Go, Speed KIMMY, Go.

Aah, I love driving. I've got that bug. Daddy took me out for over half an hour on the streets up and over the hills of my neighborhood. There was a little turbulence, 'cause I got a little ahead of myself and went over 20 MPH. That, to me, felt like a million miles. I need to work on getting over hills and such. But, I don't think I'm the girl driver I expected myself to be. I can even parallel park! Just wait 'til I get my permit. "Ain't no stoppin' us nooow."

So, you know how I told you about my C in English 2 Honors? That's definitely gonna turn around, but under sad circumstances. My lovely and very sarcastic teacher, Ms. Chavez-Shapiro, is on hospital prescribed bed rest for the rest of the year. Due to a nasty kidney stone and growing zygote, she can't be over exerting her tiny little frame at school. We're still waiting for a long-term sub. to come in, so in the meantime we're wasting class with directionless, aimless conversation while telling the substitute we're working diligently on questions assigned by Chavez to answer referring to A Separate Peace, a book we should have read by now. I, of course, haven't yet read it, but that's why I love my dependable group mates. One sub. decided to write her own lesson plan for us one day and had us pick a poem or song and rewrite it to change the meaning completely while keeping the rhythm and most of the same words. I picked a song called She Don't Use Jelly by The Flaming Lips, one of those funky indie bands that I'm in love with. The song itself is very odd and quirky, and my version is just as strange. But, the sub. laughed and thought it was very clever, so my ego was boosted for the day.

Oh, I didn't forget. I told you I'd mention this new show I'm doing. Alright, it's called Surf Universe, and was written by a man named Ron Evans. It stars Jazmin Gomez, Erin Farrel, myself, and Vinny (whose last name I can't remember). The whole thing is pretty much a metaphor for what the 60s were like in the form of surfers and dancing. We dance in unitards, wear missile bras, I have to lipsync a song, and carry fake surfboards that are as flimsy as toast. But, we're all getting paid for it, and I consider that to be the highest form of flattery, especially when dealing with theatre. It's high time us devoted actors got a little reward for our craft. Now, I'm not saying I need to get paid for every performance, or else I would've quit nine years ago. I just feel the amount we're getting paid is very well deserved. But, I won't gloat and turn into some snobby actress who paints herself to be so magnificent, when she really can't do squat. It performs February 27th at the Armstrong Theatre at 8:00 PM. I'll have a flyer posted soon enough.

And, that's about it. I just enjoyed a delicious cup of double scooped ice cream from Baskin Robbins, provided by my lovely Daddy. I'm just waiting for Mama Shields to come home from improv., so we can continue our ritual of watching America's Next Top Model reruns from cycles past. I hope all is well in your neck of the woods. B.G.G.