I finally got my first sketch assignment last night at my Second City class. The class goes until 10 pm, and the assignment came at 9:55. I had been up since 5:30 a.m. , and (imagine Ralphie getting his theme assignment in A Christmas Story) when the teacher gave the order, I started conjuring up all these brilliant ideas and started to space out, but my eyes remained focused on the teacher’s face. I didn’t snap out of it until he said, ‘Angie, Angie. . . uh, you look like you have a question?” Embarassing, yet funny.
I was talking to myself this morning in a very odd fashion. Example: “Mamma’s going to be late!” “Mamma doesn’t have a thing to wear!” I shared my concerns about this with a coworker, and she said, “Well you are the woman of the house.” True true.
There was a middle aged white guy walking like George Jefferson down Halsted in Greektown. I wonder what his deal was.
There seems to be a rogue hair dresser in China Town. Interesting styles coming out of that hood, lemme tell ya.
I gave my coworker a hard time about the drama surrounding her wearing contacts for the first time (I’ve had them for about 18 or 20 years). I said, “Hey, you’re acting like you had a heart transplant or something!” She didn’t laugh. And I didn’t even know she wore glasses.
I just hung up with a salesman here at work. When the phone rang I decided to be very nice to him and he said, “Geez, no one talks to me like this at the office. All they do is eat my food and drink my soda (it’s true we drank all his Diet Coke one day when the delivery guy forgot our drinks)” He then said someone took his food and replaced it with a sign that said “Fuck you.” I doubt that, but we are all stressed lately. I did end our conversation with a direct order that he is to bring me a Diet Coke if he comes in this afternoon.