Who's That Girl? Lauren Weedman’s Search for Home
Alternative Comedy 2007
I ask her if she feels like she needs to be a star in some traditional way.
“No, I don’t think so,” she says. “I like how it’s going. For instance . . . I’ll get some hardcore compliments that are the best kind of compliments that are like — the one that I get that I love is, I hate every fucking thing and I fucking loved that. That’s perfect.”
Maybe the answer is the thing she keeps coming back to, despite the TV auditions and the striving. Maybe it’s up on the stage where it’s always been, where that intangible thing she does/she is makes all the sense in the world.
“I love being at REDCAT. REDCAT was perfect,” says Weedman. “I felt so inspired after this weekend. I had this burst of integrity and confidence that it’s okay to turn down things that don’t feel right.”
I light up another cigarette before she’s halfway through hers. It’s a good thing I never met Lou Reed. I’m not sure I’d have survived.
“Would you just keep doing what you’re doing, even if you don’t make a lot of money?” I ask, and I really hope the answer is yes.
“Well, I have,” she says. “I’m 38. I’d love to have health insurance regularly, you know, just in case I have a 150-pound cyst on my ovary or something. That would be nice.”
“Hopefully you’d notice by the time it’s 50 pounds.”
“I think I have a five-pounder in there now. Or else I really have to go to the bathroom.”
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