not hungry an hour after

08/08/08. I was there. I ordered in Chinese. I plopped down in front of my TV like all good Americans to watch and hope our top athletes beat the crap out of other countries' top athletes.

I caught the tail end of the opening ceremony. I was flipping back and forth - the parade of nations is a bit like watching C-Span with ESPN commentary. They should at least put NBC News (rather than Sports) commentators on for this part. Hopefully they would be able to tell us that the Central African Republic is a republic in central Africa. Really? Are you sure?

The lighting of the torch was pretty cool. But the solo race around the "bird's nest" was a bit long. I hope Chicago gets the 2012 Olympics, but I don't know what we could do that would be as cool. Maybe something with the lake?

But then I started to watch the actual events. I happened upon the Micheal Phelp's 400 meter melody. You know, the event that GW went to. I was so tense. Would he win gold? Would he break his own record? On the butterfly he was neck in neck with lanes 4 and 5. I never understood this stroke - how is it possible to do this well? It is like doing the 'worm' in the water.

Then the backstroke. I don't remember what happen during these 100 meters because all I could think about was how each swimmer out there learned the "flutter-flutter" feet kick I did when I learned the back stroke. How did I end up here eating Chinese and they there? How many times did it take for my head hit the back of the pool because I didn't reach correctly to do the flip to go the other way?

The breaststroke was next. This is where Phelps almost lost it. It is his worst stroke (I learned that from the oh so smart NBC Sports people). He almost lost it, but he maintained. Then - the last 200 meters. He pulled it out. The free-stroke freed him just like freedom fries. He pulled ahead and got 'er done. GOLD!!!!!

But I haven't breathed the whole time they have been swimming, my feet and hands are all crunched up and my sholders are practically in my ears I am so stressed out. I can't handle this. Everytime I watch an event I am either totally stressed about the US team doing well or am bored out of my mind. (Can anyone say men's bike road ride?)

So, after an hour of the Chinese olympics, I am not hungry for more. I think there are a few more weeks of this. I don't think I will miss it. I don't get the channel that well anyway.

Frying My Fivehead

Definition: Fivehead: an extremely high hair line, extending a normal forehead (approximately 2 inches above your eyebrows that fades into your hairline) forming a fivehead.

I am very fair skinned. I didn't always used to be so fair. As a child, I would spend every day at the local Y. By the end of June I would be so tan, no sunscreen was needed the rest of the summer. Tan lines lasted well into November. I was between 6 and 13 I was a golden child.

After years of hiding in theaters during summers (and most of the year) my ability to tan is gone. I now have two shades: transparent and burned. I have tried to be proactive about not burning. Sunscreen is in my make-up, because my face is my money maker.

This past weekend I was in Wisconsin and had the opportunity to be in the outdoors more than usual. I also was wearing less make-up, which turned out to be my downfall. We went to American Players Theater for a matinee of Mid Summer Night's Dream. We went to a matinee. It was a nice day, not too hot out until you are sitting in the through the first, second and third act in the blazing sun.

Things would have been fine if I had applied my make-up with a bit more thought. I did just a quick transparent powder (with 20 SPF) all over and called it a day. (Seriously - it is only Wisconsin, right?) Well, I covered my face and forehead very well - no burning there. I even was sure to go over my nose and throw a bit on my ears. (I had my hair pulled up.) But I missed my fivehead. By the time we got to intermission I had a gleaming red band between my forehead and hairline.

Soon it will be peeling and it will brush into my hair looking like dandruff. Awesome. I think I would rather be transparent.

random thoughts

Just a few random thoughts from today.

If there is a day to spill soy sauce all over your pants, it is the day you wear black pants. Today I wore black pants.

Does the fact that I figured out how to do T9 entry texting on my cell phone make me a Gen Yer? Or does the fact that it took me a month make me a Gen Xer?

If, on the CTA, I hit a fellow passanger in the shoulder with my bag on purpose because she is stupid, am I being aggressive or passive aggressive?

If the highlight of my auditions this week was a picture of my arm pit, was this a good week or a bad week?

If I put in the ice cream store suggestion box that they should be open in the morning so I can get ice cream before I go to work, do you think they will figure out it is me?

Asking for help

It has been a week.
Every day.
I am finding reasons to do it:

• reward for a great audition
• make up for a not great audition
• celebrate a day off work
• and the reasons go on and on

I can't stop it. It has happened before, and I have no control over it. I am addicted to ice cream. Every night I need to get my fix. There is a new flavor - no Black Raspberry Chip - but a Raspberry Chip Cheesecake. It does the job.

I need but I want any help. I am choosing to suffer though these next three months until it is too cold.

I scream for ice cream. I scream insanely for it.

talk abut killing the funny

How Stuff works - sarcasm

Thank you to the wisdom of Google (father, son and holy RSS) I came across the above article. At first I thought it was a brilliant example of sarcasm, by defining sarcasm. However, once I saw the article went on for 5 pages (I only got through page 1) (skimming) (I am a Gen Yer, what can I say) I realized this was an article for the incredibly boring or stupid.

I don't like to use the word stupid, but it is too early for me to find an wittier, but equally insulting, word.

Note to editor of How Stuff Works - I need to know how to increase my 401K contribution without diminishing my existing savings plan. I need to know what sort of diseases are running rampant on el train seats and how I can not get them. I need to know how stuff works - not how un-funny you are. That's right. I said it.

office funny

I have a craving. A burning desire. A intense painful longing, to be funny. I need people to think I am funny.

I am, if I say so myself, the funniest person in the office. Grant you, that is not the highest bar to judge myself against. But office funny is very different from any other type of funny. I would say that office funny is harder than regular funny.

By actor-standards, I am fairly funny. But a lot of my funny comes from the fact that I am saying/doing it. If anyone else did my Johnny Carson or Christopher Walken impression it wouldn't be funny. It would just be sad and pathetic. But, because it is coming out of this little, mousy, brown-haired, quite girl - it is hilarious. I recently added "hilariously terrible impressions" to my special skills list.

I am also quite well versed in mom-funny. Mom-funny is an art that comes naturally to me, even though I am not a mom. Mom-funny is mostly rhymed phrases with pop references that the mom does not fully understand. Often mom-funny is followed by a cute face, a shrug of the shoulders and "Uh? Am I right?" True-mom funny is not intended, which makes it even better. I can't define mom-humor, but I know it when I see it.* I think some mom-funny would really help Hilary's campaign.

Real live office-funny is NOT the same thing as a joke in the hit show (and one of my personal favs) The Office. In office funny you have to first go through a list of questions

• Will this get me fired?
• Will this offend anyone within earshot?
• Is there ANY chance of me accidentally sending this to the entire company?

If you answer yes to any of those questions, you have to let the funny go. The second step in office-funny is to gauge your audience. If you say the funny that is in your head right now, will anyone get it? If so, go ahead and try it. If not, best keep it to yourself. In all honestly, because it was office-funny, it probably wasn't truly funny. Therefore, it will not satiate your need of being funny.

The hard thing about being naturally funny, like myself, is when the funny isn't acknowledged. For being as funny as I am, I run into this fairly often. My hilarious obsession with the difference between "theatre" and "theater" is often ignored. My consent need to ask "Did you want caramel (phonetically kar-mel) or caramel (phonetically kar-ra-mel) on your ice cream?" is overlooked completely.

The most heart-breaking thing is when people don't know it is a joke. I know that the political commentator's name is George Stephanopoulos, but it is much more funny to call him George Snuffleupagus. Seriously folks. Give me a little credit.

Acknowledge my humor! Please!

*this was an example of funny. If you got it, kudos! If you didn't wikipedia it.

things were much easier when King Louis VXI reigned

Back in the day, and I mean way way back in the day, things were easier. You didn't have to take a bath, you just put on more perfume. You didn't need a bathroom, you just had a bucket by your bed. You didn't need to worry about your hair - you just wore a wig. I am going to try to bring powdered wigs back.

A few months back, I discovered by first 2 gray hairs. The next day, I got my hair colored. It worked, no more grays. And my hair stylist says I can go up to 6 months before my next coloring because the color I went with is so natural. Also, it is a semi-permanent dye, which means it will lightly fade over time all over my head, instead of a permanent dye which gives you roots.

Today, at work, with not even a comb to part my hair on the other side, I found one, short, stubby gray hair coming right out of my part. At first I thought it was a trick of the lights. These bad poorly light office bathrooms. Then I thought I just had something stuck in my hair - maybe a stray bit of guacamole from the lunch taco bar today at work. But no, it was said gray hair.

But if I just had a powdered wig I could plop on, I wouldn't have to worry about any of this. In reality, I would probably buzz my hair a la GI Jane and just wig-it-up all the time.

So, who is with me? Lets truly go retro - powdered wigs and throwing our 'waste' out the window. Men wearing high-heels would be good too.