Here is an email that I just sent to Alexa's Regional Newspaper about reviews on local plays.

Please inform the headline-writing-people of the fact that theatre is very dependant on ticket sales and POSITIVE PUBLICITY. A semi-good review with a bad headline does not help at all. However, thanks for the publicity that you do give to local plays. But keep in mind the hard work every person contributes to the show, and the fact that copyrighted things, like the scripts, cannot be changed. Everything about a show can be made better except the script, so if all a "critic" does not like about a show is the script, then why make it the headline? No one can help that. Why not make a headline about how great the actors are and how good they made a play with a bad script? Now, THAT would help a lot.
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Gale

Great. Now I'm probably on their private shit list and they will never, EVER give me publicity again. I hate mysef. Damn. I just probably condemned the rest of the run of my show to hell for writing that letter. just my luck, it will get published and read by thousands upon thousands who chortle and say, "Oh, what a hopeless bitch. Go start your own f'n theatre company if you don't like ours. Fuck off."

*sigh*

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But why be glum today? We have a show tonight, dammit. And I'm going to knock every critic on their heir-apparent ass. I'm also meeting again tonight with the Big-Wig Theatre Guy who wants me to audition for his next show. I can just picture it:

"Hi, Elizabeth. I really want you to audition for our next show, in which we will be traveling to twenty-five different states and you will be doing three shows a day. How does that sound?"

"Is there fruit involved? That's part of my contract."

"Um, I'm sure we could make fruit a part of it."

"Good. Because I also require large amounts of Vaseline."

Argh. Kill me.

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The radio thing turned out fine, except for the one part where I was hocking up a lung when the DJ asked about Gavin. my stalkers, Brandon and Joseph, were probably listening and/or waiting outside the studio door and are now probably buying large amounts of ammunition and are coming to the show this weekend and are going to hold me for a ransom of ten pounds of lime Starbursts until Gavin promises not to kiss me anymore.

Great.

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Kittens are doing fine. Getting even fatter. Mewing even louder.

This morning, I was checking on them when my Sumo Cat, Ginger, decided that she wasn't getting enough attention. She just stood there. Focused. Angry. Fat. Ready to kill me at any given moment. All she'd have to do is sit on me. I think she knows it, too. I'm getting scared.

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Well, I've got to go to tap-tap class. Hugs and kisses and all that happy shit.

© alexa

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