Sunday, August 10, 2014

Chickens for Everybody!


Bundled up in three layers of clothing underneath my winter woolen long coat and turquoise knitted scarf as I observed my fingers once again turning purple, I marveled at our cable network lady who stood idly by, clad in nothing more than Capri pants, open-toed sandals and a sleeveless top amidst the Siberian conditions, as she most casually checked the social media on her phone.
OK, so maybe she was having a menopausal hot flash (I can relate!), but to demand that the stage be freezing to the point of an entire crew’s discomfort beyond the usual frigidity seemed a wee bit cruel.

Yet having been vampirifically invited across the threshold by the Producers (most Stand-Ins are by nature warm-blooded mystical creatures, but there exists strict limits as to our accessibilities) to once again attend a Table Reading in “The Lucy Bungalow” (!!!), I couldn’t have been more pleased to be sat off to the side for a miniscule part of delivering one line, which (blissfully!) was received with the genuine warmth of laughter. (Hey, all due credit must be given to the Writers – I’m just a vessel.) 
But what truly startled my ‘barometric pressure’ that afternoon (and most certainly unnoticed by anyone else in the room), was a slight-of-hand magic trick that almost made me say “Oooh!”

Mere moments before we began the cold read of the script, our network cable lady dropped down into her designated chair (a foot or so to my right), still most focused intently on her phone. 
Yet in the blink of an eye (without even looking up!), she managed to magically snatch up her folded paper name placard away that was apparently a few inches too close to my menial existence.

(Is this your card?!?!  WOW!)
But as I’ve been informed by popular culture (well, the movie “Spiderman” was on free TV a few weeks ago), “with great power, comes great responsibility”. 

And as I’m certain that the cable lady bears a terribly heavy load to deliver a successful show to her network, I’m content to disappear back into Siberia on stage, embracing the warmth of our Crew and whatever low-budget Hollywood magic we may create.

“Thank you for your order!” the website replied – a scheduled due date of arrival approximately a month and a half later.
Wait, what???

Neither confirming nor denying that I may have possibly consumed a ‘small’ quantity of alcohol that Friday evening when I randomly clicked on an item, I sat rather baffled that in this day and age, ANY item on the World Wide Web could possibly require so much transit time. 
But what the heck!  I was well on my way of mentally creating my very own Network (I call it “PNN”), where I’ll only be willing to hire a handful of trusty Directors; sound stages shall be left to AD’s discretion as to appropriate temperatures, and four-camera sit-com Stand-Ins would earn a MASSIVE wage increase for having to repeatedly perform all of the work that the Actors do!

“I shall wield my eventual power with great gentleness” I vowed solemnly, wisely and vodka-logically in the comfort of my Sanctuary.  “By golly, I’ll glad-hand and make eye contact ala George Clooney with every Crew member that I hire!” I postured confidently and ever-so generously.  “And never shall I snatch and grab my name placard!” I concluded venerably.
(Hey, it was a Friday night.   Allow me my brief delusions of grandeur.)

Cowering most nervously in the presence of the hand-stamped package in my snail mail box sent from the Ukraine (where was my Clooney bravado to be found?) I wasn’t quite sure as to National Security proper protocol...

Should I contact the CDC for prevention of possible airborne diseases?  Would I need to phone the FBI, the CIA, or NSA?  Or at the very least, would I require a gas mask and a proper body-scrubbing by strikingly handsome EMTs with six pack abs?  (Well, a girl can dream!)
Fantasies aside, I left the package unattended on my coffin table for two days.

“Well, just looking at the stamps, I’m guessing you probably fed an entire village somewhere in the Ukraine” my friend April offered optimistically as we shivered on stage once again.

“Chickens for everybody!” I chimed in agreeably, secretly hoping that indeed my simple on-line purchase (maybe $21.00?) from a fair trade market might have warmed the hearts and hearths of anyone else on the planet that also happened to find themselves with icy cold purple fingers.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so what did you order?” I hear you, my kind readers asking as I type.

May I please introduce you to (as specified) the “8.7 regular size Cigarette Holder long wooden Audrey Hepburn style”:

(Oh, it’s so AWESOME!!!)
And in my due diligence as a future CEO at “PNN” where everyone will be appreciated for their kindest contributions to whatever tasks they perform, I so too wished to thank the Artisans for their lovely craftsmanship, inquire as to what care should be taken, and seek out the details of my lovely “Cigarette Holder long wooden Audrey Hepburn style” accoutrement.  (Not so easy, as the return address label was printed entirely in Cyrillic.) 

Yet you have to love the World Wide Web as I was actually able to contact the vendor, and have thus received the following reply:

“The mouthpiece is acrylic, middle part made of beech wood and brass tube on the edge.
“To clean inside you can use this type of tobacco pipe cleaners:

(Insert lengthy helpful http link)
“Also it can be polished anytime with soft cloth to preserve it in original condition.

“That is all.

“Thank you, Ivan”

(Not an actual photo from Ivan mind you, just my mental picture, and yes from the Ukraine.)
Frankly, I suppose I’ll never have great power (or warmth aside from the occasional hot flash, FFS) until I win the Lotto and get “PNN” up and running, but blissfully, nor will I have great responsibility to that end.

And for now, as I re-pack my heavy winter woolen coat and gloves to prepare for Siberia once again this work week, I’m taking solace in the thought that I shall be received with warmth and comfort by my Crew.

But just between us, kind readers?   
I think the beech wood wand chose me.

(Wow, I REALLY need to stop watching "Spiderman" and “Harry Potter” marathons!!!)
May your barometric pressure be pleasing to you this week,