Sweaty bits

This post will be a rambling mess with no coherent structure and not many laughs, rather like The Bible. It's good to see the St Matthews in the City church trying to have a bit of a laugh this Christmas by putting this billboard up.

It's a shame the first one was doused with paint by an old man and the second slashed with a knife by an old lady. I don't know if they have been caught however I'd be pointing my finger at the old man with his banjo and the old lady who sing out of tune religous songs religiously on Queen Street everyday except Sunday when they are probably singing out of tune in some regressive church in the burbs far far away from the progressive cess-pool of tolerant filth that is St Matthews in the City. As far as churches go St Matthews is quite hip and groovy. Not only is it a stunning building they also offer civil unions, iGod podcasts and you can hire it for foam parties, discos and they will even bless your dog, cat or llama and clean up its pooh afterwards.

You really shouldn't sweat the small stuff, unless it's a sweaty dwarf hiding in your closet with some paint, a knife and a banjo. I heard a story about a young tall actress playing Snow White losing her virginity to Grumpy during the South Island leg of a nationwide tour which just goes to show that sweaty small stuff can fuck you up when you least expect it. I had a sweaty moment on Thursday night during the opening performance of 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'. I'm playing Rudolph and was sweating and grumpy when the elastic used to keep my big red one on my face snapped 20 minutes into the show. Luckily the back-up mechanism of a whole lotta gaff shoved in the hole stopped it from shooting off and hitting the Christmas Fairy in the eye.

However, as the play progressed I could feel the stickiness subsiding on my sweat soaked snozz and had to dash off while 35 fairies and 3 penguins between the ages of 5 and 12 sang 'We Wish You A Merry Xmas'. It was a shame because they were meant to be singing it to cheer Rudolph up however if Rudolph's nose fell off it may have brought about tears, tantrums and thirty years of therapy. After ripping the elastic off and pressing the nose on as hard as I could I returned and continued the performance holding my head upwards at a 45 degree angle while touching it constantly as if Rudolph had a nose-bleed while performing an old fashioned sobriety test. I had to make another hasty unplanned exit during Dasher and Dancer's rendition of 'Jungle Bells' to reapply fresh gaff which thankfully held to the end. Unfortunately Dasher and Dancer hadn't realised I'd buggered off and as I was meant to stop them singing got slightly alarmed. They covered well though with 'Where's he gone?' and 'That's not very professional' so the audience had no idea how close to disaster the whole production had perilously lurched.

It was my birthday on Thursday as well. Thanks again to all those who left messages on Facebook, texted and called. I turned 36. It's a credit to my healthy KFC diet and liberal application of hydrocortisone to my face everyday that even in my mid to late 30's I can still pull off a role like Rudolph, supposedly the youngest and most innocent of all Santa's reindeer. I'm thinking I could still have a crack at pulling off Oliver after my stunning performance 22 years ago for the North Canterbury Musical Society.

I will try and squeeze in another post before Christmas but if I don't I hope you all have a wonderful festive holiday. If your evenings are free up until Xmas eve come and see Rudolph and marvel at a sweating 36 year old man with a strap on nose surround by young children. Aboobedeedo.