Forty two.

"Good Lord, Mr. P, what is that?"

Forty one.

"Get DOWN, Mr. P - that is not for you!"

Forty.

'Isn't this nice, Mr. P.  A relaxing day by the water...."

Thirty nine.

"I don't know, Mr. P.  This seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to for some dry corn. I don't care how cute the squirrels look!"

Thirty eight.

"Dear Diary, I never thought this would happen to me...."

Thirty seven.

"Tally ho!"

Thirty six.

"No, Mr. P,  you will NOT have what he's having!"

Thirty five.

"Don't question why the fries and ice cream taste so good when you're sick, Mr. P - just be glad they exist.  And the Snuggie.  Thank God for that, too."

Thirty four.

Recovery.

Thirty three.

"Yes, Mr. P, that is a preferable location to where you usually end up but do please come down from there before I chew off a limb due to anxiety!"

Thirty two.

Oh, Mr. P - this one can borrow my eyelash crimper any time!"

Thirty one.

Getting centered in preparation of this weekend's theatre shenanigans.

Thirty.

The Messrs. make a spring offering to Tara.

Twenty nine.

Fireside chat night!  Tonight, The Messrs. met up with Jim and Gary at Speakeasy to share creations and celebrate the fast-approaching one-month mark of the project.  They met some new friends, got a little frightened a couple times, but came away a lot inspired to keep creating.  Yay, teamwork!

"You know how a pinwheel works, don't you, Mr. P?  You just put your lips together.....and blow."

Facebook. We has one.

The Messrs. were getting so popular, I decided they needed their own Facebook page.  I set it up for them, but they have figured out how to post comments and pictures and the like, so please go Friend them to follow their antics further.

"Good heavens, Mr. P!  We've been poked!"

Twenty eight.

"As romantic an idea as this was, my dear Mr. P, I do believe we have gotten ourselves into an 127 Hours type of situation!  Have you got a pen knife on you?!"

Twenty seven.

"I say, Mr. P - I'm always a glass-half-full kind of fellow when brown liquor is involved."

Twenty six.

Oh, the night went on into the morning on Saturday.  The Messrs. continued to have fun.  Well, mostly fun.....

"For heaven's sake, why do they persist in putting us in here?  Please get me out, Mr. P!"

Twenty five.

After playing with guns, The Messrs. went to a fundraiser at the Hunter-Gatherer brew pub.  These nice folks that work there decided they wanted to do something for the SC Arts Commission, so they got their friends to donate cool stuff for an auction, had a very handsome cowboy auction things off, and then a super-cool band played (not Sex Bob-omb, but still pretty cool).  All that for $5!  As a bonus, the Messrs. got to hang out with some awesome folks.

"Hm.  Corn chips and some schmutz on a fork.  They are classy here, aren't they, Mr. P?"

Twenty four.

The Messrs. played with guns tonight.....

"Oh, Mr. P - that's quite a barrel, isn't it?"

Twenty three.

"I say, Mr. P - is this a kitchen or a science experiment?"

Twenty two.

So, I killed two blogs with one stone tonight and brought the Messrs. P to the bookstore to look at sexy books.

"Please, Mr. P - not so close!  You'll ruin your eyes!"

Twenty one.

On Sunday,  the Messers. P enjoyed some time out in the sunshine before the matinee.

"Isn't the beach nice this time of year?  Wait...."

Twenty.

My dear friend, Lori, came all the way from Nashville, Tennessee to see the show I'm doing [Assassins, running through April 16, 2011 at Trustus Theatre].  We met our dear friend, Paul for lunch and a short tour of 5 Points (where Lori used to live and work, back in the day). 

First stop was Blue Cactus.  I got my usual: Be Bim Bop with tofu, no egg. 

"Please, Mr. P - easy on the hot sauce.  You know I have a delicate constitution!"

Nineteen.

The Messrs. P had a much better time at the theatre tonight.  They got to play around in the make-up drawer and hang out with the fellas.  They are a little over-excited at the moment, but that's nothing a hot toddy and a half a Xanax won't cure.

"Oh, Mr. P - this really opens up your eyes!"

Eighteen.

The Messrs. P. went to the theatre tonight. 

"Mr. P - please come down from there - you're making me dyspeptic."