Therapy (of all shapes and sizes)!

You know what would be splendid? A little retail therapy.

Or creative therapy.

Such as writing a hit Werewolf Sleepover song before nearly passing out from heatstroke!

I'm gonna write the lyrics down right now, so I don't forget them, but I hope to lay down a rough track and share it with you lovelies in short order.

Arctic Princess (Working Title)

I just wanna go home

And sit next to my air conditioning

I just wanna go home

And pursue a career as an Arctic princess!

Lord, I just want to be

An Arctic princess, sipping cups of iced tea

Cause it's ninety degrees

And I want to be with my AC-ee-ee

Oh, no! 

I'm fooling myself!

Oh, no!

My brain's been left on the shelf!

For if you ask any young W.H.O.R.E.

She'll tell you it's a hundred and eight

And, oh, this weather I hate!

And abhor and abhor and abhor

Oh, oh, oh

Oh-oh-oh-oh!

Oh, oh, oh

Oh-oh-oh-oh!

I want to be an Eskimo-o!

End song.

Swell, ain't it? It's my baby.

Not literally.

That's would be distressing.

And SPEAKING OF DISTRESSING, I am all muddled by the roadblocks I continue to face in my rehearsal time with Mr. E. Really, quite distressing. When I have time off, he is on stage, and when I have time off, he's working to get off book.

Plus-which, he has recently revealed that he has never been kissed, and I certainly have never been kissed, and I think we could solve each other's problems quite simply, really, but I don't really have an inkling of how to suggest such a thing.

Which is bothersome.

Such are the trials and tribulations of a privileged, middle-class, white girl!

C'est tragique.

And speaking of white people, I just watched "National Treasure" because it was on the television and I was extremely fatigued after rehearsal and wanted to watch something dumb. Let me tell you: it is a terrible movie. Also, you should definitely watch it when you want to watch something dumb but fun. Nicholas Cage's hairpiece looks awful and he hooks up with a girl way too young for him, but there's some historical inaccuracies (particularly amusing when one is taking American History and all things are fresh in the mind) and running around Philadelphia and New York looking for Freemasons, so in the end I was glad to spend an hour and a half eating pasta and looking at shiny treasure. 

Now I ought to talk about other things, like MY FATHER'S SHOW (Henry V), or for that matter, MY SHOW (Comedy of Errors), both of which you SHOULD DEFINITELY ATTEND, or the beautiful and amazing aerial dance entitled "Impermanence" that I saw tonight (See this if you can; only runs this weekend and next), but frankly, it's late and I need to go to bed, so what I've just said will have to convince you on it's own. Perhaps I will entice you later at my leisure.

Oh, also my cat has diabetes. WHICH IS TERRIBLE. Not kidding. Luckily, we caught it really early (she may not even be full on diabetic, yet), but it still makes me worried for my kitty. So send your good karma Tiger's way, m'kay?

That's it. I'm going to bed.

M'kay?

M'kay.

Goodnight!