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I am sitting here eating pretzels. There are a vast number of various reasons that I am eating pretzels, since I really don't like them. However, only one reason can be explained logically.

In this show I'm in....not the Greek one, but another one....I play a girl who's bulemic-anorexic. In one part of the show, I get really stressed out and start shoving pretzels into my mouth like some drunken pregnant woman on Survivor. And when I realize that I've been eating, I promptly retreat to the "bathroom" (graciously provided by Stagecraft I, *smooches*) and make some lovely sound effects which can only be described as stomach pyrotechnics.

And then of course I come stumbling back onstage wiping the vomit from the corner of my mouth. Then I go into a rage about how I'm going to commit suicide if I find that I gained one pound from eating the pretzels, bringing my total weight up to about, ohh....65 pounds. Oh, I am so going to fervently sell tickets for this to all my friends and my pastor. Oh yes.

But about the pretzels. I used to just suck the salt off of the surface of the pretzel until I found out that it makes you retain water and look and feel pretty much like a camel, so I stopped eating them altogether. I just can't shake the mental image that a pretzel is a convoluted, twisted piece of stale bread. I just can't eat something on which the expiration date is a year from when it was sold. I don't see how this is physiologically possible, and thus I maintain my standpoint that the pretzel company is just attempting to taint the subconcious of the all-consuming American public into thinking that eating stale pieces of wheat is safe to digest.

And you wonder why so many people die from food poisoning every year.

But I've just got to grin and bear it for this show. I might actually have to throw up offstage to avoid looking like a raccoon that's been run over three times with a heavy duty tractor.

My director gave me a note today to stop making a face that looks like I'm being tortured by some demon within the pretzel that has infected my mind. He said it looks like my mind is just recoiling in utter horror as I bite into it. So I said I was working on trying to like them, but please for the love of god just leave me to my own devices because I'll hurl for sure if I have to just cram them down my throat.

And AAAGGGHHH! It's even more disturbing that it's autumn in New Orleans and yet it stills feels like there's a humidifier in the clouds going on full blast, so could somebody please crack a window or something before I suffocate to death?!?

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"Cats" last Friday was absolutely wonderful. If you have the means, I highly recommend picking up a ticket at the overpriced theatre near you.

My mother was convinced that since I mentioned it on the internet, I was going to have numerous stalkers show up, kidnap me, and hold me for a ransom of ten pounds of lime Starbursts.

But that didn't happen. Thanks, guys. Major props.

And like I mentioned, I spent the day Saturday with Kevin and Jessica. Me and Jess were going to go to this haunted house alone, but we got a frantic phone call around noon that slightly altered our plans.

Kevin had been at a movie audition and needed us to come pick him up right that second before he developed a rare brain condition and died before we could get there in rush hour traffic.

He was hired as the assistant casting director for this new movie, "Grift", starring the girl who played the lead in "The Count of Monte Cristo". But since I never saw that movie, umm...it didn't really mean much. But I know it's an important job, so yaaaay Kevin. Oh, and yaaaay Kevin's agent who did her job for once in her life.

I hope I don't get in trouble with the movie company for revealing a bunch of stuff about it. Well, it won't be out for a year or so anyway.

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Oh, funny story:

Me and my mom were driving along the Causeway yesterday to visit my grandparents in Baton Rouge. And as we're driving along, she suddenly spots this armadillo that's somehow finagled it's way onto the bridge and is now trying desperately to avoid being hit by a car. So she swerves at the last second in the wrong direction, almost sending us flying over the edge of the bridge and into the murky waters beneath.

I don't know about you people, but I'd rather drown that stir up whatever's at the bottom of that thing.

*sigh* Moms. You can't let them drive anywhere. You'll probably end up drowning because god forbid you hit an armadillo.

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