Slurp slurp slurp…
Licking my wounds.
Friday night, as some of you already know, I MC’d a burlesque show here in Montréal for the first time in years.
I was pretty relaxed about introducing the show and performing and stuff but I had plans for an evolution of character over the course of the evening that I was pretty apprehensive about.
As it turned out that stress was all in vain because just before the intermission I managed, in a failed attempt at gracefully walking off the stage, to step into the hole between the two blocks, meant to act as stairs, and crumble to the floor; And not without the mic stand following me and hitting me on the back, inspiring the mic to fall off and land on my head.
So yeah, that was good times.
Needless to say, I was a little thrown off, and instead of getting more interactive with the audience, I spent the second half of the show trying to both ignore the pain, and walk gingerly and discreetly without putting weight on my left foot.
Because I’m THAT devoted to my art.
And also because I’m a professional and I wouldn’t want the audience to be distracted from the brilliance of the show or have their level of enjoyment tainted by concern for my health and well being.
And also to prove my sobriety because some people didn’t believe me that all I’d had to drink all night was water.
But mostly because it was humiliating and I was trying to keep my ego intact and also I do have an image to hold up you know…
Actually that’s a lie. I didn’t feel humiliated at all, which I found alarming, considering the size and fragility of my ego, and credited the possibility of a concussion to.
What? Some microphones are very heavy…
Actually that’s a lie too. Well not that I was humiliated but um… it’s just that… I stood half naked in front of an audience of over 100 people on Friday night and announced my phone number over the PA.
With the exception of calls from family members, My phone hasn’t rung once. I’m just saying…
The most disappointing thing:
I’ve been planning since last summer to register for the Learn To Run class at the Running Room.
The first day was last Monday and I couldn’t go because I had a rehearsal. I called and asked if I could start a week late and the person I spoke to said it was no problem to start a week late.
And now… now it’s Sunday and I’m a useless invalid and I’m not going to be able to join tomorrow either.
And the next registration isn’t until the end of June.
This means two things.
1. I’m going to have (once my foot heals, any day now) to keep running alone. 🙁
2. The only exercise I’ll be getting in the next few days is sofa based ankle rotations, lifting spoonfuls of Coconut Bliss to my lips, and snapping my fingers at my imaginary servants.
Who will ignore my orders.
Because they are imaginary.
For those of you who still care, now that you are as sober AS I WAS ON FRIDAY NIGHT, I will be accepting consolation gifts in the form of flowers, chocolate, wine, and cash dollars. All of which can be left on the front balcony. I’ll send the kids or the dog downstairs to carry it up for me.