Like you would not believe...
First. I love old euphemisms for gay men. Like roommates, great and good friends, and confirmed bachelors. So, listening to My Fair Lady today, and hearing Henry Higgins describe himself as a confirmed old bachelor who will never let a woman in his life, well, I may be starting to ship Higgins/Col. Pickering. Someone stop me. I can't help it, I want everyone to be gay!
SO. I just got home. Well, not home, but to my parents' house. So the journey is not over yet. But where have I been? I should have just been at my parents, with the Bro and the Swi home from NY and college, respectively, and observing Yom Kippur in an almost completely traditional way. Alas, twas not to be - let me explain.
If you remember way back during the week, I was very excited because Bro was going to see my apartment for the first time. This is the Bro who is a swing in Chicago (the musical. Though, if he were a swinger in the Windy City I'm sure I wou
ld be no less proud). Anyway, after a delayed train, a ride on the wrong metro line, and much gleeful jumping up and down upon reunion later, he arrives at my apartment, takes the tour (all 670 square feet), and I feed him. The feeding is essential, practically ritual, in my family. If there's a problem, well then, someone needs to eat, right? Anyway, he then, at 3:30, calls the stage manager to "call out," aka calling in sick. This is what I hear:
BRO: (sounding slightly tired/hoarse) Hey, I'm not going to be able to come in today.
STAGE MANAGER: ....
BRO: Oh, well, um, no, I really can't be there.
SM:.....?!?!?
BRO: Actually, it's a religious holiday, and I really can't be there.
SM: ...!!!!???!?!?!?!?!
BRO: I'm actually with my family in Washington, DC.
SM: ..!!!!!!!!????$^&(*)(*
BRO: (hanging up the phone) Shit.
So two guys had already called in sick, and that would be three people out, and there are only seven guys in the ensemble. While we're on the road to my parents house, the company manager calls.
COMPANY MANAGER: !!!!&*(&)(*&$%$
BRO: Look, I'm really sorry, I don't know what to say, I'm not trying to get myself fired here!
CM: !!!!!!&&&&&&&
ME: Should I be taking you to the train station?
BRO: nods mutely.
Then we called my parents, which is a whole other mess. Long story short, Pops booked Bro on a 6:00 pm plane, I dropped him at the Metro, he got to the gate and got on the plane. Meanwhile, Swi and Pops got home from the airport, and I arrived chez mes parents. As a group, we decided somewhere along the way to hop in the car and drive to NY, and meet Bro after the show. And spend Yom Kippur there. It was a whole new paradigm of Yom Kippur, y'all. One we did not even know how to deal with. My dad brought 4 siddurs in the car, and we had a makeshift Kol Nidre service, which consisted of him singing Kol Nidre twice, and then me reading a lot a lot of English from the book. Also? I gave a sermon on the fly. It was a time. Finally, I got to sit up front with Swi, who was driving, so that was fun, though he did giggle at my Summer Favorites CD.
SWI: More acoustic guitar,huh?
ME: It was that kind of summer.
NY was a blast, we picked up Bro successfully, one of his roommates was out of town, so my parents stayed in his room, I stayed on the couch, and Swi had a bedroll on the floor in Bro's room. We did a bit of davening at home on Saturday, then, as Bro had to go do a matinee, and Mom can't be separated from him for longer than is ABSOLUTELY necessary, she went and saw the show while Pops and I stayed around the apartment for a more traditional Yom Kippur.
Swi went out and watched the UMich/Penn State game. About which I say this: GO BLUE! With two U of M brothers, and a soon to be ex-husband (who is already /still fucking the girl he was cheating on me with, before we're even divorced) who is a rabid fan of all PA sports teams, I firmly believe that the Nittany Lions, the Eagles, the Philies, the Sixers, and the Flyers MUST DIE. Most particularly at the hands of any DC team or U of M.
Anyway, went to the show that night with Swi, it was awesome, George Hamilton totally fucked up one of his songs in the best way, and apparently, one of the (bisexual) girls in the show thinks I'm hot. She was totally having dance-sex with me during Cell Block Tango. Bro even confirmed it afterwards. This is awesome, especially from a distance. Were I to actually see her offstage, up close, now that I know she thinks I'm hot, I know that I would only stuter and stammer and perhaps melto into a little puddle of gooey Mcmuffin bits because y'all? She is seriously, completely, almost illegally, hot. HOT. I mean, c'mon, a dancer in Fosse show? There is no way I can hit that. Way outta my league. But I digress.
In other news (sorta), I'm determined to write more here. Not because anyone is waiting for it (or even reading it? Bueller?), but because it's like a diary, only BETTER! And except for my 3.5 RL friends on here, y'all don't know me. And with the RL ladies, well, if I trust you enough to know about my fandom activities and proclivities, there is nothing else that need be hidden.
SO. I just got home. Well, not home, but to my parents' house. So the journey is not over yet. But where have I been? I should have just been at my parents, with the Bro and the Swi home from NY and college, respectively, and observing Yom Kippur in an almost completely traditional way. Alas, twas not to be - let me explain.
If you remember way back during the week, I was very excited because Bro was going to see my apartment for the first time. This is the Bro who is a swing in Chicago (the musical. Though, if he were a swinger in the Windy City I'm sure I wou
ld be no less proud). Anyway, after a delayed train, a ride on the wrong metro line, and much gleeful jumping up and down upon reunion later, he arrives at my apartment, takes the tour (all 670 square feet), and I feed him. The feeding is essential, practically ritual, in my family. If there's a problem, well then, someone needs to eat, right? Anyway, he then, at 3:30, calls the stage manager to "call out," aka calling in sick. This is what I hear:
BRO: (sounding slightly tired/hoarse) Hey, I'm not going to be able to come in today.
STAGE MANAGER: ....
BRO: Oh, well, um, no, I really can't be there.
SM:.....?!?!?
BRO: Actually, it's a religious holiday, and I really can't be there.
SM: ...!!!!???!?!?!?!?!
BRO: I'm actually with my family in Washington, DC.
SM: ..!!!!!!!!????$^&(*)(*
BRO: (hanging up the phone) Shit.
So two guys had already called in sick, and that would be three people out, and there are only seven guys in the ensemble. While we're on the road to my parents house, the company manager calls.
COMPANY MANAGER: !!!!&*(&)(*&$%$
BRO: Look, I'm really sorry, I don't know what to say, I'm not trying to get myself fired here!
CM: !!!!!!&&&&&&&
ME: Should I be taking you to the train station?
BRO: nods mutely.
Then we called my parents, which is a whole other mess. Long story short, Pops booked Bro on a 6:00 pm plane, I dropped him at the Metro, he got to the gate and got on the plane. Meanwhile, Swi and Pops got home from the airport, and I arrived chez mes parents. As a group, we decided somewhere along the way to hop in the car and drive to NY, and meet Bro after the show. And spend Yom Kippur there. It was a whole new paradigm of Yom Kippur, y'all. One we did not even know how to deal with. My dad brought 4 siddurs in the car, and we had a makeshift Kol Nidre service, which consisted of him singing Kol Nidre twice, and then me reading a lot a lot of English from the book. Also? I gave a sermon on the fly. It was a time. Finally, I got to sit up front with Swi, who was driving, so that was fun, though he did giggle at my Summer Favorites CD.
SWI: More acoustic guitar,huh?
ME: It was that kind of summer.
NY was a blast, we picked up Bro successfully, one of his roommates was out of town, so my parents stayed in his room, I stayed on the couch, and Swi had a bedroll on the floor in Bro's room. We did a bit of davening at home on Saturday, then, as Bro had to go do a matinee, and Mom can't be separated from him for longer than is ABSOLUTELY necessary, she went and saw the show while Pops and I stayed around the apartment for a more traditional Yom Kippur.
Swi went out and watched the UMich/Penn State game. About which I say this: GO BLUE! With two U of M brothers, and a soon to be ex-husband (who is already /still fucking the girl he was cheating on me with, before we're even divorced) who is a rabid fan of all PA sports teams, I firmly believe that the Nittany Lions, the Eagles, the Philies, the Sixers, and the Flyers MUST DIE. Most particularly at the hands of any DC team or U of M.
Anyway, went to the show that night with Swi, it was awesome, George Hamilton totally fucked up one of his songs in the best way, and apparently, one of the (bisexual) girls in the show thinks I'm hot. She was totally having dance-sex with me during Cell Block Tango. Bro even confirmed it afterwards. This is awesome, especially from a distance. Were I to actually see her offstage, up close, now that I know she thinks I'm hot, I know that I would only stuter and stammer and perhaps melto into a little puddle of gooey Mcmuffin bits because y'all? She is seriously, completely, almost illegally, hot. HOT. I mean, c'mon, a dancer in Fosse show? There is no way I can hit that. Way outta my league. But I digress.
In other news (sorta), I'm determined to write more here. Not because anyone is waiting for it (or even reading it? Bueller?), but because it's like a diary, only BETTER! And except for my 3.5 RL friends on here, y'all don't know me. And with the RL ladies, well, if I trust you enough to know about my fandom activities and proclivities, there is nothing else that need be hidden.