Guessing Game

So the phone rings at the theatre, guy wanting to order tickets.

How many, I inquire.

All of 'em, he says.

I'm sorry?

All of 'em. Unless you've got, like, 400.

I'm sorry?

Well, I've got a big house.

Um....it is difficult for me to determine the best available seats for your party if I don't have a general idea of how many people might be in your party.

Shit, you're gonna make me count....one...two...three...

....um, ten?

My Doctor Redeems Himself

Several months ago I went to the doctor. He wanted to take some blood, run some tests, and since it was best that I not eat before the tests my appointment was for 7:30 in the morning. I went, he tested, and when he was done he made a suggestion.

"Since you're here, we may as well take a look at your prostate."

Which is how I came to find myself, at about 7:45 in the morning, bent over, pants around my knees, regretting my choice of underwear for the day. (What seems whimsically amusing when you think no one will see...)

This morning I was back at the doctor's office. My blood pressure was down -- not to where it should be, but down. The doctor went into his litany of denial: watch the salt, don't drink too much, avoid fast food, restaurants, especially Chinese restaurants.... "Doctor," I said, "you've pretty much taken away every single thing I eat."

"Well, wait," he says, "it's not all bad news. You can smoke marijuana. Don't smoke tobacco but I have no problem with responsibly using marijuana. And you can have sex, all the sex you want, with whoever you want -- just wear protection if you don't know them."

How can you not like a doctor who tells you to get high and get laid?

I wanted to ask for a prescription, though. Take that into the Walgreen's: "I'd like to get this filled -- generic is fine, thanks."

And how handy would that be in a bar? "You're cute. I need you to fill this prescription for me. Your place or mine?"?

Peculiar Pick-up Line: The Sequel

There I was, standing in a bar, beer in hand, enjoying myself. A man approaches.

Him: "Hi."

Me: "Hello."

H: "How you doing?"

M: "Fine, yourself?"

H: "Fine."

Long pause.

H: "I'm wearing a jockstrap."

What Else Are They Expecting?

I handed a woman the header card for her tickets and asked her to sign, and she held it up and said: "Sign this?" And I wanted to ask her what else she thought I might be asking her to sign. Her sleeve? The floor? A 27-page contract? On the one hand I understand that she was merely verifying what I had asked her to do; but on the other, since it was the only possible alternative, why ask?

It's something I have occasion to wonder about now and again. When we used to hand tickets out in envelopes, some folks would hold up the envelope and ask if their tickets were in it. What else would there possibly be in there? Hm, I've walked up to the box office, I've asked for the tickets I ordered, and they've handed me a small envelope. Why, it's about the size and shape of theater tickets. I wonder what's inside? Wait -- is it my tickets? I could open it up and see...no, I'd better ask first.

I could imagine them at McDonald's, placing their order, and when the bag of food was handed to them holding it up and asking if their food was inside.

It's In The Genes

I recently attended a wedding, at which the bride wore an absolutely stunning wedding dress.

And that reminds me of this...

Many years ago, when I was in college, I was in a work study program to help defer the costs of my education. My boss, the college's graphic designer, announced one day that she was getting married. She had decided that there was one person in the world she wanted to design her wedding dress.

Me.

It seems that, in her mind, gay = fashion designer, and, since I liked boys, I met the essential qualification to design one of the most important dresses of her life. (I eventually declined.)

Now, that reminds me of this...

I was out one Halloween in Grand Rapids, when a saucy drag queen in not much of an outfit started talking to me. The drag queen obviously knew me, and I had no idea who she was.

At the time I worked at the Grand Rapids YMCA (not out of love for those less fortunate; rather, if you worked there you got free access to the Y's health club). As is my way, in slow periods I doodled, and usually doodled women in various outrageous outfits.

The drag queen in question was one of my co-workers, and he told me that one day he had come in for a shift after mine. He found one of my doodles, and was so entranced by what he saw that he immediately tossed his idea for a Halloween costume and instead was wearing the outfit I'd designed.

Always Go To The Source

The phone rings at the theater.

"Are you in Chicago?" Yes, ma'am, right inside the theater even.

"Is it snowing there?" Not now. It was earlier, but it's stopped.

"Well, is my flight going to be cancelled?" Um, you might actually want to contact your airline with that question.

"Really?" Really.

Is The Librarian Creepy?

I used to live near the Uptown branch of the Chicago Public Library and was in there every week or two. But back in 2005 I moved to Andersonville, and so started to patronize my new neighborhood branch, the Bazaznian branch.

One day I went to pick up a book I had ordered, and when I walked in the librarian walked away from the counter. I thought that was rather rude. Then she returned: holding the book I had ordered.

I expressed my surprise. She said she remembered me from the Uptown branch. My first thought was, wow, great memory, followed shortly by my second thought: they scan library cards. She had no reason to know my name, and that she remembered my name and face after two years....

Son Of Just Because I Know The Answer To My Question Doesn't Mean I Know The Answer To My Question,

Man calls the theater. Tells me his son turns 5 in August, but they want tickets in April.

Man: "So, come on, tell me: how strict are they really?"

Me: "Well, they just don't allow children under 5 into the theater."

Man: "No, come on, really, how strict are they?"

Me: "Children under 5 are not allowed into the theater."

[Man seems to think that what we mean by 'children under 5 are not allowed in the theater' is 'if you ask enough times, we'll change our silly little minds and let any ol' child into the theater]

Man, exasperated: "You know, all I'm looking for here is a human answer."

Me: "Okay, well, the human answer is that the show is so loud, the hearing of children under 5 can be permanently damaged by the volume. Further, in the early years of Blue Man Group children under 5 were allowed into the show and all too often, such young children found the Blue Men to be not entertaining but terrifying. The parents then had to spend the bulk of the show in the lobby consoling a terrifed child."

Man: "Oh. Okay. Um. Okay, we'll just get four tickets for...."

It's In The Stars

My horoscope today read: "You are like a tea kettle, right at that moment when it's about to boil and squeal with delight," which somehow sounds dirty to me.

Guessing Game

Fellow comes up to the box office window, wants to pick up tickets.

"Last name?"

"It's either my last name or my wife's."

I wait for him to move on to what seems the next logical point of conversation: one of those names.

I try prompting him: "And....?"

"Yes?"

I give up: "Do you know what one of those names might be?"

Well... That Changes Everything

Woman calls the theater. Woman wants tickets.

Me: "The best available seats will be on the left side of the main floor, in the 11th row."

Her: "The 11th row? Really? That's it? There's nothing better than that?"

Me: "These seats are in just the 11th row from the stage, you'll have an excel--"

Her: "The 11th row from the stage!?! Oh! Yes! Yes!"

Me: "???"

Her: "I thought you meant from the balcony!"

Why My Boss Does Not Measure Up

It seems my immediate superior at work -- not the theatre, my other work -- has been exploring slithernoggin city and is dismayed to find that she cannot be found within the slithernoggin city limits.

I have considered this matter.

Unfortunately, she is not eligible for residency for several reasons. Unlike most residents of slithernoggin city, she...

-is able to reason.

-has never uttered the phrase, "I'm not from around here"

-can grasp concepts such as near, far, and scattered single seats.

No One Told Her Patience Is A Virtue, I Guess

The phone rings at the theatre.

It's a woman, says she's calling from her cell phone. She wants the 800 number for Blue Man, which is, as it happens, 800 BLUE MAN. We're a clever bunch. She explains that she doesn't want to have to pay for the call to order tickets. It crosses my mind that, from a cell phone, she may not pay for the call, but she'll pay for the minutes. I decide not to mention that.

She calls back. She wants the numbers. Numbers, I ask? Numbers, she says. So that she doesn't have to look for them on her phone. The numbers that are used to spell BLUE MAN. It crosses my mind that she will have to look at the keypad when she is dialing, and, as the letters are conveniently arranged in alphabetical order, would it truly be that difficult to look at the letters? I decide not to mention that.

She calls back. This time, someone else in the box office got the pleasure of her call. She called the 800 number but does not wish to wait through that lengthy list of four cities for which one can buy Blue Man tickets. She would like to know which number to press for Chicago. We do not know. Since we who work in the box office live in Chicago, and know the direct phone number to the theater, we generally don't call the 800 number.

She calls back. And again, someone else gets the pleasure of her call. They also get the pleasure of spending 25 minutes on the phone with her. She is pleased to relate that her family gives her projects like this, ordering 9 tickets to Blue Man Group, because she is so good at such projects. The staff member she spoke with thinks it more likely that her family gives her such projects because it keeps her out of their hair.

Apparently, I Have A Nice Ass

Bright and early Sunday morning, I go over to the neighborhood CVS drugstore from the theater. I need to get my morning Coca-Cola.

As I enter the building, from behind me a man says in a perfectly normal sounding tone:

"Hey. You have a nice ass."

I figure it must be a) someone from the theater or b) someone stumbling home drunk at 10.30 in the morning after staying out all night drinking. Curious, I turned around. Perfectly normal looking fellow, nicely-dressed. Smiled and went on his way.

It sure ain't true, my ass being not unlike two scoops of cottage cheese in appearance, jiggling like Jell-o, but it sure is a nice start to the day.

It's So Tasty, Too!

Overheard at dinner, February 14, Brasserie Jo in downtown Chicago, the following exclamation by woman at next table:

"I've never had lobster bisque before that has lobster in it!"

Overhear at local restaurant in one of those awkward moments when the conversational buzz suddenly dies down

"Did the vibration give you an orgasm?"

Just Because I Know The Answer To My Question Doesn't Mean I Know The Answer To My Question

A caller calls.

"Yeah, my daughter is three. I know your policy is no one under five, so I wanted to call and see what your policy was on that."

Caller went on to say that if his daughter couldn't come, then the whole family would not be able to attend. He'll spend $59 to buy her a ticket, but can't afford a babysitter? I didn't realize babysitters were so expensive.

I Missed The Connection

Saturday. Working at the theater. A woman calls. The woman orders tickets, four tickets, for her husband and their three grandchildren.

We have an exciting discussion about where her grandchildren would like to sit: she asks me where they would like to sit. I suggest that, inasmuch as they are her grandchildren, she probably knows them better than I do and would have a better idea of their preferences in such matters. She says they are 13-year olds. I am tempted to say that the restraining order prevents me from being too close to 13-year olds anymore, but instead suggest that inasmuch as they are her grandchildren, she probably knows them better than I do.

She want to know where her husband and the gaggle of grandkids should go for dinner. I note that there are literally a hundred restaurants within walking distance of the theatre; what kind of food do they like? She says they are 13-year olds. (Apparently -- in her world -- every last 13-year old likes the exact same foods, and only a theater box office employee knows what they are.) When I tell her that the last 13-year old I dined with fancied Ethiopian food, she suddenly realizes her grandkids like pizza.

The woman wants the tickets mailed....

The me: Tickets are held at the box office for pick up.
The woman: No. I am not driving all the way into the city just to pick up.
TM: No problem; what is the last name of the person who will be here to pick them up.
TW: [exasperated sigh] That won't work.
TM: I'm sorry?
TW: He doesn't drive.
TM: I'm sorry?
TW: My husband doesn't drive. We're retired.
TM: I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm understanding the connection between driving and picking up tickets?
TW: He's retired. He doesn't drive.
TM: He is coming to the show, correct?
TW: Well, yes.
TM: Once he arrives at the theater, he just needs to stop at the box office to pick up the tickets.
TW: You are not listening. He doesn't DRIVE.

Eventually, she came to understand that her husband did not need to know how to drive to pick up tickets.

Damn, That's Where I Keep Mine, Too

A theater out west has this printed right on their tickets"

NO STROLLERS. NO HANDGUNS.

The Stars Know

My horoscope, Wednesday, 17 January:

"...you might meet someone unusual or bizarre, or view someone familiar who seems to be this way...keep your knees bent."

For a quick getaway, I guess.