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17 July Okay, the best show in the entire universe has begun, and it is called Queer Eye For the Straight Guy. Dear Lord, is it ever wonderful! It's these five gay men, each an expert on something vital, like fashion or hair, and they come over to your house and they change how you dress and how you live and how you are and everything is suddenly much better! They took this great guy named Butch and gave him a gallery opening and a haircut and redid his apartment, and all I could think was, "When will they do the sequel, Queer Eye For the Straight Girl? I want five lovely gay men to come round my way and fix me!" Of course, if I really want a handsome, if not entirely gay, man to come round my house and throw away all my crap, I'd let Omar have a go at it, but I couldn't get a free new wardrobe and a gallery opening out of him as well.
I am so not in Omar's league, it's not even funny. I'm talking strictly looks, he is astoundingly handsome and I am much more ordinary--I'm not putting myself down, I'm not calling myself ugly, but I'm not up to his level at all. And the thing is, the point is, that it doesn't matter. When I had a crush on the Candyman years ago, he was so stunning that I worried about it all the time, it gave me a bit of a complex and I felt that I wasn't worthy of him, but with Omar it's completely different. First of all, as far as I am concerned, his looks are not the reason that I love him--they are a lovely bonus, but it took me years to notice that he's good looking, I didn't even see it. It's his heart and his soul and himself that matter to me. Secondly, I know four people that he has had relationships with, and frankly none of them are any great beauties either, because he falls in love with the person and not the looks, because he's not shallow. So I don't feel like I'm living on borrowed time because I'm not beautiful. And the last is that even if all that wasn't true, none of it matters. I couldn't do anything differently than I am doing or I did in the past, so even if I did fear that I wasn't good enough, that I wasn't attractive enough, I wouldn't be able to change. The looks aren't a factor, mine not his. And it's sort of a treat.
So I got an email from Kirsten about the programmes, and it turned out that Deb, who was supposed to do them, hadn't actually gotten practically any bios from the directors in the evening, but they were able to pull bios from old programmes and cobble something together for last night. I called Deb to make certain that she would bring them to the theatre, and she said yes, but when I got there, they were not there. Of course, I only had her work number in my phone, so I couldn't call her to find out whether I had misunderstood that she was going to be coming round. It closes tonight. Wonder whether there will be programmes?
Once the show started, I ran out to rehearse with Al and Cynthia for Shoot Me at Al's office. He's once of those funny actors with the amazing day jobs, as he is an lawyer. It's so weird, I always think of acting as a calling, and actors have survival jobs like waiting tables and secretarial work and so on. So when I come across an actor with a job that is really a career, something that is as much of a calling as acting, like Brian the police lieutenant and Barry the dermatologist and Al the trial attorney, I think it's a scream. His office is in the Lincoln Building, which is where the very first office that I worked in after college was. It was the first time I have been there since, and it was quite a shock to walk in and feel 21 again and working at the employment agency. I'm glad I'm me now instead. Will someone tell me why I still remembered the combination number for the bathroom lock?
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