Re-hashing the indecisiveness issue in Hollywood

Gotta conjure up the ghosts of my “indecisive” post from the other day. Just gotta.

Never reluctant to overstate, but nevertheless quite aware of that tendency, I find myself hypervigilant to the extreme when it comes to maintaining a sharp eye (and ear) for instances of behavior which bear out my rantings.

So…I ranted about indecisiveness on Thursday and yesterday, Friday, I was treated to a tremendous and and unmistakable example of it as I rushed to the Hollywood and Vine Red Line station after work.

Grand, eloquent, effervescent…unbridled indecision brought to you (indrectly) by this pinnacle of the performing “arts.”

Yep…Legally Blonde, The Musical. Go ahead, wipe that shudder off your spine and bear with me (and get your eyes of the blonde’s legs). This estrogenic production can be all yours to view if you’re willing to throw down a serious wad of cash that will allow you to enter the teeny bopperish throngs crowding into the lobby of the Pantages Theater in Los Angeles. I can’t see myself spending any more than three dollars on this show…that’s about what I spent to rent the DVD (and incidentally, I didn’t think it was half bad).

Anyways, the show started a few weeks ago and I’m treated to a mass of femdom each time I rush to the train station about 6:15 in the evening and cut through one of the parking lots serving the theater. I can tell you that the crowd appears to be at least 80% women. The other 20%, the men, are either swishers, or if not, then they have that captive, POW gaze and when you meet their sad eyes they seem to cry to you helplessly, for a woman, this???

Last night, rushing to catch the 6:19 southbound to Pershing Square, the usual hustle and bustle of pre-show chickdom parking and balancing on heels and donning their theater-going best and I approach about 4 young women crowded around a small econocar. They appeared to be in the act of doing one last pre-mission check before locking the car and heading to the theater. In their twenties, white, wholesomely attractive, they all chattered around a central female figure who was writhing with self-doubt.

“I think I’ll just take it. I’ll keep it folded,” she ventured. It was obvious by the reaction and stances that this bizarre conversation had been in progress for at least a minute.
“Yes I think you should take it,” helped one of her friends.
“Yeah just carry it in there, you never know…” piped in another.

What was paining the girls?

(Now is a good time to lay down a preface: it’s been miserable hot in L.A. Temperatures in the 90’s and the air is smokey, orange and ashy from the fires).

The issue was whether Subject One, Indecision Ground Zero, should bring a sweater with her into the show. For this triviality the girls could not leave their car until they hashed out a solution for their lost friend who didn’t know if the theater might be too chilly for her bare arms, but which of course was further complicated by the fact that Los Angeles, outside of theaters, was sweltering under a hellish pall. Which was complicated by the fact that the air temp inside the Pantages might not be congruent with the wardrobe demands needed outside and the jaunt across the street.


Why in the world do you bring a sweater in the first place? You know you’re going to take it into the theater otherwise you would not have brought it. Just take the sweater and carry it, it was a thin women’s sweater that didn’t weigh more than a pound.

I wonder if she enjoyed the show?