I can not, as a proud adult woman, BEAR to pick up the phone and say to ANYONE “Hello, may I purchase 2 tickets to Kooza, please?” It’s just so … undignified.

But say Stephen got them for me, because he has no trouble saying any word in any language, be it real, made up, or an amalgam of the two (which Cirque would have us believe is how they get all their names of their shows). But then one night Sally calls and asks me if I’ve got any plans this week …

Karen: We’re seeing that new Cirque du Soleil show.

Sally: Oh, which one?

K: The new one.

S: What’s the name of this one?

K: No idea. Stephen bought the tickets.

Well, that I can fake. But then what happens AFTER?

Inquiring Friend: I want to buy tickets to Cirque due Soleil. Have you ever seen one of their shows?

K: Yup.

Friend: Which one?

K: I can’t remember.

Friend: Was it Wintuk?

K: (in tears) BECAUSE I CAN’T!!! (flees room, jumps into convertible Mustang, drives madly along the Pacific Coast Highway accompanied by the swells of violins until car runs off cliff a la Thelma and Louise.)

Sounds stupid? NOT AS STUPID AS “KOOZA”. So please, Cirque, start naming your shows “Twenty” or “Fred” or “Toasted Almonds and Mint”. I’d even see “Gazillion Bubble Show … with Acrobats”. But I just can’t go to something that sounds like something that belongs in a Kleenex.

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