Tag Archives: bored

Everything’s Broken

16 Nov

…No, *not* Politically. 


(…Yeah. Very much that too.) 

…I am actually referring to the office. Where I am pacing. During my Lunch 2.0. Because our phones and servers have been down,  all day long, with no idea of when they will be back up again. But because I’m employed by idiots,  I’m still here at the office. 

…”In case. ”

“In case” of what?  I dunno. Because even the few times one or the other has worked today, it crashes thirty seconds later,  and we are back to square one. 

…And this being…you know,  *this* century and all…there is absofuckinglutely nothing for me to do but file papers, without the Internet. And I’ve done that. So now I’m being paid to take a second lunch and type a blog into my phone. 

…Which I guess is me: winning .

…Even if it is winning on a stupid technicality. 

(Which I think a lot of us are kinda “over” with,  this week.)

…Anyway. I’d say, “I digress, ” but I wasn’t really aimed anywhere to begin with…so… 


(I got nothin’) 

I am only writing this now because I’ve FB’d as much as can stand for the day, already read the new Guardian stage reviews, updated my Fitbit app, and watched a bunch of blurry episodes of “Remember WENN, ” on YouTube… 

(…then Google’d all those actors to find out what they’re doing now, and why that show hasn’t been released on DVD, so I can buy it.) 

…And now I’ve got a headache. Prob’ly from watching and reading things for hours on this tiny screen. 

…And I’m sad for the family loss, of an extended family member. 

…And I’d rather be outside, walking these thoughts out in a proper walk in you know…”air”…for free, than stuck here, pacing a damn lobby for pay. 

…And then after a while I could pop on my audio Winston Churchill book…

…And let my mind go back to places it wants to be. Back in London. Back before a lot of things got sad and shitty. 

…But Winston Churchill rallied. So, I will too. 

…And at the Dames retreat -and-meet tonight, I’m gonna flip the finger to day-3 of Mrs.Johnson’s visit, while wearing pj bottoms and my London Tube tube socks…and eating: whatever the flying fuck I want to. 

(Mostly of salt) 

(And potatoes.) 

(And prob’ly: bread.) 

So really, this is a blog about absolutely nothing. 

…And you read it anyway. 

…Cuz, we get it: you n’ I. 

Hang tuff, friend. 




Little Games We Play

18 Nov


It’s been a slow day.

…You can tell cuz this morning, WHS Pimp and I took to emailing “did-you-know-this-exists?” to each other…under guise of actual “work.”

…Like that super important Memo Change #33757.

Keep in mind, our offices are exactly three steps apart.

Also: We ran outta Keurig cups early  this morning.

…So the WHS Pimp had to find and plug in the old Mr. Coffee machine…dig up some leftover filters, and this bag of grounds which have been ossifying in the supply closet for about six or eight months.

…It mostly tastes of burnt twigs mixed in used engine oil, with a soupçon of battery acid to finish.  Yet we are forcing it down with a grimace, because: Caffeine.

…Also: It’s really flipping cold right now.

Both The Pimp and WHS Chick are bundled up like Randy from “A Christmas Story,” wobbling around the yard with the dexterity of The Stay Puft Marshmallow Man as they load and unload product from the trucks.  Watching them try to maneuver the fork lift is bonus fun…as it requires a two-man team to do anything at all.  One to sit there, in a fused-bundle, without any movement radius at all…like an overstuffed pillow in traction…the other to stand behind or in front as the actual “eyes” of the driver, to tell them what to do.  They are just super uncomfortable-looking, with puffs of white smoke, constantly-blowing out of their mouths as they scream at one another over the motor.

…I can’t hear them, cuz I’m inside, where it’s warm-ish.  

(Apparently, they can’t hear one another either…)

…But I can imagine their conversation.  Cuz frankly, there’s nothing else to do:

WHS Pimp:  …To the left!

WHS Chick: …Mine or yours?!

WHS Pimp: (not hearing her) No!  Left! Left!

WHS Chick: I think the gear is frozen!

WHS Pimp: (still not hearing her) I said left! Left!

WHS Chick: …It’s won’t jam in! 

(Giant grinding sound.)

WHS Chick: Fuck-cock-a-shit!…Hear that grind?! It won’t ease in!

WHS Pimp: — Holy Hell! What are you…?!  Stop!

WHS Chick: …There it goes!  It’s in now!  Where do I go?!

WHS Pimp: Fig Newtons!

WHS Chick: What?! It sounded like you said “fig newtons”!

WHS Pimp: Eclaires! Eclaires!

WHS Chick: Why are you talking in food code?!

(I notice my tummy is grumbling. Guess I’m hungry. Back to the window:)

WHS Pimp: –What the hell are you…??! What’s happening?!

WHS Chick: (standing up from the seat and cupping her hands over her mouth.) WHERE DO I GO…?!

(She tries to look behind her, but the hoodie blocks all peripheral vision, and she can’t turn at the waist as she’s too bulked up.)

WHS Pimp: (still not hearing her.) What?! You want me to do it?!

WHS Chick: What?!

WHS Pimp: You getting down?! You wanna guide instead?!

WHS Chick: I can’t…I can’t hear you!!  My earmuffs are…Where do I go?!

WHS Pimp: Okay! I’m coming!

(He jumps over to her in a feined slow motion run, like Neil Armstrong on the moon. They yell at one another face-to-face over the motor.  Warring puffs of  breath-smoke colliding in the freezing air.  Lots of gestures are attempted as a mapping out, but with little elbow movement, it’s hard to make out what the gestures mean. Some agreement must have been made as they return to their posts.  WHS Chick revs the engine and takes off the brake.)

WHS Pimp: Alright! Now, go left!

WHS Chick: …What?!…

(I take a drink of the death-coffee and grimace, like a dog-yawn. the end.)


Some Things

28 Mar



You can’t blog everything all of the time.  Sometimes FB lack of anonymity kills it for you.  Even though everywhere else on the interwebs, I could be the chick sitting next to you on the bus, for all you know. (I’m not, but what if I was???)

…Which is weird. 

…Cuz the line boundary of what you can and cannot share has nothing to do with politeness and decency, but usually everything to do with who you don’t wanna stir shit up with cuz you might be working/running into/hanging out with them, later.  This makes a strange gray area in the land of blogging.  It means, (cuz of my strange and random “ehh” to personal privacy),  I can tell you all about my periods and BMs, sexual escapades and mental deficiencies…but not about the dick move that whats-his-name did the other day, or how incompetent ya-de-ya-da is.  So long as whats-his-name and ya-de-ya-da are one of the 400 FB people in my stream or other people’s I know.

…This cuts out on considerable amounts of venting, I’ll have you know.  Which is one of the reasons this blog was created to begin with.  It means drafting up poser-posts that stay in draft form as I light up the keyboard with flames of fury and bitch-snap, then immediately delete upon completion, because…well…it has to be done.

…But the point I’m trying to make here is that, sometimes the best material is left lying there like an open-ended set-up to a joke.  You REALLY want to pick it up and finish it…you REALLY want the rim shot of tasteless joy one gets from completing a really good zing…but you can’t…because you’re in the internet equivalent of a church pew, and if you go there right now, you’ll be totally excommunicated. Dieing a social-death forever in a pit of hellfire and damnation of your own lighting.

…So instead, you try and think of something else to write about, to keep your mind else wise occupied.

…Which is how prob’ly 30% of these posts exist to begin with.

…Including this one.

The end.


A Toy For When You’re Bored At Work Cuz It’s Raining Again And Sales Are For-Shit.

…It’s just a working title, but pretty much nails the idea. So go to here. Cuz I did. And it’s mesmerizing. Good for background or just to watch and zone out on. The real-time musical journey of sharing information from around the world. Right there. Broken down by specific sound registers on Listen Wikipedia, by topic. Bells are additions, string plucks are subtractions, pitch change according to size of edit, color circles by editors, new users by string swells. Click on any that pops up and it’ll take you to it’s update, so you can read as the page plays on. It’s a strange little symphony, in 32 languages…of people teaching other people about the world. And it’s hypnotically awesome.


Apparently there’s an anti-Valentines day movement by dudes pissed about how for some reason it turns out to be all about their ladies, and they get nothing outta the deal. There’s a shit-ton of crotchless edible underwear and flavored lube sales that’ll tell yuh different, but whatthefuckever . Point is… They say there is (and should be) this whole other observance day of joy just for the dudes, and I just found out about it. I also immediately spouted, “Well fuck that! What about the single ladies with no significant other to get them shit on February 14th?!”

…Which is when I invented “Whiskalingus Day.”

…It should be celebrated closely adjacent to the dude-prescribed “Steak, Beer & Blowjob Day”…for general fairness purposes…but with a re-booking option freebee, in case Mrs. Johnson is in town.

…You may be happy to know, I’m already in talks with my development team, and we’ve decided to offer Jameson and Red Breast, first option as our sponsors (why fuck with lesser…we deserve the very best)…and International Chapter Chairwomen positions are open for nomination.

…I will, of course, be credited as originator and CEO. I will also be the deciding vote on who our Grand Marshall each year will be. This will depend largely on who I am currently obsessing over at the time, and thus, almost always some kind of acting celebrity. The Board of Directors will discuss advertising options, and inevitable underwear product lines (which will contain no lace or crotchless shit, yet still manage to be sexy and comfortable…with enough room on the butt for our slogan.)

…So stay tuned. Also, if interested to join our team: apply here.


It is Friday. What more do you want from me.


Vicious Cycles Of Don’t-Careism

25 Jul



Am seriously having the hardest time focusing today. 

…It’s taken me three times as long to do everything here at the office because from the moment I walked in, I have been sidetracked with not caring.

Now, you have to understand: I never *really* “care” about this place, or my job in it…but there *is* some strange form of satisfaction in flashing through a shit ton of paperwork and having that “to be filed” stack grow at alarming rate.  It has nothing to do with the pride in what I do here, and everything to do with the OCD sense of contented accomplishment at a full and messy inbox, being organized and processed into an alpha-ready stack in the outgoing pile.

…But today, even the OCD has taken a holiday.

I’ve spend countless chunks of time just staring out the lobby windows, for instance.  Every time I walk by them.  Just staring.  There is nothing out there to look at really…just a graffitied train tunnel to one side, and our cars cooking in the sun on the front lot, out the other.  But that doesn’t seem to keep me from looking anyway.

…Have been through all the coffee as well.  The entire pot, minus one mug’s worth, claimed by the WHS Pimp when he could manage to pry my fingers off the handle.

…Then, one of the WHS Pimps peeps went on a donut run…so that was more time spent doing nothing…staring into a box of fried dough while trying to mentally negotiate which of them would be “healthier than the others” based on weight-mass, and added sprinkle/icing content, versus the other ones.  You know…because of all that fitness shit I’m supposed to be caring about right now.

Then there was the FBing…across about three hours.

…Constant update alerts kept distracting me from the Open Order Report…which I felt obligated to attend to, as most of them were either featuring something I’d posted myself, or a comment I’d made on someone elses…when I should have been working earlier, but was too busy trolling streams at the time.

Vicious cycle.

…And now the excuse is: I’m freezing. 

It’s prob’ly 80 degrees outside (which feels, I dunno…110 to the average Washintonian)…so the WHS Pimp put the air conditioner on at like nine a.m.  I’m in flip flops and a t-shirt, with still damp-from-this-morning’s-shower hair.  I’ve been cold for 3 solid hours.  To combat this, I feel the need to get up from the desk and do “walk-abouts”…tours of the office, and lobby and whs to get my blood pumping.  Which then leads me (inevitably) to the windows, where I stare out in long chunks of time, before reloading my coffee cup, going back to the tablet on my desk to respond to a “ding” notification alert, and forget what I was doing before this last “mini-break” starting…about fifteen minutes ago.

…At this point, I feel it’s just futile, and I should give up.

Fuck it.

Clearly, the brain just DID NOT get out of bed today. It’s still at home under the covers…way more warm than I’ve been for the past three hours…reading a book maybe, while drifting lightly in and out of consciousness.

…Meanwhile, here sits my body.

…With four more hours of painful attempting to focus and give a shit, still ahead.

…Kinda like one of Ma’s brutal Holiday “Lord of the Rings” fests.

Dear Lord.

It could *actually* be worse than this.

(shakes head.)


Thinking Run-Ons, With Caffeine

5 Jul


…It’s a good thing I ate lunch today, cuz I probly won’t now till after the show, but I need the energy for tonight and stuff, and not just the “caffeine” kind of energy that I’ve been pumping all day long, the other kind…that includes meat and starch, sprinkled with pretend green foods…something my body can look at and be like, “Oh. Yes. I can mulch that up and shove it places to burn off later”…as opposed to the liquid diet of champions where the energy is fast and furious but dies quickly, leaving only the shakes…like those alcoholics who just tremor and get mean, any time after 11 am if they haven’t had their “hair of the dog” yet, for the day…

…And also, why is it “hair of the dog?” That never really made sense to me…what does that even mean?  It doesn’t feel like “hair of  the dog”…to me it feels more like “poison of  the death” or maybe, “head explosion of the vomitness”…possibly “morning-after of the bad-idea” but that one seems kinda long…and obvious…and apparently we go for the opposite when naming hangover cures…which, I mean, if we’re going for that, then why not just go with “sparkle of the My Little Pony?”

…Sometime I feel like people just don’t try hard enough…

…It is half an hour until I get to go home, and admittingly, I have been basically mentally clocked out for the past thirty minutes already…I blame that chicken taco, because it made me sorta sleepy, which is counteracting parts of my caffeine high, but only parts of it…and only the good ones I think…so I’m trying to balance that out with MORE coffee, cuz somewhere in my head it makes sense to do that…which is roughly the same spot where the little voice that says, “stay up till two a.m. and watch that youtube thing,” comes from…which I already know from past experience, isn’t the brightest spot of my brain, and maybe should even have like a tune-up, but I sometimes think that by giving into it’s bad advice, consistently, it must somehow raise it’s odds of at some point being actually “right”…which will save it by statistical proof so that I don’t have to go through all the bother of a mental tune-up after all…

….Which, come to think of it, is exactly what I did that one time with my last car, just before the piston went through the block…

…So maybe it IS a bad idea, when all is said and done…

…But then I never would have met Harriet, who “has nothing, but looks everything“…in that she has already cost me about $10,000 in repairs and incidentals…none of which was actually any of my fault at all…but basically what I’m saying is: had I tuned up the first thing, I wouldn’t be floating in loan debt up to my eyeballs, while driving a super cute car…

….And I forgot even why I was telling you all this, except that I wanna think it had something to do (ultimately) with caffeine, and I’m not sure how, but am fairly certain that I’ve just proven my point.

(High-five to the people still reading, because they clearly have nothing better to do…or are just taking an extra long poop.)

…Listen: this is gross…

…The WHS Pimp likes to play this game with a friend back home.  It’s called something like, “Find The Most Disgusting Thing You Can On The Internets And IM It To Me”…(that’s not really the name, I don’t think they actually have one, but it accurately depicts the turn of events, so we’ll go with that)…anyway, while he was describing it to me, I learned a new thing about google searching…didja know that if you put a search term and + or – after it and another term, it narrows your results? I didn’t even know this was a thing, but its good that it is, especially for their game, cuz they’re gross but not like “monkey-doing-a-hippo-people-porn” gross…so anyway…he was telling me how one time this last week they were playing the game and he did something about weird sex fetishes minus bestiality, and came up with this dude who likes to film himself running around his apartment on all fours, totally naked, acting like a dog, and climaxing by pooping on the floor.

…Which is how we got onto this subject to begin with…because of my previous poop/reading assumption…but what I mean by it all is: I learned something new on google the other day…not about the dog-man-pooper, but about the plus/minus deal…well, actually, to be truthful, I learned both, but only enjoyed the second thing…(and also, incidentally, The WHS Pimp won that round.)

…Anyway.  People are weird. 


…If I take a real long time, I bet I could totally milk these last three minutes just on locking the door, alone.

Am gonna try it.

Peace-out, all!

Happy Weekend!!


The Fifty Yardline & Sock Puppets

24 Jan


With tonight, we come to the halfway marker of “The Children’s Hour”…with high hopes to, (for heartfelt reasons) totally sell out tonight’s house.

…Because it is Actor’s Benefit Night.

…And we are poor. 

Did you know?

Meanwhile: A couple of line runs this week to keep it fresh has kept me in contact with the material. And missing it.  Along with Marty, we have become straight-up ridiculous whiners about NOT doing the show on the few nights off we have a week.

…She’s one-upped me though. 

I won’t say alcohol didn’t ALSO have something to do with it..but boredom and sentiment are very powerful forces to be reckoned with.  Don’t believe me? Here is what I woke up to on my phone: (Karen as a Sock puppet)

…She looks like she’s inebriated, with one of her creator’s notorious trademark Kool-Aid smiles. Which is entirely possible, as everyone knows: Karen’s had a hard time of it. It actually makes me shutter to think of what the Martha Sock Puppet would look like.

Prob’ly something like this:


…It is true: we are not winning points for attractiveness in this one. There is a lot of freedom that comes with it though…if you ain’t too proud to let it.

Actors do lots of things in front of hundreds of people that they would NEVER do in their real lives. Which is weird, but true. And playing a role without giving a shit HOW disgusting it looks to do the things you need to do, is one of ’em.

…Which even makes US laugh…

…When (for instance), the Production Manager sits in on one of the earlier rehearsals, then pulls us aside afterwards and says:

“Um….I don’t really know how much help it would be…but would you like handkerchiefs from Props Department?”

Us: “No. No…I don’t think that’s gonna be an issue, thanks.”

She: “But its so…everywhere…”

Us: “Yep. And everyone’s gonna have to just deal with it.”

…Because that is the point.

It is a smattering of ugly moments, raw moments, REAL moments…and how often, while YOUR life is coming completely unglued and you are in the absolute depths of despair, do you stop for or even think of something to clean it all up with?


…That’s the answer.

It’s just bad-times.


…But we are having GOOD times making them on stage.

…So if you’re in the area, you should totally join us tonight.

…And help pay for our drinks, after.

It’s all in the ticket price, friends!

And that’s a good cause!!!


%d bloggers like this: