At least it's Friday

The past few days have been uneventful ones. More of a waiting game to hear from 42nd Street Moon, Calshakes, Carmel, CeneRep, etc. I'm not really holding out for them to pull out their checkbooks, but in this age of instant impersonal communication, I feel that it's easy enough for them to reject me through email, and I can easily slink away back into the darkness that is my ever worsening soul.

I have been on my regimen of exercising at least 30 minutes a day. DDR has been helping, and every time I seem to traverse into the TurboJam world I knock something over in my room, so I stopped doing that; my computer may be next. I feel great! It's been helping me sleep, and the motivation has been there to help me eat a little better. (Not tremendously better, but baby steps are the way to go when it comes to Ben and Food.)

Worth mentioning (since this is really a journal): Russ came over to do his usual flip his mug in my face (being a mild ass that he is), lost control, and it smashed into my full coffee mug, breaking it into 5 pieces and spilling my coffee/hot chocolate combo everywhere. His mug was uscathed. And now you know!

Movies for this weekend:
Sweeney Todd


and National Treasure: Book of Secrets

Stinky

Went and had a delicious dinner at The Stinking Rose. It was quite yums, and now that I'm thinking about it, I think I left my leftovers in Monica's car, so therefore we no longer have good leftovers. I think I do that every single time.

(As I was typing this the sun just rose over the hills and made the room very warm and cozy. It also made me actually look at all the clothes piled on the bed. I'm not quite sure how that happens; I used to fit all the clothes in the closet, now they don't seem to live in there anymore, they just sort of spill out over everywhere.)

Played Boggle last night. I hate Boggle.

I also watched the Polar Express last night. I forgot how much I enjoyed that movie. It also made me want to get off my ass and go see Beowulf. Ah, what a privledged life we lead that going to see something that I know I'd enjoy is "getting off my ass." I guess that's what comes with selling your soul to a company, you can be lazy and still have the means to complain about doing something that you'd know you'd enjoy.

I have two auditions today, one for Midsummer Night's Dream, and the other for season auditions for PCPA, whatever that stands for. Oh, I guess it stands for this.

And just because I don't want to get up and work out, here's a picture of me:

And a movie of stuff for Crazy, Just Like Me: