Okay, so I lied...

...but not intentionally. I really did mean to post yesterday, but I have been having trouble with my domestic internet connection (we're entering couples counseling next week...) and so the only access I have to this crazy alternate universe, not having a laptop, is my work computer. So, here I am, on my first day off in a month, relaxing, blogging, and not thinking about work...at work.

The irony is indeed not lost on me.

(does anyone else think I use ellipses way too much? Maybe I'll switch my preferences over to ampersands...oops, I mean: &&&)

So. This past weekend. Yup.

Did I tell you my mother and Mike eloped in Vegas on Halloween? When your screams at the monitor have subsided, I have to tell you, these are words I NEVER expected to string together in one sentence. Have you finished screaming yet?

Basically, my mom and Mike have been trying to get married for the past year. I mean, really, truly trying. Due to circumstances beyond their control (much like the subjection of our eye-glazed attention to the media circus following the passing of Anna Nicole Smith; Nothing could control that tidal wave of inanity), Mom and Mike basically seized the first chance they had to become legally joined. It just so happened that the first chance available was on Halloween 2008, at the blessed, sacred grounds of the Chapel of the Bells in Las Vegas, Nevada.







If you had asked me as early as six months ago if I thought my proper, Kennedy-loving, Miss Manners-quoting, Martha Stewart-emulating mother would voluntarily exchange vows with a retired-Military, Family-Man-in-all-senses-of-the-word, upstanding Conservative in VEGAS at MIDNIGHT standing behind a couple dressed as Frankenstein and (you know what's coming next, don't you?) the Bride-of-Frankenstein, I would have snorted and responded with some snotty comment about swine with wings.

I'm pretty sure Evelyn, my card-playing, pony-handicapping, foul-mouthed, Jersey-ite grandmother is busting a gut in Heaven just about now. Wait'll she hears that the friends-and-family-wedding-celebration is taking place at one of the local casinos in January. The Heavens will just open up and spew forth celestial laughter like a slot-machine.

God bless you, my new and wonderful family. Mazel tov and shalom. I love you all.

xoxo,
D

A Pledge

For no reason whatsoever, I have decided to make an entry every day for the month of November. I guess one of the reasons for doing so was that October turned out to be such a bizarre month in oh-so-many ways that should November follow suit, you can say you read it here first, folks. I do realize I'm doing grammatical acrobatics...bear with me.

On the work-front, we (and by 'we' I mean me and my asylum-away-from-home, the sometimes beloved SDJT) have been herding cats. Literally. Well, I guess not really literally...we're producing a youth-theatre production of CATS. Seriously. I wanted that to be the marketing angle: CATS! (seriously). Too bad Xanadu snagged it first. For the past two weekends with one remaining, thirty-five young people, aged eight to eighteen, have been leaping, meowing, hissing, scratching, singing, and tour jette'ing across the stage of the Casa del Prado Theatre. Fur and feathers flying, this is the stuff that reality-show dreams are made of with our lives rounded by a (very) little sleep...(sorry about that, Mr. Shakespeare).

Can I vent for just a second?

(of course you can, D, this IS your blog, y'know...)

Thank you, imaginary lurker-fan.

I love where I work. I love the people with whom I work. I, for the most part, love the work itself. However, I am sick to death of dramatic, gay men. Can I say that here? If one more person with an XY chromosome throws a double X diva-fit, I will run screaming out of the theatre into the first monster-truck rally I see. I will have really bad sex with a red-neck male chauvinist who has no idea how to pronounce "sensitivity" much less spell it. I will become a lesbian because there certainly is far more p.m.s.-spiked estrogen in male theatre artists at any given time than the worst ladies' night at the Flame.

Whew. Thank you for that. And forgive the vague details, but I must sign off. I will share stories, I promise, and there are many. Also, I have a lot of stuff miraculously unrelated to work I wish to share. We got time. At least a whole month, in fact.

'Til then, I remain...

Sincerely yours,
D