OK, before I drive off to Peggy's wedding (with my COOLEST HALLOWEEN COSTUME EVER), I'll leave you with a teeth-shatteringly scary story from that College Drama class.
Every class meeting, before we got down to the business of acting, we'd do a warm-up. We were each assigned a part of the body, and then had to come up with 32 counts worth of exercise for that part of the body -- then we put the whole thing together and put it to music. It ended with an "energy" warm-up where we'd skip around in our circle singing camp songs.
So. While some people made warm-ups for things like "neck" and "arms" and "shoulders," poor Adam was absent the day assignments got handed out, so he got stuck with writing the warm-up for our "genitals." I am not making this up.
Adam -- with some assistance from our teacher -- created 32 counts of warm-up that involved standing in our circle and, er, rubbing ourselves. Eight counts ... down there .. eight counts up at the chest area ("for the ladies"), eight counts rubbing our own butts, and the final eight back where we started. Actually, it was only a final seven counts -- the men in class were required to "give a little tug" on the last count. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was part of the unofficial 1987 Synchronized Masturbation Team.
One day it was so beautiful and sunny, we got the bright idea of having class outside. (None of us really thought this one through.) So, there we are, outside on the lawn, singing and dancing and warming up. A crowd starts to gather. We keep going, oblivious.
Then I realized where the warm-up was headed. It was at this point I learned that I have no powers of ESP -- because no matter how much I tried to send the silent message "Let's all skip the genital warm-up" to the rest of the class, it didn't work, and all of a sudden we're standing there touching ourselves.
We somehow get through it, and the warm-up ends with us skipping around singing "Great great gobs of greasy-grimy gopher guts" at the top of our lungs.
And then, I heard the scariest four words I'd ever heard in my whole life: "[NZ], is that you?"
I nearly died. A friend from a Legal Studies class. And if you think I EVER lived that down, you are seriously mistaken.
2 comments:
And they say that those of us in the dramatic arts are crazy. You know all those people were jealous because they couldn't feel secure rubbing their genitals in public.
Thanks for the story. It makes me feel better about the stupid stuff I had to do in college drama.
Okay. Are dramatic arts teachers f*cking INSANE?
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