Wish I knew where to find the cartoons.

So I've decided it is wonderfully alright to be honest with myself. I don't like children. Well, that's not entirely true. I like some of them. The reserved practical ones who don't talk except to answer a question and sit with their ankles crossed. Also I like the tubby cute ones you can squeeze. Besides that, no.
Do not care for feeling as though it is your job to make sure it doesn't get hurt. And I'll do it for money on occasion. And it won't get hurt. But still.
There is currently a gorgeous blonde toddler with an alarmingly developed come-hither pout standing on my left beating me in the forearm with a picture book and screaming "FUCK!" repeatedly. This did manage to catch my attention so I glanced down and saw her stabbing her finger at a picture of a "duck."
Close.
It's hot today. Very. I gave a detailed explanation to this same toddler regarding the humidity and heat index in Richmond which successfully discouraged her from going out for another walk.
She then locked herself in her bedroom and began screaming "POOP!" Just great.
Got her out. Did not panic. Has the same door as my little brother had growing up which I swiftly learned could be unlocked from the outside with the nearest available shoelace. MUCH to his chagrin.
I also used to follow along behind my brother when he was learning to walk and just shove him to the floor. He, being one year old, was not too cynical yet and would never turn around to see what had happened. This was nasty of me. I did make up for it though, but martyring myself out to read him millions of picture books while he was stricken with the chicken pox. I later learned that my mother had only allowed me to do this so I would contract the disease as well. But I secretly only read to him because I enjoyed feeling like Clara Barton (my Nana had recently purchased me as series of children's historical biographies and I had taken quite a shine to Clara, Helen, and John Paul Jones).
Tonight Summer of '42 opens. This is very exciting. I saw Millie and got reminded how awesome it is to watch fun dancing and performing. The last show I did consisted mainly of doing acting. Less music. Whatever music there was was Adele, which I fancied greatly prior to the show and now would rather give a camel a tongue-bath than hear again.
This toddler is now alternating attempting to remove my bra and pinching up chub rolls from my stomach to show to me.
Now she wants me to put her in her brown long-sleeved top with gold trim. She is currently wearing a purple seersucker gown with flowers and cockroaches appliqued to the front. These items will clearly not go together. For a flash I considered telling her we'd have to change her whole outfit but then remembered about me.
She is now wearing both. Looks great.
I'm excited about Mad Men coming on. Also, So You Think You Can Dance is outstanding. Mary Page should go on there at once. I've been standing around wherever I happen to be doing standing up splits like she does in top of Act II. Can do it. But while she looks like a lithe gazelle I look like one of those Koopa toys you used to get at MacDonalds that had suction cups on their chins you could stick to their feet and make them turn a flip.
So the kitten/bat Surprise is turning white. He was coal black through and through. Then I noticed one day that he appeared to be balding behind his ears. I examined this closely and discovered that the hair behind his ears is turing snow white from the roots. Weird and fascinating. Now it is spreading around his neck. His back is gray when your stroke his fur the wrong way, and the entire underside of his tail is white like a rabbit. Sam says he is a white cat.
I say he is a mood cat.
I hear Scott Wichmann ate FISH the other day. I must say, I'm surprised he could fit that in between his commitments to being a royal pain in my......
Now the golden baby wants me to brush its' hair. Please excuse me.

Yankees hat/Red Sox hat......thoughts?

Tomorrow- or Monday- one of the kittens departs for her new life with her lover and her competition for that lover, Margaret. This kitten is Betty. Her days for the last four weeks have been comprised mainly of narrowing her eyes at me and being long-suffering. She is nothing if not consistent. 

Who does the Amy Burley actress on True Blood remind me of?

Ouisus goes away on Wednesday. I debated over nipping down to the animal shelter and securing a matching grey kitten to pass off to my friend who is planning toadopt Ouisus, but then decided I would just get the (bad word) over it.

She wants to name him Waffles. 

Now- this is not entirely ok. Simply because, while I feel Waffles to be a stellar outstanding name, and love to eat waffles, I do not feel that this kitten is named that. He is a sturdy knockabout town sort of fellow who proclaims things about his adventures in boastful tones. Trust me. 

But whatever. She can name him what she wants. He is very agreeable and loungy.

I might go over to 7-11 and get some cookie dough presently.

I am about ready to be done with these kittens. They are at the point now when at the break of day, they all trot in single file and sit in a semi-circle at the base of the toilet bowl to gaze up at you doing your thing with expressions of great hopefulness.

Joseph told me the other day that they would gain more weight if they ate solely kitten chow and not a mix of adult cat food and kitten chow. They have been switched. Few things better than a chubby kitten.

Also- few things better than wearing one's pajamas to the theater for the show and then forgetting you wore them and then having them to snuggle into when you take off your costume at the end of the evening. Sheer bliss.

You ought to see this pail of Diet Coke I have acquired. It is 52 oz.  And I am allowed to get refills at 7-11 for one dollar. I carry it around with me. One fill-up sustained Robyn, Chase and I through a six hour rehearsal.

I learned I am capable of doing a flip at rehearsal last week. I was standing in a trance down left on the ramp while Chase directed something happening upstage that didn't involve me. Then I heard him end a sentence with "......and then one of these." The next thing I know I am entirely upside down with no part of my body touching the floor. Then I am standing up again and have turned a flip over his forearm.  This, I feel, is a fabulous way to try new things. No preparation or warning leaves one no time to get into a potential stew about technicalities. Can now do a flip. Though I think I gave Chris a hernia the first time we tried it. This after he had courteously asked me if I a. trusted him, and b. was ready to try it.  CHASE.

When True Blood gets made into a musical, I will be wanting to play Sookie. I will dye my hair blonde, and go tanning and ride the bikes at the old folks gym to Moscow and back.

Robyn says I can have Ned. I think she is kidding me. Which is nasty of her. I do love Ned.

The kittens are now inside the back of the couch. 

Fruity Pebbles are not very filling. Very good, not very filling.

Ooooo, I really want that cookie dough.

Also, I had so many interesting props stories to put on here and have plum forgotten them at the moment. I need dough.

No subject.

Haughty. Bollocks.

Moment.

A man named Wolfgang and his pack of middle-aged women in what are clearly TOPS from Dillards are taking pictures of the cast of Summer of '42. This is hysterical because he keeps telling us to look haughy and serious and not to smile. And doing a straddle split whilst he photographs. He has long wavy gray hair and a oily bang which I feel helps with his artistry. I feel this is worth noting.
Today Maggie shut Ouisus' front paw in the laundry room door. Such a howl went up as to de-dazzle Kathy Halenda. He then was fine. He then noticed our concern and commenced limping pitifully around the house.
I must go act now. And slither down Chris Stewart.

More kittens.

Saw Janine riding her sunny yellow bike home from work today in the drizzle. She's amazing. I love hearing her sing. Eric Williams was going to drive by and attempt to pick her up. 

So three kittens.

Large gray one. Might be a panther. At least 9 years older and more advanced than his siblings. Loves nothing more than to frantically scale the couch and your chest and then perch himself on your rack and tenderly reach one paw up to cradle your face. All the while gazing with great concern into your eyes. His name is currently Ouisus. Like Jesus but with the French yes at the beginning. This is due to the fact that I have difficulty pronouncing Juan with a Spanish accent and it sounds more like Hoo Wan when I try. So I have decided that all names beginning in J should feature the "Houi" sound at the front. It is a catchy name for this kitten. Also you can do the Altar Boyz choreography with him in your right hand and then gesture about wildly with him at the appropriate lyric. He has explosive surround-sound bowel movements from time to time. He also weaned himself straight from the bottle to hard food and steak. Love him dearly.

Then there is Maggie's. Maybe. Her name is Betty Draper and that's all there is to it. Due to an incident involving Brett and a piece of trash she took a header off the kitchen counter and as a result looks in many directions at once. This is endearing? 

Betty likes to lie next to you and sleep. Cat. Dullard. Very sweet though. Loves Maggie. Reciprocates the general disregard I feel for her.

SURPRISE!

Surprise is the name of the black creature. Verdict still out on his species with the final three options narrowed down to bat, kitten, and pygmie pygmie cow.

His hair is black with gray undertones and he is SOFT and fluffy and has a tubby tail. He also has the most sturdy set of birthing hips I've seen on anyone in a while. He is light years behind the others in development and looks SHOCKED at all times. He does the Merry Christmas Polka whenever you turn on the dishwasher or dustbuster. He has a very bulbous forehead and walks like Dr. Bailey on Grey's Anatomy. Might craft him a miniscule Ewok suit out of a red mitten or something. Kind of love him as well. Always very cute when anytime you shout "SURPRISE!" a wee black puff comes staggering toward you. He also enjoys seating himself on your foot. Whether you are walking or not.

Have been going to the gym. Enjoy the gym because no one is there who can see. Ginnie and I ride the blazes out of some bikes. She is disciplined enough to do exercises on the bouncy balls but I just end up rolling around and playing whenever I deal with them, so I typically excuse myself to go fiddle around with the weight machines. Took a weight training course in college. That and folk dancing were my gym credits. Hysterical. Cham Pritchard was my instructors name. Spent much more time thinking about that word- Cham- then doing anything else. Is like Ham. Or Chapstick.

Robyn O'Neill sounds amazing at rehearsal. She just stands there and those noises just come out of her mouth. Stands there in pressed slacks, no less.

If anyone knows when the "In the Heights" documentary re-airs, let me know. Looked up when I thought it did, and it wasn't there. Want to see it. I have realized that now when someone asks me what are my dream roles, I have one to lead off with. Usnavi.

Am growing tired of fried chicken. May request baked. Will be happy to go and pick it up myself.

Was a mother for five days last week. To human kittens. Do not need any of those until I am 40. At least. They were exceedingly well behaved. Had extended conversations with the new slipper with eyes named King that Joy keeps out back. Can now perform the entire score to Annie backwards in Italian post-mortem.

The big cat keeps rudely doing his thang in the kittens' litter box. This is an expression of his displeasure. He secretly wants to play with them. But he enjoys the nobility of being long-suffering. 

Today I went to a production meeting. While waiting my turn I drew a picture. Adam was disappointed in me. This is a terrible thing, to have Adam disappointed in me. Will refrain from illustrating production meetings in the future. 

Oh my gosh- forgot- I bottle fed a two week old calf. Was FUN. Was like trying to drag a Buick through polenta. Looked like a deer. Drank a 1/2 gallon of milk in 45 seconds. Then met a bushy kitten who is still not adopted because she cannot get up from lying on her back. This is very comical. Then Debby fed Surprise beer and we went home. 

Must go shower. Drank coffee. Now feel dirty.

Also my citrus stigmata has gone away. Very exciting. Cured by Lisa Kotula's Jergens Hand Lotion.

Only that-

I have very large-pored breasts.

Continued kittens.

In horrible news, my dear Jack Cheese Biscuits is missing. The only thing I can figure is that he fell/jumped/flew off the balcony. But I figure if he was dead I would have found his stiff orange self in the hedge when I got home. Or the neighbors would have. I have put up many signs (very well made by Brett, which is good because mine would have been a pencil sketch) all over the place and gone round to all the vets within a mile or two radius and put them on the lookout. Also craigslist. 

MISS HIM. Have never lost something I was apparently so attached to before. 

But I have not given up. He is pretty crazy and wouldn't know that it should kill him to fall three flights so he probably is scampering around in the sewers giving the rats hell. 

However.

In a very timely move some mother cat had kittens in a prickle bush at SPARC and then left them there. So they are now in a Miller Lite box at my feet drunk and asleep. Yesterday they figured out how to use the bottle. I should lay down a recording of the sucking sounds and pig noises that issue from them. 

There are three. 

One large bushy gray one with rheumatic blue eyes who sticks his tongue out when he sleeps and looks like a koala. He is very vigorous and nurses from everywhere available, like the sofa and my zipper.  He is temporarily named Inappropriate because when I first saw him in his box dying of dehydration he was fighting through the death throes making valiant attempts to nurse off his brother's genitals. I exclaimed "Inappropriate!" So there. Whoever adopts him should probably rename him. Something like Bear. Or Gandolfini.

One small gray one who is apparently a girl and is dainty and likes to mewl and suffer. She always looks like she has a migraine and likes to drape herself pathetically over the nearest side of anything she can stagger to. She is temporarily named Betty Draper due to her suffering. She likes Maggie and Adam a lot. I am relatively disinterested in her.

Then there is a small black thing that might be a bat. He was found way back in the depths of the prickle bushes where his mother had no doubt left him due to his screeching and carrying on. He goes on suicide mission after suicide mission. He is clearly the runt and reminds me of the evil plotting Mogwi that turns into that nasty Gremlin. I like him best. He holds his own bottle when he eats. 

Dirty Dancing is on. I used to love this movie. Now I know what happens so I feel like I am wasting my time watching it.

So anyway. One of the kittens is spoken for- not a specific one, but one.

I am not keeping any of them if I can help it, because clearly if I do, they will turn up dead or vanish in under a year.

Bought the hugest jar of peanut butter I have ever seen the other day. 

I just love opening the windows and listening to the outside. People or birds or parties or rain or whatever. Just LOVE it.