Ravings of a Textual Deviant

This summer, my mom asked me if she could rewrite one of my earlier works as a skit for the Phoenix Theater’s “A Very Phoenix Christmas” show. I said sure, and didn’t think about it for weeks. Mom went to it, and had a couple of email exchanges with the theater.

Today, I opened up my email to discover that our scene has been selected for use! According to the theater’s website, Mom and I are now among that illustrious band, “Indiana’s wackiest playwrights.” (Hard to argue.) If the timing works out, I’ll even get to go to a cast read-through in the next couple of weeks.

The show runs from November 30th through December 23rd, if you’re interested.

Three wishes are three too many.

Thanks to follybard for going first, and sirvalence for finding the impetus.

We’re a sick lot, our gaming group, and a merry one. I knew last’s night’s game would offer several good examples when, before the game even started, I walked in B. saying “–thought I said ‘hot buttered nymphs.’”

***

Huron the Gnome: (Hands Anja the Warrior a good, stiff drink.) Here—drink this. You’ll feel better.

DM: Make a constitution check.

S. the Player: Did you say “prostitution check?”

***

S. the Player: I’m just drinking my tea. I didn’t say anything about high-velocity protein.

***

Medrin the Wizard: For every in you need an out.

***

E. the Player: What’s your INT?

Me: Twelve.

M. the Player: I always thought you were kinda dim.

Me: (Checking Michael’s character sheet ) Hey, your INT’s a twelve.

E. the Player: He’s a half-orc. That makes him a f*ckin’ genius. You’re an elf.

(Later, we returned to the same topic)

Me: Did you say she thinks like a stone?

Anja the Warrior: I’m just as smart as you are, cupcake!

***

DM: The DM is trying to move the plot along so we can get to the killing things part. Work with the DM!

I’m afraid that I must report that it was an uphill battle for the DM last night.

One of my coworkers livened up an afternoon of proofreading with this story…

My house is 125 years old and didn’t have an original basement. The basement was dug as an afterthought some time in the 1930s so a furnace could be installed in the house. The basement perimeter is about 3 feet inside the original foundation. And, since the kitchen is an add on from the 1950’s, there is a rather large crawlspace accesible from the basement. The floors are not insulated from the basement so in the winter, my house gets quite cold.

Last night my boyfriend came over to help me put some insulation under the floors. We decided to start with the crawlspace, and as he was propping a ladder against the wall in preparation to access the crawlspace, I jokingly told him to be careful. When he asked why, I replied “Because that’s where I bury my dead things.”

He knew I was joking so he smiled and going along with it asked “Dead things?…like what?”

“Oh, just things like old cats, stray dogs, and my ex-husband.” I said.

“Your ex-husband, you say? Well if he taps me on the shoulder, I’ll put him to work.” he replied.

He [the boyfriend, presumably, not the ex-husband] positions the work lamp and jumps on the ladder to access the crawl space. After he wiggles his way on to the ledge, he gets suddenly quiet. After a moment or two, he swallows hard with an uneasy manner.

“You WERE just joking …. uh, right?”

“Maybe…” I replied, “Why do you ask?”

” ‘Cause, honey… there’s something dead up here.” Then with all the courage he could muster, he proceded to reach out and hook something on the end of his screwdriver. Rotating around to pass it down to me he asked… “What was this?”

It was the skull of a dead cat. I told him it was a cat skull. He looked at me kind of weird and asked again, “You were just JOKING… right?” I laughed and said of course I was joking.

This morning, we are up and moving into the kitchen to get breakfast and there, in the middle of the floor, is a mouse that expired during the night. Immediately I exclaimed “Oh look! Another little body for the basement.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye and asked one more time…”You were just joking… RIGHT?”

H: I’m sweet and innocent

Me: You’re bitter and unindicted.

“The only thing that separates us from the animals is the ability to add sequins to clothes we buy at Goodwill.” —Jeffery Reeves

“When you break rule number one*, you end up in number two.”—Ed.

*Don’t visualize.

I’ve had cruel months. I’ve had stupid months. And I just looked up and realized what today’s date is, and realized what a really, truly, amazingly, unbelievably, effing busy month it’s been.

So, here’s my recipe for a busy month.

1. Have your boss quit. Make sure that it happens when you’re the management team member with the most seniority and the one who knows the most about what’s going on. 

2. Get promoted. Be conscientious about training your replacement, getting your files in order, tying up loose ends, etc. Be equally conscientious about learning your new job. Be attentive and helpful to your successor as she moves into your old job.

3. Have a lot of experience doing business writing at a time when your company needs someone who can.

4. Put off a lot of yoga-teacher-training homework.

5. Have ALL your library holds arrive at the same time…the new books…you know, the ones you can’t renew.

6. Make a commitment to go to the gym more often.

7. Work a lot of overtime.

8. Join a new gaming group.

9. Have a four-day-long migraine.

10. Have the last training seminar you need for your RYT-200 cancelled. Find one in another city, at least 2 hours away. Make plans to attend at the last minute. (My Level 3 in Indy was cancelled. Fortunately, I got one the same weekend in Cincinnati. All I need now is a hotel room and I idea of where the hell I’m going.)

11. Have your amazingly handy housemate fix a few things, like the roof and the dishwasher. And paint at least one room in your house. (Doesn’t affect your schedule much, but is great for making you feel like lots of things are getting done.)

12. Try to have a life in spite of it all.

I don’t recommend having your mom break her foot, or spending an evening too nauseated to sit up, but it will help out with your goal.

A young lady of my acquaintance is responsible for throwing a bachelorette party for one-half of a lesbian couple who are about to get married. Not having thrown a bachelorette party before, she was at a loss for ideas…so she googled “lesbian bachelorette party.” While she did get an amazing number of results, I’m told that none of them were helpful.