a whole lotta nothin' I've done sort of fuck all for the past week, except cobble together a first draft of my play, which I thought I'd be more overtly joyful about but really all it's done is highlight exactly how much I have to do to make it an actual theatrical text.

Still, I did give myself a little post-mailing-of-the-draft-to-the-director treat by...

going to Blazing Salads and eating yummy tofu pizza.

I AM SUCH A DORK.

I'm also a broke dork, given the impending visit to New York, so I have to delight in little things. Like arguing with Joe on his blog about the value of Big Brother. For the record: IT HAS NONE. ABSOLUTELY.

After the Fringe launch party on Monday, I'd wanted to post something called "Things I shouted today" and then I never did because I'm a lazy git. Here were the three things I shouted that day that I found shout-worthy:

In response to a Charity Mugger whom I have passed twice already, RUNNING, trying to make it back and forth from my apartment to the copy shop before it closed so we could have fliers for the Fringe party, who asks me chirpily on the third zoom by, "HI! Can I talk to you for a minute!" I yelled, without breaking stride, "DOES IT LOOK LIKE I CAN TALK RIGHT NOW?!"

Later that night, in response to Joe leaving the Fringe party early because he was sick:
"It's God's punishment for mixing 18-year-old Jameson with Diet Coke!" (No, I am not over that yet, and I won't be until Joe gives me the abused bottle so I can provide it with the loving appreciation it deserves.)

And then, later at the party, to a bunch of misguided dancers trying to make sense of a terrible dance remix of "My Baby Just Cares for Me", this (aided by the free beer):

"YOU DO NOT CONGA TO NINA SIMONE! YOU DO NOT CONGA TO NINA SIMONE!"

They ignored me. Or couldn't hear me over the butchered Nina.  ¶ 11:08 AM