Role Play

How did you meet your spouse? College? Blind-Date? The Internet?

Can you imagine meeting the father of your one-day children while wearing a platinum Orphan-Annie wig? When you look like me? (see Jewess in banner above) When you’re awkwardly and frenetically tap-dancing your way through Anything Goes? Picture a younger, less-talented Carol Channing, rocketing off the Bernini’ Brothers’ stage in A Thoroughly Modern Millie. Never seen it? Never wanted to? Same with Husband. Razzzberrrries.

Oh, I played it cool. Hey look at me all toy-poodle in a human dog show! Like my self-confidence? Oh, I can hang in the pit and chat-it up with the musicians in a Greatest American Hero skull-cap-o-curls, no problemo. Nothing to see here—just your average twenty-something, flirting in a completely average twenty-something dating scenario. See me flying up in the air? Just lindy hoppin’…nothing to see here. What’s your name? Tell me after I jump through this hoop? THAAAANNNkkkkkksss.

Oh, and every third night I got to don a SIZZLIN’ babushka with my home girls in Anatevka (Fiddler On The Roof). Go grapevine- Go grapevine-Go! Tell me that didn’t do wonders for my vanity. Could someone tie my headscarf an eensy bit tighter? Awesome. Husband could barely keep his eyes on the page during Tevye’s dream sequence, as I crawled across the floor, clad in a shroud making ghosty-noises. Nothing sexier than sportin’ a shmate (rag).

He did pass notes backstage from the pit, threatening Perchik; Hodel’s Mine…but I hear Chava’s hot for revolutionaries. Tevye’s wrath didn’t intimidate Husband. Guess he’d had enough of Tevye’s substantial foot-odor and snoring back at the guy’s cabin. In fact Tevye agreed to keep his Chuck Taylor’s outside cabin door. We’re talking foot ODOR.

Alas, Tevye’s snoring became unbearable. Husband needed a new roommate. RRRRazzzberries!