Monday, April 23, 2012

The Bitch Is Back

Do me a favor, and play the Bitch is Back while reading this. Or Queen Bitch if you prefer Bowie to Elton. It makes me feel better if nothing else. Off key singing along gets you awesome points. And yes. I picked the videos with the most ridiculous outfits. Which is difficult for those two. Oddly enough, neither look involves a shirt. And I wouldn't exactly put either man on a sex symbol list. It just makes me laugh. Which is good. Start your music! Today was much like the weather. Not cool. Audition number one- Ginger Rogers Musical. Somehow, I can't be tough and feminine at the same time. I just become Idgie Threadgood. I will make you into BBQ and smile if you beat my friends. Plus, I look great in overalls. Yeah. Not what they were looking for. In between that and the next one, got a phone call of- can you come in today? Why not? Trip for free things to kill time. Back to MAC free lipstick and Vicky's Secret free panties. In pretty much the same shade of ridiculously hot pink. (I am enjoying this decade of color before somebody decides we ought to go back to neutrals. And I probably won't go to neutrals when they return. Cause they're boring.) Audition number two- sang my first cut. No great response. Asked for the second. I proceed to get flusteered. I act it and sing it decently, and then my last phrase occurs. Hand soon. Instead of and soon with an odd hiccup along with that h. They did not ask me to come back and dance. If I go to the open dance call on Wed for them, am I being plucky and resileint or just pissing them off? I have already gambled poorly once on singing first. I will probably be pissing them off. Onto the next one. The phone call had been interesting (note sarcasm). It was for a recording for the guy who wrote Santa Baby. He is old and deaf. His mousey middle aged daughters acts as his secretary. The job paid very little. And he wanted me to come back. At this point, I have been lugging three pairs shoes, one of which are taps, and my book all day long. I have trecked from multiple studios to his apartment/office on 77th. I have been up since 7. I was done. I was not going to go to NOLA 5 hours later. I politely declined. And came home. And ate the rest of my birthday cupcakes with my crazy Bettie Davis eyes and Elton John. After I book a job, I always feel like queen of the world. Then I go back to the reality of how many jobs you don't book. Highs to lows. It just makes me whiney which is no good. Reality check to Courtney. At least I am back home with a cup of tea for now. I need to reboot, hire a Sherpa for carrying my stupid tap shoes, and get ready for another day of it. As my father said, make a hot toddy and have a bubble bath. Wise words!

1 comment:

  1. We all have those days. You should start a Sherpa-Schlepping business. I'd be your first customer.