The Fat Lady

Well, the fat lady must have sung, because it’s over. The comedy show for charity at Nostalgia Tavern is a thing of the past.

Thank God! Cripes, at this stage of the game, I’ll thank just about anybody! In fact, I spent a good part of this post-show Saturday doing exactly that.

There are so many people who contributed to the success of the evening. And I’m speaking of success in the monetary sense…not critiquing my own efforts on stage. Good heavens! I cannot believe that there are people in the world that do that type of thing for a living!

I know I looked like Larry The Cable Guy, but with a bigger bust! (But not by much…) And I probably sounded just about as bright! But HE never looks nervous! Larry never has a joke fall flat! And HE can get away with wearing shirts that have the sleeves ripped off! Crimeny… I caught heck for letting a bit of cleavage show! And it was just a BIT! As long as I wasn’t bending over, that is…

There should definitely be some kind of law stating that one’s parents be barred from witnessing such a spectacle! No way in the world should it be permitted for my mother to hear me say ‘fart’ in a crowd...let alone allow her to hear me actually let one slip! (Because I do that when I’m nervous, you know! Sorry...too much information? Well, I’m working on those muscles as we speak!)

And a girl’s father should never, ever hear her discuss wayward testicles that might or might not get caught between the slats of a wooden chair. He’s not supposed to think I even know what those little buggers are! And I DON’T!! Not really!


But worse--far, far worse—is the ‘Grandmother Quotient’. What kind of society do we live in, where it’s okay for a ninety-three year old woman to hear her (once) beloved grand-daughter talk about nakedness, wet tee-shirt contests, getting body parts caught in zippers, and HORNY MOOSE??? Aw, Mammy!

I simply wanted to die.

However. A quiet, graceful, dignified death was denied me. Of course it was. I am the queen of the Bonehead Moment, and it is my lot in life to open my mouth, and suffer the consequences.

I do manage to raise a lot of money for charity that way, though…

So! The show is over, the money is being tallied and will soon be disbursed, and my one remaining nerve is shot. I’ve probably alienated my family, a couple of my local friends, and even my best pal half-way round the world. Am I a bona fide, unqualified success, or not?!

Of course I am.

But for the record…I have never broken wind, I don’t have a single clue about manly body parts, and I have never—not once in my life—participated in a wet tee-shirt contest. Nor have I been naked, nude, bare, exposed or unclothed. Them’s the facts, Mam.

Mam? Mammy? Aw, come on! It was for CHARITY!! It was for Alzheimers and…something else! I forget what it was…

Heh.

Thank you—every one of you—for coming out in the cold rain, the wind and the sleet in order to help me support the ‘wrinklies’ and to assist me in settling the debt owed to my pal Jack.

It’s over. And he is soooo going to pay for that!