Look.
I'm very method. *
I can't help it. It's my art. It's my craft. It's the way I was raised to do theater. Some actors don't do this sort of method. They just memorize their lines, put on the costume and just get on stage and hope it all works out.
Me. I go all out. **
I know the sign, the nickname, the number of time s/he urinates in a day, food allergies, dreams and fears, embarrassing stories from middle school, awful secrets hidden deep within, soul animal, which parent loved him/her more.... and then some.
So, if I'm given a character with the name "Pot Head Lady"-- I'm going to go there. First, I gotta figure out why is this character called "Pot Head Lady." Is it an ethnic name? AH- no, it says here in the dialogue that she wears a pot on her head. Well, damn. Looks like I need to get a pot for my head.
The producer is gracious enough to bring some props for us to rehearse with for our first rehearsal. The pot she brings is nice. Big. Heavy. Large. In fact, it's so large the majority of my time on stage as Pot Head Lady is spent pushing the large pot off the bridge of my nose or trying to delicately balance it on the small skull ridge I was blessed with on the top of my head. This will not do! This large pot is distracting from the essence of the character! I can't let a large pot upstage this human being I am creating in front of an audience's eye. This will not do.
That's why last weekend you could find me in the cooking ware aisle of my local Gem Store.
I wanted to find a pot that spoke to me and would make Pot Head Lady come to life. I wanted to find a pot that was dented or had denting capability. I wanted to find a pot that wasn't too heavy, but not so light that it wouldn't be able to deflect beams from outer space. I also only had $5 on me. So there was that.
As I had all of these goals in my pot searching, I had to try on each pot. I tried on colanders. I tried on glass pots. I tried on heavy-duty pots. Then I saw it... a shiny, already dented, 3.5 quart Aluminum pot for $3.99. As I was reaching for it, I was stopped by a lady I'd recognized as an employee of the Gem Store. Well, stopped isn't the right word. Rather, she'd just entered the very aisle I was in and suddenly I felt like maybe I could get in trouble, so I froze. After all, these were wares she was going to sell, preferably hair and scalp free.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to get busted by the Gem Store employee lady, but I also didn't want to lose the opportunity of buying this perfect, already-dented, very cheap pot that would be perfect for Pot Head Lady. So I looked at cheese graters for a bit.
When I reached the register, I handed the pot to the clerk. She took it and then said something to me in Spanish. I handed her my $5, now sweaty from being crumpled up in my hand. She waved it away and said something to me again in Spanish. I just sort of shook my head in an effort to show that I didn't understand what she was telling me. She then pointed to the dent in the pot, and said something that was the equivalent of "DEEEEEEENT." I nodded and said it was perfect. She shrugged, took my sweaty $5 and then gave me a receipt.
When I exited the store, I dove into the plastic bag that housed my newly-purchased pot. Being out of the store, I did not feel the same scrutiny and immediately tried it on.
It. Fit. Perfectly.
The already-made dent insured its snugness.
Pot Head Lady had been found.
*not true
**also not true
-Lee Eddy, Ensemble Member
Lee Eddy is brilliant.
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