Every summer, the town I work in is flooded by professional actors who come to do 4 or 5 shows for Coeur D'Alene Summer Theater. They are vivid and enthusiastic and stunningly talented.
**If you've been with me awhile, you may remember last year when my gay spa friend Eric made me, I mean, ASKED me to come to Sunday night karaoke at the Shore Lounge to sing him a Cher song for his birthday. Well, the room was rotten with summer theater people, as as I sat there, I shrank a bit with each mind-blowing rendition. These people don't sing a song, they perform it. They don't even look at the words, and they can make it funny or sad or quirky. And they are all gorgeous. I was bedraggled from just getting off a seven hour shift, massaging rich people, and I had on wrinkled khaki shorts and a droopy ponytail. I had long since sweated off my makeup. Pathetic as my appearance may have been, I held my own on the singing end, and the gays seemed to approve. Eric told me later that they would have been pretty vocal if they didn't like me. You don't mess with Cher unless you can do it right when the gays are around.
So tomorrow I'm taking my husband to his first musical at the Coeur D' Alene Summer Theater. My husband is not a muscial type of guy, normally. The only reason I know he'll love this one is because it's "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat". Joseph is his favorite story from the Bible, plus he's a rabid Elvis fan, and the Pharoah in "Joseph" is, essentially, Elvis.
Then, in about a month, Eric's birthday rolls around again. He's having himself another karaoke birthday party, and he insists that I sing for him, but this time in costume. I promised to do so because I love Eric. But now I really have to get it together. It's one thing to be able to sing just like Cher, it's quite another to have the look and the mannerisms. Eric said he wants at least one hair swing and "ho-o-o-o!" Crap. I have one month. The gays are coming.
1 month ago