Friday, December 2, 2011

Slather on the Old Spice - it's Opening Night!

Tonight is Opening Night! And my armpits are already drenched. With sweat. Because I have to sing. About bowling. By myself. Twelve seconds into the show. By myself.

And for those of you that don't know what by myself entails, it's like this: the act of making a fool of yourself while a room full of people stare at you; many of whom are in the cast with you and actually have fantabulous singing voices, so they pretty much feel like you're the one crappy cast member who drags the talent level way down but because they know you could totally mess with their props and jump their lines on stage they will never actually tell you to your face.

Which reminds me of when I did Oliver with the amazing shit-starter Scott Stratton who tried to make me laugh out loud on stage every. single. night. The talented bastard.... oh, yes, Mr. Stratton, I have not yet forgotten. Mostly because the jerk succeeded just about every single night. And there I was, on stage, in front of a room full of people expecting something amazing and there I was snorting and holding back laughter. My, lord, but he is incredibly talented, that one! If you get a chance to see him perform - don't pass it up. He's in the Chicago area. 

Anyway, the good news is: I wrote the lyrics myself!

The bad news is: I still can't remember those tricky lyrics I wrote. Why did I make them so complicated?

Also, it's roughly 98 degrees backstage and -12 onstage so I'll probably catch pneumonia. And then they'll have to wheel me onstage in one of those huge iron lungs so I can do my part. Which will be tricky because there are stairs involved. Just saying.

And, yes, I realize they don't actually treat pneumonia with an iron lung but the visual wouldn't have been as funny if I had said, "I'll probably catch pneumonia and then be prescribed an antibiotic." See, you don't feel sorry for me at all, do you? But you were just about tearing up picturing me in a negative pressure ventilator, weren't you?

Wish me luck tonight.

NO! WAIT!

Don't do that. That's like, really bad luck. You're supposed to say break a leg but I'm so insecure I usually answer with why do you hate me so much? when I hear it and then spend the rest of my life in quiet fear of your obvious annoyance of me.

Maybe if you send me good vibes I'll be so amazing Christopher Walken will want to play opposite me in a musical comedy and use my song! That would be totally epic. Mostly - okay, completely - because it's Christopher Freaking Walken!

You should come see our show. Each and every one of my treasured readers. If you let me know you're in the audience I'll totally try to work your name into my song. I swear. Unless there's too many of you. Then I'll probably just randomly shout out names throughout the performance. I'll just let the audience assume I'm a bowler with tourette's.

You can find more info about our holiday musical RIGHT HERE! 

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Because God loves the Kardashian's I might have to kill my sleeping partner.

Night Two of the Loud Sleep Breathing. One of us is not going to make it out alive.

I'm surprised more men aren't murdered in their sleep. Although, to be fair, I suppose women could be Loud Sleep Breathers, too, and then they also could be murdered in their sleep. Because I'm all about equality.

In this case, however, it's Big V with the Loud Sleep Breathing complex. It's like listening to Eddie Haskell try to mimic Darth Vader. For hours. But never getting it right. For hours.

And then I gently shake Big V's shoulder. And he moves over to his side. And I get two seconds of golden silence. And then he starts in with the loud breathing again.

And then I poke him in the shoulder. One of those pokey pokes. That hurt. And he moves over to his other side. And I get two seconds of golden silence. And then he starts in with the loud breathing again.

And then I'm going all shaken baby syndrome on his sleeping a$$ screaming things like if you don't figure out how to breathe in silence I'm taking this pillow and show you silence! Because I believe in communicating your feelings.

And the next evening, when I shuffle through the door after a long day of consuming 14 cans of sugary Mountain Dew in an attempt to keep my eyes open after having only slept twenty consecutive minutes at a time, he looks up at me and says, "I hope I'm not getting sick; I woke up this morning and my throat was really sore."

This is what I get for judging Kourtney Kardashian and that boyfriend of hers - the one that looks like a weasel - for sleeping in separate bedrooms. When I heard she was pregnant again I thought, "why bring a baby into an environment where mom and dad can't even sleep in the same bedroom?! That poor baby..." And then God was all, "DO NOT JUDGE OTHERS!" (Because my God always talks in capital letters.) And just to prove his point he infected Big V with Loud Sleep Breathing - which honestly is way better than leprosy, so I probably shouldn't complain - but now I feel like I should write Kourtney an apology.

Dear Ms. Kardashian:

Specifically Kourtney.

Not the other Kardashians.

Because I'm probably still judging them.

Dear Ms. Kourtney Kardashian:

I accidently jumped to conclusions about how dysfunctional your relationship is with The Weasel. Well, not exactly "accidently," per se... more like "intentional" - but you get my point.

See, I assumed that you and The Weasel were on the outs because you sleep in different bedrooms and I think it's pretty stupid to stay with someone you can't even stand to sleep next to. But then God heard my judgment and got mad at me because, well, God loves you. (As evidenced by the ridiculous amount of fame and money you and your family make for doing absolutely nothing.)  (Except for Bruce. Bruce literally had to work his hiney off for that Wheeties Box, but then again, he's a Jenner and not technically a Kardashian. But I digress...)

Anyway, God has inflicted my guy (who isn't a weasel at all) with Loud Sleep Breathing and now I can't sleep. In fact, I haven't been able to sleep for a long time. Too long. And also he's been getting up at four o'clock in the morning to go to work which also wakes me up because he has this ridiculously loud alarm. And I get that you're just coming home from a night of free dining and boozing and schmoozing at four in the morning, so you're also awake, but what you might not get is that I have to go to this thing called A Job and then actually be able to function. I don't get to sleep in until noon on my extra fluffy pillow top mattress covered by my 3,000 count Egyptian Cotton sheets while the housekeeper is busy dusting my mini blinds and watering my plants.

So, for the sake of Big V's life (and also my sanity), I sincerely apologize for judging you. I now get why you sleep in separate bedrooms. It's because The Weasel breathes obnoxiously loud in his sleep, isn't it? I understand now. Really. I do. So if you could just let God know the next time your people set up a meeting with His people that I learned my lesson and maybe ask that He please turn Big V back into a silent sleeper that'd be just swell. Thanks.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

So, I heard there's this thing called Black Friday.

I'm still trying to figure out if I survived Thanksgiving Weekend.

In addition to rocking out an awesome full basement clean out, I also managed to singlehandedly consume an entire pumpkin pie, wrangle a toddler's constantly disappearing diaper and a teen's radically erupting hormones. I'm pretty sure there was a third child in the mix somewhere but for the life of me I can't picture how she fit into the weekend. For all I know she spent the entire four days in her room playing video games.

While at my parent's house for Thanksgiving Dinner, Big V was educated on this little event referred to as Black Friday. The man had never heard of it. But there was my dad, waving a Best Buy flyer announcing a 42" television set for only $200!

Why, we must get this TV!

You're on your own, buddy. I don't like shopping. And I don't like people. And I definitely don't like shopping where there are people.

But it's only two hundred dollars! You're never going to find a deal like this!

And you aren't either because there are only ten sets in the store and people have been camping out in front of the store for two days already waiting for those deals. They'll be gone in three minutes.

Oh, ye of little faith...

It was at that moment decided Big V would attend his first ever Black Friday event. Solo. Because there was no way I was going out in the freezing cold just to stand amongst people. And then be forced into friendly banter because Big V always gives me the hairy eyeball when I'm around strangers who try to talk to me. I don't know you! Why are you talking to me?!

Around 8pm I looked at him and said, "you'd better hurry." But he said the doors don't open until midnight. (He's so cute.)

Around 9pm I looked at him and said, "you'd better hurry." But he reminded me that he had three full hours before the deals began. (He's so innocent.)

Around 10pm I looked at him and said, "you'd better hurry." But he cocked his head to the side and asked what he should do should he arrive two hours before the store opened. (He's so wrong.)

Around 11pm I looked at him and said, "you'd better hurry." And he finally left. (Just to shut me up.)

During his fifteen minute drive he called with the following report: "There's not one car on the road! Not one! No one is out right now! No one!" That's because they're already parked, waiting at the store.

His next report came in upon his arrival at the strip mall: "OHMYGAWD! THERE'S PEOPLE EVERYWHERE! There's no place to park AT ALL! WHAT ARE ALL THESE PEOPLE DOING HERE?!" Welcome to Black Friday, honey.

After waiting two hours only to learn the prized television sets had been sold three minutes after opening, Big V announced that he's never going to waste his time at a Black Friday ever again.

And then my sister introduced me to this little thing called Cyber Monday.... my results were much, much better.