I may have to retire from movie making; this one is so good, I’m not sure I can ever top it. There’s singing. There’s the promotion of drug use and promiscuity. There’s puppets and the truth about menstrual cramps. It’s not safe for work and not safe for children.
But it is vagina friendly, which I guess means it will never win an Oscar.
The Butcher and I went to see “Schoolhouse Rock” over at the Children’s Theater last night with Smiley, and RUABelle, and Sista Smiff, and Short & Fat and the Mrs. There was free beer and popcorn, which, really, could be a part of every theater experience and I’d be happy.
Anyway, we were standing in the lobby when I look at the Butcher and say, “Isn’t it weird that, with as many people as we know in town, we don’t know anyone here but the people we specifically set out to meet?” and the Butcher says, “But isn’t that the Queen?” “Dr. J. and Plimco’s sister? That Queen? Where?” “At your twelve o’clock.” “No, all I see are two dudes kissing.”
But then, we saw the Queen’s giant consort, so we knew she had to be around some place, so I just started hollering (a beer or two will give you the courage to just start hollering at the Children’s Theater, I maintain), “The Queen! The Queen!” and who should look over from the keg?
The Queen.
Anyway, the show was awesome. Short & Fat’s wife knew the words to all the songs and sang along. The chairs are so small and tightly packed that I think had RUABelle tapped Smiley on the arm, I would have looked over, but we got to hear all about the planned renovations. I got to see Short & Fat grooving in his seat and it was, I thought, incredibly moving to sing the preamble to the Constitution in a large tipsy group.
The Butcher was outraged, though, that a Nashville gem like the Children’s Theater should have to do a whole lot of fund-raising to begin with. His contention, and I agree, is that with the amount of money floating around this town in the hands of people who have and profess to like children, a couple few of them could sit down and write checks and get those renovations paid off and do some good for all of Nashville’s kids, not just the ones that attend private school with yours.
Afterwards, we went to the upstairs bar at the Sportsman’s Grill and SistaSmiff was so cute that I just wanted to squeeze her, but I refrained, because I didn’t know if she was still sore with me and I didn’t want to get a face full of Diet Coke.
Because, you know, I’m trying to cut back on the caffeine.
Tiny Cat Pants 