In the shop today, constructing new flats with the TD.
TD: Now, this wasn’t actually intended for this….
Me: *gives him perplexed look*
TD: This is a staple gun for upholstery.
TD: But it also has no safety so when you use it be careful, because *points gun at opposite wall and shoots*
*staple hits and sticks a hardwood door 25ft away*
TD: I…should probably turn down the pressure from the compressor since I’m not using the big gun anymore.
*Submitted by rubyshila
Shine on You Crazy Crystals
Performer: You have NINE THOUSAND Swarovski crystals on your body! I have three on my face. Stop stealing mine when we touch foreheads.
SM: Can I hear the dressing rooms right now?
Wardrobe: Welcome to my life.
*Submitted by Magic Numbat
Little S*** of Nightmares
Last week we were doing ‘Little Shop of Horrors’. On the morning of the get-in we discovered the plant we’d hired was too big to fit through the doors to the theatre, despite having given the hire company the door measurements. We had a war council and ended up with a ‘Crisis Response Unit’ (C.R.U. - see what we did there?!) which then built a singing, man eating plant in 16 hours in time for the opening night the next day. It lasted the whole 5 night run and never have I been more scared on an opening night or more proud of what crew can achieve when we put our minds to it!
*Submitted by luckyarwen
What do you call a group of Stage Managers?
A Solution of Stage Managers.
We call it a “bitter” of stage managers.
Years and years ago, there was a production of The Tempest, out of doors, at an Oxford college on a lawn, which was the stage, and the lawn went back towards the lake in the grounds of the college, and the play began in natural light. But as it developed, and as it became time for Ariel to say his farewell to the world of The Tempest, the evening had started to close in and there was some artificial lighting coming on. And as Ariel uttered his last speech, he turned and he ran across the grass, and he got to the edge of the lake and he just kept running across the top of the water — the producer having thoughtfully provided a kind of walkway an inch beneath the water. And you could see and you could hear the plish, plash as he ran away from you across the top of the lake, until the gloom enveloped him and he disappeared from your view.
And as he did so, from the further shore, a firework rocket was ignited, and it went whoosh into the air, and high up there it burst into lots of sparks, and all the sparks went out, and he had gone.
When you look up the stage directions, it says, ‘Exit Ariel.’ Tom Stoppard, University of Pennsylvania, 1996 (via flameintobeing)