News.

I have been hired to work in a haunted house in Columbia, MD!! The festivities start on October 9th & go until November 2nd on every Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, & Sunday night. As the start grows closer, I'll post details on location, hours, price, & entertainment details. And everyone should show! Because . . . well, because I love you all - not because if we exceed the expected number of ticket prices, the actors get a bonus in pay . . . of course not. It's all about you.

Compliments of the Customer

I love my customers . . . & they love me. :)

That just brightened my whole night. Be kind to your waitresses. It makes a difference.

Of course, I was very kind & playful with them . . . if your waitress is a bitch, just be a little nice. :)

I'm Back

So, I've been neglecting this blog & posting in my myspace blog . . . apparently I don't have the skills to keep two blogs going. That might actually be a problem if I had an audience that streched beyond friends & immediate family. They all know what's going on anyway.

But let's see . . . I've got a new job waiting tables & I'm starting to get into the flow of it regardless of the two days I had to take off because right after my mother & I finished cleaning the majority of the house, the basement flooded & in an attempt to move a table, it broke & fell onto my foot, smashing it pretty badly & landing mwe in the emergency room. They gave me muscle relaxants because somewhere in the smashing process, something was pinched & my foot keeps cramping uncontrollably.

Classes are starting in two weeks for which I am extraordinarily excited since most of my friends are from out of town & they'll be moving in on the 27th. Speaking of the 27th . . . that's the day we're getting the house appraised. Hence all the cleaning. Yet to be entirely finished. In one week, the renaissance festival starts & after the first weekend during which I'll be meeting with a friend I only get to see once a year, I'll be heading up there quite often as I always do & I expect to be accompanied at least a few of those times by friends. So boost your bosoms & join me in entertainment, overpriced souvenirs, & cheesecake on a stick.

Also, everyone who reads this, stop & bask for a moment. I noticed as I returned to dust off this charming little blog space of mine, that this will have been my 100th post here. Something of a milestone.

Interesting sound bites of the week:

in our basement are a few sets of wind chimes. Although since there's no wind in the basement, we never really here them unless we knock into them.

I hear this from the living room -

Mom: Ow!!! (wind chimes)


I got this new video game that I tried at my father's house & it's unbelievably addictive. Wii games are usually $50. At $20, I bought this new game without a second thought. Now my mother & I are both addicted & while I'm upstairs loading up a laundry bag, I hear this -

"Noooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!" in the really cheesey movie reading. When you lose, all the spheres go into the pyramid (don't ask, just go with it) & it actually takes a while, but there's nothing you can do about it. I suspect her outburst lasted for the entire duration of the presentation of her loss.

Berry Expensive

So, I've been putting money away & paying off debt owed to my mother $50 at a time (& we decided that once the debt is paid, $50 thrown into the monthly budget from me might be a big help with things) & I still had a lot of money to myself. And I didn't think I'd spend it on what I spent it on at all. Mainly? Fruit. There are fruit arrangements that you pretty much have to walk past every time you go into Superfresh & we sit there & drool over them & try not to think about it because they all cost somewhere between $20 & $30. I got one with mango slices & kiwi slices & pineapple & cantaloupe & honeydew & Strawberries & Blueberries. Yummmmmm. Then I got cornbread & a pint of blueberries to munch.

Then I got my mother & I crabs for dinner. I do work at the Crackpot. I mask my jealousy every time I bring crabs to a table. I got our cheapest at $45 a dozen. And I got the one dish that tempts me to no end every time I pick it up in the kitchen. Witness my level of sophostication. It's not the fillet mignon, not the stuffed flounder or the beautifully presented clams, no. Buffalo wings. Every time. I walk into the kitchen & the smell of the hot sauce instantly makes my mouth water.

Then I went to the farmer's market yesterday & got blackberries. Oh yes. A lovely luxury. I LOVE blackberries. But they're always so expensive. At $5 a pint, I bought 4 pints. Call me crazy, but I love them & I had money & the farmer's market was in town & every once in a while, it's nice to pretend that if I want something, I can just have it. And that's what I did for those couple of days. I got what I wanted. It was great.

I also got inserts for my sneakers. After a week of waiting tables, my feet scream when they hit the floor in the morning. So I got arch supports. I put them in my shoes, walked into the Crackpot with my server uniform on & George of all people who spent the entire last shift teasing me about the guy I waited on who called me at the restaurant & asked me out (cause he thought I was 24 & not 18) - George was the one to see me & make fun of me. Apparently I was on call & didn't have to come in. But April, upon seeing me, asked if I would host for her. So I went home, changed into 'business casual' & returned to work. I don't like to 'dress up.' So everything I wore was actually my mother's. And I had to face the heat wearing a duster to cover up the fact that the pants were too big & I had to sinch them up in the back & the shirt was too small & wouldn't tuck in in the back. Looking good is just complicated for me. And on top of that, I wore heels & not the inserts. Ow.

And when I thought I'd be restocking my wallet, tucking more away, & making another $50 payment . . . I wound up getting no money. Host = no tips. Although instead of $3.08 an hour, I got 12 something an hour. So it'll be extra when my paycheck gets to me.

New Job

So, I'm a waitress now. Officially, I believe . . . . Training is 3 day shifts as a server, 3 night shifts as a server, & 2 shifts as a host. Tonight, I get a night shift as a hostess & Tuesday, I get my morning shift as a hostess. As far as I'm concerned, I have no more shifts as a server with a trainer, so I am officially a server. (Shut up . . . it makes sense.) And as a trainee, I've already had quite the experience.

Day One, Day shift: Discover all the duties of a server & nurse a growing fear that I'm screwed.

Day Two, Day shift: Study menu, lessen fear, Smile excessively.

Day Three, Night shift: Piss off the manager on duty. Good job. Try not to laugh when trainer draws a whipped cream penis on her friend's plate. Fail not to laugh when friend screams, "IS THAT A PENIS?!?!" in the midedle of a full restaurant.

Day Four, Night shift: Piss off the same manager, stammer instead of explain, swallow fear while serving a table of 16.

Day Five, Day shift: Serve by myself, get specifically requested by a customer, smile at compliments & good wishes all day, try to keep my ego in check.

Day Six, Night shift: Go in sick, serve table of 34, CLEAN table of 34, find condom on the floor, furrow brow, continue evening, manage to not drop salad dishes when the cook spilled searing hot chili on me, clock out an hour & a half after the end of the shift.

And on the seventh day, I shall rest . . . until I go in for training as the host.

Rockapella's Swift Entrance

So, my mother & I accidentally stumbled across a group we never knew existed. Everyone else knew about them apparently - we seem to be out of the loop. I wasn't surprised though, if you know ANYTHING about me, you know that if you turn on the radio, unless it's classic rock or oldies, I won't recognize any of the songs.
Well, rockapella - as the phonetically skilled may already know - is an a capella group. My mother & I LOVE a capella. And we accidentally put one of their songs on an MP3 disc . . . The song was "Zombie Jamboree." And my mother discovered its unannounced presence & said, "Oh, Rip, you gotta hear this" & then failed to find it while we were driving - luckily for us both . . . I swear she pays more attention to that console than the road . . . you know that screen in the Prius that tells you what mileage you're getting? Miss Efficient wants to constantly know what mileage she's getting. Me, I'd prefer to know the relative distance between the cars on the road & ME. But, you know, whatever oodles your noodles.
Eventually, she shared the song with me & it's just one of those things that falls short of description . . . the only way I can describe it is it makes you smile with a furrowed brow. Kind of - 'this is awesome, but what the hell??' And it interested me. And again, if you know me, you know when I get interested, I do research. My mother is the same way, so while she has a day job & I get time to kill at the computer, she's back-seat-researching. Also, because she has a day job, part of her research involved purchasing a DVD of a concert of theirs . . . I'll come back to that.
Now, I love bass singers, but who doesn't? My mother's theory is that the human race is evolving . . . we've been getting taller. And in order to continue to get taller, the taller people have to be more attractive. Taller men tend to have lower voices - which are instictually more attractive . . . for the evolution, you see. Taller women tend to be rockettes. And there you have it.
Now, as a side note, proportions come into play with taller men as well - & that's great, I'm sure . . . if you're getting laid. Not so much if you're . . . oh, saaay . . . in a scene where you have to kiss at the end & your blocking puts you an inch away from the guy's face & by unhappy coincidence, you happened to break your toe before the performance & his BIG FEET land on your BROKEN TOE while you're supposed to be all romantic & seduced!! No, Will. You will never live that down. Cause, um . . . OW! Also, it's good advertising for me because no one could tell. *Insert uncrushable pride here*
Anywho . . . in most a capella arrangements, the bass is pretty much background & you don't really hear him unless you're specifically listening for him. But he was unusually centerstage for the beginning of the song & has this laugh worked into the music that just makes me grin every time I hear it. Kelly decided to be a smartass & point out that it's actually kinda how I sound when I laugh - of course, I've gotten a lot of comments on my laugh, which is apparently uncommonly low . . . & in most cases described as evil . . . or diabolical . . . you know, the usual when it comes to me. Thanks a bunch, Kelly.
So I looked up the group, read in places that the bass, Barry Carl, is considered - I wish I could remember the wording . . . but basically, that he was the most influential bass singer of the time. WELL, I saw some videos, watched some members of the group get replaced & then found out that Barry Carl retired from the group in 2002 - the last original member. Now, call me picky, but I think when the members of the group have completely rotated to the point that it's not actually anything close to resembling the original group . . . changing the name or something might be a not-too-shabby idea . . . I got pissed when Freddy Murcury got replaced. No. Queen is Queen & I don't listen to their music that stretches past Freddy's time. That's just the way I am. If i like something, I generally don't like people screwing with it.
There were some fun videos on youtube when they were all together in the beginning & it was wonderful. A capella. And quite a bit of performance in there too . . . As I said, my mother purchased a DVD . . . instead of four members, there were five. They added a beatbox guy. In my opinion, it's impressive & it makes a nice sound, but it takes away some of the a capella feel . . . & a capella is beautiful. Which brings me to another thing . . . the song Stand by me - it's a beautiful song. And if you leave it the hell alone, it will stay beautiful. But if you go inventing notes, people who love the original lose interest immediately. If done properly with an a capella arrangement, it would be a thing of beauty. Quite frankly, it wasn't.
Another song I stumbled across that they performed was Flat Tire, which had a GREAT presentation, was fun, & sounded great. And it just seemed like the group didn't sing that type of music anymore. Actually, it seems as though the group has stayed with the times. Unfortunately, that's something I don't do well. So I discovered a great group . . . & then shortly thereafter discovered that I missed them. Woops . . .
And my mother & I spent a great deal of time on youtube . . . & we found many songs, many performances, & many different combinations of group members. Then we found a song that was just the bass. But it was kinda mumbly . . . so I couldn't hear the words. And I leaned in & squinted & my mother knew the song, so when I leaned back suddenly, blushed & said, "oh . . ." she laughed her ass off. The song was Sixty-Minute Man. Totally about sex.
So, we're going through youtube stuff after the concert & they said something about kids yelling for them to "Do it, Rockapella!" when they sang Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego. So we were trying to find a video of that . . . or, my mother was . . . I wasn't really that interested. But we stumbled across The chipmunks doing Carmen Sandiego - which isn't the chipminks, it's just a distortion of the rockapella performance. I shit you not, we sat in our chairs in front of the computer laughing so hard that neither of us could breathe. And it didn't get old as the song progressed. We laughed until we nearly fell off the chairs, in fact, I would have if she hadn't caught me. It's just too much. And now I have a headache from laughing so hard - which is why I can't sleep - which is why I'm posting this blog that let's face it, maybe two people read & probably no one really cares about.
But hey, . . . no, wait . . . I don't have a 'but hey' . . . that's kinda sad.

Happy Fourth

And a happy time it was. There was a party & grilling & we played on the wii & everyone was telling great stories & mingling in lots of different groups. No actual fireworks - we watched some on TV, but I think this was my first year without them. And interestingly enough, it was my best 4th of July.

We went up to NJ on Thursday & spent the night Thursday & Friday with Brian's family & came home Saturday. The visit really revolved around the party on Friday - we were making food & buying supplies all day Thursday & then Darcy took me to the set of a little online show where they filmed about 10 minutes of material over the course of an hour of screwing around. And it's not like there were a million takes. They were really just screwing around. But it was fun. Then I went back to the house & didn't watch a movie - I sat in the living room where a movie was playing & at one point actually made a decision that was along the lines of - "I can see the movie out of just this eye . . . ." & watching it with one eye for a few minutes before I fell asleep. I woke up for the ending, which luckily did not spoil the movie because it was historically based & I knew the ending anyway.

Friday the party started at 4. Wonderful food, wonderful people, wonderful conversation, crappy jokes that were still funny, & altogether a wonderful time. And, yes there were bad jokes. My mother started it: A guy walked into a dentist's office & said, "Doctor . . . I think I'm a moth" & the dentist said, "Well, why did you come here? You don't need a dentist, you need a psychiatrist" & the guy said, "Well, the light was on." & then Scott - Brian's brother - did his impression of a moth which nearly had me on the floor. He basically leaned into a wall & shook vigorously . . . & it made it somehow just a little bit better that on the way home the next day, a moth got into the car, pressed itself into the windshield, & fluttered frantically. Then a guy asked if we wanted to see Jewish fireworks . . . he lit a match & tossed it into the air. The next morning, we all compared stories because we were all divided & hearing different stories & seeing different fun things.Then we sat around lazily, watched TV, talked, & had a nice lunch of leftover cheddarwurst. Then we played the best freaking game of Taboo I've ever played. Which, you know, is not hard in that household. Any game that group of people play has a magnified effect of fun. I haven't quite figured it out yet.

A Big Day for Everyone

Last night my mother got a Prius. Spectra blue . . . not that ugly not-quite-sky-blue . . . the deep blue that's a bit lighter & brighter than navy.

I followed her home in the huge, burgundy, 12-mile-to-the-gallon Pontiac Bonneville that's as old as I am & has a blue book value of $200 - an amount that will probably be matched by having the window fixed (can't roll it down more than 2 inches - which normally, I would leave & forget about, but in today's fast pace world of drive-thru food places, Starbucks, banks, & toll booths, it's actually a genuine hassle)

That trip home was my inaugural trip. That crappy car who's stereo volume is controlled by a bipolar poltergeist is now mine. Here's the idea. My first car is supposed to be a junker . . . because statistically, I'm way overdue for my first accident. Unfortunately, this car - who's never heard of CDs - has been around since before I'd heard of CDs. I'm attached to it. It's so old, the steering wheel is flaking apart in my hands, but it's the first steering wheel I ever used. (By the way, that's my one renovation - I have a Superman steering wheel cover. :) Call me dorky, but there you have it.) As it happens, this car may cost more to maintain over the next x number of years than it would to get a new car, but crashing it is probably the only way I'll let go of it. I love my new car. And I was so happy to have the freedom of having a new car, so here's what I did on my first day with a car.

I drove up to the Crackpot to get a job application. I was going to apply a while ago, but wasn't allowed to. Now I have permission & I have a car, so I can work any awkward set of hours during the summer.

When I got home, I sat down to knit for a while & heard a sound. I looked up & there was Oscar. Now, Oscar came to us from a family that operated a little differently. We can only guess that he's had a rough life, but we'd put a wager on it. Along with 'rough' he was a bit neglected. That's how we met him. He was always outside, trying to get in. And he loved everybody. Since he's moved in with us, we've tried to turn him into an inside cat. So I looked up toward the sound I heard & it was Oscar . . . coming in through the window. Not like we leave windows open & screenless all around the house . . . actually, he had moved aside one of those little screen wings on the air conditioner & gotten out through that hole. And now he was coming in.

Then I went online to enter codes on mycokerewards. I know, I have no life. It seemed dumb & useless, but then it occurred to me just HOW MUCH soda passes through this household. We seriously stock up. And the caps are worth three points. The codes in 12 packs are worth 10 or 12 points, & someone at my mother's work is giving her codes that I don't know what they come from, but they're worth 25 points. While I'm entering my codes from caps, I see a promo that says for June 25th only, the codes on the inside of 12 packs will be worth DOUBLE what they're usually worth. Now, you're only allowed to enter 10 codes in a day. I got 4 codes from 12 packs from a friend when I went over for a visit & I went to Wal-Mart to buy 6 12 packs of soda. Don't judge. It's not like pouring out all the cereal just to get to the toy - we really drink so much soda that this is actually practical. We're probably stocked for a couple weeks.

So as I came home from Wal-Mart, I headed to turn down one road after mine so I could go around the block & be facing the right way to park on the side of the street where my house is - they're actually pretty on top of tickets for parking facing the wrong way in my area - & the road was blocked off my a cop. I wound up having to do one of those big awkward 3 point turns in the middle of the street where you pray no one's coming up either side of the road cause you feel like a jerk who doesn't know where they're going, but I got a bit of a look at things & it looks like there was a fire . . . or a break-in . . . both sides of the road were blocked off, one side by a cop, the other by a fire truck & a group of people were standing out on the sidewalk . . . there wasn't much else to see, but naturally, I'm curious & worried . . .

So, distracted, I parked & got out of the car with a 12 pack in my hand & it started to slip. I turned my attention to the 12 pack as I closed the door & the car door failed to close on account of my thumb being in the way. I slammed it pretty good too. Although I'm so uncomfortable & nervous being outside in the street where I can be seen & wound up making three trips to get all the 12 packs inside before I realized how much it really hurt. It's all swollen & blue now . . . actually looks worse than it feels though . . . but I can't really knit . . . or write . . . or operate buttons. Plus I got blood on my favourite shirt. :(

Quite a day it's been.

I've got a hole in me pocket . . .

After having NO money for a LONG time, like an extreme return to an addiction, when I finally grabbed ahold of a steady flow, I learned something about myself.

I've never thought of myself as one to care what she looked like. Every time I need new clothes, it's off to good will. And even then, I HATE shopping.

Well . . . Tara now has me babysitting at least once a week for the whole day & pays me $80. Now, don't give me that look. Yes, Maggie is family, but I have been told by many people that I have the patience of a saint - with children, with customers, you name it. I'm the patient type. Maggie is boldly going where no little critter has gone before. She really pushes that patience. Don't get me wrong - I HATE kids but I love her because she's my sister - but honest to god, she is the pickiest human I've ever met with a mind so closed it will suffocate. So we play on the wii until she gets so upset, I fear for the life of my television which is within throwing distance of a frustrating wiimote. The we watch a movie or colour or both. Last time, Tara gave us money to go out to lunch (thank god, because on this diet, I don't have ANYTHING in the house that Maggie likes) & sometimes we play something with just us like twenty questions or we have to name an animal for very letter of the alphabet. Although, last time we got stuck on U . . . unicorn isn't a real animal . . . & at the age of six, "unprocessed steak" really isn't that funny, & she doesn't know who Underdog is.

Anyway, $80 a week. And I'm still knitting & holding onto the hope that it will sell in November. And when the new car comes in in August, I'll try & get a job waiting tables at the Crackpot. They serve crabs (in MD) & liquer. Can you think of a better place to get tips? Um . . . that are rates PG13? Didn't think so. And it's within a nice distance. Especially for the car I'll inherit that gets 12 miles to the gallon. I forsee my checks to be mine & my tips to be gas money . . .

SO, back to my discovery about myself. After a drought, the money I've been getting has been flying right out of my hands. And I thought my mother would scold me, but as it happens, she was actually pretty impressed that I managed to get as much as I did at as high a quality as I did with as little money as I had.

Shoes. I've discovered that shoes are my guilty pleasure. And I thought I wasn't the type. But I am. Now, my mother is aware that people pay between $50 & $120 for one pair of shoes. For about $120, I got six. Not form payless or Walmart, from Newport News. Two pair are as casual as 4 inch heels can get (by the way, they're all 4 inch heels. Not something did on purpose, they were just the ones that looked good). One of those being leather with wingtip detailing & the other a grey suede oxford with a pentagonal heel. Two are more dressy. A simple navy suede pump with a round toe & a simple suede deep teal pump with a thin silver strap across the top of the foot. The final two, I just wanted. Completely unaccepted by societies outside of strip-clubs or costume parties. Still 4 inch heels, but these final two are the exact same style in two different colours. Deep teal & Saphire. BRIGHT vibrant colours. Shiny leather. And a strap around the ankle. Fortunately, people who know me - should they ever see me in these shoes - will see them & laugh because they look good, but they are so out of character for me & they would be something of a symbol of my coming out of mt shell. People who don't know me would instantly label me as a slut. They're those kind of shoes. I have no idea when I'll wear them & expect them to be in a costume of some sort before anything else & I'm thinking someday of getting a green pair to wear just on St. Patrick's day.

Hi, my name is Ripley. And I have a shoe problem.

Everything Else

Because I'm so incredibly behind, I'll just have the two final stories I wanted to tell in one hellishly long post. I've been having trouble getting away to the computer because I'm knitting religiously. I want to have as much done as possible by the end of the summer because I want to start selling around autumn & winter. First of all, because no one will buy anything warm & cozy in the heat of summer. Second of all, because it'll pad out my budget for Christmas gifts. And finally, because people are LOOKING for Christmas gifts & scarves are perfect Christmas gifts & the things I can make the most quickly (next to socks, which I will NOT be selling because they are size-dependant)

So, I finally have some time to sit at the computer because as I was knitting yesterday, my finger split open. This has been happening to me for a few years now - but it usually happens in the winter when the weather is dry. I get dehydrated & the skin on my fingers just split. It's the weirdest thing I've ever seen & no one else that I know of has this problem. But they're like paper cuts, so it's pretty painful. The one finger I use a lot when knitting is the one that split (it actually split in two places) so I put some tape on it & with the tape, it's incredibly difficult to knit. Eventually, I'll go back to knitting at a snail's pace, but for now, I'd rather take some time to put up a post here.

So I've tokld the story of my breaking my toe. After that, rehearsals were very interesting. The FIRST rehearsal after I broke my toe was not a rehearsal scheduled by the director, but just Will & I trying to make sure we had everything down. We were to perform for the directing class on Monday. The class would give our director feedback after we'd left & she would pass it on to us. Will walked through the blocking while I sat down & recited my lines & visualized the blocking. Eric had come in to watch us, but at one point, Will proclaimed him to be too distracting & he left. But he was standing about outside the door & kept bothering us just to bother us. FInally, when Will was up on the chair, the door cracked open & Will violently turned his head toward the door & yelled the most booming "WHAT?!?!" I've ever heard. And it was some stranger at the door!! He ran out & apologized immediately while Eric laughed his @$$ off 5 feet down the hall. And for the rest of the rehearsal, Will would periodically stop the scene to say, "Man, I can't believe I yelled at that total stranger . . . I feel like such a jerk."

Moanday, I had a bit of a scare as John Glover came inches from walking into the directing classroom. His critiques are so blunt & I don't think my ego could have taken it that day. But it turned out that he was at the wrong classroom. I had a hell of a time because I hadn't rehearsed NOT limping & I apparently didn't know how much storming I did in the scene. By the end of the performance I was almost in tears, but in that way where I laugh instead of cry, so I walked out of the room & giggled my eyes teary & took a rest on a bench in the hall.

The actual performance in the showcase open to the pubnlic was amazing. I had no idea a 7 minute little scene could be so satisfying. And one of my favourite things about theatre is audience reaction. Because our first two performances were in front of people who were looking at it critically, we got maybe a chuckle or two. But this was ridiculous. The laughter alone must've added 3 minutes to the scene.Lines we had forgotten were funny got huge laughs. I had a favourite cluster of moments right in the middle of the scene. At one point, I slowly twisted my face into a number of expressions & managed to keep the laughter alive for a VERY long time before I said my next line. And another favourite is a unified vocal response from the audience. Applause & laughter are wonderful, but it was just thrilling - Will asked why he'd even bothered to become a dentist & I replied with "For the same reason as everyone else. You didn't have the grades for medical school." And the entire audience went OOOHHHHHH! So that was fun. It was my first little bit of stage time & for days afterward people were complimenting me on my performance. A few people were impressed when they saw me grab my cane when the scene was over & the two casting directors for the mainstage who were at the showcase gave me wonderful compliments. AND the directing student who directed me in the scene is directing a SHOW next semester. *crosses fingers*

So here's mother's day. I IMed Brian & asked him to invite her over the night before mother's day. My mother checked with me if she could go see Brian the night before mother's day. With my permission, she cleared out around noon the day before mother's day. Now, that was Saturday. Here's Friday - my last class ended at 11am, so my mother took me home on her lunch break. Early before my first class, I went to the pottery sale, which also had jewelry. The thing about it was that it was a sale of things that the students of certain classes - mostly ceramics - had made over the course of the semester. I found a pair of earrings that were tiny little WORKING clothespins. I put them in a little envelope labeled "C47" to be presented. Between the end of my last class & when my mother picked me up, I bought some strawberries from one of the dining halls on campus - with dining points instead of money in order to stretch my budget as far as possible. I kept the strawberries in my purse until my mother dropped me off at home & left. I called Irene, who came over on the scooter & took me to Michale's to buy white chocolate & dark chocolate. Then we went to my house to make these:

And if you look closely two of them have suspenders. Their names are Mark & John & they are ex-lovers . . . & I'll get to that story later.

My mother always calls before she heads home so this time when she called, I told her that I was JUST about to call her. I told her that Irene was working on a project in her Asian Movement class (TRUE) & that she wanted me to watch it & give her feedback (TRUE - just not right then) so, could Irene pick me up & take me to campus? AND since we were going to see something that night, I should just stay on campus & wait for her. I THINK it was Largo Desolato. So I had all the time I wanted to finish up my little strawberries in tuxedos. And then I could leave them in Irene's fridge in her dorm, so my mother wouldn't find them.

Okay, back to Saturday. She cleared our arund noon & I went up to party city & bought a bag of 72 red balloons & a bag of 72 purple balloons. Red & Purple streamer. A platter for the strawberries. Then I picked up Abby who was going to keep me company. Not necessarily help with anything, just keep me from going insane. And as it happened, she had just gotten laid, so not only was she goofy & grinning aking her little help, she was also tuckered out, making her asleep for a large portion of the afternoon. So while I listened to her story of how her night went, nodding my head & smiling as the clueless virgin I am, we went to Wal-Mart & bought the movie The Mask & went to Superfresh & got 12 roses & more strawberries. Then another stop at Michael's to get more chocolate. Yay. more strawberries (the picture is with the TOTAL number of strawberries)

So then I went home & cleaned the house while Abby slept. When she woke up, she was shocked at how clean the house was - good sign. then I made more strawberries & we started talking about them. I told her aboutthe one strawberry with suspenders. I told her there was one streak & I decided to give his suspenders. Because he was big. NOT fat, but big. Like that guy in Everybody Loves Raymond. Then I named him Mark. At one point, I couldn't resist giving someone else suspenders. So I did. And named him John. And Abby pointed out that they were all men. And she starts saying it's a cocktail party just for guys. And just as she's starting to break down the word 'cocktail' I insist that no, they are not all gay, but some are. And John & Mark are ex-lovers & here with trophy boyfriends to make the other jealous. AT which point Abby insisted on making a girl strawberry. ANd she did. She's wearing a nice little dress on the right side of the platter. It laces up the back. Very lovely.

Then I took Abby back to campus around 10 & picked up Irene who stayed with me while I decorated the lamp & entryway with streamers, blew up balloons & finished crocheting a blanket for her. At 3 am with plenty of balloons left to blow up, we drove up to 7/11 for energy drinks & cigarettes (by the way, I have quit smoking. I stopped after the last final exam. And for the record, I don't see the big deal. Haven't craved a one.) We finished blowing up balloons around 4:30 & got a few hours of sleep before I took Irene back to campus around 8. Then, while I waited for my mother, I took pictures.

This was before she got back . . . you can see my energy drink on the table :)

And the blanket that Irene slept with. I offered her a bed upstairs, I swear. She preferred to sleep on the couch.

This was in my mother's room . . . I just presented the blanket on the bed. SHe didn't see it until much much later . . . I was actually out. But she called my cell phone to thank me.

She loved it all.

The four days of abandonment plus a broken toe

So it really has been a while . . . I'm glad I made a list in my previous post.

The four days of abandonment plus a broken toe. Let me see if I can remember this properly. Day one - Thursday. No classes, but I'm coming in for a number of reasons. Rehearsal being the main one. So I go to rehearsal & all is good. The day before, I asked Will to come over & watch Love Valour Compassion with me because it's a wonderful movie & because John Glover was visiting & it was relevant. That would happen after the final meeting of our little playwriting lab with David White. So I went to rehearsal, went to the lab & as soon as I got out, contacted Will about where to meet him. We were pressed for time because I wanted to watch the movie & then get back on campus by midnight for shclevening. There's always schlevening on Thursday! Will texts me telling me that plans have changed & he's not coming over. So I sit in the car for a while & decide to just go home & hang about until 11:30 rolls around. I had already seen the movie so It was more for him than for me & he didn't make it to the thing that John Glover does every time he comes over to TU where he just sits & answers everyone's questions & we all kind of chat - so I had some interesting trivia to share. Oh, well. Abandonment #1

Before I head up to campus for schlevening, I talked to Abby who said she wasn't going schlevening because she wasn't feeling well, & John T. Who said he probably would go schlevening. But there are about 20 other people on the regular schlevening list, so I go up to Richmond @ 12 & apparently, I missed a memo. NO ONE was there. I stood in disbelief. There has always been schlevening on Thursdays . . . . I had been MASS stood up. Abandonment #2

Friday, I broke my toe. Fun. I asked how Abby was feeling. Much better. so i invited her to Largo Desolato & she said maybe, remind me later. So I reminded her later. And before I go on, let this go on the record - for SOME reason, Abby got extraordinarily angry at me once because I was bored & sent her a mass amount of text messages, each one with an inside joke. She claimed that her problem with it was that I was wasting MY money. Now, when I remind her - & this is all by text message - she asks me what it's about. And I send her a basic idea of what she can expect to see. It's a dark absurdist comedy about an agoraphobic writer. So she says, well what else? And I give her a little more & she asks what else, & I give her a little more.

Well, idk . . .
C'mon it's right up your alley
(mind you, I've been abandoned twice & I'm just looking to be a little social.)
Ok, sure. How much is it?
$7
Well, I don't have any money.
Do you have a dollar?
I don't have any money.
You've got quarters everywhere, I'm sure you can scrape up a dollar, I can pay the rest.
I don't want you to spend your money on me
Well I want to
Well I don't feel well.

COULD YOU MAYBE START WITH THAT PLEASE?!?!?!?! If you don't want me to go, lemme know! SO I dont waste my money in text messages begging you to spend some time with me before I go insane!! JEEZ!!! I was thoroughly upset by the way she handled that. Abandonment #3

So I hobble through rehearsal on a broken toe& I go see Largo Desolato alone. I tried Will again . . . asked if he wanted to see the movie Saturday. He said that he was busy & that he wasn't actually that interested in the movie, so just send it back (netflix). Again, why would you wait like that? I was looking forward to it. Abandonment # 4

The Saturday I contacted Abby again to see if she wanted to do something. Keep in mind, last time I saw her, she said she wasn't feeling well & she was broke. I had something in mind like keepinf her company since she was so sick - maybe take her mind off it. SHe said she couldn't get together because she was going to the Towson Town Festival. Somewhere I cannot follow. 1-the place is way too damn crowded, my sanity would never survive & 2- broken toe. Really not looking forward to walking all day. Although what really bothered me is her massive fluctuation in health from can't sit & watch a show to walking all day in a crowded place & then hanging out afterwards. Abandonment #5

By this point, I'm feeling like a lepor & have stopped trying to get together with anyone, but I wait all day Sunday for word from Irene. My second lighting project is due Monday & she is the actress in it. She said she'd be away until Sunday afternoon & I asked her to contact me when she got back. At around 5 in the evening she told me she wasn't coming back until morning!! That leaves NO rehearsal time & believe me, we needed it. Abandonment #6

So I asked Abby if she was free to perform at a certain time on Monday & she said she was. I begged her to be in my project & she said she would. And at one point there was a miscommunication & I wound up yelling at her over the phone until she understood exactly what I needed from her. She was with friends & wasn't free until 10 pm. So at 9:30, I was in the lighting room, setting up the lights & music. We finished with confidence around 11. Monday right before lighting class, I got snagged into acting in another lighting project for which I had exactly two rehearsals without the other actor in the scene. And the performance for the class was the first time trhough with the other actor. And of course, I have to walk on the toe for the scene - so it was pretty painful . . . & more on that when I talk about the rehearsals & the final performance of my directing scene, all of which were performed with a broken toe.

It's been a while . . .

. . . SInce my last post. Over a month. Wow. You know why? COLLEGE that's why! And right now, I've got way too much to say to fint into one post that anyone would read . . . so I'll space out the stories some . . . & come back later. And more for me than for my readers (such as they are . . . does ANYONE read this?) here's what's coming up.
1. The four days of abandonment plus a broken toe

2. The development of my scene & rehearsals plus a borken toe

3. Mother's day plus a bad back & a broken toe - with pictures (of mother's day, not the toe)

So, until then, here's my schedule. Today, rehearsal & working on lighting papers. Tomorrow, Math exam at 8 am & then find something to do until I can get picked up. Thursday, rehearsal, then a performance at 6, schlevening & the night on campus. Friday, sleep in. Friday night to Sunday morning, camping with my father. Um . . . plus a broken toe . . . Should be charming.

Monday-
8am Theather history exam
3pm Psych exam
5pm English exam

Tuesday, a sudden rush of boredom, total loss of social life as everyone returns home to various parts of the country. Start back on the diet in hopes to lose 50 pounds before schoolchums see me again (with secret more realistic hopes of at least 25 pounds). Kniting. Knitting. Knitting. In November, when people are looking for Chriatmas gifts, I'm looking for money for Christmas gifts, & the weather is getting cold, I'll be selling stuff on eBay. Scarves, at least one afghan, maybe a sweater . . . but for me, I'll be making socks. I LOVE homemade socks from the right kind of yarn . . . they are SO comfortable.

Ok . . . off to work . . . & my second to last rehearsal.

Failure

Woops. So I failed NaBloPoMo this month . . . sue me. The approaching end of the semester pulls down my blog on the big list of priorities.

Although, I'm not gonna sit here & make it sound like I didn't post because I was doing important schoolwork . . . I was with friends. Playing monopoly . . . & watching shows in our lovely theatre & memorizing lines. And yesterday, I woke up around noon, which for me is just unbelievable . . . I NEVER sleep in. BUT, the night before I was up until two because I was wired. I was wired because the night before that I was up til three riding around with Irene on the scooter & still woke up @ 6:30 am. So, yesterday I woke up at noon, & invited a few friends over to hang out & wii it up. :)

Irene & Will came over & we had a blast. I picked up Will first who wanted a bigger game selection than my two standards of Wii Sports & Wii Play. So I offered to rent a game. We stood in the store for a few seconds before he yanked Rayman Raving Rabbids from the shelf & at $8 for a week, I prayed that he'd be content as I asked if he wanted anything else. After a thorough search of the shelf, he picked up Wario Ware. We rented both with a little trouble at the register. They're no longer accepting phone numbers if you don't have your card.

"Actually, we don't do the phone number thing anymore, but we do the driver's license thing."
"Here ya go"
"We don't have anyone in here under 'Klapp'"
"Ah, no, it would be under Smith."

Great. Way to have the single most common name on the planet, Brian.

"O . . .k . . . there's no Ripley Smith . . ."

How is this so difficult? My mother takes two seconds to say her name is Smith when she doesn't have her card

"Try Brian Smith . . ."
"Well, there's two Brian Smiths . . . address?"
I don't know his address. Good job, Ripley. I managed to recall a street name & after a few more questions & crinkled brows, the guy at the counter . . . whose name was . . . Jason or David . . . dunno why I get those mixed up . . . maybe there are two workers there that I'm familiar with, one of each name . . . anyway, he said he'd let me rent the games this time, but Brian would have to put me on his list. Damned if I know what that means, but I passed on the message to my mother while she was with him - not that I necessarily expect that to mean that he got the message . . . but it has been released into common knowledge.

Later I picked up Irene & we all dived into the games. Oh My God.

These games are unbelievable. It's like . . . they took someone with serious ADD, a touch of OCD, got them drunk & high, put them in a room with several random objects & told them to invent a game.

Rayman Raving Rabbids is a game where you do stuff involving bunnies. Ugly Bunnies. Ugly Bunnies that frequently yell, "DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!" You shoot plungers at them, you close the doors to their bathrooms before they throw plungers at YOU, & it's just all that random. Irene's favourite was a game where a chorus of bunnies sang Ode to Joy (la la la la la la la la la la la la laaa lala) & you had to find the bunny that was singing out of key & slap him.

Wario Ware is a game composed entirely of a great number of 3 second challenges. All of a sudden, the screen says, "SHAVE!" & you move the wiimote over a guy's face to shave it. "PICK!" & you pick a humongous nose. It's so random! And you find yourself laughing at the concept & after a while, you stop laughing at it & start doing it . . . & that makes you laugh at yourself . . . when you realize you just shooed away 7 kids with a skunk on a stick.
And the best part . . . yes, there's more . . . There are different poses with the wiimote. And they tell you which pose to prepare for before they give you the three second task. But they introduce the pose first. The put an elegant sketch on the screen, play relaxing/sexy music that's kind of reminiscent of Barry White & this guy, in an over-the-top soothing voice, introduces the pose. "The Umbrella. Hold the form baton vertically with the tip facing upward & your thumb resting lightly on the button. This pose gives you the quiet dignity . . . of a circus clown . . . in a thunderstorm."

I have these games for one week. Which is awesome because they're so random that I love them so much . . . I'd cry if I only had them for a day. But they're so stupid & Raymon Raving Rabbids REALLY aggravates my tendinitis, AND between Irene, Will, & I all taking turns, we beat both games! We're done!! So I'm really glad I spent the $8 a piece & also really glad I didn't spend $50 a piece. It's possible I may rent them again someday, but to have them in the house constantly is a bad idea for so many reasons.

So I took Will & Irene back to campus around 11, realizing halfway there that the decision that they were tired & wanted to go back was so sudden that we left without my grabbing my cell phone. My mother had been up in Philly for the day & I was in the 'any minute' time frame. Turns out she got there seconds before I did. I wound up passing Brian who had just dropped her off . . . & he may or may not have thought I recognized him immediately . . . I talk to people when I'm in the car & usually it's really rude stuff in an exaggeratedly kind tone. I turned the corned & grinned widely & said, "Hi there, I wanna turn left, what do you wanna do? Wanna get out of my way?" And then I saw it was Brian & laughed so hard I almost crashed at the all of 15 miles an hours I was going. When I got inside I immediately set up to show my mother the games. She played a round or two & was hooked. She managed to break away & go to bed by midnight. I had no such luck & wound up going to bed around 2:30 where, for some reason, I tossed & turned for at least an hour & managed to wake up several times over the course of the night. Had class @ 8. Oh, that was nice. Followed by a the next group's presentation on Tartuffe. Bill Clinton came into the presentation for some reason & a Freudian slip came up that, oddly enough, I've never heard before . . . The Oral Office.

Found out today that permission was granted &
I am now in a directing scene. And for a long time, I've
Really looked forward to my first kiss, only to find that it has now been
Scheduled for between 2 & 3:30 on
Tuesday afternoon. My first kiss goes to the stage.

Kind mercies have been granted.
I'm not fated to kiss ugliness incarnate. He's fairly attractive. However, I
Seem to be in quite an interesting
Situation regarding the fact that apparently, it's quite the passionate kiss & I won't know what the hell I'm doing.

So, in class today
Under no real pressure
During a
Discussion on translation, I
Exhibited a bit of talent during a reading
Not expecting anything along the lines of recognition

But after class, I was
Lassoed into acting in a directing scene in the
Event that the director can
Snare permission to fire her current actress.
She also happens to be directing a show
In next semester's season. Should I prove an asset, it may
Not be unthinkable to be cast in that show which may
Get me the stage time I need to be recognized by the bigger productions!!!

NaBloPoMo

Well, it's the 1st of the month & the theme is letters. & ya know, I'm so glad 2 hear it. 'Cause society 2day seems so rushed that they leave out letters 2 speed up their lives. In txt msgs, in e-mails, even just writing little notes. So if any1 finds it irrit8ing, this is the tribute. This month is all 'bout letters. & this month I'll leave 'em all in my posts. Also, I'm sure I'll be finding some interesting ways 2 use letters or 2 bring them out.

So, y'all should join in the theme & give the letters back their rights.

If it's there, use it.

So the other day, I needed some thick paper. And the only sketch pad in the University store with the exact paper I wanted was HUGE. SO I decieded I'd better do something on it before i feel like I wasted my money.

Now, if I did it right . . . . you should be able to tell who it is before the last picture . . .

I'm actually really annoyed that he looks more like himself in this second picture than he does in the finished product. I feel like I did something wrong . . . & I wish I could put my finger on it . . .

Here's where you get a sense of the size of this work by the way. I stuck the pencil in there for scale. And that's a pretty new pencil.

Monologues

I've been suffering from stage deprivation. I had an audition yesterday. The entire day revolved around it. The night before I stayed on campus with Abby.

1. Find monologue. Had one in mind, but had to look it up to memorize it.
2. Realize you forgot to print out your damn resume.
3. Call mom. "Can you send me those files, please?"
4. Look up to the heavens & thank god she hadn't left for work yet.
5. Print resume.
6. Realize that the headshot file won't open as anything bigger than a thumbnail.
7. Pace & worry.
8. Realize it's on your myspace, you idiot.
9. Print headshot on backside of resume.
10. Realize the paper you used was for shit. You need better paper.
11. Head to the university store while you thank god you've got money on you.
12. Find that all the printer paper in the university store is crappy.
13. Decide to buy a damn sketch pad & cut out an 8 by 11 sheet of good paper.
14. Buy the only type of sketch pad left which happens to be BIGGER THAN YOUR TORSO
15. SIGN UP for an audition time. Let's hear it for procrastination!! I now have an audition time of 8:45PM
16. Lunch
17. Cut out paper
18. Print resume & headshot
19. Realize you still have to memorize the monologue
20. Memorize the monologue
21. practice monologue.
22. Worry & pace.
23. Pace & worry.

So I get the the CFA & go to the audition area. I go in & they've got my paperwork. Peter knows me & gives a cheery, "Hi, Ripley" as I walk in. Which throws me off just a little. Peggy likes me - I forget why - & has a big grin on her face. I don't even know Steve. First I introduce myself careful not to slip & give my real last name. For a number of reasons, my stage name is Ripley Morgan. Morgan is my middle name. And I say what show my monologue is from & careful not to do what John Glover called the "retarded moment" when he came & did that workshop, I started into the monologue.

I walk out & it hits me. It always hits me the hardest AFTER the audition. I don't know why. So, nearly in nervous tears (I seem to have improved away from nervous nosebleeds) I go have dinner on campus to decompress.

Today I find that I'm not even on the call back list. That puts me out of business for another NINE MONTHS. F**k!!!

So Eric & I are sharing our pain while we stand about outside Tower A & He & Lindsay & I are just talking about auditions & monologues & improv & we start giving each other scenarios for which we have to create a monologue on the spot. I told Lindsay that she won a contest & got one of those huge checks, but doesn't know how to deposit it - cause it's so huge. And it was great - my favourite part was definitely the last line. She slowed down & got kinda morose & went, "So now, I just have this big f**king check." We had Eric walk in on his roommate sleeping with his girlfriend. And they told me that I just got invited to a black & white ball & couldn't decide what to wear. I got quite a few laughs . . . it wound up being dirty & a little racist . . . but I got the laughs. :)

Then Eric did the monologue he did for the audition. And turned quite a few heads . . . we weren't in the CFA where people just walk by . . . they thought he was seriously chewing someone out.

Then Eric did the same monologue as Christopher Walken.

Oh & the other day, I shoved an entire line of peeps in my mouth. They thought I couldn't do it. :-D
Gotta love it.

Dusty

Ten years ago, when I lived with my father & my mother lived in an apartment, Sybil, my mother's sister, saved a cat named Dusty. He was a stray in Florida between 2 & 5 years old. Sybil took the cat to the vet & Dusty was diagnosed as FIV positive. So he could die from a common cold. The doctor headed toward Dusty with a shot to put him down & a woman who knew Sybil stepped in front of the doctor & said, "No, no, no . . . you don't understand. This woman will FIND a home for this cat." Several phone calls & flyers later, Sybil called my mother in tears over the fact that this poor cat couldn't live outside & no one would take him. So my mother took the cat.

She had no idea. This creature stepped out of the carrier & was scrawny & ugly & had a huge head on this tiny little body. And he meowed & it was the most wretched sound any human heard. The doctor in Florida simply said that since Dusty was a stray, he'd gotten into many fights & the reason his head was so big was a buildup of scar tissue. In Maryland, the doctor just looked at this cat & cried. He was starving & dehydrated & his face was full of puss from an infection. $600 & a few weeks later, he was well fed, well hydrated, & the puss from his face had been removed which relieved pressure that had been on his vocal cords & his voice became very beautiful - which was a good thing too . . . he was quite the talkitive cat.

He lived happily in the apartment, where I occasionally visited my mother. He was always talkitive & always very sweet to me. One day while I was at the apartment, he caught a mouse & my mother was very happy to be rid of it. Dusty was an excellent mouser. My mother would visit Philadelphia often to see Brian & had friends care for Dusty. The first time, my mother got back & the friend who had been caring for Dusty told her that she'd forgotten the apartment number, but she called Dusty's name & Dusty answered loudly enough for her to find her way to the correct apartment. We always referred to Dusty as a dog in a cat suit. You generally think of cats as lazy creatures that lie around the house & keep their affections toward you to a minimum. Dogs are the cheerful ones that greet you at the door & beg for food at the table & jump into bed with you. Dusty was a dog at heart.

When my mother moved, we were filling up a group of cars with boxes & we realized we couldn't find Dusty. After a thorough search, we found him hiding in the cabinets under the sink, hunkered down & refusing to come out. We came to the conclusion that Dusty was abandoned. Someone moved & just didn't take Dusty with them. But we took him. He was a happy camper in the new apartment. I was visiting more often & loving Dusty more & more. In the apartments, there was no basement, so the litter pan went in the bathroom. Logical, right? And this made Dusty realize what the bathroom was for. So every time my mother or I went to the bathroom, Dusty would slip in with us & go in the litter pan. Peeing was social with him I guess. I always found it quite amusing.

For the next move, Dusty was still very nervous, but had a little more trust that maybe we'd take him with us. My mother moved into a house this time. And Dusty was still with us. This time there was a basement & Dusty got two littler pans. And I don't know if this is natural in cats or if this is another Dusty quirk, but he always went #1 in one pan & #2 in the other. He was just that organized. Then I moved in. And Dusty put up with all my pets. I had hamsters & fish. He noticed the fish a little, but didn't seem to want them. The hamsters scared him. They would run around in the little ball & bump into him. For my mother's birthday I would blow up maybe a hundred balloons & scatter them over the floor, but with a hundred, it's less of a scatter & more of a sea of balloons. The hamsters LOVED to roll through the balloons in the ball & kick them all up in their wake. Dusty was not fond of the balloons at all. He would stand at the end of the stairs & cry, looking for a path through the balloons. He never tried to MAKE a path . . . he never quite understood the science of the balloons . . . he just found them invasive & a little scary. And he was so happy to see them go. He was very tolerant of the hamsters, he let them crawl on him & share the floor.

One night at 2 in the morning, I heard the hamsters fighting.

"EEEEE!!!! EEEE!!! EEEEE!!!!!!!!!" *thumpathumpathumpaTHUNK* "Oh oh, Dusty! WAIT! . . . . . . . . Riiipleeey???"

I went downstairs to learn that John, the albino hamster, had escaped from his cage & our marvelous mouser came running down the stairs with John in his mouth. My mother got Dusty to drop John, but John split. Later I found him under the computer hutch. Dusty was only trying to do his job. And a good job he did.

Then I got a bird. Again, Dusty was soon afraid of the prey that had moved in. Niles was always so mean to Dusty & Dusty never tried to eat Niles. Barely even noticed him most of the time.

Once, Dusty had a trip to the doctor & got X-rays & we found out that he has a BB in his stomach & one in his left hind leg. He had quite the history when he lived outside. And he was done. We'd leave the door hanging open, & he'd walk up to the threshold, sniff about & decide that he didn't particularly want to go back outside. He loved us. He loved his home. He was there for us all the time.

I miss him begging for food at the table

I miss him running into the kitchen at the sound of the can opener even though we never use the can opener to feed him

I miss shushing him in the morning when I'm awake & my mother is not.

I miss him contantly asking for food

I miss when he used to get mad & sneeze on purpose several times. I miss making fun of him for sneezing cause he was mad - & the sound of his sneeze.

I miss him greeting us loudly at the door when we got home at the end of the day.

I miss him being under our feet in the kitchen, tripping us up for attention.

I miss calling him "the half-on, half-off cat" because he would so often sit with his front half ON something, like papers, & his hind half off of it.

He was a quirky, loving, lovable, one-of-a-kind cat.


Yesterday, Thursday March 13, 2008 between 6 & 7 pm, Dusty passed away.
He had cancer. He had fluid in his stomach & chest. We had him put down. He lived a good ten years with us. We loved him. We got him to give a good wholesome purr before he passed. We kissed him on the head, we said goodbye, we petted him until he was gone & for a little while after.

Please say a little prayer for him.

Dusty

Dust
Duster
Dustorium
Dustolium

Dustorama

Doosty

Dust-ball

The Mouse Hunt

So, I wanted to have a little party - just a small one. Snacks, pizza, video games. Just a few friends, because my mother was leaving town for the weekend & gave permission. So I invited five people. Granted, I didn't expect ALL of them to be free. But what I didn't expect was only ONE being free. So Abby & I had some snacks, some pizza, some video games . . . & around 2:30, decided that it would be a good idea to go to bed.

So Abby brushes her teeth & I'm going through some papers & she stands next to me for a second & I see a little flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. Now, my mother & I have been after a mouse we have for a LONG time. He has been SO CLOSE to freaking IN OUR HANDS & still gotten away. SO I pursue the notion that perhaps, that little flash was the mouse. At that point, it could have been a shadow. And at 2:30 in the morning, I would have let it go - if I didn't see him, clear as day, scurry across the library. I've had enough. I am so tired of this mouse that I get the flashlight. No more humane traps that he outsmarts. No more hours on end trying to trap him the good old fashioned way & having him escape because we were too damned dainty about it. This beautiful mag light was calling to me as both an object of illumination & a tool for a good bludgeoning. I stomped into the library making no attempt to sneak up on him. He was no good to me in the library. A while ago, we had something done where a repairman had to go through the bathroom closet & a lot of the things that were in the closet (along with a few other miscellaneous objects) were still in the library. He WAS in my room. If he went back in there, it was small & clean & I'd have him before long. But, no. So I wanted to flush him out more than anything else.

Eventually, my frustration got the best of me & I was tripping more than anything else, so I stepped out of the library & Abby did some organized rummaging. Finally, she found a loose board & said, "oh . . . I found the door . . . he may not be in here anymore . . ." & after a few seconds, I said, "Nope, he's here. Just went into the closet." That's when we set up. I sat at the exit of the library – RIGHT next to the closet, might I add . . . this room was built for catching mice – with a basket to drop on him as he ran out & Abby set up obstacles all around the closet. When he came out of the closet, he'd be in MY arena. So she rummaged . . . & rummaged . . . & rummaged . . . & we waited . . . & she rummaged . . . & all of a sudden, she yelled, "He's in your court!!" Of course, by the time she'd taken the breath to say that, adrenaline had been released into my system as I saw the mouse run to me. The mouse saw me, & saw my basket. The basket started to come down & he ran the other way. "Back to you!!" In a second he came running back toward me & I had decided to wait until he got to a certain point so I would not miss again, & I actually saw the mouse go, "Fuck!" as he jumped into the air & did an about face & zoomed back in the other direction. One final time he came running back to me – mind you, this has all been happening within maybe 6 seconds – & I saw this mouse make a decision, & I've been mousing before. And I know it's a decision they sometimes make. Which is why I had my legs straddled to cut off any space on wither side of me. This decision was, "Screw it . . . I can MAKE IT!!" And he ran toward me as his final hope. Now . . . mice like . . . corners, I guess . . . & I really don't know why he thought there was a way out, but this mouse ran full speed between my legs. And stops. Because that's definitely not a way out. And I said, "Oh, shit!" because the last time a mouse tried to take refuge under a body part of mine, I managed to use that bad decision of his to trap him by just grabbing him . . . but I got bit. SO there's a million things going through my head in less than a second . . . 'how do I deal with this? . . . I've GOT him! . . . now, how do I deal with this' & Abby, who just heard me swear in surprise, says, "What?"

I prepare to tell her where the mouse chose to run & apparently I took a second too long. There's not too many places you can go from his position, but he chose UP. I got out the word, 'he' before I clutched at my chest & – I loathe to admit – screamed. The mouse was UP MY HOODIE. I got up in the morning & threw on what I saw. I don't have a shirt on under my hoodie. So the mouse scales my bare skin & I try to grab at him from the outside of my hoodie . . . which has a very obnoxiously stiff logo that got in the way. He's nestled in my cleavage & I'm going, "I don't know what to do . . ." & I start to look down, wondering if I could keep him where he was with one hand & reach in with the other. And he started to come up. I realized if he jumped out of the collar, I'd NEVER get him back. So I grabbed him hard through the hoodie & let him crawl up to my shoulder where the material isn't so thick. I held him there & reached in & got his tail. I got Abby to get a cigar box that I had & didn't quite know what to use for (guess it found its use) & took him out of my hoodie by the tail & dropped him into the cigar box.

My mother always told me not to just let a mouse out right outside your house . . . because he knows your house . . . & apparently how to get in. So I passed on the knowledge to Abby & said I'd be going for a drive. She volunteered to come along & hold the box for me. We get halfway to the car & Abby – not feeling the mouse moving in the box – wonders if he is still in there & gave it a good shake. And there is nothing funnier than hearing the sound of a small mammal's body (that's been pissing you off for weeks) rattle around in a small wooden box in the hands of someone who has a 'what's in THIS Christmas box?' look on her face at 4 in the morning. And yes, this ordeal took us until 4 in the morning. After we finished laughing, I drove the little bastard to a corner with M&T bank & a Starbucks. Yum . . . pound cake. He should be very happy. That is – provided he survives the cold of the night.

And at some point during the whole thing – though I cannot pinpoint when – the scariest thing in the world occurred to me. We've only ever had one mouse. It's always been The Mouse. There was a mouse in the old apartment . . . & we've had a mouse before . . . but, this mouse . . . this mouse was grey. And the one that had us terrorized when my mother & I tried catching it was a beautiful chocolate brown. We have MICE. Shit.

The Weekend from Heaven

THE PLAN

In February, Lindsay celebrated her 19^th birthday. And in all honesty I forgot until myspace told me. So I felt like a bad friend & asked her to tell me what she wanted. After the Christmas candy she got from me, she was convinced that she wanted me to bake her something. I decided not to tell her that while I can make some of the best damn candy there is, baking is NOT on my resume & I ran out to the store & got mix, icing, decorations, coloured stuff, icing decorating tips, a cake caddy & a Snickers bar to kill the craving to lick fingers. And I made her some candy – because it was what prompted the idea. But for some reason, it wasn't enough to throw a little party in the Glen with a few friends & I told her to pick a Broadway show 'cause I was going to take her to see one. She was thrilled & chose Avenue Q. After a bit of scolding for making such plans on impulse, my mother allowed me to drive up to NYC despite the fact that I only got my license in February. Tickets were bought, a date was set, & we were excited for our first college road trip.

THE ICING

Well, the icing was just blue . . . but this is the icing on the metaphorical cake. I couldn't leave things at that. I really am insane. I have some sort of weird birthday complex, I guess . . . I remember I had a friend who forgot my birthday twice, got me earrings for one & got me a journal for another. And all four years I knew her, I wrapped her locker & got her wonderful presents. One year I filled her locker with balloons after checking with the teacher of hr first class who said it was okay if she was a little late – those balloons were obnoxious . . . but colourful . . . & sweet. Another year I filled it with candy. Another, there was a surprise party with a huge butter cream frosting sheet cake. One year I took her to the mall & took mental notes & bought everything she commented on. I don't learn. I just love the smiles. I could do without the hugs, but I love making people happy. So, anyway, back to the icing . . . I wanted it to be better. So I contacted a Broadway actor & invited him to lunch. As two theatre majors, I thought we'd thoroughly enjoy it as well as learn a lot. Turns out he's on the other side of the country working on a new show. Woops.

So I contacted John Bolton, an actor in Curtains. My FAVOURITE show on Broadway . . . well . . . to date, anyway. I saw it once from the second row as a graduation present. There was a song called "Show People" about the trill of being onstage & I melted into tears. In high school, NO ONE was as enthusiastic as I was about acting. It was such a small community . . . & the song put feelings into words that I've never experienced outside of my own being. Also I happened to see it the week before I performed in a show in my first comedy role which happened to be greatly influenced by David Hyde Pierce. The second time I went, I was trying to share it with a friend who wound up bailing, but her mother came with me & enjoyed it thoroughly. The third time, I took a friend to her FIRST Broadway show & it was this one. She is an actress as well & enjoyed it very much. She was so cute too . . . the show has a show in it & the first scene is from the show within the show . . . she leaned over & whispered, "Is this a preview?" Luckily my loud, unseemly laugh coincided with the appropriate timing for a laugh.

Gee, can you say, 'tangent'? So, anyway, I contacted John Bolton whom I friended on myspace some time ago. I did a design paper on Curtains & he was very helpful . . . he answered a lot of questions for me & I aced the paper – but I kind of assumed he thought I was obnoxious, so while I asked him to lunch, I doubted he'd go for it. He responded saying that Saturdays had a wonky schedule for him & he couldn't . . . then he invited us backstage after the show. My first thought was, fuck, yeah!!! But it seemed so rude to see one show & go backstage at another . . . on Broadway, that's about as close as you can get to theatre hopping. So before I politely declined, I checked with Lindsay . . . because she could go either way. There's the fuck, yeah approach & then there's the approach of not necessarily wanting to book it down the street after that show to meet a stranger & get a tour backstage of a show she didn't pick to see. She was as thrilled as she could be in her situation , which – if I remember correctly – was staying up all night with a sick horse keeping it standing upright & administering belly rubs, IMing me from her phone. So I thanked John profusely & accepted the offer.

THE SETUP

Friday night, Lindsay spent the night. She made me watch Memoirs of a Geisha & I made her watch Saw . . . which she was very angry about. Personally, I think it's brilliant. It's an intellectual thriller & has maybe one scene that bothers the squeamish types. She blamed me for her nightmares. We went to bed far too late & got up at 5:15 to get ready & leave. My mother did that thing where she asked ALL the questions, even the stupid ones. Do you have the keys? Yes, mom. Do you have the tickets? It's will call, mom. Do you have something to drink? I have money, mom. Do you have ALL your money? Yes, mom. Do you have the camera? Yeah. Do you have the battery IN the camera? Yes, mom.

Now, I hate driving – which is why I took so long to get my license. Highway driving is a little easier than anything else, but I still get unnecessarily tense. I have NO navigation skills, but luckily, while it's four hours away, NYC is pretty much four turns away. So, we're on the turnpike & we're singing to pass the time & I've got maybe two more exits before the Lincoln Tunnel exit & I'm on the left because one, I want to stay away from the exits when I'm not going to ext, & two, I'm really booking. I never saw the left exit. The road just split & I saw the turnpike go by in the passenger side window. And I wound up in Jersey City. Woops. So Lindsay downloaded Easy Navigator onto her cell phone & we got that sweet voice telling us where to go. But we found out that apparently, in Jersey City, they thought it would be funny to leave most of their roads unmarked. And every time we missed a turn the Easy Navigator said, "Recalculating route . . ." & we got a kick out of the fact that she actually sounded kind of irritated, like, "You fail at life . . . I'LL fix it." Eventually we got to the Lincoln Tunnel & right into the parking garage. From there I called my mother to let her know that we weren't lying in several piece on the road somewhere.

LUNCH

We decided to have lunch at Red Lobster. As we waited for it to open, we decided to do a little, people watching to pass the time & for me to take my mind off the pain in my feet. God forbid I should wear sneakers to NYC . . . I decided I'd rather wear stiletto heel boots. Oh, & remember those, they come back later. The SECOND we decided to start picking out guys, the busy streets of NYC became EMPTY. After staring at a completely empty sidewalk for at least two minutes, people started to pass by . . . not ONE creature that could be considered attractive to humans. So Lindsay started whispering smartass comments like, "Oh, that's a keeper" & "I'd do him . . ."

We had a wonderful lunch. Lindsay had earlier said that she'd never been to Red Lobster, but she'd had the biscuits (two days old) & said that she couldn't see what the big deal was. I tried to tell her that the freshness made all the difference. Initially, she wouldn't believe me, but by the end of the meal, they were nicknamed 'crack biscuits' & she was addicted. She cursed me for it. "Damnit, Ripley, I'm gonna be craving one of these at 3 am tonight!"

THE SHOW

The show was wonderful. I was glad to not have heard the soundtrack ahead of time. I spent a great deal of the time laughing. It was only 5 minutes into the show before I completely forgot how badly the woman next to me smelled. Lindsay & I wound up getting a crush on the same actor . . . that made for an interesting after-show conversation.

SPOILER!!SPOILER!!SPOILER!!SPOILER!!SPOILER!!SPOILER!!SPOILER!!

We absolutely loved the Bad Idea Bears. They came on a few times randomly & gave really bad advice. "You could HANG yourself" "You could play a drinking game . . . who can finish their drink the fastest! It's a tie . . . . REMATCH!!!!" There was a line that was something like, "sitting in the quad thinking God . . . I could be anything." referring to college. I cried. Partially because I'm there. I COULD be anything. Partially because the character was there . . . & look at him now . . . on Avenue Q. And partially because the ACTOR was there . . . & look at HIM now!! Exactly where I want to be!! And I could be successful. I could also be a complete failure. SO I don't know if they were happy tears or sad tears . . . it was more like a cocktail party in my tear ducts for all the emotions. (By the way . . . picture that . . .)

GETTING BACKSTAGE

Yes, I checked before I accepted the offer – Curtains is longer than Avenue Q. And just down the street. So we head down after the show & stand outside the theatre. Lindsay starts to get nervous. And then she sees a picture of John. "He looks scary . . . I'm gonna try & find a picture of him where he's not scary . . ." She failed. After a while, we heard rhythmic clapping coming from the theatre & figured that meant curtain call. I called my mother again to let her know that the theatre wasn't bombed or anything & that we were getting ready to go backstage. While I was on the phone, one of the bodyguards or . . . doormen . . . or . . . something . . . started peeking at me from around the corner in front of the door. He looked really suspicious & I was on the phone so I couldn't just say, "I'm on the backstage list & waiting for the show to end." So I flashed him a big 'I'm-not-trying-to-be-inconspicuous' smile & he stopped peeking. When I was off the phone I went to approach the door & pass on the information . . . & he slipped inside. So Lindsay & I stood while a line of fans formed around us. A few 15 year old blondes started gushing & we relocated. I waited, the bodyguard/doorman/whatever came out again & I gave a big grin & a little wave to get his attention. Nothing. And then, he went back inside! So I decided that a little boldness wouldn't kill me. I went & stood where I would have gotten in trouble & a different BG/DM/WE came out & gave a polite, "Can I help you?" & I told him we were on the list. He went & checked & beckoned us into the theatre. He had us stand in a corner & wait for John.

Here's where I get nervous. I can see the set & the stage & I'm dying. My knees are dangerously unstable & to occupy myself, really more than actually giving Lindsay information, I tell her who the actors play as they pass. Jason Danieley didn't need an introduction . . . Lindsay seemed to be getting less nervous. My heart was stopping every time someone came down the stairs. I didn't know what to say, I was suddenly wishing I had a brush to run through my hair & I was feeling incredibly intrusive. I was worried that John was simply putting up with us & didn't quite feel welcome.

When John got to us, I felt much more comfortable. He was very friendly, took his time – even though he had somewhere to be - & thanked US for coming. A few times he apologized in case he was boring us. I have no idea how anything he shared could possibly be anything resembling boring. He showed us around the theatre, shared tidbits about both the show & the theatre, let us hold a prop, showed us costumes, explained the workings backstage, shared plan B's & struck Lindsay & I as fun & sweet. I no longer thought him irritated with me, she no longer thought him scary. He showed us the orchestra pit . . . up a set of grated stairs. Remember the aforementioned stiletto heel boots? Yeah, that was fun. I had to stay on tiptoes or I'd get stuck. And I did once. I later realized that I popped off the little tiny piece of sole on the heel & exposed the metal bone of the heel . . . & instead of the stereotypical click, click, click, click that made you think a teacher was coming when you were little, turned into click, CLACK, click, CLACK. Luckily the boots were so worn that shortly afterwards, the other heel fell off. So now I'm a little more annoying when I walk by, but I'm no longer lopsided.

When we finished, we headed back to the stage door where there was a table of five or six hands of bananas & John walked by them & said, "These are our Saturday bananas . . ." & he picked up a hand & thrust it at Lindsay, comically close to her face & sounded way too excited when he said, "Want a banana?!" And if that's not absurd & amusing enough, Lindsay's response was priceless . . . she sounded incredibly cautious when she said, "Um . . . no thanks . . ." Right before we leave, I stopped to say Happy Birthday & right before I did, I thought it to be to self-promotion-y, so I told John to wish Lindsay a happy birthday & I knew he'd have the reaction that everyone does, which is, "today?" & was right on top of it with telling him that no, it wasn't today. He asked when it was & here, I was given my chance to look like a jerk before I left. My mind did something like this . . . .

Shit . . . when was her birthday, it was last month . . . in the Glen . . . on a Monday, because I had time to make the cake . . . hey, she still hasn't given me my cake caddy back . . . that was expensive . . . um . . . jeez, I'm a bad friend . . . I should have a date . . .

So I decided to say that it was just last month. But instead of saying "last month" like a bright person would do, I went & tried to name the month. In all the nerves & adrenaline, I forgot the order of the months & said it was in April. I passed second grade, I swear. Lindsay was right on top of it & said, "It was in FEBRUARY!! You threw me a party!" Like I'd actually forgotten that it had already passed. I may be stupid, but I'm not crazy.

Anyway, John wished her a happy birthday & gave her a big hug, which by the way, was pretty funny because she's 5'4" & he's up over 6 feet & he just enveloped her.

THE AFTERSHOCK

We left the theatre & started walking. Tears welled in my eyes & Lindsay said, "You just died & went to heaven didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." I was on a Broadway stage & while the circumstances were very different, that's exactly where I'm steering my life. And speaking of steering, it took a good ten feet to realize that we were walking in the wrong direction. We turned around & headed to the car. Both in a daze.

THE RIDE HOME

At the car, I called to let my mother know that we were both still okay, that John wasn't actually a murderer. And she asked for another check when I got out of the tunnel . . . so we called & let her know that the Hudson didn't collapse on us & then we were on the road. Halfway down the turnpike, we got some gas – God I love NJ . . . when it comes to gas . . .

More chatting, more singing, & after a few yawns & a report that Lindsay needed a bathroom, we stopped again, went to the bathroom & got some food. I took a caffeine pill & we sat & ate at a table less sanitary than my toilet seat. It was a Burger King, but they didn't have cheesey tots. I'm not usually a fast food person, but cheesey tots are SO good. When Lindsay said, "what are cheesey tots?" I said "You haven't had cheesey tots?!" She laughed her ass off & gave me a hard time for being so shocked & sounding like she killed someone.

Back on the 95, I couldn't find my exit. The only direction my mother gave me was, "It's NOT exit 67." Thanks ma. That narrows into down to about 100 exits. Out came the Easy Navigator again & we got home, told my mother about our day, & crashed.

CHEESEY TOTS

Sunday, we met with the other people in our theatre history group to work on a project. I was feeling generous so I got Starbucks, Burger King, & doughnuts for everyone. And Lindsay tasted the cheesey tots. "DAMNIT RIPLEY!!! Stop giving me all this crack food!!!" Apparently, she liked them. We finished the project faster than we all thought. Abby & I had some dinner & she spent the night. We watched Invasion & stayed up til 2 am watching videos.

THE FRISBEE

Monday, I was playing Frisbee with Abby & Mallory, winding down after the presentation of my lighting project which, by the way, went marvelously. Abby threw it & it curve horribly & went way over my head. I chased it, I was running full speed & staying under the Frisbee, it was going to be a glorious catch, it grazed my hands & hit the ground, I took that extra step & my foot went through the Frisbee. Laughter erupted & I immediately threw myself on the Frisbee like a child yelling, "Don't look, don't look." & through the laughter I heard, "we HEARD it, Ripley!!" So I just bought Abby a new Frisbee . . . which in winter is no small feat. Thank God for Wal-Mart & their year-round summer stuff. I still feel bad though . . . that Frisbee has been on her wall for so long . . . & it's in her facebook pictures . . . that Frisbee was epic . . . (that's for you, Linds.)

K, so that last section didn't really have anything to do with the weekend, but I found it to be note-worthy.

Have a good week, everyone. And bless you if you actually READ all of that nonsense. You're very tolerant. :)

Downhill

I am NOT having a good life right now. Things are just spiraling downward. I don't really know how to deal . . . I've turned to a few bad ideas . . . mainly because I can't think of any good ones. I've started taking medication for depression again because I'm so depressed that I just feel like my knees are going to buckle & I'll collapse.

Hopefully this weekend should help. It should be rather thrilling.

I'm Surrounded By Idiots

I was sitting in the Glen dining hall today, eating my lunch, reading for psychology, & just taking a breather. I looked up. And sitting in front of me - and on all the other tables - was a little flyer. Not a rare occurrence. It's a college, there are flyers everywhere. Outrages you didn't know existed. Parties with "all you can smoke." I have not yet attended one of these loud, crowded events that have yet to appeal to me even a little, but I still read the flyers on the off chance that one might actually draw my interest - but mostly to amuse myself with the options available to me & the peopel around me. So I read the flyer.

It had a picture of the Earth with the words, "You're killing me. Please recycle." It then proceeded to list statistics. In one year, Towson dining wastes 4.4 million napkis, 2.1 million plastic utensils, 720,000 paper plates, etc. If I THOUGHT someone of any authority or who was in any way connected to the distribution of these flyers would have read it, I'd have written, "You forgot the statistic about how much paper is wasted by putting flyers on every damn table in the Glen."



btw, today's title is provided by Scar from the Lion King.