At the age of 53, I think I have finally realized what I want to do with my life. Play the role of Cruella De Vil in a local one act, one-woman production. I will call it Cruella: My Story. I came to this realization this morning while calling my son to eat his "faaaabulous lunch!" It was a hot pocket and I was being sarcastic because like a good mommy, I wanted to fix him something a bit more nutritious but caved under pressure and made the pizza pocket instead. Seth's reaction was to say, "Mom could you please stop using that voice? It's creeping me out!"
Instead of calming it down, I did my Cruella face and said,
"You mean this voice? Mwahahahaha! I looove puppies!" I ended by striking the classic Cruella pose of flinging my arms in the air. I thought it was a really good impression. Seth rolled his eyes and said, "Really?"
As I walked away to take a shower, I took a moment to sadly remember how much he used loved my voices. He still does but only when I'm reading stories with him. He loved the way I fluently murdered the English language while reading Roald Dahl's The BFG.
I have always had a knack for voices and accents. As a child, I entertained my friends with imitations of Fat Albert and any odd character that came out of my brain. Whenever the neighborhood girls and I played house, I was the director of the little group and gave myself the most interesting role. I was always from England and Ireland because I could do those accents really well and I could never decide which one I truly wanted to be. I compromised. My backstory was that my "character" had been born in a car exactly on the border of England and Ireland.
In my teen years before the advent of 200+ channel basic cable and mind numbing devices, my friends and I would amuse ourselves by making prank phone calls. I was the best because I could say, "Is your refrigerator running?" with a German accent.
This flair for accents isn't always on purpose. I'm a bit of an accent sponge. One day after being home sick and binge watching the first season of Downtown Abbey, I greeted Kevin at the door with a decidedly British accent. I couldn't quite get rid of it for days.
The past few weeks I've been listening to Tina Fey's Bossy Pants. After I listen for an hour, I catch myself flattening my vowels and even phrasing things like she does. And you know what? I think I even sound funnier. Could be my imagination.
So anyway, after being admonished by my son for my clever, accented invitation to lunch, I thought how sad it is I am no longer allowed to give free reign to my funny voices. Not even with Seth who was once my biggest fan. Not cool mom, just annoying mom.
As I stepped into the shower this morning, I let my mind wander into the world of fantasy-get your mind out of the gutter! My fantasy of was me on the stage performing my one-act, one-woman play. Cruella De Vil: My Story or perhaps, Misunderstood: The Cruella De Vil Story. It's still a work in progress. Perhaps I'll figure it out during tomorrow's shower...
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