the subway is a rollercoaster that takes you to work.

I'd like to thank Paul F. Tompkins. I just would.

I wish I knew more plays. I wish I had one role I really wanted to play so that if the head of a theatre company came up to me and said, "Sarah, pick a play for the two of us to do and we'll mount it." I would have something to say. Something other than, "Ok. That's weird. I'll get back to you." Nice networking skills. I wish I could take something good and handle it gracefully just once in my life.

Would it be dumb to say Nuts? I need to read more plays. I need to do more everything. I need to not be so scared. I need to trust. I need to take it to the journal.

I got home at three thirty this morning. I haven't done that in a long long time. I am hoarse.
The one man band was pretty good, too. He played irish jigs.

I wish people would stop hovering around my desk. It bothers me so. I might snap and choke somebody.

Today has been all about getting in touch with people. I have written lengthy emails to a few people, not nearly enough. If you want me to regale you with tales of the stage, female friendship and ex-non-boyfriends, I'm always in the mood to empty my heart and spleen. I try to keep these here entries relatively short.

I won't be surprised if 5 o'clock never comes.
I wish Mark McKinney had a weblog. Random? Yes, please.

I am going out tonight with "the girls". I don't actually have my own group of girls, I am friends with individuals. I'm friends with someone who has her own group of girls and she's letting me borrow them and . . well. . we're going out! On the town! To a bar. I am extremely self-conscious just thinking about it.
I'm such a troll.
No I'm not.
I just know I'm not going to fit in, and I kind of don't want to.
I have nothing to offer really. 'Cept my luuurrve.
Lurve and my stream-of-consciousness-type conversational skills. Skillz.
I've spent 45 minutes on this and it is shite. Shite.

I see you and I am perplexed
What was I thinking?
What will I think of next?
Where can I hide?
Hey! Whaddaya know? Five came! Yay!

Can I express how surreal it is to see Buffalo on MTV? I am freaked out. I'm sorry everyone. Just, weird. We're not shiny and glamorous leisure. We're not. I guess it's kind of cool, though.
I am going to start counting Labatt's blues.
Incidentally, I totally know the one girl's boyfriend, whose picture was her laptop wallpaper. They're not together anymore. Oh, I *so* have the scoop.
Er . . .well, no.

I cleaned out a section of my bathroom that I haven't touched in quite some time. I know exactly how long, but I'm too embarassed to say it out loud. I recycled all of my old lotions and samples and little face fixer things for which I have such a weakness and now the apartment is actually bigger. I filled a garbage bag, is that bad? I couldn't stop looking at all that empty space on the shelves.
Todd is in a show, so I have to find things to keep me busy at night. Not that I depend on him for my self esteem or entertainment, but when no one is around to disapprove of me I tend to just make huge messes, drink too much and fall asleep in front of the tv. Plus, messy corners of the house blahblahblah blocked energycakes .

I lost a paycheck. grrr.

Christopher Reeve was on Smallville last night. You should have watched it.

I feel good and bad at the same time.

I am a riddle.
Turn me upside down for the answer.

I am having these fabulous waking dreams about being capable of doing things I would never be able to do, but since I'm chained to a desk anything seems possible. It sounds backwards and it is.

And to prevent me from taking myself too seriously-
warm your hands on this.

"I treat everything like a print job. What's a print job?

This is the part of the show where I bend at the waist.

My last performance went fine. I did strike for our show, which took about fifteen minutes. But then I was asked to start removing all of the storage from the closet in the bathroom (which looked as though it hadn't been touched in decades) I had to ask, "Do you do this for every show?"
It was then that I realized I had gotten roped into helping with the theater demolition. "The dressing room is going to be seating and the stage is going to be where the lobby is."
"Oh. Today?"
Also:
"psst, are these pliers?"
"Yes, sarah, those are pliers."

I had a really nice night last night. I curled up under a blanket and drank red wine while Todd and a couple of our friends smoked pipes, vanilla tabacco and a "middle earth blend" while we watched The Two Towers.
If that isn't living I don't know what is.

I've been given two scripts for the short works festival in spring. The conversation with the director, paraphrased:
Me: They're great, I assume in this one you were thinking of me for the doctor.
Her: No, actually, I had you in mind for the 80 year old woman. How do you feel about wigs?
Me: . . . I'm pro-wig.

Since January I've played a 50ish mother of two, a 7-year-old, a 42 year-old pregnant woman from brooklyn, and now a suicidal woman in her eighties. It's amazing what being "unconventional looking" can do for your career.
I hope to god it takes more than just a wig to make me look like a woman almost three times my age.

I want. What could be more perfect? What could be more out of my reach?

Ok, jealousy abating.

Wow, I would venture to say blue green algae is better than coffee.
I got pep!

Wed, Feb 19
Janeane Garofalo @ 12:05am co-hosting Jimmy Kimmel Live, ABC (all week long)

Have I been missing her all week? Son of a . . . .
I have to get on a mailing list or something.

---------------------
Is it me, or does Jimmy Fallon write a sketch every week where his "character" has to make out with the hot female host?
For shame.
--------------------

I need a haircut really bad, but I'm afraid to go because I cut it myself and now it's kind of uneven and I don't want to get yelled at by the lady at the salon. Wow, I have real problems, don't I?

--------------------

(I've taken to separating my random spew of thoughts, like it? do you love me? what a roundabout way of reaching out.)

-------------------
I entered a contest on ain't it cool to win an x-men dvd. We had to tell them about our mutant powers if we had them, and we had to be creative. I took an hour and I wrote something really long and embarassingly bad. I tried to be creative, but it ended up reading like fan fic without the "fan" and light on the "fic". I sent it in though, because I spent so much damn time on it. Now I'm cringing. It was dumb. I deserve to get mocked out for it.

Mmm, Tha's good Billeh.

Sorry. Had to.

I need a vacation so desparately. Where should I go?

oh.
oh my.

oh yes.

Feathers. Everywhere.

What is my problem? It's hard to be me, man. How did I get so oversexed? I'm like a margarita-filled 40-year-old divorcee at TGIFriday's all the time.

I want to sit in a scottish man's lap. Is that wrong?

So . . .seven years. Where did the time go? And yes, I am going to lust after a celebrity and celebrate my 7 year anniversary of "seeing" the guy I'm "going out with" in the same post, because I'm that kind of woman.
(and before I get in trouble for talking about it, keep in mind it's seven years and not twenty seven.)
For his gift I re-gave him the heart shaped cookies that I gave him Friday, and as a gift to me he made a doctor's appointment for himself.

Sigh. Idiots.
This 'war' is dividing our country into 2 groups: people who are nostalgic for the 40's and people who are nostalgic for the 60s.

I didn't leave the house this weekend except to do my shows. Take that, Out-of-Doors!

Todd was sick yesterday, so we coulnd't have our friend bring over his orfay ouryay oscaryay onsiderationcay: ordlay of the ingsray, the owtay owerstay vdday.
heh heh. It's not illegal. C'mon.
Right now, if you offered me a choice between the six hour rough cut of Return of the King in one hand and a thousand dollars in the other, I'd hesitate.

So. Cold.

Warning: The following is more personal information than you bargained for, aka: Gross

Speaking of love, i found out my brother spent an evening this week speed dating. This makes me insane. He is a punk rock loving closet novelist who (not that it matters) looks exactly like the impossible offspring of Colin Farrell and Tom Cruise. I guess he's shy about meeting girls or whatever.

I think I have frostnip on my tush from sitting on the metal benches at the subway stops. Really.

I am lucky enough to have a valentine this year. I got him some stuff he would like. I also got something, you know, to wear. I know, it's too much info and I'm sorry, but now that the day is upon us, I'm just not going to do it. I have done this at least four times. I just can't bring myself to put something on and say "Here I am, your object of desire". Sorry. Not so much.
To the bottom of the drawer you go with all of my other glimmers of hope and moments of weakness, your best hope now is to someday be incorporated into a Halloween costume.

I actually spent the day, you know. . . working.
This is my only night off this week, and I have already I planned on wasting it. Boy howdy have I ever.

I started on another monologue, except I don't think it's as funnyhaha as it is just a story. I'm worried that if it's not all funnyhaha then people will not like it. and they will not listen and make loud "harrumph" noises, or get mad and throw things. Insecurity is delightful and childlike. I feel like a kid again! and I had a horrible childhood!

I would write more, but I think Toby and CJ are pedeconfrencing and I don't want to miss it.

Inside David Cross.

I never remember to go back and watch this stuff when I'm at home.

Has it been three years since the first tour? no.
Really?

I ordered craig's cd from amazon instead of cdbaby, so I'll be getting it in a month instead of 24 hours.
::sigh::
::neck stretch::

The same paper also has more details on a rather embarassing incident in which Britney Spears and her entourage disrupted and left a screening of "The Singing Detective" at Sundance in January, the songstress apparently saying "The official line is we had our schedules mixed up, so we had to leave...I didn't like the movie. ... Sundance is weird. The movies are weird - you actually have to think about them when you watch them". Somebody lay this chick already, I'm sure there's no shortage of volunteers

I'm not sure what anyone expects from her. She does a thousand fucking crunches a day, isn't that enough for you people?

In a semi-related vein, I want a tee shirt that says "mensa" on it. Oh god, I want one so bad. Like a real mensa tee shirt, not some damn golf shirt.

I'm in a much better mood today. Even though the day is going kind of slow, I spent the better part of the morning chasing a baby around the office. And, of course, it's Tuesday.

I was having some pleasant emailing back and forth with a girlfriend, discussing different interpretations of the lyrics to a song we both love, and I'm enjoying how differently we see the same words. So right now, as slow as I am, I'm realizing it's too late for me to say, "You're basically using this to tell me something, aren't you?"
It's in my nature to disappoint.

I just got a postcard that says:
"When it comes to the gray metal envelope for your building, nothing beats zinc, the *real* gray metal."
Being an architect has to be so fucking boring.

I want a driving ban. I want a snow day tomorrow. I want a do-nothing day, and the only way that can happen is if the mayor declares the state of emergency in the city.

I missed the pay per view, but I finally watched the letterman thing. I would post something intelligent about it on the newsgroup, but I can't muster any smart juice right now. We'll be talking about it for a while I hope. All I can think of now is: DId you see Mark's biceps?
That is one of my favorite sketches, and I had always wanted to see them do it live.
"I ante, and I fold."
I just love them all together like that. Makes me all warm, like the first beer after a long day. Speaking of which . . . .

Ah, better. So I jumped a page today. I was all nervous because my parents were in the audience and I jumped a pretty important segment. Eesh. I got all hot and the room tipped over a little, but we covered it well enough. My scene partner said he didn't even notice. I don't know how to feel about that. I'll chalk it up to him being polite.

Ok I have to say it, because I'm me, Mark looks fucking hot. He's still married, right? My crush on Mark McKinney will outllive and outlast all of us, I'm going to have to will it to my children like a parrot or a really nice tea service.

Also, if you can get your hands on a copy of the Film Music of Akira Kurosawa, do so. It is really very good.

There is a wrecked suv in front of my building. I can see it from where I sit. There's blood in all of the footprints that lead to the entrance of this office.
Everybody around here is just a little somber. Good Morning. People are out there taking pictures.

Ok. Moving on. I bumped into one of the theatre talk guys last night after the play and he said my name came up in today's show. Do I want to know?

[eta-Not blood, transmission fluid. They walked away. Though the car is so fucked up I don't see how.]

she's not really my type but i think you two are forever
I hate to say
it but your perfect together
So fuck you
and your untouchable face
fuck you
for existing in the first place and who am I
that i should be vying for your touch
who am I
I bet you can't even tell me that much

You're going to be getting a lot of ani difranco quotes. Sorry. She makes me feel better. You can always just skip the stuff in italics if you want.

I'm tired of getting yelled at. I must give off a pheromone, or maybe I just don't do anything right, or maybe it's just the people I hang out with.
and and and and
a hundred other things that are hurting my feelings today. Maybe I shouldn't talk about it until I feel better, because I know in my head that it's hormonal and I should just suck it up. Good plan.
Sorry 'bout that.

I saw "I Love you, You're Perfect, Now Change" last night. It was a fun little turn-off-your-brain show.

I miss my house. I miss my couch.

Dear Areola,
I have taken into account your opinions re: the name i.e. of our group ad hoc compenndeum post haste, (see addendum 4-6, 317 and 456-898 (but not 627, as it offends the senses)). I believe your choice of the "Ani Likers" was and is a fine idea and worth consideration. Please note my personal choice of "Grave-robbing hotel maids" or as i like to call us "DiFrantastic", as it is a one word adjective with a delightful play on words.

It is my hope that you will see to this matter as it pleases you.
My invoice for six hours of labor plus expenses will follow. I will accept payment in the form of a brownie as big as my head or 'free back rub' coupons.

hoping this finds you well,
sandwich

All work and no play makes Sarah something-something.

Going to ani in syracuse. rawk.

I dreamt all night about hobbits.

All of my experiences with people in the feild of psychology have been really negative. Still, I don't think I should be using the eliptical machine at the gym to replace actual therapy. It's messy. I can deal with it when it's your messy. I don't like messy when it's my messy. I can feel the universe trying to tell me I can deal with it a little at a time now or spend a year in my bathrobe playing cards with Martini.

Um.
Hot.

Barely flirted. Barely. Not even, just polite conversation.

I'm still blushing.

The singer also claimed he would be happy for his own children to share a bed with his male friends - naming Barry Gibb, from the Bee Gees, as an example.

Does no one else see this as an emergency situation? We need to make an example of this man right away. This isn't funny. He isn't wacky. He is fucking sick. This is dangerous. I can't talk about it anymore.

I don't know what play this guy was watching. Ok, on the night he saw us we were on fire, but it hasn't been watchable since. He was very polite to me in his little mention, so I have to settle down and get over myself.

I saw Hell House over the weekend. Very, very good, and disturbing to me both as a human being and as a performing artist. My sister was a member of that church (well, not that church, but that sect) for many years. They're really like that. Their ignorance goes well beyond amusment. And it goes well with tortillas and a medium salsa of your choice.
Oh, did you know you can thank racism for the founding of the Pentacostal chruch? It's true!!
Hey christians, your pride is showing!!! Assholes!!!

I require sour peach rings.

Nothing new under the sun.

Todd's grandmother regarding Smallville:
"That's Superman. I like his bald friend."

The simple performance of the great deed, onstage or off, is called "heroism." The person who will not be swayed, who perseveres no matter what--that hero has the capacity to inspire us, to suggest that we reexamine our self-imposed limitations and try again.
David Mamet

They take a whole day of programming to report on a tragedy, but won't do so much as let us know when the shuttles go up or come down.