the bugaloos / by vanessa

Week 3 of Improv-a-mania. You people said you wanted blow by blow, right? Maybe I made that up. Anyway, tonight wasn't any easier, but at least now I notice patterns in other peoples' scenes which gives me hope that I may one day clue into my own. (I sound like such an ahh-ctress, dah-ling.) Speaking of acting, I keep hearing the suggestion that I should consider acting classes. I'm resisting it with every fiber in my being for the sole, lame reason that I don't want to be one of THOSE girls. What does that mean, anyway? Maybe taking acting classes while you live in LA is akin to being a barista when you live in Seattle -- everyone's gotta do it before they leave. What'd be great is if I didn't take the acting classes but instead just pretended like I did. When people caught on to me for not actually taking a class I can be all like, No, see, I was pre-TENDING. Get it? "Pretending," like I was "acting" see...

Just a little bit more about my improv class -- I am SO out-hipped. First of all, I always come directly from work with my work clothes on and no time to change (unfair disadvantage), which means I'm basically the Felix Unger of Improv 101. Tonight I almost wore a sign reading: I like cool bands too, but I didn't. Might look like I'm trying too hard. Second, our teacher frequently plays out how OUR scenes *should have* gone in his head, 'cept for he says it out loud. I appreciate the humor - I mean, he IS funny, after all. What I most like though is the long pretend sparring matches he has with himself. He's there, playing both sides, both invisible characters equally cutting, yet he goes on as if it's totally normal to be talking to yourself. I realized tonight though that it IS totally acceptable to talk to yourself on the condition that what you have to say is funny.


I'm so tired and I still have a bunch of work to do tonight. Why blog then? Classic stalling. Next is a myspace sweep.