It's Liza with a Z

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Hi everybody! This is Liza Minnelli. I must admit, introductions and beginnings are always hard, and I never know quite what to say to begin with. So, I'm going to just tell you a bit about myself and what I've been up to as of late, and we'll see where this journal takes us from there.

I've been in the business for the majority of my life. Not to toot my own horn, but how many people can honestly say that they've been famous since before they were born? I'm the daughter of Judy Garland (you know her as Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz) and Vincente Minnelli (who you probably don't know from anywhere unless you're a classic film afficianado and recognize his directing). My birth was a much anticipated one; there was already a fan-zine of photos within 2 weeks of my birth. (Perhaps the start of a trend that's been going on ever since...) I've been in the limelight ever since. Technically, I made my film debut as a toddler, but didn't make my true first real movie role until my teens, first with Charlie Bubbles, then with The Sterile Cuckoo. Meanwhile, I'd also been working the Broadway circuit and become the youngest person ever to win a Tony award - an honor I think I still to this day hold. A tumultuous childhood and rocky relationship with my mother behind me, my career hit its peak in 1972 with my leading role in Cabaret, and then again with Liza With a 'Z'. The rest, as they say, is history.

I've been married 4 times (the last of which I'd prefer never to be reminded of) and nearly married several other times as well. I do get around, and yet, I've only one child; my Lily, fathered by Dudley Moore. Although I became a mother much later on in my life than most do, I'd like to think that I put everything I have into being the best parent that I can for her. She always comes first for me, before all else. I also share a home with 4 dogs and 2 cats. I'm the epitome of animal lover, and even moreso of the term 'dog lady'. (No, really. I can't walk down the street without stopping to pet just about any and every dog I pass.) I'm a little odd that way, but I think I'm still lovable anyhow in all my quirks.

Of course, I feel it's worth mentioning what everyone's probably already thinking, since it's what just about everyone associates my name with thanks to the tabloids: scandals. Yes, there have been a lot of things in my past that I'm not proud of, especially when it comes to addictions. But, for what it's worth, I've done everything I can to clean up my act. I don't drink or use anymore, and the rumors that I beat a certain 4th husband were never true to begin with. Please don't let the reputation scare you off. I'm actually a very sweet and loving person if you take the time to get to know me - and pretty much the polar opposite of everything you think you know about me.

As for what I'm up to these days? Well, I'm in a weird spot at the immediate moment, but I still tour constantly. I've had to take the past several months off from touring due to an illness and to a broken leg, but I'm working on bouncing back, and should be gracing the stages again with my presence possibly as early as Feburary or March. Time will tell. It all depends on how I'm doing. I also still act - as long as the Arrested Development movie and final season of the show get off the ground, I'll still be every bit involved as Lucille 2. ;) And who knows what other roles the future holds for me? I'm trying to keep my schedule fairly open for the Arrested Development project, but if the right project comes along, you can bet to see me there!

That's about all I can think of at the moment to say about myself - again, introductions always feel weird. But I'm looking forward to hopefully getting to meet all of you and become friends!

Love and kisses,
Liza

When Mama passed away, she was millions of dollars in debt. Her new husband had only married her three months prior to her suicide, and he felt he shouldn’t have to be held responsible for all this money he had nothing to do with. He refused to so much as pay for her funeral, her casket, hell… He wouldn’t even help pay for her crypt! Instead, he left those responsibilities on us, her children, instead. Wasn’t even willing to help pay for anything. What can I say? The men mama married after my father were all losers. Daddy was the one she should have kept, but I digress…

There was one little flaw in his plan: I was only twenty three, Lorna was only sixteen, and Joey was only thirteen. So, really, all the monetary responsibility was laid on me. Was it fair? Not particularly, but life never is, is it? Somebody had to take care of things, and it wasn’t like it was the first time I had to be the responsible one.

I hadn’t really touched the Broadway circuit in a few years (getting married will do that to a person) and had been focusing most of my energies on recording albums and making a few films. The hadn’t been huge successes (even if I had won an award for one of them)…I mean, how many of you have honestly heard of Charlie Bubbles, The Sterile Cuckoo, or – the one I’d been currently working on – Tell Me That You Love Me, Junie Moon? Probably not too many. As such, they didn’t gross very much, and I had to find another means of supplementing my income if I ever wanted to even try to pay off Mama’s debts. Where had these debts all come from? you’re probably asking yourselves. Your mom was a huge movie star and singer; she had to have tons of money!

Sure, she did…at one point. But years of unpaid taxes on top of skipping out on hotels without paying, plus hospital and rehabilitation bills and being charged money for movies that flopped so horribly, they cost the studios money added up.

Not having become largely famous in my own right just yet, trying to find work that would suit me was harder than it sounded. Even being the child of a celebrity, the lack of a high school diploma was beginning to take its toll. I took a part time job as a waitress in between shooting takes on Junie Moon, which – as you can imagine – didn’t pay much, but it was better than nothing. (Large tips were a godsend, and automatically put towards helping to conquer that massive mountain of bills awaiting me back at home.)

Soon though, I was approached by a man who swore to me that he had an offer to propose that would forever change my life. Oh, he changed it all right – for better and for worse. (It was a pretty fair toss up between the two.) He gave me an offer to perform regularly at The Sahara in Las Vegas, and he assured me that all my money woes were over. Well! Performing in Vegas certainly sounded far more promising than waiting on tables in dingy old diners! Count me in, I told him.

It didn’t even start out too bad, to be honest. I sang a couple of shows a night in a piano bar, and was free to do whatever I liked with the rest of my time. As a young woman with nobody to answer to, basically being let off the leash to roam the Strip as I liked, that seemed incredibly exciting! The glitz and the lights and the sights and the sounds were absolutely intoxicating, and I debated possibly even moving there as a permanent fixture. This was the life! Everything I needed was right here. Even my husband was intrigued by the idea, figuring he could play back-up for me – he was a pianist, after all, and jazzy piano bars are where he was discovered. Best of all, I was earning more money than I ever had in my life. Things were flowing pretty smoothly, and I figured that at this rate, I could get everything paid off in just a few years. I could live with that!

Then one night, as I was slipping into my silver and white beaded gown, there was a knock on my dressing room door. It was the same guy who’d landed me this job in the first place. He let himself in and closed the door, and asked if I had a minute to talk. Whilst pinning my hair into place, I told him sure, but make it quick, I’m due onstage in a couple of minutes. He informed me that this wouldn’t take long; he just had a quick offer to make. So I went about continuing to fasten the jeweled clips in my hair as he asked me if I’d like the opportunity to make even more money than I already was. Well, sure I did! Wouldn’t anyone? I asked him what I’d be doing.

“It wouldn’t be anything much different than what you’re already doing. You’d just have one extra show each night a few hours later, and you already have the dancing part down – you’d just be substituting your singing for stripping.”

The clip that had been between my fingers fell to the floor with a noisy clack. I glared at the man’s reflection in my mirror for a moment before turning around to face him directly. “Just what kind of a girl do you think I am?!”

“I think you’re the kind of girl who has an awful lot on her plate, and should be grateful for the offer to help ease the load. If you don’t want it, I can easily give it to someone else who’d be able to fully appreciate what I’m doing for them. Not to mention, it would give you a release for all that built up… tension from your husband not satisfying all your needs.”

“Peter is a tiger in the sack,” I lied through gritted teeth.

He patted my shoulder. “Don’t kid yourself, sweetheart. The whole western world knows you married a fag. Well, let me know what you decide, no rush.”

My performance that night suffered for the distraction of trying to figure out what was really being asked of me here. If I agreed to this, what was next? Lap dances? Hooking? This wasn’t a road I wanted to go down if that’s where it would lead to. But, if it really was only what the man had said…just some dancing around without clothes on… it wouldn’t really harm anybody, would it? I could always say no later if he offered me a job as anything worse. Not to mention, I could lie my way out of any situation where I might be mistaken for a hooker. Oh, what the hell – I’ve done worse things, why not? Peter always stayed out late with his male ‘companions’ anyway, he wouldn’t even have to know…

I said yes the following evening.

To my surprise, stripping really wasn’t anywhere near as bad a job as I had anticipated it to be. After the initial anxiety surrounding such an occupation wore off (and after I’d learned how to adequately cover the scar on my hip with pancake makeup enough to where it didn’t embarrass me to take off my clothes), I actually began to get a little thrill out of doing this sort of work. No, it was more than that – I’d begun to LIVE for this thrill. There was nothing quite like knowing that I, myself, was the lust object of the evening of dozens of men, and that none of them could have me. I practically got off on this head trip.

So one night, I’m in the middle of my routine, and I’m down to nothing but a pair of glittery pasties with nipple tassels on them and a skimpy little g-string, twirling around the pole spread eagle, when my eyes locked on a man at a table right down in the front… nice suit, a fedora perched tilted on his head, a cigar in his hand as he watched me with one eyebrow raised—

OH SHIT!!! It’s Frank Sinatra!!

My fingers lost their grip and I slipped, falling almost flat on my face. My heart pounded away nervously in my chest as I broke into a cold sweat, convinced I was dead meat now – any of you who’ve kept up with this journal know that I considered Frank to be an uncle of mine, he was family! – and practically all the men in the place were laughing at me! They probably thought it was part of the act.

Frank snuffed out his cigar and stood up from where he was sitting and made his way to the edge of the stage. A bouncer began walking up to him, threatening to throw him out, but a raised fist and a few choice words later, he was backing off. Nobody messes with Frank Sinatra when he’s pissed. He climbed up the front of the stage and stood in front of me, blocking the view with his body, and announced “There’s NOTHING to see here, it’s OVER. She’s DONE. Go home!”

Frank Sinatra or not, this was not met too kindly. He ignored the angry shouts and took his jacket off and wrapped it around me and ushered me off the side of the stage. Out of all the embarrassing moments in my life, that definitely had to be one of the worst ones. Having to actually explain myself to him after he got me back in my dressing room was even worse. One thing could be said of Frank, though; to those who mattered most to him, he was loyal to a fault and would do anything to help. That ended up being the last night I ever had to strip, as he both bought me out of my contract and paid off the difference of the debts I had yet to pay. The incident was never brought up again.

I’ve performed hundreds of times in Vegas since then, and although my name has always remained in good standing, one thing hasn’t changed since then: the city has always felt a whole lot dirtier to me ever since.

Dark clouds held heavily in the sky, threatening another downpour at any moment, and a thick fog lingered in the air, nearly impossible to see through. Thunder had boomed and echoed several times earlier in the day, and lightning briefly illuminated the hills. Absolutely ghastly weather; couldn’t they hold this photo shoot another day?

Apparently not. My photographer was both on a tight schedule and had a very distinct image in mind of what he wanted. If I’d had any clue of just what this would entail, I probably never would have agreed to it. Sure, it might look good, but… was he insane?! I didn’t want to be out in that!

As I pondered and numbered the ways in which I may be able to talk my way out of this, to at least postpone it for another day, the phone rang in my London hotel room. Uh oh. Better think fast in case it’s the photographer.

“Hello?” I asked timidly; not wanting to lay it on too thick in case it wasn’t who I’d expected, but softly enough to where I could feign illness at a moment’s notice if it were.

“Liza, hi!” chirped my manager from down the phone line. “And how is my favorite little star today?” he asked; pouring on all the schmaltz I’d grown accustomed to expect out of him.

“Oh, I’m fine,” I answered half heartedly while examining the shape of my fingernails. I silently prayed that maybe he was calling with a new film role I’d been offered.

“Fabulous! Ready to do that big cover shoot for your new single today?”

Damn. My prayers had gone unanswered. “Um…” I trailed off, not entirely sure of how to word my response.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re getting cold feet now of all time, Lize…”

I cringed inwardly; always having hated that nickname since I was a little girl. “I don’t know about cold feet, but… Have you LOOKED outside today?!”

“Sure I have, dollface, it’s 86 out here!”

Ah. Right. I’d forgotten he hadn’t accompanied me on this trip and he was living it up in Los Angeles. “Must be nice…” I muttered as another chill ran through me; feeling a little colder just at knowing how much nicer things were back at home. “Well, for your information, it has been storming, raining, and FREEZING over here the entire time I’ve been here, so if you would kindly reschedule this—”

“Don’t get snippy with me, Liza,” he said; his faux French accent really grating on my last nerve. “You’re under contract, you have to do this. Louis isn’t going to wait around for you or anybody else—”

“Well then, maybe you should have somebody else take the damn pictures,” I interrupted as I flopped back onto the bed; nearly yanking the phone off the nightstand. I can’t say as it would have been entirely an accident.

I could practically hear the man tearing what little he had left of his hair out in the few moments of silence that followed before he finally spoke. “Now see here! Do you want this single out on time or not?” His tone was much sterner and tense now. “We can NOT release it without a cover!”

“And do you want your star to catch her death of a pneumonia? Besides, how much difference could another day or two of waiting make?”

“The difference it would make, dearie, is the difference between having the best photographer we have on payroll doing your pictures or not, getting the single out on time, and I don’t think I have to even remind you about your competition to beat out Madonna, now do I? Now, are you in or out?”

I sighed heavily, raking my fingers heavily through my hair. “I don’t really have a choice here, do I?”

“That’s my girl. Now, how’s Mark taking this?”

“He’s… still not speaking to me,” I said softly, not wanting him to overhear and know I was talking about him. He was still furious with me for not only dragging him on this trip, but for the fight we’d had the night prior. I was still huge on my newfound sobriety, and he was still using. I didn’t so much as want the temptation anywhere near me, so I’d flushed his cocaine stash down the toilet. Needless to say, he was not pleased.

“Just ignore him, baby, he doesn’t matter. Remember that you are LIZA, and you are fabulous!” Well there’s a pep talk if I’d ever heard one. “Now, Louis has had an incredible new idea for this photo shoot, I think you’re going to love it!”

“What is it?”

“He’ll tell you when you get there, darling.” I heard the unmistakable beeping of his pager in the background. “Gotta go. Remember – be FABULOUS!”

I both loved and hated his phoniness all at the same time. Regardless, I reluctantly gathered my things and headed to meet with Louis.

Forty five minutes and a cab ride later, I was face to face with the infamous Louis. His creative vision was a little different from mine, though…

“So what’s this idea you had I’ve been hearing about?” I asked.

“It’s a colossal idea. It will change the way the world sees you! Now, picture this…”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

“Alright. There would be you, of course… Running across the street, the rain making a fantastic backdrop, in a raincoat…”

“Mm-hmm, and…?”

“…with NOTHING on underneath! This is the bare, raw, NAKED Liza, exposing her soul to the world with this new direction she’s going in! Brilliant, yes? What do you think?”

I turned around to leave immediately and waved. “Buh-bye!” My wrist was quickly grabbed and I was pulled back to face Louis again.

“No, no, no, don’t be like that, Liza! It’s not like that! It’s not smut, nothing will be showing!”

I looked up towards the ominous sky. “Um, hello? Do you SEE what we’re up against?”

“Oh come on, you’ve surely faced worse than this!”

“For a photo? No chance.”

“Nobody said beauty and glamour were easy!”

We went back and forth with this for a good 15 minutes before I finally caved and realized I was fighting a losing battle. So down I stripped and pulled on my long, black raincoat and came back out, rubbing my arms and shivering.

“No, no, no, you need to show more skin! Here, let me do it—”

I tried to protest. “I’m already naked under this, I don’t want to show more skin! I’m not a flasher!”

“But that’s what we want!” he said, unbuttoning the top and bottom few buttons of the coat and pulling the top open to reveal one shoulder entirely and nearly all of the other – leaving only just enough to hold it up.

“You want my tits to fall out?”

“No, but we want to give the illusion that they will!”

“But—”

“Do you want a sexy new image or not?”

“…well, yes…”

“Then trust me on this one.”

Stationing me at one end of the crosswalk, getting absolutely soaked in the rain, I waited for Louis to give me the signal to cross. “You’ll have to go quickly since I can’t stop traffic, and we don’t want you getting hit… Okay, and… GO!”

I hopped gingerly from one step to the next; goose bumps being raised all over my bare flesh. I wanted this to be done as fast as possible so I could rush inside and dry off and warm up. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“No, not like that!” he cried, smacking his forehead. “Slower, with bigger steps!”

“But the coat’s going to ride up and show my—”

“No it won’t,” he quickly interrupted. “Just… Do it slower. And toss your head back. Make it look like you’re enjoying it!”

Sounds a lot like the guidelines I use to fake an orgasm by! But I digress… It ended up being easier said than done. Every step left me feeling as though I were being attacked with millions of tiny, icy daggers. With each toss of my head, more biting droplets would splatter upon my skin, stingingly cold. But I would close my eyes, plaster on that Hollywood smile, and try my best to appear as though I were dancing in the rain. We eventually did get the shot, and the single didn’t do too horribly in the charts, but the one question that’s never been answered in my mind about that photo shoot…

Did anybody ever look at that photo and believe it?

Name: Liza Minnelli
Age: 65
Occupation: Singer/Broadway performer/Actress (stage and screen)/Dancer, star of Cabaret, also well known for her roles in Arthur and Arrested Development
Residential Location: NYC
Current Location: Currently touring Europe
Sexual Orientation: Famously bisexual
Relationship Status: Single
Kids: A daughter, Lily
Family: Mother was actress/singer Judy Garland, father was director Vincente Minnelli, sister is performer Lorna Luft, also has a brother named Joey and a half-sister named Tina Nina
Pets: Several dogs: Oscar, Emmalina, Blaze, and Moe; 2 cats named Magic and Novella
Closest Friends: Mia Farrow, Goldie Hawn, Elizabeth Taylor (RIP), Michael Jackson (RIP), Michael Feinstein, Sam Harris
Screenname: TheLizaMinnelli
Writing Style: Asterisks/Storybook/Both? Do you like random scenes? Do you prefer to scene over AIM or in threads? All of the above! My natural writing style for scenes falls somewhere between asterisking and storybooking at the same time, but I can accomodate one or ther other, or any other style you can throw at me. I do like random scenes as well as regular writing partners. My preference for scening is over AIM, but if asked, I'm more than happy to accomodate scening in threads as well.
Brief History: My character has no history with any of the members here, so I'll give a brief history of her here. Liza has been married a grand total of 5 times (the last of which was an extremely short-lived, private, and quickly annulled affair as it wasn't legally standing)...all of which have been to what ended up being gay men, without her knowledge. Her third and fourth husbands were extremely abusive to her; the fourth being David Gest and very much in the public eye about what happened. For this, she's a little leery about relationships nowadays, but hasn't sworn them off entirely if someone wins her trust. She's also had a wide array of publicly known health problems over the years, most notably several joint replacement surgeries, a bout with viral encephalitis that nearly killed her, eating disorders, and bouts with throat and cervical cancer back in 1997, as well as substance abuse issues on and off over the decades. None of this has managed to keep her down for long though, and she always bounces back better than ever and prepared to make another public comeback. She practically never stops touring for longer than a month or two and is always out on the road, touring the world. Despite her age she's still VERY active and vital, and doesn't act her age in the least. 

As I sit here in my hotel room typing away on my laptop, my dog Oscar asleep with his head laying across my feet, I find myself ruminating on a lot of new beginnings in my life. I'm embarking on a new European tour that's to last for the next few months. I have a new album that I'm out and about promoting. I'm doing a lot of new television appearances (with talk of a potential new series being discussed). I've got a new knee implanted in my leg that keeps me dancing. But moreover, I have a new lease on life here in this community. It's not always easy to leave the past behind; it never is for most of us, and I've had 65 years of practice to learn this in. But you learn to take the good with the bad and take it all in stride, for this is what life is all about right here. It's all about making new friends and living in the now, which is exactly what I'm here to do. I do hope, my darlings, that I'll be accepted here with caring and open arms.

[This is not the journal of the real Liza Minnelli. It's part of a role play community; nothing more, nothing less. It was made with Liza's full knowledge and gracious permission, but is not to be confused as to be written by the real Liza herself. To take it for anything more is just foolish.]