I'm not a black jogger!

Ladies and Gentlemen!

Blog? What’s a BLOG? I always thought it was an amalgam for something like…a blind frog…or a bloody flog…or a bloated hog. Well, Rosie O’Donnell! You have one! And, now, so do I!

Suddenly, after trying to get it together for 8 years, I, too, will join the ranks of millions of other famous and ordinary people who believe their daily lives are more interesting and worthy of being chronicled than those of busy people!

Varla Jean Merman is a blogger! (Not a black jogger. Although, they do have a certain appeal!)



Anyhoo, last night I was a headliner at a huge party, here, in New Orleans for the 120 year anniversary of Louisiana’s oldest animal shelter—a benefit for the LA/SPCA called “The Great Catsby: A Roaring 20’s Tribute!” And, no, my little “commentors,” that is not a misprint! The Great Catsby instead of "The Great Gatsby!" Because it is an animal shelter! With cats! (And dogs, but I guess tonight they were only raising money for the cats. Maybe cause felines gets AIDS and dogs don't. I don't know, really.)

Well, supposedly, "The Great Gatsby" was a movie or something about the 20s, starring Mira Sorvino. Or, was it Marisa Tomei? Well, one of those girls that accidentally got an Oscar. God, I hope I accidentally get one for “Girls Will Be Girls.” Every year I hope I am nominated for it, but every year I go back to bed in tears after not hearing my name read with the other nominees that morning. Being an actress can be so awful, but it’s hard to explain to you civilians. Back to the party…

Now, even though I rarely wear costumes, I decided to put my finest 1920’s gown on for my entrance on the red carpet (which was slightly soiled because of the parade of cats and dogs that entered before me. “It wasn’t me!”, I shouted to the crowd of paparazzi and fans, further proving that my wit isn’t confined to the stage. And, most importantly, it really wasn’t me that soiled the red carpet this time. My dress, on the other hand, was a different story.)


Wowie! What a star-bedazzled event! Besides myself, Bryan Batt, a New Orleans native and star of the hit TV show “Mad Men” was there. Oh, and thank you, Bryan, for letting me know that my gown was actually more 1930s than 1920s! He immediately recognized it as a “not so subtle” copy of Rosalind Russell’s gown in the 1939 movie “The Women” where she snoops in Joan Crawford’s bathroom.


Believe it or not, I knew that it was a 1930s gown already, but I “acted” like I didn’t, hoping that it wouldn’t kill my chances of him getting me a walk-on role as a secretary or lady copy-writer on “Mad Men.” But, being an actor, Bryan could immediately see that I was “acting,” so I tried using my other talent, “lying.” I told him that I thought fashions of the 1920s wouldn’t make it to Louisiana until the 1930s. Bryan didn’t buy my excuse. And fooling a gay is just about as easy as trying to marry one in 48 states. Just try pulling the cashmere over their eyes! And, now I probably won’t be on “Mad Men.” (Unless you write them and tell them that you think I should be. Bloggers Unite!)


Besides Bryan Batt, New Orleans resident, funny lady, and movie and television star, Jennifer Coolidge was there! My, I almost thought I was describing myself! She even talked to me without accusing me of not being dressed in the correct period. She asked me where the bar was! I said I didn’t know. But, being an actor, Jennifer could immediately smell that I was “acting.”


After I showed her to the bar, I put on my costume for my big performance -- a “layered” tribute to Josephine Baker! I tell the story of her life in dance, from the daughter of an Arkansas orphan, to hoochie dancer, to a leader of the Jewish Underground Railroad in France during WWII, all to the tune of the disco hit "Le Freak."

But, even with the promise of such a show-stopper, for some reason, I never made it onto the stage. And, what’s worse is that no one ever tried to find me. I come from the school where they remind you a few dozen times that you have to go on and then fire you. So, I never went on. Or, maybe they thought my choreographic references symbolizing the harboring of Jews in WWII would bring down the festive mood. Or, maybe it was because I wasn't wearing any panties. Well, Bryan Batt told me that "La Baker" didn't wear them, so I thought I might score points with him if I slipped them off publicly by the chocolate fountain. Well, my performance was for charity, so I guess they got what they paid for, I suppose.

Later, I did end up doing the banana dance, to the delight of one patron, although it didn’t really have the same “excitement” when performed shotgun in his Ford Explorer as he gave me a ride home. And, as I vividly remember, he WAS NOT Jewish. But, that accessory can provide some excitement of it's own...


Oh, I heard if they ran out of goody-bags it is perfectly okay to take home the centerpieces.

Don't worry about me,
VJ