So yesterday was rehearsal, the first rehearsal that I was going to do in a skirt, but with underwear. I had decided that I wasn't going to take my underwear off until we were in the space, with the right table and theatrical lighting--in other words I didn't want to go the full monty until we were running it for real.

I had figured out my costume the night before, finally, using my purple skirt that I wore in You Can Look and my grey wifebeater tank top with the rips in the front (I knew I was right never to throw anything out) and a dark patterned overshirt, because I may be showing my hoo-ha, but there is no excuse for allowing my upper arms to be seen in public.

For shoes I had found my whore shoes that I wore in Junction City, and as I was staggering around the kitchen in them, Fran opined that I was walking about as well in them as he would, and frankly he would probably be a little bit more graceful! I decided that I would break an ankle and I should wear my new open-toed clogs that I got for Christmas.

So anyway, I lay down on the table and I pulled my skirt up past my waist, trying to artfully cover my stomach with the folds (again-hoo-ha yes, tummy absolutely not), the guys all gathered around me, and then That Man proceeded to talk for twenty minutes.

I just lay there, not bothering to pull the skirt down, but laughing to myself that I damn well was right to leave my underwear on until we go into the theatre!

Frank, who is the one on top of me when we start, had his belt undone because when he gets off, he will turn away from the audience and do it up, but as he was making his fucking motions, his belt buckle was hitting me in the crotch.

I told him that he would be in fact raping me for real with that belt buckle, and didn't he have a girlfriend who would notice and get suspicious if his belt buckle smelled like pussy?

"Why Does Your Belt Buckle Smell Like Pussy?" will be the title of my next album.

The rehearsal went well for my first half monty, though as my phosphorescent thighs were unveiled for the first time and people were shading their eyes from the glare.

They are so white, in fact, that That Man suggested that I put some makeup on them, red makeup between my legs so that it will look as though I am bleeding. Um, no. I shot that one down immediately. The audience will have enough to deal with without wondering whether I'm on my period or not.

That's a tiny bit too realistic, even for me.

After that I had a rehearsal for that John Wood reading that I'm doing next weekend.

Originally I was just going to be in the video that we shot a couple of weeks ago, but John just asked me to be in a scene as well, so I said sure. It was actually this really cute little scene where I'm a security guard and I get to sing the Rocky theme and get a couple of laughs. Forty minutes and we were done, fairly painless.

I really dodged a bullet there, man.

Omar wasn't at rehearsal.

At Thursday's rehearsal, Cynthia got a call for extra work, but by the time she called them back, they didn't need any more SAG actors. Omar is non-SAG, though, and broke as hell, so she gave him the phone and the job. Said job was Friday night, a commercial shoot, and when I got up yesterday morning there was a call on my cell from 5.45a--it was Omar, sounding worse than I had ever heard him sound ever.

Apparently it was the worst shoot ever in history, 12 hours outside in the cold and rain, and he was sick and he was exhausted, and he was going to sleep once he got home, not turning around and going to rehearsal.

After the second rehearsal, I went into work and once he woke up, we talked on the phone for half an hour or so, him spending most of the time telling me how absolutely appalling this shoot was, with the producers breaking every single rule known to man, including with the union actors, and how miserable and sick he was.

I told him, after his lengthy monologue, that he sounded like a sixteen-year-old virgin bride the morning after her wedding night, all horrified at what this beastly man did to her, and he answered, "Well, that makes sense, because I sure got fucked!"

Today's horoscope:
You'd rather fail as a group than see one person unduly rewarded. Morality can be suggested but never enforced. Any changes that Virgo makes should be made only for Virgo's benefit.

One year ago today:
"Man, that will be the best sausage biscuit in the world when I finally get it down my neck."

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Last Updated Tues 4 February 00:58:09 2003