Meorow.

Just to clear up any confusion, I'm considering getting a tattoo (you win, SteveMatt) on my forehead that says:

NO, I'M NOT IN CATS

I am NOT in the musical Cats that is currently showing at this theatre where I'm working. I'm attempting to have a good attitude about it. I was sad back in Junewhen I discovered I wasn't cast in it, for a couple of reasons. My parents won't get to see me in a show here (they can only visit during Cats, having missed the three nice roles I was given in the first three shows). I feel pretty stupid sitting in the pit, just singing along with the people who are actually in the play. I feel pretty useless.

I having been trying to master these negative demons (see last post) and look on the bright side:

1) I don't have to wear the Cats costume, a cotton unitard under a spandex unitard painted with stripes and with strips of knitted "fur" snapped into place at intervals, and a wig of synthetic hair in odd colors.

2) It's much more fun to watch Cats than actually have to dance it myself. I'd be certain I'm pull a muscle from trying too hard.

2a) It's very fun to watch my co-workers in Cats - they are really pretty amazing.

3) Come on, it's Cats!! How ridiculous is it that they're doing Cats?!?! Thank god I'm not in it! There's no plot and the music is derivative (if frighteningly catchy)!

And various other justifications to make myself feel better for not being in it.

But, people, really, people, do I HAVE to endure the patron comments? Do people who see the whole season HAVE to make conversation with me about how I'm not in the show? Don'tcha think it could be a sore point? Maybe you could go lightly? Be a little tactful?

Apparently not. As I said in the last post, our photographer's already had a go at me. But one's not enough!!! After I responded to his "so, you're nothing" comment by saying that might not be the most tactful way of putting it, he greets me now, probably permanently, with a new nickname, "Hey, it's Nothin'!"

And now the folks who work in our Friday/Saturday coffeehouse are on the bandwagon. A nice older gentleman stops me and says, "So, you didn't get a part in this one at all, then?"

*sigh*

"Oh. My. God! You are right, sir! I have been just offstage in a unitard for the last THREE nights of the show and I just could not figure out why I never heard a cue to enter!"

or, maybe

"No, actually, I play ALLL the cats in the show, different makeup every time, you know, but they wanted to give credit to some other people, make them feel needed."

Or

"I have been wondering why my butt hurts - ooooo, I see, it's because I spend the show SITTING on it!"

or

"Sorry, no, I WAS in the show, but I made everyone else look bad, so they took me out for the good of the whole."

Or even

"It was against copyright law for me to be in it. Oops. Shouldn't have said anything. Oh, no - you hear that siren!? I shouldn't have told you!" *in a flash of smoke, she disappears*


But in the end, all I've got is:

NO!! ALL RIGHT? NO! I AM NOT IN THE SHOW. APPARENTLY I AM A TERRIBLE DANCER AND THE DIRECTOR WOULD RATHER NEVER SEE ME DANCE AGAIN. YOU HAPPY NOW? WHY NOT ASK ME HOW MUCH I WEIGH OR IF I EVER GET MY EYEBROWS PLUCKED? WHY NOT ASK WHY I'M NOT MARRIED SINCE I'M SO OLD ALREADY? I GET IT! I'M NOT IN THE SHOW! I NOTICED! I'VE BEEN SITTING IN THE CORNER TRYING TO BE SMALL ENOUGH THAT YOU WON'T EVEN SEE ME AT ALL, IS THAT ENOUGH?

*Sigh* Days like today, I think about packing it in. Maybe people will start reading my blog in droves, and I'll become a cultural phenomenon and I'll get a book deal out of it. Damn that Julie/Julia Project, creating false hopes.

There's always the lottery for that.