Kissing Thespians

It's the moment you've all been waiting for....an update!
Sorry it's been awhile. I've been busy, you know, with being awesome. Actually, my schedule has become a lot busy because since I last posted, I got a role in a play called "Suburbia." I play Erica, who reminds me a lot of Samantha in Sex and the City. I've always pictured myself more as the Charlotte type, but I guess that's why they call it acting. There are 4 guys in the cast. my character flirts with/hangs all over three of them. The one guy I don't get to cozy up to is the really hot one. Aw, snap! Oh well, he has a steady long-term girlfriend anyway and he transfered from Holy Cross so, you know. I actually have to do a stage kiss and by stage kiss I mean making out with a first year grad student center stage. Croikies! I must admit, the first time we had to act out this scene, I was quite nervous. It was just so awkward, this forced attraction. But again, 'tis acting. It actually ended up not being that awkward and it's as non-emotional and mundane as getting my daily cup of Starbucks from LaFortune. In other news, I have become a coffee addict.

I did not expect at all to be cast in the play, since I'm a freshmen and freshmen usually don't get cast. I basically auditioned on a whim (Angela auditioned, too, for the first time ever) and did not expect anything. But hey, I got the role of stage slut. Actually, my character is not a slut. I had a long conversation with the director (a senior) today about my character being a powerful, promiscuous woman, not a slut. Anywho, once I found out that I got the role, I was really excitied and, naturally, told people about it. I was talking with Jason, who lives in Knott Hall, and after having a discussion about mean boys, told him I got a part in the play. I said "I guess I'm a thespian now." Jason gave me a weird look and said "Oh, you decided that just now?" and I said "Well, I did some in high school, too." This only rendered an even weirder look from Jason who could only say "Oh, ok." He looked very uncomfortable so I decided to take a guess at what he might be thinking and say "Jason, I said thespian, not lesbian." The awkwardness immediately lifted and he said "Oh! ok! That's good." long pause. "What's a thespian?" Oh, Jason. Looking back on that conversation, it is quite humorous to replace the word thespian with lesbian, especially the part about high school.

The other day when I went to rehearsal, I walked into the wrong room. Usually not a big deal, but I thought rehearsal was going to be on the main stage of Washington Hall. I was mistaken, as my rehearsal was in the practice room. Before I knew this, I walked towards mainstage and almost walked onto the stage before realizing that it was not Suburbia rehearsal going on, but Asian Allures. Asian Allures=an all Asian fashion show. I felt very out of place. I left, but I should have looked for Asian chick. I haven't seen her around. My life is empty.

It started snowing. I hate snow. You can tell who's from California and experiencing their first snow because these are the people who freak out and get childlishly jovial over each and every little flake. Soon, the magic of a winter's snow will wear off and they, too, will realize that snow is just Satan's way of saying hello. I hate being cold, so I bundle up to the extent of Ralphie in a Christmas Story. Today, as I went to class in my giant purple coat, scarf, gloves, hat, and hood, people curiously asked me where I was from, expecting me to say California or some other warm place. When I said Ohio, they looked at me like "What's your problem? You should be used to this!" I will never be used to this.

I was all bundled up to go to rehearsal tonight and I wore a leopard earmuff headband thingy. The director commented on the leopard print and I said "Yeah, I kind of have an obsession with leopard" which I do, in case you were unaware. He said, "What" and I repeated myself and he goes, "Oh! I thought you said you clubbed a baby cheetah!" Actually, it was a baby leopard, and I used a spear. I left rehearsal that night the same time as Steve, another cast member (the guy who graduated last year who I have to kiss). I headed in the same direction as him out of the building and he goes "Aren't you going to P.E.?" I was and he said "Well then the north exit is the other way." Shoot, I thought it was, but I have the sense of direction of a blind person. I felt the need to explain my direction blunder with an anecdote and said "I have such a bad sense of direction! This one time I got lost going to my high school senior year!" I am a dork. Why did I tell him that? Why the heck am I telling you that? He responded to my story of infinte wisdom with "How did you get into this school? Are you a legacy." I said, "No, I'm really smart, I just act like a dumb blonde sometimes." He said, "I once dated a girl like that and she dyed her hair blonde and it was funny because it fit her so well." I said, "I have a blonde wig!" and left. I thought I'd better skidaddle before I volunteer any other unnecessary and potentially embarassing stories. And having a blonde wig is a good note to end on. I'll just let him wonder why I have the blonde wig. I should change my facebook picture...

When I got back to the dorm, Steve had friended me on facebook. My first thought: I didn't make such a complete fool of myself that he thinks I'm a loser! My second thought: maybe he wanted to read my profile and get my personal info to see just how weird I really am. I figure there are only three reasons for friending someone on facebook
1) You genuinly like the person and intend to see them again
2) You want to stalk them and gain access to their personal info and be notified when they have updated their profile
3) You're simply going for numbers and you just want more facebook friends
I'm thinking/hoping most of the time people friend me for reason #1, but in the case of castmates, they don't intend to see me again, they have to. And some have to kiss me. I should freak people out and pretend to have mono.

A new P.E. class has started. Yay! No more handball and ultimate frisbee and all the games that brought back terrible memories of being picked last in grade school. But guess who I still get to see? Smurf! The first day of class, she was late. The teacher did attendance and said, as most teachers do on the first day of a new class, that we should tell her what we prefer to be called. When she called Smurf by her real name, she said "You can call me Smurf." I couldn't help but teehee a bit at this. I mean, it's really quite a paradox. The teacher took note of the nickname and said, "I don't know why you're called Smurf, but I like it. That was my favorite cartoon." My thoughts not-so-exactly. Before switching P.E. classes, we had our last day of Fitness for Life, which was capture the flag. I ran over to the other side to get the flag. Smurf was on the opposite team from me. I tried to escape "the enemy" so I could get the coveted flag, which was really just a smelly old jersey, but Smurf would not let her team down. All she did was move to stand in front of me as I was running and I ran right into her. I felt like I hit a brick wall. As I was checking my vital signs, the brick wall that is Smurf did a fist pump and said "Gotcha!" as if moving to the left to block someone was a grand defense tactic. I'm cruel, I know, but that hurt like a mo fo! (what did you say?!)

One more story, I promise. You should read it. It's a good one. One Saturday night, I found myself in Knott Hall, channel surfing with Caitlin, Jason, and Joe Bonath. We called Dana and Angela and they decided to join us after a night of partying at Morrisey. They didn't seem to inebriated, but after some chit chat, it was slightly more evident. Dana fell asleep on the couch in the common room and Angela told me to check on her to make sure she was all right. I shook her awake and told her to go to her own bed. After re-waking her up a few times she sat up and asked, "Do I have a pulse?" Now, the strangest part of this question is my response, which was to actually check her pulse, as if I expected to gain a different answer than "yes, you are alive and well, therefore you have a pulse." Nonetheless, I checked her pulse and assured Dana she had one. I noticed she was sweating a lot and I asked her why she was so hot. Dana said, "It's because I have a pulse. A pulse will do that to you." I asked her to explain further, but she simply said nevermind, in a tone that said, "You could never understand." She then sauntered off to P.E. and to bed, where she still had a pulse. She still has a pulse to this day.

Ok, all. I'm done for real now. This should give you your fix from all that time you were blogalicious-less. And by you I mean Metzger.