Search blog:
Subscribe to blog posts:

Sunday, August 01, 2004

I have recovered somewhat from Romeo and Juliet last week, and can finally face putting my mind to things like blogging again.

The play went extremely well. I received standing ovations both nights, and was generally happy with my performances. There are a few funny stories: for instance, on the second night, a mosquito flew into my eye in the middle of the "Gallop apace ..." scene. I tried briefly to get it out mid-performance, but couldn't do it surreptitiously enough, so I had to finish the scene with a fat mosquito wriggling around on the surface of my eyeball. As soon as the lights went down, I stuck my finger in my eye and squished it. It was not pleasant! But a nifty anecdote. It's interesting to know that if you are focused enough, a mosquito on your eyeball will not bother you half as much as you think it will.

I miss the actors and the camaraderie. Every other play I have done this year has been right on the heels of a new production, or with the thought in mind that the production will be restaged later, but Sunday night's performance felt so final. I'm hoping some Face to Face gigs are booked soon, so I can see Gary and Mary and Tim again, at least. John Rohrkemper has also sent me a letter about another theater project he's hoping I'll become involved with. I'm waiting a few more days to read it properly. Too much theater! Must ... take ... break ...

The real news of the week is that I suddenly have a cat.

Mitzi Trostle, director of FM at WITF, habitually rescues strays. But she has five cats already, so on Wednesday when she found another (calico, estimated 4-5 months old), she decided she couldn't keep her. She sent out an impassioned e-mail plea for someone at the station to take her. Courtney asked me if I were interested, and even though I told her I wasn't in a position to keep a cat for another month, I took a look at her anyway. She was there at the station in a pet carrier, freaking out and meowing incessantly. Nobody could quiet her down. That is, until I put my hands in and started stroking her neck. Gah! I was totally suckered in. How can I fight fate?

So I did the unthinkably spontaneous and brought her home. I'm hoping like crazy I can keep her in our apartment for a month until we move house.

She has fleas, and she's being properly checked out by a vet on Monday morning, but I think both Matt and I are completely in love. We've named her Tripoli through a very democratic method (I drew up a long list of names, Matt picked one). Funny how my last two cats have had geographic names.









Dick Strawser, who lives about a block from Mitzi in downtown Harrisburg, saw her a couple of weeks ago hanging around the streets there, so we had a lovely feline conversation in the hallway on Friday afternoon. Turns out he's quite the cat rescuer as well.

On Friday and Saturday nights, I resumed my part time promotional modeling work for Marlboro cigarettes. I remember now how much I hate it. But I'm going to need the money when I finish up fulltime work at WITF, so I thought it was best I take the job when it was offered by Harman.

Awesomely, the bars we worked at were the Pink Lizard and Stallions, otherwise known as the lesbian and gay bars around Harrisburg. It was like a breathe of flamboyant Sydney air in the middle of stuffy Central Pennsylvania, and I plan on hanging out at both of them on my own time in future to stave off any pangs of homesickness. Hilariously (or not, when I think about it), the other models were annoyingly naive about the gay and lesbian scene. One girl in particular, Cecilia, was painful to watch and listen to. She made a point of talking to some of the drag queens, and then made a point of telling everyone about how she had talked to them. At some point, I think the words, "Gay people love me!!" came out of her mouth. I believe this was the first time she had ever set foot in a gay bar. I took an instant dislike to her.

I think she and the new marketing boss, Amy (extremely large-breasted blonde woman in 6-inch perspex stilettos) took some sort of weird dislike to me. I hadn't worked with them before because I hadn't done Marlboro promotions in a few months, and in the meantime the old boss had quit and the guard had changed. But I still kick arse at getting those surveys filled. I broke my record and collected a hundred by the end of the night. And my spidey sense tells me that Cecilia was not happy, she being the reigning champion before I, the unknown new girl, came along.

(Heh, I've never been hit on as many times as I was at the Pink Lizard last night.)

But aside from the good hangouts, I hate the work, and it's exhausting. I'm not going to put myself through it again for another couple of months at least ... unless the bills come too quickly.
Post a Comment