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.

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

Spot of Tea, Love?

Ah, I love a proper cup of tea. My PG Tips arrived today, and I'm looking forward to firing up my electric kettle tomorrow. I had to use the microwave tonight, so I'm holding my opinion of this brew until tomorrow. I may continue to hold my opinion until I get a teapot and can stop screwing around with brewing in the cup. I love a strong cup of tea, but I've read that letting the tea brew for too long makes the tea release tannin, which makes it bitterer than it should be.

I will master this art. Oh yes, I will master this art.

For those of you who are remotely curious, I purchased my PG Tips at English Tea Store. I placed my order on May 15 and received it today through Fed Ex. Five days. Can't complain there. The price was also right. A box of 240 pyramid bags cost me $20.49 plus shipping. That's just under nine cents a bag. Even Walmart can't beat that.

Heh, look at me going on about teabags.

The Pesh is a bawdy girl. Teehee!

Tonight's song comes from Men at Work. I'm a fan of all their hits, but this is the one that likes to settle into my mental cogs.

Quote!

"Defeat is not the worst of failures. Not to have tried is the true failure." ~George Edward Woodberry

Blocking Round Two

We blocked another scene and a half-ish tonight. Tomorrow, Cecily-Bob and I will block our throw down over who is marrying Ernest. It should be great fun. If not, I'll plant a few koalas and head for the border. Better head north though. Poor Bob, if she goes with me, they'll throw her in a crate to be mailed to the Philippines if they catch her in Arizona. Of course, the flashing neon sign on top of the car pointing at her from five different angles that reads "ASIAN" won't help her case.

And since I'm tired and staring down the possible barrel of a full night's sleep, it's time for a song. (Edit: Apparently, this video is rated TV PG. Bob, don't try watch this on a TV or you'll have to get parental guidance. And be careful, the video itself is worse than that joke.) I love this tune for all the obvious girlie reasons. It also played on the radio while I was stuck behind a wannabe driver going forty-five ALL THE WAY down HH on my way to rehearsal. Joy!

Tonight's quote was chosen in response to some thorns of jealousy that seem to be penetrating the garden of my life. I hope these thorns wither soon and let friendships old and new take full blossom in their stead.

Ooh, the Pesh is deep. What's that smell?

"Jealousy is simply and clearly the fear that you do not have value. Jealousy scans for evidence to prove the point - that others will be preferred and rewarded more than you. There is only one alternative - self-value. If you cannot love yourself, you will not believe that you are loved. You will always think it's a mistake or luck. Take your eyes off others and turn the scanner within. Find the seeds of your jealousy, clear the old voices and experiences. Put all the energy into building your personal and emotional security. Then you will be the one others envy, and you can remember the pain and reach out to them." ~Jennifer James

Flaming Koala Bombs

Don't leave home without them.

Don't ask either.

Tonight, we worked out our blocking for the first two scenes of Act 1 for Earnest. Poor Jon. His face is going to be positively mangled by the time I'm done pawing at him for the next month. I also have a feeling that we're going to end up with broken noses and missing teeth with all the dramatic withdrawals and sudden embraces we have to navigate. It's rather difficult while holding our script binders, but no worries, once the scripts are out of the way, I'm certain his front teeth will be embedded in my skull. I've got skills like that. Oh, yeah.

Geeb is holding strong at number nine on the My Bookstore & More top ten books list. Apparently, she spent some time at number eight today, but I think she's full of crap. She's only saying it to tease me. Hell, she's only sitting at number nine to annoy me. She needs to get off her ass and scoot on up to number one. I've read the book. There's no excuse for it not to be number one. Geeb just doesn't want to climb those last eight slots. She's already beat out all but eight of the books available at that store out of thirty-frickin'-two publishers. She just refuses to move. She probably thinks it would look pretentious, what with My Gigolo being her first published novel and all. Lazy.

Well, this day is going down excessively well. Geeb had a blip in the number eight slot, got to know my new cast mates a little better, proofread Bob's report on Peter Pan and Lord of the Flies, invented a new koala-related weapon, got home from rehearsal before nine, and now, to ice this towering cakey goodness of a day, I'm about to watch my hero, Ricky Gervais do an interview on Leno.

Isn't he adorable?



I love this song.

You should nod sagely whilst reading this next bit. ...Nod dammit!

"The greatest oak was once a little nut who held its ground." ~Author Unknown

EEEEeeee!

Oh, look! My tea is on.

Ahem, I'm so excited! Asses are being kicked all around! We have a fantastic ensemble for The Importance of Being Earnest. Our director, Becki, is hitting the ground running with a solid plan and a schedule in place. The set is going to be amazing. The costumes will be works of art. Everything about this production excites me enough to wet my pants...in public...openly. Hmm...that could be damaging to future roles. Maybe I'll just wet Geeb's pants instead. Yup. Sounds like a plan.

Speaking of Geeb, you know that little ol' novel she wrote that was released on the e-book market Tuesday? Well, it seems to be catching some attention by credit card owners. That little darling of a rom com, better known as My Gigolo: The Care and Feeding of a Male Prostitute, has not only broken into the My Bookstore & More top ten list, but it has also risen to number nine! Now, number nine might not seem like a glorious number when it comes to top ten lists, but one must keep in mind that My Bookstore & More distributes books for not merely Geeb's publisher (Samhain Publishing) but also thirty-one other publishing houses. That means Geeb's book is number nine out of thirty-frickin'-two publishers' worth of books! Thirty-frickin'-two!

Personally, I'd be throwing a real fit of elation if it had been out of thirty-frickin'-three, but you can't win them all, can you?

Yes, this week has been a good week, and it has ended on an excellent night. I can only hope that tomorrow starts another round of greatness.

Ah, my tea is now at a drinkable temperature. I'm looking forward to trying out my new electric kettle at work tomorrow. I hope it passes the Life Safety Code, especially in my hands.

I love tea. I try to take it as it should be taken with all the rituals deemed necessary by the British. Boil the water. Pour it over the tea. Steep it without dunking the bag about. Add milk and one sugar at most. Mmm, a fine cuppa.

With that note, let's move from all the sophistication of tea, theatre, and smutty novels to much higher octaves.

Food for thought. That'll be one penny. Just leave it in a jar with my picture on it. I have them stationed on convenience store counters across the country.

"Nobody trips over mountains. It is the small pebble that causes you to stumble. Pass all the pebbles in your path and you will find you have crossed the mountain." ~Author Unknown

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

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!

Ah, Direction!

Paxton was unable to join us for rehearsal tonight, so he left us in Raven Micale's capable hands. Talk about a change. Paxton sees the production as a collaboration of artists. For the most part, he leaves us to our own interpretations of the script. He lets us ad lib and edit as we generally see fit. Raven is totally hands on. She seeks the motivations behind the characters and dunks the actors' heads in buckets of emotion. Paxton is fantastically relaxed in his approach, which makes working with him very easy. Raven has a vision and makes sure every actor's brush complements and flows with all the other strokes coming into play.

As an actress newly returned to the stage after a decade-long hiatus, I have to say I prefer Raven's approach. Her direction and insight have swept away a lot of the doubt and second-guessing I tend to do when left to my own devices. She made suggestions that I never would have thought of and they just feel right. The lines and emotions are more comfortable and it radiates through the production. I find myself clinging to such guidance as I find and strengthen my stage legs.

Raven reminds me a lot of one of my most influential mentors, a coworker named Patty. Patty was blunt, honest, and one of the most deeply caring women I've ever known. She could force feed you the most jagged nuggets of truth in a way that not only made them go down, but also grew sweeter after the bitter shells melted.

Raven also told me she thinks I have talent, which means so much coming from someone who has been in the biz for years. The frog that crept into my throat at those words also clung to the observation she made that has been told to me many times throughout my life, I need to trust myself. It's true. My confidence is crap. It's getting better. I can join a new group of people like I've always known them, but I still require constant validation of my own ideas. I hope joining this troupe has set me on the road to correcting that detrimental flaw.

This entry is sorely lacking my usual dosage of fruit.

Mangoes.

Meh, that's only marginally better.

Ooh! Bob's going to prom tomorrow night! Remember, Bob, keep your knees together! Wow, that sounded dirty. Really, I only meant that she should keep her knees together when she's dancing. Vertically. On the dance floor. With chaperones. Not with chaperones. Dancing vertically with chaperones watching. Wait. Crap. Bob is going to dance alone with her knees together while the chaperones watch.

Oi.

Bob, if you must go to prom, make sure the chaperones at least give you tips. I mean money! Not advice! If the chaperones are going to watch, they should at least pay, not tell you what to do. This is all going very badly.

Bob, just have fun, and dance with your legs crossed and your Everlast securely locked. (All joking aside, Bob's a dear and would never do anything to jeopardize her future for something so silly as a boy and hormones, or else Duh Pesh will pinch her ankles.)

Song!

Wisdom!

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs; ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive." ~Attributed to Howard Thurman

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

Ah, Rested.

I missed blogging after Thursday's rehearsal due to a lengthy theological debate with my husband. He's Catholic-ish, and I'm a devout atheist. I wasn't in bed until after midnight and had to be at work for a 7:00 a.m. meeting. Thus, I was in bed at 6:00 p.m. on Friday. I stayed there until after 8:30 then headed off for a pile of congealed grease a local fast food chain likes to call "breakfast" with my beloved. It was delicious.

Finally, I am rested.

As for rehearsal, Rowland had other obligations that night, so Bill sat in with Bob and me. We did a read through, but much of the evening was spent listening to some of Bill's fascinating stories. That man has lived. He's seen the world, rubbed shoulders with the likes of Laurence Olivier, and I'm sure something of everything else in between.

After regaling us with a few of his tales, Bill asked me why I had returned to the stage after being away for more than ten years. I told him of my experiences in high school, when I fell in love with the art, the horrors of my college experience, and the puddle of slow death I've been sitting in since. I felt my face burning as I told him, my throat tightening. For me, it's act or die. Even if I never go beyond community theatre, I have to act. So what did Bill do? He paid me one of the greatest compliments I have ever received as an actress. (The letter of recommendation from my high school drama teacher for my college scholarship audition is still right at the top.) Bill said he is directing Same Time, Next Year later in the season, and he said I should audition. Now, this is by no means a promise of a role, far from it. What it does mean, is that Bill sees me as a candidate to be considered, and that is an incredible compliment to me.

As our conversation continued, Bill and I started ranting about some of our pet peeves, his being lack of communication, mine being a lack of punctuality. Bill then stated that his top three priorities are God, family, and work. I smiled and nodded, but he caught the look on my face before I could pull it back. I explained to him that while I agree with family and work being top priorities, I did not belong in The Bible Belt. He looked shocked, and then Bob chimed in.

Did I mention I adore Bob? Because I do. She's like a mini-me with melanin.

So, Bob chimed in with a story about the time she acted in Godspell. She said that during the course of that production, the entire cast came to realize that the only actor who was a Christian, was the one playing Judas. Every other person on that stage was either agnostic or atheist. Ironic much?

So dear little Bob is a non-theist too. Agnostic or atheist, I'm not sure, but I'm almost convinced we were separated at birth, and she was shoved back in to incubate for another thirteen years. She's also a big fan of Sting. This pleases me.

Detour! (I promise, I never write while drunk. That's reserved for reading.) After enjoying our coronary cuisine, Edy and I returned home to watch Gran Torino. Excellent story. Some of the dialogue put me off (not for being offensive by any stretch, just some of it didn't feel natural), but the story was wonderful. At the end of the movie, something caught my eye. I noticed that the actress playing Walt's granddaughter, Ashley, had really wide set eyes....

Could she be?

IMDB to the rescue!

Yes!

Ashley Kowalski was played by Dreama Walker, who played the receptionist in The Invention of Lying starring--you guessed it--Ricky Gervais! Speaking of The Invention of Lying, Jennifer Garner, who also starred in the film, is celebrating her birthday today according to IMDB. You needed to know that. Stop lying to yourself and be thankful for the information.

Now for a song!

Don't forget the quote of the day!

"Vision is not enough; it must be combined with venture. It is not enough to stare up the steps; we must step up the stairs." ~Vaclav Havel

Progress!

I realized this afternoon that as of last night, I have made more blog entries since my return to Theatre than I did in the years spanning 2005-2009. I think this means I'm on the right track. I'm interested in my own existence again. I enjoy writing, I really do, but it's not my passion. It excites me, but it doesn't make my heart sing, more like a jaunty hum. Incidentally, since I've returned to acting, I've had more ideas churning in my head than I've had in a long time. Geeb and I are finding a collaborative dynamic that is going to take us to exciting places creatively, maybe even physically. (If our script gets rejected on the local circuit, I say we film a bit and hop a plane to London. ^_~)

Anyhoo, back to the real topic of tonight's post. Leave it to me to start with a tangent. Okay, back on track! Roland, another narrator for the play, expressed his discomfort with Bob and me wearing knickers if we were to be women. He took it up with Paxton, and together, we convinced him that Bob and I should be presented as men or wear dresses. Thankfully, Roland has been issued a mission to check with the troupe in Lamar for possible dresses, or we may approach the Joplin troupe for some loaners. This pleases me. I don't mind playing a male, but I am a woman, and it would be nice to feel pretty for my comeback show.

Now for your regularly scheduled glimpse into my psyche with a song. Don't stare directly into the psyche, you'll be sorry. And you'll have those green blobs blurring your vision for a few minutes. If you must stare into the psyche, please avoid doing so while driving.

And a closing thought for the day: "If the light in your life has changed to yellow, I recommend you floor it. It's safer than the alternative." ~Will Rogers

(I didn't pick the driving-related quote because of my psyche-related rambling. It was just a happy accident that I noticed when I was half-way through typing the quote. See? I told you I'm on the right track.)