Best Ever, week 20

Picking the winner of this week’s Best Ever award was a true challenge. There were so many things that made me smile, laugh, chortle, cajole…you name it. Even now, as I type this, I’m reconsidering my final choice. What if I’ve made a mistake? What if this week’s big winner should be this week’s big loser and one of these other things should go on and be the star of this 20th week of 2006?

But no, I’ve made up my mind.

This week’s Best Ever award goes to…

Cool Workout Gloves

There I was in rehearsal, totally stumped. We’d spent all our time talking about Snuteling and zero time talking about Puck. I couldn’t tell what they wanted me to do with the character—within the context of our psycho-sexy, retro-70s Midsummer Wet Dream of course. I could hear Moonbeam LaGoone in my head like some New Age, Freudian Obi-Wan Kenobi.

“Trust leGaia. She will guide your steps. Feel Shakespeare’s internal heartbeat and remember the phallus.”

The director staged my first scene. It was rough. Instead of just giving me the blocking, he got all excited that I was off-book and went straight for the acting notes.

I wound up getting really stiff and nervous. The director wound up getting confused.

“Do you know what I’m talking about when I say ‘color the lines’? You have a nice grasp of the language, but you’re not communicating anything. Why aren’t you having fun with this monologue?”

Frustrated sighs all around.

As I drove home that night, I thought about calling home and telling my mother, “I’m coming home to become and accountant.”

Not even crunches helped. I could have an eight pack or even a ten pack…but that still wouldn’t help me find the character or make my acting better.

All I had to go on was the costume rendering. I thought and thought about what the designer had cooked up. Puck’s legs were spread really wide, stuffed into tight-fitting platform boots and sparkly pants. His head was tilted slightly to the left, his bowler hat askew like some kind of horny Gene Kelly.

But the thing that made it all come together…the hands.

One hand was stuffed down the front of his sequined pants, while the other was jutting out at such a curious angle that would make Bob Fosse weep tears of joy and admiration. And on those hands were white (probably also sequined) fingerless gloves.

“Hey... Those look kind of like my workout gloves!” I thought.

Eureka.

I worked feverishly into the night like some kind of disco Frankenstein. Nelson the cat sat watching in the corner, his yellow kitty eyes wide with fear. The thunder crashed as nearby villagers discussed laying siege to my apartment with torches and pitchforks.

“‘ave you ‘eard? Dr. Von Forkystein is up in ‘is tower doin’ awwwwwl kinds of heathen experiments!”

“It t’ain’t Christian, I tell ye! That boy will drive ‘imself to ruin one of these days! Mark my words!”

At the next rehearsal, the director wanted to see the scene we’d staged the night before and the dance number that comes right after it. I executed them with the grace and precision of a jungle cat.

“Wow, Forky! I didn’t know you could dance like that!” said Snuteling. “You ROCKED!”

“Did I really?” I replied with a sincerity that surprised me. I removed my workout gloves and placed them neatly in my rehearsal bag.

There’s just something about fingerless gloves that make you feel like a rock star. And that’s why Cool Workout Gloves are this week’s

Best Ever