Day 2

Well, nothing but madness and more scenes, stuffy poop-room (Yes, TJ, poop-room) and the very ardent " AMDA-kids" whisperer aka stage manager. The room kept getting hot and stuffy. No one was allowed to go out, or else they would have you dig your own grave by doing pirouettes till you're well in the ground and bleeding profusely from your ankles and .... I'm sorry, where was I? Oh yeah stuffy poop-room. ... We were like sardines in a can, and instead of oil, it was paper, scenes and more scenes. Once our stomachs have started to gnaw like hungry babies of a bold eagle we grew more and more patriotic toward the selection of our menu, we didn't forget all American traditional food, how could we, we're artists that practice our nationalism and we picked up the phone and ordered ... Chinese takeout; Yei for commies. As the evening grew severally banal, one of our classmates didn't feel so good, (Who blames him? All the poopy smell and the claustrophobic environment) he had to leave, thus pushing all the scenes that he's in for tomorrow. Oh and how can we forget the bunny, ... actually we did ... but it's ok because we summed up the night with an eccentric pussy cat talk, or as some one else have put it ... artistic female genitalia (I had to look for least objectionable substitutions here), oppose to ... well ... not quite sure because I stopped listening to all other references, for I, due to the topic at hand, have drifted away on a little day dream of ... Oh never mind. As the talk became more intricate and deep, the night grew cold, and the evening ended. We all slowly impelled our-tired-selvs towards the door. Tomorrow is looking feeble. Well let's hope something jubilant comes up and tickles our little "funny" :)

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