Confessions of a Grande Diva, Chapter Six

The first night of any rehearsal schedule at the Bull Moose Theater Guild in a production directed by that asshole Vern Slater is always a read-through. Always.

Gah, what an enormously boring waste of time! Unless you’re the lead in the show, of course, in which case it’s like knock knock knocking on heaven’s door, because it’s all about you. However, if you’re not one of the lucky one or two chosen few, it’s an evening spent listening to someone else talk while you turn the pages every so often. Boring!

            The evening always starts nicely enough, with polite laughter and a round of introductions, but midway through the evening, the stench of boredom sets in. It’s a long, hard slog from that point, let me tell you. By the end of the evening, you feel like the proverbial roach stuck inside a roach motel.

            At least, though, Bull Moose makes their read-throughs tasty. That is to say, the Board of Directors, in a crass attempt to buy loyalty and generate membership dues, provides the cast with an enormous orgy of desserts on that first night together. Of course, I approve of enormous orgies of any kind, and this one has it all: cookies, jelly rolls, top notch coffee from the Java Bucket...oh, it’s just to die for, capped off by my favorite—delicious, huge pieces of cheesecake, home made by Roz, who grew up in New York on the Jewish side of town. Seriously, for her cheesecake alone, if she wasn’t a bull dyke and I wasn’t a confirmed cocksucker, I would marry that bitch in a heartbeat.

            In fact, given the mixed feelings I had about this particular production, Roz’s cheesecake was the only thing I was looking forward to. And that was the challenge Kevin was confronted with as he drove me to St. Bascilica’s, desperately trying to talk me into behaving.

( Yes, my darlings, there's much, much more to the Cheesecake Incident. Nibble on! )