Father, thou art!.......

Cast list up. Am Ariel in The Tempest. I'll admit that I didn't think I had a chance in hell of getting it, but I'm uber excited. All that sleeping with the director finally paid off. I see tribal songs, and voodoo rituals in my near future...

The wait continues

There's nothing worse than when your roommate is the stage manager for the show you just auditioned for, and she tells you not to come in her room because she's typing up the cast list. Fuck me.

The leading cause of death among actors is impatience.

it could be yes, it could me no

Callbacks. Did some tribal dancing, fucked around with a mask/puppet, sang a hastily prepared song, was told to be more like a woman, waited (a LOT), and am still waiting.

There's something about standing in line outside a door waiting for your name to be called that maked me want to punch a baby.

Cast lists up tonight and tommorow. Fingers crossed. God, I fucking hate this part. I'm about to pull an Ophelia and drown myself in the shower from the anxiety.

How many people does he...I really need this job

Auditions. There are sometimes that you're screaming at yourself on the inside, "you fuckass, you shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a stage" and other when you think "hell fuckin yeah, that was great." It's that A Chorus Line I think I got it/I really blew it dichotomy.

Callbacks tommorw. Hopefully I'll be reading for an impish sprite, or a Polish director.

Aw man, I just shot Marvin in the face

When you walk into a room wearing a numb expression and utter, "my father shot and killed a woman last night" it is normally best to preface that statement with "my dad is a police officer."

My dad is a police officer. He shot and killed a woman last night.

Quick summary: woman robbed a convenience store at gunpoint, stole a car, cops see her speeding, high speed chase, fled to apartment complex, woman tried to break in and started shooting at a mother and her son, started shooting at my dad and another officer, my dad shot her.

Now, I've never been very much of a "go local law enforcement" person. Cops annoy me just as much as the next person. I don't even like the TV show "Cops." But this is my dad. So at the moment the media is pissing the shit out of me with their insinuations.

And you know what the crazy bitch stole from the convenience store? The thing that set this whole thing in motion? After an investigation, detectives revealed that the only thing stolen was a 6-pack of beer. A fucking 6-pack of beer. Now, while NDC may argue that alcohol is as worthy a thing to die over as, say, the life of a child, the thought that comes to my mind is, "Are you fucking kidding me?!" All you did was steal beer, and then you go and jack a car and start shooting at innocent kids. The minute the cops started tailing your ass, you could have just pulled over; it's just fucking beer. And at that point they didn't even know what you'd done, you were just speeding, albeit in a stolen car. I mean seriously, what the fucking fuck? You don't get shot and killed for stealing beer. If you're going to die committing a crime it had better be some serious James Bond-type shit. We're talking swiping the Crown Jewels

Almost like "You've Got Mail" but without the annoying actors

I've come to the realization that most of the people who read this don't actually know me. While this is midly disconcerting, there is something to be said for the lack of bias from the anonymous (reader). I mean really, I can write about how I killed a crack whore, and people will think it's funny, but they have no idea that I really killed a crack whore.

Also interesting: that I've come to be friends (and by friends, I mean, voyeuristic type who reads all of their exploits) with a certain group of Canadians. Through CW, I've infiltrated the life of Hydrass, and have been lurking around Bento and vasyL. They read my posts without any clue that I'm actually a 50 year old man with one leg and OCD. Really.

And then there's NDC, who, for whatever reason, I've been reading for over a year (most dead hooker references are a direct result of his influence). And I do have a sneaking suspicion that he's a geezer with one leg and OCD, too. NDC then lead to THL, who you should read, if you don't already. Even I get a boner while reading about this girl. Seriously. Boner.

The point being (I think I have one) sometimes you feel more appreciated by people who you don't really know rather than the ones you do. Now, that is not to say that I don't feel appreciated in my real life, because I do. Really. I've got lovely friends, and two wonderful cats, and a very pleasant existance, I swear. I do not blog out of a lack of fufillmet in my life. I'm not trying to fill a void.

No, you're pathetic.

What the fuck is the internet?!

Red and I ordered the internet for our apartment, and after sleeping with the installation guy and using a modem in a very peculair fashion, we were able to get it for free. *

Now I can look at porn anytime I want.

*This is a lie. We also did things with a router.

Window of opportunity

Fingerprints on a window grate on my nerves like an endangered panda who won't screw to save its species.

Everyday I stand there and stare at the double doors. For hours. Everything else is a blur; no customers, no food, no waiters, just the window. All I remember is how many times I cleaned them, and what damned son of a bitch smeared them with their slimy, greasy fingerprints.

I am a window nazi.

Once I see the slightest trace of a smudge, a streak of grease, I immediately jump into action like a man who realizes prostitution is legal in Vegas. I walk up the ramp toward the doors with a fierce determination in my eyes, the spray bottle clasped in my right hand, a towel in my left. And I go to town. The feel of the trigger, the swiping motion of the towel, the excess spray of windex hitting my face, the residue left on my hands..........Screw you, try standing in one spot for 5 hours at a time, and see the shit you start taking enjoyment in.

And then some one comes along and fucks it up. When I see some one push those doors open with their grimy paws, it's hard for me not to wish them harm (of not a slow and very painful death).

I can't remember if I share a birthday with the Queen, or the Queen Mum.

In T-minus 41 minutes, it will be my 20th birthday.

I've considered many ways in which to best spend my day, ranging from the NDC-inspired get shitfaced starting at midnight, watch everyone else get shitfaced while I stare and laugh, going bowling, getting a hooker, invading Nepal, etc. What I'll probably end up doing: when I get home from work (yes, work, but I'm getting free cake) collapsing on my bed, going back to sleep, and lounging around for the rest of the day.

I did, however, recieve the best birthday card ever from Jorph, via thefacebook.com

Happy Birthday you fucking whore. Hope your day is filled with nasty, dirty things that you like to do to men and sometimes women. Now get out of my apartment and be a whore elsewhere.

So, I guess it wasn't the best card ever, but he scores for originality.