Saturday night I went on a date with Slash, a guy my friend Jess introduced me to at her Halloween party this year. I went as Wonder Woman (and won “Funniest Costume”) and he went as Slash, the biggest badass of guitar licks (also known as “the guy who wears a tophat and has crazy black curly hair in Guns ’n Roses”).
After a short car ride listening to Vampire Weekend (5 stars), we ended up at The Bookstore in Bethlehem. I would like to thank Jess and/or Jess’ roommate Keri for either suggesting this place, or simply encouraging the idea because I loved it despite the unfortunate series of events.
The Bookstore, a 1920s speakeasy, had themed drinks of the era like Manhattans and Sidecars, as well as establishment concoctions with words like “swizzle” and “fizz” in their names. Ingredients included liquors such as gin, absinthe, rye, vermouth, frothed egg white, bitters, and all arrived with fruit garnishes skewered on toothpicks.
The actual venue was everything a classy date should be (my options were “casual” and “classy” and I opted for classy to prove I’m not always in costume). The ceiling was low, the walls were lined with dark-stained wooden bookshelves and hardback books with fabric covers and spines. To further enhance the dark, intimate ambiance, there was a gas lamp on each table.
We grabbed seats at the bar and perused the menu, a hardback book with cocktails, beers, desserts, and entrees listed and pasted into the book. As we sipped our drinks, Slash and I talked about nothing/everything while staring at a large glass jug of saffron-flavored hardboiled eggs.
At this point, the 1920s jazz band started setting up their clarinet, alto saxophone, and bass saxophone. As a former band nerd (clarinet and bass clarinet), I enjoy seeing people play instruments well and with a love that I never had. Dressed to entertain, they wore 3- and 4-piece suits with wide lapels, suspenders, wide ties, two-tone shoes, and well-oiled hairdos (like Squirrel Nut Zippers, but less flashy and annoying). Rather than a microphone, the lead singer had an old-time megaphone with a handle and also played the melodica (note: this was not the lead singer, although in retrospect it does look painful).
We ordered another round while I soaked in the music, the place, the drinks, and my date. As we listened to the fourth or fifth song, my date told me about being a waiter and nearly having to give the Heimlich Maneuver to a choking patron. And I thought, “Well he’s handy to have around!”
A few minutes after that, the lead singer clutched his eye and dropped to the floor. The entire place fell silent as we looked to each other, thinking, “What the…Ohmygod…” The singer quickly regained consciousness and repeated, “I’m ok….I’m ok…” to the crowd, or maybe just to reassure himself. He got up, dusted himself off and said, “….ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR….” and the band picked up where they left off to everyone’s amazement.
After thanking us and saying, “Well, the show must go on!” he announced they’d take a break to get some air. My date noted that the guy had been sweating pretty much since they started, but I hadn’t noticed since I sweat like a plowhorse on a 77-degree day and think it’s normal.
Shortly thereafter, we decided to get the check before a fullout aneurysm happened. While waiting, I heard a kerfuffle near the stage area and happened to notice a blind man in 1920s dress (as the night went on, more and more people showed up dressed in era-appropriate clothing). Apparently, he had knocked over one of the gas lanterns with his cane and may have started a small fire.
Needless to say, the evening was definitely memorable! A+ on entertainment!
2.28.2010
2.25.2010
Celebrity Match
In college, my roommate took one of those, “Who is your celebrity love match?” tests.
After about 10 questions, she yelled out, “Hey! I got Brad Pitt! See who you get.”
As I took the quiz, I prepped myself for the likes of George Clooney, Hugh Jackman, and Russell Crowe only to be matched up with Danny DeVito {cue laughter from my roommate}.
A few years later, I saw a black-tie awards show and as the cameras panned the crowd to cut to commercial, I saw Danny DeVito and his wife Rhea Pearlman in the audience. They were dressed to the nines and very nearly blended in with everyone else.
Except they brought their own snacks.
Well done, celebrity match test. Well done.
After about 10 questions, she yelled out, “Hey! I got Brad Pitt! See who you get.”
As I took the quiz, I prepped myself for the likes of George Clooney, Hugh Jackman, and Russell Crowe only to be matched up with Danny DeVito {cue laughter from my roommate}.
A few years later, I saw a black-tie awards show and as the cameras panned the crowd to cut to commercial, I saw Danny DeVito and his wife Rhea Pearlman in the audience. They were dressed to the nines and very nearly blended in with everyone else.
Except they brought their own snacks.
Well done, celebrity match test. Well done.
2.20.2010
ThursDATE Reunion
When I lived in New Jersey, every Thursday I’d hang out with a college friend (Homer), her mom, her gramma, and another orphan, Jackie. We’d have dinner, some girl talk, page through “Us Weekly” and watch shitty TV like “Joey” or “Skating with Celebrities.”
Last Sunday I had a reunion with my old ThursDATE pals.
While we were sitting around, I asked about one of Homer’s mom’s friends and the guy she was dating when I moved two years ago. Homer said they’re no longer together but that she’s engaged and currently expecting a baby with someone else. When I asked what happened to the old boyfriend, Homer said, “He um (looking at her grandmother), he um, well, he was watching a lot of porn.” Mom-mom said, “What?” (because her hearing isn’t great and she wears hearing aids) Homer looked at her mom and said under her breath “oh god,” then, ”Mom-mom, HE WAS WATCHING TOO MUCH PORN.” Homer’s mom chimed in with, “well he was doing video chats too” and Homer said under her breath “well I’m not telling Mom-mom about that, YOU can tell her he was jerking off on camera.”
Later in the day, I got changed to drive back up to Boston and put on a shirt my college roommate gave me. In big letters on the back it says, “Have you had a chubby today?” And on the front, there’s a logo and location for “Chubby’s Tacos.” I showed it to Homer and her mom, they laughed. Then the other Thursday orphan, she laughed. But then…Mom-mom wanted to see it. So I stood in front of her so she could read it and she said (keep in mind she’s 70+), “What’s a chubby?”
Homer and her mom fucking LOST it. Mom-mom was still in the dark and said, “What? What’s a chubby?” At this point, I looked at Homer and her mom and they both said, “Nope, this is all you. Your shirt, you explain it.” So I had to tactfully find a way to say it. I paused and said sheepishly, “It’s…um…a euphamism for an erection.” Unfortunately, Mom-mom’s hearing isn’t so good and said, “What?” Homer said loudly, “YOU’LL HAVE TO SAY IT LOUDER SO MOM-MOM HEARS YOU.”
So I had to yell, “IT’S A EUPHAMISM FOR AN ERECT PENIS.” And the laughter started all over again, only that time 8x louder than it was before. Mom-mom said, “Oh, is that what a chubby is.” I tried to change the subject and say that I bought a shirt for the friend who bought me this shirt and it says, “Super Duper Weenie” and I bought it at a hotdog place. She taps me on the arm and says, “I know what a weenie is….”
Last Sunday I had a reunion with my old ThursDATE pals.
While we were sitting around, I asked about one of Homer’s mom’s friends and the guy she was dating when I moved two years ago. Homer said they’re no longer together but that she’s engaged and currently expecting a baby with someone else. When I asked what happened to the old boyfriend, Homer said, “He um (looking at her grandmother), he um, well, he was watching a lot of porn.” Mom-mom said, “What?” (because her hearing isn’t great and she wears hearing aids) Homer looked at her mom and said under her breath “oh god,” then, ”Mom-mom, HE WAS WATCHING TOO MUCH PORN.” Homer’s mom chimed in with, “well he was doing video chats too” and Homer said under her breath “well I’m not telling Mom-mom about that, YOU can tell her he was jerking off on camera.”
Later in the day, I got changed to drive back up to Boston and put on a shirt my college roommate gave me. In big letters on the back it says, “Have you had a chubby today?” And on the front, there’s a logo and location for “Chubby’s Tacos.” I showed it to Homer and her mom, they laughed. Then the other Thursday orphan, she laughed. But then…Mom-mom wanted to see it. So I stood in front of her so she could read it and she said (keep in mind she’s 70+), “What’s a chubby?”
Homer and her mom fucking LOST it. Mom-mom was still in the dark and said, “What? What’s a chubby?” At this point, I looked at Homer and her mom and they both said, “Nope, this is all you. Your shirt, you explain it.” So I had to tactfully find a way to say it. I paused and said sheepishly, “It’s…um…a euphamism for an erection.” Unfortunately, Mom-mom’s hearing isn’t so good and said, “What?” Homer said loudly, “YOU’LL HAVE TO SAY IT LOUDER SO MOM-MOM HEARS YOU.”
So I had to yell, “IT’S A EUPHAMISM FOR AN ERECT PENIS.” And the laughter started all over again, only that time 8x louder than it was before. Mom-mom said, “Oh, is that what a chubby is.” I tried to change the subject and say that I bought a shirt for the friend who bought me this shirt and it says, “Super Duper Weenie” and I bought it at a hotdog place. She taps me on the arm and says, “I know what a weenie is….”
2.12.2010
The Worst Burlesque Show
Background: I saw this event on a social calendar and thought, “Oh! A Halloween-themed burlesque show! How fun!” I mentioned it to my friend Roxie, a fire spinner/fan dancer who has performed at events with circus-folk, because I knew she appreciates that kind of performance art. Her response was, “I saw this group once before and they’re terrible.” Then…I saw tickets for $7. I forced her into it. As we ate dinner and talked about the upcoming show, she saw their title “The Best Burlesque Show in New England.” She said, “Yeah, that’s because it’s the ONLY burlesque show in New England.
The event: We walked in and took some of the remaining seats at the back. There were three women singing and walking around the YMCA “theater.” We’re talking something that looks like a grade school auditorium. The guy in front of us looked like a real-life Sideshow Bob with curly hair in a triangle. Unbeknownst to us, but it would block portions of the show for Roxie. And it would creep me out when he would turn sideways and smile toward me (I ignored it mostly, but Roxie said he was plainly ogling).
Act 1: As the woman paraded onto the stage accompanied by what sounded like an uplifiting German death march, Roxie excitedly whispered, “Ohh! That’s the one with the C-section scar!” Ah…it was going to be that kind of show. I can only echo Roxie’s description by saying this woman looked “dead inside.” She looked like Frau from Austin Powers and gave off the same amount of icy indifference. As we watched her, I felt sort of bad about getting coupons to the show since it was obvious she was working to pay off some kind of debt to keep her kid in a good school. Or to pay off her 1997 Ford Bronco.
Act 2: When I watch burlesque, or shows with various-sized women, I always try and see which one shares my same shape so I can think about what I’d look like up there. I mentioned this to Roxie, then pointed and said, “That one reminds me of me. The one with the tranny face.” Sure, she could stand to lose a few pounds, but when she got those tassles to swing in circles, no one cares about her little pooch of belly chub. And if the tassles didn’t do it, it was probably focusing on one of the two faces this performer was capable of. Shocked (open mouth, saying ‘Ahhhh’) or pursed (think Jessica Rabbit with a tortilla chip stuck in her throat). At one point, this chick played a maid who was caught by the woman of the house (Frau) who spanked her with a flat-backed hair brush. I wanted to look, but each time I did, I felt one of my slowly dropped eggs scramble back to its safe place in my ovaries.
Act 3: Hands-down the most disturbing. And beautiful. A really well done piece. A ballerina (who could slice open envelopes with her shoulder blades) danced to something that sounded like it came from Nightmare Before Christmas. Also, she was wearing a porcelain mask which gave her a serial killer feel. Like she could strangle you with her ballerina shoes or something.
Act 4: “The Countess.” In any story about Cinderella, you will find this woman. Haughty, thinking her shit doesn’t stink when no one will tell her is that she has some shitty toilet paper stuck to her shoe. She came out in some sort of corset before whipping part of it off, displaying her mammoth breasts both in front, and bubbling up from her back. Apparently, the corset was a bit too tight and this woman was like soft serve ice cream being jammed into a kiddie cone.
Act 5: Oh God. The tranny is back. And this time, she was pretending to inject herself with heroin. People were enjoying the show (minus Sideshow Bob who was staring back at me again) when Roxie pointed out, “Recreational drug use with heroin is hilarious!” And I agreed. Kind of disturbing. I mean, very creative to tie your two elbow-length silk gloves together to make a cinch, but maybe going a little bit overboard on creative license. Also during this act was my favorite strip-tease method. Tranny took off her gold-plated heels and started rubbing them up and down her leg. Doubled with the fact that this woman was squatting on a couch in the same pose as pinching off a Lincoln log in her toilet, I was entirely not impressed. I had to bite my lip from exploding into laughter because all I could think was, “women are inherently sexy. Anything we do could be sexy. And you’re rubbing yourself with a shoe? You might as well replace that with a Renaissance Faire turkey leg because at least that’s believable that you’d want to make love to a piece of fatty meat.”
All in all, just terrible.
The event: We walked in and took some of the remaining seats at the back. There were three women singing and walking around the YMCA “theater.” We’re talking something that looks like a grade school auditorium. The guy in front of us looked like a real-life Sideshow Bob with curly hair in a triangle. Unbeknownst to us, but it would block portions of the show for Roxie. And it would creep me out when he would turn sideways and smile toward me (I ignored it mostly, but Roxie said he was plainly ogling).
Act 1: As the woman paraded onto the stage accompanied by what sounded like an uplifiting German death march, Roxie excitedly whispered, “Ohh! That’s the one with the C-section scar!” Ah…it was going to be that kind of show. I can only echo Roxie’s description by saying this woman looked “dead inside.” She looked like Frau from Austin Powers and gave off the same amount of icy indifference. As we watched her, I felt sort of bad about getting coupons to the show since it was obvious she was working to pay off some kind of debt to keep her kid in a good school. Or to pay off her 1997 Ford Bronco.
Act 2: When I watch burlesque, or shows with various-sized women, I always try and see which one shares my same shape so I can think about what I’d look like up there. I mentioned this to Roxie, then pointed and said, “That one reminds me of me. The one with the tranny face.” Sure, she could stand to lose a few pounds, but when she got those tassles to swing in circles, no one cares about her little pooch of belly chub. And if the tassles didn’t do it, it was probably focusing on one of the two faces this performer was capable of. Shocked (open mouth, saying ‘Ahhhh’) or pursed (think Jessica Rabbit with a tortilla chip stuck in her throat). At one point, this chick played a maid who was caught by the woman of the house (Frau) who spanked her with a flat-backed hair brush. I wanted to look, but each time I did, I felt one of my slowly dropped eggs scramble back to its safe place in my ovaries.
Act 3: Hands-down the most disturbing. And beautiful. A really well done piece. A ballerina (who could slice open envelopes with her shoulder blades) danced to something that sounded like it came from Nightmare Before Christmas. Also, she was wearing a porcelain mask which gave her a serial killer feel. Like she could strangle you with her ballerina shoes or something.
Act 4: “The Countess.” In any story about Cinderella, you will find this woman. Haughty, thinking her shit doesn’t stink when no one will tell her is that she has some shitty toilet paper stuck to her shoe. She came out in some sort of corset before whipping part of it off, displaying her mammoth breasts both in front, and bubbling up from her back. Apparently, the corset was a bit too tight and this woman was like soft serve ice cream being jammed into a kiddie cone.
Act 5: Oh God. The tranny is back. And this time, she was pretending to inject herself with heroin. People were enjoying the show (minus Sideshow Bob who was staring back at me again) when Roxie pointed out, “Recreational drug use with heroin is hilarious!” And I agreed. Kind of disturbing. I mean, very creative to tie your two elbow-length silk gloves together to make a cinch, but maybe going a little bit overboard on creative license. Also during this act was my favorite strip-tease method. Tranny took off her gold-plated heels and started rubbing them up and down her leg. Doubled with the fact that this woman was squatting on a couch in the same pose as pinching off a Lincoln log in her toilet, I was entirely not impressed. I had to bite my lip from exploding into laughter because all I could think was, “women are inherently sexy. Anything we do could be sexy. And you’re rubbing yourself with a shoe? You might as well replace that with a Renaissance Faire turkey leg because at least that’s believable that you’d want to make love to a piece of fatty meat.”
All in all, just terrible.
2.01.2010
Death in a Tigger Costume
I volunteered at a Halloween event.
It was at a high-end mall and they had games, candy, giveaways, promo booths, music, etc. Each parent had to pay an entry fee to get their kid in, and all the proceeds benefited charity.
My friends and I showed up and they only had “costumed character” volunteer opportunity spots open. Since we did this last year and saw all the costumed people walking around, we were pretty psyched to be able to do it this year.
My friend chose Scooby Doo, another friend chose Sully from Monsters Inc., and I went for Tigger.
We’re talking FULL COSTUMES. Head, furry suit, paws, feet. So I got in mine, got all velcroed in, put the head on and immediately realized there were only 2 screened airholes (through Tigger’s eyes) for me to breathe through. Panic set in. I felt like I was being buried alive, but instead, I was being buried in a Tigger suit. I calmed myself down and said, “It’s ok…it’s ok….millions of other people do this….you can breathe…you have plenty of air…..relax…..”
It was at a high-end mall and they had games, candy, giveaways, promo booths, music, etc. Each parent had to pay an entry fee to get their kid in, and all the proceeds benefited charity.
My friends and I showed up and they only had “costumed character” volunteer opportunity spots open. Since we did this last year and saw all the costumed people walking around, we were pretty psyched to be able to do it this year.
My friend chose Scooby Doo, another friend chose Sully from Monsters Inc., and I went for Tigger.
We’re talking FULL COSTUMES. Head, furry suit, paws, feet. So I got in mine, got all velcroed in, put the head on and immediately realized there were only 2 screened airholes (through Tigger’s eyes) for me to breathe through. Panic set in. I felt like I was being buried alive, but instead, I was being buried in a Tigger suit. I calmed myself down and said, “It’s ok…it’s ok….millions of other people do this….you can breathe…you have plenty of air…..relax…..”
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