Luck O' the Irish

I locked myself out of my apartment this morning. Almost the instant the door shut behind me, I realized I hadn't brought my keys with me. My apartment door doesn't lock automatically, but its handle doesn't turn from the outside unless you have a key in it, so for all intents and purposes, I was locked out. I swore at myself and then marched myself outside to see if the back door was open, propping the door to my foyer on the way, so that I could get back in if I needed to. The back door wasn't unlocked and my back window, though unlocked, was so covered in years of paint and swollen from rain and other weather, that it would take a three-foot pry bar to open it. I swore again and wandered back over to the front door to see if I could jimmy it with a credit card, only to find that some diligent soul had unpropped it. Thricely, I swore. I was about ready to give up, when I noticed that there was a group of workers across the road from me and that their truck contained none other than a three-foot pry bar (actually, it contained many other things, as well...but the three foot pry bar is what caught my eye).

I walked across the street, explained my situation, and asked them if they would mind lending me their pry bar, to which one man replied, "Nobody's ever come up to us and asked us to use our crow bar before," in a heavy Irish accent. Which made me nervous, because--I suspect like many people--whenever I'm around someone with an accent, I tend to pick the accent up, myself. Rather, I tend to pick up a hideous bastardization of the accent that invariably makes me sound like I'm making fun of the person with the accent. Fortunately, I managed to avoid calling anyone "mate" or slipping accidentally into a jig long enough for them to provide me with the crow bar.

It worked. I managed to pry the window loose from the geological layers of paint that were holding it in place, slip through it, nab my keys, return the pry bar and thank the kind workers, and then head off for work, keys in pocket. Oh, and I closed the window, too. And that was my morning.

Tantalus Benefit

If you've already received this, feel free to ignore it.
But if you're one of the few people in my life who read my blog, but who I don't talk to regularly and who I don't e-mail, read on.

It is Tantalus Theatre Group's distinct pleasure to invite you to our annual Winter Gala. Come support theatre, enjoy live music and cheap wine, and most excitingly, be privy to an exclusive sneak peak of our upcoming world premier production,
RAGNAROK!

Ragnarok is a company-created piece, rooted in the stories of Norse mythology. You are invited to a party thrown by the gods on the cusp of Armageddon. We tell the stories and sing the songs of the world as all that is hurtles towards its
fated destruction. We invite you to join with us as we make merry and laugh in the face of death!

Winter Gala
Saturday, December 4th
From 8 p.m. until we can't move nor party no more (performance is at 9 p.m. when we will still be able to move)
The Munki Haus
1278 N Milwaukee Ave, Loft 4W
Chicago, IL 60622

$25 Regular Admission
$10 Student / Senior / Industry with headshot or resume
Feel free to forward this email and bring friends!

To reserve your ticket, simply call Artistic Director Glen Cullen at 773-960-2066. Walk-ups will be taken as well, but
it is best to reserve your ticket.

I recommend coming. It's going to be a blast. Munki Haus parties always are.

I'm getting sick and should probably go home and drink a cup of tea, take a nice bath, and go to bed early. But I have rehearsal to go to, and lines to memorize, and exhaustion to endure. What a life. How could I have it any other way?