Monday, August 24, 2009

Update from the Den

No top 10 list for you scallybags tonight.  I'm sitting here, pantsless in my den, eating celery and hummus.  And I thought of all of you.

Pants can just be SO restricting.  I know Yeldah knows what I'm talking about.  They are especially suffocating while choreographing at 11pm in the den, which, otherwise would be much too small a space except for the fact that it has been completely cleared out due to the infestation of fleas there, a problem almost as bad as the fruit-fly situation in the kitchen and bathrooms, but not nearly as bad as the fact that I am now choreographing pantsless to invisible music in my head about the Creation of Man and Earth.  But yes, fruit flies: flash me back to that first PH D summer of the flies.  Anyone remember??  How the hell did we get rid of those things anyway?  Right now I've tried the dumb red-wine-vinegar traps, which are effective in killing but ineffective in the destruction of spawning.  Then I tried pouring ammonia down the drains, which some online housewife swore to be the trick.  Next morning, the nuisances were back like a heart-attack.  Then, after a phone call with Tim at Athens Pest Control, I poured bleach down the drain.  I will see tomorrow whether he knows his shit or not.   The strangest thing is not the swarms of gnats that confront me as I pee but more that I AM THE ONLY ONE IN MY FAMILY WHO GIVES A SHIT ABOUT THIS CRISIS.  There are tiny little bundles of hell with wings flying all over MY AIR, landing on MY FOOD, buzzing in MY EARS, WATCHING ME IN MY PRIVATEST OF MOMENTS and no one else seems to CARE.  I really considered the idea that all this time alone without friends was getting to my head.  Hallucinations!  Doc?!  Meds?!  My latest theory is that  God is sending the plague into this home to clue me in on the lameness of a 24 year old living with her parents.  Well, God, I WOULD move out, except that my garage apartment is part of a home that was as of a week ago put on the market.  So here I am sleeping and dancing with fleas and fruitflies. 

Anyway, all of this is to say that in searching, pantslessly, for some choreography inspiration, I dove into my mother's extensive collection of footage from plays I was in back in the day.  And I came across some of hadley and I singing "In His Eyes" from Jekyll and Hyde at the Access Broadway competition.  Hello-larious.  I dangle it carrot-style to all of you who have opted OUT of the late September trip to GA.  My stick-style strategy is to yell threats via fb messages like Yeldah does.  

Mike, I teach a bunch of 8 year olds now and all their moms want to be friends with me on FB , so keep the fast-pooping comments to yourself.  NOT!  KEEP EM COMING.  

That's all
amy


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