Liza is not dead! Damnit.

Ramblings on being drunk 6 nights out of 7.

Shakespeare finals were last Sunday, Memorial Day Weekend. It was a busy weekend, with early rehearsals, plus helping my sister, Joy, settle in to her new townhouse. I made it to the Studio Theatre for a pre-show rehearsal, then the final scenes were at 7:45. There were only 8 people in my class, so we were done pretty early. However, finals are followed by a recap, usually coupled with a potluck. That’s where we find out if we’d met the requirements or not. Most everyone did. I’m approved to go on to the Greek Studies class, once I complete an Improvisation class. I don’t know when I’ll get around to that. I really need a break, so once Tommy is done I’m taking the Fall off. I might do it in the winter or spring. We’ll see. Joy Zinoman is the founding director of the Studio Theatre, and was also the instructor for the Shakespeare class. It was all very good, even though one back-handed compliment included the knock that although I work very hard, teaching me is similar to teaching “an old dog new tricks.” Wow. I was really feeling old.

I had a beer at the pot-luck, and I nursed it for an hour and a half. Once I got my results, I switched to bourbon. As I reached for the bottle on the table, one of the girly girls, said I could have her bourbon. She didn’t like it, and she had poured herself 4 fingers full, neat. “Just the one,” I promised myself. Then just one more. I poured it myself, and was just 1 finger, neat. Soon after, now after mid-night, we wrapped up and cleaned the party up. I wanted to finish my drink before we left, but someone had thrown it out. All that remained was the other girly girls 4 fingers of bourbon. Peter asked if anyone was going to Arlington. I said I was, if he’d drive. He said yes, and I downed the bourbon in two gulps. By the time we got to his apartment, I was talking a mile a minute about directing Ruthless! The Musical. I dropped him off and stopped in to use the restroom, chatted a mile a minute with the desk clerk about her experiences working in the local film industry, and then went outside and had a smoke before getting on the road to head home. I was sitting on a bench, and when I got up to throw my smoke away, I stumbled. I didn’t know what to do. I was very afraid of Sobriety Check Points, as it was the Memorial Day weekend, and I knew I’d had too much to pass, but I thought I was ok to drive anyway. I decided to go to the International House of Pancakes and get some breakfast and sober up.

“Hey, honey. Can I have a little ciggy?” a big man asked. “You don’t even know me, and you’re calling me “Honey?”” I said, as I looked at him and noticed his huge stomach was actually huge tits. She said her name was Lynn. I put my cigarettes on the table, and told her to help herself. “I’m just here for a diet coke,” she said. She knew Brad the waiter and Lee the manager by name, “Brad honey. . .I just need a diet coke.” It’s 2 in the morning. Odd that someone would be in IHOP just for a diet coke at that hour, and bumming cigarettes off a stranger. I bet she was homeless. Desperate, drugged out? “I don’t know which way you hang, but some of my fag friends said that Liza Minnelli hasn’t been found in two months and if they don’t find her in 90 days, they’re going to declare her dead and pay out the insurance policy to that jerk ex-husband of hers, David Gest.” Well, that sent my head spinning. I was mad. As I questioned her, and was vicious about hearing that kind of unfounded rumor, I realized I just wanted to be at home. But I couldn’t drive. I was very very drunk. So I called home again. This time I told Rolf to come get me. And we left my car at the IHOP. I tossed 3 cigarettes at Lynn as I left, but did not say goodbye.

Monday sucked, only in that I was hung over and had only 4 hours of sleep. Oh, and totally embarrassed that I had gotten drunk and couldn’t get home by myself. Rolf was sweet when he came to pick me up. He said he wasn’t mad that I called him, only that I had decided to drink that much. None-the-less, we had a nice day together. We did a lot of house and yard work, and I made him a very nice dinner.

I’m still ashamed of myself. I am sorry to say that I didn’t quit drinking right there and then. I know I had beer and wine on Monday. I wouldn’t drink on Tuesday, I thought, because I’d be busy with work and rehearsal so I wouldn’t have time. But I ended up not having rehearsal Tuesday night. And I sat outside with a magazine and watched the people in the park while I had a beer. I don’t know how much I had.

Wednesday was a worry. I was going to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream at the Carter Baron Amphitheatre with an acquaintance, who I knew was a very responsible drinker. On one hand, I was afraid that he wouldn’t have anything for me to drink before the show, and on the other hand, I was afraid that I’d not have the strength to avoid stopping at the liquor store to get a couple of tiny vodka’s, thus ending up unable to drive home again.

Rolf couldn’t go. The humiliation of Sunday night being fresh, I decided to forgo the trip to the liquor store. I got to L. & D.’s place in good time. I wanted a drink bad. I wanted to not drink too. But they offered wine with dinner, and I couldn’t have been more thrilled. Two glassfuls later, and I was drunk again. I know it was just two glasses, but it worked quickly.

The show was wonderful. It was the same production that The Shakespeare Theatre put on downtown. But it was outside at the wonderful Carter Baron Amphitheatre. I’d never been there before. I felt like I was on a date, which is odd. I really was wishing Rolf was there. I really missed him. L.’s partner didn’t come with us. I really am so glad they took me. I had never seen a live Shakespeare production outside of class or Community Theater. This show was so wonderful; I almost broke into tears at several times.

Thursday’s rehearsal ran late. I didn’t get home until around 11, and Rolf didn’t believe me when I said I’d come straight home. “You didn’t stop for drinkies with your little friends?” “Nope, today’s the rare day when I haven’t had anything at all.” “Oh, really?”, he said not totally joking.

Friday – We had tickets to see Big River, which we call Big Quiet River because it is the Deaf West Production seen on Broadway last year, and now playing at the historic Ford’s Theatre. But Rolf was at a charity golf game, and because of the rain, he was still playing when he should have been on his way home. So he couldn’t make it. I got there early and went to Café Atlantico for drinks and a snack. Yuck. I love that restaurant, but for some stupid reason I decided to have foie gras and a couple of capirinhas. Capirinhas, good. Foie Gras, disgusting! I walked back to the theatre, and stopped across the street for another glass of wine before show time.

Ford’s Theatre is great. One of the best moments of the show was right at the top when Mark Twain refers to “a certain president who set the slaves free”, and nodded to the Presidential Box where he was shot. Yep, I cried before the very first song.

BME was working backstage on the show. Aftward we went to Annie’s Paramount Steakhouse for dinner. I had a couple of glasses of wine. But was good to drive. The other drinks had worn off hours before. Although I did make a wrong turn when trying meet up with Rolf and a car dealership in Falls Church, I’m certain that I would have passed a sobriety test.

Saturday, I had an early and long rehearsal. On my lunch break, I took a nice walk through Old Town Alexandria. It's One of the most beautiful places I know. I didn’t make it all the way to the Potomac River Waterfront, but I will soon.

Rolf and I got out for an early dinner before the Duchess of Hillcrest’s cocktail party. I paced myself. We went to the Mercury Grill again. Rolf wants to know where I’m getting all this money to go there every week. “From you”, I said. I’m trying to taste everything on their menu this summer. And still lose weight. Well, I have to work these goals out. After our wonderful dinner, it was on the party for serious power drinking. I was drinking Vodka and Soda. I probably had 6 or 7, followed by wine, I think. Rolf was driving, I didn’t care. Of course, I wish I hadn’t . I lose my wits and talk about things I mean not too, this time about my stupid job. Now that guy’s going to be all cloying about “How’s your sad little job. . .” I hate that! Whatthefuckever.