Just let me sleep, damn it

Apparently forgot to post this flash of genius so enjoy...

As a super cultured higher being, I attend the theatre as often as possible. Considering my brain is always working overtime, the suspension of disbelief is a welcome change from making world domination decisions. (If you watched the debate last night, what a 100% shit show the world is.)

There seems to be this new and disturbing trend in the theater wherein the audience is called to participate. Initially I was on the fence about interactive theater. Hell, some of these unwashed masses may have skills; let's see what you can do, dummies.

But not surprisingly, people disappoint when called upon to not act like animals.

Case in point, two interactive theater performances I recently attended focused on one of my favorite activities: sleeping. The performances in question:

Sleep No More at the McKittrick Hotel
Never Sleep Alone at Joe's Pub

Both required the audience wear a mask either during the entire performance or a portion thereof. This in itself is revealing. Hide your telltale stupefied faces, unwashed masses. (P.S. No one looks good in a mask. Ever. This is why Halloween should be banned forever.)

SNM I was on board with almost the whole time. A wordless Macbeth in a former hotel requires the participant to explore various floors, observe, inspect objects and papers, and follow one of the players who interpret Shakespeare through dance. The dancers, I wholly commend for their ability to totally block out all the idiots in masks surrounding them, running after them, and generally cramping their space. Yes, it's true, even in the context of theater, people will act like animals if given the chance. I very well could have been stampeded by those following Lady Macbeth.

Remember that episode of Bernie Mac's show where he had to coach the peewee soccer team? He advised those tiny people that to win, you must not bunch.  No bunching! The kids botched it in that episode. And not surprisingly, adults botch the no-bunching rule as well. Bernie Mac was ahead of his time.

Now this NSA was a real thrill-a-diller. Singles are bunched together (I know, Bernie. I know.) in small tables and forced to do as the hostess/emcee/aggro female sex therapist commands. First of all, no one tells me what to do. So we have a real problem in the first five minutes of this show. The hostess then precedes to select random singles and demand they makeout, take off shirt, sit on lap, simulate oral sex with a watermelon -- in the lap of a strange girl.

When asked to act like animals, people will. It goes without saying that I was horrified. I try not to mix among you too often and clearly this is why. Thankfully I was not called upon to participate because I can assure you, it would have ended badly for someone who is not me.

So all this interaction has me wondering what the hell you have against sleep/sleeping/sleeping alone? I, for one, love sleeping. When I'm tired of being awake, I can nod off just about anywhere. Cars, planes, waiting rooms, hairdresser's. You name it, I can sleep there. It's part of my super power. To shut down, naturally, on command.

Seriously, you should try it. Turn it off, people. You're not doing anyone any favors staying awake. And damn it, stop bunching.

Pain in my assets

My last entry was on my best asset: my powerful brain. The following will cover my second best asset: my awesome ass.

How can you describe a rear of such import? One doctor commented, "You're pretty bony back there." followed by "not much meat." Don't be fooled though. I have just enough pounds of flesh and not an ounce more.

Why bother with all this detail? Well normally, I reserve the viewing of my ass for a highly select few. Unlike Chinese tots whose pants have cutouts in the seat so they may poop at will (See image.), I cover my backside with normal pants.

Yes, the above is disturbing. Try to keep it together. 

Anyway, I've been having pain in my lower back and down my very attractive left leg. Self-diagnosis revealed my spine was unhappy with the recent uptick in activity. Fuck you, spine. Who told you to disobey the powerful brain? Self-diagnosis also revealed I may have pinched a nerve. Whatever. Shut up, body. 

So I went to the doctor several times to address the pain. On a whim, I decided to get an epidural yesterday. (Cross that off the bucket list! And, I didn't even have to shoot out a kid.) 

Yeah, you read that right, epidural. This is the momma of all needles and injections. Pregnant women get it because they're champions of pain and can pretty much handle anything pre-birthing. Well, I've proved myself just as strong (surprise, surprise.)

Let me set the scene. Young, bearded, attractive physician assistant (PA) and whatever middle-age doctor prepare the injection. I lay down on my stomach with a gown open in the back. 

My interior monologue: "Oh, you're going to pull down my underwear now? Great. Oh yeah, thanks for that sheet around my upper legs -- it really does the trick."

PA now begins to prepare the injection site, for all intents and purposes, my ass, with iodine. 

Interior monologue: "Hi, my name is Shiny Penny. I usually don't show my assets to people I've only known for 15 minutes so please consider this a rare gift. You're welcome."

Doctor inserts first needle to numb the area. Why does the numbing needle hurt exactly? Doesn't that defeat the purpose? Way to go, science. 

Now comes the big one. I didn't catch a glimpse of this 18 foot needle which was inserted directly into my spine at the tip. I can tell you that it hurt as much as I thought it would. During said injection,

Doctor: "You okay?"
Me: "Sure. Dynamite. Never been better. Can't imagine anywhere I'd rather be."
Doctor: "So, what do you do for a living?"

Really? We're going to have small talk around my bare butt?

Me: "I'm conquering the world."
PA: "I have a buddy who does that too."

Whatever. Losing points PA.

Doctor: "We could use someone like that here. No one's creative enough."
Me: Silence. 

This lasted all of 10 minutes but it felt like an eternity. My upper legs and butt were numb for a good hour, which is really strange and not as awesome as you'd think. 

We'll see what wonders unfold 24 hours post epidural. I'll be flying by the seat of my pants on the follow-up course of action but I'll be sure to keep you posted on the backend.