sesquipedaliatic: Crazy.  We has it. (Default)
The first order of business:
I generally arrive at the theatre an hour and a half before the show starts. During that time I fold and deliver laundry, iron what needs ironing, fix broken bits, preset quick changes, tend wigs, and generally get ready for the show. By half hour (literally, half an hour before the show starts. It's when actors are called), I'm ready to help actors get into costume. While wandering about the theatre, I listen to things. Sometimes music, mostly podcasts. I've burned my way through MANY back catalogs of British comedy and have recently been on an Edinburgh Comedy Festival kick. I also listen to a great deal of topical British comedy (The Now Show! The News Quiz! Stephen Fry's Podgrams! Clive Anderson's podcast!) which lately has all been about the election. Consequently, the Australian comedians I've been listeing to have ALSO been talking politics.

A slight detour from the trajectory of this post:
I'm running low on podcasts and could use some recommendations! Not just comedy (though funny is good), anything! I wouldn't mind an audiobook rec or two either, especially if the books are available on iTunes (hooray for long lost giftcards!).

The second salient point:
For reasons I do not fully understand, I CANNOT STOP listening to "Let it Rock" by Kevin Rudolph. Youtube link there, in case you need to be sucked into the madness your song memory refreshed. The damn thing is just so catchy! Someday I will make a mix of utterly trashy yet awesome music, and this song will be FIRST ON THE LIST.

Finally, the connection:
I went to beg youtube for a rendition of "Let it Rock" but found I couldn't quite remember the title or artist. I went with my gut and gave youtube a reasonable search string. It was only after I got a THOROUGHLY confused collection of results that I realized I'd typed "Let it Rock Kevin Rudd." Poor youtube was all "Well, yes, the Australian PM does kinda rock in that he seems to be considerably less moronic than many politicians. Alas, I cannot provide you with any VIDEO evidence of Kevin Rudd rocking out. Perhaps you've goofed?"

Yes, youtube. Yes I did.
sesquipedaliatic: Crazy.  We has it. (Default)
Dear Universe,

I've been thanking you lots recently for providing me with wonderful thing everyday. Don't let this letter sound like a criticism. Really, I've just got a question.

Why do my hands smell of sautéed vegetables?

I sautéed half the contents of my fridge (no, really. When my "fridge" is actually a single drawer in the intern refrigerator, a bunch of green beans, a container of mushrooms, an onion, a jar of pasta sauce, and a vegan sausage really is half the contents. As you well know, Universe.) at lunch today. Smells permeate skin. No surprises there.

But I've since washed dishes 3 separate times, washed my hands a few more times, change clothes, showered, and put on lotion.

AND YET.

I still smell of sauté!

Perfumedly yours,
- Alina
sesquipedaliatic: Crazy.  We has it. (Crazycakes!)
Friday starts tech rehearsals for Camelot, which means this past week has been ASTOUNDINGLY busy. As such:

Indicators that Alina's Preping and Teching a Show (To Be Developed As Camelot Moves into Techs)
1. I've gotten in the shower with pencils still stuck in my hair.
2. I've eaten all three meals in the same room (the costume shop, of course).
3. All of my black clothes, jeans, and sweatshirts (is cold now!) have safety pins attached.
4. I don't know the time, day, or date.
4a. I can't hang on to any of that information either, and am likely to ask "is today Thursday?" repeatedly over the course of two or three days.
5. Pretzel with nutella is a perfectly acceptable breakfast, just as tea is lunch and cereal in milk is dinner. Midnight snack remains either tomato soup or ice cream.

Sure, I'm busy. But it's more the absurdity of what's happening and is going to happen over the next few days that has me so exhausted. Somehow, 21 actors, 10 interns, a handful of permanent staff, a smallish design team, a bunch of musicians, a few square acres worth of trees (in the form of a set), a positively epic number of costumes, enough lighting instruments to outshine the sun, and (if we do it right) lots of massive audiences are gonna combine to make theatre happen.

Wooooo!
sesquipedaliatic: Crazy.  We has it. (Crazycakes!)
Our elevators were on the fritz today.

This isn’t utterly earthshaking, and even these occasionally glitchy rides are infinitely better than those in the old building. With the old elevators, there was perhaps a 1 in 4 chance that they would stop between floors, for example. Or open their doors without actually stopping. Fun things like that. So an occasionally glitchy elevator is nothing to stress about.

Why not just take the stairs, you ask? Why bother with the elevator at all?

Simple: the stairs require a swipe card to get in from the mail door, and I don’t have one. This is never a problem as I’m almost always with someone. If not, I can just take the elevators.

Except today.

Today, I skipped down the stairs to mail a letter, and did so without a fuss (it’s a drop box for mail. If there was a fuss, I was clearly doing something Very Wrong). I turn to go back upstairs and--

Right. The elevators still aren’t working. Silly me.

Not to worry! I’ll give Mum a ring and have her run down to get the door for me. I’ll just grab my cell phone from my--

My cell is sitting on my desk. Three floors and one locked door away from me.

Um.

Now what?

There’s no one in the main lobby or in either of the nearby offices. What are my options?

I consider scaling the outside wall like the guys who come to wash our windows but reject that on the grounds that I a) am not a cat burglar and b) would likely die.

I think about picking the lock, but it’s electric and, well, see previous a) and b).

But of course! I’ll pull a Harriet the Spy. I have no notebook or magnifying glass, but I’ll survive. All I have to do is observe and let the people around me (whenever they manage to show up) work this out for me. I pull my hair into a ponytail and get my Harriet on.

Now to wait. Despite appearances, I do have half a brain in my head, so I wait at the corner rather than lurking like a creeper by the door. Pleasantly, I don’t have long to wait. Someone who works elsewhere in the building comes in. She sees me. As I am not invisible, this isn’t a surprise. I bend down to “tie my shoe” while the woman dithers by the elevator a bit. I refrain from saying “The elevator is clearly broken! Go up the stairs so I can follow you, lady!”

Finally, after I’ve retied both laces twice and am starting on the third go ‘round, she decides the elevator is a lost cause and headed for the stairs. I fall in behind her, smiling politely as she holds the door for me.

Made it back alive!

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