Again, too much fascination with wikipedia.org. Today feels justified.
The article of the day, care of Wiki:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_erotic_depictions
(Now, I gotta say. If you go right to the wiki homepage and scroll down there is also a featured article on "Furry Conventions". I think those things scare me about as much as clowns, and great white sharks. )
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Head_to_head_clowns.jpg
http://www.duiops.net/seresvivos/galeria/tiburones/Great%20White%20Shark,%20South%20Africa.jpg
Shup. I know the 2nd image off of wiki. All the great white pics they had on there were lame and tame. Made the shark look practically cuddily. Look...at that frassin' mouth. Mo showed me pics of her getting ready to snorkel off of the great barrier reef last night after rehearsal.
I don't know if I could do it?
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Birthday Ninja!
Happy belated birthday to fellow blogger and crazy beautiful Brit chick MD! She's a frassy go-get-em martial artist who...when she isn't trying to kill me, is actually a very nice woman.
; )
Many happy returns you little love-Mick-MUFFIN!
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Don't ask, or?
"Baby it's cold, inside?"
Apparently all the boys in "Monty" received these as closing night gifts. (The ladies received burlesque styled "g-strings") They were a gift from the ass't director, aptly named a "Willy Warmer"
You heard me. I didn't really know I was gonna get this until she asked me what my favorite color shade is. I put two pics up so you could get an idea where, you know...you're bits are supposed to go . No. She did not take measurements. She made them all "one size fits most wieners".
Oh, and sorry I didn't get any costume pics (of any costumes) from "Monty". I was gently reminded that posting pictures of me in assless chaps for the world and family to see was...probably not a great idea?
Meh. If I can re-size them correctly, maybe I can find some more photo's of H'ween '06. They aren't much better in terms of their embarrassment factor.
Ugly baby, Frassy Stripper.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Ha Ha!
Y'all are going to have sooooooooo much shit to read through! Mad props to those of you who actually can make it through my delusions. Madder props to those who offer commentary.
I have a whole role of developed film I had wanted to post, but rassin frassin sizing problems make all of the images look like they were taken in a fun house.
Good Luck, yo!
xoxoxoxoxo
I have a whole role of developed film I had wanted to post, but rassin frassin sizing problems make all of the images look like they were taken in a fun house.
Good Luck, yo!
xoxoxoxoxo
How I got this body, or...
The narcissistic frasser rant...(The Strib runs this article on Sunday's, and the day they use me for a write up will be a looooong way away)
I am humbled to get pegged as a health nut by my friends. Really. I've been able to give workout advice to (quite a few now) TC theatre members and also friends that I really think has helped them to each acheive their own individual fitness goals- whether it's for a show they are in or just for their own personal wellness. I like the feeling that I had a hand in that.
So I thought I'd post my pre-"Monty" workout frass to give y'all an idea as to how I went about my routine to get pseudo-nudeworthy. Forgiveness is begged for y'all who get bored easily by this.
Diet:
I adjusted my cals to the 1500 a day range. Now, for those that subscribe to the RDA standards and think "God, that's so LOW!" I offer this- To get "Cut", you gotta burn more than you take in. To "build" (gain muscle) you need to take in more than you'd normally need. Doi, right. Bodybuilders typically take in 4-5000 calories a day while training just to get contest ready. I didn't have the time for this (The pre-requisite 3-4 hours a day in a gym) so I balanced it out. And really, as a soapbox moment, I think peeps take in more calories daily than they actually need to be function and be healthy. Start by counting the calories on the box. Smaller portions are-in fact- best, even though a majority of people get alarmed when they end up feeling so hungry between meals. For me, hungry means I've waited long enough for the food and it seems justified to nibble again. I was particularly aware of not eating after 7pm and keeping my meals small and evenly spaced throughout the day.
Bkfst:
8am- Banana
9am- Yogurt
10:30 to 11am- Two slices of wheat toast + sugar free jelly
Lunch:
Noon to 1:30 - (Usually) a brothy soup with a bag of freshly chopped spinach, tomato, and garlic.
Snack:
2pm- (Fat free pretzels)
Dinner:
Between 4-7pm. (2 skinless Chicken breasts, Steamed Chinese veggies w/enough for leftovers, Veggie wraps, 3 Boca patties, 1/2 cup of pasta w/veggies etc.)
Booze. Well, I cut it down. No calorie laden wine. No beer. I can't say it was gone-gone. I still buy into Mr. Matthew McConnaughey's philosophy of "Working out hard during the a.m. is to ready yourself for that party at night". Not the best philosophy for getting to be my leanest, but it works for the stressed out working actor.
Exercise:
Run/Jog 3 x's a week.
Weights- Hit every body part (shoulders, arms, legs, chest, back) at LEAST twice a week, higher reps and lighter weight. (Dorajar will attest to my working out my arms/shoulders while we watched "The DaVinci Code") Usually until muscle failure. The last week or so before the show, I started with the iso-metric exercise. (Flexing each muscle until it started shaking. Why? Increases definition and vascularity. That's why)
Typically I like to get to the dojo 2-3 x's a week, but being in a show will often reduce this to nil when rehearsal gets too busy. MD will back me up that jogging after a karate session is just top-shelf. (All that stretching and centering? Oh Yeah. Makes for a heavenly run)
Abs- At least 4 x's a week. On the exer-ball.
That being said, I do miss my gym membership. That is to say, I miss having a chin-up bar or lat machine at my disposal. Dumbbell rows and bench rows just don't cut it for me in terms of back muscle exercise. Maybe I should build a chin-up stand in my back yard?
And as a means of penance-
The past few years I'd been advising welness to folks, I always felt like kind of a poser. I'd work out and all, sure. But still...not much to show physically. Then, about a year ago some personal frass happened, I got depressed, and stopped eating almost entirely (Save for Redwrights plying me with brisket and Southern cooking) when low and behold? I could pull my jeans off, belt and all, without unfastening it. Once the depression quit, I figured I'd get back into a "confort zone" where I'd start eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Thereby gaining the 20lbs back that I'd lost. Well go fig, I actually don't mind the reduction in the # of calories. I actually feel worse now when I do have an opportunity to gorge myself. And I don't like eating too late. Like, say, having to eat dinner at 10:30pm. (Which, before said depression frass, was usually a heaping plate of pesto pasta nightly. Heaping. Like, a half a box of Creamette pasta heaping. Really)
So yeah. Feels good. Try it out sometime. RSvP cut out soda a few months ago and looks fantastic.
I am humbled to get pegged as a health nut by my friends. Really. I've been able to give workout advice to (quite a few now) TC theatre members and also friends that I really think has helped them to each acheive their own individual fitness goals- whether it's for a show they are in or just for their own personal wellness. I like the feeling that I had a hand in that.
So I thought I'd post my pre-"Monty" workout frass to give y'all an idea as to how I went about my routine to get pseudo-nudeworthy. Forgiveness is begged for y'all who get bored easily by this.
Diet:
I adjusted my cals to the 1500 a day range. Now, for those that subscribe to the RDA standards and think "God, that's so LOW!" I offer this- To get "Cut", you gotta burn more than you take in. To "build" (gain muscle) you need to take in more than you'd normally need. Doi, right. Bodybuilders typically take in 4-5000 calories a day while training just to get contest ready. I didn't have the time for this (The pre-requisite 3-4 hours a day in a gym) so I balanced it out. And really, as a soapbox moment, I think peeps take in more calories daily than they actually need to be function and be healthy. Start by counting the calories on the box. Smaller portions are-in fact- best, even though a majority of people get alarmed when they end up feeling so hungry between meals. For me, hungry means I've waited long enough for the food and it seems justified to nibble again. I was particularly aware of not eating after 7pm and keeping my meals small and evenly spaced throughout the day.
Bkfst:
8am- Banana
9am- Yogurt
10:30 to 11am- Two slices of wheat toast + sugar free jelly
Lunch:
Noon to 1:30 - (Usually) a brothy soup with a bag of freshly chopped spinach, tomato, and garlic.
Snack:
2pm- (Fat free pretzels)
Dinner:
Between 4-7pm. (2 skinless Chicken breasts, Steamed Chinese veggies w/enough for leftovers, Veggie wraps, 3 Boca patties, 1/2 cup of pasta w/veggies etc.)
Booze. Well, I cut it down. No calorie laden wine. No beer. I can't say it was gone-gone. I still buy into Mr. Matthew McConnaughey's philosophy of "Working out hard during the a.m. is to ready yourself for that party at night". Not the best philosophy for getting to be my leanest, but it works for the stressed out working actor.
Exercise:
Run/Jog 3 x's a week.
Weights- Hit every body part (shoulders, arms, legs, chest, back) at LEAST twice a week, higher reps and lighter weight. (Dorajar will attest to my working out my arms/shoulders while we watched "The DaVinci Code") Usually until muscle failure. The last week or so before the show, I started with the iso-metric exercise. (Flexing each muscle until it started shaking. Why? Increases definition and vascularity. That's why)
Typically I like to get to the dojo 2-3 x's a week, but being in a show will often reduce this to nil when rehearsal gets too busy. MD will back me up that jogging after a karate session is just top-shelf. (All that stretching and centering? Oh Yeah. Makes for a heavenly run)
Abs- At least 4 x's a week. On the exer-ball.
That being said, I do miss my gym membership. That is to say, I miss having a chin-up bar or lat machine at my disposal. Dumbbell rows and bench rows just don't cut it for me in terms of back muscle exercise. Maybe I should build a chin-up stand in my back yard?
And as a means of penance-
The past few years I'd been advising welness to folks, I always felt like kind of a poser. I'd work out and all, sure. But still...not much to show physically. Then, about a year ago some personal frass happened, I got depressed, and stopped eating almost entirely (Save for Redwrights plying me with brisket and Southern cooking) when low and behold? I could pull my jeans off, belt and all, without unfastening it. Once the depression quit, I figured I'd get back into a "confort zone" where I'd start eating whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. Thereby gaining the 20lbs back that I'd lost. Well go fig, I actually don't mind the reduction in the # of calories. I actually feel worse now when I do have an opportunity to gorge myself. And I don't like eating too late. Like, say, having to eat dinner at 10:30pm. (Which, before said depression frass, was usually a heaping plate of pesto pasta nightly. Heaping. Like, a half a box of Creamette pasta heaping. Really)
So yeah. Feels good. Try it out sometime. RSvP cut out soda a few months ago and looks fantastic.
MOA? WTF?
Traditionally, I used to hit downtown Mipples the day after Thksgvng to putz around. See the 8th floor exhibit of DAYTONS (yes, I said it) and have lunch with my dad. I've gotten away from that in recent years so I decided to do it again this year. Well, after some debate- Dorajar and I decided to forego the DT Mipples trip (Maybe, cough cough, to get FeeJ to come with?) and try to set our sights on a loftier Black Friday goal:
The Mother Loving Mall of America.
And we did. We bought nothing, but that doesn't diminish our pride in tackling that bitch of a mall. And yes, the crazy crazies were out in droves. Great Success.
Afterward, we hit the Lagoon for a mat of "For you Consideration" (A good Guest film. Good. It doesn't help that even if the movie isn't great- the man had me at "Spinal Tap". "A Princess Bride", and a "Guffman" later...I'm his bitch. There, I said it. And even for a lesser Guest film, it was good. Try viewing it as a pure Hollywood satire and I think you'll see what I mean.)
Then home and nap.
Can someone tell me why, for all of it's popularity, H and M sells shit that...for guys...really really likes to accentuate your bits? I'm a 3-pack boxer brief kind of guy, and all the single sale undiepants at H/M were...how shall I put this delicately? Cocktastic?
The Mother Loving Mall of America.
And we did. We bought nothing, but that doesn't diminish our pride in tackling that bitch of a mall. And yes, the crazy crazies were out in droves. Great Success.
Afterward, we hit the Lagoon for a mat of "For you Consideration" (A good Guest film. Good. It doesn't help that even if the movie isn't great- the man had me at "Spinal Tap". "A Princess Bride", and a "Guffman" later...I'm his bitch. There, I said it. And even for a lesser Guest film, it was good. Try viewing it as a pure Hollywood satire and I think you'll see what I mean.)
Then home and nap.
Can someone tell me why, for all of it's popularity, H and M sells shit that...for guys...really really likes to accentuate your bits? I'm a 3-pack boxer brief kind of guy, and all the single sale undiepants at H/M were...how shall I put this delicately? Cocktastic?
Turkey Day Frass...
Well, all my blog buddies are typing this shit...so here's mine:
Wednesday, post-testing- Clean Clean Clean. Mo came over and did the woodwork and helped make the pumpkin cheesecake. Stayed up until midnight house-frassin.
Thursday: Finished spot cleaning and table setting. Set out much of my paltry food accoutrements. 'Bean finishes his bedroom. We shower. Dorajar shows up at 10. Dad shows up shortly after. We help him unpack his stuff. And there is a lot of it. The first round of cocktails are imbibed. (10:30. Dad couldn't resist the allure of a spicy BM)
11:30- Redwright calls with the news that she and Fred got up late and there wouldn't be bird. The joke is lost when I tell her that we have enough food to choke an army regiment. I'm mildly scolded as to how I'm not fun to tease.
The culprits who done showed there faces: WW and their clan, Mo, RSVP + Co, Mom, Dad, 'Bean, 'Bean's daughter.
Noon on: Booze and food. The casualties: Veggie plate, Hawaiian Sweet Potatoes, 3 different kind of stuffing, shrimp, herring, nuts, yogurt covered pretzels, grilled salmon (w/fresh rosemary, lime /lemon, and garlic.) coffee, sweet potato pie, apple pie, pecan pie, pumpkin cheesecake, 3-bean salad, green beans, TWO turkeys (One brined, one not), mashed potatoes, gravy, Cranberry sauce, jello...when does it end?
After bellies were filled, couch spots were appropriated. Mom went to work. RSVP and Co hit the road. Mags and Mo-Mo did dishes. And I started my 3rd beverage. Once the whole of the house cleared, I was able to nap and spit the bit for Eeds to the Prairie for MORE Turkey Day frass at the Palacio del Perry. (Charades, anyone? I'm gonna be a braggy Betty and say that I did, in fact, have the fastest guess/charade time at 7 seconds. Top that bitches.)
Exhaustion set in at 11. I slept the sleep of the dead. And have no recollection of my dreams.
Wednesday, post-testing- Clean Clean Clean. Mo came over and did the woodwork and helped make the pumpkin cheesecake. Stayed up until midnight house-frassin.
Thursday: Finished spot cleaning and table setting. Set out much of my paltry food accoutrements. 'Bean finishes his bedroom. We shower. Dorajar shows up at 10. Dad shows up shortly after. We help him unpack his stuff. And there is a lot of it. The first round of cocktails are imbibed. (10:30. Dad couldn't resist the allure of a spicy BM)
11:30- Redwright calls with the news that she and Fred got up late and there wouldn't be bird. The joke is lost when I tell her that we have enough food to choke an army regiment. I'm mildly scolded as to how I'm not fun to tease.
The culprits who done showed there faces: WW and their clan, Mo, RSVP + Co, Mom, Dad, 'Bean, 'Bean's daughter.
Noon on: Booze and food. The casualties: Veggie plate, Hawaiian Sweet Potatoes, 3 different kind of stuffing, shrimp, herring, nuts, yogurt covered pretzels, grilled salmon (w/fresh rosemary, lime /lemon, and garlic.) coffee, sweet potato pie, apple pie, pecan pie, pumpkin cheesecake, 3-bean salad, green beans, TWO turkeys (One brined, one not), mashed potatoes, gravy, Cranberry sauce, jello...when does it end?
After bellies were filled, couch spots were appropriated. Mom went to work. RSVP and Co hit the road. Mags and Mo-Mo did dishes. And I started my 3rd beverage. Once the whole of the house cleared, I was able to nap and spit the bit for Eeds to the Prairie for MORE Turkey Day frass at the Palacio del Perry. (Charades, anyone? I'm gonna be a braggy Betty and say that I did, in fact, have the fastest guess/charade time at 7 seconds. Top that bitches.)
Exhaustion set in at 11. I slept the sleep of the dead. And have no recollection of my dreams.
Oh, the thing?
Sorry guys. I wish I had better news. I didn't pass the 6. I know I'd been sounding vaguely fatalistic as to my chances of passing the 1st time, but this was one thing I knew for certain. It was a long shot. See, the NASD has a cache' of over 20,000 questions they mix and match to provide a random test sample for the testers. (As a cheat-preventative) My few assurances that the 1st two chapters of the exam guide which were, in fact, the longest and most difficult to navigate would only be (maybe) 2-3 questions? Not so much. I was in the 80-90% range for the last 4 chapters, and not so good on the 1st two. By the tune of 5 questions shy of a pass.
5 fucking questions.
I was pretty bummed, all told. As I was swilling wine over dinner with Mo, she did give me a comfort that I'm gonna stand by:
"Baby, of all the things you could study and test for? This has got to be as far away from your strengths as possible."
True dat. At least I tried. And get two more chances to try before I lose my job.
Oh, anyone have any openings for an energetic go-getter that pays over $40K and is a little closer to my home- lemme know.
Frass.
5 fucking questions.
I was pretty bummed, all told. As I was swilling wine over dinner with Mo, she did give me a comfort that I'm gonna stand by:
"Baby, of all the things you could study and test for? This has got to be as far away from your strengths as possible."
True dat. At least I tried. And get two more chances to try before I lose my job.
Oh, anyone have any openings for an energetic go-getter that pays over $40K and is a little closer to my home- lemme know.
Frass.
Really quick misanthropic rant
I hate pokey patties. I like my job. Don't mind the location. But...fuck. Does everyone in that building walk two abreast and as if they are walking through a pool of Crisco? Doop dee do diddy doop dee do diddy doop. Ye can't pass'em w/o seeming rude.
Hurry the fuck up. My toast is getting cold.
Hurry the fuck up. My toast is getting cold.
Post Show, Post Script, or...
How I am going to be banned from some of the nicer restaurants in the TC.
I met FeeJ, Grooders, Mo-Mo, and Redwright at the Sample Pample for nibbles and wine as a sort of "Hey, I don't have to strip onstage any more for the rest of the year!" celebration. We were wining, dining (butternut squash and pesto make for a BOMB shit pasta sauce, yo. Try it. Quickly now, it's seasonal!) and really frass frass frass. A beautiful thing.
One of the stories traipses into sleep patterns, and Dorajar tells the tale about how I whack her in the face mid-slumber. Not to be outdone, I try to get into the whole "bed hogging" scenario. Where I get up to go to the loo in the wee hours, and come back to her in a pose that is similar to Da Vinci's "Vetruvian Man". No room for buddy. And she takes all the sheets. What? IJS.
And again, in true frassy fashion- I think that a demonstration is in order. You know, so the table can get a better idea of the pose. I look at her and say "Ready?", and before she can respond I shoot my arms out in a cheerleader-esque pose.
Knocking her off of her high-top chair and down onto the floor. Which gathered stares in our direction like the State Fair freak show. Ike Turner, party of one? You can sit next to baby P.
Dora was laughing her a$$ off, but the level of embarrassment/shame/"wtf did I just do" sort of countered any amusement I probably could have garnered. Strangely enough, we had only one commenter stop over and say "Maybe you should stick to restaurants with rubber floors?"
Right. I'm a douche.
(The second party foul, for those keeping score, happened early this year when I tossed a dude to the ground and ripped the shit out of his coat at JP's after KFH. Please. For the love. Don't "attack" someone b/c they are in the arts that are martial. Some of us try to know what we're doing now and then. And your pretty Wilson's leather may get injured)
I met FeeJ, Grooders, Mo-Mo, and Redwright at the Sample Pample for nibbles and wine as a sort of "Hey, I don't have to strip onstage any more for the rest of the year!" celebration. We were wining, dining (butternut squash and pesto make for a BOMB shit pasta sauce, yo. Try it. Quickly now, it's seasonal!) and really frass frass frass. A beautiful thing.
One of the stories traipses into sleep patterns, and Dorajar tells the tale about how I whack her in the face mid-slumber. Not to be outdone, I try to get into the whole "bed hogging" scenario. Where I get up to go to the loo in the wee hours, and come back to her in a pose that is similar to Da Vinci's "Vetruvian Man". No room for buddy. And she takes all the sheets. What? IJS.
And again, in true frassy fashion- I think that a demonstration is in order. You know, so the table can get a better idea of the pose. I look at her and say "Ready?", and before she can respond I shoot my arms out in a cheerleader-esque pose.
Knocking her off of her high-top chair and down onto the floor. Which gathered stares in our direction like the State Fair freak show. Ike Turner, party of one? You can sit next to baby P.
Dora was laughing her a$$ off, but the level of embarrassment/shame/"wtf did I just do" sort of countered any amusement I probably could have garnered. Strangely enough, we had only one commenter stop over and say "Maybe you should stick to restaurants with rubber floors?"
Right. I'm a douche.
(The second party foul, for those keeping score, happened early this year when I tossed a dude to the ground and ripped the shit out of his coat at JP's after KFH. Please. For the love. Don't "attack" someone b/c they are in the arts that are martial. Some of us try to know what we're doing now and then. And your pretty Wilson's leather may get injured)
But, it's so beautiful...
The day, people. MN in November can be frassy. Let's enjoy the sunshine, sunshines!
No? Wondering how the hammock show went?
So it's done, anyway. I will strip, no more, forever. Last sats, I got up mighty early to hit the "Lear" cb. (Which went, well? I wudn't cast, to which I am no for tripping. It was literally a "who's who" of the TC small teatro' mafia scene. A- I wasn't surprised by the fact I wasn't cast and B- It would have been intimidating as fuck to work w/some to most of them. I'm interested to see where it goes. As a PS to this, I walked outta "Lear" at the flying G back in 1995. By act 2, I was dying. Die-Ing. I was really kinda bored. Way bored. Like "Hey...I'm watching Shakespeare" bored. Tell me a story.) Anyway, a 10am callback. 10 am callbacks should be outlawed. Everyone knows that actors don't get done puking until noon.
Then it was off to BCT. I tell ya, it's weird coming in to do shit like this. On top of being a last minnit understudy (Where you don't have the rehearsal process to make those initial connections/relationships. Shit that I still think is important to making a cohesive show. Me? I just show up, get a costume, and hope I don't fuck up too much) I was a last minnit understudy who did, in fact, need to take off almost all of my clothes.
Quick rumination: This came up in a Strib article a few weeks ago re: Stage Nudity. Now, if the show was right and it was in context, I'd do it. Fine. It's a part of life, yadda yadda yadda (And for anyone that actually saw "Bug" at the PHT, you know that it is a part of the story. Again, I need to say this: Brave actors) But someone said in the above referenced article "It's easier to just either be on stage nekkid, or to start the scene nekkid rather than taking your clothes off"
No shit. I give these strippers (And I say stripper. Not "Hey, look! I'm already nakey! C'mon, guys and gals. Put something INTO it) credit. I thought that I could just get up there and do some half assed club kid pelvic thrusting and then disrobe like a virgin on prom night. Not so much. So yeah. I can't pat myself on the back for having done it, but I still need the acknowledgement out there- Hard stuff.
So diet wise, I was a little more cut the previous week. (For the dietary nerds- I think I hit my water table a day late. Not as much vascularity and an increased smoothness around where it needed NOT to be) I push upped backstage while fielding questions from the cast 14 year old regarding the new Spidey movie. I flexed and worked on getting a pump before going on. (To the point that my body ACHED the next day. You want pain? Try flexing your arm ala' Arnold. Now, hold it. Hold it. Hooooold it. Isometric exercise sucks balls) And I did my thing.
Right before I went on, one of the casties sez "I like it when Eddie jiggles his butt. Can you do that?" Sure. So, the tear aways come off for the final reveal (around the time the guitar riff starts in "Hot Stuff") I flex, turn, and do it. Wobble wobble. Robble robble.
Clearly, my mother is on holiday.
The hard part being over (Behind the unrehearsed and completely improvised Ball room dance scene) I hung up my shit and waited for curtain. The question in my mind is, who in the name of fuck is going to get that banana hammock? Most theatres I know of keep a stock of "stock" costumes from previous performances- Or hold annual sales around H'ween. I can't imagine the pervy motherfrasser who'd buy either one of our thongs. Ish-kabob.
Post show I skidaddled toute suite so I could EAT (Having not eaten since 8am...by 5pm I was a hungry hippo) I was about to frass with Redwright as to our nibbly destination when I was passed by an elderly woman, slowly moving toward the exit. Her arms touches mine, ever so briefly, and in a very conspiratorial fashion (I imagine, so that her hearing aided hubby ahead of her couldn't hear) she sez out of the corner of her mouth:
"Nice buns"
Thank you? (sigh) Well. Those sexy seniors ARE in fact my demographic.
'Nother one bites the dust.
No? Wondering how the hammock show went?
So it's done, anyway. I will strip, no more, forever. Last sats, I got up mighty early to hit the "Lear" cb. (Which went, well? I wudn't cast, to which I am no for tripping. It was literally a "who's who" of the TC small teatro' mafia scene. A- I wasn't surprised by the fact I wasn't cast and B- It would have been intimidating as fuck to work w/some to most of them. I'm interested to see where it goes. As a PS to this, I walked outta "Lear" at the flying G back in 1995. By act 2, I was dying. Die-Ing. I was really kinda bored. Way bored. Like "Hey...I'm watching Shakespeare" bored. Tell me a story.) Anyway, a 10am callback. 10 am callbacks should be outlawed. Everyone knows that actors don't get done puking until noon.
Then it was off to BCT. I tell ya, it's weird coming in to do shit like this. On top of being a last minnit understudy (Where you don't have the rehearsal process to make those initial connections/relationships. Shit that I still think is important to making a cohesive show. Me? I just show up, get a costume, and hope I don't fuck up too much) I was a last minnit understudy who did, in fact, need to take off almost all of my clothes.
Quick rumination: This came up in a Strib article a few weeks ago re: Stage Nudity. Now, if the show was right and it was in context, I'd do it. Fine. It's a part of life, yadda yadda yadda (And for anyone that actually saw "Bug" at the PHT, you know that it is a part of the story. Again, I need to say this: Brave actors) But someone said in the above referenced article "It's easier to just either be on stage nekkid, or to start the scene nekkid rather than taking your clothes off"
No shit. I give these strippers (And I say stripper. Not "Hey, look! I'm already nakey! C'mon, guys and gals. Put something INTO it) credit. I thought that I could just get up there and do some half assed club kid pelvic thrusting and then disrobe like a virgin on prom night. Not so much. So yeah. I can't pat myself on the back for having done it, but I still need the acknowledgement out there- Hard stuff.
So diet wise, I was a little more cut the previous week. (For the dietary nerds- I think I hit my water table a day late. Not as much vascularity and an increased smoothness around where it needed NOT to be) I push upped backstage while fielding questions from the cast 14 year old regarding the new Spidey movie. I flexed and worked on getting a pump before going on. (To the point that my body ACHED the next day. You want pain? Try flexing your arm ala' Arnold. Now, hold it. Hold it. Hooooold it. Isometric exercise sucks balls) And I did my thing.
Right before I went on, one of the casties sez "I like it when Eddie jiggles his butt. Can you do that?" Sure. So, the tear aways come off for the final reveal (around the time the guitar riff starts in "Hot Stuff") I flex, turn, and do it. Wobble wobble. Robble robble.
Clearly, my mother is on holiday.
The hard part being over (Behind the unrehearsed and completely improvised Ball room dance scene) I hung up my shit and waited for curtain. The question in my mind is, who in the name of fuck is going to get that banana hammock? Most theatres I know of keep a stock of "stock" costumes from previous performances- Or hold annual sales around H'ween. I can't imagine the pervy motherfrasser who'd buy either one of our thongs. Ish-kabob.
Post show I skidaddled toute suite so I could EAT (Having not eaten since 8am...by 5pm I was a hungry hippo) I was about to frass with Redwright as to our nibbly destination when I was passed by an elderly woman, slowly moving toward the exit. Her arms touches mine, ever so briefly, and in a very conspiratorial fashion (I imagine, so that her hearing aided hubby ahead of her couldn't hear) she sez out of the corner of her mouth:
"Nice buns"
Thank you? (sigh) Well. Those sexy seniors ARE in fact my demographic.
'Nother one bites the dust.
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Hey all...
I've been s#itting my pants over Series study time. When it's all over, said and done, I'll frass about last weekend. Prolly after Turkey Day. Some highlights:
My diet
My last time taking my clothes off on stage.
The old lady who was nearly walker bound walking past me saying conspiratorially: "Nice buns"
Knocking Dorajar on her a$$ demonstrating how she takes over the bed in her sleep. This will mark the 2nd time in the last 12 months I've taken someone out in a nice restaurant. This is why I can't have nice things.
There's more, I'm sure...but I'm still in freak out mode. And getting my house ready for company mode.
Ugh.
My diet
My last time taking my clothes off on stage.
The old lady who was nearly walker bound walking past me saying conspiratorially: "Nice buns"
Knocking Dorajar on her a$$ demonstrating how she takes over the bed in her sleep. This will mark the 2nd time in the last 12 months I've taken someone out in a nice restaurant. This is why I can't have nice things.
There's more, I'm sure...but I'm still in freak out mode. And getting my house ready for company mode.
Ugh.
Thursday, November 16, 2006
Sometimes it's really cool to have a frassy grump jazz musician as a friend. I JS.
Fat Kid Midweek'll be playin' the Cedar tonight and oh, wait? Who's on the list? That's right-This guy, right here. (Sorry, Hadda brag for a minnit. It sounds so falutin' when you can say that you're "on the list". All I know is that it means I don't hafta pay. wOOt!)
So if you're in the 7 corners 'hood and wanna see some reeeeeeally good jazz- Here's where ya go:
http://www.thecedar.org/fat_kid_wednesdays
CD Release party, btw. "Seedy Release"...
Fat Kid Midweek'll be playin' the Cedar tonight and oh, wait? Who's on the list? That's right-This guy, right here. (Sorry, Hadda brag for a minnit. It sounds so falutin' when you can say that you're "on the list". All I know is that it means I don't hafta pay. wOOt!)
So if you're in the 7 corners 'hood and wanna see some reeeeeeally good jazz- Here's where ya go:
http://www.thecedar.org/fat_kid_wednesdays
CD Release party, btw. "Seedy Release"...
Tag, You're it!
I come home the other day to a Frassy 'Bean, who informs me that our neighbors discovered graffitti on my garage. Gaaaaang graffitti. So, I call up the Mipples PD "Graffitti Alert Team" (Yes, they have one) report my s#it (Where they ask you ridiculous questions like "What does it say?"/"Well I don't rightly know, ma'am- I'm no symbologist.") and I now have 10 days from today to paint over it.
Sighs...
On the bright side, b/c I have a POS Model T garage I'm less upset than I probably would have been had it been a brand new 3 car garage with an aluminum door. So, if anyone has a new garage lying around somewhere that you aren't using, you let this guy know.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Yeah.
I wore it. Shup. Listened to "Hot Schtuff" close to 89 times that morning. Put on a fake tattoo on my "Davids" (Right next to the hip bone. I picked the Chinese kanji for "courage", which I figured I needed.) Got to the theatre. Went over my blocka-blocking. Put everything on. Did some push-ups and sit-ups backstage before going on. Had a mild panic-attack when I thought the saddle bags were, in fact, hanging loo-right as the song started. (They weren't. At least I don't think they were?) Heard one laugh. Threw my clothes off every which ramshackle way they'd go in what I had hoped would be the semblence of rhythm, sultryness, and practiced skill. (I'm laughing at myself for actually writing that last bit)
And that was that.
Quite liberating. Really. I was told later that the dance was "above adequate". One of the follow spot guys said "No one told me what you were doing, so I just kinda went with it." Which I translate into a whirling dervish of a striptease.
The next day I woke up with what felt like a swollen knee, torn groin muscle going down to said knee, frassy neck, and a sore set of teets + arms. (I did a lot of push ups. A lot.) And shit, I wasn't even in a Jiu Jitsu tournament.
One more show to get it right, then it's off to either Holy Land or the Chutney Indian buffet.
And that was that.
Quite liberating. Really. I was told later that the dance was "above adequate". One of the follow spot guys said "No one told me what you were doing, so I just kinda went with it." Which I translate into a whirling dervish of a striptease.
The next day I woke up with what felt like a swollen knee, torn groin muscle going down to said knee, frassy neck, and a sore set of teets + arms. (I did a lot of push ups. A lot.) And shit, I wasn't even in a Jiu Jitsu tournament.
One more show to get it right, then it's off to either Holy Land or the Chutney Indian buffet.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Remind me again...
Why I have a break apart suit hanging by the front door, facing certain death by going onstage in front of a matinee crowd filled with blue hairs, my SO, family etc...in pretty much a degrading pair of leopard print undiepants?
Oh. Right. That obnoxious trait where you imagine yourself as a "hero" that swings in and saves the day when you get a phone call that says "Hey, can you help us out?" Pshaw.
Is it weird that I think doing a show where full on nudity is involved (and part of the story, ala' "Take me Out", "Bug", or "Bent") isn't a big deal, and this show (where I at least have a modicum of coverage) feels kind of weird?
Probably. Meh.
No worries.
ALTHOUGH! It has given rise (heh heh) to a very funny idea for a Christmas Card!
Informal Poll. (GET ON MY INFORMAL POLE!!!!!)
Should my X-mas card be either:
A) Me in the a$$less chaps/cowboy stripper ensemble with a piece of paper held over me bits that says "Happy Holidays!" OR-
B) Me dressed as Santa, fighting a Ninja.
I have a feeling I know who's gonna answer what.
Oh. Right. That obnoxious trait where you imagine yourself as a "hero" that swings in and saves the day when you get a phone call that says "Hey, can you help us out?" Pshaw.
Is it weird that I think doing a show where full on nudity is involved (and part of the story, ala' "Take me Out", "Bug", or "Bent") isn't a big deal, and this show (where I at least have a modicum of coverage) feels kind of weird?
Probably. Meh.
No worries.
ALTHOUGH! It has given rise (heh heh) to a very funny idea for a Christmas Card!
Informal Poll. (GET ON MY INFORMAL POLE!!!!!)
Should my X-mas card be either:
A) Me in the a$$less chaps/cowboy stripper ensemble with a piece of paper held over me bits that says "Happy Holidays!" OR-
B) Me dressed as Santa, fighting a Ninja.
I have a feeling I know who's gonna answer what.
To give you an idea...
Of how fastiduous and ridiculous I am about this Understudy gig, I wanted to print out the music lyrics to the song I'm supposed to disrobe to. It's a cut, see, and like I've been telling folks: as long as I know how much time I have, and at what points I need to take off what-I'll be aces and applesauce. So I'm googling the lyrics and I have a WTF epiphany. Read'em or not, these are lyrics that you'd have been better off hearing the opening riff at a bar (after you 3rd or 4th cocktail) and going "Ahhhhhhhh! C'mon c'mon c'mmm (hic) ON! Isssss thhish shong!"
As a "ps", it was written by Harold Faltermeyer. The genius behind the memorable soundtracks to "Beverly Hills Cop" and "Top Gun". Yeah. Stick with instrumentals and synth's, Harry. These lyrics just ain't poetry. But really, who the fuck am I to judge?
By means of a "PPS". Eddie, the dude I'm understudying (And who after 2 weeks of a run I was hoping would start to sag or get flabby. But Noooooooo. He's still fucking cut. Prick.) told me that the original score for the stripper was just a cheesey vamp. They ki-boshed it in lieu of this lil' ditty.
By means of a "PPPS". If y'all remember the movie, this is the song that's playing in the "unemployment" section when the guys start dancing in line.
By means of a trivial "PPPPS", Prince Charles shot a commercial in England lampooning this very same scene.
HOT STUFF
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'
Waitin' for some lover to call (This means what now?)
Dialed about a thousand numbers lately
Almost rang the phone off the wall (Time for Internet dating, Donna)
CHORUS:
Lookin' for some hot stuff baby this evenin' (Ever try curry?)
I need some hot stuff baby tonight (Maybe Don Pablo's?)
I want some hot stuff baby this evenin' (okay)
Gotta have some hot stuff (Enough, dammit...we underSTAND!)
Gotta have some lovin' tonight (Ya ever try loving yourself? It's the first road to recovery)
I need hot stuff
I want some hot stuff
I need some hot stuff (Now this is just silly. By this time the listener should be at the store, buying tabasco for this poor woman. Clearly she's capescin deficient)
Lookin' for a lover who needs another
Don't want another night on my own (I may have read this wrong, but does this mean that she wants a 3-some?)
Wanna share my love with a warm blooded lover
Wanna bring a wild man back home (Right. Clearly Donna is tired of sex with reptiles, and has decided that mad hot yeti-sex is the way to go. Beware of mites, Donna. He's been outdoors for a long time)
REPEAT CHORUS
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out, no reason (Wow. This seems so, Aztec, of her)
Won't spend another night on my own (Cooooo-dependency issues.)
I dialed about a hundred numbers baby (A sure path to carpal-tunnel, wait and see)
I'm bound to find somebody home (Well sure. This is about as stupid as finding the weird names in the phone book and calling them. "Hi, is Sam Yang there?"/"No, this is Tim Yang"/"Oops! Looks like I rang the wrong Yang!" Donna Donna Donna. Your childish phone pranks are soooooo 7th grade, and a little bit insensitive. It's time we grew up, don't you think?")
REPEAT CHORUS (fade)
As a "ps", it was written by Harold Faltermeyer. The genius behind the memorable soundtracks to "Beverly Hills Cop" and "Top Gun". Yeah. Stick with instrumentals and synth's, Harry. These lyrics just ain't poetry. But really, who the fuck am I to judge?
By means of a "PPS". Eddie, the dude I'm understudying (And who after 2 weeks of a run I was hoping would start to sag or get flabby. But Noooooooo. He's still fucking cut. Prick.) told me that the original score for the stripper was just a cheesey vamp. They ki-boshed it in lieu of this lil' ditty.
By means of a "PPPS". If y'all remember the movie, this is the song that's playing in the "unemployment" section when the guys start dancing in line.
By means of a trivial "PPPPS", Prince Charles shot a commercial in England lampooning this very same scene.
HOT STUFF
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out waitin'
Waitin' for some lover to call (This means what now?)
Dialed about a thousand numbers lately
Almost rang the phone off the wall (Time for Internet dating, Donna)
CHORUS:
Lookin' for some hot stuff baby this evenin' (Ever try curry?)
I need some hot stuff baby tonight (Maybe Don Pablo's?)
I want some hot stuff baby this evenin' (okay)
Gotta have some hot stuff (Enough, dammit...we underSTAND!)
Gotta have some lovin' tonight (Ya ever try loving yourself? It's the first road to recovery)
I need hot stuff
I want some hot stuff
I need some hot stuff (Now this is just silly. By this time the listener should be at the store, buying tabasco for this poor woman. Clearly she's capescin deficient)
Lookin' for a lover who needs another
Don't want another night on my own (I may have read this wrong, but does this mean that she wants a 3-some?)
Wanna share my love with a warm blooded lover
Wanna bring a wild man back home (Right. Clearly Donna is tired of sex with reptiles, and has decided that mad hot yeti-sex is the way to go. Beware of mites, Donna. He's been outdoors for a long time)
REPEAT CHORUS
Sittin' here eatin' my heart out, no reason (Wow. This seems so, Aztec, of her)
Won't spend another night on my own (Cooooo-dependency issues.)
I dialed about a hundred numbers baby (A sure path to carpal-tunnel, wait and see)
I'm bound to find somebody home (Well sure. This is about as stupid as finding the weird names in the phone book and calling them. "Hi, is Sam Yang there?"/"No, this is Tim Yang"/"Oops! Looks like I rang the wrong Yang!" Donna Donna Donna. Your childish phone pranks are soooooo 7th grade, and a little bit insensitive. It's time we grew up, don't you think?")
REPEAT CHORUS (fade)
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
Surreal, yet still professional
Sooooooooo, I hadda try it on last night. The sock, hammock...(sighs) I'm getting weary just making up names for thong undiepants. In front of two costumer's and a producer, I "practiced" ripping off the breakaway trousers (Get this: They buy a 3-piece gray pinstripe suit from KG and deconstruct it to be "Stripper Ready". Breaks the heart, kind of. Perfectly beautiful 3 piece suit now covered with hidden snaps and velcro.) I then "practiced" putting on the chaps that I'll be wearing for all of 2 minutes of stage time. They're giving me the completed outfit so I can "practice" taking it off at home.
Doesn't that sound suspiciously like those "At home Strip-Aerobics" that Carmen Electra pimped a few years ago? I have no room for a pole in my home. Although a fireman pole would make for a great addition. (Note to self: Consult Home Depot guidebook regarding at-home firemans poles.) Doesn't everybody want to stay in a place like the "Ghostbusters"?
Speaking of lame-ass home workouts...I give you: the Urban Rebounder. ( http://www.urbanrebounding.com/) When the fuck does a mini-trampoline get renamed and pimped on QVC? For tummy exercises I'll LAUD the praises of the exer-ball (Which is, what? A reinforced beach ball) but f#ck a bunch of b#llshit...the only thing mini-tramps are good for was trying to use'em to make dunk-shots on our basketball hoop at home and usually launching ourselves into the pole.
Hey. Maybe Mom and Dad'll let me go to the old place in BeeP's and uproot the basketball pole to make into my fireman pole? Maybe I can do it by this weekend I'll have something to practice my number on....
Oops. That was an out loud comment. But kinda cool how I made this thing come full circle like I did, yeah?
And did you know that "Monty" is now sold out for the entirety of the run? 100%. Even on "Half-priced Hammock" Saturday matinee's I'm doing.
Bring your rubber "coin football". I'm sure all the blue-hairs will.
Doesn't that sound suspiciously like those "At home Strip-Aerobics" that Carmen Electra pimped a few years ago? I have no room for a pole in my home. Although a fireman pole would make for a great addition. (Note to self: Consult Home Depot guidebook regarding at-home firemans poles.) Doesn't everybody want to stay in a place like the "Ghostbusters"?
Speaking of lame-ass home workouts...I give you: the Urban Rebounder. ( http://www.urbanrebounding.com/) When the fuck does a mini-trampoline get renamed and pimped on QVC? For tummy exercises I'll LAUD the praises of the exer-ball (Which is, what? A reinforced beach ball) but f#ck a bunch of b#llshit...the only thing mini-tramps are good for was trying to use'em to make dunk-shots on our basketball hoop at home and usually launching ourselves into the pole.
Hey. Maybe Mom and Dad'll let me go to the old place in BeeP's and uproot the basketball pole to make into my fireman pole? Maybe I can do it by this weekend I'll have something to practice my number on....
Oops. That was an out loud comment. But kinda cool how I made this thing come full circle like I did, yeah?
And did you know that "Monty" is now sold out for the entirety of the run? 100%. Even on "Half-priced Hammock" Saturday matinee's I'm doing.
Bring your rubber "coin football". I'm sure all the blue-hairs will.
Getcher Sticker!
That's right you sexy bitches. You're looking at voter # 291 at the NE Mipples Middle School Media Center/Voting Center! First time registering in my 'hood too! I went there with my lil' Driver's Licsense, and my Lil' Utility bill and did me some voting! It's weird, but every time I remember voting I always feel really really good when I leave. And this time proved to be no exception.
Seriously? Citizens? Get your asses to the polling stations and vote.
Monday, November 06, 2006
'Bean on the Log!
Hey everyone-
Send positive vibes to my roommate, El 'Bean! Today marks his first day departing from the daily grind to pursue full-time acting over the next few months at the Old Blog Theatre. He's duly excited/nervous, and is gonna be focusing his energy into making it a great show!
Quick Quick Quick Re-cappa!
Called in sick on Friday after feeling kind of frassy. The day did wonders for me, as I was able to clean the house top to bottom in what felt like the first time I was able to do so in AGES!
That night Mo-Mo and I saw "Bug" at the Pillsbury House Teatro'. Great play. Amazing, even. The actor's were fearless. So good, and so terrifying it was that I'm gonna give it the "Requiem for a Dream" stamp and say that it's one of the best plays I never want to see again. We hit Preston's afterward for thingytails and frass and I'll just finish my Friday re-cap with this statement: "I hate the Pooost". Really. Free booze? Yeah. Buh-lotto. Thanks for driving Mo-M0. And sorry for locking you out, 'Bean. I'm a tool. (But now we're even...buh-wah-hah-haaaaa!)
Sats was nursing the hangover-iest hangover in hangoversville- After opting out of a matinee of "Borat", I schlepped out for an epic run to sweat the nasty booze toxins out. I futzed through some more errands before hooking up w/Mi-Mo-Sa and heading to Que Viet Village House to further our investigation into trying/supporting local Nordeast Eateries. (Not bad, btw, and reasonably priced. Pork Egg Rolls the size of a bowling pin.) Then it was off to Stipples to wish NicJoy a happy happy b'day where we were entertained by a frassy kitten, a frassy pampie, and a yuge turkey turkey buck buck. (Is it true? Thanksgiving is in how many weeks?)
Home. Then Bed.
Sunds was Fun-ds. After slowly dragging our buns outta bed, we systematically lost several of the individdles who were going to head out to Block E and watch a matinee of "Borat". Still, we made it:
And it was quite possibly one of the funniest fucking movies I've seen in a long time. Go. See. It. If you have any love of satire. Yeah. That's gonna be a blog for another time.
We coffee shopped it @ Diamond's in order to get our rassin' frassin' studying done before heading back to entertain company at mi casa. Mo, Linzie, Ry-Gonn (Who I hadn't seen in, ohhhhhh, two months?) and the 'Bean broke bread together 'round the dinner table...or rather broke sticky rice and Steamed mixed veggies/lo-mein together before heading up to see the most "meh" movie: "The Ringer". Yes, it was a Johnny Knoxville vehicle (Whatever that means) Yes, it was about a guy trying to jerry-rig the Special Olympics by pretending to be developmentally disabled. Yes, we had a few forced guffaws at some of the jokes. Still, meh. About as good as we expected, just not good enough to recommend.
Back at it, Frassers...WORK!
That night Mo-Mo and I saw "Bug" at the Pillsbury House Teatro'. Great play. Amazing, even. The actor's were fearless. So good, and so terrifying it was that I'm gonna give it the "Requiem for a Dream" stamp and say that it's one of the best plays I never want to see again. We hit Preston's afterward for thingytails and frass and I'll just finish my Friday re-cap with this statement: "I hate the Pooost". Really. Free booze? Yeah. Buh-lotto. Thanks for driving Mo-M0. And sorry for locking you out, 'Bean. I'm a tool. (But now we're even...buh-wah-hah-haaaaa!)
Sats was nursing the hangover-iest hangover in hangoversville- After opting out of a matinee of "Borat", I schlepped out for an epic run to sweat the nasty booze toxins out. I futzed through some more errands before hooking up w/Mi-Mo-Sa and heading to Que Viet Village House to further our investigation into trying/supporting local Nordeast Eateries. (Not bad, btw, and reasonably priced. Pork Egg Rolls the size of a bowling pin.) Then it was off to Stipples to wish NicJoy a happy happy b'day where we were entertained by a frassy kitten, a frassy pampie, and a yuge turkey turkey buck buck. (Is it true? Thanksgiving is in how many weeks?)
Home. Then Bed.
Sunds was Fun-ds. After slowly dragging our buns outta bed, we systematically lost several of the individdles who were going to head out to Block E and watch a matinee of "Borat". Still, we made it:
And it was quite possibly one of the funniest fucking movies I've seen in a long time. Go. See. It. If you have any love of satire. Yeah. That's gonna be a blog for another time.
We coffee shopped it @ Diamond's in order to get our rassin' frassin' studying done before heading back to entertain company at mi casa. Mo, Linzie, Ry-Gonn (Who I hadn't seen in, ohhhhhh, two months?) and the 'Bean broke bread together 'round the dinner table...or rather broke sticky rice and Steamed mixed veggies/lo-mein together before heading up to see the most "meh" movie: "The Ringer". Yes, it was a Johnny Knoxville vehicle (Whatever that means) Yes, it was about a guy trying to jerry-rig the Special Olympics by pretending to be developmentally disabled. Yes, we had a few forced guffaws at some of the jokes. Still, meh. About as good as we expected, just not good enough to recommend.
Back at it, Frassers...WORK!
Quick Rant...
b/c it pissed me off. A lot.
My veeeehicle was Christina Aguilera dirty so after getting some petrol at the local station, I opted for a quickski car wash to 86 the accumulating grime. (And the peppering of bird poop that had been speckling my roof for the last week or so.) So we all know that we had some nicer weather this weekend (wOOt) and the sun finally started peeking through the clouds. After gassing up, I noticed a strange whirly pattern that was on the trunk of my car. Upon further inspection, it seemed to take the mysterious shape of a kids tennis shoe. So my gaze travels up to the roof. Now...it was a little hard to tell due to the dust, but it seems that they pulled a half assed parkour and decided to use my car as a part of their race track. 'Kay.
Now, it isn't that I have a grand aesthetic love for my car. Over the past 6 years it's experienced its fair share of dings and bumps. All part of the character. So as long as the kid who was doing the car hopping wasn't a heifer I wasn't too worried. (I've developed a hairline fracture on the windshield after the very first freeze that I hadn't gotten around to replacing in the hoy palloy which was my office move)
Except-
After getting out of the car wash I actually finally notice a very slight indentation. Very. Slight.
It was at that point that I thought if I found those maggot gate mother fuckers in the act of brainless foolishness- they would have been in a world of hurt. Seriously. Iiiiiiiiii, kinda would have wanted to hurt them. No. Yes...really got pissed.
The 'Bean told me that there was an armed robbery recently in my 'Hood which had him a little frassy the other morning. I said that I'd noticed an increase in police patrol, so that they were doing their job by responding to increased levels of that type of criminal activity. You call and report the crimes, you get the 5-0 in your neck of the woods. You leave it be, you let it grow.
And it breaks my heart a little bit. Fah-King kids.
My veeeehicle was Christina Aguilera dirty so after getting some petrol at the local station, I opted for a quickski car wash to 86 the accumulating grime. (And the peppering of bird poop that had been speckling my roof for the last week or so.) So we all know that we had some nicer weather this weekend (wOOt) and the sun finally started peeking through the clouds. After gassing up, I noticed a strange whirly pattern that was on the trunk of my car. Upon further inspection, it seemed to take the mysterious shape of a kids tennis shoe. So my gaze travels up to the roof. Now...it was a little hard to tell due to the dust, but it seems that they pulled a half assed parkour and decided to use my car as a part of their race track. 'Kay.
Now, it isn't that I have a grand aesthetic love for my car. Over the past 6 years it's experienced its fair share of dings and bumps. All part of the character. So as long as the kid who was doing the car hopping wasn't a heifer I wasn't too worried. (I've developed a hairline fracture on the windshield after the very first freeze that I hadn't gotten around to replacing in the hoy palloy which was my office move)
Except-
After getting out of the car wash I actually finally notice a very slight indentation. Very. Slight.
It was at that point that I thought if I found those maggot gate mother fuckers in the act of brainless foolishness- they would have been in a world of hurt. Seriously. Iiiiiiiiii, kinda would have wanted to hurt them. No. Yes...really got pissed.
The 'Bean told me that there was an armed robbery recently in my 'Hood which had him a little frassy the other morning. I said that I'd noticed an increase in police patrol, so that they were doing their job by responding to increased levels of that type of criminal activity. You call and report the crimes, you get the 5-0 in your neck of the woods. You leave it be, you let it grow.
And it breaks my heart a little bit. Fah-King kids.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
This is just not gonna be pretty, is it?
"What size is this, Ed?"
"We got a large"
"Ha! Someone's been telling some exxxxaggerated stories about me, brother"
"Should we get you a medium?"
"Nah. I should be fine so long as the saddle bags don't fall out"
(Ed chuckles)
"So...do I need to try it on?"
"No. Well, did you want to try it on?"
"Ed. If I'm gonna be honest with you, I think I'm gonna wait until the last possible moment to put that fucker on. Pardon my French"
"I don't think that's French. And I understand"
"Thank you Ed. Thank you. Can I take the break away pants off now?"
So am I gonna need to shave my legs? That just seems like it'd be...weird.
Urgh.
Thursday, November 02, 2006
But I don't watch TV...
Give a guy a little facial hair...I'm visiting the Nipple Grove office today. One of our consultants sez "You look kinda like that 'Grey's Anatomy' guy...what's his name? Dempsey?" (Moi- "Riiiiight.")
"I watch that show all the time...dang, which one izzy on the show? McDreamy or McSteamy?"
"Well...if it's me we're talking about I'm going with 'McCreampuff' or 'McMuffin with Cheese'..."
It's that time of year!
That's right campers: FLU SHOT TIME! Which means baby P can whip out some of his all new old cheap and hammy jokes for the Flu Shot nurse and fellow shooters. (I told the nursey that I have the same damn jokes every year and they keep getting funnier)
1- "Is this the victims room?"
2- "Why do we have to wait 10 minutes after our shot again? Is it because of the swine flu? Does that mean I'm gonna sprout a curly tail and root around in a trough?"
3- "Backdoor or the arm?" (In reference to where I was getting shot)
4- "Can my tattoo say 'Mom'?"
5- "I'm afraid you'll have to unwrap another hypo there, lady. You'll probably bend the first needle trying to spike through THESE BAD BOYS!" (Flexes gamely)
6- "Jeezus...they didn't tell me that they were switching to using lumber nails in lieu of needles"
7- "Aren't you supposed to flick it a couple of times to get the air bubble out? I saw that in a movie once..."
8- "AAiiiaiagrrrhrrhgh" (During the shot)
9- "If I find an egg in my toilet bowl, does that mean I have the avian flu?"
10- "You know that these are the same jokes every year, right?" (Her response: "Well, if you only get to use'em once, right?")
So now I've got a sore deltoid for all that frass. The things I do, to prevent the flu.
1- "Is this the victims room?"
2- "Why do we have to wait 10 minutes after our shot again? Is it because of the swine flu? Does that mean I'm gonna sprout a curly tail and root around in a trough?"
3- "Backdoor or the arm?" (In reference to where I was getting shot)
4- "Can my tattoo say 'Mom'?"
5- "I'm afraid you'll have to unwrap another hypo there, lady. You'll probably bend the first needle trying to spike through THESE BAD BOYS!" (Flexes gamely)
6- "Jeezus...they didn't tell me that they were switching to using lumber nails in lieu of needles"
7- "Aren't you supposed to flick it a couple of times to get the air bubble out? I saw that in a movie once..."
8- "AAiiiaiagrrrhrrhgh" (During the shot)
9- "If I find an egg in my toilet bowl, does that mean I have the avian flu?"
10- "You know that these are the same jokes every year, right?" (Her response: "Well, if you only get to use'em once, right?")
So now I've got a sore deltoid for all that frass. The things I do, to prevent the flu.
Wednesday, November 01, 2006
H'ween Post-Mortem
November already? November November. "Remember remember the fifth of November"...which is also Redwright's anniversary. Happy early Anniversary, love!
Okay, making a little too much with the freestyling here.
Sooooo:
Tour season is over, which means I can get my lazy weekends back. Sadly, I'd been so busy lately I hadn't even any time to decorate for the season, or even carve up the two punkin's I bought. (The decorating bit really breaks the heart, readers- Esp. those who recall me frassin' over how much my family used to love to decorate the hell outta our house when RSvP and I were younger. ) This was esp. chagrinning due to the fact that a majority of our old props found their way into my possession (Masks, Skeleton's, strobe lights, etc) and were left unused. In fact, I don't think I've been able to gung-ho decorate for many many years. Boo.
It doubly pained me, since it was also my "late night" at work which meant I was stuck at the office until just after 6pm, missing many of the early tricker treaters. HOWEVER, after picking up some nibbles and rushing home, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that the 'Bean had gotten into some of the props and set up the skellytons and strobe lights looking out our front window. He encouraged kids to "ring the scary doorbell" every time they knocked instead of buzzing. (It's set to "scary organ/scream". Heh. I know a lotta folks who would scream at my scary organ...HEY OHHHHHH! Go see "Monty")
Mo came over and helped hand out candy to all the buttons who came over, which was funny since the three of us, w/o realizing we did it- ended up making sort of a rotation as to who answered the door. Last call for candy was 8:30pm, and that was that. No fuss, no muss. Another We'en bites the dust. 'Bean and I made a pact that next year we'd slay'em with a hella good display. I may even get me wunna them there new-fangled fog machines.
Can you imagine trying to kink it up in the bedroom with one of those things? Mopeppa and I were frassin about that after unsuccessfully searching for adult baby costumes this weekend at Party City.
"You get a strobe in the bedroom and kick on the fog machine and you'd be like 'Cough-Cough...accckk. Where are you? Marco? Pooooolo! I can't see you to undress you...cough cough..."
And a strobe light would just wind up triggering a seizure in your poor partner, when there you are thinking that you're being all "Mister Perfect-Lover" and sending them into the throes of ecstasy.
What?
I'm just sayin...
Okay, making a little too much with the freestyling here.
Sooooo:
Tour season is over, which means I can get my lazy weekends back. Sadly, I'd been so busy lately I hadn't even any time to decorate for the season, or even carve up the two punkin's I bought. (The decorating bit really breaks the heart, readers- Esp. those who recall me frassin' over how much my family used to love to decorate the hell outta our house when RSvP and I were younger. ) This was esp. chagrinning due to the fact that a majority of our old props found their way into my possession (Masks, Skeleton's, strobe lights, etc) and were left unused. In fact, I don't think I've been able to gung-ho decorate for many many years. Boo.
It doubly pained me, since it was also my "late night" at work which meant I was stuck at the office until just after 6pm, missing many of the early tricker treaters. HOWEVER, after picking up some nibbles and rushing home, I was pleasantly surprised when I saw that the 'Bean had gotten into some of the props and set up the skellytons and strobe lights looking out our front window. He encouraged kids to "ring the scary doorbell" every time they knocked instead of buzzing. (It's set to "scary organ/scream". Heh. I know a lotta folks who would scream at my scary organ...HEY OHHHHHH! Go see "Monty")
Mo came over and helped hand out candy to all the buttons who came over, which was funny since the three of us, w/o realizing we did it- ended up making sort of a rotation as to who answered the door. Last call for candy was 8:30pm, and that was that. No fuss, no muss. Another We'en bites the dust. 'Bean and I made a pact that next year we'd slay'em with a hella good display. I may even get me wunna them there new-fangled fog machines.
Can you imagine trying to kink it up in the bedroom with one of those things? Mopeppa and I were frassin about that after unsuccessfully searching for adult baby costumes this weekend at Party City.
"You get a strobe in the bedroom and kick on the fog machine and you'd be like 'Cough-Cough...accckk. Where are you? Marco? Pooooolo! I can't see you to undress you...cough cough..."
And a strobe light would just wind up triggering a seizure in your poor partner, when there you are thinking that you're being all "Mister Perfect-Lover" and sending them into the throes of ecstasy.
What?
I'm just sayin...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)