A zombie interlude from a zombie pervert

This will be quick.  I need to get back to the writing.  I have just over 30 pages to read aloud, and then I... gulp... will be sending it out to five folks for peer review.  I have consulted with my writing guru, and we compiled a short list of questions to help guide the reading.  I am scared shitless, lemme tell ya...

...which is why I so valued the zombie interlude yesterday.

Here is some quick background.  I am not a stupid person.  I may be impulsive sometimes, and incapable of making decisions at other times, but I am not stupid.  I will admit to willful ignorance on some issues.  This stems from a complete hopelessness regarding the human race.  Really.  I actually had high hopes for H1N1.  When I try to keep up with current events, the weight of my hopelessness crushes me.  And I don't honestly believe there is much to be done about changing the world that would not involve wholesale slaughter.  And, since I kinda have this thing about personally causing violence...  You see my problem?

Hence, my unending fascination with the zombie apocalypse.  How cool would it be to actually have CAUSE to take a machete to, oh, I don't know, Zombie Newt Gingrich?  Or Zombie Sarah Palin?  (She might be kept in a cage just for personal amusement-- who else could possibly have an increase in intelligence upon becoming a zombie?)

This is my profile picture on Faceborg.  Pretty, no?

So here's the story.  Yesterday, I re-posted a FB status from a friend who supports the OWS movement.  It was about the right to assemble.  A couple of friends got into a friendly debate about local ordinances versus the Bill of Rights.  Good stuff, good reading.  None of it was much of a surprise to me, but I came too late to the discussion to participate.  So, rather than saying something mind-numbingly boring like:  "Great discussion guys!  Thanks for keeping it civil and informative.  I certainly hope that this free exchange of ideas will help mankind somehow.  I kinda doubt it, but thank you for keeping hope alive."

Instead, I said:  "You guys are hawt."

Those of you who know me are not surprised.

A private message soon arrived in my FB inbox, and a marvelous exchange of zombified double entendre followed:


FRIEND:  You're pretty hawt yourself, my zombie queen. I'd eat your brains out any day... Oh my. That came out awkwardly. Ah well :)
ME: ROFLMAO!!! You are too awesome!
FRIEND:  I have it from several authorities on the topic that my skills are indeed awesome...
ME:  Oh, really? How intriguing? Would those skills involve slaying zombies or being the zombie? 'Cause it could go either way...
FRIEND:  I like it both ways... Though slaying zombies is my favorite part. I like the way they quiver at the final stroke.
ME:  Damn. Yeah, I so cannot top that comment. 


Anyhow.  It was a great laugh.  I am still giggling.  I hope you are smiling rather than thinking I am some kind of zombie pervert.  'Cause I SO am not... not really.

For the Best Friend Actress

OH MY GOD.

The show opens in three nights.  The run last night was over FOUR HOURS....  I want to just kill myself, really.  (Not really.  I exaggerate a little, every once in awhile.  Just a teensy bit.  Honestly.  Keep that in mind.)

So, I have a few scenes where I have time to just sit around doing nothing.  Rather than shovel myself into my next costume, I threw on a robe over my underwear, left the wig and makeup on, propped my feet up on a chair, and started to read.  Next thing I know, I have various people standing over me....

Crazy Actress:  So, what do you think of Clueless Actress?  Why is she sitting on the couch in the green room instead of learning her lines?
Me:  (sitting in a corset, with a loosely tied robe)  I don't know. (looking back down at my book, and pulling robe closed.)
Crazy Actress:  Because she spends more time on her phone.  Who is going to cue her?
Me:  (trying to read my book and shrugging in a non-committed way)
Crazy Actress:  And why did the Costume Lady give me this sweater?  What is the neckline supposed to look like?
Me:  (giving up and setting the book down.  Stands and arranges the cowlneck)  There you are.  (sitting down again and pointedly picking up book as the Crazy Actress wanders off, slowly reciting her lines, cuz she is PERFECT at them, of course.)
Clueless Actress:  (wanders in with phone in hand, looking bored.)  Hey.
Me:  (sighing inwardly but smiling)
Crazy Actress:  Oh, is your SCRIPT in your phone?
Clueless Actress:  (blithely unaware)  No.  It's in the green room.
Crazy Actress:  (tutting [I swear, she really did!] and sweeping out of the dressing room)
Me:  (answers a text from Hubby and then buries nose in book again.)
Clueless Actress:  (sits down in Best Friend Actress's chair after pulling it closer to me.  Looks around aimlessly.)
Me:  (noticing that she is not in costume anymore, although we have not even reached intermission yet.)  Why are you out of costume?
Clueless Actress:  Oh, the shirt doesn't fit.
Me:  Oh.  Did you tell the Costume Lady?
Clueless Actress:  Yeah.
(long pause)
Me:  Do you have something else you could wear instead of that shirt?
Clueless Actress:  (long rambling answer that goes straight out of my head, cuz I am sitting there thinking, god, are we REALLY opening on Friday, and really, she cannot at least wear the skirt?  I mean, she is wearing jeans, and a HUGE bulky cardigan over a t-shirt.  No makeup, no hair, not even shoes.*  Oh god we are so fucked.  And then I realize she stopped talking and is playing with her phone.  And I realize I hear nothing over the monitor.  Scene change... which Clueless Actress is supposed to assist with IN CHARACTER)
Me:  (interrupting)  Is this a scene change?
Monitor voices:  Where is Clueless Actress?  Where are the stage hands?
(Clueless Actress suddenly bolts from the dressing room, and I can see the two stage hands rising from their chairs in the green room, slowly beginning to follow her off.  There is the click clack of heels, and Diva Actress comes in, looks around, and crosses to her corner, which I was WARNED about by other performers when we arrived at the theatre on Monday.  She begins to pull off the adorable but clearly uncomfortable shoes.)
Diva Actress:  So, these shoes are hurting.  I am taking them off.  This is why it is tech and not dress.  (she is not in costume either, not the wig, and frankly, not even in practice clothes.)
Me:  (smiling)  I just cannot act when I am not wearing my shoes.  I have to get used to them early on. (trying really hard not to piss her off-- although quite clearly very talented, she is very sensitive, and my sense of humor doesn't always translate to those who don't know me.)
BF Actress: (entering dressing room)  Oh my god-- who is going to stay back here and cue Clueless Actress?  I mean, this is unbelievable!
Me:  (I agree, but really REALLY do NOT want to be in charge of this girl, so I smile)
Diva Actress:  (finishes removing her shoes and sweeps out of the room with her script in hand)
BF Actress:  (looks around and sees that I hung up the dress I helped her change out of several scenes ago. She smiles at me, sweetly and honestly)  You hung up my dress for me.  Thank you.
Me:  I live to serve you.

And I remember why I am doing this.  Because I love my friends.  BF Actress-- you are DA BOMB.

Break a leg, darling!  I adore you, and am happy to work with you.

*- I am a fanatic about practicing in the right shoes.  Shoes affect your walk, your posture.  I get shoes as early in the rehearsal process as possible, and always rehearse in them.  I usually also have a practice skirt as well, or some reasonable suggestion of what my character will be wearing.  You move differently in a skirt than you do in pants, and you move differently with a huge bulky cardigan than when wearing a fitted jacket.  If am wearing a corset in a show, I rehearse in one.  Anyway, rant complete.