Bidness as usual.
So Chicago's over, Hustla Ball is passed and "Tranny McGuyver part 2: The Reckoning" is in the can.
As I stare into my fridge, I realize I have nothing on my calendar that requires me to be skinny. The writer's strike is killing me. Their concerns, while valid, are fucking my career to high heaven. I'm only young once. Oh well though. It's allowing me for the first time in about 10 years to reach for the mayo. Not Hellman's Light. No Miracle Whip. Fuckin Mayonaisse! I think I heard angels. It was seriously so good.
Hustla Ball was great. Made tons of friends. Bruce Vilanch, the writer I've so bloggingly admired in the past, called me Willow twice on stage instead of my actual name. Tippie took a tumble in sunken living room and blew out his knee and he was Darvoset'ed up so it's forgiven. It's funny too because I mentioned seeing Mr Vilanch at a party months ago and he had trouble with the stairs. I hope he gets healthy...and learns my fuckin' name.
I'm glad Tranny McGuyver is in the can too. I literally spent all of 2007 planning it and being a one man band is no fun. But I got to work with a ton of people that were on my wish list; Coco Peru was a delight, Calpernia Addams brought it (and rode it around on a Segway in 7 inch heels) and Darryl Stephens provided ample evidence that the comedy world is under utilising him in the worst way right now. Look for it at your local GLBT and possibly straight film festivals this spring/summer. I'm entering it in Frameline in SF, Miami, Philly, Outfest in LA, and all the other major ones.
Chicago is done and I'm relieved. Applause is lovely and all but the show is grueling. I would do a line before almost every song in the first act. That meant trudging up to the stage, doing my line, leaving the stage, taking my heels off to not make noise. Got annoying. The worst thing was there was no room to sit anywhere. I sat on steps and read US Weekly mostly chit chatting with the ensemble kids. The last night, the prettiest chorus girl told me that I had inspired her. Specifically, I had told a story about knuckling a guy's taint during fellatio. Well she tried it and her man was overCUM with joy. I felt like the Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Being a succesful teacher is a wonderful thing. I guess the trade off of the instant gratification of the claps & hoots is low pay. I learned a lot though (that's what people say when they're glad a job is over right?)
Back to Bidness.
As I stare into my fridge, I realize I have nothing on my calendar that requires me to be skinny. The writer's strike is killing me. Their concerns, while valid, are fucking my career to high heaven. I'm only young once. Oh well though. It's allowing me for the first time in about 10 years to reach for the mayo. Not Hellman's Light. No Miracle Whip. Fuckin Mayonaisse! I think I heard angels. It was seriously so good.
Hustla Ball was great. Made tons of friends. Bruce Vilanch, the writer I've so bloggingly admired in the past, called me Willow twice on stage instead of my actual name. Tippie took a tumble in sunken living room and blew out his knee and he was Darvoset'ed up so it's forgiven. It's funny too because I mentioned seeing Mr Vilanch at a party months ago and he had trouble with the stairs. I hope he gets healthy...and learns my fuckin' name.
I'm glad Tranny McGuyver is in the can too. I literally spent all of 2007 planning it and being a one man band is no fun. But I got to work with a ton of people that were on my wish list; Coco Peru was a delight, Calpernia Addams brought it (and rode it around on a Segway in 7 inch heels) and Darryl Stephens provided ample evidence that the comedy world is under utilising him in the worst way right now. Look for it at your local GLBT and possibly straight film festivals this spring/summer. I'm entering it in Frameline in SF, Miami, Philly, Outfest in LA, and all the other major ones.
Chicago is done and I'm relieved. Applause is lovely and all but the show is grueling. I would do a line before almost every song in the first act. That meant trudging up to the stage, doing my line, leaving the stage, taking my heels off to not make noise. Got annoying. The worst thing was there was no room to sit anywhere. I sat on steps and read US Weekly mostly chit chatting with the ensemble kids. The last night, the prettiest chorus girl told me that I had inspired her. Specifically, I had told a story about knuckling a guy's taint during fellatio. Well she tried it and her man was overCUM with joy. I felt like the Prime of Miss Jean Brodie. Being a succesful teacher is a wonderful thing. I guess the trade off of the instant gratification of the claps & hoots is low pay. I learned a lot though (that's what people say when they're glad a job is over right?)
Back to Bidness.
posted by willam at 5:40 PM
7 Comments:
Maybe I have no bidness say this but not only do I think this writers strike is bullshit, but thes fucking writers are idiots anyway. Besides, most of these tv shows suck and probably once in maybe, oh I don't know, every five years they actually write something good enough to be called crap. Maybe I'm not being fair or I'm being too harsh, but dammit if they wanted a reason to go on strike, then maybe some of these writers could do us all a favor and actually start earning their money. Stop writing the same stupid shit every week and quit complaining about how "little money" you earn. Whatsa matta, you notta happy witta four Ferrari garage-a. Oh you poor, poor bastards. Oh I can just feel my heart breaking. Suck it the fuck up. You know what, I don't really care if these overpayed asshole ever come to an agreement. Then again, maybe these executive better find some better writers. You know what, maybe I should shut the fuck up. Most of the time I don't know what I'm talking about anyway. I'm outta here. Peace.
-tj
Wow, did I make all those mistakes when I type all that crap? Hmm, I swear I don't remember making them. Oh well seves me right for typing under the influence. Nah, nah, just kidding. No I was sober. But seriously, this strike sucks. Although it's vague to me why I care. Who cares, I just wanted to say something, that all. Boy these weekends are boring. Oy, are they ever. He he. Whatever. Bye.
-tj
I'm happy to hear that Tranny McGuyver part 2: The Reckoning is in the can. Love the title it sounds so ominous. Like your about to kick some serious ass(in the good way). Will you be posting a clip on youtube. I'm over here creaming my boycut Vicky Secret panties to see this movie. I'm sure it will be a huge hit at the fest this year.
Your knuckling a guys taint during fellatio inspired me too. Maybe you could write a book during the strike. Share you knowledge with the world.
I feel like an ass that I missed you Mary Sunshine!
DAMN!
-Alex
Alright, so I had a look at some of the images from Hustlaball and saw that Villanch McFatFuck was using a cane during his stage tenure.
Shit, you should have gooked that bitch and kicked it out from under him. He's not going to be writing for the Oscars this year anyway, so you might as well have given the crowd something to gnaw on: His flabby, fish-out-of-water body wrangling the stage at Krave.
I'd totally buy that t-shirt.
You were FABULOUS! Thank you so much. I can't think of how many names I have called you! (...and all of them full of praise!) I was so glad to have you at HustlaBall. Thanks again and I love to read your blog.
You got to work with Coco Peru! You lucky son-of-a-gun! Coco Peru is F-U-N-N-Y!
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