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The Country WTF.
Saturday, 22 July 2006 01:56 amOpening night went well. Didn't take any prompts at all.
StrAubrey ('Boy'/'AubsStrawbs' to the cast) brought along a harem of his thirteen year old girlfriends, and his little brother, Elliott, who looks frighteningly like a ten year old Joe May. StrAub's mum, Linda, is in the play as an orange seller, too; it's a bit of a family affair, this one, as the director's daughter plays Miss Squeamish.
I did all the boys' make up. They were hilariously tetchy about having their lippy right. As young men are wont to be.
I got really upset that the malicious bitch who was taking photos when we were doing set building, recently, put a picture of me from a really, really unflattering angle in the middle of the brochure, even though I'd asked her not to take pictures of me (she'd snapped bitchily that I didn't have to be in the programme, and I'd said I wanted to be - but not covered in paint and with my hair a mess from being one of the few people who could be bothered to go along and do any set work; she hadn't even given us a day's notice). John, our director (who wrote in my goodluck card that he hears my stage giggle in his sleep, now - it's very realistic and infectious, apparently. I didn't realise other people couldn't just giggle on command.) is really unimpressed by the fact that she did it, as he was there when I specifically asked her not to.
If I ever see that woman again I'm going twat her one.
Then we went to Colin's for a first night party. Very civilised. Much discussion of which cartoon characters we fancied as kids (Snap, from the Rice Crispies adverts, obv) which was spawned from Calv's disbelief that girls didn't generally sexualise animated images the way guys do. Apparently.
We have two performances with only about an hour in between, tomorrow. *cries* I need more sleep! King's Langley on Sunday is going to be awful.
Still, one down, eight more to go...
StrAubrey ('Boy'/'AubsStrawbs' to the cast) brought along a harem of his thirteen year old girlfriends, and his little brother, Elliott, who looks frighteningly like a ten year old Joe May. StrAub's mum, Linda, is in the play as an orange seller, too; it's a bit of a family affair, this one, as the director's daughter plays Miss Squeamish.
I did all the boys' make up. They were hilariously tetchy about having their lippy right. As young men are wont to be.
I got really upset that the malicious bitch who was taking photos when we were doing set building, recently, put a picture of me from a really, really unflattering angle in the middle of the brochure, even though I'd asked her not to take pictures of me (she'd snapped bitchily that I didn't have to be in the programme, and I'd said I wanted to be - but not covered in paint and with my hair a mess from being one of the few people who could be bothered to go along and do any set work; she hadn't even given us a day's notice). John, our director (who wrote in my goodluck card that he hears my stage giggle in his sleep, now - it's very realistic and infectious, apparently. I didn't realise other people couldn't just giggle on command.) is really unimpressed by the fact that she did it, as he was there when I specifically asked her not to.
If I ever see that woman again I'm going twat her one.
Then we went to Colin's for a first night party. Very civilised. Much discussion of which cartoon characters we fancied as kids (Snap, from the Rice Crispies adverts, obv) which was spawned from Calv's disbelief that girls didn't generally sexualise animated images the way guys do. Apparently.
We have two performances with only about an hour in between, tomorrow. *cries* I need more sleep! King's Langley on Sunday is going to be awful.
Still, one down, eight more to go...