The cold has grown two-fold since yesterday.
…I am a giant mucus-fest of disgusting…which somehow managed a student matinee and talkback and dinner, and a first blocking rehearsal…while hopped up on three kinds of cold meds…none of which seemed to be working one fucking bit.
…So I stopped by the Pharmacy, pointed at the fourteen dollar box of Muscinex behind the counter, and told ‘em, “gimme.”
After treating me like a felon, with a host of Q & A’s regarding my chemistry-mixing abilities, whether I happened to keep a meth lab in my kitchen for recreational purposes, and how many boxes of said pills I had purchased in “X” amount of time, they scanned my Driver’s License, took my money, and finally let me leave.
…The fact that it is easier to adopt children from China, than purchase some pills that’ll (in theory) help stop sinus-death, is supposed to be a good thing now (apparently.)
All I know is that when you’re stuffed up so that you sound like Huckleberry Hound, and you can’t hear because your mouth-breathing is so hard, and snot keeps trying to peek out from your nose…which is red and raw from blowing, and your eyes are weeping left-over show mascara down you face…that is not the time to put people through a merry-go-round of crap.
…I feel it is pretty fucking obvious to tell when a person is legitimately “sick” and when they are legitimately a “tweaker.” I understand you have to be all “equal under law” and all…but this is more the kind of thing I like to file under, “Unnecessary Harassment.” Like strip-searching a 92-year-old woman at the airport, because you can’t get caught using your brain or “profiling people.”
…But regardless of the roadblocks, I got my pills. Which well into first blocking rehearsal, STILL were not working. No doubt, all the crying I was doing, didn’t help the scenario. Cuz we started with a giant emo moment in Act II (for scheduling purposes), and Mr. Director likes to dive right in after initial blocking for working, immediately. So I’m acting, and reading, and crying, and snotting…and at this one point get so fucking indignant, that I yell the rest of the line, slam my mouth shut, turn away, and blow a giant snob bubble.
…That’s about when Mr. Director called, “Hold!”…and the bubble depleted back into it’s snot cave, of its own accord, before I could throw down m’script and make it to the kleenex on the table.
Here we are, folks! First day of blocking, on our first scene, and I’ve already gotten “losing all dignity,” completely out of the way. At least I didn’t accidentally vomit, or shart. Although, the gass n’ poo stuff is more in Marty’s field. I shouldn’t be a total glutton in exploiting all the bodily functions. It’s only fair to share.
…We’re a great team, you guys, this cast. Klassy, klassy bitches…I can see it, already.
Incidentally, tomorrow Corporate arrives, so this post (another day ahead of time) will have to do you till prob’ly late, late tomorrow. And I’m posting it ahead of time, so I can go now and try to get some sleep. Hopefully the crying wore me out enough that I just can’t fight it.
…Mercifully, no rehearsal tomorrow.
…As if “one more thing” would really make any difference, anyhow… snorfing from my bed, ‘tween sips o’ tea…
~D