Krazy Kats of Kathmandu

So recently my friend and I signed up to be extras in a movie.

This proved to be a mistake.
Warning sign #1 arrived when I learned we were going to rehearsing every week in Palm Springs.
Warning sign #2 was when I figured out that the casting call we responded to was asking for "Orientals"
Warning sign #3 reared its ugly head in the form of the subject matter of the play. The title was "Shakespeare's Cat". Not so bad. Until you dig a little deeper and learn that the movie is live action, doesn't actually involve real cats...just people dressed as cats, dancing to campy music sung by Peter, Paul, and Mary rejects. Did I mention that we got cast as part of a 5 ManCat gang that conveniently abbreviates into KKK?

So we arrive at the venue, learn our dance moves from our nipple pierced choreographer (I thought she was just reallly cold until Howard points out that one of them is ring shaped) and call it a day. Things start looking up.

Once rehearsal ends we hit a local bar called the "Fire House"-- walls are made of old brick, the bar is lined with the patterned steel you usually find adorning fire trucks, and there is a bright red functional fan larger than my actual room ventilating the place. We arrive right as happy hour hits, order some hot wings, nachos, cheese bread, and beer. Everything is gravy.

God bless the alcohol.

I'm not sure how this came to be...

But my guess would be that Vodka played a key role. I can just see a table of dudes, drunkenly arguing about what the ultimate man snack would consist of. Solution? Kill the Red Bull cow and turn it into dried meat. Caffienated, seasoned meat.

And lo and behold...Perky Jerky was born.

Damn you, Red Bull

As I sit here, unable to sleep, a scant 6 hours away from the start of my first day on my job, I can't help but think that the Red Bull I had with dinner today is working. Maybe a little too well. Yesterday I went to bed at 5 in the morning. Today is looking to be a repeat performance. The gods of chronic sleep deprivation will be pleased.

Sometimes I wonder if that's the way its going to be a few years from now. If we'll spend the rest of our lives, dosing ourselves with drugs and performance enhancers to keep up with the frenetically accelerating pace of society. I mean, take caffeine for instance. Use is so widespread that it's actually become something of sub-culture where people brag to each other about how much they've taken in one sitting. People dose themselves with caffeine every morning, just to avoid dramatically punching the nearest co-worker in the face for existing just a little too loudly.

It's strange thinking that our culture, something that WE as a collective whole of PEOPLE consciously developed and adopted, demands performance outside of the bounds of comfortable natural function. Was it our fault? Was it the large, amorphous blog of capitalism at work? Is it really even a bad thing? I guess I won't know till tomorrow morning...when the cycle repeats :)

I'm out.
-R