The Gospel of TJB

Those of you who know me know that

I'm an extremist.

I don't really know what that word means, but I feel like claiming to be an extremist makes me an extremist.

I am what I am.

Many actors like to say they were "born" to play certain roles. I don't think I was born to play certain roles. I think I was born to reproduce and carry on the word of the Lord through the scripture and BAAAHAHA...ok I lost my straight face (pun intended) but I really tried to keep that going.

I was not BORN to play certain roles. I AM certain roles...or rather...certain roles are ME.

Sad to say America that one of those roles is not a white faced alien who can only communicate through music and replicating instrumental noises. I'm sure you're all as crushed as I am.

However, one of those roles is indeed a flamboyant boy band member of the Catholic persuasion who sings really really high.

AND YOU WONDER WHY IT'S NOT ON MY RESUME ALREADY. I know...tell me about it...

So when I went to an OPEN CALL (after which I promised myself for a second time NEVER AGAIN) and was asked back to the dance call where I gave them a REALLY SOLID 16 counts of dancing before pausing and staring blankly for the next 16 and ending on a really sassy high kick before swaggering offstage "brushing it off" in a last ditch effort to appear calm and cool

I thought I was done.

But when you ARE a role
or rather
a role IS you (and by you I mean ME)

they call you back.

IF I DO NOT BOOK THIS THERE IS NO GOD.

(JK God...ha...I knew you'd read this so...ha...it's funny right?...PLEASE LET ME BOOK IT)

During this Lenten season, I am pulling my rosary out of the sock drawer and praying to Mary and Joseph and all 3 Kings that my years of struggle as a Catholic queer finally pay off.

so I can afford my rent.

You can stop sending me audition notices Mom,

TJB: Making It

sometimes second is better than first

If you've been reading my blog since the beginning, you won't be surprised.

If you haven't been reading my blog since the beginning...you seriously need to give up one of your 5 TV shows and an hour of Netflix a day to catch up.

Most of you know by now how an actor's life works. I'll explain it in a way that will cause every actor reading this to call me out on technicalities because they feel I falsely represent their lifestyle (similar, say, to SMASH), but every other person reading this will just say, "Oh yeah, I get that".

First, there's the initial AUDITION. You walk in a room, you sing, sometimes you read a few lines, and then you awkwardly stare at the people hoping they'll say they want to see you again. If they don't say it to your face, you instantly leave the room and say, "OMG I was terrible; they hated me!"until you receive a call from a casting director or agent saying you got a CALLBACK...then you say, "Oh yeah, I knew I was great".

The CALLBACK is when you're told what to prepare, and you generally perform for more people. After the callback, you wait 6-12hrs. before you assume you didn't book the gig. Then, you ponder giving up and buying that LSAT book.

But sometimes, there's what we like to call the SECOND CALLBACK (and this is where actors will say it's not that simple because sometimes there are more than two callbacks to which I say THEY'RE JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!)

The SECOND CALLBACK is when your agent tells you he almost forgot to tell you that the show is still interested in you and they want to see more!!

And I, my dear readers, have received my first second callback ever...at least for as long as I felt like trying to remember before I was distracted by Dance Moms.

Now, here's the NOT surprise to my dedicated followers (I'll call you FANS).

Fans, I have received a second callback for...I'm not even going to TELL you...I mean it's only fitting...

BUT If I book this show you're all getting free tickets! Or at least a really cute discount code like ALIENLUV or BWAYUFO.

I ate a quart of ice cream to celebrate,

TJB: Making It

you're the one that we DON'T want

After starting off the week with a bang (caused by my head making contact with the floor) and hitting hump day with some weird alien show, I needed to end the week with a bang...

...this time the metaphorical kind that means I did something really well...

but as I rounded the corner for my Grease audition, I was greeted by the worst omen EVER.

the sing-and-talk-loudly-in-case-you-didn't-see-my-hair ginger

That's right folks! The very same ginger that now, in hindsight, I can see caused me to fall to the floor in my dance call due to the sheen of his ghastly red glowing mop top.

The hallway was empty except for him, me, and the audition monitor he was deep in conversation with...BECAUSE GINGERS CAN'T STOP TALKING.

When another boy walked up, the ginger was quick to assert his dominance and made it clear he had worked with this theater before and knew all about how they like to run auditions...that or he had just auditioned for them 5 years running and had figured out what hasn't been working. I'm hoping for that one, but I couldn't make him crack. Even the monitor couldn't correct the flame-throwing cranium.

I felt doomed...

because let me walk you through this:

I was already having a pretty solid (rough) week. My paycheck was dismal, my auditions were either atrocious or caused me to take long, hot sob-showers, and my mom kept texting me about taxes.

SO...in preparing for my Grease audition, I thought it would be a GENIUS idea to play a song on the ukelele during the scene.

Do I play ukelele? No.
Could I maybe learn in two days? Sure.

I call this my "personal self-destruct button". Based on my one-sided (not my side) conversation with the ginger, the audition room was going to LOVE (meaning HATE) this.

SO...I walked in with my ukelele, sat it next to the piano, sang my 16 bars they asked for, and prepared to pick up my ukelele and read the scene as they said,

"Thanks! That's all we need to hear today"

along with

"You smell AMAZING!"

I'M SORRY BUT HAVING A UKELELE IN THE ROOM AND NOT USING IT IS THE SAME AS HAVING A GUN ONSTAGE AND NOT USING IT! DO NOT DROP MY CURTAIN EARLY! WAIT FOR THE BANG!

but thanks, it's BVLGARI.

I grabbed my ukelele and burst out of the room directly into some girl from Broadway. She's the one who (spoiler alert as if you care) dies in Little Women...I guess that was her shining moment, but if you see her, you should tell her your opinion on switching from Chase bank to the Actor's Federal Credit Union. It seems to be high on her worry list because

SOME OF US DON'T HAVE A PROBLEM BOOKING SHOWS.

Dance Moms makes me wish I was 8 again,

TJB: Making It

a cappell-NO

Yes, I auditioned for this.

Yes, I got called back for this.

Let's leave it at that.

Proud of me F15?

Could my cheekbones even shine through all that makeup?

WHO ARE WE KIDDING I WANT IT SO BAD!

How is white face OK,

TJB: Making It

Natalie Portman this is HARD

After my breeze through the Spring Awakening dance call, I've been feeling pretty confident in my moves.

JK I'm still terrified.

When my agent asked if I wanted to attend an appointment for a role that involved ballet, I knew I had no business being there.

Then I looked in the mirror and realized I had SO much business being there...especially once I found out there was a GINGER asked to audition. Talk about a sore thumb onstage.

So, I started stretching daily (the day before) and bought myself a new pair of ballet shoes I knew I probably wouldn't need but made me feel more legit anyway.

When I showed up, the room was filled with boys I had never seen before. Well that's not true...I'm pretty sure one of them is in the ManHunt ads that are all around NYC, but we aren't on a first-name basis...yet.

I turned in my photo and claimed my square foot of stretching space while I watched the others watch the rest of the others watching themselves in the mirrors. Aside from the sing-and-talk-loudly-in-case-you-didn't-see-my-hair ginger, I looked the youngest...and I liked that.

Once we began learning the combination, I realized most of the men had been at the ECC the previous Friday and had already learned the combination. I should have just pretended to be blind...then they CAN'T cut you or it's discrimination. Since I couldn't decide whether to try and forge a fake cane or claim my seeing eye dog had run away, I was forced to struggle through.

But, to my surprise, I was keeping up. My pirouettes looked good! My battements were high! My jetes were

WOMP.

I ate it.

In one grand and dramatic gesture, my legs went out from under me and I fell horizontally to the floor.

I was ruined. My brain shut down. Behind every pair of tank-topped pecs, I could hear the hearts of the dancer boys beat with joy.

Apologies were made, wet paper towels were brought in to wipe the dust and avoid another spill as I was apparently not the first to lick the floor.

But I can't imagine anyone else did it better.

So, when we finished ballet and they told us to wait before switching rooms to do the tap combination I said

OH HELL NO.

No way was this theater going to hire me as a general dancer after my self-inflicted Nancy Kerrigan, so when they all left the room to watch the other group of dancers...

I peaced.

I grabbed my bag, wrapped my scarf around my face, and snuck to the elevators...

as if somebody were going to say, "NO! STOP! WE MUST SEE YOU TAP! YOU WERE BORN TO DANCE IN SACRAMENTO!"

I had McDonald's 4 times this week,

TJB: Making It

I'm Still Here

For a while I was beginning to think that nobody important remembered who I was. My Broadway friends hadn't been Liking my Facebook statuses...my sort-of-bassically-yes-agent hadn't e-mailed me in weeks...hell my own mother was too busy vacationing to even voice text me.

But this week (riding high off my callback karma) began to change things for the better.

The world (and my mother) began to remember that I TOO was important.

It all started when my gay dad (NO not my biological dad and NO not in THAT way, but he is very dashing) and also Broadway veteran texted me to offer two tickets for Nick Jonas's opening night in How to Succeed. Sure, I'd already seen the show, and sure, I could probably only sing the chorus to one Jonas Brothers song, but I knew that this was a sign. My elbows were longing to rub with their fellow famous elbows and this opening night was the place to do it.

I called my restaurant, told them I was too important to work Tuesday night and began trying on outfits.

Then, on my way to the show, it's as if my iPhone 4S (SUCK IT 4) reception had been refreshed and an abundance of e-mails from my sort-of-basically-yes-agent began to pour in to my push notifications (I still don't know what a push notification is).

Not only does my -and I'm just going to say agent now- AGENT read (has read and/or once clicked on) my blog (and thinks...it's...totally...hilarious...surely...) but I'm still getting APPOINTMENTS! AUDITIONS! SEEN!

I mean, if the people from the greater region of Philadelphia theatre think I have the makings of a STAR, he must be convinced now too.

So as I strutted to the show in my borrowed leather jacket...I was feelin pretty Fonzie. I wouldn't have been surprised if some of those flashing cameras in the mob outside were taking pictures of me.

...and yes I checked Playbill.com the next day to see if they did...

...they didn't...

Yet, watching the show amongst my celebrity future-peers was...well...OK it was a little lackluster. 

I was in the front Mezzanine, which was GREAT, but I'm sure T-Swift and Selena Gomez were wondering why I wasn't in the Orchestra...and I was stuck in the row behind Lance Bass which just made me feel SO 2006...

and then that guy from the last season of Project Runway didn't even WAVE at me...like STFU you glued some fish rocks to muslin and you're just going to pretend like I don't exist?

But as I ate my last blue peanut M&M and the lights dimmed for that little Jonas boy to rise from the orchestra pit, the world seemed right. I felt as if he could sense my presence and was calmed that I had come to support him on such a meaningful night.

and then he half-assed his choreo for the next three hours.

Harry Potter would be SO pissed you're riding his coattails.

My Mom hung up on me today,

TJB: Making It

WAKE UP SPRING!

I was getting to a point after several mass Equity auditions where I began to believe they were 100% certified BS.

and then I got a callback.

Sure, it was for a production of Spring Awakening in the middle of Nowheresville, Pennsylvania at a theater that runs a high school talent show as its main event every year, but HEY

a job is a job.

More importantly, this is a job people have been telling me I'm right for ever since it premiered on Broadway back in...back in...that time when I was in high school (Wikipedia is failing me right now).

So that makes the likelihood of not booking it that much worse.

Knowing I already looked the part, I sauntered into my audition, rocked out to some Queen, and waited for the somber director to respond.

Director: Have I seen you before?
Me: (wondering if he's read my blog) No, I can't imagine you have...I'M NEW! (jazz hands...now dying inside)
D: I didn't think so...you're rather...exotic...
Me: (uncontrollable WTF facial expression...maybe he means "Canadian")
D: ...that's a good thing....
Me: then I'll take it
D: Can we do that again?
Me: Sure.
D: Can you give me more?
Me: Absolutely.
D: Do you know what I mean by that?
Me: (No clue) Absolutely!

*TJB sings again giving everything his new-found exotic body has to offer*

D: Is your hair ever...(I've quickly learned he has a habit of wanting me to finish his sentences)
Me: ...pushed back?...(I push my hair back)...shorter?...
D: In the summer. Does it get...lighter?
Me: My hair has been every color under the sun.
D: So you don't mind....
Me: Dying it?
D: Yes...
Me: Not at all.
D: Are you familiar with....(I'm of no assistance on this one)......the show?
Me: (being very unfamiliar with the show) Of course! It's one of my favorites.
D: So you're comfortable with...
Me: ...nudity?...
D: The end of the first act...
Me: When they get naked? Oh yeah.
*AWKWARD SILENCE*
Me: Do you...want me to get naked now?
D: Oh no...if we get that far...come back tomorrow at 2.

AND BAM!! There it is!! All it takes is a few intensely awkward minutes of conversation and YOU TOO can get a callback to any small regional production of your choice.

I came back the next day at 2PM ready to dance. The other boys were in their tank-tops, showing off their bulging muscles. The girls donned their Urban Outfitter "I'm so right for this show" floral print dresses. I quickly found a place on the floor and began my "I'm so going to kick your ass" stretching routine.

When my group was called in to dance I quickly learned that this combination was not so much about being able to kick your face, but being able to pretend like you have just taken a Ziploc full of pills and the world is your enemy but you'll be DAMNED if you're gonna stop dancing. I put on my fuck-the-world face and shook what my mama gave me.

After learning the combination, I was called in the first small group of four...DAMN ALPHABETICAL ORDER. Everyone knows that you want to be in the last group of four so you can keep practicing the combination. I wiped the sweat off my face and did it for Pennsylvania. I assumed the room would finish before any cuts were made.

NOPE.

I saw the director take my resume, write something on the back, and set it to the side. He then stacked the other three resumes and handed them to his assistant. "We can throw these away". JUST LIKE THAT. Spoken as a slap in the face to the entire room.

D: Tyler can you come back and read at 4?
Me: Yeah of course.
D: The rest of you...thank you...you may go.
Me: Can I go too?
D: What do you mean?
Me: I mean this room...it's hot in here...can I leave this room?
D: As long as you're here at 4 you can leave whenever you want to.
Me: Right. Awesome. I'm...gonna...go breathe...I mean leave...now...

Yet another sufficiently awkward conversation for TJB! Thankfully, I could tell the director was still riding off of my "exotic" flair.

I rewarded myself with a Red Bull (Sugar Free of course. Calories EW!) and waited until 4 when we were called into a room. I quickly sized up the competition...6 other boys, mostly tall, a lot of them pretty Jewish looking

and one other pretty blonde...damn him.

We were all handed the same scene to read. The main characters. The beating scene. That's right...

In this scene we would be randomly paired up with one of the females and called in to...spank them...essentially.

and that's where it ends. I took my young and demure partner into the room and used my papers to slap her ass every time she begged for it.

Proud of me yet, Mom?

OH GOD I'VE NEVER WANTED TO BE IN PENNSYLVANIA SO BAD.

Exotically yours,

TJB: Making It