Sex and the Shitty
Woo. I've had a number of rather strong cosmos at this point.
So, tonight was our second night of "You Can't Take It With You". Went pretty well. Laughs in all the right places. I felt pretty good about it( despite splitting the hell out of the seat of my damned crappy costume pants). Felt pretty good about the opening last night as well. We were really ready for an audience.
"Fiddler on the Roof", on the other hand, is a different story. If it's ready to open next weekend it'll be a miracle. Now, I believe in the little theater gnomes (read as: everybody realizes it's one week to opening and actually puts their asses in gear) but this show has a really fucking long way to go.
Still, it's not my worry. I'm doing fine in my bits (though I've only run my big solo twice... eesh) and that's all I'm responsible for. It's not my job to worry about any one or anything else.
On a whole other note, today was one of the oddest days ever. Really. Started out as usual- trip to the gym. I really worked my ass off. Doing squats at twice my body weight, multiple reps, now.
It didn't get weird until I drove to FAU with the intent to meet the regular tennis group. I've been playing tennis every day with a couple of other cast members. Great fun- we occasionally have tourneys, but really we just return the ball wherever it goes. We've had games that ranged over the entire six courts.
Anyway, I never made it to tennis- but that's fine, nobody else did either. Everyone was either resting up or had some other conflict. Me? Well I'm about 1 minute away from FAU when I see some lady obviously in distress. Car trouble. I pull a U-Turn and come to assist. She's got a flat, but her spare doughnut is also fucked. So I throw her and the doughnut in my jeep and go on a hunt for a tire place. They can't fix the doughnut. So we go back, remove her flattened tire, throw IT in the Jeep, and go back to the tire place. This whole process takes about 2 hours. She offers me dinner- kinda creepy in a way. She was a classic Boca lady- dressing about 15 years too young and looking into multiple surgeries. I got the feeling she was hitting on me. No matter, I had a really brief snack with her, then I had to dash to make my call time. She somehow managed to slip $15 into my change-of-clothes by way of recompense when I wasn't looking. I really was just trying to help. Odd woman.
Anyhow, then a 'friend' comes back stage to give me a rather large bouquet of flowers. I wasn't sure how to take that. After the show she pressures me to go to her place with some of her friends for their little "Sex and the City" party. I refuse to go, but rather than offend her, I end up making an appearance.
Can I just state for the record, again, how much I fucking hate being considered "one of the girls"? Holy shit. I thought I got free of that shit in High School, but I was wrong. Obviously I'm still the same sap. Rather than let her know what I really think, I'll play nice and friendly. I wouldn't want to hurt her. Never mind my total emasculation. Well, I managed to avoid total loss of what little dignity I have- I sat on the porch for an hour talking with someone else totally uninterested in the escapades of "Sex and the City" and chatted about her fucked-up love life. Better than mulling over mine, I suppose.
So, now this little odd interlude comes to a close- with the same sad inebriated feel in which it was begun. Yeehaw. Cripes. It's nearly three and I've got to hit the gym before my matinee...
So, tonight was our second night of "You Can't Take It With You". Went pretty well. Laughs in all the right places. I felt pretty good about it( despite splitting the hell out of the seat of my damned crappy costume pants). Felt pretty good about the opening last night as well. We were really ready for an audience.
"Fiddler on the Roof", on the other hand, is a different story. If it's ready to open next weekend it'll be a miracle. Now, I believe in the little theater gnomes (read as: everybody realizes it's one week to opening and actually puts their asses in gear) but this show has a really fucking long way to go.
Still, it's not my worry. I'm doing fine in my bits (though I've only run my big solo twice... eesh) and that's all I'm responsible for. It's not my job to worry about any one or anything else.
On a whole other note, today was one of the oddest days ever. Really. Started out as usual- trip to the gym. I really worked my ass off. Doing squats at twice my body weight, multiple reps, now.
It didn't get weird until I drove to FAU with the intent to meet the regular tennis group. I've been playing tennis every day with a couple of other cast members. Great fun- we occasionally have tourneys, but really we just return the ball wherever it goes. We've had games that ranged over the entire six courts.
Anyway, I never made it to tennis- but that's fine, nobody else did either. Everyone was either resting up or had some other conflict. Me? Well I'm about 1 minute away from FAU when I see some lady obviously in distress. Car trouble. I pull a U-Turn and come to assist. She's got a flat, but her spare doughnut is also fucked. So I throw her and the doughnut in my jeep and go on a hunt for a tire place. They can't fix the doughnut. So we go back, remove her flattened tire, throw IT in the Jeep, and go back to the tire place. This whole process takes about 2 hours. She offers me dinner- kinda creepy in a way. She was a classic Boca lady- dressing about 15 years too young and looking into multiple surgeries. I got the feeling she was hitting on me. No matter, I had a really brief snack with her, then I had to dash to make my call time. She somehow managed to slip $15 into my change-of-clothes by way of recompense when I wasn't looking. I really was just trying to help. Odd woman.
Anyhow, then a 'friend' comes back stage to give me a rather large bouquet of flowers. I wasn't sure how to take that. After the show she pressures me to go to her place with some of her friends for their little "Sex and the City" party. I refuse to go, but rather than offend her, I end up making an appearance.
Can I just state for the record, again, how much I fucking hate being considered "one of the girls"? Holy shit. I thought I got free of that shit in High School, but I was wrong. Obviously I'm still the same sap. Rather than let her know what I really think, I'll play nice and friendly. I wouldn't want to hurt her. Never mind my total emasculation. Well, I managed to avoid total loss of what little dignity I have- I sat on the porch for an hour talking with someone else totally uninterested in the escapades of "Sex and the City" and chatted about her fucked-up love life. Better than mulling over mine, I suppose.
So, now this little odd interlude comes to a close- with the same sad inebriated feel in which it was begun. Yeehaw. Cripes. It's nearly three and I've got to hit the gym before my matinee...