D-I-V-A spells Tyler

There was a hot second in my life where I thought I had direction. I booked a tour and my life was decided through December and I had nothing to worry about until then...

...little did I know...

There are only rumors about when and where our first show is and nobody knows when we're actually leaving the city. Seriously, the layout and specifics of what will happen the next few months are so unclear it's like there's an SS at our backs saying "JUST GET ON THE TRAIN!"

A few weeks ago I thought to myself, "Children's musical? E-Z-P-Z! Just slap on a smile, sing some unison vocals and make the kids laugh!"

and then I learned how hard it is to be on stage for a straight hour while keeping children engaged and interested, not to mention entertained and laughing. A Kardashian reference does not a joke make...

Not to mention, this music and its lyrics are probably the most complicated I've ever had to learn. I guess that's what happens when 12 different composers write your show. I mean, sure, Sondheim's a bitch but at least he's consistent. Singing about the First Amendment with some unnecessary 5/4 bars thrown in the mix? Why don't you just probe me?

JK.

unless you want to...

But there we all are, commiserating together, while our endlessly energetic director inspires us to do it for the kids. Seriously, I need to know what he puts in his coffee and then inject that into my veins because mama needs a pick-me-up.

I just keep saying "tomorrow will be a better day."

Really...it will be...we're staging my diva-beltress-sing-off with my fellow African beauty (but fo-rizzle I think she's royalty, she has citizenship in like 12 countries)...

but she don't know she's messing with a certified queen.

Knock me up and call me Beyonce,

TJB: Making It

I Got a Silver Star for Lifting a Table...a Silver...

SACK UP KID! It's only Day 1!

Alright, let's just get it out there.

Not only is George Washington straight...he's married.

Are you kidding me God?! Just this once you couldn't help me out? Is this a sign that I am destined to be alone forever on this path I have chosen?

The problem is, I can't even be angry with the guy. No wonder I didn't get the role. I mean, he's about the manliest, studliest, statuesque George Washington you could pick ringing in at 6'3" with an equally beautiful and statuesque wife who just so happens to be in another musical...rehearsing in the same building...touring at the same time...so they're never more than a floor apart...

...Let's be real, this is a set-up...

And you don't even want to HEAR the story of how they met because it will make you tear up and hate your life since you don't have a storybook of memories with either of them

ALRIGHT now that I dumped that out of my bitch bag...


On my first day of school, I learned that my life is going to be probably the most interesting and eventful it has ever been. Every single person in that room has a smile on their face and a fanny-pack full of sass on their waist.

The one-liner's you can pick up when you're paying attention in a children's theatre rehearsal...

Here's my favorite interaction of the day:
Adams (to me): What sign are you?
Me: Aries...why?
Adams (to Franklin): What sign are you?
Franklin: Gemini
Adams (having left me hanging, to Franklin): Oh yay we're supposed to get along!
Me: *SCHOOLED*

Well at least the Music Director seems to like me...oh he's only here until Wednesday?...oh...well...

Aw shucks I'm just kidding, this cast and crew is going to get along great.

Wait hold on...Franklin is being replaced? They posted it online? So he's leaving too? They're dropping like flies I tell ya.

But I know it's all going to be smooth sailing once the adorable, dreamy, smart and funny director (you told me to blog it...) arrives with the adorable, dreamy, smart and funny choreographer (womp she's a girl...) on Wednesday.

Unless we've all been replaced by then.

So with Adams in the corner choreographing a music video, Franklin's career upgrading before we get to page 3, the stunning Dawn stealing my role of token-Diva, and Washington with his perfect life...

that leaves me...wondering which one of these kids is going to drink with me...

What's that Washington? You take an extra shot in your jumbo Magarita?

Winning,

TJB: Making It

Boys II Men

Meet my best friend T-Bagg (that's not his birth name). He came to NYC this weekend to visit me...ok and his girlfriend. At least, I assume she's still his girlfriend based on their shameless displays of PDA which is fine but I'm all "don't throw your hetero in my face, is this a hate crime?" but then he buys me beer and I like it.

JK it's a hate crime.

So there we are chatting and talking and I can't help but feel a sense of pride (it might have just been a full bladder but we're going with pride).

You see, T-Bagg just started his life as a high school teacher at a prestigious (at least that's the word they use so they can charge you $100K to go there) Catholic (at least that's the word they use so they can avoid state laws) High School in California. Basically, he now spends his days shaping the youth of America. Our future. The young, white, wealthy, youth of our future.

And you know what America? You couldn't pick a better guy to do it.

At that moment when I finished my third beer in the middle of Manhattan, my best friend and I looked across the table at each other through our hazy buzz and I thought

"this man is my hero"

and yeah, hero is a pretty strong word, but I want you to focus on MAN. When I met T-Bagg four years ago we were mere boys putting our hands on kegs and kicking our legs into the air to chug out of a tap as fast as we could.

and now we are inspiring the future of America.

T-Bagg by sharing inspirational literature, history, and philosphy. Me by sharing...song, dance, and dated pop-culture references...

but I swear some little gay boy in the audience is going to look up at me in my powdered wig and frock coat and be inspired to better America...or at least think I'm really cute...just like when I saw Marius in Les Miz at 13. And I sobbed.

So here I am, a man America, ready to shape the youth of your future just like my best friend and personal hero T-Bagg.

and to the people who read this blog and say I'm too self-involved I say:

Oops sorry, don't have time, gotta gel my hair.

To America on this day of remembrance: Love,

TJB: Making It

But Wait: Boxers or Briefs?

As an actor, you are aware that there are several people you never want to piss off. The top of that list is usually the stage manager. After all, they do write the rehearsal reports. But speaking from experience as cheap labor in the costume shop of Northwestern University, the costume construction team is right there at the top of your "do not piss off" list...ESPECIALLY if you want to look cute doin your high kicks.

Here's a tip actors: you can tell how much the shop team likes you by the amount of flare pieces added during your fitting. Give them a smile? We'll add a few extra studs to your sash. Say a funny quip? We'll add some buckles to your knee-high boots.

All of a sudden you're the most flashy and glittery vision to grace the Broadway stage...or in my case, Martin Luther King Jr. High.

Have a bad attitude? You can bet that your bra's going to be a little snug and you're getting the wig cap with the questionable stains.

 So there I was, in heaven, playing dress-up. I knew it was going to be a great time when the first piece handed to me was a pair of black skinny jeans. I could hardly breathe and it was PERFECT. And as I twirled in the mirror, that's when I saw it...

my ass. practically glowing. framed perfectly.

Next came the puffy sleeve, lace up shirt (a staple for any founding father). Then the patriotic waist sash, sensibly knotted on the left side. Throw in a gold vest with a cheetah print collar and a neck scarf and suddenly you're Thomas Jefferson circa Seventeen-Seventy-SEX.

But we weren't done yet folks. Oh no. The crown jewel of this show is the floor-length Prince inspired shiny blue rocker coat with a perfectly designed train for dramatic spin effects.

Are you turned on yet? Remember my ass in those skinny jeans. THIS IS COSTUME PORN PEOPLE! And to think I could have been in that one show wearing a short sleeve white button-up with a black tie.

BORING. Who wants that? Not me (JK cast me we can redesign).

The only downfall of the fitting came with the hats. I'm not sure if you've seen the cranium on this kid, but it's huge. Massive. Mammoth. I choke back tears of embarrassment every time I try to squeeze on a cap. In fact, they have to build an entirely new wig helmet because I'm just that deformed. I think God gave me this oval noggin to balance out my impeccable bone structure. Gotta stay grounded somehow.

But seriously readers (and by readers I think we're back down to just Mom based on her confession of continuously clicking refresh on my blog...thanks for trying to boost my ego) BUT SERIOUSLY READERS I tried to post a picture, but it was so sexual that even the world wide web would had to censor it.

You're going to have to see this ass in person.

Everyone in this Starbucks is gay or a frumpy brunette girl,

TJB: Making It

A Word From Our Sponsors

Hi America,

My name is Tyler J. Baranski and I'm the writer of Making It. I realize we kind of skipped a few steps in our relationship and I wanted to take a step back and talk about what we have together.

I started this blog about three months ago (I could give you an accurate time span but that would involve opening a new tab and maths) to keep myself sane. I had no intention at the time that it would become anything. I mean everyone writes a blog and mine's not even on tumblr, so the fact that people trust a blogspot domain is still shocking to me.

but I mean, you picked the right blog to read...

In all honesty, I'm just some schmuck from the middle of Michigan who was supposed to go to Harvard and become a doctor and somehow I ended up at Northwestern and became an actor. So when I was graduating and panicking that my life had little to no direction except for a plane ticket to NYC (on AirTran, about as ghetto as flying gets...) I created this character.

For those of you who know me, you know this character. TJB. He's sort of like Stephen Colbert (no, not Stephen Colbert, but "Stephen Colbert") and yeah sometime's it's hard to tell us apart. I mean, we're both really attractive and sometimes you just can't look away.

But this blog is about as real as Snooki. I mean, yes my life is pretty shameless and a tad controversial (I only wear real fur and I don't recycle) but nothing about me or TJB is mean spirited, you know? Except that thing I said about Brooke Shields, but she owes me money so you understand.

We're just trying to live paycheck to paycheck...when we get paychecks...and have a good time doing it.

So for those of you who read this and don't know me, I just want you to know that I think you're beautiful (especially you Mom) and don't hold this against me or my therapist. In fact, we should probably get a drink...get to know each other...you're paying.

And if you come see We the People you'll learn all about free speech and free press and see me in a really cute vest and tight pants.

If only I had an ass,

Tyler J. Baranski
at least that's what Equity has to call me.

I'm Contractually Obligated To Write This Post

You know those people you see in movies that sign contracts without reading them and you’re like “NO DON’T! READ IT! I know you’re excited you’ll be king for a day, but you know there’s fine print in there that’s going to screw you over!”

Well I’m that happy-go-lucky schmuck signing his life away. Make.Me.King.

I don’t think I could have looked any more naïve in a contract signing. Giggling, talking about Michigan, having no idea what the date is, and what the HELL is a W2? Is that a car? Who knows, but I think I own one now…

Maybe I shouldn’t have had that iced coffee. BUT I WAS HUNGRY!

The only time I paused was when the company manager said something to the effect of…

“and that comes out to about $10.50 an hour”

I’m sorry, what? Go back. $10.50 an hour? I just laughed at a hotel for wanting to pay me $8 an hour (plus tips don’t forget) to carry some bags, but for an extra $2.50 you think that justifies wearing a powdered wig and pretending to play the bass guitar in front of thousands of children? I don’t think so missy.

Oh wait what? You’ll pay $6.50 a week extra because you’re going to take pictures and film me? Well that changes everything. I mean, my E! True Hollywood Story is going to need some sort of footage anyway…

And $10 a week if I drive? I AM MAKING BANK!!

So that’s it folks…I signed my life away. I am now tied down to We the People until Christmas Day 2011 (I think our final performance is at the White House for Malia and Sasha Obama’s gift. It’s not? Oh, ok.)

So now all I have to do is turn in my copies to Actors Equity before the first rehearsal on Monday. But you know what America? I’m scared. I’m scared that maybe this fame thing is all happening too fast. Maybe I don’t want to walk into that Actor’s Equity building quite yet…maybe I should wait…

Because to be honest I hate walking into a building and having NO idea where I’m supposed to go so I’m a needz to google some shit first. Then BRING ON THE FAME BABY!

My mother keeps an excel spreadsheet of my blog’s view count.

Make her proud,

TJB: Making It

Oprah Slapped Me Once

This is an essay I wrote for the University of Chicago (which I was accepted to...which I thankfully didn't attend...) This essay caused UChicago to read my application on NPR back in 2007 when their "Uncommon Application" was being challenged. Afterwards, they sent me a very persuasive Christmas card which I found in my drawer this weekend. I used this essay in a "Write Your Own" competition at the University of Michigan and received 2nd place in the state. I lost to a kid who wrote about a pilgrimage to India...Pakistan...Bangladesh?

Anyway, I think this is great proof that I never took life too seriously...and how much I don't change...and how off-color I was at such an early age...

The prompt was: You are hosting a brunch with 3 guests. What is the menu? Who are the guests? Think "Mad Hatter's Tea Party".

I should also mention I was quite the myspace celebrity in my day...pre-NU-Facebook celebrity...

My first step towards fame. Here goes:
--------------------------------

Note to reader: Although I really enjoy bacon, I am not a huge brunch person. Therefore, I have made this a dinner party.

At least the swelling was subsiding. I had never known a dinner party to be so physical. Oprah Winfrey, of all people to strike me in the face, was last on my list.

            “Ribs?! I am insulted,” exclaimed the richest woman in America, “Just because I’m black, you think this has to be a barbecue?”

            “I simply really enjoy barbecue sauce,” I tried to explain. Try to explain something to Oprah. Do it. Maybe she appears superfluously understanding on her talk-show, but in real life, she is a force to be reckoned with.

            If I could not convince one of the two ladies, Oprah or Condi Rice, to run in 2008, the future of our nation was in grave danger. Unfortunately, neither of the ladies was budging, not even after I had served my grandmother’s world-famous oatmeal raisin cookies. When the cookies can’t convince, it is not worth convincing. Surrendering, I pushed aside my plans for the government’s future, gave up my pursuit of the talk show host’s nomination, and focused on my questioning of the Savior’s enigma.

             “Jesus, would you care for more Apple Cider? I’m pretty sure it is kosher. Do you need to eat kosher foods, or was King of the Jews really just a saying. I never understood what went wrong in that relationship, you and the Jewish people. And do you really hate gay people? The Catholics told me you did. That’s one thing that could destroy our friendship, you see for some time I…”

            “QUIET! My name! You talk so much. Slow down. I did not reschedule my second coming just so you could badger me on the technicalities of Christianity!” Woops. I had clearly upset Jesus. Granted he does have a reason to be upset since his whole world has kind of deviated into a trench of sin, but seriously. I had worked so hard to make this party a success and no son of a god was going to mess that up for me. I simply wanted answers.

            “That’s right baby! You tell him.” Oprah had clearly not understood when I tried to clarify that although some people call her God, they don’t really mean it. However, by some divine power of her own, she had claimed Jesus as her son. Condi, however, was not declared her “sister”, since as Oprah put it, “You do not deserve to be a black woman, following around that sad old white man like some slave. You got to stand UP for yourself girl.” Her lingo was really starting to grow on me. I must be honest. My contact with ethnic people is extremely limited. Besides the few adopted Asian girls at my school, I rarely had the chance to meet anybody of another race.

             I must explain. I attend the whitest school in my county. Living in this city my entire life has not exactly allowed me to diversify the way one would in a larger inner-city school. Unfairly, I have been banished into a life of conformity and monotony. Naturally, I would choose guests for my party who would permit me to broaden my social spectrum. That is exactly why…wait…why is my face wet?

            Oprah had shown Ms. Rice the perfect spitball. My fat lip was rapidly becoming Oprah’s favorite target. For Condi it seemed that the term conservative does not apply to dinner table etiquette. Perhaps she was just targeting the gay kid in some informal demonstration of protecting the sacredness of marriage. Either way, after only hearing about what the strategy is NOT in Iraq, I’m not sure the lady really has her own opinions. What a waste of servings.

            Some point between a diatribe from Christ about the absurdity of him being a white man from the Middle East and Condoleezza’s speech on foreign relations with Iran, I decided that the geographical region of the Middle East is the cause for a lot of confusion. Learning they do not all speak Arabic or necessarily wear turbans, I now realized how sheltered life was gradually becoming. When one only sees pictures of the Taliban in USA Today, there is a general stereotype formed. However, there is an exchange student at my school from Kazakhstan, and she speaks Russian. From Global Studies I knew that Kazakhstan was part of the Soviet Union which is now more commonly deemed Russia, and the world all began to make sense.

            Slowly, I started to realize where I had gone wrong in this dinner party. I was only concerned about one person: myself. I had only served the foods that I wanted to eat without any consideration to what Oprah, Jesus, or Condoleezza would enjoy. The questions I asked were only meant to appease my own stresses about life. Searching to expand my own social status, I had wasted hours with three of the most powerful people known to man. This was no way to go about life. JFK was right, and I was no longer going to ask what others could do for me. Alas, the party was a waste and my day was spent.

            Then, I went to check my myspace and found out that I had five new comments and three new messages. Now I see that day for what it really was: a complete success. Thank Jesus (who is now my friend on myspace).

--------------

Hey Mom, aren't you glad I didn't go to UChicago and become a lawyer like I planned?

2nd place is not 1st, 2nd place is not 1st, SECOND PLACE IS NOT FIRST,

TJB: Making It