The Great Montreal Theatre Escape Day 5 & 6

WOOOOT!

Luis got paid today! I promptly celebrated this exciting development by buying a $20 breakfast. This explains alot about my relationship with money: When I have it, I spend it until I don't. Then I bitch. Repeat.

The reason for the $20 breakfast was I couldn't decide on the big breakfast (ham, two eggs, bacon, potatoes, toast, fruit, crepe) or the eggs Benedict. So I asked if I could get the eggs Benedict with the breakfast. They did it for a cost. Upon receiving this meal, I realized that not being a family of four, I probably should have stopped being so fucking indecisive and just chose one or the other. But I got PAID bitch. I can do what I want. And if what I want to do is give myself severe indigestion, then I god damn will.

Writing about my breakfast, what an entertainer.

So why combine Days 5 & 6 in a single blog? Well for one, I've done almost nothing except rehearse over the last few days, so its not like anything particularly exciting has happened. I pretty much keep to my lovely theatre home, stepping outside for the occasional can of pop or group cigarette. Unlike Toronto, where news of snow sends us into a frenzy of fear, Montreal accepts the fact that it is as cold as stealing from your paraplegic mother and gets more snow than a Cuban drug lord. As of right now, there is about a foot of the white stuff, and no one acts like it's a big deal. For me, it pretty much keeps me from venturing too far from home base. After all I'm from Toronto, the shit freaks me out. I'm contemplating whether or not to purchase a gun, lest the snow finds a way to break in here and eat my brains. Wait is that snow, zombies or children that eat brains? Whatever, I'll shoot any of the above if they try to breach my perimeter.

The other reason for combining Day 5 & 6? I'm a lazy bastard.

One thing that was a boat load of awesome (I always carry awesome in pairs a la Noah) was The Found Footage festival who came to Theatre Ste. Catherine for one night only. The Found Footage Festival hails from New York and their gig is that they scour the planet for old and bizarre VHS footage (and yes, they adhere to this; they rarely take any material found on DVD) and curate them for a viewing audience. They are in Toronto tonight (Feb.03) at the Bloor Cinema and if you can check it out, I suggest that you do. The video reel they are currently touring is hilarious and includes footage of a parking lot at a Judas Priest concert 1985, a man who produced a Rent-a-friend home video, cats on motorcycles, a do-it-yourself penis injection and how to be a ventriloquist instructional videos. I was pissing myself. You will too.

Tonight opens Squeegee Nights, Alain's opus to Montreal Squeegee kids. I play Fernando, a super intense political activist who learns the meaning of restraint. I know about 25% of my lines, and about 2% of my blocking. But this is punk rock, muthafucka. So I'll give it 100% commitment and 250% chutzpah. Crunching the numbers, this still makes it more compelling than 93.4% of anything happening at the Tarragon right now. (please hire me Tarragon. please.)

The show has a full punk band on stage and the sonic output could very well blow the windows of the theatre out onto the streets. This would leave us vulnerable to a snow or children attack. Yeah, I think I'm going to get a semi-automatic.

And in other news, I might have to fly back to Toronto for one night only. My agent called me and there is a play from New York coming to Toronto for this years Illuminato festival. Apparently, they need non-equity actors and they actually requested to see me. As for why, I can only guess. Perhaps they read somewhere that I'm used to working for soup and half-price tickets to Famous Players Cineplexes. Or maybe they think I'm Zack Galifianakis.

About that. If I have one more person look at my bearded face and go, "hey, are you the guy from The Hangover?", I'm gonna say yes, and try to have sex with them. I figure if people are gonna keep doing it, I should at least try to enjoy it. Or maybe I will just pop a cap in their ass. This gun idea is getting better all the time. (oh such a slippery slope.)

But seriously, I am not the guy from the Hangover. I am far less talented and famous and I wish you would stop making me feel like my appearance is cooler than I actually am. And while we are at it, stop calling me Moses, Kevin Smith, Santa, Huckleberry and a pedophile. It's a fucking beard. Look beyond the hair on my face, and into the soul behind my eyes. (seriously Tarragon, take a look, my soul would be ideal for Richard Rose's incisive direction).

Sorry about all the Tarragon references my non-theatre friends. Its a theatre in Toronto that needs to hire me. I'm an excellent snack stand attendant and my mopping skills are unparalleled.

So we got to set this show up. I'm going to run my lines, sweep, run my lines, mop, run my lines, eat, run my lines, put on my makeup, run my lines, meditate, run my lines, take target practice with my gun, run my lines, kill a bunch of snow, run my lines, run my lines and then run my lines. And then perform for an enraptured audience who paid big money to see Zack Galifianakis.
It's going to be slobber knocker.

Encore!
That Blogging Bastard

P.S. I'm just kidding. I got this shit well in hand. My lines are 85% memorized. You see, I'm a professional. It's all here on my resume, Mr. Rose.