I'm Bored.

I have returned to blogging out of sheer boredom. I love how I finally am employed and I get here and I am even more bored than when I was stuck in an audition room listening to people rant about their non-eq problems ad nauseam. I thought this contract would be one small step on the road to me, chasing my dreams. (The guy screaming "double rainbow!! so intense!!" is playing in my head). I know that sounds wicked corny but I really did. And then I get here, and like every theatre, you realize it has something incredibly wrong with it. Every time. I will be rehearsing this show as long as it runs. That's right. We rehearse for TWO MONTHS. Flinging myself out of the second story rehearsal hall window would be less painful than enduring this rehearsal process. I would even accept rehearsing for two months if I was working my ass off everyday and being awesome. But I'm not. Working three days a week would be a generous description. At least I am playing a sweet ass French/German prostitute. And not High School Musical extra #4. Point one for me. I guess.

Coincidentally, boredom makes me do stupid things. Me? Stupid? pshhh neverrrr

My work schedule makes for me to have more than enough time to obsess about the fact that I will be half naked onstage and need to work out like a maniac. Which of course I have more than enough time to do. But if I don't look like a freakin Victoria's Secret Angel by the show's open I will feel like the most epic failure. Which we all know will never happen. Dammit. Most people have post-its around their house, on their mirrors, reminding them of things they need to do or inspirational thoughts that their personal messiah Oprah told them to live by. Not me. One lone post-it resides on my laptop, reminding me in no uncertain terms "YOU ARE NOT HUNGRY". I wish I could record the dialogue that happens between me and this post-it...

I am unlucky and totally the luckiest all at the same time. My man loves me. TOO MUCH!!!! He is the best and you should all be jealous. I mean it. But with that comes unconditional love. And if I didn't look like Gisele he would still say "you are so beautiful! Here I made you something to eat." I am horrified by how future pregnant me will abuse this. Oh god. Cut to me, the pregnant nugget being wheeled down the street by over-accommodating Sammy. Woof.

On a completely unrelated topic, God, please help Sammy find an affordable apartment in LA. A studio that actually has an oven/stove where I am not afraid of my car getting jacked. Amen.