skryche

This woman was looking for performers on the always excellent Nonsense NYC mailing list. I went to a meeting yesterday. We're going to put on a largely improvised play on a subway car, travelling from Union Square to Queens. Once. In two weeks. After one rehearsal. So, this should be fun, or at the very least, interesting. I'll keep you posted.

Last night Leah and I decided to dinner-and-a-movie. We'd heard good things about a Turkish restaurant somewhere in our neighborhood from a friend of hers. We went to a Turkish restaurant in our neighborhood and hoped it was the right one. I'm now quite certain it was not. One-line description: Mediterranean Night at the Old Folks' Home. The food looked perfectly nice, but the kitchen seemed to be entirely without garlic or spices (except for the light dusting of paprika on everything). They were out of their one vegetarian entree, so I (happily) ordered an appetizer plate. Can you imagine hummous without garlic or cumin? Paste. We barely ate any of it. I was eagerly awaiting for the waiter to inquire as to how our meal was, but clearly he knew better than to ask. I know, we should've bitched anyway.

We got waylaid at the pet store next to the theater (we had to pet the kittens, of course). By the time we arrived at the cinema, About Schmidt was sold out! Suck!
Leah: "Is there anything else you want to see?"
Me: (sullen, sarcastic) "Yeah, Six Weeks Notice."
Leah: "Come on, punkin, buck up! How about Confessions of a Dangerous Mind?"
Me: Ooh! Yeah!

It was very entertaining.

IMPORTANT UPDATE: We got the NY Times this morning and it appears they've put dog stickers in the magazine. Dog stickers, motherfuckers!!!