The puppet show that I've been invited to by the nice people at the Center for Puppetry Arts is tonight at 8. And I was going to take my friend Brad since he's the one who helped me write the last piece. I figured he could be Statler to my Waldorf again, should the show merit that kind of reaction, and I thought, as well, that it would be, in a way, an odd reward for both of us.
Sydney at the Center for Puppetry Arts has been such a good sport about all this, and she gave me these great seats for tonight's show.
But Brad hasn't confirmed for me yet that he'll be able to go - and, even though I've been trying to communicate with him for weeks now, I only heard from him about it yesterday since he has a fear of phones (yeah, fear of phones), has been sick for weeks and doesn't respond to any not-completely-urgent communication. So I fear he's going to flake out on me.
I e-mailed Sydney that I may be alone tonight, even though I fear that makes me look either incredibly rude or, worse, like the only person on Earth who can't find a date. She wrote back that she hoped I had someone to come because the seats really are damn good.
I've been looking forward to this night for about a week. This whole situation amuses me, except for the part that I'm likely going stag.
Also tonight, I'm seeing STAR WARS: EPISODE III with my friend Mike in Duluth, which should be fun. (I can't take Mike to the puppet show for fear that he'll mock it aloud - like I did at last year's screening of Kevin Smith's JERSEY GIRL, but that's another tale altogether.)
Maybe I can hire an escort to the puppet show.
Oh God, oh God, oh God.
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