work – Page 6 – JM Randolph, accidentalstepmom

I don’t consider myself an allergy person, but I feel like I’ve snorted about half a bottle of Drano, and I’m reasonably certain I haven’t done that in at least thirteen years.

I pulled into my driveway earlier this week and thought we were getting rain because that’s what it sounded like on the roof of the car. It turned out to be some type of fuzzy green seed. A LOT of some fuzzy green seed, hell bent on ruining my life for a few days.

It’s not conducive to thinking, this sitting around hoping to sneeze. It isn’t conducive to writing or cooking or cleaning or much of anything. At least nobody’s vomiting. Plus the kids are happy that I’m not feeling well enough to torment them. And that when I went out to buy tissues I also hit the half-price Easter candy.

In lieu of having any real content today, I’m going through my pictures. If you want to read something funny about the kids, go here. Or here. My dogs are sometimes funny too.

Here’s a picture of part of my console at work. It’s British.

Those two big rectangular buttons under plastic. They look pretty similar, no? The only real difference is that in the picture one is lit up and one isn’t. One of them, the one labeled PC 2, seamlessly switches to your backup computer if you have a problem. The other one, the one labeled CHECK, reverses all your mutes. Meaning, everything that is currently on, it turns off; everything that is currently off, it turns on.

It’s like the Opposite Button.

You really don’t want to hit this during a show. Even if you’re at the almost-very-end.

Which is why those helpful Brits made the CHECK button so different from every other button (except one). It’s why they put it under plastic (just like the other button). And put it far away from the other button (a whole two-and-a-half inches away so that you couldn’t possibly hit it by mistake if you got distracted by something, such as a patron trying to talk to you when you’re shutting down the computers while mixing the walkout music).

You’d never hit it on accident. Because that would make the band mics all turn off and the audience wouldn’t be able to hear the band and the band wouldn’t be able to hear each other and then the stage manager would be calling light cues off of silence, Keeping Calm and Carrying On by counting to eight in her head, over and over. Then it would be mime, and everybody hates mime. You’d never do that.

Not a second time, anyway. Especially not after you tape it up with a note like Kevin Bacon did in Apollo 13.

This is accidentalstepmom reminding you that it’s never too late to screw up in a brand new way. For more British ingenuity, set your alarm tonight for 4am EST- or better yet, stay up!

I have bad celebrity karma.

Famous people come to my work sometimes. Mostly, I have no idea who the hell they are. If I manage to get the TV off of the inane shows the kids like, I prefer to either turn it off or watch something gory like shows about forensics, animal predators, or people of my culinary skill level trying to cook. This is because we don’t have Showtime and I can’t watch Dexter, which I think is unfair, being that I pay the bill.

I don’t see many movies either, unless there’s a vampire, wizard, or talking animal featured.

My sub, the other guy who does my job, has good celebrity karma. The famous people that I have heard of come when he is working instead of me. Betsey Johnson has been there twice. Once when I was on my honeymoon and once when one of the heathens was sick.

The only one who came while I was there that I cared about was Alice Cooper. I got all school girly. It was bad form, truly. But I got a picture. My friend John thinks he looks like Henry Winkler.

My kids were livid with me because when John Stamos (my Blackie; their Uncle Jesse) came, I didn’t get his autograph. Likewise a Jonas Brother. And Zack Effron.

Actual text exchange between me and #3 (yes, I spell out all my words and use punctuation in texts):

Me: Apparently, Zack Effron was here today.

#3: OOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMGGGGGGGGGG PLEEEEEEEEESE TELL ME U GOT HIS AUTOGRAPHHHHHH!!!!

Me: I couldn’t pick him out of a lineup. I followed him out the door but I didn’t know it was him. And don’t all your extra letters defeat the purpose of your abbreviations?

#3: NNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!! Wait what?

When former President Bill Clinton came, he came backstage at intermission. Intermission serves one purpose for me: pee break. A large crowd of our company gathered to meet him. In front of the bathroom. Blocking me. I tried to gracefully edge around the former President and the star-eyed musicians and actors waiting to say their piece and get a picture. I made it to the other side. I waited until what I thought was the right moment and went into the bathroom.

Of course someone tried to come in. Of course it was Bill Clinton. Thwarted from relieving himself by a locked door. A whole new kind of cock block. Ah, c’mon, you’d totally go there if this was your story.

Once a man and a woman came up after the show. The man held out his hand and said, “Hi, Calvin Klein.” I shook his hand but was all, yeah right, in my head. He introduced his companion and asked if he could come backstage. I told him he could go to the stage door and talk to the doorman.

The look on his face was my first indication that he may have been telling the truth about his identity. He said, “Yeah, I don’t do that,” and walked away. I related the story to CC later that night.

CC: Did he kinda look like Lyle Lovett?

Me: Yeah, totally!

CC: You idiot. That was Calvin Klein. They’re related.

Me: Crap.

Calvin Klein came back on a different night when I wasn’t there and my sub took him backstage. I’m pretty sure he gave him the entire spring line and a private cruise on his yacht as a thank-you.