The butt of all jokes = me

Despite my gruff exterior (especially when behind the piano screaming, pulling my hair out, and tearing my garments in despair when people refuse to sing what I JUST. TAUGHT. THEM.), I have an uncanny knack for making people overly comfortable around me. This results in what me and my friends at the production company call "too comfortable." All of those people who think that they're going to get a phone call begging them to be in one of our shows instead of being expected to show up at auditions just like everyone else. All of those people who call themselves close, personal friends when I haven't seen/spoken with them in years. And lastly, and worst of all... all of those people who barely know me from Adam asking me when I'm getting married.

I think this last one is the mortal sin of all social faux pas. It's uncomfortable. It's annoying. It's rude. And most of all, it's none of your business and you're probably not invited to the wedding anyway. Being happily un-single to the same person for the past three years, however, all of humanity thinks it's cute... funny... remotely appropriate to ask me this last question whenever the notion strikes them. Like I'm knocking on death's door. That combined with the fact that about 75% of my remaining close single friends are getting married this summer has put me a little on edge to say the very least.

So that brings me to an amusing exchange I just had with one of my co-workers, whose wife is about to explode with the birth of their first child any day now.

Me: You're going to be a daddy-pants any day now. Wow. You're old.
Him: Yeah, I know.
Me: No, seriously... do you plan on living to be 100?
Him: No, not remotely.
Me: Then a quarter of your life has already come and gone. Isn't that crazy to you?
Him: No, not really. Probably a quarter of yours, too.

So then I remind him that my family (well at least my mother's side) lives until it's ridiculous. My great-great-grandmother lived to be 117. My great-grandmother, who lived with us until I was almost 18, lived to be 104. People in my family just refuse to die. So once I jogged his memory of this fact, I declared the following:

Me: I want to live to be like 105... old enough to have a few chances at being one of those Smuckers people!

and after a brief pause...

Because it's not like I'm going to be on Smuckers for being married for 75 years or something crazy like that.

Him: YES! I can so see it now. ::in a Willard Scott-like voice:: "Downbeat Diva, at 105 years old, hails from Baltimore, Maryland. She loves the theatre and writing songs. She used to teach the theatre to children. And after all of these long years, she just six months ago tied the knot to her college sweetheart!"

We had a good laugh. He decided that he now wanted to live a long life. Just to see me be a Smuckers poster child for the Today Show (because, you know, they'll still do that in 2089). And then the fluorescent bulb in his office flickered a little brighter. I think even God was laughing at us... at me... just like everyone always does.

Good morning, Baltimore!

Ben Pillow over on b, the site just wrote this cool piece on selling Baltimore as an awesome city through the Broadway stage. The Baltimore Area Convention and Visitors Association (better known as BACVA) will apparently be running an ad campaign in the Broadway Playbills for both Hairspray and Cry Baby stating "You've seen the musical, now visit the set." Things like this warm my heart, and cancel out that time that Oprah told the entire world that she'd never invest in Baltimore City schools because they were beyond hope. What a bright ray on an otherwise gloomy morning.

Source: Boosters for Baltimore [b, the site]

I thought gentrification was when you brought yuppies into a bad neighborhood

Apparently North Avenue market used to be hot stuff. I wasn't alive, but I get the impression that it was like a Lexington or Cross Street Market for midtown Baltimore back in the day. Now, if you know the whole North Avenue corner of the universe, it's the reason that I can't walk any farther north on Charles Street than Tapas Teatro without a taser. Well apparently these developers are now attempting to restore the North Avenue market and transform it into a multi-purpose arts-focused area for shops and restaurants. Their intent is to use this space as a continuation of the Station North arts district.

I, personally, hear the word gentrification thrown all over the place... usually in the context of revitalizing some neighborhood that Hopkins has bought and is slowly developing luxury housing for the young, rich, kind of suburban set to move into the city be chic. Don't get me wrong... I think it's wonderful when new development in the city has an arts focus. It helps to validate my existence as a musician in Baltimore. My cynical mind finds it hard to fathom the transformative powers of an arts venue in the depressed corridor that is North Avenue, however. I really, really hope I'm wrong, though, because if it works, it will be awesome.

Source: Bringing back city landmark [Baltimore Sun]
Further reading: Baltimore's North Avenue Market Past and Present, Maryland Daily Record (login required), Developing Midtown - bthesite.com

"Do you find it hard to type on your iPhone when you're %&$#ed up?!"

I'm obsessed with the blog culture. I read blogs all day at work... and evenings on my phone. I am addicted to the intelligent writing and spot-on witticisms that come from some of my favorite online authors. That being said, I'm a horrible blogger. It's one of my dream grown-up work-from-home jobs, and I'm mock-terrified that my dream will never come to fruition because I'm just so freakin' bad at consistently updating a blog. I'm even more mock-petrified at having nothing to say that is of any interest to anyone other than myself. In real life, however, (some) people at least seem to think I'm interesting and funny. So as many of my other posts have started, I'm going to try to get better at posting when I have something of note to actually say.

So I just started rehearsals for TOMMY a few weeks ago. I've unfortunately been taking way less initiative with the production company in the past few months as I went on a mother-daughter holiday to Italy with my crazy-but-loveable mother, a girlfriend, and her less-crazy-but-still-equally-loveable mother. When I got back, I had to hit the ground running at my day job in a new capacity. There are so many things I could possibly say about my day job, but I'm going to take some advice from a blogger that I look up to and not say anything about my day job that I wouldn't say to my boss' face. That leaves very little that I can say about it here. Long story short, I've felt divested from theatre after my brief hiatus and have placed more priority in maintaining professional contacts and personal relationships than getting any non-profit administrative work done. At our first rehearsal a few weeks back, my theatre boss/adoptive sister told me that we got the rights for one of my all time favorite shows and we'd be doing it in the fall instead of Sweeney Todd (and anyone who knows me knows that I have a hate-hate relationship with Sondheim based on some college experiences in my musical theatre classes). So the compound news that we'd be producing one of my dream shows and NOT (at least immediately) producing one of my least favorite shows has placed me in a dream-like trance for the past few weeks. I feel like I'm cheating. On TOMMY. With A Chorus Line. Show infidelity is really bad. It's like an emotional affair. I'm teaching "Pinball Wizard" and in my head I'm humming "Dance 10. Looks 3."

So at any rate, all of this to say that I went out to Brewers last night with my brother from another mother after my rehearsal. He was auditing the BTA auditions at CenterStage and met me immediately afterwards... with a stack of headshots and resumes in hand. We're awful people. We openly acknowledge it. We pored over these headshots and resumes with reckless abandon... judging... criticizing... laughing a little sometimes. That's the one saving grace that we have personality-wise in theatre-- we're allowed to judge people completely subjectively in theatre because it can all be justified and explained away.

As we finally found (out of a stack inches thick) ONE promising candidate for our fall show, I finally finished the Resurrection (the best microbrew ever if you haven't had one) I'd been nursing and we started preparing to go. I pulled out my phone (we call her Tydaisia) unceremoniously and checked Facebook statuses. It has become a tick of mine. I don't even realize I'm doing it. I'm trying to get better, but I might have to go to rehab. These two slightly inebriated (probably Hopkins) guys were sitting at the table next to us, and one of them leaned over and asked me how I liked my phone. We iPhone users are total elitists, by the way. We wink knowingly at fellow iPhone users when we see them on the street, and judge you if we catch you chatting someone up via a Blackberry or a Treo. I gushed, told him I loved it and couldn't imagine life without it. He then asked the most hilariously dim-witted question: "Isn't it, like, hard for you to type when you're #%&$ed up?"

Me: No, I don't really get that way... but if you haven't had your phone for that long, it takes awhile to get used to.
Guy: Yeah, I've only had it a few weeks, and I'm starting to get the hang of it, but when I get hammered, I can't type.

Then Troy (my friend) volunteered that he has large thumbs and finds it hard to type on said iPhone keyboard. Which, thanks Troy, just egged on drunk Hopkins dude #3 from the left even more.

Guy: Yeah, that's it. I just have huge thumbs.

and after a slight pause... "We'll let you guys get back to your drinks."

So we finished up, packed up the stack of headshots and resumes from the night, and I started to pull on my leather jacket. Because it was approximately -12 degrees outside. On May-effing-19th. And as I pulled on my outer layer, aforementioned drunk Hopkins dude #3 from the left grabbed ahold of my leather-clad elbow and said, "Have a good night." And then to Troy, "You take care of that lady, now."

Dude. It was a Monday night. If there's anyone that needs to be taken care of, it's you. I'll call up my friends Amy Winehouse and Lindsay Lohan... they'll take you to rehab with them for summer vacation.

How apathetic can Baltimorons be when it comes to our nation?

So I'm sitting in my office, playing Will.I.Am's "Yes. We. Can" music video over and over again because I'm a sucker for inspiration. I asked my co-worker who's similarly comparable to me in age if she was going to vote in the Maryland primaries next week. She said no. I chastised her across the hallway and she admittedly tuned me out.

Fast forward to 20 minutes later. To protect his privacy and whatnot, we'll call him "Dude." Another co-worker has this conversation with me verbatim:

Dude: Hey Tiffany... Osama Bin... oh crap. I keep messing up his name. OBAma. What nationality is he?
Me: (assuming he means race, and not nationality, since only AMERICANS can run for President. Of. The. United. States. Of. America.) Ummm... he's half black and half white.
Dude: Wow. When's the last time a black person was President?
::awkward silence::
Me: Dude, there's NEVER been a black President. That's why it's a big deal.
Dude: Wow. So there's a lotta history being made? Like, there could be a first woman President or a first black President?
Me: (disgusted with life) Yes.
Dude: But they're not like both on the same side, right? Like one one of them's a Republican or something, right?
Me: (attempting to step back from the ledge) They're both Democrats.
Dude: Oh, so it's not necessarily definitely history in the making. A Republican could win.
Me: (done) No, that's not exactly possible this time around.

And then another co-worker revealed to me yesterday that HE can't vote in the primary because he registered too late, so he's not eligible. He's 25. Just registered to vote.

I'm not quite sure why no one is realizing how important the MD/DC/VA primaries are on 2/12 after "Super" Tuesday proved to be pretty anti-climactic for the Democrats, but I hope everyone else cares at least enough to go out and let their opinions be heard. For those of you who have no opinions, write in Dave Chappelle.

Killing rodents at Spots

Oy.

It's been far too long since I'm updated this thing. I feel like that's the story of this poor abandoned blog. Hopefully one day I'll do better when life isn't as crazy... when I'm not doing five million things at once and my head isn't about to explode.

So yeah, I think I'll probably go to SPOTS tonight to see Mousetrap. Generally straight plays put me to sleep, but as Troy has said multiple times, the only other place we go and feel like we get our money's worth is SPOTS, and I haven't gone to see a show in a month.

So you can teach an old dog new tricks, apparently

Happy New Year everyone!

I discovered three really great entertainment/food venues in Baltimore over the past week that I feel the need to shout from the rooftops. You're probably cooler than me and might already know about these places, but in the event that you don't, I feel it best to share.

1. Tusk Lounge -- I went to celebrate a friend's birthday last Friday, and she started with a cocktail party at this plush hangout atop Baltimore fine dining go-to Brass Elephant. This ornate and opulent lounge is decked out with a marble bar and plenty of comfortable high wing-backs. The music was trendy but not overpowering, and it's within walking distance to The Belvedere and Brewer's Art, so it's the perfect addition to a yuppie Mount Vernon bar crawl. And with my $7 Ketel One and tonics, the price was definitely right, too.

2. Juno at the Landmark Theatre -- This is by far my new favorite movie theatre. It's got the movies that you used to only be able to go to The Charles and Rotunda theatres to see with all of the amenities (and more) of a huge megaplex like Muvico. Centrally located in HarborEast, this theatre boasts cushy seats with adjustable arm rests so that you can snuggle with your honey. There are two nearby garages which Landmark happily validates, so parking is only $3 for up to five hours (a steal anywhere along the harbor). The snacks are gourmet (a la Pellegrino and Phillips' crab pretzels), and there's even a fully stocked bar which we certainly would've partaken of had we not still been hurting from the Tusk Lounge the night before. It was definitely a great place to see Juno, my absolute favorite film of 2007 (not that I see that many).

3. New Years Eve Dinner at the Woodberry Kitchen -- My wonderful boyfriend offered me the choice between going to one of our standby favorite restaurants for NYE or trying out something new. Being the creature of habit that I am, I figured I would push myself out of my comfort zone and ask to go someplace new. My only stipulation was that it had to be in the City. He surprised me with this super hip, borderline tree-hugging space in Clipper Mill. He later shared that he picked this place not only because he had heard great things about it from friends, but also because it was far enough from downtown that we wouldn't get caught in the inevitable chaos that is the Inner Harbor New Years scene. Nestled in amongst the green condos that they've built at the mill, this big open space features a functioning wood-burning oven and waitstaff that wears jeans and down-home-on-the-prairie aprons. They subscribe to a "farm-to-table" philosophy, partnering with local suppliers to ensure that your food is super-fresh and that they are helping to supporting and sustaining the Chesapeake agricultural economy. Not up for dinner but still want to try this place out? The menu also boasts some delicious snacks ranging in price from $1 to $4 and small plates that range in price from $5 to $12 that would perfectly compliment one of their organic microbrews at the bar.

Well that's it for my past week. Can't wait to see the new stuff in store for this weekend!