New Year Listy!

Did you know that there were, like, a TON of end of year lists this year? Many starting in September? End of year lists are becoming as ubiquitous as Target when it comes to pushing holidays and far earlier than the public is probably comfortable with. So here, starting only a mere 10 hours before Midnight, December 31st 2010- CST- I will present you with the year-end Happy Christmas Baby Meme! For your benefit and arousal...questions by me, for me! Me!





Happy New Year, Baby P! Did you keep your resolutions you made when '09 changed to 10?



I sure as hell...can't remember. I think so? We partied at Moda's house until the wee hours and I was pretty intoxicated by the end of the night. Sufficed to say, we played at the playground across the street in the freezing cold and snow in our shirtsleeves. Kisses were had. Conversations were...kind of followed. It was hazy, and we met FeeJ for breakfast after we shook off our booze clouds.



My resolutions tend to be take better care of myself. Save money. Do more theatre. The ilk. And I'm usually half assed about it. Maybe even quarter-assed.



Did you travel anywhere new?



Oh shit yes. After a fairly slow travel year in 2009, I managed to finally get on a plane. We hit Portland, OR for a wedding and some relaxation. We had epic breakfasts, seafood, and ocean-time. It was hard to come back.



Closer to home, we finally managed to cross a bullet point off our list and go camping up North. It was a beautiful trip with beautiful sights, challenging hikes, and strange weather, and wonderful food.



So what's new in the stew, Nancy Drew?



Gosh. Much. Theatrically, it started off kinda slow for me with a workshopped production at the Illusion for their "Light's Up" series by my friend D'Brode...and then? Nada. A few on-camera's here and there and a couple of murder-mystery dinner gigs, but nothing substantial on stage. (1/2010, 3/2010, various) To be honest, it felt sort of numb. So...



...I finally took the comedy class my mom and dad (and buddies) wanted me to take. It didn't prove to be as fulfilling as I had wanted, but it gave me an idea as to where I think my head should go in terms of artistic creation. I tried for a Choy La Fut gung fu class...but it was cancelled. (03/2010-04/2010)



I became mobile, computerly speaking, and am now the proud owner of a wireless laptop. (9/2010)



I shot the film about the 30's Era St. Paul gangsters which filmed through August/September and some of November. It was trippy, and until I saw the finished product hadn't realized that I'm in the entire f#cking thing...yeesh. It was around this time that I realized I should probably start losing the weight I'd been trying for since...oh...resolution 2007? '09? Fahk. (09/2010-11/2010) Anyway, filming forced me to...



...Learn to drive a stick (manual transmission). At age 35. In a car from 1930. (09/2010)



The biggest thing was our new fitness/wellness/health goal- Distance run training. Starting last winter we stopped light chub-burning 20 minute runs and started to pile on the miles and immerse ourselves in run culture. And while I'm not as fanatical as Mo-Mo is, I learned all there is about Vibram's, Karnarzes, Fartleks, and their ilk. As it stands, a full marathon might be in the future for 2011. (February 2011-present)



Christmas was kind of a big deal. I felt accomplished in the sense that I finished my shopping by 11/15/2010, but for my big-kid birthday I got a big wonking 42 inch TV. Holy crap.



We'll ask about your accomplishments in a tic- C'mon...have a tissue. You aren't on Barbara Walter's...what were your low points?



Well there were definitely some pits here and there and everywhere. I was getting pretty unhappy at the temp gig working for the Big Gay Wagon Company and so shortly after we got back from Portland...I resigned. (7/2010) I immediately took up with a new gig that turned out to be a pretty bad fit, which I realized about 2 days in to it. It didn't take too long to shuffle temp agencies and being more than a little burnt out in short order before that one ended too. (08/2010) Instead of being placed right away as promised by my new temp service, I was shelved. Or forgotten. Or whatever. Sufficed to say...I spent approximately 1/4th of the year unemployed.



By far and away my longest stretch to date. (08/2010-11/2010)



Loss was sort of a trend in '09 with Dad and Rock. We remembered the anniversary and it was somber (and, I'm fairly certain, I stayed in and got blotto by myself) The trend began anew in 2010 when our dear Georgie shuffled off his orange tabby coil to the great big litter box in the sky. (08/2010)



Okay, man up, kid. So what are your accomplishments? Be humble, now.



Okay, wow. Running. If MapMyRun is accurate (member since 03/2010) then I've put on about 700 miles this year and ran my first (half) marathon in June. In fact, I think I've competed in more races this year (7) than I have karate tournaments in my life. These have proven to be some of the most challenging physical activities I've engaged in since probably before high school and backpacking in the Rockies. (I'm looking at you, Mud Run) Some have been for a good cause, others to have fun with buddies, and others as a simple goal needing to be met. More over, I'm really starting to enjoy putting on the distances...AND I'm planning my 2011 courses. Sick out! (4/2010, 6/2010, 7/2010, 9/2010)



While taking my health into my own hands, I also quit drinking hard booze. My tummy has thanked me, my life has thanked me, and it's helped me to get some shit done for a change. (10/2010)



I fixed up and prettied up the bathroom and stairs. No small feat for a man who is all thumbs. (Not, you know, perfect. But it'll do. 11/2010)



I restarted the family Halloween diorama tradition (10/2010)



I got a new contracted job that I think is a (knock on wood) good fit. (11/2010)



Also, I auditioned for and got cast in two shows for 2011. So the first 1/4 of my 2011 has gig-age to look forward to with some pretty awesome casts. (11/2010, 12/2010)



I started going back to karate 1-2x's a week like I've been trying to do for the last 2-3 years. (I'm old, and it hurts more, but I do realize it's something I enjoy a lot)





What big-events in the world do people need to remember?

Locally speaking, we got a new ball park and that did wonders. We also had an early onset blizzard the likes of which we haven't seen in nearly 20 years. This was wonderful to help us know what it's like to have to shovel 8 times in a 24 hour period and listen to incompetency on the radio in terms of why the streets were plowed...but the next biggest deal it caused was the cave in of that there old Metrodome.


In big-worldly news...well, the things that come to mind are being glad the miners escaped. Nice to know that a potential tragedy was curbed. It was like baby Jessica all over again. Except with a bunch of Chilean Adults. With all the recession/housing/polictical shit talking, I hope people remember the big ticket deal- The frickin' oil spill. (Starting 4/10) The analogy about us "fucking" the Earth and the Earth getting back aside, it was one of the largest catastrophe's to affect the coastline...ever. If people would spend five minutes figuring out ways to help clean up who aren't glued to reality TV or named Kevin Costner then I think the world might start to be a better place.

Okay, okay...calm down. Anything else?

Yup. I spent a lot more time with family this year. And I think I've maintained the course in terms of my relationship with my girl.

ONWARD! ROAR!!!

Merry Christmas/Happy New Year, family...

(Style blatantly ripped of-...borrowed. Borrowed, from my friend Mel)

Happy Holidays, my darling dear niece and nephew! Your 3rd and 2nd Christmas respectively, I wanted you both to know I had a wonderful time visiting with you last weekend!

Zachary-
You were a very helpful present-opener this year. Before we were all even situated, you were pulling the gifts out from under the tree and divvying them up for all of us in spite of not even knowing where we were going to sit. You were so good at opening, in fact, that you sometimes had the gift almost completely unwrapped by the time you set it in our hands. You're quite verbal now, and I have to apologize when you "go off" on a tangent and I can only decipher bits and pieces. (Your parents are expert translators) I usually respond with a "Yeah?" and you say "Yeah!" back and I figure that's all good.

While this was a surprisingly abundant Christmas, I think favorite memory of the day was when we were eating cake and you had all but inhaled yours. Your dad, who wasn't listening very closely when his wife asked him to bring out a second napkin, brought out a second LARGER piece of cake for you instead. Her horrified reaction and you looking like you had won the lottery before head-butting your mouth into the cake was the best. Next to my big-assed TV.

Claire-Bear-
Sorry I don't have a more appropriate and less cliche' nickname for you. I found myself calling you "Clarice" in a Hannibal-Lecter-esque way and it's a little creepy, especially when asking if the "lambs have stopped screaming" yet. You are a beautiful lady, and at the bittersweet "weed-growing" stage. You're a counter, and about as verbal as your big brother. We played "hide in the cave" (in your cave behind the chair) and with your little flashlight we explored the "Bear Den" (The laundry room.) I'll give you this, love- You are a schemer. And a thinker. And a little princess. Oh yes. But you're tough. If you fall, all you do is point to your (elbow, knee, cheek) and show where you want it kissed to be made better. I love you, darling. I really do. And because I know you love them, I hope that you enjoyed the X-Mas card. (The monkey singing jingle bells will drive your folks nuts- But I really loved how you SCREAMED whenever you opened it. For 45 minutes.)

It was a sweet, but simple affair. I got the big-ass TV, which means when your folks drop you off at Uncle Mi-Mi's it'll be big ass movies. Getting it home was a hoot, with a corner sticking out the window. And it's a little ridiculous. I hope you realize. Auntie Moda sends her love as well. She's in a show at CTC right now and I think you'll both be old enough to appreciate it, if we can get your mom over her fear of anthropamorphic people-beasts. Although I'd pay for all of us if we could get her to the theatre.

And lastly, you both may end up being too young to remember him but Pa Woof was missed a lot. Again. And I sometimes wonder if he's watching us somewhere. He loved you both so much.

Merry Christmas, my dear hearts. I love you very much.

Your old-uncle Mi-Mi...

Yeah, yeah...(Sticks tongue out)

Busy, Busy, Busy. Okay? With Halloween, followed immediately by a new gig, followed by auditions (you heard me. It's been too long to post on my dumb blog without a grand theater identifier) I've been swamped. I barely have enough time to find scrubbed p0rn online. Sheesh.

To nutshell-

Halloween!
Great. I barely got my costume finished in time (thanks, mom) meaning by about 9pm when there were barely any kids any more anyway. We had a good turn out, good scares, and holy shitballs I'm happy to be done "making" the decorations. Next year should be a piece of cake just to throw the shit up instead of having to cut/build/sew/blah.

New Jobb'ed!
I won't lie to you. Despair is a very real and animate thing. Even if you're a posing positive patty like I am, the wiggling niggling of fear stays lurking at the periphery. I'd like to attribute some of the more positive events that have occurred on hard work and perseverance but I'd like to think that other factors played in. Example- On about 10/17 (Happy birthday, Mom!) I quit drinking. I wanted to see if that would positively affect my energy (and checkbook) and for better or worse, it did. 2 days later I scored and interview. I was hired the following day.

Pip.

So now I'm a rep in Variable Annuities New Business. It seems like a good fit, and it's been satisfying to be able to send emails to the contacts at the temp agencies saying "Um...I now have a job. Thank you." (I can't type the undercurrent of animosity. My laptop would fizzle out. Sufficed to say, my opinion of them has diminished significantly)

Theatre!
Another thing I decided to do during my moments of clarity, was to see what was out there theatrically. A few shows popped up and I said "Eff it. Let's go". The musical was...funny. Funny b/c I haven't done a musical in, oh, 7 years. And it isn't like my forte' or anything, I just knew what I wanted to play- and got it. Eff. Yes. A few weeks ago, there was another gig that was going up in '11 that looked promising. Having been produced 6 years ago, I loved the show and it was fortuitous that I figured now I'm old enough to play the younger parts. Any way, more info on those two mama-jamma's later.

Film!
The movie that has (felt) like it's been going on for months came to a close (finally) The finished product is good. Really good. I just wish I didn't look like a puffy pancake. (Seriously. That's a lot of puffy water-retained face to see on the big screen. Eep) A full length version should be airing soon on the public access stations in Stipples. Pip.

Blah blah blah, running, blah blah blah , lifting weights, blah blah blah karate. I'm sore.

And old. Someone has a big-kid birthday coming up tomorrow. How the heck about that?

Halloween 2010...the return of the SCARE!

YEAH!

I'm ahead of the curve, friends! Thanks to some dietary changes, a new exercise regime, and an increased motivation I decided to uphold an age-old time-honored Family P tradition and set up:

THE SCARY FRONT YARD/PORCH DIORAMA!!!

Many of you (two of you) may recall my frassin about how from my earliest love of horror films/Halloween a desire to replicate the special FX was born. From probably 4th grade until well after I left home, we would haul down crates and musty boxes filled with decorations, ghoulish masks accumulated from pricey costume shop and thrift store alike, and particle board tombstones and make a frightening front lawn and garage display in our old ancestral Brrrooklyn Park homestead. After several moves and before landing in my current NE abode (and after my folks moved to their new digs) I "inherited" the big plastic box of goodness, vowing to keep it inside to maintain the integrity of the costumes and latex masks. (Some things, tombstones, signs, etc...were lost to the ether)

Annnnd...I promptly never did s#it with it. Oh sure, every year I'd WANT to make something high-falutin'. Something to eclipse those masks, once stuffed with newspaper and propped on sticks and torn up box with a brides dress and a plastic skeleton stuffed on top. But my motivation was lacking. (As, usually, was time. Since I am, you know, a Procrastinating Pendergrass) So usually I'd manage a few window dressings...a scary mask on my porch, my "macabre" orchestral album "Fright Night" (A find, indeed. Instead of dumb "haunted house" noises it has Mussorgsky, Beethoven...stuff like "Danse Macabre" and such) and a seizure-inducing strobe light which is...ahem...very old.

Not...friends...in 2010.

So a few weeks back I made a pledge- With materials I have and can scrounge, I wanted to create a diorama that was slightly more three dimensional and infinitely more terrifying. And with scraps of wood, old costumes/robes, Mom's help, and a loooot of duct tape, I'm about to show you kids some of the early renderings. (An album will be created on Frassbook of the finished product. My happiest comment is that, since I started this a few weeks back and gave myself time to do it- I'm ahead of schedule. And, all done on a budget. Except the fog machine. It was on saaaale though!) Please note- WORK IN PROGRESS!

From a suitcase in my basement, puppet dummies are intrinsically scary. I have since, added an ancient dummy head from the 40's that this guy is holding. Don't believe the scary? Watch "Magic". You're welcome.



This guy was one of two cheap plastic skeletons that I'd just throw up. I'll be adding detail to the ribs later, but I found a Fright Skull mask with hair and two big plastic skeleton hands. A T-Frame to mount the head and position the arms later, this guy is two feet off the ground.

Another mask we purchased ages ago at my former PT employer in their "Discount" bin. The mouth and snout protrude (like a "Dementor") but I didn't want to mask the face. I shoved an old karate head gear with a weird protuberance around the jaw to keep it in place and stuffed newspaper around the head for shape. Another T-frame and a monks robe. Still need some hands. This one, as well, is 2 feet up.
I first picked this werewolf mask at the height of my werewolf/horror spaz nerdery in 1987 and wore it out to what was to be my last trick-or-treating session. Found in the deluxe sections at Knightcostco in Brookdale Mall, I wore it with a grey fox fur vest turned around and a shirt over it. And it promptly became decoration for the following H'weens. ($36 in 1987 dollars well spent, I'd wager) An old flannel of my dads and my old overalls/boots. A cheap pair of gray skelton "fright" hands (doctored with gray crepe hair) The legs are stuffed as are the arms, and will be reinforced with cardboard tubes then "handcuffed" to the chair. (Bought in the Dollar Store toy section. Chair is a wrecked "princess" relic) The chest form is an old "Roman Gladiator" chest piece reinforced with a inflatable body form (More on that in a second). The head, stuffed and rested. (Incomplete project as of today)

Along with "Freddy" (who is still being built*) This was my big project and the first one I started building before the weather went to pot. A mannequin body form was used, then arms measured and cobbled from an old pair of 1x4's from the cabin and affixed with duct tape. The legs were the same, but ended up with a "Satyr" quality due to the bodies "posed" shape. I found some old sturdy 2 x 4's in the garage, ran them up the leg holes and sawed them to shape then ran a screw in. (I ended up doing the same for the arms after dressing it. Since the overalls were snug)

My had the overalls, the head was an old Don Post "Rotting Corpse from the 'Father's Day' sketch in the film 'Creepshow'" that we bought at a Woolworths 20 odd years ago. The hockey mask was an old garage sale find, painted to look like Jason's. The hands/gloves were tricky. I used old thin foam cut to shape, then duct taped to seem like it was jointed. I formed the right hand over the ax (Originally, I wanted to use a real machete but it was too heavy. A licensed "Jason" machete was f#ck all expensive, so I found this plastic axe for under $4) The arm sagged, so I jury-rigged it to the porch curtains to look like it was raised and I hope people don't notice he's wearing cowboy boots. All told, this effer is over 7 ft tall.

Okay. More final pics to come of the graveyard, the hanging mummy, body parts, fog, before/after heads, and last but not least...MY costume.


*We found these inflatable body forms at Ax Man surplus years ago and they don't sell them anymore. They are yellow, vaguely woman shaped, and in two pieces (Torso and legs, with rubber grommets to tie them together) I have to wait with "Freddy" b/c the cold weather will probably sap the air out too soon.

Predators...a review

(Ed. Note: Today's blog is a departure, as it is a review. The original "Predator" was the 1st R-rated movie I saw in the theater, down in IA in 1987 during a family reunion. It was acceptable to see, at age 13, b/c there were no boobies. Natch. Sufficed to say, this film holds a dear place in my heart)

Let's forget, for a minute, that this film spawned a ridiculous franchise. That people pitted them against "Aliens". Superman. Batman. Dennis the Menace. Pretend for a second, that this is a simpler time. When what was to become a cult-hit, was just a really solid sci-fi/horror/action film. A true film of the 80's:

An elite team of soldiers is sent to the jungle with a "clear" mission to rescue captives deep in the jungle, aided by an old friend-turned-CIA agent with "unclear" motives. Their roles were all established. You saw their camaraderie. (This wasn't a showboat for Arnie, after all!) You got how they worked as a team. Puns were dropped like pocket change ("Stick around!") A former governor said that "There wouldn't be Blood". And when the smoke cleared, there was an uneasy sense that nothing had been accomplished.

And there was something watching them. And the s#it hits the fan. As they start to get picked off, one by one. And they don't...know...what's...out there.

A lot of you know the rest. Choppa's were gotten to. Motherf#ckers were called "ugly". In Arnold's storied career, he's only been killed as a bad guy once. (With all other deaths being "sacrificial" in nature- Culminating with his 22 foot long jump to sword impalement in "End of Days".) Well s#it, here the guy survives a nuclear explosion at close range, natch!

Then we get a lukewarm, if not anticipated sequel which was...okay. And then a franchise player is born. And the Predator had to be explained. And to brawl another franchise player (The "Alien" from "Aliens". A "xenomorph". Oops. Nerd-outed myself.) And here is where I'll start my review of "Predators" properly.

The Good:
Sequels/Prequels can be dicey at best. If they work, they keep the tone in tact with some of the basic plot points of the original. Veer too far off course or mess with the formula and you have a mess. (Even "Sex in the City 2" had this problem...I heard) It may never be as successful, but you can at least try to emulate it without aping it. And this is where I think "Predators" works the best.

The film starts with our main protagonist (Royce, played by Adrien Brody) waking up while free-falling without, it appears, a parachute. (Effectively done, too) He later meets the rest of the "protagonists" who all appear to be a group of hard-asses from various parts of the world. What happens next, is the uncomfortable alliance while our group tries to piece together where they are (at first, thinking they are in some nameless jungle) how they came to be there (the only thing any of them remembers is a flash of light before falling. Again, no backstory needed. Boom. There they are) and eventually, how to survive. (Without spoiling too much, the first scene with the hunting dogs is an intense prelude of what's to come)

What works-
The filmmakers worked hard to capture the feel of the original movie, from the lush tropical landscapes to the weird anamorphic diffusion on long shots almost giving it a dreamy quality. Along with a score that mirrors Alan Silvestri's original, and subtle conversational throwbacks ("You're one ugly motherf#cker" is said, just not they way you expect. Also, another lampooned line is brought back for what can only be pure nostalgia) The panic, reluctance to follow one and other, and foreboding sense of dread give the film a tense feel that moves forward without being bogged down with long periods of dialog or montages showing how they're going to beat the aliens.

Credit should also go to Adrien Brody and Alice Braga (who holds her own throughout) Brody has worked in such as varied and strange array of films since his Oscar win, trying on many hats. (The quiet indie "Darjeeling Limited". Being overshawdowed by a monkey in "King Kong". A scientist in "Splice".) Here, he seems to be channeling his inner Clint Eastwood or Robert Loggia, speaking his lines in a gruff (kind of weird) raspy manner.

What doesn't work-
Everyone falls into line fairly quickly, and the deductions as to what they're up against is far too pat. There is a shoehorned plot point that calls back the original that feels shoehorned in to get the message across that "yes, we're making a sequel to the original". Also, here is a team of badasses with high caliber firepower. Annnnd the death row inmate with a shiv. And Topher Grace. (Who is funny, don't get me wrong. But the whole film I was waiting for him to be either bait/dead meat, which without a gun he should have been. Or some sort of red herring/plot point who would be "more dangerous than the rest". And when that happens...it's...eh. Also, wasn't there a bit in the 1st two movies about not having a gun on you being a good thing when you were hunted because there was "no sport"?)

Quibbles, mostly.

If you are a fan of the original. If you like sci-fi/action/horror. You'll probably really enjoy this film.

"Revenge of the Mud Run"...or "Ghost of the..."

(Note- This may or may not fall into the realm of overshare. I don't really give a rip. My blog, my rules. And it's kind of funny)

It was along few weeks and I managed to avoid doing laundry for quite some time. This would normally be no biggie, however I made the error of waiting until the weekend to wash a load or two and my roommate-who has been juggling work and rehearsals and therefore busy as well- asked if he could co-opt the laundry room today. (This wound up being a 9am to 6:30 pm task. He told me later that he fell asleep in the afternoon and woke up drowning in the clothes he had carefully set folded around him.) What does this all mean, you ask? Well it's quite simple. I was relegated to the back of drawers. Where the old concert t-shirts live. The pants that you only take out to do lawn work. Or wear as pj's when no one is around. And most devastatingly of all...

It's where the terrible underpants live. (shudder)

Not terrible, just not nice. A little old (read: smaller sizes) and usually the pairs I break out to go on outdoor runs in. This particular pair, we'll call them "Hamburglers", for their particular print- We're worn while doing some manual labor over the weekend. While stripping down for my evening shower, I heard the unmistakable sound of sand or grit falling on the floor. When I looked down...a long...lingering glance...sure enough- There was a pebbly dirt like substance by the sink. (Okay, fine. I kicked them off of one leg in the air and caught them. And some of this dirt showered down on my face. Happy?) I was confused, since I wasn't in the garden or doing anything that got me overtly dirty. And when a few more dusty grit pieces came off I...

Okay, so there's this pocket under the crotch-al region on guys boxer-briefs. Where the fabric crosses over and together? Forms a natural pocket. Okay? And I pinched it between my thumb and forefinger towards the way back. (Read: Where the dudes 'tween' begins) and it felt...bumpy. I turned them inside out and almost immediately realized what I was holding:

These were the drawers I wore on the Mud Run. These went in the bag with the rest of my ensemble and were thrown in the communal bucket with both my and Moda's clothes for the pre-wash then subsequently the washer. So some silt/grit/bog bits/puddle pebbles/brown frown must have gotten trapped in there. (Remember how long I said my shower took? How there was dirt, literally, everywhere? How many Q-tips I needed? The biggest piece I found in the Hamburglers was much smaller than a BB pellet, but still)

I'll need to re-check this next year when I make a list of pros and cons of doing the run again.

Gross.

Skeery Spooky Stuff

I'm skipping ahead of the friend nostalgia and kitty eulogies to take in something more recent- I was asked to do the good old scary tours again this year in Stipples. Fun, huh? It's pretty streamlined from what I remember (short tours are 90 minutes, and the long ones with the cave business- 2 hrs) After getting practice tour, driving the route myself, and finally the schedule- I started on October 17th. Coincidentally, mom's birthday. And so, I birthday'd her a free scary tour.

Please understand that (A) even though the 3 people who read this will more than likely never go on the tour (Or in the case of one, had worked there so long she's seen/heard most of the s#it I'm going to tell you any way) that (B) I can't get into to much spoiler-y story detail anyway. It's a paid public tour, and people deserve to get their surprise. However, there is a disclaimer-

Muck Muck Moreau (my fellow tour guide) and I have had this weird history of doing tours together. Since going on sabbatical 2 years ago, it was nice to get back into a routine with him again. We have the timing down pat. We know when to move on from site to site. How to work up the appropriate feelings of fear and dread. And for his part, he stopped giggling so much. He's still incredibly bad at math though. (I had to correct him on decades versus centuries)

Except the Muckster is a tried and true believer. The guy sees ghosts coming out of car exhaust. On my earlier tours, it was almost a goofball/straight man schtick. Later, I was worried that his excitability over it might invalidate the mystery. And then, this'd be about 4 years into touring together, even I couldn't help notice that every year at least ONE f#cked up thing happens on our tour. After this long intro, and my first tour back in 2 years...no less than THREE things happened. And they were alllll f#cked up.

1) First tour, small tour. (14 peeps) We shut people in a pitch black cave and tell stories. When we're done- I can't find the rope to open the garage. I get a little help, but it wasn't from Muck. He looks at me stupidly and said "Did you hear that scraping?" I said yes, that it was me, and I was frantically trying to get the door open. We're quietly arguing on the bus, when the last people come on and a lady says-"Is that why you turned around? We thought we hear something too!" I brush that clear off, and we depart.

2) We're driving away from Mounds Park and have just finished a scary hospital story, when I see an old man in the back row holding court. I'm talking, and get a little miffed that he has 3 other people listening to his pow-wow so I yell (very sweetly, mind) "What's so very interesting back THERE?" And the older gentleman raises his hand (RAISES his HAND) and says "Sir, I think the window was shot out."

We're on big coach tour buses. Windows don't just get "shot out". But sure as s#it stinks, the exterior tinted window (they're two ply, and thankfully the interior window was in tact) had a fracture and was raining shards of shrapnel down periodically whenever we'd hit a bump. The man then says "Didn't you hear that?" (From what we gathered, it either had to be a kid with a b-b gun or someone with a rock getting hurled super fast and hard. I just don't know how I could have missed that.)

3) At the cemetery, someone had left a birthday cake in front of one of the children's graves. Not supernatural, really. Just sad, and a little creepy. While there, our driver has to knock out the remaining pieces and clean it up off the street. I feel bad for the guy, but happy he has a broom and bucket on the bus. ("What, Irvin?!??! You have all that and no DUSTpan?!?!)

And we were late. F#ck.

4) Tour #2. Mama and her friends show up and it's hard to mask our agitation and weird out factor. I'm sweating even though it's 40 degrees. We agree to make it a story and lead the group back to the caves. (Our cave liaison went to look at it and almost yelped "What the F#CK?") I end up having to corral a little blonde chain smoker who was flying solo and smelled of Bacardi and wouldn't shut up about how much she LOVED the tours and LOVED the history. I fend off my mom's withering glances (She thought it was being flirty.) I get the last of the tour in when the cave liaison comes up to me and whispers:

"Um. Just so you know, right before you came in? One of the candles in the glass holders...exploded everywhere."

Oh. That's not all. The slide show? That she's done dozens of times before and has so much time to reset and prep? Kept jumping to the last slide. For 3 minutes.

5) We tell the group the story of the window. A big group (30 or so) they seem less than impressed. There are a few takers, but apparently they don't share our disbelief. We get to the sight of a gruesome death at a meat packing plant. When my partner goes out to shine the spot on the building, a couple comes out to walk their dog. Turns out, it's the new owner. And he has stories. And they. Are. Weird. (Braced and locked windows opened from the inside. The ghost of a boxer on the loading dock with a matching poster from 40 years ago downstairs. Tools missing and found lined up the next day. Automatic toothbrush being turned on in the middle of the night, spinning around on the counter.) He leaves and I tell everyone: "That beats my story".

6) We make it back on time and see everyone off and collect our things. I go to say good bye/happy birthday to my mom etc. when blondie from earlier in the tour comes over to us. (I wonder if there are Ghost Tour Groupies) She insists we all look at her camera and she shows us pictures from the cemetery. She said she kept the flash off, like she was asked, and showed the silhouette of the group, my big-ass spotlight, and then the next two were of the weird green orbs she said she took behind where we had convened off into the deeper part of the cemetery.

While this isn't indicative of ALL of the weird stuff that has happened to us over the years, it certainly is the most in one evening.

Jeebus. I'm gonna need to start brining an old priest and a young priest on board my next tour.

NCOD

(National Coming Out Day, fyi) This blog'll be a departure from what I usually write so I'll be fine if you want to skip it.

There's been a lot of fuss in the media that wasn't mine-related having to deal with bullying. Kids are mean. There is that awful time when we all start to identify with what our identities are and who we think we are and...all the confusion. And you don't want to be confused. And it's so immensely frustrating. Awful. And for those who "develop" earlier, the one's who people say have bad self-images so they put down others- They end up being in power. I was bullied. Over stupid shit. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I didn't wear the nice shit other people were wearing. I didn't wear deodorant like other kids. I couldn't afford good cologne so I wore what was in the bathroom closet. I was pushed. I had gum put in my hair. Someone even got on my case for wearing a 1987 Twins sweatshirt in 1988. And the best one? I was told I look like a girl. Great.

The bottom line, is that kids can be mean. Like little rattlesnakes who can't control the amount of venom when they bite, they will let loose with both barrels and have no idea of the consequence. Or care. I always thought that bullying was more of a physical thing. When I was in High School, I was in a class with a kid who was put ahead. He was portly. Acne scarred. Pale. And ripe for the guy I sat next to to rip on. And one day when I saw him flicking the kids ear when they walked into class, I up and punched the guy. He never touched the kid again so long as I was around.

So I wish that I was the hero, but I guess the truth is I wasn't.

Last night, Moda and I watched this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ax96cghOnY4&feature=player_embedded

Bullying. It's been all over. It's on Facebook. I've seen celebrities rally against it. I think the one we watched last night above took me by surprise when he talks about his dad. I lost it. And I wanted to take a sec to tell my 4 or 5 readers about one of my best friends.

Steve. (Or is it...Sssssteve)


I've known Steve since 1991 when he was a Sophomore at my high school. We were in the One-Act Play together that year as well as the musical. And we big kids teased his ass ruthlessly. The Seniors. Juniors. It wasn't the horror show you'd think by reading the newspapers. We didn't beat him. Shove him in a locker. A lot of what we did was because he was new. He was young. It was hazing "lite". We'd circle around him calling him "soph" (Oooooo). And on occasion...once in a while. We'd call him faggot.

Gay.
Fat.
Pimple face.

In fact, here's a good story (Thanks, memory) There were student reviews of that One-Act. On one of the slips of yellow review paper, it said: "I liked how Steve played the fat and greasy guard so good". Now, to be fair I'm sure a lot of the kids didn't think we'd be reading them, but there we sat there after school in a circle, crossed legged on the stage and read them all. And I'll never forget his reaction...

"Well fuck them!"

(Gotcha. He wasn't sad. He was pissed. And the rest of us felt really bad for him. We lightened up a lot after that)

After High School, Steve started up at North Hennepin. (With yours truly being a seasoned community college boy). And when the theatre dept. musical rolled around, we found ourselves back together onstage. We started hanging out together and before you know it, we're buddies. Parties. Cabin trips. Roller blading. Bike riding. In fact, he helped us find out some of the best places to go dancing. (Best, meaning "where you wouldn't get carded") And one of those joints was the Saloon.

We liked going there because they gave us wristbands even though we were all underage. Sure, we kinda figured it was a g'bar but who cared?!?! We could drink our Sex on the Beaches and Bud Lites in peace! We could dance on the speakers! They played awesome TECHNO!!!

After a while we all sort of started to wonder about our buddy. We'd unsuccessfully tried to get him laid a couple of times. When the girl (I later ended up dating) confessed to having the hots for him, we few got in his face about it. "Dude. She wants you. If you don't get with that, you're gay. End of story" (Ah. How funny it is when you aren't in high school and say it.) We even got them to play a paraphrased (albeit awkward) version of "Seven minutes in heaven". He was on his way. 20 years old. Time for somebooty.

Shortly after that, I was dumped. On my ass. And I was maudlin. And suuuuper-depressed. And Steve was there for me. Most of my other close friends would say "too bad" or the super comforting "whatever"- but Steve took the time to listen. He listened at Benchwarmer Bob's over beers as I cried for her back and said to me "Do you really want her back?" And one night when I needed to vent the kid had me drive him back to the Saloon. I remember how weird it was. It wasn't a party night. The dance club wasn't open yet. It was just a depressing Sunday. And we sat in the bar area for a long time. In the quiet. And this, friends, is where some of my favorite dialogue of our friendship came up:

Me- "Man...if you can't communicate...you can't have a relationship. ______ and I? We couldn't communicate, man. Trust. Trust, and talking. Yeah." (Our writer sniffles)
Steve- "Well dude. It could be worse"
Me- "No. No way."
Sssssteve- "Well. I'm gay."

And that was it. He told me I was the first straight person he told. He hadn't even told his family yet. And I guess it would have been a bigger deal had I not kiiiiinda figured it out. (Oh. He did tell me if I told anyone before he had a chance to, he'd kill me) Within our immediate circle of buddies the reactions varied. The aforementioned girl who liked him...well, he probably shouldn't have came out to her at a Perkins after she bought them tickets to see Wynona Judd. (Her expression, when I met them later. Was legendary) My other best friend...well he had a more nuanced and tactful approach. ("Wait, what? You're a gay? Do you like wearing womens shoes or some shit?" Please note- It was shortly after this that I learned that calling something you don't like "gay" is considered rude. Thanks for the sensitivity lesson, friend.)

The biggest reason he is one of my best friends is that the kid has been there for me. Time and again. When shit flies in life, as shit is wont to do- (In my case, getting dumped. Or losing a dad) He's been there. And I think that is a pretty good average.

Okay, so why this lengthy gay ramble, you ask? (Or "Gramble"). But sir, you've been in theatre for nearly 20 years. Clearly this is not to absolve your mind of teenage transgressions? Good for you for being so cosmopolitan. Or something.

Well, if you've come this far. And if you do know of this kind of bullying behavior. Or know someone who needs support. Please tell them-

It does get better. It does. You do have friends. And you should never have to live with that kind of hatred. Or anger. Saying it doesn't matter because they are young and say dumb things doesn't make it right. There are people that care more than you know. More than you might be willing to believe. And you should cling to that like it's a life preserver. It is hard. Being yourself is hard. But you need to believe that you can be. Because you might be a best friend to someone who needs you to be there for them someday.

Sleep tight forever, sweet Georgie Teh Kitteh.

In the words of my S.O's sister- take note: The following post is sad.

In case the title fooled you, Georgie shuffled off his mortal coil last August. It happened so suddenly...it was kind of a blur and shock. And then it wasn't. And then it was.

See...

A week or so before we went camping up North, Geo had been acting peculiar. Meaning, we were pretty sure he wasn't doing so hot. He was slow going. He wasn't jumping into bed or on the couch. He wasn't eating or drinking. Stopped using the bathroom. And moreover, did that awful things dying animals seem to love to do in order to act MORE pitiful in their last days- Finding a place to lay down and die.

Unfortunately for me, this was in my closet. And I'd be damned if I'd let that happen on my watch.

The Bean noticed too, and after a brief talk he agreed to vet it up. We aren't made of $, so I know his sadness at his kitties sickness was tempered with the fact that he wasn't able to do $1,000 vet bills like some owners can. And so, after an initial visit and return. (And the night before we were leaving) we had a note on the dry erase board. Nutshell- Say your goodbyes now. I was crying. I tried to get him out of my closet and into my bed. Moda and I took our turns saying farewell. And in the morning, after looking at the cat carrier sitting forebodingly on the porch we took off.

And, uh, then we started getting a flurry of texts the next day. "Hold tight, Geo in for observation"/"Geo getting fed intravenously"/"Geo unhappy, but spry". I had a feeling that after all that energy spent mourning, we'd be returning to a fat and crabby tabby. Which, after 4 days in observation, we got.

He seemed fine. Eating. Pooping. Sleeping in my bed and being his cantankerous self. We received this wonderful respite. He was his old self and we were glad. If not a little poorer.

And then he slipped back. I found him in my closet again. I put up books as a barrier to keep him from going in there. Bean noticed it too. However, fortunately (if you can call it that) this time our sadness and grief had morphed into a grim resignation. I mean, we cried so much. And Georgie was suffering. We could tell that much.

And so I heard the commotion on a Monday morning. I usually stay in my room w/the door shut while he's doing his morning business but the front door shutting and locking had a sense of finality. And about an hour later we got a text. "Geo was really sick. More details later. Put him down this morning". (It turns out he had kitty cancer of the most advanced state. The IV feedings gave him his strength back but it wasn't enough to keep him going)

And just like that...the food is donated. The litter. The toys are tossed. And I'll be really honest, I love my girl but I'm missing that hot and furry orange lump that'd wedge between us on the couch or in bed.

I miss my friend the cat. He felt as much mine as it was the Bean's. And as much as people have mentioned replacement, I don't think that I'm there right now.

Bye Georgie. We loved you a lot.

Nort Country

Good NESS- This post-a-ble takes us back to the last weekend of July. Summer is bittersweet for many reasons, but for my actor S.O. Summer can come to a screeching halt well before a calendar indicates. In her case, Summer was ending approximately the beginning of Fringe, as she was tapped to be a Fringe Blaugger, From there, it would be gig to gig to git until, when was it, dear? 2012? (I kid)

Since we started dating, we had both desired to go on a camping trip up to the North shore. Filled with magical hikes, nature, and campfires, we hadn't been on a proper camping trip since South Dakota. We had briefly planned going up last year, but as some readers remember the timing wasn't all that great. So finally, we made some reservations and we made it happen. Grand Marais or bust. (And of course, again, tragedy would arise juuussst before we left. However that is a blog for another time. Meow)

It is here, on our 3+ hour commute, that I was tasked with the monumental job of helping her name her Fringe Blog. I thought I did okay. I mean, I'm no Don Draper but I was able to rip out a goodly list. (I figured the title's that were "good" weren't met with an eyeroll) My personal faves were "Re-Fringerator Perry" (Can you see it? Her picture at the top, wearing the Bear's jersey with a tooth blacked out?) And "WTF?!?= What...the Fringe?!?!" For the record, all of these GENIUS titles were shot down by management. Continue)

It had been a hot summer, so you can imagine our surprise when we arrived and it was...pretty chilly. Really chilly. As in, we had to toodle around town to see if we could find blankets. Grand Marais is touristy, all right. Packed w/peeps, the shops take care to remind you that even if you can find a blanket at home for less, if you're unprepared you 'd better get ready to shell out $200 for one. (We didn't) It was a little surreal. Finding the camping site we did up North During the summer (The "Honeymoon Suite" it was called, for it was tucked away. Shut up) is nigh on impossible- but Moda is a crafty and gifted campsite finder. The campsite itself was...well-

You had the die-hards. The people who brought up their campers and were settled in. They had front lawns. Flowers. Gardens. Gazebos. The works. And then...this is what we weren't anticipating- The ladies dragon boat races. Man. The campsites were overrun with groups wearing their matching T-shirts. (I made the comment that some of them looked like they should be selling turqoise and silver jewelry in Santa Fe) According to Mo when she was in the bath/shower area- she's never heard a group of bigger trash talkers. ("You're goin DOWN!"/"No YOU'RE going DOWN!!!") Crazy.

Outside of the smoked fish, food and nature, the highlight had to be our "EPIC TRAIL HIKE". See, we were itching to regain our status as "Varsity Trail Hikers" after a few setback hikes. So we got in our gear, threw on our Camelpacks (Natch. And hey! I had one at my folks! Unused!) and hit the Superior Trail. We asked for challenging routes and after surveying our physical forms (both of us, taut steel of hiking precision) the park ranger drew us a "Challenging" 8 mile hike.

And it nearly beat us. Holy crap. Not just that it was hilly. Or long. But, and this is weird, almost all North Shore forest trees are birch and not pine. And they have an invasive root system. So all trails had thick coiled and hard roots that were both trip hazards and murder on your arches. Oh...and they had hills that were so steep they were a scramble just to get up. No. Fun. We did it. And boy, were we glad it was over.

We pulled out the next day, stopping for a brief photo op at Split Rock lighthouse and then Gooseberry Falls. (Never again. It was like an ant hive of pampies, picture takers. Anything scenic was nigh on ruined by families. Sorry) We made our pit stop for a pint at Fitger's before rolling back into town.

And this is roughly where I lose my beeb for a few months. But we had ourselves and EXcellent summer.

The gawdam Mud Run

(Pictured above, "Humble Beginnings". File this under "It seemed like a good idea at the time")

So during the half mara in June, I was tapped early run my friend Pogmyster. About 3 weeks later he sends a FB message w/a link to this Mud Run deal and asks if Team Awesome would be interested. I look it up and it looks like a dirty blast. Obstacle course. Mud. In my mind, a total throwback to Boy Scouts and Rum River when we'd race through tires/rope ladders/yeti ladders. I'm in without question. And the more people who I tell, the more they get interested. Soon enough, we have a team. (SupercalifragilisticixpyaSclerosis. Don't ask. RPK's idea won) Besides sounding awesome, it's for a good cause (Raising money for MS Prevention) and it started getting some friends into this running craze which has o'er took my girlfriend and addled my own brain.

Race day was on September 11th. Packet pick up the day before. I had my race costume picked out. (Torn up Spidey shirt, camo pants, bandana...natch, and my old running sneakers. Everything was meticulously planned out. The shoes'd be great, since I accidentally bought them slim so no fear of them falling off and they were still in good shape)

Then I read the race packet. And, as Moda would say later, it was intimidating. Most of the warnings were for the "formal teams", but the biggest was that it almost ORDERED you to wear combat boots/hiking boots b/c...it assured, you would twist your ankle or lose a shoe if you didn't. So my shoes were chucked in lieu of my 21 year old Asolo trail boots. Fine. When we got up that morning, it was cold. (Strike one) Moda wasn't happy (Strike two) and the course was over at Trollhaugen...which was a ski course. Which meant that it could be 10K of the same type of trail we struggled through when we tackled Afton mid-summer. (Strik...eff it. We pocketed our mutual bad attitudes. Or at least vented on the commute)

On the way out there, I made relentless fun of the douchey race packet by lampooning all the rules they established...for example:

"If you're in a team of women...and you don't have hard nipples after the race for next years promotional pamphlets...you're disqualified"
"If you're not cold and miserable by the end of the race, we will be spraying you with a freezing hose and pelting you with mud balls that we froze the night before. Or you're disqualified"
"If you complain before the race and we hear you, we'll ridicule you...call you gay or something...and you'll be disqualified"
"If we don't find at least 78% of your team attractive...you'll be disqualified. Ugly."

It's amazing what's funny at 7am on a cold Saturday morning.

Our team grouped. We waited an indeterminable amount of time while announcers announced things (We couldn't hear a GD thing. The speakers faced the crowd and not the runners. There was probably some good advice in there somewhere) The banner was sang and spangled. And then there was the gun, and us in our uncomfortable shoes. And then? Things went kind of downhill.

I know this isn't brief, but I'll try and keep it Cliff Notesy. Before you've traveled 100 feet there is a knee-deep pool of water. And then a second. Whee. It was here I was almost elbowed in the face. (In case you're wondering, it's hard to run in water. In boots) And when I exited the 2nd pool...that's about when my boots decided to keep the water in them. For the rest of the run. And as we went up our first hill and down the massive ski hill and hit the bottom to re-group, that's when I realized this wasn't going to be a proper run at all. What you had was:

• A trail run. Complete with all the lousy ass hills. And they were steep. And many. Even unencumbered and in trail shoes it'd have been challenging. And they were. I confess that by the last hill, I almost gave up. I'm not proud.
• The trail was punctuated by mini-ponds. That smelled of sewage. By the 2nd pond, you didn't notice.
• Dickhead Course Guides. Oh, they thought they were funny. But they would say stupid shit like "Last hill!!!" or "It's all downhill after this!" around the 3rd or 4th mile. Which is dick race behavior. (Never give a runner false information about the course. Ever.) I had to quell a fight at mile six when another runner started shouting at a course guide that they were lying (In regards to the final distance. I told them there was only .2 miles remaining)
• Injuries. Our team sustained a few, with the visible ones being some nasty bruises/abrasions. There were these successive "hurdles" made out of logs which got progressively higher. At this point, my boots were so sodden that swinging my leg over was akin to swinging a ball and chain. Meaning, I'd throw my leg and it the momentum would take you farther than anticipated. Which meant the last one I went up, over, back down, and landed flat on my back knocking the wind out of me and seeing stars. It was so loud, Moda screamed.
• The shoe debacle...Those...f#cks. I would have been fine with my trainers. More than fine. Besides feeling like I had two cinderblocks tied to my feet (Go on. Strap on three leg weights. I'll be here. Go upstairs. Then back down. No fun, huh?) The silt and mud wedged it's way into the top most portion, causing a mounting pressure. I've never experienced swollen ankles but my feet were pins and needles by the end. I lost a sole and was running off-kilter due to being 1/2 taller on one side. (If you see the picture of Moda and I finishing? That's not a strong finish) I had to throw my boots away at the end.
• IT WAS FIXED! Not really. But after the one, ONE obstacle I couldn't do (The cargo net ladder. I got to the top, and couldn't get my heavy foot over. Sorry) there was a rope walk with a rope to hold onto. And the assholes started shaking the rope midway across. I actually looked at the gal doing it and very seriously and deadly told her not to touch the fucking rope. At that point I would have went back and threw her in the water below us. (Thing is, I later found out they were video taping that point and wanted some footage of people falling in for the website next year)

But we made it. The last of our team. We finished at about 2:20, more than double either of our PRs for "normal" 10Ks. We could barely walk back to the car and slowly disrobed and changed. We didn't even have the energy to get hosed off...we just got into dry clean clothes and called it a day.

Did I mention my 45 minute shower? Yeah. I ate a pound or so of mud when we did the crawl toward the end. That was the worst. Not being able to see came in second. I think I went through 17 Q-tips just trying to flush out my ears. Gross Gross Gross...

And do you want to know the really, really fucked up thing? After all that grousing and complaining. After all that pain? After doing what is now arguably one of the toughest physical challenges I've ever engaged in? Even harder than the 1/2 marathon?

Is talking about what we'd do differently next year. Shoes. Clothes. (My Spidey shirt? Big Badda Idea. The first water hazard I took in all this mud and water. It looked like total muffin top. And since I tucked in my shirt, it stayed. Yummy) Definitely a pair of trail shoes or something that won't retain water. And an UnderArmour top that has a tight lycra turtleneck. And...

What? I mentioned it was for a good cause, right?





The first "under" hazard. We had yet to become our dirtiest. And at least we didn't have to submerge on this one.

Around mile 4-5. Amy, Michelle (We adopted her when her team bailed) Pog (Trying to hide from Predators) Moda, and I. I'm not smiling. I'm unhappy.
The posed ending. At one point, our team was clothed in vibrant colors. The true ending had me wanting to leave and get a beer. Some dude told me walking backwards helped him to his car.
Pam N' Sam...our alter egos. Moda looks like she's mall-walking and I managed to make a running pose but we're actually doing a zombie shuffle to get across the finish line. Not pictured, mud-streaked tears of anguish.

Case of the runs...

So 2010 is clearly the year of the race. The last post I made about running was somewhere post half-marathon and in spite of thinking it'd be a one-time thing I ended up participating in a crap-ton more races. With July being a clear winner in terms of number of runs.

July 3rd was a 10K around Lake Harriet. We had a large number of buddy participants and while I PR'ed I also started cramping up pretty hard toward the end of the second loop. I put on speed when the finish was near and ended up almost throwing up and the guy who smoked past me.

We volunteered at the Red, White, and Boom the next day. I ended up meeting some folks who Moda was getting to know on the local running forums. Volunteering at water stops etc. creates good "race karma" I'm told. Unloading the 7 trucks on a 98 degree day creates a lot of perspiration. And the wetness doesn't end- We headed over to the water stop to set up and ended up getting drenched in a monsoon. (We wore garbage bags as makeshift rain suits) Still, this is the first race I'd ever watched and it's great to feel the appreciation from the runners.

July 21st was the Aquatennial 5K. I PR'ed and had a Jabasian running partner which was swell. It was a big frassy mess of people and instead of waiting in line for the free beers we all moseyed over to the Bulldog. Yahoo. I also realized that I wear a "race costume". This is my theme. And I love it.

The Villagefest 5K was on August 7th and by this point we had registered for the Mud Run. Dangler and FeeJ ran this one with me and finished with extremely respectable times. For my part, I did not throw up. And finished with a new PR.

It's around here that I want to note that running has become steadily easier. We had some bitchin' trail runs that were a pain in the ass when it got so hot it felt like you were breathing soup. (Afton was mostly trail hike/run. And I mentioned Hyland being our first epic trail run) But now when we get outside, going 5 or 6 miles is light. This was coming off our first 10K where crossing the street afterwards was treacherous. Now going 2-3 days without running makes me feel sluggish. I'm still a pudgy puffy pancake, but I'm liking the way my legs are feeling/looking. For real.

The final test run we went on prior to the Mud Run was the Victory 10/5K on Labor Day. Mo smoked us (of course) Dangler smoked me wearing his race costume (Or as I call it "Business Casual Fitness" Khaki shorts? Really?) And FeeJ and I plopped in w/our own PRs that were sub-60. (A goal I desperately wanted) Almost puked. Didn't. Yahoo again.

Finally...the gawdamn Mud Run. That warrants a post to itself. And pictures. Jesus.

Shi...I mean shoot. (And 15 films)

A blog I started in June posted...around the June stuff. So you'll have to scroll down. I'll have a more catch-uppy blog to hopefully flesh out the goings on from the last 4 months or so, in the mean time you'll have to be content w/this meme I bogarted from Frassbook.

It originally had asked for 15 movies that "made you think" or made an impression of some sort and while I could've easily pulled an extra 10 outta my tail I think forcing myself to be concise is a good thing. What I'm gonna share is some of the reasons why these films affected me. Or f#cked me up for life. Whichever.

1. The Empire Strikes Back (Yeah. Star Wars broke the mold. We all saw it. We all bought the toys. Got freaked out. It was great. But there was this feeling...that ANOTHER one was coming out. And there was a secret. A big reveal. And almost nobody knew what it was until they saw it. And since everyone and their cat was at the UA theatre in Brooklyn Center there was no hope of being spoiled ahead of time. I remember hearing a rumor in 1980 that someone at an early showing actually THREW UP in the theatre when they saw what Darth Vader REALLY looked like. I remember the line that snaked around the building. Just. Wow. And I was 6 years old)

2. Mississippi Burning (I watch this once a year. And you should too. And it makes me sick to my stomach. And it's an incredible, incredible story. )

3. Requiem for a Dream (Pretty much started the kick of "Great Films I'll Never Watch Again". If you can make it through Ellen Burstyn's monologue- And if you've seen it, you know the monologue- without crying? I admire you being able to function with what clearly is a piece of tin foil and ammonia in lieu of a heart)

4. Happiness (The protagonist...is...a pedophile. Who, Gods help us...we root for. See above for reasons to never give this film a second viewing. Solondz is really, really great at making these movies. And thank you for that. Now I need to go bleach out my eyes)

5. Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (Hey. Big spoiler. Spock dies. And having been Trekkily influenced as a kid, seeing a favorite lead character pass made me more scared of death than when Obi-Wan was struck down. And yeah. The eulogy and the bagpipes. Ugh)

6. The Passion of the Christ (Knee jerk, knee jerk, knee jerk. So good old Nutty Mel makes this snuff film. And it didn't leave my mind for days. My friend and I who saw this needed to go to Houlihan's afterward for a drink- probably not the most Christian thing, mind. But she was bawling her eyes out. And. Jesus. Exposed rib cage shot?)

7. Mulholland Drive (Right. So admittedly I was buzzed when I saw this at a couple friends house on their big ass TV with booming surround sound. And they laughed and asked "Any questions?" when they saw my face. I was genuinely freaked out when the homeless person jumped out after the diner scene. Stomach churning and surreal. Makes you feel stoned)

8. Inglorious Basterds (I threw this on because it's still pretty fresh, and will probably go into it more when you get to #11- But like Ralph Fiennes in "SL" Hans Landa is the most despicable villain in the last 10 years. Period. And fills you with menace every. Single. Scene. Even when eating a pastry)

9. Jaws (Thank you. Thank you, Peter Benchley. I know now, as an adult, that they are amazing creatures of nature. And yet, even in a river? A lake? A gawdamn man-made pond in Maple Grove? There are gawdamn beasties down there. Waiting)

10. The Fox and the Hound (Disney at it's most miserable. Almost 10 years away from their Mermaid/Beast/Aladdin'ed renaissance. We'd watched reel to reels of Bambi and the rest, but for my money this one cracked my little child soul in two. It was a time when Disney truly had no mama. Clearly brought on by their hatred of Star Wars and 20th Century Fox, no doubt)

11. Schindler's List (Right. Let me start by saying the same thing I say to one of my besties who see's a ton of shit in the theatre. When I asked him if he saw this, he said he and his cousin...his cousin who lives over an hour away...saw it at Har Mar and didn't speak the entire trip back. Then asked me to see it and not talk about it. Well I made a special trip up to the local Hollywood Video and rented this 2 tape bad boy- and watched it with my dad. And we didn't speak for nearly three hours. Even at the intermission when we both took turns in the bathroom. And then it went in the rewinder when it was over, and we went to our rooms, and never said another word. And that, friends, is my opinion of a powerful film)

12. Braveheart (An old friend said it best- "It made what little Scottish I have in my heritage want to jump out of my body and shout".)

13. The Matrix (Did not want. My friend ran to the front of the video store with it and I told him the day I sit through a movie with "Bill and Ted" dude was not going to happen. Instead, we sat in his apartment watching on his little toaster sized TV and I proceeded to have my mind blown. And then 4 years later watch a sequel that taught me new ways to be disappointed)

14. Ghostbusters (Take a comedy class. Wait. On second thought, don't waste your time. Don't. Watch this film. When I first saw this as a kid, my mom and I went when my big brother was on a fishing trip with my dad. And I screamed like a girl during the first ten minutes, then figured out what being funny was in the last 110. And it still holds up)

15. The Mist (Well. Hollywood. Thank you for having the balls to have one of the bleakest endings of any film in 20 odd years. Jesus)

(Honorable mentions)

"The Cell" (And alternatively "The Fall". Tarsem is an artist, no doubt. Trip. Pee.)

"The Pianist" (The piano playing scene-where he can't even touch the keys...broke my heart)

"A Time to Kill" (It's no Mississippi Burning. And kind of a flawed film. But it stuck)

"Saving Private Ryan" (C'mon dude. On second thought, no. I'm like the rest of the world on this one. The first 10 minutes. Hard. To. Stomach.)

"The Dark Knight" (More Hollywood balls. Not to sucker down and make another "cartoony" villain. Having a "please, please, please don't shoot the kid" ending. Wow)

"The Lord of the Rings" (Because homeslice please- PLEASE! I can't even think of a film where we were waiting in pants shitting impatience for the next one to come out- and then how we were going to live after it had left the theaters)

I owe the world a blog

It's coming. Promise. It's coming...

It seemed like a good idea at the time...

Morning, all! There's a funny new website I'd like to direct your attention to:
http://www.mykitchenfailures.com/

Definitely worth a chuckle and more tongue in cheek than the hippo site. Reading it, however, got me thinking about two things: (A) We haven't updated the hippo site in ages. Frass. And (2) I had an epic failure of such proportion, the likes of which should be uttered never more...which is a fancy pants way of saying I f#cked up something that seemed like a good idea at the time. (I won't even terrorize you with the risotto incident. When Moda's away the Mikey will play? Hardly. I'll just f#ck up dinner)

First off, let's just say I love shopping w/Mom. And not for the "Hey I'm gonna get free stuff" angle but I like being able to play faux nutrition expert when she makes her choices. A few month's ago, we went out to dinner in the Ridgedale area and afterwards she mentioned she wanted to pick up a few things at TJ's. Awesome! So we loped over there and meandered for a bit, picking up bits and bots and turning mom on to the awesomeness which are freeze dried wasabi peas as a snack. Before completing her purchase, my eyes were drawn to these little morsels:


That's right...mixing the two most awesome foods in the world: Seafood AND Sausage? It HAD to be good. And b/c Moda made a vom face, I opted to cook it while she went on her road trip. So while they were thawing, I read the ingredients which played out like a list of all white fish mashed together. I was anxious to get the things on the grill when I noticed the explicit instruction: "Pan Fry or Bake only- Do NOT Grill" ...oooookay?

So into the pan they went while I spent the next 20 minutes carefully turning them. Boy were they smoky. No...really...they're issuing billows of black smoke. In spite of the windows being open, I had to bring the fans downstairs. (Note to self- Next big reno project? A ductless vent/fan for over the stove)

Finally they were done...or at least they must have been with all the rigmarole that went into extricating them from the pan. And for the curious, yes. They were awful. Not wholly unpalateable, just. Well they downright tasted bad. And I made it through 2.5 before tossing the lot. (I had to eat'em. Mom bought them, after all) The worse part? Well the beginning worst part was the spatter, which had managed to cover the wall next to and behind the stove/side of the microwave with an oily fish goo that took ample amounts of 409 to remove.

The really worst part? The smell...In spite of cleaning everything top to bottom, twice, my kitchen retained that smell for the next two weeks. My roommate, ever the thinker and lover of incense burned sandalwood ad infintum with the windows down. Which only served to mask the fish smell with a woody sweetness.

What I've learned is: Fish and sausage are definitely not chocolate and peanut butter. And to relegate the sausage to grill-outside- where any smoky failures can just dissapate in the wind.

<---Trader Joe's Fail.

Late-A-Whirl!

You come back to write with some nearly 5 month old bull crap and this is what you bring us? Really, P? Leave me the frack alone. This was the first saved post from May.

I can't afford art, and have a terrible eye for it. Even the stuff I convince myself I like I talk myself out of. (Example- Currently, where the copy of the Declaration of Independence was hanging on my stairwell, now exists a caricature picture drawn of my best friend and I from the Taste of MN circa 1995. Which meant he still had colored dreads and I still had a gap in my teeth. And he was stoned. There, I said it. And Moda hates it, and I'm just too lazy to take it down. And it is ridiculous.

Anyway, we finally got our buns out Art-A-Whirlin' and Johnstocking. The best thing I ended up finding was actually the most practical thing. Located in the Casket Farts building, was a little shop that specialized in glazing/pottery/cookware. Their casserole dishes had glazed in recipes, as did their mixing bowls (for dips, etc.) and while they were all pretty I ended up with the dumbest of all- A spatula/spoon/turner rest for your stove top:

Moda is the happy owner of the blue twin, and let's be real- It's a pretty smart deal when you think about it. Dishwasher safe. Image emblazoned with what you are supposed to set on it for the dipshittedly challenged. It had to be mine, of course. (And buying a set of soup bowls with soup recipes? Really? They're called cans, lady. And they contain. Soup) So yeah. Me for the win.

This next guy...well I took a picture of it at Rewind! (The local vintage shop, while Moda looked for cowboy boots) This was purely a nostalgia image that I'm pretty sure will only have an emotional impact for my mom, brother, and I.

Yes, a knit hat with Olympia beer cans sewn into it. If they had an empty drum of Carter Hill pipe tobacco with change in it I probably would have gotten teary.

See, when we were really little kids during the summer and dad was at work (this'd be before mom went back to school full time to get her RN degree) we'd don our dungaree's and Olympia hats, hit the Taystee bakery outlet for a couple of boxes of small glazed donuts (in a little blue box. I think they were called "Mickey Cakes") toss the Popeil Pocket Fisherman and a few other kid-sized fishing rods in the back of the Pinto and hit the Coon Rapids Dam area for some fishing. Occasionally, we'd detour to this local cemetery to picnic (Don't ask. Their was a really old tombstone with a lamb on top my mom thought was "neat") and when we fished we usually only pulled up carp, sunnies, or bullheads...but we always wore those stupid hats.

If I didn't think the $25 price tag was enough to pay for nostalgia, I'd have bought it.

Good bye, West Coast

The last day out was fairly uneventful so feel free to skip and slide to future entries-

We slept in as late as our bodies allowed us after polishing off all that wine and while I packed Mo wrote a message to the owners with our kindest regards. In skidaddling back to Portland, we took the most direct route which wound up being probably the most twisty and stomach churning commute through the hillside (Seriously. Moda started to get ill) Before stopping for breakfast at this little roadside dive. (The kind where I ordered a Spanish Omelette which, in their estimation, meant scrambled eggs with a jar of salsa dumped on it.) Nourished, we headed back.

With some time to kill before stopping at L and D's, we had beerz in the sunshine on the patio at the Kennedy School. Then it was a gas up ($50?!?!) a car drop off (bye, Impala), and the airport. The trip was w/o incident, and we were able to jack into the lil' TV's so we could watch cable movies and kill time. (btw- "The Talented Mr. Ripley" ain't got no momma)

Oh, and they lost my mo-fo'ing luggage.

"Is that where the pirate ship was supposed to come from?" (Day 6)

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)

Today was a great day and a little sad since it marked our final full day on the West coast but it beside the wedding it was the day I was most excited about- Cannon Beach. Ocean. Salt water. And while I wasn't planning on body surfing in that chilly nonsense I was bound and determined to (A) check out Haystack Rock where the filmed the ending of "The Goonies" and (B) get my feet wet.

We breakfasted at Wanda's Cafe' and Bakery in Nehalem which was awwwesome. (http://www.restaurantica.com/or/nehalem/wandas-cafe-bakery/23322650/) Moda opted for the Huevo's Rancheros and I dug into an omelete with scallions/asparagus/goat cheese with a side of chicken apple sausage (Yum). Highly recommended. Then it was off to da beach!
http://www.cannon-beach.net/

We doffed our kicks and went for a lovely walk to the rock, stopping to splash a bit here and there and not really minding the chill. (And you damn straight I wore my Hawaiian Chunk shirt. I refrained, however, from truffling or shuffling. Nobody wants to see that) We checked out the anemones, starfish, and other wildlife. And man. That's a big frickin' rock. However it did prompt the question from Mo "Is that where the pirate ship was supposed to come out of?"

A fine misty drizzle started up on our way back to the car and I was sort of saddened to know that we'd be missing the fun upcoming stuff like the sandcastle building contest and the beach front 10K. (How awesome would that have been?!?) It was that kind of day. What we were in the mood for after our little hike was a good Bloody Mary and some snick snacks before heading out. And where else would we have gone besides Mo's? Of COURSE we went to Mo's.
http://www.moschowder.com/home.cfm?dir_cat=13368 (And did someone pick up an ironic hoodie with the name of the restaurant? OF COURSE SHE DID!) It was pretty damn good chowder, but I was a little surprised that they were "out" of oysters. The BM was pretty good and we split a "Mo's" ale. OF COURSE WE DID!

Overall, and enjoyable day that started sunning up once we left. OF COURSE IT DID! Final thought on the beach- I was actually surprised that they didn't have one piece of "Goonies" related schwag or a sign or anything up and about. That must've been saved for Astoria up the road.

We peddled up the coast to Seaside, stopping for coffee and to poke our noses into the local museum before heading back to the lodge. (Having decided that it would be criminal NOT to stay a second night at the quaint hot tub lodge. OF COURSE WE DID!) After popping into some antique stores we went back to the room where we alternately watched the sunset on the porch steps, read, drank wine, schmoogled the friendly local cats, and (in my case) napped before we couldn't take much more serenity and were ready for dinner. Our first choice, a cute little bistro across the street, was closed for seating for the evening so we doubled back and headed over to the Sea Shack-http://www.theseashack.biz/

Capitalizing on our 10% local restaurant discount, we had made another intial trip promise that we'd have some "really awesome seafood". While the seafood and ambience didn't disappoint (we were seated in a quiet area with a terrific view of the sunset over the bay) it wasn't, uber-remarkable? Moda's salmon was delicious but hard to navigate when it was swimming in butter. My dungeness crab was savory and delightful but I forgot how much of a pain in the ass it can be toward the end. (All the cracking and the dah bah dee bah doo. Rigamarole)

We hoofed it back for more hottub time and wound down by making short work of our vineyard wine and watching "He's just not that into misogynitic Rom-Com's that set back the woman's movement 45 years..." What? That movie sucked taint.

When Wine-ing is a good thing. (Day 5)

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)

No sleeping in for the wicked! Everyone was up and bustling to get packed and moving. After a quick breakfast we KP'ed as best we could and spread hugs as Moda and I were on our way for our solo jaunt to the sea. It was also the 1st full day of misty gray that didn't go away. I confess that this sort of colored my mood. My bad.

Our 1st stop was the David Hill Winery (http://www.davidhillwinery.com/) where we were impressed enough to walk away with 3 bottles. I also learned that the wine tastings are ridiculously informal. You pay. Stand at the counter. And swill. (For some reason I thought it'd be a swanky affair)

Then next stop was the Montinore Winery where our Boston Celtics loving pourer chatted us up and we discovered the local "wine kitty". (It was cute, and I missed Georgie) It was about here that I get an urgent message from my temp agency that sounded suspiciously like I was getting the "let go" message. No good. Fortunately they were just checking in, but for about 10 minutes I had that stomach dropping feeling I'd be getting home to unemployment. This, friends, is what really colored my day.

We were back on track to hit the Tillamook Cheese Factory -(http://www.tillamookcheese.com/VisitorsCenter/) First of all, TIllamook smells like Iowa. Cow. Shit. Central. We hadn't eaten since breakfast so we were both peckish and punchy. The factory itself was kind of disturbing. People mill in and out because it's free and they get free cheese. Watching them process the big, shiny blocks was...weird. Not cool. Weird.

Then it was back out. We finally "saw" the ocean and began our trial in finding a inexpensive place to put us up. I was able to get my kicks off and my feet wet in spite of the drizzle. So that mission was accomplished. But I tell you, we must have stopped in a half a dozen places and it was all expensive nonsense. (And to the offices that didn't have anyone in them? Rude)

Eventually we found our way into Wheeler where we found our gem. Tired and a little disgruntled I mosey'd into the this place on the bay armed w/my usual questions (How much, do they accept AAA, etc.) The owner gave me the rundown on the inexpensive rooms, also volunteering that they rent out 2 movies, supply breakfast food, and have free books and games. I mean, watch their video. They're adorable. *(http://www.wheeleronthebay.com/)

I told him I'd consult my companion and get back to him. We meandered to the lodgings closest to the bay and discovered their "suites"- They have their own matching Adirondacks on a "porch" as well as a hot tub. It was a little out of our price range, but eff it. We booked it. And it turns out that you get 10% your tab at the local eateries. So we "rented" "Shitter Island" and "He's just not that into you", were given the low-down on the Lodge kitties ("Don't let them into your room") and got ourselves cozy. Dinner was right across the street at Tsunami (Not great, but definitely serviceable- http://www.facebook.com/pages/Wheeler-OR/Tsunami-Bar-and-Grill/288516621536) and did we crack open some wine, bundle up and read on the porch, hot tub, then watch a flick? You're damn straight.


ps- ICYC, most pictures are up on FB to all my gentle readers who prefer visual aids. Coming up tomorrow? GOONIES ROCK!

I just can't quit you, Switchback Mountain...Day 4)

(Ed. Note- The Christmasbaby Blog is going to be a play by play of our trip to Portland last week. What you'll be reading, matey's, is my observances/experiences of the trip for your amusement. Links to applicable restaurants/sites will be included in case you're planning a trip any time soon. Dates listed are from Saturday, June 12th through Friday the 18th.)

The Right Reverend and I rolled out of bed reasonably early and strangely ambulatory (read: Not hungover) on our final day at the Sheraton Airport. While I packed and collected Moda hit the fitness center while I mulled over brefkist ideas from the bride and groo- Scratch that. Husband and wife's list. We opted for the the Cricket Cafe' in SE Portland as a hot ticket after perusing the menu and hearing that their Bloody Mary's are par excellence'. (Peruse, please. I'll wait. http://cricketcafepdx.com/)

On our way there we got to experience our first real Portland rain. You get a lot of preconceived notions of OR/NW seaboard weather from stories and residents. How it's gloomy, on par with-say-London. High suicide rates. Blah. It wasn't so bad IMO, just strange. The sun cracked through patches of clouds and the rain comes down in a fine drizzly mist. Not proper rain at all. Non-committal. Enough to maybe kibosh that day in the park you had planned but not enough to get your hopes up that it'd clear later on. Antagonistic rain.

Pulling up to the Cricket I saw the weirdest thing- A big ol' frassy raven was drinking out of a tiny creamer pitcher @ a recently vacated table, and every time it lifted it's head the beak was shock white where it'd been drinking. Nothing major here, folks. Just a weird image.

Oh, and breakfast? Made of awesome. The BM's were my favorite on the trip so far.

We decided to kill some time waiting for Shade and Krump down at the Sound Grounds coffee house (http://www.soundgroundscoffee.com/) when the real rain hit. And I mean, a persistent dump. My previous comments about noncommittal precipitation? Erroneous. We all tried to come up with a plan B (today was going to be hikes etc.) but after being unable to agree on a movie we all split up, with Krump/Moda/Myself deciding after an optimistic break in the rain that we'd try checking out Multnomah Falls. http://trips.stateoforegon.com/multnomah_falls/

Located about 1/2 hour out of Portland, the falls were a breathtaking spectacle to see first hand up close. We managed to get our tourist on and snap some pics on the bridge before deciding to hike the 1.5 miles up to the tippy-top. From here (and the lower points of the trail) everything was hunky dory...until we reached the 1st market that stated "Switchback 1 of 11".

Fudge.

See, Moda likes to make fun of my dislike of hills but it is a very real aggravation. Switchbacks are the hill equivalent of the annoying little brother who puts their hand an inch in front of your face and says "I'm not touching yooooou". The most direct way up may be arduous, but switchbacks make you act like you're in a live action version of a game of Donkey Kong. Crap, I hadn't even thought about them since '89 when we were in Scouts and hoofed it through the Teton's humping 40+ lbs worth of gear. And here I was in a sweatshirt at "Switchback 1 of 11"...("This one goes to 11...") already frassin.

Well, except the trail was about as wide as a phone book, slick from condensation from the falls, and right next to a sheer drop. Fun. We made it, took touristy pics, headed back down (by this time I was sweating then getting chilled. My dumb hands were turning icy-blue) and back to Portland proper. Enough with nature...let's bring on the sushi and beer. (Technically, we swung into a nice little Cuban bistro "Pambiche" for some snick snacks first. THERE WAS SO MUCH TO TRY! http://www.pambiche.com/ I should also add, that nary an evening went by w/o my eating black beans in one form or another)

We met up again with Shade at the Laurelthirst Pub where we took in some free bluegrass and toodled our way through the beer list. http://mysite.ncnetwork.net/res8u18i/laurelthirstpublichouse/id4.html

Fromt there, we started to head to our next overnight destination which was where S and L were staying in Lake Oswego (a fancy pants manor) but Shade was adamant we try this great sushi house ("There's usually a wait, but it's my favorite sushi place in the area") called Saburo. The wait was in fact prohibitive, but not bad enough that we didn't tough it out and boy howdy was it worth it. We gorged on these enormous rolls (almost too much so. You could barely get a grip w/your chopsticks and it was an even bigger struggle to get them in your mouth.) and for the 2nd time on the trip I had to ogle the bill and say "This can't be right..." Wow. http://saburos.com/Sushi/Saburos.html

We navigated through the Lake Oswego tangle town (passing a Ninjutsu school. For real. Ninjutsu) before settling in for our last chill night in Portland.