So.

The other day, I attended an event after work. As it was rather a somber event, I thought it prudent to stop on the way and replace my torn pantycrack‘hos with a fresh and unwittingly doomed pair. So, on my way to the event, I hopped off the bus, ran into a drugstore, picked up a new pair of pantycrack‘hos, and proceeded to look for someplace to change.

To serve as my dressing room, I settled on the glassed-in lobby of a bank, after business hours. Logically.

See, years of theatre experience acclimate a person to quick-changes in spaces that are less than private. As a result, either one becomes crazy-adept at the presto-chango method of slipping one costume over another and pulling the unwanted clothing out from under the top layer, or one eschews all attempts at modesty as being inexpedient and dumb, says “Fuck it,” and strips on down. Hey, when you only have ninety seconds between scenes to change from a slip and nightdress into a hoop-skirt, corset, and wedding gown, you don’t give a rat’s ass which lucky stagehands see your boobies in the process.

I’m not the stealthiest of costume-changers. If I were a superhero, I wouldn’t bother with a secret identity. Too much trouble. And it would be more fun to wear a cape and carry a beeper. I’d be a superaccessible superhero. What a superposition! Well, seal me in a lead box with vial of cyanide, and call me Schrodinger’s Cat!

Quantum Physics reference. Hoo, that was rich.

Anyway, back to the pantycrack‘hos.

Since I had some time, I tried to use a little bit of modesty when I changed pantycrack‘hos in the bank lobby. I can’t say I was successful. I can only imagine what it looked like for the drivers of passing cars, seeing me, hunched over by the ATMs with my shoes off, shoving my hand down the back of my skirt in effort to dislodge my pantycrack‘hos from my pantycrack.

I’m afraid that’s all I have for you today. I only told you this story so I could make the Schrodinger’s Cat joke, because hot damn, that was FUNNY. And so very, very relevant.

1. Since I’m kind of deaf, I’ve long since accepted that I’m going to miss parts of conversation when I’m in a crowded bar. Yeah, not anymore. I don’t know when it happened, but I’ve rejected the “smile and nod” approach in polite conversation in favor of having the other person repeat and repeat and repeat what they’ve said, until I finally hear it. I single-handedly kill others’ jokes that way, ensuring that I will always, always be the funniest person in the room.

I mean, Schrodinger’s CAT!

2. You’d think that #1 would make for some awkward situations. Not if, like me, you have stopped believing in awkward situations. I mean, hell, what’s awkward? If you notice awkwardness, chances are you’re not the only one who noticed it, and everyone would be just as thankful as you for a change in subject, however weird or abrupt. If you feel uncomfortable, leave or change the subject. Better yet, choose not to feel awkward, and watch everyone else cringe.

Hey. You have a good day, right?

Find someone bonny and willing, and go do something fun with a shilelagh, whatever the fuck that is.

~ Last Five Entries ~

Arm-in-Arm Down Burgundy - 09.05.05

Motivated! - 08.25.05

Moths, and Relative Nonsense - 08.18.05

I Finally Have Internet Access in my Bedroom. But, No Ashtray. - 08.09.05

Here I Am - 08.02.05

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BUY JEN'S BOOK! BUY IT! DO IT!

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BUY DEAN'S BOOK, TOO! YOU KNOW YOU WANNA! SERIOUSLY.

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