It was a dark and (not) stormy night in a gated SoCal community in Rancho Palos Verdes. Rolling hills, beautiful mansions, endless seascapes, and an eery quiet which hung on the neighborhood like a shroud.
A young maid (like literally, like a lady who cleans stuff for money because she has to) fumbles at the gate because she doesn’t understand how gate codes work because she’s like, poor and stuff. Some blond plastic b**** in a mercedes honks her horn impatiently behind the fumbling maid in the chevy. The maid considers going apeshit, but eventually figures out the code, punches it in and weaves her way up the winding road.
She pulls into the driveway of the empty home she is to clean, and immediately hears the persistent yowling of a hungry cat piercing the eery silence. She enters the pitch black house, and the yowling gets louder. Fumblingly switching on lights, the fumbly, fumbly maid sees the skinny, yowling creature pacing outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, following her every move throughout the house. The maid considers crapping her pants out of sheer nervousness, but decides better of it, and starts the laundry instead.
She crosses the kitchen towards the laundry room, now ablaze with comforting light, and the moment her hand casually brushes the wall, every light in that half of the house goes out. The yowling cat continues yowling yowlingly. Momentarily spooked, the maid quickly realizes that is must be a blown circuit. But wait. The blue light on the refrigerator still shines like a watchful eye. The wifi box still blinks friendly-ly. Every other electronic object in the pitch black rooms buzzes happily. Except the lights.
…This is what actually happened to me the very day my boyfriend Ryan Reynolds, AKA the mastermind behind Moldy Demon Studios, starting sculpting the High Priest of Satan.
I can’t say much more than that about the project, but I can say that we created a Satyr, which is one of these things.
Kind of like a Pan or a Faun but with a goat head.
If you’re wondering what it means to build a freaking Satyr, it means you have to…
- Create working stilts which look like goat legs
2. Create crazy furry pants that go over the crazy shaped legs
3. Sculpt and mold a crazy goat mask complete with giant crazy horns.
4. Create a crazy fur torso that can be zipped on over the actor.
With only 9 days to complete the entire project before Ryan got on a plane to Iceland for a Nordic adventure in the rain, I stepped in to take charge of the fur and the sewing.***
5 days later, we were entering the final 72 hours before the deadline, and every minute counted. There was fur everywhere, latex and paint and safety pins and two-by-fours and OH DID I MENTION FUR because that sh** gets everywhere. Friends came by to help us test out elements of the costume and keep us company/awake as we pulled two all-nighters in a row. A party actually happened at the house as we worked, in which we half-participated. We only drank one pot of coffee.
And with 8 hours left before our deadline, I got on a train and went to Santa Barbara.
To meet with Suzzane Cawthra.
To ride our bikes from Santa Barbara to our home in Echo Park, Los Angeles.
Because this was the final 105 miles of Suzzane’s 1300-mile bicycle trip from Tillamook, Oregon to Los Angeles, California.
What. A. BOSS.
So with almost no sleep, and with a very very excited and joyful heart, I commenced riding 105 miles with one of my very best friends and my cycling mentor, Suzzane Cawthra.
We returned home within two days to the Pussy Riot Lodge, where our beautiful roomies greeted Suz with a real finish line, air horns, and confetti. While I was gone, Ryan completed the costume and sent it off. I never got to see the final creation in person. That night, we celebrated all night until I had to drive Ryan to the airport at 3:00 a.m. because OH YEAH HE WAS FLYING TO ICELAND. He is now in Norway, taking sick pictures in fjords while wearing a viking costume that he built because WHY NOT. I miss him almost as much as Southern California misses precipitation, if not more.
So I send him pictures like this…
And force my roommates to go on a Hollywood Stars Tour, which of course included bringing a giant plastic guinea pig and a giant dildo to maximize the photo ops on the bus.
And go to the opera for the first time in over three years.
And have a ladies’ wine and cheese night.
And go dancing with the roomies… Twice.
And cry for the entire duration of a yoga class, because I am approximately 50% warrior goddess and 50% huge f***ing baby.
And see what is hands down the best play I’ve seen in years, and an incredibly important piece of art that everyone in the world should see.
I also cried throughout a healthy portion of this experience. Because again, warrior goddess/giant f***ing baby.
So that’s what’s up. Alla dat. #losangeles. #HellA #wtfamidoing #LIFE. Go see “Hit the Wall” at the LGBT Center. Buy your tickets immediately. Beware the High Priest of Satan. Ride your bike. High five your friends. Remind someone you love them.
**…I can’t show y’all the finished thing just yet, because of confidentiality and whatnot, but rest assured, these pics will be worth the wait. Follow Moldy Demon Studios on FB to get updates!