At age 10, I was cast as ‘Helen Keller’ in a classroom production of The Miracle Worker; mind you, without an audition– The director, Lisa Lee, a classmate, thought I looked like the real Helen Keller – so now, almost forty years into my theatrical life. What I have learned, in recent years [i.e. the last thirty] – over fifty stage productions to my credit – this business called theatre does attract some real crazies.
Sure, I admit to my foibles, flaws and a touch of narcissism – most actors have that, alongside symptoms of MPD [Multiple Personality Disorder], too many OCD’s (Obsessive/Compulsive Disorder), Tourette Syndrome. Unfortunately, a true sociopath comes along once in a while!
Back in the 1990’s I heard a story about one such psychotic male actor. An actor – by all outward appearances, was a somewhat normal guy [for an actor]; he fell in love or lust for a young actress, in a top acting class, at a popular New York school they both, separately, had auditioned for and been accepted into [this class]. This actor asked the young actress out on a date. She politely turned him down. All seemed well as they worked together as scene partners. After awhile, the actor began to pester the young actress to go on a date with him. She asked him to stop bothering her about it . . . numerous times . . . until finally, she had to be very firm. The actor did not return to class for weeks. One fateful day, as the young actress entered the classroom, an envelope was waiting for her, and she was told it was left … by the actor. Inside the envelope she found a marriage license — for her and the actor! The sociopath actor had gone to the courthouse, applied for a marriage license and forged the young actresses’ signature!!!
She called the police and had to place a restraining order on him.
What is it with people? Why do certain groups attract certain people?
In my case, I have attracted them in theatre and mostly, via my admiration for a certain celebrity.
I’ll begin with the fans; although, my goal is to share my most recent situation – a theatre stalker.
It sort of goes hand in hand . . .
As a long-time fan of Tim Curry, my relationship with his fans has been, most of the time, like living in a mental ward of disorders. I’ve met obsessive, compulsive, manic and delusional fans.
DISCLAIMER: I have also met some of my best friends directly through my love, lust and admiration for TC.
Am I one of those mentally disturbed fans, too? Certainly I was, and still am, rather obsessive, yes [about a lot of things and people: Tim Curry, Alan Rickman, Broadway Musicals (especially “Wicked”), clean bathrooms (have a phobia of public bathrooms that are not pristine) and NYC] . . . although, I am not any more obsessed with Tim Curry (TC) than 100s of other TC fans I’ve met.
In fact, let’s get real, some of them far more bizarre than I could ever be!
Since my obsession began, in 1983, I have been lied to, lied about, accused, followed and stalked by TC fans, themselves. What was always funny [odd] to me was the fans who accuse me most of being a stalker are the ones stalking me! When I point out the fact they are stalking . . . bullying . . . and attacking me, they; like all people who victimize others, try to convince me how they are justified in their mistreatment of me; victimizing me once again.
First, let me say, if I’m stalking Tim Curry…I am the laziest one ever! I live 3000 miles from where TC lives . . .have missed seeing him dozens of times [when we were in the same city], have never been to his home, nor dug through his garbage [that was a completely different fan – definitely NOT me].
I have a germ phobia, thus, dumpster diving or even keeping, touching or saving used garbage [even if it was TCs], is out of the question for me!
I once lived only three hours away (from NYC), when TC was doing, Spamalot, on Broadway. On a one-day visit to NYC, I actually turned down a ticket to see the show because, a) I was with friends, in NYC, and there was only one ticket available, and b) I didn’t want to see him at that time. TC was one block away from me, and I did not even attempt to see him! How is that stalking?
If someone told me, this minute, TC was down the block from me, I would not go see him. You see, I’m here, at home, with no make-up on, and need a shower, a weight loss of about 50 lbs [if I had my preference] and my eyebrows waxed. I have absolutely nothing to wear today, and don’t feel like taking a shower or putting on make-up.
Thus, at best, I am a lazy stalker. I just don’t want to have to go out of my way to find him, see him or whatever. Now, if Tim Curry wanted to call me, I’d be happy to chat on the phone. That said, if I don’t recognize a number, I would never answer! So, probably wouldn’t even chat with him, unless he left a voice-mail and said who it was.
Thus, before accusing me of stalking, you need to check your facts – and laws – about what exactly stalking is.
A stalker will:
1) Continue to contact a person who has told the stalker to STOP [contacting] the victim.
FACT: Tim Curry has NEVER told me to stop being his fan . . . buying tickets to his shows . . . writing him the occasional letter . . . seeing him when I do.
In fact, has always been accepting and seems to enjoy seeing me!
2) Puts forward false and negative words toward the victim, often falsely attributing acts and words to the person they are stalking.
FACT: This is called SLANDER.
FACT: The words I attribute to TC are positive, funny and do not hurt or slander him.
3) Bullies the victim they’ve chosen to stalk.
You are a stalker:
When a person [themselves—not his or her fans] tells you NO or LEAVE ME ALONE, and you feel the person “doesn’t mean it” or you decide to “do it anyway”. It is a crime and makes you a stalker!
If you are sending email and letters telling your victim, “You’re worthless . . lazy . . .ugly . . .a stalker . . . dangerous . . . a threat [to TC] or others . . . undeserving” – particularly, when this person 1) does not contact you, 2) has never done anything, at all, to you and 3) doesn’t bother you . . . makes YOU a STALKER and a BULLY!
If you CLAIM to have been told by the person [them self] that they “hate” or have a “problem” with a said fan [me]. I am sure putting words into someone’s mouth would upset the person. It is also hearsay.
Someone (a so-called fan) did have the nerve to tell another fan – not me, mind you – that Tim Curry told her that he “hates” me and that I am to “be avoided” and I am “dangerous”.
>> First off all: If it were true [that TC felt that way about me, or anyone]. The person who made him feel that way would have been arrested whenever near him.
>> Despite rumors about me. I have never been arrested nor served a restraining order, or any other legal document from legal representatives, police officers nor Tim Curry or about Tim Curry. None.
>> If you care to check it out. All things, such as restraining orders, court appearances and arrests are public domain. As long as you know someone’s full legal name you can, with the right inquiry, do background check and find all records of public domain. It costs about $25 to $100 on places such as http://www.spokeo.com and other background check websites.
>> I say this because 1) I have nothing to hide, 2) my record [at least, regarding TC and stalking] is completely clean because I DON’T DO THAT!
You are a stalker:
If you go public on your Facebook wall . . . send emails [see above] . . . comment on websites (i.e. YouTube, WordPress) and telling the victim how terrible you, in your opinion and insight, feel this person is; making yourself the security guard, police officer for some celebrity you do not know personally and/or the therapist of the person you are bullying.
Yet, you do not hold a degree; and if you do, you are NOT treating me.
It is not you job!
FACT: This is also a hate crime!
As for me and what I do:
TC has no Facebook account – no matter how convincing you think someone is with so-called facts about him.
Stalkers are negative and also say negative things – being a fan who may or may not be obsessed is notthe same as being a stalker.
Remember, a stalker is a criminal – he or she does NEGATIVE things to possess or own someone, control the other person.
What this article was sparked by is, recently:
I have a bully and stalker – it is one person who I met through theatre – and recently [January 2012] ended the friendship because he posted negative things, and gave out personal info about my life on Facebook . . . with my full name attached!
I have been slandered, victimized, attacked and accused of things I have never done, a) vilified for living my life in a way I choose, b) continually being contacted by him [my stalker/bully] when 1) he asked me to cease contact with him [after I had told him off in a few private emails] and 2) I had stopped contacting him after he asked me not to.
From the end of January 2012 until about the end of April 2012 . . . I had not responded to his incessant, harassing and bullying emails. I have blocked him from several email accounts and then, in a month or two, he creates a new account (with a fake name) and contacts me again – with some negative response to something I posted on Facebook!
Yes, he is blocked on my Facebook . . . yet, somehow, via a fake name and Facebook account, is continuing to read my status updates, etc. And no, I won’t go private or change my Facebook accounts! It is unfair.
I should not have to hide from some fool; who has too much time on his hands and feels a need to harass me or verbally attack me about my life and my choices.
I unfriended and blocked him because my life so offends him. So, why does he need, or want to keep in touch with me. It makes no logical sense.
And there’s my point. There are mentally ill people out there. Unfortunately, because I spent five-minutes to be kind to him – when he was Stage Manager of a play I was cast in [once again, without an audition]. He took my good manners to mean we were close friends. We weren’t. I never felt any sort a rapport with this guy – let’s call him PT – he is, admittedly, very weird and cruel. He is not that type of guy who should use that sort of humor — sarcasm. At least, not the type he uses. Cruel, vicious verbal attacks on people . . . for things like begin fat, short or not as educated.
Don’t get me wrong, I love a good wit. I can throw out the sarcasm along with the best of them. Nevertheless, I won’t put down a person about weight, or a flaw they cannot help. Unless they attack me first.
Yet, this guy – PT – would, publicly, on my Facebook wall, say that I was fat and lazy. Yes, it’s true I am fat. Lazy, no. And yet, he was claiming to be a friend. He became offended when I wouldn’t take jobs such as caring for an elderly man in another state! A job I do not qualify for – bad back, bad knees (that’s me) – and PT thinks I should just commute four days per week on a bus; be ready to lift, walk and give injections, change bed pans, etc. for an elderly man because he gave me the lead!
PT never bothered to ask for my office resume. The one that shows my twenty-years of being an Administrative Assistant and Legal Secretary, light Bookkeeper for financial companies, CEO’s and high-class lawyers! I’m no LPN or home care giver!
There’s an old saying: Until you have walked a mile in my shoes, do not judge me.
To ask for help – especially in a social network – in a way where you are willing to trade; i.e. I will give you a free reading for help with my rent. That is not PANHANDLING. That is NOT be lazy.
>> Yes, many people have some sense of pride, that it lowers them to ask for help when needed. I know people who have not asked for help. I have nice memories of those people when I visit their graves, too. For years, I ignored pain (as a teen and young adult) associated with my abdomen, because “no one likes a complainer”. And guess what? I nearly died at the age of 20-years-old because my ovarian cyst (of which I was unaware of having) ruptured and shot poison throughout my organs.
I learned then and there – if you need help ask.
Other times, when I tell people about the years I was homeless, ask me, “Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you.”
Friends get angry when they find out you didn’t reach out and ask for help. People want to help. At least, real friends do. I feel the same way. Ask! Even if, at the time, I cannot help you – I will 1) try to find you help, 2) help when and where I can and 3) encourage you through the hard times (giving what I can in that sense).
If you don’t ask, I don’t always know. They pride goeth before a fall! And I have seen, first-hand, pride kill people. Yes, kill them. To not complain (or tell/ask someone) about pain for months or years, strange menstrual cycles or difficulties living in safe places – or the money to visit a doctor, pay rent or electric or get medication – can kill you.
Of course, do not start sending me notes about what I can give you. I am still living paycheck to paycheck and haven’t quite got my first million yet. When I do . . . we’ll chat!
And as for my stalker/bully – When I started my job, about five weeks ago, I saw his Facebook page [via my contacts] and he had SHARED my status from my Facebook page and posted, about me now working fulltime, “I don’t believe it!”
>> Good! I told PT to stay out of my life. So far, since then, he has . . .
Which reminds me:
You’re a stalker if:
You turn a person’s words around and make it about them. It’s downright psychotic!
>> When I did respond to PT: I stated that I wished he’d just “go away” and frustrated at his continual abuse of me in email, I said: “I hope you die.” He turned that into me “threatening to kill” him! Which I did not, in any way, say; I said “I wish you were dead.” And wishing him to die is not threatening to make it happen.
>> First, I don’t want to jail for his ugly ass.
>> I am not a criminal in any way.
I may be a bitch and a lot of other dirty names. I am not a criminal, a stalker, a killer nor as crazy as many like to say. I’m angry, at times . . . I’m frustrated, at times . . . I’m independent, all the time . . . I can be cruel and cold, when pushed and it is needed. And only to those who treat me badly.
Let’s get the facts:
No, it wasn’t nice to say – yet, I do not take it back. I do wish he’d go away forever; at least, from my life. And from his history with me in these past few months, the only way – he’d have to be dead.
I did NOT say I wanted any part of his death. I just hope it happens. Sometimes with crazy stalkers you have to be blunt and very, very cruel. That seems the only time they actually “hear” your words, I find.
I told him, several hundred times, “leave me alone” and he doesn’t. So, obviously, he ignores those clear words I have to be blunt.
To “hope” someone dies [i.e. I wish all the terrorists would die – without taking any of us – too, I might add] is not saying you want any part of their death. I did not say murder, or by my hand or even that it has to be violent.
In fact, again, my hope, really, is to NEVER HEAR FROM HIM OR ABOUT HIM AGAIN. I do not need to know if he is alive or dead. Prosperous or poor. Good or bad. I just want him gone – from my email, my life in every way, forever.
In the final analysis, and facts about me:
I am a great friend to have.
I feel the homeless who sing, write poetry or offer to do something for your change are NOT panhandling. They are exchanging talents for pay; and if someone would pay them for it, they’d do it in better clothing or atmosphere.
If you make me an enemy, the worst that can happen: I feel nothing for you and if you bother me, I will say cruel things.
I adore Tim Curry and would not hurt him in any way. In fact, I admire him greatly, and if he said to me – himself – to go away, I would [go away] with no anger; only hurt. I’d cry and move on with my life.
I am not lazy. I work very hard. [Right now, three jobs!]
In the final thought, regarding PT – the one who stalks/bully’s me:
>> I have no feelings for him, it is indifference. Thus, I really don’t care if he lives, dies or a thousand purple monkeys’ fly out of his ass.
Onward to better things. . .
Life is going well.
I have three great jobs!
Money flows and flows!
I am now able to pay some bills, travel and enjoy my summer more!
DISCLAIMER: This is about a recent incident, mostly and other past situations.
The incident: The night before I had to be up at 6:00am, with a job I had planned for over a month. A friend/client texted. “Can you do a reading, right now?”
I texted back, honestly, and said, “Not tonight. Tomorrow, later in the day — maybe. I have to get to bed early for a morning gig.”
This person does pay, nevertheless, with no sleep; I would mess up the job in the morning. And in my intuitive business, I prefer to make an appointment. This friend/client texted back, “I will never use your service again!” and unfriended me on Facebook!
I don’t recall saying that I am here at the beck and call to my friends/client. Yes, I have done same day readings; it is not my regular thing to do. Secondly, to unfriend me and refuse to utilize my service again, over this, how unkind, rude and very unloving (for a friend).
Apparently, not a friend at all.
Of course, through the years, there’s the friends who feel my gift is something I should give them full benefit of – all hours of the day or night, for two or four hours – without compensating me.
NOTE: Nevertheless, I do have wonderful friends who pay me regularly for readings – as they can and what they can – when they ask me to utilize my gifts for them.
Still, even optimists get depressed. We really do . . . yet, when we do [get depressed], we get chastised for it.
You see, us who encourage and fix everyone else are not truly allowed to . . . well, feel down. I’m sure it’s because, if we’re down, then, the world must be ending.
Reality check, we hit bottom, too. Sure, 85% of the time, we are the cheerleader for you, ourselves and the Universe. Then, after weeks, months or even years of being that gracious, fun-loving and joyful person – we hit a jagged rock or two or a hundred.
Through our tutelage and/or our encouragement you get to:
1)pursue your dreams,
2)win, win, win from all our free advice
Then, you feel showering us with “I love you” is a fair reward for the two-hour phone chat – during non-free minute days – or when we could be looking for a job.
What’s love got to do with it? I’d rather have cash . . . to be honest. Money may or may not buy happiness – still, I certainly feel much better when I have electric, food, transportation and can pay for my phone, rent, etc. Thus, having money lowers my blood pressure, and stops panic attacks. And certainly that makes me happier.
Somehow, one thing is forgotten – we, the cockeyed optimists – have to give up our dream career for a “real job”. We are asked to do the right thing, give up everything we ever wanted. All our giving of our free advice (to you) pays no income, and you do not offer or have excuses.
“I love you” doesn’t pay rent, unfortunately. We can get downright depressed! Can you blame us?
To add salt on the wound – you will give us advice, i.e. “don’t post that you need help on Facebook. It looks unprofessional . ..”
And no . . . psychics do NOT know everything, i.e. lottery numbers, where you are, your name or if we will get clients. Our gift may be highly accurate, yet, there are limitations.
Then, when we don’t express our need, guess what happens in our life? NOTHING! We don’t get money, we don’t get help and we fall deeper into depression, debt, high blood pressure, sleepless night and dis-ease.
Then, you tell us “you’re different” or “cheer up”. Pay me, I will cheer up! You have to seek help to get it. The Lord helps those who help themselves. Being quiet, sitting in what’s left of our room, begets no actual help. We’re hungry. We have bill collectors calling hourly . . . we get told “no” at every corner for jobs . . . and then, you text or call and want immediate attention! Wow! Because we are home, unable to go out — we are supposed to stop everything and help you through an emotional crisis, for no compensation.
Of course, you have a job and do not know what it is like to have the electric company threatening to turn off your electric . . . still, we, the optimist, the person with a business that you, or others, consider “unimportant” and not really worth actual money . . . we are supposed to jump to cater to you the second you have an issue.
Sorry, my time is worth money. Yes, you are a friend. You are not being my friend, though, when you feel it is my job to jump when you say jump. Strangely, I recall, awhile back when you said, “If you ever need anything, just ask.”
And I remember when I did need help – like now – you are “too busy” or you “have bills”. Yes, you have bills and an income. I don’t [have an income] unless you compensate me for my time. Your bank account is down to $1,000 until your next paycheck. Wow!
My account is down to .05 cents (no exaggeration). Closed my savings account a few months ago, since it cost $3.00 a month and I often had $2.00 or less in it. My .05 cents won’t go up
until you, or someone decides my service is worth a few bucks.
What I’m saying is be real, my friends. I just had to vent . . .
Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming of optimistic encouragement, love and light!
BECKINFIELD is a really fun interactive, fictional town!
People like us — writers and actors — create townsfolk andJonathan Frakes, and the participants, create the life there. There is also a contest towin a trip to Hollywood and $10,000. Finalists in the contest, also get $200 each.
Of course, I’ve entered it and would love you all to look at my entry — an acting audition. It will be judged by a Casting Director, nevertheless, they are also looking at how many people give it stars “raving” (1 to 5 stars). The first one is my favorite audition I did. You don’t have to participate to give stars, either. You can join as a “fan” and just watch the videos. The 2nd link is my character in Beckinfield — Samantha Talbott: Beckinfield High School Drama Teacher/Psychic/Medium (yeah, not too far from the real me).
If you’d like to participate and interact — we can interlace our characters — you can join as an “actor”. Either way, I wanted to share this fun site — and hopefully get some “raves” for my audition. It is fun creating the story, it’s good practice.
According to my stats, the most looked up term, for my blog is “tarot cards” . . . second, at least, in the last quarter, has been “tears” followed by “friendship“. Also, lately, I’ve been getting so much spam. Do the spammers not know I can moderate and choose “permanently delete” all they send me?
Speaking of tarot cards: On Thursday evening, I was at Manhattan Theatre Source — supposedly to perform a piece from Spontaneous Combustion, again. Unfortunately, it was too well organized; someone told us to arrive at 5:00pm. Then, we were FYI
We were informed we were going up before 9:00pm. Too many hours for my scene partner to hang around.
Luckily, I had brought my tarot cards, my Archangel Michael and Archangel Oracle cards with me — just in case I could garner some money. I left the house with only $9.00 in the bank, and about $7.00 in my wallet. Scary to be in NYC with that very little money.
Since my scene partner really did need to get out of there — we chose to cancel the performance and I offered to do tarot and/or Archangel card readings for a suggested donation of $10.00 — and split it down the half for Manhattan Theatre Source and myself.
Everyone who came up, and it wasn’t many, four (4) or five (5) wanted “tarot”. They were all impressed — as most clients are — with my accuracy, my readings, etc. Yet, most left $1.00 or $2.00. Also, a client or two, on-line thought they, too, could get free readings or donate to get a full one.
Sorry, it’s rude to ask that — this is how I make a living, to eat, pay rent, buy toiletries. When I’m on radio shows, I’m happy to do a mini-reading for free; but any other time, it’s not.
Well, I hope everyone continues to read this blog — even if it doesn’t involve tarot cards, tears, or friendship. At the Source, I made $26.00 and came home with $13.00 of it, of course.
This is a quickie to share some of my favorite YouTube videos: Videos I made myself . . . with CyberDirector or Windows Movie Maker.
This one was just so much fun! I try to attend the Broadway Cares/Equity Fights AIDS Flea Market & Grand Auction. Last year, 2010, I found a fun table for an Off Broadway play titled, Tales From The Tunnel.
I end up winning tickets to the play. I was happy to learn Wilson Jermaine Heredia, he played ‘Angel’ in the Broadway show and movie, Rent! At the play, he gave me a huge hug!!! What a great guy. In March 2011, I saw Wilson again on Broadway, this time, in La Cage Aux Folles. It was so much fun to see him again, at the stage door, we were like old friends!
A Rocky Horror Picture Show fan club asked for a 30 to 60 second video about “What Rocky Horror Means To You”. I found I couldn’t get it to 60 and say all I wanted. So, I videotaped a lot more — finally made a short version — then used the footage for this.
It has been years since I put on ‘Frank N. Furter’ make-up, so I really don’t have enough of the right colors left. Still, I guess a decent job with what make-up I actually have. And my collection of Tim Curry collectibles.
When I first posted this, in 2007, it was clearer [as in video quality]. Hopefully, in storage, the original is still clear and I can re-make it with updates! Yes, I still want to portray ‘Elphaba’ in the Broadway musical, Wicked. Nevertheless, it’s 99% positive I will not in this lifetime. I am more suited now to the role of ‘Madame Morrible’. And I will play it proudly should the opportunity present itself!!!
I did, of course, portray my dream role at a Halloween party or two. The photo is from 2009 at the Manhattan Theatre Source Halloween gathering. And who knows, this year, I may done my green make-up again at a certain Halloween party.
Now, this production of a play is important to me. It was so exciting to see my friend (ex-boyfriend)’s story up on stage. It was moving and my reviews were fabulous. Even though, some facts were messed up in the final production — I want to make a true documentary on Fredy Adolfo Gonzalez De Leon as he still deals with homelessness, citizenship and now communicating with his son, Juan Miguel in Guatemala.
As I write this, Fredy lives in a shelter in the Bronx. Although, he enjoys it there. He awaits his status from our government on his citizenship. Nevertheless, he is unable to earn money or fend for himself. Sort of sad, really.
For now, I will close with another video about my work . . . and do another one of these soon, with more videos!
Looking for new clients — come be one! One-Hour Psychic/Medium Readings … usually $100.00 for one hour, for you, if you mention this blog, only $75.00! A saving of $25.00!!! Woo Hoo!
I’m not a fan, nor am I a non-fan of Russell Brand — found him funny in a film or two. Nevertheless, I’ve found a new respect for him now. This article about his friend, Amy Winehouse, is brilliant, moving and beautiful.
Just click on the link at the top of the page: Russell Brand on Amy Winehouse – you will go to the article. Very moving, really.
A few weeks ago, someone I used to call a friend, posted in a public forum that I, Angela Theresa “Curry’s Angel” Collins-Egic, am just “not that memorable”; also, I apparently “lack charisma” to boot.
Since I originally penned this article (last week) — a little glitch in my life [an abnormal mammogram and upcoming needle biopsy to see if its benign or malignant] has caused me to think about memory, being remembered, etc. Two and a half years shy of my half-century mark, I’m having the longevity conversation with myself . So, as I chronicle my life, up to now and hopefully well into the next fifty or so years.
The person who said this does need a little introduction, because to most of you, he’s not that memorable, I would think. To most of my readers, he’s unknown, in fact:
He was born Andrew Martin Arnold but solely uses the stage name of Andrew Martin now. It suits him well.
When we met, back in 1985…I thought he was a 17-year-old girl. Andrew would tell you the same; that he looked like a 17-year-old girl.
For a few of those youthful years, Andrew did start wearing women’s clothing, taking my hand-me-downs, in fact; and marketed his transvestite image. He utilized my talents and Susie “Squeaky” Schwartzberg’s talent to do two cabaret acts at a venue called Jason’s Park Royal. The first one titled: THE LADY AND HIS MUSIC.
He wasMiss Andrew, in every sense of the word. A talented, off-the-wall and interesting young gay man.
To some degree, he and I were as close as any two friends could be. Andrew and I met at an 8th Street pizza joint called Bennie’s [worst pizza ever – yet we ate a slice every week]. The day I walked in there, across the street from 8thStreet Playhouse in NYC; on my way to see the NY showing of ROCKY HORROR PICTURE SHOW: I met these two girls, [I thought]; when the very thin, flat-chested one told me her name was “Andrew”. I was a little taken aback. The shorter one, with a tomboyish charm [yet, was obviously female] was “Barbara”.
Really, they didn’t even look related. Nevertheless, they were: fraternal twins.
It didn’t take long to figure out that both Andrew and Barbara were talented, intelligent teens. In fact, wise beyond their years! I instantly adored them. Through them, I met some great people, many of whom are still friends today; including Barbara and Andrew. Except, the friendship with Andrew has ended a few times and we are, as of July 2011, not on good terms . . . which is what I’m writing about.
In 1985, though, Andrew, Barbara and I, and a few others became a gang of misfits, at a place where us misfits fit in. There was the “8th Street Gang [Cast]” and “us”. “Us” who wanted to be in the 8th Street cast—all of us talented enough, yet not popular enough – to Sal Piro, at least. Being that Sal is the President of the Official RHPS Fan Club and cast the floorshow (now called shadowcasts) back then. We were still misfits.
We showed up every week, though, at 8th Street Playhouse – Miss Andrew, Barbara Arnold, Susie “Squeaky” Schwartzberg, Phil Dejean, Shawn Rozsa, Mad Man Mike, Andy Grondahl, Hawkeye, A.J. and many more. Since Sal seemed to have blacklisted quite a few of us from being in the popular 8th Street cast…I found us another way!
I moved to Brooklyn and heard about a midnight showing of RHPS on Saturday midnight. When I heard the floorshow [shadowcast] was thrown out, I grabbed my mis-fitted friends and swooped in to have our own show. I wanted to have the best cast! A cast that would have people saying we were “as good as the 8th Street cast” or “better than”!
I just wanted Sal to see how talented we were and have him, finally, offer us a role in the big show in Manhattan; or acknowledge us, at the very least.
We put the show together, quickly. I had every intention of playing ‘Magenta’; no one wanted to play ‘Frank N. Furter’, oddly. Inspired by an 8th Street idol of mine, Julie Calabrese, I molded myself into ‘Frank N. Furter’. Oh yes, and my other idol, Dori Hartley. [She, Dori, had moved on with her life before I had arrived in New York, though].
Our (really, my) cast, The Low Down Cheap Little Punks, at Brooklyn’s Marboro Theater, became known as one the best casts in the East coast – comparable to Manhattan’s 8th Street Playhouse! At least, as far as I was concerned! Sal Piro eventually took most of my cast into his cast – so, that tells you something. Some of the top cast members of Sal’s 8th Street group, in 1986, got their start in MY CAST!
As time went on, around 1987, when I began working in a talent agency – we represented Sal Piro – Sal and I started a professional, respectful friendship: I’ve attended many Rocky Horror conventions where Sal and I had some great conversations. My favorite was a Las Vegas convention, in the 90s, when Sal introduced me as “one of the most dedicated” fans of RHPS.
Sal also put me in his 2nd RHPS book Creatures of the Night II;invited me to be part of the first television showing of RHPS at FX Studios [I went as Frank N. Furter, of course]; and Sal asked me take his RHPS items to an Albany, NY convention when he couldn’t attend.
In the early years, I was at every convention from the 10th Anniversary (Beacon Theater) – and where my original costume – “Curry’s Angel” brought me Good Morning America and newspaper reporters and photographer’s interviewing me about “who” I was.
Found out, later, one of the friends’ buzzing about me told the reporters that my real name was Angela Curry . . . and that I was Tim Curry’s real-life niece!!!
I hadn’t even met Tim Curry, at that point!
Nevertheless, the next morning, as my interview aired, millions of viewers thought I was, indeed, Tim Curry’s niece as the name ANGELA CURRY was emblazoned at the bottom part of the screen. Coincidentally, when I finally did met TC, it would be revealed how much I resembled his real-life niece. I believe she, Tim Curry’s real-life niece (he has three); one resembles me [I’m older, I believe]; she, my doppleganger Curry niece, has aged much better than me, though.
About three weeks ago – on the Facebook 8th Street Playhouse page – to be told by Miss Andrew that I am “not that memorable” and that I lack “charisma”, really got up my crawl!
We must also remember, after 1987, Andrew disappeared from the RHPS fan base and refused to be part of any of our conventions, get-togethers, etc. until about 2008 or 2009.
In short, while I was involved, actively from 1983 (AZ) to 1984-1987 (NY) and then from 1988-now at conventions, another stint as ‘Frank N. Furter’ in Arizona in the 90s, made a “rock-u-mentary (1990) w/the AZ group, talked to Tim Curry and had many conversations with Sal Piro, Patricia Quinn and Richard O’Brien and too many cast(s) – all the way to England – and had a RHPS newsletter – fans from as far as Italy and France writing me fan mail . . . Really?! Not memorable? No charisma? Me?
Are you talking to me, Andrew? Unmemorable, little ole me?
Andrew claims “more people” remember him from those days. I might agree with him about that, of course. My argument is NOT the numbers; it’s the words about a personality – no charisma, not very memorable. Are those words you say to a friend? A friend so instrumental in so many memories, my own and in his, and many others!
There are people from “those days” who approach me, remember me, actually . . . whom I cannot, for the life of me, remember at all. BUT, friend or foe, I would never be so rude to say to them: “you’re not very memorable” or “you must’ve lacked charisma”.
Hell, for all I know, they are very memorable and have tons of charisma – I just wasn’t lucky enough to see it and or get to know this great person at the time. My loss.
Which was my point with Andrew Martin, supposedly my friend … he went on to remind me and the group how “everyone remembers him” and “hardly anyone” remembers me. A snob! An ego-maniac.
A very insecure person, envious of my involvement and part of this history. Andrew missed the years between 1987-2007, when we had reunion’s, conventions and were interviewed by German, French and British TV shows and even American specials.
After I blocked him on Facebook – had unfriended him months ago when he posted some rude, jealous and snobby remark on my wall – I actually just feel sorry for him. He is, insecure. He is dysfunctional much more than most of us. I claim to have empathy.
Of course, without proper, professional diagnosis, I can say, from my experience (in life) – I find Andrew shows signs of classic Narcissist Personality Disorder. I had another friend with a professional diagnosis of the disorder – thus, I see the similar signs in Andrew.
This means, I really should be empathetic. Yet, I, too, have my ego and insecurities, as well. I guess we’re all a bit narcissist in the theatre business!
A recent scare, which I’m still dealing with calmly, made me think about . . . well, being remembered, etc. and how we are remembered.
I have no fear of death, itself, yet I don’t want to do it right now. I want to see one hundred years on this earth, I mean, if I’m capable and not crippled up, etc. Yet, as I have had friends pass on – far too many for someone my age – it makes me think about who will remember me? Who will share these memories with me, of me and our times in the 1980s?
If Andrew is right, and I’m not that memorable or charismatic — me being there was all, I don’t know, an illusion.
I thought I finally did fit in. I had found my people – the different, the misfits, the unusual – and now, maybe I am still an alien, the kid easiest to bully, the ugly one, the forgettable one.
Sure, I know it’s not true, really.
Andrew is trying to hurt me to make himself feel better – for his insecurities – yet, he succeeded. As really, no one even stood up for me!
I may understand why, though – Andrew will argue, filibuster – and would’ve pestered anyone who dares speak up for me. Because I spoke up for me and he went on and on until I ended it by blocking him! It just would’ve soothed my ego (of course, not my authentic self as “ego” is the false self) if someone had spoken up for me.
I guess we can say Rocky Horror Picture Show also attracts insecure people all around! Yikes!
P.S. I have to mention tarot cards. Why? Because it’s getting me more traffic than any other search!!! LOL! Over 400 people per week search tarot cards. And, oh yeah, I do tarot card, Archangel Michael Oracle Card & Archangel Oracle Card readings! Email me: “Tarot Readings”–AngelAura28@yahoo.com [Tarot Card Reading: $15.00 Full/In-Depth Reading]
If I see one more talk show [i.e. Dr. Phil] that features a woman falling victim to some man on a dating site – losing her heart or her cash or both – and that woman says, “Any woman would’ve fallen for that/him, etc. . . .”
I’m going to book a flight to the city, ask the show to find this woman and I’m going to smack her in the face, telling her, “Speak for yourself, freak!”
No, I don’t condone violence. But, foolish women, STOP SPEAKING FOR ME. No, I would not fall for that, or him! I don’t believe most of the men I meet in person who wax poetic on my ass, or my face, for that matter.
And why is it always a woman like me – overweight, middle-aged and single?
Wait, I can answer that one, at least, part of it. Why these scam artists choose . . . them (us). They’ve [scam artists] emailed me, private messaged me on Facebook, contacted me on dating sites.
Difference is, I give women like myself a good name. I don’t fall for it! Why are you?! You’re making us look stupid.
Of course, maybe many woman of my description are stupid, or lack confidence, and want to believe every manufactured word some random stranger – claiming to be an eligible male – utters in an email, text, Facebook, twitter or on the phone.
Sorry, I don’t believe in love at first text, email or even love at first sight. Never have. Never will. Let me explain that I know “attraction at first sight” or “lust at first sight” certainly does exist and is alive and present. Nevertheless, love? Love is precious, it must build. It may be with someone you’re immediately attracted to, also. Still, as Dr. Phil states, wisely: Don’t marry him or her until you’ve seen them with the flu. [Although, since I take a flu shot every year, this may not apply for me.]
Do I know what true love is? I will say I do. I heard it somewhere, felt it many times and still have it for each and every man I’ve dated and/or loved.
True love – I do not remember where I read it or heard it – is “wanting the other person’s good.” Unconditional. Even if the other person’s good is to NOT be with you. If you truly love someone you would want them to be happy in their life, with or without you. Thank you, Bono!
Romantic love, on the other hand is very “conditional”. You want that person with you, and only you. You want only that person. You call him or her your soulmate, your other half. You feel your life will never be complete without him or her in your very life, your grip. Conditional. Fun, yes! Wonderful, yes – if she or he reciprocates that love. Miserable — if they do not or cannot.
No way can that conditional type of love be proven by a voice on the phone of someone you’ve never laid eyes on; not in real life, at least. What is their body language when in a room with you? Does their very smell turn you on, or off? You cannot know unless you have met in person!
Yes, there have been stories of romance found on the internet.
Yet, if someone contacts you, in New York, and says he’s from New Jersey, but doing his engineering work in Nepal [this type approached me on email once] – with no specific return date; no banks in sight; wants to spend his life with you; thinks you’re the most gorgeous woman in the world (even though you’ve never met in person) . . . RUN AWAY! This is a scam artist, a fake and you are one of many they find on dating sites!
This person contacting you, with all the pretty words, is married or living with someone, or a woman (and you think it’s a man), or a horny teenager who can write maturely.
American Ladies: No matter how lonely you are – no matter how sure you are that no man in your area of the world is going to treat you well . . . stop making us the laughing-stock of the scam world, as these scam artists count the money you send them for their airplane tickets (to meet you) or start your life together! It’s a lie! A con!
Learn the difference between being alone and loneliness. You are complete, as you are. A man should ADD to your already incredible life – not make it happy [It should already be happy]. It’s not his job! It’s the best job, the most rewarding, to find your own happiness. You have complete control of this.
The control is your thoughts, your feelings. You don’t have to blame anyone, nor yourself. Just change your mind.
Clicking on my photos often leads to links.
A habit is a thought you think over and over again. It doesn’t make it true. Yet, we believe it’s true, because we think it over and over. Step one is to note your negative thoughts:
Thought one: No man will love me because I’m fat.Now ask yourself, logically: Is this true?Answer: NO, many fat women have husbands, lovers, lives, and joy.
Thought two: There no love after 40.Question: Is this true?Answer: Of course not! People fall in love into their 90s! [FACT: A constant problem in most old age homes is keeping the men and women from having sex, or trying to, at least!]
Also, you attract to yourself what you believe about yourself. You can find a man, once you realize, you don’t truly need one to be fulfilled in life. In fact, most people find the very thing you want (be it a man, a job) etc., comes when you realize and recognize you are happy as you are, at this very moment.
Find the things, people to appreciate right now. Start with what you appreciate about YOU.
Not saying I’m perfect, either. We’re all a work in progress and no one reaches perfection. Nevertheless, I appreciate my body because it is functioning. I can walk, I can type, I can use all my limbs and even though I’m plump – for the most part, I’m pretty damn healthy!
As for my love life – it’s a little boring. I was masturbating awhile back and my hand fell asleep! Still, I have my hands for that and many other purposes, even if it [my hand] or they [other limbs] fall asleep once in a while. I have them!
For those men out there, now madly in love with me – and I am an incredible girlfriend [I must admit] – you must live here [New York] or be wealthy enough, at my beck and call – to get on a plane [first class] and meet me at Starbucks in Chelsea at 4:00 pm next Thursday for our first half hour date.
If that goes well, we will arrange for a dinner date the next couple of days or the next week.
Then, and only then, after some in-person dates/discussions – we will see if I’m willing to do a long-distance dating thing, temporarily! We can then talk about texting, emailing, facebooking, etc.
Still, I like my men LIVE FROM NEW YORK CITY! At least, while I still live here.
Here’s an article and what the scam artists feel about us!
Click on the photos for the actual website and article.
DISCLAIMER: These are my experiences, shared by me, as they happened to me. People in these true event(s), may not remember them in the same way. Certain facts can be agreed upon by all parties, nevertheless. I met Tim Curry, in New York, on August 28, 1987. Beyond that, I do not, in any way, suggest, hold or express that anyone else experienced this event in any paranormal, psychic or unusual way. That is how my experience of the event(s) happened, though.
MEETING THE MAN
By Angela Theresa Egic
I laugh and think to myself “Did I say that out loud? [Pause] My God, I did!”
Then, I realize Tim is moving closer and closer to me, and due to the natural body space thing – I back away a little. Again, not that I mind that he is closing in on me, but it is getting difficult to see his face as he is very close indeed. Besides I try to get a look at his crotch [pay back is a bitch]. When I finally take a big step back and get a good look “there” it’s a total loss. His pants are very loose in the front and what I want to see is not visible in the baggy pants.
I must’ve looked very disappointed, Tim seems hurt at my expression.
To comfort him, I get out two words, “Loose pants.”
Tim laughs that laugh. I’m a bit embarrassed that twice now, I’ve been so bold.
To cover my embarrassment, more words come pouring out of my mouth a mile a minute. “When is Me and My Girl opening? Where? Can I get your addre . . . er, I mean . . .your autograph?”
Tim laughs at my little blunder and nods yes about the autograph.
Since I am empty-handed; my backpack with pens and autograph book on the nearby bench, he eyes me and waits without a word.
His patient glance jolts me to attention, I nervously giggle and say, “Oh yeah, sorry, let me get the autograph book!” As I walk to my bag — a fun idea occurs to me.
Liz is still on the phone.
“Hey Tim!” I am surprised at my familiarity. “You wanna really freak somebody out?”
Tim gets this sinister gleam in his eye, as only he can do, and says “Yeah!”
Wow, he is exactly as I imagined — fun and playful!
Hardly believing it, I instruct him, “Go pick up that phone over there and say ‘Hello Liz’!”
Tim beams and walks right over to the pay phone, picks it up, and says “Hello Liz!”
My jaw must’ve been on the floor. I smile to myself thinking, “Wow! Tim listens to me!”
I pull out the book for him to sign he is still having a little conversation with Liz.
As I approach, he excuses himself graciously from Liz, gently lays the phone where I had left it, and gives me his full-undivided attention. All right, I am the only one there at this point, too!
He signs thoughtfully, thinking about what he was writing. I continue talking. Tim takes in every word and responds to my questions. After he finishes signing, he closes the book and hands it to me.
Tim waits, I thank him and he continues to stand there.
Finally running out of words, Tim still there, I tell him, “Oh, I am going to see Blue Money this weekend!”
Sounding excited, Tim responds, “Oh, is that out here now?!”
Then I make a huge mistake, I confess, “I just saw Times Square! I really like it!”
Tim rolls his eyes, then sarcastically informs me, “Oh that is my LEAST favorite!”
Uncomfortable at my blunder, “Oh well, I guess I said the wrong thing! I am a writer, Tim, and you should have been in it more!”
TC is now acting like I’m an annoying child; no longer smiling he’s being so very professional.
I hate it. Moments ago, he was so fun, playing with me verbally. Now he was so standoffish.
I had to make up to him fast . . . I need him to remember me, notice me! What can I say now? Oh, of course, let me follow-up with what I know.
“Oh, by the way, how is your niece, Tim? I heard she was sick.” I meant it, too, I did want to know how it turned out.
TC completely came out of his momentary stoic attitude; reaching for my hand, I think, with a few tears in his eyes, “Oh my God, she was so sick. I am so worried about her!”
“Did she see a doctor?”
Very worried, Tim tells me, “No, she refuses to go . . . says she doesn’t need one!”
I tried to reassure him, “It’s been very hot here. She probably just was overheated.”
“Do you think so?” He earnestly asks me.
“Yes, definitely, “ I honestly share, “it happens to me a lot in this humidity.”
Tim and I are friends again!
“Can I please get a picture? I brought my camera.” Tim didn’t look particularly pleased with this request. I quickly added, “Oh, I want to be in it too!”
Tim laughed and agreed, “Oh, sure!”
Like a perfect cue, Tim’s friend, an older British gentleman with curly gray hair, comes out of the hallway and tells TC it is time to go.
Tim calls out, “Perry, will you take a picture for this girl here?”
Another Perry! My friend, Perry, was the one who told me about Tim and his niece at Dreamgirls.
Tim’s friend, Perry, says sure, and asks me to show him how to work my camera.
TC winks at Perry and comes to stand beside me. Tim and Perry are having some sort of secret non-verbal conversation about me, as I was to find out.
Tim and I stand side by side. Tim grins at Perry, not even turning toward me. I lift my hand, behind TC, and start to put it on his shoulder, I get cold feet and put my arm down to my side. Before I can think about the chance I’ve just lost — to actually touch him; Tim GRABS ME AND PULLS ME AGAINST HIS LEFT SIDE! HARD!
I thought I was going to fall over, yet TC throws his arm over my shoulder; it didn’t hurt, he holds me up. All I’m thinking is ‘Tim Curry just grabbed me! Wow!’
FLASH! The picture is taken.
Tim still has his arm over my shoulder. TC is looking in my face, saying “Thank you!”
“No, Tim, thank you!”
Hmmm, his hand is still there and, wait, was that warm feeling moving down toward my breast. Is Tim really moving his hand slowly toward my left breast? Is he going to grope me, right here, in front of Perry and the security guard? Crazy thoughts run wildly through my head . ..!
Perry is holding my camera toward me, but will not bringing it to me. He can clearly see that Tim has me in his grip. I don’t want to be rude and remove his hand, nor walk forward causing Tim’s hand, radiating such heat into my shoulder, to drop off of me. And still slowly, I can feel his hand moving very, very slowly to cup my breast. Really?
No, I must be imagining this, wishing it, right?
No, I think he’s really doing this!
Perry blurts out, “Don’t you want your camera?”
“Yeah, of course.” Perry makes me leave Tim. As Tim’s hand drops off me, TC winks at Perry.
They were teasing me, I am sure! Hilarious . . .guys, really hilarious.
Perry heads to the exit. Tim turns to look at me and walks backward, without peaking behind him, and repeats thank you as I say it back to him. It’s a game!
“No, thank YOU!
“No, thank YOU!”
I hear the elevator chime; Tim and Perry are gone. It’s just me, the security guy [behind a plexy glass thing and he never looked up from his book].
“What was that?!” is all I can think.
Then I remember Liz! I run over to the phone and sort of collapse against the wall, again. I am flying, I am high, and I am dizzy and euphoric! Who needs liquor or drugs?
Liz informs me she taped the whole thing!!! We decide to keep the meeting to ourselves until TC leaves town with the tour. Otherwise too many RHPS fans may come up and interrupt rehearsals. I didn’t want to be the reason the rehearsals are interrupted.
I hang up with Liz and realize I forgot to give TC my letter!!! The one where I tell him this was my birthday gift one month early and about the Village Voice personal ad.
Like magic, a tall young man with glasses comes out of the hallway. I approach him.
“Are you in Me and My Girl with Tim Curry?” He assures me he is and I hand him my letter. “You have to give it to Tim tomorrow.”
The man is wide-eyed, like he’s scared of me. “Yes, I will.”
“Promise? It’s really important!” As I take advantage of his fear of me.
The next morning, as I awake for work, my phone rings. I hear a weird click and the following:
Tim Curry: Hello, Liz!
Liz: (weakly): Hello? [she sounds suspicious]
Tim Curry: Where are you?
Liz: Long Island? [hesitantly]
Tim Curry: Oh, that’s quite a long way away, isn’t it?
Liz: I guess.
Tim Curry: I’m talking to your friend here!
Liz: I know.
Then Liz came on the phone, live. We laughed about how she had Tim on the phone, and she thought I put someone up to it. Liz didn’t believe it was really him (until a week later)!!!
Through the years, Liz would call me in the morning and play the tape. I would always get a good laugh and smile hearing his voice, talking to her.
Sadly, the tape disappeared eventually. We never made the copy.