I UPDATE THIS DIARY EVERY DAY! ...Well, except for September 9-20. XXOO -- Rachole

Sept. 8, 2003 12:39 pm

D-town piano. Photo by Robert Peate.

This makes me very sad to do, but I'm not gonna be able to post any diary entries for almost two weeks 'cause I'm going back home to visit the folks, and also to NYC, and I don't have one of those fancy laptops. But don't leave me... I'll be back!
Wait, that didn't come out right. It sounded a little too plaintive and desperate. Take Two: DON'T LEAVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! That's better. Leave people with a good impression.
I know, sweetheart. You're totally freaking out. "Don't do this to me, bitch. How the hell am I gonna fill the void??" Don't worry, darling. Follow these directions, and you'll be fine: 1) Go over my entire site. Every page. Have you seen all the videos? Have you read every diary entry? Make sure you haven't missed anything, 'cause I've added lots of good crap over the last few months, and chances are, you have. 2) Go to my order page and make sure there aren't any items that you haven't already purchased. If you're sure you've bought every single last thing, buy it again -- for your loved ones! You do love them, don't you? Then show them you do with my CD, or an 8x10 of me without pants on in the World Trade Center. 3) Go to my links page and check out the links to all the other fantastic performers and sites. You'll be entertained, I swear. And before you know it... we'll be together again. (Sniffle)

Sept. 8, 2003 3:42 am

Lots of good artistic work getting done. Yesterday, Brendon Small let my cat Mr. Tacos into his studio to record his latest song, "I'm a Bad Cat, I'm a Naughty Cat". Sounds great, will be posted as soon as I get back. I'm a mere hack, but Mr. Tacos is an avant garde genius.
Also, Victor Varnado, who plays my newest Smokin' Grandma every Sunday at Discotown!, is shooting a serial horror film called "Killer Killer" where he stars as a hunter of supernatural killers. I play "the girl" in the series and it's awesome.
Me & Victor rehearsing a scene; shots from the 1st episode.

Sept. 7, 2003 1:16 am - "Whorin' It"

This is my friend Monique. She serves coffee & donuts to trannie prostitutes on the graveyard shift at Yummy Deli. Plus, she gets to wear a company shirt with "Yummy" on the tit! Who says L.A. isn't good to new actresses in town?

---

Another friend of mine, a funny and talented actress named Stephanie, sent this email:

Tonite I was in my friend's play, and afterwards as we mingled with the audience a man with a camera came up to me. "I'm from a local paper about theatre in LA! Can I take your picture?" "Please!" say I. I mean, he'd better take it before I BLOW UP in this town. "Can you take off your shoes?" "Uh, ok." So I do. (I know... from here on in it's my fault) Later this lady comes up to me and says, "That guy is from a foot fetish mag and he goes to all the local shows trying to take pictures of the actresses feet." I'm so grossed out the only thing that would help is if I run until I pass out...

She was totally beating herself up over falling for this creep's trick. So I told her what any good friend would say:
"Next time, make sure he pays you first! Hell, if you ever see him again, get his number for me and tell him about Discotown, 'cause I need the scratch. I'd even give him private appointments."

Call me jaded. But this town's hard enough to make ends meet. And fer Chrissakes, it's just your feet! Who cares if someone's dribbling their bodily fluids on 'em? Feet are dirty and gross anyway. It's not like you eat off 'em. You don't even have to look at them. Rinse 'em off, pocket your new wad of cash, slip on your $10 Shoe Pavilion^TM cork wedges, and go back to chasing your dreams!

In other career news, meet Devin, our Dreamy Discotown Intern. An aspiring filmmaker, Devin's the official D-town videographer, lighting designer, and duct tape expert. Shit, if you haven't made it down to D-town yet, here's the perfect excuse to watch Dashing Devin work a tripod, construct a spotlight from aluminum foil, and sip on a 7-Up (not drinking age yet, bless his heart!)! Yeah, I'm pimping a 20-year-old university student. He doesn't mind; he gets college credit no matter what.

Sept. 6, 2003 1:29 am - Who Wants to Be My Little Brother's Girlfriend?
He'll kill me when he finds out I did this, but I'm putting out the call for my little bro, Captain Sam Arieff. He's just got back home to Charleston (where he's stationed) from a 90-day stint in the Mideast. He's a C-17 commander, meaning the Grand Poobah pilot of a huge, whalelike cargo plane. He's not as crazy as I am, and he's in great shape 'cause he used to be a platform diver for the University of Texas. Then about 5 years ago he got into the Air Force pilot training program 'cause he wanted to learn to fly. Other cool things about him: he got his friends to buy my CD; he bailed me out of many f-ed up situations; he flew out to LA for my birthday when I was divorced & depressed. Anyway, the long & short of it is this: he's tired of dead-end relationships and wants me to find him a girlfriend. Good call on his part; he knows I keep only the finest company, and that only the cream of the crop of humanity visit my website. So calling all good gurrls out there -- and I mean it, NICE gurrls; no nut jobs, gold diggers, users, or sociopaths, or I'll kick your skinny little asses all the way to Qatar. I'm sorry to say that right off the bat, but this is my little bro we're talking about, so you'll just have to deal. If you wanna meet a smart, fun, adventurous, cool guy, tell Sam a little about yourself, and I'll send it along!

He is so gonna fucking kill me.

Sept. 4, 2003 10:56 pm - "Hooray 4 Hollywood!"

Mike making a few million; me doing a $5 show in a basement.

Where I live brings to mind images of cakes with nail files in them. I can't describe further what my place looks like 'cause one of you could be Bin Laden or Saddam Hussein or Mike Tyson, and then... Do you know that me & Mike Tyson briefly had the same manager? Which explains my utterly SUB-terranean status today, famous only among a select, elite few.
Ya see, if you want to get your career off the ground, DON'T EVER sign up with the same people as Mike Tyson. 'Cause every time you call to check in -- "Um, yeah, it's Rachole. Hey, I know it's been pretty slow like you said, but I was just, you know, wondering...are there any auditions or anything?" -- you'll always get the same response: "Oh, it's you... Hey, we can't really talk right now. Mike just raped another woman in two, and we've gotta put out some fires..." And then, honest to God, this comes next: "She's just, like, a grocery store cashier anyway... But call back next month, and we can probably pencil you in to talk about some projects!"

Sept. 3, 2003 11:17 pm
I had a good time tonight, went out with some new friends to The Derby and funny things happened, but I drank a little and tonight's entry that I spent 1/2 hour writing was pure drivel that I won't dignify by posting; you'd get more out of reading Cosmo and that's saying a terrible thing about myself, but what ya gonna do? Shit happens. I did brag to one of the people, a record producer/engineer, that my cat, Mr. Tacos, graduated from the Berklee School of Meow-sic.

Sept. 3, 2003 12:18 am

A GIANT ASTEROID IS GONNA HIT THE EARTH!!!
Equivalent to 20 million Hiroshima bombs! Is anyone else as excited about this as I am? Now we don't have to worry about anything; in 11 years we're all gonna be toast!
Time to forget about Al Qaeda, suck down those mojitos, have lotsa unprotected sex, and catch up on all them
What's Happenin'? reruns while there's still time. It still bothers me how fat I look on videotape. But whatever. 'Cause now we've gotta party like it's 1999!

Friends of my brother's overseas, in a Proud Moment.

Sept. 1, 2003 10:00 pm -- A Proud Moment
Would you permit me to have my Proud Moment?
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I am very proud right now. For after years of slaving away at dead-end jobs, after pouring out heart and soul and sweat in show after show, enduring small crowds and no crowds and mean crowds and the violently indifferent, after rupturing certain cellular structures that keep my neck and shoulders intact in an eager-to-please, split decision to launch my overweight body through the air and somersault out of it onto the pukey, southwestern-ish Ramada lounge carpeting, it's happened.
Tonight...
I vacuumed my bed.
Yes, that's right. Vacuumed. The bed! Some of you might remember me mentioning a couple months ago that I finally washed my bed sheet. You know the fitted one that goes over the mattress? But then I never actually put it back on, and I slept for months on the bare futon, with the bedsheet balled up at the foot of the bed, collecting dust. I meant to put it back on, but I was, like, really busy. Gradually, the bedsheet was joined by all sorts of clothes, pens, papers, sunglasses, Linda Barry's Cruddy, the US Army Survival Manual (great book, especially if you're "in a rut"), my friend Skipp's screenplay, etc. I went like this for 3 more months. Every day my cat, Charles Van Doren, slept under the thin, ripped quilt I got for my wedding. The once-pristine futon that had never even touched the sweaty surface of my skin became coated with cat hair, claws, dust, and schmutz. Until today, when I lifted my Eureka SmartVac^TM onto it and turned it on HIGH.

Now it's so clean, it almost brings tears to my eyes. But I still don't feel like putting on that motherfucking fitted sheet. Fuck that. My neck hurts. I put the sheet at the foot of the bed. That's good enough for now.

Sept. 1, 2003 6:40 pm

Me, Titty, & interpretive dancing to "Miss You" at D-town.
Photo by Robert Peate.

I didn't have high hopes for last night's D-town. My friends who told me they'd be there ended up cancelling for one reason or another. (Hmm. Ya think Labor Day parties had something to do with it?) Plus, as I just parenthetically said, it was a holiday weekend. Most people don't bother putting up shows during these times. But am I like most people? No sir-ee! No break for me, Titty or Smokin' Grandma. The show must go on!
Well, guess what? The show was packed! Jason the bar manager even took out extra chairs from storage. Best of all, the audience was hot, hot, hot, and ready to rock. Special guest Nick Bognar did a great job. Titty in fine form as always, doing particularly fine work on our cover of "Miss You", where I do a long dance/gymnastics/lope thru the lounge and climb on audience members interlude. Plus, for the FIRST TIME EVER, Smoking, Tapdancing Grandma and actor/comedian/filmmaker Victor Varnado (who plays her) both performed in the same show. Ya see, besides being a hilarious Smokin' Grandma, Victor's also an excellent standup, but whenever I've invited him to do a set on D-town as himself, he refuses. "I only do Smokin' Grandma in this show, and nothing else!" He's such a purist. But last night, he broke his rule and delivered a fantastic set that had everyone on the floor.
After the show, we dragged out Liam the bartender's shift an extra 2 hours as me, Titty, and future D-town guest and singing extraordinaire Tristan Starnes, had a jam session. We took requests from a few remaining audience members at the bar and two young female hotel guests who'd wandered in after the finished. Victor chimed in on the top piano keys while I played the rest. Included in our odd impromptu playlist: "Private Dancer", "Honkey Tonk Women","Kids of America", Ike & Tina's "Fool in Love", the Flaming Lips' "What Is the Light?", and, bowing to the 2 cute girls' strange drunken requests for "Classic ROCK!!!", "Desperado" and, yes, "Freebird". "Classic rock?" I asked