Just one of many reasons I cannot and should not ever be in “Cats”.

The moonlight up here in the region of my secluded mountain retreat is out of control right now. Everything’s all bright and blue-tinged. It’s both romantic and eerie, which is my very favorite combination, so I’m tickled.

Two show day, and my skin is throwing a bona-fide makeup-instigated fit. We’ve gotten to the point in the run where it no longer knows what the hell I want from it, and has decided to respond by being all of the things, all of the time. Oily and dry! Uncomfortably tight and alarmingly large-pored! Right now it’s itching like it’s been colonized by fire ants underneath this two-foot layer of powder laying atop it. It’s a treat, let me tell you.

I literally get angry when I think how much I’ve spent on makeup this year. Sephora put me in their Very Important Buyer club, which only happens when you drop an amount equivalent to a downpayment on a house, pretty much. And it was more or less all from buying foundations/powders, because apparently my skin is too high-class for any of the drugstore crap, which always looks horrific and either breaks me out or inflames me to the level of a third-degree sunburn. Man, I miss Max Factor’s pancake makeup so much. That stuff was the best. Heavy coverage, not oily, no extra lotions or sunblocks or other extraneous junk. Now I can’t find it anywhere; at least not in my shade, which is somewhere between “cadaver” and “Stay Puft Marshmallow Man”. UGH, MY LIFE IS THE HARDEST.

Anyway. Better publish this crap now so I make it in under the deadline.

Oh! After the show today, I took a picture with three little girls at the stage-door, and one of them told me I was her favorite character. Y’know, a lot of people say they do this for love of the craft or the excitement of the process or whatever, but me? I’m just gonna straight-up admit that — in this show, at the very least — all I want is for kids to think I’m cool, the way I used to think the performers I saw were cool when I was little. Not sorry ’bout it. Not one bit.

NaBloPoMo 2012
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