Just noticed I made it to 4,000 kms biked so far this year of a possible 8,500 had I biked to work every Monday through Friday. So I've biked exactly the distance from Vancouver to Manhattan, how about that?
This show made laugh and evoked some old, fond memories. Also some old, bad memories, which I think is the point behind the "mortified" show itself.
Teen years can be mortifying at the time, and result in cringe-worthy moments that are best locked away in the vault. For some people, these moments are forgotten, and for some they remain alive, either in memory or on paper. A duo with deep rooted mortifying memories has developed a stage act that allows individuals the opportunity for public catharsis. They audition individuals who if selected read onstage, in public, in a formal show from diaries or recount horrible stories from their younger years. What was horrible is mainly now just humorous, and the act of getting it off one’s chest and laughing at it with others is a relief to most of the people it seems.
On Point is produced in Boston, and we heard many minutes of a recent local show there all of which are available at the On Point link. The poetry, the angst, and the dreams were all right there. One woman read her bucket list from the age of 15, which ranged from “Walk into a dinner party as if you belong” to “Be a prostitute for one night.” At that age you don’t discern terribly well between things and I think the line is drawn between “childish” and “adult.” All “adult” things are lumped together in a kind of netherworld of indistinguishable importance. In a single breath, kids might say they want to “learn to surfboard” and then “become President.”
I have few mortifying moments from my teen years. I can only think of two highly embarrassing moments, the first occurring in about 1975 when my parents insisted on getting a babysitter for me at the age of 11. The girl who showed up was none other than the mature Jackie Cowieson, who wore makeup, dated 14-year olds, smoked at recess and sat next to me in grade 6 at Greenbrier Elementary in Brantford, Ontario. Why do I remember her name? It was indelibly etched on my prepubescent brain in a truly mortifying way.
The other was in French class at Horlick High School, Racine, Wisconsin in 1979. Because I was from Canada I had been taking French since 1973, but unlike Canada I found that only girls in Wisconsin take French. The guys all take German because everyone’s grandparents seemed to come from there, or else they take Spanish because it’s easy. So I was in French class with 15 other high school girls for about three years. There was a poem or sentence that involved “bras” which means “arms” in French. The teacher explained something about the sentence and that it relates to “around or under the arms” which is incidentally where “brassiere” is derived from. Everyone giggled and looked at me, then someone said “Look, he’s blushing!” which of course I was, and it only got worse. Here I was, surrounded by nubile young women, speaking in French about breasts, and tell me why wouldn’t I get a hot flash? I ran into the same girl years later at a gas station checkout in Racine, and she didn’t recognize me because: a) I was in college and had grown up a lot; and b) She looked like a heroin addict.
Vist http://www.getmortified.com/ to see if one of the dozen shows are in your area.
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