Green With Envy

I always think there's enough time. For this reason, I tend to leave things to the last minute and procrasinate. What can I say? It just always seems to work out okay for me.

But this time, my luck has apparently run out.

Months ago, I promised the girls that we'd see Wicked at the Fox while it was in town. They can sing every song from the cast recording and the older one has read the book (with my editing, of course) several times. It is a realtively long run and I felt no need to wait on the phone, in line or online to procure tickets. Soon after opening, I heard little whispers here and there about the show being totally sold out. I dismissed those rumors with the rationalization that the whole affair was to build hype and, in fact, there were probably ample tickes remaining.

Very quitely, the girls suggested all along that "Today might be a good day to go to the box office" and "I'll wait on hold with Metrotix if you don't want to." Smart little things...

Well, after trying all morning, I'm here to announce that there are no tickets remaining to see Wicked at the Fox in St. Louis. Not on craigslist, not on eBay and not through Metrotix, not for any performance. Not even if one of us sits in orchestra, one sits in the upper balcony and one waits in the ladies room.

To make me feel even more like a disappointment, they've been gracious and understanding about my failure. Certainly, I'd feel better with a little fit-throwing or sulking but no, they are both so nice about it.

Thanks girls, for being really great kids.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Our household now has three dogs. Scratch that. We have two dogs and the devil himself wearing fur and whiskers.

In early October, my eldest daughter and I drove to Jackson, Mississippi to meet a volunteer from Southeast Pug Rescue. We'd agreed to adopt a fostered Chihuahua/Pug mix that had been evacuated from New Orleans. Already having two Pugs, we felt prepared, no! honored to add one homeless puppy to the family.

Some of this little sweetie's antics thus far include; occasionally crapping on my younger child's bed, peeing on my stomach as I slept, chewing my brand new dance shoes, compulsive circling, incessant barking at nothing, rocking her crate for hours in protest of being confined, eating her poops and terrorizing my loving Pug, Lil.

The coup de grace occurred last weekend. A mountain of freshly laundered clothes was piled upon the couch, waiting to be folded. The terror jumped up on the laundry and took a walking wiz across the whole sha-bang.

My theory is that she was not actually displaced by the hurricane but that some wise family took advantage of the situation and threw her out as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Perhaps they saw one of those canine paddy wagons trawlin' down the street and decided to act fast. "Take that collar and ID tags off! Rub some mud on 'er! Quick, pull those shades and put that damn dog on the front stoop!"

Yup, pretty sure that's how it happened.

Cain't Get a Man With a Gun

A few of you are familiar with my flirtation with musical theatre. I do love singing, dancing and generally embarrassing myself in front of hundreds of people. Alas, for my most recent venture, I was too old (egads!) to audition. Youth theatre is so persnickety in that they always want children in the cast.

So, I guess I was lucky to be involved at all with the Shrewsbury Young People's Theatre production of Annie, Get Your Gun-opening this Thursday at the Shrewsbury City Center. Those fab costumes you'll be seeing were all me, baby. All me.

Okay, mostly me.

The real story here is my kid who, after doing hard time in the chorus and supporting roles in multiple other productions, finally landed a leading role. And as much as I enjoy jabbing her, she is truly amazing in the rehearsals I've seen. If I had half her vocal talent, the producers of Annie Get Your Gun may have made an exception and cast my middle aged self, in sheer awe of my amazing skill.

Again, that's the Shrewsbury City Center, this Thursday, Friday and Saturday at 7:30. There will also be a matinee on Sunday at 2:00 PM. Tickets are 6.00.

Pass the Crayolas

I'll never be hip because I don't "get" art.

Original post was deleted by the author on 11/12/05 at 11:05 PM.

Please excuse the 2:30 AM rants while I try to get a grip on my too frequent use of sleep inducing pharmaceuticals.

I'm working on it, y'all. I'm working on it.

Optional Custom Pinstriping

I'd rather have dinner with my last ex-husband than go car shopping. Really, its that horrible for me.

Car salesmen are so amazingly cheesy. And not in a Fred Hessel-cheesy-campy-tongue-in-cheek kind of way. What with their white Oxfords, slick hair, scripted lines and misogynistic approach. I hate them and their children.

My car shopping experiences have, thus far, not been unlike a sitcom skit where the female customer asks about the rollover rating and the salesmen skirts the issue and demonstrates the lighted, vanity mirror. Questions about curtain airbags are met with explanations about side impact-absorbing beams in the doors. Crumple zones? Why worry about that when this little baby comes with XM stereo?

Perhaps I should pretend I'm a deaf/mute. Not all the time, (though some of you may like the idea a little too much) just when I go to purchase the car. I'll hand the salesman a note that says, "I need a 2005, automatic transmission with air conditioning, front and side airbags and ABS. It must have a 5 star crash rating and keys. Thank you." Really, who wants to spend a whole bunch of extra time with a deaf/mute?

Hmmm....I might be on to something here.