Friday, April 27, 2007
You Can Only Take So Much Before You Snap And Punch Someone In The Face
When your day starts with a trip to the gynocologist, you are lucky to get to the other end without an assault charge. Or at least that is how I feel today.
There is the rain and the cold, but I can get through that unscatched really. Sustaining the poking and proding of my cervix until it bleeds is something that I have gotten used to putting up with. I am also quite proud of how I have been able to avoid the negative bitchiness that is generally clouding our Anything Goes rehearsals. (The floatly, smitten, ah-I-adore-him feeling seems to help). I've even been able to turn my mind to the positive concerning my chubbiness. But when on top of all this I get 'talked to' about seventeen times in one pre-show evening - well, it is enough to turn even the most tranquil lover into an angry, bitter, little actress.
Oh, Krista, we heard that you have been to the tanning salon. You are not allowed to do that. You must remain snowy white all summer. Sorry. Oh, Krista, we will need you to hang up your costumes on the SAME hanger with the exact precision that they are found, thank you. Oh, Krista, make sure your hat doesn't jiggle. No, I have no idea how you can make this happen, but all the same, if you could do something about it immediately. Oh, Krista, your lipstick is too moist. Please figure out how to un-moist your lipstick. Oh, Krista, your laptop is infringing on other's boundaries as artists. Oh, Krista, please stop singing. Oh, Krista, that choice you made was much too interesting for your ultra boring character. If you could choose something much more mediocre, then we will be more successful in making sure that your character is as utterly beige as we can possibly make her. Oh, Krista, if you could tear your nylons less often, our budget in wardrobe would really appreciate it. Oh, Krista, if you could spray your hairspray somewhere other than there, there, there or there. Or there. Oh, Krista, please stop showing so much public affection. Oh, Krista....Oh, Krista...Oh, Krista....
(Krista's face slowly gets red and her fists clench. She is about to yell BITE ME at the entire room of people, but decides against it. Krista crosses to couch, opens up her MacBook forcefully and begins to type)
What I need is more than one day off. I need to clear my head. I need to get out of this place and away from these same 20 people that I see every single day without fail. Was thinking about going into Victoria and lindyhopping on my next day off, but then again, I am so POOPED that the thought of dancing all night after dancing all day is somewhat exhausting.
In my mind I sweep away to a deserted island that is hot with lots of nice shady bits and coconut and pineapple drinks and hammocks for naps and lots of quiet and peace peace peace.
Ah, it's just been one of those days.
I blame the gynocologist.
There is the rain and the cold, but I can get through that unscatched really. Sustaining the poking and proding of my cervix until it bleeds is something that I have gotten used to putting up with. I am also quite proud of how I have been able to avoid the negative bitchiness that is generally clouding our Anything Goes rehearsals. (The floatly, smitten, ah-I-adore-him feeling seems to help). I've even been able to turn my mind to the positive concerning my chubbiness. But when on top of all this I get 'talked to' about seventeen times in one pre-show evening - well, it is enough to turn even the most tranquil lover into an angry, bitter, little actress.
Oh, Krista, we heard that you have been to the tanning salon. You are not allowed to do that. You must remain snowy white all summer. Sorry. Oh, Krista, we will need you to hang up your costumes on the SAME hanger with the exact precision that they are found, thank you. Oh, Krista, make sure your hat doesn't jiggle. No, I have no idea how you can make this happen, but all the same, if you could do something about it immediately. Oh, Krista, your lipstick is too moist. Please figure out how to un-moist your lipstick. Oh, Krista, your laptop is infringing on other's boundaries as artists. Oh, Krista, please stop singing. Oh, Krista, that choice you made was much too interesting for your ultra boring character. If you could choose something much more mediocre, then we will be more successful in making sure that your character is as utterly beige as we can possibly make her. Oh, Krista, if you could tear your nylons less often, our budget in wardrobe would really appreciate it. Oh, Krista, if you could spray your hairspray somewhere other than there, there, there or there. Or there. Oh, Krista, please stop showing so much public affection. Oh, Krista....Oh, Krista...Oh, Krista....
(Krista's face slowly gets red and her fists clench. She is about to yell BITE ME at the entire room of people, but decides against it. Krista crosses to couch, opens up her MacBook forcefully and begins to type)
What I need is more than one day off. I need to clear my head. I need to get out of this place and away from these same 20 people that I see every single day without fail. Was thinking about going into Victoria and lindyhopping on my next day off, but then again, I am so POOPED that the thought of dancing all night after dancing all day is somewhat exhausting.
In my mind I sweep away to a deserted island that is hot with lots of nice shady bits and coconut and pineapple drinks and hammocks for naps and lots of quiet and peace peace peace.
Ah, it's just been one of those days.
I blame the gynocologist.
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