must be the drugs

Weird hours — must be the drugs. [Antibiotics?] Or Hank Williams Senior back to back with Wagner’s Zeigfreid. Last night, at the behest of the Pisces, I accompanied her to “The Vagina Monologues,” by Eve Ensler. Sure, start out in a safe way, went to Hoover’s, and since she bought the show tickets, I bought the dinner. She started laughing at the first monologue, and never stopped, or only stopped long enough to catch her breath. From a strictly male point of view, and I know I missed some of the humor, but from a strictly male point of view, I thought the very best was one of the final pieces, describing every kind of [sexual] moan there is. “How many of those have you heard?” I’m not saying, but since the performer was on stage, and bereft of accompaniment, I have to wonder a little about some performances. The show started at 8 and let out a few minutes before 10, no intermission. And not much squirming, at least, not until the final monologue — had to do with child birth. I was going to fudge a little, and use a slight variation on a theme for the title of the pieces, but I decided, after seeing the show, it deserved its full name in use. Real name. “Vagina Monologues.” Really, really good stuff. Males should have to see it, just to make us more aware. And be amused. It takes a little bit of the mystery out some events. Makes for better appreciation. So this morning, it’s off to the airport for a business meeting in Dallas with Pa Wetzel & etc. Suit up and show up. Can I make it up to Dallas and back again in one day? I hope so.