Counting Down

It's Wednesday. Ten days and counting. I think I've packed up all the books I'm taking with me. The rest will go to Good Will. I have plans. Things to do once I get there.

I'm working on a fun little writing project; one that hit a bit of a wall, earlier. I thought of something that would help get past the wall, and it actually worked. Hooray for props and any and all manner of inspiration. Shazam.

Things take time. Time, money. Effort. Luck.

I'm going to miss people. Very much. And that's the trade-off. The biggest. Getting to chase down a career and 'the dream', in exchange for leaving behind 90% of the people I know. I usually hate cliches but this is mine, I guess. Moving to New York. Good Lord.

Ciao for now.

Ehn. What Can Ya Do.

Nothing profound to report, I'm afraid. No great epiphanies or milestone feats of packing accomplished tonight.

Had dinner with two friends, and a long chat with another. I'm really, really going to miss some people. Trying not to think about it too much, but it happens anyway.

Looking forward to being busy, in New York. Beyond that... I got nothin'.

I Know What I Want For Christmas...

I'll admit it-- there are keys to my heart. Yes, my love and affection are for sale: Super-hero movies. It is that simple.

Two years ago, my best friend Pedro got me Spider-Man 2 on DVD for Christmas. I asked for it, he got it, the result was happiness.

A bit... mercenary? Perhaps. Yes, receiving unasked-for-yet-incredibly-thoughtful-gifts is a terrific feeling; but the ask-for-what-you-want approach garners fabulous results as well. I learned my lesson when I was eight: Asking Santa for world peace won't put presents under the tree. Ya gotta be more specific.

Now, there's the new release of Superman. And Superman II, The Donner Cut. And oh yes, Superman Returns. Homina homina homina.

In the Jones family, the rule is this: After Thanksgiving, you don't buy anything for yourself. It's a good idea. I adhere to it... mostly. *cough* The hedonist in me is nodding suggestively toward the car and a quick trip to Best Buy; as the afore-mentioned movies hit shelves today. Not gonna do it, though.

But Casey, you ask, don't you already have Superman I and II? The fact is, yes. Yes I do. (My aunt gave me the four-pack. Superman III makes an excellent coaster.) However, in light of director's commentary, original Max Fleischer cartoons, and other deliciously evil features; an upgrade must be made... Should the time come, I can donate the previous iterations to needy orphans or something.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it (and bask in the warmth of my gratitude and affection); is acquire these items before December 25. They won't be hard to find. Gather your DVDs while ye may.

And oh yeah-- Peace on Earth, Good Will Towards Man, blah blah blah. Ciao for now.

See? Compromise!

I want a cigar, and I want to stretch my legs. I can do both at the same time.

Will wonders never cease.

Hmm.

So. I' moving to New York City in twelve days. It feels huge. I can't measure how strange it feels. Really. Everything is going to change.

Friends I've seen sporadically over the last decade are going to become a lot closer. My side-jobs up until now are going to be my only jobs. Voice work and transcription; that's it.

I don't mind saying it's freaking me out a bit. Course, we've known for years that a move is one of the biggest changes a person can undertake; and it's high time for this one. High time.

Shit.

I'm going through the process of sorting my things into boxes; both literal and the lesser-case of that which I'm taking with me and that which I leave behind. Who needs metaphors with that going on?

I'm going to miss my friends. My family. My future is staring me in the face and I have no idea what it looks like. So here it is. Twelve days away.

Ready or not. Here I come.

You've Got Red On You

Had an interesting dream, this morning. Well. Not really. Case in point it was the most boring activity I could think of; namely computer training. I dreamt I was in the office, learning some tedious new procedure. Can't even remember what it was for. What I can recall is that the session was taught by none other than Simon Pegg, aka Shaun from Shaun of the Dead.

Brilliant.

No zombies made an appearance. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. So there you go.

Happy Monday, folks.

Getting Prepared

Having never been the metropolitan sort before, I've adhered to Kate's advice and picked up a scarf and winter-worthy boots. I can't think of a better trade-off: Info I need in exchange for info she'll find useful; namely voiceover advice.

Well. Enough out of me. Have a good one, folks. Ciao for now.

Quiet Day At Home

After another typical Jones family Thanksgiving, I'm pleased to say I've got the house to myself. Getting some work done, gonna head out in a bit for some more boxes... maybe pick up some new shoes.

OH-- Happy Birthday, Andy!

T-Minus two weeks and counting. Hoo boy. Have a good one, folks.

Giving Thanks

It's the fourth Thursday in November, and here we all are not at work; hopefully taking some time to be grateful for the good things we have.

I'm grateful to be healthy. I have a job that I like and starting to build a career that I'm crazy about. I'm moving to New York in two weeks. I've got friends up there that can help me land on my feet.

My family has been nothing but supportive about the move. I'm going to miss them (and my friends) terribly; but this is where I gotta go.

So yeah. Life is good. Happy Turkey Day, folks.

Heroes = Brilliant

**Spoilers below, y'all have been warned.**

So yeah-- I caught Heroes on Monday, and it was one of the best episodes yet. The writing on this show is incredible.

It helps to have a mind like Jeph Loeb's behind things. I can't say for sure if he's one of the writers but I know he's a creative consultant if nothing else. The novelty of the "Save the Cheerleader, Save the World" slogan had just about worn out; and what good news that following Monday we hopefully won't have to hear it again.

I have to say, I love the dramatic tool of using prophecies. It should be used sparingly for maximum effect, but when a character (who in this case can paint the future) literally outlines what is going to happen; it's up to the writers to A) adhere to the prediction as events unfold and B) still manage to surprise us. Hopefully with a twist that is valid, e.g. 'not cheating'.

I used a similar formula for a pilot I wrote for Scriptapalooza-- someone makes a prediction, the prediction appears to come true, disaster happens, the prediction comes true again and things are resolved.

Heroes did an absolutely splendid job with this. The painter has shown in his works that a cheerleader is attacked. We also see a painting of Peter Petrelli, would-be hero, lying dead before the high school. To effectively adhere to the prediction, they need to show both these things happening, and then resolve it anyway.

Claire, the impervious cheerleader, is not the cheerleader originally attacked. An ex-friend of hers took credit for a fire rescue earlier on, so she is the one the shadowy bad guy homes in on. They bear a resemblence, in that they're both blonde, short, perky cheerleaders. Her ex-friend is indeed attacked, and killed. Not before the bad guy realizes his mistake and starts chasing after Claire.

Peter comes to the rescue (at this point knowing about the painting of his death) and stands between the damsel and the villain anyway. Sure enough, he ends up in a broken pile outside the school.

And he gets better. I almost smacked myself in the head when I saw it; because I should have seen it coming. Claire's gift is simple: she can recover immediately from any wound, even lethal injury. Peter can mimic the powers of any 'Hero' he comes in contact with. Neither bits of information are secret, or recent revelations. My jaw still hit the floor when his life-ending injuries went in reverse. He casually sat up and, without batting an eye, set his broken bones in place so they would heal properly. Simple, elegant, brilliant writing.

The predictions came true like clockwork, and the good guys still came out on top. Super.

I can't wait to see what they have lined up next.

"If I Did It" Cancelled, Would-Be Murderers Crestfallen

In a move that can only be described as tactful (a word some executives may not be familiar with); Regan Books has pulled the plug on the upcoming publication and Television special, If I Did It. OJ Simpson was to speak on how he would have committed the murders of Ron Goldman and Nicole Brown Simpson; if he had done it. Which he didn't. Um.

Similar works, including Mel Gibson's If I Had Said Those Things and the Nazi party's Third Reich? What Third Reich? What you are talking about? have likewise been dismissed.

On a competely unrelated story, Regan Books chief Rupert Murdoch was found murdered. A white SUV was seen fleeing his home.

What A Day

Two days, point of fact. Scooted up to the Big Apple yesterday to see my future apartment. Had a splendid lunch with an old friend and a fantastic dinner at a French restaurant in Astoria.

Followed it up this morning by having breakfast w/ Tamia and scooting straight to my first announcer job with 4Kids Entertainment.

The downsides? My train was delayed by an hour. I got home to check my email, which contained some bad news.

Long story short, I've been trying to get a creative pursuit off the ground for months (not the comic book, something else). Contracts are involved, important enough to get a lawyer of my own to look things over. We're unable to come to an agreement. So that sucks.

The funny thing? I'm a lot less upset about it than I thought I'd be. Since I made the decision to move to New York, I have more important things to think about. There'll be other opportunities.

Funny world.

Outstanding.

I just received a call, with some very good news. I have a gig on Monday morning with 4Kids Entertainment. I've auditioned for them a few times now, and on the 20th I'll be recording some promo announcements for 'em.

This is my foot in the door. I can't wait.

Laugh, Damn It!

I've been watching Network. Phenomenal movie, and a stronger influence on Aaron Sorkin's writing, I've never seen.

It's a very inspirational film. "I'm as mad as hell, and I'm not gonna take it any more." It doesn't get much better than that, for mantras for the masses. Leastways not in the 70's.

I like the idea that something can move us. Motivate us to feel more than we usually do, do more than we usually do. According to a numerology book pointed out to me by a good friend and my own personal epiphany from 2002; I know more or less why I'm here. To get a rise out of people. I'd like it very much if that came out as a laugh.

Someone once defined laughter as a smile we can no longer keep to ourselves. Comedy is truth, comedy is pain, comedy is a lot of things. Getting someone to laugh generates an incredible feeling. Some folks got it, some folks don't.

Feeling motivated and aware that, like any buzz, it can't last, I'm going to seize the impulse.

Think about your existence. A million years ago, man was nothing more than ambitious pond scum. Think about how we got here. Think about the last time your best friend suprised you. Think about the last big fight with your partner you had. Think about a cream pie to the face, or a football to the crotch.

What makes you smile? What makes you laugh? Everyone finds something funny, even if it's not seen by tons of people.

What makes you laugh? Take a good look at the answer.

Ciao for now.

Napoleon's Melon Campaign

"Come on, come on, quick as you can." The little man hobbled toward a wall of maps using a broom for a crutch. A small platoon of confused grocers gathered in front of the candles to see what he was about.

The small general gained his footing, stapled his hands behind him, and looked over his troops. "Your efforts have been courageous, but confused and futile. It is now time to prepare a rigorous plan of action."

The gathering melon sellers looked at each other with confusion. The General continued undeterred.

"One: The time factor. The current heat wave does not, on the face of it, favor our campaigns, as it makes the melons ripen quickly. In reality it also contains an element which could benefit us, which we should exploit to the full." He stood before the candles, his shadow painted across the city maps behind him. "The thirst in the townspeople."

"And us," laughed one of his subordinates. The General gave him a moment's glance, then continued.

"If we act swiftly, we can turn these weather conditions to our advantage. Two: The Terrain factor. Paris covers a wide area, and we have only minimal forces in the field."

The grocers, gaining enthusiasm to match the General's, sat up in peaked attention.

"Haphazard effort will fail. We must determine where the lie of the land works against us. Long quiet streets, too much time lost. The markets, too much competition. We shall therefore concentrate on the zones of maximum concentration of population, and the minimum supply of fruit."

He picked up a piece of chalk and began tracing avenues of Paris, like a gourmet slicing up a favorite cut of beef.

"Regarding the First. We can mark the most frequently used access routes. In regards to the second, children can be sent out at dawn to scout the terrain."

Comprehension, like a flame swallowing crumpled paper, grew on the faces of his audience. They sat in the presence of true leadership.

As the General continued, he paced away from the source of the light. His shadow stretched two, three times larger than himself, until it filled the hall itself. The effect was not wasted.

"Remember. We conquer; or perish."

***

Best scene from a fantastic, wonderful movie. The Emperor's New Clothes. Love it. Love it.

Good, Good, Good

Mike and I went to a cigar tasting tonight. Damn, what a good time. Completely relaxing. Good stogies. Good food. Good stories-- we traded stories back and forth for three hours or so. The restaurant afterwards was a different story.

A place across the street, Rock Bottom Cafe, was jumping. Just shy of packed. We grabbed a table on the second floor; where we had too long a wait. I went down to the front desk, grabbed a book of matches with the phone number, then went back up to the table.

I called the restaurant from my cell phone: "Good Evening. Rock Bottom Cafe', how can I help you?" "Yeah, hi. I'm on the second floor, party of two, we've been waiting ten minutes for a waiter. Can you send someone up?" "Oh. Sure."

Even after that, the service was bad. The food was fine, but the delivery... not so much. Left a low tip for the first time in longer than I can remember. Came on home.

A very good night. Cheers, folks.

Well. That Kinda Sucked.

Yesterday had far too many thoughts. What was genuinely good tidings for someone else tossed me into a spin-cycle funk of "Where the hell am I headed?" that lasted the rest of the day and night.

Which is where my friends came in.

I had a splendid dinner w/ Jenna at this great Chinese restaurant in Greenbelt. (Best Kung Pao around.) Had a drink w/ Anjili in DC, not that we did much to lift one another's spirits. She was exhausted, and I was pretty much a pill.

Called up Bill, and we talked for a while, as I drove home. Bill's one of the most 'together' people I know. His life is heading exactly in the direction it should be. (At least it is from where I'm standing.)

Went home, popped in a movie, called it a night. At which point I got a surprise phone call from another good friend. A bad day was made very tolerable after all.

Grazzi.

In the Good News Column

In lieu of anything better to report; I picked up one of my favorite movies for dirt cheap: The Emperor's New Clothes, starring Ian Holm. A fabulous 'what if' of Napoleon's sunset years.

My favorite scene of the entire movie comes early on; in which the former General marks out sections of Paris on a map before melon grocers, using his matchless knowledge of the city to point out the most profitable areas to sell fruit. My description is poor compared to Holm's performance, but it's excellent.

Sweet dreams, folks. I'm going to bed.

Dun Dun De Dun, Dun Dun De Doom

A friend of mine attended a wedding this weekend, in Georgetown. She forwarded along some photos from the big to-do. I saw five or six faces I haven't seen since high school, including the Bride's. It was downright surreal to be looking at such new pictures of old friends, dressed in bridesmaid's gowns no less. They haven't aged a day.

Andy got married two years ago. My friend Andrea was married this January. Frankly, seeing those pictures this morning got me thinking.

The whole concept has parked on my head, now. Too many thoughts bumping into one another: comparisons, reminiscences, fears and notions that for once may be too personal to go into on a blog. God knows how I picked up the habit in the first place.

Going to need to get out for a bit, stretch the legs and clear the cobwebs. Good thing it's lunch time.

1,095 Days.

I just realized-- I've been working at my day job for three years. Three years today, in fact. Happy Anniversary.

In 2003, I'd quit my retail job, having grown to hate it after only two months. Exactly a month later, I was contacted by my current employer; who found me through Monster.com.

Three years. Let's see... That's about thirteen productions, three student films, four girlfriends, three plays and a screenplay written, two unsuccessful (so far) comic books, one gig as an extra on a movie set, one WATCH nomination and one plan to move to New York. It's also one narration job, twelve cartoons, one CGI animated short, one Software Demo, and countless deaths in dozens of books on tape. Sweet.

Attended three weddings, one just-reception, two funerals, one anniversary party, three races (all for the same person), yet never actually made it to the zoo. Dang.

Have a good one, folks. Ciao for now.

Brilliant, From The Onion

I love reading The Onion. Today's article is nothing short of hilarious, albeit not entirely family friendly with the language... Ah, what the hell. You only live once.

Enjoy.

Russia Intolerant of Racial Intolerance. *Da.*

In a move that can only be described as 'not surprising in the slightest'; Russia has banned the movie Borat. The gesture is most likely out of deference for political connections to the much-mocked Kazakhstan, a national neighbor.

Imdb.com lists Borat as the first non-pornographic movie to receive such a ban in Russia; however I can only assume that whoever wrote that piece of trivia didn't actually see the flick. Those of you who have seen it know exactly what scene I'm talking about. *re-bleaches eyes*

Vadim Ivanov, sales director for 20th Century Fox quotes, "The Agency said the film could offend some viewers and contained material that 'might seem disparaging in relation to certain ethnic groups and religions'." Russian authorities are adhering to a zero-tolerance policy for racial stereotypes and similar forms of intolerance.

Said authorities then returned to their normal activities of drinking vodka, playing chess, sporting fuzzy hats and being cold all the time.

***

As if that weren't enough, in other Borat-related news; a Turkish Freelance journalist by the name of Mahir Cagri has come forth claiming to be the original inspiration for the socially inept fictional reporter; and is demanding a piece of the profits.

Cagri was then tapped on the shoulder by a bitter Yakov Smirnoff. The comedian, inebriated on his namesake, spouted "In Russia, Stereotype sues you. What a Country!" and punched Cagri in the face.

There But For The Grace of DayQuil

Since Sunday, I've been getting over allergy-wrought havoc from Saturday night. Somewhere along the line it evolved into a full-blown cold, the final dregs of which I am now getting over. Quality rest, non-drowsy meds, and enough apple juice to micturate cider have all contributed to a healthier yours truly.

Now I'm drinkin' tea w/ honey and praying that I feel as good tonight as I do right now. I have a show. It's gonna be a bear, but that's showbiz for ya.

In any case, have a good morning, folks.

For Heather

I know it's a touch belated, seeing how Halloween is over and gone; but when I saw this, I had to point it out.

I know no bigger fan of V For Vendetta than my friend Heather. I speak of the flick, not the comic. Steadfast dedication to the works of Alan Moore is my turf.

Anyway: enclosed find a link to VGCats, an online comic that is regularly crude, but often hilarious. Today they spoof V and it's thankfully funny and in no way involves poop jokes. Thank God for small favors.

Happy (Laaate) Halloween, Folks.

Borat Picture Moving For Most Very Entertainments

So, yeah-- I saw Borat last night with my brother. We went out to see a flick, rather than stay in, because my allergies are in high gear lately and he has two cats. Why press my luck?

Borat. Wow. No, let me rephrase that: WOW. This movie scores itself into the brain and doesn't let up an inch. I was skeptical going in, seeing how it's only 89 minutes long, but believe me, you don't want to see more than they're offering.

Yes, it was hilarious. That was largely to do with shock value. I don't know how well it would play A) a second time, or B) in your own home. Fans are eating it up, though. It's got an unprecedented box office for such a limited release; and is being hailed as one of the funniest movies of all time.

Borat is in America filming a documentary for his native land of Kazakhstan; the film consists largely of interaction and interviews with Americans who have no idea that Borat's an actor. The reactions he gets from people is sobering, to say the least. It's a miracle he wasn't lynched.

The people of the real Kazakhstan have legitimate reasons to hate this movie. In it, they're portrayed as amoral, destitute, Jew-hating brigands. (That's only in the first five minutes.) Borat's behavior across the "U.S. and A." is nothing short of despicable. What can ya do? He's from Kazakhstan.

To be fair-- Racial stereotypes have been grounds for comedy fodder forever. I was going to say that Americans have been mocking other countries, but we can't claim Borat. The man behind the mustache, Sascha Baron Cohen, is a Brit.

If you'd like some off-color comedy that makes South Park look like Peanuts, go see this flick. Leave any and all sensitivities at the door, they'd only explode inside anyway.

Is good, yes?

Pendemonium Is On The Air!!

At long last, Pendemonium is on Television. Pendemonium. On Television. For Real.

Fridays. The Learning Channel. (Channel 55 for those of us in Montgomery County.) 6 AM. Set your VCRs, Tivo, whatever.

Dark Marker's comin' over.

Ditching "The Plan"

I've been thinking a lot lately about relationships. My own, mostly; but also those of family & friends.

To start, let me say that I like to plan ahead. For auditions, for writing projects, for a lot of different things. Ounce of measure, blah blah blah.

For years I've wondered, without an answer; why more often than not it was so damned difficult to relax in a relationship. There were exceptions, and those exceptions were stellar. I think I found my answer as to why.

I have friends. I have friends who are women. I can be myself completely around these people. When I've dated there was that need to 'be on'. To be performing, entertaining, a little charming. Just because it got results didn't make it the right way to go.

For the longest time I had a plan; for the woman I was going to spend my life with. I didn't know her name, I didn't have too many assumptions on what kind of person she was going to be; but the plan basically consisted of "Meet in College, Fall in Love, Spend Life Together." It was how my parents met. It seemed like a pretty good way to go.

When they divorced, it admittedly put several wrinkles in this; but ultimately ended up as a confusing list of "Dos" and "Do Nots" added to the plan.

The best relationship I had in college was with a woman I met by accident. Wasn't looking for her, or anyone, and there she was. We spent the next eight months together. It was wonderful. At which point, the Life plan stepped in to muck things up, when I graduated. The Life plan won. I try not to have regrets in life, but that was one for the record books.

I'm not saying love is the be-all, end-all. What I am saying is that in the past I've managed to screw it up magnificently by trying to subconsciously go by some kind of schedule. That scheme has bitten me in the ass every time.

... I recently met someone. We seem to have hit it off. She's nice, she's smart, she's fun, she lives in New York. The other night, I caught myself in a dialogue with her where I was trying to 'shortcut' my way toward a better connection with her. I stopped when I realized what I was doing.

I don't want to rush anything. I don't want to see any markers of progress along the way. I am throwing out any conceived notions of an agenda. I no longer have one.

Kind of a big realization for me, one worth sharing. Who knew you'd read up on an epiphany today? Lucky you. Lucky me.

Today's Commute, Took The Dimholt Road Instead of 495

Sheesh. The fog this morning! Couldn't see ten feet in front of you, let alone with condensation-smudged windows. Traffic was surprisingly light for such weather conditions. Which, I suppose, is why the good lord invented the person who invented headlights.

Don't go and let the murky conditions be any kind of omen for tonight's election results. Nah. That'd just be silly...

* * *

I have to say, just once, that I love the political ads where any politician's known association with George W. Bush is considered a black mark on their judgment. I'm ordinarily not a fan of negative campaigning, but that just cracks me up.

Ciao for now, folks.

Probably Reading Too Much Into It, But Still

I've been spending a fair amount of time listening to the soundtrack from Superman Returns, as well as the score to the first movie. John Ottman wrote the new music for the sequel, and of course John Williams composed the original work.

It's worth mentioning that one of Bryan Singer's provisos for directing the latest blockbuster was that he could revisit the original theme music. I'm glad he did. I love this stuff.

There are notable differences, however. Both soundtracks have their individual strengths.

John Ottman managed to 'punch up' the original opening theme simply by adding a few heartbeats of 'Dun da da. Dun da da Dun da da' before kicking into the theme itself. It's not unlike those final clacks at the top of the roller coaster before you start racing through it.

The other thing I realized about the original theme is why it's so thrilling. Not just because it's one of Williams' masterpieces. No: The theme is a hymn. Fanfare for the man in blue.

"Look, here he comes. That's him coming, now. He's so great. Watch him save the day." 'BAH ba Baaaaah...'

For whatever reason, Williams never composed a theme for Lex Luthor. The March of the Villians is pure Otis. It's fun, it's memorable, it's got a beat you can, well, march to; but it can hardly be taken seriously. Ottman finally provided Luthor with his own theme. It doesn't have a name, it doesn't get its own song in the soundtrack. It's a theme that recurs, throughout.

It indidiously creeps in for the scene in which Lex steals into the Fortress of Solitude. Later on, it's a full-blown fanfare of its own, after the Kryptonite Island appears. Something I didn't notice until only listening to the music, was the brilliant use of Lex's Theme against Superman's. As the caped wonder flies toward the island, we hear Lex's theme loud and clear. Then Superman's theme comes back even louder to drown it out.

The other difference best worth mentioning is the love song, aka "Can You Read My Mind". In Superman Returns, we never hear the theme in its entirety. Nor should we, given that Lois and Supes can't make it work. We know it'll never happen for them, now; and the music reflects it. In the original score, the love theme is braver, more indulgent, not to mention longer-- Perfect for a couple of crazy kids with their whole lives ahead of 'em, with no foreseeable obstacles to falling madly in love. Simpler times...

Draw whatever you like from it. The music from both is just marvelous. That's all.

Washing Machine, Two. Earphones, Nothin'

*sigh* I did go to college. Even gradjamated. I'm a smart person. A person who still manages to do very stupid things. Like leave things in the pockets of clothing before putting them in the wash.

Two weeks ago it was a pen. I vowed to check pockets from then on... and proceeded to leave a tiny set of earphones in a pair of jeans.

They still work, but they sound like you're listening to a radio instead of a little iPod. Through cotton. Brilliant.

To quote Heather: *facepalm*

Best. Rehearsal. Ever.

We had the briefest of pick-up rehearsals tonight for Urinetown. We were sans music for most of the first act. It was quite rough-n'-tumble. It was also hi-freakin'-larious.

Actors had the opportunity to relax a bit and have a little fun.

Andy's performance tonight was... unique. Some scenes were keyed down, others were keyed up. At his ultimatum scene w/ Jeff, he feigned boredom, lip-syncing Jeff's lines behind his back. And to his face. I did my best not to laugh; but my shoulders were shaking.

We were also short one actress tonight, she was at home getting over a cold. She also had some of the best line-delivery in the show. So, we kept up our end of things and pitched in on her lines. Twelve people, on stage and off, chiming in for "BUT CAN. WE. TRUST. HIM." and other gems. Nothin' like teamwork.

That and other little moments made the night a memorable one. Just splendid.

Have a good one, folks.

Gettin' On That Train... Again.

Well, that's settled. I'm headed up to NYC on Sunday to look at an apartment in Queens. Been emailing with the potential roommates; and arranged a time to meet. Grabbing another train that evening to be back in time to catch a metro ride to my car.

Can't wait. Will have more to report when we get a bit closer... hoo boy.