It's Friday!
Turns out writing a play isn't that hard.
Now we'll see how hard it is to direct one.
I have already decided to get a bullhorn. No, really.
Soon, I'll be bellowing "emote, goddamn you!" into it.
That should get some results.
The kids really loved it.
Of course, they're in grade eight, so what do they know?
At that age all of the new toxins being introduced to the body from underarm deodorant alone must cloud their judgements.
The teachers loved it, too.
They said I must have "tapped into" some high school kids to write it.
They're wrong unless "tapped into" means "dated".
Wait, wait. We have to strike that one.
I told myself I wouldn't make any statutory rape jokes while this play is happening.
Y'know, for the kids.
They might get a kick out of them, sure. But just because they consent to the joke doesn't make it okay.
Does not. We'd all do well to remember that.
Anyway, the thing has been cast and some of them seem like they're going to be great so long as they don't start playing hockey between now and showtime.
It's exciting, I guess.
It's exciting to affect other people. I keep forgetting.
It's incredible what a wig can do.
Just because you wear whatever counts as an Ugg Boot these days with pajama pants doesn't change the fact that you're dressed like laundry day.
Sorry, a woman in Starbucks distracted me.
(not the first time)
"I look shitty? I don't think so, buddy. This is a trend."
Anyway, yes. Pardon me.
Wigs!
Gave me a staff steak and some cream puffs, too.
Sweet guy.
They were doing sound check as I arrived and was squished into a table with several Andie co-workers whose names I had certainly forgotten since the Christmas staff party.
The ABBA cover group was doing sound check, that is. Not my fellow diners.
My impression of them then? They sounded great.
Three female vocalists. Two dudes on strings and keys.
Sevens across the board for all five of them.
However, come showtime, the ladies were all wearing real sparkly tops and they were all in wigs.
All of a sudden? 9.5s.
That's 9.5 on two beer. Imagine if I'd drank as much as I really wanted to at the time.
If I had been pissy-eyed on the gin I would've made a real scene.
I would have been the only seated audience member on his feet.
They fuckin' nailed it. What a great show.
So, what have we learned here?
Well, that's obvious:
1) Interacting with kids allows you yourself to feel young, and
2) When she's wearing a wig, you don't know who you're fuckin'.
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