britt has homes in different area codes

Happy holidays everyone! Sorry, had to blow my GIF load before I could focus on typing a coherent sentence.

I am writing to you from my favorite high school hangout, Bertolino’s coffeeshop (open 24/7, bitches) in my hometown, Tacoma, WA. It is rainy as balls here. My plans include sleeping, eating, binge-watching Arrested Development on Netflix, sleeping, catching up on the five issues of Variety I haven’t read, and sleeping. Also, I’ve been alone a lot with my thoughts since being home.

Home?

I have so many different homes. Los Angeles, Portland, Tacoma… I know this comes with the territory of being a post-collegiate 20-something artist vagabond, but holy WOW. Some of the thoughts I have! I swear half the time I don’t know where I am, who I am, where I am going or where I want to go, what house I’m in when I wake up in the morning and what job I am going to that day. It’s a lot. But this life is what I choose and what I want. I want to take full ownership of that.

Up until a few weeks ago, I was really homesick for Portland, but now I am homesick for Los Angeles. It’s so funny how that shifts. I was lucky enough to be able to spend a quick weekend in Portland this month to shoot an episode of Random Acts and spend some quality time with my good friend Liz. The trip was very good for my soul. I can’t remember the last time I was able to completely relax for 24 hours. It was heaven. I slept in my old room in my best friend’s house that was beautifully decorated for Christmas, I had two cats and a dog to snuggle with, there was bottomless kombucha to consume, and I got to see my brother and some of my very dearest friends. Heaven! I needed that. And when Liz drove me to the airport at 4am on a Monday in the freezing 18-degree Portland winter weather, I was ready to go back to my new home.

New home!

Let me tell you more about my new home. When we first moved in, my “room” looked like this: photo And here is how it looks NOW: 1234 You like those classy make-shift walls and sheet-doors we discussed last time? Yeah, I like ’em too. We’ve been busy.

I’ve been busy.

My Few Couple Weeks:

The past few weeks have been a crazy blur of work, reconnecting with friends, parties, casting workshops, and glitter. I also wrapped up my audit of the Los Angeles District Court (because I am an all-around badass) and started a new job and quit said job on the same day (because I am an all-around badass).

As noted earlier, I flew back to Portland for a weekend to shoot an episode of the PNW webseries, Random Acts and spend quality time with my dear friend Liz. I flew back to LA after the trip at the crack of dawn to get to an audition on time, which made me feel kind of awesome. Awesome and sleep-deprived.

We had our first annual “A Very Ke$ha Christmas” themed party (and our first ever party in our new home). “A Very Ke$ha Christmas”, as in, this:

plus this:

to achieve this:

…but in a Christmasy sort of way. Just think of the unicorns as reindeer and the glitter as snowflakes.

It is safe to say that our sparkly extravaganza was a hit. What are the ingredients for throwing a hit LA party, you ask? Let me tell you.

1.) Decorate the house with the appropriate mix of Christmas and glitter.

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 2.) Craft some vaguely Christmas and Ke$ha-themed signs.

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3.) Have a Suz create some installation art.

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4.) Sketchily make some sangria in a cooler with the “50% off” gallon of white wine you had at the house:

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5.) Make the dress code bright colors, glitter, and anything with animals on it. If a guest shows up out of dress-code, proceed to glitter-bomb them. (Thank you Suz for the use of your craft-drawer glitter stash.)

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6.) When you wake up in the morning to this, you know you have succeeded.

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Yup.

The past few weeks also brought SoCal Christmas parades in the 78 degree heat,

Merry.

Merry.

CHRISTMAS.

CHRISTMAS.

and the fabulous Christmas surprise of seeing the Broadway hit, Peter and the Starcatcher (THANKS, ScoLo!!). It was incredible.

These past few weeks have left me one happy Britt girl. Merry effing xmas.

I leave you now with my Scoreboard.

Scoreboard:

Number of agent/manager meetings: 2.2 Number of auditions: 2.1 Number of Parking Tickets: 0

Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas to all. photo

love, santa, & teddy bears,

~britt

dani talks shit

If you came here searching for some sexy gossip, I’ve gotta be up front with you.  Imma be talking shit. 

Like…shit.

You know what I’m talkin’ bout, y’all.  You had those big Christmas dinners last night, you had a big cup of coffee this morning… Okay I promise that I won’t spend this entire blog post talking about shit.  I mean it is the Christmas season after all, but technically Christmas is over so let’s get down and dirty.

Like shit, this story begins with food.  And like both food and shit, this story is deeply personal.  

We are omnivores, which means we have a huuuuuge range of food to choose from.  If you live in the USA, you live in one of the most prosperous countries in the world.  This gives you, theoretically, even more choice when it comes to how you feed yourself to stay alive.  But the weird thing about the USA is this:

  • 2/3 of adults in America are overweight or obese. 
  • 1 in 8 adults live in a home that is food insecure.  (Meaning they don’t know where their next meal is coming from.)

In other words, America suffers simultaneously from both hunger and obesity.  On a large scale.  Now, I’m citing research compiled by the Food Research and Action Center, but this fact jumped off the page at me from Michael Pollan’s book almost 7 years ago because it just seemed so weird.  How can so many Americans be so unhealthy? And why are people suffering at both extremes?  What does that mean?  How is that possible?

I am an average American, and a 90’s kid.  I grew up with Cinnamon Toast Crunch for breakfast, milk and cookies after school, and the food pyramid to guide me.  This food pyramid:

Check out all those grains at the bottom.  Those will come back to haunt me later.  This whole thing will, actually.  This is the USDA food Pyramid from 1992, when I was 3 years old. About ten years later, in beautiful, stark, sparsely populated, highly Republican Idaho, the concept of global warming will enter my young consciousness.  A concept which I discover is related to food in ways I never considered.  Al Gore came to speak at the Boise Pavilion, and I discovered that the American meat industry is responsible for more of our greenhouse gas emissions than all of the cars and trucks on the road combined. 

That was when I decided to become a vegetarian.  

But for a dumbass teenager living in a land where vegetarianism is a totally foreign concept in the early 2000’s, this became the “Doritos and Coke” diet, and was both socially isolating and unhealthy.  I was the weird kid at Shari’s who wouldn’t order bacon, but I was eating soy products 3 meals a day.  I gave that up; broke down and got a bacon cheeseburger and wild fries at Good Times by the mall.  But on my way to college, The University of Portland Honors Program handed me Michael Pollan’s book and told me to move to Portland a week early to study food sustainability.  Something inside me was set on fire again, and I guzzled down information about government food subsidies, big business lobbyists, and all of the stuff that goes into making your food before you even walk through the doors of the grocery store.  

I began to reprogram by brain.  Food is incredibly personal, and way more emotional than food activists and fitness enthusiasts like to admit.  I am passionate about the evils of industrial food, but where do I put that memory of my Grandmom emptying her pockets to buy us a big bag of cheeseburgers from McDonald’s?  What do I do with the sense memory of the bacon cheeseburger my best friend bought me when I was sobbing from my first breakup?  Chocolate milk that your Mom used to mix for you.  Baking a Betty Crocker birthday cake from a box and then eating the leftover frosting  with graham crackers.  I felt like Monsanto had been bribing me with emotional currency and poisoning me with corn syrup.  

By Junior year of college I had become a vegetarian again, and most of my diet consisted of home-cooked meals that my roommate and I concocted out of our CSA box, also known as Community Supported Agriculture.  My friend had started a small organic farm after graduating from college, and he delivered huge boxes of beautiful organic veggies to our home once a week.  My fond memories of Cap’n Crunch and Mac n’ Cheese became nothing more than fond memories, and I was the healthiest I have ever been.  I still drank beer, ate grilled cheese sandwiches (Tillamook Cheddar on Dave’s Killer Bread, obviously), and ate cake when I felt like it, but I was more at peace with the way I was living on this planet.  

Fast forward to Monterey, California.  July 2012.  

CSU Summer Arts:  One month of Chicago Style Comedy and Solo Performance.  Arts camp for people who are of drinking age.

CSU Summer Arts: One month of Chicago Style Comedy and Solo Performance. Arts camp for people who are of drinking age.

Or as I like to think of it, the month that I stopped shitting.  I’ll never forget the friendships I formed, the mentorship I received, or all of the stuff I learned about improv and art. But mostly, I’ll never forget the gastrointestinal trauma that began that month and that has not stopped since.  

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I moved to LA and began grad school.  

grad school 2012 2

I forged artistic bonds and deep friendships with sweat and blood.

grad school 2012

I stopped dating.    I am a 20-something blond actress living in LA–you’d think there would be a little bit of romance in that, but it is hard to feel like putting on a dress and going to a bar when you are thinking about your own shit.  Literally.  

Yeah, y’all.  I told you this shit was personal.  

Fast forward again to India, summer of 2013.  

photo (2)

A life-changing two months of spiritual growth and self-discovery.  I rode a camel, a horse, and an elephant.  I played with children in the Himilayas.  I did yoga in the middle of a flash flood.  And I got super, super sick.  Repeatedly.  My GI problems were exacerbated by the stress of traveling, eating unfamiliar foods, the vengeance of an angry god, whatever.  When you don’t poop, your body starts to fill with bacteria and viruses. 

I got the flu three times while I was there, and the third time ended with my host family driving me from doctor to doctor in the extremely under-served region of Ladakh, trying to get me some medical treatment.  Despite being sick so much, I had an incredible trip, and I had actually canceled my return flight and bought a new one for three weeks later in order to extend my trip and see more of the country.  But with a violent fever racking my body, deep circles under my eyes, and no color left in my skin, crammed in the backseat of my family’s car as we crept along the base of the Himalayas, I decided it was time to go home.  I changed my flight back and returned home, my head and stomach swimming after two months of extreme paradise.  

After I got back to the United States, I felt defeated.  For over a year I had been trying every possible modification to my diet I could think of.  I stopped eating wheat, I cut out dairy, I cut out alcohol, I tried eating meat again, and nothing seemed to help.  The doctor that I saw when I got back shrugged his shoulders and referred me to a specialist, who could see me in about a month.  I walked out of the doctor’s office with a referral sheet, an appointment for a month later, and a feeling of helplessness.  

In India, Ayurvedic medicine is very popular.  In Ayurveda, you eat foods which specifically help balance out your body, and the treatments are things like massages and colonics.  The idea is to detox your body of things that you’ve had to make you sicker, and food is the medicine which keeps you healthy.  It is a long term health regimen.  Naturopathic medicine, which is much more common in the United States, draws from both Western Medicine and more holistic medical approaches like Ayurveda.  Western medicine had shrugged its shoulders at me, so I called a Naturopath.  

After a million questions and a thorough examination, the Naturopathic Doctor told me that I had a leaky gut.  Ummm… gross.  That sounds gross.  What else is new?  Basically, my intestines couldn’t absorb certain food molecules.  So the rejected molecules were taking revenge on my picky intestines by slamming through the walls of my intestines and breaking into my bloodstream without permission and without being properly broken down.  Then my immune system had to create antibodies to attack and break down the rogue molecules.  Then the antibodies got super paranoid and just started attacking a ton of stuff in my body that didn’t actually need to be attacked.  It’s called an autoimmune response.  On my blood test, it shows that my body has autoimmune-levels of antibodies for Gluten, Corn, Dairy, Coffee, Hemp, Sesame, and basically all forms of joy and happiness.  My gluten test looks like what it would look like if I had full-blown Celiac Disease.  

At last, I knew the truth.  I knew what the problem was.  …And the problem?  Where do I begin?

Food intolerance like the one I have develops over time.  Our genetically-modified and industrially-bred wheat crops have an unnaturally high amount of gluten.  This is because if the wheat you grow has a freaky amount of gluten in it, you can grow more calories per acre, and you can make more money per acre.  Ultimately, this benefits not the farmers but the seed companies and the food manufacturers.  The problem is that the human body has not evolved to break down gluten in that quantity.  Now scroll back up to that food pyramid.  Eat your wheat, 90’s kids.  

And corn!!  Oh my God I’m allergic to corn!  Apparently, while I was watching Supersize Me and King Corn and reading Michael Pollan’s books, MY INTESTINES WERE LISTENING!!  How freaky is that?  Every time I ate wheat or corn my intestines were like, “No we don’t want any of that industrial bullshit” and then the wheat was all, “Fuck you, intestines, I’m gonna get into that bloodstream anyway” and then my body was like, “GTFO” and then there was an epic immune battle waged in my bloodstream.  

It’s kind of amazing when I think about it.  Activist intestines go on a poop strike to end industrial agriculture!  Angry bowels stop pooping in protest to irresponsible farming!  

…Or something like that.  To cut a long story short, this journey as been a huge part of my 2013.  I ended up going on an intense detox diet of ONLY VEGETABLES in the middle of my hardest semester of grad school yet.  No alcohol, no caffeine, no sugar, no grains and 16-hour days of lose-your-mind acting training.  I confronted a whole heap of memories and emotions tied in with food.  And actually, what I discovered is that I’m a lot stronger than I think I am.  I didn’t need coffee to get through the day, I just wanted it because it reminded me of a million beautiful moments and made me happy.  I didn’t need a million things that I thought I needed, and in their absence I didn’t experience despair.  The million beautiful memories I have tied to food didn’t just disappear when I became gluten intolerant.  They are still just as visceral and beautiful and important to who I am, and now I have the opportunity to form new memories.  Memories that aren’t tied to a food system that my intestines can’t handle and my heart and mind can’t get behind.  

I made a large portion of the Christmas dinner last night for my family, and beside the turkey and the gravy, it was all vegan and gluten free.  I told them all at the end of the meal, after belts were loosened, the stuffing was praised, and the kale was lauded.  It was a beautiful meal that created lots of beautiful memories, and my family was happy to feast with me in a way that I could enjoy it with them.  No one missed the butter or the wheat or the corn, and the quinoa stuffing was the first thing to get gobbled up off the plates.  

Needless to say, Britt and I were active in a group text all Christmas day with our besties, and I feel the need to round out this post with a photograph that Britt was foolish enough to send to all of us.  I don’t have any pictures of myself on the toilet, but I do have a picture of my twin of the toilet, and I believe it encapsulates all I’m trying to say about memories, food, touchy-feely stuff, and of course, shit. 

Britt Harris, in pottytraining.

Britt Harris, in pottytraining.

dani sings hallelujah

There is SO MUCH to celebrate!!!  

I kind of can’t contain myself.  Let’s just try to count the things.

1.  I have returned to blog-land! 

I kinda look like Steve Buscemi right now. It’s been a long semester.

Oh man, I’ve missed you guys.  This week marks the completion of my 3rd semester of grad school, and I’m pretty sure that they were actively trying to kill us this time.  It has been an incredible 16 weeks, but I am so thankful I get to come up for air for a month before diving back into the deep end again.  So now I just get to enjoy…

2.  Christmas time!  

Even though it is a “frigid” 50 degrees and sunny here in Los Angeles, it still feels like Christmas for some reason.  I don’t know if it’s my newfound Christmas Break freedom or what, but I literally want to kiss everyone I see and sing love into their hearts.  Wait a second, I know where this “joie de vivre” is coming from…

3.  Britt!

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A beautiful Britt in a beautiful backyard.

For the past two months, I have had 70-hour weeks at USC.  And for the past two months, all I’ve wanted to have is 70-hour weeks in Britt‘s arms.
MY BESTIE IS IN LA, Y’ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  I can’t even handle it.  

This dog who is so freakin' happy, he just physically CANNOT.

This is the only photo that captures how much I CANNOT EVEN HANDLE my Britt-related-joy right now.

We were too busy hugging each other in our rare spare time to write any blogs together, but we’ve got something in the works, never fear.   But one thing that is so exciting to me now that I have a moment to catch my breath is how fuckin’ PROUD I am of my girl.  Britt is KILLIN’ it, y’all.  She would be the last person to say that probably, as she is keenly aware of her own struggles and challenges, as are we all, but seriously, she is DOIN’ it.  Moving to LA is hard.  I don’t think I felt at home in LA until… right now.  Or at least not until the last couple of months.  It wasn’t until I had struggled to adjust for 9 months, spent 2 months in India, and then all my best friends moved here.  So really, I just got lucky because I got to go to India and then move in with my best friends.  LA is a whole can o’ worms… Oh!  But this leads me to…

4.  The house!

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Suz cannot even handle her excitement about the new soaking tub.

Oh. My. God.  We have a home.  I believe Britt has introduced you all to our roommates: Suzzane, Dean, and last but not least, Napoleon.  You know.
This hottie: 

Just kidding.  Napoleon is a dog.  He IS ACTUALLY a stud though.  If anyone wants their dog to be mounted by a purebred Pomeranian, go ahead and contact us through our blog.  Seriously, Dean could use the money.  We’re ready to start whoring out the dog.  

5.  Art!

As exhausted as I am, it has been a hell of a semester.  My ensemble, the Class of 2015, The Ten Commandments, The Ten Fingers, The Bad News Bears, whatever the hell you want to call us, put up it’s very first full production.  The ten of us tackled William Saroyan’s Pulitzer Prize-winning 1939 script The Time of Your Life.  Our ensemble of 10 took on a cast of 25 characters who float in and out of Nick’s Pacific Street Restaurant, Saloon, and Entertainment palace.  We cut a few characters, but long story short, I got to play a boy…

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Willie Faroughli: Marble-game-maniac and ultimate CHAMPION

AND a girl….

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Elsie Mandelspiegel: “A dark, dreaming girl…” Although I look pretty happy backstage.

…within one two-hour play.  My Mom touched my hair wistfully after the show and said, “It was interesting to see what you would’ve looked like if you were a boy…”  Aw comeon, Mom, didn’t you like having a daughter?  Just kidding, I know that you don’t secretly wish I was a boy. …Right?  But I also had one gay dude and two straight girls say that I was hot as a boy.  MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.  And I tricked my Grandmom completely–my Mom had to tell her who I was.  

But in all seriousness it was actually a really incredible experience.  Willie Faroughli spends almost the entire play onstage playing a pinball game, and Elsie Mandelspiegel has one love scene right in the middle of the play.  So I got to go from this young, driven, focused, ambitious, determined guy with nothing better to do in Depression America than conquer a marble game, to this extremely sensitive, feminine, nurturing, compassionate young woman who sees the tragedy of the Depression.  The experience of going from this incredibly masculine, prideful outlook on life to an incredibly feminine, gentle outlook on life and then back again was actually kind of life-changing.  It was an incredible reminder of why I love acting so much.  The opportunity to explore all these parts of yourself and all these viewpoints on the world.  The opportunity to be explore the masculine and the feminine.  The opportunity to breath life into a character and allow their story to live.  The opportunity to enter a state of communion with the audience and with the other actors.  The opportunity to channel your own ego through the ego of another.  It’s so fucking fun.  By the time we were done with the show I felt like I was ready to do a six month run of it.  But, as my Britt has said, these things are transient, which is part of what makes them beautiful.  

My station backstage.  Starring The Big Dick which my friend lent me as inspiration.  (Don't look at me like that, 3 of these Dicks were juggled onstage in an MFA show last year.)

My station backstage. Starring The Big Dick which my friend lent me as inspiration. (Don’t look at me like that, 3 of these Dicks were juggled onstage in an MFA show last year.)

There are other worlds that I am bidding farewell to now that the semester is winding down.  I’m saying Goodbye to the life of a desperate housewife in Depression America in our black-box studio work on Clifford Odets’ Waiting for Lefty.  I’m saying farewell to Hedda Gabler, Pussy Riot, a Bakersfield Bimbo, and other characters from our work in movement class.  I’m saying See You Later to Chekhov, until tackling that son-of-a-bitch again next semester.  I’m going to miss our film class with the inimitable John Rubinstein,

photo (18)

Kim Flores, Sedale Threatt, and Michael Bernardi on set for “Revolutionary Road”

I live in Los Angeles, I’m a Master’s Acting student, and I know next to nothing about film.  But I’m working on it! Stage and Screen are two different mediums for the same kind of transformative acting that I’m interested in doing, and the differences between the two are just technical things.  The art form is different, and I’m developing a real itch for it.  My body understands live storytelling, and I want to understanding storytelling through film in the same way.  We are taking two more film classes next semester, so the exploration will continue!

Speaking of transformative, I think the most transformative acting experience of this semester was actually the doing my Solo Performance piece.  Despite the number of roles I’ve explored in the last few months, the experience of going deeper into myself, finding my own story, determining the story that I needed to tell… That experience was life-changing.  And despite it being a “solo performance” experience, it bound together my ensemble irrevocably. We shared pieces of our souls and helped each other shape them into pieces of art, and we culminated in a 90-minute performance during which each of us shared a piece of our solo work.  

But enough about art!  I am on VACATION.  (Which apparently means drinking a lot of booze and thinking about the art that I want to be making.)  In the meantime I am going to figure out how to make gluten-free baked goods, enjoy sweating like a construction worker in December, and kick it with these crazies. 

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Dean, Suzzane, Britt, Dani, and Napoleon.  A Very Ke$ha Christmas 2013

So in honor of being HALFWAY DONE with my MFA in Acting, here is this guy, who was my Muse this semester.  This is what commitment looks like.

OHHHHH WE’RE HALFWAY THERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

XOXO

Dani

britt gets a job, a house, and an LA attitude

I am in it for the long haul, baby.

Now that’s an LA attitude.

Oh man. So much to tell. It’s been a month and a half since I last wrote (seriously?!) and it’s been nearly two months since I’ve moved to The City of Angels. I’ve already lived here long enough to know that if I’m going to get any work done in this place, I have to think about the Not So Near Future. The Ten-Year Plan. The Thirty-Year Plan. The I’ll Retire When I Get My Own Theme Park Plan. The Long Haul. And I am down for it. I am so down.

…So here’s what’s UP.

Living in this city is fucking hard. I have no money, I hate the way I am making the little money I have, and my soul is craving the work I want to do but I have no idea how long it will take. That is the hard reality of this new life. In Portland, I could create all the time. Here, it’s not so easy. The community is not the same and the barriers to entry are so incredibly high. But I’m embracing this reality and the endless work and recurring self-doubt and daily falling asleep in my cubicle with the knowledge that a good work ethic, preparedness, and the ability to laugh at how utterly ridiculous my life is (and, I suppose, always has been) is my best aid for throwing myself into the deep end.

But for only two months, I gotta say–I’m doing pretty well! I got a job with a temp agency to do accounting work and am currently working on an internal audit for the LA District Court. Crazy, right? I definitely didn’t see that one coming.

I never thought I’d go back to my accounting roots so quickly, but I gave in after 2 weeks of living in LA with no idea of what to do for work. My next goal is to do this kind of work within the industry. I bet I would like accounting a lot more if I was doing it in Entertainment. And let’s be real, that paycheck would be nice.

BUT! Focus!! That is not why I am here.

This is not why I uprooted from the home I love to a scary new frontier. I had so many gut-pulls bringing me here and I am just beginning to find out what they all mean. I am finding my Self here and I fit. I am making new discoveries every day and feel a strong connection to this place and its people and all the crazy shit that comes with it. It is exhilarating.

Long haul, baby. 

I know this year is going to be especially hard (how could it not be!), but this place is incredible. It has its own pulse, its own lifeforce, its own story to tell. It has a current surging through it. Everyone is questing for something. No one is idle. It is a dream for me. My favorite people on the planet live in this city and I have an incredible house in an incredible neighborhood and draw inspiration daily from everyone and everything around me. I want to become a part of this huge force that drives this whole city forward.

Alright. Enough Dear Diary-ing. You guys get it. You know what I’m about. On to the important stuff.

HOUSE!!! DANI AND I GOT A HOUSE!! And our house is awesome!!

I live with this girl:

the SUZ.

the SUZ.

And this guy:

our new BFF, compliments of Craiglist. THANKS, CRAIGSLIST. One of us, ONE OF US!!

Meet Dean, our new BFF, compliments of Craigslist. THANKS, CRAIGSLIST. One of us, ONE OF US!!

And this dog:

Meet Napoleon, Dean's partner in crime.

Meet Napoleon, Dean’s partner in crime.

and of course, my girl DANI!!

that is one hot twin.

that is one hot twin.

And we all live together in a spacious house that is ridiculously (unintentionally) hipster (that’s how you know it’s real hipster) in Echo Park. We own a bunch of street furniture, neon animal art, and lion lamps spray-painted a very”timeless teal”. We have also been known to spray-paint home décor bright pink and throw glitter on top of it. We also may be having a “Very Ke$ha Christmas” housewarming party in a couple weeks. We are an LA field trip episode of Portlandia waiting to happen.

no caption needed.

no caption needed.

And look at this yard! How cool is this yard?!

THERE IS A SWING.

THERE IS A SWING.

THERE IS A SKYLINE VIEW.

THERE IS A SKYLINE VIEW.

THERE IS A STAGE.

THERE IS A STAGE.

THERE IS A SWING AND A STAGE. I need not say more. There is nothing more to say. We win. We win everything.

We moved into our house on Halloween night, which none of us seemed to think was a bad idea. But I mean, come on, we got the keys early, so we had to…

AMERIKEY, FUCK YEAH

AMERIKEY, FUCK YEAH

Cut to: Britt, Dani, and Suzzane carrying a mattress up the hill to our new house, from their old house, while costumed children jumped out at us and screamed, “BOOOO!!!!”, to which we calmly respond: “We’re dressed up as boring old movers, kids, move along. There’s nothing to see here”.

Cut to: Britt Dani, and Suz moving the box spring up the same hill fifteen minutes later. Cue the same costumed children running up to us and screaming: “BOOOO!!! We said, BOOOOO!!!” Yup, you got us last time, actually, precious children. Just please, for the love of all things sugary and sweet, shut UP and stop running around the moving bed!

It is very, very hard to drag a box spring uphill in the dark when you are laughing so hard you think you might pee. God bless the little children demons.

I think that was one of the best Halloweens ever.

And for those of you who have been following along with my life, you know that I simply CANNOT live in a REAL bedroom like a normal person. I am sure you will not be surprised to hear that I live in a makeshift room with fake walls in our Hipster Mansion:

Dani & Napoleon, chillin in the nook outside my make-shift room.

Dani & Napoleon, chillin in the nook outside my make-shift room. Not hipster in the least.

That’s right. Check out those sweet Ta-Da, These-Were-Once-Bait-And-Tackle-Diplays-But-Are-Now-Walls walls!! Dani found these suckers off Craigs List at a (you guessed it) Bait and Tackle shop in Sherman Oaks that was going out of business. Dani strapped these bad boys to the top of her car, Franca. It’s a miracle that we didn’t flip the car, die, or get pulled over. We are wizards.

cray D

WIZARD.

Wow. I am so overwhelmed with updates for you all. I have to simply accept that this post is going to make no sense whatsoever. I will now skip to highlights for this month in LIST FASHION!

I don’t know why I felt the need to bring SpongeBob into this. I am sorry.

My Past Month:

The Portland-based webseries, Random Acts, began airing episodes this month! You can check out the first three episodes here.

I saw this show:

12

Starring this guy:

'STACHE!

‘STACHE!

…THREE times. It was so good. I am in love with Pasadena Playhouse and think they should have run that show for five more weeks.

I also saw this show:

season-9-gidionwith my Third Rail friends at Furious Theatre. I am excited to see Third Rail Rep produce it in Portland this season!! It is such an incredible script.

And then… there’s Dani.

Ohhhhh, Dani girl… I am so blown away with your talent and presence.

I had the exquisite pleasure of watching Dani onstage at USC twice this month. I saw her play WIllie and Ellie (yeah she played a man and then a young ingénue in the same show, no big deal) in William Saroyan’s “Time of Your Life” and watched her breathe beautiful life into a solo performance she wrote  for her final project. Holy… shit. I cannot put into words what that performance did to me. Danielle Nicole Larson, you are going to bring incredible things into this world. Don’t ever stop telling stories (I know you won’t). You inspire me every day. As an artist and a human being. Thank you.

Yup, that’s right folks… the Evil Twins are back in action in the SAME CITY. Do you know what this MEANS?!

trouble.

trouble.

… it means we don’t have enough time to write blog posts anymore because we’re too busy hanging out with each other.

But we’ll be better about that. Stay tuned for the next Evil Twin dual post comin atcha, ANY TIME NOW. (Hint, hint, to Dani and SELF.)

I will sign-off now with a very LA Attitude thing to do: sharing my personal scoreboard. Enjoy.

Britt Keeps Score:

Number of Meetings with Agents/Managers:

1

Number of Auditions:
3

Number of Bookings:

0 s

Number of Parking Tickets:0 h

YAY NO PARKING TICKETS!! And just for that small victory, I am the master of the whole city.

I will choose to end on that note.

Love to you,

~britt