But I'm so glad it's Friday night! To be! A Centaur!

This was an interesting weekend, if you ignore the fact that Patrick and I both were enormous slugs and sloths - literally human burritos - on Sunday (excitement of the day: I killed a big black spider in the garage all by myself).

On Friday, I returned to Sam's Club to change out my previously new tires. Based on my complaints, Sam's Club Employees of the Month Larry and Kek replaced my so-called new tires, which have 5,000+ miles on them already, with brand new ones. They're the same exact tires, which, as it turns out, are just fine for my Honda-mobile. In fact, as far as Michelin is concerned, for my car there are no better tires. That previous set may have been defective. But: I still feel the same problem on the 605, the 10, and the 710 when I am driving in excess of 60 MPH, but I don't feel it on the 405 or the 105 (yes. These are the freeways I drive regularly. Please make a note of it). The alignment is perfect. The wheels are balanced. So after a little deductive reasoning I've determined that the problem is not the tires. Oh, no! The problem is the road. (Who said the problem was me? In the back there! Yes, you! Stand up you big jerk! I am a perfectly good driver.)

Still. New tires is new tires. And free new tires? That's cause for celebratory shopping. After that adventure, I went to Macy's and bought a gorgeous $225 Martha Stewart quilt (and two shams) for $164 and $80 flannel sheets for $25 (perhaps unfairly. They pulled the shelf signs after my transaction; I had only gently suggested that they had misread the sale signs. I spoke to another person who visited Macy's on Fridays, and she too was of the opinion that they were practically giving the stuff away). Still, I prefer to think that my Jedi mind trick ("You will give the sale price plus the special Martha Stewart buy-one, get-one-half-off deal on this purchase") worked. Friday was my day. I was the man on Friday.

Now if only it would get cool enough for flannel sheets. We also need a new down comforter and/or mattress pad but I didn't want to press my luck.

...

I think I've mentioned this in the past, but really, any good story bears repeating, no? My friend told me a pathetic story about forgetting her iPod at her last trip to the gym, and finding the ambient noises there too darn boring for words, she proceeded to have a dull workout. I exhibited my usual lack of sympathy and told her that I just rely on my whacked out brain for entertainment when I work out (sure. I work out. Why not?). You may remember that I like cheesy songs ("Feels Like the First Time" has a nice beat, or maybe "Working Man" by Rush; and there's always that old favorite, Christopher Cross' "Ride Like the Wind"); or a Radiohead song (Hail To the Thief has good tunes for walking), or Stewart Copeland's "Too Kool to Kalypso." Today's song of the day for my AM walk with Ana, Hung and Alicia was "We Love You Conrad" from Bye Bye Birdie (I've been thinking a lot about Bye Bye Birdie today. More on this later). Not the dirge version from when the fan club realizes Conrad is joining the army, no - this is the peppy version they sing before Conrad arrives in town in his metallic jumpsuit and melts the crowd with "One Last Kiss." Ooh, that would be a good walking song, too. Maybe a little too sashay inspiring. In my head, of course. Ana, Hung, and Alicia would probably signal for the fire department guys to cart my ass to the hospital in the helicopter the sheriff's department is always landing and taking off not far from our morning route if I started singing out loud.

My friend asked, when I walk with the girls at work, if the fact that there are four of us constitutes a "gang." We're not a gang: Ana's always about a streetlight ahead of me in the morning (skinny so-and-so!), and Alicia and Hung like to talk, so they're a bit behind: really, we're more like a very strung out, out-of-step platoon. Ana went through the Sheriff's academy (or something), so in the afternoon, when we walk through the building (too hot for Hung to go up the hill) and turn around for another lap, she likes to show off with a very military about-face. I, a former marching band geek who never found the militaristic characteristics of marching band "charming," tend to kick out one leg and spin around. It's a very stylized, very Bugs Bunny move. The guys who work in that building (it's a warehouse; all our shops are in there) seem to find it amusing, and I live for their entertainment. The only thing I liked about the actual marching part of marching band was yelling at the rest of the flute section to straighten up, and terrorizing them into memorizing their music, the lazy talentless bums. Sure, on piccolo I was louder than the whole rest of the section (and some of the clarinet section as well), but still. Is that my fault?

Tyrant: that's me.

(How did that old cheer go? "My feet hurt, my belt's too tight, my something swings from left to right? But I'm so glad it's Friday night! To be! A Centaur!")

The reason I was thinking about Bye Bye Birdie is because yesterday I got a comment here from my friend Damon on a previous post (the "I should" post). Damon has grown up to be a successful, educated person who wrote a book on deleting the "shoulds" from one's life. It sounds like a fine idea to me. I should really pick up that book, huh.

Anyway, Damon may not appreciate the story I am about to tell -

When we were in high school, the school put on for the spring musical, a version of "Bye Bye Birdie" that was pretty darn awesome. Now. Our music program was crap: we had a tiny, unmotivated marching band (unless by "motivated" you mean, boy crazy; and that would just be me, thank you), no orchestra, a jazz band full of talent (surprise, surprise, considering the teacher's professional jazz background), but in spite of ourselves, every spring we never failed to put together a pretty good pit orchestra for whatever musical had struck Mr. Mortenson (Morty) the drama teacher's, fancy. Sure, we had some ringers, but mostly it was student power blasting away in Robert Frost's cool little half-moon sunken orchestra pit.

Damon was cast as Randolph MacAfee, Kim's pesky little brother. He was adorable, and perfectly cast. I don't remember who played Conrad or any of the other parts (as a band geek, I didn't run with the drama kids; either too nerdy or not nerdy enough, I do not know, but, um... THANK GOD); I do recall that it seemed to be a very successful production, and Damon did an amazing job. His pitch on "Ed Sullivan" was pretty dead-on.

Speaking of musicals... on Saturday I went to the cue-to-cue for The Bourgeois Gentilhomme. Rehearsals are winding down and they're getting ready for their November 7 opening night. The show's not technically a musical, but Frederique, the director, always finds a surprising way to incorporate music and dance. I'm sort of kicking myself for not participating onstage - I was asked, but I said no. It's such a huge commitment; I think for now I can be happy in the booth. As I've said before you can't really get a feel for the individual performances at the cue-to-cue; what you can see (and I always find this stuff interesting) is to get an idea for the actors: who's a good listener, who doesn't take criticism well, who knows what they're doing, who naturally finds their light without being told a million times, who's flirting, who maybe shouldn't do accents. Many people in the cast are new, and I like seeing them, too, finding out what they're like. At this point they've all been together for something like eight weeks, so to them I'm just a ponytail in the booth, murmuring to and being murmured at by Charles, the production designer (we lucked out: the new headsets worked perfectly. It's such a drag when he has to yell at me in the booth from the audience, where he watches the run through with his cup of coffee).

Tonight's my first real tech rehearsal - I'm pretty sure the plan is to run the whole show with the light and audio cues, which will hopefully be triggered (by me) at the right times. I have rehearsals, I think, every night this week and next week. How those kids have done this for all this time amazes me. I'm kind of already tired just thinking about it.

Update: rehearsal for me ended at 11:20 (the cast had to stay to get notes); I got home by 11:51, and was in bed by 12. However. It was perhaps a mistake to eat 4 peanut butter chocolate chips and drink a mini can of diet coke at 10 o'clock, because I couldn't sleep. I was up until, I think, 1:15. Getting up at 5:30 this morning was a drag.