From Nappin' to Clappin': the making of a musical

The first time a show is performed for an audience is always stressful.

Even more stressful if someone falls asleep in the front row.

Even more stressful if that person is the top theatre reviewer of Dayton.

So there we were on Tuesday night for an invited dress rehearsal singing our hearts out to a small group of geriatrics (and one sleepy reviewer) who probably couldn't remember the last time they walked at a pace let alone marched in a band.

Knowing who your audience is is important...this was not our audience.

So there were were on Wednesday night for a pay-what-you-can final dress rehearsal singing our hearts out to a large group of theatre lovers who would have laughed at any joke so long as they didn't have to pay and it involved sexual innuendo or a sassy gay tone.

And BOY did they love my sassy gay tone. But surely the common audience cannot be as easily swayed by my swagger.

So here we are on Thursday for our First Preview...

and Final Preview even though technically I guess we've had two previews already so I'm very confused at how this works, but I'm sure it makes sense on Broadway.

...one DUD of a performance under our belt and one SURELY too successful of a performance.

And TODAY we're the TOP STORY on Playbill.com (for a whole 4 hours) which is sure to sell at least a few tickets to the 3 people in Ohio who have computers and read the story.

Tomorrow, we open. I'd like to say to a sold-out house but we're competing with a machine called WICKED opening across the street.

You tell me what you'd rather see:

a bunch of 20-somethings pretending they're still in high school in the late 90s marching around with instruments they haven't played in 5 years

OR

SPARKLES, GLAMOR, and FLYING.

WICKED...what a bitch.

My Mom asked how to get tickets to Wicked,

TJB: Making It

What to Expect When You're Not Expecting Much

TECH WEEK.

Ever heard of it?


If you haven't (because you're a NOBODY with a 9-5 you SQUARE) it's the week before a show opens where the lighting designer tries to give you a seizure, the set designer tries to impale you with nails, and the costume designer tries to make you look fat.

As if they could EVER make ME look fat.

(Sorry to the girls they succeeded on.)

But most of all, tech week is the week when actors go BAT. SHIT. CRAZY.

Tears n' Tantrums. Tantrums n' Tears.

I like to compare tech week to giving birth. That last week before you expect the baby to pop out (and I'm not speaking from personal experience I swear) you think "HOLY SHIT! I'M NOT READY TO BE A PARENT!" You're tired, cranky, fat (except for me) and your hormones are out of control.

You CLEARLY didn't read the books and it's too late to start now. It's down to the wire and the nursery is only half painted but your partner is nowhere to be found. Hell, you might as well decide to be a single parent now because that d-bag your Mom warned you not to marry isn't going to do SHIT once this baby is on its feet.

All you can do is PANIC.

REMINDER: we're still talking about theater. Did I lose you yet?

Well, my baby is about to POP OUT and like any newly single parent, I'm worried that this baby is going to turn into a grade-A loser.

Still, may the alleged God grant me the serenity because there is nothing I can do about it but breathe until this newborn slides out my proverbial vag.

too much?

Still, who knows America. Maybe this kid will turn out to be OK. Maybe, one day, this kid will win awards and move to the Big Apple and I'll say "BOY I'm SO glad I got wasted back in 2012 and let your father have a go."

All I know is, it's too late to abort.


But as I tell myself every morning:

If Beyonce can do this, so can I.

To think I could've been a doctor,

TJB: Making It

this is all very new to me...

I don't know what's happening. I constantly feel dizzy and nauseated. I scheduled a doctor's appointment, but he says all of my tests came back fine.

(but seriously America, know your HIV status. Protect yourselves and the ones you love.)

So what could it be? I've given up dairy and increased my fiber intake, but for some reason I can't seem to shake the butterflies in my stomach...

Oh no...that's it...butterflies...can it BE?!

HAVE I FALLEN FOR DAYTON!?

A slew of craft beers at $4, $3.50 well drinks, unlimited bowling, and $7 CHIPOTLE?!

I mean, I can stumble the one block home from bars. I've even made friends with the town drag queens and am already gaining "regular" status at only the trendiest of coffee shops.

And there's NOTHING I love more than being KNOWN.

There's even a place where you can make your own sushi. I'd say it's pretty authentic except it's made by hipsters...but for $6 I will bow to those lip-ringed hooligans like my personal senseis.

So here I am driving around in my company-provided gold minivan with the windows down like I just dropped the kids off at soccer and Mama needs a drink. The fresh(ish) Ohio breeze blowing in my newly highlighted hair and my venti iced coffee with the perfect soy topper tell me

THIS is love.

Now get me the F*CK out.

The lowest calorie iced coffee in the world couldn't salvage this city,

TJB: Making It

EXTRA! EXTRA!

On my fridge (and I mean my proverbial fridge since I don't actually have a fridge of my own) I keep a checklist. My "MAKING IT" checklist to document my rise to stardom. Near the top of that checklist?

MAKE THE NEWS.

Now, many of you probably get your news from CNN or the New York Times.

Those of us in the industry...THE industry...get our news where it's real...raw...uncensored.

Playbill.com

Ok, to be honest, most of us get our news from our Facebook newsfeed (how the HELL did we know what was happening before 2006?!)

But Playbill.com is where people become somebody and it's announced it to the world.

Well TODAY world...I became somebody.

Sure you have to scroll down the page to find the article, and even then you have to read slowly or you'll skim over the glorious announcement of my casting...

But it's there. The world knows it's there. Better yet

THE industry knows it's there.

So get used to it America, because from this point on, you're going to be reading this name a lot. 

AND ONE DAY, IT TOO SHALL BE A BLUE HYPERLINK!

Read the article HERE!

My mom tried to send me a Billabong shirt,

TJB: Making It

welcome to my home

The greatest thing about leaving NYC to do a regional show is that housing is paid for.

Not paying rent is the best thing that's happened to me since not booking RENT.

My roommate and I thought we were in for a treat when we learned about the shooting just down the block...

...but then we got to know our neighbors...

Have we met our neighbors? NO. But, thanks to paper-thin walls and some very VERY resonant voices (along with two raging tempers) we've gathered some information about the colorful pair next door.

Things we know: There are two of them.

Things we know about roommate #1:
1. She is a girl.
2. She has the front bedroom.
3. Her boyfriend's name is either Wayne or Myron
4. She calls him every day to break up.
5. She is upset he won't change his relationship status on Facebook.
6. She likes make-up sex.

Things we know about roommate #2:
1. NOT the gender (strong cases to be made for both given vocal range and sexual position preferences).
2. A man is involved.
3. They too love make-up sex.
4. Knows all the words to DJ Drama's "Ain't No Way Around It" (take a listen...)
5. A dog with extreme separation anxiety is involved.
6. The dog needs a bigger cage but the man refuses to purchase it.
7. Roommate is angry the man will not pick the dog up and take it to get proper shots at vet.
8. Favorite phrases include "Aww HELL NO" and "F*CK that sh*t!"
9. Don't answer the phone if this roommate calls you. Only yelling will ensue.

Our hearts reach out to them in their endless emotional turmoil. We have questioned many times how to help the situation.

And then we realized we haven't had to turn our television on once because we are LIVING the best reality TV you could hope for.

KEEP ON FIGHTING LADIES!!...um...LADY AND GENT!!...

Until it stops, we rival their battle cries with the booming marches of BAND GEEKS.

Dayton is decidedly NOT for lovers,

TJB: Making It

a star is rising

The great thing about working on a new musical is that you get to interact with the writers and be a part of the developmental process.

And by that I mean

The great thing about working on a new musical is that you get to interact with the writers who are more than willing to increase the size of your character.

If you're me.

Because who DOESN'T want more one-liners from the sassy gay kid?

This guy does.

America does.

Because if we all had more one-liners from sassy gay kids,

the world would be a better place.

Come see BAND GEEKS starring ME...the sassy gay kid.

That brings my line count up to 12,

TJB: Making It

boys who like boys who like girls

If you're a true fan of me (or if you're my mother who still reads this only because she's hoping I'll announce my engagement to a famous actress because all I needed was "the right SUCCESSFUL girl")...sorry I got off track...

If you're a true fan of me, you'll remember how I feel about actors. So, I always had a simple process for how to make friends and survive the process of a musical:

1. Find the prettiest girl in the cast (in relation to her talent)
2. Befriend her immediately
3. Make sure everyone knows the two of you RUN SHIT

The process was flawless in college where a hierarchy of beauty and talent had been set in place prior to the first day of rehearsal, and my last cast only had one girl in it so she won by default...

The professional...excuse me...the "professional" world is proving to be much tougher than I had anticipated.

Yes, it does seem that I was handed a rare gem when pretty-girl-whose-name-I-can't-remember-because-I-keep-calling-her-pretty-girl seemed to be the easy choice

but my gay roommate snagged her like a marked down Marc Jacobs bag.

So I had to walk into the first day of rehearsal ALONE.

HOW EMBARRASSING.

Luckily, we started with shoe fittings, so I could hide my loneliness in the comforting laces of new footwear.

And just as I turned to toss a pair of hideous green slip-ons into the "NO WAY NEVER" pile I had started, I saw her...

She was blonde. She was fit. She was beautiful.

She was mine.

I made a few awkward jokes to break the ice and noticed her baton.

Baton?! Is this her? Is this Nicole?! Is this the vision that plays my best friend in the show?!

IT WAS FATE.

I sat my script and score on the stand next to hers and sank down into...well a hard ass metal chair, but I didn't care because I had found my best friend.

And things didn't stop there. While the two of us sat flipping our blonde locks in our self-made winds of beauty, a tall and chiseled brunette boy sat to my left. I was speechless. He was the lead of the show, Jake, and hence

my new SHOWMANCE.

I couldn't WAIT to tell Nicole that I was practically engaged and she would of course be my maid of honor since she was there the first time I met my husband

until I picked up on something strange...

Me: Oh...do you two know each other?
Nicole: We went to school together.
Me: Oh...and now she lives in New York so...were you friends in school?
Jake: Well...sort of...she's staying at my apartment.
Me: Oh...so you're friends now?
Nicole: Well...sort of...
Me: (awkwardly laughing) Haha WHAT did you two DATE or something I'm SO confused...

Nicole: We're dating now.

They're dating...now...

and that's the story of how Nicole became my EX BFF.

Nobody steals my man.

I really need to get out of Ohio,

TJB: Making It