That smell
Okay, full disclosure: I ran out of gas last Sunday night on my way to pick up crazieabby from her babysitting gig at ednoria, as apparently gas stations in Fulton and that area around ednoria, kugelblitz, and starfyrone do not stay open past 2100 or some early time; I passed two closed ones I'd counted on before running out. A Good Samaritan stopped, and as she was very, very cute and sexy, I contemplated asking for a phone number lift; however, I'd already called for help, and simonator arrived five minutes later to tell me it was on the way. kugelblitz eventually came to bail me out, with a nice, full five-gallon gas can, and all was cool.
Fast-forward to this weekend, and my lovely wife wished to make good with the return of the can in full. There were two problems with this plan: first, my wife, Ghod bless her, is rather slapdash about jar lids and the like; I often end up pulling things out of the fridge and fixing canted lids on them, so they're threaded correctly. Second, she decided to transport this can in the back seat. In retrospect, it's a good thing she did: crazieabby saw it tip over and was able to get them to stop and pick it back up, but not before...yeah.
So we ended up doing the last shows of Volpone this weekend with a faint smell of gasoline permeating the dressing room, which I lovingly transferred to cnvarbiter, since he borrowed a shirt from me (we wear exactly the same size). Despite all that, the show went really well, particularly last night's performance - it could have been a real disaster, given the disorganization leading up to it, and I think we had fully settled into it by the time we closed. We were blessed with a very good cast.
The weekend's performances (and oddly-timed cast party on Saturday) left little room for anything else. We were tremendously late to starfyrone's party, didn't get to frontdoorangel & slaversbane's at all, and couldn't really do anything about the car except spray Febreze on it, cover it over with a blanket (I was channelling Winston Wolfe at that point, let me tell you...), and just apologize to people for smelling like gasoline.
Busy week ahead. Must get some Exchange biz moving forward (need logo! need website! need help!), and there might be a trip to West Virginia this week. Also, tomorrow is the Trivia Night tournament. The Wrong Trousers will wheel their massive brains into the Frisco Grille in Columbia and kill their cells with bheer answer amazing questions. At stake is a $500 prize. Second place, steak knives...third place: you're fired.*
* No, not really.
Fast-forward to this weekend, and my lovely wife wished to make good with the return of the can in full. There were two problems with this plan: first, my wife, Ghod bless her, is rather slapdash about jar lids and the like; I often end up pulling things out of the fridge and fixing canted lids on them, so they're threaded correctly. Second, she decided to transport this can in the back seat. In retrospect, it's a good thing she did: crazieabby saw it tip over and was able to get them to stop and pick it back up, but not before...yeah.
So we ended up doing the last shows of Volpone this weekend with a faint smell of gasoline permeating the dressing room, which I lovingly transferred to cnvarbiter, since he borrowed a shirt from me (we wear exactly the same size). Despite all that, the show went really well, particularly last night's performance - it could have been a real disaster, given the disorganization leading up to it, and I think we had fully settled into it by the time we closed. We were blessed with a very good cast.
The weekend's performances (and oddly-timed cast party on Saturday) left little room for anything else. We were tremendously late to starfyrone's party, didn't get to frontdoorangel & slaversbane's at all, and couldn't really do anything about the car except spray Febreze on it, cover it over with a blanket (I was channelling Winston Wolfe at that point, let me tell you...), and just apologize to people for smelling like gasoline.
Busy week ahead. Must get some Exchange biz moving forward (need logo! need website! need help!), and there might be a trip to West Virginia this week. Also, tomorrow is the Trivia Night tournament. The Wrong Trousers will wheel their massive brains into the Frisco Grille in Columbia and kill their cells with bheer answer amazing questions. At stake is a $500 prize. Second place, steak knives...third place: you're fired.*
* No, not really.