I came up with a title for my show.

So effing tired. She kept us until midnight last night. Once we ran it all together I realized I only have one break for the length of one scene at the very beginning of the show. It's kind of draining. The quick changes are a pain in the ass. Oh, I'm so delicate. whawhawha.

We got christmas cards from my peace corps friend's english class. It has made my week.
"Even though I don't know you, I congratulate you on this special day."
"I wish you [to be] healthy and wealthy, and may all your dreams come true."
Their handwriting is amazingly precise. More than one of them decorated their cards with one of the seven dwarfs. One added a Rambo sticker to the inside. How could you not love that? They are writing in our language in our alphabet, some of them in cursive. That blows me away. Seven years of french and I can barely convert etre.

I'm going to bed early tonight.

A Very Crunchy 2002 Wrap-up

The Year in Entertainment
movies:
The Two Towers and Punch Drunk Love were the only movies I can remember liking for the past 365.
television:
I pretty much stopped watching television altogether over the summer. I got into the west wing a little, and of course I enjoy smallville and 24, but only socially.
theatre:
I saw a lot of plays. damn lot. The one I enjoyed the most was called Penumbra.
I was in Macbeth at the Shakespeare festival, and a radio play thing that we won't talk about.
music:
I got into everything new thanks to experimenting and going on suggestions of friends/my punkass brother. The Mountain Goats have gotten heavy play in my house, and I have passed the love on to a few friends. Celtic rock is having a renaissance in my walkman as well.
comedy:
I haven't done very much, but I wrote a lot and began to find my voice. I discovered and fell deeply in love with Mr. Show. (see also: The Year in Crushes)
literature:
This was the year of the autobiographical essay. My favorite was David Sedaris's "Me Talk Pretty One Day". (new years resolution- read more)
travel:
I spent a weekend in Indianapolis (for the star wars convention) and a week in NY. (n.y.r.- travel more)

The Year in Discoveries:
I found out I could join a gym and stick with it.
I can choose my friends, and I don't have to like everybody. Not everybody is going to like me either.
I dosen't matter how many times you say the word "breast", it never quite loses it's impact.
I can almost have a healthy body image. I still have things I need to let go, but it's ok to be/dress/act like myself.
I still can't drive.
I'm not ready for marriage.
I'm very, very strong and almost never cold.

A Wee Look at the Things-Lately That Were
(Thing-lately is defined by a crush on an actor, a song and a food that all seem to be my thing for a period of time. During this period I get into new things or rediscover stuff I've always loved. I don't know why it works out that way, I don't do it on purpose. Have I thought about it too much? Yes, I have. Would I like your psychological evaluation? Mmm, I probably don't want to know right now, but that's awfully nice of you. It's how I operate, and I've grown to dig it.)

January-July
Michael Rosenbaum, Bjork's-possibly/maybe, hazelnut coffee.
all things relating to superman, vocal work.
August-November
David Cross, the Mountain Goats-Going to Utrect, grilled cheese sandwiches.
independent music, performance/writing quality in general, hooded sweatshirts.
December
Billy Boyd, The Real McKenzies-Wild Cattieyote, sour peach rings.
acting, all things scottish, Tolkien

Sorry if this is far too long and boring, but I am keeping it as a record for myself mostly. I'll probably edit and add to it.
I'd love to hear yours as well, people. ;)

I watched Reign of Fire this morning. I don't see what everyone was complaining about. I kind of liked it. It was fun. And almost completely devoid of the American Military Heroics bullshit that most movies like that hang their hats on. Hat's on? What am I talking about? Where's my chicken on a stick?

I also enjoyed Haiku Tunnel. It had a lot of nice little moments, and it was about being a secretary. I'm going to watch Amadeus now and wipe the salt off of this margarita. Aye!

For my piece in the show I picked "Make it Funky" to start and I finish with ""Wild Cattieyote", which is so gorgeous I hated parting with the cd this evening. None of you are going to make it, so just play these songs and imagine me being sarcastic for four minutes.
Isn't that nice?

So sick to the stomach. Soupy and ropy, like too much pate and gin.

We did promo shots for the next show I'm in after this one. It was hilarious. I had a huge pregnancy pad, tons of crazy makeup on, and a huge jewelled and sequined purple top. It's going to look so funny. They had to take a neutral headshot of me too because I ran out of my "good" ones and haven't gotten around to getting new ones. I hate getting my picture taken. Hate it. They should never show me the display screen after they do it, it just makes me want to cry and kick things over Godzilla-style. I guess I have a slightly warped self image, but I don't understand how I could be too far off the mark.
Our director for Escaping the Box didn't show up again. Yeah. People have stuff to work out sometimes. S'ok.


Elijah tears me up into six pieces of varying sizes.
I want to watch fellowship of the ring again. Is that bad?

Ok, this is driving me crazy and I need your help. If you go here and click on his eyes you get a hidden surprise. I found another one on his bio page (click inside the "D") and another on the credits page. I think there might be hidden pictures on every page, and I've become obsessed with finding them all, even though I'm not even sure if there are anymore than the three I've found. I need help. Like, mentally.

friday 5:
1. What was your biggest accomplishment this year? Getting into shows. Even though it was just two this year and one that opens after the first of next year, it was a big deal for me to breakthrough and get back into it after conservatory. That and keeping last year's resolution. (to make working out a bigger part of my day to day.)

2. What was your biggest disappointment? Not saving up the money I needed to in order to move to the city. The relationship wig out and subsequent uncertainty was unexpected and continues to be pretty painful.

3. Will you be making any New Year's resolutions? To work on my show and to continue to write everyday. I quit smoking, so I'm going to pretend that was a resolution even though I started it before christmas.

4. Where will you be at midnight? Haven't made plans yet. Hopefully indoors. Do you wish you could be somewhere else? There's so much build up to it that wherever you are you always wish you were at a bigger party.

5. Aside from (possibly) staying up late, do you have any other New Year's traditions? My niece was born at 12:01 new years day, so I call her after midnight to wish her a happy birthday.

Spent the day feeling drugged. It's a good thing I'm not into drugs because this is annoying.
I took a half day because the phone rang three times in four hours and two were wrong numbers. Slight exaggeration, but emotionally accurate.

I smell like Mighty Taco. I have nothing to say.
I don't dig myself lately. What's up with that? I thought I was over that after high school. It's got to be seasonal. I'll get over it again soon enough.

From now on, christmas gifts should only be purchased for people under the age of 13. My niece and nephew are hilarious and there's is nothing I want more than to watch them open something awesome and shout, "shta waws!" "shpiderman!"

That said . . .
I got a lot of cds today.
um.
Sloan-Smeared
The Odds-Good Weird Feeling (a promo copy?)
Moxy Fruvous- Live Noise (not here yet)
Burned from my brother Jay's collection:
The Flashing Lights-Where the Change Is,
Sloan-Between the Bridges,
The Donnas and 3 MxPx albums, 2 bands with which I am not familiar.
From the large mammal with whom I live a lie:
the Mountain Goats-All Hail West Texas! and The Coroner's Gambit.
from Alex and Jess:
Nick Drake-Time of No Reply
the Mountain Goats-Tallahasse. (a promise to burn their copy for me.)

13 cds. Getting a person's musical taste right is a delicate thing. It is an absolute embarassment of riches and way more than I deserve.

I am jealous of him being jealous of them. I've heard of the Tractenberg Family Slide Show before, but I have no idea where.

I've blogged too much. That'll be it for a few days.

We just got an email from my friend in Uzbekistan that made me want to delete my spoiled girl humbug post down there, but I won't. as penance.

Looking at a picture of him with his class:
Me: he looks like he lost some weight.
Girl at work: Yeah. Oh, look at the girls. They're still wearing square-toed shoes over there.
Me: . . .yeah. (and they also shit in holes in the ground. and there's a garbage dump at the entrance to their school. And their subscriptions to Vanity Fair show up, like, weeks late. wtf?)

I plan on aging a year over the next two days. Tonight and tomorrow are going to be about driving between Orchard Park, Cheektowaga and North Buffalo for two hour stints each day and not sleeping at home. And eating. I'm nauseated thinking about it. This is where gift giving came from. Christmas became such a chafe they had to build in the gift-giving device so that people would be more apt to actually show up to all of their obligations.
I'm lucky I have a place to go, though. I'm aware of that at all times, believe me. If I could donate my places to go to people who are spending this christmas alone I would. If I could bring somebody along with me it would be better. My family is actually great. Really nice and really fun and funny as hell when you get down to it.

Rehearsal last night was great and strange. All of the female cast members are in a short one act and last night for the run-through we laughed from beginning to end. Everybody had huge, huge belly laughs on stage and off. Chemistry girl and I are finding and creating little moments where there are any jokes. We met two weeks ago and we already have complete trust and synchronicity.
I actually have something going on in my sad scene now. I think I've got a little bit of a handle on the depth of the situation. I'm close. I'll never do it justice, but I think I'm pretty well cast and I intend to do whatever it takes to make it work.
We cut the night short because it was too cold in the rehearsal space to work anymore. Gritty. Cardboard on the windows gritty.
Emotional breakdowns.
Belly laughs.
Lovin it.

Look! Did you see who did the music? Just a fun fact to know and tell.

I have half of tomorrow and wednesday off. I guess that's ok. I'm in the hole for paid time off as it is. At this rate I'll be owing them money. I miss the days when I'd get a ton of books for christmas and I would spend every lazy day of my vacation curled up in a corner somewhere. That's what every christmas night is to me, wearing a cozy new something and tucking in to a sleepless night with a new book. My aunt always used to give me crazy and obscure young adult novels for christmas that I would always read right away.
I get an unexplained weepiness when I'm in that section of the store now. I started buying weird, non-mainstream books for my niece.
Everything is grand yet uneasy.
Everything is bland and cheesy.

A girl from the play (with whom I have so much stage chemistry it's unnerving) called me seven times last night and left seven messages on my voicemail, cable guy style.

Todd asked me the other day if I needed therapy.
I didn't think I did, but when somebody asks you if you need something it makes you think maybe you do. I don't know about need. I don't know about anything.

The director is going to let me pick a song to play before and after the monologue I wrote for this show. (yeeha!) I want to say "fun" and"hip" and I don't want it to be something everyone's already heard. We end the act with it, so we have to send people into the lobby for boxed wine with a spring in their collective step.

Here's what I'm thinking of so far (of albums that I have):
The Clash- "Lost in a Supermarket" (for the lyrics)
Flogging Molly- "London Girl" (for the accordian)
James Brown- "Make it Funky" (for the funky)

This is tougher than I thought it would be and just as fun.
yahaha.

Mama like.

Have you ever gotten the feeling that Scotland was calling you home? But you've never been to Scotland? And you're not Scottish?

I completely effed up my back for no good reason. I don't even know how I did it, but you can be sure it wasn't while I was doing anything fun. I can't walk right and last night I couldn't turn over in bed. I'm such an old lady. Get me my bromo, dear. And a roll with chutney.

Dave is on his way to Homer and then to Dublin.
:)
( :( )

I'm supposed to go to a cast party around eleven. I do not want to go. I haven't been home before 1am in a week. I want to spend the next 12 hours on the poor, neglected couch.

The office christmas party was really fun, and there's not much more that can be said about it. Everyone I work with now thinks I'm dating Tracey, which is fine by me. Not only do I have a girlcrush on her, but she was probably the best date I've ever had.
That's making me wistful.

I'm bugged by a concept of people trying to write their last words, that is, the words they are going to say on their death bed, in an academically vain way. The thing that's bugging me is I can't remember if that's from something I've read or watched on TV or if I've come up with it on my own. It's sad that half of my "original" ideas are just evidence of failed memory. It's even sadder that my imagination is all I have and it's on the permanent fritz.
I am also bothered by the fact that I can't think of the right word for "academically vain". If you've got it, lay it on me.

I feel anaesthetized and I crave baked potato.
I got the part in the play. It opens end of January. I get a pregnancy pad and a Brooklyn accent. I'm one happy actor.

Come and get your love anyway even if the hat isn't on.

RE: my last entry.
This time every year my desk becomes a depository for inspirational calendars bearing the logos for printing houses and tile manufacturers. Want one?
You know, angels can fly, but the rest of us just have to wing it!

I finished my shopping and bought something to wear for the office christmas party. (I call them my "drinkin' pants") I plan on being draped in black velvet for four hours, then I will give the outfit to my sister in law. It took less than three hours and the entire process was almost completely anger-free!

I saw The Two Towers again. ("Was Jules there?" "Yes. I think I'm insane." "I know you are.") It was Twice as good. I forgot to ask someone to clarify which two towers we were talking about exactly, but no matter.
I want a whole movie wth just Treebeard, Merry and Pippin. What will it take to make that happen?

Hi, I'm a grownup, in case my behavior lately has been throwing anyone off.

In other news, I've been asked to read for an upcoming show at the theatre I'm working out of now. This place in particular specializes in new plays and young playwrights, so it might be cool to play a character that's never been done before. Plus, the playwrights tend to be open to changes here and there, and I love being that close to the writing process. This one is a comedy, which shouldn't be too hard for me to mess up. And also too plus, it's a good sized role on a (what I'd guess you would call) professional stage.
Kind of exciting, I say.

Fact:
December 19th, 2002. I'm in Buffalo, NY and it's like, 60 degrees out.
Fact:
Judging from the looks on the bank tellers faces, buying Euros is a royal asspain.
Fact:
Life is Grand. Truly truly grand.


Oh, and I found October. It was in between September and November.

I'm going to write a review and call it, "The Night The Two Towers Took Me to the Sock Hop"
I'm exhausted and incoherent.
It was beautiful. It was exhausting. I am completely in love with all things middle-earth. I swoon for hobbits.

One of our friends bumped into some of her high school students at the movie. She was dressed up like Galadriel. They stared, she smiled, they did double takes, she adjusted her headpiece. It was all very moving.

I have my tickets to the midnight show.

Um. I know, I know.
Don't pick on me, I'm very delicate.
::sigh::

At least once a day I have to stop myself from saying, "God, what smells so bad in here all of the sudden?" when I realize someone has just walked in with his or her lunch.

A post-it memo on my computer:
"If you eat too much junk, you will make yourself sick."

How did that self-adhesive note get so smart?
:/

I watched The Fellowship again last night. (seven) Sam in the boat at the end gets me every single time.

It's snowing. It's so so so so so so very pretty.

I got in a fight on Friday, but I don't think the guy I'm in a fight with knows we're in a fight. I think next time I see him I'll have to tell him. We were hanging out at a bar having a lovely time when he stormed in and was all overt rudeness, negativity and pushy-push. (him:"where's your phone. let's call so and so." me: (hand him phone) him: oh, you want me to do it??Me: wtf?)
Am I wrong to be put off by random rudeness? Not to mention the fact that he stole my lamp? I think I'm justified. It's nice to be justified in my anger once in a while. It takes so much for me to get mad at somebody that by the time something bad enough happens to make me mad I don't want an apology, I just want him or her to leave me alone for the rest of my life.

I feel a new crush coming on, and you know what? i'm not having it. I am going to forcibly stop myself from having this crush. I have been straddled and bitchslapped by unrequited love every moment of my life since 1978 and I'm not going to take it anymore.

I think I am staying in tonight. I need to either eat something or get into a fistfight.
Explain this feeling . . . ?

Rehearsal this morning was cool and fun and vaguely depressing. I'm doing a lot of different pieces, and all of them are fun to do and funny to watch. Except there's one dramatic piece where I'm a really sad older lady and I have to be really not funny and the subject matter is pretty provocative, but in a way that makes me not want to tell my parents I'm in a show. Do you get what I mean? Was that clandestine enough for you? So it's tough, and a challenge, which is what I want out of every experience anyway.

I'm staying in tonight. Partly out of poverty, but also I think I might be allergic to my jeans.

oh, shit. That sucked.

I am a Magician.
I found things that didn't exist and made photocopies of those things. I made a statement from October jump into the wrong file. I used mind control on the mailman. I do this without a degree in business or a Magician's lisence.

Can that be right? Five days? It's too good.

My friend who has been battling an endless stream of bad news and hard times fell ass backwards yesterday into a giant wad of money. It truly is a Christmas miracle! Obviously, money isn't going to make it all go away, but at least she can breathe a little.

I'm going to lunch.

POOF!!!!!

Am I the only one ready for another turkey dinner?

I messed up my right leg working out on monday and then I worked out on it last night. genius. I have the ever so mild limp. I've been getting the occasional nosebleed as well due to the arid climate of my apartment.
Conclusion: I'm fucking hot.

Well, he leaves them there, and I try to give them to him the next day and he doesn't want to carry them all the way back to his truck. So I've built a little house out of them. With lots of closet space. more of a fort, really. a space fort.

link from metafilter

There's something about talking to a guy about your retirement, power of attorney, beneficiaries and living wills that just makes you want to put your head on his shoulder. "Hi, we've just met. Here is your future and your mortality and some forms to fill out."

Now that's the sugar.

I started rehearsals. They are fun times. There's one girl in the show who's so funny she and I can't make eye contact during our scenes or we'll get gigglefits. What I love about it the most is that we rehearse in a wear-your-hat-and-scarf-and-gloves cold, dirty room with folding chairs and plaster falling off the walls in huge chunks. It's like a post-apocalyptic police interrogation room. I wish someone would make a documentary about it. I feel so gritty.
Mmmm . . .sipowitz-alicious.

He's going to Dublin in three weeks!
Jesus, that happens? That really happens? You play a role at a mid-sized theatre in Buffalo, and someone praises you to someone else, and suddenly you're flying across the ocean to be a full time actor? It's like a plot contrivance on an hour long drama when an actor gets pregnant.
"Somebody saw her in that community production of Our Town! She's going to Dublin for three months!!"
It's amazing to me. I am agape. I'm going to take credit for convincing him to go. I told him, no matter what money he can make working at his awful job here from January to March, the life experience of just going abroad will be worth so much more than he can measure.
Let the jokes about being paid in "pots o'gold" commence.

I'm happy, until I realize he's going to Dublin.


You see, Dublin is really far away.
:(

Stranger at the mall to Dave's girlfriend's roomate:
"Did you dye your hair for Halloween?"

Dave's comeback, three hours later:
"No, did you dye your face for St. Dickhead's day?"


He is waiting to find out if a theatre in Dublin is going to fly him out to take over as Chief Bromden for the rest of their run.
Ahem. Dublin.
I'm going to visit him and never come back.

I spent yesterday with the LOTR dvds. Lovely. Watched the actors commentary, fell asleep to documentaries. (not that they were boring, i were sleepy.) Almost makes me want to read the book.
It's really kind of beautiful the way everyone speaks about Tolkien with such reverence, and they all were so close to the source material. I was also really touched by the connections the actors made with each other. It's worth a look if you have 18 hours to kill.

The only solid food I've had in twenty four hours? Sour peach rings and doritos. That's not counting the bite of pizza I had for lunch yesterday that tasted like it made with some kind of cleaning fluid. Gross.

My friend bumped into Ani DiFranco leaving a restaurant last night. She's totally psyched about it, she lurrrves ani. As do we all. She really deserved that moment of happy distraction, too.

Now excuse me while I go enjoy my fifth and sixth hot cocoas of the day in the same mug.

It seems kind of weird that I remember his birthday and not the day he died. He would have been 28 today, if I remember correctly. I remember, because I hadn't gotten him anything. I was absorbed in my role of "chorus" in some musical; all wrapped up in my stupid little life. My friends went out and got him cards and put them in his casket. I couldn't do that for whatever reason. Maybe I thought it was morbid. I don't know. I cried so hard I blacked out on more than one occasion. I vowed I would never, ever feel better and that I would never ever have fun again. I didn't want to think about anything else. I didn't want to stop crying because that awful feeling was all I had connecting me to him.
He's still seventeen in my mind. Seventeen with a perfect smile. He deserves a better tribute than this, I guess, but it's all I've got.

Get in my pocket.

None of these items have anything to do with anything, I just can't think more than two sentences at a time today.

I have 'papa don't preach' stuck in my head. Thanks, Kelly Osbourne.

I contributed two vacuum packs of tuna fish and a copy of "Take the Cannoli" to a care package we're sending to our friends in the peace corps. They're land locked and don't get much fish, and don't have a lot of reading material.

I took a step class and later tonight I'm going over to my friend's house to watch Lex Luthor host a Lord of the Rings special on WB. I have a small, simple life.

These peach rings are regular, not sour. What is the point of that, I ask you?

Sarah sent me a copy of Sonic Youth's Murray Street. What is awesomer?

"I wonder who owns that moon."

The more I learn, the more I realize we didn't elect satan into the white house, we elected Pat Robertson with a Lex Luthor aftertaste.

[edited to add: the bad kind of lex luthor, not the cute wb version, of course.]

Everybody around here gets this really angry look of betrayal whenever it snows. Where the hell do you think you've been living all summer? St. Thomas? We live next to a lake, people.

Did I mention my dad bought me a winter coat? Weird as hell. It's kind of nice, too. It's just a black puffy thing, very simple. I thought it was cute and weird. I think he talked to the girls at work to find out what was in style. It's my christmas present, but I get to wear it now.

I watched The Last Temptation of Christ last night. It was good. I like any and all christ imagery and superman imagery. It can be argued that it's the same thing, but I'm nowhere near intellectual enough to support my point. (that's not true, it's more of a time issue. I'm at work so I don't have time to show you that I'm not smart enough to support any of my arguments.)

Once I try opening my mind to new things, like politics for example, I become overwhelmed by how much I really don't know. I don't really know a lot about anything. That's pretty sad. I'm trying to learn as much as I can about the Homeland Security Bill, because it's sounds like american citizens are getting fucked over in a brand new way and I want to do something about it. Of course, the more I talk about something I don't understand, the dumber I sound. Like, totally fer real to the max, dood.
I know a lot about christianity and improv. Two things I can no longer stand. I know a lot about Newsradio, the sitcom, not the broadcast medium. What a waste of brain space. At least I still like Newsradio.

I bought nothing yesterday. Today I bought boots. I live in buffalo. It snows.

In other news: Happy Hannukah!!!!!

Best thing about thanksgiving other than turkey:
I found a six hour marathon tape of Newsradio from I guess about three years ago. Is that possible?

The Three Best Things about a six hour Newsradio marathon from three years ago:
1. Bob Odenkirk was in "Injury" as the doctor. I didn't know that. ("are you the boyfriend?" "no, I'm the employer.")
2. "Battlefield Earth" commercials. bwah ha.
3. "If he could juggle you'd be pregnant by now."
I am so stealing that.

Which "Saved By The Bell" Character Are You?

teeheehee.

I'm a New Aquarian as well. I wonder if New Aquarians match well with Thrill-Seeking Materialists. Like peanut butter and bread. Like potato chips and cheese. Like leos and sagattarians. Alright, you got me, like leos and everybody-we're such sluts.

Randomly depressed and drunk too early. Sorry.

There was some kind of snowstorm in my neighborhood so I was stuck here at my mom's house last night and had to sleep in my old room. It's so bizarre that I used to live here. I am nothing even resembling comfortable. I think I got an hour of sleep and I haven't taken these pants off in twenty four hours. But, there is so much food. Will not. Go. To. Waste.

It's windy as hell outside. It's beating the shit out of the house.

The more I hear about "Affleck" and "J-Lo" getting hitched and Presley and Cage heading to Splitsville, I just sit back in the wonder of it all and think: This never has been and god-willing never will be my business. What is the justification for knowing these things and how is it the job of several people to report on it?
Two guys that I used to work with got married over the summer and I didn't know about it until a month later. And that is ok by me. I'm not trying to be self-righteous, but come on already.

Hey!
I used "agnes beane" as a "handle" for a brief stint on a message board. I'm still obsessed with it. I love the name Agnes. She's the patron saint of virgins. Of course, anything sounds good when your last name is Beane, everybody knows that. So, call me that from now on.
I said do it!

I'm going to make a list of things I'm thankful for, not just because I'm twelve, but because there is shit that goes on in the lives of people I care about that I could never begin to understand, more or less cope with, and I have no right to complain about anything, ever ever ever.

hilarious.
this is fun.

I am both creatively dwarfed and emotionally embiggened by your talent.

It's kind of hard to find the song "Breaking the Law" menacing. If you were the kind of person who broke the law, would you really sing a song about it?
"I'm kicking your ass
kicking your ass!"
No you're not. You're singing. With a parasol.

I'm full of chocolate chip cookies and envelope glue.

I was having a cigarette outside of the subway station this morning and I saw what looked like "I can" carved into the concrete sidewalk. I thought, 'what a lovely sentiment! what an inspirational piece of graffitti!' Upon closer inspection, it actually said, "Carl".
You can, Carl, don't let anybody tell you different.

Have you ever had a friend whose life is so shitty you don't even know what to say to her anymore? God, I don't even know how to start a conversation with this girl. I guess the best I can do is listen and say, "My god, your life is a shitstorm and it refuses to abate. I'm really sorry."

I lost the auction. I really wanted the invitation, but the more I think about it I probably can't spare the cash. The website said they are planning on doing another something next year, too. Next Year Sarah will be able to afford it.

Three of us are throwing together a sketch group as fast as possible. They are having auditions at some entertainment complex* downtown, that's as good a reason as any to start a "troupe", I say. My experience has been, the process is more fun than any possible outcome. That's what I'm looking forward to: a Sunday night meeting, three hands, a tight five. Picking out a name.
I've given up trying to impress people, I no longer treat auditions like blind dates. I just want to do something really funny and let it be what it is and like it while I'm doing it.
The intrinsic value of performance always gets lost in the heat of competition.
Good times.

*I realized this is the place with the enforced "dress: smart" dress code. I really hope (secretly, of course) we don't get hired there, but I hope we do put together a show to perform somewhere where you can be smart and dress like an asshole if you want.

Whatever is making me itch needs to cut it the fuck out.

Punk Drunk Love.
yeah. . . just.

God.

The kind of movie that makes you wonder why anyone would ever spend their time and energy on anything that wasn't completely smart and genuine.

I finally got the white stripes out of my head.
with:
How about some erotic magazines?
erotic tangerines?
erotic letters from Ben Vereen?

Pootie T gets me everytime.

this is the greatest love in history
a monstrosity of nudity . . .

The snl newsgroup depresses me. It's a constant barrage of flamewars which, I'll admit, I love to read. But whenever they discuss the abilities of a female comedian, whether they think she's funny or not, her looks are always the most important factor. They can never talk about any female comedian without talking about her looks.

Regarding the funnyness of Janeane Garofalo: "I think she's witty, not funny. unfortunately, she's going to look like fran leibowitz in ten years."

What? I'm sorry, what? what the fuck would that have to do with anything?
I know at least 50% of the group are borderline personalities who think they're going be on the show someday and there's no reason to take it personally, but I think it's pretty indicative of the way any woman in comedy is viewed. It's sad. It's sad that in order to do this thing I want to do I not only have to do it ten times better than a guy to get noticed but I also have to have really nice hair and abs. Being funny or being a good writer isn't enough, but, whatever. That's how it goes, I guess.
Cowboy up about it, girl. You're still just a secretary.
*I did just totally overreact there, by the way. The guy didn't really deserve the amount of vitriol I spat in his direction and I came off sounding like a bitter failure. Meh. oh well.
"You can't take something off the internet. That's like trying to take pee out of a pool."

and I still can't get the goddamn white stripes out of my head. kill me.

My things-lately:
David Cross
"going to utrecht"
grilled cheese sandwiches.

I've been Sondheimed. Finally. I took a borrowed copy of Into the Woods into. . . the streets for a nice long walk.
I stopped by a friend's house* last night and he and some other people were watching some kind of Sondheim/follies thing from the 80s. I came home with four cds and strict orders on how to listen to them. This has been a very musical week. It's one of those weeks I wish I had stuck with tap dancing.

Fun times, you guys. I wish I was there. I am looking forward to Moriarty's backstage review.

Can't afford it, but I'm going to try. Hey fellas? Try not to do this RIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS next time. kay? kay.

*to visit the lamp. I sure miss it, now that it's gone. That, and those old paint cans.

1. The rain turned into snow.
2. My left eyelid keeps falling asleep, but in a really endearing way. I look like Miss Sophie from The Color Purple.
3. If I squint I can kind of picture it.
4. That's what I'm talking about.
5. My sweater makes me look like a hobbit. Except for when I put the hood up, then I look like a Jedi.
6. I am never not queasy, not hot or not tired. I make it a point to not to complain about this around new parents.
7. Today I wish I was somebody's mom.
8. Gas station pizza is the devil's handiwork.
9. I dreamt last night that I accidentally created lightning and that I was really embarassed about it. Sorry guys. Didn't know what I was doing there . . .

Last night I spent 2 1/2 hours with singing, dancing hippie-clowns and I still can't get the White Stripes out of my head. I'm so over them.
I do so love Godspell. It's the perfect actor-y show. Everyone is wearing warm-up clothes and they're completely commited mind and body to wide-eyed splendor.

A friend of mine told me last night that h/is/er father was caught stealing from work. What a bizarre thing. It's almost like we have the facilities to cope with being the victim of such a crime, but for the perpetrator to be someone you love and trust? How do you deal with that?

My mom (mid-thought, mid-sentence, on the phone), regarding Fox News Channel:
" . . . Charlotte, NC? S-H-A-R-R. . . .well, they're nice people. They can't spell, but we won't hold that against them."

I'm Sully!

Take the Jimmy Fallon recurring SNL character quiz here.

created by stomps.






24 hour crush in effect.
remain calm.

I wrote a long post about how a friend of ours stole a lamp from our living room. Blogger ate it.

I caught an accounting error and saved the company three thousand dollars today. yay me.

I have added to the muddled mess on the right a list of words I've looked up for meanings and/or spelling. From now on I consider the use of any of these words in any context a shout out to me personally. Holla.

You will live in House.You will drive a sheer orange the bus.
You will marry mark mckinney and have 3 kids.
You will be a trapeze artist in peru.

I wanted to be a hobo.

Link from sonya via jennifer

Don't let chemo kill your dream-o.
I spat out my coffee right about here.

I find myself unnaturally drawn to David as Pootie T. I'm serious. My crush on Pootie is its own separate entity. It has its own apartment and it makes more money than I do. I blame the open shirt and the fact that he's funny.

They cancelled everything in the Playhouse for the "Cream of Comedy" taping and didn't tell anybody. We drove for two hours to watch ten minutes of warmed-over Second City "classics" and spend $7 on a beer. If you ever go to the Second City in Toronto, get drunk first.
:D
I sound really bitter, but it was good to see Jack and to be in Canada.

I was going to go into a whole rant about how open hostility ("Do you want me to kiss your ass just because you're from the States?") can create ugly americanism where maybe there wasn't very much to begin with ("No, I just want you to kiss my ass."), particularly coming from a guy wearing a "Red Wings" jersey, but I won't. America is smug and vicious, getting frozen out of conversations at a bar because of my nationality is hardly something worth crying about.

I have an audition in a few hours at Studio Arena. The only headshot I can find is from three years ago when I decided to take my eyebrows into my own hands.

I'm doing The Pick Up Game tonight.
Smell that? That's the scent of rust after a long car ride.

It seems I'm wasting this weekend as well.

I went to the galleria with Kristen after working out yesterday because she won't stop complaining about how she hasn't seen Red Dragon yet. We got there, at 8 o'clock on a Friday (s-m-r-t) and it wasn't playing anymore. The only thing that was up that didn't offend either one of us too much was Sweet Home Alabama, but after a moment's consideration we decided there was no way we were going to spend our last eight dollars on it. (I only would have spent the money because Mary Lynn is in it. It'll be on oxygen soon, I'm sure.)

I got tacos instead. Just as entertaining. Kristen told me about an annoying girl at work who is engaged to a redneck unemployable named "Randy".
I don't think I've ever laughed so hard in my life. I've never met the man, but at that moment it seemed Randy was the loserest name ever spoken. There are Phineases and Gileses who make fun of guys named Randy.
(I know a guy named Giles, he's actually very cool.)

The director of Pandora's Box wants me to do something I wrote for the festival. It's ridiculous, you bust your fanny daily with no results and then one time you make a girl cry at a party and she's handing you perfect opportunities. (I was complimentary, she was drunk, it was both uplifting and uncomfortable like . . .

an underwire bra out of the dryer!
ding
every religious retreat I've ever been to!
ding
the special olympics!
ding
Forrest gump!
ding
when Ozzy Osbourne cries!
ding ding ding!

Where the heart is is on. This is the movie I thought I was watching last Saturday, but that was Anywhere But Here. I kept saying, "When is she going to have her baby in the WalMart already?" But I was wrong. Silly.

I wish I was in LA right now. Never thought I'd say that, did you?

My body makes no sense. I work hard, right?* I work very damn hard. If there were no change in my weight I'd be cool with that. I'm not trying to lose weight. But to gain seven pounds? A solid seven, even? I look smaller, feel better, and weigh more than I did in January when I made this stupid resolution.
blah blah blah asscakes. I'm fine. whatever. My body is a miracle and a work of art. My body is a joyous wonderland. My body's a traveling carnival, filled with excitement and funnel cakes and odd smells and faulty equipment. I love me. I look forward to me.

In other news, I covet the season 4 invitation. I want a KITH hoodie, but come on . . .youth large? Youth large? Have they seen the collective chest of their fanbase?
(I'm all about the itallics today.)

*I try to be hard worker man, but refrigemator so so messy

Go spend some money.
For the kiddos.

c'mon already.
The funny thing is, I'm #2 of 2.

Hello.

Don't you think that lady who plays Mimi on Drew Carey is sick of that shit already? God. If it were me, and I'm aware that it's not, but if it were, there wouldn't be enough money in the world.

Where did this crush on David Wain come from? I hope it's just going to be one of those 24 hour things.

New on fox: One
"My name is Jack Bauer, and this is the longest lunch break of my life."

It was funny yesterday.

I have no concept of insomnia. I understand that it exists, I've even had it a few times. How can a person not sleep? I can sleep in the middle of having fun. Last night I was at a friend's house, having a few beers and playing with the lotr/aotc dvds, and I still fell alseep on a lap. Maybe it's the weather, but my pillow is so much more alluring than anything else the world has to offer after 9pm.

I found this under my favorites. I love that picture. I save the weirdest shit.
a handy scientific explanation for alien abduction.

I thought this was important enough to keep around.

Did you ever have things you probably should have been embarassed about, but you're just not? I do. Alot.

I've been complaining about money a lot lately. Ever since a friend who is into feng shui told me to plant a money tree in the left/middle section of the "grid" in my apartment I have been painfully broke. Yes, I planted a damn money tree. I just dropped a big hunk of change into an empty flower pot and hoped my money problems would go away. Because that is a realistic and responsible way to deal with debt.

Tonight I am going to dump it all out and roll it. I think it might do me more good sitting in my savings account than gathering dust on my dad's old foot locker. Maybe. I could always request they store it in the middle/left quadrant of the bank, you know, to cover my bases.

Wanna hear something funny?? Me too.

My student loan payments went up. Lil bit. It's like, more than three times what I was paying over the summer. Nice. I can't afford that shit at all. Thanks, Mr. President. Asshole. It went down at the beginning of the year, supposedly as part of Bush's tax cut or whatever. Then halfway through the coupon book it more than triples. I don't know what I'm going to do. I'm going to call and see if there's anything I can do to get it lowered.
I remember last time I tried to get my payments reduced, the guy on the phone said, "Well, you dropped out of Buffalo State. [this was before I thought about going back to finish.] If you go back to school, let's say, you go to cosmetology school . . ." I found that antiquated sexism way too delicious. "Yes, ok, so if I'm at cosmetology school . . ." For the rest of the conversation we worked under the assumption that I was going to become a beautician.

So yes, I'd still like to hear something funny.

I love tim hortons. I love trying to imagine how many unwashed heads that place sees on any given morning.

I have the heart of a lovesick twelve-year-old.

I'm wasting this weekend.

How can I label you?
brought to you by Quizilla

I'm so cute. sniffle.

I'm actually really worried about my archives. That's almost two full years of petty bitching down the drain.

There are currently more people working on finding just the right place to have our holiday party than on any given multi-million dollar project that's come across our collective desk. Large gatherings move from drawing table to drawing table, people leaving in pairs and threes to check out banquet rooms in Buffalo's swankier establishments, words like "open bar" and "pecan-encrusted" are bandied about. One place, deemed near-perfect, has already been eliminated based in it's lack of a bar area.
"That would defnitely slow us down." I was overheard saying.
We are a collection of screaming jackasses, and we drink.

On a more terrifying note, Jessica made me a logo for my nebulous one woman whatever that I've been writing and performing nightly for the items on my coffee table. It rules so hard. It's a girl with a hoodie and slouchy pants on and all of her hair in her face. I wish I could figure out how to put pictures up here. i think I'm going to go ahead with the show, if only for the opportunity to use that picture and pick out good pre-show music.

Oh god. "a hoot".

Banished from the english language:
"How goes it?"
Each of those words individually is still legal, but saying that combination in that order is now an arrestable offense.
Also, referring to someone as "well-off" and meaning it.
I offer the phrase "Give a sniff" to fill the void.

I went into default on a stupid store card that Todd opened for me on his credit. I am about to cry. So stupid. I could have paid it all, but instead I wanted to prove I could pay for my half of the living room furniture without starving. I had $30 left to pay. That's the funny/sad part. $60 in late fees on it, on his flawless credit. It's such a stupid little thing, if it were my credit I wouldn't care, but since it's his I'm about to cry in the middle of work. Dumb dumb dumb.

I'm so sad and lonely and hungry and itchy.
I need something good to happen.

My nails do not, however, resemble dancing sugarplums. Unless I do this...

Mummenshanz!


I am under the desk laughing.:)

New link-
(We all work for) Omar G.
He's a nice and funny guy that recaps Smallville for TWoP.

I read more journals than I link. Monkey need update.

My name is Gwen I'm here to waaaaaash yer vagina.

I have nothing to say.
I made chili.

"So and so is so fat, when s/he sits around the house, s/he really sits around the house."

Ok, so the house exists inside this person? Or does s/he move in a pattern outside, because said person is so "fat" sitting inside is impossible, but rather s/he sits on the perimeter of the property, thus "around" the house?
I'm asking.

My brother booked a commercial with american movie classics. Cool. It's one of those "people in front of white backgrounds talking about movies" things.
And also, for the rochesterariansesites, if you see a commercial with a girl hopping on appliances and just generally being excited about low low prices, it's my friend Tracey.

I have to go to my class now. Monkey hate Chekhov.

You know what guys? Don't do monologues from movies. Don't audition with them, don't perform them in front of people. I'm not a snob, they're a bad idea. Anyone will tell you the writing isn't generally very good, and someone else did it before you on film which makes it a lot harder to make it your own. Plus, it's just bad manners.
(Of course, I only got this referral because I spelled it wrong. )

So anyway.

There's a limo idling in our parking lot. Mmmkay.

[I just found out it's one of the goo goo dolls, who has a recording studio at the back of our lot. How inconspicuous of you, Mr. Goo. Whatever, dude. No one is going to mob you, as much as you want them to. If I had one good song on the City of Angels soundtrack, I wouldn't pay a guy ninety dollars an hour to cart me around so I could pick up my mail. I would find it pretentious and presumptuous.]

Who keeps putting chocolate in my mouth? Stop it.
My abdomen feels completely spherical.

I submitted one question to "the feedbag", it went something like "would you guys consider doing something like a tour diary from the road?"
The answer:
A ridiculous TOUR DIARY and STILLS are on the way.
Even though I am aware that I did not invent the concept, I'm going to pretend they got the idea from me. No, I will not get over myself.
Evah.

My archives are gone. hm.

I slept from 9 pm last night to 9 am this morning. It was

AWESOME.

I took some people to Mohawk place and they loved it. It's my new favorite bar. I was worried, because Ski Mask was first and he can be disconcerting to the uninitiated, and a Misfits tribute band was playing later, which left us all feeling the tiniest bit underdressed and undermadeup.
It was all good fun, and I'm glad, because now I can hang out there without having to meet new people. So that's great. Great great great.

I got walked-in-on whilst putting some graffiti on the bathroom wall. whoops.

I'm shameless.

I don't get bored, seriously, I self-entertain.

Kristen is getting her drink on with her dumbass (and yet her perfect mate) 'boyfriend', Tracey is playing board games with the physical conditioning guy for the Mets, no one has called. I'm going to bed. This sucks. I've had it.

Oh, so this is weird: I was waiting at the bus stop and this old guy comes up to me and says, "I'm a sculptor and I'd like to sculpt you, you have a great shape." and then he showed me this not-even-kinko's pulled together little shitty booklet of pictures of things he's "sculpted" like, huge bronze indians and busts. He kept trying to get my number from me, and I was being really nice and cordial because I have no real moxie where it counts, and I hate myself but I ended up giving him my work number.
God, I'm a fucking retard.
"but . . but . . .he said I was pretty!!"
That should have been my first indication. I got into a nice conversation with another guy after that, who told me about how he did 5 years for killing the guy who raped his cousin. It was probably the nicest conversation I've had with a stranger ever. So yeah, my day was totally fucked up, how was yours?

"Does y'alls peoples eat oatmeal?"

Is it possible to mourn a relationship you're still in?

It snowed for real today. It's so damn pretty.

The best thing ever in the world is sitting at the bus stop for a half an hour listening to cds and smoking.

Last night was pretty fun.
A lot of rowdiness and yelling.
Drinking and smoking and drinking.
Oingo Boingo's "Dead Man's Party" is a great song.
Spilling and barking.

I'm thinking of renaming this blog. I think "crunchy", while it is my favorite adjective used to describe guitar riffs, may have other connotations that might give visitors the wrong impression about my lifestyle. (ie, that I am healthy and enjoy the out of doors.)
Drop a suggestion in the comment box, foo'.

I was checking out some dream interpretation stuff (because I keep dreaming about talking to spiders) and I came upon this little theory:
"If you dream of finding a hair in a piece of butter and it does not disgust you then you will be fortunate in all your dealings"

Got that? Ok.

(It also offers interpretations about dreams both of jam and of jelly).

I don't have anything even resembling a crush on Jimmy Fallon, but it seems like something I would do. I'm actually a little surprised.

It's snowing. Except that it's too warm out, so it's coming out of the clouds as snow and melting on the way down.

Leo-If you've developed a reliance on physical attributes as a source of pride, you're in for a rude awakening. Beauty, after all, is only skin deep, but the quality of your character runs truly deep.

So I'm going to go to this party and look hideous. Spectacular. Not to be shallow, but I really don't need to give people that hate me more fodder for mockery. He has plenty.
The cool thing is, my personality is so hot. Like, smokin'. You're getting a partial just reading this aren't you?
aren't you??

I like this idea. One of them has the same last name as I do, which I'm led to believe is rare outside of Western New York, and a couple of them are cute. Check it out.

but where's mine?
I actually paid more for faster shipping. I always do stuff like that. :(

"I really feel like a dream is being woven."

I hope I never become one of those people who has to walk with a cane prematurely. I really don't think I could carry it off.

The presentation last night was beat. He showed a ten minute clip from "Unsolved Mysteries" and ended on Spontaneous Human Combustion. Whatever. I missed Smallville and 24 for it, which sucks.
Dave also would not stop harassing me way beyond the point of being funny, and I have an impressively high tolerance for inappropriate behavior.

My pretend boyfriend saves my dorkass life on a daily basis.

I have to go take a step class now. Not because I actually want to, but because I see the instructor in the gym after work, and she gives me a hard time if I skip a class. "Everybody was saying 'where's sarah?' "where's that girl??' " I'm so passive sometimes.

Ok, this girl looks exactly like me. Enough to freak out a little.

Another eight hours down the drain and I've accomplished nothing of value.
I'm starting to think I'm the only one who enjoys that it gets really dark at 5 o'clock.
Oh well. More for me.

I'm going to a super special extra scary multi-media presentation on haunted houses with Dave tonight. I miss writing for the website. I hope he brings it back.
My posts are just going to go in a hundred different directions if that's ok.

{{{{Kara}}}}
You are too sweet and smart and cool to have to go through this kind of bullshit with your parents.
You are SO well-adjusted and optimistic, I want to be you when I grow up.

"What kind of a man has a favorite daughter?
And if you do, you should label them favourite and not favourite!!!"

I got my blonde wig and a big pink hat yesterday. I'm not even positive I'm going to the party, but it sure was fun putting on trashy makeup and stumbling around the apartment. All I need is a low cut shirt and a bag of chee-tos and I'm ready for Halloween!
Raise your hand if you like easy targets!

Raise your hand if you like chee-tos!!!

I am sick to my stomach every minute of every single day.
Sometimes, I'm sick to my stomach in my heart.

I'm in a horrible mood today and I've got no excuse for it.

Leo-There is a partner out there whose opinion of the world is music to your ears. Today emphasizes soulmate activity and the pursuit of love beyond simple pleasure.
That's some mighty pretty talking. Pointless and meaningless, but I still dig it. I like being lied to.

I am exceedingly jealous of anyone who lives in New York City tonight. Of course, that's the case every night.

" . . . my man died from air-fucking."

It's too good.

Dogma is on. Did I ever tell you I got a Plenary Dispensation? I did. From the Portiuncla replica at the Franciscan University. Apparently there was some paperwork that was supposed to go along with the actual dispensation, so it's not legal.
Still.
According to the church I can kill somebody. I'm just saying. Just throwing that out there.


Download this movie. Because I said so is why.

Five hours of Bob and David yesterday, five today, and I'm only halfway through the tapes Tara sent me. You were right, it really can be too much of a good thing. I want to go out and do other things, but I can't. It's right there, luring me back. Oh, the extras. Oh god. I have dark circles under my eyes and I can't find my bra. I am so strung out. This is great.

The only thing I did today that was remotely productive other than shower was drive for 45 minutes. Todd's dad took me out. I am really not an awful driver, but for the panic and sweats and crying. Driving is my only big, tangible fear. I can talk in front of people, I am pretty comfortable with the inevitability of death, denists, needles, whatever. Maybe that doesn't make me brave, maybe that just makes me stupid. Either way, this hazardous moron will be on the road in no time!
I think I'm going to rent License to Drive for inspiration.

Dear Anna Nicole Smith,
You and I should totally be friends. I have been thinking about this ever since you got your show. I have been thinking about why it would be so fun for us to hang out, and I�ve come up with a few reasons. I hope you agree that we would really hit it off and write back.
::crosses fingers::
We have a lot in common:
1. You grew up poor and dirty in a small, shitty town in Texas. I grew up poor and dirty in a neighborhood on the east side of Buffalo where visitors were often encouraged to make their �peace with God� before entering.
2. I feel we probably had similar influences growing up. (Government cheese and cable.)
3. You became a stripper after you graduated high school and got hit on by old men. After high school I was a cashier with a penchant for low cut shirts who was hit by an old man*.
4. I can totally fit into the clothes you wear.
5. I find your stance on �no stalking� very inspiring, if not entirely too optimistic.
6. You need someone to keep you from falling over if your assistant has to go to the bathroom or something. I could do that for you.
7. Transvestites dress up like you. When I dress up I look like a transvestite.
8. You sometimes get paid to show up places and stare blankly into space. I do the same thing, but in an office.
9. We both totally love to party.
10. Your leg is covered in tattoos of religious symbols; I have eczema.
There is a lot I can learn from you:
1. Your only job is to get fucked up and play with yourself all day. I can only find time for that three to four days a week.
2. My dream when I was a little girl was to wear corsets and have no apparent source of income. (Back then it was called �princess�.)

I promise:
I will never get political on you.
I will never hit on your boyfriend/husband.
When people write about you in magazines and such, I will only read the nice things out loud to you.
I will never tell you no.
You can have as much of my urine as you need, anytime.
Let me know what you think,
XOXOXOX,
-----�--@,
<3 <3<3,
Sarah


(*true, punched in the arm over the price of fig newtons.)

because as we all know, tricking people into liking us is the best way to live life.

link from sarah.

I wore my chez-toit touque today. Just thought you'd like to know. I feel like making out. Does anybody else get like that? I think it means I'm hungry.

Friday five:
1. What is your favorite scary movie? It begins and ends with John Carpenter's The Prince of Darkness.

2. What is your favorite Halloween treat? beer. I mean, peanut butter cups. I hate candy corn, but I still eat it by the pound.

3. Do you dress up for Halloween? If so, describe your best Halloween costume. Leia.

4. Do you enjoy going to haunted houses or other spooky events? Oh god! They are my favorite thing. I love haunted houses. When I go into funhouses some kind of maternal instinct kicks in and I gather all the other people behind me and get them through it. I get really brave at things like that. I also love real haunted houses. My parents' house is haunted; ghosts walk up and down their stairs all the time.
"Paranormal Evidentiary" is my favorite catagory of television programming.

5. Will you dress up for Halloween this year? I'm taping my breasts together and going as Anna Nicole Smith. Well, my breasts are going as Anna Nicole Smith. The rest of me will be a hobo clown.

my newest favorite referral.
Steve, come on, man . . . .
>:)

Before I say anything else:

I got the package.

oh my god
oh my god

OH MY GOD.

The glories visited upon me by this angelic creature will be written about in drips and trickles until the end of time.
----------
Arlo is great live. Check them out.
On a totally superficial note, I was hanging at the merch table, me-a mousy plain girl in a hoodie, next to a thoroughly gorgeous-inside-and-out professional model (not that I obsess about her profession, or am jealous because we couldn't be such good friends if I was, but there are times when the difference between us is comically obvious), and one of the guys from the band started a conversation with me. That never happens. It was a tiny gesture, unecessary and unexpected and totally cool. Little things, people. Little, superficial things send me out into the streets on a cloud.

I have decided that I envy facial hair. I really wish I could grow a beard. I'm not kidding.

We left early so I didn't get to see Rilo or Captured by Robots. I am drunk and desperately need a shower.

Hey! I'm going to see this tonight. bot has always been my favorite suffix.

"Is that roof high enough, or does it need raising?"

link from Jennifer Schmennifer.

Go rent Session 9, then check out an urban explorer's view of Danvers State Asylum. Spooky edu-tainment.

I tricked Tracey into going to see Rilo Kiley and Arlo with me tonight. Mostly because it's fun to say all those 'r's and 'l's together.

I'm really tired.

This is such an awkward article.

So New Line�s just using the film as a doorstop right now?
I don�t know, man. They don�t talk to me. I�m a fucking actor.

"all right, then."
"yep."

silence.
click.
dialtone.

**********

The problem with the 'edit' option on blogger is that I want to be revisionist with my personal history. And god, who wouldn't?

In case you were wondering, there is nothing of value on television at three in the afternoon. I invested fifteen minutes into it, and it pissed me off. Way off.

The song Changeling samples from my favorite scary movie ever ever ever. The Prince of Darkness.
. . .this is not a dream . . . we are transmitting from the year one-nine-nine--

(Also a great scary movie? The Changeling).

I was looking up how to spell "conscious", because it never looks right to me and I always fuck up the spelling, and I came across the word "coquette: a flirtatious woman." I always thought there was more to that word. I don't know what, I just thought it's application was a little more specific.
(There I go again, thrusting my unrealistic expectations on antiquated French vocabulary.)

(I love sarah vowell's feelings on parentheses, and how her friend has "big plans for the ellipsis". Read Take the Canolli. Fun times.)

I am not very complex but I want you to be complex.

You know that ticket out of life I was talking about? I cashed that shit in when the anesthetic wore off, around one o'clock this afternoon. It fucking hurts. He said nothing about what to do for pain, so I assumed there wouldn't be any (moron). I'm home in my mess of a house with that awful stingy feeling. Jesus, I want to cry.

Good news- I borrowed dj shadow-Entroducing from Jessica last night. Very, very good. Not my style at all, and yet I love it.

I could use a hug.

I spent the morning in the emergency room and I still beat an interior designer and an architect to the office.

It was weird and gross and weird. And gross. My sister worked the ICU last night and met me there, held my feet (?) and offered helpful advice. (dr. to surgical nurse: "should we send this to pathology?" raye: "yeah, sure!") I kept my eyes closed the whole time and cringed like a baby. I didn't cry. I wanted to, it probably would have been nice, but I didn't. I'll save it up for something of great consequence, like if the deli doesn't have lipton unsweetened no lemon.
So the issue is no longer an issue, so I'm ok and everything's fine and I got a chocolate croissant out of it. It could have been a ticket out of life for a day, but, whatever.
The anaesthesia is wearing off. It feels wet and hurty.

I want four things:
1. to sprint around the block a hundred times
2. to scream
3. to cuddle under blankets with somebody and
4. a frosted brownie. with jimmies.

I'll figure out the order and let you know how it turned out.

My dad bought me roses. That was a nice surprise, not to mention completely out of character for the man. He wrote on the box, "For Sweetie's Day". Oh, Poppy.

I hope my David Cross cd shows up soon. I talked myself into thinking I might have gotten it a little sooner because I ordered it through subpop, and they said it would be mailed three weeks from when I ordered it but I guess I should employ a little patience and wait until the fifth of November like everybody else.
(I'm having it sent to my office. I hope my office doesn't end up on some kind of mailing list now. Kind of like how I get obscene postcards sent to Todd's grandparents because I went to a Bitch and Animal show one time.)

I just really need something new to listen to. Suggestions?
Everybody who reads this has to list at least one thing. C'mon you guys. You can do it! Opinions! I will buy them and support your favorite bands! Well, not all of them! But some!
You don't have to leave your name.
(You don't have to actually do it, either. Just, you know . . . no pressure.)

I don't normally like to post dreams, but I feel obligated to share this one. As a result of listening to One Chord to Another about six times on my long, long walk yesterday I had a dorky little Sloan dream, in which the band was writing a new song and referred to whoever was rocking out on lead as "getting all suburban housewife."
Sometimes, I heart my subconscious.

Somehow, four of my cousins and their spouses have managed to create fifteen small people, all blonde, all 3 weeks to 8 years old, all perfect replicas of the those that came before. And they were all at my aunt Polly's house this afternoon eating spaghetti and running in circles. My family can be surreal and entertaining.

Remind me: no matter how many times I kiss the computer monitor (because I just gave it a really good one), it will never ever kiss me back.

I thought I gave up the crush, but I think it's back... along with a crush on the crush's crush. Oops.
Basically, I want to fuck everybody.

Sistah.

"I'm not horny, I'm a 'hobbyist'".

noticing the change
we are taking time
everybody knows
everybody's fine.

I am going out tonight, boy howdy am I ever.

I wonder if this is sold out yet. Whenever I tell somebody about it, they say, "oh, we could go, I have a friend we could stay with," or "airfare is really cheap if you do such and such." Not cheap enough. I'll give it a day or two to decide if I actually want to break into city hall to steal a death certificate and go to LA to sleep on floor of the den of a guy that was in Young Americans with the girl I work out with.
I have to stop convincing myself it's ok to spend all my money.

Todd got a call from his stage manager this morning wondering where he was for his ten o'clock rehearsal. I listened to it at first and I was like, "Oh man, he was late for rehearsal, he's going to be so pissed off when he gets home." The voice mail was recorded at 10:02, no shit. I saved it. What a moron.

I need glasses so bad.

"She was a good woman, too . . .loved a capella music."

My dad called my cell phone at three o'clock this afternoon to tell me to come pick up something he left for me in his refridgerator.
1. My dad has never called me.
2. My dad knows I don't keep my cell phone on, I left it on this afternoon by accident.
3. I don't think he knows I'm sick.
4. What the hell would he have possibly bought for me that needs to be refridgerated?
5. My guess is Killian's Red.

I should read this book.

You should read this book.

I have to go back in a month and take care of the rest of it. I am as bored with this as you probably are.

And yes, I did realize I wrote "five black poppies" instead of "nine black poppies". That is the kind of thing I do so much that makes me cringe. At least I only gave poppies one 'o'.

Today, if I were an impulse buy, I'd be one of those too-sweet red fruit drinks and a silk flower.

I just ate the grossest oatmeal raisin cookie ever cooked.

I have the operation tomorrow, if they can fit me in. I wish I had a count of how many times I've had to whisper the word "breast" into the telephone over the past two weeks.
Also, all three times I've been to my doctor for this, he has started off on the wrong side.
" . . .you might be able to see better from over here."
"Right."
Todd's been really good about getting me around and asking if I need anything. The weird thing is, I need a level of emotional maturity at some points, and then at all other points I default into indecipherable giddyness. He and I haven't quite gotten that coordinated.
I feel like I'm a huge burden. There's no way he has time to cart me around and work around my schedule. I can stop whining about it tomorrow. And I will, promisepromisepromise.

And:
Melt.
But also:
Bob and David talking.

This is a boring story:
[deleted]

boring story number 2: the re-wakening
When I was leaving the Town Hall way back when, I passed by a guy who looked like he might have been in a band or something (I don't know what I mean by that, his hair and outfit gave me that impression, I guess), kind of like a younger, brown-haired Craig, and he stopped and kind of looked at me to give me time to recognize him before he sneaked down some secret corridor which could have led backstage but also could have led to the parking garage for all I know. I just kind of looked at him blankly for a second waiting for him to say something while he was waiting for me to say something, then I shrugged a little and kept going out the door. Even if I did recognize him, what was I going to do? "Hey, you're that guy! Hi!" (Yeah, come to think of it, I suppose that would be acceptable. I never know what to say to famous people. "You're famous. What's that like?" I have trouble making small talk with non-famous people as it is. He was cute. I should have started talking to him. He kind of looked like the lead singer of The Strokes.

Which reminds me . . .
I have on DVD the funniest unintentionally funny music video I've ever seen: Russell Crowe's band's video for "[Something or Other] Ocean". Imagine Toad the Wet Sprocket, but way wussier. On a boat. And there's Russ, sipping his tea, working on his maps and missing his lady.
Oh. My. God. Funny.

1. The song Going to Utrecht is so good it hurts to listen to it, like chewing on a cold sore. It's the theme song to every crush I've ever had, but this one I'm in especially.
My crushes are like the winter olympics, they have controversy and theme songs and local flavor and snowboarding.

2. This early in the second season they introduce red kryptonite. I totally called it too. It was great. Superman stuff is great.

3. I re-read a post from yesterday or whatever, and now I really want a Leo lighter. I know I'll never be able to find one now. The whole world is Leo lighters until you start looking for one.

4. Flurries possible tonight. Oh yes.

5. The Bill Hicks album . . .I don't know yet. I'm glad I got it.

I went to New World Records before my acting class and bought Bill Hicks "Philosophy" and The Mountain Goats "Nine Black Poppies". That place rules. They have a teeny weeny vinyl section, which is more vinyl than any other store in this city has. Of course, I don't get out much so I can't really judge.

donkey donkey donkey.

I don't mean to sound glib about my condition. I'm totally dwelling on it and I need to get it out. While I know that it's nothing and is easily fixed, it is at the same time scary and painful and weird and a hard thing to go through when you don't allow yourself these emotions, particularly when you haven't been 'in-patient' sick for twenty four years. I don't want to sound whiny or elicit sympathy, but I also don't want to be insensitive. I know there are others out there that are going through even scarier and more painful girl-parts bullshit than I am.
(I don't know what I'm getting at, either.)
I guess while I'm trying to sound tough and act like I don't care, I'm not being very honest with myself, because I'm scared and freaked out and sad and embarassed and I'm embarassed that I'm embarassed. And that's ok. Or whatever.

Quiz
created by Polly Snodgrass.

WATER OF WATER. Pretty lady! Fair and gentle, your empathy attracts others to you. Possibly psychic, you are pure emotion and are more likely to act on feeling rather than practical thought or logic. You think that's just fine because imagination is important. You are the Whore of Babylon with her cup of abominable things, the Medium of Endor and in the mundane world you usually make a good wife and mother. You shine when you are able to give emotional support to others.

I'm the Whore of Babylon!!!!

Link from sarah

Today, if I were an impulse buy, I would be a lighter bearing my astrological sign.

I decided "eczemata" was a better word. Look at me talk about my medical problems. I'm fucking hot.

I thought today would be a dress down day, because working was supposed to be all optional and stuff. Nope. Just a regular day. I'm wearing my comic book outfit*. (Which you, you and you saw.) The funny thing is, everyone is too scared of me to make fun of me for looking out of place. It's so weird to have this little bit of power over people, I don't even do it on purpose. I don't know where it comes from. Whee.
I'm wearing sneakers, take that, The Man.

I wouldn't be surprised if a baby alligator crawled out of my bra. I wouldn't be embarassed either, I would just play it off like it was a really great magic trick.

My brother and his wife came over last night, we listened to records, we plugged in the amp, I am hungover.

*if I were a comic book character, I would need an outfit that I could wear everyday. Right?

referrer madness!
1. is this for the purposes of research, or are you settling a bet?
2. it's time for caaaahke.

I have "ecze-stigmata". It is a condition in which you have eczema on your hands, feet and side. I'll be appearing at the Allentown Holiday Inn in on the 17th, and on a tortilla a short time later.

Today, If I were an impulse buy, I would be a scalding cup of coffee and a big grab bag of Doritos.

If I opened a clay pot store, it would be called, Shit or Get Off The Pot.

I went to a craft fair at Letchworth State Park and I spent the whole time daydreaming about blissful motherhood, blissfully skipping all the seemingly insurmountable obstacles between me and any children I might want to have someday. And I got a leather hair tie with a pony on it. So there.

Goose has turned me on to The Mountain Goats. I thank you.

I've had this pea-sized lump in my right breast for, oh let's say, a year. I've been to two different doctors who kept saying,
"It's nothing, forget about it."
"If I take it out there will be a scar there. That will annoy you just as much."
I went to my annual yesterday and I told him, "Uh, it's ten times the size it was last month and the right half of my torso hurts."
hm.
"I should have taken this out when it was small . . ."
Yes, I guess so, Dr. Asshole.
I might be the tiniest bit freaked out. I haven't had any kind of surgery or anything since I was four.

I'm very premenstrual, but I was snarky two days ago. (I may have been snarky yesterday as well.) Today I say, "let's get under the covers and cuddle!" The " 's" in that situation could be me and anybody. I think this evening it will be Nick Drake.


cf: who do you love: moby or eminem?
david: [laughs] I love imagining their offspring.
cf: they are so in love.
david: I can't wait till they put down the gloves and start fucking, you guys. enough's enough. I wanna see the baby.


Today, if I were an impulse buy, I would be a cinnamon roll and a hot cocoa.

I found a Bill Hicks site. Further investigation turned up this one as well. (I don't know why I didn't just try that the first time. doy.) It's making me all nostalgic for my grey wool skirt.

He was the first comic that I couldn't watch with my parents or my brothers and sister because they "just wouldn't understand", and my friends never shared my enthusiam for things funny. I still insist that my friends wouldn't get or like anything that I like, even though I know I am wrong. Further proof that I am a freak. I used to sit on the floor of my parents bedroom in my high school uniform and watch hours of standup. Hours upon hours of the very best and absolute worst. I horded it. That was at the back end of the comedy boom of the eighties, when comedy central had no programming, just tons of standup and Soap. I had no real friends my first two years of high school, just comedy central, nickelodeon which played SCTV and old SNLs, kids in the hall on CBC, Python on PBS, even mtv used to show comedy. I think that was when I really stopped reading for pleasure. Jesus, that's depressing. It was depressing then and it's depressing now. Fuck you, comedy central*. You're lucky I started hanging out with the party people in my junior year. (notice I didn't say "cool" people. I hung out with the slutty girls who stole beer. funny I couldn't get them to watch python with me.)

My posts are getting long and introspective lately. my apologies.

* you know I don't mean it, baby.

I always look forward to Adult Swim on Sunday nights, and then around 11 I realize they haven't made any new episodes of Harvey Birdman, and I go to bed.

(since google won't allow me to reply to any newsgroup posts)
I kind of want to go see Clash of the Titans, but part of me thinks that would be overload. It's great that it's for charity and I don't have any doubt they'll raise a hell of a lot of money. I just can't justify spending that kind of cash. Maybe comedy central will have the sense to do a 'Cam Neely' for this one. Though I doubt it. sigh.

(and for the humorous part of my google reply, "It's good for the old people, and it's good for the food.")

I just re-read some old posts from January. Did I just learn English?
My prose is so hatefully jaunty.

I watched Brotherhood of the Wolf today. It was ok.
I'm antsy. I'm going for a long long walk.

From a semi-heartfelt relationship conversation yesterday, taken completely out of context:
me: "Let's just not be dicks to each other."
him: "ok."

I smell a wedding vow in there somewhere.

Stolen moment from the Founding Fathers ladies room:
(girl having involved conversation on cell phone)
"I'm coming down there in march. In March. I'm coming down there. Virginia. My email changed. It's still the same, but at blahblah dot com. The same thing: Jennon sixty-nine, but now it's at blah blah dot com."
The fact that people still do that as adults makes me laugh. That she had the opportunity to change it, but didn't, makes me both laugh and cringe.
When I came out a guy with an abercrombie shirt and gelled up hair, two black eyes and cuts on his face asked me if there was a girl on a cell phone still in there.
I felt like I walked out the wrong door and into an episode of Buffy the vampire slayer.
(you know, the one where she spends an hour on the phone in a bar bathroom)

Around the same time, Clark makes a Spider-Man 2002-like discovery. He can shoot ejaculate-esque beams of pure hot energy (insert gay porn reference here) and start fires. . . . .It's like the producers said, "Fuck it, let's just do a sex episode and go all out." And for this, we thank them.

Once I came to the full understanding that this show was based on a comic book and wasn't meant to be "good" "well written" or "have meaning"*, I could accept that I loved it so and fell backwards into it like so much feather bed.
I have a weird Superman fixation. My holy grail is a cd full of all the songs that contain Superman imagery, including the theme from "scrubs". Who wants to hop on that and ride?

*not that comics are poorly written, because a lot of them are good. My experience is limited, but I liked The League of Extrordinary Gentlemen and I've heard good things about Sandman. I'd like to get into that whole scene, but I wouldn't even know where to begin. Yeah, man.

tara- go straight to page 30.
I heart page 30.

Yesterday was not a very good day. Yes indeedy.
Today is looking a little better, but not much.
I hate to be a complainer, because there are much less fortunate people in the world who would jump at the chance to have my life on my worst day. I try really hard not to let things get to me for just this reason. Can you tell I'm totally suppressing a huge "my life blows" rant?
Things get this way for everybody sometimes, where it's all things at once: relationship is strained and uncertain at best, work sucks, you're creatively impotent, your pants have up and stopped fitting and you have a cold. I keep saying, "everything is fine, I'm not stressed out" and yet somehow I'm still managing to shit water. I'm drinking and smoking like it's my job. Things do get better.

Anybody want to go see Arlo at Mohawk Place? I do.

I went to see Streetcar Named Desire last night. It was long and southern and kind of annoying. My friend Richard had four lines that I didn't even hear and he's getting paid more per week than I made all summer at the Park.

I got cast in something for January. It's a women's theatre short works festival thing. I bet I'm in something about vaginas or body image. One could hope.

I dreamt last night I was a firefighter. Tonight I hope to dream I'm a cowboy.

I see the copier fix-it guy more than my boyfriend. I honestly think the guy breaks it on purpose. He is gross. He showed up yesterday (even though I made no service call) and after he left the toner prompt went off. So I refilled the toner, which it didn't need. And it's pretty funny because it took me over an hour to clean up the mess. It was so funny, the way people kept walking by, giving me advice on how to do it better. It was really helpful. Helpful and funny.
Everyone is a jerk.

I bought the Mr. Show book and shut up you f**king baby comes out on the 5th. I will continue to indulge my current fascination until someone adequately defines how much exactly is "too much".