Confessions of a Grande Diva, Chapter Seven

Now, every community theater worth its salt has a place that the seasoned theater veterans can go to after rehearsal is over for a bite to eat and a slice of pizza or two. Truth be told, there are some regulars who, although they would never admit to it, only stay connected because of the chance to socialize after the hard work (if you can call it that) is over. It’s what gives their otherwise wretched lives some semblance of meaning.

Here’s some advice for you: the local watering hole for actors is undoubtedly the worst pit in town. It has to be, because what kind of decent establishment would allow a cattle of actors through its doors? Only a place most desperate for money, anyone’s money, which is why, inevitably, the beer is watered down, the pizza is usually cold, and the setting is neither picturesque nor homey, no matter how strenuously the locals might insist otherwise.

Such is the case with the Bull Moose Theater Guild. Their watering hole in the wall of choice is a pitsy-ass place called Chow Down, which had gone through a boatload of names through the years. More changes than the book for Anything Goes through the years! The Bull Moose regulars regularly refer to it as Paddy’s Place, which is what it was called back when they first started going there in the seventies. Paddy left the building years ago, my friends—and hopefully, for a classier joint than this. What he left behind was a wretched hovel that made Jamaica Inn look like a Holiday Inn. 

To be blunt, even the cockroaches were afraid to stay too long at Chow Down.

( More nonsense about abortion poetry, drunken beer dunkings, and crocheting. )

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Grumble grumble...the new Live Journal editing software is so freaking slow right now...I gave up editing the latest chapter of Confessions in frustration...so, if it looks kind of sloppy, there is a reason...

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