Search for the cure

I'm looking for a cure for irrational paranoia.

Anyone?
Anyone?

On a side note, DK 2.0 is SO en route to being a real living breathing show! The biggest problem now is... well, being in a DK show is kind of like being in Fight Club. In that you can't talk about it. I mean, I can talk it up and tell people to go see it (and I do!) but dang, I can't wait until that show opens.

And back to my first thought, the cure to irrational paranoia is not coffee. Sadly.

Ah well.

Did I miss a memo?

Did I glaze over a note on my calendar?
Miss a chain e-mail?

How was I not warned that today was National Act-Like-A-Prick Day?
Is this one of those informal holidays, like Talk-Like-A-Pirate Day?

I am literally on the verge of homicide. The only reason that I haven't killed yet today is because all of the people pissing me off are a safe phone-call away. But believe you me, the day that I figure out how to send an electrical shock through the phone lines will be a joyous one. For me. Not for those getting electro-ear-bolts. But they brought it on themselves.

Seriously though! I don't know what's gotten into people today but every other person calling in here is being a rabid, foaming cunt. I guess it must be that holiday spirit that everybody's talking about, what with the 90 degree weather and the early arrival of... CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Yup, it started already. I remember when that shit didn't start until the day after Thanksgiving. Now it's the week of Thanksgiving. Dear god.

But hey! On the upside I only have... 4 hours left in my day.
Really?
Really?

All I have to do is dream... and cook.

I was supposed to do this last night. I didn't. I don't know what I was thinking.

So this morning I woke up after having one of my stupid, pointless dreams in which seemingly meaningless things happen to me. Only this time, I believe that my dreams had great things planned for me.

In my dream, I was in a fast food restaurant. Probably because I had been watching the trailer for Fast Food Nation earlier in the day, but nevermind. A certain burger caught my eye.

"What's on that burger?" I asked the girl at the counter.

"It's a beef patty with spaghetti on it and--"

I cut her off because I had heard enough. "I'll take it," I said hastily.

Then I woke up. Never to experience my exotic find.
Or so I thought.

I decided last night that I would make my dreams a reality and make this Spaghetti Burger. And I did. And it was fucking awesome as my roommate can attest.

However, upon sharing the news of my culinary creation, Greg asked if I had taken a picture of it. I told him "No". The truth of it was that I could barely contain myself by the time I had it assembled. Poor little guy never stood a chance. Neither did the second one. So I have made an artistic rendering of this well-loved sandwich to share with all.



(Yes, I realize now that I spelled "spaghetti" wrong. Shut up.)

Recreate with caution and beware-- spaghetti and burgers apparently tend to do battle when in a stomach at the same time.

But it's fucking worth it.

Sick in the head. Every last part of it.

I'm getting a cold.
Dammit.

I don't want to get sick! I just got a bunch of free time back! I don't want to spend it laying around and being sick!

Is this karmic payback for the deadly sins I committed on Saturday?
(Just the fun ones, no worries.)

Anyhow, ever since my birthday I've been telling myself that this year, THIS YEAR, I was going to break a whole bunch of my old emotionally-destructive habits that have plagued me for the last 13 years of my life. Habits that have nothing to do with anyone other than myself in all truth and un-dealt-with issues from the past and have only been holding me back from being truly happy.

Apparently, I'm a well-established creature of habit.
And the old ones certainly die hard.
All I can do is sit around second guessing things, everything around me, for no reason whasoever. No catalyst, no trigger, no rationale I can come up with to justify anything that I've been thinking/worrying/obsessing about. Just my head, spewing out toxic waste to make me feel bad inside and out.

Why can't I trust anyone? Why can't I take anything anyone says at face value? Why am I convinced that everyone has ulterior motives and all of it revolves around the fact that I'm not worth telling the truth to?

Ugh.
I need a tissue.

Fear and loathing and fear and loathing...

My play goes up tonight.

Ordinarily, this would have me in a frenzy of self-promotion and bubbly exuberance from my love of performing.

This show is different.

Hear me out:
We've been in rehearsals for this play we'll just call "Shamlet" (subtle) since August. Every role save a few have been cast at least twice (including mine). Two weeks before our intended opening date, we were informed that due to a clerical error (read: fuck-up) on the part of the Gardner Stages scheduling personnel, our little play was gonna have to wait. We've dealt with guitar music that interrupts our rehearsal regularly, never having all our actors for a full run and diva-tudes that would make Whitney Houston blush.

I want the fucking thing over.

Not to say that it hasn't been fun and a good experience. Not to say that I'm not grateful to have finally appeared in a fully-mounted Shakespeare production. Not to say that the experience hasn't taught me things and made me better and stronger and all that jazz.

But enough already.

It's opening night.
Let's knock this shit out.


If you want to see the show, here's the info.

Hamlet
Gardner Stages
1501 N. Gardner St.
Hollywood, CA 90046

Nov. 3,4,10,11,17,18 at 8pm
Nov. 12 at 7pm
Nov. 18 at 1:30pm

Tickets $15