Friday, August 22, 2003
For some reason I was so excited about today being Friday that I couldn’t fall asleep last night. I was working on my lines for the show until 2am and then I lay in bed staring at the wall with weekend jitters. It was so weird! Like it is my birthday or something. Man, it should TOTALLY be my birthday again. That shit is fun.
Our rehearsal last night went well. Actually for the first hour or so I was in a pretty horrible mood because I was starting to feel the stress of not having a full cast, the pressures and inconveniences of a new space, and the fact that we haven’t had a solid rehearsal in two weeks. Sure, we’ve HAD rehearsal; they just haven’t been intensive.
Ian, the guy that plays opposite me in the show, is fast becoming my new best friend. He is such a tough guy, but for some reason he and I have a great rapport with each other. When Megan and Kelly were auditioning the girls last night, Ian and I went to another room to work on our scenes. Ian could tell that I wasn’t in the best of moods and he asked me what was wrong. We both discussed our fears, the changes, and our excitement about the upcoming show. He had some great advice and we both walked away from the conversation feeling much better. I asked him to go out with me and have a beer in order to get to know each other a little bit better and he was all for it. I just love this kid. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in the show.
My parents are crazy today. There was a report on CNN this morning explaining that a soldier in my brother’s unit was killed yesterday at a firing range exercise. My brother was supposed to be at the firing range yesterday, so my parents are convinced that he was the fatality. I tried my damndest to calm my mother down, but my dad had already pushed her over the edge. I understand that they are worried and scared. Every day is a living nightmare for them. I wish there was SOMETHING that I could do, but unfortunately there isn’t. I tell them that I am positive it wasn’t Winfield who was hurt and that they have to trust and believe that God will keep him safe. But it doesn’t matter. My parents are going to worry themselves into an early grave regardless. I fucking hate the war and I fucking hate the fact that my brother is in the ARMY. There isn’t much more I can say about it. I fucking hate this shit.
Here’s a funny little story to get our Friday’s off on the right foot…
The summer before my senior year in college, I dated this guy named Kevin. We dated for a month, 2 weeks of which he spent in Florida on vacation. I dated a number of guys while home in Albany for my summer breaks from college, but Kevin was the only one that I stayed with for more than a week. And even him I couldn’t stand after 9 days. (reason number one why Paul is so special and important to me…3 years and 9 months…I have never committed to a guy for even half that amount of time)
One time, Kelly and Angie (her ex) and I were at Kevin’s house hanging out, drinking some wine, and playing Balderdash. Out of nowhere, I had to take the biggest shit. I snuck out of the room and used one of the bathrooms that was off to the side of the rest of the house. I remember that the bathroom was salmon colored and that there was a washing machine and dryer in the same room. (it was a huge bathroom) I squirted out my typical diarrhea-esque shit and when I went to stand up and flush the toilet, I accidentally knocked a clean stack of washing clothes into the pool of shit resting happily in the toilet. I let out a yelp and immediately tried to fish the cloths out. They were covered in poop water. Mortified, I panicked as to what to do to solve this situation. Once all of the wash cloths were retrieved, I flushed the toilet and stood there, sweat pouring from my brow. Then it hit me…the washing machine! I threw the dirty shit covered wash clothes into the washing machine and decided that I would turn it on and clean everything up. Then it hit me…if I turned the washing machine on, Kevin would know that something was up and he might figure me out. And that’s when I got an even better idea!
I opened up the dryer and noticed that there was a pile of dry clothes sitting inside. Cover Up Time. I shoved the shitty washcloths to the bottom of the clean clothes and then shut the door and exhaled a huge sigh of relief. I exited the bathroom and no one was ever the wiser. Cept for the lucky person who took out the clothes to fold them and found 15 different washcloths covered in diarrhea poop. Hahahahahaha oh God, why did I think that was good idea.
In any case, I was never busted for it and I broke up with Kevin a week later. What’s done is done!
Okay y’all!
Have an EXCELLENT weekend!
And remember…
Pussy is best eaten with a little Tobasco sauce and a ton of salt.
Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!
Our rehearsal last night went well. Actually for the first hour or so I was in a pretty horrible mood because I was starting to feel the stress of not having a full cast, the pressures and inconveniences of a new space, and the fact that we haven’t had a solid rehearsal in two weeks. Sure, we’ve HAD rehearsal; they just haven’t been intensive.
Ian, the guy that plays opposite me in the show, is fast becoming my new best friend. He is such a tough guy, but for some reason he and I have a great rapport with each other. When Megan and Kelly were auditioning the girls last night, Ian and I went to another room to work on our scenes. Ian could tell that I wasn’t in the best of moods and he asked me what was wrong. We both discussed our fears, the changes, and our excitement about the upcoming show. He had some great advice and we both walked away from the conversation feeling much better. I asked him to go out with me and have a beer in order to get to know each other a little bit better and he was all for it. I just love this kid. I couldn’t ask for a better partner in the show.
My parents are crazy today. There was a report on CNN this morning explaining that a soldier in my brother’s unit was killed yesterday at a firing range exercise. My brother was supposed to be at the firing range yesterday, so my parents are convinced that he was the fatality. I tried my damndest to calm my mother down, but my dad had already pushed her over the edge. I understand that they are worried and scared. Every day is a living nightmare for them. I wish there was SOMETHING that I could do, but unfortunately there isn’t. I tell them that I am positive it wasn’t Winfield who was hurt and that they have to trust and believe that God will keep him safe. But it doesn’t matter. My parents are going to worry themselves into an early grave regardless. I fucking hate the war and I fucking hate the fact that my brother is in the ARMY. There isn’t much more I can say about it. I fucking hate this shit.
Here’s a funny little story to get our Friday’s off on the right foot…
The summer before my senior year in college, I dated this guy named Kevin. We dated for a month, 2 weeks of which he spent in Florida on vacation. I dated a number of guys while home in Albany for my summer breaks from college, but Kevin was the only one that I stayed with for more than a week. And even him I couldn’t stand after 9 days. (reason number one why Paul is so special and important to me…3 years and 9 months…I have never committed to a guy for even half that amount of time)
One time, Kelly and Angie (her ex) and I were at Kevin’s house hanging out, drinking some wine, and playing Balderdash. Out of nowhere, I had to take the biggest shit. I snuck out of the room and used one of the bathrooms that was off to the side of the rest of the house. I remember that the bathroom was salmon colored and that there was a washing machine and dryer in the same room. (it was a huge bathroom) I squirted out my typical diarrhea-esque shit and when I went to stand up and flush the toilet, I accidentally knocked a clean stack of washing clothes into the pool of shit resting happily in the toilet. I let out a yelp and immediately tried to fish the cloths out. They were covered in poop water. Mortified, I panicked as to what to do to solve this situation. Once all of the wash cloths were retrieved, I flushed the toilet and stood there, sweat pouring from my brow. Then it hit me…the washing machine! I threw the dirty shit covered wash clothes into the washing machine and decided that I would turn it on and clean everything up. Then it hit me…if I turned the washing machine on, Kevin would know that something was up and he might figure me out. And that’s when I got an even better idea!
I opened up the dryer and noticed that there was a pile of dry clothes sitting inside. Cover Up Time. I shoved the shitty washcloths to the bottom of the clean clothes and then shut the door and exhaled a huge sigh of relief. I exited the bathroom and no one was ever the wiser. Cept for the lucky person who took out the clothes to fold them and found 15 different washcloths covered in diarrhea poop. Hahahahahaha oh God, why did I think that was good idea.
In any case, I was never busted for it and I broke up with Kevin a week later. What’s done is done!
Okay y’all!
Have an EXCELLENT weekend!
And remember…
Pussy is best eaten with a little Tobasco sauce and a ton of salt.
Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum!
