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. :)