I Is So Excited!

^___^

My costume for act two has evolved from a vague idea to full-blown awesome. My skirt is under construction to convert from ankle-length to a short-in-front and long-in-back number. I have a red waist coat with black velvet "filigree" covering it. I get to wear fishnet wrist gloves and thigh-highs. I have a beautiful red and black satin breath-inhibiting corset. And the icing on this multi-tiered, pudding-filled cake? I will be wearing my stiletto heels. These are not just any stiletto heels, mind you. These are the very heels that I wore in my first ever lead role as Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. This pleases me immensely. Immensely.

Imma described my new look as very Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge!. Need I say how elated I was to hear that? I didn't think so.

Random tangent! This afternoon, as I was about to take my adorable panda mug to the break room to scour away the remnants of my PG Tips, my Security buddy, Travis, stepped around the door frame and nearly collided with me. We stopped to chuckle at the near miss. I grinned, held up my mug and informed him that I needed to wash my dirty panda. We laughed with great enthusiasm and decided that a dirty panda is something you can probably buy on a dark corner for ten bucks.

In addition to all this awesomeness, I got to make some creative contributions to my costume tonight. Becki was lamenting over our lack of a parasol, which I need for an exchange with Bob's lovely portrayal of Cecily. As Imma cinched away my will to live in the oh-so-sexy corset, the solution slammed into my head like a hooker taking a Dirty Panda. I remembered a relic of my youth tucked away in my garage. I took riding lessons as a girl...I mean, when I was young. I've always been a girl. Well, a female anyway. I think I'm generally considered a woman now. I own a riding crop. Who the hell needs a parasol when you have a fucking riding crop? I think I just might pee where I sit if I think about it much longer.

Let's add another layer of happy, shall we?

Another of my props is a lorgnette. Becki and Earl have constructed a very steam punk contraption out of toilet paper tubes and some wire. There are two thick wires that extend from the bottom then curve up to frame my face as I look through the tubes. I posed a possibility to Becki and Earl, and the response was delightful. I asked, "What if we actually mount the lorgnette to my arm?" Awesome. Now, my hands will be free for my purse, my flowers, and my riding crop. And it's extremely steam punk to have such mechanical wonders utilized so casually.

Dave is definitely going to have to burn this chair by the time I finish tonight's blog.

Let's throw some road flares on top of this cakegasm! Because candles will never do in glee of this magnitude.

Edy and I went to our favorite haunt, Taiwan Buffet II, to harass the lovely Carissia and enjoy some good ol' grub. Not grubs. That would be gross. I meant food. People food. Not food made of people. Food made for people. ...Moving on.

When we arrived, Mary, the owner's daughter quickly introduced us to the fish inhabiting a new aquarium next to the register. Edy gave a quick acknowledgment then moved on to the food. I stayed and learned all the little guys' names, making sure to pronounce them properly. I'd hate to insult my new hosts. They might blow bubbles at my food. Anyhoo, after learning the identities of the fish, one little fellow remained. When I asked what his name was, Mary cheerfully replaced, "I want you to name him!" Aaaw! The Pesh is loved! Publicly even! The name came to me instantly. It was too obvious not to blurt it out.



His name is Karl. Karl with a 'K'. He's got a stripe of fucking orange.

I hope he's at least half as amusing for the restaurant's customers as the man with a head like a fucking orange, Karl Pilkington, is for me.

That's it. Dave's chair is done for.

A sexy song!

"Ideals are like stars; you will not succeed in touching them with your hands. But like the seafaring man on the desert of waters, you choose them as your guides, and following them you will reach your destiny." ~Carl Schurz, address, Faneuil Hall, Boston, 1859

It's Blo-og! Blo-og! It's Big! It's Heavy! It's Wood.

Whee! Rehearsals are progressing fantastically! I’m off book for act one and I’m nearly there for act two. Every night lets us develop our characters with bigger personalities and more innovative interactions. My Gwendolen Fairfax has evolved from a proper lady to a bawdy tart.

This pleases me...immensely.

It’s exhilarating to be able to really cut loose on stage and throw caution off a freeway overpass for the sake of the audience’s pleasure. Not that kind of pleasure. There are no poles on the stage. Well, okay. There are four poles on the stage, but they’re way too big to wrap my legs around to slide down them in a manner that garners tips. There’s just no point in trying.

Our fantastic director, Becki, has a fabulous mind. Tonight, she choreographed our scene change. It involves a whistle and a bike. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination.

Moving on!

I have two topics to discuss with you that affect all that is right and good on a global scale.

First, my hero, Ricky Gervais, is leading a campaign with the WSPA to bring about a ban on bullfighting in the Catalonia region of Spain. Please, take a moment to add your name to the petition and join this noble cause to end this cruel atrocity. Tradition and culture are not excuses for cruelty of any kind.

While you’re visiting the WSPA signing the petition, as you are doing right now, because you are my minion, and I have commanded you to it, toss a few bucks into the donation page. Look at your happy, loving, pet opossum--or cat, rabbit, mule, whatever--you would spend twenty-five bucks to keep him/her/it healthy and happy, wouldn’t you? You probably have, unless you buy cheap kibble. Tightwad. But your pet is already healthy and happy, right? So there you are with twenty-five dollars burning a hole in your pocket and no tragedy to avert. What to do...?

I have an idea! Send it to the WSPA! It would please me so. You like to please me, don’t you? Don't you?

Well, if not, you should do it to please a fellow earth-dweller in need. In turn, it will give you warm squibbly feelings, and everyone likes warm squibblies. Yes, you do.

Next topic!

Again, my hero, Ricky Gervais, has flexed his will, and I am bowing to it. A few days ago, he wrote:

“A Call To Arms.

I've had another one of my great ideas. Remember the poster campaign? Remember me trying to get Karl on TV?

OK, now listen carefully. I love the fact that Pilkophiles have been leaving random quotes and messages on You Tube. I like it for many reasons. I love it confusing people that went there to discuss Bruce Springsteen or God or something. I love it annoying the haters. But most of all I love the fact that it makes Karl uncomfortable.

Let's up the stakes. I want quotes and comments on every You Tube video, every iTunes product, every Amazon product and every blog in the universe.
And Twitter. Ah twitter... Go fucking mental. Introduce everyone to the world of the man with a head like a fucking orange. Make it the twatosphere, i.e. the space where people talk about a spherical headed twat.

It's in your hands...

Will he be working in B&Q in 5 years or ruling the world?”

I vote for ruling the world.

In an effort to help with this magnificent endeavor, I am obeying Ricky’s most recent order to see that the following pictures of Karl Pilkington and his feline lookalike are spread to every computer in the universe. Enjoy.





And now for a song!

And now for a less silly song! My internet at home is still kaput, so this tune was selected in honor of Dave, for letting me hijack his 'puter. ^_^

Tonight’s quote was found in a quest for a nugget of thought to pay proper tribute to the wonderful memories I’m collecting at rehearsals and the joy that Ricky and Karl (and Stephen) bring me on a daily basis. I don’t think I found what I was looking for, but this quote is dirty. And it pleases me.

“Laughter is an orgasm triggered by the intercourse of sense and nonsense.” ~Author Unknown

Ah, bliss. Now sign that petition! And start spreading the word of Karl! Now!

Brokeback Casio

We played to a full house tonight, and what a crowd it was. They were sharp. They didn't miss a beat. They laughed at all the jokes and then some. One of those extra fits of laughter nearly did me in as well. Poor Tom is playing Iago, and in his effort to make Othello doubt Desdemona's fidelity, he weaves a lie that goes as follows:

I do not like the office:
But, sith I am enter'd in this cause so far,
Prick'd to't by foolish honesty and love,
I will go on. I lay with Cassio lately;
And, being troubled with a raging tooth,
I could not sleep.
There are a kind of men so loose of soul,
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs:
One of this kind is Cassio:
In sleep I heard him say 'Sweet Desdemona,
Let us be wary, let us hide our loves;'
And then, sir, would he gripe and wring my hand,
Cry 'O sweet creature!' and then kiss me hard,
As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots
That grew upon my lips: then laid his leg
Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd; and then
Cried 'Cursed fate that gave thee to the Moor!'

The audience, being of a sound and dirty mind, busted a gut. It was all I could do not to join them. Talk about a good time. Poor, poor Tom. He's an innocent bystander in this chaos, but he's good for a laugh, much like the holy round one, Karl.

For tonight's song, I'm having trouble choosing between two tracks by Gorillaz. So guess what? I won't! Enjoy! And enjoy some more!

And now for your nightly wisdom.

"Consider the postage stamp: its usefulness consists in the ability to stick to one thing till it gets there." ~Josh Billings

Howdy, Ma!

Might be on the telly in the morning. One of the local stations sent a man to film our rehearsal and interview our fearless Paxton. I don't know how much he filmed. I was so into character, I didn't realize he'd left until we hit a bump in the flow. If the station posts the piece on its website, I'll provide a link.

I read for the next play, The Importance of Being Ernest tonight. I'll elaborate more when I find out the results. Don't want to jinx it and all that. I will say that regardless of the outcome, I did well, and that's all that matters to me. If I don't get a part, it won't be for lacking skill.

Poor Geeb is probably painting as I type this. She's still slaving away at her fantastic set painting. Thank goodness for it too.

I'm slowly working on converting my mother to join Kult Pilkington. Hail the orange-headed one. His head is round like a fucking orange. It's not actually orange. I don't think Ricky has ever actually taken to painting Karl's noggin. Perhaps he should. I could practice on Geeb and post the pictures so he can get the right idea. Yes...I think that will do nicely.

Yeesh, I'm tired. Here's a lovely tune. Great little movie too, in case you've never watched Meet the Robinsons.

Don't forget your free quote!

"Some people dream of success...while others wake up and work hard at it." ~Author Unknown

Thank you. Come again!