#1: Counter Culture:
Dear Teenaged Girl,
The counter at a restaurant, even a crappy little place at Wonderland, is not the place for your backside. I don't even like it when people sit their toddlers on the counter, believing it to be a bit disrespectful of food service in general as well as of everyone else who is eating at the place. But teenaged girls who perch themselves on the counter so they can hang off their boyfriends and flirt while acting like a sexed-up preteen? Inappropriate on a multitude of levels. Get your butt off the counter and act your age.
Adamantly yours,
Me
#2: The Gloves Come Off
Dear Blond Adolescent Boy,
When you stand at the hand dryer in a public washroom and dry your hands with fingerless gloves on, I not only know that you're trying to dry your gloves, but that you haven't washed your hands anyway. I know that they're wet because it's a rainy day (and in regards to that, they would dry a lot more quickly if you took them off, allowing air to pass through them), but you've still been to the washroom and they should have come off in any case. Give your head a shake. Just don't shake my hand.
Grippingly yours,
Me
#3: Mind your Ps and Qs
Dear Every Male Who Can't Pee Responsibly,
Don't use public washrooms. If you are completely unable to aim, if you are unable to clean up after yourself, if you are not able to take any responsibility for yourself or to respect anyone else, hold it in until you're at home so I will not have to enter a facility which makes me want to puke. Urine belongs in a urinal and/or in a toilet. For the very young it belongs in a diaper. It does not belong on the floor. It does not belong on a wall. If you can't follow these simple rules, you do not belong in a public restroom.
A little pee-d off,
Me
Showing posts with label the absurd. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the absurd. Show all posts
Monday, May 19, 2008
Monday, August 27, 2007
R is for Ridiculous Rambling
Okay, I'm sure it's a bit of a cop-out for a second post in a row to be primarily a video post, but after seeing this, I simply could not dismiss the call to share and comment.
Click HERE to watch a fascinating train-wreck of a response to a question posed to Miss South Carolina during the recent Miss Teen USA 2000 pageant.
Area of Concern Number One: The Question
Who thought up this ridiculous question? Yikes. Wait, that may not be entirely fair, since the response could have focused on ethnocentrism, or a need for greater global education in the American curriculum. But ... well ... it didn't.
Area of Concern Number Two:"US-Americans".
I'm not sure whether to shake my head at this curious distinction -- The United States is, after all, a "melting pot", is it not, made up of African-Americans, Asian-Americans, Latin-Americans, and US-Americans -- or whether to be impressed that she's being more specific than ... oh, say ... North Americans, of which Canadians and Mexicans are members.
Area of Concern Number Three: Map Shortage
Really? You've got to give her credit for exposing the Cartographic Drought which has swept across most of the western hemisphere in recent years. If only it were possible to put maps -- good, current, healthy, organic maps -- into the hands of more needy Americans, the problem of geographic shortcomings would be solved. The people cry out for maps! Why does the world not respond with compassion?
Area of Concern Number Four: The New Colonies
I get a bit confused in the middle there. How many states are there now? When did South Africa and Iraq become part of the US? At one point she seems to change her mind (maybe she received an up-to-the-minute map revision in which those two locations were declared NOT parts of the USA) and backpeddle a bit out of that little flub. Hey, at least she recognized it as a meandering flub ... sort of.
Area of Concern Number Five: Global Philanthropy
It's nice to see a young lady who wants to make a difference in the world and who believes that "our education over here, in the US, should help the US ["Pardon me, Freud, but your slip's showing!"] ... er, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for our children." Pardon me, Miss, but may we revisit the question ... ?
Area of Concern Number Six: Such As
This was, by far, the most creative use of "such as" that I've encountered on television. English is, by nature, a living language, ever in flux, and it is only by usage that it changes and grows. Maybe this usage, which may at first appear random, will finally put that tired old "et cetera" (or "ex cetera" as many children I know prefer, as did a certain university professor of mine) to rest!
Area of Concern Number Seven: The Health and Well-Being of Mario Lopez
Watch him closely as engages in an epic battle with himself and with a nearly heroic level of success attempts to resist the urge to laugh towards the end of her ... um ... statement. I think he may have burst something in the process. Has anyone checked up on him to make sure he's alright?
Area of Concern Number Eight: The Homecoming Queen
What happened when this young lady went back home or, even worse, returned to school? I'm guessing there were tears involved. Poor young lass. I hate to be mean, but my goodness, what a response that was.
Click HERE to watch a fascinating train-wreck of a response to a question posed to Miss South Carolina during the recent Miss Teen USA 2000 pageant.
Area of Concern Number One: The Question
Who thought up this ridiculous question? Yikes. Wait, that may not be entirely fair, since the response could have focused on ethnocentrism, or a need for greater global education in the American curriculum. But ... well ... it didn't.
Area of Concern Number Two:"US-Americans".
I'm not sure whether to shake my head at this curious distinction -- The United States is, after all, a "melting pot", is it not, made up of African-Americans, Asian-Americans, Latin-Americans, and US-Americans -- or whether to be impressed that she's being more specific than ... oh, say ... North Americans, of which Canadians and Mexicans are members.
Area of Concern Number Three: Map Shortage
Really? You've got to give her credit for exposing the Cartographic Drought which has swept across most of the western hemisphere in recent years. If only it were possible to put maps -- good, current, healthy, organic maps -- into the hands of more needy Americans, the problem of geographic shortcomings would be solved. The people cry out for maps! Why does the world not respond with compassion?
Area of Concern Number Four: The New Colonies
I get a bit confused in the middle there. How many states are there now? When did South Africa and Iraq become part of the US? At one point she seems to change her mind (maybe she received an up-to-the-minute map revision in which those two locations were declared NOT parts of the USA) and backpeddle a bit out of that little flub. Hey, at least she recognized it as a meandering flub ... sort of.
Area of Concern Number Five: Global Philanthropy
It's nice to see a young lady who wants to make a difference in the world and who believes that "our education over here, in the US, should help the US ["Pardon me, Freud, but your slip's showing!"] ... er, should help South Africa and should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future for our children." Pardon me, Miss, but may we revisit the question ... ?
Area of Concern Number Six: Such As
This was, by far, the most creative use of "such as" that I've encountered on television. English is, by nature, a living language, ever in flux, and it is only by usage that it changes and grows. Maybe this usage, which may at first appear random, will finally put that tired old "et cetera" (or "ex cetera" as many children I know prefer, as did a certain university professor of mine) to rest!
Area of Concern Number Seven: The Health and Well-Being of Mario Lopez
Watch him closely as engages in an epic battle with himself and with a nearly heroic level of success attempts to resist the urge to laugh towards the end of her ... um ... statement. I think he may have burst something in the process. Has anyone checked up on him to make sure he's alright?
Area of Concern Number Eight: The Homecoming Queen
What happened when this young lady went back home or, even worse, returned to school? I'm guessing there were tears involved. Poor young lass. I hate to be mean, but my goodness, what a response that was.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
What in the name of all things bright and good were they thinking?
Okay, so I haven't posted in a while. Things have been rather hectic as of late and quite frankly, posting entries hasn't been that high on my list. Still, this has brought me out of hermitage.
Sometimes one bumps into curious things on the internet. This was one of those links that popped up in a completely unrelated quest, but I was caught off-guard by it and took a look. It seems like those brilliant minds at America's Next Top Model did a theme week on Death Scenes. What's even more ridiculous than the generally offensive "sexy women who have been brutally murdered" theme is the absurdity of the featured commentary by the judges. Take a look. Read the comments. Shake your head. If need be, change the channel.
It baffles the mind.
Sometimes one bumps into curious things on the internet. This was one of those links that popped up in a completely unrelated quest, but I was caught off-guard by it and took a look. It seems like those brilliant minds at America's Next Top Model did a theme week on Death Scenes. What's even more ridiculous than the generally offensive "sexy women who have been brutally murdered" theme is the absurdity of the featured commentary by the judges. Take a look. Read the comments. Shake your head. If need be, change the channel.
It baffles the mind.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Open to Interpretation
Not long ago, I wrote about a curious motif I've often encountered in my dreaming life.
Last night, I had a dream which was downright disturbing.
In the dream, I'm standing on a city block doing goodness knows what, when suddenly a dog runs past being chased by a horse. The two animals race by me and around behind a brick building. A moment later, they appear out the other side, in a small parking lot between the buildings.
The horse catches up with the dog -- some brown and white mid-sized breed -- and bends down, picking it up by the back of the neck like a mother dog with her puppy. The dog is dangling there, presumably happy as a lark, while the horse carries it a few paces. The horse then lowers the dog and lifts it again, this time by putting the dog's head itself in the horse's mouth.
The dog starts kicking a little as the horse carries it a few more steps. Again the horse lowers its head, placing the dog on on the ground. With its hoof, the horse tips pulls the dog over onto its side, and holds it gently in place. The dog's tongue is lolling about and it just lies there, not scrambling or trying to get up.
That's when things go horribly wrong.
The horse bends down, opens its mouth, and bites the top off of the dog's head. It backs away a step, and the dog starts running around frantically, with nothing but a neck and lower jaw. The top half of the head is gone entirely, save for a ragged, bloody mess where it should be. The horse chews absently, gore and blood falling loosely from its mouth.
The dog's body goes around in frantic circles a few times. Its front legs buckle and it collapses in a heap.
A moment later, as happens in dreams, the dog is suddenly no longer a dog, but a teenaged girl, about 14 or so. She gets to her feet and wanders confusedly around the parking lot for a moment. She is clearly in a daze when she puts a hand to the back of her head, and discovers that there's a bloody hole where the crown of her head should be. She doesn't scream. She doesn't ask for help. She just looks around at the people gathered, wondering what on earth she should do.
That's when I woke up.
Last night, I had a dream which was downright disturbing.
In the dream, I'm standing on a city block doing goodness knows what, when suddenly a dog runs past being chased by a horse. The two animals race by me and around behind a brick building. A moment later, they appear out the other side, in a small parking lot between the buildings.
The horse catches up with the dog -- some brown and white mid-sized breed -- and bends down, picking it up by the back of the neck like a mother dog with her puppy. The dog is dangling there, presumably happy as a lark, while the horse carries it a few paces. The horse then lowers the dog and lifts it again, this time by putting the dog's head itself in the horse's mouth.
The dog starts kicking a little as the horse carries it a few more steps. Again the horse lowers its head, placing the dog on on the ground. With its hoof, the horse tips pulls the dog over onto its side, and holds it gently in place. The dog's tongue is lolling about and it just lies there, not scrambling or trying to get up.
That's when things go horribly wrong.
The horse bends down, opens its mouth, and bites the top off of the dog's head. It backs away a step, and the dog starts running around frantically, with nothing but a neck and lower jaw. The top half of the head is gone entirely, save for a ragged, bloody mess where it should be. The horse chews absently, gore and blood falling loosely from its mouth.
The dog's body goes around in frantic circles a few times. Its front legs buckle and it collapses in a heap.
A moment later, as happens in dreams, the dog is suddenly no longer a dog, but a teenaged girl, about 14 or so. She gets to her feet and wanders confusedly around the parking lot for a moment. She is clearly in a daze when she puts a hand to the back of her head, and discovers that there's a bloody hole where the crown of her head should be. She doesn't scream. She doesn't ask for help. She just looks around at the people gathered, wondering what on earth she should do.
That's when I woke up.
Friday, January 05, 2007
I Have a Dream
Occasionally I have dreams which one could describe as odd. Bizarre even. I once had an incredibly vivid dream in which I was in a video store shopping for Shelley Duvall's Faerie Tale Theatre episodes (I was even rather overjoyed when I found one I didn't have...I spend way too much time with either children or with Jasmine, who has the whole series on DVD). I looked down, and found a tiny red cat at my feet. Tiny, as in the size of a mouse. Red as in the colour of raspberries. Cat as in feline. I'm sure that was a symbol of something deep and psychotic, according to dreamologists, but hey, what do I care? I know that the cat played a much bigger part in the dream as a whole, but I've long since forgotten act two.
I've also had several disturbing dreams in which my pet tarantula (yes, I really do have a tarantula) has died in awful, disturbing, and generally upsetting ways. Once, Pamela Anderson was responsible for the death (don't ask me where that one came from) and I was SO angry with her, and lambasted her for being such an irresponsible clod. Recently, the dream version of the tarantula met its demise by having its hairs and exoskeleton start to degrade into a slimy substance until she just fell apart in my hands. Unpleasant, to say the least. Perhaps I worry that I'm not a good parent to my beloved arachnid.
But all of this is a digression from the dream I wish to share with you. I have recurring dreams which all contain variations on a theme. I've never heard anyone else discuss this dream motif, so perhaps it's unique to me. Just the other night, it popped up ...
In these dreams, I am generally chewing gum, though it's sometimes not gum at all, but food of some sort. It's really irrelevant, other than the fact that I have something in my mouth which is chewy. I'm never quite sure whether I'm stuffing more and more of it into my mouth, or whether it just somehow increases in volume on its own, but in any case, I eventually find myself with a mouth that's stuffed full of gum (or whatever). While I never have trouble breathing, a problem nonetheless arises. Sometimes it's that I am unable to converse with anyone, due to my disgusting mouth full of gum. Still other times, I suddenly realize that I'm about to meet someone for the first time and don't want to make the first impression that would undoubtedly come with an introduction with a mouth absolutely and cheek-stretchingly stuffed with gum.
So, I do the only thing I can possibly do at this point. I start grabbing at the gum (or whatever) and pulling it out of my mouth. (The other night, I was conveniently located in a dream bathroom, so I was throwing it into the garbage beside the toilet.) No matter how much I pull it out and throw it away, however, I am unable to get rid of it all. I can get rid of a bunch of it, making it easier to talk, but there's always gum left. There's too much to just lean over and spit it out. I can only keep sticking my fingers into my mouth and grabbing the disgusting stuff and throwing it out in a panic.
It's more disturbing than it sounds.
Perhaps I should go and be analyzed at some point. You know. In my spare time. (Hey, wait. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me that I'm packing too much into my life. One of my goals is learning to say "no" to more things so that I'm not running madly off my feet all the time.
And on that note, ROCKY rehearsals start this week. Plus I'm auditioning for a second show as well.
Maybe I just will never learn.
I've also had several disturbing dreams in which my pet tarantula (yes, I really do have a tarantula) has died in awful, disturbing, and generally upsetting ways. Once, Pamela Anderson was responsible for the death (don't ask me where that one came from) and I was SO angry with her, and lambasted her for being such an irresponsible clod. Recently, the dream version of the tarantula met its demise by having its hairs and exoskeleton start to degrade into a slimy substance until she just fell apart in my hands. Unpleasant, to say the least. Perhaps I worry that I'm not a good parent to my beloved arachnid.
But all of this is a digression from the dream I wish to share with you. I have recurring dreams which all contain variations on a theme. I've never heard anyone else discuss this dream motif, so perhaps it's unique to me. Just the other night, it popped up ...
In these dreams, I am generally chewing gum, though it's sometimes not gum at all, but food of some sort. It's really irrelevant, other than the fact that I have something in my mouth which is chewy. I'm never quite sure whether I'm stuffing more and more of it into my mouth, or whether it just somehow increases in volume on its own, but in any case, I eventually find myself with a mouth that's stuffed full of gum (or whatever). While I never have trouble breathing, a problem nonetheless arises. Sometimes it's that I am unable to converse with anyone, due to my disgusting mouth full of gum. Still other times, I suddenly realize that I'm about to meet someone for the first time and don't want to make the first impression that would undoubtedly come with an introduction with a mouth absolutely and cheek-stretchingly stuffed with gum.
So, I do the only thing I can possibly do at this point. I start grabbing at the gum (or whatever) and pulling it out of my mouth. (The other night, I was conveniently located in a dream bathroom, so I was throwing it into the garbage beside the toilet.) No matter how much I pull it out and throw it away, however, I am unable to get rid of it all. I can get rid of a bunch of it, making it easier to talk, but there's always gum left. There's too much to just lean over and spit it out. I can only keep sticking my fingers into my mouth and grabbing the disgusting stuff and throwing it out in a panic.
It's more disturbing than it sounds.
Perhaps I should go and be analyzed at some point. You know. In my spare time. (Hey, wait. Maybe my subconscious is trying to tell me that I'm packing too much into my life. One of my goals is learning to say "no" to more things so that I'm not running madly off my feet all the time.
And on that note, ROCKY rehearsals start this week. Plus I'm auditioning for a second show as well.
Maybe I just will never learn.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
A Moment's Respite
I'm up to my eyeballs in work (and you thought your home was messy!) but having accomplished a fair amount already, I thought it would be an opportune moment to take a short break to update this blasted weblog thing. Having no rehearsal tonight has also given me a moment to pause, catch up, and hopefully do some laundry.
Since Keltie mentioned her odd dreams over in ShinyHappy, I thought I'd share a pair of my nocturnal meanderings.
The other day I had one of those "in a public place and wearing no pants" dreams. I awoke in the middle of the night and, in a state of semi-consciousness, put on a pair of pants and went back to sleep. I awoke, roastingly hot, in the morning and recalled my curious behaviour of the night.
The strange thing was that, when I had awakened from my dream, I knew that it had been a dream, but in my stupor I guess I sort of thought, "Well, I might as well nip that in the bud and put on some pants so that it doesn't really happen in the morning."
Then last night I had another odd dream in which I was locking up at work and, suddenly realizing that I'd left something inside, I opened the door again but (as happens in dreams) for some reason couldn't get to the little keypad to punch in the code. The alarm signal went out and I got a call from a police officer asking what was going on. A rather rude police officer. One who should not be dealing with the public, particularly over the phone.
In any case, as I'm explaining who I am and that I am supposed to be in the building, a little girl appears beside me. It was one of those "I know who you are in the context of the dream, but in real life I would be thinking HUH?" scenarios.
To make a long (and not too interesting) story short, I have to do a tour around the building, because something keeps preventing the "Green Light" that says you can set the alarm again from turning on. In the end, I find some strange man (who turned out to be the mysterious girl's father on the run from the law -- very dramatic, I know) hiding out in a little nook (which does not exist in real life) of the bathroom (which does exist). I'm not sure if the cop who came was meant to be the same one that I spoke to on the phone. If so, he was significantly less abrasive.
Alarms, mysterious little girls, criminals on the run, cops, and my workplace. I'm sure there's a neurotic disorder somewhere buried in there.
In unrelated news, I recently watched Flowers in the Attic, thanks to a burst of nostalgia. A good 20 years ago, my friend Heather would make me watch it with alarming frequence, so I thought I'd give it a view. Wow. It's not very good, is it? It's not the worst thing I've seen, or anything, it's just a typical 80s gothic suspense yarn aimed at teens. It's got it all! A big old mansion. Religious fanatics. Little blonde children (played by a pair of not-too-wonderful child actors). And, most importantly, the little haunting melody sung by a disembodied soprano voice now and then. Ahhh! Memories. Oh, and it also has one of the worst wigs ever to grace the screen. Good times.
Now, back to work for me!
Since Keltie mentioned her odd dreams over in ShinyHappy, I thought I'd share a pair of my nocturnal meanderings.
The other day I had one of those "in a public place and wearing no pants" dreams. I awoke in the middle of the night and, in a state of semi-consciousness, put on a pair of pants and went back to sleep. I awoke, roastingly hot, in the morning and recalled my curious behaviour of the night.
The strange thing was that, when I had awakened from my dream, I knew that it had been a dream, but in my stupor I guess I sort of thought, "Well, I might as well nip that in the bud and put on some pants so that it doesn't really happen in the morning."
Then last night I had another odd dream in which I was locking up at work and, suddenly realizing that I'd left something inside, I opened the door again but (as happens in dreams) for some reason couldn't get to the little keypad to punch in the code. The alarm signal went out and I got a call from a police officer asking what was going on. A rather rude police officer. One who should not be dealing with the public, particularly over the phone.
In any case, as I'm explaining who I am and that I am supposed to be in the building, a little girl appears beside me. It was one of those "I know who you are in the context of the dream, but in real life I would be thinking HUH?" scenarios.
To make a long (and not too interesting) story short, I have to do a tour around the building, because something keeps preventing the "Green Light" that says you can set the alarm again from turning on. In the end, I find some strange man (who turned out to be the mysterious girl's father on the run from the law -- very dramatic, I know) hiding out in a little nook (which does not exist in real life) of the bathroom (which does exist). I'm not sure if the cop who came was meant to be the same one that I spoke to on the phone. If so, he was significantly less abrasive.
Alarms, mysterious little girls, criminals on the run, cops, and my workplace. I'm sure there's a neurotic disorder somewhere buried in there.
In unrelated news, I recently watched Flowers in the Attic, thanks to a burst of nostalgia. A good 20 years ago, my friend Heather would make me watch it with alarming frequence, so I thought I'd give it a view. Wow. It's not very good, is it? It's not the worst thing I've seen, or anything, it's just a typical 80s gothic suspense yarn aimed at teens. It's got it all! A big old mansion. Religious fanatics. Little blonde children (played by a pair of not-too-wonderful child actors). And, most importantly, the little haunting melody sung by a disembodied soprano voice now and then. Ahhh! Memories. Oh, and it also has one of the worst wigs ever to grace the screen. Good times.
Now, back to work for me!
Sunday, October 29, 2006
Ug.
This day must end.
No, really. It must end.
Let me give you the nutshell, quick-and-easy blow-by-blow of the day's lowlights.
First, as mentioned in an earlier entry, I was slated to put in a guest appearance as Wizard Whadzisname at pair of little charity shows today. My costume was to arrive with one of the other performers. So I was sitting there waiting. And waiting. And waiting a little bit more. At 12:15, a mere 45 minutes before the first show was slated to begin, I got the number of the aforementioned performer and gave it a call.
He was not home.
Fifteen minutes later (do the math -- just half-an-hour before curtain) he called me back with "Sorry, I just woke up. I won't get there for an hour." Yes. An hour. As in half-an-hour after curtain.
In a whirlwind, I drove madly back to my house, picked up a couple of my own costumes from other characters, raced back to the theatre, arriving at 12:55 to combine bits and pieces to create a replacement character, one Fredrick (with a long e, thankyouverymuch) Spitewhistle.
In the end, the other performer (and his character) never did show up with costume, character, or any word. You can imagine my level of impressedness.
Then I headed home, took a brief nap (far too brief for the way my day had gone and would yet go) and ran out to pick up a few grocery-like items to get me through the next few days before a planned marathon of paperwork which has been piling up from work for some time. I grabbed drive-through, so that I could scarf and get down to work.
I was about 30 seconds in the door (hadn't even brought groceries in yet) and the phone rang. It was Sarah, who works with me at job number one calling from job number two, the dinner theatre, where she also works with me, asking me to come in and work. It seems that the audience numbers had gone up and they were understaffed. Couldn't get anyone else. Please please please and all that jazz. So the paperwork sat (still in the back of my car, the groceries were in the front) while I drove in to work.
My drive-through? I ate it along the way, and they even messed that up, so it was a dissatisfying meal all around.
The dinner show went fine overall, but let's be honest, I'll be paying for it since I STILL have not caught up on the work in my car. Given that tomorrow I have:
a) crew photos in the morning; followed by
b) a production meeting just before lunch; followed by
c) an afternoon rehearsal; followed by
d) an evening rehearsal
it's pretty safe to say I'm not getting much done. Ug. My new plan is to stay after work on Monday until about 9:00 pm and just get as much done as I humanly can.
And you know darn well the director's going to make us do those cursed crunches, just to spite me.
Don't even get me started on the newly-scheduled rehearsal on Hallowe'en, right at candy-distribution prime-time. Yay. I can be the house on the corner that's not giving any candy out since I'll be IN REHEARSAL! Yeesh.
On the upside, about three minutes after I press "PUBLISH" on this, I'll be passed out in my bed.
Here goes...
************
Oh. I completely forgot to add that after work I dropped by ye olde Boston Pizza to grab a Spicy Perogie Pizza for Betsy and I to share and surprise! they got that order wrong, too. Today was simply NOT my day.
No, really. It must end.
Let me give you the nutshell, quick-and-easy blow-by-blow of the day's lowlights.
First, as mentioned in an earlier entry, I was slated to put in a guest appearance as Wizard Whadzisname at pair of little charity shows today. My costume was to arrive with one of the other performers. So I was sitting there waiting. And waiting. And waiting a little bit more. At 12:15, a mere 45 minutes before the first show was slated to begin, I got the number of the aforementioned performer and gave it a call.
He was not home.
Fifteen minutes later (do the math -- just half-an-hour before curtain) he called me back with "Sorry, I just woke up. I won't get there for an hour." Yes. An hour. As in half-an-hour after curtain.
In a whirlwind, I drove madly back to my house, picked up a couple of my own costumes from other characters, raced back to the theatre, arriving at 12:55 to combine bits and pieces to create a replacement character, one Fredrick (with a long e, thankyouverymuch) Spitewhistle.
In the end, the other performer (and his character) never did show up with costume, character, or any word. You can imagine my level of impressedness.
Then I headed home, took a brief nap (far too brief for the way my day had gone and would yet go) and ran out to pick up a few grocery-like items to get me through the next few days before a planned marathon of paperwork which has been piling up from work for some time. I grabbed drive-through, so that I could scarf and get down to work.
I was about 30 seconds in the door (hadn't even brought groceries in yet) and the phone rang. It was Sarah, who works with me at job number one calling from job number two, the dinner theatre, where she also works with me, asking me to come in and work. It seems that the audience numbers had gone up and they were understaffed. Couldn't get anyone else. Please please please and all that jazz. So the paperwork sat (still in the back of my car, the groceries were in the front) while I drove in to work.
My drive-through? I ate it along the way, and they even messed that up, so it was a dissatisfying meal all around.
The dinner show went fine overall, but let's be honest, I'll be paying for it since I STILL have not caught up on the work in my car. Given that tomorrow I have:
a) crew photos in the morning; followed by
b) a production meeting just before lunch; followed by
c) an afternoon rehearsal; followed by
d) an evening rehearsal
it's pretty safe to say I'm not getting much done. Ug. My new plan is to stay after work on Monday until about 9:00 pm and just get as much done as I humanly can.
And you know darn well the director's going to make us do those cursed crunches, just to spite me.
Don't even get me started on the newly-scheduled rehearsal on Hallowe'en, right at candy-distribution prime-time. Yay. I can be the house on the corner that's not giving any candy out since I'll be IN REHEARSAL! Yeesh.
On the upside, about three minutes after I press "PUBLISH" on this, I'll be passed out in my bed.
Here goes...
************
Oh. I completely forgot to add that after work I dropped by ye olde Boston Pizza to grab a Spicy Perogie Pizza for Betsy and I to share and surprise! they got that order wrong, too. Today was simply NOT my day.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Literary Update
I admit it. I'm avoiding work. I have scads to do, but just can't bring myself to do it. I'll go into work early tomorrow and get as much done as I can.
In the meantime, I'm going to do my darndest to get to bed early (which means before midnight).
I'm nearly finished reading The Book of Dead Days and must admit that I'm enjoying it overall. It's intriguing enough to keep my little mind interested, but not complex enough to be taxing. In other words, good for me these days. It's from the Children's/Young Adult section of the bookstore where I buy far too many things. And let's be honest. When the author is described in the following manner -- "By day he works in children's publishing and by night is the drummer in a rock band in Brighton." -- how could you not like him? Ha!
I'm also well into Something Rotten, an enjoyable romp in absurdist fiction. I set it aside, what with the business of life since in the past month, but I'm dedicated to picking it up and finishing it sometime soon. Again, when the book flap reads, "There is another 1988. Where purgatory is a motorway service station. Where dodos are very much alive, living in your potting shed, and called Alan. And where the future of the universe hands in the balance of a premier league croquet match..." you have pretty much got to be intrigued. Add to that other teasing phrases like, "First she has to get her job back following the infamous illegal cheese-smuggling incident" and you've got my attention. When I picked up this book on a whim, I didn't realize that it was fourth (I think) in a series, but I may just have to pick up the other three when I'm done. You know. To read. In my free time. Oh so much free time.
Finally, I was glad to arrive home today to find a package from Amazon waiting for me. (Why, you may ask, did I link to Chapters in this entry if I bought things from Amazon? Because, that's why.) It was my new Postsecret book, My Secret.
Adventures in reading all around!
In the meantime, I'm going to do my darndest to get to bed early (which means before midnight).
I'm nearly finished reading The Book of Dead Days and must admit that I'm enjoying it overall. It's intriguing enough to keep my little mind interested, but not complex enough to be taxing. In other words, good for me these days. It's from the Children's/Young Adult section of the bookstore where I buy far too many things. And let's be honest. When the author is described in the following manner -- "By day he works in children's publishing and by night is the drummer in a rock band in Brighton." -- how could you not like him? Ha!
I'm also well into Something Rotten, an enjoyable romp in absurdist fiction. I set it aside, what with the business of life since in the past month, but I'm dedicated to picking it up and finishing it sometime soon. Again, when the book flap reads, "There is another 1988. Where purgatory is a motorway service station. Where dodos are very much alive, living in your potting shed, and called Alan. And where the future of the universe hands in the balance of a premier league croquet match..." you have pretty much got to be intrigued. Add to that other teasing phrases like, "First she has to get her job back following the infamous illegal cheese-smuggling incident" and you've got my attention. When I picked up this book on a whim, I didn't realize that it was fourth (I think) in a series, but I may just have to pick up the other three when I'm done. You know. To read. In my free time. Oh so much free time.
Finally, I was glad to arrive home today to find a package from Amazon waiting for me. (Why, you may ask, did I link to Chapters in this entry if I bought things from Amazon? Because, that's why.) It was my new Postsecret book, My Secret.
Adventures in reading all around!
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