The aftermath

Having spent the weekend violently expelling the contents of my stomach and sleeping between bouts, I have little tolerance and even less sympathy.

Much to-ing and fro-ing on the theatrical grapevine this week re: a certain production in Darlinghurst that cancelled 2 nights before opening.

I have had both sides explaining their point, and am a little bemused by the 'he-said/she-said' side-taking circus, very reminiscent of Grade 3. I am over theatrical egos and lazy people who use disdain and temper as a mask for inefficiency. I am over working for people who can't spell, I am over bolstering permanently damaged egos, I am over alcohol and late nights, I am over enthusing about things I really couldn't care less about.

I am not over Potatoes, Noodles, Gerry or Diet Coke. How could I be?

I am also not over King Parrots, My comfy bed, great movies and the umerow. I may be going off going out to 'Coffee', kissing and brown rice for a while. We'll see. I'm definately over bodily fluids of all varieties for the moment. Especially bile. It tastes awful. If one is going to throw up, I recommend fruit. Yummy in, tolerable out.

The next installment of 'day-off-sans-vomiting' involves watching 'Death Defying Acts'. I doubt this will be a mind-blowing activity, but it won't piss me off as much as continuing to ruminate on general stupidity. Rumination terminated.

Oh, and I'm a bad bad hostess. Lydgate was left to his own devices for a good 2 hrs last night. I went to bed ill, Mr followed 10 minutes after. I have still to impress on him the basic standards of having guests in ones home. They include not leaving said guests to fend for themselves for 2 hrs while one has a nice comfy early night. Esepecially not cool when said guest is also best friend and has to wait for Blue Mountains trains. Grr.