I got a comment after a recent post from Bad Girls Hunt. And in the comment she mentioned several rather forgettable things about one of the most regretful chapters of my rather regretful life. I mentioned in passing last week that I was in a musical at The Bush Of Death (I think I also mentioned this unfortunate fact in a post in May of 2009). Well, that musical was something called Bye, Bye, Birdie. Bad Girls Hunt titled her brief comment "Dear Conrad Birdie," and it is true, and yes regrettable, that I did play this character in a poor High School adaptation of the thing. And if you're wondering why it was regrettable, here's why in a nutshell - I can't sing worth a damn. For some reason I went to the auditions for this musical. At the end of the tryouts, old Mrs Rummer (who was the director) had me try and sing a few songs. And I'm certain I was pretty bad. My recollection is that I was pretty bad. Well, a day or 2 later, old Mrs Rummer put up the cast list and someone came up to me and told me that she had cast me as Conrad Birdie. I was mildly surprised, to put it mildly. But I wasn't panic stricken or anything. I didn't beg off. But I knew I couldn't sing. I knew that the part required 3 solos. And I knew that the heavy possibility for humiliation was practically imminent. Well, the practices started for this thing. And I gotta tell you, they are really boring for most actors. If anyone is unaware, in the musical Conrad has almost no lines. All the character does is stand around posing and occasionally bursting into tune. If I recall correctly, I had maybe 15 actual lines. Lines that, as Mrs Rummer would tell you, I never bothered to learn. Getting the lines right struck me as irrelevant. So, I was pretty bored during the practices. I'd stand up on stage in my scenes and whisper really inappropriate things to other actors, trying to get them to break character (I was very good at this by the way). So good in fact, that I got one kid to sing the wrong line on one of the nights of an actual performance. There's a character who is like Conrad Birdie's manager or something. In one scene this character is defending Birdie from press rumors about something (I barely remember the exacts of the plot now). This manager character extols how wholesome Conrad is and at one point sings "and his hobby is making fudge." Now, the kid who played this manager was a big tall phony Christan named Bosworth or Boswell or Bos-something. All during rehearsals when this Bosworth was singing the line "and his hobby is making fudge," I'd whisper the word packing where making was supposed to go. And that paid off because the kid slipped up and sang packing fudge during one of the performances. I started laughing so hard on stage behind him that I nearly broke character. Anyway, as I was saying, I didn't have much to practice as far as lines. But I did have to learn those pesky solos. And I ended up doing that working in private with the music teacher (whose name I couldn't tell you to save my life). What I can tell you is that I wasn't feeling so confident about the quality of my singing performance. Well, I give old Mrs Rummer all the credit in the world on this next point. She didn't make me sing any songs live in front of folks until dress rehearsals. Which was a genius move on her part. The reason is that no one else in the cast ever had any idea how shaky I was as a singer. And what happened, you may wonder, when I finally sang those solos in front of lots of folks? Let me describe it this way - I wasn't good. But no one told me that (which was very kind, I'm guessing Mrs Rummer went to everyone else behind my back and begged them not to totally destroy my confidence). So, opening night comes. And for the first song I had to come walking from the audience to the stage. And then I started singing. Something like You Gotta Be Sincere. And I was pleasantly surprised when no one in the audience laughed (although again, I have a feeling old Mrs Rummer contacted all the several hundred folks who attended each night and begged them not to laugh at me). To my sincere shock, people applauded. And then they applauded again later when I sang. And then the 3rd time. And then each time the 2nd night. And each time the 3rd and final night. To this day, I know, I am certain, that I was bad. And I wish I'd never agreed to do the part. But, I wanna say that old Mrs Rummer, and whoever she got to play piano while I sang, are saints. I remain blissfully ignorant of how they managed to make my pitiful performance palatable to people. I really do. As far as the other comments that Bad Girls Hunt made about this awful, poorly done high school performance that happened 23 years and 3 months ago - I have no recollection of what kind of guitar I lugged around in certain scenes. I do remember the gold jumpsuit though that I wore for one scene. And what I remember most about that gold Elvis-type jumpsuit, and this is key, is that it was a little too tight in the crotch.
Quick football note - take the Bills tomorrow. One good bet in NFL exhibitions is to bet on a team after they get blown out - phony pride and all that. And the Bills got smoked near DC last Friday. So, lay the points. The bonus in that game is that Jim Caldwell, who, as I mentioned last week, doesn't give a damn about these exhibitions, will be on the other sideline.
Also, Favre is back. And anyone who thought for a second the past 6 and 1/2 months that he wouldn't be is either very stupid or very gullible.
I am out - TBFH.
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