God love Pepa.

[afirthionado]

It has been a pretty crap few days. Number striked on Saturday and we were there til after 1am. I had to walk away from this awfully embarassing crush. I had to stay for Gypsy strike when there are like, 50 theatre majors, and really I didn't do anything that one of those intelligent girls couldn't do. I was just there so Bill could feel like things were balanced out.

All this stressed-outedness caused me to yell at my grandfather upon my return home, which made me feel like crap.

On Monday, I asked Bill to fire me. And I meant it. (He refused.)

And for the past few days I've been sick, AND I just got home from this benefit concert thing that was unnecesarily stressful.

My toe is infected. I've been told I can die from this if I don't go to the doctor. (What a way to go - death by toe infection.)

BUT IT IS ALL GOOD. It's all good because I got home tonite and immediately, it was revealed to me why I still live with my grandfather at almost 24 years of age:

Me: I got my rejection letter today.
Pepa: From who?
Me: The audition people.
Pepa: In New York?
Me: Yeah.
Pepa: They don't know what they're missing. Don't let it worry ya.

StrawHat can keep their silly auditions cuz Pepa says I don't need 'em.