OK, I have two hours and then it’s bedtime. I’m so tired I’m pretty sure I’m on the way to seeing things that aren’t there. Like little green men or possibly large pink bunnies, I don’t know. If I can get a full night’s sleep tonight that would be so sweet. Sleep has become like a long-lost lover to me lately that I think of fondly and with much longing. I miss you, sleep. Come back to me, please, sleep. I promise to show you a good time.
I had to tell you some things yesterday. OK, what were the things. Sex-change cat; sword-cane; The Shape of Things; strip club. And whatever else crosses my sleep-deprived brain-area.
So we answer all kinds of calls at work. Doctor’s offices, lawyers, heating and cooling places, apartment complexes – if a place ever closes, and needs someone on call after hours, we’re your place. We answer for a bunch of vet offices. I like the vet offices, because I feel like I am being HELPFUL to the ANIMALS. (Although sometimes the callers ask something silly, like “My dog ate some raw chicken, will he die?” and I SO want to say “No, because IT IS A DOG and DOGS EAT RAW THINGS ALL THE TIME AND ALSO GARBAGE” and I have to exert all my self-control not to.) Anyway, someone called a vet line the other day and – I am SO not kidding – asked to have the vet call them back so they could get a sex change operation for their cat.
A SEX CHANGE OPERATION. FOR THEIR CAT.
His name was “Romeo” so I assume he wanted to become a “Juliet.”
We even listened to the call because we assumed it was probably a prank call and we wanted to talk to the operator about what to do when a prank call comes in but it wasn’t even a prank call. Just a fella wantin’ a sex change operation for his kitteh.
I don’t even…what leads someone to make this phone call? What leads you to want a sex change operation for your cat? Did your cat meow in a feminine fashion so you assumed they’re really a lady? Did you catch your cat wearing little cat-dresses? (I totally knew a cat that had a little cat-dress once and it made me laugh so hard I almost died. It was PINK. And yes, it was a real live cat and not even a stuffed animal.) Did your cat hump another man-cat so you’re like “THAT IS EEEVIL” so you think it’s probably trapped in a man-cat body?
Listen, Dumbcat meows like a lady. I’ll totally admit it. He also sometimes sounds like an opera singer. He has a very high cat-voice. But I don’t think he needs a sex-change operation. How would I even KNOW such a thing? DUMBCAT IS A BOY. He’ll have to stay a boy, because HE CANNOT TELL ME HE WANTS ANYTHING ELSE. Because HE IS A CAT.
This is insane and makes me sad for the cat. I hope the vet clinic didn’t even bother calling that guy back the next day, seriously.
This segues nicely into SWORD-CANE GUY.
So we also answer for some places that we have to take orders for. These make me sad because they are for old people who can’t figure out this new thing called “the intertubes” and so they want to talk to a human because they think if they type their credit card number into the typewriter attached to a television it will be stolen by alien robots.
One of them sells canes. All the canes. Many types of fancy canes. (So…not a lot of young people call that line, then.)
So a man called me the other day, and I got his name and shit, as one does, and then was all, “How can I help you today, sir?” and he said, “Well, I wonder if you have any sword-canes.” And I said, “Um. Sword-canes?” and he said, “Yes. Canes, that are also a dangerous sword.” So I said, “Like…in a James Bond film?” and he said, “JUST LIKE THAT.” So I said, “Have you…checked our catalog online?” because that’s what we’re supposed to do, and he said, all conspiratorially, “YES. But you wouldn’t have them in the catalog. They’re MUCH too dangerous. They’d be something you’d NEVER talk about. Unless someone were to call you and ask about them SPECIFICALLY.” So I was all “Um. Mmm-hmm” and got the rest of his info without even laughing at him. Are you so proud of me? I know. I know you are.
So then my coworker was all, “WHAT THE HELL IS A SWORD CANE” so I drew her this helpful diagram which I brought home with me so I could show you. Because I love you.
My job might kind of have killed me this week but I still got the giggles more than not.
Oh, yeah, as you can see, I’m totally quite the artiste. And also that’s my handwriting. Like it? I have trouble sticking with either cursive or print so I fluctuate between the two, it’s an issue I have.
STRIP CLUB! Ding Dong Joe’s been waiting for this part of the post. He’s taking off the minute when this is done.
So right around the corner from my house (well, not THAT close. Let’s say like, I don’t know, 5 minutes away or something, I don’t know, it’s not far) is a strip club/juice bar. I think that’s what it is. Because in New York you can take your clothes off and sell juice, and you can leave your clothes on and sell beer, but never the twain shall meet. Well, not legally, anyway, and not on stage for money.
It is called Night Moves. (Oh! Shit! Sorry. NITE Moves. They don’t spell it right. My fault.) It is not my FAVORITE strip club. My favorite strip club was run by a crazy and they shut him down for some reason and one year at Christmas he put a blow-up Santa being serviced by a blow-up doll on his roof as a protest and it was both inappropriate and hilarious? Because I have a strange sense of humor? They made him take it down. But for a short period of time it was THE FUNNIEST YET WORST THING EVER.
Anyway, so my area was TOTALLY FAMOUS because we were on The Colbert Report the other night with a report about Night/Nite Moves because the owner tried to get strippers claimed as dancers so he didn’t have to pay his back taxes. No, seriously. I would embed the clip but I can’t because Comedy Central and WordPress don’t play nice so here’s the link. The local arts guy is the guy that does the restaurant reviews for the paper and I kind of love him. (I think he does other things, too. He’s pretty great. But he’s most well known for his foodie stuff.)
FINALLY, then I’m TOTALLY going to bed, I went to see a play last night, even though I was EXHAUSTED, and listen. LISTEN. Sometimes you’re all “ugh, I really shouldn’t do this, I should go home and go to bed” or whatever but people are RELYING on you so you GO and then something magical happens.
Best show I’ve seen all year. I see…well, less shows now, since I’m poorer than poor, but let’s say anywhere from 2-5 shows a month? All year long? Times twelve? So that’s a lot. More than your average human being.
The acting was brilliant. The lighting was…well, I haven’t seen anything like it in a long time. It was cinematic. It was a revelation. The set was understated but such an integral part of the show it made my heart hurt. The music was perfectly chosen. (“Coin-Operated Boy” at one point, and did I bop along in my seat? Yep.)
And it was at MY THEATER, so you might be all “AMY YOU ARE BIASED” but I didn’t even work on this one, so I’m completely unbiased. (Also, I don’t believe in being biased. I’ve said “best thing I’ve seen all year” about things I’ve seen at my theater, at theaters I don’t care much for, at theaters with millions of dollars in revenue, theaters in basements. Doesn’t matter much. Best thing I’ve seen all year doesn’t get biased. The only thing not considered for it? The things I haven’t seen, because in order to be considered, I have to have seen it, you know?)
Anyway. If you are local, you need to get over to my theater (it’s Albany Civic Theater, we’re at the end of 787, check out the website for directions) and go see The Shape of Things. Four more shows: today at 3 and then three next weekend. If you’re not in the area, read the play or watch the movie, because it’s wonderful and I think you will love it. (OK, disclaimer: if you don’t like shows about how terrible we can be to one another as humans, and about art and deep thinking and manipulation and sex and rough language and such, probably you shouldn’t read/watch it? But if you’re ok with these things if they’re done well, and not just for effect, then it’s for you. Promise. Neil LaBute is a master at what he does.)
But if you’re here, it’s $15 at my theater, it’s live theater, and it’s one of the most brilliant things you’ll ever see on stage. I promise. If there’s an adorable blonde at the box office, tell her Amy from Lucy’s Football sent you. You’re not going to get a DISCOUNT or anything, but she’ll get a kick out of that, I think. She finds this whole blog-thing amusing and also mind-boggling. (Adorable blonde is friend K. who I love more than chocolate.)
Oh, and also, in the audience last night? People were TERRIBLE and POORLY BEHAVED. They were talking through the whole show. One woman was narrating: “Oh! She said that because he LOST WEIGHT!” or “SHE DOESN’T LIKE HER.” Thank you, lady; without you, how would I have known these things? At one point, someone made a poor choice (or, what someone in the audience thought was a poor choice); another audience member said, “FUCK!” loudly, and everyone laughed at her comment, so she was all “durrr hee hee!” at herself. At another point, someone decided she’d had enough of this “sitting” thing people talk about, so she stood in the aisle and talked to her friend. The man next to me sat so splay-legged he was pretty much riding my leg like a Kmart automated quarter-pony. I feel like he should have given me a wet-wipe and $50 when he was done with me.
THESE THINGS ALL HAPPENED WHILE ACTING WAS HAPPENING ON THE STAGE.
K. and A. and I just kept looking at each other in horror. When did shit like this start being ok? Why do people think the theater is a bowling alley or their living room or something? The actors can HEAR you. They can hear you talking while they are trying to act, you assholes. SHUT UP. I know. I know we need their money. I KNOW THIS. But also, common courtesy? No? Please? THOSE ARE HUMANS ON THE STAGE. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.
Anyway. It was amazing; the final moment of the show shocked me into tears (and I know the show. I KNEW IT WAS COMING.) It was a brilliant, amazing, surprising, risk-taking night of theater. K. and A. and I immediately leapt to our feet to give them a standing ovation at curtain call (the rest of that asshole audience, for the most part, sat right there on their asses and clapped in a bored fashion. I HATE YOU I HATE YOU.) I wish you all could be there.
Ooh, look what I found, the director made a trailer for it. He’s a smartie, that one. Here here here, it’s as close as you all can get without being there:
(I also got some potentially very exciting news, which you don’t get to share for bit. The chickens are a little closer to being counted. That’s all I can say for now.)
Supposed to have been in bed ten minutes ago. Have to go, cupcakes. Long day of work tomorrow, then seeing friend C. for the first time in months tomorrow night, then I get a NIGHT to MYSELF and a DAY OFF. Have to finish this, write one email, then off I go to sleep. I hope. Oh, sleep. How I miss you.
Happy Sunday. Watch out for sword-canes! They are always where you least expect them and then you’ll get stabbed in the face-area.