Merry Ho-Ho's!

Well. Merry Christmas, y'all.

If you think the title of this post is dumb, I just want to point out that that is how my mother answers the phone from Dec.1st through to the Epiphany. Seriously. It's full of cheer, pep and Christ's love.

RING RING

Mom picks up phone: MERRY HO-HO'S!!!

Person On Other End: (sputtering) Um. Wha..hi? Rita??

Welcome one and all to Dlug Family Traditions 101. Thanks for stopping by. My sister, Deb, has mono and spent most of Christmas Eve and Christmas Day walking around labeling things in order to prevent people from catching her disease. "MONO CUP", "MONO DIP", "MONO CHOCOLATE TRUFFLES". I appreciated her thoughtfulness and then gave her a huge kiss on the mouth. And wouldn't you? She's freaking adorable.

MONO DEB

I borrowed my roommate's car on Christmas Eve morning (and by "borrowed", I mean "stole") and trekked out to Long Island with Tom in tow. We spent the crisp holiday morning listening to a category of songs from our youth. Tom once had a fabulous idea that he would start a Light Ghetto radio station where he would play only semi-hardcore rap and R&B songs from our high school years. Titles on this list include songs like Nelly's "Ride Wit Me", 3LW's "No More" and Mya's "Case Of The Ex" which includes the unfortunate lyrics:

"Did she hear about the brand new Benz that you just bought for me
Cuz yall didnt have no kids
Didnt share no mutual friends
And you told me that she turned tricks
When yall broke up in '96.."

Seriously. Incorporating the year 1996 into your ballad of cheating and playa-hating? Amazing. If you have suggestions for our Light Ghetto marketing campaign, please feel free to leave your thoughts as it still may come to fruition. Please note that we already know to include Big Pun's "Still Not A Player" and Usher's "You Make Me Wanna".

We are kind of a big deal.

Christmas Eve is a much bigger day for our family than Christmas Day. My mother's side of the family congregates together and since our house was picked as the location this year, I sat down to dinner on Sunday night with 29 other people. All related to me. All FIRST cousins or aunts/uncles/grandparents. I've said it before and I'll say it again, my family is the poster family for birth control. Populating a small third world country has never looked so easy.

My father was bustling around the house, getting things ready for our annual Polish Prayer Service. Wait. You didn't know we did that? ME NEITHER.

A few weeks ago, I received a phonecall from him.

Dad: LAWRA. HI.

Me: Hey dad.

Dad: So. I'm thinkin' of this idear. I'm thinkin' of doing Christmas Eve POLISH.

Me: What?

Dad: You know. Serve Polish food, sing some Polish Christmas carols, I even have a Polish blessing that I printed out, you know, that type-a thing. We could get back to our Polish roots.

Me: That sounds great, dad but I don't know any Polish Christmas carols. We don't speak Polish.

Dad: Don't worry, I do! And plus, I bought a Polish-American Christmas Carol karaoke CD. Don't tell your mother.

Me: Ummm...where did you even...nevermind. I don't want to know.

Dad: THIS IS GONNA BE GREAT.

Dad and his prop--The Black Madonna

Fast forward to Christmas Eve: After pouring my grandmother copious amounts of red wine, we all settled around the dining room table to listen to my father's prayer service. He stood before us, his voice a little shaky and nervous which was odd since he's a professor and has been standing in front of students for over 35 years. But I think this was a little different. Throughout the early part of the evening, he kept pulling me aside and asking, "Do you think people are going to like this? Is it okay that I talk?" My mother and I kept reassuring him that he would be fine and his confidence was growing until the priest from our local parish stopped by.

"OH NO," my father cried out to me in a panicked voice. "Father Charlie is here!!!!"

"You love Father Charlie!" I pointed out.

"I know! But if he listens to my prayer service, I mean, WHAT IF I SAY SOMETHIN' WRONG!? He knows a lot more than me about Jesus and stuff."

But Father Charlie stayed and my father gathered his wits about him and proceeded to tell the story of the Black Madonna painting and how it is a symbol of freedom for the Poles. The story is too long to relate here and I can't even do it justice because I don't speak Brooklynese nor do I have his props to show you all. An imitation of my father is never as good as the real thing.

Professor Dlug

I do have some video clips on my digital camera from the service so if you ever want to see the CUTEST MAN ALIVE talking about Polishness, come to my house and I will show you. And then YOU will wish you could hang out with my father every day of your life too.

My best friend Alayna has only met my father once, after coming out to my house for a Sunday dinner. She was won over immediately by his improper use of the English language. Things only got better when we were getting ready to go back to the city and he handed me a stack of articles that he had clipped out for me. Among them? "The Truth About Omega-3 Fatty Acids", "How To Organize A Small Apartment" and "Which Red Lipstick Works Best For You?" Alayna nearly fainted and whispered, "After you're done looking them over...can I borrow those?"

When I told her about my dad's upcoming Polish Christmas Eve preparations, she nearly flipped out.

"OH MY GOD!" she exclaimed. "Can you tell me how it goes!? I NEED PICTURES. I NEED VIDEO."

"I know," I said. "He's got big plans."

"Laura," she breathed, "That is going to be the most amazing thing ever."

Apparently, it is Polish tradition to break a wafer with your spouse or sibling or loved one and forgive them for whatever they've done to hurt you this past year. In turn, the other person forgives you too and you eat a piece of the wafer and absolve each other, beginning the new year cleansed and forgiven. My father took the lead with this and turned to my mother standing next to him. He clasped her hands in his and wished her happiness in the coming year and strength in all her decisions. And then he said, "I forgive you this year..." and couldn't finish the rest because his throat closed up and he started to cry.

The room was silent as they kissed and hugged and my relatives touched the tears that were falling on their cheeks. We are a sensitive bunch after all. I shut my digital camera off at that moment and wiped my eyes.

And then I ran to the bathroom to throw up because WHO LOVES SOMEONE LIKE THAT, PEOPLE!? Blubbering on about forgiveness and love after almost 29 years of marriage. IT MAKES ME SICK. God. A sappy Christmas story was totally not what I was going for here. Humbug.

Almost entirely by accident, I caught the entire forgiveness moment on a video clip on my digital camera. When I watched the segment later after uploading it to my laptop, I realized that it seemed almost too much to watch, something so personal that I felt like an intruder.

Mom

In the end, I'm glad I have it. We have very little video footage in the house of anyone, ever. And now, I have a clip that showcases so brilliantly my father and mother's love for each other. And though I'm not a part of that and though I'm still standing on the outside, it makes me believe that that kind of love exists and that I will find it eventually, probably when I stop trying so hard to find it.

Dad, Me, Aunt Bernadette

Christmas tends to bring out an aching in me, an aching for someone sitting next to me around the fire, someone to try my vegan cookie batter, someone to hand me a box with a special gift inside, like a Loews Movie Theater gift card or you know, diamond earrings. But more than anything, this Christmas dulled the ache inside me because my family seemed so compassionate and so delighted in everything that was going on. And I can't help but thank my father for setting the tone for that.

As we say in the fatherland and apparently in my house now, "Wesotych Swiat!"

Merry Christmas.

The Hell!?

To The Impotent Jerk Who Broke Into My Ebay Account And Listed 49 Pairs of Jeans For Sale and Then Changed The Password:

I'm not sure I understand your motives here, sir.

You break into my ebay account.

You list 49 New Rock and Republic Jeans that I'm supposedly "selling".

Then what? People buy them and send you the money instead of me? How does that work? Can't you get your own account?! Or better yet, maybe you just stand by and watch people bid on items that I don't have? Just for kicks? And then *I* get in trouble when it turns out that the stupid jeans don't exist and I don't have any product to send anyone? And you sit there and grin like the Grinch?

Asshat.

But really, I'd like to give you some credit and assume there was something illegal going on, probably having to do with money. And I respect that because you know, go big or go home and all that. But why don't you go launder money somewhere else? In fact, it's probably a lot easier and less time consuming than breaking into my ebay account a few days before Christmas. Seriously.

Forgive me if I seem a little peeved but it's the holiday season and thanks to your contemptible ways, I opened my inbox and found 57 new messages that I had to deal with. Three of those messages were from dear friends. Four were from online stores warning me that I only have a few days left to shop. One message was alerting me to the wonders of penis enlargement, which I took very seriously, and the other 49 e-mails were confirming my listings on ebay. 49. Duuuuude. That SUCKS.

You must have spent a lot of time individually listing all of those beautiful items after SURREPTITIOUSLY FIGURING OUT MY PASSWORD AND BREAKING IN without my knowledge or consent!

(New Year's 2005 Resolution #293: Use "surreptitious" in a sentence.)

And here's where I start to get upset because let's be honest: my password on my ebay account is my old e-mail password. It has sentimental value. Back when I was 14, my parents experimented with a trial version of AOL, my first ever worldwide web experience. I used this password for just about EVERYTHING. Hell, if it makes you feel worse, I'm going to just admit right here and now that my first ever AOL screenname was L24601rent.

If you didn't quite catch that and if I need to mortify myself further, I will break it down for you: that would be "L" for Laura, "24601" for Jean Valjean's number in prison and "rent" because I used to think musicals about AIDS were good ideas. This probably has nothing to do with what I'm talking about but isn't that an AMAZING story!?

(New Year's 2005 Resolution #12, 27, 43-179: Mortify Self On Blog By Talking About Adolescence.)

You know, I don't even remember what the password stands for? It's a jumble of letters that do not form a pronounceable word. I don't know what it means. All I know is that I had it for almost TEN YEARS and now because of YOU I have to CHANGE IT. Just like L24601rent, little pieces of my teenhood, dying every single day because of YOU.

I have to change tons of passwords to different websites now because God knows where else you might be lurking. And sir, this just pains me to the core because, I don't know, I'm not good with change. And I'm afraid you're out there somewhere. Just waiting. Waiting for me to change the password again. So you can break back in and steal all $142.67 in my bank account. And this makes me feel VIOLATED.

And kind of special because hey! I'm cool enough for identity theft! Ka CHING!

But I suggest you go elsewhere because you made me very angry. Okay, not really angry. Perhaps, miffed? No matter. At least the ebay execs caught you and sent me an e-mail telling me you are going to stay behind bars for a very long time.

Actually, no, they just said that some "third party" broke in and they restored the security and safety on my account so...whatever it's kind of the same thing as jail.

So, have a blessed holiday. I bet you bought your kids some really nice gifts with all the money you stole from poor unsuspecting ebay bidders. And if you didn't, then you're going to have to explain to your children that there are no gifts this year just like there is no Santa, because daddy is a HEARTLESS ROBBER OF IDENTITY AND EBAY ACCOUNTS.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy,

~Laura

(New Year's 2005 Resolution #2: Feel Validated.)

It's Over

I made it seven days.

Subsisting on lemon juice, maple syrup and cayenne pepper.

My skin is clear, my energy level is high, I assume my colon is somewhat cleansed and as a bonus, I've dropped somewhere between five and eight pounds.

But my God you guys.

I'm hungry.

So I'm quitting.

I think seven days is pretty admirable for a first try. I'll shoot for ten next time...if I ever get up the guts to do it again.

For now, pass me some pita bread and I'll take it slow because I'm not sure I remember how to chew.

Master Cleanse

So, Margot and I have begun The Lemonade Diet or "Master Cleanse". I tried it once before this past summer and lasted 12 hours. I'm happy to report that I'm currently on Day #4--nothing in my system except a lovely cocktail of lemon juice, maple syrup and a sprinkling of cayenne pepper. I haven't weighed myself yet but let's just say I'm disappearing fast. Obviously, the pounds will pack back on once I start eating solid foods again but right now, it feels pretty darn good. It's kind of empowering to be around tons of food and say No Thanks! I've got to sip this here lemonade!

And woah did that just sound like I am the poster child for anorexia...

But the suffering...ohhhh the suffering. Troy made CHRISTMAS COOKIES the other night. WITH HOMEMADE FROSTING. And I had to stand by and watch and casually sip my lemonade because...I don't know. I'm a glutton for punishment?

Alayna and I got student rush tickets to Les Miz tonight. Why? How? Because I carry around my unexpired college ID, suckers, that's why. $26 tickets baby, for me, the backpack-sporting college student. Even better, our original seats were in the last row of the orchestra, which wasn't bad, considering that I was the FIRST ONE IN THE BATHROOM AT INTERMISSION! First one! I know! I KNOW! Rockstar! BUT, Alayna was sitting behind a man with a rather large cranium, making it difficult to see parts of the show and since one of the ushers noticed this, he pulled us aside at intermission to tell us he changed our seats.

To Row C.

Les Miz! 3rd Row! 26 DOLLARS.

And oh my God, I know it was just on Broadway like yesterday, but I love this show. I can't remember if I saw it three or four times before it closed. I think four? Either way, it's such lovely Broadway perfection. Not much has changed since I saw it last. Well. Except for the fact that at various points throughout the show, I couldn't help but think to myself, "Self, those revoluationary boys are gooooood lookin'. Damn." And they were. I mean, singing men waving a red flag around in tight pants? What's not to love?!

And did I mention it was all because of my college ID from eight million years ago?

Because I am in college, don't you know it!

Look at me while I scribble something flirty on your wipe-off board and meet you in the dining hall at 5:30 for french fries and chocolate transfatty cake! Woooo keg party!

I miss college, you guys.

But more importantly, I miss sleeping. Apparently, I have a tendency to overschedule.

Oh and also, I miss solid food. Like rice. And broccoli. And PANCAKES.

Guess what I don't miss?



THE BABIES!!!! 'Cuz I'm back to work and I get to kiss them and hug them and smother them with love ALL DAY LONG.

And also sip lemonade as the little ones nibble on french fries and macaroni and cheese.

Please, Lord, get me through this....

Guess What?

I'm home.

Blog for the Dumped

So we know that I often waiver back and forth between keeping this blog and deleting it and I always seem to lean towards keeping it. But along with that debate, I continually question the content of this blog. I tried for a long time to keep the acting stuff out of it because...I don't know, sometimes it sounds obsessive, sometimes it's boring, and regardless, it is ALWAYS dramatic, blah blah. I'm an ARTIST! GIVE ME ATTENTION.

But of course, since it's a huge part of my life, bits about auditions began creeping in, a blurb or two about meeting with an agent came through also, as well as the huge decision to change my last name and accept a "stage name", a topic which I never finished discussing here (yes, I did end up changing it.) The more I tried to avoid it, the more I realized that most of the things I wanted to write about involved my current career choice.

I'm making the decision here and now to let that stuff come through on here when I want it to. I doubt I will get into specifics (names, auditions, etc.) and while I am still rather wary about who will come across this and judge me, I think it's better to ramble and vent when I feel the need. And since I had a few lovely comments left the last time I posted about deleting this thing, I'd like to think that other people read this and relate to my struggles and victories. And if you don't? So what, I never liked you anyway.

So now that I wrote a verbose preface, can I vent now? Thanks.

I let a few days go by before posting this because 1) I took it very hard and 2) I was PMSing and my hormones made me crazy and I think if I posted it the day it happened, the post would've contained many curse words. And then my mom would've been very sad. So I'm calm now and here's the deal:

I've been having a bit of anxiety about heading back to New York. I started questioning whether or not I joined Equity too soon (now I can't do non-union work and ACK I have no resume! ACK I have no experience! ACK I AM A TOTAL FAILURE!) and I thought about how I need to get my rep book in order and how many casting directors I need to get in front of and my brain cells? They began to die a slow painful death due to UAS: Unnecessary Actress Stress. (How's that for alliteration! Ka CHING!)

So I decided to take matters in my own hands and quit the business.

Just kidding.

Actually, I called my voice teacher and vocal coach and set up appointments for when I get back, I registered for a class, I made plans to go to the Lincoln Center library, etc. But I felt that the most important thing to do would be to call my handy dandy agents and set up a meeting with them in a week or two. I figured it would help to go into their office and discuss which roles I'm right for, which shows I should be seen for, and how to look hot at all times.

So I called them up. And the assistant in the office was all YEAH! GREAT IDEA! I'LL HAVE "X" CALL YOU BACK AND SET IT UP!

And I'm all, WOOOO! ON THE ROAD TO SANITY ONCE AGAIN! No need for UAS! No need for panic attacks! Woot!

So Important Agent Man calls me back and I'm all HEY!

And he's all, "I know you're still out on the road..."

And I'm like, "Yeah! I just wanted to..."

And before I can finish, he casually mentions that he thinks it's time we should "PART WAYS".

Silence.

Um. I'm sorry, I just hallucinated, what??

"I think we should part ways. Our client list got too big too fast and we can't focus on people we can't commit to. Since you fall into this category, we're going to have to let you go. You're super talented though."

Click.

Cue: Laura runs around hotel room alternately laughing maniacally and sobbing into her bleached pillowcase.

Let's lay it out there in Acting Business terms:

* Since I was only "freelancing" with this agency and was not "signed", it's not like I got fired. I got dropped. And in actuality, agents SHOULD be focusing on their signed clients and if *I* was one of their signed clients, I would definitely want that kind of priority.

* Up until that moment, these agents hadn't even sent me out on one audition. So I can't even say that they had bad feedback about me or that I'm a horrible auditioner and they let me go. I just went out on the road to get my Equity card and disappeared from their radar.

* They DID however, suggest changing my name and they DID pick a new headshot for me. And while I originally was all, I CHANGED MY LIFE FOR YOU! I didn't. I changed those things for ME, they just gave me the initial idea. So, if in the end, that's all they did for me, it's still a lot. It still helped. Heck, after I did those things, I landed this job so it's not all for nothing.

Let's lay it out there in Laura terms:

* I finally get a SHOW after a YEAR AND A HALF of auditioning (on my own) and I join EQUITY and I start to think I'm a badass and then a door slams in my face unexpectedly. And now that I can think about it logically and understand that this sort of thing happens all the damn time, I care a lot less. Though I still feel a little "What the fuck?" about it all. And though I called my mom and talked to other people and they gave me the whole I Am Woman Hear Me Roar speech about how those agents don't know what they're missing, I still feel insecure about it.

I was never one to boost myself up on such occasions and say things like, "It's your loss, baby!" and "You'll never find another one like ME! HaHA!" Instead, I just kind of turn into a crazy ex-girlfriend who can't let it go and I overanalyze it in my head like, "Did I call too much? Are you calling me fat!? Am I a bad kisser!?!"

But it's done.

As much as I go on about musical theatre people, when things like this happen, everyone understands. Everyone in the cast sympathized, everyone warned me against taking it personally, everyone agreed that it sucked for now but that it wasn't the end of the world. Candy talked to me after I got back from a 40-minute run and told me that she knew that I would cry and be pissed about it but that the next morning, I would most likely be back to my crazy self. And I think that's true because really, the one thing you can always count on is the fact that I am The Crazy.

The one thing that still pisses me off is that I actually wasted CHRISTMAS CARDS on those agents. Granted, I hadn't sent them yet. (Can you imagine? Eeeek!) But, I wrote them out and even addressed the envelopes. They were real cute too, with snowglobes and mittens on the front. I wrote "Happy Holidays!" and "I look forward to working with you this year!" and "It feels good to have you guys on my side!"

Ha. Nevermind, suckers.