Random Sunday

I wrote an entire post on You Again, hit “Publish Post” and lost all of it. It was a great post, too. Well, probably not that great. But I liked it. So here’s a Random Sunday. I’ll get back to you on You Again again later.

I’m playing the Spamalot cast recording. That was a good afternoon in the theater. Bob even laughed. Right now they’re singing, “He’s Not Dead Yet.” Story of my career.

I currently have four WIPs (Works in Progress) some of them more IP than others. I think that’s three too many, but I’m learning to be flexible because I love all of them.

There was a post-it note on my desk when I cleaned it off. It said, “getting caught” and under that “Goddess” and under that “Hawaiian shirts” and then up in the corner “Flying Bowl” with the symbol for woman under that. I’m sure this is vastly important but I don’t know what the hell it means.

South Beach Diet Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies are delicious and come conveniently packaged in 100 calorie packs, which is great because all I have to do is count the pile of crumpled packs to know how many thousand calories I’ve inhaled.

Sara Ramirez is genius. She really earned that Tony. The Lady of the Lake and her Laker Girls. Plus she does a perfect faux Andrew Lloyd Weber heroine. I LOVE “The Song That Goes Like This.” “Once in every show, there’s a song that goes like this . . . They’ll all hum along, we’ll overact like hell.” In the Phantom boat, no less. “That’s the trouble with this song, it goes on and on and on.” I can’t wait until “The Diva’s Lament.” My fave. Well, that and “Always Look On The Bright Side of Life.”

You really should go read Chris Merrill’s blog (http://doublecheese.livejournal.com/). My fave entry is the one where James does the Supreme Court poster at 6AM, but they’re all good.

I love “My Name is Earl.” It’s such a sweet show, and God Bless Jason Lee for that. Also Jaime Pressly is amazing.

Agnes, the heroine of the Crusie/Mayer WIP, bakes cake. Lots of cake. This was a mistake. But the chocolate raspberry is delicious.

Sara’s singing “Find Your Grail.” Very inspiring. I think she’s doing Whitney Houston but it’s hard to tell. Very pop princess power ballad. Sara can sing anything while being anybody. Yes, I am Sara Ramirez’s bitch. Deal with it. Ooooh, and now Tim Curry’s joined her. Best Broadway Musical duet EVER.

Some guy was nabbed a couple of weeks ago for stealing $200,000 worth of Legos. I thought for sure there was a short story in that, but it turns out that once you’ve said “$200,000 worth of Legos,” you’ve pretty much said it all.

If you put Peeps in the microwave, they get very big. Strangely, this is not the thrill you’d think it would be.

I have poker-playing clams. Better than Xanax are poker-playing clams.

Tea is the most comforting drink in the world. Especially peppermint tea on a cold night. With very small crispy cookies, because tea, unlike milk, does not lend itself to pigging out.

“Always Look On The Bright Side of Life.” Genius song.

Great buttons are underrated as a mood lifter. I have a jacket with retro flowers buttons, and every time I look at it, I feel happy.

Bob has a new watch. It’s big and black and has huge numbers and is also a barometer, a stop watch, and a compass. It even tells the altitude. Do you have any idea how tired I’m going to get of hearing what altitude we’re at?

Michael Lutin is the world’s best astrologer.

Oh, good, the Diva’s Lament: “Whatever happened to my part? It was exciting at the start. Now we’re halfway through Act 2, and I’ve had nothing yet to do. I’ve been offstage for far too long . . .” Every female character in a male-dominated story knows this song.

We have an alligator mascot for the road (my idea, of course) and when I realized that the figurine was genderless and our Moot is female, I glammed her up a little bit. Then I put her on the desk and looked at her for a couple of days and decided her hair was too long and trimmed it. Now I’m thinking it needs to be fuller, especially on the right. I don’t spend this much time with my own hair, but by damn, Moot’s gonna look good on tour.

Moot’s also going to see the Puffy Shirt at the Smithsonian next week. Assuming I can find the Puffy Shirt at the Smithsonian.

My cousin Russ Parsons, the famous writer (why, yes, I am bragging) says that the Smith family cranberry recipe is one of the most-requested holiday recipes at the LA Times. I vaguely remember this dish, mostly because it was one of the few my family did not cover with gravy.

Potato chips are a vegetable, right? Just checking.

Sara and Tim Curry are doing the reprise of “The Song That Goes Like This.” One of the great romantic ballads of our time, sung by two divas. Does it get any better? I don’t think so.

When I was home for Christmas, I bent over to get something, and my shirt rode up in back and my mother said, “Why, Jennifer, that almost looks like you have a tattoo.” Eagle-Eyed Jo is seventy-nine but she can spot the top curl of an antenna at thirty paces. I said, “That is a tattoo, and what are you doing looking at my back, huh?” She said, “I’m your mother,” which makes no sense but it’s worked as a justification for anything for fifty-six years, so I let it slide. Then she said, “How is it that you get the tattoo and I’m the bad one?” I thought, “Because it’s my world, the rest of you are just local color,” but I didn’t say it out loud, I’m not that dumb. Then she said, “Well, now you have to show the family,” at which point my nephew Jacob, who had been trying to snicker quietly, gave up and snickered out loud. I said, “Let me think. No.” She said, “Well, then you have to show me,” and she’s my mother, so I did. Then to pay her back, I said, “When you get one there, it’s called a trailer trash license plate.” She said, “Jennifer!” so my work was done, but then my dad said to her, “Well, I guess if Jenny has one, you need to get one, too.” And I thought about taking my mother to Mother’s Tattoo and Piercing in Covington and saying, “Give her a nice red heart with a banner that says ‘Born to Vacuum in High Heels.’” But she said no. Another fantasy shot to hell.

Then my niece wrote my daughter and said, “It was the best Christmas ever.”

I love the end of Spamalot. They sing “I’m Not Yet Wed,” and everybody gets married. To perfect strangers. Kind of like a bad romance novel, except this is really good, what with the big “Find Your Grail” wedding number and the even bigger finish with the confetti–I had the BEST time at this show. You just leave it smiling all over the place. Bob practically skipped down Fifth Avenue afterward. Okay, he didn’t, if you didn’t know him you couldn’t even tell he’d been there.

I might have skipped down Fifth Avenue, though. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

Okay, next week a real post, swear to God. In the meantime, always look on the bright side of life.

And if you ever get the chance to see Sara Ramirez in ANYTHING, go.

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