The irony of life is that as soon as you demand something to not happen it does. At least in my life anyway.
The amount of decent guys I have met in the last 4 weeks since arriving here in the middle of the country is starting to get ridiculous. It's unfair really. Because I just don't care. Well, I obviously care enough to write about it, but I don't care enough to pick up the phone.
I am now working on three play projects. One short goes up on Valentines Day at the annual LOVE BITES festival, the other at the end of February and the last is 9x9x9 in April.
I am working on two film projects. One the episodic sitcom web series where I will be playing a heightened and much more ridiculous version of myself (if possible). The other a local film maker's thesis project "God is Good." Which he plans on submitting to a few festivals before making the move to LA. Hopefully both will end up being awesome and good enough to start building a better reel... go me attempting to actually pursue my craft.
I'm also meeting with two photographers this week about modeling gigs. I also work every morning at a coffee shop. And start my 2nd job as a beer bitch tomorrow night. Life just got crazy busy.
It was beautiful here on Saturday. A toasty above freezing 33 degrees. But seriously i took off my hat and gloves unzipped my jacket and basked in the sun for a good 45 minutes before rehearsal reading and getting my face tan on. It was beautiful watching everything melt and rain around me only to watch it freeze again 24 hours later. That's when I fell down for the first time. Rachel fell down and went splat.
Saturday night was the infamous THE OFFICE themed party Lacey & I had been planning. A glorious night. A night of total commitment to costumes, character and obliterating drunkness. First off I looked like a man, a really unsexy man. I went so far as to cut some of my bangs super short just so I could gel them down in the reverse horn direction that Dwight does so nicely every Thursday from 9 to 930pm. And then I proceeded to obliterate myself like I had never done before. Pushing myself across that point of no return around 1am-ish with a "one of everything" in honor of Michael, Meredith & the Moroccan Christmas. About 20 minutes after this was when I started making inapproriate texts and phone calls, throwing up in beds that were not mine then proceeding to burst into tears and call my Mama. Who I later had to convince of the fact that I had not been rufied. Oh Mama, you think so much more of me than you should.
Woops. The worst and possibly best part of this entire situation was basically all of the people who I had invited based on one maybe two times meets had shown up and proceeded to stay until the puking portion of our evening. Ugh. Today one them (who plays my husband in play #2) said, well think of it this way. We've seen you at your worst there's only one way to go from here. Thanks honey.
The pictures though. I have to say are fabulous. I am going to send them to Dwight at the OFFICE. And hopefully he'll be my friend. Or they'll invite me on for a guest spot. You know. Whatever. I'm not typically that kind of fan, but after seeing the pictures I don't know how I can't show them to him. He deserves it. I'd want someone to show me if I were him and someone cut their bangs to look like me.