A weekend full of pasta...

Okay, so I'm lying. I went the whole weekend without hitting the pasta. (Or being hit by the pasta. Or having some guy club me over the head with linguini...)

Friday night, I went to see Chris in his new show. It's an improv show. Chris has never done improv. The group that he was with is new. The theater is a little shithole. The website advertising the show used the fact that they had beer as a prime selling point. But I had to go and provide Chris some support. After all, Chris had been there for me so many times. In my first play, Everything Changes, he played the perfect - not too exagerrated - homosexual. In Atheists, my second play, he played a great dope. This guy has heavenly timing. Then, in my last show, Whatever Happened to Me... well... he was really funny in Atheists... so, I figured that with all the help he'd provided me, I owed him to see the show no matter how phenomenally sucky it sounded.

Then, to my astonishment, it didn't suck! It really didn't suck! In fact, it was quite good! I went with Keith who, at 41, is noticeably getting fewer and fewer of the younger generation's jokes. He was shocked but having a good time. I just sat back and cheered on Chris... and lusted after his girlfriend - but we won't tell him, will we? As with any improv show, it had parts that sucked but those parts were very few and far between. It was almost as if... they'd, I don't know... rehearsed! (It was scary.)

That night, I had another sleepwalking nightmare. Monsters were in the hallway and I had to block the bedroom door. More monsters were trying to come in through the window. It was a long time before I realized, clasping the door, that I was having a nightmare. Even stubbing my toe during the nightmare didn't wake me up. I just incorporated it into the nightmare! (OY!) I'm not too disturbed, though. It was my first in over a week and I went back to sleeping normally after. Someday, someone's going to have to explain this to me, though.

Saturday, I readied myself for Hell-Week. Hell-week, for those who don't know, is a term used in theater for that week before the show opens. Basically, you work your tail off. So, I got my apartment cleaned... well, moderately cleaned... and took video game breaks to break the monotony. At around 8pm, Carrie from the play called and asked if I'd like to meet her, her husband, and some people from the show at Pierce Street Annex. I said, "Sure. Why not." She said, "Good. I'll invite Lisa!"

Lisa is a girl (actually, a woman. I don't know why my terminology can't grow older as I do!) in the play that Carrie seems damned and determined to set me up with. Oddly enough, this is not something I'm too keen on. Oh, there's nothing wrong with Lisa. She's cute. She has an incredible body. She's nice, even. But, for the first time - okay, I haven't been in a situation where I might end up dating anyone other than Rosa in two years but bear with me - for the first time, I actually don't think I'm ready.

Let's face it: I still love Rosa. I probably always will. I have a hard time looking at anyone as a partner - even for an evening! In my mind, I was born to be with Rosa. Oh sure. There's that little technicality. You know, the one that says she doesn't love me and, IF she ever did, it's been a long time since that was true. The one that says she wants me out of her life. The one that says she's pregnant with another man's child. The one that says, "Hey, moron! Get a fucking clue!" You know, that little technicality.

Well, it turned out that Carrie couldn't get ahold of Lisa and I ended up sitting at the Pierce Street Annex with her and her husband, talking about the play. (Actually, yelling about it. Those damned kids and their loud music!)

On Sunday, I had to get myself to rehearsal. Again: British Bogart. Steve yelling at me for no reason. Me wishing I was anywhere else. Say it with me: I'll be so glad when this is done!