The VPLs

I was on an opening night high.  The audience loved the show, and I was hearing praise from everyone about what a great job I'd done portraying 70-year old Aunt Ruth in Marvin's Room.  

It was hard to believe that someone as young and immature vibrant as myself could be transformed into crippled old Aunt Ruth. 

My head was growing exponentially with ever complement.

I was soaking them in.  More, more... tell me more. 

Maybe I will quit my day job and move to Hollywood.  Because, clearly, I am the next Meryl Streep. 

Then Jim told me more.  

He said, "You know what I liked best about your performance?"  I started anticipating his response.  The way I embodied Ruth's spirit?  My subtle nuances in the kitchen scene?  The way I emoted Ruth's love of life? 

"What?" I asked, humbly.

"Your VPLs."

"Excuse me?"  I said. 

"Your VPLs," Jim repeated, chuckling to himself.

I had no idea what he was talking about.  Very pretty legs?  Very perky lips? 

I was afraid to ask.  "Um, what is a VPL?"

"Your Visual Panty Lines!" Jim said.  "When you bent over and walked across the stage it was hysterical!"

Tiffany, our costumer joined in, "I know!  I loved it!  What a great idea to wear granny panties!  I almost peed my pants!" 

Except those were my granny panties and they were not supposed to be part of the damn costume.

OMG.  Everyone in the audience saw my panty lines.

I tried to play it cool, but my beet red face, which I pointed directly into my glass of beer, was not helping my cause.

Then I remembered what a great actor I was and, in my best Merryl Streep voice I proclaimed,

"I thought it would add to my credibility to my role."      

Developing My Character

I'm about to embark upon the most challenging acting role of my life.

I'm playing the dead body in 9 to 5.

Not unlike Meryl Streep, who spent months and months in preparation for her role in Sophie's Choice, I have to develop my character.   Meryl immersed herself into the role of Holocaust survivor Sophie, and her performance earned her an academy award for Best Actress in 1982.

Meryl Streep completely envelopes herself in all her characters, capturing their nuances, speech patterns and personalities.

I must do the same in my role: capture the nuances, speech patterns and personality of the dead body.

Of course, she will no longer have speech patterns and personality, since she's dead. 

But I refuse to let that stop me from developing my character. 

For you see, I too, am a gifted actor.

I was brutally murdered. 

I was murdered by another contestant on The Bachelor.  I had just been awarded a rose and the woman who had been escorted to the limo, snuck back into the mansion, and into my bathroom.  She viciously assaulted me with a high heel. 

As you can see, it was a crime of passion.  The bitch went right for my face, as if it was my beauty that attracted Sean. 

If only my dog had barked (like Lassie would have), instead of lying next to me... as my life slowly faded away.  Someone could have found me in time.

I may have gotten that final rose.

And that's how I ended up on the gurney in the 9 to 5 hospital where the girls see me, mistakenly believe that I'm their boss and steal my body.

Great story, huh?!

I can't wait to pitch it to the director.

Damn!  I wish they awarded Academy Awards in theater.  I'd have this nailed.