Saturday, May 15, 2010

One Saturday Morning

Welcome back, suckers. My psychiatrist tried to break up with me today. But no one ever leaves a star. That's what makes one a star. I heart Norma Desmond and her eyes. She did not have "Bette Davis eyes." The only person in history who had Bette Davis eyes was Bette Davis. If you think you have Bette Davis eyes, odds are you're just a pop-eyed freak.

So I just realized we never chatted about my latest trip to the Booth. For an hour before the show started, my heart was pounding hard enough to explode out of my chest. When I looked at the call board, I saw that somebody was out. My stomach dropped out and I think I said something that should not be repeated in front of the children. And I looked again, and it wasn't Alice. It was Jenn. Hell broke loose. I think I started screaming, "Thank you Jesus!" or something. I don't know. The memory is hazy. So she went on, but didn't come out of the stage door. I do not fault her for that. I wanted her to go on, and nothing else. And that's what I got. And life is a son of a bitching cabaret.

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