Monday 14 November
Blah, Blah and More Blah.
Ahhhh, so good to have gone home for an evening. Even better to have come back this afternoon and skipped all my classes in order to go shopping for computer to stereo attachment cords.
I got home after my matinee yesterday around 7:30p - an hour later than expected because the air that makes up the interior of my Aunt's head is a fart and so she very unsurprisingly got lost on the way to the Hamilton train station to pick me up. Being my sister's birthday party and all, I was welcomed home by about 35 friends and force fed by the fist full by all my mishugeh relatives (those of you with Jewish family members will understand where I'm coming from). It felt really great to be home with the fam and the puppy and to be back in my old room and pee in my own bathroom. I seriously needed a break from the ghetto-fabulousness of my apartment here at school and from the flat out ghetto-ness of New fucking Brunswick, NJ even if for a mere twelve hours or so. I think it's kind of necessary for me to be a little bit babied and pampered every so often. Have my mommy make up my dinner platter for me and my dad put me in a headlock and give me cramper punches in my arm and call me "solid boy" (from gymnastics ... we all know I haven't exactly been to the gym lately. Anything I've got is just a carry over from the good 'ol USGF). Even my Grandmother didn't annoy me with her typical overly sweet Jewish mannerisms. I actually enjoyed having her ask me five thousand times if I've had enough to eat.
I returned to school today around 2 which left me with just enough time to get to class if I really wanted to but I figured why should I stress myself out on the one day a week that my show is dark? I was calm, cool and collected for the first time in weeks. I had spent just enough time at home to cure myself of my (I'll admit is was) homesickness and refresh myself for another two weeks of intense class work and six fabulous performances. Still looking forward to the five days I get over Thanksgiving break... call it the Italian influence.
I can't fucking figure out why it sounds so static-y when I play my MP3s through my stereo. Could it have something to do with my soundcard not being powerful enough to support playback through actual stereo speakers? I mean, I did everything as I should have. I don't think screwed up with the plugs or anything. It just sounds bad. As if I'm pumping the volume too high for my speakers to handle when I'm really not at all. I've even tried lowering the volume on the computer and cranking it on my stereo but no dice.
Hmph, the computer genius self-image I earned from being able to set up my system without using the instructions has just been smashed to pieces. How sad.
I felt so bad for Joey today. We hit the mall together instead of our Theatre History lecture because, apparently, hair cuts, Radio Shack and Wendy's are all more important than Racine and Moliere when you get down to the nitty gritty. After rummaging through the GAP and pondering the pros and cons of their spiffy new idea of creating an entire line of clothing in hideously ugly multi-clashing-colored stripes, I was forced to follow him into the incense store so he could flirt with the cute Hippie Boy behind the counter who had apparently been checking Joey out for quite some time. I sat and observed, sipping my Biggie Diet Coke, as an innocent bystander to the love connection that was just waiting to blossom in front of my eyes. Joey chose five incense sticks and brought them to the counter to pay.
"Why don't you pick out one more?" Hippie Boy asked Joey, in order to make the total an even dollar.
"Um, ok," he said, "which one should I pick?"
Hippie Boy smirked as he made his suggestion. Joey paid and we were on our way out when Hippie Boy stopped us and called Joey back to hand him his receipt.
Back out in the corridor, "oh my GOD, he was TOTALLY flirting with me!"
"Yeah, babe," I said, "want me to give him your number?"
"No, that would be way too fourth grade."
"Then why don't you go and do it. Fuck it, just go." (This from the boy who consistently made his fag hag best friend do all his dirty work for five years straight).
"Should I? ... yeah why not? What should I say?"
"Just be like ... hmmm, I dunno ... just say ... um, I didn't really need the receipt so I'm giving it back with my number, call - no, that's stupid don't say that ... just be like, thanks for the suggestion, call me sometime, and leave."
Expert advice if I do say so myself.
"Ugh, I'm nervous. But OK," and he scribbled down his name and number.
"Let me see," I said. "No, no, let me do it, my handwriting is cuter."
"Okay, I'm going. Stay here." And he was off. The personification of courage, himself. He was about to carry out one of the most earth shatteringly frightening tasks - The First Move.
A minute or so passed and I saw him coming towards me with the slip of paper still in his hand. Defeat! I knew it had to be one of two things: either he'd chickened out or,
"HE'S STRAIGHT!" Joey whined. I shook my head in disappointment. How could it be! He even called him back for his receipt! Surely he was hinting towards a night of wild animal sex, no?
"Yeah, he said he was flattered but straight! But I guess what's worse is that if he really is straight, he knows that there are people out here who totally think that he's gay!"
"Well maybe he'll think twice about suggesting the flowery incense and opt for a more manly scent next time so not to confuse any poor desperate boys again, huh?"
We drove home and mended my poor little Joey's slightly fractured heart with the only true medicine for such a ailment: lots and lots of Sex and the City.
NEW!! The forum is up! And so is the first question: have you ever been shot down by someone? what was your worst "trying to get a date" experience?
Also, my bio page has been updated ... pretty much says the same old shit, but ya might want to check it out anyway...