Men Aren't Necessities, They're Luxuries

True dat, Cher. True dat.

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone! For the first time in my life, I find myself officially bitter. Single, alone, and dangerously hostile towards my attached friends, who would be - oh wait - all of them! Like I said. Bitter. I must be growing up. Tape a Cathy comic to my fridge, bust out the Haagen Dazs and buy me a cat - it's over. It's funny, because I've been single for almost every Valentine's Day of my life (there's one lone pink rose shining like a beacon in my pathetic past) and it never really bothered me until now. Probably because I've had almost two months of life among the smugly coupled feeling like I'm branded with a scarlet S (for single) building up to it. See? Hostile. This is bad, negative energy.

I went to step class this morning to try to work off some of my rage, and my teacher told us that "you need to love yourselves, honeybunnies, every day of the year. Don't just say 'give me a card and treat me like crap the rest of the year!' Love is every day.'" I'm trying to go with that. Not working so much.

Anyhoo, if I go with my old standby, theatre is my boyfriend, this is a very happy valentine's day indeed, yet like most of my romantic experiences, the past week has been an emotional roller coaster, and freakishly bizarre. In review:

1. Every little girl dreams of playing Juliet, right? So when I saw a noneq Romeo and Juliet audition out in Jersey, I decided to make the trek. Turns out it was way, way, WAY out in the middle of nowhere in jersey (like no public transportation - I had to drive all the way to Mt. Olive. It's not even a town. It's a township.) And the theatre was on a lake. And it was...a castle. Yes, a castle. A fake mini castle built in the 70s. It was the weirdest thing EVER. And I thought, how many people could have reasonably dragged their asses all the way out here to bumblefuck? Turns out, every little girl does dream of playing Juliet. There were 50-plus prospective Juliets there. And about 30 wannabe Romeos. All waiting inside this castle that was all fake tudor wood on the inside, complete with throneroom and suits of armor. It was so f-ing weird. When I made it past the first round of callbacks I was sort of happy, but when I got cut in the next round I was actually kind of relieved.

2. I went straight from R and J to my Shakespeare in Hollywood callback - to try to fight my way into the high heels of Lydia Lansing, brooklyn chorus girl turned blonde bombshell. CThe show has 8 male parts, 4 female parts, 2 of which are for 20-something girls. There were 7 girls called back for my part. And everyone had to do their scenes in front of eachother, which was sort of weird. After the first round of readings, the director cut it down to me and two other girls, both of whom were nearly six feet tall, model-thin, and had huge boobs. Clearly, I was freaking out. In my heels I was like as tall as their belly buttons. And I never say this, but this time, I can honestly say, that I was the best one there. They were just hot. And after the second reading, Director sends home me and one of the bimbos, keeping only bimbo-with-the-really-bad-roots. So I was SURE I didn't get the part, as the whole thing had been running american-idol-elimination style. I sort of had a meltdown, about the unfairness of the world, and how talent should trump t and a, and no matter what I did my legs would never be that long, and I hate everything, and bla bla blaa, and I baked a batch of stress cupcakes, and as I was up to my elbows in vanilla cream cheese frosting, my phone rang - Unknown Caller - it was the director - I got the part.
Stunned silence, tears, jubilation ensue.
Rehearsal starts on monday...I'M SO EXCITED!!!!

Okay. I'm going to go put on a pink sweater and shoot surly death glares at anyone I see holding hands.