Sunday, December 13, 2009


Where do I start? Ok. So earlier this week I made myself an egg scramble that consisted of bacon, onions, peppers and tomatoes. When I went to get the bacon, I noticed two options. One was a brand new, unopened package and the other was a suspicious looking sandwich bag filled with bacon that had become the color of pavement. Yeah. Definitely going for the new one. Ended up with pure deliciousness (and a hint of bacon-eater guilt). Fast forward to the next morning. I come up from the cave and encounter Denny chomping away on his very own egg scramble, with the requisite bacon, of course. I tell him that I opened the new package cuz I thought the other one looked a little…fugaze. He tells me that he used it and it tastes fine. I find this hard to believe and looked at him perplexed, so he continues to inform me that it didn’t smell bad either. Still hard to believe, but I shrugged and went with it- was off to my first shift at the fab job and had to be out.

Approximately 6 hours later I exit the theatre, and check my voicemail. I have a message from Maria. Apparently a certain person was not feeling so well and thought he might be having a heart attack. What??! No, no. He’s fine. Ends up it was…food poisoning. That’s right. The bacon was indeed bad, and Denny ate it all up. In my mind, this was a clear continuation of the stinky bun incident (see blog post 09/11/09). I came home and asked what happened. He was nauseous and sweaty and dizzy with severe stomach cramping. Luckily he didn’t puke or have diarrhea. But then, as he’s giving me the play by play, he says “…I mean, when I took the bacon out it didn’t smell or anything…it was just really slimy…” Uh huh. Slimy. That’s pretty much a sure sign that meat is no good, wouldn’t you say? Ah Denny, I admire your old-school extreme version of ‘no food should go to waste’. It is strangely endearing.

So after working 4 shifts at the theatre, my subconscious is sufficiently loaded with songs from The Fiddler on the Roof. I’ve woken up the past few mornings singing various numbers in my head. Today was no different. After partying hardy with Lympy last night, ‘Matchmaker’ stirred me from sleep this morning. Anyone know it? It goes “matchmaker, matchmaker make me a match/ find me a find/ catch me a catch…” Ironic and annoying since I’m quite resolutely single right now. Anyhow, I try my best to engage Lympy in my horrible rendition but she’s just not familiar. Damnit. I’m in serious need of a singing buddy. Which is odd, cuz I’ve never been ‘into’ musical theatre before. Obviously this job is going to change things.

I get to Maria’s tonight for Denny’s birthday dinner and I tell her about my morning song bursts. And, Lo and Behold my amazing sister starts singing ‘Sunrise, Sunset’ (from Fiddler). Are you f’n kidding me? I start with ‘Matchmaker’ and she duly chimes in. I’m ecstatic. And in shock. What the…? Who the…? How you can be someone’s sister for 20 years and NOT know they love musicals, is beyond me. I’m also slightly ashamed. I mean, how did I miss that? We get into a lengthy convo about a variety of shows as I become more amazed by the moment at her wealth of knowledge. Later, as we’re decorating the tree, we sing along to ‘All that Jazz’ as it plays in the background.

Complete with jazz hands and low leg kicks.


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