Rabid Badgers Wielding Pitchforks Couldn't Keep Me Away

Good God. It's only Sunday morning, and already I don't even know where to begin!

Friday night I had dinner with Eric at Pasta Vino and then we went to see Moonlight's Taming of the Shrew. It was clever...there were some wonderful performances. (I have to say here that Billy and Jen just BELONG together, and they BELONG in Shakespeare - Billy especially is the most natural Shakespearean actor I think I've seen, especially in community theatre. He speaks the language without a halt, as if he's more comfortable there than in common American dialect.) I won't break down much more than that - as always, my friends were a joy to watch, even if that first act was very long and after an hour I had to stop focusing on the play and pretty center all of my attention on controlling my bladder. (WHY do I drink two huge glasses of iced tea before a play?? Why??!!)

Here comes my favourite part of the weekend.

Friday night I crashed over at Travis' place because he was going to get up early and do an alignment on my car. (Please note that it did take eight months before I asked him to tinker with Hedwig, and I still hated doing it.) The plan was to get up at about 7:30 or so, I believe. I say I believe because we were actually awoken around 6:30 by the sounds of voices. Travis charged down the hall, and came charging back up the hall, hastily getting dressed and mumbling something about driving someone up to Highway 50. I sat up and demanded that he cover it once more, and here's how the story goes: there's a woman talking to his mother in the living room...apparently she was walking down CR 33 and a group of Mexicans were following her, and she was terrified and wanted a ride to 50. He slipped a knife in his pocket, "Just in case," and headed back out of the room. I sat for a moment shaking off the sleep, and then I did the math. Travis lives on a five-acre stretch of property, and the house sits about three to four acres back. It's not like waltzing up and knocking on the door is easy or convenient. It is 6:30 in the damn morning. People walking along a highway at 6:30 in the morning on a Saturday, probably not normal people. Finally, whoever this person is just saw my shirtless boyfriend walk down the hall and asked him for a ride.

Um, no.

I leap out of bed, get dressed and charge down the hall. No glasses, no contacts. I cram my feet into my shoes (WHY did I wear sneakers today?) and bolt for the door. I barrel down CR 33 to Highway 50, spot him heading back, and follow.

Well guess what? Yep, she was a crack whore, sure enough. Not in an exaggerating kind of way either. A real genuine crack whore. I dunno, I kinda wish I'd seen her. But apparently she just made the whole story up to get a ride and meet people. Travis tells me all this as he splashes his front seat with a large amount of rubbing alcohol and bleach. And apparently she stated that she'd offer to sleep with him in return for the ride, but she'd "been with too many for you." Shudder. Then she notes that she meant that as a compliment.

Whatever happened to "You have nice eyes"?

What did we learn from all this, besides that from now on we answer the door with a shotgun? Mainly we learned that from now on, Alyson handles all the threatening situations. Travis and his family will enjoy telling this story for years - how Alyson the Untrusting Bulldog was the only one who said "No way this lady's not full of shit" and went charging down the highway looking to choke a bitch.

So once we shook all that off, there was breakfast and that alignment, and Travis washed my car (I could have cried, but I didn't.)

Saturday afternoon was Amber's bridal shower, which was a blast - I got to see all sorts of wonderful people, and there was good food and games and gift opening and all that fun bridal shower stuff. Unfortunately I had to leave early for the Bay Street Players banquet.

Jake Vest is a riot, my dress was way too much fun to wear (mostly because of my wonderful beau, who's the only person in the world I'm trying to impress, besides me), I didn't get a chance to talk to David Clevinger after he approached Travis with a message for me (darnit), and I had to leave early because I was violently ill throughout most of the entire evening. Violently. But I covered as best I could. There also was the room full of people I never get to see, and the handsome man on my arm who made sure to continually say sweet or funny things to keep a smile on my face the whole evening, and the obligatory Jeff-Alyson-Travis three-way photo, and Todd's girlfriend Sam, and the realization that my wonderful amazing Religion professor was in Our Town last year and was up for an award (he wasn't there). I presented my award and then left - so I missed the big awards, all of which my friends were up for, and I'm still kicking myself, but I just couldn't fake it much longer. My award went to Ken Rush, which was gratifying for me because I wouldn't have received MY award last year were it not for him. And he was wonderful in My Fair Lady - I thought he stole the entire show. But I have to say that I was really a little disappointed not to see Jeff or Josh's name on that plaque. (I don't know who Stephen Toth is, so ... eh.) I could go on and on about how much fun the evening was (or about how bad the food was, just as it was last year, except for the cake, and how I really strongly feel that they should try to get The Third Place to shut down for an evening next year and host the awards there) but I won't. Let's just say that the evening at Mission Inn ended well...very well...and I had a wonderful time seeing everyone, mixing and mingling, and not having the pressure of plugging or promoting anything.