Enjoy the Experience.
(But don’t be RUDE about it!)
Why “How Rude?”
One day after work, I was on my way to the subway (I’m a New Yorker), and just in front of me was a group of three people walking slowly, taking up the entire sidewalk. Rude! Every good New Yorker knows that the sidewalk is a shared space where you walk with direction and purpose and not a place for idle loitering. Feeling annoyed and being a lyricist, I started singing extempore…
MOVE OVER, MOVE OVER!
YOU’RE CROWDING THE SIDEWALK!
I’M NOT IN THE MOOD TODAY!
MOVE OVER, MOVE OVER,
YOU’RE WALKING WHERE I’D WALK,
GET OUT OF MY FRIGGING WAY!
And just like that, they moved to the side…
The power of song.
Shortly after that, I was on a train, and the young woman sitting across from me took a bottle of perfume out of her purse, so I sang…
MY NOSE!
MY NOSE!
ASSAULTED BY THE PETALS OF A ROSE!
I’M GAGGING ON PATCHOULI,
GIRL, I MIGHT JUST GET UNRULY
WITH A HOSE!
She put the perfume away, which, of course, might simply be because she was clearly sitting next to a lunatic.
The songs in HOW RUDE were all born in similar circumstances. After awhile there were so many of these little songs that I decided to put them all together in one show, which is why you have found yourself here.
The show is a musical celebration of the most universal of all human experiences – annoyance.
GHOSTED.
Love at first sight is often followed by loathing at seventh. Buyer’s remorse is as common with love as it is with large musical instruments. However, if you spend several weeks aggressively courting someone, you owe them at least one uncomfortable, lie-free conversation explaining why you are no longer interested. Swiping them out of your life on social media doesn’t change the fact that you are a jerk. The person you leave behind will be forced to sing a tearful Karen Carpenter ballad.
“THE DAILY ANNOYANCE”
OR
“RUDE MUSIC AND HOW MY MIND WORKS”
By Phillip George
I sing all the time: I always have. I’m not a good singer, but I’m okay. I sing when I’m in a hurry. I sing when I’m happy. I especially sing when I’m annoyed.
IN THE MICROWAVE.
There’s this guy where I work – where everyone works, probably – who didn’t get the “NO FISH” memo the rest of the world got when it comes to the use of the microwave during lunch. Dude! That smell you are creating isn’t just your putrid lunch -- it’s also the smell of your co-worker’s collective rage pouring out of their ears. It’s also a German Operetta!
HOLD THE DOOR.
Life is fraught with peril. Each day we run the obstacle course, hoping to make it to our beds, limbs and souls intact. Holding the door for others is simply lowering one of life’s hurdles a half inch: in the long run, it probably doesn’t make much of a difference, but it sure feels like it. When it comes to door holding, I am wildly promiscuous – I’ll do it with anyone. Like a Bob Marley tune, it’s a bop.
YOU MAY NOT
TOUCH MY HAIR.
Hair is a part of someone’s body. Why does anyone think it’s appropriate to ask if they can touch it, especially someone you don’t know? And yet, several of my African American girlfriends assure me (usually to a disco beat) that this is yet one more factor they get to deal with on a regular basis. This one is a no-brainer. Ask yourself why you even want to and then don’t.
SHEILA.
Just because we’ve never imagined something doesn’t mean it’s not a thing. I discovered this one afternoon when I met an Asian juggler who spoke with a thick Australian accent. I mean, of course, there are Asian-Australians who juggle, you idiot (me, not you)! The same idea applies to our kids when they come to us with their souls on the line, trusting that we will continue to love and respect them when they simply tell us who they are. If your spouse has a troubling period of adjustment, try singing them this Tammy Wynette-inspired tear-jerker. If that fails, refuse to feed them.
LIE.
Over the years, my Aunt Jillian flirted with various artistic endeavors. She took cello lessons. Watercolor. Balinese folk dancing. Then she discovered community theatre, where, given the proper amount of enthusiasm, a lack of talent is no obstacle whatsoever. To say that my Aunt had no talent would be putting it mildly; still, I attended her performances at the local little theatre, where she doggedly slogged her way through various dated warhorse musicals like The King and I. After these cringe-inducing performances, I went to the stage door, and when, with hope beaming from her eyes, she asked how she was, I told her she was wonderful.
Sometimes a lie is kinder than the truth. Sometimes it’s a salsa.
OTHER SONGS.
You’re Not Excused.
TURN DOWN THE MUSIC.
Who doesn’t love rock and roll? Coming from my upstairs neighbor at 3 AM – me! I love AC/DC and NIRVANA too, but come on! If the police show up at your home on a regular basis asking you to turn your music off, you might want to reconsider your playlist. At the very least, can we switch to James Taylor or Nora Jones?
Someone Left the
Light On
There is a constant battle in my home between one faction that leaves all the lights on whether they are being used or not, and the other faction that constantly turns the lights off, even in the dead of night. This battle is largely fought in a passive-aggressive manner with one side leaving electricity bills prominently displayed on the kitchen table, and the other side loudly stumbling from room to room and cursing under their breath. To be clear – both sides are rude, but only one side is in danger of breaking their neck. This song goes out to all of you ABBA fans.
EVERYONE AROUND US.
Beautiful young people strolling among the cherry blossoms and sharing a kiss is romantic and fills me with nostalgia. Lust-engorged young people humping on public transportation and sharing bodily fluids is revolting and fills me with rage. I hear a tango! The sight of public make-out sessions is only slightly less revolting than the sight of my shirtless friend, Ivan, having his back shaved by his twin brother, Evan.
SPOILER ALERT.
My friend, Bobby, can't keep anything to himself; he is a total blabbermouth and spoilsport of the worst variety. If he has seen a movie, he is definitely going to ruin it for you by telling you all of the plot twists. I really should avoid him, but he's an old friend I can't quit. This song is for him, and believe me when I tell you that these are all things he ruined for me over the years.
CRASHED!
Crashing a wedding is obviously bad manners, and yet, the lure of the party, the gifts, the food, the open bar, the attractive guests, is a temptation many petty criminals find difficult to ignore. Romance is in the air and the rest is easy pickings. This particular song was inspired by a true event -- my friend Jillian did have certain intimate relations with a man who crashed her wedding in the cloak room of the Palm Beach Radison. The real kicker here is that she and her husband are still together which is pretty forgiving when you think about it.