What I want to be when I grow up

My friend Ryann said recently, "Dear Tina Fey, I appreciate what you've done for women in comedy, but why did you have to do it first?" That's kind of how I feel about this new Judd Apatow movie, Bridesmaids.

From age seven through age twelve, becoming a cast member on Saturday Night Live was all part of my career plan. Right after I graduated magna cum laude from Harvard University and won a Best Supporting Actress Oscar playing opposite Tom Hanks (as my father). That's right, I was going to win an Oscar before landing a spot on SNL. Special, no?

Then I learned that you had to be a superstar at Second City or the Groundlings or whatever in order to even be considered to audition for SNL. Then I didn't even come close to getting Harvard-worthy grades in high school. I also didn't get cast in my school's production of Little Shop of Horrors, which pushed my Tom Hanks dreams even further away. And it all went to shit.

It really didn't all go to shit, but now I've meandered away from my point: Bridesmaids looks awesome, and I'd do anything to be on that poster next to Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph and Ellie Kemper. I remember confessing to my freshman year acting teacher that I feared women weren't funny; I am a woman, and therefore I must not be funny. This teacher told me to get it together and shut up about that. I'm glad she did---I was talking bullshit. These Bridesmaids women are funny. (They also happen to be beautiful and skinny, but that's another blog post.) And lucky for me, the women in my immediate working circle, those of Political Subversities and, until yesterday, The First Ladies Project, are indeed the most hilarious and smart women I've ever worked with. If I keep writing and performing with them, I imagine Bridesmaids 2 will someday present itself.

Or, you know, something original. Bridesmaids 2 already sounds like it'll be bad.

Well, it's the end of an era, sport

This portrait, which I have unofficially titled "The First Latina First Lady, as portrayed by Kim Blanck," was taken by the magnificently talented and kind Andrew Williams. It hung in the lobby of the Fourth Street Theatre during the run of The First Ladies Project.


Well, of course I had to take it home. I know my dad wants it. I asked him, "Where are you going to hang it? It's such an absurd picture. And it's so large." He answered, "We'll put it in your room." Creepy. No, thank you.

Anyway, I took it home and have yet to figure out plans to mail it to my dad. This is how I'm storing it.


Can't very well have it upright and look at my own larger-than-life face all the time. And the back of the frame is sad-looking. Also, I like the teal color of my shirt. Just can't have the face looking out at me.

I wonder how long it will stay there before I send it off to my dad. It sure is kind of a scary thing to have in your room, a 3' by 2' portrait of your own self.

Chance encounters leading to non-chance encounters

One Tuesday afternoon, I was working at the restaurant when two gentlemen sat down at one of my tables. They looked like old friends, and were catching up on stories about work and wives when I approached them. One of them ordered a glass of wine; the other, a drink-drink, I can't remember what. I returned to their table several times before they finally consulted the menu and gave me their order. They seemed like the kind of guests who prefer to be as uninterrupted as possible. I took my cue and kept my distance.

After they finished their lunches, I sauntered up to the table with my Sweet Waitress Smile and offered them coffee and dessert. The man on the left looked up at me for the first time and asked me, "So, what show are you in? You must be an actress."

I laughed. "Yes, I am."

"I can tell," he replied with a grin. Lots of people can. Aren't most waitresses in NYC also actresses? He seemed friendlier than I initially pegged him to be.

"I'm actually in a show right now," I told him. "It's about the First Ladies of the United States." I opened my book and handed him a postcard. I keep postcards and flyers of all the shows I'm doing in my waitress book, for when people ask me, "So, what show are you in?" I've actually handed out quite a few.

The gentlemen seemed impressed. They proceeded to ask me where I was from. "California." The man on the left said, "Why, I'm headed to California next week! Is your play going on the week after that?"

"Yes!" I answered. "You should come! I think it'll be enjoyable and funny." I handed the gentleman on the right a postcard as well. They pocketed them, gave me well wishes, paid the check and left. What nice men, I thought.

Fast-forward to this afternoon: we had a matinee performance of The First Ladies Project, which went splendidly. I had many friends and some former roommates in the crowd, and was so happy to see them there after having gone many months without seeing them. After the show ended, I emerged from the dressing room, still in full makeup and costume. I greeted my friends and thanked them for coming, when a man approached me.

"Hello, Kim!" he said. "We met at the restaurant. I'm Charlie."

I looked at him blankly. Was he a regular? Had I ever seen him before? Charlie? Charlie? Finally, I remembered him from that table of two gentlemen on the Tuesday afternoon two weeks ago. Charlie!

I gasped. "You came! Oh, I'm so honored, sir!"

He cackled. "Oh, please don't call me sir. Call me Charlie. This is my wife," he motioned to a lovely woman with a silk scarf around her neck. He had brought his wife! I was floored, just floored. Overcome with gratitude and surprise and humility, I grasped her hand.

"We really enjoyed it!" she told me. "We really had a wonderful time."

Charlie added, "After I got home from the restaurant, I went to your website and decided, 'Yeah, I want to do this.' So Susan and I came. It was really wonderful. Did you write all of that?"

I felt so happy to hear these kind words. It was like my grandpop and grandmom had come to see the show. "Most of it," I answered. "The letters, those were all real. Real words."

"Well," he said. "It was really fantastic. I'm glad I came." And after two quick handshakes and one kindly pat on the back, they smiled and left.

Watching them leave, I felt warm all over. It's a fantastic feeling to experience such heartfelt support from people you only met once. From people to whom you were just their waitress. What a remarkable thing it is to simply meet other people in this world. Sometimes, a chance meeting can lead to a lifetime of friendship. Or, quite simply, an afternoon at the theater and a familiar face onstage.

An amazing evening at my show

Tonight was one of those wonderful nights during which you feel so much joy and fortune and support and love. We had the best show of The First Ladies Project thus far, and the audience was packed with former teachers, best friends, roommates and family members. The show seemed to flow flawlessly, everything fell into place as it should have. Cues were called beautifully, scenes transitioned effortlessly, and the audience was so attentive, giving us so much energy and laughter.

I feel like the girls and I touched a lot of people tonight. What a humbling feeling. I'm giddy that so many people have come to see our show, put their trust in us and went along with us for the ride. I'm overjoyed that it has seemingly made an impact on people I respect. I hope that this weekend isn't the end of the show. I know there's a place for Edith Wilson in this goddamn play; next time, I'm not going to let it be a play without her.

It's a happy night. Signing off.

The First Ladies Project opens!

So excited for everyone to see this show! It's been an amazing few months working on this project with some amazing, inspirational, talented women. I'm talking about my fellow actor-creators and our darling First Ladies. I'm so proud of what we've made. "It's a fun good play," as Ryann Weir, another woman in the company, says. I think it's a fun good play. I'm 100% sure audience members will have a good time. I'm 98% sure you'll take away some information about a First Lady you have never heard of.

Hope you can make it.

Dear Michelle Obama

Dear Michelle Obama,

Did you ever worry that you'd never be a successful lawyer? Or whatever you dreamed of being in your wildest dreams back in the day? Sometimes when I'm waiting tables and spilling horseradish on myself and scraping people's half-eaten prime rib into a trash can I have to hope to God that I'm not going to be doing this when I'm thirty. And that I'll actually someday be doing what I want to be doing. Did you ever feel like you were lost and completely hidden from view?

Also, when did you stop comparing yourself to other women? Or do you still do that? What's your greatest insecurity about yourself? You don't have to answer that, actually. You can keep it private if you like.

Thinking of you,
Kim Blanck

PS: I'm part of the First Ladies Project, if you're free to come by this week, or next. I can get you a comp ticket.

The First Ladies Project is nearing

I'm so psyched. With every rehearsal, The First Ladies Project is getting closer and closer to what it should be.



We also made our goal on IndieGoGo! But by no means stop contributing. The more wigs, the merrier; am I right? :) I'm so honored and humbled by everyone who has contributed to our show. Thank you, thank you, thank you, and see you next Thursday night!

I Love You, Ronnie

When I returned home this evening, I opened my mailbox to discover that the two books I ordered from Amazon as research materials for The First Ladies Project had arrived. Oh, joy! One of them I'd especially been excited for: I Love You, Ronnie, a collection of letters from Ronald Reagan to Nancy Reagan over the course of their courtship and marriage, with dabbles of memoir-esque recollections by Mrs. Reagan. I flipped through it at a Barnes and Noble at some point and was stunned by how much of a softie "Ronnie" was. Each letter was so sweet, so worshipful of his wife, and, in the context of his cold-hearted presidency, were all the more surprising.


M - is for the misery of which I have none.
O - means only that without you I would die.
M - is for how very much (when we're apart) I miss you.
M - is for the million ways I love you.
Y - Yippie!!! I'm so happy.

Take them all together they spell
NANCY
My wife, my love, my life.
Happy Mother's Day!

From an admirer (if you're curious
my name is at the top of the page.)
& I'm on the next pillow over.


I MEAN, WHAT IS THAT. IS THAT NOT SAP CITY OR WHAT. I'm obsessed with this book. Dare I say it? Ronnie Reagan is a dollface. That is what I'm taking away from this book. Oh, and also that Nancy Reagan was a size 2 her whole life, it seems. Damn you, lady.

AA to JA

I'm working on this new production with a few PHTS women called The First Ladies Project. It's going to be a historical-comedy about the role of the First Lady in United States history, fan fiction-esque with dabbles of reality. You know, once we finish writing it.

I'm currently reading this dusty old book that I found on my dad's bookshelf a couple weeks ago: The Book of Abigail and John, which is a compilation of selected letters from their courtship to their marriage to their political partnership. It's funny, they write as if they're characters in Shakespeare plays. Their ways of going about saying things are so extended, I actually burst into laughter at one point because John Adams closed a letter with "All right! I'm going to Bed!" True, Bed was capitalized, but it was so similar to contemporary speech it made me laugh.

I'm loving this one portion of a letter from Abigail to John:

Braintree october 16 1774

I dare not express to you at 300 hundred miles distance how ardently I long for your return. I have some very miserly Wishes; and cannot consent to your spending one hour in Town till at least I have had you 12. The Idea plays about my Heart, unnerves my hand whilst I write, awakens all the tender sentiments that years have encreased and matured, and which when with me were every day dispensing to you.


I imagine Abigail alone in a big house, her bedroom adorned with dozens of candles at night, so that she may feel lit up, visible in the dark. She sleeps in the middle of the bed so that she may feel bigger. The curtains she leaves wide open; she wants to be awakened by the sun at the earliest possible moment. I like that she capitalizes “Wishes,” “Idea,” and “Heart,” as if they are real beings who live, breathe and make things happen.

This post has no end, except that you should follow The First Ladies Project on Twitter. We try to make it fun for you. www.twitter.com/firstladiesnyc