Death of a Salesman

Everyone come check out my latest endeavor, Arthur Miller's Death of a Salesman opening at The Odyssey Theatre Ensemble this Saturday, and running for about 8 weeks.

It is a wonderful show, one of which I'm very proud. But don't come just for my sake because my part is tiny!! But, if you want to see a great show and you love to cry, this is the place to be! Here's the details:

Previews:
Th/Fr Oct 26th & 27th at 8:00 pm

Run:
Oct 28th - Dec 15th
Thurs/Fri/Sat at 8:00 pm
Sundays at 2:00
(no shows Thanksgiving or the day after)

Odyssey Theatre Ensemble
2055 S. Sepulveda Blvd.
Los Angeles, CA 90025

for tix call (310) 477-2055
or visit www.odysseytheatre.com

Halftime

I made it through my first midterm. It was very nerve-racking and I studied my little tooshie off. I think I did great. If the instructor likes my essay, then I definitely could have aced it. Andy says I over-studied, but I feel like I still didn't put to memory everything I wanted to (for my own knowledge). But I know I got all the questions on the objective part of the test correct. It's really wierd to take an exam after about 5 years of not having to do that sort of thing.

Friday the 13th

Okay, time for an appropriate story.

My mom, Rita, works at Benton Middle School as their school secretary. (I work there also as a sub, rather frequently) As is usual at a school, they have a very over-used copy machine. It was the end of the day and a highly stressed-out teacher had some last-minute copies to make. She started them going and sure enough, the copier jams. Happens all the time. So she opens the copy machine and yanks out its guts, looking for the paper jam. She looks at her hands and they're covered in red ink. She says, "ewe. Where did this red ink come from?" She takes one more look inside the copier and sees... a mouse. Chopped in half within the copy machine.

This even beats the time a bird flew into a classroom and got blended by a ceiling fan, spilling its guts all over a student.

Happy Friday the Thirteenth, everyone.

I Think T.S. Eliot Hates Me

He won't reveal his mystery to me. I want to understand him, but he remains aloof.

Grocery Shopping

Lana: Did you put those chocolate chip cookies back on the shelf?
Andy: Yeah, I did
Lana: You did the right thing. We would have hated ourselves for it.
Andy: Yeah, but only afterward.