Guys, I made a boo-boo. Several boo-boos, actually. I think the correct phrase might be that I “boo-booed”, but it’s too close to “boobs” and now I can no longer take the phrase seriously.
The new bi-weekly series has been postponed in the wake of today’s breaking news. No pictures, no photos, just me feeling like a complete lemon. Join the judgement, won’t you?
Boo-boo #1: I have misplaced my passport.
Boo-boo #2: I have to reschedule a rescheduled rehearsal because of the above cock-up.
Tomorrow I go on an advencha. At precisely 21.17 last night, I concluded that my passport had either vapourised or was playing an exceptionally good game of hide and seek – and winning. In several hours, I will be minus some monies, sleep, possibly some dignity, and back in rehearsal, completely unprepared. Moral of the story? I am a moron. Moving on.
Boo-boo #3: I sent an email.
I’m not actually sure if this counts, but given my current state of mind, I’m pretty sure it does. I’m probably overreacting. In fact, I know I am, but indulge me, I’m vulnerable. Something came over me last Saturday – it occasionally happens when I’m at my most mischievous or, um, restless – and I decided I was going to email a person who frequently plays other people for a living on a screen. I expected a reply, but what I hadn’t anticipated was a) the speed, or b) the encouragement to say more about my story. To say I was flummoxed would be an understatement. I couldn’t form words, just noises. I was so flummoxed, I couldn’t get dressed. Instead, I just ran around my room in jeans and an open dressing gown, repeatedly yelling “aaaaahhh”, all under the concerned eyes of my significant other.
Fingers crossed for reply #2. Maybe this time I’ll go for an “ooooohhh” in shorts, and scare the animals.
Idea prompted by a terrible day in conjunction with a somewhat unpleasant one over at: Becky Pedigo (similar to her’s, I think I’ll see the funny side later).