I’ve had some time on my hands. Alot of time.
I’ve been getting into the whole “blog” culture. I had been just scanning for format, hosting and admin whatnots but now I’m reading. I started with my favorite and went down their blogroll which led to another and then another, etc. The next thing I know, it’s 3am and I’m covered in cheeto dust and my contacts have dried up and popped straight out of my head. And I’ve laughed myself silly.
Like I said, it’s been nearly 24 (non consecutive….this is a union gig after all) hours of being in the cave-like warm darkness of an empty theatre. FP and the other artistic types are mumbling about concepts, things they want, snapshots of art. Pounds of candy, chocolate and popcorn consumed. Gallons of coffee down the hatch. So to speak. I’m not part of the “action” of the moment but I so enjoy the quiet. It is resting despite the fact that I’m not horizontal in my rumpled bamboo sheets and bunchy down comforter.
M’s birthday is tomorrow and his wife got him Guitar Hero III last night. We had a night off so the girls and I went over for a little get together that involved multiple cocktails (a Jenn-cicle: absolut vanilla and orange juice), breakfast meats, waffles and fruit. I could have skipped the actual food (except the breakfast meats because I would never, ever turn down pig-butt) and drank myself silly but, alas, I must still be a responsible parent and we were several miles from home. And, while these are long time friends, I didn’t want to lose what little respect I had garnered over the years.
If you’ve never played Guitar Hero and have the means, do. Run, run, run (but don’t spill your drink) and play. Seriously. I squealed with glee as I was missing all the notes to the Poison riffs in “talk dirty to me” (like 75% of the notes missed…eek). Bret Michaels? would have been horrified and he would have taken away my Aqua Net, claw bangs and tight roll jeans. I would have had my “child of the 80’s” badge revoked and my jelly shoes melted.
But then again, I’m sure that he only got 25% of his own notes in the cocaine and barbituate surge of 1986 that surely must have been part of his own stage tour. So I shouldn’t feel so bad.
Maybe I’ll have better luck with Foghat or Joan Jett.