THIS FAT OLD LADY’S CRAPPY DAY – THE END

stage fright

So I finish work at about 5:00 p.m. Whew.

Except I have an audition at 7:00 p.m. – and the theater is about ½ hour away. So I have 1 ½ hours to:

  1. Make dinner for me and husband
  2. Eat dinner
  3. Figure out what to do with my hair
  4. Do makeup
  5. Figure out what to wear and wear it

First thing when my husband gets home he notices that I forgot to turn off the coffee maker, which he had specifically asked me to do before he left for work (the coffee was still brewing). So the coffee has been on all day – yum, a whole pot of way over-brewed coffee.

I get dinner ready (thank God for microwaves), and we both eat.

I realize my hair is a lost cause, so I wad it up and put it on top of my head. I put on a little bit of makeup – I have neither the time nor the desire to do put on full face paint.

Grab my music, resume, and out the door.

Get to the audition. The place is packed. The good news is I had signed up online and had the first audition spot. The bad news is I obviously did not read what I needed to have ready for the auditions.

I assumed they wanted 16 bars from a song – NOPE – 16 bars of 2 songs (luckily, I wasn’t sure what I should sing, so I had the music for two songs with me).

I did not stink in my vocal audition, but I did not rock it. All I can say is 3 hours standing in a cold gym doing back-up vocals for a friend on Friday was catching up with me. Also, the SalivaSure tablets I was taking to help with dry mouth, decided to stop helping with saliva and to turn my mouth and throat into the Mohave.

A prepared monologue. Um – the only thing I have stored in my punkin’ head is Stephen Hopkins card from 1776:

Ben – I want you to see some cards I’ve gone and had printed up that ought to save everybody here a whole lot of time and effort, considering the epidemic of bad disposition that’s been going around lately.

Dear Sir – You are without any doubt a rogue, a rascal, a villain, a thief, a scoundrel and a mean dirty stinking, sniveling, sneaking, pimping, pocket picking, thrice double damned, no good son-of a bitch.

What do you think?

What do you think, indeed. Not a really all-purpose kind of monologue.

Luckily (yes, I know this is a lot of luck for such a crappy day), they also provided a monologue from the show to cold read. And I admit I did a decent job with the cold reading.

They were going to have us dance. I thought they said they weren’t going to have us dance.

Not a big problem, except I’m wearing Crocs (cute trendy Crocs, but Crocs). Did you know, Crocs kind of stick to the floor? Not great dance shoes. Making my not being a great dancer even a little more difficult. Half way through learning the combination though, the powers that be decided “no dancing” and sent us home. Whew. Dodged that bullet.

I get home and my fat old ass is just dragging. Husband asks some stuff about the audition and I babble back at him. Poor husband is trying to get info, and my addled brain thinks I am communicating, but I’m not. Husband is frustrated, I’m frustrated.

And the biggest luckiest I have – I am married to a really great guy. He patiently coaxed the information he was seeking out of me.

Time for this day to end.

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