Pa rum pa pum pum....

So. Wondering how exactly to go about this. There was a time when this blog was a vessel from much personal and introspective fodder, but that has passed within the last year or so when it became apparent that far too more people read this than I originally imagined. I've become a more secretive person lately (and lazy, which explains the lack of frequent updates). But. Suffice it to say..... There's a boy. Shall be known here as Jetta Boy. And for now we'll leave it at that.

Well, maybe not just at that. Giddiness levels are at a high that they haven't seen in quite a while, butterflies seem to be multiplying rapidly in my abdominal area, and flirty texting (a heretofore loathed practice) has somehow made it's way into my life. Things are still new, v. v. new, and so I still approach with extreme caution. Previous experience tells me that relationship karma (not the good kind) may take this opportunity to decide and creep up on me, so despite my present state of bliss, I am wary. Musn't jump in too far too quickly. Still, let's have some fun, hm?

Music to my ears

CW once said in reference to me, "the rapidity with which you go through men is astounding." I'm just now starting to realize that this is true. Now, that is not to say that I am either a slut, or a bitch (because I anyone can tell you I am neither); I am merely picky. All of this leading into me being again in the pleasant state of "er, um" -ness. More on this later.

And on a slightly related note, "Grease" is over. Interesting experience. Ran the gamut of being hell and heaven. Ready for next semester's shows.

It fell off?......AGAIN?!

If there is one thing I have learned as Props Master (read: bitch who finds/builds stuff that is often ridiculously difficult to find/build) for "Grease" it is this: everything can be solved with clear masking tape.

Seriously.

In the course of this show I have reassembled: a trophy, a drive-in speaker, a fire hydrant, a car, a microphone, one wiley midget,* a bottle of wine, a blanket, and a bean bag chair.

*This is a lie. Masking tape just wouldn't work.

Like Akkelah and the Bee, but not

In the apartments where I (and a nearly overwhelming amount of other theatre majors) live, every Friday/Saturday night brings the usual movie nights, get togethers, marathon games of Karaoke Revolution, etc. Lately I've been knitting. A fairly milquetoast existance, really*. And so, during a Shot Night at my apartment a few weeks ago, it came as a very large surprise when a friend of mine told a story about a frat guy asking him about the supposed wild orgies that we (as in the "theatre people")have every Friday night.

WHAT?!

Frat then proceeded to ask about where we get our X, where we meet, and if all the things he's been hearing are really true. And what does my friend do? Instead of refuting these claims as utter rubbish, a sly smile creeps onto his face and he pulls the guy closer and says, "How'd you hear about all that?" before inviting him to our next massive orgie, which is BYOB - bring your own boy.

*headdesk* Oi. Now, while this is a truly funny story (aside from perpetuating the myth that we're all crazy artsy heathens), what I find most amusing is the irony of the whole thing. You know what I really did with my Friday night?

The Mexiwon't and I sat around having eachother spell words out of the dictionary. Actually 3. There were 3 dictionaries. And it was a rip-roaring good time, let me tell you. My favorite:

Me: "Hecatomb?" Can you use it in a sentence?
He: ...... Hey! Look at all the hecatombs.
Me: (glares)
He: OKay, okay..... Hey! Where'd all the cows go? There musta been a hecatomb!

As it turns out, a hecatomb is an ancient Eqytian sacrifice of 100 cattle.

An hour - yes, an hour - later it got really interesting when we added alcohol into the mix. We were finally starting to live up to Frat Guy's image. Minus the dictionaries, of course.

*Save for during the last 2 weeks of rehearsal for any show, as is the case at the moment.