Growing up, my dad referred to my mom as The Wicked Witch.  It wasn’t because she was mean or green.  Nope.  It was, quite simply, her Halloween costume one year.  Maybe she should have stuck with something bolder, like Super Woman…or perhaps gentler, like Snow White or Rainbow Brite.  Really, anything that didn’t have anything to do with a witch.  Alas, she did not have that foresight, and the nickname stuck.  So did the melting jokes.

A few years ago, everyone in my parents’ office filled out questionnaires.  It was a game.  They anonymously answered questions about themselves and then everyone else had to guess the identity of the question-answerer: one of the office-place-community-development-fun-interactive-morale-boosters they enjoy.   One of the questions asked was, “Which actress would play you in a movie about your life?”  My mom had a hard time with that one.  I told her it was obvious: she’s a prettier version of Susan Sarandon.

I went to an audition a few weeks ago, and when I was finished with my song and aria, the auditor asked for a monologue.  I told her I had a few to choose from, and she excitedly asked for the Wicked Witch’s “Poppies” monologue from The Wizard of Oz.  When I finished, she said, “Has anyone ever told you you look like Susan Sarandon?”

My first thought was, “Wow, that’s nice.”  My second was, “Does that mean you’ll hire me?”  The third was, “Wait ’til I tell the Wicked Witch.”