Long Weekend, Long Post.

I’m not sure how to best go about this, dear readers; either as one long blog or a few short ones. What the hell, this is what paragraph breaks are for.

Long weekend. Looong. Weekend.

Friday night, I went to a costume party at Andra’s thrown by her and her roommates. She was one kickin’ Elasti-Girl, and I was a zombie complete with death-pallor, deep eye-sockets, and bits of blood on my person. All of which came from my Bill Nye make-up kit. Yay, theatre training. The looks I got on the metro alone made the trip worth it. Scared the bajeezus out of some poor woman on the way over. (I tried any number of spellings on bajeezus, none of ‘em were recognized. Anyone wants to correct me, they’re welcome to it.)

The party was great. There was karaoke, there was strong drink, there were ladies abound. Hope to have pictures from that night, soon. I returned home at an early enough hour to make the most of the next day, as Saturday was (and was intended to be) a long one.

Sara Joy, I *am* coming to see Ten Little Indians. Friday. I’m there.

I told Sara Joy that I would make it this past Saturday's matinee, but that proved impossible. The Comedy Pigs had our Halloween show that night, and we needed to rehearse as much as possible for the sketches we were doing. Like a genius, I neglected to bring my costumes to the rehearsal; as I thought I would have ample time to return home and get them for that night.

I was wrong. The delay was delicious, but I was wrong. After a lengthy rehearsal, about seven of us went out to dinner at this Greek Restaurant. Greek Salad with Lamb Schwarma: Mother of God. Delicious. There just is not enough tasty in the word to capture that salad. Homina Homina Homina. Great stuff. The problem became that we didn’t leave the restaurant until after 8, and I had two forty-minute drives ahead of me to get back to the theatre before 10:30.

I got back home, grabbed costumes galore, and also took a hot minute to get directions to Bill and Dany’s party later that night in Baltimore. (And no, Dany is not a typo. Dany is short for Danyela. So there.)

The show was good. Not great, but good. I arrived on time, which was a blessing. The audience was on the small side, which can be murder to a comedy show. No one wants to be the only one (or among the only ones) laughing, so even if they enjoyed themselves, it was a quiet crowd.

On to Baltimore. I knew it was going to be a drive, going in. I was not counting, however, on getting lost. I should have, though. I ALWAYS get lost, the first time I’m driving somewhere. It’s a written, set in granite law. “Casey will get lost on his way to anywhere the first time. So it is written, so shall it be.” Sazza Fragga.

In this case, I got lost on 48 East. I had my eyes peeled for a certain street that I never found. I had to get back on 695 on the far side of Baltimore to be talked through directions over the phone with Bill. This is because I am an idiot with no sense of geography what so ever. Sazza Fragga again.

That party was also fun. Granted, it was winding down by the time I finally got there, but fun was had. If you’re wondering what I went dressed as, I chose to arrive as a guy who just came off a show to drive an hour and a half to a party. We talked, we laughed, we hugged enthusiastically. I hadn’t seen Dany or Bill in months, seeing as how they live in Baltimore. It was a good time.

Willy Wonka had had a fair amount to imbibe, and was smacking people on the rear with his cane until it was taken away from him. He enthusiastically shook hands with partiers and said “You’ve got the Golden Ticket!” The fact that he’d said this to nearly everyone in attendance cheapened the sentiment, I thought. He was only supposed to be handing out five…

We slept, we got up, and we went to breakfast. It turned out that practically everyone was in showbiz, all in the same show, no less. The 80’s Prom, which I promised Dany I would come see. Assuming I can find the damn theatre.

Evidently, the man who was Wonka plays the token bad-ass in Prom. I was exhausted from the night previous, and so it struck me as incredibly funny. Punchy-funny. I couldn’t stop laughing for almost five minutes. Seriously, tears filled my eyes. I was in hysterics. It got contagious, and one of Dany’s friends, Tiffany, started laughing too. Good times.

I borrowed two CD’s of Dany’s: Dean Martin and Louis Prima recordings. SWEET. I made my way home, refilled the gas tank on Claudia (my car’s name is Claudia), and sat down for about an hour before I left for Winchester.

An old girlfriend, Samm, sang in a choir last night near our old stomping grounds of Shenandoah U. They sang Bach’s Mass in D Minor. It was hypnotic. The music was incredible, the singers were fantastic, the orchestra sublime. It’s also a bloody long piece, but well worth it. I also managed to run into some old friends and brothers of mine, which was a pleasant surprise.

After the recital, Samm and I went out to chat, and had a good long talk. It’d been over two years since we’d seen each other in person, but we’d otherwise kept in touch through email and phone calls. Motherhood is treating her well. We talked about a number of things. The word is: Therapeutic. Samm is a woman whom I trust as much if not more than any other, and just having her to myself for a few hours to chew the fat was wonderful. Then I drove home.

I had… an unpleasant dream this morning. I dreamt, not for the first time, that I was auditioning for Saturday Night Live. To say it went poorly is an understatement. Bill, a costar from Book of Days was there; I remember that very clearly. I wasn’t sure if he was there for moral support or what, but it was kind of nice to have someone else backing me up. Too bad I tanked the audition. I mean tanked. Yee Gods.

Well. I think that’s as good a place as any to come to a stop. Happy Halloween, people. Happy Halloween.