Let's misbehave

I was just lunching with the absolutely incorrigible Charlotte Salusinszky, and explaining about my anxiety about returning to Great Britain when she came up with absolutely the best solution to the problem: a time machine.
That way I could totally do everything I wanted to in Australia, get bored with it and then still make it in time to catch my flight. Wouldn't that just be swell? So, if anyone has one spare that they could let me use, I'd really appreciate it.
While lunching, Charlotte offhandedly expressed her wonder at one of my descriptions of myself from my Edinburgh time, specifically with regards to desperation for attention et al, and I was proud to see how far I'd come (at least in one person's view) in just a year. 

Speaking of delisting my bucket list, so a mere bucket will be left, I'll be visiting the Great Ocean Road tomorrow. My first thought on this is that Australians like prefixing their tourist attractions with 'Great', which makes me feel like they're compensating for something. My second was that I'll be going with a bunch of strangers, which made me nervous, but then I thought of Phillip Island, and how awesomely that turned out.

Some were known to remark that it was 'neato'.

It's hard to believe that that yank above has now graduated with highest honours. Well done, Hannibal, sir. Now you can get back to solving that Buffalo Bill case.

In other news, we had a mini-Aussie Rules reunion on Sunday, which involved Pancake Parlour, which I kind of think of as my equivalent to Central Perk from Friends, even though I've been to about three different branches of it. I say 'mini-' because it was only me, my stage sister Emily and Alan-a, who insists upon placing a hyphon in her name for some strange reason and has been literally throwing fits because she has not appeared on this blog yet. So hello to Alan.
A.

In other news, I have an essay due in in a week and I'm already nine tenths of the way through it, so expect to rest on my laurels for the rest of the week, and so an influx of more posts like this, which really didn't have any content. Alack.

"Sir, I will fight you"

Dear reader, today you are in for a treat even more scrumptious than the one I consumed last night. Yes, those of you who also follow my admittedly sporadic tweets (and thus get the full Wiz-kid experience, as it were) will be aware that last night, in the company of messers Logan and Aspen, I frequented a pancake parlour. Oh, what rapture! Oh, what ecstasy! But that is nothing compared to what you are about to experience, dear reader; gaze, agog and aghast, at a photograph...taken by yours truly. 

Not pictured: a balanced breakfast.

 And, what is this? Another?!

Huh. I'd always pictured them as identical twins.

Yes, even though I purchased a phone some eleven days ago, up until now, no picture taken had the panache nor classiness necessary to be placed upon this blog of blogs. But now, weep mere mortals! Weep at the beauty assembled before you!
In other news, the pancakes were delicious but gave me a stomach ache this morning. Swings and roundabouts.

I went to a readthrough this morning- I hadn't been to one since January* and that was Spirit of the Butterfly, so I'm just gonna go ahead and say I actually haven't been to one since that workshop in October which lead to the infamous 'Rory as Titania' line**. It was immensely enjoyable; at first, naturally, we were all kind of awkward and no one really knew what to say. But then, someone tittered at one of my recitations- I was cast in the role of a clown (playing to my strengths)- spurring me on to greater pantomime, encouraging others, and before long we were having a gay old time with much mirth and we started interacting outside of the script. I'm so glad I got up for it, because to be honest, between the weather (see The Shit Hits the Fan), my stomach ache (see above) and the start time (see NINE O'CLOCK IN THE BLOODY MORNING!!!), I was sorely tempted to skip. But I didn't, and was rewarded. Sure there's a moral in there somewhere, but if I look for it I'll have to live by it.

The readthrough also introduced a new player into the mix by the name of George- after the reading, he and I stood talking and not only did he compliment me on my voice and say he might be able to help me get a job but he smokes a pipe, so he's definitely in my good books. Hopefully, we'll meet again next week at another readthrough, so I'm gonna go ahead and create a tag for him (am I moving too fast?). Anyways, readers, I feel that's enough excitement for you, else you won't be able to get to sleep, so off to bed.

P.S. The title's a quote from the readthrough.

*For the purposes of this blog, I'm counting a readthrough as a reading of a play as a gathering where people assemble to read a script when they have no intention to be in a production of said script, thus discounting The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, Hawk Noir and the ten minuters' scripts.

**You know the one I mean.