It’s not all glamour…

So, my friend Beth is a mime. For reals. She is also a producer, and last summer I performed at a benefit for her production company. At this benefit there were not only live performances but also a silent auction, and one of the items auctioned was a performance by Beth herself. Well, the couple that won Beth’s performance, at a time and place of their choosing, were named Bulldog and Weezy.

Bulldog and Weezy decided to utilize Beth’s miming skills at a birthday party they were throwing for their friend Bob… at the Independence Moose Lodge. Being that Bulldog and Weezy had also seen my performance they thought it would be fun to have me along as well, for a handsome fee. Since these were presumably friends of Beth’s, I agreed. I also brought my friend Todd along to serve as bodyguard.

We arrive at the Moose Lodge. Beth is not there yet. The Lodge is, of course, complete with flea-bitten moose head and creepy painting of a little boy saying his bedtime prayers. The Lodge is also filled to the gills with bikers. The kind with motorcycles.

Inside, the buffet is extensive, the table holding every shape and size of crock-pot imaginable. It smells of mashed potatoes, though as the evening progressed I came to understand that no one had, in fact, brought any mashed potatoes. I must have been smelling scalloped all that time. Todd and I settle in to wait for showtime. Myself with a whiskey, rocks, Todd with a soda of some kind. We meet a new friend or three, many with names like Budda, and Walrus. Oh yeah… Walrus.

Walrus is apparently the alpha-moose. He hovered around all night, asking Beth and I questions like “What is it with fisting?”, but I digress.

Beth arrives after briefly becoming lost in the wilds of Independence, and it’s time to get dressed for the show. I get into my first costume. Unbeknownst to me, Weezy had briefed the audience on what they’ll be witnessing. She informs them that we are theatrical professionals and big in the KC “arts scene”. This briefing, while thoughtful, only serves to make the audience unsure of how to react.

We do our numbers. They applaud politely… We deliberately coax a couple of hoots and hollers. We’re done, and we change back into street clothes, and seat ourselves at the bar.

Beth and I proceed to get pretty much tanked, which considering the circumstances seems like the most appropriate course of action. We sit at the bar, with Todd as our ‘muscle’, I in pigtails, and Beth in whiteface, drinking, and laughing at the situations we get ourselves into.

All in all, Bulldog, Weezy, and the gang were a bunch of sweethearts. And God bless Weezy for bring a sense of culture to the Moose Lodge. And, of course… Happy birthday, Bob!