Boom #1

I'm not sure if I can completely encapsulate the amazingness that was the last week of my life. I'm going to try to detail everything clearly, so anyone who knows and cares can get a full picture of what ComicCon was like for me, a closet nerd who has finally seen that it is ok to like horror movies and comic books. There is a world out there that is accepting of ladies who love things that are typically termed juvenile or masculine, and even embraces these women who have begun to despair. All the things I felt were detriments to me as a female became attributes. And I will probably never be the same.

My flight to LA was delayed but uneventful. My first leg to Atlanta sat me near a crazy lady, who, after drinking a beer, decided to tell me about her pet grooming classes and how she'd chopped off a dogs tail by accident. Luckily, the beer made her groggy and she started snoring against the window before the fasten seat belt sign went off. A delay in Atlanta caused me to get in to Los Angeles at midnight, where I met up with Bailee. She brought me almonds, water, and diet coke. Carmageddon was supposedly in full force, but we made it back to her place in no time, and ended up staying up til 3am nerding out.

Due to some serious jet lag, I was up and at em at 10am, though my body and brain were mush. We lazed about for a good portion of the day, and then we packed up and headed to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery, where we met up with the gang from Comikaze Expo to watch Evil Dead 2 with a thousand other people in the lawn of the cemetery. Bailee had yet to see the second film, and we both giggled and enjoyed an evening of white zin, food, and Deadite killing. We walked back out through the Cemetery, scaring ourselves silly when we encountered a cage full of sleeping peacocks. Back at her casa, we nerded out some more. It was glorious.

Sunday I had lunch plans with my friend, Jay. We met in Hollywood near the Chinese theater and grabbed ice cream BEFORE we had lunch at a place called The Waffle. It's a swanky version of Waffle House, and I grabbed some Chicken and Waffles. We had a good time, but had to cut it short, as Bailee had planned an X-Men: The Animated Series viewing with her friend who actually wrote for the show! Weee!! Unfortunately, that plan fell through as there were deadlines to be made, so we went to an arcade at CityWalk, drank beer, played games, and acted like idiots. It was amazing.

More to come...

Obsession is best.

The other night I was laying on the couch, in my Batman T-shirt and sweatpants, watching Astonishing X-Men on Netflix, reading Birds of Prey and Fear Itself, and basically nerding out. I had an epiphany as I lounged, and it's one that probably could have saved me a bunch of time, money, and preserved a little of my sanity over the years that I have been a functioning adult.

I get obsessed. When I was in college, I became an improviser with iPlay, and that became my life. When I started doing comedic improv, that became my life. I started working at Shadowbox, and sketch comedy/rock and roll music became my life. Every time I have transitioned into a new career, or decided to try a new hobby, I become fixated. My three years with The Jove were all about The Jove. My waking hours were filled with ideas on how to forward the troupe, reading about improv and as a result I was working too many hours a week and letting a lot of personal things fall by the wayside. Even my own show, The Jiggles and Giggles Comedy Fest, has become an obsession. Marketing it, writing songs and sketches based on my life, and just putting my all into it so much so that I have bruises on both knees and a broken elbow as a result.

This latest incarnation of comic book junkie and writer has started to eclipse everything else in my existence. I find myself imagining scenarios that the girls can experience, relating it to my own life and basically taking my day to day existence and putting it into panels for the world to see. I read, voraciously, comic books and online comics to increase my knowledge of formats, stereotypes, and arcs. I watch comic book movies, read comic book articles, and immerse myself in the culture so that I can be the best nerd that I can be. I've even contemplated a re-haul of my wardrobe to be more "nerd chic" and have finally realized that this is insanity.

So next week at ComicCon, they're going to see the same old Lauren that everyone sees here in Palm Beach. Heels, jeans, and cardigans. This Lauren knows more about Deadpool than she used to and can tell you what her favorite Dr. McNinja online comic is (the one where Ben Franklin comes back from the dead and turns into a headless horseman because of an evil plot created by Dracula.) But she's also a girly girl who works at a country club and wears skirts and pearls to work every day. She'll probably have to take a phone call about an accounting question or how to make a computer work while sitting in the Walking Dead panel.

And that's ok.

BOOM! :)

Itchy.

I have what some might term an obsessive personality. I don't wash my hands 50,000 times or touch every doorknob ten times before I enter a room. It's not that extreme. But when I decide I want or need to do something, it's all that I can think about...even when I am procrastinating and putting it off.

Case in point. I decided that in the midst of all my day job, writing columns, creating comics, and a couple of trips to see family and go to ComicCon, that I should create a brand for PMS. I spent every night for the last two weeks working on it. I denied invites to go out with friends, rejected a date (which wasn't really that hard to do as the guy was a little strange and only talked about his ex-girlfriend, his crappy roommate, and how much weed he used to smoke), and even blew off plans for a personal day with myself to just sit, in my pj's and type. I sent in a request to go live tonight, but I am still twitching wondering if the design is dynamic enough, spending the few hours til midnight dwelling on things that still need to be done (like collaborate on a PMS theme song with the lovely Bailee on ukulele.)

This morning I also broke a nail. I didn't exclaim in girly dismay at the loss of my long tip. I just got out my travel manicure kit and trimmed the unsightly, ragged edge and moved on with my work day. As I'm typing, though, I can feel the distinct difference in nail length and it is totally distracting me. My fingertips start to itch as I plot when I can sneak the kit out and even the playing field. My boss went outside to oversee a project, and I thought, "Do it now, Lauren!! He won't know any differently!" But the logical part of my brain said, "No, Lauren. Trimming your fingernails at work is weird. Someone could get a clipping and make a voodoo doll. USE YOUR BRAIN!" Though the logic side has won out this time, my hands are still twitchy and my eyes are drawn to the little stub on the middle finger of my left hand.

I never said I was normal.

"And the winner is..."

Saturday night I went to a banquet for the Pineapple Playhouse, where I did my first show after quitting The Jove. I had been lazy all day and was supposed to meet my friends at their house to carpool at 5pm. Around 4, I started to get ready. Nothing fit. All of my dressy clothes were at least one size too small for me. So, I put on a dress I had purchased for my cousin's wedding that my mom deemed "too plain" for that event. I put on my great-grandmother's earrings, my grandmother's ring, and a diamond necklace from my maternal grandfather, and I was set. The sky was filled with rolling storm clouds as I headed to Jupiter, though the rain stayed away as we made our way to the Knights of Columbus in Port St. Lucie.

We headed inside, surrounded by Virgin Mary statues and photos of the members of the PSL chapter. The room had been decorated in silver and green star balloons with whole pineapples as centerpieces. The median age was 50. The cast of Beauty and the Beast, Really grabbed two tables in the back corner, and I was fortunate enough to sit with the woman who played my mom, her husband, my friends, and the girl who played my stepsister along with her boyfriend. As people arrived, I'd give them big hugs and we'd all catch up. Except for one girl, who barely acknowledged that any of us were there. Janna and I had a rough relationship during the run of the show as I thought her self-indulgent, lazy and entitled. She would prove me right yet again on this night.

The DJ was about 80 years old, and kept making indecipherable announcements regarding a car that was blocking a fire exit, listing in detail how we would all die if there was a fire. This really set the mood for the party. A cash bar, buffet, and dessert table lead us to overindulge while we were being entertained by Steve Zimmerman.

Mr. Zimmerman came out onto the dance floor, a large black man dressed all in black with tan tap shoes on. He explained that his name sometimes confused people, and that he really was "the" Steve Zimmerman. This guy was in Taps with Gregory Hines, and pulled out a tap dancing set that was accentuated by his overly played loud breathing and bulging eyes. His set lasted about a half hour, and the crowd was probably an unexpected change from the usual Knights of Columbus groups he had played in front of during prior gigs. This was a theater crowd, and everyone tried to one up his jokes as he told them. It was funny and weird and set the mood for the rest of the evening.

The Board Members of the theater were all brought up on stage and thanked for their services. New board members were inaugurated. The President accepted an appreciation award that had her name misspelled on it. Weird level orange.

The acting awards finally came around. As each category was announced, the cast would hold hands, trying to give off a positive vibe for the person nominated. They got to the Best Female Newcomer category, and it was between myself, Cherlise who played Beauty, and Janna, the "show stealer" and myself. As they announced the three nominees, I started chanting in my head, "Cherlise or me, Cherlise or me." It's no secret that I am not a fan of the other girl. So, when they announced, "Lorraine Pottinger, Lulu in Beauty and the Beast, Really" (obviously not my name or the name of the character, Lula, but who cares)I was shocked and delighted. As I grabbed the award and posed for a picture, I thought they would let me make a speech. They didn't.

Janna did win an award for "Best Female Minor Role" and they let her talk. With her stage time of about 5 minutes, a lack of ability to sing and dance at the same time, and her diva nature, it wasn't surprising when her speech comprised of saying, "It wasn't a big part, but we all know that I stole the show." I had imbibed a single beer during the dinner portion of the evening, and I couldn't help myself when I started chuckling loudly at the complete nerve of this woman, who had to leave a rehearsal early so she could go and see opening night of that crappy Christina Aguilera/Cher movie. From this point on I was hot...and not just because of the combo beer and satin dress lining. I leaned over to Leslie, my mom, and said, "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

When the next category came up where Cherlise and I were both nominated for Best Female Lead, we all grabbed hands again (sans Janna). It was a three way tie between myself and the two female leads of the show, Arsenic and Old Lace. "And Laura Pottinger, Lula in Beauty and the Beast, Really,"(again, not my name but the character's name was right.) Neither of the ladies from AOL were actually there that night, so I thought I'd get to speak. No again. Maybe there was something in my face that made them not want to give me the microphone. Maybe they realized that the awards ceremony was lasting 3 hours. Whatever it was, I was unable to declare my appreciation for the whole cast and crew who worked their butts off to make the show what it was...begrudgingly, Janna included.

After the awards were over, I got another beer and the censors disappeared. Cherlise and I were shaking it on the dance floor. Janna went to leave and I dismissed her with a waggle of the hand. We closed the place down after she left, and it was a relief to have her sour puss out of my peripheral. We then headed to Friendly's with my TWO awards (remember, I beat Janna in one category). Ice cream, good conversation and some french fries later I was beat and ready for bed. I headed home to my empty house, hugged Bailey and let him outside, put on my pj's and as I slipped into slumber, I muttered, "Stole the show, my ass."

So, here's the speech I would have given.

Many thanks to Mark Brinkerhoff, who not only played and recorded all the music, directed us, built the set, had twin baby boys, and dealt with Janna. To the entire cast and crew who helped me believe in myself more than I ever have in an unfamiliar territory of musical theater. To Cherlise specifically, for being beautiful inside and out and for hitting the high notes so I didn't have to. To Justin for forgiving me for the attitude every day. To Lara and Megan for listening to me vent on the long drive from Jupiter to Ft. Pierce. And to the warm and welcoming community of the Pineapple, where even asshats like Janna can be onstage. Thank you."

I may still be a little peeved. :)

30 is weird.

The actual day I turned thirty was one of the weirdest birthdays I have ever had, and I've had some interesting ones. I guess I thought it was going to be epic, but it ended up being a series of small yet strange activities culminating in a bi-coastal phone conversation and Taco Bell devouring.

I woke at 8,9, and 10 respectively as I was being called on my cell by multiple people who wanted to wish me well. As the night before I had taken a Mucinex, Unisom, and Dayquil to rid myself of a massive head cold that had settled in the previous day, I was a bit lethargic and slightly cranky. I stumbled downstairs and ate one of my red velvet cupcakes from my birthday party that had occurred on Sunday. A half hour later, my sister came downstairs and said she wanted pancakes...did I want any? As she rarely offers to do nice things, I took her up on the deal. 10 minutes later, there were two golden brown pancakes on our plates, and we dug in with gusto. Two bites later we looked at each other and simultaneously headed for the sink and the garbage disposal. The mix was a whole wheat Hungry Jack, and the pancakes were dense and flavorless. We laughed about it, and I went to get ready for my day on the set of Burn Notice.

Showered, curled and made up, I grabbed my down home style clothes and headed down to Miami Springs. I was cocky, as the production company had sent a map, and I thought that I was so smart that I could read a map, no problem. I even planned a side trip for all the extra time I would have on my hands. I drove distractedly, with a hubris that was repaid in full when I looked up and saw a sign that said "Miami International Airport." I had missed a turn somewhere and got caught in a massive detour leading me through the depths of the airport. Panicking, I programmed my Google Maps app with the address, and re-routed. I got to the crew lot with moments to spare, grabbed my clothing, and headed to the craft services tent. As I walked up to the group of extras standing around, I noticed a 19 year old girl wearing the same dress I had chosen for my outfit for the day. I made a joke about not getting the memo, and she sarcastically told me that it was ok cause SHE had other outfits. Pretentious.

I sit down and watch all the extras attack our wrangler for the day, Cornell, each asking a silly question about one thing or another, confident in the fact that I had been there, done that. I grab my hardcover book out of my purse, and before I can even open to the first page, an older gentleman across from me asks me my name. He then proceeds to ask me if I'm married, what I do, where I'm from. I answer politely and try to read some more, but finally gave up at the half hour mark. After 2 and a half hours, we walked to the location, and half of us were used in one scene, then 20 of the extras (not including me)had to sit in a cafe while the rest of us shot a scene behind the principals, Bruce Campbell and Jeffrey Donavan. BC showed up in a white van in a white wifebeater. Meow.

After this we were sent home. I headed back up North and tried to get a hold of a friend who said she wanted to meet up with me for my birthday. No answer. I realized she had another social engagement, so I met up with some other friends to get some frozen yogurt at Froyotopia. Emily, Jess and Steve were waiting for me, and I got a delightful group hug just before Jess dropped her iPhone on the ground and smashed it. We went inside and got our frozen yogurt, and they sneakily put candles in the yogurt. I blew them out at the counter before we decided to wander. A half hour later, they had to go back to work, and I had no idea what I was going to do. I called my friend again, and she was tired from a long day at work, so I decided to go and finally meet Michael, a guy that my best friend's mom had been trying to set me up with. I got to his workplace, sidled up to the bar, and he came up to me smiling and gave me a big hug. We'd talked a few times on the phone, but this was the first face to face meeting. He had about 7 patrons still in the restaurant, so he pulled up a chair and we chatted over my complimentary merlot. About 15 minutes in, I saw the manager run from the kitchen into his office, followed by a chef who quickly grabbed a fire extinguisher off of the wall.

The kitchen was on fire. They put it out, but not before the fire department had been called in. Six firemen in full gear came tromping into the restaurant. The patrons who had just ordered were unable to eat anything, as the kitchen had to be closed down after the fire extinguisher was used, and muttering, they left. I decided to leave as well, as they were all stressed and it was about 10:30 at this point.

I was feeling a little woozy from the wine, as my last meal had been at 2:30 on set, and fro yo doesn't make a good alcohol cushion. My best friend from college called me from LA, and as I chatted with him I stopped at Taco Bell. He heard my order and says, "That sounds good. I'm gonna get the same thing and we can eat together." He did, we did, and I ended the night with a Grilled Stuft Burrito, a phone call, and the last red velvet cupcake.

Like I said. Weird.

Meh.

Life's complicated. Love is worse. Something that was once two people meeting and having a connection has turned into a series of auditions that make me more nervous than any play in which I have ever tried to get a part. As an improviser, I have the utmost faith in my ability to get on a stage and make stuff up in order to entertain people. But get me in front of a strange audience of one male or on the phone for more than 5 minutes with a male I have yet to meet and I turn into a mush-mouthed mental 12 year old.

You know you've been single too long when your best friend's mom is trying to set you up with guys. My very best friend, Jen, knew a guy when she was 12 years old who still lives around town and works at a restaurant where her mom, Corinne, frequently dines. She loves this man. So much so that when he complained that he was just looking for a nice girl to settle down with, a light bulb went off over her head and she thought, "Lauren!" A slightly convoluted meet cute occurred. Corinne got Jen to send her a photo of me, he saw it, liked it, gave his number to Corinne, who gave it to Jen, who texted him my number after asking me permission to do so. See? Convoluted.

He called me last night while I was in my writer's meeting, and left a nervous sounding voicemail. I called back, and in the midst of leaving a message actually said, "I'm sorry I missed your call. I was presenting at a writer's meeting at the library...yeah, fun stuff. Anyway!!" Doh. I received another vm today, while at work, telling me he had to be at work at 5, which is when I get out of work. Not looking too good on the communication side, but Jen vouches for the guy and one date won't hurt. We keep missing each other on the old phone, but I'll keep trying. You never know who you're going to meet and why. This guy may be my new best friend. Who knows? Not me.

I do know I'm starting to get tired of this area. Not only because the available men have the mental acuity of a pre-teen. There is just too much history here and too many connections with people whom I would rather never see again. I've been seriously thinking about moving to L.A. in November, riding the waves of the Comic Convention season out there and just seeing where Bailee and I can go with our web comic and our general comedy shenanigans. I feel as if she and I are destined to do something bigger together...maybe I'm just re-directing the general need for a soul mate to one of a creative partner and kindred spirit. All I know is that she makes me feel like I am funny and it's been a long time since I felt that. I have things that I need to do before then, like produce another Jiggles and Giggles. But it's about time to actually start that "living like there's no tomorrow" thing that all the country singers like to sing about.

It's time for a change. I've already changed myself enough...now I just need to change the world.

Family

I've often wondered why I am the way I am. There are times when really fantastic things happen, and I systematically tear them and myself into little tiny pieces, over-analyzing every bit to see what I could have done better. I have started to do this most recently with my web comic. Though it is out of my control in terms of how many people read it, I keep thinking that I can affect it somehow, by being more witty, charming, out there. I even added it for a brief moment on my online dating profile, to see if I could up readership that way. I realized the folly of this choice and quickly removed it from the site, but the insanity that inspired me to do it in the first place is still going strong.

I was discussing this with my mother last night, as she is pretty down to earth and wise to the world. She is usually quick to point out my bullshit. During the course of our discussion, I discovered that I have ALWAYS been this way. I was potty trained at 18 months because I didn't like being dirty. I learned to read at age 4, because I felt if my parents could read to me then I could certainly do it myself. When I was 6, I had imaginary people in my life. They weren't friends, they were parents. Mother Snow and Father Magic lived in the North Pole and were going to come and get me someday. Six year old me wanted to control who was making the rules for me. I'm very glad these two weirdos never actually manifested in my life and love both of my parents as they are both strong yet different parts of who I am today.

After my mom and I were done chatting, I continued to think about who I am and why I feel as if I am constantly silent on subjects that I should be more vocal about. Looking to my family, I decided to elect a new mantra for myself that is based upon both my maternal and paternal grandmothers. Both of my grandmothers are named Nancy. One is living in Ohio, the other passed away while I was in college. Nancy Blake is a sweet woman who makes homemade ice cream for the 4th of July and likes warm, ankle length cotton robes. Nancy Pottinger was a spitfire, who taught me sarcasm and chain smoked until she passed away from emphysema. I've always been a little more like Grandma Blake, and will continue to be so in terms of how I deal with the people I love. In terms of my creative outlets and perspective on life I am going to become more like Grandma P. I will no longer take shit from anyone. I will recognize shady characters and bypass them before they can take advantage of me. I will call out indecencies and injustices and I will burn peoples faces off with my sarcastic wit.

What would Nancy do? That is the question.