOTE: I haven't seen any of the last season. I'M A BAD PERSON. Except that it's a fucking TV show, so I'm not REALLY a bad person. So... fuck you for saying that.) None of this is interesting. My life is not interesting right now. Thus, again, I'll encourage you to click away now.

The word "fingerbang" should be used more. Like, when a movie needs to overdub "fuck" for TV purposes, "fingerbang" should be the go-to word. Or when you did a good job at a task, you could say, "I totally just fingerbanged this blogsby." Well, not this blogsby. But one of my other ones. Like the one about NFL theme songs! That was a good one, although you non-sports lovers probably hated it. Oh GOD, now I'm talking about my previous blogsbies. This is super lame. I should stop... BUT I'M SO FUCKING BORED. Apparently, that means I'll entertain myself by typing random shit. FINGERBANG.

BANGERFING... that makes me think of someone barfing while banging someone. GROSS. And sexy. Grossexy. Worbinations!

[I had a paragraph here about all of the injuries I've piled up since doing the FringeNYC play. It was boring. Suffice it to say, Earlier in the process, I hurt my hip and rolled my ankle, and yesterday I got blisters on my hands because we played on the monkey bars. I'M OLD.]

[And then I watched 5 episodes of South Park back-to-back and forgot I was blogging. You'd think I'd give up on this blogsby, but I ain't no quitter. FUCK THAT.]

A while back I was talking to my friend Mandy (I forgot how to do link things, but here's one of her bloggy things: http://operawife.tumblr.com/) and I were talking about "internet personas." Apparently, even if people know you in real life, they perceive your online persona as removed from who you actually are. I mean, I guess I'm a lot more pessimistic on the internet than I am in real life, but that's because I am usually more funny when I'm angry/annoyed/negative in some way. It's SUPER fucking boring to read someone's Facebook/Twitter/Whatthefuckever when they're all puppies and rainbows and pretty bright lights or some shit. Anyway, not everyone feels this way, and that's fine (I GUESS), but my point is that if you KNOW someone FOR REALSIES, you should understand them enough to not give a shit if their online persona isn't as pleasant as you might like. Just don't follow them, or hide their Facebook statuses, or WHATEVER the FUCK makes you stop being a DOUCHEBOTTLE. Seriously. Also, if you don't know someone that well in real life, and you follow/friend them, then it's your own damn fault if you get offended/put off by something they post on the internet. Uch. People are the WORST. (This paragraph is brought to you by the slashy symbol.)

Okay, so... cauliflower. WHY DOES IT EXIST? (That just made me think of ICP and that stupid song... "Fucking magnets: how do they work?" or whatever that line is. AMAZEGREAT. Here's the video if you've never seen it [AND YOU SHOULD FUCKING SEE IT]: http://youtu.be/_-agl0pOQfs. Also, there's a SNL parody of it, which is pretty funny, but less funny than the original video, but only because the original video isn't TRYING to be funny.) Seriously. My aunt always has cauliflower, someone posted something about eating grilled cauliflower or something that sounded fancy except that it was FUCKING CAULIFLOWER, and... I just don't get it. I understand that I like broccoli, and perhaps there are people who think that broccoli smells like farts, but... DUDE. Cauliflower ACTUALLY smells like farts. It's actively trying to make you think, "Holy shit, my food is farting on me." I don't care if you put some curry on it (and whatever, I'm racist, but curry is also in the fart family of food [ALLITERATION BITCHES]), or add some super-fancy spice on it... it's fucking cauliflower. DISGUSTING. Who eats it? Why do people eat it? I DON'T UNDERSTAND. Fuck cauliflower.

So I had to look up that ICP video in order to link it, and I let it play out on mute in a separate tab. When I clicked back over to "X" out of the tab, one of the related links was a clip where apparently ICP was interviewed on the O'Reilly Factor. It took everything in me not to click on it. I talked myself out of it because I knew that I would never respect myself again if I watched it. And after masturbating that one time while watching babies vomit on themselves... let's just say I know something about never respecting myself again.

My boob is hanging out of my sleep shirt. This is not as hot as you think it is. Stay in my shirt, boob! I don't appreciate your judgemental glare. Maybe I should stop being a lazy bitch by showering and putting on real clothes. But real clothes are LAME. Fuck you, real clothes!

I don't find vomit to be funny. I'm all about "dude" humor, but vomit... doesn't do it for me. I don't understand what it is about excessive vomit that makes people laugh. DO PEOPLE LAUGH?! I need to know, because I just don't get it. Why, with all the vomit? Maybe I'm the weird one for not thinking it's funny... it just makes me feel sick when I see a lot of it. Someone, please help me out and explain why vomit is hilarious. I'm losing points with my dude friends because I hate vomit. I CAN'T LOSE MY DUDE FRIEND POINTS. Then I'm just a normal girl, which means I'd have to reevaluate my life, and I'd go into a downward spiral if I started doing that. Vomit = existential crisis. This shit just got deep. (NOTE: After proofreading my blogsby, I see that I made a vomit joke earlier. So now I'm a hypocrite. See? EXISTENTIAL CRISIS.)

Someone needs to give me something to do during the day, so that I don't write rambling shit like this.

I'm bored.

So this week we started rehearsal for a show that's going to New York. On Monday, we had an intense day physically, which meant that my hip hurt like a BITCH on Tuesday (because I'm old). It was really stiff, and I had a super pimp-limp all day. Anyway, I was running to get back to a movie (I had to pee in the middle of it), and my hip gave out... which means I rolled my ankle. Now, my hip doesn't hurt but my FUCKING ANKLE IS KILLING ME, which is making me pouty and whiny. Not attractive.

I haven't been able to do much today over than RICE my ankle. What's RICE? Rest, ice, compression, and elevation. I'd never heard of it either, until I Googled "rolled ankle" to see if I could do anything other than ice it. Thanks, internet! You're the best friend a girl can have. Diamonds are too mean, in my opinion.

I could have worked on many things that involve me sitting on my ass with my computer, but instead, I did nothing. So it's my own damn fault that I'm bored, and blogging about it. Man... this might be the boringest blogsby I've ever blogged. Blog. BLOG. Blog is a dumb-ass word. Blogsby might be dumber, but it's a close race. (WOAH, what if, like, Nascar had 2 cars, one named Blog and one named Blogsby, and they raced each other? I bet that wouldn't be very interesting. OOH! What if it were llamas instead of race cars? That'd be fun. I'd watch the shit out of that.)

[poop break]

You know what I hate? I fucking hate when I STRONGLY feel like I have to poop, and then I go to the bathroom, but I can't poop. I HATE IT. HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE. SO MUCH HATE. And NOW I feel like I have to poop again (I'm off the toilet AND I didn't poop the first time), but I'm not going back into that bathroom until I'm literally about to POOP MY FUCKING PANTS. Stupid digestive system. (I'd like to take a moment here to apologize to Zane Harris, in case he happens to read this.)

Okay, so there's this lady who is, like, in EVERY commercial right now. I tried to Google "woman who is in lots of commercials," but that didn't work. You know what, internet? You're supposed to work all the time. NOT just when I need to fix my rolled ankle. I'M SO DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. You're like that baby I threw into a dumpster when I was drunk at the prom, and then it grew up into a genius who got a law degree when he was, like, 12, and then he sued me for "dumpster-birthing." Did you know that was a thing? I TOTALLY DIDN'T. Thanks, dumpster-baby lawyer, for RUINING MY LIFE. Just like the internet did. (Just kids, that totally didn't happen. I don't think. Whatever happened to that little dumpster-baby? I hope it's a hobo. Hobos are awesome.)

Anyway, this lady. She's Jack's wife in the Jack in the Box commercials, she talks to some dude on a couch in the Rooms to Go commercials, and she's recently been added to the E-surance commercials... and I'm almost positive she's in one or two other commercials too, but I haven't seen those recently. WHO IS SHE? Why won't the internet tell meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee? It's upsetting to me. AND when I see one of her commercials with someone else in the room, they don't recognize her from other commercials. UGH.

AHMAGAHAHMAHGAHAHMAHGAH. So I wanted to find the videos to show y'all, and I Googled "jack in the box commercial wife," and I FUCKING FOUND HER. Her name is Gillian Vigman. GILLIAN VIGMAN, YOU GUYS. I figured it out. Or rather, the internet did. YAY INTERNET! (I'm sorry I called you a dumpster-baby lawyer. That was mean of me.) She's actually been in a lot of shit, although I can't find anything about the commercials she's in. Well... that's not true. But I can't find anything about the commercials I CARE about. Ah well.

I made up "ah mah gah," and I just realized that having that many "h"s are kind of annoying. Ugh. I don't like looking at all those "AHMAHGAH"s up there. And I'm doing it again. I'm the WORST. Also, I want to start saying/writing "uch" instead of "ugh." It seems it's a more intense "ugh." DUDE, SO MANY QUOTATION MARKS. I hate everything I'm doing right now. I should stop doing all of it. Uch. (See? It works.)

It kinda bothers me more people aren't interested in inviting me places. And... I was gonna go on a diatribe about it, but it all sounded whiny in my head, so I stopped. Hey, friends: if you SAY you wanna hang out with me (or that you miss me), contact me and we'll hang out! It's that easy. If you don't wanna hang out with me, stop saying it to me. It's mean.

My foot is numb. Oooh, what if I AMPUTATED it? That would be a bad idea. But then I could attach a robot wheel to it (like Tracy Jordan in 30 Rock, with his diabetes), and that would be awesome. If I got to be a HUGE theatre director, I could train myself to wheel up thisclose to someone's face if they got mouthy with me. That would be a bad ASS idea. Ew, that looks weird, like it's an ass idea that's bad. I don't know what I'm saying anymore. Maybe I should go to sleep.

But seriously... ROBOT WHEEL FOOT.

PICKLES.

(Post-blogging note: I was gonna wait until later to post this, so people wouldn't know I was up this late, but then I remember a couple people like reading this at work, so I'm posting it now. YES, I'M STILL UP. I WAS WORKING ON IMPORTANT STUFF. But then I started blogging because the important stuff made me crangry. AND NOW, because I made this post-blogging note, everything is oddly spacing itself. UGH UGH UGH. DEATH.)


MOTHERFUCKIN' PICKLES.


So I've been thinking about writing this DIFFERENT blog for days, but I don't write serious blogs, and the subject of my other blog is too serious for my liking. Maybe if I'm feeling especially emo or some shit, I'll write that blog. Until then... we're talkin' pickles, bitches.
I understand that not everyone loves pickles. Or rather, I am aware that not everyone loves pickles... I'm not sure I actually UNDERSTAND it. They're pickles! They're sour (or sour and sweet, if you're into that kind), and crunchy, and juicy, and DELICIOUS. What's not to like?


I'll tell you what's not to like (holy shit, am I about to play devil's advocate on some pickles? I FEEL CONFUSED ABOUT MY LIFE RIGHT NOW): they're not really food. I could eat a whole jar of pickles (and I have, when I was a child), and not feel full. Sure, I'll feel bloated, and if I wiggle around, my belly would make a weird sloshing sound, but I will certainly not be full. On the other hand, if I eat one regular-sized pickle, I feel content. I'm practically Buckwheat at that point. (DAMMIT, LITTLE RASCALS. I wanted to link to a YouTube video of Buckwheat saying "I got a pickle, I got a pickle, I got a pickle HEY HEY HEY HEY." But that doesn't exist. He only says that about a dollar. He STARTS to sing the song about TWO pickles, but clearly, I am about to debunk the want of two pickles. SIGH. Blogging about pickles is hard.) Now if I have more than one regular-sized pickle? (This includes giant pickles, which I thought I loved, and am now in a world of turmoil because of my pickle issues.) (AH MAH GAH TASHINA STOP WITH THE PARENTHESES AND JUST TELL YOUR FUCKING STORY.) (SHUT UP, PARALLEL UNIVERSE TASHINA, BECAUSE PEOPLE WHO READ YOUR BLOGSBY KNOW YOU HAVE PROBLEMS WITH PARENTHESIZING... AND MAKING UP WORDS... AND CAPS LOCKING EVERYTHING.)


(Yeesh. Now I have to start a new paragraph, what with all the sidethoughts and whatnot.)


What was I talking about? Oh right... so what if I have more than one regular-sized pickle? Well, what happens is that I am happy for a little longer than a normal person would be... and then the pickle sadness sets in. "What is pickle sadness?" you ask (or you don't, in which case... stop reading this blogsby, dummy). Pickle sadness is that point where your tummy starts to realize how much acid that pickle has in it, and your mouth starts to realize how sour the pickle is, and your intestines start to realize how it wants to poop. But if you're like me, you don't want to waste a pickle, so you force yourself to eat it. It is uncomfortable, and you can't have another pickle for DAYS. Not even on your sandwich. Trust me. I know about this.


Another issue I have with pickles is the sweet and sour pickle. I mean... WHAT IS THAT?! Who thought to themselves, "I know people love pickles, but what if we made them sweet as well? It's like a SweeTart, but grosser!" Also: UGH. I just Googled sweet and sour pickles, and all that came up were recipes for them. I DON'T WANT A DAMN RECIPE FOR AN ABOMINATION. Also, why are they sometimes called "bread and butter"? What does bread and butter have to do with sweet and sour? I DON'T GET IT. Fuck you, sweet and sour pickles. Also, fuck you grocery stores, for sometimes stocking things in the wrong place, and then I'm not paying attention when I buy pickles, and I don't pay attention when I open them, and I put a pickle in my mouth only to find out it's a fucking SWEET AND SOUR PICKLE. (Yes, I realize that all of that is my fault. But my hatred of sweet and sour pickles is so deep that I refuse to take responsibility for any of that happening. I believe it was the sweet and sour pickle dwarves trying to put a curse on me. BUT I DIDN'T SWALLOW ANY OF THAT PICKLE, FUCKERS. YOU CAN'T CATCH ME.)


And now... I have a weird caveat to my sweet and sour hate. Lookadis: http://www.avclub.com/articles/koolaid-pickles,32402/. At first, I only read this out of curiosity; I had no desire to ever make them. But when I read that article, and they talked about how the pickles weren't actually SWEET, I became a bit more intrigued. Come on, I have to have at least one pickle lover out there. Preferably one who has money (because I don't). Let's (and by "let's," I mean you) buy pickles and kool aid mix (I can buy THAT! IT'S CHEAP!) and make them! It'll be fun! Or disgusting. I dunno. But I'm fascinated by kool aid pickles. SOMEONE DO IT WITH ME. DON'T MAKE ME START KANYEING ALL OF MY BLOG. (If you don't know what that means... I can't even begin to understand you. Again, you should probably stop reading my blogsby.)


Last pickle thought: for those of you who don't know, I have a strong attachment to eating pickles slices (and usually, I just cut a whole pickle INTO slices) on various chips. Pringles were an initial favorite, although I also like Ruffles and various tortilla chips. However, I've recently discovered the magic of the mini tortilla chip rounds - they are almost always the EXACT size of the pickle slice, and it is like magic in my mouth. I could eat that shit forever. However, if you buy a jar of hamburger slices, Pringles are definitely the way to go. They both have oblong shapes, and complement each other well. Thus endeth my praise of pickle/chip combos.


Random Thoughts:

• I don't understand how people can go to sleep with their TVs super loud. I do rather like falling asleep to the TV, but if it's at a level that could wake a deaf person, that's gonna make it really hard for me to fall asleep. HOW DO PEOPLE DO IT?
• As some of you may know, I have a weakness for crime procedurals. Because of that, I have been watching "Law and Order: LA" (which the network wanted to call "LOLA," but which I wanted to call "LandOLA" because I called the OG "Law and Order" "LandO" [Thanks, friend who gave that to me years ago] and I refuse to let go of that) and trying to support it because NBC sucks and CANCELLED OG LandO WHEN IT WAS ACTUALLY PRETTY FUCKING GOOD IN THE LAST SEASON. Anyway, LandOLA sucks legitimately despite the acting of Alfred Molina and Terence Howard... well, and most of the cast, actually. The weakest link on that show, acting-wise, was Peter Coyote (I know, right?!?), and he wasn't on that much. Everyone else was actually pretty solid. The bald dude with the mustache (who then shaved his mustache after [SPOILER ALERT BUT HOLY SHIT I HOPE YOU DON'T CARE] Skeet Ulrich got killed [not like this, but because I hate Skeet Ulrich {and actually HE was the worst actor on the show but he's so bland that I almost didn't notice him until he died} and love seeing him incessantly fake-die, I'll post it anyway and thank Irvin: http://29.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lk61ueSq6f1qa1xnko1_500.gif], and I know Skeet was his partner but DUDE the guy's name in real life was Skeet and your mustache was awesome and I might irrationally blame you shaving it for the show getting cancelled) is pretty fucking funny while also have the proper level of gravitas, and I hope he gets cast in something soon. ANYWAY, the point is that I understand why the show got cancelled. The stories were lame, particularly in the second (revamped) half of the season, and it relied too much on its "OMG we're in LA so let's do faux-Hollywood stories" bullshit. Snooze. Wake me up when you bring Linus Roache and Sam Waterston back into my life.
• NBC does suck, but I do appreciate them keeping low-rated comedies on the air that I love. "30 Rock" and "Community" are pretty great, but I have no qualms in saying that "Parks and Recreation" is the best comedy on TV. Period. The end. If you're not watching it, I'll just say that you don't even need to start from the beginning. Read a synopsis of the characters and pick up on season 2. Season 1 isn't amazing (although it's totally worth watching AFTER season 2 makes you fall in love with the characters - and I'd actually say to go back to season 1 after the middle of season 2 because if you get all the way through season 2, season 1 will just make you feel weird), but the rest of the show is. WATCH IT. LOVE IT. BE IT. 
• I watch "Cougar Town." I'm not ashamed. It is ridiculous, and trashy, and also Courtney Cox's and Crista Miller's faces look like they got into a car accident with some Botox needles... but it's still pretty fucking funny. I legitimately laughed out loud at 2 different lines from that show tonight. (For example, Busy Phillips saying to Lou Diamond Phillips [YES, LOU DIAMOND FUCKING PHILLIPS]: “I don’t know exactly what your race is, but I’m into it in a big way.”) AND LOOK. A Shawshank recreation from the first season: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uMRUx6Lckj0. IT LOVES DUDES TOO! Kinda. Anyway, it at least loves drinking... A LOT. And we can all get behind that, right? Ignore the name. Or don't, because saying you like "Cougar Town" makes you sound ironic, and seeing as our culture is being ruined by stupid ironic hipsters saying stupid ironic hipster things... saying you like "Cougar Town" squarely puts you in that corner. Ironically.
• OH! Hipsters. This reminds me that you should also be watching "Happy Endings," another show on ABC. It's made for 20-somethings of all ages. Trust me. I can't even, with this show. You just need to watch it. But they have a Nerf gun ep, a hipster ep, a Hitler/coming out ep, and other things that you can TOTES relate to. TOTES. Do it.

Holy shit, that is a lot of random thoughts... most of them about TV. I think I have a problem. SOMEONE GET ME A JOB CARING ABOUT TV. OR ENTERTAINMENT IN GENERAL. I could blog all day about shit like that, and be just as funny as people on snarky entertainment sites (the point being that most of those people aren't all that funny). Plus, all those people are, like, 23 or some ridiculous shit, so I should DEFINITELY HAVE THEIR JOBS BECAUSE I'M OLDER. GIVE THEM. GIVE ME ALL THE JOBS.

Remember when this post was about pickles?