Tour Whore, June 3, 2012

Thirty things I want festival patrons to know

by Cameryn Moore

Festival season starts for me next week, with the launch party and Fringe for All at the Montréal Fringe. But those of you reading this piece in other parts of Canada, you can print this out and study up, because it applies to all festival audiences everywhere. These are just 30 of the things that I want you to know:

I really do mean what I say after my show: I will answer any question put to me in the spirit of honest curiosity and goodwill. (Anyone being a disingenuous douchebag, on the other hand, will feel the full heat of my wrath.)

I judge you if you only go to outdoor (i.e. FREE) events and spend lots of money on beer, and then bitch about the ticket prices. You think we don’t notice, but we do. You need to reprioritize.

You don’t have to make a face at me when you don’t take one of my postcards. A simple “no thanks” will do.

I hand-stitched the fringe on this parasol myself.

It is too late to incorporate any of your detailed feedback into this play. Also, I don’t do poignant geo-political metaphors.

If you liked my show, please, please talk about it. Word of mouth is so important at the fringe.

Your 14-year-old does not belong at my show. I don’t care how hip a parent you are. Don’t make my door volunteers argue with you. They don’t get paid enough for that.

Free beer or some fries for an artist is almost as good as money. If you buy me one, I will chat with you for hours.

Crossing your arms while watching a show is an incredibly defensive and impenetrable posture. 

I judge you if you only go to outdoor (i.e. FREE) events and spend lots of money on beer, and then bitch about the ticket prices. You think we don’t notice, but we do. You need to reprioritize.

I hate it when you set your beer down on top of my postcard, right in front of me. The only way you could be ruder about not being interested in my postcard is if you wiped your ass with it and then fed it to a pig.

I want to make your day better somehow.

The only safe way to make sure your phone doesn’t go off in the middle of a show is to turn it off entirely.

I slept three hours last night.

I learn where the nearest bathrooms and bars and air-conditioned spaces are because I want to be helpful. Ask me, I won’t even flyer you. Really. I can tell you’re in a hurry.

No, I won’t give you my business phone number, and any chance you might have had for getting my personal phone number evaporated when you made that joke.

I hang back when I arrive at line-ups because I am scoping out the terrain. I think long and hard about how I move through large crowds of potential audience members—especially when I’m wearing my tutu!—because I don’t want to be an asshole.

I really am a phone sex operator.

I have heard that joke about recognizing my voice scores of times over the past two years, twice this week, and your delivery wasn’t even in the top 10.

No, I won’t give you my business phone number, and any chance you might have had for getting my personal phone number evaporated when you made that joke.

I can’t do much about how loud my voice is. It’s pretty penetrating.

I don’t want to do a damn thing about my laugh. If you’re hearing it, that means I’m really enjoying something.

I have a master’s degree and I speak three languages and if that makes me really articulate for a sex worker, then fuck you. 

I am not talking about sex to shock, I am talking about it to be thoughtful.

I was not trying to seduce your husband/boyfriend/partner when I handed him a flyer. It was just more convenient to hand it to him. I actually prefer to flyer the female of a straight couple. It deflects suspicion that I might be trying to ABSCOND WITH YOUR MAN. 

I really do enjoy chatting up strangers this much. It is not an act.

I do not wear this outfit in my show. It just makes me feel sassy out in public.

I know, I love my boots, too!

The parasol isn’t just a promo thing. I sunburn like a motherfucker.

No, I won’t give you an excerpt from the show right here on the sidewalk. It would be totally lacking in context.

Yes, I know that I’m a big fat fattie, and that according to the dictates of current fashion wisdom I “shouldn’t” be wearing anything that I’ve got in my suitcase, let alone this tutu-and-fishnet combo. Tough titties.

Your child should be on a leash. With a choke collar.