2002-03-29 | 10:50 a.m.

corduroy licorice wasn't just whistling dixie. he was also whistling the theme from "the pirates of the caribbean" ride at disneyland. he just couldn't get those tunes out of his head.

***

and now onto my own oscar-winning moment...

i passed my comedy improv class audition!

hot damn!

here's how it all played out. i arrived at the theater building saturday afternoon on time and everything (so unlike me). i had been told that about 30 people would be there, but there were way more than that in the lobby. several of them were total melrose place-looking studs and studdettes. i found a seat in the theater and waited nervously...considering running out of the room at various moments. then i noticed that there were kids and grandparents in the theater seats. what the heck? "did people bring their families along to the audition?" i wondered. "that's going to make it so much more nerve-wracking!"

soon all the seats were filled. that amounted to about 100 people. i seriously considered not responding when the time came for my name to be called. suddenly, the lights dimmed and a few people came on-stage. lights up...and music! a fake band was pretending to have just ended their set. something told me this was not my beautiful audition. i panicked, knowing that i had to be on time to get in. i apologized as i scooted past the confused people in my row and tried to sneak up the stairs to the back. foiled! a video camera was staring back at me from the top of the stairs. doh! caught on-camera ruining a preview show!

i escaped out the front, trying to do the "hunched over so as not to block the view of you pissed off people" posture as i made my hurried exit. i approached the office manager, heart pounding. when he realized what i'd done, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. then he pointed me in the right direction...upstairs in the classrooms. whew! i bolted for the door and found myself in a hallway filled with the echoes of screechy sketches-in-progress. could it behind door number two? i peeked in and i was a winner! there they were. about 10 toe-tapping, thumb-twidling, forehead-sweating auditionees and a stoic auditioner.

after having just faced the prospect of 100 pairs of eyes watching me do my thing, 11 pairs of eyes seemed like a total cakewalk! my faux pas of a moment ago suddenly became a blessing! that, added to the perceptible fear of my cohorts settled my nerves quite a bit.

we started off with some group warm-ups, which involved us pretending other people in the group were the funniest people we'd ever met...and then pretending they were people who had once saved our lives. i liked that one the best, since it involved me getting to hug a very attractive young actor-type two times! score! that elevated my mood considerably.

then we did a group story, which earned me an approving nod from the auditioner. booya! finally, we had to go up on stage individually. with our back to the group, we'd wait for the auditioner to assign us with a character. "you're a tow truck driver." then we were supposed to turn around and talk for a minute as if we were that person engaging someone else in conversation.

i waited. i didn't want to go first, or second, or third. if someone did really well, i didn't want to go after them and try to top their hit. if they did poorly, i didn't want to go after their stinkfest. all this strategizing led to me going very last.

i walked up on stage. turned my back.

"you're a sensitive poet."

cool! this i could work with. i turned around and began to do swirly little lilith-type arm flails as i spoke.

"hello, i'm a sensitive poet," i began, sing-songy, "i see you're sitting here under this tree reading a book of poetry. ah, emily dickinson. she is a sensitive poet, too, although i don't know if she's as sensitive as me. you know, the publishing industry doesn't always appreciate truly sensitive poets. that's why i keep my poems here in this little velvet box. you see, i make my own ink out of butterfly blood. butterflies are very sensitive creatures, too, so this helps me channel my sensitivity. i'll leave this poem with you so that you can discover the sensitive poet within you, too. goodbye!"

when i sat down, the auditioner turned to me, smiled and said semi-sarcastically, "you must be really sensitive if you use butterfly blood."

then we were dismissed. relief at last! all of us scuttled out of there so quickly, you would've thought there was a gas leak in the building. when my feet hit the sidewalk, i was grinning like a fool. i felt so good! not only had i done a decent job, i'd overcome a really scary challenge. i'd made it through the strain and found myself respected.

monday morning i called for the results. i passed. hotchacha! i can now crack wise for 12 consecutive weeks for a non-nominal fee. hey ma, look at me! look at me!

halle berry ain't got nothing on my ass. well, ok, maybe an incredibly handsome husband. but that's all. ok, and a make-up modeling contract. and flawless features. but other than that!

<----������� ---->