SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 23

Subject: Manic Monday

To: Christinan@aol.com

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 12:31 PM 2/16/99

P.S. I’ve never heard of Caesar’s Palace Pizza. What is it? A local pizza place? Franchise? Brand name? Psychotic episode? Acid flashback? Hallucination resulting from excessive Valentine chocolate consumption?

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 22

Subject: Re: freaky friday

To: Christinan@aol.com

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 12:28 PM 2/16/99

Marvelous mischievous me.e.,

Paying patron: Would they have charged you less if you had refused to sing? And did you tell the orchestra that you wanted to do “Springtime for Hitler?”

Valentine vacancy: It felt odd, but oddly not too difficult. Della called from Italy to talk to the kids, but then engaged me in one of those conversations where the only sensible reaction is “Why are you doing this?” Funny, though, I recovered more quickly than I ever would have imagined, and enjoyed much of the rest of the day.

Postponing pigeonholing: I don’t know what we’re doing either, but I know that I like it.

xxx (just kisses this time, in honor of your Valentine’s Day excerpt, though I realize there’s another way to read that line)

Be dog-less (OK, a little cruel in light of the fate of Missy T)

SEALED WITH A CLICK - ENTRY 21

Subject: freaky friday

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 01:41 AM 2/15/99

bodacious b’douglas:

especially freaky friday, since it is saturday . . . wait . . . sunday.

imagine . . . late in the afternoon, you get a call from your friend bettina buckley (star extraordinaire) to inform you that she does, in fact, have two tickets for her show tonight. shit, now you have to find someone to go with you. you choose tim because he isn’t going to want something extra special from you for valentines day. you go to the show, enjoy yourself, have a few beers, and cheer as your friends from “triumph” get up to sing a few songs. betty calls you up as well. you think you’ll bow and wave to the crowd. surprise . . . you’re singing a song.

you paid for your ticket.

it was so yummy of you to phone me yesterday. i attempted to call you back when i realized that february 14^th might not be an easy day for you in your newly single state. my thoughts were with you.

whatever it is that we are doing (and it can’t be pigeonholed, thank god) is special to me. i thank you for that.

xoxoxo

me.e.

p.s. late last night, i discovered caesar’s palace pizza.

OH NOOOOOOOOOO...

My ClusterMaps has betrayed me...it had clocked about 6000 bleaders of TiZandAsS. And at some point between 10:45 am May 7th and 9:09 am May 8th, it rebooted itself.

Killing them all. All the little red dots.

And then there were 12.

I want my 5,988 back. COME BACK LITTLE SHEBA!

But what makes me saddest is I never got to thank and welcome the new countries. Never got to thank and welcome them in their native tongues (or the TiZian approximation). And there were about 35 who had attended the United Nations of TiZandAsS with nary a hello.

Oh, my apologies. Please come back. Please. I'm being a good girl and apologizing and appreciating you. Please come back.

I miss you, little red dots.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 20

Subject: Re: ***then why do I get to read it?***

To: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 11:15 PM 2/13/99

oops . . . typo . . . the subject should have read ***a dolt only*** as the object of my affection obviously is.

right back at ya

xoxo

me.e.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 19

Subject: ***then why do I get to read it?***

To: Christinan@aol.com

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 03:00 PM 2/13/99

Me.e.,

VERY nice. I particularly like the second paragraph; the sensations seemed somehow strangely familiar. “Sweet and precise torture”—know it well. Happy Valentine’s Day back at ya.

oxox

b’douglas

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 18

Subject: *** for adults only ***

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 08:20 AM 2/13/99

warning - sensitive material enclosed.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

from the wooden frame above where the gunpowder waits there are also suspended a number of nets and trapezes. from here acrobats swing over the square, casting grotesque shadows on the dancers below. now and again, one will dangle by the knees and snatch a kiss from whoever is standing below. i like such kisses. they fill the mouth and leave the body free. to kiss well one must kiss solely. no groping hands or stammering hearts. the lips and the lips alone are the pleasure. passion is sweeter split strand by strand. divided and re-divided like mercury then gathered up only at the last moment.

and so, from the first, we separated our pleasure. [he] lay on the rug and i lay at right angles to [him] so that only our lips might meet. kissing in this way is the strangest of distractions. the greedy body that clamors for satisfaction is forced to content itself with a single sensation and, just as the blind hear more acutely and the deaf can feel the grass grow, so the mouth becomes the focus of love and all things pass through it and are re-defined. it is a sweet and precise torture.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

jeanette winterson, the passion

happy valentines day

xoxo

me.e

What Fresh Hell is This?

I don't know why I named this blog post that, other than I LOVE it. I LOVE that Dotty Parker quote, I tell ya.

And I'm pretty sure Dorothy Parker wasn't called Dotty. Ever. Or Dory. Call me crazy, I just don't think she'd ever go for it.

Have worked my AsS off for the past couple of days. Four days of tech. Three ten out of twelves in a row. It got pretty hateful (and by that I mean I baked four chocolate chip cookie pies so everyone would feel loved and sugared up). Got a massage yesterday. Regina has magic hands. Wicked STRONG magic hands. Have to say I feel a lot better...and hateless.

And I learned I have to drink more water...she went through about a gallon of massage lotion. My lil ol body just kept soaking it up.

Okay...whatever....have no idea what I'm writing about other than I just learned (in addition to having to drink more water) that a dear, beloved, bone and sinew friend just got nominated for a Tony. And I'm so fucking proud of her I could scream.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

I met her on a little musical that will remain nameless. And I worked my way up the ranks in this little musical. And ended up being on a team of people who helped the creatives re-write this little musical. And it turned into a gorgeous, big musical that was gonna have a life. A healthy life because it was smart and universal and specific and heart-breaking and funny.

And the composer and book-writer and producer killed it. First they killed all of us. Fired our asses. (Guess we'd been too intrusive---honest to Jesus, the worst thing I'd said was, "Oh my God, just change the REASON for the scene and it's perfect. Listen." That was me at my worst.) Then they fired the director. Then the famous music director. Then they oh-my-God changed it back, added some crap we had begged them not to, hired a new director, recast it and then lost all their funding.

Shame.

And this sweet marvelous directorial Goddess has been nominated for a Tony. Betcha they're all pea-green with envy now, aren't they?

And I'm so proud I can scream.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Random. I know. Gonna be a "what fresh hell is this" kinda preview with a noggin as random as this.

SEALED WITH A CLICK -entry 17

Subject: Re: conquering capitalization

To: Christinan@aol.com

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 04:02 PM 2/12/99

Jeanette Winterson: Yes, of course, I am intrigued.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 16

Subject: conquering capitalization

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 06:15 PM 2/12/99

i have a lovely excerpt from a jeanette winterson novel regarding kissing. will you accept it in lieu of a valentine? or perhaps as a prize for conquering capitalization?

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 15

Subject: Re: regurgitating gershwin

To: Christinan@aol.com

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 02:35 PM 2/12/99

Me.e (my alluring alliterative alarmist),

Mean Miss Chris: Didn’t know my grandma was such an original thinker. “Such a smart girl, too.” Did your ex have something to say about that as well? My advice— stop dating fourth graders—and definitely stay away from Bran.

In Further Defense of Spaying: Your dad probably did Missy T a favor. Word has it that all us male dogs are bastards. Woof woof.

Re: Chris is a babe: Of course Bran knows. Who do you think told me? Aside from you?

New AT&T Booze Buddies Service: Sign me up.

Better call the calling off off : You actress, you.

ox ox

Bidet Glass

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 14

Subject: regurgitating gershwin

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.colm

Date: 09:50 AM 2/12/99

sung to the tune of “let’s call the whole thing off”

you like dashes, and i like ellipses

you like all-caps, and i like no-caps

---, . . . , AAA, aaa

let’s call the whole thing off!

you economist, you.

The Headache

I know. I know. What the hell kinda post is this? About a HEADACHE? You're a WuSs-AsS, TiZandAsS.

I know.

But I don't get headaches. Maybe one a year. And when that happens I cock my head a la the RCA puppy and ask myself, "Self, what is this strange feeling in thy head? I wish it would stop, Self."

And stop it would.

BUT NOT YESTERDAY.

Yesterday was different.

I think I hit the trifecta and that caused the blasted fuckwad kopfschmerz.* What is this blasphemous trifecta so you DON'T hit it? Blood pressure drop, blood sugar drop and caffeine drop...ALLS AT THE SAME TIME.

And that will never happen again. Because I just don't believe in costume fittings anymore...

I knew something was wrong when I started to cry at the beginning of the run-through of "Crappy Person-The Ginger Musical." And then when I had to pull out my Merman, it was confirmed. Never EVER try to be Ethel Merman while harboring a fugitive headache. You will want to take a knitting needle to your temples.

Two hours later I made the titular character drive us both home, despite the fact she had just tapped her AsS off. I continue to believe that having her drive us home safely was wiser than my careening blindly into the Gulf of Mexico. Call me silly.

When neither food nor caffeine made me feel any better, I thought I might have a problem. When I lay on the couch sobbing "OW," it drove it home (rather like knitting needles through temples).

And yet there was a sitzprobe that evening. The first and only orchestra rehearsal. My favorite rehearsal of any process.

It didn't happen...at least not for me. I called the stage manager, I called the titular character to get the director's number. I called the director.

And I missed rehearsal.

I've NEVER missed rehearsal. Not in 18 years in this business. Not when I blew my knee out. Not when I broke a rib. Not when I tore my gastroc. Not when I tore my seratus and lats. Not when I tore my cornea. Not when I broke a bone in my foot. Not when I was headbutted by Sister Mary Truckdriver barrelling on through and got a concussion so severe they thought I had cracked my skull.

I just don't miss rehearsal.

Yet miss I did...which did not help the headache.

Earlier I had posted on the Book of Face, "TiZ has a headache that makes her want to vomit. she can't take advil or tylenol or ANY of that stuff. suggestions. please."

Now, I can't take any of that stuff and sing (for my now non-existent sitz) because I got mugged a decade ago. It wasn't one of those pleasant, "Excuse me, Miss, may I have that vintage handbag your mother gave you?" kinda muggings. It was the "Let's mace her and then beat the crap outta her" kind. Mace paralyzes your larynx. I screamed through it. Who knew?

I blew out a cord.

That's my blog-AsS way of explaining why I can't take a vasodilator and then project. Will just blow the cord right out again.

Oh, but the Book of Face responses were sooooooooo helpful. And lovely. I finally went with the acupressure, darkness (not easy in sunny South Florida), silence, caffeine, cold compress, tea tree oil, self-reiki, meditation route. Did wonders but not enough. Would have loved to have tried the freshly made ginger ale suggestion, but since I could barely see, that was out. I also enjoyed the momentary mary jane suggestion. Why did you fly from my page, momentary mary jane suggestion? So, since I didn't have to sing, I took two Ibuprofen PMs.

And hallucinate.

Which was good.

The phone ringing right next to my ear? Not so good. Can't imagine who was calling me on the landline but they are officially dead to moi.

Woke up 4 hours later, watched a little Eddie Iz (always the cure-all), AND was naughty and popped another Ibuprofen PM.

And hallucinate.

I feel pretty good today. I like the polka-dot elephants who are following me around. They're sweet. As are all of you for reading this and writing those suggestions.

*One of my most beloved colleagues has had a two week kopfzchmerz caused by some contagious bacterial thingy, and despite the fact I shared a drink with her a couple of nights ago, I'm in complete denial over the fact that this could be the cause.

That ain't it, kid. That ain't it.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 13

Subject: Re: Exploding dogs and other favorite party tricks

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 09:36 AM 2/12/99

my alleged alliteration ally -

grandma b called me nice? no one ever calls me nice. i should have her call my last boyfriend . . . he called me “mean.” i still can’t believe that someone beyond the fourth grade could make that call and “mean” it.

ballooning bran will suffer the same fate as missy t if you don’t feed him something other than microwave pizza pockets.

re: devon dilemma: you’re screwed.

i had to phone my 2 other brothers last night and inform them of missy t’s demise. extraordinarily un-fun. rod (the bro who taught me how to make the perfect o as a party trick . . . faking fellatio at twelve without knowing it . . . nice) and i drank scotch together via at&t. jim wept.

my father will now need a female to control. run away! run away!

xoxo

me.e.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 12

Subject: EXPLODING DOGS & OTHER PARTY GIMMICKS

To: CHRISTINAN@AOL.COM

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 02:45 PM 2/11/99

OH ME.E., OH MY,

DAMNABLY DANGEROUS DETONATING DOGGIES: DUCK!

ANSWERS TO BRAN’S QUESTIONS:

1) CHRIS IS A BABE—KNEW THAT

2) MACARONI AND CHEESE—WRONG—MICROWAVE PIZZA POCKETS (DO I NEED AN AU PAIR OR WHAT?).

RE: DEVON DILEMMA: MY FATHER HAS PROCLAIMED THAT AN APOLOGY WOULD ONLY MAKE THINGS WORSE. I FIND HIM INSANELY STUBBORN AND CLOSED-MINDED. DO WEIRD THINGS LIKE THIS GO ON IN YOUR FAMILY?

I REMEMBER MENTIONING TO MY MOM THAT WE TALKED, BUT I DON’T REMEMBER SAYING THAT YOU CALLED. IN ANY CASE, I KNOW I CONFESSED E-MAILING FIRST, SO YOU’RE COVERED.

FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS AND BEYOND: DEFENDED YOURSELF? MORE THAN FRIGHTENING? I RETRACT THE ABOVE QUESTION ABOUT WHETHER WEIRD THINGS GO ON IN YOUR FAMILY.

ACTING OUT (OF THE CLOSET?): THERE ARE STRAIGHT GUYS IN ACTING CLASS?

OXOX

BIDET GLOSS

P.S. YOUR LOWER CASE YELLING IS PASSIVE-AGGRESIVE, DONTCHA THINK?

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 11

Subject: despairing dead doggy

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 05:04 PM 2/11/99

dearest bidet gloss -

missy t was a brilliant actress. in this case, far too brilliant, and thus her new name “ash”ley.

to answer your beautiful little daughter jilly’s questions: missy t was named after me . . . my childhood nickname. she was 84 years old and a sweet, beautiful doberman. my misogynistic father had her spayed (she wouldn’t talk to him for days), so she never had any fun, and therefore never had any puppies. re: how she got sick: her intestines closed off at both ends and she almost exploded.

to answer bubbly bran’s questions: chris is a babe. macaroni and cheese.

devon dilemma: have your beautiful big step-daughter monica and soon-to-be step-son-in-law devon send your parents an armload of sunflowers to thank them for the anniversary weekend.

by the way, i lived with someone for two years, and my parents never knew. the fact that they know i called you (defended myself by telling them you e-mailed me first) is more than frightening. aaaah.

off to acting class to do a lesbian scene. i’m not excited, but all the males of the heterosexual persuasion in my class are terrifically so. think about that.

x o x o

me.e.

p.s. stop yelling at me!