V.I.Me

Tomorrow, I have an audition for a PLAY. It's a production in Brooklyn that wouldn't pay me but...wait...why am I...

is this desperation?

Well, I might as well make the most of it.

The character is "an attractive, straightforward male hustler". Now, you'd think I would have a lot of experience in this field seeing as I've been in NYC for a whole month, but I'm going to pretend I don't. So I decided to try out some method acting this weekend.

As any method actor knows...well...ok I'm not entirely sure how method acting works (maybe I should've gone to a conservatory) but I know that it has to do with living like the character or viewpoints or operative words...ANYWAY

So I found a Sugar Mama.

Her name was Miss Green. She met me after work promptly at 5pm and from that point on it was VIP treatment. We went to happy hour at a posh bar, dinner at a trendy restaurant, and then checked in to a luxury hotel in Midtown East. She toted me around like her Adonis, and boy did she shell out the dough. This was GREAT! Not only was I being treated like a king, I was practicing my craft.

Miss Green made a call to the front desk to ensure that the Concierge Lounge was ready for our arrival and would have our specified cocktails ready. And then it happened:

they told her the Concierge Lounge was CLOSED.

EXCUSE ME?! This was Saturday night and the staff had NO idea who they were dealing with. Sure, I LOOKED like an escort, but really I'm a future award-winning actor and SHE'S and extremely successful young business woman and you're going to tell us the lounge will re-open TOMORROW?!

Let's just say there's a certain hotel on 49th and Lexington that will be receiving a strongly-worded letter.

The night ended in a packed dance club where we were greeted by the party promoter who tried to swoop me as his own escort. Miss Green made it very clear I would be going home with her, but allowed him to buy me a few drinks as well. Just. Kept. Getting. Better.

Carrie Bradshaw should've reconsidered this lifestyle.

But since this was method acting, I knew when I woke up the next morning with my angelic head resting on a plush down pillow it would all be over. I'd be trekking across Manhattan, back to my 9-5, pockets empty, once again.

VIP can't last forever.

Oh wait, yes it can, because I'm me.

Thank GOD I'm pretty,

TJB: Making It

Whining in the Wings

I thought my days of checking the cast list in vain were over. Turns out, you can do the same thing on Broadway...you just have to wait for the website to be updated (or the Playbill if you can actually afford to go see the show. I, obviously, cannot.)

My co-worker and I were discussing a role she thought I would be good for in a certain Broadway show. I would name the show, but because of my bitter demeanor due to my lack of casting or ability to obtain tickets, I refuse to freely advertise for them. Since she couldn't remember the name of the actor who played the aforementioned character (she is not a gay and is blonde so I forgive her blunder), we checked the website.

...and that's when I saw him...that lopsided smile in an ill-fitting, unpressed button-up. He stole my role.

Well...he stole my stand-by.

But it goes beyond that. I had seen him in a YouTube video years ago when all I had of Broadway was wireless internet and a rainbow aura. I quickly stalked him on Facebook like any 18 year old in a Musical Theatre program would do and begged for friendship...and he delivered...ooooh did he deliver. Just another under-pitch upperclassmen at the program formerly known as CAP21 (Oh...are they still calling it that?) he reached out to me with encouragement.

and then he stole my role.

SEE IF I EVER LIKE YOUR PHOTOS FROM YOUR DAYS ON THE DISNEY CRUISE LINE AGAIN!

Begging for the tour,

TJB: Making It

The Price of Fame

I spent all of yesterday knowing I had $6 to my name. No, I didn't have an emergency credit card with my daddy's name on it and my Visa was already maxed out...that's probably why I'm a platinum member...

Of course, I started off my day by purchasing a Diet Coke in the midst of a gay breakdown. When the Diet Coke didn't help, I purchased an iced coffee from Starbucks. I was embarrassed to have to order a grande for fear the card would be rejected with the price of a venti.

so then I was down to like...$youdothemath.75

As I arrived at work (you'll remember I'm a full-time employee now and still broke), I felt something funny underneath my shoe. I lifted my foot to see if I had stepped on something. Oh no, it was just a large hole torn in the bottom of my favorite patent leather sneakers. The shoes that had carried me through such beautiful memories (ex. the most unsuccessful NYC showcase in history) were even beginning to fall apart.

If my fashion couldn't hold up, what hope did I have?

I laid my head down at my desk and softly began to sob into my keyboard. My beautiful blonde co-worker (and coincidentally good friend Guppy) spoke to me in her soft, soothing voice and whispered the magic phrase:

"I'm taking you out for a drink."

Gulping down my G&Ts we discussed the balance of happiness and money. Sure money couldn't buy you happiness, but with holes in my designer shoes on my feet and roots that needed some lovin on my head, something had to be done.

As we began to think about our futures, I realized that even when I do reach fame, there's no way to ensure that I won't crash right back down to the rock-bottom, stank-pit life I'm living now....and then it hit me.

I had the most genius idea I've ever had.

I will slowly begin to release nude photos of myself into the public. SURE, some random people who haven't heard of me in years will wonder why me, a nobody, is e-mailing them nude photos of myself...and SURE, some random people will only use those pictures to elaborate upon filthy, filthy fantasies they've been having of me since 8th grade...

but when the time comes and I've won my three Tony's (2 for acting, one for lifetime achievement) and I'm 32 and sitting alone forgotten in Midtown EAST (the horror), I can recontact my list of nude-photo holders and they'll know exactly what to do.

and we'll all benefit.

So reserve your blog space now Perez Hilton because my tush has a future date to re-gain fame. This boy is going from Playbill to Playgirl and skipping right over bankruptcy.

For the rest of you...cross your fingers...you might have a present waiting in your inbox.

Don't forget to check your texts.

Not you mom,

TJB: Making It

Fiji Fail

I had an audition this morning...sure I looked too young for the roles, sure it wasn't my vocal style, sure it mean I'd have to move to some state called Connecticut for a few months and probably get paid in jellybeans and skittles...but I wanted to kick its ass.

When I exited Penn Station (probably my least favorite subway stop ever fyi) I was dripping in sweat and my vocal chords were dry. I spotted a Duane Reade on the corner (I call it Walgreens) and knew exactly what I needed to nail the audition.

FIJI WATER

I was going to swag my way up to Ripley Grier looking like a champ, sippin my H2O like a pro, and weren't nobody gon say shiz.

Then I got on the wrong elevator...but don't worry, a very ornery young lady was nice enough to point out how irritating it was I had to take the right elevator up just one floor...she was a ginger with frizzy hair and terrible shoes and bad skin.

DON'T MESS WITH ME WHEN I'M IN MY AUDITION OUTFIT

Anyway, forget her. I arrived to the audition, they were running on time, and my vocal chords were soothed by the waters of Fiji. My Fiji water and I even had a good laugh at the case of Poland Springs water sitting on the bench. This was going to be great.

I entered the room like a ray of sun. They asked about my relation Christine. We had a good laugh. I sang my ass off. I owned my exit. The assistant outside raved. I took a seat to wait for more info.....

.....and then they thanked me for auditioning.....I could leave....

It took everything in my soul not to run back in and chuck my bottle of Fiji water at the piano. THAT WAS A $2.22 BOTTLE OF FIJI WATER! IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GET ME A CALLBACK! YES I CAN PLAY LATE 20s!

and that's why my future solo tour will not be stopping in Connecticut.

Crawling back to Poland Springs,

TJB: Making It

Brooke, Boobs and Besties

I saw this again...um...I don't have anything else to say...

BUT right before that I had dinner at my favorite restaurant Vynl with one of my favorite gals T.Cook.

You know those times when you just sit down to dinner with somebody and you just talk for an hour straight and you just feel so good about life? That's dinner with T.Cook.

And if you ask me, her boobs looked better than Brooke's.

GET THIS BITCH ON STAGE!

Sorry, what did you say?

I was staring at your boobs,

TJB: Making It

VIP Treatment

This past week I was lucky enough to attend one of all-time favorite shows

as a VIP guest of course. Have you learned nothing from my blog?!

Escorted by my alleged-celebrity-boyfriend JShpiz (he's in the music industry), we approached the historic (and this time equally impressive in person) Ed Sullivan Theater. With all the swagger I could muster, I walked past the lines of ordinary citizens up to the man with the earpiece.

Me: "I'm VIP. I need to pick up my tickets."
Man: (as if shielding his eyes from my glowing aura) "Around the corner to the stage door."

I grabbed Jeremy's arm and found some intern-looking girls drenched in sweat from the NYC sun...or perhaps from their nerves being approached by someone like myself...

Me: "Listen...I'm VIP and I need to pick up my tickets."
Girls: (as if sensing they should know who I am) "Talk to the big man in the black suit."

and there he was...my future bodyguard.

Me: "Sir, this is far too complicated...I'm VIP and I need to pick up my tickets."
Big Dude: (more apologetic than he would be to Obama) "Just walk in the stage door, the security guard will take care of you."

---enter stage door----

Me: "I'm VIP and I need to pick up my tickets."
Security Guard: (Without even having to ask my name) "Take these to the front of the theatre, walk right past the crowds, don't talk to anybody (as if I would) and find the girl with the clipboard. She's in charge."

Well, to make a long story short, the girl with the clipboard was extremely sweet. She walked us through security, showed us the restrooms, offered us champagne (or maybe just water...) and then...WAIT WHAT?!

she showed us to the VIP LINE....there was a LINE FOR VIP!?! My ego was shattered on the beautiful marble tile of the Ed Sullivan Theater.

I stood in line with my arm candy knowing that I did not belong here. These people seemed so...common...how could they possibly have weaseled their way to VIP?

But just as I had given up hope...there she was: my key to VIP. She descended down the winding staircase of the lobby in her lace black dress, motioned for me to exit the VIP line and embraced me in a hug that only fellow VIP-ers know how to achieve.

"I'm sorry you had to wait in line. Would you like to take your seats?"

and boy did we take our seats. We were perched in the front row of the balcony where there would be no cameras or monitors in our way.

Nothing existed between me
and my soul mate
David Letterman.

For the next 90 minutes I was lost in his dreamy four-eyes and our shared laughter.

...and sometime in there Steve Carell sat down to talk about some mid-budget film...

Do you know what readers? I hope that one day you all get to experience the VIP treatment that I am so blessed to have in this beautiful, stank-ridden, overcrowded city of commoners. And I hope you'll be sitting just a few rows behind me.

NO PICS! NO AUTOGRAPHS!

Follow me on Twitter,

TJB: Making It

ZarKAN'Ta

See what I did there?

Maybe some of you are familiar with the new Cirque du So-gay show Zarkana in the allegedly historical (though underwhelming in person) Radio City Music Hall.

There are no singing/dancing ushers, don't be fooled.

Well do I have a bone to pick with Zarkana.

A couple of weeks ago, I entered a contest they were having that asked those who love to blog about theatre to send in a link to their blog. They would then choose 50 lucky bloggers to attend a special pre-show (maybe post-show...I didn't really read it) and be VIP guests to the show...for free.

As you know, I write a blog about theatre and I am ALL ABOUT the free tickets.

Unfortunately, I was notified today that the event was now full and I was not a chosen blogger.

EXCUSE ME?! I don't know how many New Yorkers are out there blogging about theatre, but I'm sure as hell the only one I know of. Don't tell me they found 50 other people with anything interesting to say about theatre. Maybe they didn't actually read my blog, because had they actually read my blog they surely would have fallen in love with my in depth review of The Tony Awards and The Addams Family. Hell, if they were really bored they would have even appreciated my review of that thing that happened in the spring at Northwestern.

This kid (that's me) knows theatre.

So NO Zarkana, I do not accept your generous offer of a code to save over 50% off your French-infested circus that somehow always seems to feature more small Asian girls than anything remotely French.

No.

I will happily stay here where my blogging is appreciated...on my sofa...with my wine...and my friends Ben & Jerry...

...is this what depression feels like?....

I think I have a drinking problem,

TJB: Making It