On my way home from work (my stereo is FINIALLY working) I was blasting Les Miserables. The Dreamcast live recording. on the tenth anniversary. (Yes Laura, I know it is yours, just in case you are going to say something, but I am holding it for ransom. Perhaps, in your twitterpaited state I can simply continue making silly excuses for not giving it back--IT WILL NOT COME OUT OF MY CD PLAYER.)

And, I decided a similar Broadway production could be written about my life as I know it now.

Sexual Harrasment--Check! (Alibet not from my boss, but on the job from the creepy customers.)

Working with wenches--Check!

Howling out my miseries in song--Check!

I am an orphan--Check! (Or so my so-called siblings tell me.)

I am on the run from the law--Che... not yet. But who knows, if I get stopped one more time, I just might be.



Ok. So maybe not so much, but I would love to have Lea Solonga howling onstage in my honor.