How To Disappear Completely

They've Shown This On Both Screens

Apparently my failure to post anything yesterday on xanga was taken by some to be an indication of my demise. Word gets out that you've gone soft and it's nothing but work, work, work all the time. But, dear reader, do not fear, for the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated. No going through my pockets for loose change yet. However, I may have a touch of the black lung. Or at least a sore throat. Perhaps singing Irish vaudeville tunes in a lusty and enthusiastic manner might have contributed to the problem. What was I doing singing Irish vaudeville tunes in so unladylike a fashion, you ask? The pop music class I am currently taking requires weekly song presentations, in which participants are "highly encouraged to perform the songs themselves." (Syllabus, 2) This week's study covered turn-of-the-century vaudeville, an entertainment form that specialized in ethnic representations. I chose a song from the Mulligan Guard, a series of musical sketches that probably worked like modern sitcoms: a group of stock characters kept getting into different situations through a series of ongoing presentations. Mulligan being an Irish name, I attempted to recreate a garb worthy of the vaudevillian stage. Not having a stovepipe hat to hand nor able to boast a beard of necessary cut, I proceeded to improvise with a converted cereal box and cottonballs on a string, with the ends of the string wrapped round my ears. At such a moment, one is always exceedingly glad to have ears. A flannel plaid shirt, baggy pants, and my black coat completed the ensemble. At this point, whether I resembled a red-blooded Irishman or a tramp/hobo or even Abraham Lincoln was still debatable, so I adopted a fake Irish warble and the transformation was complete. No one could mistake me for a girl with a Toasty-O's box on her head now! I was meant for the stage...