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Ldy, the lemony, ligerish ducttaparian's Magic Treehouse of Lost Thoughts
A classy broad's life... with footnotes.
ldy
Saw Rocky Horror Friday night. They had no vocal instructor and it showed-- the phantoms, as a rule, were stronger singers than the leads (there were exceptions). It was opening night, and a couple of the opening-night reviewers in attendance shot down (with well-practiced withering glances) the handful of people doing callouts. I had a good time, though, and will see it again next week.

Ate dinner at My Linh's before the show Friday. It was DAMNED GOOD. That salmon was pure heaven. Delicate, yet spicy-sweet. Mmm. The company wasn't too shabby, either.

Friday was what, for lack of any better term, might be called a date with a dear friend. I'd never been too keen on The Reviewer Whose Name Must Not Be Said, but his alter ego (whom I'll call "PJ" just because it amuses me) is really quite sweet and terribly charming. And he's smart and funny. And dammit, he smells good-- REALLY good (there may be a handful of you out there who grok the significance of this statement). His current home situation gives me a headache, though. I like his girlfriend (who is really not his girlfriend) an awful lot. And a number of my good friends stand at the edges of bridges he's burnt. There are too many people in this paragraph, aren't there. *sigh* Yes, I thought so, too.

And onwards we go, from too many people in the front seat of a running car in a sudden snow squall to too few in an open performance space. We performed last night to an audience of TWO PEOPLE, and only five of us performed. It was, quite possibly, the best show we've ever done, even without Tom. Although we lost money on the deal, one of the guys was a professional massage therapist (actually has his NMD, too!) and offered us all half-price massages.

We all (minus the Eman) had drinks at Justin's afterwards. And after that, a four-beer story from my good friend. (Nevermind the fact that he only had one beer. I had three, so it all adds up.) There's another, purple bluish, quiet and honest untold story in here, from the front seat of a different running car, but I'm not about to tell it. Otherwise it wouldn't be an untold story, no?

I'm going to take the ornaments off the tree now.

Heh. Forgot to hit "post." Already took off the ornaments, and shoveled the roof of the front porch (zounds, that was tough!). I'm just going to relax now ;)

I'm feeling all kinds of: Never wanted to. What am I to do? Can't help it.
What I hear: Falling in Love Again - F. Hollander & S. Lerner

3 tall tales or Tell me a story