Vagina Problems

I KNEW THAT WOULD GET YOUR ATTENTION!

Don't worry, all is well in my bathing suit area.

No, this is a story about the one-too-many mishaps I've had in the last two months attempting to audition for the acclaimed play, "The Vagina Monologues."

Several months ago, a Facebook friend of mine posted auditions for the show, and it struck me that it was a perfect opportunity for me to dip my toe back into performing. Truth is, I haven't auditioned for anything in almost five years and haven't exactly felt I had the time to devote myself to the whole process, as my hours are weird and I'm often super wiped out at the end of the day.

It turned out that play was just happening at her school and I wasn't eligible to audition.

But my radar was running and I did some research to find two local productions that I figured I'd try out for, without any expectations.

Mid-December, I strategized an outfit, packed my makeup bag, and headed to work, whispering to people about my plan.

A colleague from work offered to drive me to the audition location near Central Square, and when I saw the small building at the audition address, I became apprehensive. I had time to sit at a Starbucks and eat some dinner and do my makeup, then headed back to the audition site, which looked remarkably like a residence.

I checked and rechecked the address on my phone.

Turned out there was an identical address in Davis Square, and I was two train stops away, just far enough that I'd miss my audition time.

I wrote a brief email to the director, informing her I couldn't make it and went home, perturbed but also slightly amused at my bad luck. And the lack of clarity in their information.

Luckily, there was another production I had on my calendar to audition for. I have been sick all week but was determined to make time for the audition, so I planned it into my Saturday, showered, did my hair and makeup, threw on my audition outfit, and my cousin and I headed to Copley Square this afternoon.

Arriving a little bit before auditions were supposed to start, my cousin and I asked around, once we found the address, but nobody in the building knew about the production. I asked at the front desk on the first floor, 2nd floor, even ventured upstairs and into the basement. Doors were closed, locked, and nobody had any information.

My cousin and I both searched and searched for any audition updates (thank the sweet Lord for smartphones), but all evidence said I was in the right place at the right time.

At about 20 after, I saw a young woman carrying a box of pens and a stack of papers enter the library, where auditions were supposed to be held, and was sure it would all work out.

She too knew nothing about the auditions.

So I typed a quick inquiring email to the director and headed out to have lunch, determined that it just wasn't meant to be.

Apparently, audition times had been changed due to a scheduling conflict with the space.

Maybe I'd have better luck trying out for "The Penis Monologues."