ded from teh insane
Oh. Mah. Gawd.
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat stats:
First costume, Biblical wife-like thing, not bad -- can't spread feet further than two feet apart, makes dancing hard and stairs more evil than usual, had no pouch for colored scarf prop during dance so got yelled at. Not my fault, costume crew's fault. Bite me. No wig YAY.
Second costume OMG HOT PINK GO-GO BOOTS WITH SIX-INCH HEELS AND CURVED TOES YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME. Two ponchos, one lace (gets tangled), nothing underneath (am going to flash someone, don't care), comfy but blinding pants, way too much jewelry (HA BITCHES I defeat your stupid earrings with my lack of piercings), NEON BLUE FRIGHT WIG. YES. Joshua will call me Dame Edna for the rest of my life. I am screwed.
Third costume -- SO. MUCH. LOVE. Sleeveless floor-length white dress (purdyful), nifty shinies (blue and gold belt and Egyptian neck-thing that spreads out over shoulders), comfy sandals. Hateful black wig, bangs too long, stretchy gold head band (fell off twice). Comfy, easy to dance in, get to wear for whole of act 2. Overall, a win.
After rehearsal, Pholmes (not even a director, she just comes to practices to piss people off as far as I can tell) made everyone cry by telling us that we're not acting enough & don't know our dances (a lie, it was our best rehearsal yet) and that we're being inconsiderate by whining to the costume crew and making the stage crew wait on us hand and foot (it's not OUR fault if something doesn't fit and it's the costume crew's fucking job to fix it, and the stage crew are THERE to get our props in place, it's kinda the point of having a stage crew). And whine? Excuse me, none of us have whined to the costume crew. Some of us may have cried because our boobs were falling out in front of the whole bloody auditorium or we nearly twisted our ankles, but I call that justified.
And then we were told that we're not allowed to wear glasses. I DO NOT HAVE CONTACTS. I HAVE NEVER WORN CONTACTS IN MY LIFE. And I'm not starting now. I can handle being blind for most of the thing, but they are NOT making me take my glasses off during the go-go number because HELLO, SIX-INCH HEELS and I've never worn heels in my life either, and I have to step up to my place three feet off the floor without going up the stairs because people are ON the stairs, and if I can't see where I'm stepping they are fucking PAYING my hospital bills when both my ankles are broken!
*deep breath*
Okay, better now.
We're not doing a damn thing wrong. This play is going to be so awesome, it really is. Pholmes can bite my shiny metal ass.
-rave
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat stats:
First costume, Biblical wife-like thing, not bad -- can't spread feet further than two feet apart, makes dancing hard and stairs more evil than usual, had no pouch for colored scarf prop during dance so got yelled at. Not my fault, costume crew's fault. Bite me. No wig YAY.
Second costume OMG HOT PINK GO-GO BOOTS WITH SIX-INCH HEELS AND CURVED TOES YOU HAVE GOT TO BE SHITTING ME. Two ponchos, one lace (gets tangled), nothing underneath (am going to flash someone, don't care), comfy but blinding pants, way too much jewelry (HA BITCHES I defeat your stupid earrings with my lack of piercings), NEON BLUE FRIGHT WIG. YES. Joshua will call me Dame Edna for the rest of my life. I am screwed.
Third costume -- SO. MUCH. LOVE. Sleeveless floor-length white dress (purdyful), nifty shinies (blue and gold belt and Egyptian neck-thing that spreads out over shoulders), comfy sandals. Hateful black wig, bangs too long, stretchy gold head band (fell off twice). Comfy, easy to dance in, get to wear for whole of act 2. Overall, a win.
After rehearsal, Pholmes (not even a director, she just comes to practices to piss people off as far as I can tell) made everyone cry by telling us that we're not acting enough & don't know our dances (a lie, it was our best rehearsal yet) and that we're being inconsiderate by whining to the costume crew and making the stage crew wait on us hand and foot (it's not OUR fault if something doesn't fit and it's the costume crew's fucking job to fix it, and the stage crew are THERE to get our props in place, it's kinda the point of having a stage crew). And whine? Excuse me, none of us have whined to the costume crew. Some of us may have cried because our boobs were falling out in front of the whole bloody auditorium or we nearly twisted our ankles, but I call that justified.
And then we were told that we're not allowed to wear glasses. I DO NOT HAVE CONTACTS. I HAVE NEVER WORN CONTACTS IN MY LIFE. And I'm not starting now. I can handle being blind for most of the thing, but they are NOT making me take my glasses off during the go-go number because HELLO, SIX-INCH HEELS and I've never worn heels in my life either, and I have to step up to my place three feet off the floor without going up the stairs because people are ON the stairs, and if I can't see where I'm stepping they are fucking PAYING my hospital bills when both my ankles are broken!
*deep breath*
Okay, better now.
We're not doing a damn thing wrong. This play is going to be so awesome, it really is. Pholmes can bite my shiny metal ass.
-rave