This blog could rapidly turn into "stories from the rehearsal room" so instead I give you a tale of commuting.
On the bus home yesterday, two boys about 12 got on, loudly. They were the swaggering, harmless yet annoying kids who are going to grow up to be the swaggering, annoying guys who wink at you and go "you all right?" in about six years. If they were birds, they'd be peacocks. Anyway, they got on, very excited because apparently they had just purchased a can each of Lynx, which is a horrible-smelling body spray that is marketed to these kind of men with the false promise that one spray makes the user irresistible to women. I know this is false, because they were loudly comparing the scents (which were, I believe "horrible" and "worse than horrible") and then spraying them in the air so they could compare them. Yet I managed to control my animal urges. The lad sitting next to me, bless him, was so excited about how this one product--one spray even!--could up his coolness quotient that he actually applied it to his underarms on the bus, having to hike up several layers of Nike apparel in the process. Luckily they rolled off the bus a few stops later (walking six blocks would have gotten their white Nikes dirty), or else I might have been forced to turn to them and say, "You know, that stuff doesn't actually work. It's all an act. Just marketing. There are people sitting in rooms who are paid to make people like you think that this is the greatest product in the world and that you will die a horrible embarassing death if you don't purchase this product and use it in vast quantities. And you know what? YOU BOUGHT THE AD. SUCKER." Then, just as his soul is on the verge of shriveling into nothing I would say, "You know what's really sexy to a girl? Someone who doesn't feel the need to peform acts of hygeine on themselves on a bus."
honestly. This is my life.