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2006-06-12 @ 9:14 p.m.
spelling theatre the correct way

Anyone watch the Tony Awards last night? I did, you know, since I’m such a total theatre* geek. (*only theatre geeks spell theatre with an “re” on the end. Proof positive that I am, in fact, a theatRE geek). Sure I don’t know most of the nominated actors and have only heard of a smattering of the shows, because my best friend “G” works on Broadway, but still my heart always beats a little faster when the camera swoops down over Broadway at the beginning of the show and they play something from “A Chorus Line” or a George M. Cohen song and I have to toss Guardcat off my lap and jump up on the coffee table to do a brief kick step.

I did do theatre when I was younger. Heh, they didn’t really let me on stage much. I mostly did things like make-up, props, musical direction on plays. But one small theatre company out in California, who was obviously desperate for warm bodies on stage (and that being the only freakin’ way I’d ever get a part), did let me be in my absolute favorite show “Cabaret”. I was thrilled! Wait, let me emphasize that. I was...


Getting to be on stage. Getting to be on stage in a musical. Getting to be on stage in my favorite musical ever. Woohoo! I was working full time then, but I used to make the lengthy drive out to the Jenner for rehearsals no matter how tired I was. Because once I was there, I would be instantly re-energized. I really don’t sing very well. I have no dancing ability whatsoever. So what did they cast me as? A slutty cigarette girl, of course. Everything that I totally am. No?

That’s why they call it acting....dahhhling!!

This is a picture of me after the play one night. My mom is on the left side of me. See the intrusive massive boobs threatening to take over the universe? Thank God, I didn’t inherit them. Small boobs, rule!

Anyways, back then I was a tender and rather delicious 25 year old. Had some of that smoldering eye action going on. Black fishnet gloves and stockings. And oooh, what’s that tucked in the collar of your dress, witty? Money? And how exactly did you earn that? Wink, wink.

As usual, I didn’t really get along with the women in the play, so I flirted with the guy who played the emcee. He was a Jewish lawyer who was engaged to one of the Kit Kat girls. She was constantly walking around with her hand outstretched in front of her, showing everyone her engagement ring, saying, “I’m going to marry a lawyer!” Wow. How ted-di-bly exciting, my dear. And how many times did you have to schtoop him to make THAT happen? Hiss! Spit! Hiss!

Of course I wasn’t much better. I took the low road as usual and flirted with him every chance I got. And he flirted back. Major. Hey, look at the picture! He was just too damn cute though, with that little head of curly black hair and that impish sense of humor, that all Jewish men seem to have. It was weird though, because when I later quit my retail job and started working as a temp, I went to work at this law office one morning and gulp, who walks in but Gary, the emcee guy. I think I said something really stupid like “ Wilkommen, bievenue, welcome!” He then sorta laughed, albeit, uncomfortably and then pretended not to know me. I then asked how his wife was and then he vaguely smiled and said “fine” and then I never saw him again the rest of the day.

Note to Self: Avoid girl at the front desk. She has seen me wearing lipstick and dressed like the Emcee in Cabaret and kissing and dancing with a gorilla. Signed, The Jewish Lawyer Guy.

The other guy I had fun with was the guy who played the Nazi in the play. He was gay. Okay, very gay, like the Nazi in “The Producers”. Tall. Blonde. Stern looking, but a total queen off stage. So we’d be waiting to go onstage for the “Tomorrow Belongs to Me” and he’d take me in his arms and we’d waltz around the backstage area and insult each other like...” You Nazi bah-stard! You cabaret whore! Your mother fucked Goebbel.” and then he said “And so did I!” and then we’d both crack up. And it worked out well, since I was his date for that scene, and we’d enter the scene laughing, except we’d really be laughing, because as the run of the play progressed, our insults got worse and worse and more sexually explicit. Gay men are the best, aren’t they?

So I was trying to explain the comradery and fun of theatre to my coworker “J” today when we went out to lunch. He said his son has been showing some musical talent on the piano but he didn’t want to encourage him in any way, because why do something if you’re not going to be able to be successful at it. I was just stunned. Why not encourage a kid with talent? It doesn’t mean you have to follow through and play Carnegie Hall in 15 years. It just means you can do something that gives you pleasure and makes you feel good about yourself. Because, growing up, even though I was really shy, playing the piano for musical groups and later theatre productions, was a way for me to feel accepted and to even be considered “cool”. Plus it gave me a feeling of accomplishment. I never expected to make a career of it.

And then even later, when I was able to give music lessons to Married Guy’s son, kidlet, that was just another great thing about music. Being able to share my love of music with someone else. So today, no matter how I tried to explain it to “J”, I just couldn’t get him to understand how fun music and theatre can be.

Fortunately later in the office, I met up with, lets call him “Loe”, who is currently doing a production of “Fiddler on the R00f”. I kibitzed with him all the time. He has a really good sense of humor. Last winter he had tried to get me to try out for another show he was doing, but between my car and the winter weather, I couldn’t do it. He was so nice about it though, he had even offered to buy me a ticket to see the show when it finally opened. I ended up not going, and he did a kind of mock “wah! you didn’t come to my show” thing for a couple of weeks.

Well, now he’s in “Fiddler” and everytime he sees me he sings his Yiddish prayer and tries his joke at the end of it to see if I’ll laugh and then moans when I don’t. But the funniest thing today was that the Big Boss of our office was in the reception area with Loe and I and Loe was singing his Yiddish blessing to me for about the 700th time (I don’t mind. I think its charming and I like all things that are Jewish anyways). And the Big Boss was teasing Loe about his picture from the show. Loe isn’t Jewish, he’s Irish. And I guess Loe had sent two pictures of himself in costume to the Big Boss and the Big Boss was ribbing him about looking Amish. Loe was acting appropriately put upon. Amish? Oh dear. An Amish Rabbi??

And then the Big Boss said to me, “I have the pictures on my computer” and started walking towards his office. And I was like gulp, I guess I should follow. I’ve never, ever even been close to the Big Boss’ office. I’m like a little pee-on part timer. He’s like the boss of 300 people. But he's approachable because he has a really good sense of humor. (Aquarius, why wouldn’t he??). So we got to his office and he pulls up Loe’s picture on his computer and sure enough he looks like a big old Amish Guy. Like a Jebediah or Jobe or something. So we both walked back out into the reception and I said to Loe, “Hey, I didn’t know you were in “Witness” with Harrison Ford!”

Poor Loe. I don’t think he’ll ever recover.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty