Blue Genes

My wife got tickets to the Blue Man Group, which we had never seen and sounded like a fun and farcical evening. Beforehand, we ate at a restaurant next door to the theater; I think the place is owned by Robert De Niro. I mentioned it to my wife and she says that every time we go to a restaurant I say that I think it’s owned by Robert De Niro.

All the waitresses there look like runway models, which means they are super tall and they have to bend way down to take my order. My waitress talks so low I can’t hear anything come out of her mouth, but I can see her lips move. It looks like she says, “I love you,” although she might have said, “veal cordon bleu.” I started to wonder how many times in my past that people I thought loved me actually loved veal.

Some of the tall models look like they could be transgender, and I silently thank God I don’t have to go on dates anymore, because it’s a whole different world out there. It doesn’t seem like good form to ask someone you just started dating if they are transgender; it’s like asking someone if they are pregnant. There are questions you simply shouldn’t ask unless you already know the answer. I used to say the same thing to my math teacher in high school.

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At the end of the meal we argue over the dessert menu. I tell her that chocolate is a “super food,” and my wife says it’s not. Well, what about a chocolate napoleon? Didn’t Napoleon conquer Rome? Well it turns out he didn’t, but I argued that nothing beats a Twix bar, so it should be a “super food.”

Next door the show was starting. The Blue Men are a lovely shade of royal blue; the same color I get if I try to blow up too many balloons before a birthday party. I don’t know how they got that way, or if they came from some faraway place, like Ulster County. They maintain an emotionless expression the whole time, which is good, because if they got envious and mad at the same time, what color they would become?

They got right down to business, playing a three-part drum solo while spraying the drums with colored liquids from squeeze bottles. They made such a shamble of the place I could see why they don’t let you bring liquids onto an airplane. From there, they did some audience participation gags involving oozing gunk, and at the end encouraged people to unroll massive amounts of toilet paper into the crowd. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared I guess.

I don’t want to give the plot away since I was planning to charge you for it, but suffice it to say that there was none. It had the flavor of being back in kindergarten, where the best fun you could have was to make the biggest mess and the most noise. Most people eventually outgrow this type of behavior, and if not they run for Congress. But once in a while, you just need some mindless mayhem. After they were done the theater looked like my office on a Friday.

I think the take-away from all this was that no matter what color you are, whether you are black, brown, blue, magenta or burnt sienna, you can make a mess and have fun with toilet paper. Even if you are an orange person in a white house, lighten up now and then!

Say hello at rlife8@hotmail.com.

The opinions expressed herein are the writer's alone, and do not reflect the opinions of TAPinto.net or anyone who works for TAPinto.net. TAPinto.net is not responsible for the accuracy of any of the information supplied by the writer.

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