Becky India-Saddles

Alright, so being out of practice, you have to give me some leeway on the whole "clever name as title" thing.  

But...I'm BACK ya'll.  I finally have a day off of work and I'm not completely exhausted, so I thought I'd scribble down some thoughts.  Here's what's new with me:

1. Single.

2. Finished an eight-day-in-a-row stretch at the Corporate Coffee Compound for the People (CCCP, for short).

3. I'M IN A SHOW!!!

That's right, folks.  Your beloved unpaid professional auditioner now is a paid professional actor again.  And we all know the difference between being a professional and an amateur: makin' dat money.  Just don't come asking me for any.  It's hard out here for a pimp.

I get to play the role of "Jock" in a Chicago premiere at Raven Theatre, columbinus.  I'll yield that it may not be the feel-good story of the post holiday season, but it's an excellent play and certainly affecting (I just read the thing, I can only imagine how it will feel on its feet).  

The caveat being that the role of "Jock" is, as the high-school archetypal nomenclature would imply, is very athletic.  I've always been a fan/player of sports, but I gotta be up front: I'm not exactly in the shape of my life right now.  I smoke a pack a day, I drink a lot of beer, and I love burgers.  And I have to take my shirt off for this thing.  No nakey-nakey for Mikey-Mikey, but I gotta look good, right?  

I fucking hate running.  Running is the worst thing in the world.  Every few months I'll get a fire under my ass and I'll jog a couple of miles.  When I lived just off of Addison in Wrigleyville, I'd set a goal to run down to Fullerton and back.  Not bad, right?  I'd get to Fullerton and be absolutely exhausted.  Then what am I supposed to do, take the fucking train back?  Oh no.  I've got far too much pride for all that.  So I'd run back.  Thats the problem: running back.  When you get tired from running, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere and you still have to get home somehow.  I never feel like I'm getting anywhere when I'm running.  And fuck treadmills, for that matter.  At least running in town I get to see some pretty homes.  I can watch TV in my own home, thank you very much.

But now I have no choice.  I either have to join a gym or run.  The latter is far cheaper.  

I had a good go of it, though.  One can't survive on a completely sedentary lifestyle forever.  I'll miss you, Mickey-Ds.  I thought this was the year for us and Monopoly to find each other in the night, but we will never know now that I have to move on.  Goodbye...

...

...readers.  I'm done.  

What?  I'm not quitting beer or cigarettes.  The running and the McDonald's are enough for one day.