jeremiah piccolo

7:11 p.m. - 2002-01-10

One acts are tomorrow. Based on how things went today-- Hostess was busy flirting and missed her cue, there was some falling scenery, Grumio was gazing at the lighting booth, Josh had trouble running, Joff got a banana peel stuck to his shoe, and Puck left the stage with a blackout and a Tarzan yell-- I'd say we're as ready as we'll ever be. Joff, incidentally, has risen from looking like a mere gay rabbi-pirate to looking like a gay rabbi-pirate who recently raided Chef Boyardee's closet. Petruchio is such an odd fellow.

Class T-shirts are in and, by way of perusing the back of one of them, I was enlightened as to my graduation companians' identities and their positions in relevence to others'. Keene's next to Jessie, Mao's second-to-last, Ashing's next to Heather, and I'm between she-who-shares-my-surname and she-who-does-too. Graduation seems so close...

And I have homework I should be doing.

Adieu.

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