Here are six things you probably don’t know about me:
I have recently become addicted to Night of Olay cream. It’s so thick and rich and it makes my skin feel nice. But every time I rub it on my face, I wonder if my new-found love of a anti-wrinkle cream means I’m old.
I’ve had this stuffed tiger since birth. It’s the only object I still own from my childhood, except for a copy of Little House in the Big Woods. I don’t know why I keep it. It’s not like I’ll ever have kids to pass it on to, not that any kids would even want the old thing. But for some reason, he’s stuck around.
I am not photogenic. Today I was looking through pictures our house photographer has taken of shows and at almost every performance she has snapped one of me making the pre-show announcement. She shouldn’t bother because I am not very photogenic. I make funny faces, close my eyes, stick my pinky out when I’m holding the microphone. I just look like an idiot.
Speaking of being on stage, my friend Nan invariably texts me when I’m making a curtain speech. I think that show time is just her natural texting time. I’ll be introducing an artist or thanking a sponsor and feel my phone buzz in my pocket. It’s a good thing I never turn the ringer on.
At my desk at work I have a collection of framed photos I call “Black Men in Hats.” They were all taken of shows at the performing arts center by the same woman who takes the awful pictures of me and are all of black men in hats. Blues singers, mostly. Some have guitars, some have harmonicas, some have microphones. And they all have hats.
I don’t enjoy stories, musicals or movies about people who fly. That includes classics likes Peter Pan and Superman. I don’t mind if they have something to help them fly, like Harry Potter and the Wicked Witch of the West with their brooms or Aladdin and his flying carpet. Although I don’t like Mary Poppins either and she has her umbrella. Maybe that has more to do with that stupid spoonful of sugar song and not the flying.