What a day.
Maybe I should have worn green for St. Patty's. But I didn't. And if you try to pinch me, I'll shank you.
Where do I start?
First, I had a monologue in my Acting class. Still feeling rusty after not having acted in nine years. Yes, I have done stand up, but that is a whole different animal. Stand up requires you to pull the audience in and interact with them. Acting forces you to pretend they're not there.
First run through was OK. Not my shining moment, but OK. Then I was asked to adjust it. And I blanked halfway through. I got another adjustment and did it again. This one was good. But I'm totally beating myself up. Because that's what I do best.
Then on the way to my meeting with my screenwriting professor, I decided to make a pit stop. Because, well, my golden rule is "Never Pass Up An Opportunity To Use The Bathroom." That and I had that kinda gas that felt like more than gas.
So at some point while I sit down in the stall, my arm rubs up against something. I look down and there's...poopie on my arm. ::gag::
I just peed and decided to run straight to the sink. Used practically half a container of soap. The whole rest of the day I kept checking myself for phantom poopie.
Then came the meeting.
I sit down and he pulls out my Genre Assignment. And out of nowhere, he suggests a bunch of changes.
First off, I should change the setting from a legal brothel to a strip club.
Then Gia, the protagonist, should be a stripper. And not just a stripper, but a wannabe dancer who strips because she doesn't get into a prestigious dance company. And she doesn't prostitute, but she's considering it...
So he says I should change Gia's intro. I should have her audition for the prestigious dance company and not make it because some producer overhears of her stripper history.
I immediately thought of this: