The winds of change blow from oe'r the Olentangy

Dog chunks,

It seems that this little chapter of my life is quietly weaving its way shut like a student-made pocket in "Home-Ec" class. Dr. Caleodis, original patron of my post-undergraduate improv education is moving out of C-town to greener pastures. I, myself, am due to defend my thesis in a mere 14 days. AAAAAAH!!!! The Destructicon may be moving elsewhere to pursue some acting for a bit - more on that as developments, um, develop. And there's the inevitable move to Chicago which I pretend is arranging itself entirely without any effort from my part. I have priorities man! Priorities! Such as Bibliographies! Sources! Editing! Restructuring my introductory chapter! Appendicies?? AAAAAAAAHH!!!! Quickly! Down the incinerator!

I have an improv gig in Cleveland tomorrow night. Woot to making monies doing what I love. Woot woot.

Oh yeah. I devastatingly hurt the feelings of a member of the Burpee's OWTO audience by dumbly suggesting something about 9/11 as an input. It's not everyday that you really hurt someone's feelings, but it teaches a good lesson on sensitivity. So if you're that girl who I offended - I'm sorry. If you're not that girl, then go eat a peanut you peanut-eater!

Art isn't easy!

Markre del Soloffagus McShenly Caidy Kennelsmith Smyting Whapping Wuthuring Schmeng.