So, after being chastised at a professional convention for not having multimedia and online clips, I decided to create a Web site.

After some tinkering -- BAM -- here's what I came up with:

www.taliabuford.com

Once I start doing more multimedia, I'll be adding in my slideshows, videos and photos to another page in the site.

Let me know what you think.

I'm taking all suggestions and compliments. :-)

Since I've been gone

A few things, since I haven't updated in forever:

I didn't get my hair done. Loser, right? I was in the middle of covering a murder trial and I wasn't committed to paying for someone to do my hair for the Follies.

So I did it myself instead.

It's not the same style. I originally did two strand twists with the intent to do a twist out the night of the show (an old standby from Follies past). But then, I twisted up a few of the twists and realized it looked pretty cute as it was. So I left it. Here it is:

I'll post a better picture a little lower.

So anyway, the Follies were a hit. The show went off pretty well and I only forgot a few of my words -- That's a success in my eyes.

I didn't get mentioned, but the Phoenix gave us a pretty good review. Overall, we've been getting a lot of good feedback about the show. I wasn't in that many numbers -- I think three, not counting the opener and closer, so it was a low key night for me. Which was actually good because I wasn't completely exhausted as I have been in previous years where I'm on stage constantly. This year, I played Sasha Obama with another coworker and sung a song about how cute we Obama girls are, I was in a song about the layoffs at my newspaper, and I was in a song about Steve Alves - a former senator in West Warwick who was ousted by a baker. Good times indeed.

In other news, the BF went with me to the show. I fought him on the outfit (which was his idea) but we turned out to be "the best dressed couple in Swansea." I'll take it. He was excited about the Urkel glasses. I was skeptical at first, but they turned out to be a nice addition.

After the show, we went out to a local bar and hung out with some of my coworkers and the other folks who went to the show. Then we went to my coworker's house and played Rockband until like, 3:30, 4 a.m. It was ridiculous. A good night though. A really good night.

At work, things have been kinda rocky -- no pun intended. We laid off an additional 100 people, including two of my favorite office assistants ever in life. They were my friends -- one even my "adopted mom" who always looked out for me when I first came to the Journal and was assigned to her bureau. I didn't get a chance to say goodby because I've been working on a murder trial and was out of the office most days. After they got the news, thankfully the company didn't make them continue to work - like they did the last round of layoffs we had. So when I came in to joke with one of them, their desks were cleared out. Good for them, sad for me. I'm going to get some cards and write nice notes to them and send them to them, because I honestly don't know if I'll see them again. Which is pretty sad.

The good note is that, as I mentioned, I've been covering a murder trial the last few weeks. You know I LOVE trials right? You do. Anyway, I think I've been writing some really good stories -- I even got front page two days in a row. Yesterday, I was the front page centerpiece! How cool is that? Wanna read my stuff? Here's some of it. You can also google me. I got hits, yo.

Bishop tells his story

Alfred "Freddie" Bishop guilty in 2007 murder

Brother of slaying victim tells of fatal struggle with intruder in Warwick home

And I was a freaking blog superstar all during the trial. I was calling in updates, e-mailing posts and just all around being a "blog-centered" superstar. I rock. Hard.

Anyway, um, other than that, things have been cool. I'm completely slacking on my exercise, which I fully plan to get back on this weekend. I've just been pooped lately. But I gotta start running again or I'll never be ready for this 5K. Oh, and just in case you haven't already, there's still time to donate!

Racing for a Cure

You guys are fantastic.

I put out this plea last week -- along with some e-mail solicitations and notices in my work newsletter.

Thanks you to (and some people who probably don't read this blog) we've already raised $270 toward breast cancer research.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

If you haven't donated (or already have and want a repeat of that happy feeling), and would like to, click here.

I'm working out tonight to get ready for this run. What's been great is the amount of support I've gotten from everyone. From running and training tips, to people donating or stopping by my desk to tell me stories of the survivors in their lives. It's been great so far -- and I've only just begun!

The race is May 2 -- so keep the love coming!

Prêt-à-Porter

So, I'm just going to say whatever.

I was all worried about what to wear to the Follies. In years past, I've been mostly classy, but not necessarily funky. Or really, even youthful.

This year was going to be my year to change all that. i was going to go out shopping and find a cool dress and funky accessories and look like the fly 25 year old that I am in my head.

Stuff keeps getting in the way.

For example, yesterday was Valentine's Day. It was 10 a.m. and I still had nothing to wear. I started thinking and remembered a dress I saw on someone's Facebook album. I needed something I could just come in and try on and buy immediately because I had rehearsal for the Follies at noon thirty until 4 and then I was going out with the BF at 5.

So I stopped by American Apparel. I was on a mission.

I looked through the spandex on the racks, looking for the picture that matched the one in my head. Then I saw it.

The colors at American Apparel never really wow me. They're either, I think, too bland or too outrageous. None of them seem necessarily rich. I like rich colors.

Anyway, so I try it on in black*. I figure you can't go wrong with black. The dress fits perfectly -- as perfect as any AA dress can fit, if you know what I mean. But it doesn't pack that punch that I'm looking for. I walk out onto the sales floor in the dress and my fantastic boots (that I just happened to be wearing that day) and looked at the other colors.

White. Mustard. Burgundy. Plum. Asphalt.

Mmm. Asphalt.

I take Asphalt and the white back into the dressing room with me. I finally get the dress over my head and pull it down over my hips. A smile creeps over my lips as I look into the mirror.

This is it.

I rush to the cashier and tell her to ring up asphalt -- and black, you really can't go wrong with black -- in a medium. I walk out with a small bag and a tinging ping of guilt (my job may have layoffs in the next week or so and I just spent $75 on two dresses, sigh).

After practice, I run home, shower, and throw the dress on. I pair it with camel colored patent leather heels I got from H&M and my go-to tan bag. I throw on some eyeshadow and pop open my new lipgloss from Cargo (freaking fantastic). A few spritzes of Jean Paul Gautier sample I got when I ordered the Cargo (I love Sephora!) and I'm out the door.

The evening goes well and the BF liked the dress. A lot. (sorry, I forgot to take pics, but trust, I was looking right.)

Anyway, so I said all that to say that instead of looking for a new dress, I'm going to wear the black AA dress I bought yesterday.

I'm thinking of buying some pumps (maybe red stilletoes or leopard print) and either a printed purse, or wearing my go to tan clutch to the Follies at the end of this month. I've already got my hair appointment to do the aforementioned hairstyle to my head (I don't need the stress of trying to get this right myself -- and really don't have a day to just play until the show is over).

So yeah. I'm saying whatever and instead of just searching for the perfect dress, I'm going to wear what I'm comfortable in. And I promise, I'll be sure to take pictures.


*the Web site doesn't have the exact dress, but the link is to the most similar one I could find. It's just like that, but with no ribbing.

Where's my Swagger?

I was just at J's page and I realized something:

I need to be more fabulous.

Not that I don't have a great personality, but my wardrobe does not convey that. I'm cute. I dress well. But I'm always missing that umph.

I need to find that.

And take pictures of it.

Yeah.

That's all.

Awards!

My sis wants to know which stories got me awards.

For those who don't know, I got two third place awards from the Rhode Island Press Association -- big cookies for me, since these were my first two professional journalism awards.

Here are the stories

2007 Rhode Island Press Association Third Place - Spot News
2007 Rhode Island Press Association Third Place - In-Depth Reporting

Enjoy!

Help!

Hey guys,

Friday is my 24th birthday (maturity, here I come!) and I need some suggestions.

Dilemma #1: I'm going out on a date to celebrate on Thursday. I have nothing to wear.

I need a dress. Something nice, but not like, cocktail hour nice. Just a "hey, that's a cute outfit and I bet it's your birthday" kind of dress. I have plenty of shoes so I can work that out anyway you slice it.

But suggestions on cuts? Fits? fabrics? Stores I should look into?

Dilemma #2: I need help choosing a spa service.

A friend of mine who owns a Spa here gave me a gift certificate a while back. I'm going to use it on my birthday as a present to myself (via her). Problem is, I have never been to a spa and I have no clue which service to use. I'm almost positive I want a massage (I've never gotten a real one) but I don't know which to choose. Hot stone? Deep Tissue? Swedish? Back, neck and shoulder?

In the grand scheme of things, I guess these are good dilemmas to have. But they're dilemmas nonetheless! HELP ME! please.

The Interview -- Part Dos

So, I like attention.

I asked more people to interview me (*ahem* to those who have yet to provide me with new questions). One of the people I tapped was my boy, Jarrod. Gotta love him, but the questions and answers below are a case study as to why your best friend should not interview you. I'm sure he'd say the same thing.

Want to get in on the fun? Leave your interview request in the comments box. Want to ask me something? Do the same. I'll holla.

1. Why be a reporter? The pay sucks and you'll have to move around a lot until you can make some serious money.
Simply put: because I wanted to save the world. No lie. I've always liked helping people. And when I was younger, I started looking at professions that would allow me to do that. After a few inquiries, I found I could get paid to write. I was good at it and wrote all the time (I was a quiet kid, so I journaled a lot). I looked into it. Found out that journalists are charged with righting the wrongs of the world, speaking truth to power and standing up for the voiceless and disenfranchised. I wanted to be a part of that. Honestly, I figured that all journalism made a difference. That's what carried me through all of my internships. I believed that even if I was writing a profile on a valedictorian or a budget story, it would impact someone's life. They were looking to me to provide the information they needed to live their lives, or expecting me to immortalize a significant event in their life. I took that seriously. Wow, did I just write that in past tense?

Not making a lot of money never bothered me. I've been poor before. I'm poor now. I know how to be poor. I'd like to have money, but until I get it, I'll be straight. As far as the travelling, that was another thing that drew me to the profession. I grew up in Flint - not exactly paradise - so I was yearning to get out. I figured I could use my job to see the country - or the world. And tell good stories along the way. So it was a win-win situation.

2. Does your relationship with your father (or lack of one) factor in to the type of men you date?
*Sigh*

I'd like to say that it doesn't, but I'm sure that on some level, it does. For those who may not know, my father hasn't really been in my life since I was maybe 7 or 8 years old. I still see him at family functions. But I haven't really talked to him in years. We say hi and bye, but he knows nothing about me.

My mother taught her children to be independent. We didn't have a father in the house, so we saw my mom doing the traditional "male" roles. She worked - hard - as a laborer on the assembly line for Buick. She disciplined - with the iron fist and the skinny belt - when we were out of line. She was intimidating to the knuckleheads who tried to mess with my sister and I. Seeing her, I realized I didn't need a man to kill a bug for me or to carry my bags. I could do them myself. I prided myself on my independence. Then, since I was petite as well, I got a kick out of showing the guys that I was just as strong, fearless and capable as they were. To this day, I don't let anyone make me believe I am inferior for any reason.

It wasn't until I got to Hampton that I realized that just because I could do things on my own didn't mean I had to. Oddly enough, I dated guys who needed to do things for me to feel like men. We often had arguments when I'd pay for my food at Burger King or something else silly like that. In my head, I was helping: we were all college students. He couldn't afford to pay for me all of the time and I wouldn't expect him to. To him, I was emasculating him; depriving him of the ability to provide for me. Over time, I realized that and I began to soften. I started to understand that sometimes, that's how people show you they like you - by providing for you. I didn't know that men could do that just because they liked you - not expecting anything in return. I had to learn that lesson at 22.

I could blame my father for not showing me how a man is supposed to treat me or for giving me a good example of what love is. But really, it's no use. I figured out most of it, though I'm still learning. But I never look for a man to validate, complete or sustain me. For the man that eventually finds me, I'll want to let him open my doors, kill my spiders and protect me in a thunderstorm. But first, I know I have to be whole and capable of living on my own. I guess I can thank my dad for that.

3. If you hadn't grown up in Flint the way you did, would you be the same person you are today?
No way. Growing up in Flint completely shaped who I am and where I am today. It's one of the most dangerous cities in America. And I call it home.

I grew up in the ghetto. Please, don't be fooled and think otherwise. On my block alone, there were no less than 4 drug houses. I always chilled at my friends' houses because their parents wouldn't let their kids travel into my neighborhood. When I was still in elementary school, I was held up at gunpoint on my front porch.

Flint made me observant. I had to be. I always got a read on someone - and on the situation - before I opened my mouth to speak. I took notice of where I was and who was around me at all times - a trait that came in handy when I started using my observations to tell stories in my career. Flint made me hard. I knew I couldn't fight, but that if necessary, I'd go down fighting. Which is probably why I'm so feisty now. I couldn't let anyone punk me. I couldn't show emotion. So I developed - and perfected - a blank stare. It's intense, yet shows no sign of what's going on behind my eyes. It's my poker face. And it's gotten me out of more fights and sticky situations than I care to remember. Flint made me motivated. I looked around and didn't like what I saw. I knew that I needed to get out. So that's what I focused on. I studied in school. I stayed off of the streets. I read. For 17 years I had only two goals: graduate high school and not get pregnant. That was it. Once I had graduating in the bag, I still had to work on getting out. So I picked Hampton, a school far away from Flint where I wouldn't be caught in the crossfire of old beefs and the same ole people. Hampton also represented another opportunity: the chance to see black people doing something with their lives. Not selling drugs. Not in jail. Not on government assistance. Just doing their thing and doing it well. I needed that.

Once I got out, I focused on staying out. My freshman year, my goals were again, simple: don't flunk out and get sent back to Flint, and don't get pregnant. I made it all four years on that mantra. I had gotten out. I didn't want people to be able to say that I failed and was forced to return home because I couldn't cut it. So I worked hard. I got internships to keep me out of trouble in the summer. My work there left me with stellar recommendations that I used to get my first job. They also allowed me to see the country - or at least parts of it. I realized there was more to life than Michigan. And I wanted to see everything that life had to offer.

So, simply put, if I hadn't grown up in Flint, the way that I did, there's no possible way I could be the person I am today. Period.

4. What effect did that "situation" at Hampton have on you?
I kinda dislike you for this question, Jarrod. Seriously. Okay. I'd like to think it made me stronger. And it did. I learned something. That everyone does not have your best interests at heart and that first and foremost, I have to be out for self. And read the writing on the wall. Always. I think it also taught me how to see through some bull when all I want to see is roses. I had to hit rock bottom before I could see it, but the climb back up was empowering. It made me realize I never want to be treated that way again. And that no person should ever have to learn that lesson through experience.

But mostly, I think it killed my idealism. I'm optimistic anyway. So I always look for the bright side in things and the best in people. I always thought that if you were a good person and treated people well, someone would love you. I thought people were decent like that. Like, before they screw you, they'd think, "Hey, T-Dot's a good woman. She doesn't deserve this. If I'm going to do this, let me stop messing with her."

But they don't. And that's what kills me because I'm mad upfront with cats. Because I knew somewhere deep down that people can be bastards sometimes. I always say, "if there's something else you want, something I can't give you, just let me know. I'll let you go and be happy." It hurts when you give them an out and they trample all over you anyway.

So what does that mean for future cats? I honestly don't know. I've been kinda steering away from relationships because I'm really tempted to go back to being independent woman. But I don't want the bitterness and trust issues thrown in the mix. So I pray. And I ask God to work with me. And I tell Him that I'm not picking any more guys because clearly I have bad taste. I'm waiting for the one He sends me. I'm just praying that one understands.

5. On some real sh--, how sexy am I on a scale of 1-10?
Yes! Finally, the nitty-gritty. Let's say one is not sexy at all and 10 is when you step in the room I want to rip your clothes off. And if I disregard the list, the tounge ring phase and the fact that you're from Jersey...In that case, I'd say a 7.62 or an 8. You're confident and funny. What's sexier?

The Interview

I begged Jameil to interview me (even though I'm a day late and a dolla' short). Everybody is getting in on the fun. If you to interview me, just holla at me. Wanna be interviewed, likewise (though I'm sure everyone and their momma has already been interviewed by now).

1) what was the best date you ever went on?
I haven't been on very many dates, let alone good ones, so I suppose my best date was when I was at HU. It was with this Alpha from Norfolk State that I met at a greek party. Robert was tall, dark skinned, bald and had a megawatt smile. At the party, we talked for a while (because I'm not one to dance a lot) and he was just really funny. Exchanged numbers and - surprise - he calls. We agree to meet in Norfolk for dinner and chilling. We go to Mary Alice's (Hampton ppl help me out -- the soul food place where Waterfront performs in Norfolk near Jillians) and have a great time. The restaurant has a live jazz band so we had some ambiance. I find out dude is even more interesting than I originally thought at the party. The night is still young when we finish our meal, so we head over to Jillians for some gaming. Jillian's is kind of like Chuck E. Cheese for adults - but no ball pits. Anyway, so we head over and play skee ball, a rowing game (my arms hurt afterwards) and some shooting games. We stayed out for a while, just kicking it. Afterward, he drove me to my car and we parted ways, promising to hang out again soon. That was senior year. I don't remember all of the details, but I think I went out of town and when I came back, hooked up with an ex or something else ridiculously stupid like that. Robert called me a few times and we talked, but never got a chance to get back together.

2) i remember one of the people from your freshman year internship talking about how amazing you are, so I know you're ambitious. What is your long-term goal?
To be happy. Seriously, I'm still figuring all of that out. I think I'd like to spend some years at The New York Times. That might be cool. And I know I want to travel. And win a Pulitzer - or at least a Livingston Award. Other than that, I just want to tell some good stories, whether they be in West Warwick, R.I., New Orleans, or Pierce, Idaho. That's my long-term goal.

3) you know how we're all starting to feel a bit old for most popular music? what do you find yourself bumpin anyway?
I feel completely out of date, so I don't even try anymore. I thoroughly detest Pretty Ricky, so that pretty much rules out any Hip Hop station within a 150 mile radius of Providence. A wonderful friend of mine burned the entire Outkast library for me so I've been bumping that for a bit. (Disclaimer: I had all of the CDs but in 2004, my car was broken into an they were stolen. I hadn't gotten around to rebuying them. I know it is a cardinal sin to burn Outkast, but I figured in this instance, it would be okay.) Bumping Lupe Fiasco's Food & Liquor. Dietrick Hadden's 7 Days, WOW Gospel 2006, some mix CD's I've accumulated over the years (thanks Shida & Mike), and Group 1 Crew.

4) what's your favorite city and why?
I think my favorite city has been and always will be Washington, D.C. The district holds just so many great memories for me and everytime I go there, I learn something new about the city I love.

5) who's your favorite comedian?
I think probably Richard Pryor. I haven't heard everything of his, but what I have heard is always fantastic. And his standups? Genius.

The Handwriting on the Wall

I've always thought handwriting analysis was cool. Don't ask me why, I just think it is. The idea of being able to tell about a person by how they cross their T's and dot their I's is interesting to me.

So as I doodled my name on the margins of my notebook during a recent meeting, I decided I'd find out what my handwriting said about me. A quick search yielded this site, which gave me a pretty comprehensive analysis after I completed a block of sample text.

According to the site, here's what my handwriting had to say about me. My thoughts are in bold.

• T. has a particular shyness toward people and a fear of moving too fast in any direction. I'm an analyzer and I'm indecisive.
• T. has a healthy imagination and displays a fair amount of trust. She lets new people into her circle of friends. She uses her imagination to understand new ideas, things, and people. I'm pretty cool with everyone and I like making new friends.
• Something is incomplete in T.'s life. Somewhere in her life there is some disappointment, non-fulfillment, and interruption. Hmmm - I don't know.
• T. is very self-sufficient. She is trying not to need anyone. She is capable of making it on her own. She probably wants and enjoys people, but she doesn't "need" them. She can be a loner. I'm working on this though. However, I do enjoy my alone time. People can be irritating at times.
• T. is sarcastic. This is a defense mechanism designed to protect her ego when she feels hurt. She pokes people harder than she gets poked. These sarcastic remarks can be very funny. They can also be harsh, bitter, and caustic at the same time. Me? Sarcastic? Never. Funny, my sarcasm did begin as a defense mechanism when I was in high school.
• T. is a practical person whose goals are planned, practical, and down to earth. T. basically feels good about herself. She has a positive self-esteem which contributes to her success. She feels she has the ability to achieve anything she sets her mind to. However, she sets her goals using practicality-- not too "out of reach". She has enough self-confidence to leave a bad situation, yet, she will not take great risks, as they relate to her goals. A good esteem is one key to a happy life. Although there is room for improvement in the confidence category, her self-perception is better than average. Yay for being goal-oriented and having a high self-esteem!
• In reference to T.'s mental abilities, she has a very investigating and creating mind. She investigates projects rapidly because she is curious about many things. She gets involved in many projects that seem good at the beginning, but she soon must slow down and look at all the angles. She probably gets too many things going at once. She has the best of two kinds of minds. One is the quick investigating mind. The other is the creative mind. Her mind thinks quick and rapidly in the investigative mode. She can learn quicker, investigate more, and think faster. T. can then switch into her low gear. When she is in the slower mode, she can be creative, remember longer and stack facts in a logical manner. She is more logical this way and can climb mental mountains with a much better grip. Well, I am a reporter; both skills are required. And I do synthesize well, if I do say so myself.
• T. is secretive. She has secrets which she does not wish to share with others. She intentionally conceals things about herself. She has a private side that she intends to keep that way, especially concerning certain events in her past. Nigs don't need to know every detail about me. They need to get some business of their own. Shoot.
• T. is moderately outgoing. Her emotions are stirred by sympathy and heart rendering stories. In fact, she can be kind, friendly, affectionate and considerate of others. She has the ability to put herself into the other person's shoes. T. will be somewhat moody, with highs and lows. Sometimes she will be happy, the next day she might be sad. She has the unique ability to get along equally well with what psychology calls introverts and extroverts. This is because she is in between. Psychology calls T. an ambivert. She understands the needs of both types. I've been known to be "wild and wacky" to a point. I always stop short of looking ignorant. But I'm willing to cut loose.
• People that write very large tend to be very social and friendly. It seems T. has this type of writing. This indicates a need for people and a particular natural ability to socialize and be the life of the party. Now, if T. also has specific fears (like fear of criticism or fear of trust) then she will deny she is the life of the party, because fear has overcome her natural inclination to be social. People with large handwriting tend to be effective at anything that requires interaction with lots of people. she is a people person. I'm not the life of the party, but I can help foster a good party environment for others. Dang, I wonder what I'm afraid of? Maybe seeming conceited? Who knows?
• T. can be defiant. She sometimes has the attitude that if someone doesn't like it the way she is doing it, then they can just "go to hell!" This trait may reveal itself in a rebellious nature that is always ready to resist forces which she thinks are infringing upon her freedom of action. I prefer the phrase "kick rocks," but I guess it all means the same.
• T. has a desire for attention. People around T. will notice this need. She may fulfill this need by a variety of ways depending on her own character. Well, I do dance and sing in front of a crowd of hundreds for fun. And I have a job where thousands read my name on a daily basis. And I keep an online journal of my life adventures. Hm. They may just be on to something here. :-)

Dang. Pretty on point, I'd say. What do you think? Accurate or no?

There's No Follies like OUR Follies

I closed my eyes and ran through my lines as I waited in the wings, listening for my cue.

Backstage, a million things were happening all at once. The makeup guy was trying to give my wig one last once over. The girls were adjusting their tights and bustiers as they lined up behind me. To the left, one of the costars was wiping blue paint from his face.

This, my friends, is The Follies.

For those who don't know, The Follies is an annual show sponsored by the Providence Newspaper Guild, my union. I call it Saturday Night Live, based on Rhode Island news events, and then set to music. The show, which involves guild members and community members, has been going on for the last 34 years. This is my second year participating.

So, based on last year's raves and reviews, you know I was expecting some big parts in this year's show.

Yeah. Not so much.

I had two leads. One was a duet, the other a takeout verse. I sang backup in another skit and was a dancing showgirl in yet another. I was in the opener and closer.

But beyond my absence from the stage for a good portion of the show, I couldn't help this weird feeling I got when I did step on stage. Something was different.

Gone were the butterflies. My mind, which previously went blank, recalled the words to my song easily. I sang to the audience and worked that stage with the confidence of a pro.

Maybe I knew I had very little stage time so I needed to milk it for all it was worth. Whatever it was, it worked. Even though I was only in a few skits, I got more than a few compliments about my performance.

Some of the comments, however, were a little uncomfortable.

The last skit told the story of a strip club that rents space from our local department of transportation, which has offices on the second floor of the same building as Club Desire. When the music began, I walked out on stage in a two piece lingerie outfit and wild brown wig to sing the intro:

Here's our story it's sad but true

About some guys that we once knew

Worked upstairs fondled lots of money

Now we're not their highway honeys

Once the show ended, the comments began.

"Wow."

"You wearing that to work on Monday"

"I've got some guys over here that want to know if you have a boyfriend."

I brushed them all off and smiled. No, I will not be wearing this in the newsroom. And if your mans and them need to send you to get my number, they don't need it.

My other song, which got some reaction was a tune we sang to "Unforgettable." Except ours was called "Undivorcable." It told the story of a lesbian couple who married in Massachusetts but live in Rhode Island. Now, they want a divorce. Problem is, Rhode Island doesn't recognize gay marriage. D'oh! My verse:

So forgettable, in every way

I'll go back to men that's where I'll stay

Divorce darling is the thing I need

To get rid of you, for good you see

Never before have I hated you more

For the scene, I donned an almost skin-tight hot pink sequined dress and slid a ball and chain around my wrist. The audience loved the line where I went back to men. I mean, you see me in the dress, wouldn't you be happy too?

The rest of the time, I danced with some guys on stage and used my feather boa. Afterwards, I wiped the stage make-up off of my face, slid back into my cocktail dress and heels and went to go find my sister.

We listened to talk from my coworkers about going to a local bar for drinks. I told them to call me. They didn't. And I didn't call them. At first I was hyped, but as I went into the adjacent room for the cast party (read: cast dinner), I felt all of the energy leave my body. I gobbled down some lasagna, rice pilaf and some carrot cake and started looking for the door.

My sister was tired and really, so was I. It had been a long day. A long week. Shoot, a long month. And I was glad it was over. Great experience, but whew, it takes a lot out of you. So, Setta B and I braved the cold New England air and headed back to my house in East Providence. Oh, in case you're wondering, she blogged about The Follies at her site, too.

The local alternative weekly, the Providence Phoenix, wrote about the show in its entirety. I got a slight nod at the end, but nothing like I had last year. (Hint, my name is on page 2 of the article.) Oh, the burden of not being the star.

Regardless, Follies, thumbs up overall.

And just so you know, I gave back the pink dress.

The Follies

In a word?

Rocked.

Setta B. came up for the weekend to see me shake a tailfeather. When she sends the pics we took, I'll update you all on the shenanigans and songs.

Here's what the Phoenix wrote in an advance about it.

Stay tuned.