Friday night I met Miss Diva and her friend Sean at Ye Olde Watering Hole. Miss Diva mentioned something about how spooky her basement is and Sean told us that as I child he had always been afraid to go into the basement at home because there was a stuffed peacock, which his grandfather had shot, down there and he was frightened of it. JOHNNYLEEN, of course, assumed that the grandfather had been game hunting in India, but during the course of the conversation, it became clear that the grandfather had bagged this peacock in some place like Connecticut. So JOHNNYLEEN asked how it was legal to shoot someone's pet seeing as how peacocks aren't native to Connecticut. I'm sure you, my brilliant Friends, have already deduced that he meant to say "pheasant" instead of "peacock".
Well after we all laughed and laughed over the mistake, I told about a stuffed bird I saw at the New Year's party I attended. In the living room was a beautifully stuffed pheasant that my friend, Tom's, daughter had done as a taxidermy project for high school. (Why they're offering taxidermy classes in high school is frankly beyond me, unless they're preparing for a future generation of morticians.) As I said, the bird was very nicely done and quite life like. However, there was an earlier taxidermy attempt sitting in the dining room, that would have been laughable if you didn't realize the poor bird gave up its life for this dreadful experiment. It was a goose of some sort that had been posed in one of the most unlikely positions ever, as though it had died while performing yoga. One wing was stretched out like it was flying and the other was down as though the goose were placidly sitting on a lake. Its head was twisted at that odd angle birds have when they see something on the ground. So it was like the bird couldn't decide if it was flying, swimming, or looking for worms. The crowning touch was a big nail protruding from its head. If I can get Tom's permission, I might post a picture of it on my website.
On Saturday I hung out with my friend, Louise. We had brekkie together and then went out to that old-mill-turned-antique-mall that I've mentioned before in another entry. Then I came home and played my brand new piano that had just been delivered Saturday morning! I have a decanter and glasses sitting on the top of it and every time I played certain notes, they started giving off a ringing noise. After about an hour and a half of playing, my ears were still vibrating from the noise of the glassware. I think I may have to take the glass away because it really is annoying.
Now Sunday was really la piece de resistance. My friend, Pablo, and I went to see Dame Edna! Now if you don't know, Dame Edna is a guy from Australia who has been doing a drag persona since the 1950's and is really quite famous for it. The theater was absolutely packed. The act was so funny that I actually was crying by the end of it. Dame Edna had a lot of audience participation worked into her show, but I'm not going to tell you about it in case you ever get to see it for yourself. There were some annoying people in the audience near me though, who almost ruined it for me. The guy next to me kept saying "hot damn" over and over like some mantra to the gods of theater. And further to my left was a woman whose laugh fell somewhere between a bray and a shriek. But all in all JOHNNYLEEN was able to overlook these flaws in his fellow theater-goers.
I then went out to Ye Olde Watering Hole to see Miss Diva and to listen to a Zydeco band. Miss Diva and I made fun of anyone and everyone who was there. There was one couple who just could not keep a rhythm, Lord bless 'em, so they provided quite a bit of fodder for our witty repartee. In fact, the guy looked a lot like the Frankenstein's monster from "Young Doctor Frankenstein". Whenever you go to a Zydeco performance where I live, you always see the same people. And many of them are wearing the same clothes performance after performance, although one guy does bring multiple T-shirts to change into since he sweats so profusely. And I mustn't forget to mention the guy who quite obviously fondled himself as he walked by Miss Diva. I guess he didn't realize that Miss Diva has more discerning taste than to fall for someone who likes to play pocket pool!
Next entry Previous entry
Go to diary entries Go back home