Friday

The one-acts were pretty good this year. The first was extremely similar to one of last year's - same playwright, one of the same actresses, same basic setup: An awful play is interrupted and the fourth wall gets broken by a domineering woman who turns out to be the playwright's mother, a woman who will do anything to spoil her son's success or at least turn it to her own advantage through guilt and intimidation. *Someone* has mommy issues.
The second show was a little uneven acting-wise, but had a good premise: Elevator encounters in the wake of the new smoking bylaw. Hilarious.
The third show, a night in the life of a homeless man, had it all: Great script, superb acting, moments of humour. I expect it will mop up the awards tomorrow night. The only thing I didn't find impressive was the opening: The homeless man stands around while the set goes up, and the stage is marked off with tape for no apparent reason. Oooh, wow, you're breaking the fourth wall, how very unique.
There was no weirdness like last year. Wonder what tomorrow night will be like? Only one show remaining: Outpiss. It's a drama set in a public washroom.

When I got home Sophie had devoured a heaping bowlful of hay and spinich, and now she's racing around, binking and playing and getting into trouble.

I'm reading the most god-awful book ever: 11:11. It's the true story of people who happen to glance at their digital clocks precisely at 11:11 more often than they think they should, and find great spiritual significance in this. No, I'm not kidding.