Smell ya later...

How come every pen I own is from a hotel? And why are they the best pens ever. You can't buy these pens unless you want to spend approximately 80 dollars a night to stay at a Holiday Inn Express. It might be worth it...

About a month ago I headed home to New York City to attend a performance of JOE BEAN. This was the very first show that I have cast on my own, and this made me super nervous and excited. In Seattle a few weeks before, a new Betsey Johnson dress somehow made its way into my luggage and became the outfit of choice for the big day. However,  I overlooked the sweat/stench factor of wearing a three quarter sleeved polyester blend dress all day long in the Big Apple. 

Upon leaving the house in Queens and arriving at the Zipper Theatre I smelled good. I swear. Like, really good...a mixture of deodorant and Marc Jacob's DAISY. But by the time the show had reached the halfway point, my flower had wilted and been flung into a pile of manure. The smell was bad. B-A-D. 

At first I try to play it cool, akwardly hugging people I havent seen in months with my arms down, feigning being cold to keep my arms crossed, and basically just looking unfriendly and uncomfortable. The at the reception I snuck into the bathroom, took the dress off and stood in my slip while wetting and soaping my armpits. Problem solved. Mini shower effective. 

Or so I thought. 

Then after dinner and few more rides on the subway I noticed people steering clear of the girl in the super cool dress. Homeless people and MTA workers could smell me coming from the opposite platform. I  had reached a new low. What was I supposed to do??? Running late for a friends birthday party I decided to forge on through and just hope no one noticed. Or hope that people would be forgiving. 

Upon reaching the birthday party and hanging out with some old friends, I began to recount my tale of woe and my good friend Mark was like, "I am sure you dont smell that bad."

He took me up on my offer to take a whiff for himself and I am sure that is a decision he will regret for a long time. Nothing like smelling a pretty girls smelly, smelly armpit after a day in Manhattan. Being the good friend that he is, and wanting to spare his girlfriend the agony of my scent any longer...we got the men's deodorant out of his backpack and I snuck into the bathroom at O'Hurley's. Finding myself in mid-town, in my slip, in a single stall bathroom once again I figured that more must be done if I were going to make it through the evening. 

So after applying Mark's Right Guard to the initial culprits, my armpits...I realized that the smell was not budging and I put my little miss piggy against my dress. And then I passed out. Not really, but I did jump back in shock and land on the toilet seat. MY DRESS SMELLED LIKE BOOT CAMP BODY ODOR GONE TERRIBLY WRONG. My dress smelled as awful as it was beautiful. And I had nothing else to wear. Then I did the only thing I could think of. I started spreading Mark's deodorant all over the under arms of my dress, the inside and outside. 

I headed back out into the bar and made small talk with John Lloyd Young praying that at the very least I smelled like organic deodorant covered by perfume, soap, a perfume sample from Sephora, and Right Guard. A lot of Right Guard. Feeling more confident than I had all day I gave Mark a huge hug, with my arms all the way up and around his neck. 

Streaking in a Winter Wonderland...

Days of gold are a rare and glorious occasion out here on the road, and this Monday those of us on MMT2 LP had one! 

For those of you who don't speak "road" a golden day is when you dont have to travel and there is no show. It is an actual, for real, day off! And its amazing! So, the girls and Adam and I decided to head up to majestic Whistler for a day of shopping, eating, and slopes...except we aren't allowed to ski...so more like shopping and eating and watching people skiing. 

Let me say that first and foremost, there are some of the most beautiful men I have ever seen in Whistler, Canada. It made me want to buy an all new Burton outfit, strap on some snow boots, and hit the....couch by a fire in a lodge. Have you ever tried to snowboard? It's impossible, and I look totally not cool trying to do it. I figure I would have more luck sipping hot chocolate by a resting area and using some snow lingo like...

"hey man, that was a great milk run (the first run of the day)" or

" I had to come back in cause I was stuck behind a gaper (a slow skier who looks at the scenery)"

Every guy looks better in a snow hat and huge goggles...but there's just something about those huge clunky boots and the bright red cheeks (remember Nicole Kidman's super blushed face from Cold Mountain?)...plus, I forgot to mention that most of them are Australian or British or from some other super hot accent place. No one in Whistler seemed to be from Whistler and we stood out not only because we were boring Americans, but also because we were some of the only people who clearly had no intention of skiing, or really any intention of snow getting on our bodies at all. So, the intro to Whistler is over...you can picture it....Aspen, Vail, Park City....hot guys, super cold, skiiing, etc...

We ate lunch, stopped in lulu lemon (Rebecca didn't buy anything which should go down in the record books) and then we took the gondola up to the top of Whistler Mountain. 

As we boarded the talking device let us know the ride would be approx. 23 minutes....which seemed like a really long time to be cooped up in a gondola and to try to keep Rebecca from looking down...but I digress...

We make it to the top after a painless 23 minutes of gabbing and watching what looks like a "kid making factory" as little ski tykes ride a conveyor belt to the top of the bunny trail and then ski down to their parents...

So we see the view, spend most of the time in the way of serious skiiers and getting snowed on,  grab the next available gondola headed down and begin the picturesque journey back to our rental car...then Whitney has probably the best idea she has ever had ever. 

Whitney: "Hey guys, take your clothes off. Let's take naked pictures in the gondola."

AWESOME!

Before you can think we are all getting rid of bags, coats, and our many layers until Carla and I are in bras slash tank tops rolled up, Adam is sans shirt, and Rebecca and Whitney are naked from the waist up. Without even thinking. In fact, definitely without thinking. Or considering that any gondola passing us on their way up can see us. We take some pictures (which are hilarious) and are quite happy with ourselves when...the gondola stops. completely. the entire Whistler gondola ceases to move. Beat. Beat. We scramble to put our clothes back on and then nervously joke about how funny it would be if they had stopped the gondola because of us and what an awesome blog it would make if we actually got arrested for indecent exposure on a ski lift. I mean, how funny would it be if we had to miss the show after going to Whistler, but not because we were injured skiing...because we were filming our own version of "Girls Gone Wild in a Gondola"...

After some more hypothesizing,filming a quick follow up video, and getting our various layers back in their rightful place,  the gondola still hasn't moved and we are awaiting further instruction from the talking voice thing, but we aren't hearing anything. 

Luckily we had lots of time to get our "story straight" if we were to be interrogated by Forest Ranger Rick for exposing ourselves in public. Although I dont know if they would've had much sympathy for a "dire need to try on new lulu lemon sports bras in case they dont fit and we dont have them in the States" excuses...

Then, what felt like a half hour later (but was probably ten minutes) the gondola was cruising back down the mountain at its usual pace, with five fully clothed cast members of Mamma Mia safely in tow. Now who says we are boring Americans....

All that and the Kitchen sink...

The time has come...its overdue perhaps....the time for me to leave the road. I have 14 more wonderful weeks on the road and I cannot express how grateful I am to have been out here for 17 months (so far) BUT this hotel room at the Sandman nearly did me in. As in, I almost lost my life. Just five minutes ago, at 1:46 am in the bathroom of my European style hotel room in Vancouver, Canada. 

The first signs that things were not going to go my way were on Monday, on the way to Canada...now, I have never had much luck in this country. There are some wonderful people and a lot of mountains...scenic things and such...but its just soooo frustrating that it is so close to the US and yet so far. They dont sell apples at Subway instead of chips, anything under five dollars is a coin, most of the citizens here have a severe misconception of personal space bubbles, and my super cool iphone costs 59 cents a minute. A minute! Ok, so general griping aside this has been a particularly trying foray into the country I can officially call my second home during my 11th week here since 2007....

The bus ride on the way here provided many picturesque landscapes and attractions, however the Subway where we took our Equity break had no Veggie Patty's or Spinach, then we were stopped at the border and our driver had failed to bring his passport. He thought that a license was enough. Sure, its enough to drive a bus load of people with license, but what about driving to a foreign land with a rather strict border patrol??? We were held at the "border"( for a moment I was reminded of a family trip to Israel when I was 13 and we accidentally took a cab into Palestine and then had to figure out how to get back over...it was very traumatic) for quite some time while the bus bathroom seemed to emanate an unidentifiable, but clearly unpleasant smell that made me want to throw up my wheat bread, onion, pepper sandwich from the Way of Sub. But I kept it down and we carried on to the great city of Vancouver. 

This is the smallest hotel room I have ever seen. Ok, its not as small as a single room at the Milford Plaza, but its quite tight...and theres more furniture than I can fit in my entire apartment in this one room. There are three chairs, a table, an entertainment unit with a small tv and the biggest desk I have ever seen....there is an 8 and a half foot desk in the entry way. I dont know what kind of business they think gets done around here, but they are not joking around. Although the modem is the size of a laptop, so perhaps they are providing you with ample desk space to hook up your computer. 

To make a long story a scooch shorter: Adam and I had some furniture removed, moved the refrigerator from the bathroom and figured out a way for my suitcase to fit in front of the window without catching on fire from the heater. Its a delicate dance, this domestic tour life, and I was just starting to feel like Adam and I had it down to a science when...

A few minutes ago, after watching some episodes of WEEDS Season 2 I decided, on a whim, to pluck my eyebrows...those of you on the road know that this is a perfectly normal middle of the night activity...however, it became a suicide mission when the entire sink came crashing to the ground!!!!! Like, detached from the wall and the cabinetry and came crashing down on top of me. Don't worry I am fine....and I managed to fight my way back into the geyser to retrieve Adam's super expensive Khiels and L'Occitane products. Have no fear, I suffered only minor physical and emotional injuries, as well as unbrushed teeth....and Adam's eyes will not be puffy. 

Pictures will follow tomorrow...only me....this stuff only happens to me...

You can take the girl out of Hicksville...

Dinner at McCormick and Schmicks in Seattle...

Adam and I decided to have a "date" on Friday night to use up his gift certificate to this fine dining establishment. It should be pointed out that I suggested he save it for a real date, and he had to point out how not cool it would be to go on a date and then pay with a gift card. Wow, its been awhile since I have been in that situation so apparently I forgot a major dating party foul. Please excuse me. : ) 

Anyway, we are famished by the time we get to the restaurant so we order a starter of French Onion Soup. When the bowl of cheese arrives I am super excited to dive in and enjoy...and then I discover a carrot. A whole baby carrot just randomly floating at the bottom of my soup. So I eat it. And then I realize that maybe a carrot should not have been in my soup. I mean, its not the worst thing in the world to have a carrot in your vegetable/cheese soup and I just figured maybe they put other vegetables in their soup. You know maybe the chef uses his grandma's old  "onions, bread, cheese, and one single, lone baby carrot recipe..."

When I asked Adam if he had a carrot in his soup, he looked at me like I was a little crazy and that prompted me to tell the waitress about the rouge carrot. I said, 

"Just so you know, there was a carrot in my soup....no big deal, I ate it...but I just thought you should know."

The waitress (who had been friendly thus far) looked at me like I had seventeen heads and then told me she would take the soup off of my check. 

About ten minutes later the manager came up to apologize for the mishap and asked me if I needed anything else...

I thought this was quite friendly and over the top, considering there had been a perfectly edible vegetable in my soup...and then when I told the manager I had eaten the carrot she also looked at me like I had seventeen heads. 

Then i asked Adam if I, in fact, had grown 16 more heads since I last checked out a mirror. When he was able to confirm that my body was in the same condition I had last left it I became increasingly confused by the uproar created by carrot complaint. 

I know this story is really riveting, and you are all at the edge of your seats as it draws to a close....

I see the waitress and manager speaking in the corner, and they were obviously clearing up a miscommunication...turns out, the waitress thought I had said I had a HAIR in my soup but ate it anyway!!! She thought I ate a HAIR, that wasnt mine, that had been cooked into my French Onion Soup...!!!! What do I look like? A hobo? An insane person? Why in the world would I eat a hair? Especially one thats not mine????? 

Of course I didnt eat a hair...I ate a carrot...a free carrot actually...and it tasted really good.  

Karma's not always a bitch...

(cue music) "Vacation...all I ever wanted...Vacation...having to get away..." (fade out)

This week I was on vacay from the MIA and headed to the big, bad apple to visit friends, buy an apartment, see shows, and possibly change careers. That's what I do on my week off.

Anyway, my luck in New York City is unreal (knock on wood) and it never ceases to amaze me when the crowds disperse and opportunities suddenly come my way.  My first bag of Dale and Thomas Popcorn was free cause the credit card machine wasn't working, Christian, Santi, and I got fifth row center seats to Sunday in the Park with George for thirty bucks, and I had my own row on my jetblue flight to Florida so I slept it out. 

On our way back from the show the boys and I ran into a blind couple on the corner of 55th and Bway...I mean, we didnt physically run into them, but they flagged us down to flag them a cab to the Upper West Side. So, Christian gets his "Go Go Gadget" arm prepped and begins to hail them a cab...then i realize that I totally know this woman. Her name is Joanie and she is a vocal coach who does vocal rehabilitation for the mentally and physically disabled. I met her on the train once, she heard me talking to my friend Ryan and thought I sounded friendly. She needed someone to walk her out of the train station and asked me if I was a singer...which, of course, I am...and she is the first person to tell me that my speaking voice actually sounded like a singer's (as opposed to someone with tons of tongue tension who speaks on vocal frye...I dont know how to spell that term...). The point is...that was in 2005 and I have not seen her since then and what are the chances of running into her on the street three years later???

You have to wonder why strange, weird, things happen to certain people...and I have often wondered that myself. Then one day I was hauling an old fashioned wheelchair down 8th ave for a Benefit and I realized that I was one of those weird people who do weird things...(it wasnt the first time I had pushed something along the busy street of 8th ave...when we were moving from rehearsals to the theatre during BKLYN I was responsible for wheeling all of the rubbermaid, containerstore containers filled with staples and rubber bands from 42nd up to 45th...and I was determined not to ask for help and make it one trip...it took approximately 30 minutes to get 3 blocks...)

Like, someone probably went home that day and said "I saw some curly haired teenage girl in a suit pushing an old fashioned wheel chair down 8th ave in the middle of the day...what a crazy place!"

So, its my fault. Weird things happen to me because I do weird things. 

That is why I love New York City. 

One is not a degree...

Ummm...so I am not the slightest bit political, but let me say, for the record, that I no longer believe in Global Warming. Nothing about the "globe" is at all "warm"at the moment. Al Gore might want to take a visit to Appleton,Wisconsin and watch as his fingers become frozen to his large diet coke from Subway...just saying...

I thought that the coldest I would ever be in my life was in Boston aught 2003 when we decided to walk the Freedom Trail in March. In Boston. In March. Outside. The Freedom Trail. Phillip and Christian took my blue fleece hat, covered my face, and led me through the Commons while I screamed as if I was on a roller coaster. In my mind I was on a roller coaster...a roller coaster headed straight for Antarctica and icebergs and death and the whole scene from Titanic kept spinning over and over in my head..."just let go"...I wanted to just let go...

But the boys kept me from jumping off the ledge and lead me back to Phillips warm apartment with the cliche cup of hot chocolate and matching I (heart) NY tshirts and glow in the dark star pajama pants...

Well, I WAS WRONG...The coldest I would ever be in my life was this morning at the Appleton airport when walking through the Hertz rental car parking lot. 

We showed up at 7 this morning to rent a car for the drive from Appleton (which is in Wisconsin) and Detroit (which is north of Canada, just fyi) and the Hertz grandma worker woman kept saying.."I am sorry the only car I have is at the very end of the lot." "I am so sorry."

Anthony and I just kept looking at each other, thinking how friendly and overly concerned these Midwesterners are,and we were like...yeah, yeah, lady...where's the car??

It was in Bumble Fuck North Pole is where it was and as Anthony and I rolled all of our earthly posessions along the snowy asphalt I began to lose feeling in my hands. 

First they felt cold, then they ached, then they burned (which actually felt a little good), next up was the feeling that they might just completely break off, then it felt like I had pins and needles in every nerve ending on my hand, wishing I could go back to the breaking off feeling, trying to break them off, realizing that I couldnt even feel one hand enough to try to break the bones of the other hand...

We got into the car and funbled with the keys, heat, trunk...anything that required touching cause shooting pains in our purpley blueish hands. Anthony and I were about to cry when I realized I couldnt hear...or rather, I could hear,but I couldnt feel my ear. The right one. At all. 

Sitting in the car for about ten minutes while trying to regain feeling in either my hands or my ear was some of the worst time spent in my life. (No offense Anthony, you were wonderful company and if I wanted to be in excruciating pain in a parking lot in Wisconsin with anyone, it would be you)

Luckily, my hands are now fully functioning, in their best baby claw way, and my ear has faded from a maroonish teal color to its natural skin tone. Anthony has also fully physically recovered but I am not sure when the emotional scars will heal for either one of us. 

I was born in Florida. This shouldnt happen to me. 

Innappropriate times at Kroger...

Let me set the scene...its a beautiful day in Richmond,VA...we are playing the Landmark Theatre on the VCU campus and have a double show day. At the end of the evening Adam decides he wants to go home and make a yogurt parfait (one of his many special talents), so we head to the Kroger on campus to pick up the necessary accoutrements. 

The campus Kroger is bustling and Adam and I are easily distracted as we search through the aisles for honey and granola. Suddenly, a young man comes sliding by us in his Kroger t-shirt with no shoes on. Like, working in a grocery store with food and such, and no shoes. 

"Excuse me, are you not wearing shoes?"- me

"Yeah...I stepped in salsa."- Teenage Kroger employee bitter about life cause he is working the Saturday night late shift so he is just trying to amuse himself by sliding down market aisles in his socks. 

"Ah. Carry on then. "- me

Checking in with Adam (who now has obtained a banana, an apple, a pear, a nectarine, strawberries, raspberries, yogurt, honey, and granola...ummm...so I dont know how this became a recipe blog all of a sudden. Sorry for the random details about the foodstuff...I must be hungry) we head to the check out line...and then IT HAPPENS...The craziest, most innappropriate, disgusting, thing that has ever happened in a check out line...

There is a man with no underwear on and pants that begin about halfway down his ass cheek and a jacket that stops at his midriff in front of us. There was easily 7-8 inches of visible, full on crack. It was as if we were being mooned...He was old and leathery...and obviously insane. The contents of his cart were as follows:

200 20 oz bottles of Mountain Dew

a bushel of bananas

one cheese log

and no underpants to speak of...

On the positive side of life, it felt like a holiday, or like we had all been locked in an elevator for hours together. Every Kroger shopper within eye shot of the ass man felt a bond with one another and we were able to share things with one another that we never would have had the opportunity if we only encountered fully clothed civilians...

"I was just trying to buy stuff for a party and then this happened..."-clearly nerdy college sophomore who was making sure we knew he was heading to a partay!

"I thought I could handle it, but I am not sure..."- group of guys behind us who were very proud of their upcoming natty light purchase

"You are stronger than me, I had to switch lines."- me, congratulating the girl in front of us in line, who had spent at least six minutes diverting her eyes from the cavernous crack in front of her

As Adam and I moved away from the ruler sized amount of ass crack we struggled through the self checkout and inadvertently stole raspberries, two Cadbury eggs, and charged ourselves 4 cents for a leechee. Mad Eye Mooney apparently was able to pay for his caffeine and cheese log supply and I was pretty sure he was going to get off and we were going to be arrested for shoplifting as we walked out. Our plan was to plead insanity. Insanity due to increased and totally unecessary exposure to a strange derriere ditch...