There is a certain standard of social life one is expected to maintain as an upcoming celebrity. One must always stay in the public eye. In Musical Theatre, there are certain events one is expected to attend. The most important?
Musical Mondays.
Those of you at all familiar with Chicago, New York, theatre, gay, or simple fag-hag life will know exactly what this is. For those of you who have no idea what Musical Mondays mean...I don't have time for you. KEEP UP!
I realized I had been neglecting this duty as both a celebrity and socialite for weeks. I had been haggled by fellow socialites in Chicago for missing Mondays for months and haggled immediately upon my arrival in NYC. This week, I could hide no longer.
I planned on meeting my former F15 co-star and future agent/producer/manager/sugar daddy Andy K. outside of the club. Of course you know that one can't just waltz into these situations without proper preparation, so as I pressed my club couture, I sipped some...well you can imagine what I was sipping...drinking...chugging...
As I swaggered up to the club, Andy K. was waiting (very properly prepared) and I followed his swaying body past the bouncer, through the velvet ropes (in my head) and into the masses of pitchy showtune belting men.
BEER. The only thing I needed was BEER. I don't like to drink cocktails at these types of things because I feel like I've lost all masculinity then, so BEER. And then after several more BEERs (I'd tell you which kind, but this blog is so popular now I'm working on a couple of advertising contracts with other BEER providers)...
whow that was a long parenthetical, let me try again
And then after several more BEERs and a few impromptu performances of me singing selections from Les Miserables along with Lea Solonga, I found out Carly Jibson was performing. Carly MotherF-ing Jibson.
Most of you, even in theatre, probably have no idea who she is. Let's be honest, I really shouldn't either except for the fact that she did some little dog-and-pony musical at Northwestern 5 years ago and is a notoriously plump blonde girl from Broadway's Hairspray with a bad attitude and recovering drug addiction and THOSE ARE MY PEOPLE.
As she took the stage, I made it my goal to get seen. All respectable lines were forgotten. I shouted the imaginary inside jokes I had with her, pumped my fist, obnoxiously whistled, and waited in vain for the moment when I would be called up to the stage to perform a duet of "Good Morning Baltimore". In fact, Carly didn't even give me a point or wink or a shake of her boobies. I felt ashamed that I had sunk to such a low. I mean, this girl was my peer, my colleague, my...oh wait she has a career...well we're both blonde and SHE IGNORED ME.
So I blacklisted her.
Trust me, that means something.
She only sang four songs for the and then raced out of the club like there was free cake, coke, and whiskey down the street.
The rest of my night? It goes like this: I pulled a muscle on the dance floor from one too many high kicks, had 3 too many BEERs and stayed 4 hours too long.
Use your imagination.
No Mom - I'm not proud,
TJB: Making It
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