history repeating itself
So, what did I end up doing last night? Is this the burning question? Where did I go?
I went to the Christmas party.
Oh, but that could mean any number of things… why did I go to the Christmas party?
I didn’t get the promotion. They picked someone else. Apparently my interview was very good, and they will seriously consider me the next time this job is available sometime in the future.
We aren’t going to Aspen. They picked someone else. Apparently our show was very good, and they will seriously consider us the next time the auditions roll around sometime in the future.
So, my week of waiting is over, and I’m exactly where I was one year ago. I have the same job, and I’m in the same troupe that has the same performance schedule… and now I’m working on a Fronterafest piece and preparing for the BS4 comedy festival, just as I was last winter.
So what’s the good news out of all of this?
Squishy will continue to be a daily periodical, since it will not be interrupted with a strange schedule or travel plans. Hooray for us. And I did win that DJR award yesterday, so all is not lost, remember?
I was shopping with Chuy yesterday when I got the news about the job. He turned to me: “Well, you know what the best remedy for this situation is, don’t you?”
I didn’t get day drunk… but I got quite a bit late night drunk, which is still odd for me to do.
I went to the Christmas party. But we had to go late, because Eric had a show last night, and when we got there they said we were too late, and we couldn’t have any free drinks, nor could we play at the casino, because they had shut it down for the night. This was not how the party went last year.
So I punk rocked some drink tickets off some tables, another girl donated a couple of tickets for us, Chuy took off his jacket and I my heels and we punk rocked a craps table and a black jack table, some chips and some cards and ran the casino ourselves.
Oh, yeah, and I had a lot of wine and champagne last night. My head is killing me. I just got up and it’s two in the afternoon. And why should I care, right? It doesn’t matter when I wake up. I’m on vacation, and my show isn’t until ten thirty tonight.
Oh, but here’s some good news: I think Mr. Lifestyle Tips for the Dead will be at my show tonight. Isn’t that smashing? He’s in town. I’m stoked.
This house is a wreck and I’m hungry. I’m gonna go try and fix that. Condolences, gifts, sitcom contracts can be sent to email@example.com.
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