Munday, Mundane

Goodbye exciting weekend. Hello Monday old hag. Whomever created the ever-loathed first day of the week should be shot. That's not an opinion, that is a fact. Since Mondays suck so badly, I'll fondly reminisce about my weekend...

Ever lose something for a really long time and then, like magic, it reappears randomly? I had that happen on Friday with a necklace that I've been missing for months. It was lying all by itself in the bottom of my closet like a little worm on the sidewalk after a rainstorm. I like to think this was a pleasant gift from Karma Claus, because on Thursday I bought a gallon of gas for a broke pregnant woman. See? I told you karma existed. Also on Friday, I was cast on the spot for the Indy Fringe Festival play, Stetson Manifesto. The script is great and the message is awesome. Can't wait! Directly after my audition, we had our best run ever of Sorry, Wrong Number. I'm declaring this past Friday the new Good Friday.

On Saturday, I got to experience the Indy Gay Pride Festival. It was a lot less naked than I thought it would be, but there was no shortage of shirtless, hairy, obese men in black leather-so I was not disappointed. I now believe the the cure-all for bitter, angry people is to attend Pride. I am a doctor and that is your prescription. Regardless of how you feel about the gay community-I don't even care if you're a Southern Baptist-White Supremicist, something at Pride will make you smile....even if it's just the bright colors. I have to admit that I'm a wee jealous of the gays and their monopoly on the rainbow, but as my friend Bill says, "Yeah, but you guys get black, tan and gray..." I do love me some neutral colors. Touche, Bill, touche.
Saturday evening proved to be very educational at my friend Daniel's party, where I was burned by someone's ear (yes, it can happen) and taught my friend Ben that six-pack abs are, in fact, NOT genetic and do not lend themselves to the evolution of our species. I'm useful!

Sunday was dia de recovery. That's "recovery day" for you non-Spanish speakers. Boy, was I dragging ass. Somehow I pulled it together for our Sunday matinee (is it just me or does the word matinee look a lot like manatee if you cross your eyes and shake your head back and forth really fast?) of Sorry, Wrong Number. Afterwards, I came home, exchanged pleasantries with the in-laws for a few hours and crashed at 10 pm. Which leads us to ...

Monday morning. Screw you.