Saturday, November 29, 2008


I'm going to see some acting in Washington D.C. tonight. Acting I believe about pills, belting, and faces in the gravy boat. I hope I like it. I like car rides when there are show tunes that I know. I don't like listening to things I don't know, which is narrow-minded and also doesn't make any sense because then how in the world would I ever have learned anything. 
My cat just got VERY UPSET for no reason a'tall. 
Now I must shower and make myself presentable so I can drive to the Acting Emporium to meet Chali and then backtrack to pick up Brett from his photo session at the O'Willards. Robyn and I have realized this doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but no one really cares. I hope we go through a drive-thru tonight. I love going through the drive-thru.
The birthday party last night was fun. Bridget was attired in a fluorescent green top and super zealous. I sat next to Lynn West who is beautiful and Paul and I decided fiddling was HOT.
They made everybody take a rock when they left. Says something Irish on it. I knew almost no one. Which I prefer because then I am not expected to speak.
Jack Cheese likes to sleep on top of my hands when I am typing.
I think I am going to do a spot of Shakespeare acting. I am pleased by this. I have wanted to have a whack at that for a while. I can only assume I will be attired in all black accented here and there with little dried bundles of berries and twigs.
Oh- Southampton is still alive. I just heard him skittering around. I can't feel my left foot.

Friday, November 28, 2008

I'm going to get sick of this pretty soon.

This time I put the title first. 
I'm going to a birthday party tonight. But I can't talk about it. 
I also can't find the book I was reading. Was "Club Dead." Is one of those ones in the Southern Vampire Series that True Blood is based on. Trouble is, I have now read so far ahead in the series that I feel no burning need to watch anymore of the show. Except for Anna Paquin's legs look OUTSTANDING in her shorts and I would like to observe them so I can form mine similarly. 
Brett sleeps a lot.
I am going to play the piano now. Also I only have one brown boot. Unfortunate.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008

I always forget to put a title.

I don't have the first thing to write about. Except I just looked up and saw on Pushing Daisies the man whom I believe portrayed the slain vampire in the basement on True Blood. Really like that show. 
I made quiche tonight. Ginnie and I are going to make a souffle. Ahahahaha.
I think it would be nice to have red hair. 
Ginnie and Brett are on the phone talking about "hard sauce." No idea. Assume liquor. 
I'm going to see "Twilight" tonight with Alison Thibodeau. I'm rather intimidated. She is stunning after all, and her last name looks French.
Brett is currently going down the stairs in our apartment building making trumpet noises with his mouth. Our neighbor ABHORS him. I'd like to punch her. Actually fight her. I often wonder how I'd do in hand to hand combat. I think the rage would help out a lot in my fight with next-door-neighbor Jessica.
Kristin Chenoweth looks either too tan or too blond. Hard to tell which. Chase would know.
I am very crabby in the kids Christmas show at the Mill this year. So much fun. My character seems to get increasingly crabby as the years drone on. Methinks Paul has in mind for Pepita to be banished from the North Pole due to bad behavior.
I don't approve of those new book things that have come out wherein you poke a picture in the book with a pen and all words on the page are said out loud through a speaker in that particular character's voice. This will leave children no reason to develop any imagination.
Altogether too much talk about mayonnaise on the facebook today. 
I'm very excited about selecting my movie candy. I always allow myself one candy and one galleon of soda. Coke Zero. 
We were saying the other day how we think The Debra's mouth has all sorts of sensors and computers inside it that gauge the windspeed, temperature of the theater, level of mucus in her throat, dew point average, etc., and then produce her voice accordingly. 
I love Christmas. I also need to call Jason Marks, that reminds me.
One of the cats has taken to squalling without ceasing. There is no reason for this that we can determine other than he feels he leads a miserable life. 
I think the Kristin Chenoweth character is about to get Xed in the bakery.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Blood in the flowers.

Well, Tom and I dolled ourselves up as a cowboy and an elf yesterday and went to the great big green house of Colonial Heights. They have a pig there, and this was the main reason I was excited. Come to find out that this pig, whom we last we met was the size of a Nike is now an offensively unapproachable Omnibus who is kept in a pen in the backyard. They gave me a hot dog. I liked that. Also there were train rides available. For the children. Of which there were about four. I wanted to get into the train but the train consisted of six steel trash cans turned sideways, glued to wheels with holes cut in the top side containing what appeared to be children's training toilets. I would not have fit. We were there to promote the Christmas show at the Mill, so we had brochures. We've been over how I feel about handing out brochures. There were two Santas there. One was appropriate looking- had his natural beard, was pretty old, and he was set up all alone in the freezer section surrounded by pre-lit trees strung festively with papier-mache lizards and cans of budweiser. He was a bitter Santa, I observed after watching Tom talk to him for five minutes. He works at Dupont. He doesn't like it there. He does, however, get paid extra when he plays the Santa at the mall because of his natural beard. I later spotted this Santa deftly performing theft of several hummingbird feeders in the corner. He had put on his sunshades, so perhaps he felt no one would notice.
The other Santa was 17 years old, riddled with pimples, Canadian (Tom thinks he was from the Phillipines), and had a lovely fringe of  blank bangs hanging out from below the front of his wig. He was the Santa in charge of taking photographs with peoples pets. Lots of unhappy Rottweilers and pretentious weiner dogs with their nails done. At one point a jolly round little girl rolled up to me with her poodle on a leash. This poodle appeared to have been stained in blood. She continued her forward rolling motion up to the Santa table where she immediately almost lost her life in the battle that began between her nasty little poodle and the large shark with fur that was next in line. I do not know what kind of dogs those are that have no color and hardly any fur. But they are pink about the eyes, so perchance they are albinos of some sort. Anyway. She was pretty shaken up by that. You could tell because huddled into a chair in the corner and kept looking at Tom and I laughing with tears streaming down her face.
Then Tom settled down in one of the lovely sewage hued Adirondack chairs that lined the walk way and began genially emotionally scarring the grandmother sitting across from him. Her husband? was sitting next to her in his maroon elastic waist sweat pants and eyebrows that looked like toenail shavings giving me the lusty eye and explaining to us that his wife was morbidly afraid of snakes. So Tom proceeded to regale us all with tale of the three black snakes who were living on a shelf in the light booth at the Mill behind the mike cables and who were discovered by the light board op one dark day. Mid way through the story this poor grandmother with her off-white stretch capris, her off-white stretch cankles, and her snazzy orange gold studded flats covered her ears with her hands and got up and walked away. 
Then I had myself two yellow cupcakes from the vending machine I happily discovered secreted away in the corner after which I contracted the most violent hiccups of my life. I couldn't control the volume, and they were great gasping heaves of hiccups. I seemed quite drunk. I couldn't stop laughing, Tom couldn't stop rolling his eyes, and the poodle had denied us the thrill of dying a bloody death, so we decided it would be best if we left. We went to the nearby Wendy's because Tom knew if I ate beef it'd clog my hiccups right up. It did. 
Everyone should meet Sandy Dacus' mother. Everyone.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Number 3

Now, I think 30 Rock has an awful lot of guest stars this season. I was thoroughly tickled by the first season, most especially the episode where Jack needs coffee cups and walks with corresponding limbs. 
Thickburgers look gross. Look like the pile of  Triceratops dung in Jurassic Park topped with an outlandish amount of lettuce. Never is there that much lettuce on the real sandwich. 
Tonight three people I know were sitting directly in my line of acting. I don't like to get acted at, so I tried to re-aim my acting elsewhere. One of those people was someone whom I have never really considered looking lasciviously at, but had to. Had no option. 
Chase now has three curtain speech jackets. All brown, one stolen, all the same. He will tell you that they are all unique. One time in the North Face store in New York Chase and Joseph had a mighty tiff and stopped speaking to each other for half an hour because Joseph didn't see the point in Chase purchasing a water bottle fashioned from the actual hide of a gnu. 
This is the same trip I think where another friend of mine went into Banana Republic for several months and came out thrilled to have purchased a pair of yellow capris. I don't understand why that was exciting. 
I always like to go to Dean & Deluca when I go to New York. Well, not anymore. It doesn't taste good. 

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

My second post.

I was sitting on Brett's lap when I began writing this. He hates that, I think because it hyper-extends his knees. But he has since gone to change his shirt.
We are preparing to go with CTKniffen of the CTKniffen's Stage 1 Acting Emporium and Theatrical Bazaar to Carytown to pass out fliers. This is what I told Brett we are doing. What we are really doing is driving to Carytown, dropping Brett off on the corner at Can-Can and Chase and I are going to lunch. Chase and I are not of the ilk of person who are comfortable standing merrily on corners shouting and flailing at strangers while stuffing paper in their faces. Brett is. He will probably get tips.
There was a giant cinnamon bun on my coffee table this morning. Untouched. 
I went to the Dunky Donut this morning on my way to the Mill. I call it Dunky Donut because of a long horrible tale involving Long Island, engine coolant, Indian men and nosebleeds. This particular Dunky Donut never fails to infuriate me. Invariably you will be greeted alarmingly promptly by the person at the drive thru when you arrive at the menu. It is a high-pitched chipper downright pleasant voice of a young girl. She is positively tickled that you have stopped by. You then say what you want. You are then cursed out by someone obviously ill and Mexican for asking for whatever sort of cream cheese you have asked for. So you clarify as best you can, and drive round. You pay. You are then informed that today Dunky Donuts does not have either the sort of bagel or the sort of cream cheese you requested (in my case "scrawberry").  I find this fascinating. Yet I continue to go. Brett says the best way to get back at them is to stop going but we found a better option when one day while waiting to be offered a bag of Doritos instead of what I had ordered, Durron, Brett and I stole right off the pick-up window a round magenta sticker that says in yellow letters: "Our Scrambled Eggs Are Made With Milk." I like that a lot. Makes me giggle. 
I like Durron a lot too. 

Tuesday, November 18, 2008

I have no idea if this is available for people to read.

My hamster is still alive. He has gone missing twice. This is both exciting and impressive because tis thrilling to know that there is a living link sausage with a sizable scrotum risking his life under your sofa, and impressive than in order for said sausage (Southampton) to be escaped at all he has to open his cage and free fall seven feet to the hardwood floor. Once there he must evade two cats. Well, one large elegant homosexual cat with extra toes and one dumpy orange critter who thinks he's a puppy and who ate off his own tail. 
But he's back in his cage now. 
I did light my candle that smells like birthday cakes which I have had since college. I decided to light it because Erin Thomas has a lovely brown candle on her living room coffee table the flavor of which I believe is acting and mahogany. 
I am going to order Chinese for dinner.
I wonder if this is going to be viewable by people. I don't know how to make that happen. Not sure I want to. But I do like reading Janine's blog so I suppose someone might want to read mine. Not Tom. Tom will say he would rather scrape the plaque off his prostate with a cube of jello than have anything to do with blogs. 
The fancy gray cat I mentioned earlier seems to be chronically sobbing mucus. Only out of his left eye. Should trundle him down to the vet. 
It's almost time for Jeopardy.