Archive for September, 2006
Nothing Super Interesting
We had the read through last night. It was awesome. The play will be awesome. I’m pretty darn excited, really. It appears I’m on stage a pretty good portion of the play, even if I only have a few spot lines here and there.
The director is “trying” having me do the opening monologue. I don’t know what that means. But I do know I will memorize it as fast as humanly possible in an attempt to impress.
He also wants to make it a game of “Where’s Margaret,” like Where’s Waldo. Hence the large amounts of stage time. I must have impressed him at least a little bit at auditions, and that makes me happy.
The girl playing the lead has no experience. She’s adorable, and fits the part well, but I don’t know if I, as a director, would have the courage to give such a gargantuan amount of lines to an unknown. I’m sure she’ll be fabulous. She seems really nice, anyway. And super excited.
So… yeah. That’s that.
I told you it was nothing super interesting.
In Other News
In case you were curious, you people out there on the other end of the internet, I did get my car back on Friday. And so, no heads needed to be chopped off, nor any other body parts. Haley looks beautiful. They polished her chrome and wiped clean her shell. They even Rain-Ex-ed her exterior and Armor-All-ed her interior panels.
She smells terrible, though. The Armor-All smell is intense. Intensely disgusting.
Rock!
I laughed at him. I did! I laughed and poked fun at him. I shrugged nonchalantly as his determined face said we were going. I had to go to the grocery store anyway, we may as well tack on a trip to Best Buy. Plus, I though, maybe if I let him get Guitar Hero he’d stop looking all puppy-eyed about a new TV (which we totally do not need!).
So off we went, in the “driving mist” (so would say Jerry Remi), to the mall. Since I got my umbrella, I have become a slave to it. It used to be that I could care less if it was misting or raining or downpour-ing. But that fateful day that I was soaked through to the bone (I swear, literally) from a torrential downpour coinciding with the green line trolley never arriving and my walking the half mile to the orange line directly had an effect on me. So I pulled out my umbrella and popped it open for the 50 foot walk to the door.
Unfortunately, our parking placement put us right by the pet store. I hate pet stores. It’s so depressingly sad to see the puppies in there all boxed up and nervous. But Mike headed straight into the store. And we looked at each puppy in turn. Some of them were playful, but mostly they were listless. Bored and lonely, they laid in their cages, having given up hope on ever getting to go home with someone. The poor cute babies. I wanted to rescue them all. But that I cannot do.
So, down the escalator to Best Buy. When we got in there, our attentions were instantly drawn to the new Madden game. It sure looked pretty! But neither one of us could really figure out how the hell it worked. Plus it was the X-Box 360 varietal, and we don’t have one of them. Distracted, we separated. I played a bit of Paper Mario before deciding that I really am not a fan of RPGs, which this was. Something about spending three times as much time reading as getting to do anything caused me to just shrug and walk away.
I found Mike, and he found Guitar Hero. We then headed on the required tour of Best Buy. It is by far Mike’s favorite store. And I can’t say I don’t like it either. So we looked at things and listened to things and poked at things for a while. I tried to pull Mike away from the TVs, but he wouldn’t budge. Luckily, I think his brain has at least a portion that understands that our TV is plenty huge, thank you very much, and also quite bright, even if it’s a whole (gasp) two years old.
We checked out and were soon heading over to the grocery store to buy the fixings for a sister to strawberry shortcake – raspberries, cream, and angel food cake. We took those and the game home and soon Mike was “tuning” his guitar. I went to the kitchen to whip cream and macerate raspberries. In between, though, I watched Mike learn how to “rock out.” And I could see I was doomed.
Mike totally loved the game. Absolutely. Also, he seemed to be playing it without regard to his pained wrist (which has been getting better, by the way). It must have gotten him completely. He beat a couple venues on easy mode before deciding he needed a break. I politely and shyly asked for a turn. He grinned, I think knowing that I was doomed, and also proud of himself for getting the game despite my teasing that it is totally a kiddie game.
Well, what can I say? It looked like fun!
And it totally was.
Soon, I was “rocking out” and man, oh, man, was it fun! I played through one venue on easy mode before I had to leave the house. I was only gone an hour and a half or so, but when I got back, there was Mike, with his guitar, rocking out in the last venue of easy mode! He had been practicing! Phrases like “best game ever” were uttered, and when he tired of trying a particularly difficult tune, I got another turn.
So
Much
FUN!
For those not in the know, this game is made by the same loonies who made Karaoke Revolution. That alone should have told me in advance that I’d be addicted to this game. I mean, seriously, I played through Karaoke Revolution 2 in one sitting… standing… day. I love music. I love video games. This is pretty much the basis of these games.
This all happened on Sunday. Mike got nearly all the way through easy mode, and I did up two venues. Yesterday, however, Mike was distracted or something, and he let me play for a long while. I blew through easy mode, and even got part way through medium.
And, by the way, these songs are the ones floating through my head today.
Also, I have to make sure I’m not a moron today – I must not blow off the gym in favor of playing Guitar Hero.
I wanna be a guitar hero!
Some Funny to Watch
Come Back to Me
Hear my voice, where you are, take a train, steal a car,
Hop a freight, grab a star, come back to me.
Catch a flame, catch a breeze, on your hand, on your knees,
Swim up high, only please come on back to me.
On a mule, in a jet, with your hair in a net,
In a shower wet, I don’t care.
This is where you should be, from the hills to the shore,
By the wind to my door, raise the highway dust,
Break the law if you must, throw the world, only just
Come back to me.
Let’s just get a list of the phone calls I made and received yesterday afternoon.
2:30-ish: Call Maaco. Ask about the status of my car. Guy says he wants to check on it, asks if he can call me back. Sure thing. I give him my work number.
3:00-ish: Call transferred from front desk. Maaco. They’re just finishing up my car and it’ll be ready around 5. Sweet. I plan my bus routes, getting help from “the build guy” who sits next to me and lives in Somerville, where my car is currently trapped.
4:15-ish: Cell phone rings. The bumper doesn’t fit. What? The exhaust is in the wrong place. What? We have to order the factory part, it’ll cost more. What? We’ll try to get it tomorrow, and it can be done by Tuesday. NO. You’ll try to get it as soon as possible, and the car will be done Friday.
I totally put a deposit in so they could order the parts in advance. What kind of idiots paint the bumper before trying it on the car to make sure it fits? Apparently, my Maaco kind of idiots.
4:30-ish: Cell phone rings. He found a bumper. He can’t guarantee when it’ll get to the shop. I reconfirm that the only difference in price I have to pay is the difference between the cheap wrong bumper and the slightly more expensive right bumper. I tell him he sounds like a good guy. I butter him up. He says it’ll be the only thing they work on when the bumper arrives. I really want to believe him. He says they’ll call me when the bumper arrives. He also suggests I call around noon to see if it has arrived.
Painting takes time. If it doesn’t show up early enough, it just may not be possible for them to finish my God damned bumper.
I brought my car in on a Monday so I could have it back before the next weekend. I put a deposit so they’d pre-order the parts so it would go faster. I did everything right. They’re morons. But I have hope that they won’t completely screw me over.
4:45-ish: Cell phone rings. Guy says he thought it over and he won’t charge me the difference on the bumpers. I thank him profusely and tell him I’ll see him soon.
Today-ish: If my car is not ready this afternoon, I think I will still go over to Maaco and yell until my head pops off. It might not accomplish anything, but it’ll sure make me feel better.
I want my Haley back.
Blast your hide, you recall, must I fight City hall
Here and now, damn it all, come on back to me,
Where on earth must I be, still I yell till I’m blue,
In control then when you come on back to me.
Have you gone to the moon, or the corner saloon
And to crack and to croon, oh my girl, where in hell can you be?
In a crate, in a trunk, on a horse, on a junk,
In a road or a van, wrapped in mink or saran,
Anyway that you can, come back to me,
Come back to me, come back to me, come back,
Come back to me, me!
–Frank Sinatra