I ran into one of my fellow castmates (Jean/bride’s mother) this morning! She has a house I frequently pass by on the way to work--one that’s usually remodeling the front yard and I’ve been curious about it--and she was outside, so I said hi and asked about the whole thing like I’d been wondering. I like that she lives nearby, that could be fun. I think she was kind of embarrassed that she wrote out such a long piece, and I said I wanted to write mine out too it too except I figured I’d have to reconfigure it once I heard what came out of Vinnie/That70’sScott.

I turned today’s therapy session into me trying to develop a New York accent. I suspect this probably annoyed my shrink more than hearing about my job for the ten billionth time. I don’t really hear/notice that accent so much, possibly from years of talking to her, so it doesn’t really stand out to me like say, a Southern or English one does. So I attempted to talk to her in funny voice/New Yawk accent/what the fuck ever, here and she was all, “It’s not THAT nasal. You think I sound that nasal?” (“No....” I wasn’t trying to imitate her, even, I was trying to come out with a funny voice, more or less) and “You’re talking too fast.” Yeah. For a NEW YORKER I talk too fast. So I dunno how well that went, but I did read her my one paragraph of lines about how to line up at the table and she told me how to phonetically pronounce it all. So there’s that. I need to type that out for later.

She did tell me to watch this lady on Hot Bench (too bad that is not a show they put online and it is strictly daytime television) and I concur: yeah, that is probably what I should be going for The hand talking, the giant bling. Not gonna fake n’ bake myself though, I have to go live in the rest of the world too. Apparently the Italian New York accent is more Joisy.

I also attempted to ask on the Internet and got “Watch My Cousin Vinny” sorts of things, as well as “Don’t bother to do a bad accent while you’re trying to act, that’s worse than no accent.” Yeah, might be a good point there. But I at least want to try at the start at least. So I am attempting some kind of nasal-ish New Joisey voice around the house tonight since I have the night off from everything.

The cast list also came out today. Do I like, put people all into my phone or what now? Unsure. Would I actually call anybody? (Maybe Jean if I need a ride? Do I have to call That70’sScott for anything?)

In other not so related news, that professor put up a new blog entry on writing a 500 word biography and hers came out differently/more depressing than she expected. I rather liked it, actually.

I apparently don’t feel too much like writing my own (also, look at this damn website) but decided to try this with my character. And then read it aloud in the Judge Patricia voice...ish from Hot Bench.

I'm Loretta Black. Fomerly (redacted), that was my maiden name. I was an only child and my parents were older and I grew up in the Bronx and I was a wild child. I didn't like school, I went to St. Michael's and had to wear uniforms and it was always boring as shit and I had to do whatever I could to make my outfits more interesting, you know what I mean? Anyway, my friends and I were trying to get into clubs when we were 15 and that's when I met Vinnie, who was thirty at the time but I was too dumb to know better and nobody ever warned me about the older gentlemen. He got us into the club, he got us into the club all the time, he became our pal, y'know? And then of course he starts pitching woo at me, telling me about his psychic connection with Frank Sinatra because he was also born in Hoboken and that meant he was gonna be a star someday and he was gonna make me a star too....I was fifteen, okay? Young and dumb and full of his...you know. I was the only one taking a thirty-year-old to prom and we got kicked out when the nuns saw my date, we had our own private celebration, and ... I was Catholic and stupid and I got knocked up, I got thrown out of school, and we had to get married in one of those fifteen minute ceremonies that the funeral home puts on. Classy, right?
So I end up with another kid every other year until we have four kids and I finally put my foot down. He got three boys and by the time we had a girl he don't care so much no more on this topic. All the boys got named after members of his family but I got to name the girl. I named her Furiosa. I told Vinnie it was the name of some relative or other of mine, he didn't care. Really, shouldn't it have been obvious?
Anyway, Vinnie never became a star and I sure as h didn't. My parents left me the catering company so I'd have something to live on, and Vinnie bet the h out of everything and lost. I got fed up enough to play the lotto and won enough to buy our building, which Vinnie named "Vinnie's Coliseum." But it's mine really, in my name and everything. So we run a wedding hall and in-house catering and Vinnie hams it up every night as the emcee and I do all the rest of the work. Of course. The kids were in the business too until they all turned 18 and hightailed it outta there. Good for them, I say.
I woulda liked to have been a star. Or just, y'know, had a chance to make some other life choices before it was too late. Now I made this bed and gotta lie in it, y'know?

previous entry - next entry
archives - current entry