So I was reminded of a story last week. "Persephone staples her hand to an Ottoman."
So I posted about being in contact with a friend from college last week. A very sweet boy- man, I guess, now. But his email reminded me of the time I was careless with in the scene shop, and which proves unequivocably and once and for all, that THIS actress should not ever use power tools.
The department was doing the show LuAnn Hampton Laverty Oberlander, (part of the Texas Trilogy by Preston Jones.) It's a funny show; it takes a woman throught the many stages of her life, and reflects on the choices that she made at each juncture. Anyhow, I was cast in the role of Charmaine, LuAnn's mouthy teenage daughter. A role in which I made my own costume, a bright, mulitcolored miniskirt, and got to swear. Onstage. Actually, come to think of it, it was from offstage. "Mama! I cain't do these ***damn Algebra problems!"
Ah, how life imitates art.
As our theatre department was want to do, everyone did everything, and I had taken on the job of recovering a sofa and an ottoman for the show. (I think I recovered the sofa for that show. I recovered that thing at some point. I digress.) It was about, oh, three hours before show time, and I'm in the scene shop with Daniel, and we're both finishing up odds and ends. I was finishing the ottoman for the set. I can't remember why I left it that late. It's generally not my style, but needless to say, I was in a hurry. I needed to eat, to get in makeup, to put on my costume, to get into character... *snort*
So I've got the pneumatic staple gun and I'm rocking right along. Kachunk, kachunk, kachunk... The material was going on smoothly and I remember thinking, "This is going to look great!" Kachunk, kachunk, ka-squinch.
I stapled my left hand (my left ring finger, to be exact,) instead of the ottoman. I don't remember much after that, but I pulled it off the piece of furniture and sure enough, the staple had gone through the nail and was firmly embedded in my finger.
Yep, it hurt.
I walked over to Daniel, and said," Pull it out. Pull it out!" (trying not to be the sterotypical girl) and trusty shop work study that he was, he pulled out his Leatherman (Or multi-purpose tool) and pulled that sucker out. Memory goes fuzzy after that, as well. I hope I thanked him properly. If not, Thank you, Daniel. Couldn't have done that myself. :D
I do remember that after it was treated medically - pfft! For the theatre department, that was Neopsporin and a band aid, if that-, that I was sitting outside the studio theatre on the concrete wall that was out there, having a cigarette (Don't gasp! I smoked for a MONTH - my voice is naturally deep enough. It didn't need any help, do I quit) and finishing up a good cry... 'Cause it freaking hurt! And WHO should come up behind me and goose me, scaring the crap out of me?
My future husband, a mere five years before I said "I do."
What a pain in the ass. :)
I started crying again, and he felt like an ass and sat and held me til I finished crying. I think he even had a girlfrind at the time. I know I had a boyfriend. :)
Cute kid story to come. And pics. :)