"Do you find it hard to type on your iPhone when you're %&$#ed up?!"

I'm obsessed with the blog culture. I read blogs all day at work... and evenings on my phone. I am addicted to the intelligent writing and spot-on witticisms that come from some of my favorite online authors. That being said, I'm a horrible blogger. It's one of my dream grown-up work-from-home jobs, and I'm mock-terrified that my dream will never come to fruition because I'm just so freakin' bad at consistently updating a blog. I'm even more mock-petrified at having nothing to say that is of any interest to anyone other than myself. In real life, however, (some) people at least seem to think I'm interesting and funny. So as many of my other posts have started, I'm going to try to get better at posting when I have something of note to actually say.

So I just started rehearsals for TOMMY a few weeks ago. I've unfortunately been taking way less initiative with the production company in the past few months as I went on a mother-daughter holiday to Italy with my crazy-but-loveable mother, a girlfriend, and her less-crazy-but-still-equally-loveable mother. When I got back, I had to hit the ground running at my day job in a new capacity. There are so many things I could possibly say about my day job, but I'm going to take some advice from a blogger that I look up to and not say anything about my day job that I wouldn't say to my boss' face. That leaves very little that I can say about it here. Long story short, I've felt divested from theatre after my brief hiatus and have placed more priority in maintaining professional contacts and personal relationships than getting any non-profit administrative work done. At our first rehearsal a few weeks back, my theatre boss/adoptive sister told me that we got the rights for one of my all time favorite shows and we'd be doing it in the fall instead of Sweeney Todd (and anyone who knows me knows that I have a hate-hate relationship with Sondheim based on some college experiences in my musical theatre classes). So the compound news that we'd be producing one of my dream shows and NOT (at least immediately) producing one of my least favorite shows has placed me in a dream-like trance for the past few weeks. I feel like I'm cheating. On TOMMY. With A Chorus Line. Show infidelity is really bad. It's like an emotional affair. I'm teaching "Pinball Wizard" and in my head I'm humming "Dance 10. Looks 3."

So at any rate, all of this to say that I went out to Brewers last night with my brother from another mother after my rehearsal. He was auditing the BTA auditions at CenterStage and met me immediately afterwards... with a stack of headshots and resumes in hand. We're awful people. We openly acknowledge it. We pored over these headshots and resumes with reckless abandon... judging... criticizing... laughing a little sometimes. That's the one saving grace that we have personality-wise in theatre-- we're allowed to judge people completely subjectively in theatre because it can all be justified and explained away.

As we finally found (out of a stack inches thick) ONE promising candidate for our fall show, I finally finished the Resurrection (the best microbrew ever if you haven't had one) I'd been nursing and we started preparing to go. I pulled out my phone (we call her Tydaisia) unceremoniously and checked Facebook statuses. It has become a tick of mine. I don't even realize I'm doing it. I'm trying to get better, but I might have to go to rehab. These two slightly inebriated (probably Hopkins) guys were sitting at the table next to us, and one of them leaned over and asked me how I liked my phone. We iPhone users are total elitists, by the way. We wink knowingly at fellow iPhone users when we see them on the street, and judge you if we catch you chatting someone up via a Blackberry or a Treo. I gushed, told him I loved it and couldn't imagine life without it. He then asked the most hilariously dim-witted question: "Isn't it, like, hard for you to type when you're #%&$ed up?"

Me: No, I don't really get that way... but if you haven't had your phone for that long, it takes awhile to get used to.
Guy: Yeah, I've only had it a few weeks, and I'm starting to get the hang of it, but when I get hammered, I can't type.

Then Troy (my friend) volunteered that he has large thumbs and finds it hard to type on said iPhone keyboard. Which, thanks Troy, just egged on drunk Hopkins dude #3 from the left even more.

Guy: Yeah, that's it. I just have huge thumbs.

and after a slight pause... "We'll let you guys get back to your drinks."

So we finished up, packed up the stack of headshots and resumes from the night, and I started to pull on my leather jacket. Because it was approximately -12 degrees outside. On May-effing-19th. And as I pulled on my outer layer, aforementioned drunk Hopkins dude #3 from the left grabbed ahold of my leather-clad elbow and said, "Have a good night." And then to Troy, "You take care of that lady, now."

Dude. It was a Monday night. If there's anyone that needs to be taken care of, it's you. I'll call up my friends Amy Winehouse and Lindsay Lohan... they'll take you to rehab with them for summer vacation.