February 9, 2013

  • petty and inappropriate

    That’s my theme for the weekend.

    Last night I went out with a friend, with the specific plan of being petty.  Honest and true, we did.  And it was perfect.  Because of all the restaurants in this town, of course we’d make a plan to go to the same place that other people I used to hang with were going out to dinner too.  And of course they were also going to see the same show that we were, because the person my friend and I were being petty about is the same person they were going to see in the show and the reason I don’t hang with them is because the petty inspiration made it so that I can’t.  The last time I went to something that I knew she was going to, she made a point of looking through me and saying things that were deliberately aimed at me (and need I say negative?)  Which makes her a petty witch with a b, right?  And makes me a sad little excuse for a person for being upset by this.

    Let us contemplate why I allow people to step on my cape.  Perhaps because I am a doormat.

    On the other hand, I had a wonderful time with my friend.  We talked about a great deal more than complete pettiness (as the witch cannot keep our attention for that long.) And then we went to the show.  Egads.  What an extravaganza of “ohmigod” and pink and high heels and blondness.  Legally Blonde the Musical.  My friend and I just looked at each other and quietly hurled.  This was community theater and the audience was definitely into it.  Perhaps on another day or with another friend, I would have enjoyed it.  Because I like tacky stuff as much as the next person and I do like community theater. 

    Speaking of tacky.  Ohmigod.

    But the best part, and here is where I go back to petty, my good old ex-friend, the diva. The one who tells directors that she is too talented for small parts.  The one who is so obnoxious to work with that people have dropped out of shows that she is cast in.  The one who went to college for music or some such, but sings like a cat in heat.  The one who always plays herself in every show I’ve ever seen her in. (And when we were friends I went to all of them, because I am a good friend, thank you very much.)  That one.  Well. She had no lines. No solo (thank God).  And she had the most hideous costumes I have ever seen.  And was on stage for maybe 10 minutes for the whole show.  And, that was worth the price of admission.

    I have some evolving to do.  Perhaps this afternoon. Or maybe tomorrow. 

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