It occurs to me that I haven't eat much besides cupcakes all day. Four a.m. will do that to you.

So, my favorite part of the Halloween party (of which I was, I guess, co-co-host or so seeing as it was at my apartment and I purchased all the candy) would have to be the ever-popular game of Psychiatrist, especially since the horns on my wig made my answers weird.

No...My favorite part would be the special guest appearance of TAA-DA, the children's theater mascot, who was rolled into the living room in a shopping cart.

No! My favorite part was Jesse, dressed up as a homeless bum (who, incidentally, completely freaked out the three of us in the apartment prior to his arrival as we all believed he was a homeless bum), hitting up people for money on the corner and making a mumble-filled trip to Walgreens for Pringles on our behalf.

NO! My favorite part would be ending up with a group of holdouts to the end, playing card games until four a.m. with utter disregard for sense, eating chips and salsa around the fake cochroach still in the bowl, laughing at Jessica's inclusion of random sound effects between songs on the party mix until all manner of stomach muscles ached.

I really don't need anything in life beyond cards and slaphappy people to be overly competitve with late at night. Except some queso, of course, and someone to drink all the soda that still remains in our fridge.

There is a lot of "theatre" around that isn't "theatre," as it makes no use of the audience's imagination. There's nothing to do, except sit there until you leave. You look at a set of a living room, and it's all there, down to the last electrical outlet. So we are in the habit of suspending less and less disbelief. Occasionally, an actor in a desperately naturalistic play will switch on a lamp beside a bed, and the lamp (controlled by the stage manager) will come on a second early or late. Suddenly, there's this feeling, this life, real honest laughter in the audience, even self-awareness, somehow. So...it isn't theatre if the lamp comes on at the exact moment in which the actor pretends to turn it on.
-Will Eno, twenty questions with American Theatre

"But there's a Deeper Deep Magic...!"

LION closed this past weekend, which was more than a little bittersweet. I was ready for the show to end, seeing as I've been listening to the same forty-three minutes six times weekly for a month. I wasn't, however, ready to end my personal enjoyment, generally formed by the quotable cast and absolute mocking of the action.

I'm not going to dwell on the part where this was my first professional show as an ASM, and eventually full-blown stage manager. Instead, I'd rather focus on the part where I wrote down people being funny. It's not a comprehensive list because I'm trying out this thing where I focus more on being professional than taking down quotes as they occur, but we'll see how long that lasts this season, huh?

(Also, I don't care if these are only funny to me. Deal.)


How about Aslan and Jadis?
Dated in high school, ended badly. -Setting up character relationships

I guess I could read ahead and actually act. -Abby (Lucy), at the read-through

There's always a box in Narnia! -Kevin, the director

You're going to explain in a dramatic, fun, British kind of way... -the director

It's always winter in Narnia.
Can you eat it?
Only if it's not yellow.
Ooh! Mr. Tumnus! -the cast has too much downtime

She'll not see you because you're wearing a white shirt and it's winter. -when Edmund (Cliff) voices concern about not being skinny enough to hide behind a lamppost

And then you start licking it off the floor. -fake blocking to Lucy, upon the line "and they've spilled hot chocolate all over the floor"

You little...girl! (pause) I was trying to think up a G-rated response. The first three were unacceptable. You little...no...no...girl. (pause) It's early.

The White Witch is dead! Who else wants some?! -Aslan (Jeff) after the big battle

Susan looks like Lucy, just with glasses. -Patty, addressing our lack of a Susan by using the same double casting that makes Peter/Edmund work - the addition of glasses

And that's the end of Lucy. Yes, it was really Edmund. You didn't recognize him without his glasses. -Peter pushing Lucy off the steep hill

And I will cut his throat...by laser beam! -White Witch (Patty)

If Aslan can avoid turning into stone, he should be in great shape... -Marty, offering pre-fight commentary during great battle rehearsal

ABBY: And then you'll need to pause while the children cry.
JEFF: Just tell them to shut up or they'll be next. -Aslan's death

I'll just do the entire show myself...with finger puppets! (wiggles finger) Oh, Mr. Tumnus! (wiggles another finger) Yes, Lucy? -Abby

I should've left my feet out there. -Mr. Tumnus (K. Deaver), watching the children lament his trashed cave

I wonder if she can make him go to seven? -Jason, watching Edmund call for Lucy double the scripted twice

LUCY: Peter, that hill is so steep!
HANNAH: That's why they call it the Steep Hill, Lucy.

I'm gonna go shake my tailfeather! -recently unfrozen bird (Cliff), per request of the leaving SM, Mandy

HANNAH: Your collar was up again, and I thought it was going to drive me insane.
CLIFF: You realize that's my point, right? I do that on purpose every show.
NATALIE: Doing good.

I want to get this show down to twenty minutes. Can't we just skip all this? Like, "The robin looked her in the eye as if to say, 'follow me,' so we did. We followed it through the woods, past a beaver dam that we would've otherwise entered, and up a steep mountain hill. On the way it told us about this prophecy where we'd all become rulers, but only with the defeat of some witch who wanted to kills us all, and incidentally had our younger brother in her clutches at this very moment...." -Mandy (paraphrased), trying to get to lunch sooner

Fight ensues, ends badly for White Witch -blocking in the typed-up version of the script, as written by SM

You realize I'm now the person who decides whether or not you deserve light, right? -one variation of a spiel I gave often

I know, living with the bears, after awhile I'd feel comfortable, but I'd still carry a gun. Or a broadsword.
I think your best bet is a lightsaber. -discussing the documentary on the guy who lived with grizzlies, only to eventually be killed by his "friends"

I'm not a good Christian when I'm driving. -Houston traffic, enough said

Now, who didn't take a turtle and dip him in toxic waste, just to see what happened? -Marty, on Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

NATALIE: We've been talking about movies and TV for awhile. If we didn't have that, what would we talk about?
JEFF: Probably crops or somethin'.

(And then I ate the chocolate lava cake from Bennigans, which is attempting to be the infamous seven layer chocolate mountain cake with additional ice cream)

DO go see The Prestige, because Christopher Nolan knows how to make a delightfully twisty script (really, huh?), you'll never get to see Batman and Wolverine try to out-magic each other ever again, and any screen time with David Bowie will throw "Dance Magic" into one's head in a delightful manner.

DON'T eat most of the huge popcorn tub by yourself, especially when you've accidentally applied entirely too much salt and the top layer causes supreme taste damage.

Once upon a time, two small siblings discovered an even smaller ball of fluff lost and mewing under the back porch. She was an abandoned kitten (far as we could tell), she wasn't going to last long on her own, and she had the benefit of showing up while the siblings' father was out of town long enough for everyone else to love the fluff prior to his return.



It's the sort of inevitable news I've been prepared for since we moved out of the house and she went to live with other, non-apartment dwelling people, but that didn't make much difference. It wouldn't hurt so much when things (and people and pets and onward) are gone if we hadn't loved them so much when they were around.

Naturally, the way to get internet back is to complain about it in a public forum.

I just found out the Cardinals won last night, a factoid that I plan on flaunting all day long among the Astros fans (maybe not around the one in scheduling).

beautiful oblivion

Thanks to all the delightful rain and flooding and basic dampending of the world earlier this week, there is no internet to be found in Plantation #69. End service announcement.

"Nertz-Blitz-Peanuts!...Crap!"

The alternate title could've been "feels like home," as I spent the best part of my evening playing my favorite card game with some classy people (with classy trash talk, naturally). Of the four of us, three had played under different names, leaving the fourth to adopt his own title (Crap!, exclamation point so included) so we could each yell out our individual name upon winning the round. Did you know that in some versions you can receive a 10 pt. bonus upon winning the round while in others you're actually encouraged to hold off yelling the name to rack up more points (instead of people simply doing so on a case-by-case, I don't want them to yell at me for winning again basis).

Other tidbits:
* Some people now know that I like to hit people, and strenuously encourage the hitting of others. Though I would like to add, for my mother's sake, that I did not actually do any of the hitting last night.

* Having watched "Beaches" only a few hours before the rousing card sharking, I must say that if the grand ways to bond with my roommate are through movies and cards, life obviously has things worked out.

Maybe they're just in 315?

It occurred to me this morning that I've never gone searching for the possibility of zombies in my shower upon reaching Texas. Apparently they don't live here, at least, they don't live in people's showers.

Why am I awake when I don't have papers to write?

I feel like wearing contacts. No, not right now...though it might be the 3:15 talking.

We started pulling out embarassing videos of ourselves, mainly old shows and classwork, this evening. Really all I have to offer up here are a few random video clips on Merv and the King Arthur video that I'm only in for about three minutes at the top (the Lady of the Lake doesn't do much), and we'd spend the rest of the time explaining who people were and why these things were funny to anyone else. And, naturally, why Melissa had to be the one in the go-go boots.

I was briefly a tree for a sugar glider. Apparently you can't just call them "flying squirrels" anymore. Maybe it makes the other squirrels jealous?

Something outside keeps rattling and scraping in the neverending rain that we've received all day. I don't know what it is though, and--at this time of day--my brain is telling myself that it's all sorts of no-good-ness out to break-in through the large glass door leading from my room to the back patio. I'm torn between completely closing the blinds so no imaginary someone sneaking in through the back can see where I am (instead they can go through the still-lit, yet empty, window of Jessica's room, where the others should have plenty of time to hear and react) and keeping the blinds open so I can see when the people show up. Seeing as my paranoia isn't truly real and is more of the sleepy, addled sort, I think I'll make the executive decision not to care and go to sleep.

drip drip

All this rain makes me want to curl up in all manner of blankets with a mug of hot chocolate and do nothing but read old books until it's late enough in the day that I can justify falling asleep to the sound of the storm.

Unfortunately, I've had to make do with a Hershey bar and milk, and I have too much backlogged paperwork to be unproductive. At least the A/C continues to kick back on often enough to justify blankets.

This news, delivered in the first sentence (even before a hello) of a quick, early morning phone call from my mother as she worked on her school's computer server, makes me want to cry and rejoice will all the abiding satisfaction of the world.

I am coming home, leaving Texas, arriving in Missouri for Christmas, sometime on the 23rd and staying through most of the 26th. I know I keep reiterating those dates, but you have no idea how many people I want to see or how strongly I'll want to see y'all by then.

For now, I need to go to work. I will be hunting for plane tickets this afternoon in the box office.

(Yes, Melissa, I've started using that word again. No, Melissa, you may not receive coinage for each use.)

HUZZAH! I get to have my schedule cleared December 23 (after my show closes) through all of December 26!


Parents, dears, are you coming here or am I going there? Plane tickets need to be purchased by someone, sooner rather than later.

The *things* that occur, simply by sitting at this desk...

I love being involved with office politics.

killing time AND attempting productivity

Perhaps it's upset because I've yet to give it a name. Sweet copy machine, I simply knew that you were not mine and I therefore could not lay such a claim to you forever. I meant no offense, but I cannot think of anything else I might've done to cause such treatment at your hands.

I copy a script page, it turns out fine. I copy a second script page, it also appears in the manner I wished. Without changing any settings, I copy the next page, and suddenly the world has flipped sideways and no matter of changed settings will return the world to its proper angle. What cruel trick of fate must you play to force me into retyping the 75 page script by hand, nevermind that (font size what it is) I was going to need to do so eventually anyway?

working on the calendar

Why on earth am I having a production meeting tomorrow for a show that won't open until February?

post-lets

* I can officially despise coffee now after choking down an entire cup this past weekend (ah, politeness). I'd previously been basing it off smell alone.

* Merv keeps trying to get me to listen to CATS. I don't know why tonight is the night that Macavity and Mr. Mistoffelees are attempting to invade my brain.

* I run an actual audience-and-all show of "Lion" for the first time tomorrow. Thoughts of sunshine, puppies, and broken spleens (in a good way) would all be appreciated.

featuring a supreme lack of A/C circulation

If there's a better way to spend Sunday night than eating lots of fruit and Tex-Mex, followed by some rousing games of Catchphrase and Psychatrist, and finishing with the last holdouts playing Balderdash past one a.m., I don't want to hear about it.

(Though it suddenly occurs to me that I still haven't read the script for the production meeting I'll have on Tuesday, which will be less likely to be accomplished now that I'll simply want to sleep once I get home tomorrow evening. Being offered as the clue to the word "sassy" during Catchphrase; that helps a little.)

Have I mentioned lately how much I love it here?

hit me baby, one more time

Are there more pathetic ways to spend your Saturday night than trolling Facebook while eating cold Chinese in your pajamas? Of course. I could be listening to teenybopper music at the same time.

In other news: I spent most of this afternoon downtown fishing through the plethera of vintage and secondhand clothing stores all clustered together. I need to put things on hangers, except for the shoes, which need to be on my feet for hours and hours. Also, my newest fashion phase seems to be inspired by "Under the Tuscan Sun." I cannot wait until I invest all my money in a rundown villa just so I can wear my new skirt while applying plaster to the walls.

Maybe I should just put in a movie and go to sleep. I'm sure all that soda I drank with my leftovers won't affect that plan whatsoever.

heading for bed (yes, really)

Sweet mercy, I'm tired. These silly morning shows don't help, but it's really been a wearing-out sort of week. All my spare time at the Rotunda lately has led to going through light cues while faking giving verbal gos to sound. Merv went fritzy again, but now seems better than ever...just in time for new CDs to come in from the library. Timing, impeccable as always. My free time at Grace has been spent by trying to stay awake in the box office and put a bit more zip into my phone answering, since an alarming number of people this week have asked if I was a recording/real person/message/etc. I've also found that, while I can't crowd control the area as much, the A.D.'s couch is more comfortable for sleeping than that of my previous internship.

I am still laughing, loudly and often. I know who can take being given a hard time, who does not understand the concept of sarcasim (as practiced by short chicks), and who knows the location of discounted cake. I am doing important things like copying scripts and putting together how-to lists for the piles of temps we pull in while the most knowledgable member of the box office flies to Italy for a week or two. I gained full possession of the Rotunda keys yesterday and the fact that it didn't freak me out as much as it could've means I must be ready. Mostly.

true love

Even lately as I've been battling my lack of memory and probably an internet-based virus of some form, no matter how often Merv seizes up, he still lets me play Solitaire. If that isn't devotion, I don't know what else counts.

documenting life

My hair was still doing its flip from the morning, the one it does when it senses that Good Things Are to Come, and I accented with my favorite vintage earrings. It was, after all, a special occassion. There were movie posters on the wall in Italian, the phrase "deep and abiding doom" repeated for maximum effect, and a few rounds of "tell me something I don't know" followed by its rousing cousin, "tell me ridiculous lies." There's a new joke about ponies. There were threats regarding people ending up thrown in the apartment pool. Consumption of the world's most amazing cheesecake was followed by a charming walk home and a smile that seems to imply I should keep my social calendar open.

Not bad, October. Way to make an entrance.

chomping on grapes

I'm working on staying up later, since I realize that all my rotunda time has forced me into a morning person-type routine. It's nice to be with it in the morning, as that does lead to a tendancy to actually remember my lunch and onward, but I hate that I continually crash around 10 p.m. in return.

Not that I'm doing anything truly productive with my time, short of cutting coupons and burning a few more CDs to relieve Merv from pressure. Still, it is 11:08 p.m. and I am awake. Though, honestly, not for very much longer.