No money in my couch...

but Trevor did find the following items in my couch:

• 1 Swiss Army knife I lost in October


• 3 pens


• 1 receipt from September '05


• 2 remote controls (lost over a month ago)


• a month-old bank receipt


• a brand new lighter

I often dig in my couch and come up with nothing... but every time Trevo reaches in to the magic couch, he finds treasure... maybe he'll drag up an old boot next time...???

That is all.

Look at that clock!

Can you see it? It says that we have 999 days until president # 44 is sworn into office. I can almost smell 12:00pm EST on January 20th, 2009. We are in triple digits!!!!

That is all.

I'll Never Let the Dentist Give Me Fluoride Again

So I've got quite the project right now. I'm stripping. And it's really hard work -- I'm actually working up a decent sweat. And I seriously will have better guns than Bil when I'm done. It's tough finding the right clothes in my closet though -- I don't want to use anything too nice.
Because the chemical furniture stipper that I'm using (get your minds out of the gutter, readers, I'm stripping chairs not me!) is really scary. It's this bright orange gel that smells exactly like the fluoride that the dentist used to put on my teeth after she cleaned them when I was a child. Therefore I hate this stipper. It's vile, but it works pretty well thus far. My goal is to get all this done in the next couple of days while I'm between jobs. (I will be unemployed for all of three days.)

My show Two for the Show, the one that is plagued by a certain dead Scottish thane, is finally closing tonight. I'm sad to see it go. I really like working with the cast and crew -- they are a lot of fun. On the other hand, my short attention span is looking forward to the next big challenge. The opera. Yikes. I'm kinda scared: it's been a while since I've started a new job. I do know a couple of people with whom I'll be working: one of the ASMs lives across the street from me and one of the dressers designed the costumes for Seascape and She Stoops to Conquer. Still, two operas in one month. By the time I learn one, I'll be starting the next. Alas. I gotta be sure to bring a note pad. But when May's done, I have a whole week of freedom before the next contract kicks in. And then I'm on an 8-shows/week schedule. (And a really happy paycheck.)

I was so worried when I moved here that it would be like Boston; that I wouldn't be able to find work because of a day job schedule, or that I wouldn't be able to find work period. But I have only had a little downtime since I got here. And it's really exciting. And opera and AEA shows are fairly lucrative. And that is really happy. I didn't expect to like Chicago, but it's growing on me. But I still don't like the dentist and her fluoride.

That is all.

How dumb do I feel?

So it turns out that I have been moderating my comments for several months. And I forgot. So I thought that I hadn't been getting any comments. :( But, all sorts of lovely people apparently read my blog! YAY! So, thank you to all of my lovely readers! I thought no one read this silly old blog o' mine. So here are kisses and hugs to all of you who read this!

• Thank you for stalking me, Helen (I totally stalk you too!). And remember that the Midwest is actually surprisingly cool -- I really liked Iowa City when we drove through it.


• And thanks for commenting and coming to stay with us, Ben!


• And thanks to Kimberly for all of the lovely comments that I just read -- I will try to call you this week (you tagged me -- it's my turn to respond).


• And thank you to my ridiculous husband who really does look good in a dress.

I love you all! And miss you all!

That is all.

HAHAHA

Daily Show Senior War Correspondent Dan Bakkedahl just referred to Donald Rumsfeld as a dick. Hahahahaha!

That is all.

"Ahh, married life..."

...I thought, as I used a staple gun to finish re-upholstering a chair seat for my dining room, and my husband talked on the phone to his best friend about recent boy troubles. Tell me this: who wears pants in this one???

That is all.

What the fuck?!

So I'm flipping thru the channels and I land on Discovery Home, which I *love*. And I see the beginning of the show Garden Police. They are driving through an area that looks very much like the Valley. And they are talking about this family whose lawn they are going to redo. This family the Flukers. And I'm not really into gardening as I don't currently have a garden. So I'm flipping thru the guide to see what else is on, until I hear them say, "Fluke Fluker?! Yes, that really is his name!" And I really look at the family who owns this sad garden,and it's totally the guy who taught PE and Urban Survival Skills at my little suburbia Middle School in So Cal. He has a really cute family and now a really nice garden. I never had Fluke as a teacher. . . mostly because I was a band geek and so not into surviving the urban scene. . . but he was the most popular teacher at LCMS because he was really hip. Also, I remember him being about 7 feet tall. No joke. And now he's playing B-ball with the Garden Police. No fuckin' way, dude. I'm in a time warp... jesus.

That is all.

The manner in which one lie begets another...

I haven't really lied much since I was about 16 years old. I mean I kept things to myself, when the occasion presented itself, but I haven't actually told too many untruths in the last 8 or so years. So how the hell did I manage to weave such a web of deceit in the past 96 hours? Frighteningly enough, I think that it was instinct. Sheesh.

The lie that started it all is almost not related but that it put me in the right place coincidentally. It all started Friday at around 1:30pm. I get a call that half of the cast is sick and we have doubled up on understudies, so we are canceling the show for the evening. I decide that it would be fun to surprise Bil and go see his show because it's my only opportunity, and it'll be fun.

Lie #1

Bil calls, we talk, I tell him I'm on the way out the door to go shopping -- Old Navy had some cute cargo pants I want. I tell him I have to hurry so that I can get down the the theatre on time.

Truth

I was still in my pjs at 2 in the afternoon. The show had already been cancelled.

So I slowly get dressed, finish some replacement prop letters for his show, and then dawdle about some more. Then I leave to go shopping. At 5:30.

Lie #2

Bil calls again, wants to know if I've already dropped the props by his theatre and if I had any cargo-pant success at Old Navy. I tell him I'm already on my way to my show, that there were no cargo pants in my size (sad) and that the new props are already there.

Truth

I was on my way up to Old Navy at this point. I had only just left the house.

For the record, Old Navy really didn't have the pants I wanted in my size. So that turned out to be true...

After Old Navy, I went to see his show, and while I was waiting for him to come out from the backstage area, I start talking to a guy I'll call "Dave" (his real name), whom I had previously met at a bar. We chat, and he says, "Hey, do you drink alcohol?" I tell him I do if he's buying. He says he works for a marketing firm and they are doing market research about drinking habits. I get $75 in cash for talking about booze. I tell him I'm there!
Then he says to me, "Now, they don't like using people in this field, because they think we're different or weird or 'abnormal.' So, we'll have to figure out another profession for you."
He tells me to think about it and to call him tomorrow.

I surprise Bil and everything is hunky-dory.
Fast-forward to the next day.
Saturday.


I call "Dave" and we decide that I will be a legal secretary. I will have to dress the part. Then he asks me a bunch of questions: drinking habits, social habits, and age. I don't lie much but...

Lie #3

I tell him that I'm 25. I don't quite know why I did this. I don't like when people hear that I'm married and young -- they always seem to judge me. I guess that would be the reason... Not really sure, though.

Truth

I am 24 years old and will be until further notice (or the 23rd of September, whichever comes first).

He asks for my e-mail address so that he can send me confirmation of my appointment in the focus group.

Fast-forward to this morning.
I get up and check my e-mail. There it is: the e-mail from "Dave."

"Thank you for agreeing to join us for this market research focus group.
Date & – Monday April 10, 2006
Time 3:45 pm to 5:30 pm
Incentive - $75.00 cash

Please remember to bring a photo I.D. Your participation is very important to us. If you must cancel please contact our office as soon as possible so we may have opportunity to replace you, 312-xxx-xxxx. Please do not send anyone in your place.

This study is for research purposes ONLY and is not a solicitation for business or an attempt to sell you anything. Your opinions will be kept strictly confidential and no personal information, nor proprietary information on your company will be collected."

I call the offices to confirm that I am indeed going to be there. They ask me if I have any friends that I might know who would also be interested in participating, as they have had a few people unable to make it. I ask if there are any requirements, and they tell me that they must be ages 25-39. I tell them I'll pass on the information.

So, now my little white lie about my age is coming back to bite me in the ass. Shit. I panic about it for a bit and then call them back.

Lie #4

I talk to someone in the office and tell him that I've misplaced my driver's license and say that I've got a student ID. Will that work?

Truth

I am looking at my driver's license as I call him.

Lie #5

He tells me that I can use a student ID as long as it has a date of birth on it. I say, "Well, let me look at mine. Oh, yes. It does!"

Truth

I know for a fact that it does not have a date of birth on it.

I panic when I get off of the phone. Why didn't I just tell him that I did not have a DOB on my student ID? Shit, shit, shit!

I make a snap decision. I will photoshop a DOB onto my student ID. But I need light magenta ink or my printer won't scan or print. I run out to Staples to get some. I figure that maybe I can fabricate a student ID that might be a bit like a blockbuster card with a clear plasic sheet, and some good prints.

I get it all printed up and it looks pretty good. I photoshopped the magnetic strip off of the back and replace it with a bar code and the serial number from the front. I take some clear acrylic gloss varnish and glue front to back and slip it carefully into the plastic sheeting. I take an embossing gun and try to gently heat the plastic to get it to stick together. And the plastic starts shrinking and curling up. Abort!

I take one last stab at getting the thing to work. I take some more clear acrylic varnish and adhere the plastic right to the "ID". It bubbles a bit, so I smooth it out and it looks pretty good. Until it starts curling up. I panic. . . which brings me to

Lie #6

I call "Dave's" company back. I tell them that I must have eaten something funny because I think that I might have food poisoning. I don't think that I can make it to the appointment. And I'm really sorry.

Truth

I have not actually eaten anything at all today. Therefore, no food poisoning, just hunger. On the other hand, I actually am really sorry. Goodbye, $75.

I wish that I could say that I was lying to you all, two readers, but alas, this is the truth.

That is all.

This seemed oddly appropriate.....

Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

Bil tells me that I am ridiculous for writing about the farting thing. Sorry, two readers, that you must put up with such shenanigans.

ENOUGH!
That is all.

I totally just farted when I was writing that last post.

Seriously,
That is all!

Bil said not to publish the last one. Because I wanted it to be funny, and it somehow wasn't.
Ahhh, fuck it. No one reads this crap anyway. Except you, two dear readers. . . I know you must be out there... right??
Cheese,
D.


That is really all.

Baaaaaaa---

Baa Baa Black Sheep,
Have you any wool?
Yes, sir,
Yes, sir,
Three bags full.

One for the Master,
One for the Dame,
One for the little boy who lives down the lane.

I am so the black sheep in my fam..... How did I come from such right-wing, Republican, Christian people???
I am a hard-core leftist.
I am a staunch Democrat.
I am not not not a Christian, nor do I aspire to be so.
I am just a transient artist with untreated depression. How the hell did I get here?

That is all.

That Damned Scottish Thane Turned King

I have never been particularly superstitious in my life. If a black cat crosses my path, I usually try to pet it; if I walk under a ladder, I make sure I don't knock anyone off of it; if I break a mirror, I sigh, throw it away, and get a new one. But I am starting to be suspicious about this Macb*** word and its use in the theatre. You know the word. It's the title of Shakespeare's shortest and most bloody play, the one about that Thane of Glamis and Cawdor and King after that. The one that takes place in Scotland. With the witches. And the ghosts. And a little boy called Fleance. Am I ringing any bells?
So in Two for the Show, the musical on which I am currently working, one character spitefully says to another "Macb---" ok. Can't type it. But he says it 4 times. And I swear, it's affecting the show. How else can you explain the extreme misfortune that is overshadowing the entire cast and crew? Let's look at the list, shall we?

• 1st choreographer: stuck in hospital with kidney stones, in BOSTON. Had to drop the show.
  
• 1st musical director: ill with some sort of continuing ailment that required extensive treatment. Had to drop show.
  
• Co-writer/originally going to play one of the leads: father died, sick cat, can't even afford to get back out to Chicago to see the show.
  
• Leading lady: car accident (hit and run) and grandfather in hospital w/ heart attack all within 2 days' time.
  
• Spot op#1: Missed a performance because --I shit you not-- he was in jail.
  
• Spot Op#2: had a friend unexpectedly die.
  
• SM: had a family member die.
  
• ASM (me): had to go to MN to help with sick grandfather.
  
• 1st Dresser: couldn't make it to all performances, fired. Replacement is Scottish husband of Costume Designer.
  
• 2 shows have now had to be cancelled: the first was due to a lack of a paying audience. 8 people paid, 1 comp. The only one to show up? The comp. And tonight's show has been cancelled due to an epidemic within the cast. One actor has a very nasty flu, and the other is losing his voice, and our leading lady is on vocal rest. And we only have one understudy for both of the male leads.
  
• And the set is falling apart.
  
• And so many other things that I have forgotten in the past 2 months that all of this has been going on.

I keep spinning and spitting, but I keep wondering what could possibly be next...? If this is affecting you, I'm really sorry. Sheesh. I'm holing myself up in my apartment and not coming out 'til the 22nd.

That is all.

Got this from Danielle...

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
5. Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.

"And what was to prove most irritating of all, there was no way whereby officials in St. Petersburg could forewarn their officials in far-distant Siberia that this gang of men was about to descend upon them with requirements that simply could not be filled locally." -- Alaska by James A. Michener

Mmmmm...

Recently, while in Minnesota with my mother, I discovered my new favorite artist: Dale Chihuly. Seriously. I love his glass art. These colorful, translucent organic pieces of glass are fantastic. There's such a whimsical quality to this stuff. It's totally alluring to me. A lot of his stuff deals with water, which made me think about how much I miss the ocean. It's been 5 1/2 months since I've seen the ocean. I can't remember ever spending so much time away from it.
I drove North along Lake Michigan Sunday afternoon. The weather was really nice (this means it was in the 50's), so naturally, I had all of the windows rolled down and the sunroof rolled back so I could enjoy some fresh air after being cooped up inside all winter. It was really nice to drive along the lake, and it was breezy, so there were some waves rolling to the shore...but it's not the ocean. For one thing, it smells all wrong. And the air doesn't feel briny, doesn't curl my hair. It's all wrong. There's no salty seaweed smell. If I close my eyes and concentrate, I can actually smell the ocean... but not on Sunday. Not the lake. Sigh. It's just not the same. And it's not just any ocean that I miss. It's the Pacific. It's wild and beautiful and untamed and free...

Oh, god... I'm just rambling and missing my homeland and my ocean and those gray June mornings in Southern CA before the marine layer burns off, and the sand is damp as the sun is rising and lighting the world in a lavender glow... Tired and in a weird place, but what's new? Screw grammar. Right? Whatever. I need to go to bed. And when I do, I'll be dreaming in reflections of amorphous, translucent, glowing abstractions and Carpinteria Beach. And I'll be happy. What more could a girl ask for?

.lla si tahTThat is all.