How exciting was it to hear Clay's voice finally yesterday? And to hear him describe the tour and the kinds of music he's going to be attempting. I know we talk a lot about Clay's titanium balls - but really, if he's really going to sing Sam Cooke, Elvis, 70s funk (I'm doubting it's James Brown - but who knows), 80's hair bands - GooGoo Dolls and everything in between . . . how ballsy is that? Talk about challenging yourself - moving outside the box - and all that good stuff. I'm proud of the boy.

Anyhoo - moving outside the box reminds me of some other theater stories - so if you're not bored yet, I'll post another one. I'm not sure if it will translate in the writing. If it falls flat - ask me again at a CH party when I've had a few drinks (or you've had a few). It will be funnier then, I promise.

Didi said MrNan was quick on his feet . . . HAHA (tm CHA). Well, usually he is pretty quick-witted. But doing Shaw's Arm & The Man he did kind of have a moment . . .The play takes place during the 1885 Serbo-Bulgarian War. Raina is a young Bulgarian woman and one night, a Swiss voluntary soldier in the Serbian army bursts into her bedroom and begs her to hide him, so that he is not killed. Captain Bluntschli is supposed to say "I am a Swiss, fighting merely as a professional soldier. I joined the Serbs because they came first on the road from Switzerland."

Well, MrNan starts talking very confidently "I'm a Serb . . ." and my eyes bug out of my head since he's pretty much changing the whole play with that one mistake.

I interrupt and say "You're a what?" Well, he knows by the sweat pouring off my forehead and the twitching of my lip that he said the wrong thing. So, deep breath and he starts again "I'm a . . . I'm a . . ." small voice "serb" . . .with a question-mark at the end.

By now, I'm freaking cause if he's a Serb we have some serious problems with the rest of the play. "You are not" I adlib "you can't be". MrNan takes a deep breath and says - "I'm a . . . bulgarian?" - Well that's worse because if he's a Bulgarian then he doesn't have to worry about hiding in my Bulgarian bedroom. "I don't believe you." I say.

By now, I'm convinced that the audience is thinking "I thought GB Shaw was a great witty playwright -- what the hell is this crappy dialogue?

Well, MrNan is not happy with my adlibbing - so he breathes deeply once again and decides maybe if he says it louder he can get away with it. "I'm a Ser. . ." "You're a what?" I interrupt louder still, eyes bugging out of my head. "I'm a . . . I'm a . . . deep breath . . . sigh . . . I'm sooo confused."

Stifling laughter at this point, I figure what the hell - and I say stupidly - You sound like a Swiss (whatever the hell that means). Relief comes over MrNan's face as he continues "Yes, yes. . . I'm so tired I can't think straight . . . I'm a Swiss fighting for the Serbs . . ." and we're back in business.

Poor George Bernard Shaw rolled over in his grave. But "I'm soooo confused" joined "shoes my love shoes" as a way to instigate fits of giggling whenever we say it.

Somehow I think Mr. Aiken would have been quicker on his feet.

In honor of Creativity - here's today's Quote of the Day: "I can always be distracted by love, but eventually I get horny for my creativity." Gilda Radner