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The Trash Can of Shame


This is it.  This isn’t even the kitchen trash where I sat for two hours waiting for the 10 trick or treaters. This is the trash can in my bedroom where today, the day after Halloween, I proceeded to eat most of the leftover candy. I only ate two Almond Joys. I bought these because I don’t like them. It appears that no one else does either because my roommates ate all the Reeses and left the coconutty rejects.trash2

I admit to also eating two bags of candy before Halloween which forced me to buy said Almond Joys. In my favor, I lost a bunch of weight this summer and have been trying to gain it back. This seems to be helping except that I can’t sleep and am forced to blog as penance. I wish I could have given more candy away. But with Halloween being on a Wednesday and the weather being a chill 15 degrees, I knew I was not going to meet my charitable goal.

Not that I didn’t try. Here are my window decorations. You can’t see the strobe light I’ve got inside which makes the demons flash!


Here are a couple of brightly coifed characters hanging out on my porch.


The best moment of the evening was when one of the children asked if he could give the seated character a hug.  It gives me hope that a new generation of children is full of empathy for those who are different. This piece was originally rising from a grave at our workplace haunted house. The grave read “R. I. P.- But I wasn’t tired yet!”

How lucky am I to work at a facility which has both a haunted house and children who come in to trick or treat??!!.  Since it’s a “long-term care facility” the residents chose to have a haunted hospital room and a graveyard.   Residents played a nurse and doctor dressed in precaution wear encouraging people to get their flu shot with a giant syringe. Beside them was a dummy covered in cobwebs and surrounded by bats, (especially on point as two bats invaded the place this summer.) Another resident was the Rock Star gatekeeper to the cemetery. I ushered people directly from the hospital to the cemetery giving them a quick brain transplant made from paper mache in between.

Before work, I was so busy bringing in costumes and props that I forgot my own costume.  Luckily I had an extra “Annoying Orange” costume in there that I could slip over my clothes. Several residents surprisingly remarked that it fit my personality perfectly. Those are definitely very much like my eyes and teeth but my skin is a bit more wrinkled.


When I got home I was exhausted and probably looked scary in a pasty white person way. My first visitor came alone and looked exactly like this.


I was caught off guard as I could not fathom that any young person would know who Charlie McCarthy was. I started to ask him but he was not talking, because of course, he came alone.

I am alone now and very awake with a sugary irritation in my head.   I swore at the computer and at Microsoft Publisher before I left work. Then I ate more candy. Our staff agreed, maybe less is more.  Perhaps next year we will have a parade instead of a haunted house.  The haunted house did keep the residents busy for a month building something to share. One of my favorite touches was the SAD light which was repurposed to show skull xrays. We also purchased twelve extra super jumbo bags of candy. It was a joy to watch the residents share these with the visiting kids.

I spoke to a resident today about death. They shared that their spirit will live on without pain. I am reminded of all of the spirits who live on in me through my exploits. Someday I will join with them in a haunting of this world. Until then I will celebrate whenever I can even when my trashcan betrays me.




The return of the chamberpot

Goodbye summer!

Labor day, what a waste, unless you drink. If I were a “laborer” I might appreciate it but I work in an office. It’s a sad excuse to say goodbye to summer in a state where it’s already too cold for outdoor sex. Well, maybe not for everyone, since outdoor urination is quite common. Come visit Alaska, the biggest state for outdoor urination and defecation!

Labor day makes me want to turn on the heat. I refuse to because of the sadness of it all. I have a light on in the kitchen which I’m going to get up and turn off right now for the same reason. I can’t  admit that summer has aged out. I pulled a space heater out of the basement yesterday because my hands were freezing and I refuse to wear gloves in the house. I struggle with my rule not to watch videos before  7 pm, something I got from my mother who would not let us turn on the  television until 7 pm. Come to think of it, she also tried to hang clothes out on the line and keep the heat off until Thanksgiving. That was in New England, land of the Puritans. They thought they were tough, but they hadn’t been to Alaska. I’m going to compromise by keep the heat off until at least the first frost. But back to poop.

Many of you live in homes with multiple bathrooms or with intimate others with  whom you may be able to barge in on when you experience “bowel urgency.” My sister intimated today that my toliet issues are a matter of impulsiveness which is more of a choice than an imperative. I disagree.  Now I won’t go into details but I believe that a chamber pot could be considered an inexpensive trendy alternative to soiling oneself when living in a one bathroom house with roommates.  I’m sure there are some of you who grew up in large families who had to bust in on your brothers and sisters in the loo. I enjoy my roommates and we have certainly shared some intimate smells and sounds but we have not yet reached the defecation while you are taking a shower stage.

The chamberpot is a nifty  gift idea for people in communal living arrangements. It can double as a morning after I tied one on pot or intestinal flu basin. It makes a great topic of conversation with new lovers as they enter your bedchamber. Encourage them to try it out! I can imagine painting the great state of Alaska on the lid and maybe inserting a computer chip which sings The Alaska Flag song as you fill  so folks don’t have to hear your bodily functions.  Of course you can use a recycled container as some people I know have and just throw the whole thing in the trash, writing paper and all. This is a secure method in the winter months as everything freezes quite nicely. Before the frost I do worry  about the trash collectors being sprayed with fecal matter but that’s why they have those nifty lifts now so no one has to actually dump the barrel, besides saving their backs of course.

Perhaps I’m stuck on this topic because it’s a metaphor for hiding all which is improper and unclean like the vibrator at the bedside, the used maxi-pads, the mental illness and submerged racism which trigger all American premature intimacy/abandonment/shame issues. Everything goes when there is money involved like pornography or Madonna but there are limits for most of us living in the real world.  In Japan some folks are making a mint on toliets which have tons of computer options (including the one for making a loud noise when you’re farting or pooping too loudly).  I’m thinking these would be a lovely place to practice for one’s next mental breakdown.

Perhaps you think this slight essay frivolous or irrevelant but consider that in some third world countries there ‘s a term “flying toliet” which refers to depositing waste in one of our ubiquitous plastic bags and throwing it as far away as possible (Wikepedia).  It gives a whole new urgency to the phase Gare de l’eau or “Gardez loo.”

Not to dump too much on you today, it is a day of sale-a-bration.  Summer is in the toliet, but life and bodily functions go on.

I’ve got a brand new blog about failure and you’re invited!

After I wrote my last post on a God awful audition I thought, why not have a blog where any actor could submit an audition horror story? So I made up a blog called and  put a contact email of for people to submit stories. I posted ads on craigslist in NYC, Boston, Los Angeles, Seattle, Minneapolis and Vancouver for stories. I may just get young men from Nigeria who have large checks for me to cash and men with giant penises but that’s a start.

I can keep it going for awhile since I have had all sorts of audition failures. I may have to branch out into bad dates or go to auditions that I’m not fit for a bit more frequently such as ballet or belly dancing. It’s all just material for the blogmill. Maybe I’ll add some of those outtakes from you tube to spice it up. Meanwhile I beg of you to submit a story or tell your friends. Think of it as failure therapy. When you get stamped on, you become like a fine wine. Don’t take your theatrical failure into the closet and become a prune. Flaunt it baby. Dress it up as the best story of your career. What do you have to lose? Your stellar reputation?

This is how I’m spending my labor day weekend so far. I’ve got a broken toe. Broke it at work right before we got the warning email about reporting workplace injuries within 72 hours or facing a $500. fine.  I don’t think this one counts as I ate potato chips, which I hate but I wanted to be social. Then my foot swelled up because of the salt. I took off my running shoes then I tripped over the computer monitor no one ever set up for me and fell on my therapy couch. This is more like a stunt than an injury and there’s nothing to be done about a broken toe anyway. I’m treating it with chocolate covered pomegranate. Check out the link to the new blog!