Don't Tickle Tigger

I think I know what it's like to have a uterus.

*shuddder*

Ok... well... not really... but I was in so much pain, the other day, I truly felt like my insides were going to rip themselves out of my body to run away.

My stomach hasn't hurt *that* much since the day after St. Patrick�s Day... (as a quick re-cap on that one... Miss Kim and I spent over $100 on alcohol for the both of us... and the rest of the evening was filled with massive amounts of vomiting... and the following morning was highlighted by calling work to ask what drunken voice mail I had left during the drunken stupor)... and I haven't had any alcohol.

So... I really just don't ever call in. When I wake up and feel like shit, I suck it up, get ready, drink a can of Diet Coke, smoke a cigarette and drag my un-happy ass to work...

So... when I woke up on Sunday, I woke up with some of the worst stomach pains I've ever had... but... even though I was scheduled to work the shittiest shift ever, I sucked it up and went to work.

And, truth be told, no matter how shitty I feel when I wake up... I always feel a whole lot better and fully prepared to work by the first time I have to go out and deal with people.

On Sunday, however, I still felt like crap...

Although, can I just tell y'all that I really love going to work in a shitty location and being the back-to-back to a "face snob"? (For those of you non-entertainment kids, a "face snob" is a (usually) very attractive boi or girl, who normally only performs roles as a face character, like Prince Charming or Cinderella. These people like to pretend that they're better than any of the people who only do fur characters... and they like to look down on anyone other than other face snobs. It's really great when they're on restrictions from doing face stuff... or better yet... they get scheduled to be in fur and can't for the life of them, give the shift away. Just to see their face when giant head pops off and sweat is dripping from every orifice of their body... it's just... well... satisfying... in a bizarre way... well... enough of this little rant...)

Right-o. Back to Crystal Prison... known formally to guests as the Crystal Palace... Now... the Prison is quite possibly the most horrific dining experience to work in. The restaurant is gigantic, the managers are evil, the guests are ridiculous... and it's just an evil experience.

And the shift for the day was... well... the shittiest one ever possible. The schedule was to come in at noon, do a thirty-minute set at one at the Prison, then directly to lunch. After lunch, a thirty-minute set as lunch coverage in ToonTown, and then twenty minutes to run from ToonTown back at Crystal Palace for a forty-five minute set... and doing four more sets to complete the day. It's a crap schedule.

So to recap... I'm scheduled in Hell. I have the worst set schedule possible in Hell. And my stomach is feeling the wrath of the devil... even though I haven't had any alcohol the previous day.

So... I do my first set as Tigger at the Prison. Now... every time I approach a table, inevitably, someone shoves a plate of food next to my nose (which is right where I see out of) and asks me if it looks good and if I want some food. While I am making the motions and acting like the food is the best stuff I have ever seen in my love... inside, I am ready to projectile vomit the two glasses of Diet Coke out of my mouth, through Tigger's nose, and onto the plate in front of me.

And the urge to lose the contents of my stomach continues on for a full thirty minutes.

Here's a hint for anyone who ever wants a character dining experience. No matter what character you're dealing with... never... *NEVER*... make them look at the food up close. Because, inevitably, the smell of the food is going to get trapped inside of the big head, and if the character is already feeling ill, it's going to get worse... and if the character isn't already feeling ill, the urge to expel the contents of their fabulous Aramark lunch will soon become far larger than it ever should.

So... I trek my happy ass on up to ToonTown to take a nap in the "in-between room." And if you�ve ever been in that room before, could you please explain to me why, in God�s name, is that room so cold? I mean, that room is so friggin' cold that not only could I use my nipples to cut glass, after being in the room for ten minutes, I could use my anus to keep a TV dinner frozen... well... if I were a bottom and I were the male equivalent of Blanch from the Golden Girls...

So... forty minutes before my set, I'm my entire costume (including the neck fur, minus the head) and propped up on two chairs (after being yelled at by a coordinator for improper costume care... of course I was balled up on the floor in my costume, using two chipmunk furs as blankets)... and I'm fast asleep.

I get woken up on time to go out and do my lunch coverage set... and I warn my greeter that I'm not feeling well...

So... I'm under the blazing photo lights... and now... I'm feeling sick to my stomach... *and* I'm groggy from my nap. So groggy, in fact, that when the second guests I hook up with are two *extremely* hot gay men, I don't even notice how hot they are until they've stepped away and it's just too late to stop the next stoopid rug-rats with white-trash parents from grabbing onto my legs and tail.

And believe me when I tell you that you know that I'm ill when I let hot men, *especially* hot gay men, from getting away from me until I have sufficiently flirted with them and figured out how to find them after my shift.

As the set goes on, I'm starting to feel worse and worse. The room has filled and emptied three times... and a group of children come up to me.

Next hint to anyone who ever wants to visit Tigger. Unless you are a hot hot man, willing to leave your phone number with the greeter, Tigger doesn't like to be tickled. Ever. Let's pretend that you're actually tickling Tigger in the "right place." What I mean by "right place" is that you're tickling the performer's stomach. We're hot, we're tired, we're probably cranky, and it's just annoying. And, chances are, you're not tickling our stomach. You're either rubbing my crotch or you're jabbing me in the solar plexus. So, I'm either in pain or agitated that you're getting me excited but leaving me with oven mitts and I'm in public, unable to do anything about it. So... don't tickle Tigger. End of story.

Now, these kids were actually right on my stomach. But... I'm not ticklish. And they weren't tickling. They were really just jabbing me.

I took it for about thirty seconds before I doubled over in pain.

Once I stood back up, I left the room faster than a black man leaving a Klan rally.

As I got back into the in-between room, I tore my head off and curled into a ball on the floor. It was really at that moment that I truly felt like I knew what it was like to have a uterus. I felt like someone was stabbing my insides with a knife and twisting... just for fun.

So... after a bunch of drama with a manager we like to call "Face Wendell," I went home.

And for only the forth time in about four and a half years, I called in sick, yesterday.

So... what have we learned from this experience?

I don't have a uterus... but I think I might be able to imagine what the cramps are like.

Never thrust a plate of food into a character's face.

And finally...

Never tickle Tigger... unless you're a wicked hot gay man willing to leave your phone number.

So... I've been sick and haven't left my house in about three days.

And of those seventy-two hours, I've slept for just over fifty of those hours.

When I haven't been sleeping, I've been eating, doing random stuff on my computer or I've been watching TV...

And it's been *fabulous*!

I've basically become a cat.

So... I'm sad that

And I'm quickly becoming addicted to The Game Show Network.

This, in my opinion, is quite possibly one of the best "new" networks to come on the air.

I mean... sure... there are some really horrible new shows... such as "Lingo"... which is kind of a cross between Bingo and Boggle... with Chuck Woolery as the host...

But I'm strangely amused by "Russian Roulette," which is hosted by Mark L. Whalburg... and features a bunch of greedy people challanging each other with questions... but the best part is, if they get a question wrong, they have to pull a level... and if their "drop zone" is selected, the floor beneath them opens right up and they fall into the nether regions below.

"National Lampoon's Funny Money" is also great because it features a bunch of comedians telling jokes.

But... by far, my favorite new show is "Friend or Foe." Former MTV VJ Kennedy is the fabulously sarcastic hostess. They take six strangers and pair them up and make them answer questions together. However, when it's time for them to get booted off the show, they go to the "trust box" and try to convince each other as to whether they're going to be a friend or a foe. If both choose friend, they split their winnings down the middle. If one chooses friend and one chooses foe, the person who chose foe gets all the money. However, if both choose foe, they both get screwed and no one gets any money.

Kennedy is friggin' hilarious. At the beginning, she does introductions and first tells about something wonderful the contestant did... before ripping them to shreds with something horrible they did. (i.e. � Jerry paid to take his best friend on a skiing trip to Utah... but then once they got back, he took his payment by stealing his best friend's girlfriend.) She spends the entire show making fun of everyone. Her sarcasm and wit make mine look like... errr... someone not sarcastic or... um... witty.

I've also been teaching myself to juggle. I started off with swedish fish... but have since moved onto coins and computer disks. Since I'm off tomorrow, too, I hope to be able to juggle hangers, by the end of the day.

My goodness, don't I lead an exciting life?

Hrmph.

And I wonder why I don't have a boyfriend.

*sigh*

Ok. So when I said that I was moving out to Bumble-fuck, I really wasn't kidding.

Don't get me wrong. I love living out in Clermont. I love the fact that I have a three-bedroom, two-bathroom house to myself. I love the fact that I pay approximately one third of what I was paying when I lived in Sable Palm. I love the privacy. I love the area.

I do not, however, love the thirty-five minute commute each way to/from work. I also do not love the fact that everything in a fifteen-mile radius closes approximately ten minutes after the sun goes down.

But most of all... I miss having a phone line... thus providing me to the internet.

I mean... it's not that I couldn�t get a phone line... it's just that I'm way too lazy and... well... too cheap... and it would also require me to be at home for the phone man to come.

So... instead, I must resort to finding a few minutes at work every week or so in order to wait in line with the other internet deprived people for a few coveted minutes at one of the four computers accessible at the Magic Kingdom.

Which is why I've not spoken to many of you in such a longtime.

So... it's not that I'm dead.

I'm just lazy and cheap.

In other words... I'm still the same old boi.

later, kids...

~robert