I went grocery shopping on Wednesday, forgot I was only here for a handful of days and completely overdid it. Turns out I don't eat that much instant oatmeal after all. Also, as hard as I might try, I have learned that I am just not the kind of person who will ever get through a bunch of bananas before they start turning brown and shriveled. I'd like to be that person, but the plain truth is, when given the option between Easy Mac and a banana, I'm going with the Easy Mac. Because basically, I'm a 10 year old boy. Yesterday I tried making some Rice-A-Roni (the San Fransisco treat), and nearly set the room on fire. The smoke alarm went off and my next door neighbor who was sneaking a cigarette on her balcony thought she had set them off and locked herself on the balcony in her panic. Here is a picture of the finished product:
My room still smells liked burnt rice.
Today I agreed to go with a couple of my cast mates to the Frank Lloyd Wright house despite my general dislike of any activity that involves a lot of walking, stopping and looking. But I figured if I didn't, I would spend another day watching CNN and playing Angry Birds. Also, when I tell people that I don't like museums, they look at me like I said I hate puppies. I don't know what the shame is about. I bet there are billions of people who don't like museums but who go anyway to save themselves the public humiliation of admitting to hating them. So, I went. The tour was an hour and a half. It was nice. It consisted of buildings, cacti and other neat things. It was, by far, not the worst thing I ever did. Here are some pictures:
"Old Town", Scottsdale, (which is, by the way, an EXTREMELY relative term) is jammed with Ye Olde Native American-type Jewelry and Art Shoppes. If you're in the market for turquoise earrings or the John Wayne edition of Monopoly, Old Town, Scottsdale is your town.
This sign was posted at the restaurant I stopped in for some lunch on Tuesday. Fortunately I had left my gun with some kid at the hotel. The waitress was so nice I was wondering what was wrong with her. Then I remembered that people outside New York and L.A.aren't raised on cynicism and mistrust. Although they do apparently walk around armed. . . I gave her a nice tip.
Also, last night, five cell phones went off during the show. FIVE. What's worse? Two people ANSWERED. The ladies handled it well, but you can bet your ass that if a cell phone goes off during one of my monologues, I will have something to say. People also seem to think texting during a show is an acceptable practice. I'm guessing these are people who were born in public bathroom stalls.
That's it for now. I need to take a nap before I murder someone. I've been up for 5 whole hours. Straight. It's not okay.
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