The Play, She Lives!

Unless we get usurped by bigger news, the local paper plans to do a feature on our humble group of playwrights. I say, it's much more efficient than what I've been doing: chatting up strangers on the street, in the elevator, over the shower curtain in the locker room... Apparently, crazy doesn't sell tickets like it used to.

Did you know that the usage for the word "failure" has drastically changed over the centuries? It used to be that you "made a failure," not that you were a failure. In other words, if you don't buy a ticket to see my play, you are making a failure.

I've recently returned from our second rehearsal, and I don't want to ruin the ending, but it involves the opposite of making a failure. You can quote me on that.

One week from today, my eyes will experience LASIK and my insides will experience Valium.

My left pinky hurts. I've been copying and pasting "code" all day, due to my insistence on text editors to create HTML magic (and not having Dreamweaver installed on my work machine). I submit this paragraph as evidence for my upcoming workmans' comp lawsuit. That makes you all my witnesses. I can subpoena you and shit.

Have a happy weekend. Don't make any failures, or I'll cut you.