What's in a Name? Limericks and a Video Worth a Thousand Words

Cindy1 and Prince1 stand in the royal garden, ostensibly preparing to make out some more, when the clock starts chiming midnight.

Prince1:  Tell me your name.

Cindy1:  The Clock.

Prince1:  What kind of ridiculous name is that?  Well, she did say I would think her name was silly.  And what do I care if the girl of my dreams has a silly name.  It's a lot better than the chick with the creaky knee.

But alas, during these internal deliberations Cindy1 has hightailed it out of the garden and, depending on Prince1's reaction time, made it all the way back to her chair by the fire before Prince1 gave any thought to pursuit.  But what's this?  Cindy1 left behind a glass slipper which luckily did not revert to its previous form of an antique glass coffee percolater.  That would have made the search scene much more difficult.  Incidentally, in the act of lurking backstage I discovered the fact that Cindy1 leaves that garden wearing two glass slippers.  I have kept this to myself until now so as not to spoil the magic for Prince1 and the rest of you.

At the request of Palace Guard1 I authored some limmericks.  It is my pleasure to torture you with them now.

There once was a show that started with a flash

And the flames shooting out might have ignited the sash

If a sash were a part of the gown that she wore

The burns that resulted might have been quite sore

The boxes ignited with a flash and a pop

Fairy Godmother's wand looked a bit like a mop

And the audience clapped and were generous with laughter

And Cinderella lived happily ever after.

Four mice in a hole - in a hole in the floor

A hole that appeared with an opening trap door

Fairy Godmother said words and waved her wand

And nobody noticed that she was a blond

Next there came flashes and smoke

And before any more words were spoke

There appeared four ponies, which in fact were phonies

These horses were white unitard-clad chicks

Who after their dance were ready for a fix

They guided the carriage to the edge of the stage

The horse dancing girls are all the rage

The palace guard prepares to blow his horn

He has been preparing for this moment since he was born

He puffs up his cheeks and turns his face red.

And visions of sugar plums start dancing in his head.

So instead of escorting the princess to the ball

It will be up to Cinderella to do it all

And finally this video, created by Gary Dieter, will be where I go when I want to remember.

If you saw us live, thank you from the bottom of my heart.  If you didn't, perhaps this video will make you wish you had!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fVpaXk5yBwM

In the words of Fairy Godmother1, I'll see all of you later.

In the words of The Terminator, Come with me if you want to live.

Sorry, wrong quote.  I meant, I'll be back.

Opening Night!

What is it about Opening Night?  True, we're just going out there and doing the same thing we've done repeatedly in rehearsal, but the night has a feeling of experimentation, is fraught with emotion, and is heavy with the knowledge that we don't know how this will play before a live audience.  And then it turns out that your effort and tears and emotions-laid-bare, and singing and acting and dancing and comedic timing and the sets and the costumes and the music and stage magic - are enough, and even more than enough, to capture 400 in your world for a couple of hours on a Friday night.  I think I'm safe in saying that it is not possible to get much higher than on Opening Night.  Not in this life, anyway.

It was interesting to the me that the audience found humor in places I did not necessarily notice.  Generally speaking, I try to notice humor that is overlooked.  It fuels my writing, and my life.  Here are a couple of unexpected laughs, each one of which caused me to laugh along in surprise.  This is not an exhaustive list.  I lurk backstage as much as possible, but not all the time.  I am also engaged in mining non-existent humor in other places.

Fairy Godmother1 to Cindy1:  Stand back.  This could be dangerous (when about to supersize the pumpkin)

FG1 to Cindy1:  Well don't go kicking any rocks or anything (with your glass slippers)

FG1 to Cindy1:  This is no joke! (after summarizing the reverse transformations to take place at midnight)

Cindy1 to Prince1:    You might be surprised. (answering the question about the harm of leaving a few minutes past midnight)

Prince1 to Cindy1:    I tell you I love you and you don't say anything (about Cindy1 not replying to Prince1's assertion of love)

Herald1 to Step Sister1:  Space is limited. (regarding ballroom capacity while considering SS1's ample body)

And a word about happily-ever-after.  Did you notice the looming issues between Cindy1 and Prince1?  For instance, did you notice that she never tells him her name?  Do you know where Prince1 hears her name?  Step Mother1 blurts it out in the 11th hour before the last fitting of that size 11 glass slipper (sorry Cindy1, I couldn't resist).  So Prince1 hears Cindy1's name from his future Step-Mother-In-Law.  That's right Prince1.  You'll be related!  Maybe you'll put her and her and Step Sister1 and Step Sister2 (your future Step-Sisters-In-Law) up in a nice suite in the castle, so you'll be under the same roof! 

Ah, wedded bliss.  Enjoy your Champagne, Prince1.

Scientific Inconsistencies, Kate Middleton and Examiner.com

From backstage yesterday I observed the mouse/horse/rat/coachman/pumpkin/carriage/rags/ballgown transformation scene.  And I determined that there's a lot going on there!  That's an amazing scene.

And yet, there is some unintentional comedy that I also observed.

Fairy Godmother1: Why don't you go find a nice pumpkin?

Cindy1: Oh, look.  Here's one.  Conveniently placed behind the edge of this curtain here.

Have you been to a pumpkin patch lately?  Selecting the ideal pumpkin is just about as difficult as picking a nice Christmas tree.  Is is too tall or too squat?  Is it dented?  What about that rotten spot, or the rodent-chewed spot?  I liked this scene a lot better when Cindy1 had to at least run off stage and scour the prop table to find the pumpkin, while FG1 entertained herself by checking her hair in the reflection of the star on her wand.  That's real life.  What we have now is like something out of a fantasy story.  Which, I guess, uh, this is.

About that pumpkin.  FG1 is about to supersize it when she starts asking Cindy1 questions about pumpkin physiology, and realizes that some preparation would be prudent.  We wouldn't want to supersize the seeds and the pumpkin goo, now would we?  But one minute later FG1 identifies a fat rat and his brother, and turns them into Henchmen.  Or something.  I can identify a fat rat from 30 feet away.  But his brother?  FG1 is able to sex (that is - identify the sex of, dirty minds) a rat and also determine sibling status from 30 feet away?  What a woman!  Without closer scrutiny and extensive behavioral studies, I would be concerned that coming through the smoke would be the Coachman and some chick from the local Rat pickup joint.  Yikes!

Just out of curiosity I did a web search on the following terms: Cinderella Kate Middleton.  I am pleased to report I am not the first person to have thought of this. Check this out: http://blog.zap2it.com/pop2it/2011/05/cinderella-vs-prince-william-and-kate-middleton-which-royals-wore-it-best.html

OK, It was I who previewed the show in the Examiner.  But still.

Check this out:  http://tinyurl.com/3t38jy7

My top two favorite moments from the show.

1.  The King's Waltz.  We have, over the weeks, grown in confidence in this number to the point where we can sing, dance, have eye contact with each other, and quite obviously enjoy ourselves.  No acting necessary.  And don't we all strive to be able to say that in all aspects of life?  That we are so much in the moment that we are genuine, and truthful, and real?  I love it.  No acting necessary.

2.  Disrobing at the end of the show.  And the sighs of relief from my fellow cast members indicate I am not alone in this favorite moment.

Favorite random quotes, heard in random places, randomly:

1.  Excuse me, would you please tie me up?

2.  Hold me tighter.

Interviews, Dreams, and Pictures Worth a Thousand Words

OK I admit it.  I am not the most organized person in the world.  Stage Wife1, although she does not know me well, can attest to that.  And as an aside, Stage Wife1 might very well be the most organized person in the world.  But that's not important now.

What is important is that an hour before leaving for my job interview today I glanced at the email confirmation and learned some disturbing things. 1. The attached application was to be completed and brought to the interview. 2. The attached application was 16 pages long.  3.  I was unaware of the location or cleanliness status of any interview-worthy shirts.  4.  I was, shall we say, not yet dressed for my day.
Add to this the idea that I had only a vague notion of what this position was, and you have a recipe for something approaching...
the best interview ever. 

No kidding.  I had to jump up and leave to avoid being put to work running the company on the spot.  I now have a workable template for future interviews, and I can also provide a unique approach to job-hunting that I have not seen offered elsewhere.  All that time you've wasted in the past honing your resume and preparing for interviews that didn't lead anywhere?  You won't get that time back.  Use The Chris Barsam System for Acing Interviews Without Effort!  I didn't end up getting an offer, but still.

I had a dream.
I was the manager of an extremely low budget live theater operation.  We were performing Cinderella.  We had intended to invest in special effects but financial limitations, well, limited us - so for instance when Fairy Godmother made her entrance there were no fireworks, concussion grenades, or flashes.  What we had instead was Director1's recorded voice, synthesized to edit out all abnormalities, yelling "Flash Box!"  We did not have smoke, either.  What we did have were scantily clad young women carrying large cards with SMOKE! written in bold letters.  The dream did not last long enough for me to say what our balance sheet looked like or even how this production turned out, but in the next dream I was skiing down the side of a volcano.  I think the moral of the story is that if you are involved in theatre - or pretty much anything -  it has to be for the love of it, and you have to do it now before the dream changes.

The pictures sent by D1 are spectacular.  http://www.snowjumpstump.com/cinderella/  Looking at them I nearly forgot it was our show, and not some Broadway tour.  Judging from the pictures, I am, alas, not much in our show.  Which is surprising, based on the amount of perspiration I generate while the show is going on.  The truth is I am very excited about the stage time I do have, the lack of photographic evidence notwithstanding.  Now the big challenge is focus.  I might be trying to avoid stepping on Stage Wife1's dress (and for some reason also Dancing Girl2 and Dancing Girl3 and Step Sister1 and Fairy Godmother1 and Queen1's dresses), but that does not excuse me from hearing my pseudo Tango music in the first scene or executing a couple of well-timed head snaps upon hearing that the Prince is Giving a Ball. 

If only I could remember the words to that song...wait a minute.  "The Prince is Giving a Ball" are the ONLY words.  Golden.

 http://www.snowjumpstump.com/cinderella/

Costume Rant

Costumes.  Like actors, you can't live with them and without them there's no show.

Always be sure to put your body microphone on first, otherwise it is impossible to conceal the battery pack and wire beneath your costume.

Early in the proceedings yesterday, Director1 said just because you have costumes does not mean you can forget everything else.  I actually did pretty well.  Except for two missed entrances and a missed scene change I was in the zone.  It wasn't so much the costumes, as it was the addition of a dressing room.  That additional space gives me yet another venue in which to fail to be onstage at my appointed time.  You would think after years of doing shows that I would learn to be lurking backstage in case a scene in which I am supposed to participate should come up.
But no.

One of the top ten worst things in theater is to hear the shouted message - CHRIS!  You're needed onstage.  As the King's Valet.  Again.  And then Choreographer1 kindly asked if it were a costuming problem.  No, Choreographer1, costume's fine.  It was more of an idiocy problem.  A user error, if you will.  Once again, this time in the scene in which the prince is giving a Ball.  Hey look, I'm not supposed to be over here.  I'm supposed to be on that side of the stage over there.  Costume?  Well, I couldn't get out of my armor from the previous scene quickly enough.
Sounds like a personal problem.  Fail.

And did things seem like they fit better at the costume shop on Howard Street?  Did the trip to Dundalk cause shrinkage?  Seems to me I wore a T-shirt at the fitting, which may be why the armpit chafing problem was not as much of an issue until now.  And another thing about Howard Street.  Costumer George treated me with great patience and kindness, but he kept telling me Take your time!  Do you always get dressed this quickly?  What's your rush?  Answer:  This is a theatrical costume operation, yes?  More frequently than not there is a limited time window for changing from one costume to another.  I suggested to Cindy1 that singing the extended dance mix version of her first song would allow me addtional time to change, but I'm not holding my breath for that.
It must be said the costumes look fabulous, but did they really dress that way back then?  How did they have time for anything else besides dressing?

And there is one thing I do not wish to hear repeated after getting the last thing laced, buttoned, snapped, Velcroed and tied - Chris, is this your microphone over here?

Step back from that ledge!

For some reason I stowed away under the stage to observe the mice/horse transformation, and boy was it essay-worthy.  Four puppet actors, four dancing horse women and a tech all in a space smaller than my Yugo. (Note: I don't really own a Yugo, this is just a comedic device.  Do you even know what a Yugo is?)

Fairy Godmother casts a spell on the mice, which causes the puppet actors to have to exit to the floor below from the tiny ledge on which they are perched (wedged might be a better word).   Their options for egress are a small step ladder and a rickety table.  Simultaneously, a staircase to the stage has to be placed on the ledge by tech man, and the four dancing horse women have to ascend to the ledge, climb up the stairs and get on stage.  Their options for ascent are a small stepladder and a rickety table.  The same ones!  Which are still being used by the departing puppet actors.  The process took about 30 minutes when I observed it, but director's note on the matter seemed to indicate he was looking for something more in the neighborhood of 5 seconds.

Not to worry.  The Department of Stage Innovation has researched the matter and has developed the following recommendations for improving the efficiency of this process.

1. Trampoline.  This will enable the puppet actors the quickest possible exit - jumping off the ledge.  Once the puppet actors are comfortable jumping off the ledge, a couple bounces on a trampoline is just the thing to soothe that performance stress.  Cannonball!
2. Fireman's pole.  You don't see firemen answering the call going down pokey, slow stairs, or clambering over rickety tables.  Folks in a hurry go for the pole (you keep your salacious thoughts to yourself).
3. Sliding board.  They evacuate planes this way, inspired by small children evacuating high points in playgrounds.  Efficient and fun.
4. Another stepladder.  To replace the rickety table.  Perhaps one-way traffic on each stepladder would create the dramatic sought-after traffic flow improvement.  Look what it did for Charles Street and St. Paul Street in Baltimore.
5. Water soluble personal lubricant.  It seems like one component of the problem is friction.  And I read in a major mainstream publication that this product reduces friction.  I've also heard from mainstream advertising on legitimate broadcast, on-line, and print media that it is available at major retailers.

Further research is warranted.  Watch for The Department of Stage Innovation's volunteer recruiting campaign to determine which option is optimal, and sign up today.  It's all in the name of Science.  You wouldn't stand in the way of Science, would you?

Zen and the Art of...

Thursday's rehearsal with the orchestra was boring.  I mean this in the best possible way.  It is the first time I can say this, and being a part of this production has been very good for me in many ways, but there it is.  I found my mind wandering to other places.  Here's one.

I'm a biker.  My bike is a 1974 Honda CB360.  It gets the job done OK, although one female friend advised me that if I expected to attract chicks with a motorcycle I would have to upgrade.  I thanked her for her input.

I got the bike started last week, but only one of the two cylinders was firing.  This is a fairly frequent occurrence.  Once I was riding on Rt 152 and suddenly I seemed to have only half a bike under me, but I made it home on the one cylinder.  Barely.

Usually the culprit is clogged carb jets.  What you have to do is remove the float bowl on the offending carb.  You need to use a stubby Philips head screwdriver to remove the four screws, and you have to be a contortionist to get to the inner two screws, but it can be done.  Then the two jets have to be unscrewed from the bottom of the carb with a stubby flat blade screwdriver, and the tiny little holes have to be cleared with some combination of mouth air and very delicate wire.  The Rt 152 crisis was my first experience with this process, and I found the jet lying in the bottom of the float bowl - not attached to the carb at all!  This led me to believe that it was not properly tightened in the shop, and that in some situations I am superior to the shop.  You reassemble everything and Shazam, happy bike.

Only not this time.  Still not firing.  Looked at the spark plugs, seemed ok.  Looked at the spark plug wires.  Aha!  The spark plug wire end fits rather loosely onto the wire itself.  Maybe too loosely in this case.  Some finagling and Oh Mighty Isis, happy bike.  Golden!

Until I tried to start it the next day.  Firing on only one cylinder.  But this time it's THE OTHER ONE.  So the assignment will be to repeat the whole process on the now non-firing side.  And don't get me wrong, I enjoy farting around for an afternoon with motorcycle repair.  Dirt under my nails, soaked in gas and oil.  But who has the time?

Maybe I should just upgrade. 

Old Bicycles, Horses, and MacGyver

One day when I was just a lad my mother brought home a bicycle for me.  Was this the Fuji 10-speed I had been wishing for (and which was highly rated by Consumer Reports)?  I had been wanting this bike for months, expecially since I had outgrown my Montgomery Ward internal hub 3-speed banana seat bike.  That bike was cool.  It had a speedometer and a generator headlight, but it was time to move on.  So anyway, was this the Fuji?

No.

This was a yard sale find.  Faded red fenders, bald tires, warped, rusty rims.  Think it might have been a Murray.  Pretty sure it wasn't a Huffy or an Iverson.

I was speechless.

Eventually I came around and bought new tires and tubes, oiled the chain, and got down to the business of riding this bike.  One thing I never quite got used to was the bearing at the top of the steering shaft.  Under normal use it creaked embarrasingly like Cindy's step-sister's knee, but for extreme turns the bearings snapped in a loud and disturbing way.  I never did anything about it, but if I did it would require at least greasing that bearing and at most replacing it.

 

This all came to mind the other day during our warm-up.  Choreographer 1's instruction:  Left and center, right and center.  My neck!  The noises my neck makes during this warmup take me right back to that Murray bike, and make me wonder if I shall ever have to grease or replace some of my anatomy.  Memory can be a funny thing.

 

Have you observed Cinderella's horses?  It is an incredible thing.  The dancing girls don these horse heads and dance to the song Impossible.  And here's the thing.  The horse heads are sound-proof, vision-proof, and air-proof.  So this dance takes place without the Dancing Horse Girls being able to hear the music, see each other or the treacherous hole in the floor, or breathe.  And even so it's spectacular. 

 

The scenery stairs we've been promised have materialized and we finally used them!  It wasn't easy, believe me.  My blocking calls for me to enter the landing from the back.  The back is at about eye level.  As Bugs Bunny once said, "Watch that first step.  It's a doozy."  Using MacGyver-like ingenuity, I formulated a plan.  In the scrap wood I found a flexible dowel rod about seven feet long.  With a running start, and carrying the dowel at chest height I planted the end at the edge of the stage flooring, and held on as the pole flexed and launched me vertically to the top stair.  My landing was perfect and amazingly - NOBODY SAW.  The worst part is that I realized I had forgotten my trumpet.  So I walked down the stairs and retrieved it.  And no, I did not repeat the pole vault exercise holding the trumpet.

 

That would have been ridiculous.

Chapter Four - The Hokiness Factor

I don't know if you've noticed, but there are a couple of hokie things written into the story of Cinderella.  Today I would like to focus on Prince Christopher's conduct at Cindy's exit.

 

Synopsis:  Boy meets girl.  Boy smitten.  Boy shares feelings.  Girl bolts.  Boy stands there wondering What The Heck?

 

Actually, there's more to it than that.  There's a clock striking midnight, and Cindy's clothes and everything else reverting to its previous form.  Cindy has to beat the clock and get out of Dodge (and many other cliches not mentioned here) lest Prince 1 see her as she really is (smoking hot babe, but not Ball worthy).   It seems to me the clock is a convenient plot device.  I'm no prince, but in my experience sharing feelings too early with the chick tends to result in her bolting, clock or no clock.  But I digress. 

 

After dancing at the Ball, sneaking off to the garden, and Prince 1 somehow determining in 10 minutes that Cindy is The Woman Of His Destiny, she abruptly leaves.  This is not realistic.  Again, not a prince, but identifying the Woman Of My Destiny requires, on average, 30 minutes of intense, uh, scrutiny.  But this is not about me.

 

So, what does Prince 1 do when Cindy, The Woman Of His Destiny, leaves?

Multiple choice.

 

1. He chases her down and tackles her.

2. He has the Royal Guard chase her down and tackle her.

3. He rushes out to get the license plate number of the Pumpkin Carriage.

4. He reviews security camera footage to get the license plate number of the Pumpkin Carriage.  (Impractical.  In the old days, security camera tape had to be sent to Rochester, New York for processing.  The wait would make for a sub-par theatrical experience.)

5. He rushes to the edge of the garden AND STOPS THERE WONDERING What The Heck?

 

I think #3 is the most amusing, but alas folks, it's #5!

And why #5?  It doesn't make any sense until you look at possible explanations.

 

1. Prince 1 is fatigued.  This is straight out of the script.  "I am fatigued", says Prince 1.  And this is before all the Bob Fosse business there in the ballroom.  Maybe it's true.  After all, Prince 1 couldn't chase down a chick in an unwieldy ball gown wearing one glass slipper?  Come on.

2. Short-term memory loss.  Once Cindy is out of sight, she's out of mind.  I know, hard to believe.  But this concept was explored to comedic effect in the movie Finding Nemo. So there it is.

3. You Got Lucky by Tom Petty was playing on Prince 1's IPod.  Girl if you can do better than me, bolt...yeah bolt, but remember, Good love is hard to find (repeat)...you got lucky babe (repeat)...when I found you (guitar solo).  (Impractical.  You Got Lucky wasn't recorded until years after the Medieval period.)

4. Prince 1 decides chicks aren't worth the effort.  Totally understandable, happens to everybody occasionally, and possibly a good explanation of why Prince 1 is in this pickle (lack of heir to throne, forced to give Ball, etc.) to begin with.

5. It is necessary as a plot device.

 

#5 again.  See what I mean?  Hokie.

 

One thing more.  Everything reverts to its previous form at midnight, but Cindy leaves a glass slipper behind.  A size 11!  But that's not important right now.  The glass slipper remains a glass slipper.  It does not revert to an antique glass coffee percolator, a fake Mexican paper mache rutabaga, or anything else.  Fairy Godmother 1 says she can't create something out of nothing, but here she is handing off the glass slippers that conveniently appear...from WHERE?  For all we know she pulled them out of her (unprintable).

 

And if that imagery does not disqualify this show from attaining a "G" rating, nothing will.

Chapter Three - Dancing Girl Props

Yesterday at the end of rehearsal a question was posed.
Do the dancing girls have their props?  No?  Well, never mind.

I don't know about you, but ever since this little exchange I have been DYING to know what the dancing girl props are.  What would six young, attractive, dancing women bring on stage to use as props?  What could it possibly be?  This is the final scene of the show and the dancing girls come out with...what?

Here are some ideas.
1. Lingerie.  OK, I had to go there.  I must admit this is not very likely.  The question is of props, not costume.
2. Whips, chains.  More feasible, however still not likely based on the family-oriented nature of the show.  Although maybe we're going for the irony angle.
3. Light sabers and Jedi Knight paraphernalia.  This was suggested by Angry Wife 1.  Her is guess is as good as mine, although you could put your eye out with that thing.  Use The Force, Luke.
4. The collection of armor and swords observed in the front room of AT Jones Theatrical Costumers.  I like it.  Period-correct, and somewhat kinky without being overstated.
5. Apples, like the one received by Cinderella from the Queen disguised as an old beggar woman.  Wait.  Wrong story.
6. Brooms.  A1 is now promoted, so someone's gotta do the dirty work.  Right?  They could break into a game of Quiddich.  Wait.  Wrong story.
7. Magic wands with which they turn the rest of the cast into frogs.  Now that would be a surprise ending!
8. Silly string.
9. Water balloons.
10. A large vibrating egg.  (suggested in the movie Annie Hall).

Truth is, I've got nothing.  I was planning to go to rehearsal anyway, but now there is no way I would miss the resolution of this mystery.  And don't sit there and tell me you're not curious.

You know you are.

Chapter Two - The Terminator and The Counsel of Stage Wives

I have a problem.  Whenever our Fairy Godmother (call her FG1) has a scene I hear her lines delivered by Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Let me explain.

In the movie Terminator 2 Arnold's cyborg is programmed to be the protector of Sarah Connor and her son John, against a newer model shape-changing liquid metal cyborg that is trying to kill them.  Arnold is, in effect, the Fairy Godmother of that movie.  A few lines of similar dialogue lend credence to my premise.  I paraphrase, because of course I don't know verbatim dialogue from either piece.

FG1 (opening scene, after winding the key, to the audience) - I'll see you all of you later.
Arnold - I'll be back.
FG1 - Hold my hand.
Arnold - Come with me if you want to live.

FG1 (before the ball, in response to Cindy's question about creating a team of horses) - It doesn't work like that.  I can't create something out of nothing.  I can only create something out of something else.
Arnold (in response to John Connor's question about the liquid metal cyborg turning himself into a bomb) - It doesn't work that way...but it can form solid metal shapes...(like) knives and stabbing weapons.

FG1 - Why were you weeping?
Arnold - Why do you cry?

FG1 - I'm your Fairy Godmother
Arnold - My mission is to protect you.
Cindy 1 - I didn't know I had a fairy godmother.
John Connor - Who sent you?
Arnold - You did. 35 years from now you reprogrammed me to be your protector here - in this time.
FG1 - Most people don't know they have one.
John Connor - This is deep.

Me - See what I mean?

So I was sitting in the audience and I became aware that King 1 was standing on stage looking at me and saying my name.  I was supposed to be on stage as his Valet 1 at that moment and completely forgot.  I mentioned this to my dance partner, Stage Wife 1, and she asked:
Did you write it down?
No.
Why didn't you write it down?
At the time of that assignment I did not have a script.
Do you have a script now?
Yes, but...
And are you writing it down now?
Well, no...
Why aren't you writing it down? 
Well, because I'm not sure...
Are you relying on your memory?  Because your memory is (unprintable).

The amazing thing is that this situation, with very little modification, is just like real marriage.
At least from what I've seen on TV shows like Modern Family...

Chapter One - The lottery, the first date, and the search for a princess

I walked in and the first number I rehearsed with the cast of Cinderella was The Prince is Giving a Ball, and I thought the highlight was going to be enjoying how the seam of the rehearsal room mirror distorted my image, but then Choreographer 1 delivered an instruction that really got to me. He said we should react as though we had just won the lottery.

Well. I had a dream in which I did just that. I won the lottery!
But immediately there were issues.
My phone started ringing off the hook.
My long lost (or never known) relatives started wanting to get reacquainted.
My long lost (or never known) friends started getting really friendly.
My mailbox started overflowing with pleas for donation, business propositions, great investment ideas.
My email started filling with requests for conversation with Katrina Wetnwild. (Wait a minute - that's happening anyway.) I immediately took action (no I did not contact Katrina Wetnwild) and resigned from my job as a bovine dung analyst, and tried to get on top of some of my new responsibilities.
The main new responsibility, of course, was financial management. I knew I had to hire somebody to manage my money, but you can't trust just anybody with millions of dollars. I chose badly. I chose Dewey, Fleecem, and Howe. I lost everything.
Fortunately, at this point I awakened and, well, I still have no money. But it is more of a chronic condition rather than an acute one, so I guess it's, uh, OK.

So. If I look less than ecstatic after hearing that the Prince is Giving a Ball, it is because I am imagining winning the lottery. I am, however, reconsidering about Katrina Wetnwild.

And what about that first Cinderella-Prince dance? It is thoughtfully choreographed, and beautifully executed by Cindy 1 and Prince 1, but here's the thing. When I first meet a chick for ballroom dancing as a rule we don't usually get into the lifting and leaping and all that right away. What would be left for the second date? Although, typically I can't remember ever having a second consecutive ballroom dancing date. Or, come to think of it, a second date of any sort. I've always been under the impression that chicks like to start out a little slower. Could this be why I am not a prince? Could this be why chicks don't dig me?

And the glass slipper that A1 leaves behind appears to be something like a size - I don't know - 10?. And although they searched far and wide (perhaps a poor choice of words), there was no chick in the the entire kingdom whose foot the slipper would fit. Seriously? You gotta be kidding me.