A job in which, while struggling with questions of your mother's insanity and her perception of her own mother's insanity,
you get cast as a woman struggling with questions of her mother's insanity.

you're kidding me.

Bum Ho Lee: Go on. Tell them.

Me: ...I'm "on hold" for this stupid commercial THEY'RE GOING TO BOOK A MODEL FOR.

Cousin Alex: you know, technically, if you get this commercial, you are a model.

Me: This is ridiculous.

Bum Ho Lee: If by "ridiculous" you mean "testament to the power of believing in yourself," then YES.


A message from Bum Ho Lee and President Barack Obama

Lacy doesn't want me to tell you this, but she got a callback for that audition where she was up against the models. See, Lacy?

What if I had quit trying, Lacy? What if I accepted defeat before I even tried?

You people are a pain in my ass. Much like this callback, for a commercial I will NEVER BOOK BECAUSE THEY WILL USE A MODEL.

She's right. Let's be realistic: In all likelihood, this one's going to my team.


Bum Ho... ...
...never mind.


A job where you can make $7,000 one month and $120 the next.



Last night Korea lost the World Baseball Classic to Japan because they pitched to Ichiro in extra innings instead of walking him. Ichiro is a badass. He goes by one name. That's how you know.

I think I understand the pitcher's take on it - if you're facing a huge megaultrasuperstar, it's a chance to be like, whatever, one-name guy. I'm not afraid of you! I'm not walking you! All baseball strategy, however, says THE GUY IS A POWERHITTER AND THERE'S AN EMPTY BASE. WALK THE MOFO.

Cause that one-name guy is a one-name guy for a reason, and even though the pitcher stood up to him... he hit a double and Japan won by 2.

Also there was a player named Bum Ho Lee. Yesssssssssss.

So. Enough talking about OTHER people.
Tomorrow morning I have one of THESE auditions:
[MOM] Female, Caucasian, African American & Hispanic, youngish - 26 to 35 years old.. Attractive yet still real & approachable. Please submit models who can act as well as actresses.
Models. Oy. How I hate auditioning with models. How I hate feeling so ugly and fleshy sitting next to them in the waiting room.
Can I just walk this one in?

Bum Ho Lee: Swing for the fences, Lacy!!!

Lacy: Thanks Bum Ho! (but in this analogy I'm the pitcher)


Lacy: okay


Dear Vin Diesel,

1. I can't help thinking you're awesome

2. I also can't help hoping you're actually gay.




This is how I am cheering myself up tonight

Being on tour is hard, with numerous inconveniences and discouragements. I've been in a sour mood for a few days now.


Even playing to 800 unimpressed junior high students in the middle of Indiana is not as bad as getting this review:

There's nothing good about 'Knowing'

Apocalyptic disaster-porn is moronic, headache-inducing and offensive

DAMN, msnbc.

Also, however obnoxious I may fear I am lately, I'm pretty sure I'm nowhere NEAR as much of an asshole as Nicolas Cage.


fuck my flow'ry bed.

We're touring now. To schools, where we've been heavily coached on minding our clothing, behavior, and language.

Today Titania was in a hallway, about to make her entrance when she realized she'd forgotten a prop and yelled, "FUCK! My flow'ry bed!!!"

followed by

"SHIT! I just said fuck!"

followed by

the music teacher, turning the corner and laughing his face off.



As they all do, this internet quiz summed me up with pinpoint accuracy by asking me if I like to eat
a) bread
b) apples
c) hot dogs
d) clam chowder
There was no 'all of the above' option. So I picked hot dogs, because they're delicious, and said I hated being around noise and that I like to take a nap in a hammock, which apparently means I SHOULD BE LIVING IN:

The country
You are tired of living in a crowded place where there's too much concrete and not enough green. You want to live out in the country, preferably somewhere with a barn, a river and lots of wide open spaces where you can unwind and enjoy the quiet. Also there are hot dogs, hammocks and no noise, clam chowder, or any of those pesky apples! AND LIP GLOSS IS ALWAYS, ALWAYS ON SALE!

Okay, I added that last part.
Well this will just SKYROCKET my acting career.

also, ..."perferably somewhere with a barn?" Hot dogs = latent barn longings?

I'm living in a hotel downtown now. Very, very city. I have been living in a hotel for 3 weeks. We hope we have a week left. Our pipes burst and ruined our wood floor, so we're here on the insurance company's dime, on the 17th floor of a hotel so chic that the toilet is separated from the bed by only a glass panel. Clear glass.

My ultimate dream is to move to the Pacific Northwest, near Brandon's family, and build up enough of a voiceover clientele that I can use my home studio and essentially have a recording session with a room full of creatives anywhere in the country. And thereby still make my living acting. And, dammit, fine, yes, LIVE IN THE COUNTRY.

I mean, I think this must be everyone's dream. Right? Other actors?

I could be working harder at it. There are more exercises and drills I could be doing. I may have realized something important today. Maybe I should be living in
The country
or at least start working a little harder on v.o. to make that distant dream more realistic.



Yesterday we drove out the quad cities as part of the Shakespeare tour. We passed flooded field after flooded field, then, as we got closer to the cities, we started passing flooded neighborhoods.

It was awful.

Sometimes I wonder about the capacity in my heart for sympathy. The first house I saw shocked me, and I couldn't believe what that family must be going through and what an awful disaster that must feel like. My heart went out to them completely. Then there was another house just like it. Then there were dozens and dozens more.


sometimes it's okay to fail, because you will get a free massage.

My body has been registering the stress of the past week. Little sleep, tons of travel, even more performances for very important audiences, a very tense showdown over my commercial shoot where I could either a) get kicked out of my show or b) humiliate Chicago Actors in general and be blacklisted by one of the three casting agencies in town. Also, my mom. My mom my mom my mom my freaking mom. My heavens, my mom.

I believe your body silently takes all your stress and manages it for you efficiently and miraculously. It clenches your jaw to keep you from screaming out the wrong thing in anger; it contracts your back muscles to prevent you from punching a hole in the wall. When you're scared, it pulls your shoulders up to protect your neck. Instinctual things like that.

And if it has to KEEP clenching and contracting and stiffening, it starts to hurt. Then YOU have to take care of IT for a little while.

So I am a huge believer in massage therapy as actual therapy. I totally feel emotions locked into my muscles, and when one releases, the other does too.

I got a massage on Friday.
It actually made everything worse.
It was like my muscles were library fine I'd been dodging for years, and when I finally came forward, they slammed me with a bill for $3,275.21 for that copy of Breakfast of Champions I checked out in 9th grade.

So, this morning I went to get a chair massage at Whole Foods. I asked for 20 minutes, but the guy went for 40 and then gave me his business card for a free hour massage. He seemed sort of horrified. He had been muttering in Japanese throughout the massage. Also his hands were shaking from pushing so hard on my spine.

"It should be like this," he said, touching his fluffy stack of paper-towel face guards, "but it is like this," and he touched the countertop, "it is like it is a bone I am touching ...?"

It was a good massage. As he worked on the knot that's given me a Leona-Helmsley-level-BITCH of a headache for the past 2 days I realized my mom's actions weren't necessarily my fault, and started crying. In the massage chair in the corner of the Whole Foods on Huron street.


FREE MASSAGE!!!!!!!!!!!!!


just as good

We had our last performance at the theater today. A woman approached me in the lobby after the show.
Woman: HI. Hi. Hi. Wonderful job.

Me: Oh, thank you so much! I'm glad you liked the show.

Woman: Do you know who Kate Fry is?

Me: Um, yes.
I know WHO she is. She's a Chicago actress. She's very good. She's about 10 yearsishish older than I am, and played my role in another production of this play about 10ish years ago. She works a lot and is a true badass deluxe.
Woman: Well. I saw her play this part, and I wanted to tell you: You are as good as her.

Me: ...wow. Thank you.


cruel jokes

Our hotel leaves us [chocolate-dipped] fortune cookies every night with Complimentary Turndown Service. It ain't bad.

Tonight's fortune:
You will be a loving parent and will have an ideal home life.
Panderers!!!! Shameless fortune whores! This is no fortune cookie, this is a LIE COOKIE!

Things aren't going well with the family. Another campaign of Not Speaking is afoot. Mom somehow got the idea that she's been written out of the will and is so flush with righteous anger she is doing a lot of screaming then door slamming then very dramatically announced Not Speaking. This is not an isolated incident.

So I determined that enough was enough, and took a stand. I told her I loved her, but that I was very upset with how she was acting towards my grandmother, and that I needed a little bit of space from her.

I'm trying to take a stand against my mom, who only speaks to three people in her family, and on Saturday quit speaking two of them. We originally started out with eight (to be fair, one is dead). But anyway, I'm the last one worth speaking to.

What is the point in taking a stand against someone who will never change?

If I'm doing the right thing, as dearly beloved and trusted sources promise me I am, why do I feel like such a terrible asshole?

Why doesn't doing the right thing feel right?

Why does this fortunecookiefortune piss me off so much? AS IF it's that easy. Fuck you, ideal home life. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou, you don't exist and the myth of you makes me feel like the worst kind of failure who botched what genetics and pure instinct practically guarantee you HAVE to get right.


spread the joy

it's true, I am indeed jetsetting between sound studios in the Bronx and multimillion dollar theaters in Chicago and balancing producers who want me to come back and read more for their sitcom pilots. I'm flying to NYC twice this week.

I'm in demand.

I'm doin it.

Now play with this and rock along with me.


(From Dean, who knows what it is to rock and has still not defriended me on facebook)