the artistic blog…sort of

Posted on February 14, 2006


No love for the serious stuff? Fine! Let the hideous miscarriages of justice continue…I’ll just carry on writing fluffy shit. But first, a transparent plea for sympathy…I failed my driving test for the second time today. It already saddens me that I suck at absolutely everything (yes, I do, don’t contradict me) but it is even worse that I can’t do this thing that all and sundry seem to be doing with ease. I suck. I’m giving up…it seems easier to just bribe somebody in Egypt and get one that way.
ANYWAY. I’m in the law school cabaret show, known as Mock Trial. This year the title is “Publicly Served”. Last year it was “Thriving under the influence” and before that “Burden of Spoof”. You get the (terrible, terrible) picture. I was in it in first year and I enjoyed it very much, but it has become apparent that all the talented, funny people have graduated, leaving us hacks. It’s seriously AWFUL, even by law school standards. And those are some pretty low standards.
The acts fall into two categories: popular tunes with law-school-related lyrics, and remakes of popular TV shows. There are three PBS-style law school fundraising skits; a cover of “Seasons of Love” from the Rent soundtrack; a monstrously crass cover of “These boots are made for walking”; a “sex in the city” spoof; and numerous others too painful to name. I’m in a Crocodile Hunter skit.
On the first full rehearsal I showed up “backstage” (really the balcony of the moot court; a moot court is a courtroom they have in law schools used to debate questions that – you guessed it – are moot). There are about 150 students in this show. There were 50 laptops backstage. I made fun of them for a while, especially the first years who had fat tomes propped up in bookstands. But then today here I am backstage on my laptop. It’s pretty damn boring and it’s too dark to read.
After our number, this guy who is playing a lion came up to me and we had the following chat:
Lion guy (his name might be Paul): let me know if I’m getting too offensive – I know I’m
supposed to stare at your boobs but let me know if I’m making you uncomfortable.
Me: No, do whatever you want, I’ve done way worse things on a stage than that.
Long Pause.
Lion Guy: OK, I’m not going to comment on that.
Me: No! Wait! I’m not a stripper! What I meant was…

In order to keep us hyper, the producers have distributed bags of chips and candies about the backstage area, and in front of each item, there is a line of girls waiting their turn. Men have been maligned with regards to junk food – it’s girls who are hooked on it like crack. I was in the line, of course. I love Doritos, but never allow myself to purchase them. Neither, apparently, have any of the other girls. High on carbohydrates, we all eyed the guitarist whose biceps are so magnificent that in three years of law school, he has never worn a shirt with sleeves. Honestly. Three years. In Canada.
After the rehearsal, I realized that the previously mentioned extra undies that I keep in my bag had been hanging out of my backpack the whole time in full view. They were really garish ones too. The humiliations never cease.