Had dinner with a couple of lady friends on Friday. Most of the dinner conversation revolved around why Radio K’s soon-to-be-ex husband is such an impossible tool. Some of her complaints were the usual beef about men in general, but some of ’em were bozo specific. Hearing that kind of junk tends to reinforce for me why I’m still single. On the one hand, I could totally understand her side, and found myself openly saying things like “jeez, why the fuck did you stay married to this hamster for so long?”. On the other foot, my mind was occasionally muttering to itself, “no wonder he devotes so much time to work, you sound impossible to live with”. I just don’t think I’ve ever been able to deal with that kind of dichotomy in my own personal life. I have a hard enough time getting along with my own split personalities. I don’t have the strength to cope with somebody else’s.
On a related note, I haven’t been laid since around week four of the NFL season. Given the above comments, I thought it warranted mentioning.
I made an excursion out into the snow on Saturday to do some much needed shopping. Of course I completely managed to forget to pick up more black socks, but I *did* manage to unnecessarily blow money on DVD’s I’ll probably only watch a handful of times. I think I need a support group. But I do love me some “Hellboy”, my collection was woefully incomplete without “Anchorman”, and I really couldn’t pass up “North Dallas Forty” at only $5.50. The entertainment gods suitably bitch-slapped me once I got home though, as no sooner had I the cellophane off of “Anchorman” and had it plopped into the player, had I realized I’d grabbed the Full Screen version. Well sodomize me with an eggbeater, that SUCKS! Seriously, what is the deal with the Full Screen versions? One: why do they even exist? And two: why is it that they don’t feel the need to advertise the fact that its Full Screen anywhere on the box? They plaster Widescreen across the top like billboard, so why not the other way around? I need a hug.
Holy crap! When did the Celtics get those new road uniforms? Have they been wearing them all season? (I ain’t much of a basketball fan). I’m usually all for tradition, but the plain old green-and-white unis bored the hell out of me. Then I saw this and I nearly flipped. Now THAT is a badass Celtic uniform. Can we spruce up the home ones too?
White Sox GM Ken Williams is my Hero of the Week, after he totally ripped into Frank Thomas. I always thought that The Big Hurt was an overgrown bitch, so it was nice to see Williams rip him on his way out the door (after the crybaby took some pot shots at the Sox as he was leaving). They played the actual sound bite on sports radio this morning. First rate stuff. I think we’ve found a new Whiner Line opener.
Yesterday’s cue-to-cue was relatively painless. Even little Dakota was on good behavior. My lines were pretty atrocious during the dress-run, but I chalk that more up to just not having my head in the game than anything else. Which is, I realize, a shit excuse, but it’s pretty much par for the course after standing around and running the show in start-and-stop for four hours. I’d apologize if I thought I was alone, but I’m not. What I *DO* need to work on however (and have made just about zero progress on for the last umpteen years of working on it) is the repeated self-bashing. If there’s one constant in my acting career, it’s directors (and fellow actors, now that I think about it) telling me I need to stop beating myself up in front of the rest of the cast when I blow something during rehearsal. I’m aware of the problem. I am aware of *why* it is a problem. And yet I remain unable to solve the problem. This is a problem. I even managed to top myself last night. Usually I’m at least thoughtful enough to wait for the scene to end and flog myself off-stage, but during My Nemesis (Act 2, Scene 2, for those keeping score), I brought the climactic scene to a screeching halt merely because I had jumped ahead and skipped a couple of lines, by *STOPPING AND GOING BACK!* This only breaks one of the major laws of stage acting, something I’ve known since day one. Is this a sign of a recession? Is my mind eroding? The moment the words, “can we stop” we out of my mouth I wanted to beat my own head in with a gobo. I’m starting to seriously consider the possibility that I have an illness. Is there anything in the medical books about a clinical disease that eats away at self-confidence?
I think I’ll go chew my fingernails and contemplate for a bit.