El's Private Thoughts

El hosting her shiny butt off.

Dear Diary,

Last night I did a solo gig. Just El. No Mel. It was only a hosting gig, acting as the emcee for Studio 42's Unproducible Smckdown, but still...it was lonely up there. Without Mel's good judgment and snarky expressions to keep me in check, I was like Mork without Mindy, Homer without Marge, or a cracked-out hooker without a pimp to bitch-slap her. (That last analogy was inappropriate, but it's a good example of the kinds of things I say on stage when Mel's not there.)

Here are some highlights:

 

1. I wore my t-shirt that says "I'm El" on it. People kept saying, "What's E - 1?" Someone even asked me if E - 1 had anything to do with sinking my battleship. I chuckled on the outside whilst I cried on the inside.

2. I wore my black sequin hotpants in hopes that my sparkly ass would distract from the absence of Mel, but when I tried to fill an awkward silent moment by having one of the judges get up from his seat to come spank my shiny bum, I knew things had gone awry. 

3.. I told the audience that Mel was home with a newborn on her teat. That's right, I said "teat" into a microphone. 

4. At the height of my stress, when a Drama Desk Award-Winning playwright accidentally called me Mel, I shouted, "It says El right here on my t-shirt! Read my boobs! Say it! What's my name? WHAT'S MY NAME???" Not very dignified.

Overall though, it went quite well. I got a few laughs and even a coupla compliments. But the people weren't there to see me, they were there to see some kick-ass theatre, and that's what they got. I was merely their guide through the evening, introducing each play and occasionally making announcements about raffles and lost wallets. I think the producers were pleased with my work, because they gave me a gift certificate for two complimentary weeks at Crunch gym. How cool is that?*

*On second thought, I wonder if the gift certificate was a reaction to my elderly thighs in super-short shorts. Shit. I gotta go call Mel. 

Love,

El