Thursday, June 29, 2006

This Is Not Over Yet (Parade)

Skinny-Rabbit vs. Mother Nature: Round 2

I woke up this morning to pouring rain and thunder. The time was just past 10:30, and I had a patio shift at 12. I called work to see what the status of the patio was and they told me that at this point there was no need for me to come to work as the patio would not be open. Just after 11, the rain cleared. I consulted The Weather Network to see if this would be a temporary break, and sure enough, the forecast called for thunder showers all afternoon, so I did not bother calling back. It is now just past 2pm and the sky is clear, and the birds are chirping. It's breezy, but still, no sign of rain.

You may have won this round, you bitch, but mark my words... THIS IS NOT OVER YET!

I Think I Can Play This Part (The Goodbye Girl)

The cookies were good. I ate them with milk as I watched Sex And The City. I then danced to the theme song that played over the end credits, and I was wearing the pants and, let me tell you, I was a fabulous latin ballroom dancer, rivaling Artem from last season's So You Think You Can Dance.

When someone moved to Montreal, I decided to be Miranda to their Carrie, to tell them to come home when the Russian might eventually beat them. More recently, when someone went to Europe, I tried to play Miranda again, but was told that in my current situation, I am Carrie. I like being Miranda. She's funny, cynical, doesn't know she's looking for love, has a red headed baby... Sounds a lot like me, no?

But I remembered today what it is about Carrie that I love, and I don't know if it's something I possess, but I admire it anyhow. It's her gusto, and the way she reacts when she's angry. Examples include, when she threw the McDonald's across the room when Big casually gave her news she didn't like, when she threw a tantrum at the coffee shop after he told her he's moving to Paris, and when she went to Charlotte asking why she didn't offer her the money to save her apartment. That is something I could NEVER confront a friend about. It would just eat away at me and I would talk to the others about her behind her back. I want Carrie's gusto (and her apartment. Oh God, how I miss my last apartment!) But I'd still rather be Miranda because she's bonkers. I liked when Steve wanted to cuddle on a Saturday and she was like "Ok, how long are we talking here? Twenty minutes? An hour?" That was cute, and very me. Not always, but sometimes. Me. I like being me. I wish Miranda was more like me.

You know how you watch these TV shows and you wish you were them? Like the gang from Friends and the Sexy City girls? I like to think that strangers read our blogs and wish they were us. Because we are pretty fucking fabulous, are we not? I love our lives. And allow me to be the latest blogger to say that I love my blogger friends.

I must note that I know it's bad form to start a sentence with the words "but" and "and". I know this. But I talk like that anyway. I would never write that way professionally. But here I write like I talk. Are we cool? Stop judging me.

I can't wait to join the rest of you in lovahville. It's lovahville, yes? Not lovahland? But make no mistake, I'm not getting my hopes up yet. I just feel left out because I haven't been able to talk about a lovah yet.


Workin' It Out (They're Playing Our Song)

I got these fantastic sweatpants from American Apparel and they make me feel super sexy. Like I have super powers I'm so sexy. I've always been opposed to people wearing sweatpants in public, but I wore these to Future Shop and, girlfriend, I felt gooooood! They're also magical dancing pants, as they make me dance all the time and feel like a superstar dance machine. My legs look great, and even though I don't know what I'm doing, when I look down at the flare I see that I have the hottest legs in the world. And ass. I also have a hot ass, but only in these pants. I would like to thank that chick at American Apparel for convincing me to buy the small, instead of the medium. Brava. Give that girl a raise. I'm going to eat cookies now. My poo was green today and I think it's because all I had to eat yesterday was three bowls of Lucky Charms.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

Almost A Love Song (Victor/Victoria)

My intention was to go for a walk in the rain, but by the time I got there (at approximately 1:10am), the rain had long stopped. We went for a walk anyway. Along the canal. As much as I hate Ottawa, I think the canal is magnificent. We took a stroll in the dark and had good conversation. It constantly flowing, never awkward. My date is incredibly funny, fantastically intelligent, completely interesting (and kind of/sort of resembles in a not so obvious way that Charlie Brown director.) I wish I had felt more chemistry. It felt like two friends taking a stroll, which was nice, but I wish I had felt more chemistry. The walk came to an end and we went back home, and I didn't lean in for - or expect a - goodnight kiss. An invitation up to the apartment was thrown out there, but neither us knew if it should have been accepted or not, so I just left it at that and went home.

We reconnected online (still chatting right now) and here is some snippet of that:

Me: "so that was nice. i kind of wish i had worn a hat."
Not me: "you're adorable"
Not me: "i wanted to wrap you up and steal you"
Me: "you lie"
Not me: "not even a little"

Not me: "i cried a bit on the inside when you said you're going right back to vancouver"

Not me: "i should have kissed you, but i didn't want you to feel uncomfortable"

Not me: "did i mention to you my addiction to pancakes?"

Not me: "you should probably mention if i was attractive in person"
Me: "you are attractive in person"

So I'm definitely going to give this another shot. Did I mention one of us is a Libra and the other is an Aquarius, and those happen to be two very compatible signs. And, AND! Neuroses alert! Not me can't deal with fog on windows AND has a thing about things that hop (frogs, bunnies, grasshoppers!) How perfect is that!

What's not perfect is the fact it has JUST started raining again. So basically that bitch Mother Nature really didn't want me to live out my dream of taking a romantic walk in the rain. I KNOW I would have been kissed had rain been involved.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Then You May Take Me To the Fair (Camelot)

I just had a very stimulating conversation with a total cutie whom I met online tonight. I'm not going to make anything of this yet, but it was a GREAT conversation. Here's a sample or two:

Not me: "so, what is it that you have 3 days off from"
Me: "work"
Me: "well, it's 2 days now"
Not me: "i see you pride yourself on the precision of your responses."

Not me: "your pics seem to indicate a general degree of cuteness. at least from msn's prescriptive pic-size."
Me: "yes, there is quite a bit of adorable to me"

Not me: "what is a Victor?"
Me: "Long story (ish). I just wrapped a show called Victor/Victoria, and they gave out funny little awards at the banquet. The prize was the Victor (like the Oscar), which was an Olsen Twins doll dressed in a tux (because the show is about a woman who pretends she's a man pretending to be a woman)"
Not me: "sounds whimsically witty"
Not me: "discuss: "wrapped a show""
Me: "I was in a show. It closed. The run ended. We all stopped going to the theatre to do the show."
Not me: "A-"

Me: "but in all seriousness, yes, I've graduated from theatre school in Toronto about 2 years ago, and I also completed a screenwriting program at film school. And I only have one leg."
Not me: "see, that was incredible. now i have no clue whether you only have one leg or not. i'm upping the A- to an A"

Not me: "my computer and i have strained relations"

Not me: "you'll always have my respect though -- following the arts, is to follow a dream. and takes courage"

Me: "but I will answer that with: Move to Vancouver"
Not me: "oooh, fun. i have a friend there. and i was considering UBC for some post-grad work. a marvellous lil' place. indeed. indeeeeed."
Me: "definitely. go. if only because I will be there."
Not me: "can we make sweet love amongst the discarded needles on hastings?"
Me: "that's the idea"
Not me: "yay for increasingly risky behaviour!"

Me: "do you dance?"
Not me: "almost all the time"
Me: "are you good at it?"
Not me: "yes"
Me: "your own opinion, or so you're told"
Not me: "told. and opinion -- i'm not a palm tree swaying in the breeze on the dancefloor. you know the type"

Me: "Before you go I should thank you for a stimulating conversation. One in which both parties typed in complete sentences with no abbreviations. And one in which the topic only turned to sex when dirty needles were involved."
Not me: "LOL you are very welcome. i thoroughly enjoyed chatting with you. i hope to find you as interesting in person"
Me: "I'm not."

Cute? Pics are cute too. I know I was disappointed with the last interesting online conversation I had, but this one was even more stimulating and there was a sense of humour there that is a rare find when chatting with a new person. Just in case, though, I ain't not gonna get any hopes up.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Pleased With Myself (Starting Here, Starting Now)

I think we're all in agreement that I can be quite neurotic. I never share my food; I alphabetize my cds, books, and dvds; I can be a neat freak (when I'm not lazy); I almost always wear two t-shirts and pants, even when it's hot outside, because I refuse to give in to summer; when I walk I have to step on the cracks with my heals; I'm OCD about the way I do most things; and much much more!

But I like me. I like me for it.

Last night I was talking to a friend who was mentioning someone she might like to set me up with, but decided it was a bad idea since we are too similar - both way too neurotic. She figured if the other person wasn't perfect I wouldn't be able to accept them. I told her the opposite was true. I love imperfection. People who are "perfect" are hiding something.

A few months ago, back when I was with some of my favourite people in Toronto, we were playing a round of Psychologist. Someone asked the person next to me to name their biggest flaw. Answering for me, that person said that they had no flaws because they are perfect. When I exclaimed "psychologist" there was a big reaction. Everyone assumes that because of what I put out there (I fucking love myself) that I can't see my own flaws. Let me make this clear. I AM PERFECT.

To me, perfection is having flaws. To say that I am perfect, therefore have no flaws is untrue. I am perfect because I do have flaws. Perfect? Perfect.

I love that I can't skate, and that I freak out if other people do my dishes, and that I when I put something away, it has to be put away "just so." And I dig that about you too. I think it's fantastic that you don't like having your wrists touched, and that you'd rather stay in and read than go out, and that you're desiring to be desired, and that you're serving coffee instead of being famous, and that you got a bad haircut.

So while I talk about my vanity and loving myself, and about how I don't like ugly people or boring people, just remember that I am aware of my issues, and that I love ugly people's issues too... just as long as they're not ugly and boring.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Feed Me [Git It] (Little Shop Of Horrors)

I'm hungry. I just ordered a pizza from Georgies. Mmm. I love Georgies. I order from there every time I come to Ottawa. They know me. We used to order every Saturday or Sunday night. They used to give us a %15 discount. In 2001 I moved to Vancouver for 5 months. When I moved back, I called to order a pizza and the conversation went something like this:

Them: "Georgie's."
Me: "Hi, I'd like to order a small plain pizza."

Them: "Where have you been?"

They'll miss me again soon.

So will Orpheus. Go to my contact card thingy off MSN Messenger to see some of the sexiest pics I've ever taken - EVER! I look sooooo sexy. I'm sexy.

(Does this feed your hunger for a new post, DansyAntsyPantsyNancyAnneCianci? Can I call you DansyAntsyPantsyNancyAnneCianci?)

Monday, June 12, 2006

I Feel Pretty (West Side Story)

On closing night a couple of chicks told me that they think I'm hot and when they first saw me they were praying I would be straight. As vain as I am and as much as I love mirrors and cameras, I still find it hard to believe that other people think I'm as sexy as I do. Realistically I know I have a weird body with terrible posture, lanky arms, and I'm skinny with a paunch. My nose is funny, my teeth are yellow, and I almost have a double chin. Yet when I look in the mirror all I see is beautiful, and I can't stop looking at myself in pictures and on video. So why should I find it so hard to believe that other people find me attractive and bypass my flaws? To be fair I do have lovely eyes, and very kissable lips, with a winning smile.

On a more believable note, I briefly attended a work party where I was approached by lots of people telling me that they love me. And most of those people weren't drunk. It's great validation to know that the clicky people at your new job think highly of you. And why shouldn't they? I'm amazing. But... do any of them think I'm hot?

Friday, June 09, 2006

I Remember That (Saturday Night)

I'm feeling nostalgic. Do you remember...

...when we went to see Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind and sat in silence in the theatre for like 20 minutes when it was over?

...when we played Dona Sol and Hernani dressed as Piglet and Frank N Furter, respectively?

...when we found that mystery poo on bathroom floor and laughed so hard you almost fell into the bathtub? I used to hold your face when I'd kiss you and you didn't like that?

...when I came into your room in the middle of night to meet our baby who was sleeping under the covers with you?

I remember that.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Diva's Lament (Spamalot)

Ok, I should start off by admitting that I am a diva. Yes I am. However, I am a diva in the good sense. In the sense that I am fabulous and amazing and everybody wants to be like me.

I'm really unhappy doing my show right now. Usually when we get to the theatre, all my misgivings go away, but this time, I just find myself hating the experience and these people more and more. One in particular. The lead. She's playing Victor/Victoria, the role created by Julie Andrews, and she's trying to channel her performance ability.

I don't feel like writing out the situation but basically right after a scene she made a comment to me and another guy. She then gave me the note once again after the show, and when I tried to argue my point she refused to listen. Then at the afterparty, which she did not attend, the stage manager gave me the note AGAIN on her behalf. Then she gave the other guy the note the next day before the show. I hate her. Especially since it's not even a note for us, it's a not for the crew, because what they did influences what we did. She's also made ridiculous demands and yelled at helpless people about things like the tape they use for her wireless mic, and the light in her quick change space that "doesn't work" (which does). I hate divas.

A quote of hers: "I gave up professional theatre in England to become a mother. What a mistake that was."

Nice lady.

I'm so blah about this cast now, but there's one guy who can always brighten up my day. He hates the show and the cast too, and he also happens to be really funny, so I never leave his side. One day I was in a particularly bad mood and he walked in I told him to say something funny and without missing a beat and with total seriousness he looked me in the eye and said "I open mouthed kissed a horse once." I died laughing, they had to revive me. When everyone, including him, were talking about how not funny that was, I was still laughing my ass off.