Quote of the day
"It's weird. Lately when I sit down somewhere I don't really think about the other places I could be."
-- Katie Miller
Her quote blows my mind. On one hand it is soooo ZEN. It indicates a calmness in one's life. On the other hand, is it accepting one's fate in life? I'm not speaking about Katie's personal life here, I'm just speaking philosophically, and as it would relate to me, because it's ALL ABOUT ME!
I wonder if I had that feeling. I wouldn't be so tired. I'd feel calm in my center. But wouldn't I also feel complacent? Is it resolve, surrender, acceptance, giving up? I suppose if I was exactly where I wanted to be, then feeling that way would be a good thing. It would be a zen moment.
But if I felt that way being where I am now, then I would know I had given up. Gone would be the very drive that urges me to something better, to fulfilling this ridiculous dream. But the trade off is this battle that rages within my body, this holy war of living my passion versus living comfortably. Do I get to live a passionate life, or do I just get to live?
I could win the battle, but lose the war.
Wednesday, December 31, 2003
Monday, December 29, 2003
Friday, December 26, 2003
Wednesday, December 24, 2003
Didja know I went to Toronto last weekend?
Kelly had purchase one of the SARS packages - well, I call them the SARS packages because after SARS decimated the tourism trade in Toronto they started giving away these packages that include a theater show, your hotel, full dinner, and one extra event(ball game, gift certificates, etc.) for el cheapo prices, like 120 US bucks. And we ain't talking La Palacia Cucaracha and McDonald's either! It was such a deal. So it was Kelly's X-mas gift to me to see the Lion King.
Have you seen the Lion King?
Good lord, I was not prepared for it. I had NO idea so much puppetry was involved. And I didn't know how fantastic the music was going to be, and the singing, and the costumes, and...all of it. I was beyond moved. How moved? I was bawling during the opening scene. Yes, the beauty of it was so intense that it shook the edges of this bitter old hard-assed heart and I couldn't stop crying during the entire opening number. Weeping like a baby. Rafiki is my hero. Well, at least the actress who played her.
Well, we had a grand old time in T.O. Went up the CN tower. There was some Arab woman who was selling the tickets and Kelly said "Nice Do-rag!" under her breath. I chuckled helplessly. So bad. We're going to hell. With the rest of the Arabs. But I digress.
We had gift certificates for this store called Roots which has a buncho nothing in it, but we met this really cool dude named Garrick who "spotted" us as a couple and made sure he told us all about the dyke bar and district in town. He was sooo nice. A really truly decent guy - we talked to him a long time. After that we noticed this HUGE porn store across the street so we went in, without the benefit of ice cream! Bought....nothing.
The night after the show I was getting all snuggled in bed and I was getting all paranoid about not being able to sleep. I'm an insomniac, you know, and I hadn't been sleeping most of the week. Well, I ain't gonna say where I got it, but I just happened to have XANAX with me. Oh, you want to know where I got it? Let's just say I've been supboenaed to testify in Rush Limbaugh's trial. So Kelly comes out of the bathroom with a glass of water and says "Here's your happy pill, dear!" I take it and I go to bed. And except for one brief moment of awaky-ness to pee, I slept the whoooole night! AAAHHHH!
And the next day Kelly was all "Where should we eat?" and I'm all "Wherever!!", and "What would you like to do?" and I'm all "Whatever!" and it was cold but I didn't care and we walked forever and I didn't care! And about 3:00 I saw something or someone, I think it was the homeless dude with the five pet rats, and I went on this RANT! Then I stopped mid-rant and said "I think my happy pill wore off." And Kelly laughed her ass off because she was silently thinking the same thing!
Anyhoo, it was a great excursion, and Toronto is hardly crowded, even at Christmas time. And DO see the Lion King if you get the chance. The giraffes will blow your mind.
Kelly had purchase one of the SARS packages - well, I call them the SARS packages because after SARS decimated the tourism trade in Toronto they started giving away these packages that include a theater show, your hotel, full dinner, and one extra event(ball game, gift certificates, etc.) for el cheapo prices, like 120 US bucks. And we ain't talking La Palacia Cucaracha and McDonald's either! It was such a deal. So it was Kelly's X-mas gift to me to see the Lion King.
Have you seen the Lion King?
Good lord, I was not prepared for it. I had NO idea so much puppetry was involved. And I didn't know how fantastic the music was going to be, and the singing, and the costumes, and...all of it. I was beyond moved. How moved? I was bawling during the opening scene. Yes, the beauty of it was so intense that it shook the edges of this bitter old hard-assed heart and I couldn't stop crying during the entire opening number. Weeping like a baby. Rafiki is my hero. Well, at least the actress who played her.
Well, we had a grand old time in T.O. Went up the CN tower. There was some Arab woman who was selling the tickets and Kelly said "Nice Do-rag!" under her breath. I chuckled helplessly. So bad. We're going to hell. With the rest of the Arabs. But I digress.
We had gift certificates for this store called Roots which has a buncho nothing in it, but we met this really cool dude named Garrick who "spotted" us as a couple and made sure he told us all about the dyke bar and district in town. He was sooo nice. A really truly decent guy - we talked to him a long time. After that we noticed this HUGE porn store across the street so we went in, without the benefit of ice cream! Bought....nothing.
The night after the show I was getting all snuggled in bed and I was getting all paranoid about not being able to sleep. I'm an insomniac, you know, and I hadn't been sleeping most of the week. Well, I ain't gonna say where I got it, but I just happened to have XANAX with me. Oh, you want to know where I got it? Let's just say I've been supboenaed to testify in Rush Limbaugh's trial. So Kelly comes out of the bathroom with a glass of water and says "Here's your happy pill, dear!" I take it and I go to bed. And except for one brief moment of awaky-ness to pee, I slept the whoooole night! AAAHHHH!
And the next day Kelly was all "Where should we eat?" and I'm all "Wherever!!", and "What would you like to do?" and I'm all "Whatever!" and it was cold but I didn't care and we walked forever and I didn't care! And about 3:00 I saw something or someone, I think it was the homeless dude with the five pet rats, and I went on this RANT! Then I stopped mid-rant and said "I think my happy pill wore off." And Kelly laughed her ass off because she was silently thinking the same thing!
Anyhoo, it was a great excursion, and Toronto is hardly crowded, even at Christmas time. And DO see the Lion King if you get the chance. The giraffes will blow your mind.
Thursday, December 18, 2003
Story Telling 101
They say there's a fine line between a good story and a bald-faced lie. Rule #1 for telling a good story: Start with truth, then embellish mightily.
Take a fact, a true event. Don't just say "Here's a true event." No. Put it in a suit. A FUSCHIA suit. With silver glitter buttons. And Puce accents. Put a propeller beanie hat on it. Then some clown shoes. Or stilts, better yet. Dress it up. The more outrageous, the better. It's still the truth, it just looks like it missed its lithium dosage that day.
That being said, I'm either
1) a BRILLIANT storyteller, or
2) y'all think I'm a loose cannon.
Because just about everyone thought that story was true!!! Do you think I'd make such a scene in front of children in a mall? I guess you wouldn't put it past me. True, I've yelled at bratty kids and their bratty parents in the past. I have said to people "I'm a dyke- ya gotta problem wit' dat?" But doncha think I'd have the sense to RUN when the fuzz showed up? And I certainly wouldn't divulge Santa's little penchant for ladies panties.
I started the story with factual events so you'd all think it was true, but I figured once I got to the part about Santa with bail money waving his hand and transporting me, that would give it away. So here's the truth. I went shopping at a mall. I was looking for an elusive kitchen item. I walked the whole frickin' mall, the kitchen departments are indeed in remote locations, everyone looked like a zombie, I did see a Goth couple, I did pass the Santa area, and I ate a Tom Wahl's burger with fries. See how boring that recitation was? So the rest of it? That loud, tacky suit. A little fantasy I dreamed up while eating said burger, because I couldn't stand listening to that god-awful holiday music anymore, so I needed to disassociate.
I'm glad everyone enjoyed the story. But perhaps I SHOULD see a shrink.
They say there's a fine line between a good story and a bald-faced lie. Rule #1 for telling a good story: Start with truth, then embellish mightily.
Take a fact, a true event. Don't just say "Here's a true event." No. Put it in a suit. A FUSCHIA suit. With silver glitter buttons. And Puce accents. Put a propeller beanie hat on it. Then some clown shoes. Or stilts, better yet. Dress it up. The more outrageous, the better. It's still the truth, it just looks like it missed its lithium dosage that day.
That being said, I'm either
1) a BRILLIANT storyteller, or
2) y'all think I'm a loose cannon.
Because just about everyone thought that story was true!!! Do you think I'd make such a scene in front of children in a mall? I guess you wouldn't put it past me. True, I've yelled at bratty kids and their bratty parents in the past. I have said to people "I'm a dyke- ya gotta problem wit' dat?" But doncha think I'd have the sense to RUN when the fuzz showed up? And I certainly wouldn't divulge Santa's little penchant for ladies panties.
I started the story with factual events so you'd all think it was true, but I figured once I got to the part about Santa with bail money waving his hand and transporting me, that would give it away. So here's the truth. I went shopping at a mall. I was looking for an elusive kitchen item. I walked the whole frickin' mall, the kitchen departments are indeed in remote locations, everyone looked like a zombie, I did see a Goth couple, I did pass the Santa area, and I ate a Tom Wahl's burger with fries. See how boring that recitation was? So the rest of it? That loud, tacky suit. A little fantasy I dreamed up while eating said burger, because I couldn't stand listening to that god-awful holiday music anymore, so I needed to disassociate.
I'm glad everyone enjoyed the story. But perhaps I SHOULD see a shrink.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
Never send a bitter lesbian out shopping by herself during the peak of Christmas rush...
Well, it all started when I was out serving papers in the area of a certain mall, so I said I may as well pick up that one item I need. So I went to the BIGGEST mall in two counties. The particular item I was looking for today is a kitchen accessory. I suppose those of you who shop regularly at malls like normal people already know this, but the damn kitchen accessories in EVERY department store are in the utmost remote section of the store, regardless of which entrance you come in.
As I said, I was looking in department stores, which I suppose you also know are those "anchor" stores, which mean they are at the VERY ENDS of each tentacle of said mall, and of course, I had to go to every last store to find what I was looking for.
So I had walked the ENTIRE mall, and by now my blood sugar was dropping, and I'm remembering how I hate this Christmas pressure obligation bullshit called holiday "giving" and I'm watching people glide along the mall like zombies which, except for the Goth couple I saw, they're not supposed to look like. So I suppose it was all that combined that made me lose it at last.
I was walking by the Santa area with all these pasty-faced parents saying "how cute..." when I saw this little boy tugging on Santa's beard and saying "gimme this and gimme that and I want I want!!!!" and he's yelling at Santa and calling him names and throwing a tantrum and nobody's saying anything. And I'm looking at Santa and he's looking at me helplessly. And they're all snapping pictures.
So I go up to the kid and I say, "Hey! Shut your mouth you little ingrate and be glad for what you have! And show Santa some respect! He's SANTA!" Then I turn to the mother and say to her "And you should be ashamed of yourself letting your child act like that and not disciplining him!" And the mother tells me "Go To Hell!" And I say, "I'm already going to hell because I'm a big dyke and I'll be you and your kid's guide down there!!" And someone yells "Security!" and the kid is cowering behind his mother now and Santa is giving me the ol' thumbs up like "Thank you!"
I see the dudes in the gray uniforms getting closer but I feel like I haven't finished my mission, because they're all still standing there waiting for me to go away so they can continue torturing Santa, as if I'M the crazy one, so as the guys are clasping the handcuffs on me I yell "Santa's not real! And the sooner you all realize that the sooner you can all be prepared for the bitter realities of life that await you! And underneath Santa's pasted-on beard and pillow-stuffed red suit, he's wearing ladies underwear!"
Well, that did the trick, because it was that last part that made all the parents look sideways at Santa and pack up their kids and leave the Santa area and go home. And I'm thinking, darn, now that they're all leaving I could be shopping in less crowded conditions, but I'm going to jail now, how's that for irony? An hour later I'm sitting in the Ontario County Jail contemplating whether I should call an attorney or a shrink, when who but Santa should appear. With bail money.
And he looks at me with his twinkling eyes and his little red cherry nose as we're leaving the jailhouse and he says "That's the first time anyone has done anything for me. It's always been take, take, take, until today. Thank you." And we go to Pickering's Pub and he buys me a few cold ones. Of course the topic turns to women, and I promised to keep our conversation private, but suffice to say, turns out that Mrs. Claus is one hot tamale in the boudoir. Who knew.
We finish our beers and with a wave of his hand, he's gone and I'm suddenly sitting in the food court shoveling down a Tom Wahl's burger and fries, with my kitchen item all wrapped up in a Bon-Ton's bag.
Now that's a Christmas story!
Well, it all started when I was out serving papers in the area of a certain mall, so I said I may as well pick up that one item I need. So I went to the BIGGEST mall in two counties. The particular item I was looking for today is a kitchen accessory. I suppose those of you who shop regularly at malls like normal people already know this, but the damn kitchen accessories in EVERY department store are in the utmost remote section of the store, regardless of which entrance you come in.
As I said, I was looking in department stores, which I suppose you also know are those "anchor" stores, which mean they are at the VERY ENDS of each tentacle of said mall, and of course, I had to go to every last store to find what I was looking for.
So I had walked the ENTIRE mall, and by now my blood sugar was dropping, and I'm remembering how I hate this Christmas pressure obligation bullshit called holiday "giving" and I'm watching people glide along the mall like zombies which, except for the Goth couple I saw, they're not supposed to look like. So I suppose it was all that combined that made me lose it at last.
I was walking by the Santa area with all these pasty-faced parents saying "how cute..." when I saw this little boy tugging on Santa's beard and saying "gimme this and gimme that and I want I want!!!!" and he's yelling at Santa and calling him names and throwing a tantrum and nobody's saying anything. And I'm looking at Santa and he's looking at me helplessly. And they're all snapping pictures.
So I go up to the kid and I say, "Hey! Shut your mouth you little ingrate and be glad for what you have! And show Santa some respect! He's SANTA!" Then I turn to the mother and say to her "And you should be ashamed of yourself letting your child act like that and not disciplining him!" And the mother tells me "Go To Hell!" And I say, "I'm already going to hell because I'm a big dyke and I'll be you and your kid's guide down there!!" And someone yells "Security!" and the kid is cowering behind his mother now and Santa is giving me the ol' thumbs up like "Thank you!"
I see the dudes in the gray uniforms getting closer but I feel like I haven't finished my mission, because they're all still standing there waiting for me to go away so they can continue torturing Santa, as if I'M the crazy one, so as the guys are clasping the handcuffs on me I yell "Santa's not real! And the sooner you all realize that the sooner you can all be prepared for the bitter realities of life that await you! And underneath Santa's pasted-on beard and pillow-stuffed red suit, he's wearing ladies underwear!"
Well, that did the trick, because it was that last part that made all the parents look sideways at Santa and pack up their kids and leave the Santa area and go home. And I'm thinking, darn, now that they're all leaving I could be shopping in less crowded conditions, but I'm going to jail now, how's that for irony? An hour later I'm sitting in the Ontario County Jail contemplating whether I should call an attorney or a shrink, when who but Santa should appear. With bail money.
And he looks at me with his twinkling eyes and his little red cherry nose as we're leaving the jailhouse and he says "That's the first time anyone has done anything for me. It's always been take, take, take, until today. Thank you." And we go to Pickering's Pub and he buys me a few cold ones. Of course the topic turns to women, and I promised to keep our conversation private, but suffice to say, turns out that Mrs. Claus is one hot tamale in the boudoir. Who knew.
We finish our beers and with a wave of his hand, he's gone and I'm suddenly sitting in the food court shoveling down a Tom Wahl's burger and fries, with my kitchen item all wrapped up in a Bon-Ton's bag.
Now that's a Christmas story!
Monday, December 15, 2003
Addendum to the last post
I forgot to tell ya!! I had to teach a couple of students before the party, and as I go to the students' houses, I had about an hour to kill before my last student and the party itself. So I went to this restaurant and drank a couple of beers playing Yahtzee like a big loser to waste the time away.
When it was time to go to the party I thought I should proceed to the convenience store, buy some gum and not walk in to the party smelling like the lush I am. So I tossed the gum on the counter and said "Need this gum! They can't know I've been drinking!"
And the woman behind the counter says "I hope you're not going to an AA meeting."
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
And I hope you're all sitting down for this one.
You'll never, ever, ever, ever, ever believe what I did yesterday. Something that I haven't done since I was in early high school. Something that anyone who knows me won't believe it, even after I tell you. You'll just die.
I went sledding.
(*pause for dramatic effect*)
Okay, you still sitting?
I actually had fun.
(*longer pause*)
So how did it happen? Well, Kelly's a bad influence on me. She seems determined to take this ultra hard-assed bad temperament that I've worked YEARS to hone to this glorious level of... well... badness, and shake it all up. Perhaps it was the promise of the warm soup with garlic bread that awaited upon our return, or the hot tub and the fireplace, or even the flagrante delicto I knew would be my reward. I dunno. But I did it. And I enjoyed it. So there. And I didn't even get hurt. Too badly.
All right, you can get up now.
I forgot to tell ya!! I had to teach a couple of students before the party, and as I go to the students' houses, I had about an hour to kill before my last student and the party itself. So I went to this restaurant and drank a couple of beers playing Yahtzee like a big loser to waste the time away.
When it was time to go to the party I thought I should proceed to the convenience store, buy some gum and not walk in to the party smelling like the lush I am. So I tossed the gum on the counter and said "Need this gum! They can't know I've been drinking!"
And the woman behind the counter says "I hope you're not going to an AA meeting."
HAHAHAHAHAHA!
And I hope you're all sitting down for this one.
You'll never, ever, ever, ever, ever believe what I did yesterday. Something that I haven't done since I was in early high school. Something that anyone who knows me won't believe it, even after I tell you. You'll just die.
I went sledding.
(*pause for dramatic effect*)
Okay, you still sitting?
I actually had fun.
(*longer pause*)
So how did it happen? Well, Kelly's a bad influence on me. She seems determined to take this ultra hard-assed bad temperament that I've worked YEARS to hone to this glorious level of... well... badness, and shake it all up. Perhaps it was the promise of the warm soup with garlic bread that awaited upon our return, or the hot tub and the fireplace, or even the flagrante delicto I knew would be my reward. I dunno. But I did it. And I enjoyed it. So there. And I didn't even get hurt. Too badly.
All right, you can get up now.
Saturday, December 13, 2003
The Twelve Fucking Days Of Christmas
So I had to play this stupidfuckingretardchristmasparty last night. And I was hired through the teaching company I work with, and the woman I work for said "Oh they just want some background music. You can do whatever you want. They're just happy to have some music there and it'll be no big deal." I said, great, I'll even throw in a Christmas song or two.
Then I talked to the people at the place where I'd be playing on Tuesday and they said, OH, we want to you sing all Christmas songs. Well, I don't know any frickin' Christmas songs except Silent Night. I don't know the lyrics, I don't know the chords. I'm not the most festive person around this time of year as you may imagine. Gimme a hot toddy and keep pouring, and I'll be the life of the party. Or, put sheet music in front of me and I'll sight sing it. But actually perform this stuff? I think not.
So I spent THREE FUCKING HOURS yesterday downloading lyrics and listening to these songs to get the chords and learn the melodies, then I go to the stupidfuckingretardchristmasparty.
Number 1: There are a dozen children running rampant. Number 2: There's no place for my gear. Number 3: They've rented a Karaoke machine. So I put ALL my gear back into my car and just go unplugged. And I even printed out lyrics sheets for people, so they turn off the karaoke machine and say "go."
Have you ever tried to compete with a Karaoke machine?
So I start singing these stupid fucking christmas songs and nobody's singing except for about 3 people. And the kids are picking up the karaoke mics and banging on them and blowing into them and nobody is stopping them. So I turned the damn machine off. I spent three fucking unpaid hours learning these songs, you're damn well gonna hear them. So after about 8 songs (maybe a half hour), these stupid kids started jumping rope with the mic cables. So I said, well, it's time to get back to Karaoke! I'm sure there are Christmas songs on it! And I packed up my guitar, grabbed some free food and the biggest honking piece of fudgy chocolate cake you could imagine, and left the stupidfuckingretardchristmasparty.
And for this I was only paid 23 bucks an hour, my normal teaching fee, for just the performance. Time to learn the songs not included. So I padded the hours. Too effin' bad.
So I had to play this stupidfuckingretardchristmasparty last night. And I was hired through the teaching company I work with, and the woman I work for said "Oh they just want some background music. You can do whatever you want. They're just happy to have some music there and it'll be no big deal." I said, great, I'll even throw in a Christmas song or two.
Then I talked to the people at the place where I'd be playing on Tuesday and they said, OH, we want to you sing all Christmas songs. Well, I don't know any frickin' Christmas songs except Silent Night. I don't know the lyrics, I don't know the chords. I'm not the most festive person around this time of year as you may imagine. Gimme a hot toddy and keep pouring, and I'll be the life of the party. Or, put sheet music in front of me and I'll sight sing it. But actually perform this stuff? I think not.
So I spent THREE FUCKING HOURS yesterday downloading lyrics and listening to these songs to get the chords and learn the melodies, then I go to the stupidfuckingretardchristmasparty.
Number 1: There are a dozen children running rampant. Number 2: There's no place for my gear. Number 3: They've rented a Karaoke machine. So I put ALL my gear back into my car and just go unplugged. And I even printed out lyrics sheets for people, so they turn off the karaoke machine and say "go."
Have you ever tried to compete with a Karaoke machine?
So I start singing these stupid fucking christmas songs and nobody's singing except for about 3 people. And the kids are picking up the karaoke mics and banging on them and blowing into them and nobody is stopping them. So I turned the damn machine off. I spent three fucking unpaid hours learning these songs, you're damn well gonna hear them. So after about 8 songs (maybe a half hour), these stupid kids started jumping rope with the mic cables. So I said, well, it's time to get back to Karaoke! I'm sure there are Christmas songs on it! And I packed up my guitar, grabbed some free food and the biggest honking piece of fudgy chocolate cake you could imagine, and left the stupidfuckingretardchristmasparty.
And for this I was only paid 23 bucks an hour, my normal teaching fee, for just the performance. Time to learn the songs not included. So I padded the hours. Too effin' bad.
Wednesday, December 10, 2003
Thursday, December 04, 2003
Tuesday, December 02, 2003
Why can't I have normal cats like everyone else?
Farris and Puddy have both decided not to eat. I think they're sick of that overpriced, prescription cat food crap they have to eat. Yesterday Farris puked (again) and didn't eat all day. Today he's hungry but won't eat. So my mom force fed him, in the gentlest of mommy ways. He's on my lap purring now, sure, but he's making me more neurotic than I already am. And Puddy is getting FATTER AND FATTER! So I'm not too concerned if she won't eat all her food.
And while I'm on the blogging path....
As Promised #2
Grease was just swell. I suppose. I mean, again, so inspiring to see special needs people doing something like this. They did a great job. But I must say...
I was a diva.
Ever since I went on two tours I'm like all full of myself. Like I'm some hot shit thing. But really, what I am is tired of having my time wasted when I'm not being paid for it. The "musical director" (another musical half-wit) was calling all these band rehearsals which we don't get paid for, so I said I couldn't be at those rehearsals because I needed to be earning money, in other words, work. But I said I'd be at tech week.
So Tuesday comes along and I get there at 5:00 p.m. to set up and tune and get situated in the pit so I'm ready for downbeat at 6:00, which is when rehearsal starts. So 6:00 comes along and I'm all set and and tuned and situated....and no downbeat. I sit around for a half hour until we finally start playing. It takes us three hours to get through act one, because the MD is such a moron. Anyway, 9:00 rolls around and we've gotten through the act, but he wants us to hang around to play this song or that and I said I had to go. I packed up and left.
On Wednesday I arrive early again to be all ready to play at 6:00 for the scheduled downbeat. 7:00 rolls around and the band still hasn't played. When we finally start playing we get through about 4 songs, then he stops at a scene and STARTS BLOCKING IT! Usually, you've blocked all the scenes long before you get to tech week. So the band sits around for 45 minutes while they're putting together a whole scene. What a waste of time. I told the drummer I could be having SEX right now! The MD should have called the band for 7:00 and blocked that scene at 6:00. So, what's a band to do? Drink, of course. I happened to have beer in my trunk (yes people, it's getting THAT bad...). So, at 9:00 I left, and we weren't even halfway through Act 2. Keep in mind there are two added songs we haven't even rehearsed as a band.
Thursday - dress rehearsal. They day it's all supposed to be together and you go end to end without stopping. I'm ready for downbeat at 6:00...aaaaaaaaaand.....no downbeat. The MD says, oh, we're adding a song. It's the day before opening and he wants to add a song. So I say, well give us the music. And he says, I don't have the music, but you know the song. And here's where I was a total diva. I outright told him no. Not that I'm the band leader, but I have the big mouth. I said we have 2 songs to play that we still haven't rehearsed and you want to add a song without providing music? You have a band here that's been rehearsing all week for free who all have to go to work tomorrow morning. At what point do you want us each to go find a recording of the song, sit down and figure it out in time for tomorrow's opening? Put the music in front of us and we'll do it. So that ended that idea. And the irony? I had given him a copy of that piece of music 7 months ago. Now he's thinking of it the night before curtain? So, I hung around all night, didn't leave at my self-appointed hour because it was dress rehearsal and we were being paid for that night. But the band DID drink during the break. FYI, by "the band", I mean the rhythm section. We took turns bringing beer each night.
Okay, so we do the shows, blah blah blah and get to closing night. Kelly, Maria, and Mary Rose came. I warned them that closing night is usually the weepy love-fest where all the producers get on stage and pat themselves on the back and tell us how wonderful they all are, but I didn't expect this. The entire show lasted FOUR FREAKING HOURS!!!! The intermission was 45 minutes long because the raffle nazi was giving away all the final prizes and they were pushing booze and flowers and the whole thing. That's when my patience ran out. I suddenly remembered I had BOURBON in the car (yes people, it's getting THAT bad...).
I run out to get it, grab some cups from the bar, and pour shots for most of the band members, except for the couple of sissies who were trying to be "professional"! So we're slamming and we finally start act fucking 2. It ends and the love fest begins. I start packing up, right while they're all talking and handing out awards to themselves. 30 minutes later they say let's play that one song again. I'm like have at it, because I'm packed up and ain't playing. Then the MD, who is the most flamboyant closet case egomaniac ever gets on stage and starts doing jumping jacks. All along he'd had this way of upstaging the cast. I guess nobody told him he has to be unobtrusive and pay attention to the music. No. He was too busy finding moments of glory for himself during the show, including making the very first entrance on stage, as well as programming a solo song for himself at intermission. But that's another rant.
Anyway, I was packed up by the time they were all offstage, and Kelly, Maria and Mary Rose looked like they'd been at a week-long chess match. Maria and Mary Rose's problem is that they DON'T DRINK, and they could have easily endured if they were lushes like the rest of us. Kelly wasn't so bad off, but ya know, she'd had a beer or two. So that was that. I'll spare ya the story of the really drunk. red-faced, old guy spitting in my face while talking to me, and about how they totally spelled my name wrong on my check (III'm not Liiiiiii-sa...), etc. etc. because I've babbled enough.
No more theater shows for awhile. I need to de-diva myself.
Farris and Puddy have both decided not to eat. I think they're sick of that overpriced, prescription cat food crap they have to eat. Yesterday Farris puked (again) and didn't eat all day. Today he's hungry but won't eat. So my mom force fed him, in the gentlest of mommy ways. He's on my lap purring now, sure, but he's making me more neurotic than I already am. And Puddy is getting FATTER AND FATTER! So I'm not too concerned if she won't eat all her food.
And while I'm on the blogging path....
As Promised #2
Grease was just swell. I suppose. I mean, again, so inspiring to see special needs people doing something like this. They did a great job. But I must say...
I was a diva.
Ever since I went on two tours I'm like all full of myself. Like I'm some hot shit thing. But really, what I am is tired of having my time wasted when I'm not being paid for it. The "musical director" (another musical half-wit) was calling all these band rehearsals which we don't get paid for, so I said I couldn't be at those rehearsals because I needed to be earning money, in other words, work. But I said I'd be at tech week.
So Tuesday comes along and I get there at 5:00 p.m. to set up and tune and get situated in the pit so I'm ready for downbeat at 6:00, which is when rehearsal starts. So 6:00 comes along and I'm all set and and tuned and situated....and no downbeat. I sit around for a half hour until we finally start playing. It takes us three hours to get through act one, because the MD is such a moron. Anyway, 9:00 rolls around and we've gotten through the act, but he wants us to hang around to play this song or that and I said I had to go. I packed up and left.
On Wednesday I arrive early again to be all ready to play at 6:00 for the scheduled downbeat. 7:00 rolls around and the band still hasn't played. When we finally start playing we get through about 4 songs, then he stops at a scene and STARTS BLOCKING IT! Usually, you've blocked all the scenes long before you get to tech week. So the band sits around for 45 minutes while they're putting together a whole scene. What a waste of time. I told the drummer I could be having SEX right now! The MD should have called the band for 7:00 and blocked that scene at 6:00. So, what's a band to do? Drink, of course. I happened to have beer in my trunk (yes people, it's getting THAT bad...). So, at 9:00 I left, and we weren't even halfway through Act 2. Keep in mind there are two added songs we haven't even rehearsed as a band.
Thursday - dress rehearsal. They day it's all supposed to be together and you go end to end without stopping. I'm ready for downbeat at 6:00...aaaaaaaaaand.....no downbeat. The MD says, oh, we're adding a song. It's the day before opening and he wants to add a song. So I say, well give us the music. And he says, I don't have the music, but you know the song. And here's where I was a total diva. I outright told him no. Not that I'm the band leader, but I have the big mouth. I said we have 2 songs to play that we still haven't rehearsed and you want to add a song without providing music? You have a band here that's been rehearsing all week for free who all have to go to work tomorrow morning. At what point do you want us each to go find a recording of the song, sit down and figure it out in time for tomorrow's opening? Put the music in front of us and we'll do it. So that ended that idea. And the irony? I had given him a copy of that piece of music 7 months ago. Now he's thinking of it the night before curtain? So, I hung around all night, didn't leave at my self-appointed hour because it was dress rehearsal and we were being paid for that night. But the band DID drink during the break. FYI, by "the band", I mean the rhythm section. We took turns bringing beer each night.
Okay, so we do the shows, blah blah blah and get to closing night. Kelly, Maria, and Mary Rose came. I warned them that closing night is usually the weepy love-fest where all the producers get on stage and pat themselves on the back and tell us how wonderful they all are, but I didn't expect this. The entire show lasted FOUR FREAKING HOURS!!!! The intermission was 45 minutes long because the raffle nazi was giving away all the final prizes and they were pushing booze and flowers and the whole thing. That's when my patience ran out. I suddenly remembered I had BOURBON in the car (yes people, it's getting THAT bad...).
I run out to get it, grab some cups from the bar, and pour shots for most of the band members, except for the couple of sissies who were trying to be "professional"! So we're slamming and we finally start act fucking 2. It ends and the love fest begins. I start packing up, right while they're all talking and handing out awards to themselves. 30 minutes later they say let's play that one song again. I'm like have at it, because I'm packed up and ain't playing. Then the MD, who is the most flamboyant closet case egomaniac ever gets on stage and starts doing jumping jacks. All along he'd had this way of upstaging the cast. I guess nobody told him he has to be unobtrusive and pay attention to the music. No. He was too busy finding moments of glory for himself during the show, including making the very first entrance on stage, as well as programming a solo song for himself at intermission. But that's another rant.
Anyway, I was packed up by the time they were all offstage, and Kelly, Maria and Mary Rose looked like they'd been at a week-long chess match. Maria and Mary Rose's problem is that they DON'T DRINK, and they could have easily endured if they were lushes like the rest of us. Kelly wasn't so bad off, but ya know, she'd had a beer or two. So that was that. I'll spare ya the story of the really drunk. red-faced, old guy spitting in my face while talking to me, and about how they totally spelled my name wrong on my check (III'm not Liiiiiii-sa...), etc. etc. because I've babbled enough.
No more theater shows for awhile. I need to de-diva myself.
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