So yesterday as I was leaving the house, I found that the shoulder strap of my shoulder bag was torn. Why? Why was it torn?

O yeah, maybe carrying nine bottles of wine in it was a bit more than it was willing to put up with. God, back to carrying a Duane Read bag around with me like a dork.

I spent the day fighting with Mark in email.

I told him that I had gotten the Shockheaded Peter tickets, and he told me that he would pay for the ticket, but might not be able to go because of Troilus and Cressida rehearsals.

I completely flew off the handle, not that you could tell because I flew off the handle in a very cold, controlled way, and asked him why the hell he agreed to go in the first place if he wasn't going to be able to, and that I'd go and return the ticket the next day, if they were returnable, which I doubted.

After a bit of a pause, he answered that he wanted to go, that he would try to go, that he would pay for the ticket no matter what, not to return the ticket, and he hadn't been cast in Troilus when we decided to go on that very day.

That was when I realized that I was about to get my period, and perhaps I was reacting a little hormonally. So fingers crossed that Jim will not be having rehearsals going until 11p quite then.

This girl dropped round the theatre yesterday and left her resume, apparently wanting any random job that we might have going, which is none, and I certainly admire her go-getter-ness, but that didn't stop me from making fun of the resume. This is because resumes are inherently funny!

Apparently, she worked as a cashier at a supermarket, and in her list of duties accomplished, she included "Offered superiour customer care", which must have been a treat for the customers used to surly, snarling cashiers, but nowhere on that list did it include working a cash register or ringing up groceries.

But that was nothing compared to the fact that she is an office-holder for the Gamma Kappa Psi Multicultural Frasority.

The what? The Frasority? Dear God! I laughed about that for half an hour. Not that I think that there is anything wrong with a co-ed fraternity/sorority/club-like thing, but there is no excuse for calling it a Frasority with a straight face. Let alone the fact that any group who feel the need to label themselves "Multicultural" probably is earnest enough not to find Frasority funny in the least.

Frasority! Multicultural! Stop, stop, you're killing me!

Yesterday was Kingdom of Heaven at SAG, but there was also Orestes playing, unusually for a Monday, so I had to arrange for someone to cover me until I got there at 9p, but I really wanted to see this movie!

And it was deadly. Dull dull dull, dear God it was dull! Certainly not worth the hoops I jumped through to get to see it.

The first half-hour was quite good, Liam Neeson having one of the two good lines in the entire movie, "I once fought for two days with an arrow through my testicle!" (the other is the entry title), but the next hour was the most boringest thing you ever did see. I was checking my email on my phone, I was wondering how disruptive it would be if I walked out, I was wondering whether time had stopped, etc. Then, the last hour was better, it picked up a bit. But not nearly enough.

David Thewlis is much too brilliant an actor to be in this mess, but he certainly perked things up while onscreen, Orlando Bloom was very big and butch-looking, either via CGI or he about killed himself in the gym since Troy, the battle scenes were fun, the girl was pretty, but mostly it was a giant snooze-a-rama.

Somebody needs to learn the stop-killing-Liam-Neeson rule. Seriously, stop it. Hopefully, the new Batman movie won't make the same Star Wars/Kingdom of Heaven mistake.

So after that I went to the theatre and oversaw the changeover between Orestes and Oblivious, sold a few cupcakes, carried the sofa, got the audience out, carried the sofa again, locked up, and was home at 11.30p.

Thank goodness it's only tomorrow and then we're back to normal evenings starting at normal times.

I passed a newsstand this morning and saw a headline on the cover of the Post, "Bridget Jones Marries!" but I couldn't see who it was that she married, and I'm not buying the Post for nothing, so when I got to work, I looked it up on the internet.

According to the Hindustan Times (how much do I love Google's roundup of random world newspapers), Renee Zellweger married country star Kenny Chesney in the U.S. Virgin Islands. So I'm guess that next week, even if only for one week, Brad and Angelina and Tom and Katie will be bumped from the covers of the trash mags.

Thanks, Renee and Kenny!

Hey, somebody actually bought the autographed picture of my father! I wonder why?

That sounds rude, and I don't mean "What is wrong with the fool?" but really, why? Were they a fan of his work? Are they into The Honeymooners or Star Trek? Maybe I'll write and ask.

Today's horoscope:
If you've got a favor to ask of an authority figure, here's a tip: Put a little sugar on it. At the moment, we'll all be especially susceptible to sweetness, and your boss is no exception.

One year ago today:
Who invented snot? I demand to know who invented snot and roast them over a slow fire! Not to mention the people who invented the 24 hour Allavert, which basically are as effective as orange-flavoured St. Joseph's children's aspirin would be to an adult with allergies.

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Last Updated Tues 17 May 16:14:09 2005