What's so great about 23 days from now, Kenny? I'm so glad you asked that question. 23 days from now actually marks a week, not just a huge significant day. Sure, 23 days from now is April 4th and I'm looking forward to that day more than most, but that week is significant for a few reasons.
One of those reasons is that a friend I haven't seen in far too long is visiting that weekend and I'll get to hang out with her for a bit. Can't wait to see you, Johnna.
Another reason is that that will be the first week post-play that I'll have had to myself in a while. 3.5 months to be exact. I don't know what I'll do when I get home from classes that week. Oh, yes I do. I'll do homework. But the good thing about that is that I won't be doing homework starting at 11.00 PM when I get home from rehearsals.
Sunday was our first dress rehearsal and the first thing a fellow cast member said to me when I was getting into costume was "Damn, you are as red as a stoplight!" I should mention that my costume is a pair of shorts. Full stop. That's all it is. I've been to the tanning booth since I'm a pasty german/irish kid who, for this role, is supposed to look hispanic to be a cabana boy. It's the first time I've ever been to a tanning salon and if you've never been, which I expect is true of most of my southern friends, it's a weird experience.
I walk in the first day expecting someone behind the counter to be able to riff off about 80 things I need to know about a tanning salon but instead have someone saying, "What do you think your skin type is?"
"I dunno, sweety, you tell me. This is what you do, after all."
I mean, seriously, ask me about the marketing plan and pre-launch campaign for any sort of program or product launch including but not limited to any subset of technology vendors, interactive agencies, back-end reporting and fulfillment and response-boosting marketing vehicles and I can probably recite the marketing and execution bible but put me in a tanning salon and I fall to pieces. Shouldn't someone who works there be able to look me up and down and realize I'm a pasty white maux faux on the tail end of Winter and be able to recommend that I go for no more than 4-6 minutes for at least the first few weeks before cranking it up to "burn yo ass"???
I guess not.
As a result, let me ask you to join me on a little narrative. Close your eyes and picture a coca-cola can. Not put dark hair and green blue eyes on that coca-cola can. You have a picture of Kenny. Because I don't want to expose my you-know-what to those rays, I wear boxers and now look like that coca-cola can, red all over except for one swervy stripe cutting me in half.
Theater kills, people. Theater kills.
(the good pat? I'm getting into better shape than I've been for a few years in an effort to look like a fit cabana boy - does that sound gay?)