![]() I grabbed everybody and booked us a room at "Christopher's by the Bay," which is a great guest house. That's right, James' six-year-old daughter Juli had tried to put on the overhead light hours before and, by accident, turned the heat on - to 80 degrees! That was it for all of us. Could it be that hot outside? Finally, I bent down near the window pane to see why it was so boiling in that area, and my hand touched a scalding hot radiator. The weird thing was that every time I went to the window to get some air, I felt even hotter. And I couldn’t believe how extra hot the apartment was. So, finally, the second night I had a complete breakdown from the heat and feeling bad for James with his upset stomach. I tossed and turned because I felt like I was starring in Farah Fawcett Major's first dramatic turn ("The Burning Bed." Anybody?) ![]() Pass the chowder.” The whole first night was brutal. Sweating all night long is a badge of courage. "Great," except for the fact that most of P-town has that Massachusetts attitude of, "Why would anyone possibly want air conditioning? This state was founded on hard work and deprivation. Also, since I was doing my own show, the theatre gave me a great one-bedroom apartment. Then James got food poisoning from said restaurant and had to start using the bathroom as often as a typical Christmas Carol at Madison Square Garden daily show schedule (believe me, that's a ton of times a day). But I guess the one menu they managed to miss was the one the man was holding outside. James and I sat down and (a) they then informed me that they no longer make lobster salad and (b) when we both opened our menu, we noticed that someone had meticulously put liquid paper on every price and raised it a dollar. I looked at it and decided that I wanted the delish lobster salad and thought the prices were A-OK. Firstly, we went to a restaurant that lured us in with a man standing in front of it holding a menu. So I know that's a luxury problem, but please allow me to vent. Essentially, we're both in the worst moods now because our vacation wasn’t perfect. We went up to Provincetown to do some shows for "Family Week" because it was run by the rFamilyVacations people (who do the Rosie cruise). So without further ado, feast your eyes on my wishlist (in no particular order) of sensational decorative embellishments! 1.Like the quandary Jerry Herman was in eight times a week during the mid-sixties: "Hmm…should I see the first act of my smash musical Hello, Dolly! and then catch the second act of my smash musical Mame? Or vice versa?" That was me and my boyfriend all last week. I was mostly searching for “feminist” and “body positive”, but hey some of these are just totally epic in a way that embodies the essence of being a bopo feminist (even if not in direct relation). I’ve been wanting to add to the collection, so have been doing a little research and have found A WORLD of the most amazingly awesome patches, pins & buttons that money can buy. But! One of the joys of covering it in patches and pins is that I can strip them off and reuse them in some sort of a re-incarnation of my once precious side-kick. I’m trying to be less attached to material possessions (probably a residual effect of going to boarding school at the age of 6), so i’ve decided to say goodbye to my old backpack. Now i’m home and I think it’s time to just let bygones be bygones. This last stage happened right before I went to America, and whilst there I bought another version of the coolest backpack in the world. And then the entire base of the bag started to wear so thin I would have needed to replace the entire panel. I covered it in patches and buttons (or “badges”, as we call the latter here in Australia), and every time a hole or tear would pop up, I will dutiful mend it. ![]() It’s grey-wash faux denim, huge in size (like, Mary Poppins would be jelly kind of huge) and I procured it for the measly sum of $5 at a discount outlet when I very first moved to Melbourne. For the last 5 years I have had one of the raddest backpacks in the world.
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