PMS, Sick, Orgasm

Three words, you should never see together. Here are their stories...

PMS – turns out, I had PMS, sorry Pat. I should know these things, seeing as how it’s my body, but I didn’t. Pat visited. I was grouchy. The end. I can’t explain it, but my fucking hormones always get the best of me. I should know, but I don’t. It helped when I was on the pill because I could see when it was coming. Now, the baby gets grouchy and weird and then I get grouchy and weird and then, blam. Ok, enough about my bodily functions. Needless to say, I was a bitch and now I’m feeling much better.

Sick – well, I got sick on top of having PMS. That was a wonderful gift. I didn’t even know I was sick until I woke up with a fever last Sunday. It sucked. I tried to ignore it, but it kept on coming. Nothing tasted good and I was a total slug…and I was grouchy. We sat around with Pat all day last Sunday watching movies. Little did I know that Tiny was getting sick too. She was grouchy…and a slug, but not enough of a slug to take a nap while we were trying to watch Sin City. “No sweetie, mommy doesn’t want you to see that guy get his balls blown off.” We finally made it through the movie, but I think she’s permanently damaged. For a baby who loves Nightmare Before Christmas, it probably wasn’t that bad for her. Anyway, I had a fever for two days – two fucking days. It was terrible. I missed rehearsal last Monday because I couldn’t even move, let alone dance. Of course, I found out on Wednesday that they had made all of these changes while I was gone. I knew they would do that. My natural paranoid self emerges in these matters. I lost control by not being there and now I will never regain it. Oh well. Let someone else be the dance diva…I’m not that good anyway. After several days of hacking and blowing my nose, I finally feel much better. Although, I am having the semi-regular TB-esque hack out.

Orgasm - Thursday night was the First Annual Very Short Play Festival at the Grand Theater here in Northfield. It rocked. It was a total success and it was probably one of the greatest nights of my life as a performer. Brendon, a.k.a. Anonymous, coordinated the whole event, which was amazing by itself. He also wrote a very fine little play for me called “Call Girl”. It’s basically about a telemarketer who gets very desperate as she is trying to make sales. In an effort to get just one sale, she starts to talk dirty in a Russian accent to one of the men she has called. It builds and builds in this fantastic orgasmic wave of craziness until she is dragged off stage by two security guards. It was a blast. Brendon penned a perfect piece of comic timing. I think I did rather well and more importantly, Brendon got to see something he wrote come to fruition and what hearty fruit it was. It was truly amazing. I hope he writes me something else soon…