The article comes out in Sunday's paper! I just know what picture they're going to put in, too!

Let me back up. Okay, we were taking pictures in costume, and I was wearing the Costume From Hell. (Of course. What else? *sigh* Some people know not the True Evil Of Tulle.) We were told to just do a scene and he would just snap away, which is exactly what he did. Well, there was a certain point where I noticed that the speed of his snapping got a lot faster. In this particular scene we were doing, I have to faint on the floor, and everybody in the scene sort of gathers around me. So in a way, I just it's the perfect photo op. So I was just laying there on the floor in the Costume From Hell wanting to change clothes very bad, and this guy is having the time of his life, probably thinking, "That uncorfortable bitch. Ahh...when she sees this in the paper, she'll never forget it, either."

He is the Evil Photographer. Yeah. Evil. Real evil.

They fired the guy who I have to kiss, Matt. He missed rehearsal the other night without anybody knowing it, and he has done that twice before, too. So they got fed up and fired him. So then they hired this other guy. Well, he didn't even have the part for 24 hours, because that night at rehearsal (last night), he "remembered" that he had a conflict on opening weekend, which is NEXT weekend. We open one week from today. So after rehearsal, I had to read with some other guys for the part. They ended up casting this guy named Gavin, who I sort of know because i've done one other show with him, but it was a really long time ago.

But really, it's so hard to adjust to another guy after I've spent two months with one of them, then he gets fired. I have to kiss the guy, and it's hard to kiss somebody that you hardly know. It's looks more....real (I guess) when you really know the person. So now I have to get to know Gavin really fast! This has been really hard on me. It's all happened in three days, too. Ugh...Miss Director, kiss my ass.

I was so flustered last night that when I heard the news, I ran off the stage a little too fast. I tripped on the edge and fell head over heels into the orchestra pit. It was very graceful. I think I may have even received a little applause. Gratefully, I was pulled out by my new hero by default, Gavin. I thanked him and took a bow. So despite a few scrapes and scratches and bruises and concussions and brain hemmorage through my nose, the show went on.

I think I have discovered a Portal To Hell in the green room of the theater. Last night, among other horrible things, I lost my water bottle. I have lost three, count them, three water bottles so far. It may not seem like a big deal, but it was not trifling, you may be sure. I spend three hours onstage a night, and my larynx doesn't always agree with me. So I missed an entrance last night because I was busy tearing apart a couch looking for my water bottle, along with the two other missing ones. There must be Evil Water Bottle Gnomes that live in the green room, because other than that, there is no explanation for The Disappearances.

Tonight we're doing more pictues. This is a nightmare! Are they just trying to embarrass me?!? Speaking of major embarrassment, Miss Director informed me last night that she wants to me to do a few "publicity things." So I got really suspicious and warily asked her what she meant by that. "Oh, just a few interviews." So I asked her whether she meant TV or radio, and she said, "Both." By this time, it was too late to save me from freaking out, but I quietly asked her about how many she thought I was going to have to do. "I don't know..." she replied, "maybe three...four? Something like that. The first one is on Monday." Thanks Miss Director. Thanks a whole lot. Not only am I short and albino, But after Monday, everyone in at least three states is going to know it.

Excuse me, but I can be very embittered when I want to. Especially when I am informed that I have to make unwanted media appearances on short notice. This also means that I have to crawl out of bed at about three in the morning to be on time at the stations. My hair will be piled on top of my head and I'll look like Medusa, and I'll smell. Knowing me, I'll be so tired that I'll say something really stupid but probably brutally honest, like telling the anchorwoman that I can see her dark roots and she's a smiley-bitch. I am not a morning person. I just want to be like the rest of American children who sleep in during the summer. Being a person who does not like to be told what to do, my envy is bitter indeed for all the rest of the cast who gets to stay at home on those mornings and snooze away to their heart's content.

I maintain the idea that I undergo one major injury during every show that I do. So far, this theory has proved to be true. Hopefully, falling into the orchestra pit last night was my injury. But so far, all my injuries have been during the actual run of the show, and last night was just a rehearsal. On opening night, when all my friends are there, I'll probably fall out of the boat right onto my head or something like that. Speaking of that, that is the thing I hate most about this show. Laying in that boat with my eyes closed and saying all this weird stuff. It's so...weird. No, I know it now!! I'm going to catch pneumonia from running out onto the stage soaking wet after that frigging boat scene! Yep, that's it.

Phew, this is getting to be really long. But I have a lot of free time right now. All I'm doing is typing this and listening to my Walkman.

*flips hair and sings into a Coke can*

"I'M A BITCH!!!"

Can I get an Amen? Hallelujah, people.

P.S. (1:24 P.M. the same day) Have you ever popped your collarbone? I just did that and it hurts like hell!

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The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!