Ciao, Othello!

Well, the final performance of Othello ran today. The set is struck. The curtains are down. Well, not literally. The curtains are a pain to move, so they stay open all the time, but you know what I mean.

We ended the run with a great performance. I'm feeling particularly chuffed.

(Ooh! I just Googled "chuffed" to make sure I wasn't confusing it with something horrible and I came across this dandy site. Totally bookmarking that one.)

Ahem, back to being chuffed. I managed to start dropping tears when Othello murdered Desdemona. They always do that struggle so well. Karen's face turns red. The veins in her neck strain over her throat. It's brutal, powerful. By the time poor Emilia joined her lady, I had the tap totally open. Rowland handed me his emergency handkerchief that he's had in his pocket through every show in case of facial fluid emergencies that warrant absorption because a Kleenex would be a bit out of place. What a mistake that turned out to be. By the time we left the stage, the edges of his white handkerchief were smeared with black mascara. I hope it washes out.

After the show, we struck the set and painted the floor black. Poor Geeb. All her hard work was torn apart and painted over in a few brief hours. Oh well, now she can start over for The Importance of Being Earnest. And after that is all said and done, I will yet again have opportunity to publicly humiliate her with a gift buried in pink tissue paper. Yea!

Tonight, as we discussed some of our game plan with our new director, Bob asked Becki what kind of music we will use for Earnest. She said it will be steam punk, of course. One of the bands she has in mind is Abney Park. I have to say, I like them. You should give them a listen too. This show is going to be incredible. How I am lucky enough to be involved, I'll never understand.

Tonight's quote isn't as strong as I prefer them to be, but after reading it, how the heck could I not use it?

"If an optimist had his left arm chewed off by an alligator, he might say, in a pleasant and hopeful voice, "Well, this isn't too bad. I don't have my left arm anymore, but at least nobody will ever ask me whether I am right-handed or left-handed," but most of us would say something more along the lines of "Aaaaah! My arm! My arm!"" ~Lemony Snicket

I'm reminded of a conversation I had with Bob and Rowland tonight. Our lines mention Desdemona's mother (we had Brabantia, not Branbantio in this production) dying of a broken heart. For reasons I never question, I could not help picturing poor little Carole lying in a mangle heap at the bottom of a tall staircase with inspectors standing over her, shaking their heads.

"She's dead."

"Yup."

"What do you think caused it?"

"Well, judging from the height of the stairs and the unnatural angle of her neck, I'd say she broke her heart."

Good Grob I'm weird. Just the way I like it.

Night of the Pesh

Talk about a total turnaround. I didn't drop any lines tonight. Thank Grob. And to ice that cake, I managed tears. Real tears. No, I didn't cut myself on the aforementioned icing.

I sat there watching Othello strangling Desdemona, and the usual frog crept into my throat and made my eyes water. And then, Iago stabbed Emilia. The audience gasped. Emilia fell. As she bade her tearful farewell to life, I wept for her. I wept for the innocent servant that so unwittingly ushered her mistress to her fate, and died to bring the tragedy to justice. The first tear slipped slowly down my cheek, gathered at my jaw, then fell away, right into my cleavage. What little I have. The second tear fell to my jaw as well, but it mostly served to help smear my makeup later.

Edy finally got to meet Bob and Tom. He even mused about how he should have helped out with painting the set. I will continue to nudge him toward helping with Earnest.

Last night, Edy and I watched a few episodes of The Office. One episode rendered our brains useless with the application of a little tune from The Muppet Show. To my great amusement, Edy admitted to me that during one of Othello's rants about Desdemona's missing handkerchief, the only thing he could think was, "The handkerchief! (ba dee bedebe) The handkerchief! (ba debe dee) The handkerchief! (ba dee bedebe badebe badebe dee dee de-de de-de-de)"

Oddly enough, he thought the same thing when Desdemona shouted, "I'm not a whore!"

That's my man.

I suppose one could say I like the unique ones.

And if you haven't made enough trips to YouTube for the night, here's a link to a song.

And now for a thought. I know, right?

"You must have control of the authorship of your own destiny. The pen that writes your life story must be held in your own hand." ~Irene C. Kassorla

Dropped Like a Lead Brick

I started off last night's show with a bang. Unfortunately, the bang was the sound of me dropping my line through the bowels of the stage. Oh well, as I said, it's live theatre; crap happens. The bad part is that it happened with my grandmother and aunt sitting in the front row, and two of my bosses, Jes, and one boss's wife in the audience. Hey, if I'm going to make a spectacle of myself, it will be done spectacularly.

In brighter news, I have pants! And a teapot! And a great big teacup! No more slurping boiling tea from bare hands over a naked lap for Pesh! No, sir! This pleases me.

Yes, my shopping endeavors were successful and then some. After having lunch at Taiwan Buffet II, minus Carissia, the little absentee stinker, Edy and I headed to the Movie Gallery. Apparently, the entire chain is closing nationwide, so they're selling all their stock. It's still far too overpriced. Fifteen bucks for a used DVD? I don't think so.

So, we didn't buy anything, but the stop was fruitful nonetheless. I saw two of the most brilliant things I have ever seen. Ever. Upon turning a corner, Edy happened to look at a waist-level shelf and spouted, "Ooh! Porn!" That's right, Edy found a copy of Naked Ambition sitting at the end of the shelf. I looked down, and what did I see at the opposite end of that very same shelf not more than three feet off the ground? None other than My Little Pony: Twinkle Wish Adventure!

And that's not all!

The crown jewel of this journey came in the form of Dead Clowns. Oh, yes.



Take a moment to note the reviews on the cover. "Lots of gore." "Gory zombie flick." "One of the most effective indie horror films I have seen in years." These riveting opinions had me giggling even more than the title and cover. Then, I read the back blurb. And damn near peed my pants in public. Again. But we won't talk about the other time...s.

Ahem.

"As a hurricane approaches the small coastal town of Port Emmett, an innocent group of residents are visited by an unspeakable horror. Fifty years ago a bridge collapsed in the small town, plunging a circus train into the dark water below. The clown car was never recovered. Tonight the zombie clowns emerge from the bay to exact revenge on the descendants of those who left them buried under the silt and mud for half a century."

First off, why are the residents innocent? Do they not have lives? Do they never leave their houses? Have they never cussed, masturbated, rested their elbows on tables? If these residents are innocent, how does that set them up for the comeuppance that is a car's worth of zombie clowns? What lesson must they learn? Spit on the sidewalk more often? It's just not fair!

And why fifty years? Doesn't that seem a bit long for the typical zombie gestational period? If it were a curse, isn't one hundred years the usual standard? Do clowns always wear their costumes and makeup while the show is traveling? Do clowns always ride in the car when they're on the train? How often do drowning victims come back as zombies? What the hell is this town adding to their silt that it can reanimate corpses after fifty years? Are the residents really so innocent?

"You kids stop peeing in that water! You'll turn the silt into a bio hazard!"

"But, Ma, we swim in there all the time, and we ain't never got sick."

"Yeah, but you ain't no corpses. If you'ns were dead and stuck in that silt for fifty years...well, I don't want to imagine what would happen. Now, put yer peckers away!"

As for the hurricane, why? Just...why?

Duh Pesh is back on form me thinks.

I also bought a birthday card with a booby joke for a fifteen-year-old today. All is right in the world.

And now for the song that was my husband's favorite when we first met. How the years have gone by...thank goodness.

And now for smartly bits.

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear." ~Ambrose Redmoon

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

Seconds? Yes please!

Performance number two went even better than opening night. Again, there were little hiccups throughout, but the audience never noticed. The jokes gained more laughter. The intermission and ending collected more applause. Our guests had even more words of praise for our efforts after we left the stage. Tonight was a good night.

And now, slumber sweet and evermore fleeting beckons. Will I sleep in? Doubtful. I have it on the agenda to visit my grandmother to tell her of my next role and spend a few minutes gossiping with her in honor of Mother's Day. What? Don't give me that look. I'm not so ebil as to not visit my grandmother on Mother's Day. I'll have you know I stopped by her house last weekend, but she wasn't home. She'll vouch for me...this time. I hope.

After visiting grandma, I'll join my poor neglected husband for lunch at our favorite haunt, Taiwan Buffet II. It's like eating at a sequel, but it's not. ^__^

Song!

Quote!

"This is the true joy in life, the being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one; the being thoroughly worn out before you are thrown on the scrap heap; the being a force of nature instead of a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy." ~George Bernard Shaw

Opening Night!

Watch your head, it's raining lines and they're dropping hard! ^__^

I just got home from our fantabulous opening performance of Othello. Yes, lines were dropped here and there, but like any cohesive team, we kept the rhythm going and the story moved along with no noticeable hiccups. It was a great night, and I'm very proud to be a part of it. I've met a group of wonderful people by joining this troupe, and the only thing I regret is not joining them sooner.

Song! See, Bob? I told you he was a lanky guy with dark hair.

Quote!

"Always bear in mind that your own resolution to success is more important than any other one thing." ~Abraham Lincoln

And before I forget, I have another item of proof that I've mutated obsession into a new species. When I got home from the play, I realized that tonight is May 13, and as I was on stage performing Othello, Ricky was on stage performing in Madison Square Garden. Yes, I am a nerd to the utmost degree. Just be glad it's me and not you, but if you must gawk at me so, at least find a place at the zoo to keep me. I'd love to live mortgage-free. They'd feed me there too, wouldn't they? Hmm...I wonder how often I could fling things at tourists through my bars. This will keep me up tonight.

Last Rehearsal...Sort Of.

Well, last night we had our last rehearsal for Othello. It went very well considering how many bumps we encountered the night before. Some of us stayed late to polish a few iffy scenes and do the final touches on set painting.

Poor Geeb. She called in sick to work, then came to finish the set. She wasn't playing hooky mind you, she really was sick, and not just in the head this time. Okay, so it was just in her head, but that's only because she doesn't have sinuses in her glutes. There are other sick things in her head too, but it was the sinuses that were throwing a tantrum last night.

Well, I'm off to drill my lines for a bit, so I can promptly forget them when the curtain opens.

Until next time, listen to a tune. And I do mean until next time. Just keep hitting replay. I'll be sending around minions armed with cat toys to see that you do.

Guess what. Yup! Time for a quote! You're good. No, seriously.

"There is only one success - to be able to spend your life in your own way." ~Christopher Morley

Dress Rehearsal!

We had a full dress rehearsal tonight, so not only did we run late, but the men got their first taste of drag. *rim shot*

I'm here all week.

I suggest you head for the next county.

Bob's amazing seamstress goddess, Theresa and her loyal and equally incredible cohort, Alicia, wrangled the last of my costume's details into submission. This pleases me. The wire hoop stabbing me in the back did not.

The show opens Thursday, so we are down to the wire. Paxton is looking particularly stressed, but I have confidence. As with many a production that has seen the stage, all that has been going wrong will be righted, and all that continues to go wrong won't be nearly as bad as we anticipated. It's live theatre. Things happen and the show goes on.

Is it strange that my ramblings become saner as I lose more of my mind to sleep? It'd better be, because I've got nothing left to delay you from trotting over to the Samhain Publishing website to pick up your shiny new copy of My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute by the Geeb, otherwise known as Molly Burkhart. Do it. Do it now. It'll make you horny and giggly--at the same time! How can you beat a deal like that?

And now for a song involving theatrical prostitutes. Whee!

Ponder this! Ponder it! Are you pondering?

"Eighty percent of success is showing up." ~Woody Allen

Just Call Me Fairfax, Gwendolen Fairfax.

That's right, folks. Mission #2 accomplished. As of tonight, I have added another role to my resume, that of Miss Gwendolen Fairfax, the would be fiancee of John 'Jack' 'Ernest' Worthing, in the Stone's Throw Dinner Theatre production of The Importance of Being Ernest.

^_______^

The main reason I auditioned for Othello was to get my stage legs back under me before auditioning for Ernest. I cannot thank Paxton enough for including me in his show, and the same goes for Becki and Bill for casting me in theirs. Thank you all from the cockles of my heart and other pieces of it too.

The fact that I landed a major role is the icing on the cake, but the diabetes-inducing flowers that stain your teeth blue are working with Bob and Tom again! Bob is playing a major role as the lovely Cecily Cardew. Tom will be wooing a lady of his own as Dr. Frederick Chasuble. Watch out world, Bob, Tom, and Pesh ride again! I wonder if Becki knows what she's in for.... She must. She even invited my most favorite chew toy, Geeb, to paint the set.

I love this troupe.

Everyone should start placing bets now on how many bald patches Bob and I will acquire in this production. We will only have three and a half weeks to rehearse, and I can't wait!

In other fantabulous news that warrants a complimentary ear-fuddling, the Geeb is celebrating the release of her first novel tomorrow!

Yea! And the crowd goes wild! Right before they run away to read their dirty novels in private! Woohoo!

That's right folks, pick up your e-copy of My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute at Samhain Publishing. I know I will. I'd better see you in line. Elbows will be nibbled should you fail in this mission. You won't like it when I nibble your elbows. I drool. And I nibble at an angle that will make said drool run into your armpit. Just buy the book and save us all some moisture.

On a final note of good news, tornadoes didn't eat the theatre tonight!

I'd say this was a good day.

Watch out, Ricky, I'm one toe closer to kicking down the doors of your casting calls.

In honor of Geeb's finest hour to date, I present a song.

And for the purists, a less silly version.

Cue the brainy stuff!

"Don't aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally." ~David Frost

Edit: My cat just tried to eat my hair. Just thought you should know. There will be a test over the matter.

Butt Crabs!

Crustaceous Assus, commonly known as butt crabs, will migrate south in the summer when the hair on the host's palms becomes so thick and warm that it becomes inhabitable.

Ah, the smell of fresh cut grass, sun tea on the porch, kids playing on the freeway, body crabs making their great migrations, it is definitely summer.

Rehearsal went well, per usual. I think I nailed the bit with my gloves. It's a waste, because it will never happen that way again. Such is the law of my luck. Maybe I'll get the timing down, but I'll probably slap one glove on the table and knock over everyone's drinks on opening night. Hey, a gal's got to have a goal, right?

...

...

I've run out of crap to prattle on about tonight, so let's get to a tune! Tonight's selection comes from one of Bob's song spasms. I thought the band was Squirrel Nut Zippers, but I stand corrected in learning that this song was actually performed by Cherry Poppin' Daddies. Their name pleases me too, but since I can't let the Squirrel Nut Zippers go by without a link, enjoy a bonus track!

Aw, look who decided to come home...quote!

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail."

~Ralph Waldo Emerson

I hope he wasn't talking about gastropods.

Bloglet!

Rehearsal ran extra late tonight, so I will cover tonight's topics in the form of a list.

1. Geeb is making incredible progress on painting the set and Paxton has dubbed her a life saver. Not the candy, but I haven't seen any non-scripted brushes with death in this production, so maybe he did mean the candy.

2. Tom has perfected his smug victory face in the final scenes of scripted brushes with death. He's such a good villain. He has his turtle genes/jeans? to thank. I think the proper term is jeans. 'Levi' can be rearranged as 'evil,' and I don't think it's a coincidence.

3. Bob had on one of the cutest dresses I've seen in a long time. I miss my size two figure, though I suspect hers is closer to zero.

4. Bird-watching pumpkin cake. 'Twas yum.

5. Helicopters. Take some time to ponder this one.

6. Flanimals. I've converted at least three new fans. Joooinn uuuusss....

7. Ummm...Ricky Gervais. Duh.

Another song that doubles as a quote.

Good night!

Turtle! Turtle!

Did you know the Turtle is the most ebil of all reptiles? It's true. Just check out tomorrow's issue of The Joplin Globe or The Carthage Press. There may be a picture of Bob, Rowland, and me having an animated discussion at our "cafe" table. This conversation was an intense exchange speculating the rise and continuing dominance of the Turtle as the most ebil of all things reptilian. For your sake, and the safety of your great aunts, if you see a Turtle shout, "Go to shell!" Be sure to shout now. If the Turtle is not properly floored, you're done. Go on and practice.

...

Use your diaphragm.

Good.

After shouting at the Turtle, turn him into soup. It is the only form from which he can never return.

Now you know. And knowing is half the battle. G.I. Joooe!

Ahem.

So we got to try on our costumes again for the press shoots and I have to give another round of huge props to Theresa and her cohort, whose name, I'm ashamed to say, I've never caught. The outfits are incredible, beautiful. I and the rest of the cast cannot thank her enough. I hope the personal satisfaction from such work is at least half as tingly as the thrill of wearing the final products.

Bob, your mom is a keeper.

And on to more public humiliation for my darling Geeblet. Her fabulous work continues on painting our set. I showed up early to help. Guess how much I contributed! Not a damn stroke!

Anyhoo, several folks stopped to marvel at her hand-frickin'-painted stone wall. I'm tellin' ya, she's a machine. GEEB v3.3 specifically. Not sold in stores. Thank all that is good.

Tonight's selection is stolen from Geeb's mix CD. Scandals aside, Michael Jackson was a musical genius. I can't think of another artist that could write music that both lifts the heart and breaks it all in one beautiful stroke. I think I'll save my quote for another night and let this ample song stand for both staples of my blog. Now, I'm off to stare through Tom the Turtle's bedroom window until he wakes up screaming. G'night, all!

Molly Van Geeb

Tonight was our first night off book. What a night. We started off well, then someone missed a line and it all went to hell. Who kicked off the fuck-around, you ask? Why, who else? Duh Pesh Mode! Duh Pesh Mode strikes swift and deep. There are no survivors. If someone tells you about the destruction and carnage caused by Duh Pesh Mode, slap him. He's a damned liar. If he'd been there, he'd be dead. If he continues to insist his story is factual, kill him quickly. He's a zombie. Go ahead. Check. I'll wait.

...

...

He was reaching for your head when you looked, wasn't he? See why you should always keep blunt objects handy? You never know when you're going to have to smack the bitch out of a damned, lying zombie who only thinks he was cool enough to survive an encounter with Duh Pesh Mode.

Ew.

Make sure you leave a koala next to that mess.

Speaking of messes, Geeb finally got to work on the set tonight! Yea! Villagers rejoice!

I said rejoice, dammit!

That's better.

The backdrop is looking fantastic. It's all mountainy and hilly and bluey.... ^__^

She really is justified in calling herself a painter. I'll have to be sure to find a way to set it all on fire tomorrow.

I was going to be lazy and just post a link to this song because Ricky linked to a Simple Minds song that I'd never heard before on his blog tonight. I thought, hmm, they have a song I'm familiar with, what the hell was it? So, I found it, and what do you know? It's the main tune from The Breakfast Club, the only Molly Ringwald movie I've ever really seen. Poor Bob was near smacking me tonight for my lack of Molly Ringwald movie viewing. It's a wonder I can call myself a child of the eighties with such a gap in my pop culture experience. The sad thing is, Bob wasn't even thought of until the nineties. And lo, this entry has come full circle...jerk. ^__^

Quote!

"Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

Hand Crabs

Got to work with my gloves for the first time tonight. I'm typing with a spoon held between my thumb and first knuckle and enjoying how little it is hindering my typing. Geeb and I should switch to a constant diet of frosting. That way, we won't have to stop writing for something so trivial as eating. Asses be damned. It was nice finally getting to practice with my gloves, as I don't think I can sell my horrible OJ joke without them. Liked those transitions, didn't you? Don't lie. If you lie I'll nibble your elbows.

So Bob and Rowland joined me on stage, and the raunchy jokes ensued. I had a bottle of water on the table, so they started complaining about the rotten service in our little cafe. I explained that they had to know how to sweet talk the waiter and that they should always wear gloves when doing so or risk a nasty case of hand crabs.

You're probably wondering how I still have a role in this production. Me too. I figure it's just a matter of time. Just like death, taxes, and Bob ripping out her eyelashes. She's really going to hamper her criminal career with all that mascara on her fingers. Her fingerprints will be everywhere. Maybe she should start leaving koalas at every scene. The bit to which I'm referring starts at 0:30. Given the time, you should really watch the entire show. It's brilliant. Lookit. I've even pointed you to the first part. You should know, I love Ricky Gervais. That's important information. Important enough to have tattooed on your chin. Be sure to spell it right: Pesh loves Ricky Gervais. I hope you have a strong chin, or that's going to be really crammed on there. You should have it done twice. One normal and one in reverse, so not only can you inform others of this influential fact, but also so you can remind yourself of it every time you look in the mirror. Your days will be better for it. I hear reading it aloud while brushing your teeth will boost your metabolism too.

^___^

Song!

O
o
O

O

^ Bubbles. Lobsterese translation (because I'm kind to my readers who are ignorant of such a prevalent language, even if they do need to read a frickin' book):

"Hi, you've reached Jimmy, if you can dream it, you can do it!"
~Jimmy MacElroy, Blades of Glory

Weirdness...I know, right?

Rehearsal was fun tonight. Rowland and I ran our lines once through then proceeded to help with props, set stuff, and distracting the rest of the cast with conversations about phone etiquette. Sweet little Bob was kind enough to read with Tom, who has miles of monologues to tackle. I, of course, was no help.

My wall clock died at work, so I designed a Kult Pilkington clock in my CafePress shop. I originally had just numbers around the face, but Edy, the artist decided there should be other symbols included. I'm still not sold on it. I rather enjoyed having the numbers in completely random order with a '14' thrown in for good measure. It seems my husband and I don't meet in the middle when it comes to artistic endeavors.

New subject! Watch your step, these topic jumps can be more painful than getting hit by a train. Trust me.

Since my return to the theatre, something has shaken loose in my creative mind. I've started plotting a new novel. Perhaps this will be the story that satisfies Kiriannah (my stage-hog muse of many years), and she will finally leave me alone. I have pages of notes with detail plot outlines that actually form a cohesive storyline. All I have left to do now is tie up one loose end and flesh out the love story, which will probably introduce more loose ends, but I don't mind. The great thing about this project is that it's snapping together like a radioactive Lego monster blasting its way through my writer's constipation. Writer's constipation is much worse than writer's block. I'd rather have no idea at all than several that just won't congeal into something usable. No amount of laxatives helps either. You just spend your day on the seat straining, sweating, screaming for death. At last I have found a cure. Theatre! It goes down smooth and comes out the same way! Buy it now! Not sold in stores, but if you knock on the Geeb's door about eight in the morning, she may have something for you. It'll at least knock your shit loose.

Time to celebrate! My beloved Ricky Gervais is already slated to host next year's Golden Globes ceremony. The awards aren't until January, and they've already booked him. In-fucking-credible. It's achievements like this that have set him so high in my regard.

Time for tuneage! This is one of my favorites. ^_^

I found tonight's quote in an old file tucked away on my flash drive.

"To succeed you have to believe in something with such a passion that it becomes a reality." ~Anita Roddick

Edit: Kick ass! I've never seen more than a clip or two of the video for tonight's song, so I'm greatly pleased to find that it's frickin' weird. I love it when a non-existent plan comes together.

Love Letters For Bob

Tonight's blog goes out to Bob and her woes. She's sixteen and wading through all the dire muck that comes with that age. Her heart is in bloom and venturing into the grand world where all the other hearts frolic, fuse, collide, and brutally stab each other. She'll make it through though. She's super smart, and as soon as her heart catches up with what her brain is already figuring out, she'll be invincible until she consciously chooses to be otherwise. Until then, she'll have to endure the crap that young hearts like to drag themselves through on the quest for that happily ever after that is seldom found and more often fleeting.

Rehearsal was interesting tonight. Our Desdemona had another obligation, so a fellow theatre goofball named JJ, Jayjay, Jay-J, ummm, whatever. So, a fellow theatre goofball filled the fair lady's shoes with disturbing effect. I never thought I'd see a Desdemona scratch her nards and pantomime eating something from her nose, but I'm getting used to such oddities in my corner of the universe. I'll just blame the Geeb.

Anyhoo, to further warp our evening, Paxton got pulled aside to work out some lighting details, so Bob threw herself into the role. Can't say I'd follow her into battle, but she certainly put Iago in his place.

There's nothing like a night of gender-swapping to keep everyone in good humor.

We'll definitely have to get Iago to show off some moobies on Wednesday to keep things awkward. I'll send him some cupcakes tomorrow to help him pack a few more pounds into them. He's really not properly overweight to display a worthy set of moobies. It would be an embarrassment.

Well, now that this blog has achieved sufficient weirdness for one evening, I'll move on to the song that began playing just as Bob and I left the theatre tonight. I'd say it's appropriate.

Bonus track! This one played immediately after the song above. I'm placing a wager that the Geeb will not leave this song playing long enough for it to load. Hell, she may not even open it. Maybe she will. Maybe she'll think the Pesh is jacking with her and will post the link to something truly bad ass. Or maybe she won't. Dost thou dare to click?

Wisdom! (The Pesh does not guarantee that the following wisdom comes from saner minds than hers. Apply with caution. Do not get in eyes. If eyes do come in contact with wisdom, remove them with a spoon. It will hurt less.)

"There'll be two dates on your tombstone,
And all your friends will read 'em,
But all that's gonna matter is that little dash between 'em...."
~Kevin Welch

Morbid, yes? ^_^

Jooiiin Uuuusss...

Rehearsal ran late tonight, but as the show seems to be really coming together, it was worth it. Bob's mom must be killing herself for our costumes. She already had the first round of alterations done on my dress, and with the exception of one section being too tight, they were spot on. Keep in mind that I first tried on the dress at our last rehearsal, Bob was the only one to see me in it, and no measurements were taken. Theresa is an incredible seamstress. Period.

I saw what I think will be the final version of our program. The Geeb is going to smack me. I'm looking forward to it.

If you're wondering what the title of tonight's post has to do with anything I've just written, it doesn't. In an effort to assist Ricky in his quest to bring Karl Pilkington worldwide harassment, I am unveiling a line of Kult Pilkington products to help saturate the world with knowledge of the man with a head like a fucking orange. Wear your t-shirts and thongs proudly, and whenever someone looks at you as if you just evolved from a mermaid, gently sit them down and spread the Word of Karl.

Since I'm in a silly mood tonight--shut up, I do so have other moods--let's hit the Free Love Freeway.

And now for some wisdom:
"Things may come to those who wait, but only things left by those who hustle." ~Abraham Lincoln

Super-Rehearsal-Awesome! Yeah!

EGO ALERT!

You have been warned.

Had a great night at rehearsal. Karen, AKA Desdemona, wasn't feeling well, so it fell upon me to read in her stead. I missed damned near every mark, and poor Paxton seemed to forget once in awhile that I didn't really need to learn the marks, as he started to explain them to me once or twice. I always have a lot of fun at rehearsals, but being able to move around and stretch my stage legs a bit felt great. It was also fun jumping from one platform to run across the stage and leap onto another throughout the night. Roland was even kind enough to tell me I was reading the part very well.

I'm a happy little Pesh this evening.

Despite my glee in reading her part, I hope Karen finds herself completely recovered soon, especially since I'm bound to break my neck sooner rather than later if I keep platform hopping.

I also bought shoes to go with my dress. This too pleases me.

As for tonight's song, let's crank up some eighties gold.

And since I can't have my reader...s wandering aimlessly through life tomorrow, a quote:

"Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work." ~Thomas Edison

EDIT: Just finished actually watching tonight's music video, and I have to ask, "What the hell?" Clearly, the eighties had a huge influence on the stability of my mind, but the gas pump dance is still lost on me. Despite the video, I doubt I will never tire of this song, especially knowing how much the Geeb will love the pink polo. The pink polo haunts her dreams. It's true. Ask her, or better yet, buy her a pink polo to call her own. She'll love you to death for it.

Speedy Blog!

It's already late, so I'm going to ramble quickly. Not that it matters to you. You won't be reading this entry any faster than the others. Oh dear. I seem to have undermined my efforts already. Fuck it then.

I got my dress tonight! When I arrived, the lovely Bob dragged me away to the dressing room to try on a gold and black number her mother found in the loft. It was a little tight in the petticoat and a little loose in the dress, but I'm very pleased with it. I get to buy some shoes now.

On an even more exciting note, the Geeb has her official cover art and page posted on the Samhain Publishing website! E-world, prepare yourself for the greatest novel you have ever read, My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute. That's right. Come June, your mind, and maybe other things, will be blown--or at least tingly with some good laughs. Careful with the laughs though, you don't want to go past tingly and accidentally pee your brain. Not a hazard I recommend risking. Trust me. Once will be enough to learn your lesson for good.

In honor of the Geeb's upcoming romantic comedy, here's a lovely little love song, of which I am quite fond.

And your thought for the day is:

"Even if you are on the right track, you will get run over if you just sit there." ~Will Rogers

New Lines!

Paxton added more lines for some of the cast. I got three and, like a smug little Pesh, I had two memorized in time to hit my cues.

Other than that, I don't have much to report. I'm tired again and snagged a catnap after work, but that's just boring. I suppose all the things I didn't do are much more entertaining than what I did do. For one thing, I didn't hit Geeb in the ear with a shuttlecock. That certainly would have been amusing, had it happened. I'll have to try that sometime.

I found out that Ke$ha has the hots for my dear Ricky Gervais. I'm grossed out. Aside from the fact that Ricky is twenty-six years her senior, she just looks...sticky. The thought of her looking at him makes me want to give him a bath. I'm sure his lifelong girlfriend Jane wouldn't approve if I tried. Heck, I'm sure he wouldn't approve either, but if the opportunity ever presented itself, I certainly would try. What kind of obsessed fangirl would I be if I didn't? A disgraced, obsessed fan girl is what I'd be, and I cannot let my reputation be damaged so easily. What's a night in the pen for an attempted forced bathing charge in comparison to a sullied name? Not much...not much.

Egad, I should delete this entire entry. I'm far too tired to be publishing this. Which will make it all the more fun in the sobering light of a few hours' sleep.

Okay, so let's get down to business. Tonight's song is appropriately nuts. Oooh! Chimpanzee that! (Just ignore the Monkey News reference and enjoy the tune.)

Don't forget the quote! You won't know what to ponder tomorrow if you don't read the quote! You know it's true. You have GOT to quit lying to yourself like this.

"Wherever you go, go with all your heart." ~Confucius