A friend of mine is fond of saying "a plan is just a list of things that don't happen."
Note to self: screw you, friends.
As I was laying the groundwork for it, my weekend was supposed to look something like this-
Friday: Sleep late. Sit around. Have lunch with friend in from Miami. Go to comic shop and get 1 or 2 books. Drive to Harrah's, play poker, try to not lose.
Saturday: Sleep late. Go to fully-booked 4-hour audition for Medea (opening January 11 at Second Stage, 2030 Sansom, tickets $20). Be blown away by one person who is so much better than everyone else for each part that show casts itself. Go directly home immediately thereafter, have people over, play Guitar Hero II.
Sunday: Wake up early, go to Dark Horse. Watch Chelsea beat Manchester United. Go home, sit around, play more Guitar Hero II. Watch Eagles lose to Colts, hopefully not horribly.
As it happened, the weekend actually looked more like this –
Friday: Sleep way too late. Wake up far too late to have lunch. Realize upon waking that I am planning to go to a comic shop across the street from Willow Grove Mall on Black Friday. Curse own stupidity. Brave insane holiday traffic. Go to comic shop and leave with bag weighing approximately 74 pounds (Absolute New Frontier… how I love thee…). Get home. Hurt elbow carrying absurdly heavy comic shop bag out of car. Go to Harrah's. Not only lose, but watch friend who drove me down there win $500. Proceed to lose $40 on Price is Right nickel slot machines. Watch friend win another $300 on selfsame slot machine. Contemplate suicide.
Saturday: Oversleep again. Wake up to find that 8 actors have cancelled their audition – 5 thought it was the day before, 2 forgot that they were already in something the same weeks as my show (Medea, opening January 11 at Second Stage, 2030 Sansom, tickets $20). Consider feasibility of genetically engineering plague to kill all actors (note to self: consult Dr. Chill about collaborating). Go to bar to pick up keys to theatre. Listen to Max tell me why he, an high school soccer player/bar back with no theatre training, should be allowed to audition for my show (Medea, opening January 11 at Second Stage, 2030 Sansom, tickets $20). Seriously consider killing Max, possibly with aforementioned plague. Go to theatre. Have way too many good people show up and realize show will not cast itself. Spend two hours arguing with managing director over who to call back. Get call that other friend is in from Egypt for one night only, wants to go out for drinks. Cancel plans for Guitar Hero II. Go to parking garage to find that they have lost my car keys. Have managing director drive me all the way home to get spare car keys. Meet friend in from Egypt at obscenely crowded jerkoff bar that charges me $2 for every ginger ale I drink. Contemplate murder-suicide.
Sunday: Inexplicably wake up too early. Tired from not getting enough sleep. Show up at Dark Horse a solid hour before game starts to find no seats. Find pub full of Manchester United fans I've never seen before. Consider fact that United fans who only show up for big games should be shot, or possibly plagued. Sit uncomfortably in very crowded bar. Watch Chelsea not beat Manchester United. Develop screaming migraine on way to car after watching Chelsea not beat Manchester United. Upon arrival at home headache prevents further playing of Guitar Hero II. Take migraine medication, cease caring about anything for about 4 hours (Darvocet... how I love thee...). Return to reality. Curse selfsame reality. Friend offers me Eagles and a ridiculous 15 points. Take ridiculous point spread. Watch Eagles lose by 24. Headache returns when game ends. Contemplate suicide bombing.
And my birthday is on Thursday.
Yay.
This is my life, and it's ending one minute at a time.
(Or, as that friend of mine from Miami is fond of saying, "actually, John, I'm pretty sure it's ending much faster than that.")
JLK
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