Monthly Archives: March 2010

Another openin’ II

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Welp, we’re as ready as we’re going to be. Nine weeks of …

Can we please sing in tune?
TEETH!
You cannot look like corpses on that entrance.
George, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
Cory, please don’t look like a scared rabbit up there.
Step-hop-fa-lap-fa-lap-ball-change
Can we please do ball-changes instead of flams?
HEEL DROPS HOLY CRAP!
The point of tap dancing is everyone’s feet have to hit the floor at the same time.
STOP!!! You’re rushing again.
All phones in the Easter basket.
This show is sucking the life out of me.

Thing is, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat. (And I will, Lawd.) Let the good times roll.

FO

Thursday morning, 3 a.m.

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I know, shameless Paul Simon ripoff. I gotta get some sleep. Up before the chickens.

How I got to looking at bad tattoos at 4:00 in the morning, I’ll never know. Actually, I can’t say they’re *bad* tattoos, because they’re art. Who’s to say what’s bad art?  Anyway, this was all before coffee, so not my fault.

~

Hey, Robert Culp died. I liked him. I don’t have the Dinner Theatre program done yet, and we open tomorrow. Wonder when I’m going to shop before leaving on tour. I am out of chocolate Cheerios. I have to go to the bank.

I think I’m turning Japanese.

To spare you any more non-sequiturs, I remain yours truly,

Rat (you know you’re stressed when you’re actually looking forward to being responsible for taking two charter buses to New York City with 103 other people) Fink

Dear graffiti artist:

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Thank you for the ugly scratching of nonsense letters in the black paint on the inside of my classroom door yesterday. No doubt you were bored while waiting for me to dismiss you. Or you thought you were sooper sneaky and funny, tee-hee. The old hag’ll never know what hit her! Hahahahahaha!
~

Thing is…you forgot something. All will suffer until I find you. And I will find you. Believe it. After about the 3rd straight week of standing for entire rehearsals, during which I will exhibit the disposition of a honey badger, someone will give you up. Take it to the bank. There are usually about 25 people standing near the door before dismissal — somebody saw you.

If it takes until June, I will find you. Now you just have a real good day.~

Sincerely,
Rat Fink, your humble choral director

Come on, Poseidon.

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Keep up the good work, and blow the clouds back into the Atlantic when we’re in NYC.

Just give us some good news for Friday, and we’re good to go. I will take chilly and sunny, gladly. To wear a winter coat (which I will do, even when temps are in the high 50s) doesn’t bother me; feeling and looking like a drowned Rat, however, does. Keep everything crossed.

I’m starting my tour packing list. Last week I told my students to pack light; this weekend I will try to take my own advice.

Someone asked me yesterday if I will blog from New York. Of course! I will take photos and maybe even a Flip Video or two. I might upload an occasional story to the school website as well. That would be fun. A travelogue.

What the World?

I know, that was random. That is, of course, how I roll.

Happy Tunesday. I have no brain.

PS – Both of my beautiful grandsons are very sick. Puts all this other stuff in its proper perspective…
:-( :-(

RNF, Tour Edition

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Random Neuron Firings

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If the forecast is true, it’s going to be 41 degrees and raining when we’re in NYC. Nice.

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“RSVP” stands for the French phrase, Répondez, s’il vous plaît. Translation: Please respond. People ignore it all too often. If you can’t be at my meeting, PLEASE RESPOND. If something came up last-minute and you missed the meeting, LET ME KNOW. If you totally forgot about it despite the notifications…well…I guess meetings are the least of your worries.

I always tell my students: “Do not leave me to my imagination.” Telling is always better than not telling.

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I think there are people who don’t like not being in charge. Sorry for the double negative, but the issue, for me, is doubly negative.

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I think there are people who would complain if Jesus himself planned the tour.

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I am looking forward to hearing my kids sing in that cathedral.

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If I have to deal with —best to edit here—, I am going to commit a heinous crime. Heinous. Heinous. I like that word. Anyway, gimme teenagers dripping with attitude any old day.

Blark. I hate everything. Especially rain and 41 degrees. And speaking of dripping: please, Poseidon–keep the squalls out at sea.

FO