This evening, I had a hankering for yoghurt and not one place I walked past had it. And then I passed this salad bar and they had it, so I bought it. And I was about to walk home when I thought I’d stop for a few mouthfuls of the stuff I so craved. But it tasted less like berries and more like all the other garlicky, cheesy salads in the cabinet. So I went back to the shop and asked very politely for a refund. He apologised and gave it to me, but then got all passive-aggressive about it. It was fine, he said, very good in fact, and he’d sold lots of it today. Implying I was weird and he was a matyr for giving me my money back. So I told him it tasted horrible and the other people probably just didn’t have the guts to come back and say so. Then I threw the yoghurt in his face and ran to the supermarket. I just wanted to buy yoghurt. But the one I wanted – with the passionfruit swirl – contains artificial sweetner. I paid good money to see a herbalist last week so I’m not keen to go poisoning myself with flavour 950. I asked the guy stacking the fridge if they had any passionfruit yoghurt that doesn’t give brain tumours to lab rats and he shrugged and grunted at me. So I asked him again and he shook his head. So I clobbered him on the head with a tuna-fish can and ran to the art gallery…
Pointless Interludes
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Feel like I’m in a Christopher Durang play
Tuesday, August 30th, 2011Three Things Daley #48
Tuesday, December 21st, 2010…Best of 2010
1. A part of it all… [title of show] – it’s time, believe, dream… bitches!
2. A champion of the internets… A celebration of life and dorkiness, Hyperbole and a Half brings me, and thousands of others, great, great joy.
3. A purchase… Without a hint of irony here, this espresso machine may well be the best thing I’ve ever bought.
Three Things Daley #45
Friday, July 23rd, 2010…Humble pie
1. Sydney Opera House. I called you a jerk when you are, in fact, awesome. I called you to task and you stepped up. I’m going to write you a nicey nice feedback letter of thanks. And maybe make you a mix-tape. You have two ears and a heart, right?
2. Time is never time at all. So I thought I’d be able to do all sorts of other things with my time before and during the run of [title of show]. In reality, outside theatre time, I’ve been able to eat, sleep and occasionally wash things.
3. Promises, promises. I pledged not to whinge about the cold this winter. Yeah, about that…
Three Things Daley #38
Thursday, May 13th, 2010…Bloody sticky situations
1. Bloody hell. It was the dress rehearsal for an amateur theatre show of my favourite age-inappropriate role. Mid-scene, I was bellowing at my stage husband, “Why don’t you love me?” and charged towards him. I felt my bare foot slip. The scene continued towards its tender ending, when I noticed my foot was sticking to the old, splintery floorboards on the stage. At blackout, I went off stage and into the fluro-lit kitchen of the hall – drip, drip, drip went my blood onto the off-white lino. I didn’t even feel pain until that moment. Just stickiness.
2. ‘Reel Blood’. I was playing a psycho in a short horror film. I had to beat someone up. The ‘blood’ we used was corn syrup-based. Someone may have got it on the antiques in the old Victorian mansion we were filming in. I’m just saying.
3. A thing about blood. Be warned, some things stick and won’t leave – in this case, it’s the title song from Into the Woods. Mthrfckr.
Three Things Daley #37
Wednesday, May 12th, 2010…Why I’m back
1. Guilt. “So Daley, you haven’t updated your blog in a while. No pressure or anything. I only check it every day when I’m bored at work and every day I leave it feeling disappointed. I thought we were friends…”
2. Olympic-level thumb-twiddling. There’s nothing else to do right now.
3. I miss #yourface. I’ve realised Twitter is my main reason for not blogging, even though blogging was my main reason for joining Twitter in the first place. There’s an irony in there somewhere. Anyway, Twitter forces me to condense my thoughts into 140 characters. This is no mean feat for me, so when I accomplish it, I feel extremely satisified – as satisfied as I used to feel after a blog post. But I realise that, while a writer can make a good 140 characters, a good 140 characters does not a writer make (oh, how very droll).
