It's always something

Five minutes I was just reminded in a "oh, I didn't remember to....I COMPLETELY FORGOT!" sort of way that I'd forgotten to actually sign my cover letter for the KC Starlight internship application. While it's not as major as forgetting to fill in one of the application blanks (what up, Muny ap?), I recall using the phrase "obsessive attention to detail" somewhere in that letter, and signing things probably falls under that category.


Hey, Muny, you still want to give me a job, right? I'll take a phone call anytime.

This is probably the eggs talking, too

* Good - eating Cadbury cream eggs for breakfast, yum!
* Bad - eating the last of the Cadbury cream eggs, saddness

* Good - blasting Avril Lavigne's "Sk8ter Boi" when it pops up on the playlist, rock out!
* Bad - blasting Avril Lavigne means my neighbors will know I listen to Avril Lavigne, eh

* Good - finishing off the application for the KC Starlight Theatre, finished!
* Bad - actually working there means I'm not at the Muny, bummed

"music makes the people come together"

* It's completely Caleb's fault that I'm still sitting up, listening to "Two-Faced Lothario" over and over again.

* When you organize your playlist so the songs featured follow a pattern, such as (oh, I don't know) the "beginning blooms of a relationship" to "throwing toasters at each others' heads," you know you should be dealing more with certain aspects of your life instead of letting your subconscious pop up again.

* There's little sadder music in the world than the opening theme from "The Notebook."

(about three days late, but whatever)

Melissa and I are famous!


Just as a side note, Lissa and I didn't microwave the Peeps until sophomore year, especially as we didn't even meet until mid-spring semester freshman year. Also, we had some way better quotes in there about the absolute disguistingness of the "homemade" Peeps, but apparently that doesn't make as good of news.

baby's first light hang

Oh, good gravy(!) my shoulders hurt!

unrelated: I don't know what's up with the comments

I'm actually sitting here thinking about the inaccuracies in the stage lighting of "A Goofy Movie" (the big concert scene in particular) instead of going to bed.

Curse you zombie movie!

"So much for going to bed before one"/"It's still twenty til!"

And other quotes of the night/morning:

* You never get to pick the movie again! -Megan, after the 5 millionth gorey zombie death in "Shawn of the Dead"

* Do you need to share my blanket?
* I'm covered: we're talking about perspective in JINS right now; if I keep my hand this close to my face, it blocks the screen...AH! The mirror! -Megan and myself, trying to not see some of the blood

* No! Don't open the window! ... Oh, too soon? -me, half-mocking Muppet Babies after the room decided to counteract all the zombies and I felt like dragging them back in again

* Ben's my blunt object.
* That's really good. I wish I had a comeback for that.
* Well, you did just wake up. I'll give you a few hours to think of something. -myself and Ben, when asked by Megan if we needed something blunt for the walk back (just in case we ran into anything)

And one more push from under the pile...

Is it too incredibly evil that I had the idea today to pull up the Sullivan High School alumni listing and post some crazy "update" with all the trailer trash soap opera I can think of?

The answer is yes, and you can tell by the awful state of the previous sentence.

Emerging briefly from the mountain of Kleenex and paperwork

From make-up class yesterday:

* Apparently when you spend most of the class sans-glasses anyway, spending the entire class without them (with the mass debut of the contacts) doesn't make an imprint on people.

* If you bore the professor long enough [and--here's the key--if the professor is Joan, who is everything that is wonderful in the world], you can get her to change the midterm from a written test to a one-page double spaced essay.

* Best compliment perhaps ever (because we all know I'm obsessed with my eyes): "Hannah, somewhere in the Pre-Raphaelites, there's a madonna with your eyes."

* If you tell everyone about your old age make-up, they want to see it. If you mention that the next week is blood, guts, and gore, they completely forget about a few wrinkles.

This type of weather is around not only to reaffirm how Missouri weather got its reputation of ticking people off, but also so that sweet little groundhog doesn't get kicked out every year.

It's snowing!

I mean, if I'm awake for theatre anyway...

Happy birthday, Sondheim!

Negative against the Pepsi Generation

I don't care about the health questions it puts up about myself personally: as long as the cherry coke keeps my nose from getting stuffed back up, I'm going to continue to glug it down.

Down Memory Lane

Click for more. 

FYI, thirty years in advance

I make for actually a quite nice looking older lady. Thanks to make-up class, as now I can grow up in peace.

Or not.

(as opposed to yesterday's morning)

Not that there's that much more added since yesterday, but there's nothing like adding insult to injury by feeling wretched awful sick first thing in the morning while desperately studying for an accounting test.

Fab way to start the day

I just got off the phone with Shane, and--though I'm filled with information so juicy I think I may have actually salivated for a moment--I'm not at liberty to tell any of you what I know until the lists go up at noon tomorrow/today (depending on your time zone).

People will be happy. Some will have no words. I must be there, camera in hand, flash at the ready.

The end of a long, post-filled day

Bullets-style, because it's just that much easier (and, hey, look at the time!)

* I love playing any form of 6-ish degrees of seperation starting with one name on the IBDB (for broadway, like the IMDB for movies) and seeing all the connections to people I know and love flow.

* I'm currently listening to "8 Polish Foods of Christmas" (Veggie Tales) because (1) I haven't stopped typing long enough to switch it to something more seasonal appropriate and (2) I got scared that I knew all the openning lines to "Clueless," as if I totally didn't already know that.

* I'm waiting for a potential call from Shane, the director of the one-act I'm now stage managing (yes, on top of all the stuff for the lab show), since he doesn't have much of a back-up plan if he doesn't get his first pick for one of his two parts. I'm basically on call until about one-ish in case he needs to call me crying.

* Funyuns just before midnight probably won't work out to be the greatest idea ever.

Campfire not necessary

Five songs I want performed, sing-along style, in my life:

* Stereophonics - Don't Let Me Down (which would function in the same vein as...)

* Percy Sledge - You Really Got a Hold on Me (the grandfather of this category)

* Mary Chapin Carpenter - I Feel Lucky (which actually occurred last week, but I want some more)

* any version - So Happy Together (though the punk cover might be difficult)

* RENT - Seasons of Love (or is that too obvious? Then switch it to the equally obvious Disney showdown.)

You should see the other guy

I was picking out my hair this morning post-shower when I realized my left hand hurt. Even stranger? Curl it up in a fist, and that's exactly where all the ache is located.

So, apparently last night I was punching people out in my sleep. While there's a side of me all "hey, that's kinda cool" part of me also wonders why I'd go and hit people with my non-dominant hand. I mean, really, if I'm going to try and punch people, I should definitely use the hand with more oomph.

utter sadness

I just briefly felt proud that I'd reached five pages worth of people on my Facebook friends list, like that actually meant something.

UNIVERSE! *shakes fist*

The moment* I declared Cabaret over in my life, one of my favorite songs from the show, "It Couldn't Please Me More" (or "The Pineapple Song," for the fruit inclined), started playing on my mix list. Yes, I'm totally playing it.




*Okay, so not quite that exact moment, but close enough that the irony plopped into my lap.

One last post, and we'll try to move beyond Cabaret

The Weekend in Bullets just keeps giving:

* A marketing test is not the best way to start the weekend.

* Going all student ambassador-like on someone who's visiting a theatre class (Hey, Alex!) and bonding over feather boa collections totally is.

* Also a good option: getting asked to stage manage a show...and asked about feelings toward sushi in the same breath.

* That phone call from the Muny was that much sweeter because the guy kept saying "No worries" like the turtle from Finding Nemo.

* Amanda! String Cheese! I don't think she can hear you.

* Siblings are fun to show off to all your friends.

* Matching Harry Potter band-aids are a fashion statement, yo.

* Last night of Cabaret: an apropo feather boa, chocolate for all the ushers, twenty-six additional people off the waiting list, and six parents and ticket holders showing up after the show started. Friday was not the night to be the house manager.

* On the other hand, I was one foot away from the St. Louis Schweigingle (sp?) man for three minutes and didn't even realize it until later.

* Tour days are just less fun all the time. Ask me questions, dang it!

* A morning spent with applications, accounting, and throwing pillows at people's head balances out more than you'd originally picture.

* Look for Melissa and myself featured in the Index's Peeps article, sometime soon.

* My brother is wonderful because he'll sit through Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights without complaining or even mocking back much.

* I request that we take over a quarter of Bellaccino's more often, even if only to get me better access to pizza grinders and such.

* Falling asleep while everyone else plays Settlers (and one player declares Jihad on those who stood against him): slightly embarrassing...but hey, then I was asleep and didn't care.

* Falling asleep in Satchmo, however, is a wonderful experience as he makes the best squishy mattress you will ever find, and we should almost have that many people in our room slumber-party style again just for that.

* If the stage manager for my show arrived to rehearsal after the last [five minute late] actor did, I'd be beyond ticked at this moment. Although, maybe I'd be used to it by now, since she's done so every rehearsal she's been able to attend so far. (Somewhere in there I stopped simply supposing; you can probably pick it out.)

* I'm apparently a lamp now. Go ahead, clap twice: I get brighter!

* Root beer flavored Dum-Dum suckers: not a real substitute for root beer or any other carbonated beverage.

* I swear, if whoever's thinking about me at this moment and thus making my nose itch doesn't stop it, I'm going to track him/her down and punch them in the nose.

* Is that actually thunder outside? Because, dude nothing spells the true beginning of spring like a spot of electricity and water mixing where I'm walking. (And I totally mean that in the best, non-sarcastic way possible.)

Thinking back on it...

When you weren't the first person I wanted to rush and tell about my Muny interview, just to share the excitement with you and have you proud of me, that's when I realized I was over you.

"Here, life is beautiful!"

Am I even allowed to complain if I come back from Cabaret and end up listening to the cast album? I mean, then it's my own confounded fault that the songs are in my head.

Caleb, bring homework.

I started off the morning hoping that the dead bird I passed on the quad would throw my dead squirrel = good omen thing branch out to include all mammals, but instead it only seems to be a sign of increasing my workload pre-break. Bleck.



* Edited to say: yes, I know birds aren't mammals. I'm glad that we're focusing on the important things here.

Shall we just refer to this entire section as the "Cabaret Days" and be done with it?

More fun that projecting over all the other crew people inside the theatre to start the usher meeting? Projecting over the entire audience in the incredibly echo-y lobby to find the owner of the lost cellphone. Nothing gains you respect in a theatre department than being five feet tall and louder than everyone else combined.