Karma is a bitch.
After poking fun at Liza Minnelli's "collapse" earlier this week, the universe decided to teach me a little lesson about laughing at another person's collapse. Especially when that person is a diva.
My hot and eternally young cousin Kristie is in Chicago right now getting ready for her company's show at the Merchandise Mart and we met last night for drinks and a bite at Mambo Grill.
Afterwards, we walked over to LaSalle, said our goodbyes and I then walked about half a block to the bus stop. The sign said that the bus only ran through early evening and since it was around 10:00 p.m., I decided to walk over to the Red Line.
I didn't notice the ice on the other side of the bus stop.
I took one step and down I went. Sideways. On my right leg. With my head crashing hard into the pole that frames the bus stop.
The metal pole sounded like Jaye P. Morgan had smacked her gong and when I grabbed my head, there was a faint trace of blood on my hands.
I made it home - - screaming "Goddamn it" and moaning as I walked... I'm so attractive when I'm in pain - - and I tried to rest. A few hours later came that "Linda Blair pea soup" moment that I could feel coming from the second my head hit the pole.
But I made it through my performance this morning and after a short nap at my desk, I'm feeling much better. And the cut on my head is covered up nicely. Thank God for stage makeup.
So, the score now stands at Liza: One / Stephen: One.
Can we call a truce, Ms. Minnelli? Please?