Magic Eight Ball

Months ago I was working on a show that used a magic eight ball as one of the props. Every night while setting out the props on the table, I asked the magic eight ball a question. Usually they were questions about finance or romance, as I was craving stability in both areas. The magic eight ball wasn't giving me very optimistic answers.

As you may know, one can only ask the magic eight ball yes or no questions, as its range of answers is rather limited. And usually it gave me precisely the answer I did not want to hear. But one night I asked it if I might meet someone through my soon-to-be roommate and have a big, fat, healthy relationship with him. The MEB said YES. I couldn't believe it. The first positive answer I'd had since . . . ever. I didn't dare ask it another question for the rest of the show's run.

So now, as I reminisce about prop placement, sing along with the Bridget Jones' Diary soundrack, prep for TaeBo, and plan what I'll be wearing out to Adam's Morgan tonight to impress the new guy (who happens to be a friend of my current roommate), I thank you, Magic Eight Ball. I thank you.

Good news and good news

Clearly, this week began in the suckiest manner possible. Work had me crying in the bathroom, and nobody wants that. Well, I took care of it. Quit. Told 'em. Finished it. Gave 'em notice. All the people I like were incredibly kind and supportive about it, in addition to being respectfully shocked. It's been a good Wednesday and Thursday. People whom I didn't think noticed me much (but whom I really like) were also especially kind. Gotta love that.

On to more important business. Happy Hour. Better yet, HH with the crush. I invited. He attended. He said he'd stay for one beer (had another HH to attend), and he stayed for two, plus good conversation that lasted us through the end of our Happy Hour. I tagged along (with an invitation, thank you very much) to the second HH. There was some back touching, some arm touching, overall VERY good body language. He's kind and smart and hot and good to me. So no matter what happens, tonight made me feel oh so very good. And yes, there were numbers exchanged.

Greasy day

One would think that Valentine's day could be sweet and such, if even for the cookies and cakes that my coworkers generously bring into the office. But no. Today was Greasy. Today I met with Grease.

I was told that I have 30 days to get my shit together and present to him a true understanding and plan for my project, or else. I'm essentially on probation. Initially I thought - hey, I can do that. It'll just take some elbow grease. Grease, indeed.

Then I realized that I don't WANT to do it. I don't want to work my ass off to prove to this man I don't like that I am worthy of a job I don't want to do. What's the point of causing myself so much grief? I'll tell you the point. Money. I have to decide if this misery is worth this money.

It's not. I'm out.

New guy! New guy!!

Yep, met somebody. Sure did. I met him, alright. Uh huh. To be honest, I don't know much about him. We haven't done anything more than chat. However, the first impressions are really good, he is clearly smart and kind, and handsome to boot. We're at that butterfly stage where we're paying more attention to each other than anybody else in the room, emailing nice things, etc. I love this stage. And the next stage. Hope there's a next stage. I suppose the most exciting thing is that I so rarely meet anyone who I can even consider a prospect. And this, my friends, is a pros-pect.

New car!

It's official. I have the brand new '95 Toyota Camry. Exciting! Roommie and I drove him back from Illinois this weekend, and he's still running and everything. This is my first male car, so it's a bit of a risk, but I'm willing to take it. I've named him Odysseus, but we'll call him Ody for short.

I had a lovely visit with the fam. First we stopped in Illinois, where I learned over brunch about the time that Grandma visited Aunt C and accidentally (and unknowingly) had some of the "special" brownies. Apparently she passed out. Then on to Ohio where I stole some of my oldest brother's home brew and learned that my sister has been calling the youngest brother Fruitcake Pansy. Nice, no? The kid's only ten, but he does use at least three different kinds of Garnier Fruictisse products. I know because I had to bum some this weekend, and he had the best stuff in the house. Innnnnteresting.

Goodbye Tea! Goodbye Sympathy!

Last night was the final show of the play I've been stage managing. I've been craving for this to be over for the last two weeks because it's so time consuming, and of COURSE I'm super-sad to see it go. I've been good about not crying so far, though. And today is strike, so I'm pretty sure I can contain myself. (Of course strike is on Superbowl Sunday. Why wouldn't it be? Not that I would have rather done it last night . . . .)

Speaking of last night, it was the cast party. Not as lively as I'd expected, but nice. I was drinking Yuengling all night, so I can't complain. Plus, I had half the cast thinking that my friend I brought was my stripper girlfriend, Bubbles. Another plus.

The worst/best part was when then fawned over me in thanks and compliments. I don't take compliments well, so I was completely uncomfortable, but everyone likes to hear those things. I'll miss those guys!

So as the week progresses, I project late nights at work, lunch dates with the actors, and (could it be?) time to do my laundry. Fantastic. Still, I miss the play already.

I can't sleep!

It's past 12:30 in the am, and I got no zzz love. Nothing. I've been lying there forever, and my teeth are starting to grind. So sucky. I started creating mini soap operas in my head, hoping that they would turn into dreams, but they just made my brain run faster. I'm going to pop a couple of advil and see if that helps. If not, pizza rolls, here I come. I missed dinner, you see, and . . . oh who am I kidding. I'll eat pizza rolls at any hour.

My ex-boyfriend

Today on the metro, approximately four stops from home, someone got off the train, leaving an empty seat. I chose to stand. (Hold your applause, please.) Then a young-ish man (32?) came forward tentatively and asked, "Would you like to sit down?" He motioned to the seat and everything.

"No," I said. "You go ahead." The man sat. Ladies first, though, just like a real gentleman. As you can imagine, we started a whirlwind romance, with him treating me like a lady, and me ignoring his plain looks since they are so clearly overpowered by his kind nature. Plus he reads the paper. I like a reader.

Then I saw his wedding ring. Ouch. It was good while it lasted, and meaningful, of course. He was quite a man, that ex of mine. Good times.