Theatre RULES!

I'm eating a popsicle and thinking about what I want to write about the theatre. I can't really type with a popsicle in one hand.

*KDHD- You can't really type at all.
*Mom- True.

So anyway, I love the theatre...and not in a snotty way, like I don't say theatah, or anything. Nor do I say theeayter. So I'm just a middle of the road kind of girl who likes plays and musicals. I've been living in the St. Louis area for quite a while now and I have to say, there are some fantastic things here. Seriously, the theatre scene here is huge and awesome. The reason I know this is because I have a job and every Monday during lunch my companions are telling each other about the play/musical they saw over the weekend. I on the other hand, tend not to leave my house once I get home for the weekend because, a) on Friday I'm an exhausted mess and would fall asleep before the curtain opened, b) on Saturdays it's too much effort to catch up on household crap AND shower and look presentable, and c) Sunday is church/nap day. But not at the same time. Pretty much.

SO, we have the Fabulous Fox Theatre. It. Is. Gorgeous. Check it out...here.... It has this massive pipe organ and a really magnificent chandelier that defies the common conception of a chandelier. When Phantom of the Opera played there, they probably worried that the real chandelier was going to upstage the fake one in the play. I would have, anyway. The very first show I saw at the Fox was The Rugrats Live! (or something like that...and yes, we took the kids). Singing, dancing babies with giant heads set against the Fox's ornate decor was a veritable visual oxymoron. Luckily, subsequent shows have been more in keeping with the nature of the place.....that is, fabulous.


We have another theatre called The Muny. I'm quite sure it has a longer name than that, but it pretty much goes by The Muny. It's in Forest Park, which is the Big Park in St. Louis. The Muny is an outdoor venue, so it only runs in the summer. It was built in this big depression in the park, so it's like this natural amphitheater, which is pretty cool. The Muny has always had a section of free seats...you just come early, get in line, picnic, play frisbee...whatever. I've never done this but KDHD has. I love The Muny, but it has a few issues, none of which are its fault.

Problem number one.....it is in St. Louis. This city has a lot of things going for it, but summer here is just plain effing hot. Hot and humid. And I like the heat. So when I say it's hot, well, you know. So. Problem number two....I don't know what the deal is with outdoor theatre, but people seem to think it's a big honkin' sing along. Plus, they tend to put on a lot of classic shows, which means half the people in the audience were in that very show in high school. I'm sitting there, enjoying West Side Story and suddenly the girl next to me is belting out I Feel Pretty!

HEY...did you buy a ticket to this show?

You did?

ME TOO!

Do you have a program?

IS YOUR NAME IN IT?

NO?

Shut up!!

So as you can see, I do manage to catch an occasional show and I have to say there is something that happens here that is pretty flippin' annoying. Part of me hopes this doesn't occur where you live, and part of me does, because then I would feel better about my town. I refer here to what is known as the St. Louis Standing Ovation. At the end of the show, before the bows even begin, much of the crowd is already on their feet. The first time I witnessed this phenomenon, I began to stand up with them, thinking, "Well, the show was good, but Rugrats? Really? Am I missing something here?" It turns out I was missing something as I realized that these people were not applauding, nor were they showing any kind of appreciation for the performers whatsoever. THEY WERE LEAVING! They were getting the hell out of Dodge so they could beat the traffic! I was horrified! And I see it at every show...no matter whether it's a Broadway touring company or local theatre. How rude.

So....the rules (see what I did there? Look at the title....now look here again...heh, heh, heh.)

1) Come to St. Louis and go to a show at the Fox. Enjoy it and keep your ass in or (in the event of a real standing ovation) slightly above your seat until after the bows.*

2) Come to St. Louis and go to a show at The Muny. Follow the above rule, but also KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! Bring something with which to fan yourself. It won't help, but at least you can feel like you tried.*

3) Come to St. Louis and attend a performance at one of our million other venues (none of which I meant to slight by not mentioning them but there are sooooo many, plus I'm pretty sure nobody affiliated with them reads this blog so who cares anyway?)

*BTW...went to the Muny last night for the first time in a few years. In the program there is the usual list of *ahem* suggestions for the audience, i.e. turn off your cell phone, no recording allowed, etc. The final two "suggestions" (and I'm paraphrasing) were, don't sing along and keep your ass in the theatre until the bows are over. YESSSSS!

So there you go. I don't really have a good way to end this.

Are all kids this stupid, or was it just me?

I was not the...

• sharpest cheddar on the board



• brightest Crayola in the box



• sharpest knife in the block



• brightest bulb in the chandelier



• sharpest tool in the shed
  


• ...insert your own intelligence analogy here
  

as a child.

Who knows whether I hold any of these crowns as an adult, even though the statistics suggest a certain competence in the brain department. But anyway, as I remember it I was not what one would call brilliant when I was little. Or maybe it's perfectly normal to be uber-literal and naive.

I remember my Grandma being in quite a tizzy over the toaster when I was preschool aged. This would have been in the late sixties and we were in rural Iowa, so I have no idea how long she had been using electrical appliances regularly. I doubt if it had been her whole life, 'cause there was definitely some discomfort there. Even I could sense that. She used to go around unplugging EVERYTHING before we left the house so it wouldn't burn down. But the toaster.....wow. She used to tell my brother and I, and my cousins, and anyone who was nearby that-
You Don't Stick a Fork in the Toaster!!!

Especially not this toaster.

That could kill a man, sticking a fork in the toaster.

I would nod soberly and I'd try to stay the hell away from the toaster since it upset Grandma so. But in the back of my mind, thoughts would pop up....

Why would anyone go near the toaster with a fork? Surely a fork will do you no good when toast requires things like butter or jam or peanut butter. I'll just stick with a knife, thank you very much.

And what does the toaster have against men anyway? I have changed my mind! I WILL go near the toaster! I will definitely be getting my Dad's toast for him as much as possible since the toaster seems to have it in for him. My brother is in the clear, what with him only being a boy and all, but Dad? Even if he's carrying no flatware at all I shall get him his toast, for I am just a little girl and the toaster is only interested in killing MEN. Grandma said as much, and old people know these things!

As small children are wont to do, I would get very hyped up for the holidays, especially anything involving me getting presents and/or candy. When the radio announcers began saying "Halloween/Christmas/Easter is right around the corner!", I would go into a frenzy. Since we lived on a farm, corners were not in abundance and my mother probably wondered why I was always so eager to go to town. When there was nothing right around the corner, trips to town usually consisted of a boring trip to the grocery store and to the meat locker.

*side note* I don't know how it works now, but when I was little, we got our meat from the locker. I actually don't really know how it worked then. All I know is that we would go into this freezing cold vault to our little carnivore safe deposit box and withdraw what we wanted to eat until the next visit. I guess we bought a cow or pig or something and they kept it there for us. Like Gringott's, but for meat. I LOVED going there in the summer....for about three minutes. Then I was begging to go back outside to the hot.

BUT....the excitement of going to town when there was a holiday JUST AROUND THE CORNER! I ran ahead of my mom and brother and stealthily peeked around every corner we approached, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever holiday lurked there. Those holidays....they were always a little too quick for me. They always ducked into the alley at the last minute and I could never seem to catch them. Once I thought I saw a fairy wing flit out of sight but since fairies have nothing to do with Easter I figured she was just running errands or something. One day I was convinced that THIS TIME I was going to capture summer and keep it forever, but alas! the next day it was still mid-May and I still had to go to school.

Childhood can be very disappointing for a kid who believes her imagination.

Analysis of The Cat Came Back (as presented by the Muppets) by JaMy and KDHD

KDHD-(singing)Benny had a cat
That they wouldn't let him keep.
So he put her up for sale,
At a price he thought was cheap.

JaMy-Why did Benny's parents even let him get a cat if they weren't going to let him keep it?

KDHD-I don't know.

JaMy-That just seems cruel, parenting-wise.

KDHD-He found it, I guess.

JaMy-Then why doesn't the song say that he found it? 'Cause if he found it, why didn't he just give it away? To a good home?

KDHD-Well, maybe that was the price he thought was cheap. Free.

JaMy-You know, if he took money for the cat, it would kind of seem dishonest, what with the cat coming back and all...

KDHD-Yeah, but he didn't KNOW the cat would come back. I mean, it was just sitting on the porch the very next day.

JaMy-You'd think the new owners would have done something special to keep the cat at their house. Extra cream or some catnip or something.

KDHD-Maybe they did. The song doesn't specify what transpired at the new owners' house, except they wanted the cat to help with the mice. So maybe the cat didn't appreciate being sold into servitude. To a dog, no less.

JaMy-...and what's the deal with the fiddle-playing critter in the attic?

KDHD-I think it's a coyote. or a wolf. Regardless, they have a fiddle-playing....thing in the attic and that's just weird.

JaMy-Plus, I can't help but wonder why the cat insists on returning to a home with a banjo-playing dog out front.

KDHD-Considering that all the neighbors appear to be dogs, I think he just feels safer with Benny. In spite of the aforementioned fiddle-playing thing in the attic. Even though Benny will stop at nothing to rid himself of this cat. I think the problem lies in continually giving the cat to a dog. You can't give a cat to a dog. It won't take.

Also...what's the deal with the cat's eye patch?

JaMy-Yeah, none of the other mishaps leave a mark on this cat. Not the cannon. Not the car crash. Not the bomb.


KDHD-That cat is a survivor. She's hard-core. I wonder if the cat already had the eye patch when Benny got her. Maybe the cat is some kind of evil mastermind and that's why Benny's parents wouldn't let him keep her.


JaMy-We never see Benny's parents. I think they, like the rest of the neighborhood, are dogs. I think Benny was adopted and was a horrible, horrible disappointment to his parents when he got older and started cavorting with cats. Especially evil mastermind spy cats who wear creepy eye patches and are determined to undermine the entire dog community with their espionage.

Come to think of it...the song never actually says who "they" are. Benny might not even have parents at all. Maybe he lives with evil relatives, like Harry Potter!

KDHD-Dear Lord, woman.

Food for Thought.....UPDATE!!!

Spouse just ate there with his business partners (their idea, not his). The waiter was surly and argumentative, entrees were $15-$20 and the bread was Wonder.
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I'm not a restaurant reviewer. I'm not even that much of a foodie. If I were, this is what I would have to say about my recent visit to a local restaurant.

We arrived at the restaurant around six and were delighted to be seated immediately. We were given a lovely tour of the available tables before being seated next to the kitchen. With a reasonable amount of maneuvering and sucking in, we were eventually out of range of the swinging door. Yes, door. Singular. Isn't it supposed to be a double? In AND out? It amazed me that we didn't get a head full of pasta as the result of an unfortunate door incident. Oh well.

We were ENTHUSIASTICALLY GREETED by our server, ordered drinks and an appetizer, then entrees. When our entrees arrived, we canceled the appetizer. Our ebullient server apologized profusely and offered cheesecake on the house. We forgave her. After lovely salads, whose plates egregiously overstayed their welcome, our food arrived-in minimalist fashion. I guess we ordered from the ADD menu. It tasted fine-not spectacular- just fine, and had none of the distraction of garnishes or grated asiago. Just a wad of seared tuna and a pasta bowl devoid of even a leaf of greenery. My pasta was so filling I had to send half of it to be boxed, noting with excitement that I had left several shrimp for my lunch the next day. Spouse even commented on my lack of appetite....No Shrimp Left Uneaten is my normal policy, even if they had obviously been frozen. We're landlocked here--what do you expect? Our cheesecake came as promised and I realized that they had reserved all their garnishing skills for this moment. Raspberry coulis was swirled over and under the cheesecake in a delightful pattern. I don't particularly care for raspberry but the effect was exquisite. As I scraped the red goo off my dessert, the server commented that it might still be a little frozen, so if it was she could replace it with chocolate cake.




WHAT?




There's cake?



And you didn't mention it before?



I'm not going to get snippy about a piece of free cheesecake, so we brainfreezed our way through dessert, paid the bill, collected my go-box and left.



The next day I reheated my leftovers and enjoyed a nice lunch until I realized I had reached the bottom of my bowl and hadn't encountered a single shrimp. Not one. Zero. I find this rather mysterious. I cannot even come up with a scenario for this phenomenon. Aliens? Kitchen theft? Spontaneous combustion? None of these make a bit of sense. But waaaaaait a minute...I remember hearing a voice from a nearby table ordering linguine tuttamare AND I remember hearing a server offering a go-box to said table. Could....could it be? Yes, it could. And now my tum tum hurts because I....just...ate...a...STRANGER'S LEFTOVERS! This grosses me out to an unreasonable extent. I don't eat at potlucks if I can help it. I don't consume anything students bring me from cooking class unless I really trust them. And they still have to taste it first. So this is epically disgusting to me. But since I'm not bulimic, there's nothing I can do but look forward to digestion and expulsion.

I hope she enjoyed my shrimp.