ChuckDoherty.com

In today’s email:

Just about one hour ago, at three AM, my eyes popped open and I soon realized that they were not popping shut again any time soon.  I wasn’t in the mood to read, there was little to watch on TV other than informercials featuring dwarf twins in suits selling get-rich-with-real-estate seminars, and the NY Times crosswords on my nightstand were not getting any easier.  So, I pulled on a jean and a boot and struck off to explore the exciting world of graveyard-shift Providence.  And you know what’s going on?  Fuck all, that’s what.

I drove to downtown Providence, where even Haven Brothers Diner had already departed for its mysterious daytime roost, leaving the streets free of any late-night activity whatsoever.  The two forlorn looking crack whores I saw shuffling down the street looked as though they too were dreaming about a town with more action, or at least with more crack.  

Granted, the warm weather is not yet here and Sunday night / Monday morning is not exactly prime-time for nocturnal movers & shakers, I expected at least be a few emergency vehicles zooming around. I should get to witness some sort of late-night shenanigans, even if it’s just a Barney Miller-esque scene of cops responding to the report of a endearingly kooky man dressed like Napoleon causing a commotion at a donut shop.  Hell, I’d have settled for seeing someone pushing a cart stacked high with oranges along the sidewalk, knowing full well that it was going to be knocked over in a exciting police persuit at any moment. 

Nope, nothing at all worth looking at.  Not good, not bad; just tired and closed. 

Last night, quite a few of the audience members were residents of a group home for retarded adults, and what a fun crowd they were. These guys were laughing and clapping up a storm, and in general responding as though they were having the time of their lives.  Mind you, some of the punchlines we expected to hear laughs from fell flat, but others parts of the show which normally never get a laugh brought down the house.  Seriously, this was a really great crowd. 

If there is one trait I have always prided myself on, it’s the quality of my self-loathing.  This reviewer apparently agrees.

No matter what the movies may have you believe, I was not sitting at a banquette at Sardi’s sipping martinis until the early edition of the NY Times  came out.

 http://www.littlerhodytheater.com/i_ought_to_be_in_pictures_ACT_2007.htm

There are certain bits of knowledge that one can live an entire lifetime without needing or wanting.  The sound that an artillery shell makes as it strikes a nearby building is one example.  The smell that a container of leftover scallops gives off a few weeks after having fallen behind a refrigerator is another.  Today, at Providence Place Mall, I became aware of something that 50% of the American population already knows all too well, and that is the fact that cosmetics are absurdly expensive.

It happens that my face looks fairly red under stage lighting, so I was told to put on some makeup before yesterday’s show.  Having none of my own, I borrowed a dab of foundation and some powder from another cast member and smeared it on as directed.  Since I cannot be expected to schnorr my supplies every night, I went off to the mall to get some of my very own.  I marched right up to one of the gals at the Macy’s makeup counter and asked for her advice, which she was happy to dole out.  She recommended a tiny tube of some cream, a compact-sized container of powder, and a little brush to dab it all in place.  The price: about $80.

Reacting to what must have been a more dramatic change in my face’s coloration than would be possible through even the most exotic makeup, the makeup gal leaned over to me and discreetly mentioned that I could probably get what I needed at the local CVS for about eight bucks.  Advice that I immediately and appreciatively heeded, I might add.

Well, this is it.  The show opens tonight, ready or not.   As you can imagine, I am nervous, but I am about as ready as I am ever going to be.  The rest of the cast and crew are all terriffic, and I look forward to getting out there in front of some live people (gulp).  At the very least, I should have a good supply of tomatoes to take home aftewards.

This morning, I dropped my car off at Inskip Lexus, the local Lexus dealer, to have what I thought would be some under-warranty work done to my a/c.  A bit over a year ago it had conked out and I took it in to have it fixed under warranty.  They were not able to find the cause of the problem, which meant (thanks to the byzantine reasoning of warranty agreements) that I had to pay for time and materials.  Apparently the repair WOULD have been covered under warranty if they were able to figure out what caused the problem, but because they could not, I had to pay.  Understand?

Anyway, they re-charged the system but it lost its juice soon after so I thought that this second fix would be covered somehow.  Silly me.  I also learned that the extended warranty agreement on the car expired last July, so I knew that whatever they had to do would be on my dime.  I left  the car with them for the morning so they could give me an estimate for recharging the a/c as well as to replace the brake pads and perform whatever other minor brake work it may need.  

I received a call a few hours later with the estimate. I have a pretty fertile imagination, but even I could not have dreamt up what they quoted me.

At most repair centers, “brake jobs” run about $100 per axle if all you need are pads.  If the car needs the rotors machined that adds a few bucks to the process, perhaps $25 per wheel.  If the rotors are so bad that they cannot be machined, brand new ones only add about $50 per wheel.   So,  $200 or so per axle usually covers routine brake service.  My car needed pads all around and new rotors on the front; work that would cost about $300 at your local Midas. 

But not at Inskip.  There, the brake repair would have run me $1,100.  That’s $690 for the front, and another $400 for the rear, which only needed pads! 

And the a/c recharge? $250. That runs about $100 most anywhere else.

What I found most distressing about the entire experience was the patronizing attitude their service writer exhibited toward other service centers, which he dismissively refered to as “backyard mechanics,” as though every other auto mechanic was some sort of hillbilly working under the shade of an old elm tree.  Such hubris.

Oh by the way, it cost me $99 for this experience. Even their foreplay is expensive.

I get regular email from ikitchen.com, a site that sells cooking equipment and small appliances. Their prices are about what you would expect most of the time, but every now and then they will have a very good deal on something or other that I want for the kitchen.  I am a little reluctant to purchase from them based on the customer reviews I read on their website.  Not that I have read anything negative; far from it.  But that’s the point.  Every review of every product on their website is a glowing five-star tribute, written in a suspiciously-similar style and free from any grammatical or punctuation errors. Now, it may be true that every customer (click on the “reviews” tab) is thrilled, thrilled to have an easy-to-clean, dishwasher-safe drip pan, and an elegent embossed logo. And it may also be true that every one of these delighted customers entered their product reviews on the very same day, as the date stamp on the reviews indicates. But methinks that the reviews are seeded at best, and at worst are created out of whole cloth.  Even if these were written by real customers as their customer service representative assures me, I can only conclude that any review that does not gush with positive vibes never sees the light of day.  As I mentioned to them in a feedback comment form, online customers are not that naive.