i've been careless with a delicate man

So I accidentally cupped a dude's genitals again.

Yes, again.

See, I was heading into a deli the other morning and after a quick glance over my left shoulder, it appeared that I had a clear path to the entrance. As I made my lane change, some guy attempted to pass me on the left and walked right into my arm which was vigorously swinging back and forth courtesy of my brisk, rush-hour pace.

I ended up with a fistful of fabric and just a smidge of actual pecker. I'm not sure if it was the placement of my hand or an actual lack of girth that yielded that result.

I considered diffusing the awkward situation by saying "Now turn your head and cough" but my victim did not seem the jocular type. He sort of harrumphed and then scampered off to his office cheeks all aflame. So, no hernia jokes for him.

In hindsight, I'm thinking it was an actual lack of girth.

In other news, I went to my first-ever Poetry Vs. Comedy Show, presented by the talented Cheryl B. I swung by to support Cheryl plus two of the evening's performers: Christine Hamm and Greg Walloch.

Greg and I met when we performed at last year's way gay installment of The WYSIWYG Talent Show. We chit-chatted and got caught up and I told him about the acting class I took a few months back. I even tooted my own horn a bit about my success with the various improv exercises we had to do.

As if on cue, Cheryl swooped in and asked me if I'd like to be one of the judges in the show. Instant panic on my part.

"Um, will I have say things out loud?" I asked. Seriously, I'm not sure how I even managed the question since all the moisture in my mouth had dried up. I get crazy cotton mouth when I'm nervous, you see.

I was informed that, yes, I would actually have to, you know, speak and stuff. The cotton mouth was joined by a major knot in my belly. Yet, despite the crippling fear, I agreed and took my seat next to the two other judges (both hilarious, by the way) and got down to the business of passing judgment on others.

And I had a great time doing it! I even managed to rattle off a few comments along with my scores. Although, there was one time that my mind went blank and I sort of just nose-breathed into the mic. 'Cause I'm all sorts of smooth like that. So much for my touted improv technique.

The PVC show is awesome and I seriously suggest you all go to the next one. Check out the PVC site to find out more about upcoming shows.

Thanks!

and scene!

I finished my acting class! And I lived to tell the tale! And I didn't suffer from incontinence! Not even once! Well, maybe just a little bit!

Did I battle a bad case of nerves? Yes. Near-crippling anxiety? Definitely. But I dealt with my jitters in the best way I could and made it through. My instructor, ever the dapper charming gentleman, kissed my hand after the last class and encouraged me to continue. I even had a gaggle of boys buzzing around me after the last class asking for my contact information. Where were all these boys back when I thought I was straight? Where?!

Most of the people in my class are taking courses in the spring semester and expressed disappointment that I wasn't doing the same. I'll probably go back but I'm going to take a wee breather first to give me time to figure out what I want to do. I was really good at the improv exercises so perhaps I'll continue down that road. Maybe I'll take scene study so I can learn how to analyze and really sink my teeth into well-written plays. Maybe I'll even learn a thing or two about writing my own. The possibilities, as they say, are endless.

In the meantime, I'm going to enroll in something with a little less wear and tear on my nerves: knitting. Yes, knitting. Oh, and I'm resurrecting my desire to take karate lessons. The dojo I originally went to was a bit too big for my liking so I found a smaller one in my neighborhood that seems promising (thanks to the Brooklyn Heights Blog!)

Maybe somehow I can incorporate the knitting needles into the ass-kickings I'll soon be doling out. I can tie them together with some yarn and fashion a pair of pointy nunchucks out of them or whatever. Or, at the very least, I can knit some mittens or a nice scarf as an "I'm sorry" gift to those I've beaten senseless. Hi-yah!

acting? thank you! part deux

It's been a while since I posted about my acting class, hasn't it? Fear not, I did not drop out. I'm still enrolled and going strong... save for the occasional absence to attend highfalutin fancy pants fashion shows.

Even though the class scares the bejesus out of me, I'm really loving it. I feel invigorated after I leave each week, similar to an endorphin rush after a good workout or something. I only have a few more classes to go, which is hard to believe. Not sure that I'll be running out on auditions or anything afterwards but still, I'm grateful for the experience and proud of myself for doing what was once the unthinkable. Perhaps my inner ham will once again cry out for some training and refinement. We'll see.

Over the past two months, I've been working on various exercises from Uta Hagen's A Challenge for the Actor. There are 10 exercises total and I've completed three of them so far.

Oh man, I just got a nervous twinge in my belly inspired in part by guilt for using this free time to blog instead of preparing the fourth exercise for tomorrow's class. The rest of the nervous flutter comes courtesy of my deeply-entrenched fear of performing in front of people. Yup, that's still intact. I don't know that I'll ever conquer it but I have been kicking its ass and then some in the past few attempts.

In addition to performing these exercises, I've been doing a bit of improv in the class, which seems to be my real strength. The practiced exercises make me nervous because I have too much time to think and worry about what I'm doing, whereas the whole fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants element of improvisation doesn't give me time to freak out in advance. And bonus! Improvisation really complements my disdain for preparation.

Preparing and practicing my exercises and arranging for props ahead of time is like homework and it totally bums me out. I used to be really conscientious about school stuff but I've found that I've regressed as I've gotten older. I'm all unmotivated, resentful of authority and I automatically lose interest in stuff whenever it becomes mandatory.

Oh sweet Jesus, it would appear that I've turned into a Eddie Haskell/Mallory Keaton/Willie Oleson/John Bender/The Gooch from Diff'rent Strokes hybrid. Now that's attractive.

Anyhoo, the improv exercises in class are my real bread and butter. We've recently begun doing études, in which two class members are called up on stage and each given a very short script. The actors quickly look over the text and decide who will be Part A and who will be Part B. Once the roles are decided, bam! Off they go right into a cold reading.

At first the lines make no sense as the actors are basically reciting words off a piece of paper to each other. But after repeated readings, the lines start taking shape. The approach, emphasis and inflection are varied each time. Eventually, there's a noticeable change in body language, posture and stance. A relationship develops and becomes apparent to the actors and audience. The lines are delivered with new purpose and meaning again and again until an improv naturally springs forth from the last delivered line.

It's exhilarating and frightening because you have no idea where you're going with it. You can only hope that the actor opposite you won't choke or lead you down a dead end scrambling for a way to salvage the exercise.

In my last class, I had a very spirited back-and-forth with a nice fella named Abe. I can't quite tell how old he is. At first glance, I thought he was about 24. I sized him up as a cocky and only in the class to meet girls. I won't say that I instantly disliked him but my impression of him was flagged for further review. Upon closer inspection, I decided it was wise to abandon any attempt to guess his age. He has no visible wrinkles or lines but there was something about his face that said "older than you think." And I realized that when he chats up the ladies (myself included), it seems to be coming from a genuinely social and well-meaning place. I am happy to retract my earlier notion that he was there to scam on chicks.

Abe's also a fun scene partner. Our exercise ran the gamut from a quiet, painful discussion between two people clearly in love to me being a knocked-up 18-year-old spouting off about my freedom of choice and accusing him of slipping me a roofie in order to get me pregnant. He disputed the paternity and suggested we take our case to Jerry Springer. I retaliated with an insult about his prowess (or lack of) in the sack, among other things.

The air crackled with energy. We never broke character but I could tell he was enjoying it as much as I was. The rest of the class just ate it up, giggling and sucking air through their teeth as Abe and I dealt each other low blow after low blow. I was pretty much called a whore without a discernable baby daddy and it.was.awesome. Even better was when the knock-down-drag-out scene ended, Abe and I shook hands and congratulated each other with warm words of praise and big smiles.

"Sorry I suggested that you have to spike drinks in order to get women."

"Hey, don't be sorry. I go with what works, you know?" Abe quickly countered.

Ooooh... cocky AND self-deprecating. It's official: I love Abe.

On a related theatrical note, I went to see The Little Dog Laughed today. I loved it. Wonderfully written, imaginatively staged and brilliantly performed. Oh, and I want to marry Julie White. She was phenomenal. If that high praise is not incentive enough, you get to see Johnny (David from Roseanne) Galecki's weiner and Tom Everett Scott's bum. I know I'm a lesbian and stuff but still, I was impressed. Good work, Johnny and Tom. Good work.

The show is closing on February 18 so if you're in the NYC area and in need of a play recommendation, consider this one. Enjoy!

loose lips

Last night was acting class number two. There was a bit of chaos outside the classroom prior to the start. The 6:00 class ran late sending about 20 actors spilling out into the cramped corridor occupied by students awaiting the 8:00 session.

I arrived, took one look at the disorderly scene and then secured a spot up against the wall out of the path of the recently-dismissed.

A bespectacled man in his late 20s(ish) was standing next to me. He looked me over and shyly asked, "Which class is meeting in here next?"

"Beginning Technique," I offered with a smile as I rearranged the heavy, uncomfortable load in my arms.

He returned the friendly expression and then cast his eyes downward towards my hands. The smile was replaced with a look of supreme discomfort and then he quickly spun on his heel and took about three giant steps away from me.

I looked down to see what he found so off-putting and there in my grip was the folded copy of Gay City News I had just picked up on a whim at a kiosk on West 12th Street.

Okay, which one of you dykes got sloppy and lost her copy of The Lesbian Handbook? Fess up, now. It seems this... this... boy somehow got his oppressive, misogynistic mitts on one and found the passage on page 103 which states, and I quote:

Wherein any straight male with the unmitigated gall to dare socialize with any member of The Lesbian Sisterhood shall be castrated on site (using attached rusty machete). The severed member will then be held up for all to witness after which it should be flung on the floor in disgust, set on fire (preferably using cheap liquor as the flammable agent) and then an interpretive Wiccan ritual dance performed around it. Invoking the name of Martina Navratilova is optional.

Ladies, do you see why we mustn't let this material fall into the wrong hands? He ran away before I could complete the task and now I'm going to fall short of my decapitated dick forecasts for the fourth quarter. You dumb bitches just cost me an all-expense-paid trip to the Michigan Womyn's Music Festival. Thanks. Thanks a lot.

acting? thank you!

Last night was my first-ever acting class and it was SO much fun. Oh, and get this: I was called on to perform an improvisational exercise with two other students and I didn't stink up the joint and/or die of a heart attack/piss my pants on the spot as I originally feared.

The exercise stressed the importance of objective. Three chairs were set up on the stage and each seat had an assigned role (later we rotated chairs and roles). First chair: A person expressing an emotional need. Second chair: The antagonist. Basically, whoever sat in this seat had to act like a cranky, unreasonable dick/beaver and deny any and all requests the person in the first chair was making. The third chair was a benevolent Mother Teresa-like role whose mission was to provide emotional support to the first person without actually solving that person's need, i.e. offering to give money, a place to stay, etc.

After the exercise was over, the instructor asked each of us which role we found to be the most difficult. The other two students immediately pointed to the first chair. Not me. See, in real life, I'm loathe to ask for help but in this situation, I had no trouble begging my classmates for money to help me cover the rent.

Oddly enough, the most challenging was yours truly trying to act like Mother Teresa.

Oh, fuck you.

line, please?!?

Guess who signed up for an acting class? No, not Freddie Prinze Jr. (even though the dude sorely needs them)... Me, silly(s)!

Yup, I start next week. I can't wait to say things to the instructor like, "What's my motivation?" and "How come you pull out your hair whenever I start running my lines?" and "Sorry about that whole aneurysm thing I caused you in the last class."

Tales of triumph and humiliation to follow, no doubt. Oh, who am I kidding? It's going to be all humiliation, all the time. And I can't wait.