One thing I forgot--and this is quite foolish of me, since it was one of the primary reasons for me actually posting last night (I blame my relative fatigue)--was that females rock.

You see, after I came back from my show last night, I was greeted by my girlfriend (which, for some reason, now feels like an awkward word) with a card, food, and drink. And it was quite badass, you see, for the card read KEÇIADAM (GOATMAN), the food was a package of Mint Milanos (huzzah!), and the drink was a two-liter Dr. Pepper (more huzzah!). The inside of the card also said I was the most awesome human being to ever walk the Earth. Ever. It even said I was better than Newton, Einstein, and Kemal Atatürk. So naturally, I was quite happy.

And now I have to eat soon. So remember, kids, if you want to get on my good side, remember to feed me and feed me well. This is Turkman signing off; hasta la byebye.

Hello folks and welcome to a now rare non-paper-writing edition of Hasta la Byebye. I'm your host, Turkman, joined by my lovely assistant Turkina (whose sole purpose is to serve as eye-candy so that my ratings go up).

And now to begin...

This past day, the 26th of Februrary in the 2,005th Year of our Lord, saw the second showing of The Beauty Queen of Leenane by 14th Grade Productions (my theatre company). But before I get to that, let me begin the day at approximately 0800, at which time Danielle came to hide in my room per pre-arranged agreement. What agreemet, you ask?

Well, on the 26th, a march advocating greater assistance to countries stricken with AIDS was to take place. Both Danielle and I had signed up to go. What we decided the night before, however, was that neither one of us particularly wanted to go--herself because the march was likely to also be considerably anti-Bush and because she is not a huge fan of marching in the cold; myself because I was a lazy bum that had just finished the first run of his show.

We had a problem, though. You see, the people that got us to commit to the march (and the ones that were the most gung-ho about it from the start) were Danielle's suitemates, who would be disappointed if she didn't go. Wanting to avoid any sort of direct confrontation with them, Danielle and I decided that it would be best if she just scampered up to my room a considerable time before the march was scheduled to start. "But what about Koz, your roommate," you ask? He's out of town. As of Thursday, he went up to New York to visit a friend of his at NYU, leaving me comfortably with the entire room to myself and the ability to invite people over at all hours of the day, including 0800.

The plan went off more or less without a hitch and Danielle was able to avoid her suitemates, who didn't seem to notice that neither she nor I had been present. The day went smoothly after that, consisting of lazily lounging about, making a trek to Safeway (under the Watergate Hotel--crazy stuff), and watching Beauty and the Beast (which is just so damn awesome--we also decided that Danielle was Belle and I was Gaston).

And then it came time to scamper off to the show. So I showered, brushed my teeth, put in my contacts, and rushed off to Lisner Downstage, which is a fancy name for this tiny black box that holds an audience of approximately 60 people. I was ten minutes late for call, yet I was the second one out of about fifteen people to arrive. Alas, that's how things go.

Anyway, the show was to go up at 2000 hours. This happened as planned and the show actually went along quite well. It was unfortunate, however, because I didn't feel like we quite put it out as well as we had on Friday (even though we'd sold out tonight but not on Friday). Part of this was probably because the audience didn't laugh at everything we did like the one on Friday, but I honestly think that we just couldn't get it up as well (which is, actually, partly because the audience didn't laugh as much). I even went ahead and totally butchered my one monologue in the entire play--though no one noticed. In fact, no one seemed to notice that we sucked tonight. Everyone--and I mean everyone--came out and said how kickass the show was. That was a bit confusing to me, but it became a bit clearer as I talked with Finn, my director, later. He said simply that we were such an awesomely cohesive and talented unit, even our off-days look pretty good. It's conceited of me to say, but I think he's right. I mean, I'm a pretty small cog in this rather large machine, but I'm a small cog that does my job well, and when the other work with precision and balance, we all churn out some pretty good shaz even if we're not oiled-up and it hurts like hell to churn it out.

But yeah. So even though the show didn't go great (so says I), the people really liked us. And that made me feel pretty damn good. I mean--after the time I had in my sophomore year of high school, I wasn't sure if I had any real acting talent at all. This show suggests to me that I at least have some modicum if nothing else, and it validates my desperate hopes that I could be a better actor now than I was in high school (where I was piss-poor).

Anyway, that's enough of me patting myself on the back. I'm sure you've grown quite tired of that. And, just for the record, the vast majority of kudos ought to go out to my fellow cast-members and my director. I was a miniscule little cog when put next to these fellows.

So after the show, there was this Casino Night thing at the Mount Vernon Campus (formerly Mount Vernon Seminary). There was a poker tournament there too, which got me really excited, seeing as how I haven't played poker with anyone since I left Texas. The night was filled with all sorts of craziness, much of it not related to poker. This is partly because the poker sucked. Ass.

If there is one thing I've learned from that tournament thing I was in, it was that limits on your betting (that are more stringent than pot-limit) are stupid and shitty. You simply cannot push people out of hands when you really need to. And that sucks. Thankfully I was sitting at a table where everyone sucked, so I won a good bit of money--enough so that at the 0130 stop that the folks running the thing had decided to make, I had the most chips of everyone there, and along with four other people, qualified for a tournament that would be held later. Now, to be honest, I didn't get all of those chips in the most honest way. Quite unfortunate, that. People would just give them to me, you see, as they left our table with boredom. The poor folks at the other table didn't have this advantage, so when the eight people left at both tables combined (six at theirs and two at ours) had to count their chips, the two of us at the happy table easily eclipsed everyone at the other table. I would have felt worse about it if the tournament rules weren't so shitty and if I didn't think that I would have been able to get a spot without the extra cash.

So I'll be finding out about that next tournament shortly. Let's hope I win that one (and whatever booty may come with it). And that's pretty much all she wrote, folks. I'd bore you with more things, but I'm quite tired and need to be sleeping. So cheers to you. And hasta la byebye. (And shake that ass, Turkina.)

I don't think I believe in democracy anymore. It's been brewing for a while, but I figured I'd make it public domain. Naturally, I could get my faith back at some point, but right at this moment I'm just not liking it--and no, it's not really a direct result of Bush's reelection a couple of months ago (though I'm sure it must have played some minor role). I just think that I could decide my leaders better. Maybe one day I'll write a book about it.

In other news, I had a paper due today. So why was I not blogging, asketh thou? Because I was too busy. It was awful. Worst paper evar. And I skipped all three of my classes today for it. As I said to myself as the clock wound down towards the 4:00 PM deadline, "I hope I learn something from this." So far it's looking more bleak than I would like.

That did cap a week that was hellish, however, and now that it's over, a fellow can finally relax for a couple of days, get some work done in a somewhat leisurely manner, and most importantly catch up on the thousands of hours of sleep he's lost since coming to university. I need one o' them Spring Break things right about now.

Oh--I would like to say that my European History professor rocks ass. This man is a goat--a walking, talking goat (and lots of people agree). He reminds me a lot of what I'd be like if I were a history professor (which for about three months was my dream job). And he keeps me awake in his lectures. He's funny. ^.^

Seriously, though. I ought to go up to him one day and just be like, "Professor Agnew, you rock ass. And you're a goat. No, no--that's a compliment."

Plus--and one eighth of Eric will like this--he specializes in Czech History! He doesn't talk about them much at all, but he has given us a few side-stories and such. Which is cool.

Anyways, that's it for now, folks. I have people to kill and stuff. And sleep to catch up on. And class to go to tomorrow (yay!). Hasta la byebye.

I finished my paper. Or, at least, I wrote four pages and a little note asking nicely for ways on how to make it longer. The ideas presented in the paper seemed well fleshed-out and generally strong enough to go on four pages--otherwise I wouldn't have turned that puppy in.

Unfortunately, I got in to my dorm at about 5:00 once the paper had finished. Somehow I was wide awake, so I grabbed a free copy of the Washington Post and read it for a while before I went to bed, planning to miss my International Affairs lecture for the third straight session. Did I mention that I hated that class? Because I do. And there's a paper due for that one on Thursday. I'm just tingling with excitement. Especially since I haven't read the articles that we need to read before we write it.

Ah well. Things could be worse. I guess.

One thing did cheer me up nicely today, though. As I was walking out of the language lab (I had French homework to be doing too--yay) this morning, I saw many fliers taped to the wall for this writing consortium called Le Culte du Moi. There was this one that read, "If you really want to hurt your parents but don't have the nerve to become a homosexual, then the least you could do is go into the arts."

So awesome. So true. Hasta la byebye.

Boy. A certain someone would sure by happy.

Someone just joined me in the computer lab (I was alone for about an hour--it was nice) and eventually put on Josh Groban. The song currently playing is You Raise Me Up (or whatever the song may be called). I remember it from the pregame show of some Superbowl. It's a nice song. But to be honest, I'd kind of like to have nothing but the sound of clattering keys.

Ah well. About halfway through. And it's actually looking really good so far. Go figure. Hasta la byebye.

(P.S. I realize that the whole "four hours of sleep" thing is lame. But if you guys saw the hell that this week is going to be, every precious second of sleep is... well... precious.)

(P.P.S. And next week won't be easy either. That week is actually labelled "Hell Week" as per theatrical tradition. If I live to see the month of March, I will not have done so without losing at least one limb.)

(P.P.P.S. Yeah. Josh Groban definitely sounds a lot better when his voice doesn't skip.)

"Come on, Cantay! You've got to do this! You've got to get at least four hours' sleep tonight!"

--Me approximately three minutes ago.

That's right kids, welcome to a very special and short Paper-writing edition of Hasta la Byebye, with your host Turkman!

What's the dilemma, thou asketh? I shalt please thine ears with the knowledge! I have a paper due in my Proseminar about damn near anything. Sure the topic is nice and broad, sure it's just a rough draft, but dammit, man, it's got to be five to seven pages long! What's a fellow to do with that?

Well I'll tell you what I'm doing. I'm writing about Hobbes while working off of approximately seven point five ounces of coffee from an hour and a half ago. Hobbes is cool, says I, but not nearly as cool as the sudden energy drop I'm bound to hit in under fifteen minutes. But don't worry! I have my contingencies mapped out! ::Shakes an instant-coffee-bag-holding-bag:: When I open this and get a whiff of the bag inside, I'm sure to remain conscious for at least eighteen minutes afterwards, giving me time to finish up the final touches on my paper, return to my dorm, and collapse.

I tell you. It's not pleasant shaz. Alas; this is what you get when you don't do much work on the weekend where you told yourself that you would be doing it in bunches. Lots of bunches. Like bunches of oats (with honey).

Anyways, my coherence is being hampered by the time-constraints I've placed on myself (that and the bloody hour--I'm not looking forward to the end result of this first draft).

And so I must sign off. Just remember that I love all of you--except those of you that smell more like cottage cheese than cottage cheese. That's just gross.

Ah, and Mademoiselle Erin, you are more than free to take the name of Keçi for your dear hedgehog, even though it does mean "Goat." If I knew the Turkish word for hedgehog, I would probably tell you, but as it stands, my poorly diversified vocabulary must show itself in all its glory.

Speaking of Keçi, a holler out to females who purchase stuffed goats for goat-lovers at zoos! That's right! Go females!

And now back to your regular, scheduled broadcast. Hasta la byebye.

If you ever remove the link to this website from your sideboard, I will see to it that you are slowly and painfully castrated.

And now for some quick news that I will whip up in five minutes:

I'm in the Beauty Queen of Leenane (yes, the play). I am Ray, the fellow who is similar to a drug-liking version of me. He's cool. He's fun. He says "feck" a whole lot.

I was unable to see Hotel Rwanda last night, much to my chagrin, because we got to the movie theater about ten seconds too late and the show sold out.

Speaking of Rwanda, I'm representing that fabulous nation in a Model-United-Nations-type conference on Darfur. Can anyone say gen-o-CIDE?

Oh, and yesterday, in my basketball officiating class, the seven of us got to meet two current NBA referees. That was sweet.

What else? Hmm... well, I'm currently working on a story that may or may not turn out well. We'll see. I think most whether it turns out well or not will depend on its turning out at all--once again, we shall see. And with that, welcome back to another short (though hopefully not-so-short) era of posting.

Thank you Eric, Kivae, John, and everyone else who's chewed my ass for this. And... Eric, I'm serious about the castrating, man.

Hasta la byebye.