Sunday, August 21, 2005


Run away! Run away!


two days in a row, I have awoken at a not-indecent hour, and told myself that I could use a yoga class (I bet you're tired of hearing me talk about yoga, huh? Well then, go read something funny.) So anyway, Yesterday, I woke up in plenty of time to go to a 10:30am class. But no, instead, I futzed about the house until 10:43am. It's all good, because I went and did some fun thing instead. More on that later. Today, I am awake and there is a noon class. But I'm thinking that I want to write this post at a leisurely pace, drink my gas station coffee and consider a bowl of granola before I have to go to work at 5pm. More on that later. So, I'm sitting here, debating myself over going to a fucking yoga class. I know that I'd feel better if I went to a class. But I am feeling lazy, whiny, tired, shaky, crabby, and possibly a little bit gassy. So, I think I will try to go to at least one, possibly two and if I am a rock star, all three of the weekday evening classes that I am able to attend. Because I need to pick up a check for previously teaching there anyway. [ed. note - this would be the studio in Deep Ellum, and not Whole Life. I'm still very bitter about my unceremonious dismissal from Whole Life and Kurt's narcissism. It's like, jeez, get a blog, dude.] I keep thinking that if I put it in writing, then I have to hold myself to it. And then I remember that only two people actually read my little me,Me,ME-fest, so it doesn't matter what I write. Hoo-ah!

So, yesterday, NeighborStacie called me at 11-ish am. She ended up not having to go to afternoon rehearsals, so she said "Let's go to IHOP!" I said let's do it, and we left a short time later. We made arrangements for Smang to meet us there. Party over pancakes. So, after debating the appropriateness of someone who's our age (the three of us are all about the same age), ordering off the children's menu, I convinced our watiress that I needed the silver-dollar pancake children's meal. She let me do it. Rock on! Then, post breakfast, I went to see my darling Lesha and dragged NeighborStacie. To the salon, mind you. She wasn't invited into the waxing room. Because seriously, that's between me and my aesthetician. Then, she and I decided to catch a matinée. We were torn between Broken Flowers, The 40-Year Old Virgin, and The Aristocrats. We decided that together we weren't in a silly enough mood to go see Steve Carrell for 90 minutes. After that, NeighborStacie was in no mood to make any further decisions. Broken Flowers and The Aristocrats were both playing at the same theatre. We flipped a coin and Broken Flowers won. When we got there, somehow we decided that it was The Aristocrats we needed to see. We buy our tickets and we've got about 30 minutes to kill before showtime. So, since NS hasn't finished casting her play, and I need to talk to the GM at Italian Joint Next Door, we walk two doors down and walk into the blissfully powerful air conditioning. I tell the GM that I know they're short hostess and cocktail servers. I also mention that the beauty of me is: no training. Already worked there. Know the systems and rules and all that crap. She says "It's restaraunt week, can you work tomorrow night" I say of course, and now I am back on the schedule, hostessing for now, but she'd like me to pick up some cocktail shifts as well. Also, I mentioned that I still have my server's uniform and apron. Again, I'm not looking to work all the goddamned time, but I need some more money, because I am in debt and I am also in need of some things (like a couch). So, the extra income will be good. Getting out of the house will be good. Staying busy will be good. And being in a position to network with the clientele again will be good. Win, win situation. Hooray! Back to the movie. We walk back just in time to get sodas and M&Ms and head in. I am excited. I love that we're still so puritanical that full-frontal nudity froma woman will merit only an R-rating from the MPAA. Want blow up everything from here to eternity? No problem. Heck, that might even merit ya a PG-13 (you'd only get one "fuck"). But if you've got no nudity, no violence and a whole shit-ton of dirty language, that's an NC-17, mister. And you just sit there and think about what you've done! It happened to Smitty when he released Clerks. Again, no violence (the original ending scene was violent but was also cut for being incongruous to the story.), no on screen nudity, but a lot of salty language. And they slapped him with an NC-17. He got Alan Dershowitz on his side and they argued it down to an R. But it's such an arbitrary system. I'm not saying that children should be allowed to see The Aristocrats, or anything. But, it's up to each individual to decide what's too much for them. If you don't like dirty words, then pick your forms of entertainment appropriately and avoid films, books and television shows with dirty words in them. I don't mind the dirty words myself. In fact, I'm quite partial to them. So, I seek them out in my media. The MPAA should be banned anyway. If for no other reason than their damn anti-piracy commercials that I am forced to sit through WHEN I HAVE PAID TO GO SEE A FILM IN THE THEATRES! Asssholes. I couldn't give a shit if it makes Ben Affleck or even the Baby Jeebus cry when I download (I don't even do that, man). I paid somewhere between $5 and $10 for the privelige of stadium seating, over-priced concessions, and rude fellow movie-goers who don't know that it's inappropriate to drag a toddler to a showing of Red-Eye. Whoa, what a digression. Back to the movie. I thought it was awesome. I laughed pretty hard at some of the tellings of the joke. Not everyone told the joke. Surely, you're aware of the joke by now, yes? If you are not, please visit their amusink website. I think the mime and the magic trick were my favorite tellings. And also, Bob Saget. Because the look on his face is like "can you believe what is coming out of my mouth, because I can't".

Well, I've managed to procrastinate enough that it's well past time I could've attended class. But I'm gonna turn off the ac and do some poses on my mat in my living room. Because, hey, I know these poses. I am a trained professional, dammit! :) Professional what is the question.