And The Rest
Usually, I can't think of what I could possibly write about.
(You: no, really? You're down to descriptions of your grandmother's living room.)
Well, in my defense, I feel like a lot of what goes on in my day can't be blogged about -- with colleagues or students or people in the "[I hate the term] Industry." (Except in the super-secret blog which I absolutely do not have, because if I did have it, you would certainly know about it, wouldn't you?) And I also don't blog much about David, because he is perfect in every way.
But today, yes, something bloggable happened.
I know that somewhere on this blog I must have written about the continuing role that Gilligan's Island has played in my life.
(You: yes, this is about the level of depth we expect. Continue.)
My friends in college had a true devotion to Gilligan's Island -- in our commedia dell'arte class, we had to present a little play, and we did a commedia version of a Gilligan's Island plot involving a coconut cream pie, a love potion, and possibly a head hunter. I think I played Il Capitan/The Skipper in that, doubling as Il Dottore/The Professor. It was such a hit (ah, drama school) that we tried to do the same thing in screen acting class the following year -- failing abysmally. I am absolutely certain I've blogged about this, so suffice it to say, it sucked. I also have the VHS but you can only see it if you come to our house and bring a bottle of Bailey's with you.
We went to a New Year's party, the lot of us, as the castaways. I donned my khakis and white shirt and made a coconut-and-wire prop to carry in my guise as the Professor. Somewhere there's a snapshot of us -- one of the pictures that I love because I actually look good in it, and I'm not normally that photogenic.
Annnnnyway, this is a long prelude to saying: the Professor left me a voicemail today. My life is complete. Due to David's machinations, he arranged for Russell Johnson to call me with a little congratulatory sort of message. I'm actually glad I let the call go to voicemail (I was in a student rehearsal) because now I have it forever. If I actually spoke to Russell Johnson, I might have swallowed my tongue.
It's a companion piece to the glossy 8x10 photo that I have of Mr. Johnson that is autographed to me, "who writes musical theater." My stepfather used to work with a relative of Mr. Johnson's, and requested it for me.
Now I just need a lock of Russell Johnson's hair and my creepy collection will be complete. Look for it in the secret room that has walls decoupaged in newspaper clippings, maps and diagrams. Do a long slow pan across the walls as you try to stifle a look of horror. What in God's name ... this explains so much ... !
No, seriously, my birthday is coming up. Time to check on eBay for those Professor-related items.