The countdown was 1 week until my Listen to your Mother performance. I was one of 12 writers performing in Philadelphia’s debut show. And I was 1 of 12 writers without a voice and with a face full of puke.

I was panicked.

I’ll take you back to the first rehearsal. The scene is me with my piece. I was the last person to actually choose my piece because I am lazy mostly. But also I was nervous. I just didn’t know if I could read my own writing in front of a room of people. I’ve performed in shows before where some other writer writes some bullshit on paper and I read WHY YES GOOD SIR THAT IS MY VAGINA (I was in the vagina monologues. word.). But reading your own stuff is scary.

Finally, I decided on the one where I almost beat up kids for looking at G wrong at the playground. We’ll get to why this was a stupid idea later.

The first and only rehearsal is everyone in a room reading their piece at a podium. I was pretty much last. I followed about 9 people who told tear jerking stories of alzheimers, abandonment and yes, child abuse. And next up was me, about to tell everyone how I want to push small children down and scare them. You know, to the people who were abused. Jesusgod.

I read my piece. I read it really fast. I barely glance up. My hands shook.

And at the funny parts where I talk about Britney and things like Lululemon moms? Crickets.

I WAS IN TROUBLE.

After that I didn’t look at my piece. I didn’t practice. I didn’t talk to B about it. I pretended like it didn’t exist and that it would float away and I could hide in G’s crib.

Then I got sick. Really sick. So sick that I couldn’t say Hi B, how ar…COUGH COUGH CHOKE. You know that cough that literally makes you gag on your on phlegm as you double over choking on some sort of crawling creature that has made a permanent home in your throat? My chest ached from the coughing. My stomach burned from the ab work. But worst of all, I didn’t have a voice.

I emailed the directors:

So….I can’t talk and I’m sick and oh yeah I don’t think I’m good at this and I don’t like my piece and I’m nervous and I don’t know what to do and I haven’t really done anything and I’m the worst even though I act like the best and I’m sorry and I’m going to cry. Ok bye.

And the directors were like:

Dude, chill. Rest and we’ll help you.

(I was clearly the head case of the cast)

And after a full week of rest and more medicine than is probably ever safe for a 14 week old Yoshi and a bag full of balls, I faced my piece. I rewrote the whole damn thing. Turns out when you read my stuff out loud, it’s wordy and annoying. Maybe it’s like that NOT out loud too and you are all just very nice people. But I realized that we are all a little club  here and the regular world doesn’t get my Britney jokes and never met Single Guy and thinks Lululemon is probably delicious on chicken.

And it was better.

But I still hadn’t read it out loud. B had no idea even what piece I was reading.

And the performance day came. I put on my orange dress and my thong sized pad that I cut with scissors to accurately catch the pee that drips out of me when I cough. I was ready.

My family was there, my hippie mom friends, my best friend from high school, and all of their friends. AND a MODG cheering section in the back. I met one of them but I wish I could have met the rest. The one told me that the others were scared. I told her that no one ever says hi to me and she made my life.

I sat in my assigned front row seat as speaker after speaker did a great job. Almost everyone’s was poignant, heartfelt and a little sad. I totally did not fit in. But I was ready. Sort of.

I went to the bathroom right before the person before me spoke and I’m pretty sure the directors thought I was making a break for it. I thought about it. But as I came back, I sat in the little chair off to the side designated for people to wait in while others are speaking, I thought about why I’m doing this. I wanted to do this. I was dying to do this. When I thought they didn’t pick me I pretended that it was stupid and that I didn’t care. But I totally cared. And then when I got the part I was ecstatic. I took deep breaths. I calmed myself down and I didn’t hear a word that anyone else said. Until…

…they call my name.

I stand up and start walking.

and I hear my cheering section who instantly makes me feel better. I can do this.

I tell everyone there that I am sick and I’ll be doing a sexy reading of my piece. People think this is funny. I was serious. Whatever.

And I begin. And people laugh. People laugh a lot. The more they laugh the better I feel. I get louder. I get more animated (B said I was by far the most animated reader. I looked at him like, are you surprised by this?) and I get more confident. And I feel like, by the end, it was a success. A really big success.

And the difference wasn’t my rewritten piece or the fact that somehow I didn’t cough. But it was the encouragement from the people who know me and like me. Putting yourself out there like that is scary and all anyone wants is a little encouragement. So those of you who were there that night, you don’t know how much your support meant to me. It made all the difference in the world.

Now I know you’re like ok ok ok shut up already, let’s see it!

It’s not online yet. I have no control over this. I didn’t videotape it. Also? I forgot my camera. Please, I could barely remember my bra that day. So B took some really stupid pictures with his phone. Vomit Comet.

But the good news is that there will be amazing professional pictures and there will be a full video online.

But this is just my own story of the night.

One other behind the scenes tidbit? I may have sat next to someone pretty famous. She may have been on her blackberry the entire time. She may have also been reading an US weekly. IN THE FRONT ROW. I was horrified. Please remind me of this when I become rich and famous. I will say no more. You can make your own guesses.

Below are the fantastic works of art that B captured on his camera. I am not even going to try and edit them.

This is the cast

This is me looking bitchy and probably inappropriate

These are my friends with devil eyes. Thank you B’s camera.

This is me speaking. I hope I opened my eyes eventually.

And that folks is the best we’ve got right now.

There will be a part 2 in the future.

For now, this is all.

Love and thanks,

MODG

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POSTED IN: Awesome things,I should be famous,MODG