My house is redolent with the odor of skunk. How it manages to permeate every room, with no windows or doors open, is one of nature's lovely mysteries. Our (stupid, accursed) dog has been banished to the garage for the night. That heady mix of flatulence and burning tires, it's like a noxious tonic for the soul.
Not much of note this week. My throat regained its vigor just in time for an audition and a taping. The audition was for a fourteen-year-old boy; the taping was for a monkey, and an anonymous pig. How I love my job! Where else could I do that? (Well, truth be told, I did that for ten years at Lifeline Theatre in Chicago, but now I get paid for it!)
I was all set to write about my waning obsession with Angry Birds, had a lovely "End of the Affair" analogy, but then they had to go and make a new "Rio" version of it, complete with marmosets and blue macaws. Damn their ingenuity! So I'm back in, trying vainly for some balance. It doesn't help when I get T-shirts like this from a fellow user:
My favorite website, Towleroad, found me a video that perfectly sums up my toxic love for this game, and it does it to an Adele song:
And finally, from the cool website Gizmodo, a story of an amazing 258 square foot house which is an inspiration for all Zen-minded, clutter-despairing, secretly-wishing-to-be-Germanic-in-totalitarian-house-cleaning folk like me:
It doesn't hurt that the guy is so cute, but, boy, is he going to have some problems when someone gets serious and moves in with him. Though maybe he could stow his boyfriend away, too. Hmm... that might be ideal...
Have a good week!