So, I wrote a blog entry earlier. I forgot to save it. I am an idiot. I'll paraphrase what it said:
"Blah blah blah blah blah, I saw a play at my cousins school. Blah blah blah blah blah, it was mental. Had no idea what was going on. Blah blah blah blah, something about a god thing called Tudog. Blah blah bloo blup blep blop pfft."
The teacher/writer/director/buttlord seemed to take the concept of amateur dramatics way too seriously by trying to create a philosophical masterpiece. It was as if the dude saw a bunch of pretentious plays, went home, got high off his face on poppers and booze and wrote a story about a bottle of water and a telephone.
This teacher did not do the kids any justice, the level of performance from the eleven and twelve year olds that took part was really quite high, give them a good script and it'd be an entertaining night.
At the end of the half hour my face hurt from confusion. And guess what? This Tudog everyone was looking for? It was the damn bottle of water the whole time.
What.
A.
Goon.
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