I blame the Laphroaig...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laphroaig_Single_Malt

"You danced, and now you have to pay the piper..."

I've always liked that quote. My old co-worker when I was at the Bullseye said that to me when I stumbled into work one Saturday after partying the night before with the Porkchops. (This would also be the day I snuck up to the 11th executive floor, snuck into an empty office, and fell asleep under a conference table for an hour. Whoops)

Sick. Sick as a dog. Woke myself up this morning super early in a wracking, dry-coughing fit. I felt my back get all funky and now it's awful today. Runny nose. Blurry vision. Not fun. I hate coughs that don't produce. Gross, I know. But it's giving me a sore throat. Ow.

X-Mas was great. I wish I had time to respond to everyone that sent love and well wishes. It was really awesome to see my frassbook page filled with all that goodness. The day of X-Mas is probably what started me on this road to ruin...

So I hopped over to Broiler's who was also awake waaaay early and was able to get RSVP's gift. (7am) Then home to a frassy 'Bean who was chatty. Finally succumbing to exhaustion, I claw my way into bed only to have a panicky mom call 10 minutes later to have me hustle over and help clean. I go over, caffeine up, and get to work. The rest of the fam damily shows (RSVP and brood) we have a great day of gifts, food, love, etc. Finally it's 3:30 and I'm in need of boogying so I can hook up w/Moda, pre-hotel. I am in desperate need of a nap.

We exchange gifts while swilling fine pink champers and I beg for 20 minutes. It's for naught, and we head off to BANK for dinner. Another cocktail consumed w/dinner, we head back to the hotel. Now, we're both pooped. The nap again is for naught, since cell phones start going off at regular intervals inquiring as to our status. Folks show up, and BW-J pops in with his annual Scotch gift. (Instead of the usual McAllens, it's the above mentioned whiskey) So, we get into that filthy, filthy stuff and commence "cheers" etc.

Now it's off to the Market.

Now I don't pay for a single drink. Of which, I believe, I had several. We danced. We sang. I shrieked myself hoarse. I. Iiiiii was that guy. You know him. A little drunk. A little louder than necessary. And doing a shuffling little jig when Elvis is sung.

Back to the hotel. Where I proceed to nurse another filth and water. And try and get folks out of their clothing. And lifting up my shirt repeatedly as an example. It was 4am before we got everyone out of there. Then finally pass the frack out. And drag our carcasses out at noon so we could meet RSVP for brunch at Keys. At this point, the night before manifested itself into a hum-dinger of a headache. We napped for 3 hours before calling it quits, watching "WALL-E" and going to bed.

Caturday night was game night at Panda-Bot's where it was mulled wine and wine-wine. Home at 1:30.

I'm just. Yeah. I think I'm getting to old for this s#it.

Oof.

Oh yeah

I made it. That's right.

Except the only reason I was up at that ungodly hour wasn't due to (A) Nostalgia (I'm a little past that. I remember doing this when I was an early teen out of some sense of ritual or nostalgia. I'd even play happy birthday on my cheap Casio or something) Orrrrr (B) Actual childbirth. Something my poor mother had to endure all these years ago.


Nope. I had to go to the bathroom. Then needed to check the laundry tub and the floor was cold. And realized I hadn't re-set the coffee maker alarm so my house smells of organic breakfast blend.

And my internal (infernal) alarm sez "WORK TIME, BABY P!!! IT'S TIME TO MAKE THE DONUTS!!!"


Grrrr...First post as a 34 (whoops) year old and here I go making an awful Dunkin Donuts reference.


Happy Holidays, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy (late...late) Diwali, Kwanzaa...Festiv...(F#ck it. It's made up. "Happy Porkledeedorkle day, all!") Be well, safe, and if you are an orphan in the Twin Cities metro I imagine I'll see you out and about tonight at one of the...3 or 4 open bars.

Your friendly neighborhood X-mas babe







Heavy emphasis on the babe. It's my birthday. The economy sucks. Thick and heavy compliments are free.

Another fine year you've gotten us into...

I'm home. In the TV room. 2 rolls of the roomies wrapping paper in front of me and a few assorted bibs and bobs strewn about. And celebrating the evening before my (harumphyMcharumpherson) birthday.

I ran out into the world tonight to grab something as a favor to my mom which wasn't as heinous as I imagined it could have been if you were to believe the news. (In and out of stores within scant minutes) And now I watch as the twilight hours of the last year celebrating my b'day tick off.

I figured since I was born on X-Mas, this last magic birthday meant I would be dragged off by Roman Centurions around Easter to be asked a bevvie of questions regarding my self-proclaimed awesomeness. It was not to be, however, and it just meant a very minor case of buyers remorse and fond memories of a tax-rebate funded cruise with my beeb. Could have been worth, savior-wanters.

So this year, I have asked family to avoid gifting me in lieu of either donations to charity, gifts for my growing niece and nephew, well wishes, and a general hope that we as a society/country can start to do the slow crawl to more prosperous times. This is dubious since my mom was asking for an X-Mas list up to the 22nd. Sigh...

I'll try, again, to rise for my "I was born at 5:54 am" post saying I was there I ushered in a new year for myself.

Instead, I'll probably be snoozing off the night with Santa overhead.

Happy Holidays, Frassers. Be safe, well, and loved this upcoming New Year.

I hate wrapping gifts. My cuts look like a 2nd grader attempting to do it with their non-dominant hand and I could probably stand to single-handedly finance the gift-bag industry.

Le whew

Well. The dreaded big team meeting was a bit of a let down. It boiled down to "We don't know anything either. Please stop spreading rumors if you can. We aren't going anywhere any time soon".

So whew, and huh? We ended up talking about the weather. How very...Minnesotan...of us.

I'm growing so violently sick of the terms "Market volatility" and "Unstable Financial Conditions" that I'm pretty sure that I'm getting an ulcer. And poor NMMC. Laid off 80 nurses? Right. Before. Christmas? (My co-worker's wife was one of them) Ugh. Just. Ugh. Thanks, hospital of my birth.


Okay. Done with that.

Last night the SO and I attempted to watch a racy flick from her queue. Seemed like a pretty good idea at the time. Until the roommate came home about 5-10 minutes into it. It was pretty uncanny how often he found an opportunity to bounce upstairs with some form of current events or another. And to see which scene we were on. Awwwwwkward. (It was awful, btw. If you want to watch "Lie with Her", don't. Get pR0n instead. It was pretentious smut. The worst kind.)

Below zero temperatures belong in mid-February and need to last 3-4 days. Nothing "Wonderful" about this "Wonderland". It's a wonder I don't pack it in and head South. Frass...



ps: Yes, Moll. Anything by Dan Folgerburp is crap, IMNSHO. If James Brown is the "Godfather of Soul"? then he is...like...the "Great Uncle of Emo-Rock".

What I want, need...this Christmas

Need/Want-ish:

Out of debt (Never happen this X-mas)
AAA membership. Mine lapsed this year, and it is the SINGLE greatest investment an older car owner can have. I was towed 4 x's in 2007.

Help staining/attaching the molding

Either a new laundry tub, or to replace the U joint that's clogged and won't get unclogged.

Gift Card to take Moda out on a proper date to a proper place. Or subsequent cash.

DVD- "Iron Man", "The Dark Knight", "The Incredible Hulk", "Boogie Nights", or flicks I've lent out and subsequently lost. (Pick one)

Dumb liquor- Cooking stuff, mostly. But Bailey's, Whiskey, Brandy, etc. Would be nice. I cook at home a lot, now.

Cooking classes to share

Dance lessons (Like, I don't know, salsa or something. "Picosa" has them for free, but dinner there seems smarter

Dry cleaning done. I have many shirts that could use it.

Big boy underpants. Couple of packs. I'm a large Marge these days.



FRIVILOUS, kinda necessary, but can't afford right now-
New bathroom. Tile. Tub. Toilet. Sink. I hate my bathroom.
New garage. You know? One that didn't seem "practical" in 1884?
New car. Hell, New USED car. At least older than the "oughts".

Ridiculous, can live without, but want. Just want.-

Trip to Paris with a Ryan Air puddle jump to Rome. I have a huge history jones that will not be denied. And wikipedia kills me with information.

Expando cable. This is more for my roommate than I. He watches TV (when he's home) like it is his job. And I know that he sneaks off to his cousins to watch IFC. Know it.

Big frassy HD TV. 40 inches or more. I love watching movies more than air. And with the HD craze coming, I wouldn't mind seeing the "Dark Knight" Chinese building jump with all the details revealed intimately.

One, just one problem with Batman

I love those two recent Bat-mama movies. I do. I re-watched "Begins" and can't wait to own "TDK". And as I talked to a co-worker about them, he had this to say:

"I hate how B-Man talks. It's just, stupid"

I responded, of course, with the wonderful line "It's not who I ammmmmm..." with the postured over-inflection that we found in "BB". And he's right. And then I thought, hm. He's got it all wrong. He's frassin' about stealth and secretiveness when he's doing his vigilante gig in what amounts to a fricking mini...tank. Not easy to tool into Gotham and park in the "90 minutes or fewer" street. What. Will you throw a cover over it?

Here's a better idea buddy. Since you are mega-rich and fight the muggers hand to hand anyway. (And, you know. While the tank is cool. And makes an eventually SPOILER cooler motorcycle) it is faaaaar from practical. Think of the environment.

Try a plug in. Hybrid. Or better still, stop at the local dealer (GO LOCAL) and grab a 97 Geo Metro. GREAT gas mileage. And? No one will give two s#its about a dude in a bat costume hanging out and listening to MPR for the latest.


I'm just sayin...

It is not. A con-sarn...GROCERY STORE!!!

I approach the local green of Wal when the parking lot is full, only because that means a line. Now, a line at the super-chain grocery store is part and parcel of shopping. You sort of know the risks. But at a drug store, you figure there are folks in the back by the pharmacists to buy said drugs. And a few to pick up...oh, I don't know. A card.


So when you wait behind someone at the Green, or CVS, or whereever...with a shopping cart...that is FULL of crap (Milk, chips, nuts, beef jerky, mittens, and whatever the newest cologne Burger King sells)

Well. I get ticked. I have Carmex. A stick of gum. And a diet Coke. Maybe shaving cream. And the poor cashier is NOT having it.

This has happened way too much lately. For that much, GO to the chain mega gro-gro stores. Or the wholesalers. With the amount of crap you buy, you'll save yourself a fortune.

Grumble Grumble Frass...

Dear Local Gym...

I am glad, that you got my SO into your free fitness classes.

As a practitioner who's family has been involved in the arts which are martial for many a year, I actually thinks that it is cool that "cardio-kick" has enamored her of late.

However, when I roll over in the middle of the night with a bout of insomnia, go to smooch her cheek, and she cold cocks me with a hook at 3:30 in the morning on my jaw...Well...

I beg of you to not get her too warrior-ed up.


With much gratitude,

Me

I think...we can do...away...with X-Mas

Let's start today, friends. KOOL 108 aside, I think that there are a lot. A LOT of X-Mas songs that need to have found their way to the Dead Pool. Seriously. And not to knock at secular tunes that have been around for a minute. I mean really. Really. Let's look at songs "created" for the season to fill playlists and make ears bleed starting post-Thanksgiving up to and after December 25th. F#ck. After Hallowe'en, if you're being realistic.

I'll start:

"It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year"- No it isn't. F#ck you. Today? It's cold. Painfully so. And the most wonderful day, for some of us, was the day we drank too much wine and watched TV on November 4th. "There'll be much mistletoe-ing" isn't even a sentence. It's douchey. And stop trying to created a beloved X-Mas song by being so damn commercial.

"Santa Claus is Coming to Town" (More specifically, by Frankie)- I love the guy. I do. He is unabashed in his Bacchanalian debauchery. His buddies. His crooning. But I don't feel like getting crooned to by a guy who is the face of debauch about "Naughty and Nice" when you know sure as f#ck he is on a 11 day bender at the Flamingo with 16 different show girls from the 60's version of "Follies Bergere". Moving on.

"Frosty the Snowman"- We hate snow. Even snow days suck. And even we, we hardy MN'ans get one. We get enough precipitation in October to cause the state of NC to declare a national emergency (true) that we don't need to know about anthropomorphic snow-douches in foppish top hats gaily striding about with their propaganda that global warming doesn't exist. And that's all you are, Mr. Frosty. Propaganda. And the name of a milkshake at Wendy's.

"Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer"- Who. Gives. A. S#it... It's about the fat one, let's be real. If we cared about the workhorses, we should have ALL known the name of the Budweiser Clydesdales by now. Oh, you don't? EPIC FAIL! "You know Stoli, and Patron, and Mount Gay, and Got Blitzed..."

"Simply, Having, A wonderful..."Oh frack I can't finish. - Sir Paul? This Moog synth atrocity brings me so far back to evil that I want to punch the dash board. Boo. Boo, Boo, Boo, Boo. I cry. I thought you'd leave repetitive douchey tunes to George. ("I've got my mind set. On...Douche")

Any. Every. Country version of a X-mas song made. Sorry. They tend to sound alcoholic even if it is about the three Wise men. Same for pop stars doing covers. I hate to say it, but I like the warbly scratchy versions of the standards.

Grrrrrr.

Play more BNL and Sarah. "Bring a Torch". The Hallelujah Chorus. I'm no Scrooge, but crap all. It's my birthday. Easy present. Let's start to dissect the remnants.

I reserve the right...

To complain. This...weather? Hm, yes. Is bananas. Yeah, I live in an older house. Yeah, I take the prerequisite measures to stop draftiness. (Plastic on the windows, weather stripping, etc.) But I feel the cold like it was my job. Just looking outside? Makes me cold.


Couple that with the fact that my heater AND rear defrost in my my car makes me frassy...well I'm trolling jobs in the South. No joke. There is no WAY that in 10 years it has fallen below zero in December. What happened to this all happening in February? Sucktastic. Dying.

In other news, the loaner they gave me is Piiiiimptastic. An 88 Old's with a red interior that makes you feel like you're in the waiting room of a house of ill repute. I lurve it.

Saturday Close Captioning reveals Cartoon Deification

Sooooooo....



I'm at the gym.


Trying to get my workout out of the way to make way for...I don't know. Saturday stuff.

I don't own an IPOD or Shuffle or Shuffle off to Buffalo pod. I read the stupid Close Captioning. Deal.

Since we're both up at the crack of (10) and she's off cardio-kicking imaginary opponents and saying "Woo"! with the rest of the class.

I've finished my lifty mc-liftersons and have retired to the treadmill. Now, to para-phrase Mr. Leary I kinda do feel like a hamster in a wheel on the treadmill. I haven't owned a walkman (LUDDITE ALERT!) in ages. The last thing I had resembling sound producing head-gear was this wireless headset that looked like you were answering phones in the 50's and was the size of Princess Leia's hair in "Star Wars". Not fun. And it gave me a headache AND it'd bump channels every few blocks.

So I run silent. Adrift in my imagination. A bad place to be. Except I've discovered a few things about my club...

If I book it out of work, when I do. And if traffic is conducive- I can make it to stretch out, work my tummy, and watch "Jeopardy" on the treadmill villa Close Captioning. A fine pursuit, to be sure. You don't need sound. You watch the questions pop up, mutter the answer to yourself and either (A) curse inwardly if you get it wrong...stupid MENSA teen's...or (B) Try and time your prrt's in the vain hope that there is no one on the treadmill behind you.

What?

So on a Saturday A.M. I figure 'toons are all I need to let the world go and watch mindless 2-D animation whilst I program my routine for the next 3.2 miles. I've timed it PERFECTLY with NBC's newest venture: 3-2-1 PENGUIN!!! (It's like "3-2-1 Contact", right? Show's y'all my frame of reference)

The NEXT thing I know, is they're quoting the bible ("Remember what the good book says!") and the normal non-anthropomorphic character's are spouting ("Get ready for church, dear" and "Did you want to say our prayer's together?")

What?

I'm dubious I would've caught it if I hadn't been reading the text via close captioning. I thought "Where is the exploding coyote being pushed off the cliff by that rascally road-runner?" The doofy lisping hunter with the wily wabbit? Spider-man, and his AMAZING friends" Which is to say I have some amazing friends too, and can empathize with the wall-crawler.)

Then V-Tales came on. And besides being the bastard step-child of El Muppet-ino (Seriously. How MANY drugs must one be on to have vegetables give parables, wear clothes, and perform normal human tasks sans hands. And really, turn on the CC option on your TV and read the intro-song. It's drugs, people. People using drugs and eating vegan. Check it out.)


Although I felt warmly toward the asparagus with the yellow cardigan. I thought to myself: I wonder if his pee smells funny, or if the novelty is lost. Ponder, folks.


Anyway, I miss my blow'em up cartoons in lieu of this stupid Bob Ross inspired "happy" crappy. I don't wanna be a grumpy old man, but a world with grape soda caving in the walls ( "3-2-1 Penguins" distinguishing plot point) is nothing compared to "Thundarr", "Plastic Man", Super Friends", "Godzilla and Gadzookey" or cripes...even "Gummi Bears".


Ish.

Well, a fine mess

I'm awake.



I dreamt that there was a bee in my apartment I was sharing with Morgan Fairchild and when it lit on the floor I threw my body atop of it to squash it with my head. I heard it buzzing in my ear and roused myself awake with the feeling that it'd sting my inner ear. So here I am. 3 am-ish.

The moon I see is fat in the sky. Orion is shoulder-to-shoulder with it. And it is cold.

Not a very triumphant return to the blogging world, but here I am. I work in the fidouchery world, so it's been a really scary time to want bread on your table. My day to day blogs have had to be tabled in lieu of simple web surfing since my bosses (Or managers. Direct reports. Whatever) have been hovering to make sure I'm "productive". Three "bosses" in twelve months. Re-dick. All of whom have said they'd be there for the long haul. I should've known. At least they're still here. There've been many, MANY lay-offs (sorry. "Re-structures") in the last few months and it's provided a fellowship of fear. Not fun to be working.

So...

I've been tasked with taking forced time off ("Floating" holidays. MN branches of our office don't take normal sanctioned national holidays and we're given three "floaters" to take that aren't considered "time off") So Thursday marks "National Me Day 3"*. (Last Thursday being the official start of Me Day) I hope to blog some more and more over, write some more.

That's right. I don't hope to quit my day job, but I've recently been harboring a secret wish to write for a living. Creatively. Go fig. It started with a wish to pen my dad's memoirs about working for the county- which I've been nagging him for years to do- and made me think it would maybe make some great non-fiction ala' Sanderson. We'll see. It's some fascinating business, what 36 years policing our county will provide. I've been also experimenting with home cooking which falls in line with our troubled economic times (e.g. No restaurant reviews in the future)

All told, we're holding steady. And I hope to post more topical s#it as the days progress towards my birthday.

Oh yeah. The *? So I'll be posting my wish list later (In the vain hopes that the government wants to do a Baby P Bail Out some day) but for my birthday? Think of something nice for/about yourself. Just one. Real quick like. Or about me. (I'm a selfish Sammy) And either post it, or think it. It's no big whoop.

Hope to frass at you some more on my down time.



ps: I have a call back tonight. Think of me, frassers.

Sorry this took so long

And it's very concise-



Go Vote today please.

Dad tried to kill me...

Oh, forgot to tell you all this one. It is a dooze-


Dad's been wanting me to paint the garage door trim and a couple other area's of facia outside of his townhouse due to the association getting up in arms over some chipping. He assured me that it was only going to be 20 minutes worth of work (A very "dad" thing to say. Dad-time tends to stretch out a bit longer than his initial estimations, so I made the appropriate calculation's in my brain. 20 minutes ='s 4 hours. You need to account for the griping.) He also insisted that he needed my 26 foot extension ladder, which I didn't understand why since a platform or step ladder would have been just fine for the garage if my memory served correctly. I can't remember the architecture of their TH specifically, and the way he was describing it was impossible for me to understand where exactly we were going to be painting. I just figured it was close to terra firma.

Oh no.

He wanted me up on the roof to reach the facia and HE would do the garage door trim. He was sure that I could get up on the roof, scramble up to the top story and lean over the side to paint it. (On the peak, so there really isn't a place to "lay" down. The peak looks like this and is about as steep- " /\ "and I would be at the point. Dig?)

I balked and said no.

He then extended the ladder the full length and precariously set it on the top most gable over the entryway, which is about 26 ft up so now he's playing to my fear of falling. To make things better and to make sure that the tips are not too low-he sets it next to a paper wasp nest. (Fear of wasps is met as well. And you know, it's Fall, so they're aggressive due to temperature changes. I watch two furiously flying at each other and sting at the same time. Exxxxcellent) I ask for the wasp spray-("NO! You'll stain the siding!!!") I ask for the paint bucket to carry up with me. ("NO! You'll spill it on the way up!!! I'll bring it to you") So I tentatively crawl up the ladder, which is shaking and bowing in as extension ladders are wont to do when they are at full extension. Dad's below me shouting encouragement, cajoling, and lastly outright insults. ("What the hell, Kiddo?!?! You used to climb all the time when you were a kid!?!?")

When he follows me up the ladder (And my old man is big. The ladder is rated for 300 lbs. And every rung he takes causes the ladder to shake violently... while I'm 26 feet in the air.) with the paint, then down, then back up the brush. All while wasps are periodically lighting on my face. I take a deep breath decide not to focus on where I was and let my mind go. I see the giant decorative window and figure if the ladder (which is only barely leaning against the trim) I'm going through that sucker. Deep breath number two and I start painting.

I succeed in painting myself into the gable before returning to terra firma. I refrained from kissing the asphalt) Next, he wants me up on the garage roof to paint the small chipped fascia at the peak. He's trying to be all MacGuyver about it ("I could set up one ladder, then set up the other one on top of it like an upside down "L" and I'll sit on it for counter balance"- Me: "F#ck no")

Then he just sends me up there, assuring me that my grip would be fine. Except it wasn't. I was clinging on to the roofing with my knee's locked and I could barely shimmy up. I couldn't get three points contacting the roof while holding the paint and my shoes were doing nothing to propel me forward. I felt my body slide back and I locked my legs tighter, feeling the skin on my inner knee, palms, and elbows abrasing. Tummy too.

I tried one last valiant attempt at going forward when my shoe kicked into air and had no traction, aaaaand I slid down towards the side of the roof but finally stopped myself on the gutter with my foot and shouted "F#ck this" and got back down. The first thing my Dad said was to watch my language, then asked if I damaged the gutter, and finally he hoped that I didn't spill any paint on the shingles. My stomach was in knots, I could feel blood seeping through my sweatpants, and I wanted to kick him in the shins. And then he said- "Okay. We're done for today"

Anyway, it kind of got me over my fear of falling. And wasps. We were cooling down in the back yard and yellowjackets were lighting on me and my glass of wine and I was like "meh".

Fear is the mindkiller.

The I.V's, take 4

2005
2006
2007





2008
This year I did it right. I went with the good Torcher folks so that I actually had a theatre company to sit with. (Rather than we dolefully sit in back making the occasional snarky comment and nipping from our flasks) We hit Solera before hand, then skidaddled over to the theatro for the actual shindig. And it was okay. Thoughts? (Opinions, please)

Buddy...you were so right to wear the hipster pop culture-y t-shirt and tux this year versus full out formal wear/dress suit. Sure, you're about 10 years out of date with the look and you own 6 or 7 tux coats...but f#ck that. You at least could maintain a modicum of cool when it was a veritable sauna (again) inside.

Hosts...quit talking about yourself. And your show. You're from LA and NY respectively. The TC has to have some representation.

Again, we enjoyed 25% of the acts. The remaining 75% caused hand holding, squinting, flask groping, eye rolls, sidelong glances, runny nose, fever, and erectile dysfunction. Per normal, BNW puts out the most crowd pleasing act. Thank you. And thank you Dudley Riggs.

The kids...at least they relegated the kids act to one this year. But still...it was the finale' and it was from a show that...aw f#ck it...I left so I could beat the rabble to the after party. Moda...she...she didn't make it...I couldn't...I couldn't save her.

The faux paparazzi? Ugh. I get that they're trying to create this glamorous atmosphere but really? We're stage actors. We usually make a pittance and not 7 figure contracts plus residuals and a percentage of the gross. And it reminded me of this gig. http://happychristmasbaby.blogspot.com/2008/03/huh.html
And seriously, dude? Take the lens cap off your prop camera.

The models...the f#cking modelling show. Can we...ugh. Can we not do that next year? 4 years running it has been the LEAST favorite part of the after party. It leaves everyone with a bad taste in their mouths and pumps the breaks on the evening.




Otherwise...I love dressing up for this thing. I love hanging out with the TC Theatre community. Hanging with folks who have the mutual sense of purpose. Of desire to create. (Poncey little git, aren'tcha P?) Of the hugs, kisses, and smartness which is (We) who brought our flasks in lieu of buying pricey cocktails ($5.50 for tonic and a diet coke? Sorry, nope. Think if there was actually BOOZE in them?)

And the afterparty at Moda's? Kicked ass. And Gremlin? F#ck yes. I screamed. We all did.

Snicker...

Time to dust off the old HS letter jacket and tuxedo t-shirt...I'm done paid up for my 15 year reunion.

Pip!!!

Fairy Godmothe...what?

2 events (3 if my first foray into making veggie hardshell taco's counts as "An Event")

1- We checked off Ren Fest on our to-do list of summer activities (Thanks to Turtle and Smudge for the comps) It made for a lovely day where we basically traipsed around drinking, eating, and futzing through the shops for the afternoon. By EOD, the shared food tally between the two of us was: Fish and Chips, Wild Rice Soup in a Bread Bowl, Caramel/Apple Ice Cream, Gyro, and several wines/beers/1 mead (Meh). Moda walked away with some awfully pretty pottery for their new kitchen. We ended up ki-boshing trying to hike the trail adjacent to the fest in lieu of a nap (We were tired Tina's) and later in the day we were able to put down the aforementioned taco's and a little BSG before bed.

2-The baptism...That's right, the royal niece had her day in church on Sunday. We lingered, took pictures, and as I sat with the co-Godfather (My bro-in-law) the Priest was giving the candle and smock to us and casually stated that usually the Godfather gets the candle and GodMOTHER gets the smock so we could fight over who gets what.

Oh.

Then it was off for family time and cooing over Lil'Z and Claire the Bear before skidaddling home.

Thoughts on the ceremony.
- The priest looked like a mix between Lou Dobbs and Lee Iacocca.
-He talked like Ben Stein's character in "Ferris Bueller"
-We should have more in the say of how we end a prayer or liturgy. Like instead of "Amen" say "F#ck YEAH!!!"
-I will never sit by my dad again. I was frassin' w/Co-GF and we were joking around yadda yadda when my dad elbows me and whispers "YOU NEED TO RAISE YOUR HAND TOO!!!" so I start to raise my hand while I see the priest is doing it too when I glance around and see that NO ONE ELSE IS DOING IT...I quickly lower my hand and throw dad the stink eye as he's laaaaaughing.

I'm gonna be sent to hell...

Food...The thing that brings the inner d-wad out...

So we picked some mondo sized eggplants from Vietnam last night (I've dubbed them "Fat Man and Little Boy" due to their size and shape. They're HUGE) and as we were looking at out bounty it occurred to me that I haven't the foggiest idea of what the frack to do with them.

I've enjoyed Buca's eggplant parmigiana in the past (I have 3 dishes there that I insist the group orders to share and that's one of them...the other two being the lemon chicken with capers and garlic bread) and I've had it made for me from scratch which sort of put me off of it. (Dinner party. Everything was from scratch, including the sauce which I abhorred)

So it was off to Epicurious to see what they had to say on the matter. The recipe seemed pretty simple ( I only had to look up the term "dredging" as it relates to cooking...which is to say the same as it means any where else would I had trusted the context of the recipe...durrrrrrr) and curiousity led me to the review pages...where I discovered that recipe submitters and suggester's are mildly snooty a$$holes. (My apologies to the Garden of Olive. You aren't a bad place, per se. You're just kind of chain-y. And cheesey. But I kind of think that this was mean spirited for mean's sake)

A cook from MA says:
"This is a simple and great recipe; those who didn't think it compared with the Olive Garden perhaps could try this."

A cook from NY replies:
"If Olive Garden is your point of favorable comparison, you might want to get out of the Italian food business altogether."


Harsh...

Hmmm...

Just watched the RNC hullabaloo last night. I tell ya, nothing makes my least favorite chore (folding laundry) go by faster than listen to a bunch of BS on how we've made significant progress in Iraq...


ps: So they kept showing W's old man and his mom. Is it just me, or hasn't she been like...87 years old...for the last 20 years?

Great Weekend everyone!

It was a globorious laborious day weekend...one where I didn't go kite boarding and nearly break my knee in the process... coughcoughMDcoughcough (Holy s#it, Doc. Are you for real? That's my ultimate nightmare, yo.)

Friday- I Fair'ed it. And it was glorious. AL, the gay burrito, and m'self headed out mid-morning for the festivities. We did the things you do, including my visit to the Eco Building to see that stupid little skit I shot last year. (Royalties? Hello? I cry bulls#it.) It grew hot during the day, so much so that it almost became heavy and oppressive. We were done by 2:45 or so and I headed back for the day where basically I came off of a gnarly case of sunstroke before proceeding to my "playing house" at Moda's new joint. It was kinda sad that we didn't do the grandstand vendors or any booths (Curmudgeonly McDickhead was adamant about avoiding the shops) so goes an era...

Total food eaten: Deep-Fried Turkey Sammich, nabbed a few deep-fried pickle chips, 1.5 foot Pronto Pup, 4 Sweet Martha's cookies, a bite of steak sandwich (avoid), 3 pieces of cheese curd, 1.5 small beers (I couldn't finish'em. Boo for alcohol abuse) and a shared plate of the Australian Batter-fried potatoes. (Overrated and messy. This is what put me over the edge of sanity)

Caturday was more jogging and lounging (bliss) followed by seeing "Baby J" again and laughing my a$$ off again followed by post-show partying. By the EOD, we were tiiiiiiired. At least we didn't go to BJ's..

Sunday was Hike Day. We ate a big brefkist and then scooted out to Elm Creek Park Reserve where we got lost and had to ask a stoner park employee how to find the Monarch Trail (No lie, honest quote: "Um...I don't really look at maps") After that it was naps and a festive dinner before retiring to the new Casa Del MoBri and chilling on the porch. We got antsy, and decided to check out some of the neighborhood bars, which consisted of walking in. Turning our heads left and right. And leaving. Yeah.

Annnnd, Monday was hot. Muggy Hot. So we spent the afternoon relaxing at Redwrights in the BBP with buddies. (The Bean even came out to play) Amazing food was had (I must have eaten a gogol of crab stuffed mushrooms and half a wheel of cheese and carmelized onions)...needless to say it was great, I spent the night awake pretty much all night long sweating away my indiscretions...and was unhappy at the prospect of returning to the office.

Waxing Scientifically Nostalgic

I caught the "SW" exhibit at the SMM the other night and boy howdy did it inspire my inner geek. Mega cool, it was, to see the land speeder (which I wanted to sit in) and the other various props/models from the original trilogy. Then we were over to the Omni (always a good time) to watch "Special Effects" which proved to be a grand spectacle.


But here's where I'm gonna raise my flag as one of the few detractor's of the exhibit and the SMM in general since they've moved. (My ma, who was my date, pointed out one that my old man brought up)

1- The lady at the ticket booth said "Allow for at least 90 minutes for the exhibit" and I was all like "Yeah! They've gotta have a TON of s#it!". When in all actuality it was probably closer to half to 1/3 of the exhibit was dedicated to the actual films and the rest was interactive games for kids and adults ( hint hint...kids) to play with mechanical devices inspired by the movies! ("Make the robot walk! Build YOUR own robot from these unrelated scraps! SHOOT the ping pong ball with forced air! LOOK at this beam of light with dust in it!" I assume that last one was to emulate the lightsaber effect. And is it really such a chore to get an adult sized compressed-air hover chair? Height restrictions my Aunt Tilly...) I'm just sayin' more Star Wars, less gimmick.

2- I missed the 2000 exhibit at MIA when it first came 'round (A tragic day to be sure. It was a rainy day, sold out, and forced my big brother and I to partake in beers from Chili's and the movie "MI: 2". Not a good substitute.) point being, they only were probably able to dredge up a minute amount of dreck from the prequels (Eps 2 & 3 having not been released) Anyway, it had some great propage, yeah, but would it have killed them to have Luke's Ep 6 costume? An X-Wing Pilot suit? Obi-Wan's distressed Ep 4 costume? Heck, Darth Maul woulda been all right...

3- More. Lightsabers. From. Original. Trilogy. No Luke. No Darth Vader. No Obi-Wan. No Luke 2. They had frickin Shaak Ti or someone...f#ck. I don't know. I'm betting dollars to tacos that the prop storage at the ranch has a hell of a lot more coolness to show than just the prequels.

4- I think I caught a goof. If I'm not mistaken, Luke had the top of his hand shot in "Jedi" and they said it was from "Empire". Oooooooo...Geek.

5- The Toy Store at the end was...a little much. There were sc-REAMING pampies that were being dragged out by their heels, by their folks (Clutching at action figures and demanding purchase immediately) It seemed to be the pinnacle of make-a-buckmanship and left a bad taste in my mouth. Moreso because the decided to toss more toys in the Imagination store. C'mon...

6- Instead of a stupid photo-shop your face on your favorite SW character scene that you can find at the State Fair or WI Dells, why not have "Get a Photo" in a replica Millennium Falcon cockpit or Landspeeder. Everything related to the actual films was so hands off that it felt like I'd have been better off watching the movies at home with a toy lightsaber. I'm pretty sure that the ILM can build a decent practical prop on the cheap.

7- Boba Fett? Where's Boba Fett? You coulda rebuilt or just re-dyed Jango and we'd be none the wiser.

8- The Omni film. Yeah. It was okay. I just thought a film with that title would have had more recent information than just 1997. Seriously. It was a 10 year old film. It woulda been cool-ER in 1998...but still. We've had s#it like "The Matrix" since then.

9- General Gripe-vous with the new SMM in general...

Do y'all remember the old (Well, according to the SMM History room "Old since 1978") SMM? It was more...museum-y. And this is where my previous comment via my dad comes in- It's now more of a kids museum. And while I understand the need to stimulate and bring in new audiences, the old museum fit that bill just fine. They had the mock-ups of a Mayan Village complete with stone for grinding corn that you could play with. The Egyptian section was treated with reverie instead of being relegated to the "History of the SMM" walk-through where it's displayed as an anachronistic icon of the "Old" SMM. There were pins you could stick your hands into to make shapes. Robot arms to pick up pieces of foam (AND THE BIG ARM!)

I mean...is it so wrong to want a museum that blends science and history together that doesn't pander? Chicago has one...they're close...

10- Get rid of those musical stairs. Headache. Central. And the m@sturb@tory pump-action golf ball game that attracts 13-15 year old boys to pump-pump-pump FIRE accompanied by "YEEEEAHS!!!" and high fives...well, great game to put in the cafeteria.


Anyway.


I liked the history of the SMM section, seeing the real "Vader" costume (Dang. He was a big dude in real life) the Millennium Falcon prop (The details, you know?) and the dinosaurs. ( I coulda lived without the beetles that clean the bones of dead animals exhibit) And the next Omni film is "Mystery of the Great Lakes" which looked hecka cool. (I can has date?)

End. Rant.

This...

Is not a day to be at work. This is a day to be sleeping in. To get the occasional flash of light behind closed eyes before the distance boomies go off. To have kitteh nestled in the crook of your arm. To be shut down for a little while. I live for mornings like this.

I think that 2008 is the year of meteorological hindsight rearing it's ugly head. I've lost count as to how many foul ups have occurred regarding mis-forecasting the daily weather, as well as how many plans have had to be abended due to inclement weather. In the morning "Looks like rain!" and by the evening "It was a BEautiful day in the Twin Cities..."

My lawn desperately needs it.

Yee-Haw

I told you so...

See? SEE?!!?!? I told you that social networking is messed up! As are some pet owners...

http://www.startribune.com/lifestyle/pets/26331279.html?elr=KArksUUUU


doggyspace, btw...Sounds strangely like a bestial fetishests website.

By the skin of our teeth

So you know the old addage: "Where's a cop when you need'em"? That describes this morning. Except they were there. Get this, fellow assertive drivers...

So I confess that I drive 5-10 miles over the speed limit. It's true. If you had the learner's permit instructors of my dad and big brother (Who's only mantra when teaching was "Don't drive like me...") you'd be an assertive driver too. With all the tricks, like...watching the light change out of your peripheral vision so you start to go before you get your green light. Or forearmed with the knowledge that county mounties won't tag you if you are at 8-10 miles over on the freeway or 5 miles over on the back streets. Or to slow down when on the freeway when you are coming around a blind section b/c that's where the fuzz will be parked with their radar guns pointed right atcha...all that jazz.

So imagine me, putzing along 94 EB on my way to work. Flying about 68 mph. Listening to the banter on the Current. In the speed lane. And someone behind me is barrelling up to my tail like a bat outta hell. I move over, like a good commuter, to let the a$$hole passhole. I look over at them and they are talking on a cellphone. I reiterate verbally my assertion that the individual is, in fact, very similar to a rectum- As they tear a$$ past me going (I'd guess) 85 mph.

That's when I see the state trooper parked by the upcoming exit ramp.

So I, like the rest of the world and traffic, slow waaaay the EFF down as did Mr.D-bag on the cell...when the county mountie pulls out (just as I pass, btw) passes me, and flips his cherries on. Behind the d-bag. Eventually pulling him over.

I wonder how he ended his conversation?

CARL!!!

Yeah, it's blurry...but that's cuz I just got finished KICKING NINJA A$$!!!

Excuse me.

So yeah, that ugly looking thing is now history now that the Con is over. I gotta say, I won't miss it even though Moda seemed to think it was sexy...(WTF) Man...Do yourselves a favor and hit one of these con's. I was kind of nervous/self-conscious walking in. Imagine that guy up there...feathered back hair, handle-bar redneck 'stache, big glasses, "Army of One" t-shirt tucked into camo pants, all-white tennis shoes, and a weight belt. Yeah. Color me dorkus.

Well sshhheeeeeeoot. The rest of the time I was stifling laughter. These people are SERIOUS. I mean...I just...I can't even begin to describe it. People dressed like Vampire Hunter D. People dressed like Sailor Moon. People dressed as Robotech Veri-fighters. People walking around with what I can only describe as 8 foot, "swords"? People that clearly put a s#it-ton of time (and money) into their costumes. I was doubly impressed and weirded out at the same time.

The bit itself went fine. I ad-libbed probably 95% of it, which for me means letting my mouth go until something is supposed to happen. No one was hurt. We had about150 odd (and oddly dressed) attendee's who actually sat through it. And I sweat through my outfit like it was my job. Wowsers.

The next group in the room was a kendo (legit) school doing a demo. I'd have liked to stay for that.

But thank goodness that is over. Hoooo boy...

In other news...CON'DDDD

Mattso slipped me some roofies and convinced me that working a staged comedy ninja demo here would be a pretty good idea. Ergo, I will be spending this sunny and hot Caturday afternoon milling about with anime' enthusiast's and the invariable indoor kid. I'm sure that at least a few of the participants will have beaten their own high scores playing Guitar Hero at least three times the morning before attending.

I kid.

Actually, I'm kinda anxious/curious about the con as a whole. The last fan convention that I attended was back at the "Dr. Who" con that was held at the Mpls. Armory back in 1986. (I went as the 5th Doctor, thankyouverymuch...I did not get Colin Baker or Patrick Troughton's-RIP-autograph.) Sci-Fi or Comic Con's I'd fare better at, since my frame of reference for Anime' is pretty much vague memories of watching "Robotech" and "Voltron" when I was a kid.

Soooooo, it'll be interesting to say the least. Heh...

Oh, I'm playing this guy, btw (It's a character description, you ya-yo's)... My plan is to have my feathered 1992 poofy hair (sans mullet. No time to get a mullet extension either) and a handlebar 'stache as an homage to my friend Chad G. The only real thing I'm concerned about is riffing in front of a group of con attendee's who either will, or will not be expecting some semblance of "real" martial arts. (Of which there really won't be. I'll post pics and explain the gig later) Anyway, we're making each other laugh which tends to be a pretty good sign. And so far only 72% of my jokes have clunked. Which means that I'll end up talking fast and make poop jokes. It will be glooooorious.


If you have absolutely nothing to do and want a social experiment, you should attend. IJS.

FRINGE'DDDDD

That's right, bitca's! The 2008 Minneapolis Fringe Festival is in full swing, and if you love theater then you owe it to yourself to turn off "So You Think You Can Frass", drag your butts outside, and take in some shows! But first, I must turn your attention to some peemping:

No Refunds Theatre Company is re-mounting their fall show which had a successful run at the Bryant-Lake Bowl: "Sun Tzu's The Art of War". Come see yours truly and the rest of the ninja's as we tell the tale of war and strategy, and it's relevance to today's current events. There is also a Mambo. (Seriously, this is a really funny show that I am most proud of) More information is available at: http://info.norefundstheatre.com/?page_id=3

See a endorsement with an attached online review here:

http://www.tcdailyplanet.net/blog-entry/2008/07/18/fringe-top-10-2-no-refunds-theatre-co.html#

See Mattso Boomer's and Mr. Charlie's (The writers) Interview on MPR:

http://minnesota.publicradio.org/display/web/2008/07/30/fringefestivalturns15/

(btw- It isn't bad kung fu. Clearly they haven't seen the show yet. hiiiiiYA)

Or, check out the Fringe Festival show selection (For there are many, many good looking shows this year) at: http://www.fringefestival.org/2008/schedule/

Go now! Rarig! Opening Sunday night! Your stupid will turn to smart!!!

Frassbook...

In my interest of only being a part-time luddite, I started joining "social networking" sites about 2 years ago. (Blogger notwithstanding...that was originally started to frass about homebonership...LJ was for personal frass, and then I was reminded that everyone and their kitteh was on Myfrass, Frasster, and the newest: Frassbook)

So I joined, joining the millions of folks who enjoy keeping tabs on their buddies or simply like to measure their status based on the number of peeps they can "friend". (As a testament to my inability to touch these sites at work, I've narrowed down my daily visits to Frassbook and Myfrass...Frasster comes in dead a$$ last)

So weird things happen on these places, adding fuel to my normal luddite tecknolojickal feerz...


1st- I've been "found" by a number of peeps in my youth. Meaning, waaaaaay back childhood. Like, folks who were infants when I moved out of my home the first time back in 1993- Founded me. Not to mention old S.O.'s who have moved on and started families on their own. Like I said...weird.

2nd- Someone threw a sheep at me.

Wait...Okay, so yeah I get it. First you get "poked" (which, for some reason, illicits laughs from yours truly b/c I always turn it into a double entendre. It's a high school joke that...nevermind) So "Suzy Q has poked you! Poke her back!" or "Bill Pants wants you to join the group 'If you mix 'Star Wars' and 'The Grapes of Wrath' you will have a recipe for greatness!"... So you get my point. I've been poked, prodded, scratched, spat on...I half expect to log in and have it say "Tom R. peed in your fridge! Did you want to pee in his tureen?" And the groups! "So and So just joined 'Watching Rocky Balboa makes me want to take on the world!'" or "Blah de Bloo just joined 'Zombie Fetishest's are Misunderstood"...

Right.

And then some MF threw a sheep at me.

Sometimes teh interwebz gets a little to weird for even me.

You know you're getting old when...

You're getting your hair cut and the stylist starts tugging on a fine clear hair growing OUT OF THE MIDDLE OF YOUR FOREHEAD!!! (I said that I was going through my unicorn phase) I asked her kindly to leave it be but it was all like "Nooooo, no I'll get it!" Like she was doing me a favor.

And then she asked if I'd like my white eyebrow hairs plucked. (PAI MEI...I AM IT!) I drew the line, citing that they made me look wise.

Grump.

SPEAKING of old, I'd like to wish a happy belated bloggy berfday to my big brother: RSVP! I spent Sunday (his actual B'day) at his place chasing my nephew (Who is now ambulatory, able to reason, and enjoys running full tilt with his x-foils locked in attack position), my parents dog, and eating grilled goodness. Awesome. I usually note his birthday with some embarrassing story, but really...what's there to say about a guy who was run over by a bus when he was in senior high?

And if I had a scanner, I'd post a picture of him posing in his mesh crop-top shirt. Boo-ya.

All new old Theater Room!

Oh. That story? The one you ALL read? (Re: The live-action recitive of the first 10 minutes of the movie "Ghostbusters" for my captive elementary school audience a few weeks ago?)

Garnered me this.

Apparently, the G-ma was very appreciative of my efforts.

(Pats self on back)

Now if I can appreciate someone into a new garage, I'll consider myself a theatrical unqualified success.

party times deux...

Here...are some pics. (Of the 'Bean's daughters marriage party and of FeeJ's b'day jamboree!)


#1- Towards the end of night two (Out of order'd!!!) After gale force winds forced us to knock down the backyard tents and embed them into the ground. Otherwise, they may have ended up in Oz.

#2- There's a story behind that one. Let's just say that I hit a wall mid-way through the birthday festivities mid-grillin' and said "Moda...if I don't lay down right now I won't come back"

#3- Grillin', whilst the Bean supervises

#4- Griller's SMASH! (shortly before having to abandon the grill in order to video tape the toast/polka)

Weirdo

So last weekend I hosted the two back to back parteh's (The 'Bean's Daughter Wedding Jamboree and FeeJ's Nordeast Birfday Bonanza) They were both pretty fun (In spite of burning my frickin' finger on the grill during the former, and a hurricane nearly sailing away the party tents at the latter) The Bean had warned me that there would be a couple of wee pampies coming over (code for: Hide the p0rno and the action figures in the tv room) and to be ready.

We as soon as I was introduced to the brother and sister pair, I knew I was in trouble. The brother was mega-ADHD. Mega. And I was "Batman" to him. All. Night. Long. ("Batman, Batman...we, uh, gotta stop Jokuh!" and "Batman, Batman...can I see your TV Room?" I'm blaming him for tugging on my arm causing me to drop the burger on the grill and giving me a blister.) His sister was the shy one. Hardly a word spoken. So after asking him to chill while I served food and played host, I promised I'd show him some cool stuff upstairs in the TV- IF he behaved.

So after everything had wound down and folks were leaving, Young man did not forget my promise (After having reminded me no less than 23 times) so he and his gramma and his sister walked with me to the promised land: The fabled TV room.

Now I'm pretty proud of myself. I was able to gussy it up so that it looked a little more TV roomish (Cleaning out the closet. Hanging Framed musical/movie soundtrack lp's all over the wall instead of 2 lonely ones off kilter. Making an accomplishment wall) As the three of them stood there looking at pictures, and after I showed young man and sister a Spider Man mask, Darth Vader's helmet, and a lightsaber...His sister points at the center album and says- "What's that?"
"What's what?"
(Gramma chimes in authoritatively) "You can read those words, sweetheart"
"Ghost. Busters. What's that?"
(Moi) "Only the single greatest movie that has ever been made...ever"
"Why?"
"Why? (Scoffs indignantly) Well it's cool from the first, like, 2 seconds! I mean..."

It's here where I proceed to play out the first 5-10 minutes of the movie (Basically a paraphrased recitive of the library scene- Complete with taking books off my shelf and spookily moving them behind my head to simulate paranormal activity. I'm a cave man)

It was kinda cool though, actually. The kid, for once, didn't utter a peep. And they both had the google-eyed look of two kids hearing a ghost story at camp. Gramma was amused, although I'm pretty sure she was just relieved that I didn't have p0rn lying around, and it was an actual Spider Man mask vs. say a "Gimp" zipper mask.

Finally, Sister sez: "Is it scary?"
"Kinda. But it's funny too. Really funny. And if you can laugh at what's scaring you-"
(Kid finally regains his ADHD Interuptus composure) "It ain't SCARY any more!!!"

"That's right"

Then I showed them both how to properly hold a lightsaber so that they didn't hit the ceiling fan when they swung it over their heads. Gramma gave the "Time to go" signal and they were marched back downstairs. Before showing them the door, she turned around and said "Thank You."

Cool.

And I crap you negative, I was so frickin' tired by the end of the night. Oof. Da.

Crime against active cultures

I'm always able to find my yogurt in the fridge here at work, in spite of around 6 other yogurts that are the same brand/container. Why?

Because all those other sucka's bring in the worst flavors in creation. Yo-play market research team has me questioning why they'd even invent those flavors in the first place. In short, the following flavors should be banned:

Key Lime, Peach, Lemon, Apricot, Cheesecake, Raspberry, Chocolate Cake, and Mocha.


Of course, then everyone would be eating Vanilla, Very Cherry, Mixed Berry, Blueberry (and sometimes if I miss-grab: Strawberry. Which is still pretty bland) and I would probably wind up eating some other poor bastards yogurt by mistake. Major cafeteria foul, that. Like the time someone bogarted my diet Coke. Which has now prompted me to open the bottle and take a swig before storing it in the fridge.



And this wins the award for the lamest blog, ever.

RIP Stan Winston

Well that sucks. I didn't even know he was sick. A guy whose award winning make-up and practical effects artistry was part and parcel to some of the coolest films of my childhood (Terminator, Monster Squad...heck even more recently with Iron Man just to name a few)

It's pretty knee-jerk for me to say I wanted to start acting because of Star Wars. (When it was actually my mom encouraging me to try out for the 9th grade play and there were some really really cute girls auditioning) We role played like a lot of kids, but the thing we really liked to do was get into the characters. Dressing up of course was the easy part. But as I got older, my taste kinda shifted into scary monsters.

Mom did make-up/props for the Park and Rec as well as some local community theatre productions. Sometimes it was a clown face-painting class. Other times it was during "theme" days during the summer programs. I'll never forget (and still probably have) the dog-eared copy of Dick Smith's (Make-Up designer for "The Exorcist" and "Altered States") "Do-it-Yourself" Monster Make-up. It talked about grease paint, and crepe hair. It had the pictures that started with normal looking kids and after slicking back one's hair and painting a black upside down triangle at your forehead scalp line, putting on lipstick and a little fake blood made you a vampire.

In my early teens, I was experimenting with facial hair and gel masks. I was reading about Universal Monster films, Hammer Horror, watching Freddy's/Jason's/Leatherfaces in their original stories tear up the screen. I read Fangoria. I learned about Lon Chaney Srs "low-tech" approach to special effects. I learned about Jack Pierce- the original Make Up celebrity- responsible for Karloff's Frankenstein's Monster and Chaney Jrs Wolf-Man.

I tried to emulate their work. I futzed with spirit gum and crepe hair with less than spectacular results. I used a brown paper bag and paint to try and make Frankenstein's flat top work. I fashioned a gaping head-wound from a styrofoam plate and crepe hair. Fake skin. Pointed tooth caps. I started learning about the contemporary FX teams. Rick Baker (the First person to win an Academy Award for Special Effects for "American Werewolf in London") Tom Savini, and of course:

Stan Winston

Here was a guy who loved Harryhausen (As is evident in the final scene in Terminator when they're getting chased by the stop-motion Termy through the factory) A guy who eschewed CGI when CGI was getting popular. A guy who wins multiple Academy Awards for making the big named hubba-bubba's look cool.

No. I think I wanted to be an actor because it gave me a chance to work with make up and effects. I thought it'd be cool to be the guy sitting in the chair while a plaster mold was made of my face so that they could make appliances that fit my face specifically. To sit down in a chair while those special FX were applied and my eyes are closed, only to open them and find someone completely different staring back. I had the utmost respect for those folks. And we've just lost one of the great ones.

Have I drank some poison of which I did not know?

Sick. Tummy Sick.


I'm not ruling out poisoning. But with my recent spate of health maladies I'm gonna sniff everything I put in my mouth.

This sucks. And I have a considerable amount of stuff to do.


F#ck. I hate throwing up.

I would also like to add that a healthy continuence of nibbles in the form of gourmet waffles, asparagus, cheese, and crackers (And beer) assisted in the aforementioned venture.

Thank you dear.

Done and Done

PORCH'DDD

This project has been a thorn in my side since I moved in. It started with someone's general hatred of the carpet, followed by tearing it up, followed by multi-tasking (Homeowner mistake number 1- Don't work on multiple things at once. I think I ponied this job up with cutting and laying the brickwork patio out back) followed by stripping the gawdawful wood, followed by dismantling the existing Pergo on a dance floor, followed by discovering it only covered 1/4th of the floor...followed by 2 years of sitting on it.

Then Daddyo and RSVP came over last fall where we made the discovery that "Hey...they discontinued this brand of Pergo!") And we waited through the winter. And now that the 'Bean's daughter is getting hitched party is at mi casa, I needed to pretty her up. So I hauled a new darker pergo in to help mask the eventual dusting. Turns out, new pergo has the foam backing already attached so we had to take up the existing foam I layed down last fall.

6 hours, three sweaty P men, and a whole boat load of cursing later- Done'd.

Sooooo...if anyone has a line on some nice wicker furniture, and a matching area carpet/runner that would "really tie the room together"...find me.


ps: I also repaired and painted the picnic table out back. It's a nice, rich colonial red. But I've been fighting my wabi sabi hankering to splatter different paints on it ala' Jackson Pollack.

Long time no post...

"Oh. Hai. Ur homez urly! Itz not whut youz tink, rlly!!!"


Sigh.

Last night he tried to steal my soul in my sleep. For real. I woke up and he was curled up by my head, face right in mine, sucking out my soul through my nose.

Well...do they?

So this came up:

British people don't have pets. Maybe the ones living in the states, but I am thoroughly convinced...by my utter conviction in pop culture cinematic madness...that British people don't have pets.


(*Based on the fact that in almost every BritPic/BBC program there have never been a kitteh shown. And dogs were usually for hunting foxes...or bears)

Weird

Did you know that if you search "p0rn" on Netflix, the name "Brian Dennehey" comes up?

Gahlf

I was driving to work a few days ago.

And at 6:30 am there were people at the Gross Golf Course* (*No lie)

Golfing.




F##king maniacs, I say.

My ability to frass about golf withstanding, and the fact that my lawn hasn't even been prepped for Spring/Summer yet...

You go, people.


Maniacs

Hi. I did something weird today...

Disclaimer: This will NOT be interesting. To Anyone. Who did not. Grow up...outside of BeeP's/BeeC's. Even those folks will probably move onto Perez Hilton's site.) This is about as Anti-Garrison as it gets, but it cheesily came out of no where...Isn't that where whims start anyway?



I took a right today. Instead of a left. That's how it started.


It's been a minute since I've been to my original karate school in BC, well, Before I started the Ninja show at the BLB anyway. I've been itching to meet the new instructor, who RSVP told me was pretty good. Time and commitments being what they are have kept me away, sadly but... today though, I made it. And made a commitment to him that I'd go. And he was happy. And it was good.

After getting my ass kicked, then storing my gear in my trunk, and planning about how I would finish my afternoon before Dorajar finished her rehearsal, I whimsically decided to kill a minute with a drive to my home town...And here we go:

This is less romantic than the layperson would think. Small town people have their own version of nostagilia, believe me. It wasn't like I grew up in the middle of a bean field...but there are those folks- (All 2-3 people I graduated with who happen to stumble on my blog)- Who might read me. It was a surreal slice of nostalgia that brought me back to my home town. And furthermore compelled me to frass about it for a second or two. I'd save it for a written journal...or an LJ private post, really...but it creeped into me like no one's business and I felt strongly about writing it here.

Okay, Okay...enough justifications. Frass off if you don't dig it:


"They'd moved out over three years ago. And I realized I personally hadn't been there in over two."

Brooklyn Blvd remained moderately unchanged. The Brooklyn Center BK which became a Vietnamese Joint had become a VFW. The clinic which oversaw my big brothers allergy shots all those years was still there. The Bridgemans apparently closed and was scheduled for a grand-reopening in the same spot. The tiny mall on 63rd was still there...the Little Brooklyn's where big brother amazed the server with his ability to eat the entire enormous "Mexican Plate" used to be? An Asian food store...I still tell people that story.

Across the Boulevard, the place that was Zayre's was razed. Making way for a new strip mall. The 694 interchange was unchanged. The only icon missing was the enormous ITEN building. Our own skyscraper in the burbs. I lefted on 69th, noticing the long absent Taystee Outlet. (A place where we'd stock up on mini-donuts) and the mini-mall (site of the Adventures in Video that gave us our first VHS rental: "Dragonslayer". It was mom's B'day gift. And the Pop Shoppe...with their knock off cola's that we dutifully drank and returned their bottles) that had been replaced by another mini-mall...with an obligatory liquor store attached to a tobacco store...and Subway.

The street signs were new. Bordered and large lettered, fancier. I saw Starbucks on the corner where there had been...nothing? Before. How much business do you get, Mr. Bucks?

Post Office, check. Health Partners, Check (17 years since you diagnosed my Mono.) The streets were all there. I passed Maranatha...site of my big brother's first "real" job. New sign. Still the same. Pebble Creek apartments...where I went to a pool party and my friends hid my underwear when I was in the pool, sending me home (walking) crying. My junior high. Still there. No physical changes but I see flags of many nations hanging in the cafeteria.

I want to go home. But first, I think, let's try the ancestral manse. I almost past Colorado Ave. The tree's on the corner are so big ("When did they get so big?") And I drive down. I think of names and memories and see "For Sale" signs littering the front yards. I remember the names on that block. Mike. Nikki. Mitch. I drive and do a loop at the end cul-de-sac. Marci's old house still has that shed in the back ("And where they build the hockey rink. And where they had the pool where you and she snuck beneath the pool cover until both your parents thought you were dead and drowned. You. Got. Whupped!")

In and Oy lived across the street. They were Korean, but everyone assumed they knew Karate, right?


Back home, with the streets you know (Bethia, Brunswick, Colorado, Douglas) and you see the houses where you played when the world was small...and their names (Dave, Jimmy, Brady , Phil and Jeremy, Aaron, Emory, Brian, Jason, Brian, Brenda) And then your house:

Seriously. It hasn't been two years since your folks were trying to sell it. They were already in their new place. The economy was crappy. It took so long to sell it. I remember helping the clean out. The raking. The trips that were made "specifically" to my old house.

And here it is. It's yellow. Rather, the new vinyl siding is yellow. And there are 5 cars in both parking lots. And a new basketball hoop. I don't stay long. And I go.

The wait at Zane an 71st drives me nuts. For real. I almost get out of my car to hit the "Walk" button. I check out the elementary school. The hexagonal building is called a Community School now attached to a "Community Learning Center". The hockey/ice rink warming house is gone. I can barely see the new playground behind the scho...community center. "Emit Fo Eye" is gone (The "Eye of Time", which was a football shaped climby thing that my two friends and I played "Dr. Who")

73rd

Zaneway is gone. So is the underage selling liquor store, Bamboo House (Where I wanted pancakes and mom ordered me Moo Goo Gai Pan as a substitute, but big brother still got a cheeseburger. Incidentally, that was the earliest memory of "They serve dog!!!" stereotype. Unsubstantiated, but clearly...well. the malls gone isn't it?

Gone is the Speedy Mart- Home of many an ingested Drumstick/Whatchamacalit/Push Up/Big League Chew/Jolt/Kempswich...sugar...something...Video World, where Mom gave the owner permission to let you rent (underage) "R" rated movies (And eventually your first adult movie rental as a favor for your Blaine Girlfriend at age 18) DW's, the mini-diner. And the place that sold records your old man called a "Head Shop" and your folks wouldn't let you go in to.


No, there are brand new town homes in their place. Big. Pretty. And the awful part of me wonders why there are so many pretty brand new houses in this neighborhood and how long it will be before they go bad? The first bank I would get money for my mom at is now a Dental clinic. The bowling alley where I applied for my first job, more homes. How can a state in a housing deficit afford these many homes? Didn't my big brother get attacked by a woodchuck by Shingle Creek behind where those homes are?

(Right on Brooklyn Blvd)

Village North, gone. Homes to follow. I see White A##hole is still running. And the mini-mall (Wasn't there a Tradewinds Used Bookstore? Didn't Mom, Ro, and I just stock up on books there for fun?)Trying to get my bearings before PCHS (I see Rocky Roccoco...on the site of Gatti's...where I reprimanded my buddies for smoking at age 16 over sausage deep dish) BK, Arby's, even Mc D's...the big hitter's? All gone. (And f#ck. The things that happened at Village North. Everything. Concerts. Hockey banquets at Circus Circus. Tapes bought at Musicland. GI Joes bought at "Best". Walgreen's visits for that cute cashier. Heck, there was an IJA which begat a True Value which begat a outdoorsman store- which I applied for a job at- and didn't get. Gone.

Now there's a...I don't know..."rec" thing that cater's corporate deals. Blondie's is still there, as is the methodist church I attended as a youth. PCHS has a fancy new sign in front as well as some other exterior modifications...a far cry from the days when (cough cough) ne'er do wells stomped a pair of boobs in the snow outside the main stairway windows.

I decided on the direct route home, opting to take a left this time...up 69th and pissing off the fella behind me. I could see Prince of Peace in the distance. It looked undisturbed, and I remembered it had been 8 years since I set foot inside for a wedding, and 18 years since I was asked to come out on Easter Sunday to watch my brother's girlfriend and the girl my 15 year old-self loved canter.

I rounded up into Mounds Cemetery. In place since the late 19th century. An impressive feat that I'd never considered.

My mom, bro, and I (Amateur necrologists) would picnic here and look at the markers. There was one with a lamb on top (Years later, I'd learn that it'd mean a child had passed) that we nicknamed "Lambie". We'd eat mini-donuts from the Taystee thrift store down the street and look at the old headstones.

Many, Many years later this would be the place a former high school classmate of mine rested. It was here, at the ancient (snark) age of 33 I decided to pay my respects.
And I did. It was windy. And cold. And,God, I didn't know what to say. I felt like I should have said something...profound. But I just stared. For a few minutes. Then I was in Springville for some reason. Then I left. But...


...first I looked for Misty. I first happened upon her memorial one of the first times that I'd visited E. In Junior High she was a cheerleader, and had endeared to me by the fact that during gym class she had flashed her cheerleader trunks at me, and me directly. The next year she was transferred out, and fell out of memory. The only reason I remembered was her marker. 13 years ago.

I looked today, and couldn't find it. There was a picture imbeded in it too. I felt a little foolish. And got a smidgen misty. Then realized it was time to go home.


I crept up 69th to Freeway Blvd. (Quail St, Beard St, Palmer Lake Park where my Dad and I trained to go hiking in the Bridger/Teton's) past the industrial buildings (Which used to house "Zubaz"...before the irony) past the building which housed a seafood joint/Hispanic joint/Sports Bar (My first fear of shell fish came during my mom's birthday dinner and my dad pointed at the decorative mussell's and shook his head)

Super 8 is still there. So is Barnacle Bill's and the bowling alley (I had brunch with my dad and his old FBI/Sheriff's deputy buddies as recently as 2006...PS- Don't order egg beaters around them, lest you get strange looks) Then the freeway. Then Dowling.

YAR!!! Other Drivers!!!

So Mother Nature is getting her final licks in this month, per normal, and my commute home was no different than any other commute save that it was extended nearly forty minutes. Not that I mind, don't get me wrong. When I first exited the cloverleaf from 494 to 94 WB the inability of my windshield wipers to keep up with the spray from fellow commuters slipstream spritzing had my stomach in knots.

This morning, I dutifully turned on my vehicle to let her warm up and brushed off my car and the 'Beans. Now, for the non-MN readers...all...none of you...a snow brush is a standard purchased accessory for all vehicles in the state. Why? It beats the s#it out of trying to manually "hand brush" your car and when it wet snows the drops below freezing you have zero chance of removing the ice "sans scraper".

Which brings me to today. Can I get an explanation of the douchepackers who decide that they're in such a hurry that they can scamper off into the world (read: On the freeways) with a full sheet of snow completely covering their rear windshield?

I wish I were lying. But I was behind a Saturn Ion which, upon exiting the freeway, WAY overcompensated their turn and quickly brought themselves back to being in front of me by way of almost sideswiping my car in the process. (I had to drive into the shoulder, and I fear the shoulder)

The s#itty thing is, the snow wasn't even that bad. I was able to actually wipe it off with a gloved hand in one foul swoop.

Fitness Fads

So as I was frassin' to buddies at my friend Shinobi-Wan's going away party last weekend (ps. Be safe, friend. I mean it) I was talkin to Key-Sung, Matty-Boom Boom and anyone else within earshot (The house) That it was my goal to lose some Ell Bee Esses before the Fringe show this summer. It comes as no shock that I've put on 15 plus pounds since my early '06 blues, and also subsequent s#it weather, losing my "Y" membership, and a busy '07 have put a MAJOR damper in my fitness goals.

No longer.

The new membership is great, and I'm hitting the gym anywhere's from 3-5 days a week depending. Thing is, since I'm older I've had to re-think my routine. For example...

Before, the high intensity/short period weight sessions interspersed with moderate cardio meant keeping the weight down. What I've discovered is that even with a healthy lo-cal diet, I start to bulk up. Meaning, my back/chest/arms/shoulders start to get mass while the rest of me turns into Vince Vaughn after a bender. Boo for aging.

So, I'm tweaking. And I've probably lost around 5 pounds while I experiment. What it HAS got me doing, is reminiscing about the days when Ma and I tried nearly every health supplement in GNC when I was younger as well as equipment. More specifically, bulls#it equipment. More specifically, the Red Flyer wagon wheel with handles that was in my basement which purported to "build abs", the three elastic-y springs with handles guaranteed to "broaden your chest" and the mini-trampoline which...I don't know. Those bastards, even their larger cousins, are death machines. F#ck, we just tried using it to dunk basketballs. And what happened to me was that even though I thought it was beautifully positioned 'neath our basketball hoop didn't do the trick. And my dreams of "Being Like Mike" were squashed as the stupid thing stayed in place about as well as if I tried jumping on a skateboard positioned over banana peels...on a bed of used motor oil.

So it is with great pleasure, that Cracked.com has acknowledged this as well. And hopefully debunks some exercise myths that my fellow exercise enthusiasts can benefit from. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a 15 year high school reunion to skinny-up for.

http://www.cracked.com/article_16104_sticks-stools-7-random-objects-sold-as-exercise-machines.html

Is it sad...

That I just want to stay home this weekend, rake, putz in the yard, drop some Spring seed and just...you know be outdoorsy. Get the work gloves on. Hang out at Uncle Frankies in front of the Homey Depot.

And then I hear tell it's gonna dump a hella snow/sleet over the next 48 hours or so.

Flip.

Funny business, for readers

First. Happy birthday Zachary Ryan. You are one year old, and cuteness pie. I wanna eachooup.


Second, if RSVP hadn't shown me this in his basement on da laptop (With us laughing uncontrollably, and dad shaking his head saying "I don't get it") I would probably NOT have the headache from laughing I do now. Only because my pre-during-NOREFUNDS-routine consists of imbibing a low-sugar MONSTER energy drink. For no reason other than I am a monster.

Enjoy. For those Jersey lovers, "My new Haircut" (Which has gotten way too much air time, I'm sure, before I had heard of it.)

KENYAN'S!!!

www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRuNxHqwazs

Part two: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-3qncy5Qfk&NR=1

(Doc? You may recognize this dude from your gym)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JMOh-cul6M

Wow...Deja View...

Yesterday I was walking down to the local Walgreens to take advantage of the exquisite weather we were experiencing. (A post 60 degree day. The first since November of last year) The combination of the sun, warm weather, smell of Spring/rotting leaves/wet and thawing grass...even the fishy smell that emanates in the distance due to the paper mill? Well I found myself thrust back to almost 8 years prior.

In April of 2000 I was emerging from a patch of quarter-life crisis in a big bad way. I had come off of 6 years of independence to living with my parents, to next finding an apartment with my newly single big brother.

We found an apartment near the U of MN campus on SE 4th street. The building was peopled with students, and Ro and I moved to the top floor apartment which we promptly dubbed "The camper" (It was long, almost tubular. And our rooms were on opposite ends of the place. No real "kitchen" to speak of, but it was cheap. And close to our respective offices)

For some strange reason, things were starting to look oddly progressive. The month of April found me getting past the quarter life crisis and into making some new decisions and sending my life into directions. I had stopped my previous casual dating liaisons with a promise to myself after the last one (who proved...kinda crazy? No dead bunnies, but sakes...6am the next day is not when you start screaming "WHY DIDN'T YOU CALL ME BACK?!?!?") a few weeks before, and decided I would stop acting that way altogether. For real. I was no good at it. I hate the phone and talking on it as a rule, and that got misinterpreted WAY too many times.

I stopped hanging out with people who were acting self-destructively toward one and other, and eventually me. I bought a new (used) car, retiring the gargantuan behemoth gas guzzler- The Crown Vicky. I scored a promotion at the bullseye after 3 years in the same position when my manager said to me: "You seem extremely under-challenged". (Please note, this promotion would also see the downward spiral at the office, which in turn prompted me to tenure my resignation exactly one year later due to panic attacks every day I scanned in...and to become a singing cowboy. I led a charmed life.)

Most importantly, I actively looked for and scored a paid gig to quell my antsy "Stop taking every gig you're handed and try, try to challenge yourself). And by paid, I mean "Well Paid". As in "Holy shit, they pay this much for rehearsals...AND the show?") I was working out consistently, and here's where I wanna double back for a second: It was a beautiful April day in 2000, and I was able to go jogging outside for the first time in shorts and a t-shirt. I crossed the Saint Anthony footbridge (where it got chilly again) and came back 'round up University. There were students everywhere. They were only a few years younger than me...on bikes, in front of Dunn Bros, walking, hanging on their porches. There were same smells I smelled just yesterday and there was the same feeling of optimism and progression that were running rampant in my brain.

I could hear the sounds of radios with the "young people" (I'm a grampa. But what do I know. My musical tastes/preferences stopped circa 1993) where music was thumping from houses: Sisqo, Outkast, Pink, and Nelly Furtado were all getting new airplay/video's/follower, while boy bands were seeing themselves at the cresting point before solo careers and coming out of the closet became the larger news.

I bought myself a DVD player. I later ended up getting my first steady girlfriend in 4 years. I went down the Apple River (For what is now, the last time ever) I obtained a new cache of buddies, one of whom I'd proudly be standing as his best man 6 years later.

I guess spring'll do that to you. Nose. Stagia.

The Crooze itself

So after a quiet weekend, we got up at the ass crack of dawn on St. Patty's day (After ingesting a nerve calming Bloody) to get a ride to the airport from Pa Perrious. The flight was fine (I was passed the F#CK out) and we were then shuttled to our port of call in Long Beach, where after a brief wait we boarded the Paradise. Famished, we went in search of vittles whereupon we discovered the beauty and joy which is cruise food. (It was a bit of a "holy s#it" moment for us, and during the duration of the crooze it took all of our restraint not to eat everything within our line of vision) we were able to do a bit of recon before dinner, acclimating ourselves to the where's and whatsis were on da ship. Then we debarked. We were apologized to by the staff for the cold weather, even though we were already covered in sunblock and saying "are you f#cking kidding us?" I guess 70 degree's to some is frigid. To us, it felt like we were in a sun spot.

Did you know what? People don't tell you that you can feel the keel. That was weird.

We met our dinner companion's (the misanthropic side of me didn't wanna have to sit with strangers. Fortunately they were all young couples. Unfortunately for Moda, three of them were military.) Did you also know that these bitca's that live in Cali just drive on down to Long Beach and going on cruises is about as routine as going up North to da lake is for us MNsotan's? Go figure.

Our dinner was cut short, however when we received an announcement that there was apparently someone spotted in the ocean. (It took the lot of us a few minutes to get past the "WTF did they just say" moment to actually getting our fancy, albeit not to tasty, dinner "to go")

We later found out that it was just a buoy.

After being confined to quarters, we called it an early night and ended up getting up at the ass crack of dawn (again) to work out. Moda braved the chilly weather and the outdoor running track while I opted for the warmth and safety of the gym. (Yes, you can workout on board) Our first port was the Catalina Island town of Avalon, where we eschewed spening $ on any of the tours/excursions and opted to get the lay of the land on foot. A few margarita's and some sunshine (As well as an impromptu outdoor dance show put on by the over-sexed pampies...seriously, do we need to see these young women/girls dressed like hookers and "crunking" It was creepy, and Moda remarked that there are probably pederasts in the audience) we were ferried back to da ship for a nap and the formal dinner.

We enjoyed the captain's cocktail (one of the few times we were able to drink for free) and were introduced to the crew (I wanted to shout out "Well if they're all here, who the f#ck is driving the BOAT!!!") and were able to actually get through the meal this time before hitting the dance club. And did you know, that I am a senior citizen? Seriously, wtf with these kids and there dancing? I almost got a shoe in the face.

Day three was Empanada Mexico, which we decided to actually do a tour of Bufo-dufo and the shopping area. Lemme sum this up- Our shuttle had a bunch of Johnny Salami's on board. (Tan, mid-20's, wearing straw cowboy hats...and carrying a football) As soon as we arrived at the shuttle off point in DT Ensenada, these dudes promptly took their shirts off, got drunk, started yelling, and played catch (and...cough cough...lots of shirtless grabass...hmmmmm) within the span of 10 minutes. I wish I was lying. And it made me grateful we didn't opt for the private club/beach/bar crawl tour. That would have been bad-idea jeans bad.

Did I mention it was only 60 degree's? Morons.

Buofodora was kinda lame. After a Tecate and some fajita's, we proceeded to get accosted by every street peddler there. Every one. One of them even chased after us. It was like Tijuana on Meth. Crazy.

We headed back and opted for some hot tub/naps. In the hot tub we were told by a young couple (Ken and Barbie the Horseface) that the bar crawl was fun "If you like drinking" (I'm assuming they meant "a lot". They both claimed to be "still drunk" and were powering down the pizza like it was their job) We skipped dinner in lieu of snacking on the buffet bits and caught a little karaoke...did I mention that their karaoke bar is huge? Like, cabaret nightclub huge.

And I got my ass cheered for after singing. It was awesome.



The last day was our "Fun Day At Sea"...which started as kind of a drag. It was cold. Cloudy. And the ship info booth said it wasn't going to be over 55 degrees. (Did you know that they captain will circle around the sea to find a sunny patch? No lie) After breakfast and a nap, Moda was convinced that she could will it to be sunny. And so it became. And hot. And nice. And she got sunburned. And we drank our weight in Margarita's, which was that day's special.

We dined with buddies for the last time, packed, and called it a night. Almost.

Because in there were folks in the next state room who were partying. And by partying, I mean SCREAMING at the top of their lungs. We had to call the steward to shut them the hell up. (Again, we're senior citizens. Shakes cane. Says "get off my lawn". etc. ) The only edification we received was when we heard a telltale "CRASH"/"OW!!!" of some drunkard falling out of their bunk. (We saw the room the next day. Totalled)

After we made port, we were NOT anticipating a 7 hour wait at the airport (We were basically forced to exit the ship at 7:30am) and after tooling around the Queen Mary, we hit the road.

And found out that we could get a standby flight for earlier. (Anticipating, again, that we wouldn't get it)

But we did. wOOt.

And we came home to 6-8 inches of the white stuff. Boo.

The Looooove Boat...

(This'll be longish. You've been warned)

So I went on a cruise. There, I said it.

The genesis is as follows:

After checking out my folks Euro trip photos and my daddy-o's recommendation of checking out Europe before I die, I got a bug up my butt to hit Italy/Paris with Moda. I even went so far as to offer the trip as a X-mas gift. What I wasn't counting on was the fact that the dollar was so frassin' WEAK right now. (The exchange is...well I don't even wanna say)

So, we looked into warm weather vacay's instead. At first we looked at Mexico and Florida as hot tickets, and while we searched and searched our options and for online deals, the deals themselves became more and more cost prohibitive as the time went by. (Airfare was a bitca) At one point, we were resigned to just give up. Then we saw cruise deals.

Now, I was always of the mind that cruises were for seniors. And also that Moda didn't like the idea of being cooped up. But the more we looked into it the more it started to appeal to us. But again, flights were showing up as pretty cost-prohibitive and time was sneaking past us (we needed to hit it during her Spring Break from school)

Well now, we found a CA cruise with two ports of call that fell in our price range. A clickety clackety moment later and we were set. (Although Orbitch coulda hooked up our flight sooner. We didn't get confirmation until two days before we left!!!)

I wrangled my way out of work that week, and it was on like Donkey Kong. And how did it go?

I'll tell ya...

Huh...

So Moda and I were pegged to do this gig where we had to play "paparazzi" for this weird costume party at the Varsity. This dude has hosted a late winter costume party for the last five years or so and the theme's have ranged from tropical, to television, and this year it was "dress up as a film character". (Funny enough, I actually remember this event and account when I worked at the Tux/Costume shop. It didn't register until after the fact)

So what we were supposed to do is hang outside for the attendee's to show up (chauffered in limo's, no less. Did I tell you this dude has $?) and snap there photo's with real cameras/no film. A pretty easy gig, all told. And you know what is kinda funny? How people pose when they think they're getting their picture taken. (And they did. I felt kinda bad for the actual photographer, and for the people that would ask us to take their photo again) So we had fun harrassing people, screaming pop culture bon mot's like "BABY BUMP!!!" and laughing at the our MC's screaming "THIS COULD BE ANYBODY!!!"...I do feel the need to point out something a little weird...the actual costumes. Now, our host was sportin' the Clint Eastwood cowboy look which was cool. But what was hard NOT to notice was the "repeat offender's". For example:

We had 4 pairs of "Dumb and Dumber's" (And they were. Totally blotto before even showing up. Wanker's)
8 "Juno/Paulie Bleeker's" (Creepy factor was increased when one of the couples were in their 50's)
3 Marilyn Monroe's
2 "Joker's"

Meh. There were other's but the gig was almost a month ago. I would like to offer mad props to the lesbian couple who showed up as Tom Cruise and Kelly McGillis from "Top Gun". That was damn clever. And the team of Oscar the Grouches.


This event even has a name. The dude basically coined a term for "The winter blah's" and made a party out of it. I crap you not.

And Jeebus...$8 for a glass of wine? What is this, the Ivey's?

Working backwards...

So to begin:

If you missed it, you missed out. "What's Done in the Dark" was made of awesome. Ian could put set designers out of work his art was that awesome. F#cking, cool it was. There, I said it.

So much...

To frass about.

There will be many, many of these postlies coming up so please bear with me. I will do my best to break it down into bite-sized portions. To be discussed:

1) "What's Done in the Dark"
2) Gigging a costume party for adults
3) Cruising
4) Easter, and I'm still here.
5) 15 years, where does the time go?

I think that covers most topics.