Welcome!

So Bush ad his cohorts are running America and the rest of the world into the ground, no one seems willing to stop them in acceptable manner, and Betty Friedan, Arthur Miller, August Wilson and Coretta Scott King are all dead. But. Chaim Vito Pompili has joined us, and for that I am thankful. Congratulations to Amanda and Mike. Perhaps, if I am good, pictures will follow.

Shameless Plug: Come See My Playlet!

All right, you've been hearing me fret and moan about this for the better part of a year, now it's time to see what I have wrought. Play for Keeps is going on Thursday and Friday, Sept. 28 and 29 at the North Lakeside Cultural Center, 6219 N. Sheridan. The show starts at 7:30 and has a suggested donation of $5. Since there were so many entries, different plays are read different nights. Mine is Thursday, but I strongly encourage all who can to come both nights. Come one, come all, and join the Jamboree!

Procrastination

I promised my director, who is no longer making bailing noises (whew), that I would work on the final touches for the playlet tonight. Since this will involve mucking about with tabs and indentations on Word, I am procrastinating for as long as possible. Also, if I don't work on my playlet, I might actually get around to watching what I got from Netflix, and then I would actually get my money's worth from them. Also, an announcement: per advice of counsel, I will no longer blog about work. Anyone who's been reading this blog anyway knows who I am and where I work, and you'll just have to ask me about the Most Wrongheaded Management Decision of All Time. And no, I'm not fired. Yet.

I Am So Screwed

Well, as one of my acquaintences from high school would have said, my blonde roots are showing. And she was blonde. I apparently forgot to tell my director that we are supposed have readings either this Sunday or next, probably because I was flustered from going to the wrong Starbucks to meet her and being late. If you are reading this blog, you know I hate to be late, especially to dinner or wherever alcohol is served. I digress. Anyway, my director is pissed because I forgot to tell her and is making bailing noises, for which I really can't blame her. And this is after I confirmed with the nice, competent woman running the program that I was reading this Sunday. So now I have to see what I can cook up if I want my play read before the group before the performance. AN d then there's my confusion over performance dates, which may screw the rehearsal period even further. I'm late, I'm wrong, and I'm probably not talented or charming enough to survive. Fuck, I'm an idiot.