Sh*t Just Got Real: A Hilarious Post About Horrible Things

Enough of the nonsense, I’ve been silent for too long!  I’ve kept up this charade for what feels like eternity (a week!) and I’m about to crack.  It’s time for me to stop pretending I’m here to give thoughts to stuffed animals and tell all you Classy People a True Story.

The truth is, I was swindled into writing for this website.  I thought based on my reputation as a serious actor-ess they were asking me to write for, a How-To website for Serious Actors.  I don’t want to make excuses like: I’m dyslexic (I’m not),  I was drunk (probably), I was looking at  a bird when you said that last thing (yes), or I should start taking my ADHD medicine again (I don’t KNOW).

The serious matter at hand is, my only marketable skills are:  making faces, reading other people’s words out loud and memorizing those words, and I don’t want to BRAG – moving other humans to tears and laughter using nothing but those memorized words (and my horrifically beautifully deep understanding of life and the human condition).

I was prepared for lecturing online Acty Classes and now I sit here writing “humor.”  As you know from my bio (and if you don’t, I hate you because I spent two days ruminating and 45 seconds executing that piece of crap and POURED MY HEART OUT), I’m on a very personal mission to kill eating disorders and trying to kill my own eating disorder takes up a lot of my time, leaving very little left for things like writing a blog or coming up with funny and original ideas.  (Sorry I’m about to rip off your post, Joe Lyons.)

That and ALSO, after I figured out I wasn’t writing for an Acty Class website, I swear to god I was told they only wanted me for my eating disorder recovery point of views and so I relaxed into the idea of a hilarious self-pity column, “I Was FINE Till You Said THAT! – A Practical Guide To Your Loved One’s Eating Disorder.”  

Imagine my confusion when launch week rolled around and they started posting this teddy bear B.S.  Well, that was me.  But, STILL.  Turns out this isn’t the website for real life experiences with deadly mental illnesses.  OR IS IT?!  Oh okay, you twisted my arm!  A tale of anorexia, my acty career and my so called life.  We’ll get the My So Called Life reference out of the way first because I’ve never even seen that show.  I look forward to your dissapointed comments about this, but seriously, I’ve never even seen 99% of everything you love, so get used to this.  I live in a Bubble Envelope.  I am a Pop Culture Bermuda Triangle.  The “Never Even Seen” Queen.

What’s The Story With This Guy?!

Holy crap , it’s Claire Danes.

I meant, What’s The Story With This Girl?!

That girl found out she was pregnant a couple days ago.  That girl threw up into a plastic sandwich baggie while driving up the interstate on the way to this shoot.  That girl just quit Zoloft and Xanax cold turkey. She has a purse full of Jolly Ranchers and lemonade and an eating disorder lurking under pregnancy nausea.  Over the past month, while unwittingly pregnant, her acting career took off.  She’s made more money than ever; tens and tens of dollars in a few weeks!  Mostly from a 7-11 commercial for Univision.  Yes, with that blonde cotton candy hair – what are you, racist?

If you are wondering why this edition of “What’s The Story With This Guy?!” is sort of unfunny thus far and not all like the previous one it’s because This Girl is not a background character, I’m just telling you about the actress and it is ME.  {gasp! SOB!}  I gave up my lucrative career and certain fame as a  background artist to have a baby.  That’s a true story and a pretty convoluted introduction to this SUPER convoluted, barely humorous story about Auditions, Birth, Anorexia, Acting, Timing and All This Shit Happens For a Reason, At Least I Think That Today.

I moved to Austin at the end of 2005 with a BFA in theatre and one real professional acting credit, an indie flick called Apocalypse and the Beauty Queen. 


That’s not important until later.  My first audition was at a theatre that doesn’t exist anymore with a director I can’t recall for a musical I would have hated.  After the audition, the smoky piano player told me I should audition for The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas coming up at the Austin Playhouse.  Little did he know, I was once the Youngest Little Whore in the Best Little Whorehouse!  At the tender age of 14, I auditioned for and was cast in this jazzy little romp about football players dancing with singing prostitutes.  My dance partner was 8 years older than me, we called him Rusty Rick behind his back and he almost always wore a stretched out t-shirt with a duo of yin-yang necklaces screenprinted on it.

NOW this seems kind of ironic and maybe hipster cool, but this was NOT now.

We performed the “cooter lift” together each night which is just as damaging as you can imagine.  Okay, now please stop imagining that.  With this experience under my belt, so to speak, I nailed that audition and Austin Playhouse quickly became my theatre family and my family family.

In 2008, I auditioned for a play at Hyde Park Theatre and told the director I really had no business being there because I was getting married during the run of the show.  A year and 11 days later this director called to see if I’d be interested in some random acting job that I had to turn down because I’d had a C-section the day before and was taking his call from my hospital bed.  ”Someday,” I said, “I won’t be having a major life event and we will work together.”  The DRAMA.

“More morphine, please, Pretty Lady.”

Turned out pregnancy hormones really agreed with me and made great replacements for Zoloft and Xanax and I spent my pregnancy eating disorder and anxiety free.  Turned out those pregnancy hormones shut off pretty quickly.  THANKS, NATURE.  Turned out my kid was allergic to something I was eating so I took it as the opportunity to stop eating everything.  It’s more complicated than that, obviously, but I don’t want you to stop reading six paragraphs ago now. . .  so here, I’ll make a funny face.

Oh brother.  That’s not gonna do it.

Let’s skip over the grim details of Sickness and Treatment (at least for today, creepy people) and fast forward to my triumphant return to Austin and Acting.  This is the Timing part of the story.  I was away for quite awhile.  I came back to Austin and still sucked at feeding myself and my kid if faced with the slightest stress, like, OH, feeding a toddler.  I was afraid to audition for anything because I thought my eating disorder had been my armor against stage fright.  Starvation altered my brain chemistry so drastically that I had rewired myself to be terrified of almost everything.  I couldn’t remember the last time I actually experienced stage fright, I don’t even get audition butterflies anymore, the stage is usually the only place I’m not a nervous wreck and I had convinced myself that I was too much of a pussy to do it anymore.

“Ma’am, you are nearly three years post-partum. You need to get OUT of that bed.” “More MORPHINE, LADY.”

My friend fixed me by asking me to fill in for a sick actress during FronteraFest.  He was stage managing a play that started in 30 minutes, could I walk on with the script?  If you were paying attention earlier, one of my only marketable skills is reading out loud.  Because I’m a Professional, I can walk around while I do it.  I said “yes” because my evil brain didn’t have enough time to talk me out of it.   I ended up doing the following day’s performance also and afterward a friend of the playwright told me he had Googled me and was surprised to see I had worked on Apocalypse and the Beauty Queen in Missouri with one of their old friends.

Friends before I was born kind of old friends.

What I wanted to say was, “Yeah, I Googled you, too, and you won Jeopardy and Who Wants to be a Millionaire which means you also win getting Googled,” but I kept it Classy with chit chat about Timing and paths crossing and that is funny.  Seriously, you WIN getting Googled.  I wish I could pay you with another a fabulous prize package.

I swear we are almost done with this, hang in there, Kittens.  The director who called me in my hospital bed was Ken Webster.  Over the years, I’ve commented to a few friends that I think Ken and I share a mutual, always silent regard for one another based on social awkwardness.  For instance, when I was seven years old, my mother told me I would not be able to become an actress because I was too shy to walk to the McDonald’s counter by myself to ask for ketchup.  I maintain that she was wrong and that I am an actress because I couldn’t walk to the McDonald’s counter.  I like to think Ken knew that, too.

Everyday is a major life event now.  I’m not being dramatic.  I took my kid to the Grocery Store all by Myself today and bought One thing and left the Store and Fed it to him and Did Not Freak Out.  I can’t reread that sentence without big soggy tears, but at the time I was Almost Normal about it.  Even though I am experiencing major life events each and every day now, albeit without the drama of surgery or the flair of a wedding, I’m finally getting to work with Ken Webster.  I’m playing a girl who finally overcomes her paralyzing depression and gets out of bed and it’s Hilarious.

“I’m almost done with this paralyzing depression and anxiety. Five more minutes.”

I ALMOST FORGOT!  Your City Class!  We have just enough time for ONE Audition Tip:

Your shoes are really cute!  If they are loud, you should probably take them off and crack yourself in the funny bone with the heels for 25 minutes because that’s what it’s like to hear you stomping around onstage.  You are auditioning with your voice and movement, neither of which are distinguishable over the clickity-clomp of your stupid shoes and the horrible, awkward, trompy gate you have adopted.  Rarely are your legs going to get you a job these days.  If you need four-inch heels to make you feel like your legs are going to get you a job, you don’t even have the kind of legs that get you jobs.  Wear quiet shoes, even if they are ugly, and be that talented actress in ugly shoes.  That’s always better than being a hot mess in amazing shoes.

Molly Karrasch

acts classy as an actor-ess in Austin, TX, often as a company member at She is also a producer of theatre, writer of ridiculousness, mother of boy, keeper of books and would never get anything done without Jay-Z. An enormous percentage of her time is spent trying to kick anorexia in the face. She once pulled a pocket knife on rapper Mack 10 in a mini-van in a Wal-Mart parking lot; RELAX, it was to HELP him.

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