I’m Gonna Make Like A Nail And Press On

Inspirational, no?

“I’m gonna make like a nail and press on” was part of the big ending song of the delightful play I saw last night, “The Great American Trailer Park Musical.”

We were a little disappointed in the crowd, as it was more mainstream than usual at this theater, but the play was a peach. I laughed, I cried (from laughing so much) and I was only a teensy bit antsy to sit still for so long.

Beforehand, we had drinks at a favorite restaurant … obviously the last time I was there, I wasn’t buying, as the chocolate decadence martinis (with a hint of raspberry) are a whopping $9.75 each. But what the fuck, I had two. Add in my appetizer of calamari and poof! $37 down the drain, including tip. Owing to our advanced ages (nearly 32 and 36), my companion and I were pooped after the show and the thought of going out to da clubs made my head hurt more than the ragweed in the air. (Wow, if that’s not a candidate for that “worst opening sentence” contest, I don’t know what is.) Anyways. I even had on a delightful new dress which my companion described to another friend, over the phone as, “It’s really nice, actually.” The “actually” earned him a punch in the arm. He blamed it on his two Hypnotiq passion martinis lol.

Oh. I thought of one more person to add to the “alumni week” post from yesterday: As I was waiting at the light nearest my apartment complex, I looked in my rearview mirror and two cars behind me, in a big ol’ red pick-up truck, was, I believe, the young then-virgin Republican I went on two dates about this time last year. He was barely 24 or 25 at the time. His date seemed much more age-appropriate than I … probably a good 10 years younger than me. He was a good date for the story I got out of it — liberal Democrat divorcee dates conservative Republican virgin/squirrel hunter — but that was about it.