I have no problem with the event. It's a fundraiser, and it's for a good cause—raising much-needed dollars for the Theater Improvement Project at the high school. But to think that anyone would pay to see some sort of performance by me and members of the Los Gatos Weekly-Times staff—well, we should pay you!

Still, Pleasant was anything but when she coerced us into being part of the July 3 show.

"Sandy Decker's going to be in it," she explained. "And so is Mike Wasserman."

Joining the mayor and the first-year councilman will be council members Joe Pirzynski, Steve Glickman and Diane McNutt, Police Chief Scott Seaman, New Millennium Foundation head Joanne Rogers, school officials Cindy Ranii and Trudy McCulloch ... the list goes on and on, and it's a veritable Los Gatos "Who's Who." So how exactly did a "Who's He" get on that list? Well, it turns out that one of our staff members talks too much!

Back in the days my kids were in high school, a group of no-talent dads got together to form a rock 'n' roll group to raise funds for the athletic program. We didn't sing, we played no musical instruments. What we did, simply put, was make fools of ourselves and embarrass our kids ... and raised a few bucks in the process.

We were called, of all things, Little Dickie and the Dingalings, and over a period of about 10 years we became something of a legend in our own minds.

Well, you can imagine my surprise when I was sitting at a meeting a few weeks back when Pleasant started talking about this TIP fundraiser called the Town Follies. She was looking for talent, and she said that someone in the room was a likely candidate.

I looked around to see who it might be. Certainly not Butch Cattolico. Joe Zanardi? No way. Barry Bakken. Yeah, maybe Barry, I thought.

Then she said, "Yes, and he's the editor of our local newspaper."

"Huh?" I grunted.

"It seems that he was in a group called Dickie and the ... "

Oh no! I just shut my eyes and cringed. Seems that someone from our staff shared that very private information, so now I'm paying the price. When she asked the newspaper to be part of the show in front of a room filled with onlookers, what could I say?

It's similar to how my stage career began back when my kids were in high school. A group of parents, proving that beer does indeed cloud good judgment, decided to put on a celebrity impersonation show at the school to raise money for athletics. The ideas started to fly.

One guy decided to be David Letterman and come up with the 10 top reasons why the football team would go to the playoffs that year; another guy, convinced he's the reincarnation of Buddy Holly, offered a rendition of "Peggy Sue"; a couple of moms offered to be the Doublemint Twins.

The ideas, and beer, continued to flow. And I sat back wondering what they'd have for me. Who would I be? Costner, maybe? Possibly Cruise?

"Well, that's not exactly what we had in mind for you," said the booster club president.

Must be someone a little older, I thought. Redford ... or maybe even Newman? I could pull it off.

"Oh, she's not that much older," he said.

" She! " I exclaimed. "Did you say she?"

"Well, yeah," he said meekly. "We'd like you to be Dolly Parton."

"You've got to be kidding!" I screamed. "I can't be Dolly Parton! My hair ... "

"We've got a wig."

"My voice ... "

"We've got a cassette tape."

"My ... "

"We've got that covered, too."

Me, in a dress, dolled up to look like Dolly Parton? I couldn't believe I agreed to do it.

"OK," I said reluctantly, "but I'm not waxing my legs for anyone!"

Obviously, the first thing I had to do was assemble my wardrobe. I'd go with the flowing blue chiffon skirt with matching cashmere pullover sweater, accented by a simple strand of pearls ... with sweat socks and Nikes.

So what in heaven's name does dressing up like a woman have to do with a no-talent roll 'n' roll group? Well, the next year—to ensure that I would never have to strap on bosoms again—I volunteered to become Little Dickie. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Or so I thought until this year.

I have no more talent than I did then (and I had none), and instead of embarrassing my kids I'll just be embarrassing myself.

But I suppose I could look on the bright side—at least I won't have to dress up like a woman.

Though I must admit, that blue chiffon was made for me!

Want to talk? Call me at 408.354.3110, ext. 31, or drop me a note at dsparrer@svcn.com.