Tavie
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Friday, November 17, 2006
Liz and Marie are in the hiz-ouse. I am a CRAP hostess!
Well, at least I told them where the coffee is... Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:43 AM | shower me with attention
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Oh yeah, and so when I found out that the tsunami that's hit Japan was 16 inches tall, the first thing I thought of was the fear demon at the end of that one episode of Buffy. Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:34 AM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, November 15, 2006
I guess it's no secret that I've been in the dumps lately. Chemically imbalanced, negatively affected by the changing seasons, socially stagnant, all that fun stuff. Tonight I got to escape from myself, see a lot of friends I hadn't seen in a long time (Matt! Jen! KITANA!), meet new people (cutest child ever!) and, of course, get teased in public by my favourite celebri-teh, as we all went to see Dave get interviewed at "Inside Joke" at the UCB.
But even all THAT couldn't top what happened after the show: as Gina was driving Robin home, I went along for the ride, and on the highway, a car swerved in fun of us. Usually Gina puts out "the magic arm" in front of whomever's in the passenger seat, but this time, inexplicably, and more hilarious than it will actually sound to describe, Gina and I instead spontaneously clasped hands. I can't describe to you how funny it was that we did this. We turned into Thelma and Louise in a moment of panic and grabbed each other's hand like children lost in the woods.
I guess you had to be there, but I thought we were going to die just from the laughing.
Speaking of laughing, so Dave was all awesome and stuff, telling great, juicy, behind-the-scenes troupe history and tales of the Kids in the Hall and other things, and we were all enjoying it immensely but I made a classic blunder. A similar blunder is described here, on the entry halfway down the page for November 12:
The hard thing about one-man shows, especially when you're seeing them in the front row, and especially when you've driven 8 hours to get there just to see them and don't want to miss a single moment, is having to pee. I am the girl who is notorious for having to get up at least once during every movie and every flight and every show. I am Sir Pee-a-Lot. About half an hour into the 85-minute play, I had to go to the bathroom.
I won't detail my agony. Suffice it to say that I held out, that there was much squirming and knuckle-biting, that dear Kitana's sympathetic glances were an immense comfort to me, and that my physical discomfort was not enough to ruin the show for me.
So, yeah, I had a beer before the show, and it got so that I desperately needed to urinate, and visions of that long-ago experience flashed through my mind, and I was determined not to have my teeny-weeny bladder ruin The Dave Show for me, so I waited for what I thought a suitable moment, when the audience was laughing, and then I jumped up and made a dash for the aisle.
Both Dave and the host wouldn't let me get away with it, though, and Dave started to feign shocked indignance at whoever would be so rude as to get up in the middle of the show. And then he saw who it was and his indignance turned to horror, whereupon Mr. Foley jumped from his seat, shouted "TAVIE!" and ran after me. I suppose this was all very funny to the 108 people watching, and it was funny to me in an embarrassing sort of oh-my-god-people-are-looking-at-me kind of way. Okay, it was actually kind of great. Except I really really did have to pee, so I whispered, "Can I pee?" and Dave graciously allowed me to escape. But I heard them talking about me on the stage. So clearly I am famous, you guys.
Also, I'm a princess.*
*This is my new catch phrase that I coined at work last week. Do you like it? Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:45 PM | shower me with attention
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Self-induced half-coma, combination of caffeine deprivation and exercise deprivation from Friday night to Sunday afternoon, leading to heart palptitations, headache, malaise, exhaustion, restlessness, and compounded by usual feelings of hopelessness and blah. Therapy: Walk in the rain alone. Take camera with me, and iPod (skip all songs that don't fit; stick mainly to Aimee Mann, Brian Wilson, other depressive kindred spirits.) Wander by the riverside for at least an hour, until drenched, numb, frozen, and finally, paradoxically, feeling something close to life.
Return home and warm up with Chinese soup (courtesy of caring person with money.) Why are you in Tavie's head? 7:30 PM | shower me with attention
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