And when I told you how the first leading man quit the show, I forgot to mention how this meant that we had to redo all the photos. Which means that we went through all of this all over again last week. (Only this time my outfit decided to outdo itself by being even more awful than the first one I had to wear.) And if you've been paying any attention to my drivelings, you would know how much I simply adore being photographed.

Oh, and about that flub of mine?

Within the first five minutes of my scene I'm required to turn on an actual television (by walking up to the set first and turning it on from there... technicalities) and then, after turning it on and turning the sound down a bit (also at the set), I have to drag my fake pregnant body back across the stage, fall down onto the bed and then use the remote to turn on a excerpt from the Dr. Phil Show I'm supposed to watch (because I use it to lead into my short monologue that follows) by pressing "Skip" and "Play."

And then, after my little monologue, I'm supposed to turn it off by pressing "Skip" and "Pause."

Well, sounds simple enough, right?

And yes, perhaps for you techno-savvy people it is. But this is me we're (sadly)talking about, remember? Me, who can't even successfully upload her blog or send e-mails without somehow awakening and releasing a thousand slumbering viruses.

Needless to say, I nailed it during rehearsal. (Although, if you MUST know, not the first time. Or even the second or third... you catch my drift.)

And then, last night. I turned the TV on. Check. And it worked!

I waddled (preggers, remember?) over to the bed and to the remote. Pressed "Skip." And "Play." And thank the theatre gods, for it was cued in the correct place, and Dr. Phil's enormous bold head filled the screen. (Didn't think I'd ever be so happy to see him as I was last night.)

So far so good, right? (And I should've known right then that it was going way too well!)

But again, it's me we're talking about. So needless to say, my ever reliable "Disleksick" alter-ego stepped in and I pressed "Pause" instead of "Skip" or something when I was supposed to turn the TV off, and well... of course nothing happened.

Couldn't just turn the damn thing off at the "off" button either, because the DVD had to remain cued for the leading man, who also uses the TV throughout the entire production. And if I had just caved under the pressure and turned it off (and believe me, in that moment I was verrrry tempted to do just that) I would've thrown the entire and meticulously cued DVD horribly out of whack.

The leading man saved the day by swiftly re-entering and gently prying the by-now-very-cursed remote from my frozen grip and getting it off and cued and fixed, all in a mere second.

Gah.

But remember, I was still there, and the remote was still in the vicinity, so of course something else just had to go wrong.

And it did.

Because at one point during the scene, when I'm supposed to fall back during a fit of frenzied contractions, the blasted TV came on. Seemingly all by itself.

But no. Upon closer panicked inspection we realized that it was all my doing again. Of course.

See, in the middle of my very melodramatic rendition of the contractions during which I fall back onto the bed with an ear-splitting groan, I apparently rolled back with such enthusiasm that I landed Right On The Bloody Remote.

At that point, the audience simply couldn't contain themselves any longer and we all just burst out laughing. Yes, that's right. I said "we." Because always the cool, calm, consummate professional, I started giggling uncontrollably.

Oy... just fifteen more shows people. Just fifteen more shows...