Yesterday I had the flat out worst day at work that I have had for a very very long time.

I got in and The Raccoon was looking for info on a check that I had been supposed to FedEx out on Monday, and I couldn't find any record of doing so. It was so that they wouldn't turn off the electricity in the Tucson office, and the fact that I apparently put it in the mail rather than the FedEx was such a huge problem that it took The Raccoon about two hours to fix it. I was not asked to fix it at all. This is a bad sign.

Nobody spoke to me all day, and the one time I had to speak to the assistant controller, she looked at me with such a blast of Arctic air that I practically stepped back. I am in such trouble. I am such a fuck-up. All I wanted was to get to rehearsal and see Omar and lie down with my head in his lap until the cold went away.

And that's exactly what I did.

So yes, last night was in fact the rehearsal for Boys in the Backroom. And besides the whole lying with my head in Omar's lap, which was swell, the rest was somewhat less so. I have the tiniest little feeling that this show just may be the tiniest little bit of an uphill battle.

The director doesn't so much seem to understand the piece, though it isn't really that complicated, and the re-write makes it even more clear that nobody in the play is a good guy, but they aren't all droolingly evil either, they are complex characters.

The first thing that the director (whom I have taken to calling That Man) said was that he wanted everyone to learn the lines word perfect, because of the respect that he has for the playwright's words. Nothing wrong there, certainly.

Later on, though, when he was describing the action that he wanted, much of which was directly against the text in every way (he wants them drinking and playing pool even though it is clearly said several times that they are neither drinking nor playing pool) and he told Cynthia that he might not want her to take her top off though it is vital to the plot and the atmosphere that she does, it became clear that though he may have respect for the playwright's words, he has no respect whatsoever for the playwright's intention.

Cynthia will be taking her top off. She has done the role twice, knows exactly how it should be done, and also knows the Le will flay her alive if she followed such an egregious direction as that one.

We did not discuss my nudity. Why do I feel that I'm going to have to fight for it? The good thing about that is that I clearly can't be shy or reticent about it in any way, I cannot be a shrinking violet when the shrinking violet role is already filled by That Man, I will have to drop my panties and hike up my skirt and let the devil take the hindmost, so to speak.

O, wait, and here's the other good thing. He asked, regarding the pool table that I get raped on, whether or not we had the one that was built for the last production in the garage, and Cynthia said that Le said that it was there, though she didn't remember seeing it, and then Larry asked if it was strong enough to hold me.

Yes! He said that! Out loud! In front of the entire cast! It was like he said, "Since Le accidentally cast an elephant in the role, is the pool table made or solid stone? Or perhaps it could be re-enforced with steel beams so that it will not crumble into dust under her immense ass?"

If I didn't like That Man before, he is now forever on my List of Shit.

Because this morning I have to take Elvis to the vet, I thought when I came home last night that I should clip his claws, since they were somewhat less like claws and somewhat more like massive curved scimitars.

So I took him into the bathroom and shut the door and wrapped him in a towel and started to trim, and then he scrambled away up over my head, nicking me in the chin on the way, and then he collapsed. It was as though the scramble took every bit of energy that he had, and the laid down on the floor and didn't move.

Of course, it was very easy to clip his claws after that, because he was pretty limp, but I felt absolutely horrible. I'm taking my cat into the vet because he is sick and I kill him first? After the clipping, I took him out to his bowl to feed him, but he just laid down next to his bowl for awhile. It probably took him about ten minutes to recover.

This was not a good day, not at all.

Today's horoscope:
Multitasking is a no-brainer for Virgo. Clients and coworkers take you seriously when you let them into your world. The more support you have, the further you'll be able to reach.

One year ago today:
"Where is my box?"
And Fran answered, "Hey, no dirty talk!"
I answered, "Well, I could have said the long version, which is 'Where is my box of meat?'"

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Last Updated Mon 20 January 18:47:09 2003