Lion's

This will be the 1st of many posts today. (My office is rolling out a new system. Anyone who has worked corporate knows that there are inevitable growing pains with all the Luddites. Today, I am phone support. Meaning 10 hours of suckassedness.)

I had the lions Tallen. Voltron had (officially) 3 incarnations: Lion's, Cars, and Robots. Which prompts a funny story of my whiny-assed history:

I still love toys. (Minds outta tha gutta's, ya preee-verto's!) So much so, in fact, that when I am in Target, I still wander to the toy aisle to see what's new. And also, wonder upon wonders, to see the magnificent advances in Toy-chnology. (Realistic looking lightsabres, in lieu of the flashlights with plastic tubes and gels from when I was a kid. Action figures that were laser-scanned to better resemble the character they represent- Instead of injection molded 4-points of articulation jobbies.) Seriously. I still love'em. I still own my 1st Spider-Man figure, and my "Mego" Spiderman Doll.

My toy collecting career almost met an abrupt end, circa 3rd grade...The year of Voltron. My parents were leery of buying the really 'spensive toys (Thrift stores and flea markets were usually where we'd get'em) but the year they released Voltron, I could not be denied... It was my Red Rider. A half birthday, and a Christmas went by where I would actually dream that I was unwrapping this holy Grail of toys, but to no avail. (And numerous trips to Target) It was, at $70, in a price range that meant it was unobtainable. Mom was always a pushover, but she didn't budge...so on one fateful night I tried a different tact: I'd ask my dad.

He walked me up and down the aisles as I pleaded and begged. "I'll never want another toy", I wept. "Are you sure?" he said. "You will never, ever ask for another toy? Ever again?" "Nooooooooo!!!!" We were standing in the baby clothes section. I remember it so clearly.
And then...it was placed in the cart. And then it was home. And we all sat around, putting it together, taking them apart. Repeating the TV sayings like "GO LION FORCE", creating scenes with Pidge/Hunk/Lance/Allura/and Keith...

Then two weeks later-I broke it. Stripped the Black lions arm, and broke Red Lions tail.*

3 months later, The "Car" Voltron finds its way into stores. Instead of 5 lions, you have 15 Vehicles. Retailed at $85. That trip to Target, I was reminded CONSTANTLY "Ohhh Dad, it's the only Toy I'll EVER want...I'll NEVER want another toy AGAAAAIN"

He still likes to remind me of that, 20 years later. Kiss my butt dad. I'm 30, and I can buy my own darn toys now!

*That box of toys J and I found on Sunday? Totally had Voltron bits in it.

**I should also mention that a larger Voltron that could actually fit action figures in it was released later that same year. This also prompted a big fat NO from the 'rentals.

*** Geefster, this is another reason that Wrestlemaniacs were not allowed. I exceeded my budget until I was, ohhhhh, 28 years old? And by the way, poor Jake the Snake? A crackhead alcoholic? Yeesh.

Wrassle!

One of the more homo-erotic sports pursuits I engaged in as a youngster, was wrestling. Like a lot of kids in their Jr. High years (circa the mid to late 80's) we started stripping our love for action figures (Star Wars "final" episode having been removed from theatres for some time) dirt bikes (For Mountain bikes and 10-speeds) and cartoons (Okay. So that last part never really technically left my daily routine.) And started adding more lofty, adult pursuits.

Cartoons, for example, were replaced with cartoon violence. In the form of Pro-Wrestling.

Gone were the baddies I remember hearing my dad and his co-workersjoke about. (Baron Von Raschke, who btw did the voiceover for the monorail @ the MN Zoo) Killer Kowalski (Spokesperson for the United Way) Mayslack (Who's name adorns a terrific bar in historic NE Minneapolis. Best damn garlic roast beef sammies, evah!) The were replaced by the new heroes and villains: Andre the Giant (Pre-Princess Bride Fame), Ravishing Rick Rude, Rowdy Roddy Piper (Did we ever talk about that guy, Geef and Weef), Sgt Slaughter (Yo JOE!), Macho Man (Great cameo in Spider Man, btw.) Hacksaw Jim Duggan, Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka, Ricky "The Dragon" Steamboat, Ted DiBiasi, some Minnesota punk named "The Body". There were the topical bad guys: Nikolai Volkoff (Oooo Cold War), The Iron Sheik (Ooooo Arab!!!) And the hero: Hulk Hogan.

Maybe y'all remember some of the guys. Maybe you had the action figures, or finger puppets. (1, 2, 3, 4, I declare THUMB WAR!!!) Maybe you'd occasionally flip channels on Saturday after 'toons and see this testosterone-y soap opera. I was never into as much as some of my friends, but I knew enough to know who was good, who was bad, and that Wrassle-mania was the Superbowl of Wrasslin'. And, for example, to be encouraged by my parents to take up wrestling.

Which was nothing like the shite on TV. No boa's, no body slams...Just this grody...singlet.
That rode up the crotch. (And made for some hilarious pics...which NONE of you will ever see. Ever!) It was about pins, and holds, and catches, and takedowns, and people who were all quite a bit bigger than me tossing me around. It was about nosebleeds (Which I got, a lot.) from getting your head crammed into the mat. (What, no "ring"?) It was about making weight. (I was at the low-end of the heavy weight division in 7th and 8th grade. Besides induring the "baby fat" insults, I had to wrassle dudes who were way bigger than me. And gassy. And greasy. And pimply. All-over pimply.)

It didn't last too long. I quit, mid-way through 9th grade, to focus on Hockey. I wasn't all that good anyway, being a benched B-Squader for most of the 2 seasons.

This all came back to me after watching "Hogan knows Best" late last nightThere was the Hulkster, getting inducted to the wrasslin' hall of fame, shaking hands with all these be-suited dudes. Dudes, who looked like older executives you may pass occasionally, walking downtown. Older, tall, bespectacled. Weird, to be shaking hands with this old pro-wrestler, wearing a tux and a bandana. Weird, until they showed who they were. (See above paragraph after Andre the Giant. That's right, all of 'em. Weird.)

* We kiddies never wrassled "pro-style", like some of the stupid kids today who get in trouble or hurt each other by trying the TV moves on each other. Um, we kinda knew it was fake. And probably dangerous. Doi.
** "Wrassle!" Was whut my wrestling coach would shout at anyone starting a match. An ex-Marine with baaaad cauliflower ears (From wrestling sans headgear.) He'd also yell "COMBAT!!!" when it was time to square off. He was wicked weird.

HMRG(*)

Y'know...if I was to win the lottery, I probably wouldn't git no fancy house on da lake. (Although I probably would raze our cabin and have a nicer "lodge-y" looking one built). And I wouldn't get the super duper deluxe sports car (Something reliable, actually, after years of driving poopy cars I would kill for reliability) I wouldn't buy a mansion (I'd stay in NE Mpls and open a wine/hor's d'ouerve bar next to the Hollywood Theatre. Danke Mom 2.0 for the idea) and I wouldn't trade in my fiancee' for a bustier silicon model (Although I would pay for her laser eye surgery. You hear enough about pesky contact lense woes...well it's a minor inconvenience) And to the surprise of probably many more...I don't think I'd quit my day job.

I would however...take a demotion. Work in the mail room, y'know? I'd push the mail cart around, pick up the outgoing/drop off the incoming. I would certainly wear non-sanctioned work wear like: Jeans that are torn all over ('specially the back two pockets. Gone...so that the heart covered boxers shined like a butt-beacon) Those trashy flannels with the sleeves missing, oh so popular in the late 1980's/early 1990's- and on Mr. T. (I still one from 1992. Pity the fool.) and T-shirts underneath with my own little personal sayings silk-screened on like "Push it Real Good" and "HMRG" (Hot Mail Room Guy*)

P: (pushing up the squeeky mail cart) "Good Moooorning Darlene"
Darlene: (Trying not to make eye contact)" 'Morning."
(P): "Say, did you get that inter-office memooooooo Saaaay. Did you drop a paperclip?? Oooooooooooo" (Bending over straight legged and pretending to pick up a paper clip)
Darlene: (timidly) "No. Wouldyoustopdoingthatpleasethankyou...."
P-"Oh...it's gone now. Oops, the wind. Well, byeeeeeOooooooooooo" (Starts doing mock pushups on the cart handle)

So yeah. Basically what I'm doing at my job right now. Except for the having million$ of dollars part. And the buttless jeans.


(* My t-shirt actually reads "HCCC" or "Hyperactive Company Call Coach"...but you know, that's because these suburban ladies have a different opinion of what's attractive)

For the record: Dating

This, is the be all end all to men and dating. I can't accept anything else because it is simply put- The best advice I've ever been given. Because it was given to me by some smart women.

(Ladies- Humble apologies as this is kinda "Guy-centric" and was born from this "Worst Date Ever" thread I was reading)

1. If you are going on a date, don't EVER bring up the ex. Even if you get a couple of questions from the datee' about her (Or Him), it is remarkably bad form and extremely uncouth. And it makes you seem whiney and bitchy. Which if you are already, stop it. You sound like a 4 year old.
   
2. Ask a lot of questions about them. Stories about you, suck. (Okay, that was advice directly to me/about me from a dear girlfriend...but the message is clear, yeah? Be an actor. Try listening)
   
3. If you are ever dumped, and even if the gal "wants to be friends" (translation: Someone she/he can bitch to regarding their NEW S.O.) drop off the face of the planet. Don't call 'em to check in, Don't call their friends, Don't go to their parties, and if they call you...Don't call them back. It will drive the dumper nuts having the perception that you don't need them, and don't care. (Thanks for that one Ellie-girl. It has saved me tremendous amounts of wasted time and energy.)
   
4. Shave your balls. (Okay, that was Adam Carolla on "Lovelines" saying the best dating advice he ever got was from a stripper. This is why I don't watch the "Man Show")
   
5. Bathe, Wear Clean Drawers, and don't drown yourself in cologne. Do what the ladies do and spray it in the air and walk through it. (In other words, don't point the cologne at yourself like you are re-creating the suicide attempt scene from "Lethal Weapon")
   
6. Women, like bee's and dog's, can smell fear. And desperation. If you think or anticipate that you're gonna get some, chances are she'll put on the red light. Be casual. More importantly, if you do have the jones for someone, don't make it obvious. Don't flirt, don't lean- Don't be what you think. If you act like nothing is a big deal (i.e.: you could care less) without seeming arrogant, it makes you more interesting. Be a big kid who can take care of themself.
   
7. Just because the evening is a wash, doesn't mean you have to be rude. I went on this date that was not a good idea from the get go. (It was obvious from the initial "sizing each other up" that this blind date wasn't going to work.) We still had a great time, BS'ing, learning about each other, asking questions. Never saw her again. 2 hours well spent.
   
8. Just because you like onions and garlic, doesn't make it a good 1st date meal. You'll smell.
   
9. Remember shite. If you've done your home work b4 the date, remembering if they like white over red wine, Yellow Daisey over Roses, and they are Vegetarian, you can make informed choices on what type of gift/date you want to create. (Or, if you don't know their wine preference...bring a bottle of both. Thanks Butterfly Girl for that great 1st date.) If you haven't done your homework, just try and be thoughtful.
   
10. Hold Doors, Say Please and Thank You, and Make eye contact. Try smiling, and for God's sake don't force it.
    
11. Your mom.
12. If they are tall, have great boobs/body/hair, whatever: Stop fucking staring. It makes you seem Pervy. (Thanks for that one Tin-ay-nay. I didn't realize I was doing it.) I was reeeeeally wasted (suprise) at a party and I was chatting w/a young lady who I would go on to date for almost 2 years. I wanted to compliment her, but what came out was a bastardization of what Eddie Murphy said in "Beverly Hills Cop Deux": "Man...You are one- tall- bitch!" SMAAAACK!!!! Yup. I deserved it. And certainly couldn't apologize enough. Try complimenting an item of clothing instead. Or hair...hair is good. (And btw: The boob/butt/hair/body stuff can be saved for when you are dating...just don't over do it or the message is lost. Thanks J, for that. And you'd be suprised to find out how much you can make your S.O. laugh by referring to her bikini-line as "Glow in Dark the Boobs")
    

Pancake FEEEVAH!

This weather is just so loverly. It really is. The AC is off. My run last night didn't cause me to have "swimmy-vision" by the last mile. And I can drive with my windows down... Which, on the last stretch of my commute to work, puts me in sniffin' distance of Perky-Perky Buck Buck restaurant. (You know, I don't think I ever did a Fembers/Denny/Perky lunch or dinner item, ever? Maybe the wayward appetizer or breadbowl heated up with a side of marinara when I was hammered. But my eyes ALWAYS go to the brefkissed menu.)

This morning, I caught the most delicious wiff O' pancakes. And did that ever stimulate a Pavlovian response. I got this sudden urge to get chocolate chip pancakes from IHOP. A pretty self-explanatory meal- 5 pancakes with butter, and a shiteload of chocolate chips. It is a meal that is both terrible and delicious all at once. It got me wondering (in lieu of my commentary a few weeks back on "Fluffer-Nutter" and Peanut Butter sammiches)

What sort of strange food pairings did you either used to, or currently enjoy? I think the weirdest food I'm into is BBQ Chicken/Sauerkraut pizza from Luce'. Don't scoff! It uniquely delish. (I also am curious to try this recipe for chicken breast, pre-treated in a solution of coffee/orange zest/saltwater. Just curious)

Don't cheat now. Yogurt covered pretzels don't count

It's finished.

I got nothing really to say. Really. Wellll, that's not entirely true. I finished Harley Pitter's newest, "The Half Blood Moneymaker". And I cried/got all lumpy/etc...again. Why?

Backstory: I knew about all the hype behind those silly little books.

When the series really took off in the states, I had absolutely no desire to read kid fiction. (Frankly, the dorky robed kids with the broken nerdspecs they kept showing in the paper were a little off-putting.) Call it my tendency to avoid the initial hype of all things popular...I just couldn't find myself getting into it.

Circa Christmas 2000, the Dayton's 8th floor X-mas extravaganza was "All about Potter" (It was something like "Harry Potter and the Holiday Stone"...doofy, I know.) Y'know, I dug it...but, again, nothing to make me run into the bookstore to buy the 1st two novels. And the little kids there drove me nootz. By this time, my mom and brother had bought the books and mama-san was nagging me to start reading them too. Which meant the chances of my reading them diminished tenfold. If mom thought it was "cool", there was the probably chance that it wasn't.

By Early '01, I knew that a movie was in the works...and I figured that I'd better drag my butt out and read them beforehand to get a grip on the source material. (After I re-read the LoTR books of course...after all, the exploits of the One Ring were being filmed in NZ in a rahter grandiose fashion: one after the other. So if found that my excitement was being directed elsewhere.) Long story short: I borrowed Sorcerer's Stone from me Ma-

And I was hooked. DAMMIT!!!

I literally demolished it. Then- Chamber?...gone, Ass-cabin? Finished. Heck, that summer spent out in Medora coincided with the release of "Goblet" (Film coming this Winter) which meant the biggest novel of the series to read and re-read... (I even fought with the g/f out there about how fast I read it. "Let me get this straight- You're mad at me, because you started it first, and I finished it before you?" Readers, Is it any wonder we didn't make it?

(Spoiler coming up, for you purists)

It was after reading "Goblet" that something happened I wasn't expecting: It killed a character. Moreover, it killed a kid. And it came about so suddenly that I found myself sitting on the bed, unable to put 'er down, getting all teary-eyed. Over a book (note: To date, only a couple of books have done that to me: The Stand, It, The Green Mile...see a trend here? And Catcher in the Rye....I cried at the life I wasted trying to read that boring-ass book!!!) I felt kind of foolish, actually. Here I was, die hard against these books not 6 months prior and now here I am all engaged with the kids...The books and characters were no longer "safe". And I kinda liked that...and was pissed that the next one wouldn't be released until 2003.

2003 finally brought "Phoenix" which meant that during our down time during "Odin" and "Red" I'd spend the time reading the hell out of it in the dressing room with Schlo$$er and Hotmama. (With the occasional pre-requisite shouts of: "Okay don't tell me who dies this time!!!") And again, someone did die, and while it (for me) didn't have the same punch as the last book, it still had a certain emotional impact. (And the hopes that a "Major Character Dying!" wasn't going to be the continued selling point of the series. We know already, gosh!)

So I finished it last night..."Prince" that is. And someone does die. And it was someone I thought could die, but would last the series. And again, it didn't really hit me when I 1st read it. When it did hit me, I was already on the last chapter and Rowling had actually written out a funeral for the character. And while my loving girl snored next to me, those stupid hot tears started trickling down again. And I was emotionally brought back to G-ma's funeral last fall. And I thought how wonderful it has been that I've been able to enjoy and endear myselves to these characters for so long now, that their ficitonal well-being actually takes on meaning. And I'm going to start re-reading it again in a month or so, to see if there are any details I missed. And to see if I can make it through without blubbering.

If you're a reader (or if you aren't buried in a script right now) I'd give it a whirl. It's a pretty good book. What she's done is shown you these kids growing up, hormones and all...Funny that, you might see a couple of characteristics of yourself in them.

I should really keep these topical

Cripes, I miss a day and all hell breaks loose. 3 me-me posts? Nut-Ter Butt-Ter.

Updates:

• There is someone in my department who smells strongly of fabric softner sheets. Knock you over strong. This got me wondering: Wouldn't it be a terrific invention for stoners across the world to invent a hemp that smells like fabric softner sheets? Instead of, you know...weed?
  
• I may have accidentally offered my services to the director of KFH if they do a remount. (The lead dude is going after his doctorate. Yeah, like those are worth anything.) It happened like this, see: At last weekends Weefday Party, the director of said show was the date of another director of a show whom I've worked with before. (She's a doll). Well she started going on about Martial Arts , me, and yadda and dude and I started in on our favorite M.A. movies (He'd never heard of "CityHunter". Can you believe it?) and he's all like "Well what do you know?" And I'm all like "Well what do you want?" and he's back all like "Do a Hung Gar open fist form" and I'm all like again "Hung Gar sucks, what about Choy la Fut?" and he's all laaaaughin and shit. (ahem) So, yeah. This is how it usually happens with me. I get a little druuuunk, say I'm an actor and stuff, tell people I'm available, then I start agreeing to shit, and before you know it BLAM! People think I'm easy. Well I'm not, NOT you hear me! I'm not some tawdry whore actor! I'm NOT! Cheap, just not tawdry.
  
• 
  
• Speaking of which, Bald Director Scalpel passed my name on to the director of MSP as a recommendation to audition for their fall production of "Beavis and Crescent Roll". Very inopportune time for performances, and I had to pass...but, Scalpel has entered the pantheon of directors who are just too cool for school. That makes me feel good. Just. Good.
  
• I ran outta ginseng. It was part of my holistic au natural morning supplemental goodness. Boy can I feel the effects of not having it. I've grown so accustomed to walking around with a semi-erect...hey. Where'd you all go?
  
• In case y'all wanted to know, I tried on this very tiny Peter Pan kinda top with a space helmet when Kaiser came into the store last Saturday. Well...he wanted to know what kinda costumes I'd try on. I told you dude, it can get lonely in costume land.
  

The Starting Gate kittens are having their gala fundraiser tonight. If you are going, bring your checkbook, and have a swanky time. I'll be slaving at the Hartford til the wee hours, then putting some more time in at the dojo. You know. In case I'm feeling agreeable.

Geograpy bits

She's gonna start charging me for these....thanks Rusty.


5 things about where I live

1. I live ridiculously close to the casa del Redwright/Wagner
   
2. It's considered an "Up and Coming Neighborhood"
   
3. We have a two story house. If I've gone on an impressive jog, those stair suck.
   
4. We bought the 11th house we looked at. It may have been a fixer-upper, sans functional garage (It's an old Model T garage)- but the selling points were a new roof, new electric, new ac, new heater, new-er windows, and the potential for a 2nd and even 3rd bathrooms. It was nice to have the "big" things that would have been a bitch to have fixed up, out of the way first. And that's basically turning a frown upside down.
   
5. The basement (Knock on wood) is ridiculously dry for an older home. The inspector blames the huge non-porous foundation blocks which were used to build during pre-cinder block technology. Apparently they were drug in on large logs by Egyptian Slaves, whilst the Pharaohs of Olde Nordeast look oer their kingdom.
   

Weef Stealin'

She always has her some good me-me's:

7 quirks (Extended from the 5 quirks in Weefville.)

1. Gotta have an empty sink- I hate dishes.
   
2. I am extraordinarily complimentary. (When I was a young man, Dad told me that it wins friends and influences people. And gramma used to say "Flattery will get you everywhere". Try it. It makes people feel good for a change.)
   
3. (This one will seem creepy) When I meet people, or if I'm out and about, or whatever: I always size up the situation/person. How you carry yourself, posturing, Do you lead with your left or your right, have they had training, etc. It's not a "I could take 'em" kind of thing- more like precautionary analysis. That's why I hatehatehate obnoxious folks who like to throw "fake punches" or exhibit violent outward tendencies. Or even folks who say "Boo!". One half of me just let's it slide, the other half fights the urge to take the person out. It probably makes little sense...but that's why it is a quirk, right? To my reader, Molly buck-buck...ask Ry-Gonn about the time he was goofing and wanted to hit me. (Just try and hit me Napoleon.)
   
4. I hate making phone calls too. I like face to face's, setting up emails. I just suck at making outbound calls. (When I was a kid, I used to get all frumpy when my mom would ask me to call stores for their hours of operation.) Funny though, I was completely compulsive when it came to calling up J and setting up a first date.
   
5. I'm a noticer. Call it ADHD, short attention span, whatever. I'm always looking at rooms and surroundings, and people. Trust me...I'm listening. I'm just taking in the world is all. (I thought of this because of my Sunday trip to the farmers market, I saw a building with Lion-Head reliefs sticking out midway up. And some dude at the Market had a tank top with the name of my elementary school on it.)
   
6. This may fall into the realm of overshare, but I groom meticulously in order to be a more considerate lover. That means shaving in the evening, keeping the fingie and toenails short, brushed teeth, no ridiculously stinkie food unless the partner has had it. This is also to have a more kissable mug when going out in public.
   
7. I always have to sit facing the door at a restaurant. When I wait for J to be seated first, she usually picks that seat and it drives me nuts. (Trust me, I've gotten over it, but what if some ne'er do well comes in to start a fracas? How will I be able to provide the anti-fracassing?)
   

Gimme your 5 quirks.

It's pronounced, "Miz-Zoo-rah"

Bogarted from da weef!

You're Missouri!

An admirer of the works of Mark Twain and the steamboat lifestyle, you are happiest when floating gently down the river. You have a strong sense of independence, a reverence for saints, and even look up to discredited explorers. With all these traditional influences, it's no surprise you're at the center of everyone you know, and are even considered a gateway to the future. If only you could stop drinking the world's worst beer, you'd be set.


What state are you?

For your Monday Enjoyment

What stickers do you have on your car? None. I think that they're kinda dumb and distracting.


How/where did you meet your last bf/gf? Doing a show. It's where I've met nearly all of 'em

What do you hear right now? The sound of people talking about Life Insurance.

If you could have a drink of anything right this second, what would it be. Coffee...hey wait, I am drinking coffee.

Does anything hurt on your body right now? Everything. Too much working out.

what's your job position called? Call Coach, Senior Consultant. (Night Job- Sales Consultant)
Dream job- Actor.

What size shoe do you wear? 10.5

What are you wearing right now? You're kinky. I like that. White shirt and pretty tie. Green slacks. Poofta shoes.

Do you own a camera phone? No. I need one.

What's your significant other's birthday? Not applicable. And it'd take too long to go through all my SSGF's birthdays.

What's your Mom's favorite band/musician? Easy listening anything, books on tape.

What's your Dad's favorite band/musician? Urm, Billy Joel. Seriously folks, they like talk radio.

What was your highschool's mascot? The Pirates Baby!

What's your favorite alcoholic beverage? Pinot Grigio, or a nice vodka martini.

What's the next concert/show you're going to and when? The Front Page and Moon over My-hammy at TRP are coming up reasonably soon. And I'm probably going to wind up seeing Booty and the Beast again at some point.

What were you doing at 9 pm last night? Having a glass of chardonnay on the porch, or measuring out the base boards...one of the two.

What's your favorite Starbucks drink? Non-fat Mocha with no whip cream.

Did you attend your High School prom? Yeah, I've blergged about that before so I won't bore y'all. 6 proms was plenty.

...And another thing. Just to be fun-fun

• When I was apartment hunting a few years back, I saw a sign in the front of one of the apartments that said "Senior Rentals". I went in to the front office and said "Hi, I'm looking for something around 84, 85 years old...preferrably female with a scooter?" I was promptly thrown out.
  
• (Keep it inside, P) I saw a woman down in the cafeteria bent over the toaster, plastic knife in one hand...butter pat open and ready in the other. I had to fight a ridiculously strong urge to sing "I'm a ssssslaaaave...to the toastah!!!"
  
• My Indian co-worker is hilarious. Apparently I was hogging an ExCel Spreadsheet. She asked me politely if I could get out of it for a minute so she could update some of her info. I sarcastically said "Mmmm, no. I'm gonna stay in it allll daayyyy loonnng". Her response? "I'm going over there and I'm going to break your computer." (Granted, if you imagine her response with an Indian accent you might laugh as hard as I did)
  
• My boss was frazzled and ran to my desk saying "Did you respond to that email I JUST sent you?". When she asked me, she did the mime typing gesture with her hands. ("Myping"? Is that right?) I said "I just sent you the response (All while myping back to her) If you want, I can do a follow up call (Phyming or "Phone Mime") " For some weirder reason I started in on the song "Gin and Juice" to a co-worker in the vincinity, except I mimed out the lyrics. "Laaaaid back, with my mime on my money and my money on my mime"
  
• Funny Indian Co-worker story # 2: She was trying to tell a friend who was visiting from off-site about something I did (The whole bicep/kiss/"Oooooo" sound effect ala Ron Burgundy) "End den he valks to my desk venn I'm on da fone end he does dis ting vere he goes 'Ooooo' end starts do dalk about it burning end denn he does dis (kisses her own arm) end I'm like 'I'm on da fone!' The only thing I could say back was "I'm suprised they even let me in the building today." ("Vhy?") "Because they BAN GUNS ON THE PREMISES Oooooooooooo" (More faux flexing and preening.)
  

Rented

Just cause I wanna complain-

Job # 2 happens to rent new and sell "retired" tuxes. What I happen to dislike with an absolute passion are people that call in and say the following:

Person: "I understand you sell tuxedo's?"
Me: "Yes. We sell retired tuxes, shoes, vests, and ties."
Person: "Oh. By retired, you mean used." (That last part being said with an oh-so condescending "I can see through your onion-skinned chicanery. You won't fool me with your foolish snake oil words!")

Me: "Nooooo. I mean they spent 36 years busting their asses in the plant, and instead of heading down to sit poolside at a senior community in Arizona they decided to spend their twilight years working for us! RETIRED!!! Now do you want to come into the store and buy one or not, fuckbake? 9:30 to 8:30pm Monday Through Friday."

Birthday Boys

Eat your self 68 Puddin' Pops- Bill "The Cos" Cosby turned 68 yestiddy. Kids might not remember The Cos's early comedy records (Something Big Bro and I would listen to in the car), 'cause kids have all their rap music with the Hippin and the hoppin and the bippin and the boppin. (MUCH funnier if you say that last part while doing a Cos impression.)

And some more cool dudes: Picard and Han Solo (IMHO, Ford is long overdue for an Oscar. Or at least a role that get's him his Oscar. "Hollywood Homicide"...what the FUCK Han?!?!)

Lastly, I wanted to point out cool dude numero uno- My big brother- Turns 33 today. That's right, Christ's age. So please let me present you a rip-roaring roast of my big bro: (true to life)

• His nickname growing up was "Thumper". (Due to a picture of Thumper being in his bed room) He hated the nickname until he got into karate...And sure enough, that's what he had silkscreened on his hat.
  
• Speaking of names, he hated his true 1st name so he was called by his middle name- Until High School when he found out the chicks dug it...("OMG, you have the same name as a character on 'DAYS'???")
  
• We shared a bunk bed before he moved into his "big kid room". He had a little boom box where we'd go to sleep listening to Talking Heads, The Nylons, and Howard Jones. No shit. For pure nostalgia purposes I now own all of the CD's. (Howard Jones "One to One" is an under-appreciated gem)
  
• We turned the Winnebago into the Millenium Falcon. He was Han, I was Luke, and our Siberian Husky "Nook" (Yeah, like Nanook) was Chewie. Otherwise, it was the Enterprise, and we used our dirtbikes for the "away team" missions.
  
• He used to practice his Goddamn trumpet right before I went to bed in elementary school.
  
• He used to talk to all my girlfriends on the phone before he'd give it to me. Then they'd be all like "Ooooohhh, you're brother is sooooo funny...") Barf.
  
• His ex-girlfriends used to take me out and want to talk about him. One of them took me on a "date" to see Terminator 2...This would always make me feel verrrry uncomfortable.
  
• In '93, he auditioned and got cast in a local community theatre production of "Babes in Arms" (I didn't want to do it, and they really needed guys.) and got cast, ironically enough, as "Roman Calhoun". The day before his very first rehearsal (And after the initial read-through) He asked me for "acting tips"- I said "Well first, you want to memorize your lines", to which he responded "I already did." Show off. Whatever, he barfed before every performance.
  
• At Disney World in 1979, our folks took us on the (then) brand new ride "Space Mountain". They had to stop the ride because my brother was trying to throw me out of the car.
  
• An old track/cross country geek, he used to eat almost anything. (On an average sitting, he could put away 2 Double Whoppers-Heavy Everything, Fries, and a large Coke. Then have candy Whoppers later.) Mega-Skinny. After 12 or so years of being removed from that, he's now a little self conscious about his body image.
  
• In 1999, he proposed to his 1st fiancee' right after winning the NCKA Midwest championships. What I mean is: and he whupped the dude, turned to his fiancee', and took the engagement ring out of his gi, and proposed. Awwwwww, idn't dat romantic? A nice, sweaty ring box. (Btw: He proposed to his wife in Ireland.)
  
• Things my brother has done to me: Shot (1980- He wanted to shoot a leopard frog to show off to his friends when I tried to protect it. He popped a cap on the top of my hand. My mom beat his ass soooo hard.) Stabbed (Threw a shuriken at me in 1985), Beaten (Routinely, since he started karate in 1990 including: bruised ribs, bloodied nose, and hyperextended arms.) shot with a wrist rocket, and strangled.
  
• Speaking of beating, he had choreographed this great "2 person attack" routine to do for his 2nd degree black belt exam- we had it worked out brilliantly, throwing in a little ju-jitsu for good measure. Well Mr. Fancy Pants got allll caught up in "the moment" that instead of this great throw he had (where I would roll out of it to do a 2nd attack) he frickin' FLIPPED me (for real) and I landed flat on my back- knocking the wind out of me. Yeah. Real nice. In front of all of the grandmasters, no less.
  
• The last time I could kick his ass was when I was 15 and he was 18...pre-Karate. We had a knock down drag'em out because I called him a name (He was walking around in running tights for Crissakes) and we got into it. My mom broke it up and we shared a laugh about it. The next fall he enrolled in the school, and has been faaairly untouchable by yours truly. (I did give him a good one in sparring. "Nice. Good Power." was all he said. Then, he went back to kicking my ass.
  
• He bows when he shakes your hand.
  
• In case you are wondering, he's studied in almost every stupid Martial Art there is. Seriously. His black belt test in Gum-Do was to put out a candle with a sword. Without the blade touching the candle.
  
• He used to routinely fall back asleep on the toilet.
  
• Even though he isn't a homosexual, I think he likes the attention he gets from being hit on by drag queens. (Again with the "Ohhhh, your brother is sooo gorgeous.")
  
• He went from never touching a drop of liquor (Until he turned 25) to being the biggest freakin' booze snob out there. (i.e. Unless it's Patron, it isn't "real" tequila. Dork.)
  
• He scares my friends
  
• His wife is getting her PhD in Neuro-Science. She told me that they are working on a brain microchip that helps amputee's control their limbs by using their brainwaves. It can make for faaaabulous dinner conversation. Oh, and how they "lost" a radioactive syringe once and sent her into the bio-hazard bin to find it. Ummmm, kay.
  
• He is one of the most loyal, honorable people I know. He's also the best (and only) roommate I've ever had or wanted. Even though he would always make mac and cheese and leave the leftover pan in the sink. GROSS!!!!
  

Yes folks, this represents only a smidgen of my big brothers talents. I'm always so damn proud of him. Now, does anyone want to buy his house?

Swiped from the weef...


I Am Maui
You love life and you're determined to live to the fullest. You use your bag of tricks to protect those you care about and to teach those who mess with you and yours a lesson, but you're not unreasonable. You're a tinkerer and an inventor, you love to build stuff. You enjoy hanging out with good friends or being out in nature. Like the Hawaiian Trickster Maui, your amiable nature fools those who think you're an easy target. You're not.

Which trickster are you?

An Ode to BeeP's*

(*)My hometown, thankyouverylittle. Kaiser recently ranted about the Mipples Vs. StaPunk argument (which I grow very weary of in very short fashion. People…who rip on cities, that aren’t their own…need lives badly. Moreso than indoor kids. And they killed Kennedy) So I thought I’d sing a halcyon song regarding my (snitch..snerk..teehee) love for my hometown. Cue, Mr. Springsteen (My information may be a little dated, as I haven’t lived there full time in a few years)

• 
  We had a Pro-Wrestler mayor before he up and decided he wanted to be governor. (Seriously. I had to sing w/my HS small group for the mayor’s bkfst. Hilarious to see all these dudes in suits and smack in the middle was this big bearded dude in a leather vest and head scarf. I took all of my power not to go up and say "Blaine, you vere a gud soldier.". This is reason # 208 I’ll never work at the G w/Angela Bacitracin.)
  
  
• We have the mostest bad ass drive in. Well, it sucks, but we still have a drive in.
  
• We’re trying so-hard not to be ghetto-ish. A High End interior design center was built in the building which used to house KNOX lumber. Light’s on Broadway is a high-end lighting design center. A huge indoor water park. What the citizens hear tell was that during the 70’s and early 80’s, the then mayor got a fat kick back for building affordable housing. (Email me if you need a translation) That affordable housing became sort of partnered with criminal activity…and a reputation was born. Hey, we were mentioned on Oprah.
• 
  Car Dealerships baby. 2nd only to WBL!
• 
  A stones throw away from the BEST Dale….Buh-ROOKDale! The only 1-level Dale in alllll the Dale chains. Holding on to life by a thread for years, they tried putting a Burns and Nipples, an Old Scavey, and a GAP in there to spruce it up. No good. As of 3 months ago (J and I ventured a visit for nostalgia purposes) that place had only 2/3rds of it’s stores running. Sad.
• 
  Crabapplebeege’s: That’s right baby, yours truly has acheived a fame akin (Famekin, wasn't the name of a Chinese Restaurant?) to Alexander of Macedonia! I am pasted All OVER the back of the store (In one tiny section reserved for the local community college drama department) From the earth shattering perfomances of Tereus # 1 in Love of the Nightengale, Rusty Cornhole in Guys and Dolls, and as an 18 year old playing a 80 year old in Noises Off (Seriously...make up be damned, silver hair spray WILL make you look older, swear!) Those pics are placed RIGHT next to the can, so you can see me before or after you relieve yourself. Whether you do so on the pictures...is really up to you, Mr or Mrs. Grodie-Gus.
• 
  Home of the 1st official Lifetime Fitness. (And the 1st "wet sauna" that smelled like tuna fish... Truth. I got a free membership for a week when they first opened and nearly barfed when I opened the door.)
• 
  LPGA, baby. Go Women’s Pro GOLF!!! (Edinburgh is a nice golf course. 'Spensive, but nice)
• 
  We have a Library, a hockey rink, AND an armory…thank you.
• 
  We raze mini-mom and pop malls at the rate of One Mall a Year!!! (To build more town houses. I don’t even know what happened to Village North. One minute it’s there, the next…gone.)
• 
  Home of the Pirates, Knights, Rams, and Reds etc…
• 
  Ummm, like, the 5th or 6th most populated suburb in the State?
  
  That’s all I got for now. I read a blog or two that are posted by former ’93 PCH classmates of mine. One of ‘em still lives there. Ssssscary.

It's ridiculously busy here at the oriface, so I've decided to be blatantly lackadaisical and post the illustrious: 3rd blog!!! (Also, I was walking by some dude's desk here and he has a color 8 x 10 picture of Ronald Reagan on the wall of his cube . WTF? What inspires my weirdness? Seeing someone elses.)

MORE STRANGE BUT TRUE THINGS YOU MAY NOT KNOW ABOUT P!!!

1. I'm weird about symmetry. I've tried to teach myself to be ambidextrous in order to maintain balance. After I take a shower, I dry left to right. (I'm right handed, if you hadn't guessed. Sometimes I'll try to dry off in the opposite direction but it feels weird.) In karate, it's the opposite (Left side is stronger at punching/kicking.)
   
2. I think Exaggeration can be fun.
   
3. I like my job. Not a lot, but I like it.
   
4. I used to eat burnt match heads as a kid
   
5. And raw oysters, but I've blogged 'bout that before
   
6. I guess I'm saying I ate some weird crap as a kid. Like that marshmallow spread on peanut butter sandwiches.
   
7. Speaking of showers, I shave in the shower and...
   
8. I always shower in the evening. (A man shaves during the day, a gentleman at night.)
   
9. As kids, we rescued hurt or injured wild animals. My brother and I "rescued" farm eggs from Iowa & put'em in an ice cream bucket under a lamp. They hatched, and we ended up raising two chickens to adulthood. When we gave them back to the farm, they both committed suicide in the horse water-trough. Apparently they were delicious.
   
10. I loathed fundraising. Whether it was for scouts, hockey, choir, whatev. It sucked. I begged my parents to take the (candy, wreaths, sausages) to work.
    
11. My 8th grade Art Teacher had a terrific saying for ignoring gossip and 2nd hand news "Consider the Source". He had it up on the wall on a postcard, written in calligraphy. I've never forgotten that.
    
12. I love remembering 1st meetings, or run-ins. If you want me to email you our first, or a memorable run-in, let me know.
    
13. I hate guns, and I hate gambling. I'm doubtful I would have ever survived in the old West.
    
14. I believe in past lives. (Yeah, I was a samurai. And I probably did some pretty heinous things, cause some days I think I'm paying for it.)
    
15. In grade school, my favorite animal was the panther, and my favorite state was South Dakota. Now, I'm my own favorite animal.
    
16. When I was 6, and swimming in the Gulf of Mexico a jellyfish swam up my butt. It got scared and lashed itself all around my body. To this day, it's caused me to be deathly afraid of thong underwear.
    
17. See comment #2 regarding exaggeration. (It sounded better than "I got 2rd degree burn sunburn and had to spend 3 days in bed, smothered in burn-cream")
    

Leave it to MPR...to make obtaining commercial work seem superfluous.
If you heard the spot on the ad company this morning, you know what I mean.


"Then the actors they like are asked to come have another try...or 'callback'."

Guh. They made it sound so damn condescending. And here I am trying to listen to MPR to help calm my nerves.

Shout out to peeps in London. 'Specially my friend's girl Abi-Normal.

(E-mail from P, to P's friend Gay-SSSsspshshsssteve.)

"Oompa, Loompa Doompity Dump,
I know a midget-that you can hump...
Oompa, Loompa, Doompity Day,
I pretty sure, the little guy's gay... "


His response?:

"Dude, you're gonna get me fired. Oh, btw I'm going to Stevie Nicks."


Mine?

"What? Isn't that the 'One More Sandwich' tour?"

Him:

"You're mean. Funny stuff, but mean"

Me:

"You can gooo your own waaaaaay.....As long as it's Subway-e-yaaay"



A little punchy today. Countertops have been delivered and installed, and I've got a major You-Know-Whut to get home and see 'em. It's either that, or I've a hormone imbalance. Causing the...you-know-wh...nevermind.

Somedays, this is just the way the gears turn.

Mom is weird...

...but I'm weirder.

(Quick backstory- Mom and Dad are moving from the 'hood to the 'burbs. INasmuch, they are in a mad dash to fight their pack-rat ways, and make the house "sellable" . I visit weekly to check their progress, and lend a hand. )

P- (noting a "Wig Head" just sitting on the corner of the floor.) "Hey ma, can I have that?"
Mom- "Why, you aren't gonna throw it away, are you"
P- "Why'd I ask for it if I was just gonna throw it away?!? Can I have it or not?"
Mom- "Sure. What'd you need it for? Are you gonna put a Darth Vader mask on it?"

P- (Taking a second to register what she just said.) Excuse me?
Mom-"I figured you'd put a mask or something on it. D.V. just came to mind"
P-"Ummmm. Wait, wha? Did you...Did I...?"
Mom-"Hon, just take it...I don't care."
P-"Ma, that's just really weird. I mean..."
Mom-"Why is that weird?"
(pause)
P- "Go and look outside in 2 minutes"

(Insert "Imperial March" here.)




So, I never told her that I bought a Darth Vader mask from job #2. What's more, she didn't know that was precisely why I wanted the wig head. It was, really, the 1st thing that popped in her head when I asked. My dad looked at us like we were crazy when we both started laughing at the Darth Vader mask, mounted on my car like a jerry rigged hood ornament.

Mom told me that we P's were a little psychic. Psycho or psychic...I can't remember which. Something about witchy-witch craft in the ol' Pennsylvania Dutch blood.

Hey…all right. It’s an okay nude day.


Due to 86’ing booze for the last couple of days, the bloat is reducing (meaning looser pants today) vascularity is returning, and after all the damn exercise: I’m flippin sore. H opefully this will mean I’m not too self-consious to get into a pool on Monday. Please oh please be a sunny day.

Some good news: Our counter tops were delivered yesterday, and are getting installed today. Meaning our kitchen will be 89% complete. (Still awaiting some $ for window frame wood, and the remainder of the recessed lighting inserts. To quote Hall and Oates, those MN Zoo concert cancelling mo-fo’s: "Soooo Close…yet so far away.") Regardless, having the counters installed will mean no more jerry rigged card board counters, and pretty soon- a working dishwasher. When does that increased resale value kick in again?

Random fact: My favorite GI Joe was Snake Eyes, followed by Stormshadow. Ninja’s always kicked ass.


Have a safe and happy 4th of July weekend y’all. Geef- Break a leg on opening. (I hope to goodness he was able to work the "door bit" in.) Weef- Congrats on the new jobski. If it was my last day, I’d show up to work nekkid. Or maybe dressed in a toga made entirely of insurance applications.

Touching

The ice breaker question of the day issss:

What is your limit for touching between platonic friends?


Are the platonic friends currently in a relationship with other people? If not, I think it anything goes...and it truly depends on the friends involved. (I've seen some weird shit go down between "friends". Where you look and think to yourself "Damn". Or, if you're like me you say out loud "DAMN!") Hugs and Kisses I are fine (So long as the mouth doesn't open) and I know that I'm guilty of a little ass grabbing here and there. And you know something, the closest I ever came to cheating on someone was when I was starting to get to know J and the "casual touches" started setting off my Spider-Sense. (Waitaminute...is she being flirty? We boys can be so thick.) Actors have a tendency of being a little more touchy feely than most folks...so I think our "limits" are a little bit higher. You know, I know a dude who is borderline haphephobic (Fearful of touching.) where he can shake hands, but that's about it. Always uncomfortable for a boy like me who is big on "hughello's".



True story-

During my bachelor days of yore, I would mercilessly kick people out of my apartment if I was ready for bed. When the verbal warning failed....off came my clothes...followed by a threat that I would hug them if they didn't leave. I'm honestly suprised that Ry-Gonn still talks to me after that fiasco'.

"Arrrrgh get away, get away, that's fucking disGUSTING!"

Audience Precipitation

Because I don't want to talk about clothes, food, or working out right now.


#1 Was there anything unusual about your birth?

and

#2 What did you do after school?


Por moi?

Well, I was born on Christmas. I suppose that in and of itself is fairly unusual, if not unique.
Ummm, my mom thought she had gas. She was getting the house ready for X-Mas, couldn't take it anymore, and called her doc to let him know she had (quote) " painful gas."

Doc-"How long have you had it?"
Ma-"It comes and goes, every 15-20 minutes I guess"
Doc-"Get to North right away!"

There was some hemming and hawing on her part, mostly about having to leave my big brother at home w/Dad on X-mas. (That and my dad had to get pulled away from the football game. )After I was born, I was apparently wrapped in my umbilical cord and just shy of being a blue baby. They sent me home in a oversized candystripe Christmas Stocking.

My mom says I was the best present ever. My brother thinks I've ruined Christmases for the last 30 years. Dork.

#2- (I'm gonna break this down a bit)

Ellie-Mentry: Hauled ass home (I was a walker) to watch cartoons. I lived with the vain hope that I'd catch the Scooby Doo episode with Batman and Robin as the guest stars. (I'd only seen it once...and it was glorious) Except it was usually only Jerry Reed or Mama Cass Elliot. Bitch.

Jr. High- I did pretty much the same as above, except for Fall when I was in football. My new habit was to eat either a whole bag of Pizza Rolls (Yes, the big bag) or a whole totino's pizza. It was microwaved so that it was soggy, and went down faster. Piggy Piggy Piggy boy.

I was still a walker, but I'd take my time in 7th and 8th grade to let the bullies get out first.

As luck would have it, the prettiest gal in school- Lynne, would be walking home about a block or so ahead of me. I would usually have some innane fantasy scenario in my head that maybe someday she'd slow down long enough to want to walk with me. Once, we actually left school at the same time- Except I doubled back and walked around the whole school to give her some lead time. (Chicken shit). In the 9th grade, we both wound upp in the same play together and we actually became buds.(Thanks, growth spurt) . Heck, I was gonna use open enrollment to follow her to the HS she was in but to no avail. This story is getting long. More details below for the interested*

High School-
Um, Extra Curric's took over (Foo'Ball and then theatre in the winter and spring) So, if there was enough time I'd catch a nap. My 1st LTGF took up the rest of my life after school in 11th and 12th grades. That sucked.


How about youse?




* Senior year, during a 1-month break up from the LTGF, I went to Prom at Lynner's high school w/a community theatre buddy of mine. I ran into her and actually scored a dance! (And also with, incidentally, both my 8th and 9th grade gf's- I recall thinking how absolutely flipping gorgeous they all had become. Problem was, I didn't get to dance with my own date 'til the last song of the night. Nice job, prick-o.)

I ran into Lynner again during my stint at Comm. Coll. We were in choir together and at the time I had a new LTGF. On our big spring choir tour to Alex, (My gf wasn't there) we ended up going for a walk together 'round the resort. We wound up, appropriately enough, at this playground. We sat on the swings and talked for an hour or so, she asking me about my new gf, and then telling me that her long term bf and she had finally broken up. I was finally able to confess my little "walking a block behind her in jr.high" story, to which she laughed her butt off .

We did the whole "staring at each other quietly" for a bit...dragging our feets in the gravel. Then she leaned over, gave me little kiss...and said "'Night, P- - - - -. " (I loved the whole jock-o thing about her. A former softball playa, she was one of the few females who called me by my last name.) I fell a little in love with her that night. After the semester was over we parted ways. And I haven't seen her since. Gosh, that'll be 10 years now. Man, P...that just sounded like a freakin' Dan Fogelburg song.

I hate posts that sound this way, but I really have no other way to articulate this:

I drank way too much last night.

Calorie. Hog. I mean. it was really quite a lovely time, all told. B & T came over, we fondued, and drank. A lot. (Fondue, btw, with chicken broth in lieu of boiling oil is delicious, and a titch healthier. You need a shite load of broth 'cause that shit evaporates quickly.)

Wait, we fondued with another couple over cocktails? Where are we, the flippin' 70's? Where is my disco shirt???

2 Pitchers of Margie's, A bottle and a half of veeno, a little chocolate cake (Which I was not allowed to say "No" to apparently. "Hon, I'm okay" /"Eat it" /"okay") and hot weather are all a saucy combination for debauchery. Or at least, quite a bit of smack-talking. And we did. The smackiest. I am absolutely mortified at the number of dishy's that were left in the sink...it nearly sent me into OCD overload ("Would you STOP doing dishes and come in here please?")

I'm a little slow on the draw today, and have to work the #2 jobby tonight, so I'll keep this brief. I've a 7/4/05 BBQ to attend and the peeps throwing it have a pool. Which means if it is a hot day and I have any intention on taking a dip (I don't) , I'm gonna need to train hard all week to get last nights poison outta my bod. Lest I enter the pool looking like Sha-flippin-moo. I'm serious. There'd be an oil slick following me like I'm the Exxon Valdez. Not really oil, more like a Pinot Grigio slick.

Flammable-Water.


Anybody wanna buy a house? Robbinsdale, quiet neighborhood, close to the busline and minutes away from Downtown. I am afeared that my big bro will be sitting on 2 house payments until it sells. If anyone knows any interested buyers, just direct them to this MLS #3023567

Super cute?

REVEEENNNGGEEE!!!

Seeing Batman Begins again, I start to get the feeling I have a soft spot in my heart for revenge movies. I'm not a vengeful person by nature nor have I ever tried to "get back" at someone through spite, malice, or anger. (It's Kinda rude, Kinda uncouth, Kinda a waste of time. Have the patience and calm understanding of a Jedi, and you can't really go wrong.)

Still, I can't help but think that I experience a catharsis whenever these films come on. They're the kind of movies that, were they to come on the telly on a perfectly beautiful Saturday afternoon I'd still have to drop everything and watch. Even though I own them all on DVD.
I'm gonna qualify these flicks by trying very hard NOT to include movies with "Revenge" in the title. ("Revenge of the Sith" and "Revenge of the Ninja" can't count. I mean, Sith wasn't even technically about revenge... Just set up.) It's not top five-ish, but they are my faves. And really, they aren't necessarily all about revenge...some are about justice. Or, like my old man the ex cop sez: "JUSSS-tice!"

Kill Bill 1 and 2
Pure revenge schlock. Both delicious and easy to digest, a little hyper violence is a terrific palate cleanser. These films (Or should I say film) about a ladies quest for vengeance are great for their choreography and homage's galore for the old school kung fu geek like myself.

The Fugitive
I'm a sucker for this film. Really. Like "Jaws" this is one of those films that will suck away my Saturday. Cool as hell, who'da thunk that it would have got Tommy Lee Jones an Academy Award? (I think Ford shoulda been at least nominated...he's a little over due.) My favorite "Dad-ism" was watching it one lazy Saturday w/my old man. Dr. Kimble is doing the shave/shower/suture scene and he's stripped to the waist. My dad mutters "He's in pretty good shape for an old fart" Classic.

Revenge of the Nerds/Better off Dead
I promised no "revenge" titled movies, but I take exception to one of my personal favorites of the teen T & A films of the 80's. "Nerds" gave me hope that ugly dudes could get some ("Jocks only think about sports, Nerds only think about sex"), spawned dozens of quotable quotes Hey, maybe I could use Gilbert's monologue from the end of the movie at an audition? Look for cameo's by James Cromwell, and John Goodman. I think that there are 2 camps: The John Hughes crowd and the "Nerds" crowd. Not to disparage movies like "TBC", but I never got into "Pretty in Pink" or "Sixteen Candles" the way I did "Nerds". I even dug on "The Big Red One" because Carradine was in it...with some dorkus named Lee Marvin. And Mark Hamill. ; )

They're showing on the IMDB that they may be re-making "Nerds". Ugh...But, "Debbie Does Dallas: The next generation" was loads better than the original. From an artistic standpoint, I mean. (Suckers...)

("BoD" is on their for 2 reasons- (1) the tie in of Curtis Armstrong and (2) I always thought Lane should have gone for Monique over Beth anyway. )

The Count of Monte Cristo (2002)
I waffled on seeing this one when it first came out because of an ex-geef's observation that it looked "corny". A friend of mine rented it and I instantly fell in love with all of the little details of the film.

"For your help, I will teach you philosphy, economics..."/ "How to read and write?"/ "of course..."

Damn! One of Sir Richard Harris's last films outside the Potter genre, I know people who still naysay this film to death but for my money, it is a terrific flick to throw in if you can't decide what you want to watch. And it was the 1st movie J and I rented together on our 1st date back to her place. Even though we had both seen it, we just knew it was a good watch. And frickin' Guzman is in it! GUUUUUZMAAAAN....KNIFE Fighting btw!


So what're yours?

TGTPU*

*Too good to pass up...I'm on a monologue kick, but this. This. Ohhhhh next year at the Flying G's open call, baby- THE serious monologue. I'm kicking it Old School:


Well, uh I guess I, deep down, am feeling a little confused. I mean, suddenly, you get married, and you're supposed to be this entirely different guy. I don't feel different. I mean, take yesterday for example. We were out at the Olive Garden for dinner, which was lovely. And uh, I happen to look over at a certain point during the meal and see a waitress taking an order, and I found myself wondering what color her underpants might be. Her panties. Uh, odds are they are probably basic white, cotton, underpants. But I sort of think well maybe they're silk panties, maybe it's a thong. Maybe it's something really cool that I don't even know about. You know, and uh, and I started feeling... what? what I thought we were in the trust tree in the nest, were we not?


Pervy, P...real Pervy

I'm a mess...

I'm falling apart. . With the inclusion of my sunburned back, I've got a veritable laundry list of maladies today . My work shoes are causing my left arch to scream so I'm forced to jerry rig this arch support out of rolled up napkins. (I'm doing this 'cause Iit's causing me to favor my right leg, and we all know that doing this can cause Chadwickian back problems down the line. )
And after this weekend of pulling out tree stumps and helping my folks move= I am all over sore. (And me with my whole macho-ass "Not gonna take Ibuprofen to mask the injury" attitude. Fuck dat, today I break out the big-kid 800 mg Ib's)

Sore like being back in summer football training (boot) camp. (Hell week, as we affectionately called it.) Urgh, back/legs/neck/head (Too many G and T's) arms/tits...All sore. I would invest in Bio-Freeze ('spensive stuff) or Icy Hot, but that'd remind me too much of an embarrassing accident which occured circa 1992 where I gave myself a good icy hot meltdown after practice. And apparently didn't wash my hands well enough after the application. Then used the loo. You know? (I'm not gonna draw you a picture...let's just say it was icy and hot.)

Listen to me whine. P: You danced, now you gotta pay the piper. Today is the day I shoulda called in. Bleargh

Batman's audition piece's

Wow. Just, wow. My love of movie quotes and the IMDB has unearthed some hi-larious future monologues. (In case yer wondering about why I'm posting this- I've had "Bats" on the brain, so I was checking out Bale's filmography. Btw, according to the film crew he only lost 63 Lbs for La Machinist. Hella gross skinny. Like Jared Leto in the "Ass to Ass" film. Weird. He too, was in the below mentioned movie.)

These 'logues are from "American Psycho" (Which wasn't a terrific film, mind you... A more interesting read, IMHO. A friend wanted me to watch it for this one particular scene that he said "Reminded him of me". Whatever. If you've seen the flick and maybe know the scene in question, well, a big hearty whatever to you too. I've never flexed my bicep in a mirror during sex, thankyouverymuch. Jiggled my pecs, yes...but never flexed my arm.) I'm thinking his performance in the film is probably what got him cast as Bruce Wayne in the 1st place. Bale is steadily approaching the short list of "Actor's who P is irrationally jealous of." He's a good, honest actor. He's my age. And he is in great shape. Dickhead. I hate 'im.

I don't think I'd ever use either one of these unless someone was directing a Labute or Mamet play...but just. Wow. It's a sick world and I'm a happy guy.


Harold, it's Bateman, Patrick Bateman. You're my lawyer so I think you should know: I've killed a lot of people. Some girls in the apartment uptown uh, some homeless people maybe 5 or 10 um an NYU girl I met in Central Park. I left her in a parking lot behind some donut shop. I killed Bethany, my old girlfriend, with a nail gun, and some man uh some old faggot with a dog last week. I killed another girl with a chainsaw, I had to, she almost got away and uh someone else there I can't remember maybe a model, but she's dead too. And Paul Allen. I killed Paul Allen with an axe in the face, his body is dissolving in a bathtub in Hell's Kitchen. I don't want to leave anything out here. I guess I've killed maybe 20 people, maybe 40. I have tapes of a lot of it, uh some of the girls have seen the tapes. I even, um... I ate some of their brains, and I tried to cook a little. Tonight I, uh, I just had to kill a LOT of people. And I'm not sure I'm gonna get away with it this time. I guess I'll uh, I mean, ah, I guess I'm a pretty uh, I mean I guess I'm a pretty sick guy. So, if you get back tomorrow, meet me at Harry's Bar, so you know, keep your eyes open.







Do you like Phil Collins? I've been a big Genesis fan ever since the release of their 1980 album, Duke. Before that, I really didn't understand any of their work. Too artsy, too intellectual. It was on Duke where Phil Collins' presence became more apparent. I think Invisible Touch was the group's undisputed masterpiece. It's an epic meditation on intangibility. At the same time, it deepens and enriches the meaning of the preceding three albums. Christy, take off your robe. Listen to the brilliant ensemble playing of Banks, Collins and Rutherford. You can practically hear every nuance of every instrument. Sabrina, remove your dress. In terms of lyrical craftsmanship, the sheer songwriting, this album hits a new peak of professionalism. Sabrina, why don't you, uh, dance a little. Take the lyrics to Land of Confusion. In this song, Phil Collins addresses the problems of abusive political authority. In Too Deep is the most moving pop song of the 1980s, about monogamy and commitment. The song is extremely uplifting. Their lyrics are as positive and affirmative as anything I've heard in rock. Christy, get down on your knees so Sabrina can see your ass. Phil Collins' solo career seems to be more commercial and therefore more satisfying, in a narrower way. Especially songs like In the Air Tonight and Against All Odds. Sabrina, don't just stare at it, eat it. But I also think Phil Collins works best within the confines of the group, than as a solo artist, and I stress the word artist. This is Sussudio, a great, great song, a personal favorite.

Blogadaisical...

(Apologies for the apathetic nature of the following blog, gentle readers. I'm waiting to see if I got a callback for "Pitch-Nitch" and I'm gettin' a wee antsy. Bad form for me, I know...but, you know?)


My hair is a mess. Unruly. I can slather in gobs O' product, and the mighty power of the wave causes it to pop out everywhere. ("Well, why don't you cut it?" Duurrrhhhh?) Well, I can spend the $ elsewhere and I look like an even bigger dorkus malorkus w/short hair. Pin head.
Why can't it be a "rakish mop"? That's kickin' it old school- "My, doesn't he have a rakish mop?"

Naw. More like "Hairy douchebag". And I still fear balding.



NEW WORDS THURSDAY! (For no other reason than this Hair tangent is going nowhere)

gonnies (pronounced GO-knee's) Testicles.

mort- (N/adj) A dork, or lame character. I kiped this from Wizard magazine which uses it to describe uber-lame superhero characters. (Howard the Duck, Squirrel Girl, and-no shit- "D-Man". He was an Avenger for like, 2 ish's. He was just a frickin smelly homeless guy who was really strong. LAME! Shame on you, Captain America.)

fuckbake: (N/Adj) A jerk or asshole. Describes a situation. (This play is fuckbaked.)

buck-buck: (N/adj) crazy talker/funny talker. I discovered this one by accident. I used to throw "buck-buck" after duo-syllabic names 'cause I thought it sounded funny. (Ex: Bonnie Bonnie Buck-Buck...) My Indian co-worker informed me , after saying "Niddi Niddi Buck Buck", that in Hindi "buck-buck" means crazytalker. Or bullshitter. Or funnytalker. You are all now thinking of my name and throwing "buck buck" after it, aren't you?



Okay. Relief is now being sighed. I got called back. Now, all I have to do...is find out who I must destroy. BUH WAH HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!! Kidding, kidding.

BUH WAH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!! Pinky, are you thinking what I'm thinking?

Rock Rant.

A mofo-ing rock hit my windsheild today on the way to work. Not kidding, this thing was literally the size of a Bruckheimer asteroid. The kind of thing when it impacts you say "HO Shit!!!" with all of the air in your lungs. (Which I did.)

A miracle, really, that it didn't shatter or chip anything. My insurance agent would probably had a conniption fit.

I started thinking about how I could make a funny-funny about the agent saying "Hey, were you driving through Bethlehem and said the Lords name in vain or something?" (Get it? Anyone see "Life of Brian"? One of the 1st naughty movies my parents rented that they let me watch. "Jehovah Jehovah Jehovah!!!") Meh...I got nothing.

Car. Got stoned? Nope.

Grosser than gross*

* This isn't too bad, I promise.

1- The dude in the Mens Room today who, while in the stall, was jabbering away on his cell phone. "So, you want me to pick up eggs, milk, cereal and what else? I couldn't hear that last fart...I mean part."

2- (Cat owners may sympathize) Discovering your cat threw up on the carpet...by stepping in it...at 4am. Ish.

3-Butt Sweat. I have a fat kids metabolism, and with this warm weather we've been having I'm "a-trickling" by the time I get upstairs to my desk. Not-Comfortable.

4-Finding out that my coaching room here at the office has an access panel in it. Accessing what? The "Grease Exhaust" from the cafeteria. Yeah. I call it the "Triple bacon double call coach room"

5- What I used to consume as a kid (I promised you this) which consisted of:

• Arby's 5 for $5 (I'd switch up and get some with cheese too.) I can't believe it's "$5.95" now. Oh, and sometimes for fun I'd get 2 "Big Montana's"
  
• 3 Cheeseburgers from whatever fast food joint we'd visit. With Fries. And a Mt.Dew/Mello Yello to warsh it all down.
  
• Any buffet: 3 trips, minimum. Full plates everytime. Dessert? 2 trips, minimum.
  
• Doughnuts: My fave memories as a kid was hitting up D & D on Brooklyn Blvd or Jacks by NHCC for a donut and milk with my dad. (After a hockey game.) As I got older and I could go by myself...I would buy a dozen donuts. Share 3 with my family. And eat the rest myself. Same goes for donut holes. The whole box. Don't get me started on my former addiction to SA's apple fritters.
  
• Mt.Dew, Mello Yello, and Jolt. All the time.
  
• Hostess products- 'Specially Apple Pies. Then Choco-Bliss. Then Ding Dongs. (They were in my favorite comic strip as a kid: Bloom County.) I was also able to demolish a box of swiss cake rolls. I had a method of unraveling the roll and eating it.
  
• Whole Tostino's pizza's. I'd roll it up and eat it burrito style.
  
• Atomic Fireballs. Lots.
  
• Candy Bars. Loved me some peanut butter twix. When I had to sell candy bars for hockey, I scrounged around the house looking for change to buy me some. I ate 'em all.
  
• Lil' Brooklyn's was a restaurant in BC which touted the "Mexican Platter". It bragged that there was "So much food we serve it with a take home box!" My big brother and I demolished ours, causing the bussing waiter to quietly say: "Jesus..."
  
• Frank N' Stuf hotdogs. Usually 3 at a setting.
  
• Oreo's/Chips Ahoy. Usually a row and a half with milk. (I needed to save the other row for later!)
  
• My mom got a huge dark choc. candy bar in the shape of a fish as a gag gift at her work. She took a couple of bites and left it out. I ate the rest of it. Dipping it in Peanut Butter.
  
• My own ice cream creation- Chocolate sauce (Or magic shell) Peanut butter, and a full soup bowl of Ice Cream. My mom took to buying a kind that she knew I despised so that it would last longer. (Praline Pecan, in case you were wondering. Yuck.)
  
• Always two pieces of cake, or pie. Always ala' mode.
  

And the people at my work wonder why I don't eat the Krispy Kreme's they bring in on Friday's? Yeah.

Irrational Fears

This was born from a conversation I had backstage w/the Rice where we both discovered we have this weird thing about deep dark water (and undersea wrecks). Remember, these are legitimate things I’m afraid of…they’re just- Irrational. And oddly enough revolve around water, which I love (Yay Capricornicus Pornicus! The water goat!)

My teeth falling out: I have had nightmares about this since I had some dental work done back in ’97.

Great White Sharks: (And sharks in general) Even though Benchley regrets the portray of them in his novel (He's a big GWS preservationist now.) Jaws really effed me up as a kid. One of my all-time favorite movies, I am just terrified of the mo-fo’s. I’m fascinated and fearful all at once, so when I was a kid I read allll about our friend the carcharodon carcharias. And I have decided that with my future lottery winnings, I need to swim with sharks off the coast of Australia. Hoope die iee aas. (Shark off the bow!)

Deep Dark water/undersea wrecks: I’ve wanted to learn SCUBA after watching Cousteau docs on PBS as a kid. Checking out wrecks and reefs all seems cool, but for some strange reason it also seems a little foreboding. An example of the Deep water bit is if you’ve ever seen an anchor chain going from the stern of a boat going into the water…you can see it go down about 10-15 feet and then it just…disappears. And the whole undersea wreck thing? Fucking moray eels hide in that shit, man!

The undertow: Mom freaked me out about the undertow when we visited my snowbird grandparents down at the Gulf O’ Mexico. "It’ll suck ya right out into the ocean!" (She knew my predilection towards taking all my clothes off and running into the water to go swimming. As I’d proved on that trip, and the previous years trip to Disney World. Maybe she was trying to keep me safe?)

Low-head dams: There was a spate of boater drownings about 20 odd years ago as a result of getting trapped under low head dams. Don’t ask.

Red Kryptonite

Snapping turtle biting off my ‘nads: Folks caught one up at our cabin when I was 10 and it was an ornery cuss. The thought of one of those fuckers milling around our lake just freaked me out.
Getting pushed over the railing at the city center: I don’t mind heights, but I get weirded out at the thought of taking a dive over the railing. Same goes for the IDS.

Fire and Electrocution: I’ve been burned, badly. And with the recent kitchen renovations, I’ve shocked myself more often than I care to admit.

Broken Glass: Ish.

Forgetting Karate: I have nightmares wear I get my ass kicked by a 4-year-old with no skills. Or that I’m backed in a corner by some neer’do well w/no where to run. All punches and kicks are thrown like I’m having a seizure, and they contain no power whatsoever. I think that it is my subconscious telling me to get to the dojo more often.

Quicksand: Rent Blazing Saddles.

Portuguese Man of Wars: (Jelly fish). I saw one washed up on a beach once. Menace…pure menace from something like looked like someone made a bubble with grape gum and spit it out. See also: Flying piranha.

What're yer fears? Did you overcome 'em? Or "Face your Fears" which in French sounds like: "Fiss yur Furs"

Quick Fat Rant

Just to be clear. I think most of you know this anyways.

I don't think that I'm obese. I know and fully understand obesity and all of the health issues that go around it. And I know I am not that. You may have that impression by reading my blog, but clearly you need to understand satire.

I do not have an eating disorder. I love eating, and most of you know that we (J and I ) like to eat healthy. Some day (maybe today, who knows?) I'll bore you with how I used to eat or with what I could eat. But nowadays, organic lo-calorie and lo-fat food will be fine. 'Kay? Something that saddens and disgusts me are these "Cults of Ana" that anorexic girls are starting. Eeeeee. They just need help.

I have an ideal of what I want to look like. It is a practical image of what I can acheive with my body type and genetics. And yeah, it's tough when you are born with a natural propensity for weight gain (opposite of Kaiser) but that's what you gotta go through. If it offends or irritates you, tough hop.

I grew up a pudgy kid. Moobs and everything. (KWT's son and I had this bonding conversation backstage one night) Teased etc. Puberty was a blessing for me ('cept for the mullet of course) Folks, this ain't some excuse or a "Poor me, look at me wah wah wah". It's just how I was built. It didn't make me angry or bitter. BUT I still have a fat kids mindset, and a fat kids metabolism. (If you've ever seen my delightful fat-kid nipples, you'll know what I mean) I'm actual kinda glad being a pudge-pot was the only problem. At least I never got acne.

If I seem to obsess over fitness/exercise/diet understand that it is really the only way I can keep focused on it. Otherwise I will get lethargic, lazy, and turn to the neighborhood Toxic Bell for comfort. For some folks it's easy, others- not so much. I'm just not one of those terrific self-motivators.

I keep a couple of pics of myself around. 1, was when I was in shape. And 2 others- Not so much. (At least one of them, thankfully, I have a t-shirt on. But, I had 195 lbs. on my frame. I don't wear it well.)

A (recent) ex teased me about my "Chubby Gut" when I was stretching out a few years ago. When I said "That's kinda mean" she justified it by saying I was in better shape when we first met.

In terms of motivation and maintaining a healthy lifestyle= Having a dancer for a future wife is a blessing too. As is, I'm sure, having a marathon runner for a wife. Just don't practice your triple gainer onto the sidewalk. ; )

I am the most self deprecating prick I know. Deal. It's how I stay humble.

K.I.S.S.

People need to chill. Is all I'm saying. Holeee shitballs.

This seems to be justification week throughout the blog-o-sphere. So I'll add mine. Somedays folks, I miss good old fashioned face to face conversation/debate. Except I am not that terribly interesting in real life so I suppose taking up peoples time with my boorish tirades will suffice. Shame really.

Guys: I use sarcasm and wit (And I say those terms lightly because I'm not to good at either of'em) to try to make for funny reading. I keep it topical and shallow because really, there is too much serious business in our personal lives and this little world we live in which means it is SO important to not-take-things-too-seriously. That isn't to say I don't have a serious side, a political side, a snarky/mean side, a deviant side, a condescending side, whatever. But I'm not gonna pollute air and e-space with that baloney. It's not funny. There's a time and place for that campers, and for the most part I think my friends (If you would honor me by letting me call you that) like the nuttier side of me. I will not print real-real personal opinions and business because of people will invariably (A) Misconstrue it-Someone will always miss the point of what you're saying (B) Gossip about it-I fucking hate that (C) Get their feelings hurt by it (D) Get me in the doghouse with J,

I work at a business for 9+ hours a day and have a 2nd job on top of that. The WORST part about both is the tremendous amount of BS I have to chew and swallow on a daily basis just to keep my jobs. The one thing (my boss, of all people) told me that makes any sense is that "Perception is everything- People are going to screw up or not listen entirely to what you say so you had best make yourself as clear as possible while saying as little as possible." Good stuff. And hard, hard stuff for an ADD suffering guy like me to put into practice. But, I'm tryin'.

So, yeah. And stuff. Don't trip, yo'.

Pass the munchies...

Some days the funny funny just, happens.

Today on MPR, they were engaging in a spirited discussion regarding the government placing new restrictions on medical maryjane (simply put: DEA can arrest the growers and users) Wellllllll, they had people from two camps on to discuss- a US atty w/MN ties and a notoriously terrible last name….(Heffle-what? Sounds like a Pooh character) the other person works in the medical field in support of the growth and use of Medical Maryjane. Well, would it have killed them to add a 3rd person? The user?

"Joining us today on MPR are US attorney Tom Doe, Melissa Lunk with an Association that promotes the use of medical marijuana, and lastly self proclaimed frisbee chucking cheeba monkey: ‘Doctor Smithers’?

"Hey, man"

I got a fever...

And for once, I don’t think that more cowbell is the only prescription.

Show of hands- Who believes in gut instincts? Spider-Sense? "I’ve got a bad feeling about this?" Anyone? Well I sure do, and I’m not just talking about guessing what the next song is gonna be on the radio before they even play it. (Btw, it’s "Hollaback Girl" by Gwen Stefani, in case you were wondering.) So, yeah- part of my getting older has been to trust my instincts a little more.

As a young man, I’d barrel into things with reckless abandon

As I got older, went to college and took up karah-TAY, I grew to learn patience and how to be a better "react-or" in the event of SOMEthing happening. Foresight can beat hindsight. Still, you shouldn’t over-prepare. Good lesson, Good lesson.

As an old man (at least where mileage is concerned) I’ve been able to see situations and before they happen and before you know it POW, I am having an out of body experience. Seeing all, knowing all, understanding how your visible future may be truly affected by my decisions and actions. And everything moves in slow motion.

Okay, if I’ve confused any of you all, let’s just say that it isn’t in my nature to be vague or mysterious- I can’t talk about it, and I can’t talk about why. Oooooooooooo. I’ve just had some weird close calls over the past 2 weeks, and well…let’s just say I’m glad I have a sounding board living with me by the name of "J" to listen to the strangeness which is my life. It’s either 6th sense or Common sense. Or- it could be the Chinese I ate for dinner last night, causing fever dreams. Christ, we have central air and we aren’t using it. Sweaty Sweaty, fevered dreams.


Onto "Picnic" Auditions next Tuesday. I get to read it again tonight if the costume shop is slow. I’m not fucking around, 3 X’s I’ve read the mo-fo. Serious. Deadly-Deadly.


What a fucked up Hunter S Thompson entry this was. And I’m at work.

And 'cause this was on last night.

Wayyyy too long for an audition piece, but still...damn. I need to work on my Walken impression.



This watch I got here was first purchased by your great-grandfather during the first World War. It was bought in a little general store in Knoxville, Tennessee. Made by the first company to ever make wrist watches. Up till then people just carried pocket watches. It was bought by private Doughboy Erine Coolidge on the day he set sail for Paris. It was your great-grandfather's war watch and he wore it everyday he was in that war. When he had done his duty, he went home to your great-grandmother, took the watch off, put it an old coffee can, and in that can it stayed 'til your granddad Dane Coolidge was called upon by his country to go overseas and fight the Germans once again. This time they called it World War II. Your great-grandfather gave this watch to your granddad for good luck. Unfortunately, Dane's luck wasn't as good as his old man's. Dane was a Marine and he was killed - along with the other Marines at the battle of Wake Island. Your granddad was facing death, he knew it. None of those boys had any illusions about ever leavin' that island alive. So three days before the Japanese took the island, your granddad asked a gunner on an Air Force transport name of Winocki, a man he had never met before in his life, to deliver to his infant son, who he'd never seen in the flesh, his gold watch. Three days later, your granddad was dead. But Winocki kept his word. After the war was over, he paid a visit to your grandmother, delivering to your infant father, his Dad's gold watch. This watch.

[holds it up, long pause]

This watch was on your Daddy's wrist when he was shot down over Hanoi. He was captured, put in a Vietnamese prison camp. He knew if the gooks ever saw the watch it'd be confiscated, taken away. The way your Dad looked at it, that watch was your birthright. He'd be damned if any slopes were gonna put their greasy yella hands on his boy's birthright. So he hid it in the one place he knew he could hide something. His ass. Five long years, he wore this watch up his ass. Then he died of dysentery, he gave me the watch. I hid this uncomfortable hunk of metal up my ass two years. Then, after seven years, I was sent home to my family. And now, little man, I give the watch to you.

Funny audition pieces

(Enough with the depressing crap!)
Since I’ve been on the subject of auditioning…I thought I’d toss out some monologues that I like to spring on J before I go on auditions to freak her out. (Like I’m serious…; )

From Team America: (Think of the 3 kind of people as Dems, ‘Pubs, and the…ah…"Terrah-Eyists")

Guy in Bar: See, there's three kinds of people: dicks, pussies, and assholes. Pussies think everyone can get along, and dicks just want to fuck all the time without thinking it through. But then you got your assholes, Chuck. And all the assholes want us to shit all over everything! So, pussies may get mad at dicks once in a while, because pussies get fucked by dicks. But dicks also fuck assholes, Chuck. And if they didn't fuck the assholes, you know what you'd get? You'd get your dick and your pussy all covered in shit!

I'm telling you..this film is hysterical. A little grody, buy, hysterical.

"You don't need a gym M- - - -....This'll build 'Man-Muscles'" Is what my dear old dad said to me several years ago whilst performing some Herculean tast for them. I think it was moving a mound of their decorative river rock from one side of the yard to another. Pile after pile...Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow. For some reason I started thinking about the play "Bent" and how the Nazi's would torture the prisoners by making them do gawdawful mundane and painful tasks. (Like moving bricks or rocks from one side of the camp to the other...then back again.) Personally, I do this manual labor for ma and pa as a sign of love and respect for all of the support (Ahem, financial as well as professional) but also to keep them from hurting themselves with the heavier tasks.

"Man-Muscles"...sheesh. I reminded myself of all of this as I was outside on Sunday, chipping away at some more tree roots with the 20 lbs Back hoe. (Those little fuckers that grow at the base of your fenceline, take root, and snake their damn way up the fence? There were literally 20-30...all thick with age.) I did not wind up buff to Schwarzeneggarian proportions, rather a knot in my shoulder, a screaming back that craved hot-tubbedness, and clothes that were once again covered with dirt and schmutz. And dirty black boogers. I'll take the "Y" any old day, Daddy-o.


(Ps: I did get a run in 3 out of the 3 days this weekend. IN-cluding the evening after I attended the Twins game. That's right, full of beer, brats, and peanuts I gave it my all for a good 4 miles. Then I puked.)

I read Portana-dana-dana's blog about her home woes a few weeks ago. She was pretty upset about the repairs, sleeping in the cold, etc...but the issues (like most problems in life) eventually passed. I'm trying to bear all of that in mind this very very second, after I just got informed that the company who installs our countertop is going to require "up to" 4 weeks to install after they get to do their final measuring. That they are going to get to Monday.

-Which means I won't have a completed kitchen until July.
-Which means (officially) I am now going to have gone 7 months without a working kitchen.
-Which means no party

Please excuse me for one moment.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuckfuckfuckfuckfuckityfuckingfuckfuckabillydingdong
rassinfuckoramakissing furfuckballgreaseassmotherpisscockshitbiterdicklicking
mofoingfuckbaconshitfuckymisspelledfcuckingsuckalotofhairyfuckingballs
cockrabbitacidbitingbilespewingdicksnifferfargittynaynaygawdammit!!!!!!


So I thought of something completely inconsequential which makes no sense to be funny and make myself smile.

"If the perception of the action seems inappropriate to others...it probably gives me a boner"
(Portion of that was lifted from HR's "sensitivity training" guide. I got yer sensitivity right here, baby)

Why the nickname? (More help)

This cracks me up.

The other day my co-work Tim informed me of what is quite possibly the funniest nick-name I've heard in a while. Get this: He calls all of the guys his "ex's" date after him "Johnny Salami's". ("Or I'll call'em 'Chachi's'. You know? Your friends get it when you say to'em : Dude, she dating a total Chachi.") I laughed my ace off. It reminded me of nicknames I had for my ex's and how I've dropped them after a while. ( It just seemed kinda dumb to be lambasting them after the fact. You know, like that great comeback insult that pops into your head in the middle of the night?)

Miz Pibb was all I had. Short form of PB (Or even shorter PBFH) which stood for "Psycho Bitch From Hell". J and I were talking about that the other night, and she laughed her ace off .

This got me thinking- We should start a whole new lexicon for the TC theatre community. Ala' Ocean's 11/12 or "Welcome to Collinwood". Nicknames or code words for things. (I'm all about calling peeps by their last names- Or what J calls a "Jocko Highschool Throwback habit") That'd be cool. So figure me up some code words y'all. We can't have Johnny Salami be the be-all end all.

Here's a few:

Bitchy McBitcherson-(N.) A whiner/complainer. I'm thinking that adding an Irish surname increases the funny factor by about 18-23% (I labeled a performer I saw recently who, I kid you little, mugged non-stop. She became Muggy McMuggerson. Terrible press photo btw)

Dorkus Malorkus- (N.) A dumb ass

Porkchop (s)- (N.) Indicates a group of people. Appropriated from the movie "The Usual Suspects" ("C'MERE my little porkCHOP!!!")

CK (Chatty Kathy)- (N.) Some motherfuckers who just don't know when the fuck to shut up and listen. See: Person writing this blog

Sammiches- (Adj/N) Indicates food, or the propensity to have eaten far too much. Unit measurement of weight ("After that buffet, I feel like I weigh at least 200 sammich)

Lastworditus- (N.-Affliction: See medical journal) Peeps who can't, and I mean CAN'T let a conversation/thread/discussion/phone tag end without having said the final piece. Really dumb ailment, but irritating nevertheless. Like a rash.

Yer Mom- (Adj/Resp) Response to every and any question. I mean everything.

Did you hear about...

the woman that backed into the plane propeller? Disaster!


So, I'm watching CNN this morning and they're replaying footage of the "mudslide-racked" homes in Laguna Beach, CA. I was just there last September and after remembering how beautiful the city was, I couldn't help feeling sorry for them.

But for the love of cripe, you built your million dollar homes on the side of a muddy hill and it's one of the rainiest Springs in So Cal history. Doi.


Today's funny co-inky-dink- The IMDB movie of the day.

So, do you like, rollerblade?

Nope. I get asked that sometimes and I’ll be honest: I’m not a yuge fan of the ‘blades. Why???


1- I played hockey for 10 years. Right up until the point that blades first started to become popular for mainstream use. My 1st time out on them, a pebble in our cul-de-sac wedged in the bearings and I took a spill. At least I didn’t have to deal with debris and sh#t on the rink when we’d play. Ain’t no damn pavement ZAM-boni in the ‘burbs. What I’m sayin’. So to translate- "P on blades= uncoordinated dinglefritz"

2-I have a few friends who use their ownership of ‘blades as a catalyst to "Get In Shape". (And seriously, no offense to you Kaiser cause, you know, you like -use 'em) But I swear I've heard: "Dude, I’m gonna lose so much weight when summer rolls around. Gonna break out my blades ‘n stuff. Nope. Sorry. I don’t buy that for two seconds. Using the 3 paltry months in MN where we actually have agreeable enough weather to blade? Nope. This same individual I’m referring to has actually succeeded in gaining more weight. He likes him some sammiches. I just teased him about it at his garage sale where said blades were in the "$1 box".


4-I like hockey movies a lot. "Mystery, Alaska", "Slapshot", "The Miracle" all own, and kick all sorts of ace. (The Duck movies suck chode. I only like’em for the local color. You know in part 2, the scene where the little porkchops are rollerblading and they go from the Stone Arch Bridge to MOA in 5 seconds. I smell bullroar!)

5-I don’t mind roller-skating, (that glorious archaic-assed art form). Again, clean floors with precious little debris to cause a spill. And wasn't Heather Graham certainly nude in "Boogie Nights"? Do you want to be my mom? Damn, I need to go roller skating again- We should have a skate night at the SLP roller garden. You guys know the oneeee. W/the big ass green dinosaur on top?

6-I sold my hockey equipment, including my $300 skates, in 1996 for beer money. No lie. I've wanted a new pair of hockey skates in the worst way for the past 5 or 6 years.

7-True story: I quit playing hockey my sophomore year of HS to do theatre*. No lie. My parents spent $450 on hockey camp the previous summer. I think it kinda pissed ‘em off, and I’m positive they’ve never forgiven me. Ummmm, which is also why they didn’t get me blades the summer of ’00 for a "Half-Birthday Present".

8-I like running/lifting/jogging/karate-ing more than blading. Is really what I'm saying. And that I'm an uncoordinated dinglefritz.


(* The real truth is, I got mono right before tryouts. Doc said I couldn't be in any impact sports, lest my spleen go kerflooey. I was mega-depressed. So ma sez "You did that little play thing last year, why don't you audition for the high school shows?" I honestly didn't want to, having auditioned for the lousy 3-act the previous fall and didn't getting cast. So THEN ma sez: "Y'know, I think ______'s daughter- the homecoming princess, is doing it. 'Member her sweetie? We had lunch the other day with her parents and you wouldn't stop staring?".

And I didn't play hockey again. Started drinking more though. The end.)

Nothing quite like it...

There has never been a more power aphrodisiac...
(With the possible exception of the following:

1. A great bod
2. Beautiful eyes
3. A terrific smile
4. Boones Farm Sangria
   
5. roofies
6. lying about the size of your package....)

No, there is no more powerful aphrodisiac...than new cabinetry. Granted, we were both pretty wiped out yesterday. And, technically we won't have our countertop for another 2-3 weeks.

But it's in! Thank the maker we chose crown molding.