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"Wait a minute. You missed a couple of spots on your neck and behind your ear. You might want to fix that before you go out on stage."
"Oh, right, cause—' cause that would have been really embarrassing."
First of all, the green body paint smelled. No, actually? First of all he was standing a little to close, and there was a little to little clothing for that kind of closeness. Second of all, the green body paint smelled. It was definitely second, and there won't be any more rearanging from here on out. That strange, metalic scent of it just can't be. I smelled it for days after, still on my skin somehow
There were huge jars of it, all mass ordered from some make up company or the other. I remember getting a glance at the extra cases of it stacked in the corner, brown box after brown box. From somewhere in New Jersey I think. And after slathering myself from head to toe in the stuff, I can see why there was so much. It takes a lot of green to cover that much skin.
Because there was a lot of skin to cover. It didn't take much to look and see the costumes sure weren't going to help me. I guess I really hadn't noticed before. I'd been so busy looking at Lorne. He'd been all -- bright, and shimmery on stage, and I'd missed him so much that he was all I really saw. But there the costumes were, all tucked away in their neat little cubbies. You have to figure that if something can get folded up that small you're in trouble. First the bodice-corset sort of thing, followed with its garter belt and stockings. And the heels. I remember thinking that I hadn't worn heels that high since graduation, so my gown wouldn't drag.
I really, really hope Lorne didn't have any say in the costumes. That's a very strong hope there.
Because as quick as I tried to get myself together so I could get down to the real stuff, the seeing Lorne stuff, I was aware of how silly I had to look. Curled up, green covered, and not filling out someone else's costume quite the way I should. Because ... did I mention the horns?
He better not have had a say in those costumes.
Just because it works for him, doesn't mean it works for everyone else. They're sweet on him somehow, and they belong. On me they fit about a well as summer day below eighty in Texas. We just didn't go together.
Did I mention how I had to play the idiot and ramble a bit more senselessly than usual? And one of them used the word diddle. Even I don't say diddle, and I know sometimes my word choice is special at best.
So that was the biggest fool I've made of myself, I think.
For just a hour or so, I was a Lornette. For Lorne.
And now I think I smell that paint again.
"Oh, right, cause—' cause that would have been really embarrassing."
First of all, the green body paint smelled. No, actually? First of all he was standing a little to close, and there was a little to little clothing for that kind of closeness. Second of all, the green body paint smelled. It was definitely second, and there won't be any more rearanging from here on out. That strange, metalic scent of it just can't be. I smelled it for days after, still on my skin somehow
There were huge jars of it, all mass ordered from some make up company or the other. I remember getting a glance at the extra cases of it stacked in the corner, brown box after brown box. From somewhere in New Jersey I think. And after slathering myself from head to toe in the stuff, I can see why there was so much. It takes a lot of green to cover that much skin.
Because there was a lot of skin to cover. It didn't take much to look and see the costumes sure weren't going to help me. I guess I really hadn't noticed before. I'd been so busy looking at Lorne. He'd been all -- bright, and shimmery on stage, and I'd missed him so much that he was all I really saw. But there the costumes were, all tucked away in their neat little cubbies. You have to figure that if something can get folded up that small you're in trouble. First the bodice-corset sort of thing, followed with its garter belt and stockings. And the heels. I remember thinking that I hadn't worn heels that high since graduation, so my gown wouldn't drag.
I really, really hope Lorne didn't have any say in the costumes. That's a very strong hope there.
Because as quick as I tried to get myself together so I could get down to the real stuff, the seeing Lorne stuff, I was aware of how silly I had to look. Curled up, green covered, and not filling out someone else's costume quite the way I should. Because ... did I mention the horns?
He better not have had a say in those costumes.
Just because it works for him, doesn't mean it works for everyone else. They're sweet on him somehow, and they belong. On me they fit about a well as summer day below eighty in Texas. We just didn't go together.
Did I mention how I had to play the idiot and ramble a bit more senselessly than usual? And one of them used the word diddle. Even I don't say diddle, and I know sometimes my word choice is special at best.
So that was the biggest fool I've made of myself, I think.
For just a hour or so, I was a Lornette. For Lorne.
And now I think I smell that paint again.
