Olympics!

I always enjoy the Olympics and, despite the unfortunate human rights issues this year, I will be watching nearly every day. Let's hear it for something other than television reruns!

Quick and to the point......

Today I got a chance to head into my dad's office and meet Lisa and Renee, who are nice enough to read my blog almost daily. And after they have read it, they give my dad a hard time about whatever I have written, especially if it is about some of his antics. I am delighted to know that there are people out there keeping him in line when I am not around. So, thank you ladies and I hope to visit you again soon!



Today was a fairly low-key day, so I would like to share with you a book my dad was kind enough to purchase for me: The Book of Useless Information, An Official Publication of The Useless Information Society. Too bad my dad didn't count on the fact that I would quickly become enamored of this book, and have taken to following him around, reading useless fact after useless fact to him. He is understandably thrilled at this recent development. And so, to give the poor man a break, I would like to share with you a few of my favorite useless facts. Please feel free to use these to impress your friends and family.

• Prince Harry and Prince William are uncircumcised.

I could care less; they're cute AND they have quite the inheritance. I am sure this is something we could work through.

• While performing her duties as queen, Cleopatra sometimes wore a fake beard.

Can't say I blame her. Perhaps she was a mezzo-soprano, and beard-wearing came naturally to her. We always get stuck playing men....such a waste of all my hair products!

• No US president has been an only child.

Well, there goes THAT job option. Thanks mom and dad.

• Benjamin Franklin's peers did not give him the assignment of writing the Declaration of Independence because they feared he would conceal a joke in it.

Which is why I am never allowed to compose anything that is of historical importance...I might throw in a good fart joke.

• A can of Diet Coke will float in water, while a can of regular Coke sinks.

Good to know I don't need to worry about my Diet Coke stash in a flood. All my clothes may be destroyed, but at least I can still get my caffeine.

*Book picture from amazon.com, all facts from The Book of Useless Information.

Museum Bitch....

Today my father and I hit three (count them, THREE) museums in D.C. So much culture, so little time. We started out at the Natural History Museum, and took a lovely jaunt through the new butterfly exhibit. Before we could enter the butterfly center, we were briefed on the "rules of conduct" for hanging with the winged caterpillars. Apparently, stepping on the butterflies, touching the butterflies, stealing food from the butterflies and walking away with the butterflies are all looked down upon at the butterfly sanctuary. Go figure. These painfully obvious rules were related to us by a wizened museum volunteer, who wore a terry cloth sweat band on his head and took his job very seriously. Apparently butterfly volunteering is a serious, and sweaty, business.

Once we entered, we discovered that while butterflies are fascinating and beautiful, their curators are odd and squirrley. We were met by a museum employee with a small brush, a butterfly identification book and an eager grin upon his face. If a butterfly landed on your person, this gentleman would gently brush it away, and it would go on with its blissful life. Dad and I deduced that screaming and swatting at any creatures flying at us was frowned down upon in this particular exhibit. Which meant that I had to keep my hands clenched by my sides so I didn't involuntarily deal a death blow to the creatures fluttering by my face. But back to the employee...he was lying in wait for the first visitors, so he could impress them with his VAST butterfly knowledge. Too bad he got my dad and I.

Every time this poor gentleman tried to tell dad and I a "fascinating" fact about butterflies, we had a snarky comment in response. Obviously, we are ignorant peons. At one point, the gentleman attempted to inform us that these butterflies were forbidden to leave the sanctuary by the US Department of Agriculture. Dad then asked if these butterflies were considered terrorists by the FBI, I asked if they were on the "no fly" list, and we both remarked that we must be touring the butterfly Guantanamo Bay. And then we started snorting with laughter, because these are the kind of things we find amusing. We must be related. At this point, the museum employee must have surmised that we were a lost cause, because he brushed by us and pounced on the couple who were entering the sanctuary behind us. He is probably out somewhere right now, drinking with his museum buddies, and bemoaning the asshole father and daughter team who started out his day.

Finally we got to check out the exhibit in peace, and it was really a great experience. I saw color combinations on butterfly wings that I never knew were possible, and a few butterflies even landed on my father and I. They particularly liked my father's stomach, and dad surmised that they must have mistaken it for a rotten papaya, which is the butterfly food of choice. Too bad they didn't show up in my dorm room instead of those damn fruit flies. But at the end of the exhibit, we had to be searched for hitchhiking butterflies. I totally understand this precaution, but I was a little apprehensive about the museum employee who was doing the searching. This guy looked like he was a regular at local Dungeon and Dragon meetings, and he proceeded to reach out to my butt and brush off a butterfly. And, really, there was no need to linger THAT long during the butterfly extraction. I don't know who was sketchier; the butterfly who was fascinated with all the junk in my trunk, or the creepy guy who removed it IN FRONT OF MY FATHER. That wasn't awkward at all.

My father and I both agreed that the exhibit was stunning, but the really interesting part were the people who ran it. And then we continued on in the museum to see who else we could torture.

*Photo by Jay Cossey

Homeward Bound....

Yesterday was my last day at opera boot camp, and it was a double-header. Two shows, eight hours, untold buckets of sweat. What that meant was that I had to put on AND take off my damn wig twice, reapply my makeup twice, and get into and out of various uncomfortable costumes TWICE. There is a special place in heaven for opera singers who have to do two 3+ hour shows in one day. At one point the costume interns were goofing around and decided to try on some of our costumes. They are brave young women, as these costumes haven't been cleaned since the performances started and they reek of weeks-old swamp ass. One intern told me later that she couldn't believe how "uncomfortable and hot" some of our costumes were and how sorry she was that they had constructed them in such a way. Too little, too late honey. Let my death via heatstroke be on your shoulders.

After we finished both shows, the whole cast and crew decided to head out to a bar to celebrate. I don't know about you, but after a day filled with performances and packing, the last thing I wanted to do was spend the night drinking and dancing on tables. With my luck, I'd fall asleep while dancing on a table and sustain a horrible injury.....which would necessitate quite the story when people asked me how I injured myself in such a horrific matter. I also am highly uncomfortable with sad goodbyes, so I prefer to slip away in the night. Things weren't always fun and games here this summer, but I made some incredible friends, and I will greatly miss hanging out with them everyday. Hence, the need to get out of town before I had some highly emotional (and embarrassing) goodbye moment. I learned a lot this summer, and have emerged more informed (and, sometimes, more confused) than ever. The contacts I made in New Jersey were priceless, and I got a chance to work with some of the most talented directors, conductors, stage managers, and opera professionals in the business. However, working for eight weeks straight, with only one 24-hour break a week, has started to take it's toll, and all I want to do is go home and sleep for a week. No opera, no singing, no fruit flies.

Too bad two out of the three of those desires aren't going to be possible quite yet. I am currently in Annapolis, Maryland (as seen in the photo above), visiting my father and seeing the sights of Maryland and Washington D.C. And my father isn't a big fan of "sleeping in," so there will be no lollygagging around here. However, Annapolis is a really great town, with plenty of cool restaurants and stores, so I am delighted to finally visit the area. Tomorrow we are off to do THREE Smithsonian museums in D.C. Here's hoping I survive and my father isn't forced to leave my lifeless body behind in the National Gallery, under a portrait of George Washington.

You have GOT to be kidding me....

As you well know, my mother is in town and there is nothing we like to do more together than shop....especially for makeup.  Today we stopped in Sephora and purchased ColorOn's Eye Envy collection.  These eye shadow patches have been quite the talk amongst the various beauty blogs I read, so mom and I decided to split a box.  The idea is that the eye shadow and liner is already on the patch and once you press the patch to your eye, the makeup transfers right to your eyelid. No need to carry around a million pans of eye shadow and we figured this product would be especially handy for travel.

We figured wrong.  My mother tried one of the lighter color combinations first and, after reading the instructions carefully, she applied one of the patches to her eyes.  After smoothing her finger over the back of the patch (to help transfer the color to her skin), she peeled it away to reveal.....nothing.  The only way you could tell she was wearing eye makeup was by the purple "eyeliner" that had smudged near the corner of her eyes.  No other color was visible on her lids.  And my mother is paler than I am, so any color tends to show up on her.  Let me reiterate again that ALL directions accompanying the product were followed.

Next, I gave it a try and chose a green shadow combination.  I carefully lined the patch up to my lid, pressed it on and peeled the patch away.  The result was rather horrifying, as it looked strangely like Frankenstein had punched me in the eye.  There was dark green shadow smeared all over my brow bone, a giant gap below that (where the color hadn't transferred), and another dark streak across my eye crease.  This was no smoky, sexy eye....this was an utter disaster. And, worse yet, the shadow was sticky and refused to budge when I tried to blend the colors. Seriously, I looked like I had a hot date with the Jolly Green Giant.

It took a fair amount of eye makeup remover to clean up the mess and, afterwords, mom and I concluded that we would be returning our patches as soon as possible.  An interesting experiment, to be sure, but ColorOn's product is a huge disappointment, especially since it was rather pricey.  If you are looking for a way to save time on your makeup application, learn to blend faster.  This stuff isn't worth the gas it takes to drive to the mall.

Intermission.....

My mother is in town, so I will be running through stores, giggling with joy.  As a result, posting may be a bit lighter than usual.  Please stand by!

I Survived.....

Today I participated in one of the scarier things I have had to do thus far in my career: sing for agents and managers.  Now, they were just here to give critiques and suggestions, so I had no grand dreams of being signed or "discovered."  However, these are not people you want to screw up in front of, because they have the memories of elephants and are ten times more lethal if they decide to stampede.  

All in all, I was fairly proud of myself for keeping my act together and EVERY comment sheet mentioned that I had a good voice.  Score one for me!  However, every comment sheet also mention my diction issues, which I chronicled here.  So, I am going to have to really buckle down and get that issued fixed....STAT!  Below, just for my own amusement, I have listed some of the comments and my replies to them, if I was in a make-believe world and got to respond to these critiques:

I don't care for the dress.

Really?  Because I thought it was rather chic and certainly photographs better than the shirtless tutu ensemble I was going to wear.  I figure; sing funny, look funny!  Then the stage managers tackled me at the door and re-dressed me.  Take it up with them.

The voice is nice, but your acting needs some coaching.

Bwhahahahaha.  Sorry, let me just wipe these tears out of my eyes before I smear my mascara. Usually my problem is that I get so into the acting that I forget about vocal technique.  And 6 out of 7 auditors thought I was a hoot.  Next time I will pull a Sarah Bernhardt and writhe on the ground.  That enough acting for you?  Huh?  I can't hear you, I'm too busy emoting.

More urgency when building to the climax.

Okay, that's just dirty.

Good voice, good understanding of the text.  Bad French, bad Italian, bad posture on stage.

Too bad this person didn't realize I am a hunchback with a medical inability to sing in a foreign language.  How awkward for them.

Tighten up your resume.  I don't see your education listed!

That's because I never learned to read and, therefore, never went to school.  Shhhh, don't tell anyone.

Careful of intonation down low.

Wait, that stuff counts, and it's not just all about my charming personality?  Damn.

Your Cherubino needs to be more "boyish."

Okay, I have a VAGINA!  And HIPS!  There is only so much I can do in the "boyish" department. I'll have to try scratching myself inappropriately next time....it doesn't get much more "boyish" than that, now does it?

Wow, this blog really is like therapy.  I feel better already!  But seriously, these are helpful hints.....but that doesn't mean I have to like them.

I passed!

Opera New Jersey is nice enough to give the Studio Artists a chance to "study cover" a role during the summer.  Basically, it's a chance for poor saps, like myself, to learn a role, sing it for management, and put it on our resumes under "cover."  Look people, at this point in my career I have to take any chance I can get to add another line on my bio.

However, stories soon started to circulate about the "test" they would be administrating to determine whether or not we had properly learned the role.  It was a "drop the needle" kind of exam, and rumors were running rampant as to what we were going to be put through.  Some people said that they were starting in the middle of musical phrases, some said they wanted it sung in five different languages, others told stories of being hung by their thumbnails as they sang.  As you can imagine, I was fairly nervous as I stood outside the audition room.....I had worn a dress, and Lord knows you need pants on to properly be hung by your thumbnails.

It turned out to be a fairly straightforward memory test and, after we got that out of the way, I got the chance to sing a few things for management.  I was given some helpful hints, but it is always interesting to me how different people's opinions on the same voice can be.  At this point, I will be listing myself as a mezzo-soprano, coloratura, dramatic, lyric, soubrette, tenor, bass-baritone, whose special skills include juggling and sword swallowing.  That ought to cover everything.  All-in-all, it was a somewhat helpful experience...and those can be few and far between in this business.

Keeping you distracted until I can post something.....

Sunday....

Okay, this unbearable heat wave can end at any point.  Is anyone out there listening?  Hello? I'm running out of deodorant people!!!!!!!

Hello!

This is an accurate representation of what that poor girl's face looked like when she walked into the women's bathroom and found me topless, slathering on self tanner.  She may never pee again.

Cute outfit...HATE the shoes....

Okay, so I was walking to a coaching the other day when my flip- flop snapped!  The part that goes between my toes just popped out of the sole of the shoe and the whole thing fell off my foot.  Luckily, I had another pair of shoes in the dressing room of the theater (where the coaching was) and I was able to grab them before I started singing.  Unfortunately, I still had to hobble (barefoot) across a parking lot covered in black asphalt (that had been baking in the sun) and broken glass.  Apparently a gang fight had erupted between the tech crew and the lighting crew the night before, because the theater parking lot was a SEA of glass.  

Anyway, I was lucky to have had a pair of shoes awaiting me. However, I suspect that Vanessa Hudgens was not so lucky. Obviously her adorable flip-flops, which (no doubt) were the perfect touch to her lovely dress, broke and she was forced to staple paper bags around her feet in order to finish her shopping. That is the only explanation I can come up with for the fact that I came upon this picture, thought "how cute," scrolled down and nearly choked on my Diet Coke.  What the hell is up with her feet? It's like she deliberately set out to ruin the whole outfit.  

So I am giving Miss Hudgens the benefit of doubt and am assuming that she had a flip-flop mishap.  I don't have any rehearsals until 2 pm today, so I am feeling charitable.

*Photo Courtesy of imnotobsessed.com

Short Bites, Part Infinity....

• The wig crew and I are in a fight...only they don't know it, nor do they care.  Their issue is that they do not want cast members removing their own wigs, in case we wreck them. And everyone knows that chorus members are fans of removing their own wigs and then dunking them in beer.  My issue with that rule is that I don't want to wait around in my swamp-ass infested costume while the ONE wig person assigned to the chorus slooooowly removes the handlebar mustache of the guy in front of me.  If I promise not to ruin it, can I please remove my own sweat-drenched wig?  Thanks, you're a peach.
• Despite the wig people removing it, my wig has given up its will to live and is starting to unravel.....much like my mind....
• I am currently missing the Ann Arbor Art Fair, which is the largest outdoor art show in the country.  The accessory shopping is fabulous, but the people watching is where it's at. Alas, once again I am missing all that unsightly spandex.
• The number of fruit flies in my room has dwindled to three.  Three flies who refuse to DIE!  Their days are numbered.
• We are almost at the final week of opera boot camp.  Too bad we have miles to go before we get to that point, including a few more performances, scenes and auditions.  I got tired just writing that.
• Wait, no, I'm not tired.  Despite having not being able to sleep until late into the night for several days, I still can't get to sleep at night.  What the hell gives?
• I scared the crap out of a non-opera student living in the dorm when she entered the women's bathroom to find me topless, applying self-tanner to my arms.  GOOD MORNING!

Wild!

Today looks like it is going to be a doozy, so I won't get a chance to post anything during the day (as I will be living in the theater).  I will try to post something tonight, but the siren call of my bed may be too strong.  Onwards and Upwards!

Things to cheer me up.....

After our dress rehearsal of Merry Widow yesterday (preceded by an early Studio Artist rehearsal), I felt like I deserved a treat.  Usually this treat would involve chocolate and frosting, but in an attempt to be healthy (for my body, not my wallet), I headed to Origins.  I was hoping to get a bottle of the Shedonism perfume (a fragrance which I reviewed earlier), but that turned out to be rather more expensive than I was expecting.  Instead, for less than a bottle of that scent, I decided to try out two products from Origin's makeup line.  

The first is Origin's Brush-On Color in "Rose Twinkle."  The color is a bronzy pink, with plenty of sparkles.  I now use it as a bronzer, because it is slightly darker than my usual NARS blush (in Deep Throat) and is good for shadowing under the cheekbone.  Plus, the sparkles are quite pretty....and I have been feeling less-than-pretty lately, with all these sweaty rehearsals. However, due to the nature of the glitter, I would not recommend this blush for those who may be older than their twenties, because glitter tends to emphasis problems and settles into wrinkles far too easily.

The next item I purchased was the product Once Upon A Shine in #15 (Sheer Passion).  Despite using the word "sheer" in the name, Origins has made a beautiful lipgloss that has enough color to be worn on its own, or over lip liner.  And the formula is thick enough that you don't feel like it has slid off twenty minutes after application.  In fact, it reminded me of Chanel's Glossimer lipgloss (an exceptional product), but without the steep price.  And the minty flavor is a nice touch.  Origins does not list this as a benefit, but I swear that the mint extract slightly plumped my lips.

Now I am feeling much prettier and am ready to take on the world....after I have taken a nap.

Panic? What Panic?

Yesterday, in the midst of out Merry Widow dress rehearsal, I received a phone message from Tri-Cities.  The artistic director was inquiring as to when I could return to Binghamton (the city on which dreams are built) and sing some of a role for the upcoming production they are doing. That was when my hair began to frizz.

First off, the next two weeks in New Jersey are going to be INSANE.  Not only are we putting up the final show, as well as performing in the other productions, but the Studio Artists are presenting our scenes program and every spare minute is spent rehearsing for that.  In fact, I am now starting to have fantasies about my bed.  Not dirty fantasies, just fantasies about spending more time in it.....making close and personal contact with my pillow.  It's lonely and jealous of the time I spend with my stage wig.

And since we moved to the theater, we have lost access to the Princeton practice rooms. Normally I would rejoice at this news: no room, no practice, no cry!  Too bad I have a large chunk of a role to learn in a short period of time.  And singing with a CD (for a role I have never done) just isn't cutting it.  I thought I would have a little more time and could worry about this music after New Jersey is over.  I obviously need to stop drinking the "special" Kool-Aid they keep handing out around here.

So now is the time for me to "man up" and get to the theater early enough to snag a rehearsal room with a piano.  And with my current schedule, I suspect this means that I will be awakening at the crack of dawn...which is still better than being unprepared.  I am going to need a whole lot of good vibes sent my way.  Not to mention caffeine......

Moron, Party of One.....

There is an infestation of fruit flies in my dorm room, and I have no one to blame but myself.  In an attempt to ward off scurvy (or whatever horrid disease you get from not eating fruit), I invested in some grapes and apples for my room.  Too bad that was the same day I discovered that my window shade wouldn't stay down, so I used my grocery bag (with the fruit) as a weight to keep it closed.  Aaaaand two weeks later I remembered my fruit, which had been baking in the window that entire time.

When I pulled the bag towards me, the bottom disintegrated and a black cloud of fruit flies rose into the air.  It was The Lord of the Flies, Room 203 version.  {In a side note: when I said that to my friend Arielle, she asked if "a bunch of twelve-year-old boys started a new civilization" in my room.  Touche.}  At first I didn't think it was too bad...maybe I would kill a few and this whole thing would be forgotten.  Too bad there are about a MILLION of them, and they like to dive bomb me while I sit at my computer.  

So now I feel like I am living on top of a garbage heap, or at least a frat house.  My skin crawls just thinking about going back to my room.  I am trying not to think about what they are doing while I am sleeping.  Perhaps a fly disco springs up?  They smoke cigars?  They write the word "dumbass" across my forehead with a Sharpie?

It has been suggested that I lure them to their deaths with wine in a glass.  Apparently they are attracted to the sweetness and, once they are drunk, they meet their doom in a liquid-filled tomb.  Kind of similar to my Friday nights, now that I think about it.  I'll be trying this as soon as I can get my hands on some cheap wine.  In the meantime, I have been managing to catch half of them with juice.  The other half are, evidently, a harder-drinking bunch.

And so it begins....

Last night was opening night of both La Taviata and the Opera New Jersey summer season.  I'd be more excited, except that I am constantly in rehearsals for the next opera, on top of the Traviata performances, and I have lost the ability to be excited for anything except my bed. Last night's audience was lovely, the leads were lovely, the set was lovely, the orchestra was lovely....and I was bored out of my mind.

You see, being a chorus member can be one of the hardest, most mind-numbing experiences on earth.  Half the time you are fighting your way to the front, and the other half you are standing around, trying to look excited about a scene you have rehearsed a million times.  And it doesn't matter how good the leads are (and they happen to be quite good in this production), sooner or later the action starts to get old.  So while my face is carefully arranged into an expression of shock ("What?  Violetta is ill?  Who knew!"), I am usually doing my taxes in my head.  Or creating my latest grocery list.  Or planning my next trip to Wawa for a milkshake and to increase the size of my ass in the process.  You get the picture.

One of the more excruciating moments comes at the end of Act II.  In Act II, I basically wear a tank with ruffles.  This dress weighs more than I do and tends to mow down anything in its path.  And I have to maneuver this thing through a gypsy dance AND a sprint onto the stage...all the while looking like I am having the time of my life.  It's ACTING at its best!  And at the end of all that, I have to stand perfectly still on the stage, under the hot lights, and sing with an air of concern, all the while liquefying underneath my layers.

Don't get me wrong, the music in this part is gorgeous, but it moves slooooowly, and all I can do is stare at the lead tenor, furrow my brow and try to ignore the beads of sweat cascading down the sides of my face.  I am always amazed at how much sweat my body can create in twenty minutes, and how much of that is from my lower body.  Did someone order up some swamp ass?  Because I have more than enough to go around.

When we finally get down to our dressing rooms, the women's chorus rips off their clothing and stands around in their underwear for a while.  There is nothing sexy about this, as we are merely doing it to air dry before we put on our street clothes.  There is no time for modesty when one is in danger of heat stroke.  Then we grimly pack up our things and head home to the inevitable cold shower.

Could someone please tell me why I am not getting hazard pay for this?????

Happy Saturday!

As soon as I can piece together coherent thoughts about last night's opening of La Traviata, I will be updating.  In the meantime, please enjoy this snarky political cartoon.

Oh Dear.....

How tragic that no one at Christian Dior had the guts to tell the designers what a bedpan is really used for.  And no, painting it green does not make it an accessory.  Model Alex Wek is now questioning her decision to flee Sudan in order to walk around with hospital supplies on her head.

*Photo courtesy of Imaxtree

NOT about opera.......

Given that this week has been, in the best of terms, a wee bit stressful, I decided to treat myself with a visit to the Origins store in Princeton. Usually I  pass when it comes to Origins, because I am a big fan of chemicals in my cosmetics, and find organic products a bit wimpy.  I prefer to have my skin melt off every time I take off my makeup. With all those preservatives, my body will never decay!

But I decided to give Origins a chance, because it looked like they had some nice candles in the window and I am always looking for new ways to burn down the dorm.  And during my visit, I stumbled upon this gem: Origins' Shedonism Sensuous Shaving Mousse. Quite frankly, I am ready to sign up for anything that involves the words "sensuous" and "mousse" and I was not disappointed by this product.  It can also be used as a body wash, according to the gum-snapping sales clerk with heavily lined eyes.  The combination of jasmine, mandarin, bergamot and basil smells heavenly and manages to overwhelm the mold smell that often accompanies the institutional shower stalls here.  I now shower just so I can use this stuff again...forget hygiene!  And it is thick enough to ward off razor burn, which means a lot when your skin is as sensitive as mine.  Hooray for treating oneself after a tough week!

Just thought this was delightful.....

That was my reaction when I found out I have tomorrow (Thursday) off until 7pm.  That NEVER happens.  The day after that I have 12 straight hours of rehearsals and performances. I think of it as the world's way of balancing itself.

Things that have happened....

Over the past 24 hours, here is what has gone down: 

• I almost burned down the dorms.  No, seriously.  I have a candle obsession and the sleeve of my sweatshirt landed on top of a lit one...and burst into flames.  After much shrieking and dancing around, I finally dumped a whole bottle of SmartWater over the flames and put the thing out.  Now my sweatshirt has half a charred sleeve and my heart rate will never be the same again.
• I was going to rent a car and make the arduous trek to Binghamton to fire bomb my apartment, but then my friend Jessica pointed out that I could just hire a cleaning company to scour the place, and it would still be cheaper than the gas it would take to drive there from Princeton.  Thank God my friends think for me.
• The WaWa convenience store chain has the best milkshakes ever.  My ever-expanding thighs thank them. 
• All the female Studio Artists are on the same cycle and are PMSing at the same time. This may account for the above misunderstanding, as we are all irrational and near tears at all times.  We also killed a baritone for the chocolate under his fingernails.  He should have known better than to wander near our dressing room with a Snickers bar during this time of the month.
• Today (Wednesday) is a free day!  I have 3 million errands, but I may rent a Zip Car and go to Target....where I will frolic up and down the aisles.  I don't really need anything, but that is not really the point of Target.

The Honeymoon's Over.....

It all started out innocently enough: all the Studio Artists hung out together, enjoyed each other's company, and even gave each other cutesy nicknames.  And then we all figured out who the assholes were (and, surprisingly, there weren't many) and we avoided them like the plague. However, after nearly five weeks of constant rehearsals, dinners in which everyone tags along and living on top of each other in the dorms, we are all ready to kill each other.  

It started subtlety: a nasty remark from someone who is usually quiet and shy, some pushing and shoving backstage, dark circles under the eyes, etc...  It has now escalated into full-scale warfare. Some of us are sneaking off to eat together, trying to avoid having certain people tag along.  I literally hid in a bush today with four other people so that we didn't have to hang out with certain members of the group.  I have no pride.  And you could have cut the tension with a knife in the women's dressing room the other night, as one girl accused another of stealing her hair pin, and the rest of us grumbled and chose sides.

The worst was last night's rehearsal of an experimental new opera.  The artistic director of a certain opera house composed a new opera and is coming in next week to hear bits and pieces of it from the Studio Artists.  Just what we all need; another chorus to perform in, with all the rehearsals that go along with it.  I nearly had to leap between two singers, who were exchanging murderous glances and vicious insults.  The rest of us (myself included) were bitching and moaning about having to be there for something we couldn't even put on our resume.  And today, at lunch, my friend Jansen commented that we all look defeated and cranky.  That about sums it up.  Our day off is Wednesday, and I hope we reach it before someone gets shanked.

Sunday Laughs....

The above picture is pretty much what my 7th Grade yearbook shot looks like......just add 20 pounds of frizzy hair and you have an accurate representation.

Happy Fourth of July!

Tech Hell.....

I'm with this bunny...er, cat, er...fuzzy creature about the humidity.  It is supposed to be 95 degrees today in Princeton, and I am afraid my hair may just decide to leave my skull in protest.  At the same moment it does that, every sweat gland on my body will simultaneously open up, leaving me with the pit stains from hell.

But enough about my sexiness: today is tech hell.  It is the first time we are putting La Traviata in the theater and most of today's 9 hour rehearsal will be spent with us standing around, waiting to be spaced out on the stage.  And they frown down upon reading on stage, so there will probably be talking (out of sheer boredom), and then yelling from the director and stage manager, and then sullen silence from the chorus.  When groups of opera singers get together, we behave in a similar manner to teenagers.  In fact, we may all decide to go goth and get piercings later.  

At last night's room run (where we run the show in the rehearsal room), there was one hell of an awkward moment when the director decided to blow his top at the principles, with the chorus cowering in the wings.  I have never stared at my hands so intently before. I am still feeling the aftershocks of awkwardness this morning.  But then my friend Arielle saved the day when she told a friend not to get too close to her feet because they were stinky.  Except, she had her earphones in at the time, so it came out: "DON'T GET TOO CLOSE TO MY FEET, THEY STINK!!!!!!!"  It echoed around the whole room, and caused everyone to look over at us. Luckily for Arielle, she is one of the prettiest people on the planet, so all will be forgiven.  In fact, several people probably find her stinky feet "cute."  I must know how to get this power!

Lastly, one of the supernumeraries (who act, but don't sing in the opera) has a blog about her experiences in the show.  You can find her clever insights at I'd Rather Be Sleeping.  Her comments on my fellow opera singers in the show is quite fascinating. 

Send positive thoughts my way so that I survive the giant brain suck that is tech week!

Currently Enjoying.....

  Pictured here are two items that I am very much enjoying right now.  The first is Katy Perry's new CD; "One of the Boys."  She reminds me of a stronger-voiced Gwen Stefani, but with more of a rock influence.  Which, I suppose, makes her not quite like Gwen at all.  I'm still new at this whole "music review" thing.  I especially love the song "Hot and Cold," as well as the fan favorite; "I Kissed a Girl." Plus, Miss Perry is as cute as a button and rocks the vintage look like no one's business.  And I am shallow enough not to like an artist if I don't like their outfits.  You only WISH I was joking.

And if you are as hopeless at painting your nails as I am, then I suggest you purchase Sally Hansen's new "Color Quick: Fast Dry Nail Color Pen."  I was painting my toenails with some of the ladies in this program the other day, and I endured much ribbing for my inability to get the nail polish anywhere near my toenails.  It looked like I just dipped the tips of my feet in paint and hoped for the best.  No longer a problem, thanks to a care package sent by my mother, containing this new Sally Hansen product.  The polish is in a pen, which is much easier to hold then a tiny brush, and dries fast.  Now I stay within the lines and my chances of smudging my nail job are much lower.  Plus, the teasing has stopped.  A win-win for everyone!  Moms are the best.

Pink Poof...

I am writing this from the back row of the La Traviata orchestra rehearsal, and at the rate we are going, it was probably a good call to bring all those books with me.  This is going to be a SLOW process.  The conductor doesn't really know a whole lot of English, so he tends to communicate in grunts.  I am still trying to figure out the difference between his "happy" grunt and his "mad" grunt.  I just follow everyone else's facial expressions to know when we are in trouble and when we are home-free.  Too bad the orchestra doesn't have the same luxury.

My first act costume for said opera has been upgraded from a pink poof to an 80's-style pink poof, complete with GI-normous shoulder pads.  I am totally rocking the Molly Ringwald vibe. Even better is the huge butt bow that has been added.  I felt like saying "there is enough back there, thank you.  No need to add more.  I brought my own junk for my trunk."  I look like a large, crinoline-stuffed wedding cake.

And four weeks into this grand adventure, all the Studio Artists (AKA: willing slave laborers) are ready to revolt for more time off.  I'm thinking it will start with us singing all our music in Pig Latin and progress from there.

Viva La Revolution!