Well, That Doesn't Happen Every Day.

I had a private audition for a play this afternoon that lasted nearly an hour!(See above title.) Kind of riding high from that one, not gonna lie. The director quasi-interviewed me about the character and what drew me to the play, we did the scenes, he told me all about the theater, and then we chatted about personal stuff for ten minutes.

Someone said it sounded like a date, and in a way it was exactly like a date. What a luxury to get to see if you get along with someone and actually like the person you may be working with!

This meant more to me as well due to the fact that I get pigeonholed into being seen only as a musical theater actor just because I've got a killer voice. So, no matter what happens, I know I set the bar very, very high!!

I have been considering resurrecting this blog for a while... it has lain fallow in deference to my Wine Minx tome (www.wineminx.blogspot.com) but episodes like today's have gotten me itching.

We shall see...

I will sort these thoughts out

DVR Madness. Call the White Coats!

I recently had the same discussion with two different friends about which shows they record on their DVRs. When I started listing mine, I was shocked by how many there were - when did I become such a TV junkie? I blame technology. The system makes it too easy to record just about anything that catches your fancy.

I am going to bare my boob-tube-watching soul for you now and list the shows I DVR and why. Perhaps this will be cathartic and I will pick up a good book tonight instead of grabbing the clicker. In no particular order:

1) Human Target - New this season, action-packed, like a mini-movie every week, lots of car chases and fun fight sequences... and Jackie Earle Haley is in it. Totally enjoyable fluff.

2) Leverage - Similar to the above, more interesting for the elaborate con games. A nice ensemble of actors who manage to lift their characters out of "stock" mold, especially hunky Christian Kane as the bruiser. And Timothy Hutton is a classic.

3) 24 - I can't stop watching this series, although no season equals Day 1 in my opinion. I like to count the number of times per episode Jack Bauer repeats himself louder, like: "Where's the file?! WHERE'S THE FILE?!"

4) Bones - I came to this series slowly but now I love freakin' Emily Deschanel! And her interplay with hunky David Boreanaz. And the odd but lovable fellow scientists. And, and, and.

5) House - Dad got me into this one. My friend Scott won't watch it because he's a bit of a hypochondriac and watching doctors diagnose mystery diseases would be torture for him. Hugh Laurie manages to make a completely unsympathetic character compelling, and the ensemble cast is solid.

6) Project Runway - I have a love-hate relationship with reality TV. I can't stand most of it, but I love these specialized competitions. I thought I'd lose interest here since I can't sew to save my life, but this manages to keep me glued without too much silly drama. Enough silly drama, just not too much.

7) The Bachelor - I know, you just threw up in your mouth a little bit. This is indeed the most tawdry of all of the dating shows (at least Flavor of Love is honest about its freak factor...) and especially this season, where they showed the Bachelor shirtless 4 or 5 times in the first few minutes, once even soaping himself up in a shower. Ug. I mean, he's hot, but come ON. And all that editing to make 'characters' out of those poor girls? Double ug. So why do I subject myself to this? I'll tell you why - I am a hopeless, hopeless romantic. And I am single. So if I watch two people on the journey from a first hopeful meeting all the way to a proposal, even under these circumstances, I can believe it might happen to me. Maybe when I have a boyfriend again I can stop watching this stupid show.

7) Top Chef - Back to "good" reality TV! Again, love the competition, and since I cook a little bit, I love it even more. Padma's a little annoying, but I really love going on the journey with these chefs. I just wish I could taste the food.

8) Supernanny - How can so many people be such horrible parents? I'm not a total Judy Judger, I do understand how they could slowly get themselves in a hole, but even though I don't have kids I have learned so much from JoJo myself. I can't wait to say, (in her accent) "That's not assseptible." (I also frequently watch The Dog Whisperer which holds a parallel interest for me, but I don't actually DVR it so it didn't make the list.)

9) What Not To Wear - Stacy and Clinton are amazing. I don't think I was ever a fashion disaster, but I've paid close attention to these two over the years and think they would be proud! My favorite part is seeing how confident their participants get after the makeover.

10) Extreme Makeover: Home Edition - Speaking of makeovers... . This show nudges up against exploitation of the families, and I always worry that after the cameras are off they won't be able to afford the taxes on the new property or it will get vandalized. But I cry every week, darn it! I'm so happy for the kid who doesn't have to sleep in a chair anymore! The mom with cancer who has a quiet place to relax after chemo! Walls and ceilings without holes! All of it.

11) The Biggest Loser - Kind of like the people on WNTW, I cheer for these folks making a life-changing transformation. I have to trust they're doing it as healthily as possible, cus they drop LBs so fast, but they're inspiring. I used to do dips and push-ups and sit-ups during the commercials but the DVR took that away. I mean, I can't not fast-forward through the commercials, come on.

12) Survivor - Because this is the one reality show I think I'd do. And also, there's hunky Jeff Probst. But I usually fast forward past all the scheming and yapping to camera for the challenges.

13) Deadliest Catch - Kittra and Susie got me into this. If I had to be a crab fisherman, I think I could. I wouldn't want to, but what these guys do is incredible, and yet mundane, and also so foreign to a gal who lives in NYC. And Mike Rowe is a narrating king.

14) Family Guy - I have become addicted to this show. It is genius. That's all I have to say.

15) Castle - Oh, Nathan Fillion, finally one of your shows stuck! The hardest-working actor you hadn't heard of. Not really a fan of his detective counterpart, but it's all about him anyway. Very funny, and I love the relationship with his family. You know you've already met who is eventually discovered as the killer in the first 15 minutes, but it's a fun ride.

16) V - I am still on the fence about this one. What did they give us, like three episodes before the break? I liked the old V with Marc Singer. We'll see.

17) FlashForward - Very intrigued! I like Joe Fiennes and John Cho a lot. Great premise. Surprising, can't quite figure out where it's going - even though we're supposed to know exactly where it's going! Kinda creepy too.

18) Glee - Love it love it love it love it. This show makes me happy. The songs, the musical talent, and Jane Lynch is so incredible as Sue Sylvester I can't think of any word to accurately describe how incredible she is.

19) Grey's Anatomy - I watched it at first because a fellow Dartmouth alumna created it. And then I couldn't stop. It's a bit soap-opera-y, sure, and the McDreamy McSteamy cuteness got on my nerves, but I seem moved to cry at least once every episode. And Sandra Oh is brilliant.

20) Lie to Me - (We're almost done, can you believe it?) A gimmick of a show, but it's starting to find its legs and Tim Roth aces it.

21) LOST - I am a LOST loyalist through and through - I never left. Some of the most insane moments on TV, the kind where you have to stuff your fist in your mouth to keep from screaming in amazement. Final season, makes me a little sad. But then again, great shows like Six Feet Under and Battlestar Galactica had to end as well to make room for what was to come.

Twenty-one shows on my DVR. At least they don't all happen at the same time, I'd never leave the house. Because while the DVR is great technology, and allows me to keep up with shows when I'm performing, and skip the commercials, it also makes me crazy! I think tonight I will crack open that book.

After I catch up on the last two episodes of 24, that is. I'm behind.

Volatility.

We aren't even three weeks into the new year - the new decade - and it seems to me that there is an uncommon volatility in the air. Of course, the devastating earthquake in Haiti has something to do with that. But there are issues in our government, issues with our national identity - there's the ability of our social networking to create viral insanity, the fact we foster relationships by typing and not in person - I see individuals all around me make choices that make no sense to me, and people who live more for the drama than compassion and real connections...

It all feels a little too uncomfortable. Too volatile. It makes me want to move to the country with my beloved and farm our own food and ride horses to the neighbors' for dinner, and work to teach children the value of gratitude and that they can do anything they dream.

But first I need a beloved.

Seriously, though, I guess I need to re-commit to having hope. Hope that the pain of those affected by the earthquake will heal. Hope that one day we will decide through our elected officials that two people who love each other have every right to marry, and that good health care is not optional. Hope that connections renewed online will be wonderfully refreshed in person. Hope that people will 'grow up' and realize that they are not the center of the universe.

Okay, okay - and hope that I will find a beloved and maybe one day we will grow some food and inspire some children together.

LOOKING.

I am looking. Looking for that beautiful grey warm area, when people’s eyes meet and something new is exchanged. One particular person I could always count on for deep eyeful meaning has recently left New York and is – as I write this, I believe – on his way to the farthest reaches of the Pacific Northwest. But the all-encompassing nature I crave from a look was only ever on the fringe with this departed friend. Now it has arrived at the forefront and become incredibly necessary.

It has been a long time since I’ve shared that particular knowing glance with someone. This glance I speak of is not merely a promise of sexual intimacy or a mutual recognition of interest. It is something so deep that wars are fought over it, epic poems are written about it, people die to achieve it. It is particular to the participants. It connects the head, heart, and body. It transports. It is a statement without words.

It is why we watch theatre, why we DVR good television dramas. We hope to see a rich moment, full and deep, and yet tender and incongruously simple at the same time. I am not jealous of other people and their relationships, I am jealous of these looks.

After one has been single for a while, the question emerges about loneliness. And sure, I miss a body beside me as I sleep. Yes, I miss a person rubbing my feet in front of the TV, knowing what comments I’ll make about something we’re watching before I open my mouth. Of course I want someone as a touchstone to my day and someone to help guide along his own path. But most of all I want to exchange this look.

A look that is unique, every time. A look that encompasses hope, desire, love, lust, admiration, support, questioning, wondering, faith, gratitude, and beguilement. I know I am able to bestow that look. I know I am able to receive it. Now I must wait, patiently, for it. I am… looking.

What gives?

Men are perplexing beasts.

1) I part ways with an Australian fellow who made a series of bad choices which ultimately killed our relationship. The last correspondence was an email I sent about two years ago which basically said, "I don't hate you, just leave me be, okay?" The other day, he calls me. It's 4am in Melbourne, so he's probably drunk. I let it go to voicemail. When I listen to it, yup, he sounds blasted. He says he's had two years to think about the things I said in that email, and then hangs up.

2) A longtime male friend (full disclosure: with whom there had been some occasional kissing in the past, but not for ages and it was no longer a factor,) blew off a trip I'd invited him on. Since we had been very close but hadn't hung out for a while, I was hoping the little jaunt would provide a long-overdue catch-up. Well, he dropped the ball, enough so I missed a travel deal, and ultimately had to go on this trip alone. Nearly three months go by, not a peep from him. I run into him the other day and he says he's leaving town for good, didn't I get the Facebook invite to his going-away party? Uh, nope.

3) An attractive guy I meet at an event flirts with me outrageously in front of his girlfriend. She pops off to chat with people across the room, and he kisses me full on the mouth.

4) During three months on match.com, I send about fifteen emails to fellows paired up with me. Guess how many respond? One. And when I answer his message, I never hear from him again.

These are just four little items that have recently converged to force me to ask, "What gives?" Ultimately I'm not selfish and egotistical enough to think that these are personal affronts. But I have to laugh through my perplexity. I don't get it. Is it the nature of men, that whole Mars/Venus thing that I just don't understand? Or is it me, somehow, attracting this kind of behavior unknowingly?

I have a friend who gets a giggle out of the crazy situations I find myself in. He says, "Only you, Annie, only you." Well, that can't be true, only me. But I am at a point in my life where all I'm looking for is a partner in crime, a lover and best friend to share my wonderful life with. I make it sound simple, because I think it should be simple, and yet I know it's not a simple thing. However these roadblocks are confounding and annoying and give me less hope that what I am looking for is actually out there.

I'd love to give up - at this point, sometimes I'd really like to give up. But I can't. So I guess I just have to endure the irresponsible ones, the selfish ones, the disloyal ones, the uncommitted ones.

And maybe, just maybe, I'll find out that "what gives" is that I will keep slogging through this mess and ultimately earn my partner in crime. That would be nice.

A Treatise On Dating PART ONE (from 2007)

[This is PART ONE of a two-part blog entry I posted on my myspace page in 2007. I thought it was interesting and worth a re-print, given what I'm going through now. Read on...]

In 52 minutes, I'll be meeting a Strange Man. His name is Dan, he's about my age, he works restructuring the public school system, he likes wine, and he's bald. That's all I know about him. And by "strange," I don't mean to imply that he's loony - I hope to jehovahnot. "Strange" as in "unkown to me." Think of it like a blind date. Because that's what it is.

About six months ago, I joined Match.com. There are a lot of men on there. Fewer men in the NYC area, fewer still over 32 and under 46, fewer still who know how to use punctuation, grammar, and spell-check. Dan is one of the very few I "met" on Match. We actually "met" over a month ago, but have both been so busy, we couldn't apparently squeeze an IRL meeting over glass of wine until now. (Mom, IRL is internet-speak for 'in real life.' FYI.) Well, we tried last week, but he cancelled on me at nearly the last minute - "nearly" being the operative word, and sole reason I'm leaving my house in 46 minutes instead of deleting his emails.

This is my first date of 2007! I actually haven't been on a date for a much (much) longer time than that. Don't feel sorry for me - this ain't no pity party. I'm a choosy gal, and this Strange Dan person is by no means the only fellow to show a Match.com or IRL interest in me! (Mom, don't read the rest of this paragraph. I love you.) I mean, I even had some sex in the last few weeks, yay.

Ah, but there's the rub. DATING means: Going on Dates. Out in public. Having food together, drinking wine together. Conversing in slightly crowded watering holes. Checking out a band, a game, a show. And maybe, just maybe, wanting to smooch the other person at the end of the Date. And that is so foreign to me, so forgotten, I'm actually nervous at the thought of leaving the house in 37 minutes. And I do not get nervous. So I'm having a glass of wine before I meet Strange Dan for 'a glass of wine.'

I titled this blog entry PART ONE because I am so very hopeful that tonight might actually elicit a PART TWO. Even though my recent dating history would hardly fill a Post-It, I am looking forward to my Date in 28 minutes. I'm not putting this all on Strange Dan - if there's no chemistry, it's one glass of nice wine and off to Nod. I won't Date just to date. But this is the first new person in such a long time who is gambling, like I am. Who is also going out on a limb and meeting a total stranger to see if there's a connection. Who might even be a little bit nervous himself. Who might be so very aware of the passage of the next 24 minutes as well.

A last gulp of Sancerre rose, check for lipstick on the teeth, obsessive-compulsively feel-around for the keys in the purse, and I'm off. I'm leaving in 8 minutes (22 minutes before the Date) because it's 4 blocks and I'm wearing very high, very sexy heels.

What? Just because I haven't dated in ages doesn't mean I've forgotten how. :)

Oh, Seriously? You Gotta Be Kidding Me (PART TWO)

[This is part two of a two-part blog first published on my myspace page in 2007. Read it and weep.]

Seriously? Seriously??? SERIOUSLY?????? After all this time, the Dating Karma Gods were not inclined to send me a 'gimme,' huh?

And lest you immediately think that I was putting too much on this meeting with Strange Dan... the whole way there I was saying, like a mantra, "just have fun, no big whoop," and I found I really meant it. --Hold on, I have to go check the Equity website and see if the audition I was going to get up at the crack of ass for tomorrow (sorry, Mom, language,) is any other date as well so I can finish the rest of the bottle of the Sancerre rose as I fume here for a bit and then finally, eventually, relax by catching up on last night's installment of "The Riches" and whatever else my DVR has in store for me.

Done, there's a Thursday call too. Game on! So:

He walks in - looking not too far from what I was expecting. Good... I thought he'd be a bit taller, but I was wearing the sexy high heels. Not un-cute, amiable, I thought "okay!..." Seats at the crowded bar had opened up just after I arrived - a scant minute before he came in. (Hey, KARMA, thanks for the seats. I'd have preferred to stand...) He looked a bit casual for a Date - khaki shorts, polo shirt, sweater vest (well, he's no iron man so it looked even more casual than I would have thought...) but, well, now, in all fairness, I should tell you what I was wearing...

Sexy heels (we've been over that part.) Sexy designer grey/black skinny jeans. Black tank top with tie at waist. Nice black Calvin jacket (of the 'Anthem Calvin jacket's,) cute red bangles on wrist, silver hoop earrings, and Mom n' Dad-given emerald pinkie ring with tiny diamonds surrounding: it screams 'class,' it does. Point is --- I LOOKED HOT!!!! CASUAL YET PUT-TOGETHER, FUN YET SEXY, AND HHHHHHOOOOOTTTTTTTT!!!!!

But he looked fine, not awful, I mean it. (Just had to stress how comparitively hot yours truly was.)

Ok, so we start chatting about wine - he appreciated my choice at the wine bar (Mascarello Dolcetto D'Alba) and I was quizzing him about his work since it's such an unsual, seemingly interesting, and essential (!) job... well, a wee voice in the back of my brain was saying, "This guy's either really relaxed and casual, or he's drunk." Comes to pass that a big project was finished today and he'd gone out with co-workers four hours earlier and had had FIVE MARGUERITAS before meeting me. I was so taken aback that I don't know if I can spell 'marguerita' properly. (I keep trying and nothing looks right. Forgive me, Mom.) I mean, you all read the earlier blog, right?, you know I had one glass of wine to calm the nerves. ONE. I can't scream in caps louder - Ohh Ehnn Eeeee. One.

But, okay, like I posited earlier, maybe he was nervous, AND he was celebrating the end of a busy period at work... I'm soooooo generous. So we keep chatting. I start to become aware of this very silibant "sssss" at the end of some phrases. And I see his hands floppily gesticulating at each point he made. Now I'm thinking he's GAY. I-suddenly-can-see-him-sidling-up-to-my-gorgeous-gays-at-a-party-I'm-throwing-and-then-sneaking-back-to-the-bedroom, GAY. And then I think, well, maybe he's loopy. But then I think, while he's chatting away, that none of my gays would give this buffoon the time of day, so why the hell am I? But I am nice. And generous. And willing to give the guy a break.

So we keep talking. I ask a lot of questions. He asks... a couple of questions. I indulge my growing boredom while at the same time answering a rare question by telling the very interesting story of how Mom got me into the Mets. (Thanks, Mom, I love you!) I ask about this, I ask about that... and suddenly, before I know it, he starts up and I'm on this passionate defense of my industry and career as a whole. He's blasting the concept of Unions, and I'm trying to assert my critical yet supportive view of my relationship with mine. He is relentless and vehement, and I'm looking at this guy and thinking, "This is a Date?!?" He is coming at me from angles that make no sense and are righteous and this isn't a conversation and the bartender is all the way down at the end of the bar and my glass is empty, not like I want to stay but please help me dull the pain...

And he throws his Amex down on the bar. "Here," I go, reaching for my purse. He offers, "No, I got it." "Well, let me contribute!" I say cheerily. I pull out two twenties. He shoves them under the Amex, reaches in his pocket, pulls out a billfold, hands me a five, and says, "You're emasculating a Southern Gentleman, here."

AHHHH!!!! I think if he's a Southern Gentleman, he should push the two twenties back to me and insist it's on him! I'd take them back at that point. But HE GAVE ME CHANGE while tsk-tsk-ing me! And, also, I don't think that's emasculation. Emasculation is when you are drunk in a bar and you wantonly kiss a very cute guy who works for the circus, and you decide you don't think he's a very good kisser, so you give him KISSING LESSONS right there in the bar, complete with verbal instruction as well as practical application. In front of his friends and everybody. THAT'S emasculation, my friends. (But, Angus, it was worth it, right?!) (Oh, crap, Mom, you didn't read that last part, did you?)

Well, at least I was thrilled we were paying the bill. I gracefully said goodnight, thanks for the conversation (!?!?!?) and I hope to jehovah he didn't think I was cute. I teetered home on my sexy heels, put on the sweats, poured a glass o' vino, and here I am.

Let me just say, the guy who finally gets me - is going to be one lucky, fulfilled, adored, challenged, supported, sexually over-satisfied sonofabitch.