Self Distracter Seeks Power Ballad Fan, No Cola Fiends

I hate auditions. It's bad enough standing on a stage, being very vulnerable and uncomfortable with new material, with a group of people watching whose only purpose is to tear you apart, but then the waiting for the judgment for days afterwards is awful. So, as I'm sure you have already gathered, I had an audition last night. I felt I did well, I got into a good bit where I was not watching myself and the director seemed to be pleased with what I was doing, but I'm also fairly certain I won't get the part. I won't know one way or the other for a few days though.

So, I'm failing miserably at trying not to think about it, and I think that the combination of this and a lack of sleep are making me a little bit loopy.

I'm afraid that I might be on the road to a soda addiction. I don't drink a lot of soda, but the last few weeks, about once a week, I get this heavy craving for one. I start sweating and scratching, I solicit folks in the 4th floor hallways to blow them for vending machine change. I get one, a cold and frosty plastic bottle of carbonated sugar water, and take it all in quickly. I then crash out in my cubicle, mumbling and drooling on myself.

For those of you who are soda drinkers, more specifically whisky and soda drinkers, George Dickel apparently does not mix well with Diet Berries and Cream Dr. Pepper. It has however helped to create my new porn name, Dr. Dickel Pepper.

Man, the nails on my right hand look shiny today! And the song The Crying of Lot G by Yo La Tengo is filing my soul with sheepish and loving grins in a way I was really not expecting. It is not however completely driving out My Kinda Lover by Billy Squier, which I managed to lodge in my own head about an hour ago.

Right up there with Def Leppard, Billy Squier was pure Skate Nite music beautiful. In grade school, I couldn't get enough of The Stroke, or In The Dark. I think I had a bit of a crush on Billy Squier, I mean we shared a name.

Indifference to eighties rock and rock ballads has seemed to have thrown Billy onto the shores of the forgotten, without even a one armed drummer to rely on as a gimmick. I miss you Billy, I do.

Okay, I hope you all have a great weekend. I'm going to drown my audition anxieties in campfires and beer.