My BFF Babs called just to welcome me “back to reality.” Boy, was she right. I was thinking more like: “back to Shitsville,” and I mean that literally, as the new kitty left a couple turds on the floor for me when I got home. You know how animals like to exact revenge on humans when they feel deserted. I had to leave her alone for a coupla days and even though Brenda checked in on her, I was gone after being with her 24 hours daily for four straight days before my trip. C’est la vie.
And traveling has become such an ordeal. I know all of the rigormorole is for our safety but a girl can still whine about it right? By the time I remove my coat, shoes, computer, jewelry (I don’t even wear it on flights anymore) bag up my eye drops, hand lotion and lip gloss and look for my boarding pass and ID — AGAIN — I am fucking exhausted!
And I have to remember to wear a bra without an underwire because it always sets off the machine. And then I have to be “wanded” They always ask me if I have on any metal and of course I tell them it’s the undrwire in my bra. Of course some little tittied broad will tell me:
“No mam, people wear underwire bras through here all the time and it doesn’t set off the alarm”
I sigh, and say as gently as possible:
“Honey, look at these tits.” (I gesture toward my ample bosom) “I got enough metal in here to hold up a skyscraper! I got all but a hydraulic system in here, okay?”
It’s always good for a laugh but now I just wear my ill-fitting bra (with no underwire) just to avoid the hassle. Did I mention that my left knee was killing me as I attempted to speed walk to my departure gate – all the while carrying my big assed black winter coat cause it’s eight degrees in Chicago?
THEN, the departure gate person has the nerve to ask us to please hold onto our coats during the flights. “Please do not stow your coats in the over head bins as we need to insure room for all of our passenger’s carry on luggage.” Now I understand this, but DAMN! I was thinking to myself: I can barely fit into my allotted seat & space on the plane as it is, much less with an added full length wool coat.
I was ready to scream by the time I got on the plane.
Anyhoo, I arrive in Chicago. The temperature is seven degrees. Chicago has had some type of blizzard, so there’s five inches of snow on the ground. My taxi pulls up to my building. And of course maintenance has done no snow removal on my front steps and the walk was last shovelled about four inches of snow ago, and so I will have to drag my suitcases up the snow covered stairs.
I just stand there looking up at my front stairs trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna do this without breaking my neck when my very tall handsome neighbor insists on helping. In fact, he didn’t insist, he just saw me from the foyer and bounded down the stairs, grabbed my suitcases (Here I am to save the day!) and hauled them up. Bam! Done! I was almost brought to tears. I offered to polish his shining armor or his halo or suck his dick or anything to show my gratitude but he just smiled and went on his way like a true gentleman.
Note to reader: I did not really offer to suck his dick but if he’d stuck around for conversation I woulda gotten around to it. HA!!
I was never so happy to enter my apartment. And it was CLEAN!!! Well, save for the two little turds on the floor.
On Monday night, Liza Minnelli said to me: “You should be on Broadway!”
Thursday I had to make two phone calls:
1. I have to check in to see if a particular event planner has convinced her client to come up with another lousy $250 in the budget so they can hire me & my entire band! OY!
and
2. I have to call the client who hired us last year ( we kicked ass – “everyone is still talking about you guys!”) who wants to rehire us for next year but is wondering if we could do “something different” so it “doesn’t seem like we are having the same band” again? WTF???
Back to reality indeed. Show business, no business like it, no business at all.
