fox | grouch grouch grouch.

woke up with a hangover this morning -- not a bad one, but a hangover all the same -- and, more importantly, a relatively complete set of memories of being drunk enough to cry last night.
directors of iolanthe have offered me a place in the chorus of fairies, which is a big fucking letdown even after i'd tried so hard not to get my hopes up. i haven't decided yet if i'm going to do it.
rehearsed for the concert from 3pm until about 6:15, then grabbed some dinner and was back at the theatre in time for the thing to begin at 7:30. it went until after 9, my friends who were there said they liked it, and i am now both glad and sorry it's over. (and exhausted. but not done singing yet for the season.)
house party a couple of streets away, at which A From Korea drew me aside to reveal and then angst about her persistent crush on Person A Foot Taller Than Myself, which she knows has no future because she fessed up and he let her down gently, and she's all frustrated with herself for not being able to force herself to get over it and move on. was thrown into a whole thing with the similarity to own cursedly ongoing situation -- substitute self for A From Korea and Smug Bastard for Person A Foot Taller Than Myself, and, you know, same thing all over again. so, yeah, i had no useful advice to offer.
am also continuing to have scoldy type conversations with my own superego and id. fuckers won't listen to me. rar.
now Son of a Preacher Man wants me to work at the bar the night before i go home, when i was counting on being a customer and having a good time.
and i'm heading into Week Three of the hormonal cycle, which is customarily the crankiest for me and the most uncomfortable, and although i've had some of those symptoms this past week due to stress bringing them on early, i don't figure that means i'm off the hook for this coming week. plus i'm flying on wednesday, which is just fucking guaranteed to put a fucking smile on my face.

grouch grouch grouch.

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