It's like that story of the guy who builds a bridge...

... except, then he decides not to but his friend tells him too but then, halfway, he tears it down, only to find out he really needed it.

You know... that old story...

Last night, I went to the first rehearsal for HELL ON EARTH... um, this Christmas play Steve's directing, which he suckered me into... you know, HELL ON EARTH. Turns out, I'll have to do seven performances - nearly twice as many as the original four I was promised, thank you very fucking much! I'm also on more pages that they originally mentioned. Basically, I agreed to a lie and was further lied to and that lie lied lying lye with a lie lie lie and a lo lo lo and a hey nannie no nannie ninni-ho! Fuck!... But, then, what are friends for? Once I agreed, they had me by the balls. I think Steve knows that I'll do anything to help my friends... I think Steve counts on that... basically, I think Steve made bets.

Worse, still, I have been asked to grow my mustache for this part. OH, COME ON! I just shaved, for crying in the mud! Something you should know about me, if you don't already, I am not a speed-facial-hair-grower! I've got three weeks until my first performance... eeek! I've been asked to grow my mustache so I look a bit older. While this might be flattering on one end, the reason I have to look older is because my "wife" is about ten years older than me...

And, so, I've been suckered in... again...