My Bad Memory

A lot of funny things have happened to me lately, and I keep saying "that's totally going in my blog!" But to my faithful readers I must apologize, as I seem to be forgetting them before I get to a computer. The only thing I can remember is a rather embarrassing comment by Sheba about Lombard Street being from a Doctor Seuss book. But I won't quote that here.

Today I went to a play, or rather, 6 short plays, all by David Ives. Many of Cynara's friends are in the theater group which put it on (including Cynara herself, the Art Director). I was pleasantly surprised to realize I had seen half of them already, including my favorite one of the lot, The Philadelphia. The only thing I don't like about it is the absolutely stupid notion that Los Angeles is better than Philadelphia. At least they admitted New York and Hell were really the same place in another play. Also, there was a kosher cheesesteak on the menu in The Philadelphia. I want one.

Cynara also invited me to the cast party. I have mixed feelings about this. I don't want to intrude, as I'd clearly be out of place, but on the other hand, I've always wanted to see what a cast party was like.

Under 17 hours until I meet the parents.

PS - I embarrassingly confused Trotsky and Tolstoy in public again. I think it's just time to fess up to the world that I really don't care about the Russians, their writers, their politics, or their famous people. I know enough to understand the "must crush capitalism"joke in the Simpsons, and everything after that is superfluous. So here's my public acknowledgment: I don't read the Russians, nor do I ever intend to. I don't even read ABOUT the Russians. Apologies to Queen Frostine, but they're just too boring.