More Notes from the Kennel
As previously hinted at on this page, the Alpha Dog takes a playwriting course. The course is basically Playwriting 101 for older adults. He has class every Tuesday night and of course, like every other good course, has assignments. Well his assignments have infiltrated the office. First off, I learned that the The Alpha Dog is writing a play about therapy. Bravo, Encore -- just what I've always wanted to see a play written by a politician about his experiences in therapy.
Well, the Alpha Dog's playwriting course has limited the amount of work he does even more than usual. For example, yesterday he did not come into the Kennel at all and spent the entire day writing his play from home. During the middle of the day the Alpha Dog was having problems with his Word Perfect (fucking word perfect) program and got Rocket on the phone to discuss adjusting the margins of his play with her. So Rocket is on the phone for, I kid you not, 45 minutes trying to adjust the margins of a computer program she doesn't know how to use. At one point she put the conversation on speaker phone so everybody in the Kennel could here the whining about tabs and margins. Meanwhile, the elderly woman that was in to discuss her Social Security problems sat in the office and read the New York Post.
All was not done, about an hour later the Alpha Dog called back the office. I had the pleasure of talking to him and lo and behold, he needed more computer help. He couldn't figure out how to get to the top of the next page on his computer - I told him to click enter a few times.
Anyhow - I found a section of the play.
Ralph sits alone on the couch, a tear rolls down his eye. The office is sparse, there are copies of old magazines in one corner, a desk, two chairs and a couch -- blue leather. The office has wall to wall carpeting, yet there is a off color rug, possibly Turkish between the chairs and the couch.
Therapist enters stage left and sits down in one of the chairs, he crosses his legs:
Ralph: He never loved me, all his love was directed towards that fucking slut -- the tool, the bimbo. That no good bitch. He left me for her -- I gave him my best years and now, he left me -- he left me for a woman. That rat bastard, if I could only get my hands on him.
Therapist: It's okay, to be mad Ralph. It's part of the healing process. Soothingly You're in a safe spot now -- you are okay.
Ralph: Safe spot, I thought I was in a safe spot during our holiday in Ipanema. That was safe! Our weekends in the Catskills were safe. You know what isn't fucking safe? -- His skull!!!
Yup welcome to the kennel!!!
************************************************************************************
In other news -- I'm concerned about my health.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20051024/hl_nm/unfair_boss_dc;_ylt=AtVVYZ8ncf2i4GBT3vLBQaQDW7oF;_ylu=X3oDMTBiMW04NW9mBHNlYwMlJVRPUCUl
Well, the Alpha Dog's playwriting course has limited the amount of work he does even more than usual. For example, yesterday he did not come into the Kennel at all and spent the entire day writing his play from home. During the middle of the day the Alpha Dog was having problems with his Word Perfect (fucking word perfect) program and got Rocket on the phone to discuss adjusting the margins of his play with her. So Rocket is on the phone for, I kid you not, 45 minutes trying to adjust the margins of a computer program she doesn't know how to use. At one point she put the conversation on speaker phone so everybody in the Kennel could here the whining about tabs and margins. Meanwhile, the elderly woman that was in to discuss her Social Security problems sat in the office and read the New York Post.
All was not done, about an hour later the Alpha Dog called back the office. I had the pleasure of talking to him and lo and behold, he needed more computer help. He couldn't figure out how to get to the top of the next page on his computer - I told him to click enter a few times.
Anyhow - I found a section of the play.
Ralph sits alone on the couch, a tear rolls down his eye. The office is sparse, there are copies of old magazines in one corner, a desk, two chairs and a couch -- blue leather. The office has wall to wall carpeting, yet there is a off color rug, possibly Turkish between the chairs and the couch.
Therapist enters stage left and sits down in one of the chairs, he crosses his legs:
Ralph: He never loved me, all his love was directed towards that fucking slut -- the tool, the bimbo. That no good bitch. He left me for her -- I gave him my best years and now, he left me -- he left me for a woman. That rat bastard, if I could only get my hands on him.
Therapist: It's okay, to be mad Ralph. It's part of the healing process. Soothingly You're in a safe spot now -- you are okay.
Ralph: Safe spot, I thought I was in a safe spot during our holiday in Ipanema. That was safe! Our weekends in the Catskills were safe. You know what isn't fucking safe? -- His skull!!!
Yup welcome to the kennel!!!
************************************************************************************
In other news -- I'm concerned about my health.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/nm/20051024/hl_nm/unfair_boss_dc;_ylt=AtVVYZ8ncf2i4GBT3vLBQaQDW7oF;_ylu=X3oDMTBiMW04NW9mBHNlYwMlJVRPUCUl
posted by Prosnit at 10:20 AM
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