Right down the street from where I live…just a block…there’s a food co-op I belong to. I just shop there and try to be friendly when I go in. I’m glad it’s there. Still…my avoidance of all things organized keeps me from getting more familiar. I’m kinda funny like that.

So I sauntered down there for a few items for the week. Trail mix…dog chews…dark chocolate…apples…a six-pack of beer. You know…some of the finer things in this good life. Since the place just began selling beer and wine a short while ago, you must have an ID no matter how old you look. It’s smart really. There are still plenty of folks who don’t care for old hippies…neo-hippies…people who want to live “simply”…vegetarians. What used to be called counter culture. And what might be known as “suspicious” today. (Wait…wasn’t this “suspicious” 35 years ago?)

I waltzed around the place carefully choosing my staples. Everything was a no brainer…’cept for the beer. There is no corporate brew on these premises. Uh uh…only those beers we all put on a list….that’s what co-ops do Way cool. A place that sells beer with no Bud Light to be seen anywhere...not even warm. Perhaps there is a God. (a god?) I chose Pilsner Urquell…a Czechoslovakian brew that was the very first pilsner made…ever. Yum.

I made my way to the check out area and immediately noticed two new guys running the registers. They looked young. And as soon as the first guy held up a bunch of asparagus and asked…loudly enough to be heard throughout the small store…of his customer, “What’s THIS?”…well…my hunch was confirmed.

The other register was suddenly clear so I carried my Curious George re-usable bag (chicks dig it!) over to the other new guy. He rang up everything just fine…then asked me for an ID before he turned his attention to the beer. I gave him the driver’s license that identifies me as a 51 year old man…he examined it…handed it back to me…and said, “You’re still ROCKIN”!” I was flattered…and impressed he omitted the “DUDE!” Most impressed indeed. Immediately he rung up the beer and asked, “Is this stuff really good?”…once again effectively refraining from the “DUDE”. I told him personally I thought it was great. But I cautioned him the beer was “bitey”. “Bitey?” he asked. “Yeah” I said. “You know. What some people call ‘skunky’ beer”.

Simultaneously his youthful face screwed up into a wrinkled wad while his voice proclaimed through tight lips “Skunky beer!”…again skillfully avoiding the “DUDE” I smiled and said, “If skunky beer is something you know about, this might not be for you.” I too magnificently stifled the “DUDE!” We shared a laugh. I walked home…emptied the Curious George bag…and had myself a “bitey” brew.

It’s always comforting for me to hear the voice of Amy Lay while waiting in line to get into the Shadowbox Cabaret performance space. After the freeway drive, the parking lot maneuvering, and wallowing through denizens of teenagers to arrive, her troupe program sales pitch is calming and warm. Ditto for the graciousness of doorman Robert Foor (Foorman?). It’s no Dirty Little Secret how I feel about Easton Towne Center. But I always feel it’s worth the trip once I’m settled in…usually at the back of the theater…soaking in the organized chaos that permeates the place before the show. And on this evening Ms. Lay also had the privilege of making the rounds as the “raffle girl”. Amy’s ribald reveling certainly makes her queen of the double entendres…goddess of the innuendo.

This year’s version of Dirty Little Secrets begins with BillWho? fronted by Julie Klein (lead vocals), Noelle Grandison, Katy Psenicka and Amy Lay for a scorching rendition of Peter Gabriel’s “Sledgehammer”. Following the troupe’s theme song by the omnipresent Ms. Lay…during David “Mr. Pratfall” Whitehouse’s opening monologue…I noticed the woman at the table next to me. She and her companion were newcomers…virgins…to a Shadowbox show and they were celebrating a birthday. By her demeanor I can only guess this may have been her first foray into a comedic experience. I silently nicknamed her Ms. Hardy Har Har. Every time someone onstage opened his or her mouth out came “BLAAAH! HA! HA! HA! HA!” After a while…for any of us in the near vicinity…the effect of her overt exuberance made it seem as if we were listening to a comedy CD at home and one of our stereo speakers had blown. If a line was humorous…while everyone else was merely chuckling…Ms. Har Har was going “BLAAAAAH! HA! HA! HA! HA!” Mr. Whitehouse could probably have said something like, “The cat was very large” and I’m sure my right ear would have been assaulted by “BLAAAH!!! HA! HA! HA! HA!” At least she was having fun.

During a wonderful performance of David Bowie’s “Fame” (sung notably by J. T. Walker III) while an excellent dance routine (including Amy Lay) unfolded stage right of the band I endured “BLAAAHH!! HA! HA! HA! HA!” I don’t really think the intention was to be uproarious. But I’m beginning to see the challenge for Shadowbox Cabaret. On the one hand they are skilled at sketch comedy. That was obvious during the original bit “Le Blind Date” in which Jimmy Mak and Amy Lay portray a couple dining at an exclusive French restaurant in a most delightfully slapstick way. And another Shadowbox original “Monopoly Jail” was hilarious as well. Also Julie Klein and Katy Psenicka were superb as snooty socialites in homegrown “Maureen and Buffy”, a counterpoint to their popular working class version “Cindy and Lavern”. Yet when a monologue such as Steve Martin’s “A Public Apology” is adeptly read by Jimmy Mak, the audience…all the bachelorette parties…birthday bashes included…seem a little distant. Even though a large portion of marijuana humor was omitted from Martin’s piece (I went back and read it again) Mr. Mak…who appears to be the most affable man on the planet…doesn’t get the attention he deserves. It’s as if Shadowbox’s audience strives to be raucous and wants little to do with nuance. Oh sure, there was Ms. Har Har going “BLAAAH!! HA! HA! HA!” but the context made her yuks sound like one hand clapping.

Musically the show is terrific…as usual. Mary Randle’s powerful rendition of Queensryche’s “Eyes of a Stranger”, Adam Fouth’s pleading vocals on Living Colour’s “Open Letter to a Landlord” and Noelle Grandison’s smoldering “I Can’t Stand the Rain” are all extraordinary. (A little aside: As much as I enjoyed seeing Ms. Grandison’s lovely gams, her outfit and wig were way too much. This woman can sing. She doesn’t need to impersonate Tina Turner. Celebrate Tina…yes. But Ms. Grandison is too talented to be a caricature of Turner. I was waiting for fake Ikettes to dance out.)

The show closes with yet another original piece, “Dr. Mystery – A Family Affair”. Despite the fact this skit isn’t always tremendously funny, I find it delightfully entertaining thanks to it’s surreal use of puppets, human sourced sound effects and the congenial goofiness of David Whitehouse (Dr. Mystery) falling down, Katy Psenicka’s (Fair Maiden) self depreciating boob jokes and Jimmy Mak’s (Vigo) charmingly dumb sidekick. I’m a sucker for the burlesque of it all.

What stood out for me in this year’s Dirty Little Secrets was talented actor Amy Lay. In “Shannon’s Movie Reviews” she played a young girl doing movie reviews on such adult fare as Titanic and teenage boy flick Spiderman. Shannon’s assumptions about the meaning of each motion picture may be skewed but somehow make inexplicable sense. Ms. Lay has the unique ability to play a sweet child one minute and a woman gone wild the next. Sometimes…because of her seemingly innate talent to be both vulgar and innocent at the same time…she is both simultaneously without making the contradiction obvious to the audience. Amy Lay makes this look effortless. It is not. And she brought the house down playing…well…a freshly fucked floozy…in “J.B.F. Hair Products”. Fawning over Heather’s (Ms. Lay) wild and obviously “tussled from sex” hair (just been fucked) are Noelle Grandison and Megan Overholt. I almost fell out of my chair laughing…especially after realizing Ms. Lay wasn’t playing a freshly fucked floozy at all. She was playing a floozy who was selling a hair spray that merely made her look freshly fucked. Ah yes…Ms. Double Entendre strikes again!! And it certainly was not lost on my neighbor Ms. Hardy Har Har. During this skit…thanks to Amy Lay…we all were blaring “BLAAAAH!! HA! HA! HA! HA!” As well we should have been.

A short epilogue: How you like them apples F.C.C.?

Dirty Little Secrets 2K5 runs through June 11 at Easton Towne Center. For more information go to www.shadowboxcabaret.com