Puddles Pity Party

My husband invited me on a date night. He told me to pencil it in on my calendar, and when I asked what we were doing, he vaguely mentioned something about a show.

Tom: "I don't know if it'll be good or not, but I got us tickets."

He was his typical vague self, telling me it was a play about a guy who masked his face. I imagined a tale about life behind the mask vs. life with a cover, but somewhere in the weeks that followed, I heard the word clown.

SueG: "What the hell are you talking about? That makes no sense."

Me: "I don't know. Who cares? I'm getting dinner and a show. I'm sure it will be fine.

SueG: "A clown?"

Me: "Maybe I'm wrong about that part. I really wasn't paying that much attention."

On the day of the program, Tom was sick. He wasn't sure he'd even feel like going, so dinner turned into eating leftovers at home, and I honestly wondered if maybe I would have to take SueG on my date instead of my husband.

SueG: "To see a clown? Uh..."

Me: "Okay, maybe I'm wrong about that. I don't know why that word is stuck in my head. Let's look it up."

I searched for local clown shows. Then I started in the city we were headed to that night and checked the shows for that evening. Nothing. Finally, I remembered another venue, and SueG remembered the name of it and BOOM. There it was.

Me: "OMG! It is a clown! Puddles Pity Party. He was here last year too in a sold-out show."

SueG: "You have got to be kidding me. A clown?"

Me: "It says he was on America's Got Talent. I don't watch that show. Let's look him up."

So, we did. We watched Puddles' performance on YouTube, and our faces mirrored that of Simon Cowell's when Puddles took the stage. He never spoke, but he sang and from what we saw...well.

Me: "Whatever. It's a night out."

SueG: "In the pouring rain to see a clown? Have fun with that."

Turns out, it was fun. 

The venue was one that I've read about but have never been to. Despite my husband's illness, he rallied enough to drive us there in the miserable pouring rainstorm we'd had all day. While I knew a bit about this clown from my earlier research, he knew next to nothing except that his colleague recommended it.

Puddles doesn't speak. He mimes or uses the audience for his voice. The stage setting is minimal with Puddles' suitcase, a chair, microphones, and a small coffee table and coffee set up. Oh, and a large screen that shows various stuff throughout the act. He does a lot of physical comedy, incorporates a massive wad of gum in his act, involves the audience multiple times, and has an obsession for Kevin Costner. And the man can sing!

Really sing. Puddles has a beautiful, rich baritone voice, and the clown can belt it out. He performed for two hours, and it was incredible. We were told before the show that videos and picture taking was encouraged at all times, so I made sure to send frequent SnapChats to SueG and her daughter. So that they would know what they were missing.

My favorite part of the act was during his singing of Chandelier. He entered the audience, took people's cell phones and exchanged them all around the theater so that when he was back on stage, audience members were scurrying around in search of their phones. His reaction to this was hilarious. Even so, I made sure my phone was tucked safely in my bra.

Seated three seats from us was another celebrity, but I had no idea. People kept coming over for his autograph or to take a selfie with him. The guy in front of me filled me--Bello Nook. He, too, was an America's Got Talent act, but he is more famously known for his Guinness Book of World record-holding, various trapeze acts at Madison Square Garden, and for hanging from a helicopter over the Statue of Liberty. He doesn't wear clown face but instead is known for his spiked hairdo.

He and Puddles obviously knew one another as he was featured in the montage of famous people Puddles has met through years of entertaining. 

It was a great night. Good fun. Entertaining. I loved it. It was a pleasant surprise. If Puddles is in your area, go. You won't regret it.

SueG: "Let's plan to go next year if he comes. We'll take the kids."

Me: "You'd see a clown?"

SueG: "I'd see this clown, yes. Let's plan on that."

See My Food?

Last night my husband and I joined a good friend who was celebrating her 40th birthday. As it was also our 11th wedding anniversary, it was a planned night of partying and good times. One of her friends chose a Japanese restaurant for all of us for dinner. I had a picture in my head of all of us seated around a grill with an Asian chef twirling and juggling knives as he deftly sliced and diced my chosen meal of either beef, chicken, or shrimp or a combination of all three.

The emphasis I would place on this image in my head is COOKED food.

Unfortunately, that image was quickly squashed when I realized that I was in a house of sushi. While we did gather around a table, a chef did not come out to thrill us with his knife dexterity or his cooking knowledge. Instead, a fisherman who'd reeled in his catch earlier plopped it down in the middle of our table. Where I am sad to say, my fellow tablemates sucked down these poor creatures like they were in an episode of Survivor, or worse, Fear Factor.

As much as I pride myself as one willing to try things, I draw the line at a meal that might up and walk off of my plate.

There was yellow-tail, tuna, salmon, and gasp, eel. Oh, and the octopus was on the menu as well, but no one signed up for that tasty dish. It was all wrapped in a beautiful bed of rice tied tightly with a rope of seaweed! Most of my tablemates opted to ignore the rice as some were on low carb diets. Instead, they slurped on the raw seafood in the middle and left the rice shell to sit forlornly on the plate.

To start things out, they served a soy-based soup with pieces of floating tofu and ended with a complimentary dish of birthday green wasabi ice cream. The smell alone was enough to kill me. When I want the scent of raw sea creatures, I prefer to be sitting in the sand on a private beach somewhere watching seagulls eat the sushi. It is a miracle that I was able to hold down my diet coke.

Thankfully, I was able to wash away the scent and the taste of my tempura (a sushi bar isn't exactly great at cooked food either) with a coconut creme pie martini from the bar we ended up at later in the evening. I went to bed, hungry. But what an exciting experience for my anniversary.

Happy 40th Birthday, Veronica! May you never meet a mermaid in the next 40 years of your life!