Places, Please.

The Ten Commandments, The Musical opened last night to a wildly appreciative audience. But all of the CGMC shows receive wildly appreciative audiences. Tonight's show will be absolutely insane.

But I think I'm getting too old for all of this. I took off from work yesterday because the previous two nights took me away from my homework, so I had much to catch up on. I hate taking a day off work to stay home and work.

There are probably 120 people in the chorus for this performance, which probably means 140 costumes. Since I play the 37th Egyptian from the left, my costume has received very little attention. In fact, it is a strip of sheet, probably half of queen size top sheet, which I gingerly pin around myself strategically, and a yard and a half of faux tiger fur, cut perfectly square so it can be returned to the fabric store, that I have to "drape interestingly" around my shoulders. Oh, and I was given fifty inches of gold rope. The costume, I believe, is meant to be a constantly evolving living fashion sculture, but I feel like I'm playing dress up.

In my younger days I'd have spent hours bitching about this. Now, it's just funny. I am so not the point of this whole show. I'm there to have a good time and support those who are really doing all the work. My counterpart in the show is a great guy, and we keep each other entertained during all the madness.

The dressing rooms for this theatre might be designed for fifty. I have officially relocated to the hallway behind the trash can, after being displaced by a bevy of Hebrews who needed the mirror to artfully smear mud on their faces. I draw the Egyptian kohl around my eyes basically from memory. Thankfully in the finale I wear a choir robe, so I can change before the hoardes hit the dressing room, slip the electric blue schmatta on, take my bow, and then dash to safety somewhere.