Doesn't Everyone Hang Out With Vince Lombardi?
I was thinking I was pretty much the most awesome girl on the planet because I was all hey, honey, guess what? We're going to go see Vince Lombardi tomorrow night! And Big V was all who? And I was all duh, Vince. Lombardi: coach of the famous GREEN BAY PACKERS, yo! And he was all you do realize he died before we were even born, right? And that's when I explained that we were actually going to go to see a guy pretend to be Coach Lombardi on stage at Young Auditorium in Whitewater (which, by now all my faithful readers realize is my most favorite place in the world, second to Starbucks) in a one man show called: Vince - The Life and Times of Vince Lombardi, starring John Pinero.
The seats were AWESOME and I was getting giddier by the second. Big V loves - and I mean LOVES! all things Green Bay Packers. However, this obsession is nothing to be concerned of since we do live in Wisconsin and the majority of the people here suffer from the same obsession, including, but not limited to, my place of employment. I submit the following as evidence:
But I digress.
We're at the theatre, waiting in our awesome seats, when it hits me:
Me: [whispering] oh my god. V! Switch places with me.
V: What? [totally NOT whispering]
Me: [still whispering] You have to switch places with me.
V: Why? [still NOT whispering; what is wrong with him?!]
Me: [whispering] She smells.
V: Who smells? [ Why the hell can't he figure out how to whisper?! When someone whispers to you the correct and appropriate response is to whisper in reply. Everybody knows this! Why doesn't he know this?!]
Me: [straightening in my seat, pretending to read the program]
V: Who smells? I don't smell anything. [he's still NOT WHISPERING! I could kill him. Seriously, I could reach out my hands and strangle the voice out of his voice box. He's an idiot.]
Me: [glaring. but still whispering.] Shut. Up.
V: Well, you're the one going on about having to switch seats because someone stinks ---
Me: [grabbing his arm and whispering as meanly and as quickly as humanly possible] Seriously?! The lady next to me reeks of tomatoes and it's making me sick and I'm going to vomit now so shut the hell up. Please.
Then the show started so we couldn't move so I was forced to sit next to the stinky tomato lady. And then I thought that maybe since Big V couldn't smell anything maybe my sense of smell was heightened because I was pregnant but didn't know it yet so I spent the next seven minutes praying to God to please let me not be pregnant and I'd promise to be nicer to people, starting with the tomato woman.
Apparently, Vince Lombardi needed a translator, or at least I did, because I couldn't understand half of what he said. He spoke incredibly fast and with an Italian accent. If I had enough brain cells I'd totally make an App to close caption theatre performances. Except I'd have to find a way to get past that whole Please Turn Your Cell Phone Off thing.
Not only was Big V in Packer heaven, he was getting a fat head because every two seconds I had to ask him what was going on. (I quickly learned following football is not my forte.)
At intermission I leaned over to the college kids on the other side of Big V and asked what they thought of the show so far. The one kid glared at me with so much contempt I almost stopped pestering them. But then I remembered that making people feel uncomfortable is what I do best so I continued to drill them. Turns out the other kid is from Green Bay and his mother grew up on the same street as Lombardi. "I grew up with all these stories," he smiled. I asked if the actor was portraying Lombardi's speech accurately (lord knows he totally looked the part!) and he said as far as he knew, yeah, it was pretty dead on. I admitted I was having trouble following along and just wanted to see what other people thought. Uncommunicative Glaring Boy spoke up and deadpanned, "we just had to watch a play with no plot so this is pretty good." Well, okay, then.
Tomato Woman was super nice, even if she did smell a little saucy; and I didn't forget my earlier promise to God so I obliged in small talk. She asked me if I ever watched Days of Our Lives which was the most out of left field question ever, except I had to say yes because of course everybody has watched Days of Our Lives, including me, and I couldn't lie to an elder. Turns out that according to the actor's bio he had a recurring role on Days of Our Lives and she asked if I knew who he played. (I still can't figure out who he played. Readers: commence google search actor "John Pinero" now.)
She was an older woman out with her older women friends and I could totally picture myself being her thirty years from now. She told me that she grew up "following the football" and that her husband would never have missed the Green Bay Packers playing. I didn't ask, but I got the feeling her husband had passed.
See, that's another cool thing about theatre: it can take you back to a time before. A time of remembering. A time of youth. A place of fond remembrance.
Overall, Big V liked the show and was glad he came, although he was kind of hoping it would've been more like a coach talking to his players, hyping them up, and we'd all be the players. I propbably wouldn't go see it again unless I studied up on Italian accents and brought a clothespin for my nose.
Oh. Big V also liked the car. A lot.
I told him no.
The seats were AWESOME and I was getting giddier by the second. Big V loves - and I mean LOVES! all things Green Bay Packers. However, this obsession is nothing to be concerned of since we do live in Wisconsin and the majority of the people here suffer from the same obsession, including, but not limited to, my place of employment. I submit the following as evidence:
These framed pictures can be found in various public meeting rooms throughout the building.
 |
| Monday Night Madness (Coincidentally, most meetings occur on Monday Nights.) |
 |
| What the hell is going on out there? (Coinicidentally, this question is asked during and throughout most meetings.) |
But I digress.
We're at the theatre, waiting in our awesome seats, when it hits me:
Me: [whispering] oh my god. V! Switch places with me.
V: What? [totally NOT whispering]
Me: [still whispering] You have to switch places with me.
V: Why? [still NOT whispering; what is wrong with him?!]
Me: [whispering] She smells.
V: Who smells? [ Why the hell can't he figure out how to whisper?! When someone whispers to you the correct and appropriate response is to whisper in reply. Everybody knows this! Why doesn't he know this?!]
Me: [straightening in my seat, pretending to read the program]
V: Who smells? I don't smell anything. [he's still NOT WHISPERING! I could kill him. Seriously, I could reach out my hands and strangle the voice out of his voice box. He's an idiot.]
Me: [glaring. but still whispering.] Shut. Up.
V: Well, you're the one going on about having to switch seats because someone stinks ---
Me: [grabbing his arm and whispering as meanly and as quickly as humanly possible] Seriously?! The lady next to me reeks of tomatoes and it's making me sick and I'm going to vomit now so shut the hell up. Please.
Then the show started so we couldn't move so I was forced to sit next to the stinky tomato lady. And then I thought that maybe since Big V couldn't smell anything maybe my sense of smell was heightened because I was pregnant but didn't know it yet so I spent the next seven minutes praying to God to please let me not be pregnant and I'd promise to be nicer to people, starting with the tomato woman.
Apparently, Vince Lombardi needed a translator, or at least I did, because I couldn't understand half of what he said. He spoke incredibly fast and with an Italian accent. If I had enough brain cells I'd totally make an App to close caption theatre performances. Except I'd have to find a way to get past that whole Please Turn Your Cell Phone Off thing.
Not only was Big V in Packer heaven, he was getting a fat head because every two seconds I had to ask him what was going on. (I quickly learned following football is not my forte.)
At intermission I leaned over to the college kids on the other side of Big V and asked what they thought of the show so far. The one kid glared at me with so much contempt I almost stopped pestering them. But then I remembered that making people feel uncomfortable is what I do best so I continued to drill them. Turns out the other kid is from Green Bay and his mother grew up on the same street as Lombardi. "I grew up with all these stories," he smiled. I asked if the actor was portraying Lombardi's speech accurately (lord knows he totally looked the part!) and he said as far as he knew, yeah, it was pretty dead on. I admitted I was having trouble following along and just wanted to see what other people thought. Uncommunicative Glaring Boy spoke up and deadpanned, "we just had to watch a play with no plot so this is pretty good." Well, okay, then.
Tomato Woman was super nice, even if she did smell a little saucy; and I didn't forget my earlier promise to God so I obliged in small talk. She asked me if I ever watched Days of Our Lives which was the most out of left field question ever, except I had to say yes because of course everybody has watched Days of Our Lives, including me, and I couldn't lie to an elder. Turns out that according to the actor's bio he had a recurring role on Days of Our Lives and she asked if I knew who he played. (I still can't figure out who he played. Readers: commence google search actor "John Pinero" now.)
She was an older woman out with her older women friends and I could totally picture myself being her thirty years from now. She told me that she grew up "following the football" and that her husband would never have missed the Green Bay Packers playing. I didn't ask, but I got the feeling her husband had passed.
See, that's another cool thing about theatre: it can take you back to a time before. A time of remembering. A time of youth. A place of fond remembrance.
Overall, Big V liked the show and was glad he came, although he was kind of hoping it would've been more like a coach talking to his players, hyping them up, and we'd all be the players. I propbably wouldn't go see it again unless I studied up on Italian accents and brought a clothespin for my nose.
Oh. Big V also liked the car. A lot.
I told him no.
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