H'weener

I know, I know. If you're a narcissistic dysmorphic why are you posting semi-nude pics? Well I happen to think that 'Bean and Dorajar look cute together and should have their images saved for posterity. (With special attention to their spot on impersonations. You can't see'em, but I helped Bean with his forearms.) The other pic, well...I have no idea.

Come to think of it, that last pic of the three of us looks like a strange version of the pieta.

The Passion of the Diaper.

Sheesh...

It was a busy week last week, frassers. All I can provide is a re-dick re-cap of the weekend events:

Friday. I started my day at 5:30 am and didn't get home until close to 1am after doing 3 tours. I was fucking tired, and amazed that I got through it. Needless to say, the following happened-

I didn't wake up until 11am. Yeah. I stumbled downstairs to a quiet roommate and my karate gear-bag by the front door. The coffee I had pre-set to start brewing at 8am was already off, and cold.

In spite of 3 different parties going on Saturday night, I opted for something different: To stay in. This was important on so many different levels I'd rather not share, but sufficed to say staying in with Dorajar, the 'Bean, and Georgie kitty watching that tripe that was "An American Haunting"* was more important to my mental well-being than I can articulate. Very. Important.

Sunday- The 'Bean raked. I ran errands and studied...(And failed another practice exam, miserably.) After naplets and a wonderful happy hour sushi nibble it was time for the Market.


In spite of not being very keen on "couple" costuming, I acquiesed to the 'Bean and Dorajar's request that we do a group adventure for the Market costume contest. (Mama-san was unable to get the magical spidey suit finished in time. And all of my other choices were just...not fun?) So, we were off to make the world a safer place as Popeye (the 'Bean) Olive (the Mo) and Swee' Pea...(Yours truly. With a truly-truly "thrown together at the last minute" ensemble of a baby bottle, bib, pillow case slash diaper w/pin. Yeah. The when the 'Bean asked me if I was going to "shade in my abs" it made me feel very secure in my lack of clothing. Although, he was ultimately super grateful that I agreed to do it, which kind of...kind of softened self-consciousness)

All told, it was a pretty swell evening. We came in 3rd place in the costume contest, to which the 'Bean swears up and down we were robbed. (LOL). I managed to act/look the fool and try to pick up the Pust which only succeeded in me going down on one knee, cracking it on the floor. Ouch-time. Everyone looked spiff-tacular and I continued my record of being a moronic talky-meat when I go to gatherings and there's too much for my ADHD addled brain to process. (ex: Talking smack about ex's, Singing off-key, frassin too much about how I looked douchey.)

So today...we're at today. Is it after Halloween yet? I have all these props but no time to decorate. (sighs) And that kind of bums me out a little. H'ween used to be a time that my fam would decorate the s#it out of our house. Now the best I can muster is two uncarved pumpkins on my counter-top, and a pair of skeletons which only seem to interest the visiting Mormon's who stopped by last night when we were getting ready. (The 'Bean sure scared 'em off.)

Well, my programmable door bell is set on "Spooky" I guess.



Happy Samhain, y'all!


*I was adding commentary during the entire movie. This was only stopped when Dorajar made a comment that the Bell daughter in the movie was about to get a$$-raped by a ghost. This prompted me to say "Well. There it is. Mo-Mo has officially surpassed me in terms of off-color commentary."

Here they are...

Anyone in a pressing hurry to see me act like a stripper...like, all, none of you. : (

Saturday November 11th, and Saturday November 18th. 2 pm matinee's.


Good luck with tix. They're fixing to sell out the run- and tickets so far are between 85-90%. Moneymaker. Shake it. Boom chicka rocka chicka rocka chicka-boom.

A$$le$$ chaps. That is all.



ps- I know, you're all like "Ohhhh baby P, you were soooo coy and now you're Mr. Advertisement". Shut the natural hell up. I realized the error of my ways. It's a great show.

pps- "Hal" in TRP's "Loot". Directed by TLC. Good frassin' times.

What's more important?

Family or theatre?


Family wins. Hands down. I love this pic.



(*Taken on 9/30/06- The 2nd to last day of Ren Fest 2006)

The triumphant return of the banana-hammock...

*Or, "Thank God I didn't buy the thing for one show and I'll have spent the money for 1 lousy gimmick!"

Sometimes there are benefits to being a go-to guy for directors. Usually it comes when you start to feel pretty lousy about not getting cast in a while. Although this gig is...slightly different?

So BCT is doing "The Fuuuuull Monty" and they needing an US. I'm thinking, "okay...they need an understudy. Cool" But no, they need someone to go on for 2 shows. "Okay. Does this mean I'm gonna need to show my dick? It's a thrust stage, right?" This is where the mild panic sets in- Not only am I up to my eyeballs studying for my series license, but I'm gonna have to learn a track/lines/'ography/and music. B@ll$. Flashbacks to 'Schooner at the old HT come to my brain. (For the unitiated, I was called in to US 2 days before they opened. Not US ONE person, but all 5 principle's...riiiiiight. My script looked like I took out multi-color pack of highlighter's and made rainbows on the pages. I panicked NIGHTLY around 6pm on show nights.)


Thankfully, it was for naught. The role is pretty minor in the scope of the run (The stripper who frasses around the "Monty" boys wives while they look on.) but he's in the opening scene. I called the Prod. SM and got an "I love you" before I had even introduced myself which made me feel pretty good. We hashed over the delicate matters of show times, the fact that they are teching next week and that I can watch as many shows as I want to before I'm needed. The biggest (snerk) question I had was "Should I bring my own banana-hammock"? /"Yeeeeeah, why don't you bring it, and we'll see what the costumer has to say. I know you'll be getting break away pants for sure"

These conversations are only a small reason I keep doing theater. I just can't make this shit up.

So yeah. Monty. Stripper. I just got back from karate a few minutes ago, now I'm off to do crunches and jog. Do not ask me to have cake. I'm gonna be frassy about that shit for the next few weeks, yo.

And no, I'm not telling my reader's when I'm going on. The last thing I want is a subversively taken photo of my hammock taken and posted on the internet. That means you, Planet Dan... ; P


Butt-cheek frass

It's kind of cold, or...

Why are we filming on "Hoth"?












(This is an example of the car we filmed in, albeit it was "Gramma's old-couch-Green" but without the smell of menthols. And sans mulleted redneck)

What: 8 hour casino commercial shoot in Bloomington
When: A really cold, cold night in MN.

I want to get my love of commercial and film work out of the way, right away. I. Love. It. Anyone who frasses about live theatre/street work etc...well I understand. I just love being on set, getting frassed over by wardrobe and make-up. Talking to the crew, PA's, and director. I'd like to think I'm getting better at not asking the other actors/crew about gigs, projects, and shit. Actually, I felt pretty fucking good about asking that we all sit together instead of all over. Finding out the cities that everyone lives. (Even though JC laughed and called Saint Paul "Shelbyville"...that almost knocked me off the table it was so funny) Talking about life, and not the job. You know, it's such a different animal than theater and it's way too much fun for me. That said, I'm gonna focus on some of the frassy aspects of the night that did not diminish our fun, but make good fodder for blogstuff:

Show-up, get made up. Even though I brought some wardrobe the director and costumer wanted me in something different. They settled on a cowboy shirt and collegy baseball under jersey. Very, thin, layers. I frass with the makeup guy (CeeB's, who did a bang up job recently on "Requiem" and was an Ass. Prod of that indie gamer movie "Midnight". Cool thing? He told me he'd call me if he needs any other talent. Le. Woot. Althought the current cast is epic in scope and a veritable phone directory of the professional theatre talent currently working in the t.c.)

Pogmyster and I are the "backseat" guys (shuddup) so we're carted in to film our shit first. I brought my gloves with, thinking that it's gonna be fucking cold eventually so I'd better take precautions. Not so much luck. As we sit in the backseat of the big-ass brougham, and as the camera people frass with cords and batteries and cables that don't work, my feet started to get numb. Pog smartly asks for a "blanket or something" which we get (See? Filmaking magic! To the 'Mad-Sconnie' residents who see this would never guess that this climate-less commercial contained two dudes freezing balls on a leather seat.) Two and a half hours later, we're cut. And rush over to craft services to stand by the portable heater and nibble dried fruit. We're called over after frassin' and shoot some more shit before dinner. We're still freezing. The car is still cold. It's at this point I look outside and the crew is walking around in parka's, hats, gloves, and the wardrobe mistress has a look that says "I'm sorry". They bring over shakeable "warming packs" which we proceed to break open and stuff in our shoes. The shot goes long, as the "Cop" actor who'd "pulled us over" is riffing on what to call us:

"Listen up here Ham-slappers"
"All right Cha-chi, you're in Madison"
"Hey there, Turkey-Lurkeys"
"All right 'amigoooo's'...I got some new for you"

Take after take, we stifled our sniggers.

It went on. After a while we asked the director if we could have a take to "ourselves". So, on the "martini" we get the signal and as dude comes up to the car, we bum-rushed him. Some cop. Poor bastard just ran away. Actually funnier than that, he ran THROUGH the car. Tha's how big that sumbitch was.

Finally, FINALLY we did that cop car POV shot when we heard the last call of "check the gate" and that was that. The costumer informed us that the warming house/changing area had closed for the night so they brought our gear to us so that we could change. Ask me where. That's right, in the middle of the street. At midnight. 34 degree's. Suspiciously, the ass't costumer came sauntering up at the moment we were huddled behind the crew-car dropping trou. Right lady. Thanks for checking on our welfare.

Then it was home, 4 hours of sleep, and another day of days.


The, end.


ps: Dinner was "Vesci0's" Italian. Guys, I refuse to endorse this place. The food was oily-ass. Another thing I could frass about but don't: The one big drawback for baby P on evening/overnight shoots is that you don't have much control over what's being served and it's always late late later than I like to eat. (It's bad for your metabolism to eat late. Whine, I know. When I told the 'Bean what we had, his eye's nearly popped out and he immediately fixed himself some rainbow rotini.)

Brrr...

Cold in the car.

Changed outside in 32 degree weather.

Bum rushed the actor playing the cop.

So...cold. If only I'd have brought a camera on-set for proof...

It's not all glamour. Don't let anyone tell you differently...


More later. Brrrrrr...just getting the feeling back.

Friday Friday Friday night...

After a full week of frassin', I'm fixing to have a smidgen of down time this weekend. (Which will end up being filled with 'fu and study-frass, of course.) However, far be it from me to pass up a hot ticket- especially one that may end up being FREE! I've had some peep's ask me to let them know when the next FKW show is, so here you go:

"Dosh"- Record release show! This Friday night at the Triple Rock Social Club. With Fat Kid Wednesday's and Fort Wilson Riot. 9pm. Tix are $8 in advance, $10 at the show.

triplerocksocialclub.com/shows/

Apparently Andrew Bird is supposed to make an appearance which is pretty cool (Mo-ma and Broiler have told me that they really dig his music.) AL told me that we're on "The List"* so it seems a hot ticket has been discovered. Le wOOt!

Anyway, if anyone likes progressive jazz and to be able to see one of the TC's best P-jazz trio's perform, here's your chance.


*This is all subject to possibility/speculation. AL told me that he could get us backstage at the last Paul Simon concert since he knew one of the musician's but it didn't pan out. Pray...and I mean pray...that this doesn't happen. I really would like a night of letting music take me somewhere...


Back to studying.

We never talk...*

At some point...we stopped communicating verbally...











It started so innocently. Jellybean moved in. We started getting the feelers as to how each other operated. There was a period of adjustment, to be certain. After all, up until then my only roommates had been RSvP and exes. The 'Bean's daughter manages a local chain coffee house so I've been promised her weekly allotment since neither he nor daughter imbibe the filthy dark roast which many years ago, o'er took my life. If we run out now, this is the type of message that will now fill the dry erase board which resides on my fridge. It's eventually going to get to the point where we cease talking entirely...the walls of my renovated kitchen covered in strange images that only a latter-day Lord Carnovan will be able to decipher. I imagine in several thousand years when all of our homes have been buried by the following civilizations...future archeologists will puzzle over the strange way their ancestor's communicated.

I've established my legacy without even trying. Wait'll they try and figure out what the drawing's I leave when Georgie-kitten barfs all over the rug and I find it in my bare feet, mean.

I.J.S


* When I was in college...I had this gimmick where I would, in order to introduce myself to someone who I had "heard of" or had seen on stage/in class-but never talked to- Well...I'd be next to 'em at a party and say "-------? We, uhhhhh, we never talk anymore..." It's as good of an icebreaker as any.

Today's a.m. dialogue brought to you by the letter "P"

(On my way to series classes this morning, I stop into the local Holiday en route for some OJ, a water bottle, and a low fat blueberry muffin.)

Check out guy- "COG"
Me- "P"


COG- " ' Kay, we got orange juice, water, annnnnd (spying the opaque pastry bag) uhhhh"
P- "Low fat blueberry muffin"
COG- "Right...(Eyeing more carefully) You got one muffin in there orrrr..."
P- "No No. Uno Muff"


P bursts out chortling at his own pseudo-pervy sense of humor. This is what happens on precious little snooze time.

Up...since...4.


Series 6...taking over my life.


I feel like I haven't been "here" in weeks.

It'll feel nice when this is over. 3 days of instructor led class that starts off with "This will probably be one of the hardest examinations you've ever taken. The NASD wants to trick you on the questions. Skimmers? You might want to re-think how you take exams..."Well, that did tons for my confidence.




INO-

Happy Birthday Momma P. Hope you enjoyed your Indian Niblets last night!

(She got a frame with this pic, and the same pose w/ me, age 13...if I had a scanner, I'd scanner in the morning. I'd scanner in the eveeeeening...Anyway. You know)

Baby P and the Cave Troll...

This is a fearful looking me, next to the relief self-portrait image at "Chambers" last night. Even though it's hard to tell, it's actually kind of like a mannequin sticking out of the wall ("It's like Hagrid-sized" said I/"More like a cave troll" said Mags)

Anyway, I don't know what's scarier. The dude, or the hairstyle to the right of the dude. I need a f#cking haircut.

It's just me...

1- Is it odd that I get a little excited when the handicap stall in the men's room is unoccupied?

2-I hate the cold weather. F#ck a bunch of cold.

3-LJ can blow me. I can't read or post there from work anymore. Rassin' Frassin' firewall...(Technically I shouldn't lambast LJ...it's not like it's their firewall.)

4- In a strange turn of events, I landed the casino commercial gig that I'd written off. Just when I was about to write off my commercial career...poof. (Insert the next 2 year not-getting-cast sabbatical here. Not trying to be pessimistic...just relying on historical data yo.)

5- Go MN Wild

6- Yesterday marked my last day working out in Nipple Grove. I packed up a lot, I mean a LOT of shit. No boxes today. Makes me feel like a corporate transient.

7- The number one question asked of me when I said I was moving was: "Oh no...that's so far" (Most of the 'burbies assumed I lived out in the NW Suburbs. The commute, actually, is pretty much the same...just East-ier)

8- Went and saw "Sylvia" last night at the Pantages. If you own or have ever owned a dog you need to see it. FW was HI-larious and it was nice to see what all the fuss was about. They gave him a pair of Moobs

9- Pre show niblets were enjoyed at Conga Latin Bistro...Go if you can. The Arroz con Pollo was heavenly and the empanada's were teh bomb

10- Post show libation's were had at "Chamber's" which just opened up DT. Weird place. She-She, to be certain. (I think the high-falutin' art was a little off-putting.) The wait-staff wore hotsy totsy designer dresses in lieu of your standard crisp white shirt/black trou you often see at She-She digs. Points for attentive and sweet waitstaff and what's probably a cool outdoor area complete with fiery sacrificial centerpiece. (Too windy and cold to enjoy) Points for being able to hang w/The WW's, Mo-peppa, Mags, SSGF SR, and the cast. Points deducted for the atmosphere. I canna describe it. It was, weird? Maybe it was the martini's. Maybe it was the fact that we were sitting at "the little kids table". Maybe it was the big relief portrait that looked like a cave troll from Lord of the Rings was coming out of a wall. Oompa-Loompa creepy.

11- I seriously need a nap.

12- I'm bummed that I won't get to see "X" perform in "Ain't Misbehavin'" tonight.

13- I'm still full from dinner last night and it's almost lunch time. I need my toast though!

I'm gonna stop. 13 on the 13th.

xoxox

Rockin' Rider

Is there any question why I (That is, the "Royal Me") would like Iggy Pop's concert rider? (You know. The thing bands/performers send out to concert venues b4 they show up, asking for cheese plates. Perrier at room temperature. A weimeraner dressed up like Abe Lincoln.)

Read it. Laugh.

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/1004061iggypop1.html

Fightin' the winter blah's...

And they seem to be winning.
(Photo taken on 8/19. Dorajar's B'day..."day" at Minnehaha Park. 78 degree's and Sunny)











I know I haven't been post-a-saurus rex lately. Last week was sort of a bum week for me. Debbie Downer Douchebag. For starter's- Being w/o my own car for 2 days (And still not fixed) The Full Moon, exhaustion, feeling sickish, not having jogged in too long (Corrected this Sunday, thank you) Panic over tests/routes, Panic over $ (unfounded...but there) bad auditions (Which, surprisingly, I get a callback for. Go fig.) Starting the tours (which always stress me out a little) Cooling weather (Where did my summer go? I have so much more outside I need to finish!) God, I almost went as far as posting a "say something nice about me 'cause I really feel like poo" blog. It accumulated to an uncomfortable point.

And I just ain't that kinda blogger, kittens.

And then I reviewed the weekend and thought to myself: "Shoot. It almost seems the same as last week, you know? Moped and I hit 2 cheapie happy hour after starving ourselves through our respective Friday's. Start at Figlio. Cross to Chino. Have our cheap wine and niblets. Engage in WAY too deep of contemplative conversation. Go home with the intention of taking a quick power nap b4 checking out Oktoberfest- We pass out at 8:30pm. And basically I stayed in bed until 9am the next day. I have become the lamest of lames for the 2nd Friday in a row.

What happened to me? I mean, I'd noticed other people's mood shiftsi. (cough cough...Portana)

But stuff did happen this weekend, yes it did, yes it did. I made the executive decision to-
(A) Accept that Saturdays was going to be close to 80 degrees. And b/c of it prolly being the last nice day of the year- I'm not gonna spend it in the dojo or gym.
(B) I was going to meet some of MeeP's friends who headed up from Lawrence to visit.
(C) We were gonna have brefkist, then check out the Orchard.
(D) I was gonna do the tour with a good attitude brought on by a nice nap.
(E) I was going to listen to AL play some of "The Jazz" at D'Amico Cucina afterwards.

Of course, I have some residual self-loathing at not having worked out or studied. I got over it by the time our food came at Hell's Kitchen (Where you should all. Go. Ralph Steadman art COVERs the walls. Great food. Make reservations) The orchard visit was fine, although brief. (Too many pampies. The lines were too long for the free wine-tasting and we decided that our time would be best spent sitting around my patio- just the 6 of us. Good Times. )

Tour was fine. Cleaned up, headed to D'Amico. Sat down. Nibbled some of the free gourmet chocolate AL hooked us up with. Didn't spend a nickel. Home. Then Bed.

Sunday I set out my "to-do" list: Finish the cedar mulching (check) cover the A/C for winter (Check) bring in the power vac to clean the basement (check)...And I ran. It felt like lightening spiking down my leg (Gotta think about new shoes, again. Frass) But I did run. Oh yes I did.



See, I think it was time for a moment of perspective. I think that"Go Go Go"is fine and all for ekeing every little morsel out of life. I do. But I think that there are merits to being able to sit back and take a deeeeeeep breath...and let out the frass. I was wearing myself out and didn' t even know it.

So, this week good stuff indeed. Dinner with the extended fam tonight. Karate. Working out. Studying. "Sylvia" on Thursday. Toury Tours Frids and Sats.

I'll keep you posted. (No worries if I don't chime in daily.)

For the Curious...

Say "Hi" to the Palacio Del P. My humble abode...abode? Adobe? Acrobats?

Layer's

Name: Harcourt P Parkenfarker-Nelson-Smith-Johnson-Larson
Birthday: My buddy sez I should clam about this, so I’m clamming.
Current Location: Nipple Grove
Hair Color: Dirty Brown
Righty or Lefty: Righty, Kick Lefty.
Zodiac Sign: Capricornicus Pornicus

LAYER TWO: ON THE INSIDE
Your fears: Financial Ruination, Losing My House, Cancer
Your perfect pizza: Luce’ Greek Pizza. Yum-tastic
Goal for future: Get out of debt. Seriously.

LAYER THREE: YESTERDAY, TODAY, TOMORROW:
Your thoughts first waking up: I wonder if I should get up now, or go back to bed. Bed won. Your best physical feature: I have detatched earlobes. (Seriously. I don't see any.)
Your most missed memory: Not missed, but the summer of 1999 was a damn fine summer.

LAYER FOUR: YOUR PICK: Pepsi or Coke: Diet Coke
McDld's or Burger King: BK has the better Grilled Chicken Sammich. Hands down. And Veggie Burgers, Yo.
Single or group dates: Single.
Adidas or Nike: New Balance
Lipton Tea or Nestea: Long Island
Chocolate or vanilla: There’s a time and place for both
Cappuccino or coffee: Coffee. Dark.

LAYER FIVE: DO YOU?
Smoke: I’m smokin’!
Take a shower: I’m a giver not a taker
Think you've been in love: Oh yes. Many times. And it’s fan-fucking-tastic.
Believe in yourself: Not as much as I should.

LAYER SIX: IN THE PAST MONTH
Drank alcohol: Yurp.
Gone to the mall: Nurp.
Been on stage: Yurp.
Eaten Sushi: Oh Yes. Chino Happy Hour people: Cheap, and good.
Been dumped: No
Gone skating: No
Dyed your hair: No

LAYER SEVEN: HAVE YOU EVER:
Played a stripping game: Yup. 1993. After a holiday singing gig. I lost. But the winner was wearing more layers, so I think it was rigged. I’m just glad I was wearing festive holiday skivvies.
Changed who you were to fit in: I’ve tried occasionally when I was younger. I think that plain old flibbertygibbet me is the easiest.

LAYER EIGHT: GETTING OLD:
Age you're hoping to be married: I’m kinda not going to think I’m going to do this for a goodly long while.

LAYER NINE: IN A GIRL/GUY:
Best eye color: Bloodshot or closed.
Best hair color: According to ‘Peppa, apparently I have a penchant for brunettes. Truth is I’ll take what I can get.
Clothing style: Casual to Nakey. Overalls are good. Hip, Urban, Gypsy/Hippy. Just not trendy. Vom.

LAYER TEN: WHAT WERE YOU DOING:
1 MINUTE AGO: This stoopid survey I kiped from my friend.
1 HOUR AGO: Working
1 DAY AGO: See above
1 YEAR AGO:

Wow.
Just getting back from a really lousy Vegas vacation. Finishing my patio. Stubbornly ignoring relationship “red-flags”. Hoping to get out of debt and get married.

LAYER ELEVEN: FINISH THE SENTENCE:

I LOVE: Breakfast
I FEEL: All right.
I HATE: Arrogance. Egocentricism. Judgement. Self-Righteousness. Iceberg Lettuce.
I HIDE: My adult movie collection
I MISS: My friend Ryan. I haven’t seen him a whole heck of a lot lately and this chagrin’s me.
I NEED: A second job.
I WANT: Food

Die-Uh-Monds

Hey folks-

It's been a v.busy and frassy week so I apologize for not being Posty-McPosterson. Come to think of it, it started on Sunday and in spite of a few brief respites it's kept on being non-stop shite.

However.

I'd like you all to give mad props, love, support, and well wishes to MD, Shinobi-Wan, Matty-Boom Boom, and that hack...Wong. All of whom are going to be compete-abling this Friday and Saturday out in St. Paul at the Diamond National Tournament. I won't be able to attend due to work frass (see above commentary on "Shite Week") but I couldn't let it go by w/o giving these might warriors a shout out. Except Wong. The hack.

In the immortal words of RSvP before my first tournament ever:

"Win"

Clod Pants...

There's a good reason I'm not fighting/forming at Diamonds: I need adult supervision at all times and I'd wind up a hazard to myself more likely than not.

I cut my face while shaving, for example. Most of y'all might say "Hmm, people cut themselves shaving all the time." But no, my readers. I literally "cut my face" while shaving. Don't ask how...I cut my face about a half an inch right below my eye.

So, if you saw it and wonder what happened- there it is.

Just back up my story when I say "What happened? I survived having 75 shuriken thrown at me while fighting off ninja's, THAT's what happened!"


Yeah. Durp durp durp durp. Not to mention the fact that I woke up uber-sore today (Why do my hands hurt? Why does my lower back and ribs hurt?) when I realized that "Oh, right, you were doing your 'Circle Jerk Du Soleil" impressions for Linzie last night on the rope swings in your back yard."

Smart man I am. Grrrreeeat. So instead, I'm thinking I'm gonna be a spectator and provide moral support to MD, Shinobi-wan, and Matty Boom-boom. As for Wong?

That hack can fend for himself. ; )

Figures...

So whilst "networking" (snerk) at E's b'day I got hooked up with a last-minute movie gig that was shooting on Sunday. They needed dude's who could (or knew how) to fight as the scene they were filming required a modicum of com-bat. Cool. I'm into it. The director called my cell and left the call-time and directions, so everything seemed good to go.

I headed out nice and early in order to check in and see if there were any additional wardrobe choices that may be necessary. I'm trucking along to the shoot, easily winding my way through the freeway on this glorious gorgeous day in our fair capitol city. Still plenty of time. Do de doooooo, exiting...do deee doooooo, taking a right, do dee doooooo, down to one lane, do dee doooooo "WTF ROAD F#CKING CLOSED?!?!?!?!?)

See. There was this foot race* deal going on. Annnnnnnnd as luck would have it, it was blocking the very street I needed to go to. Everyone gridlocked and apparently freaked out. Some people were trying to do U-Turns to get out. Others just sat there...immobile. (Because "Road Closed" actually means "Brain-function Closed" too.) It was almost maudlynn. I waited, watching the clock tick down toward my call time. When I was finally freed, I found the detour sign that I prayed would take me towards my salvation. Well, if by "salvation" you mean a big fucking circle? I was in the promised land. Ohhhh, I let loose a stream of profanity that would've made a sailor blush. Couple that with the fact that the side streets of Stipples, when cars are lining both sides of the street? And that everybody, I mean EVERYbody coming toward me assumed they had the right of way (Seriously, I had to wait for 6...count'em 6 cars to pass by me before I could make any headway. Steam was coming out of my ear canal by this point.) Although I was not to be daunted. I felt that if I can get back on the freeway I could double back and come at the shoot location from the opposite direction. I'd be late, to be certain, but I would make it. That's about the point my "Check Engine" light came on**.

That's right pampies...after a few weeks of relatively frass free driving my car decideds to overheat the tranny again (RsVP will wanna know this next bit) See, when my engine gets hot and the tranny fluid gets to viscous it causes the tranny to slip. So what happens is I could literally floor the gas- The odometer will go up to, Ohhhhhh, 8,000 RPM's (Try revving you car when you're in "Park" until the rev becomes almost uncomfortable to listen to)

And my car won't go over 20 mph. At this point, I was worried about even getting home.

So I pulled over. I didn't have the director's number. I didn't have any #'s. So I called some folks to let'em know where I was and to vent a little (Thanks Mo and FeeJ. I'm a profane douche) I hobbled home, to my roommates eternal glee. For some sick reason, he gets a kick out of seeing me worked up.

I spent the rest of the day frassin' around the house. Getting PJ's finished before having Linzie and Mo-ped over for supper.

And that kids is how a guy who frasses on his blog about his castability has fate conspire against him in an effort to turn me into a homebody. Boo.


* I left early knowing full well that there was a footrace. I had an inkling it might be traffic-y, just not full on blocked off. Every time I tried to cross the street, at every block...Road-Freakin'-Closed. Crumbs.

** This part is funny. I made an appointment to bring my car in 2 weeks ago for this exact same problem. When I brought it to those same guys 5 months ago when I first started having tranny problems they didn't charge me, told me to by some tranny cleaner, and be on my way. Urgh. I'm gonna have to correct there logic this time.

Age is just a number, baby.

Since we were still starving marvin by the end of the day, we ended up grabbing some (wait for it: Chinese vittles. Did y'all ever notice how Chinese food gets kind of a bad rap in the media? In almost every movie, Chinese food presents bad connotations: "Ms. Doubtfire" they show Robin Williams post-divorce dad feeding his kids Chinese Food when it's his "weekend" with them. "Ghostbusters", they're sitting around eating it while discussing clients and the sarcastic comment is made "This magnificent feast represents the last of the petty cash". "A Christmas Story"? When the X-mas bird is destroyed by the Bumpus's hound dogs, they end up at a Chinese Restaurant. Fa-Ra-Ra-Ra-Raaaaaa-rah-rah-rah-rah indeed. It's like you get Chinese Food and automatically you're being denied a decent "home cooked" meal. Fook that. I find the food to be delicious AND nutritious, thank you.)

So, it was Easy E's big kid 40th b'day on Saturday. Congrats, E, and many happy returns. It was a lot of fun to be able to hang out with peep's who I hadn't seen in, ohhhhh, 5 days? (I was typing this thinking that I usually don't get to see a lot of my friends unless it's rushed in a lobby post-show, when I had seen a majority of these folk on Monday night. Not that I'd remember...but then I'm a bad actor-friend.) Frass was made. Niblets were...nibbled. And we tested the limit as to how many peeps can fit on the porch before it became structurally unsound.

Frankly, I'm looking forward to 40. I've said it before and I'll say it again: I don't plan on really hitting my stride until I'm 50-55. I might decide to run a marathon.

Or sit at home with a glass of sherry, reading Yeats or some shit. Yeah. Yeats. That's scholarly.
Oh who am I kidding. It'll wind up being a PBR and the latest nudie mag. Oh who am I kidding. It'll wind up being a glass of orange juice and the August 1981 back issue of P'boy.

So yeah. It was a nice out-pouring of love for the man. I hope I can get some pipples out for my b'day. Last year was...kind of morose? Heh.

Oh, if you want to see pics of the man in his undiepants I think that you can still check'em out the fringefestival website.

IJS

What. A. DAY!

Despite a rocky start of guilt on Sats a.m. ('Peppa had a couple of guilt inducing phone calls on her cell for missing the previous evenings activities. This is why I'm selective as to who I give my # to. Fewer callers. Less guilt. I honestly don't mean that, in the sense that I occasionally find myself checking for messages when really, who was I expecting to call me in the first place?) we, despite all that frass the day was go-jus. Sunny. Warm. And the perfectly welcome respite for all the cold and dreariness that comprised the past week.

So, we packed up and headed out to Shakopee in order to enjoy the MuRF!

And enjoy we did...after doing a countdown of rows so we didn't lose our car. Although we did end up walking right past it anyway when we left.

Highlighta's:

Eating-
I don't even think we were inside the gates for more than 3 minutes before the assault of carmelly cinnammony goodness forced us to scout out vittles. The finally tally at the end of day after both of us shared 90% of the goodness- Team M and M: Winners (Chicken Gyro, Spinach Pie, Brat for Mo-seph, Teryaki Chicky boob for Baby P, Underwhelming Chipotle Black Bean Soup in a bread bowl, Cinnamon Apfels and Ice Cream...and a couple of pints of beer/wine. No we 86'd the mead and Turkey Leg. And the Arbor Mist Pinot proved to be a mistake.)

Pics:
There's gonna be a picture that'll wind up being my new icon on myspace/friendster etc. Wait for it. And no, it won't be the one of dorajar pointing to the sheep's balls.

Shoppy-shops:
We didn't buy s#it. I thought we woulda, but nope. I think we made off with some high-powered inscense. Her car smelled like chocolate.

Peeps:
Got to see fairiepainter and got into a sniff-off which was good times, but sadly I missed trevmonster, fireboydan, and fitz. (I looked for the rassin' frassin' cage and everything!) The highlight for us was this little...thing? An 11 year girl who was probably the most unhappy bint we'd ever met. She walked with us through the enchanted forest and was probably our hardest audience ever ("Are you from out of state? You sound like you have an accent."/"NO, I'm from CHASKA!"/"Oh. So you're a Chaskan?"/"NO. I'm from CHASKA!"/"Oh.") We ran away. Screaming meemie chitlin='s a bad sign.

We hit a wall right after the parade, so we spit the bit (But not before heading out to Pee Elle to visit RsVP and his mad scientest wife. We checked out their new deck, I got a carpet, and we saw the nursery. They have a nursery. So strange to me. I'm going to be an uncle.)

Yeah. It was a gorgeous day. Go-Jus. And it marks the last type of summer/early autumn "event" of the year before winter. Oh sure, there's gonna be pumpkin patching...hay riding...and most likely a haunted house.

But where will we get to EAT?

Lame. Lame'?

Apologies if I've bored you w/dis story before.

Friday I worked late ('til 6pm) and 'Peppa was gonna come over for some Thai curry goodness. We had planned on hitting Kelly's out in Stipples for a lil' coordinated gathering of buddies. Our RSVP was in. We were committed. We were ready.

After din-din, we still had about 90 minutes to kill, so I suggested a quick power-nap* to help us obtain our second wind before hitting the road. Up the steps we climb, and lay down at approximately 8:45pm.**


Fast forward to 9am.

We're lame as h#ll. And apparently we needed the sleep.


* Yes. By "power nap" I meant "power nap". I reside in the gutter, but that doesn't mean I don't come up for air now and then.

**Granted, we did have a moment of pause around 10:30pm when briefly broke the surface of slumber, both sweating curry and needing to go to the bathroom. We tried moving and realized that it was pointless to try and even get out of bed.