This Chinchilla is Entirely Synthetic
Wednesday, Oct. 17, 2007 at 5:40 a.m.
On This Day in 1967, the controversial play Hair, full of dancing naked people, unshaved armpits, and body odor, opens at the 299-seat Anspacher Theater on Broadway.
From what I understand, the whole naked thing wasn’t part of the Joe Papp performances – the nudity was added when the show went to actual Broadway. Anything for a buck, eh? And at the moment I’m actually listening to “Prisoner of Love” from The Producers, so I’m actually achieving either karma or just coincidence. Perhaps it is karma – yesterday I bought tickets for a touring production of Hairspray, so I going full circle from hair to Hair!
Okay, yeah, I have cabin fever. Whatever.
I am continuing to heal well and am still knitting.
That’s it. I have nothing new to talk about, and I have even less interest in coming up with new material. Okay, yes, I’m bored. And it only took two weeks this time!
I did venture out both Monday and Tuesday (yes, I drove!) to the grocery store (1/2 mile in one direction) and to get my nails done (1 mile in the other direction). Whee. I’m not even supposed to be driving yet – not for another 2 weeks, according to the nurse practioner who popped out my staples on Monday (and I didn’t drive to the appointment, it was 18 miles in one direction, so the Hubster was pressed into service for that one) but for heaven’s sakes, when a person really wants mac and cheese and there isn’t any, and the grocery store is ½ mile away, what’s a person to do?
I have been given release to go back to work November 19th.
Yeah, I’m not excited about that at all. I know I’m bored, but not to the point where I’m willing to go back to work. Why can’t I just be given money for being fabulous and non-dysfunctional? That’s what I hate about shows like Maury and Dr. Phil -- these people are being essentially rewarded for being dysfunctional. They are given one-on-one attention, usually some form of free vacation (under the guise of therapy), and depending on the show, given some sort of fabulous prize like a cruise or something to “find themselves” or “re-acuate themselves” or some sort of psychobabble. Where’s my free cruise for being a civilized member of society? For contributing to the economy? For not being a Wal-Mart-ing, trashy, wearing-spandex-but-shouldn’t-in-the-name-of-God, not-husband-beating-sugar-in-the-neighbor’s-gas-tank-mother-raping-husband-raping kind of freak?
I’m just sayin’.
Well, to bring a little balance to this entry, here’s a cute picture of Wally:
Awwwwwwww.