Something About My Ass

In Friday's improv show, we did a game called "Late for Work," in which I played an employee trying to explain to my boss why I was late. The catch was that I was the only person in the theater who didn't know the reason, which was based on suggestions from the audience. Fortunately, I had two helpful coworkers standing behind the boss, acting it out. I figured out fairly early on that my anal region was involved somehow, but for some reason it took me a few dozen wild guesses to figure out that I had stopped off for an enema. (Again, these suggestions come from the audience, so don't blame me.) Backstage, I commented that I didn't think I had ever said the word "ass" in front of my parents before, and I had just said it 50 times in the space of two minutes. My director then told me it was my mother who suggested that the bag had burst. Coincidentally, I will also say "ass" several times in "Much Ado About Nothing," but that's different because it's Shakespeare.