Rehearsal Funny Quotes

Funny how well-rehearsed you can become at being who everyone thinks you should be.

Mr. Jackaby, really! Jenny isn't some scientific oddity--she's your friend!" Jackaby raised an eyebrow. "In point of fact, Miss Rook, she's both, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. All exceptional people are, by definition, exceptions to the norm. If we insist on being ordinary, we can never be truly extraordinary." "That is a very well-rehearsed and eloquent excuse for being an absolute brute to a sad, sweet woman.

It’s funny how we think life works a certain way because of TV and movies. Most people don’t really think about how scripts are edited and how people get to practice their lines and rehearse. If one doesn’t get it right they get to redo the scene until they do. In real life what’s missing or not working only comes up when we’re going along full blast. We end up being the editors of our lives only while we’re running in real time.

She wanted to go to school with him. She wanted to don a gang jacket and sit in the back of the classroom with a bat so that everyone understood what would happen to them if they messed with her kid. She wanted to go in and give a speech she'd actually rehearsed over and over in her head. The rest of you may be gender-conforming children, she'd say, but you're not nearly as smart, funny, or interesting as Claude, so you tell me which is better: awesome, dynamic boy in a skirt, or tiresome, whiney child with a runny nose who has nothing to offer but compliance.

It was a dress rehearsal. Opening night was just three days away. “Why do you come every day?” asked Bill. I had to think. “It’s about seeing something before it’s fully formed. Watching it evolve. I imagine sitting here on opening night and appreciating every scene all the more because I understand what has led to it.” Bill laughed. “What’s so funny?” “Nothing. It’s just that you don’t speak often, but when you do it’s perfect.” I looked down and rubbed my hands together. “And I love that you never talk about hats,” Bill said. “Hats? Why would I talk about hats?” “Women like to talk about hats.” “Do they?” “The fact you don’t know that is what will make me fall in love with you.” Suddenly, every word I ever knew evaporated.

After Sophie had scraped the last of the makeup off her face, she was aware of the first sharp pangs of something that felt like homesickness. They'd already been told that the BBC wanted another series, but that was months away; and anyway, the last episode of the first series made her realize that one day there would be a last episode, and she didn't know whether she'd be able to bear it. And it didn't help, telling herself that when it was time for the last episode, she'd have had enough, because she couldn't bear that either. She wanted to stay like this forever. She changed her wish quickly: not like this, not exactly... She wanted it to be the Monday just gone, with a whole week of rehearsals to look forward to, and then a recording. That's where she would like to stop. She was already afraid that she'd never be happier than now-then-and it was already over.

be funny nor attempt to deal analytically with social ills.4 Even the original title (Gangway!) and the original setting (warring Catholics and Jews in a modern-day Romeo and Juliet story) held little promise for commercial or artistic success. In addition, the show would feature no stars, and the cast—consisting primarily of dancers—might be inexperienced kids pulled from the streets of New York (if the New York press was to be believed), not from dance rehearsal halls. The score, written by a classical music conductor, would be dissonant and fiendishly difficult to play and sing and would include—of all things—a fugue. The teenagers, whose dialogue was written by a middle-aged Jewish playwright, would speak in an invented street slang, uttering lines like “womb to tomb” and “cracko Jacko.” The backers’ meetings continually and repeatedly failed to attract investors for producer Cheryl Crawford, who finally dumped the project shortly before rehearsals were to begin. It is no surprise that no one thought this show would succeed.

I've learned to play my part all too well. At the dinner table, I laugh gracefully at jokes I don't find funny, my eyes meeting theirs with a well-rehearsed glint of happiness. Nobody at the table would guess that behind my smile lies a storm of disdain

What’s your next production?’ ‘Murder at Dress Rehearsal. It’s a one-act play by somebody called Paul Mathews.’ ‘Never heard of him.’ ‘Neither had I. But he wrote to me practically begging the Goosing Players to perform his play. I checked out his publicity photo. He’s shaven-headed but seems to have good teeth so I gracefully agreed. He was so grateful, he promised to come along to one of our rehearsals.

Oh Yes." She Sighed. "I had one of those rehearsal marriages, you know, where you're a feminist and train a guy, and then some other feminist comes along and gets the guy." "I don't know." Adrienne scowled. "I think there's something wrong with the words feminist and gets the guy being in the same sentence.