Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Friday, February 23, 2007

Being backstage at the Vagina Monologues sucks. Everyone's so unprofessional, talking as loud as they want. If I could I would go Stage Manager on their asses, and threaten to cut out their ovaries if I heard so much as one unnescesary peep. I didn't tolerate any silliness when I ran the ETHS backstage.

I'm really missing the old theatre crowd right now. They knew their shit. Not that we didn't have our fun, of course, there's certainly a reason we called one of the couches the fucking couch (children were conceived upon it). It would help if we had a proper greenroom instead of a hallway directly backstage where all our voices carry. People don't get that this is business.

I wish I would get paid for a role once in a while. For breakfast I had water and for lunch I ate a granola bar. I don't think I'll go to El Patio tonight, I can't afford it. I have one extra meal now because Amber lent me her blugold for the weekend. I should save that for Saturday, and eat cereal tonight. I bought some milk with my last mealplan. I wish I wasn't so dependant on the damn mealplan. I want a kitchen so I can do some genuine cooking.

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