To begin, a shout out to
Nextly, my quilt ‘Out of Gas’ (why yes, that *is* a Firefly reference, thank you for noticing) has been selected by the OPS Conservation Show exhibition jury to be shown at the John B. Aird Gallery. The art show will be on display from August 1 to August 25, 2006 if anyone wants to go walk around the gallery in 900 Bay and say, “hey, I know the girl that made that”. It amuses me that the tire track on the quilt is from my roommate Kari’s massive purple wagon, although I also have to give Aaron credit for doing the prototype run-over with his Honda Civic using chalk instead of fabric paint. Sorry the photo is kind of crappy, I was in a rush.
Hit the town last night with
The production was very lively and funny with a good cast all around, although about ten minutes in the men on stage started dropping C-bombs all over. A C-bomb, for those who are not ‘hip to the jive talk’, is the rude word for ladies’ anatomy that rhymes with punt. Lolly did a great job filling out her role as Joan with some very challenging monologues, and I thought she was particularly good in the scenes where she acted as the kindergarten teacher.
Randall Connoly –who played Bernie to within an inch of his life, an almost frighteningly convincing performance of a sex-crazed 70s chauvenist– kept giving me moments of cinematic deja-vu, as his moustache and dark, combed-over hair combined with the retro threads looked like Borat Sagdiyev and Ron Jeremy had a terrifying baby together. See below for visuals:
We had a little upset after the show, as it was discovered that the Fringe has an unusually firm no-tardiness policy that meant that Lolly’s mom and brother and about six other friends got shut out of the theatre for being about 4 minutes late because they couldn’t find parking. For heaven’s sake, this is THEATRE, people! They *never* start on time! Lolly got seriously pissed off, which is totally legitimate and frankly if it had been me I would have been throwing a few C-bombs at the door lady who shut them out, knowing they were family of the actors, saying “the cash box was shut”. Such bullshit.
Afterwards we hit Greg’s for some ice cream, where I proceeded to get upset due to JVL meeting a rather gorgeous woman he knew from high school, and failed utterly to introduce me as his girlfriend, partner, live-in commonlaw wife of two years… Clearly the best thing to resolve the tension was for me to reach between Justin and the pretty girl and pointedly grab him by his joint (and I’m using that term in the David Mamet 1970s “I mean penis” way, not the contemporary “I mean reefer” way). You might find this crass, but please consider that I had just come from a play where sex with dogs is mentioned more than twice, so my usual already minimal inhibitions were considerably lowered, plus I was jealous. We then headed over to Paupers for a pint on the roof, and eventually made our way home with a quick stop to pick up comic books.
And there is the complete saga of our evening. Tonight should hold considerably less amusement, since it’s my Macromedia class at Ryerson, so I’ll probably just stare, baffled, at the blurry monitor, wondering why I can’t get my Dreamweaver template to work right, no matter how I slice it.