Some Quick Hits From The Weekend…

Eating out at restaurants four nights in a row, while entertaining and fulfilling, put a huge flippin’ dent in my expenses. Throw in about $80 worth of groceries on Sunday morning, and it was a bad couple of days for my food budget. On the plus side, even though we ate at Uno’s three of four nights, we were seated in three different corners of the place each time, and I managed to have three totally diverse meals. Am I really that easy to please?

I split my pants on stage Sunday night. Any connection with the aforementioned eating spree is purely coincidental (I hope). Two slightly interesting things I noticed about said rippage: 1) unlike most other movie sound effects (such as, punching another dude in the face), ripping seams actually sound in real life as they do on screen; 2) once you’ve ripped your pants right up the crotch, the next pair of pants you wear will feel like they’re about to rip the same way, even if they are in no danger of doing so. The mind can play tricks on you, ya know.

It’s funny how seeing someone at their “less than best” can actually broaden your appreciation for them as people. I can think of a couple of instances in the last few months where I’ve seen some friends in emotional states I’ve never seen them in before, and even though they may think it’s not pretty, I cherish those moments. I love that my friends can be both vulnerable and hostile when they need to be.

Funniest line of the weekend: Having asked Brian how long he and his partner Paul had been together, he responded with: “Eight years, which is like thirty in straight years”. Brought down the whole table with that one.

Friday and Saturday were especially good shows. Mike’s starting to feel like a comfortable pair of shoes now. I’ve broken him in. Go me.

Late night talk on Saturday ventured a bit too much into the Theater Politica area and ended up killing the room. As gingerirish pointed out, there was a chance for a good night of philosophical life talk, but we screwed it up by heading down a path of negativity. Got to admit, I’m pretty culpable for that turn, as I can pretty much spout about theater nonsense for hours, but in retrospect I’d of been happier talking about other life stuff. Still, some interesting stuff came out. Watching good friends tread into touchy areas with each other is fascinating, even if not the most healthy thing.

Watching other actors prepare for a performance is quite the thing. What a diverse group of little thespians we all are.

I have to admit to some disappointment at a number of people who didn’t end up making it to Sunday night’s show. I had a handful of friends that were gonna be there who ended up not making it for a variety of (good) reasons. Since it was the only night they could have come, I was bummed to find out they weren’t there. I’ve realized lately that I do a really horrible job of expressing when something is important to me, in part because I don’t like to look needy. I forget of course, that I feel best when my friends need *me*. Once upon a time I thought I was a pessimist. In later years I amended that to think I was a realist. Now I fear I am in fact in apathist. I assume neither the best nor the worst, but rather that whatever happens, people won’t really care. How’s THAT for a defense mechanism, Mr. Freud?

I’m plunging ahead into season two of Arrested Development. That show cracks me up. Particular favorite gags from the first handful of episodes include the “gang-tackle and baton-beating of George/Oscar”, the ongoing storyline of George Michael’s new girlfriend being so god-awful plain, the ratcheting up of the “Tobias constantly speaks with ambiguously gay overtones” storyline, and for some reason, I completely lost it when, after Lucille spilled her martini on the floor, both George Michael and Tobias came in and did prat falls on the spill. I think it was just the absurd *degree* of prat fall that killed me. Three seasons worth is hardly going to seem enough.

I had somebody on Sunday ask me about whether or not I’m currently “seeing anybody”. Usually I’m happy to answer “nope, I’m single”, and in fact, kinda get excited because I figure if they’re asking, they must have someone in mind. Lately, however, I’m feeling like I want to answer otherwise. Been a while since I’ve had that thought.

Like many sports fans, I hate college basketball, yet I’m inexplicably drawn to March Madness. There’s something about the whole “win or go home” aspect of a tournament that I’ve always really dug. I still hate the actual sport though.

I’ve been saying to anyone who will listen for the last two weeks that I wasn’t planning on auditioning for any more shows, since I really should focus on my directing gigs coming up in the fall. So, true to form for me, I’m about to prove myself a big fat liar by heading down to Braintree tonight for a potential show. Actually, I blame Chippy, as he cemented the thought into my head last night. I got to work this morning and mapped out directions to find it was only a 40 minute drive. So then I read an excerpt from the script online and found that I really liked the piece. Couple that with the fact that the director has said to me on a couple of occasions that she’d like the get a chance to work together someday, and the playwright (her husband) appreciates the fact that I “get his work”, and I’ve convinced myself to give it a shot. Besides, I *really*, *really* want to be in Festival this year.

In other news, I’m a big fat whore.


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