As the fags have increased lately, I was a tad worried so I looked up 'numb thumb' on the bbc health site. Nope, not a heart attack. Nope, not a stroke. Or 'text thumb'. Or from playing video games - I don't really do much of either. Hmm.
Ah yes, then I remembered, I did three hours of ironing wet, starched napkins for work yesterday. Bugger, nothing exotic then.
Other News. On Thursday evening we had our final dress rehearsal for the Rural play competition, and stuff got helpfully changed*, by one particular person, Grrr! If ever a person got on my tits, it's this one. I try to keep calm, I do, grit my teeth and evertything, but I understand she has a reputation for being a cow, and in my panicky moods I wonder Just What she will come out with on the night. I shall never do anything with her again as she is an old b*tch.
Calm. Calm, Lavender, Calm. Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaalm.
Anyway, Mr T videoed it for us and, crikey it looked Shite. Well, fat, old me certainly did and most of us forgot at least one key line = the key lines are the funny ones. And it was a whole two minutes short. Although, we are hoping that this time will be made up in part by audience participation called laughter. Like a hyena, me, haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, bloody, arrrrrrrrrrrrgh.
So, I have elegantly added more dialogue for my character, as I don't feel I can ask anyone to learn anything new at this stage. Today is Saturday, we have a last read-through and check-out on Monday morning, then we will perform this life, nay, world changing literary gem, on Monday evening.
Fuck, it's only a 10 minute skit, for Chrissakes!
(see what language they made me do?)
* of the play wot I wrote.