Why you should not push your child into acting

This weekend Wonder Boy and I headed north to Chicago. As luck would have it, three of the maybe five people I keep in touch with from high school all live there. It makes for fun times and cheap accommodations. It’s also the only environment where I turn straight up girl and revert back to catty gossip and exclamations of Nuh-uh! and, mostly to mock Mart Girl, Hey Chica!

The weekend was filled with lots of good ethnic food, some shopping and catching up. On Saturday night we headed out to the Cubby Bear, across from Wrigley Field. It was packed, as well it should have been. After all, the beer was relatively cheap, the DJ was spinning good cuts and the opening act for the evening’s cover band was Dustin Diamond.

You’re probably sitting there thinking “Dustin Diamond? Sounds familiar…” And it should. You grew up watching him every Saturday play Screech on Saved by the Bell. Apparently his post TV days are occupied with stand up comedy now. And wow. Talk about trying hard to not be Screech.

Diamond spent a little too much time trying to convince the audience that he was cool (“Trust the Dust”) and that he was funny (“People in Miami laughed at that!”). In addition, he is obsessed with doing girls in the butt. Obsessed I say! He also seems to have an odd preoccupation with old ladies’ cooters. (That’s right, I said cooters. But I think that is a much nicer word that calling them grilled cheese sandwiches.)

It was worth the $10 to see Diamond because of the jealousy it will cause for my sister. And because it was funny to say I was 20 feet from Screech. But hearing him say things like, “Oh, trust me, I will make you Screech” in a pervy way… Let’s just say I have a whole new perspective on my childhood Saturday mornings.