Blogger Bites

This blogger design is really starting to tick me off. I am having trouble posting videos and links and all of the fun internet garbage that I know you have come to expect from me. So I am moving on over to Tumblr. If you have enjoyed these ravings then please come visit me at http://franceshasissues.tumblr.com/ If you have not enjoyed this then let's never speak of it again.

Michele Bachmann Blows Way More Than Carbon Dioxide

So I am through with dating. That's it. Done, over, hasta la vista jack offs. After my most recent evening with a man who, in what I can only assume was a misguided attempt at affection, grabbed my right breast and squeezed it like an air traffic controller palming a stress ball, I have decided to take a much needed break from the dating world. So here I am back to doing what I do best. Complaining. You're welcome.

Tops on my list of complaints this week: Rep Michele Bachmann of Minnesota, or as I like to call her, Lake Wobegon Barbie. Sweet merciful Christ this woman sucks out loud. When Sarah Palin came along I thought that we had reached Defcon 5 on our scale of criminally stupid cheerleaders masquerading as public officials. But Michele Bachmann makes Sarah Palin look like Stephen fucking Hawking. Don't believe me? Check out this little wisdom McNugget that Bachmann recently bestowed upon us:

"Carbon Dioxide is portrayed as harmful. But there isn't even one study that can be produced that shows that Carbon Dioxide is a harmful gas."

I'll give you a moment to let that one seep in. Much in the same way that excess Carbon Dioxide could seep into your bloodstream and kill you. Here's another personal favorite:

"Normalization (of gayness) through desensitization. Very effective way to do this with a bunch of second graders, is take a picture of 'The Lion King' for instance, and a teacher might say, 'Do you know that the music for this movie was written by a gay man?' The message is: I am better at what I do. Because I am gay."

Okay, first off I think it's rude to just out Sir Tim Rice like that. And secondly, for serious? So part of the gay agenda is to convince children that butt sex will make them better musicians? Michele's logic train seems to have stalled while boarding passengers at the station. If gay sex made you better at your chosen profession than Clay Aiken would be the next Sinatra. This woman needs to seriously get a grip. I just pray that when she does it doesn't grab a hold of the American public.

Dating in NYC or It Puts the Lotion in the Basket

I have a great life. I have a beautiful apartment, a blessed career, supportive friends and family, and a dog with the bladder control of an Iron Man triathlete. What I don't have is a good old fashioned boyfriend. You know, the kind that holds your hand during scary movies, and dances with you at your friend's weddings, and makes you chicken soup when you are sick. I haven't had one of those in ages. And the last one that I had was a vegetarian who made me Annie's No Chicken Noodle Soup when I had a cold, which if you ask me is just total fucking bullshit, and quite frankly a warning sign that I should have heeded. But that was ages ago now and lately I am finding dating to be a bit of a chore. And I already have a lot of chores.

The problem is that when you work six days a week in the theatre it's tough to find the time to get the laundry done, let alone embark on a meaningful relationship with another human being. (As a sidebar if anyone wants to swing by Park Slope and drop my laundry off at the Fluff and Fold that would be tremendous.) So I find myself turning where many a jaded time pressed woman in her thirties has turned. I am fully immersed in the world of online dating, and let me tell you kids, it is not a pleasant affair. It's like shopping for a weeks' worth of groceries at the Duane Reade. I am seeking sustenance and all I am finding are Easy Mac and Mini Ritz. And I do mean "Mini" here people. It's not pretty out there.

Now look, I don't mean to imply that I am such a great catch, but I think that I am better than Duane Reade level snack foods. I may not be Whole Foods, but I am at the very least Trader Joe's, maybe even Fairway on my better days. And yet this is what I am being offered in the online world. Allow me to offer you a few choice quotes from some of my more eloquent suitors.

This is from LovePa a charming gentleman from Long Island City who had this to offer:

"About myself ,There lot to say about me but there is never enough to say about your self,but I am a very nice guy,quite I dont know what else say ,may be later on."

Well said LovePa. I think that sums things up nicely for me.

Sometimes I just look at the profile pictures to get a sense of people. Here is one of my recent favorites.Not bad, right? If you look closely you can see the woman he keeps in the pit in his basement reflected in his glasses.

Way up at the top of my enemies list is this 28 year old Rhodes scholar from Jersey City who made his openness and availability abundantly clear when he said,

"i dont discriminate ever anyone n everyone feel free to bother the shit outta me on here.. suckas... omg this shit has spell check? geez."

If only his fellow site members had been so observant. Under the category heading of Favorite Books he has listed "not so much on the readin.." Gee, you don't say.

And thus the journey continues. I will keep on keeping on in the hopes that someday my love will ease my sniffles by bringing me a box of tissues and a bowl of soup. And as God is my witness if there is tempeh in that soup there will be fucking hell to pay.

So That Happened

Hey guys and gals! Remember that time that I made that big to do about relaunching my blog back in 2010? Yeah, me neither. Let's move past that shall we? Here we are half way through 2011 and I have been extremely busy not doing any writing. In the interim I have managed to kill several plants, eat my weight in Trader Joe's Honey Wheat Pretzels, and get myself into a new Broadway show. So you know, I've accomplished at least one more item on my bucket list, plus I got into another Broadway show. It's been a good year.

So here I am happily ensconced in my dressing room at The Music Box Theatre for the next couple of months. It's been lovely up until ten minutes ago when I was bitten in the ovary by a horse. Let me back up. I wandered down the stairs onto 45th street during the intermission to do my nightly wave across the street to Chris Rock. (We have a thing going. In my mind. It's complicated.) So there I am doing my best casual lean against the street lamp when a mounted NYPD officer wanders up with her beautiful brown mare. She ties him to the post next to me. I think nothing of it. That is until the horse casually leans in and takes a bite out of my uterus.

"Excuse me mam! Could you please not touch the horse!"
"Um, I didn't. It just bit me."
"Well can you not STAND there?"
"Uh, I work here. Sorry I..."

At this point I waver as I come to realize the searing pain coursing through my midsection. Naturally she is all apologies and offers to find me first aid.

HA! Just kidding. She basically gives me a look that reads, "Idiot standing in the way of my psychotic horsie's mouth," and then ignores me as she moves on to trading riot stories with her fellow mounted GED candidates.

So that was a whole heap of fun. I stumbled into my stage manager's office and very dramatically retrieved an ice pack for myself from the freezer. I can now cross "Get bitten by horse" off of the bucket list so really that's two whole things that I have accomplished so far this year. All that plus my imaginary relationship with Chris Rock and this might turn out to be my most productive year to date. Doubtless I will be seeing this image in my dreams for the next several weeks. Yeah. Horses are total assholes.

A New Year and a Resolution to Make No Resolutions

I am not doing this again. It is not happening. I absolutely refuse to make another New Year's resolution. Every fucking year I make these inane pledges to myself and every fucking year I bail on them faster than Eddie Murphy bailed on Scary Spice.

Every January 1, I promise to:
A) Lose 10, 20, 147 pounds, (whatever the magic number is that year.)

B) Land that one BIG job. The be-all end-all buy my parents a house in Florida so I can stop visiting them in New Jersey job.

C) Develop a lasting meaningful relationship with Prince Charming, and begin construction on the nursery wing of the castle.
and

D) Thirty minutes of cardio three times a week.

By President's Day it is likely that the neighbors have found me chest deep in bakery boxes with a complexion whiter than Cindy McCain's vagina. It's not a pretty picture folks. And it's not happening this year.

The solution to my no resolution resolution is this. I am going to completely commit myself to what I do best. I am going to make with the funny. Stand-up, blogging, xtranormal movie making, shouting on the subway, I am going to hit the laugh track on all fronts. There are a few of you out there, most of whom are direct blood relations, but a few of you still who have told me time and time again that you like my stuff and that you want to see more of it. Unfortunately these last couple of years I have been really busy smoking weed, consuming carbohydrates and watching Bravo. The Real Housewives franchise alone has been a major commitment of both time and energy. But I digress.

I am putting down the remote and the rolling papers and I am going to focus on me. Me, me, me. It is after all what we artistic types do best. So stay tuned for more humorous observations and witty anecdotes. 2011 is going to rock!

Live Blogging the Oscars 2010

I'm back bitches! Pour yourself something potent and bang a goddamn gong because Frances has finally returned to bring meaning to your shallow hopeless lives. Woohoo! It is SO your lucky day.

Live Blogging the Oscars 2010

There's No Place Like Home!

I am proposing a new holiday.
As a child of the 80's I was raised on sitcoms and Crystal Pepsi, and one of the great TV shows of the era was 227. It wasn't well written nor for that matter was it filled with great actors. What it did have however was a kick ass theme song sung by Marla Gibbs, and the total awesomeness that is Jackée Harry as Sandra Clark. I tuned in just to watch Jackée say, "Maaary," every week. My friend Steven and I have a tradition of singing the entire 227 theme song beginning to end whenever we pass a house with the address number. It never gets old.
Tomorrow is 2/27. In honor of the day I suggest you wear your sassiest ensemble complete with football sized shoulder pads, and giant 80's earrings, and spend the day talking smack on the stoop with the neighbors. I also recommend singing the theme song at every conceivable opportunity and using the phrase, "Maaary," to express everything from glee to disdain.
Happy 227 everyone!!!

The First Month of Club $405

Unemployment is one sick, twisted bitch. On the one hand you get to do all of those things that you couldn't do as a decent productive member of society, like watch The Real Housewives of Orange County for seven hours straight while color coding your pantry, or re-organize your bookshelves by author's year of death. On the downside you can quite quickly drive yourself halfway to the turnip farm by doing nothing but said repetitive, obsessive tasks. A man needs an ambition, a goal, a purpose other than assuring that kidney beans are stored alongside pinto so as not to disrupt the flow of mauve.

Being an actor is all about ups and downs. The work is there and then suddenly it's not. One day you are eating bagels sent from Sutton Foster, and the next you are counting quarters to scrounge up an egg and cheese from the deli. I had an extremely fortunate run where I did not have to ask anyone if they wanted fries or salad with their burger for three years. As a performer in New York that's pretty much as good as it gets.

I asked a friend the other night about his catering gig, and if it was decent, and if so could he get me in, and he gave me this incredulous look as if I had just asked him if he could score me smack. "But you were on Broadway?" He said looking at me with the pity usually reserved for those sleeping at the Port Authority Sbarro.

Oh sweet lord and baby Jesus.
Seriously kids?
Is this how it is going to be from now on?
If tragedy of all tragedies I somehow never work on Broadway again am I going to be looked on as that woman who once had something grand, and then never rose above it? A South Jersey Blanche DuBois past her glory, long since forgotten by those who once adored her?
Oh please.
It may be summer stock in Branson but I will get another gig. How many people luck into a show that wins eight Tony awards? It's kind of an impossible act to follow. I will wait tables if I have to. Buddah knows I have done it before. I will eat Ramen noodles, and forego my daily espresso. I will once again live like the starving artist I once was as opposed to the Broadway actress I got to be. And hopefully someday soon I will get the chance to play the Great White Way again. Because in all honesty people Ramen noodles are just shit.

Montage Number 74!

SO BORED...I've lost count of montages. This one is supposed to wake me up I guess because it is all actioney. Things are exploding and it sounds like Brett Michaels or someone who rocks equally hard is singing. Speaking of Brett I hope y'all are watching Rock of Love Bus on VH1 because I am loving every lice infested moment of it. DJ Lady tribe alone was worth tuning in for. If you don't know who I am talking about youtube NOW.
Will Smith is constantly finding new and innovative ways to bore me. Like now for instance...still boring. How does he do it? Such charisma!

Best Supporting Actor

WALKEN!!! YES! Let's get this party started! I don't know what is going on with his hair but it's Christopher fucking Walken and he rules so it doesn't matter. Ok the black knit cap on Phillip Seymour Hoffman really makes him look like a pretentious fop. Who let him do that? Josh Brolin is so awesome. Could Diane Lane be more beautiful? The answer is no. Oh god the Heath Ledger family shot is so sad. This is going to be rough. How very sad.

Beyonce, Hugh, Zach, Vanessa, My Eyes!

I would post about the salute to the movie musical with Beyonce.
I really would.
Unfortunately I just put a crowbar through my TV and dug my eyes out with my thumbs.
So I'll get back to you.
Burn in hell Baz Luhrmann

Montage Number 3!

Which appears to be a montage consisting of random moments from movies throughout the year. Fascinating. And Twilight boy couldn't shave his faux-goat for the fucking Oscars? Seriously? So now it is 9:30pm Eastern and we are nowhere near the halfway point. AWESOME. Ben Stiller is wearing a Joaquin beard which makes me instantly happy. Plus Natalie Portman's dress is the color of Chicklets. Bonus!
Oh good...another dry Englishman delivering an acceptance speech.
It's like watching a mustard stain slowly dehydrate.
Coleman's Mustard.

BRIT BRIT BRIT BRIT

AAAAHHHH!! TOO MANY BRITISH!! This isn't the BAFTAS people Jesus. Look I love the Brits. LOVE. I'm one of the biggest Anglophiles out there. I want to move to London and drink tea and make out with football hooligans I really truly do. But can't these guys cut loose a little? These speeches are death. I've heard curling commentary that was more interesting than these Oscar speeches and that's played with brooms. WITH BROOMS PEOPLE!!! This is why the Oscars need drinks at the seats. I'm thinking these blokes would be a lot livelier a few pints in.

Tilda

I'm not making it up dude. She's like the Sahara.

Montage Number 2!

An animation montage of the animated movies of 2008? Uh...ok. Honestly producers this shit isn't long enough? What's next a montage of best explosions of the year?
Thanking the high school drama teacher?...Yeah I am sooooo not doing that. My drama teacher was a grade A hose beast who told me I wasn't a good enough actress to be the lead in the musical. Well who's laughing now Mrs. Lavecchia?! HA! (That's me. I'm laughing.)
"Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto," from the Japanese winner of Animated Short Subject. Best acceptance speech line thus far.

Screenplay

Oh how I love Tina Fey and Steve Martin! And a Scientology dig? They may have just made my evening worthwhile. Where is the Tom Cruise money shot when you need it? Although not sure if Cruisazy and the lil missus made it to the big show tonight. Milk was a wonderful film so I am happy to see it win for Original Screenplay. Wow. What a fantastic speech. I am speechless. Just awesome. How inspiring for all of those struggling for acceptance and equality.
Slumdog I've got nothing. I know, I know I've heard it's great. But God the Brits are dry. Jump up and down! Get excited! Go crazy! It's the Oscars for God's sake. Step on Spielberg's head and throw a Sally Field like crying fit! Sweet lord this is going to be a long night.

Best Supporting Actress

Meryl Streep=Steroids.
He's not the first to say it. Won't be the last.
And now the Kodak theater crew guys can't figure out how to open a curtain for the first of 14 montages of the evening. Should be a quick broadcast kids. No one has work tomorrow right? Ok love me some Tilda Swinton but here is the thing. When you are pale as ass in January perhaps "Beiger than Beige" is not your best choice for a color. She looks like a sand dune.
I actually like the leopard on Whoopi. It's her and she is working it. Goldie Hawn's dress starts at her sternum...her 65 year old sternum.
Penelope Cruz!
No surprise there. She looks lovely which is sort of like saying that headcheese is disgusting...it just always is. You figure she is one of those women who just wakes up with birds flitting around her bed waiting to bring her slippers and a robe. She probably sings to them in Spanish than brushes her hair 100 times.

Opening Number

It's opening number time kids!
We're in Hugh Jackman's capable hands but Bruce Villanch...I like the homemade sets idea. Very nice. Anne Hathaway with the high note ladies and gentlemen!
Ok Hugh needs to keep his shit together.
Stop cracking up Hugh.
Yes, I am the only person in the world who did not see The Dark Knight. And I lied before, I saw Milk. I'm 1 movie for 53. Ok the techno/Dieter dance for "I didn't see The Reader" was hilarious.