2002-09-18 - 10:17 a.m.

Ummm....

Ummmm....

I went to the gym last night, so, you know, that's a good thing. I'm having trouble lifting my arms above the waist today, so I'm thinking maybe I overdid it a little.

Ummmm....

I'm starting to get excited about the show this Friday. You see, the weird thing when a show opens is that suddenly you're not rehearsing every damn night, and for the first couple of days you relax and relish the silence and this sitting-around-doing-nothing-ness of it all, but then you start to miss the people, and the activity, and the excitement, and running your lines by yourself just isn't enough, and besides isn't the thrill of performing what it's all about anyway? It is for me.

Ummmm....

James Thrash is a terrible tease. In my Fantasy Football league, I went into Monday night's game twelve points behind, with only James Thrash left to play. I figured I was way out of it. Thrash had a great night, and racked up 11 points for me by the end of the third quarter. We figured it out. He needed 13 yards in the fourth quarter for me to tie, and 33 (or another touchdown) for me to win. So, of course, the Eagles, being up by four million points did nothing but run the ball all fourth quarter. I lost by one point. Which, you know, is annoying. Because I was ready to lose, but then why get my hopes all up about winning and then make me lose anyway? Was that nice? Anyway, I blamed my loss on chemical warfare, and threatened to pepper spray the entire lineup of my next opponent.

Ummmm....

Oh, look! The queen.

Ummmm....

No more news on the job front. Headhunter Moron Man, who wanted me to clear my schedule for the rest of the week in anticipation of a job interview has vanished off the face of the planet. He doesn't call, he doesn't write. He could be dead on the side of the freeway for all I know. The job at Otter's place is also in limbo. No word on anything. I really hope the job at Otter's place happens.

Ummmm....

I doubt myself too much.