During “Die Vampire Die” I was all, “There are some people in the world who say–THERE’S HUNTER BELL”

Okay. Let me just take a moment. This is my last post about [title of show]. For now. I make no promises.

Andbutso. This weekend we performed. And. Well. Now I’m feeling post-show depression. So naturally I turn to the blog.

Remember that time a few days ago when I said…

[cue flashback lights and sounds]

“Is it wrong that I’m sort of relieved we’re so far away from New York that they can’t just pop in on us to see what we’ve done to their show? [Hunter’s from Atlanta at one point, as our Hunter pointed out to me, and that’s scary]”

So. Um. Guess what happened?

HUNTER FUCKING BELL JUST KIND OF DROPPED BY AND SAW OUR SHOW.

He was in the neighborhood and he and his brother–the same brother from the Ace of Death and A Puzzling Obsession story–casually popped on in and… well. They seemed to really love it. Which blows my mind. I can’t stop thinking about all the mistakes I made, lines I didn’t read properly, etc. And then I was talking to OgleHunter about my worries and he just kind of put it into perspective, “Were you playing Hunter with Hunter in the audience?” No. THANK JOSS.

You know what’s great? When your heroes come to see you in a play! (Word, Susan)

So. Let’s go the story sequentially. Adrenaline-fueled and possibly not very accurate. Let’s just assume all quotations are paraphrased and Kate-ized.

Lights up, everything’s going fine. Fast forward to the end of Development Medley. I’m running my chair from far stage left to far stage right–I’m not joking, I’m running–to hit my mark for the phone call (Zehnder-Oliver Capital, this is Susan) and just as I’m there for “Aaaah Off-Broad—” I twist the hell out of my left ankle. But at least I hit my mark for the lights. And so I finish my five lines and spend the next scene–Keeping the Ball in the Air, I think?–frozen on stage in lots of pain. Then I’m a mess during Change It Don’t Change It, I missed my mark for the next phone call and had to inch my way into the light. And then during “A Way Back to Then” I’m so overcome with ‘This is the last time I’ll hear her sing this song, this is the last time we’re on stage together, my ankle hurts a lot, I don’t ever want this to end, why don’t we have more than three shows?’ that I just start crying. And OgleHeidi is crying because she’s feeling the same thing I’ll bet–minus foot hurting–so we’re struggling to keep it together during Pre-Nine People’s. And then I just kind of lost it AGAIN during my solo talking about the goddamn Rice Krispie Treats because this stupid show was all totally life changing to me and I feel like my whole life has been validated within the course of three weeks. And I’m a gross crier, so I’m trying to come up with discreet ways to wipe my nose. And I get it together for the finale and then just totally lost it again during curtain call and hobbled back to the ASM to sit in a chair and cry while my mic is being removed. And the cast and everybody’s freaking out, like–can we ice your ankle do you need help OMJ what the hell–and I’m being stubborn and stupid and I’m crying partly because it hurts but mostly because it’s so damn embarrassing. And eventually I convince them to leave me and I take a couple of minutes to compose myself and wash my face and slap myself a couple of times to just snap out of it.

And then I’m walking toward the doors to leave and our Technical Director says, “Mummblemummblehunterbellmumblemuble.” And I’m all, “Wha…?” And then I limp into the lobby with my face all red and I’m still sort of confused.

And there’s Hunter Bell. And he turns around and just sort of holds his arms out for me and I think I literally started backing away in embarrassment. He introduces himself, he’s so cool just kinda casually like, “Hey I’m Hunter Bell you guys were so awesome” and I’m all, “Grglelagbler Hi I’m Kate.” And I shook his hand and then we probably hugged. And then the night became the greatest night of my life.

And he was kind of leading me up to where everybody else was, and, like the total sweetheart he is, asks me if I’m okay, and I have to stop panicking long enough to apologize that I fell after Development. And he’s all, “Somebody get her an icepack!” And I’m all, “NowhatnoI’mfineyou’rehunterbell.” And he’s all, “I gotta tell you about the time Jeff sprained his ankle during the show on Broadway”–which he does, eventually when things have calmed down.

And everybody’s freaking out. We’ve got cameras flashing left and right. I eventually hobble/ran as fast as I could to get my camera and he was totes game to stand there and take pictures with us for like twenty minutes. And so the audience members and cast/crew alike are just going camera-crazy and we grab every single person who worked on the show–actors, ops, management, directors, choreographers, designers, everybody who was there–and take pictures with him. And then he says he wants his own picture with the four of us. And I’m just dying of pure delight. A huge part of me wants to apologize for the mistakes I made but a smarter part of me was just like–dude shut up.

And you know what’s adorable? He totally apologized to us for writing the medleys. He apologized. And we were all, “Dudeshutupyou’reawesome. We love you no matter how hard it is to stage your show. I love you forever let’s be best friends.”

We kind of kept quoting him back to him–which I wonder whether or not that’s surreal, but you better believe how applicable all the things they said freaking out about Bernadette Peters or Kitty Carlisle Hart were definitely applying to him. Our Assistant Director even asked him, “Is it true that you don’t know squiddle about dibetes?” about which he was very tickled and responded appropriately and then OgleHeidi was all, “Me too dum dum me too!” WE’RE SO SELF-REFERENTIAL IT’S AWESOME.

Eventually we just kind of kidnap him for a bit and take him back to the green room to sign every poster our director could get his hands on. He was pressing us for questions and doling out praise for all of us like it was nothing. He loved our show. He signed everything we asked him to–including our stage manager’s callbook, because he said our SM called the show beautifully and then our SM cried a little because this was the happiest day of his life too.

He told us a bunch of wacky Broadway anecdotes, including how hard it was to know where to move the chairs during blackouts (WE HAD THAT PROBLEM TOO!) and how Jeff refused to stop doing the show even though he sprained his ankle before the Medleys. He was just the most complementary and loveliest famous real person I’ve ever met. I had to admit to myself–this day was even better than the day when I met Nathan Fillion, Alan Tudyk, and Matthew Lewis all on the same day.


He was pressing us for questions–he’d answer anything and everything that we wanted to know about [tos] or the [tos] gang. So we’re all, “Hey what’re you doing now?” And he explains to us that the four are work-shopping a show at the Vineyard around May/June and casually was all, “Yeah you guys should totally come see us.” And we’re all, “drool omj yes please school sponsored field trip?”

So after we commandeered him for what was probably over an hour he decided that he should probably head on home with his brother. As he was going, he said, “I’m going to report back to the others and tell them how awesome you guys are.” And all of us were like “AH HEIDI/SUSAN/JEFF ARE ACTUALLY GOING TO KNOW WE EXIST” more so than the “They put us on their website” excitement. And that was legit them doing the website stuff cause Hunter mentioned that Jeff thought the popcorn in our poster was funny or sommat like that.

I must have hugged him like seven times that night. I’m not a hugger. And I hugged the hell out of Hunter Bell and I didn’t mind in the slightest.

Anyway.

So even though Hunter’s left at this point, I’ll just keep telling the story because I cry some more and everybody likes to laugh derisively at people who cry.

We finally start the strike, which you think would take a short time what with us only having four chairs and a keyboard but that’s not true at all. Then duhduhduh-duhduhduh-duh-duh-duh-this is some time that has passed [only funny if you saw our production, I apologize]–strike’s over. We gather in the green room for pizza. People make lovely speeches about how awesome everything has been. I’m trying to not cry.

Throughout the rehearsal, we’ve tried to have an ongoing contest to see who can come up with the best drag queen names and since none of us but OgleHunter and the director were really that good at it, they decided to give us all like “Well you all failed so we’ll just give you all prizes so everybody feels special!” prizes. Word. Sample drag queen names include: Isadora Jar (which we put into the show), So Soo Me (she’s Asian–says our director), Shirley A. Man, Alotta Dix… yada. Our SM and ASM are handing out special prizes/notes that are specific to our characters. They ask us to read the card to everybody so we don’t see our prize ahead of time.

For OgleJeff, they give a powder-blue bowler hat with a large flower sprouting from the top, “His serious hat because he’s so serious.” Serious OgleJeff is so serious. I wish he’d wear that hat every day.

For OgleHeidi, she gets a pair of sparkly butterfly wings for “A Way Back to Then” because, let’s face it, she just kills that song. If she would let them, the audience would probably give her a standing O after that. She’s so kick ass.

Then they call up me, and I’m like on the verge of tears just watching how happy the other two are. And they hand me the note that says on the cover, “Because you ARE the Rice Krispie Treats” and I read it and start bawling immediately like a small child. On the inside of the card, “Now you’re shakin’ bacon!” And they gave me a box of Rice Krispie Treats and I’m just inconsolable because I’m touched and honored and happy and I don’t ever want to leave ever. And then SM’s like, “…you do like Rice Krispie Treats, right?” to which I respond, “I fucking love Rice Krispie Treats”.

And to OgleHunter they gave a mix CD of what I assume to be Broadway tunes, which they titled “A Little Night Mucus” (one of the potential titles for the show that he improv’d, though my favorite was, “What about ‘Spider-man: Turn Off the–AHHHHHHH IT HURTS’!”) to help inspire him whenever he needed monkeys driving on speedboats.

But anyway, so that’s the end of that. And I don’t want to wax poetical about how influential this show has been to me and how it’ll go down as probably my best college memory and I’ll talk about it for years to come. Yada.

But enough about [tos]…. Who’s up for more [title of show] talk?!

My brother’s fiancee’s nine-or-ten-year-old son (six degrees much) came to see the show on Friday and all I think he really got out of it was a lot of swearing and some mime violence during “Die Vampire Die”. He kept fake staking me with a toothpick all day Saturday. I said, “No, no, kid. I’m the vampire slayer; you’re not supposed to stake me.”

Also I keep making [tos] jokes to people who’ve only seen it once and then they don’t laugh because who the hell else remembers tiny details but I’m too busy laughing at how clever I am to care. Blergle.

This is the last line of my poorly constructed stream of consciousness definitely forgetting some awesome details blog post.

Advertisements

Ogle[tos]

I am still in the peak of my [title of show] related obsession. It’s all I think about. It would be all I talk about, but people get irritated about that. I’m just freaking out gearing up to the best weekend of my life (since Dragon*Con 2010).

And now this week, a bomb of happiness has been dropped on my life. And literally the first thought that popped into my head–Air Freshner Vampires be damned–was–

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT!”

And exactly what could elicit such an expletive-infused reaction?

The very acknowledge of our little show’s existence by the original [tos]sers themselves. Don’t believe me?

We go up this weekend, and I am going nuts with the anticipation for what appears to be almost everybody I know and love in the general area (and not in the general area, being that my brother is taking the eight hour drive up here, and I love him even more) is all sorts of excited to find out exactly where the hell I’ve been for the last month.

Is it wrong that I’m sort of relieved we’re so far away from New York that they can’t just pop in on us to see what we’ve done to their show? [Hunter’s from Atlanta at one point, as our Hunter pointed out to me, and that’s scary]

Don’t mistake that for doubting our awesome. Trust me. We’re awesome. The show is awesome. Our crew is awesome. Our performances are going to be awesome. The show easily lends itself such workable and likeable people, we can just slip into them so freaking easy, taking all of our quirks and blending them in with the [tos] quirks. This show is the closest I’ve ever come to believing in blessings. I struggle to think of a time when I’ve been so consistently happy in the last decade.

Also? Can I just say that this show seems to be inadvertently made for the purpose of adding Star Wars jokes? I’m not even joking a little. We’ve spent the last week or so making nonstop Star Wars/[tos] hybrid jokes (not to mention having a continual musical review with our amazing AMAZING Larry the pianist–if he wrote a blog telling all of the crazy stories from his life, it may be the most read blog in the world, totes to the post-it notes).

I dream a dream of a one-time performance of our Star Wars-themed improv [title of show] show. It would be the most amazingly nerdy thing to ever happen at this school ever. And we’re a really flipping nerdy school, like no joke you guys srsly.

Care for some highlights? [that won’t make sense unless you’re a [tos]ser already].

“This isn’t the musical you’re looking for. Move along.” [a potential title of show]

“I’m going to go on YouTube and announce that I want a golden taun-taun!”

“Heidi and I did that training montage in Dagobah together.”
“SHUT IT. Y’all were in Dagobah together. Tell me a wacky, Dagobian anecdote.”
“Uh, hm. I don’t know…”
“Did you go through a Dark Side infused tree stump and slay your inner-demons?”
“No… but that would have been wacky!”
“That would have been emotionally scarring, Heidi. Scarring.”

“Oh My God, this is it. Here we go into the Sarlac pit.”

“What if my fear turned to anger? / What if my fear lead me to the dark side? / Obi-wan! Would that change the way you saw your Padawan, / now he’s a Sith and he needs you!”

“I’m just a diplomatic emissary! I don’t know squiddle about Dantooine!”

YES THAT JUST HAPPENED.

This Post Is So [title of show]

Well, I haven’t written anything since a month (and to be fair, I’m cheating with the bad SH fanfic, which I definitely wrote in November) I figure I’ll give the internets an update on the awesomeness/business that has been my life the last month or so.

Awesome List of Awesome Things that Happened in Awesome December:

  1. I finished my fifth semester at college–straight A’s, what!
  2. I made lots o’ the money in my job. Approximately 50 hours a week running around my store and getting verbally bitch slapped by customers in a Christmas rush was WORTH.IT. Cause I like the moneys. Call me crazy.
  3. I got a camcorder for Christmas and I am continually beating myself up every time I think starting up a vlog again is a good idea. It’s bad enough I’ve got this sort of stuff in writing. You shouldn’t have to see my face.
  4. I spent at least four hours of my life in the craziest set of auditions in my life (you’d think it was American Idol or something nuts, the amount of singing I did…) which was worth it because…
  5. I GOT CAST IN A PLAY. It’s called [title of show] and all you current [tos]sers who know what’s what can skip down a bit, because I’m going to spend some time gushing.

Okay. So. [title of show] is the little meta-musical that could. It’s intensely difficult–for me at least, as I’ve noticed lately–to describe the show’s premise in 40 coherent words or less (other than to say, “THIS SHOW FUCKING ROCKS!”) so I would direct you to it’s Wikipedia page. [tos] is a fan-farking-tastic show that promises to be a fan-farking-tastic amount of fun (once we start rehearsals next week).

Oh and I’m playing Susan. Who is the perfect character for me. We like the quirks. We have the crippling stage fright and the insecurities. We’re intimidated by our fellow ama-za-zing cast members. We’re both so very hilarious (ah ha, ah hahaha). And we both enjoy singing about killing vampires (hello, Once More with Feeling)!

Let’s consider the weirdness of what it’ll be like for the four of us playing The Four. So the show is about four people trying to create a musical about four people trying to create a musical about four people trying to create a musical… yada. Not unlike a biography (the events in the show are true except for the parts that aren’t), these people are real. Real people playing themselves–some version of themselves?–and now we’re real people playing real people playing themselves… Then you’re left with the element of truth. If the show is supposed to be about real people, do I try my best to become the real Susan Blackwell, or am I to be a sort of me/her hybrid that touches closer to reality because it’ll be based on what I know?

I don’t know if I’m explaining this coherently. You see the headaches this show gives me?

They say that it’s not a good idea to watch other performances of the same character when you’re developing your own character. Honestly, I’ve never had a big enough part in anything to worry about that anyway. But Susan’s real. I have a cast recording. I’ve seen the [title of show] shows. Do I keep her inflections? Do I sing the way she does? Can I even keep up with her? Will it be embarrassing if I try? Am I thinking about this too hard and too much before rehearsals have even started?

YES to that last one. Also I’m having weekly dreams–often 2-3 times a week–about working on [title of show], more specifically failing on [title of show]. I’ve never been this nervous in my life. I’ve never had this much theatrical responsibility in my life. It’s almost as if… they expect me to do stuff that can pass as good theatre. WHAT’LL I DO? I DON’T KNOW WHAT I’M DOING! (die vampire die!)

This is what you get when you hand a total amateur a script this mind-bogglingly a month in advance without talking to me about expectations. I mean, the door swings both ways and I could just as easily email my director with my questions. But that would involve effort.

It would also involve admitting that I don’t know everything.

That would be just plain wrong, wouldn’t it?


[oh ps. I am totes to the post-it notes listening to the Doctor Who series 5 soundtrack right this minute and I am just in love with it. Isn’t it freaking brilliant? Thank you, Murray Gold.]