Up there, there is so much room; where baby's burp and flowers bloom; Everyone dreams I can dream too...up there!

I haven't heard the sentence, "Oh, you're in the play?" so much since high school.

The setting of this oft-repeated question, occasionally paired with an exclamation point, is Seasons Restaurant at Bunker Hills. The play is Casting Christmas - the first show in the twenty-first season of the Seasons Dinner Theatre, of which, I have just had my first rehearsal.

The phrase, also much like high school, is said in one of three tones:

1. An astonished, borderline marvel at the foreign, perhaps even mythical creature they see before them. Sadly, this is not the awe-inspiring that causes admiration or warm feelings in the pants, but the kind of awe that's inspired when you see a three-legged dog, or platypus.
2. "Oh, he's one those." This is probably the most accurate of the reactions.
3. By just being in a play, admitting I'm in this play, doing so in front of this particular person, now places them in direct vicinity of an about-to-explode gay bomb. (Oddly enough, the older the person that says it, the more prone they are to this option)

The show itself is pretty much what I thought it was going to be. Family friendly. G-rated. Lotsa' Minneso-tah accents. Thankfully, none of which will be delivered by me. In fact, in a play dominated with over-the-top, extra hilarious characters, I am playing the straight man to all of them. Particularly, I am the romantic antagonist. Think Zach from Wedding Crashers, but with significantly less f-bombs.

The great news about this part is that I don't have to sing (seriously), but there are several references to her only being with me cause I was hot and successful. There's even a couple of references to my having a good body, though don't get me wrong, I've more of a man's body now than has ever been. I know because I watch myself in the mirror as I slowly remove my shirt in the morning.

As for the job that led to this job -- things aren't great.

As winter rapidly approaches, golf course attendance naturally drops off. Which means that currently, the only business that frequents the bar are the hardest of the hardcore golfers, which is to say the biggest blankholes (I'm trying to cut back on swears. There be kids in the show and shit. Oh, damn! Aw, hell! Ah, bitchcake!). This means significantly less tips. Monday, for an eight hour shift, I got three whole dollars. And that's just because Bo felt bad for me.

And, with such little revenue, cutbacks in staff are to be expected. So, in the places where servers and bussers would usually be, there's just Josh now. Essentially, the money has vanished in the same amount that the work load has tripled.

Contrary to what people may believe, the single reward in being the service industry. in any way, is completely monetary. I know there's a lotta' bull-honkey about bartenders meeting lots of people, and hearing out their troubles. It's not true. I don't want to hear about your shit any more than you want to hear about mine. And, there's not actually as much character inspiration as you'd think.*

Add this to the anticipation of my upcoming productions, my morale has been rapidly diminishing. Truth be told, I think I'm just getting sick of it, and it's starting to show, despite my best efforts, which I stopped about a week ago. Case in point, I actually said to a customer, in a sarcastic-but-if-I-stop-and-think-about-it-maybe-he-wasn't-being-sarcastic voice, "Hey, let's play a game. It's called 'How Many of Me Are There?' "

And here's the thing: I know I'm being whiny, and bitchy, and selfish, and that my sudden curmudgeonness will only get me scheduled even less than I am now. That's the angel shoulder talking. The one that's saying, "Suck it up Pee-Pants, six more weeks, and you get to be an actor again. Stop trying to chop off the hand that's fed and boozed ya' up."

However, Devil Shoulder, he makes some solid points as well. Everytime I ask someone want fries or tater tots, he wipes his ass with my college degree. He then sheepishly makes eye contact with me and says, "What? You're doing it."

This afternoon, before my shift ended, I was taken aside and properly admonished for my attitude in a nearly word-for-word exhange with Angel Shoulder. Thankfully, I think they realize what's going on, and they're understanding. (Though, my manager did say something to the effect of 'things are going very well for you, it doesn't seem like the usual Josh to want to ruin that.' She was partly right, that's not usual Josh. That's Classic Josh.)

See! Look! Prove I'm growing, cause now I know when I'm being stupid!

For instance, right now, Devil Shoulder just told me "Really Josh? You're okay with being reprimanded by a younger superior who can't stop giggling when they hear the word 'floater?"

But, Angel Shoulder has rightly countered with: "But, Josh -- you're the one that chose to say the word floater, specifically with the intent to make everying giggle."

Okay. Maybe growing up isn't the best way to desribe it.



* Though, there is the occasional gem, such as a couple I overheard at the bar a few weeks back:
GIRLFRIEND. Remember when you used to give me things? You never give me anything anymore.
BOYFRIEND. I could give you a pearl necklace.
GIRLFRIEND. Why would I want a pearl necklace? It wouldn't go with anything.
BOYFRIEND. (Deep sigh) Nevermind.