29 June 2010

Geek Encounter: Sept De Neuf

Two different worlds of spandex collided this past weekend in Montreal when the wife's family and I went to check out Cirque Du Soleil's new show.  We settled into our seats--my mother-in-law, sister-in-law, niece, wife and me; my butt already sore in anticipation--as another family settled into their seats in front of us.

That is, actress/nerd-boner-causer Jerri Ryan and her family.  

 I was the first to recognize her.  What are the odds?





Miss Ryan--who must have been sensing my musk--chose to sit directly in front of me.  Alas, she spent too much of her time holding her pretty, sleepy infant daughter to truly get the benefit of my pheromones.  Poor girl.

Kidding aside, I actually feel sorry for her.  
This is a surprisingly accurate representation of her afternoon.

I must say, Miss Jeri Ryan was a lot smaller and more lithe than I would have guessed.  As I suppose actresses must do when they're on the wrong side of forty, she looked like she hadn't eaten a carb in three years (well, apart from French circus popcorn, apparently) and was likely having a very active affair with a pilates ball.  

Still, she looked great and seemed to enjoy the show (as well as one can with needy spawn clinging to them, I imagine).  Perhaps it was because she once appeared in a movie called Dracula 2000, or perhaps it was because her back was to me, or maybe it was just my lifelong neck fetish, but I spent much of my time imagining what it would be like to softly nibble her graceful nape.

Luckily, I'm more of a Star Wars fan.  
If it had been Natalie Portman, I'd be posting bail now.

Actually, our gang was pretty discreet about our glitterati encounter.  We didn't ask for a picture or a signature (although my sister-in-law wanted to).  My wife spoke to her briefly before even recognizing who she was, pointing out that infant booster seats were available for her little girl.

Sadly, even the presence of Seven Of Nine wasn't enough to distract me from the length and tepidity of the show, which is called Totem.  There were clever things and neat things, but mostly just things that went on way too long.  My sister's family--veteran fans of previous Cirque Du Soleil shows--also felt it was lacking in oomph and pizzazz and many other positive things.

The list of adjectives boggles the mind.

So I spent much of my time covertly (I hope, and rather against my own inclination) watching the celebrity and her brood, idly speculating about fame, television beauty, U.S. vs Canadian culture, and similarly pointless things.  Sure, you could say I was held in the sway of fame.  You could opine about the "awesome power of celebrity" and lament the control it has over us.  But that would be missing the point. 

The point is "circuses blow."
 
Bored stiff? Stiff boards? I know there's another pun in all this somewhere...