12% BEER
Hit and Miss
  Thursday night's show suuuuuuuuuuucked. Suuuucked. Hard. Badly. Did not go well. S-U-C-K-E-D.

There's a screen that is used for all of the video transitions and it's right in the middle of the stage. It spans the back stage area which houses a fridge, a fog machine, and Princess the narrator.

It fell down in the middle of the show. Fell fucking completely down. Right before a huge video piece that's an adapted Hundee and Bunty Draw for You. I had to grab a bench, stand on it and hold the screen up while narrating the piece that was being shown. Princess helps with moving the set about when he's not narrating and right before this piece I said to him, "Dude. The fucking screen fell down." And he kind of looked at me as if I had just said, "Dude. I'm the daughter of washing machines.," and handed me the pointer that I use for the piece.

So there I am, holding up the screen talking about drawings that are disgustingly cute, a laser pointer in the other hand trying to point out parts of the drawing that aren't clearly seen because the screen, of course is sagging.

When the piece was over, I didn't know what to do. In the black out I tried to find the hook the the screen was attached to, but couldn't find it and really needed to get in place for the next entry.

So what do you do? Do you stop the show?


I just let the screen hang there. Completely all rumpled and frumpled and looking like shit. And I started the next piece.

But here's the deal, I couldn't get my brain to stop thinking about all the shit that I knew the audience was looking at behind me. The fridge. The fog machine. The hidden magic that was to be seen at the end of the show. Exposed. Naked. So very ugly.

And my brain was freaking out, thus making me freak out, thus making me forget lines and stutter. Yes. I fucking stuttered like Porky Pig about 6 or seven times. It felt like I was back in elementary school trying to get over my speech impediment and being really frustrated when the other kid in speech therapy with me would take up so much time because he couldn't fucking get a word out..... except now it was me that couldn't get a damn word out and it was the audience that was having problems saying 'r' and 'l' and 's'.

Howwible. But then it got worse.

I started my period right in the middle of the show. No one else knew... but I did. Guys you probably don't know what this is like but chicks... chicks it was one of those times when your straddling a chair and all of a sudden you think, "Oh crap. I've just expelled."

Horrible horrible horrible show.

I felt like complete and total shit afterwards. Luckily there were only about 11 people there... but still. It was a bad show.

All day Friday I sat around my house crying. Giving myself a hard time. 'I should have been able just to recoup. I should have just continued to have fun. I shoulda. I shoulda I shoulda.'

When I pulled up to the theater on Friday for that evening's show I was filled with dread. I was still on the brink of crying because I just was so frightened that what happened the night before would occur again. Yes, the screen had been fixed. Yes I had gone over my lines again. Yes, tampons had been bought. But still. Still the show could completely suck.

I'm in the back getting into the Dancing Meat Costume, trying hard not to just bolt out of there and force myself to have a car accident so I wouldn't have to go on. I was feeling my neck get tenser and tenser. Then I found out that we had another critic coming tonight. Then I found out that we were practically sold out. Then I found out that I am a complete freakazoid and sometimes buckle under pressure.

That's when Princess came in and said, "Grrrrl. Stop it. Just chill the fuck out and go out there and just do it. Just get out there and fucking attack that stage. If you enjoy yourself, the audience will enjoy yourself."

I agreed, but secretly I was doubting my ability to attack anything.

That's when Lipman popped in and gave me a quick good show kiss. "Why do you look like you're going to barf?," he asked.

"I think that I might go out there and just completely break down in tears. I'm having trouble shaking last night's show. I don't know what to do."

"Bunty. Do you remember the first play you ever did?"


"And why did you do that play?"

"Because it was fun."

"Exactly because it was fun. Don't forget that's why you're doing this. You're doing it because it's fun."

And it was one of those times where my brain went scczzzzzzzzzzzzzoooooooooop and completely flipped itself over.

I do this because it's fun. Not because it causes me pain, but because it's fucking fun.

Lipman left and I began a mantra in the back. I'm here to have fun. I'm here to have fun. I'm just fucking here to have fun.

Then it was time to go on stage. I ran out and I attacked it.


And, as a result, the audience did too. It was one of the best shows I've done so far and everyone was right along for the ride. It felt so good it was such a relief. I didn't cry at all unless it was fun to.

Fun, people. That's what life is about. Having mother fucking fun with the day. To fucking go out, and just say "Fuck it all- today, I'm just going to have fun with being alive."

So yeah. Today I'm going to have some more fucking fun. But first I have to clean the house because my Pop is in town. Yay. Pops are fun.

Fun fun fun fun fun.

Can you tell that I don't have and ending for this entry? That's okay. BECAUSE IT'S FUN. ENDLESS ENTRIES ARE FUUUUUUN.

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