Ahem. As I was saying, Broadway blunders. For those who may not be familiar with my twisted vernacular, a Broadway blunder consists of an unfortunate combination of myself, a showtune, and the unexpected presence of an individual I'd rather not be in the company of whilst yowling say, "Murder, Murder" from Jekyll and Hyde.

For example. I've had Urinetown reeling through my mind for the past few days. Therefore it seemed only natural that, upon opening my closet one morning, I assume my best Big Scary Businessman voice and yodel, "Now what's that bunny in my closet for?" At which point, of course, Roommate #2 entered the room, gave me a wary look, and carefully scooted around me while I did my best to look innocent and keep my face from turning purple.

Another gem was the time I started the Ching Ho thing and was caught badly gibbering in Chinese. And then there was the time when I had the brilliant idea of trying to sing for every character in PoTo's "Notes." Aside from the fact that I practically had a heart attack in the midst of my attempt, I managed to inflict a similar condition on the poor girl down the hall.

There is, of course, a simple solution to this: Shutting Up. I'll give it some thought, maybe work on tuning my outbursts down to tasteful hums. Can't go about getting a reputation for weirdness, can I?

Adieu.