Wednesday, October 31, 2007
"...but his wife managed to trip on my motorcycle helmet....She didn't go down in a heap. There'd be no hip-replacement surgery. There was no embarrassing I've-fallen-and-I-can't-get-up moment....She didn't say a word. She just snarled, sneered, and shot me a look that my many years of acting training allowed me to interpret instantly. Her subtext was: 'How unconscionable. To think of it, a motorcycle helmet in my theater! And now I have to sit next to the lesbian cow who owns it. She probably smells. Oh Gd, I declare it the worst season here at the Cort Theater.'....if my left arm drifted toward our shared armrest, her right arm recoiled so rapidly she risked ligament damage."