Strangeness

So after the matinee, I trucked on down to the ‘Garage to soft pass a script. Many peeps reading the papers will have heard about all of the hard work that SR has put into the place, and does it show. (They even had some pretty cool feckin’ programs.) It was all kind of…humbling, to see it all. So when they all decided to head on over to Rude’s for a postie 2-fer, I naturally said "Yup". Mama 2 was kind enough to point out that I got to sibbye her Rice-liness (Okay, in fairness her man was on the other side) And I be all like: Ooooooo and Gooooo and having a ridiculous time forming complete sentences*. I talked to LSA about it, and she said that her husband does the same dang thing- Getting all flustered. A charming woman, with an incredibly generous spirit.
(*btw, it’s a new P practice for ‘06- Learning to keep my yapper shut. Let that be a lesson to you all- If I look quiet and contemplative, it’s probably because I’m really trying not to sound like an ass.)

To Redwright:
"Psst."
"What"
"She touched my leg"
"I know"
"It was by accident…but still"
At the end of the night, I think I committed myself to go on a portage trip through the boundary waters with her man. I do that a lot. This is the 2nd type of trip like that where I found myself invited without even realizing it. It’s like a drive-by invite. (Which is why I need a tattoo that says "No". Or maybe one that says "It seemed like a pretty good idea at the time")
There is a reason why I surround myself with those folks. They are really good for the soul. And if you get a chance I gotta tell ya: there is a distinct pleasure in obtaining a ssso.*





Later , "I met my ooooolllld lover for a drink last night. She seemed so glad to see me, I just smiled." We talked. We played catch up. We found out what we’d been up to for the last 3 years. The shows, vacations, what was coming up for us…It was good. It was nice.

And then 10:30pm came along, and I turned into a pumpkin. We sat there, very quietly for a few moments. Her eyes flickered over the video crack machine. Mine to the TV on the wall. We smiled at each other again.

"You have a big kid job tomorrow, huh?"
"Yup"
"Better get going"
"Yup"

And I got thinking= 3 years. We covered 3 years in 2 hours. And that was it. There just wasn’t a heck of a lot more to say.

We xchanged our #'s, and said we should get together next week or after the run is over. She gave me a big hug and a smooch. ("Your warm" /"I’m fat"/"Same old P")

And we parted. I don’t know why that just popped in there. But it did.

That was very nice.

A little slow to warm up to- but we did it! The show is up and running. Friday was a little quiet in the house ("Laugh and Clap, Bitches!" was muttered several times.) The ‘ography felt a little stiff, and I was way concerned that my blue bandana was distracting the heck outta the audience. Afterward we played Frogger, hoppin’ from bah to bah, (Finally landing at Barfly. Incidentally, it is feckin’ cool to have a brother who works DT. No Pay For Park! ) Shite. I just realized that I hadn’t been dancing in a goodly while. Probably not since big bro’s wedding. (And you know, I’m thinking that since 1/3 of the audience they were all watching the techniques. They can’t oooo and ahhh when they are focused on the technical piece.)

A tremendous crowd on Saturday (w/Redwright + Magrooders, Kaiser + Joy in attendance. Even Mama-San P showed up as a surprise!) They were hootin’ and hollerin’. The fights were tight, and it was so much fun to see how excited RSVP and MD were after receiving their well -deserved applause. ("Now I know why you do this acting thing, lil’brother!" /"Naw, I do this ‘acting thing’ for the trim. Swear.") It was just a tight show. I ended up hangin’ with the W’s at the Dragon for a minute, met up with TLC and FW (I’m not posting it here, but no Redwright- I’m not letting a brumski go. Well, at least not for another 5 minutes) I was invited to crash the CJ’s party later which was far too nice of him- Enjoyed some pate’ ("Pate’ Schmate’…I know F##king braunschweiger when I see it!" You’re a class act, P. All the way.) And ambled home to bed.

Which drags us to Sunday. I’m really not a yuge fan of Mat’s. Crowds tend to be fickle, sometimes thin, so I was pleasantly surprised that they were as responsive as they were. The crowd had such notables as my once and future roomie DeeT’s, Le Mitch and weef (I swear, if I hear "OMG, You are SO like your BROTHER" one more time. Or, "Which one of you is older?" That’s right batches, I got me some miles.) and the Bob with his loverly lady. Annnnnnnd some old school chums of mine, which is always a pleasure. (More on that in a later post)

So. It was chockablock full of Kung Fooey goodness. The body is welcoming a 3 day respite from full out fighting (My rotator cuffs are the worst. Weird, huh?) and also welcoming a respite from taking anti-inflam’s just to be able to get outta bed. Go here to see us mug: norefundstheatre.com

There you’ll see the coolness that is Wong and the cast. The pigtailedness that is MD. And the hotness that is Ro. (Redwright. He is darker bearded one)

And the dorkiness that is moi. Go see our show, readers.

What year is it?

Another ganked "me-me"


1.What did you do in 2005 that you'd never done before?
Won a trip to Vegas by doing an Elvis impersonation

2. Did you keep your new years' resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I don’t believe in’em. Although I’m doing better on my resolve to get achieve "total wellness"

3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Ish. Can you imagine that? You’re on the bus or something and "bawoooosh"! Someone’s water breaks.
(Sorry Kaiser- Funk and Snow had a peanut. Yes they did/)

4. Did anyone close to you die?
Not this year

5. What countries did you visit?
Vegas. It’s a foreign territory in and of itself.

6. What would you like to have in 2006 that you lacked in 2005?
A completely finished kitchen

7. What date(s) from 2005 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
11/30

8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Settling into my house

9. What was your biggest failure?
Heh. Having romance and love prevent me from seeing the train coming before it was 2 inches from my face.

10. Did you suffer any illness or injury?
No. Heartsick was the worst of it. I think I’ll pass on going through that again for a while. Otherwise, I had a case of indigestion after binging on redwrights southern food. But it was worth it.

11. What was the best thing you bought?
Ginger-glazed Cathedral-style Maple cabinetry.

12. Whose behavior merited celebration?
The short list: Ro, Mom, Dad, M2, Redwright, Tallen, Nanook, Skilby, Ry-Gonn…That’s the selfish short list. Oh, and I'm going to jump on the bandwagon and say SR. If you know her, you love her. An amazing gal.

Annnnnd I'll stop there.

13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed?
Yeah. Online is a really wonderful place to air your dirty laundry. I’m a-gonna plead-ah the fifth-o.

14. Where did most of your money go?
Toward fixing up the Casa del P, and the evil plastic empires.

15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
What don’t I get really really really excited about?

16. What song will always remind you of 2005?
Golddigger

17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
i. happier or sadder? I don't feel comfortable answering this question.
ii. thinner or fatter? Thinner. No one likes a skinny Santa
iii. richer or poorer? If wealth were to be determined by the amount of love shown by your family and friends, then I’m gonna have to say I’m making the Forbes list this year.

18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Theatre (I passed up way too many gigs) Travel. Learning to keep my big mouth shut. Schtupping...

And relaxing. I feel like I spent ’05 perpetually in motion. Does that make sense?

19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Worry. Cry.

20. How did you spend Christmas?
At the ‘rents during the am w/Ro+Co. It was loverly and low-key. (The night before was queer, but I haven’t spent X-mas at my parents since I was, what, 18?) That night I went to a few dinner parties, which were quite nice as well.

21. Did you fall in love in 2005?
HIT the buzzer. Yeh’ll rue the day yeh croshed me Trebek! (Can one actually type out "Connery-ism's" without them looking goofy?)

22. How many one-night stands?
I only have one nightstand. 3 drawers. No jimmy's.

23. What was your favorite TV program?
Noise. I don’t typically watch it.

24. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
I don’t "hate" anybody. You should be able to tolerate anyone and everyone. Everyone else isn't worth the time and energy needed to think about them.

25. What was the best book you read?
"The Professor and the Madman" and "DaVinci Code". Wonderful stuff.

26. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Re-discovering Project Pat's: "Make that A$$ clap"

27. What did you want to get?
Are these questions here to torture and abuse? A new bathroom, garage, hottub, 4 season addition, deck, privacy fence, a 3rd bathroom...Do I stop now?

28. What was your favorite film of this year?
Batman Begins, or SW:Ep III. Yes, pure geek.

29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
See #20. And it’s not the years, doll- It’s the mileage.

30. What one thing made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Completing house projects. Meeting incredible people. Annnnd the 3 shows I did/started ("Crimes", "Hank V", and Starting "KFH")

31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2005?
Taupe, is the new black.
(I’m corporate, yo. I got the khaki’s, so I can score with chicks.) Gap blue jeans and a loose shirt.
32. What kept you sane?
Ro, Mom, Dad, Redwright, Tallen, Nanook, Skilby, Ry-Gonn.
And me. I’m a pretty good "self-convincer"

33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Ugh. No more fancy. Jennifer Connelly hasn’t stopped calling me, dammit. Oooooo, does SR count, redwright? Damn those super-secret crushes!

34. What political issue stirred you the most?
Maybe not political, but dag yo’…Natural disaster’s abound.

35. Who did you miss? Heh. Right.

36. Who was the best new person you met? Not so much met, but getting to know better some of the peeps on the short list better has been nothing shy of spiritual.
And MD + the rest of the KFH yahoo’s are all pretty good eggs.

37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2005:

That it is ridiculous that so many cliche's are true. (And that love is an incredibly wonderful thing. I am a really moronic misty-eyed idealist, and this is corny as hell but if you look around you can see so many beautiful things. ) Annnnnd I learned how to text-message on my phone. (Even though I can only type in ALL CAPS right now.)

It's finally here

I love opening night.

I love it.

"God I love it so..." (Patton)

I also have a tremendous love (sometimes) for rehearsal. (And you know there are days where rehearsal sucks, but you find your love) I find validation being able to make discoveries, find moments, finding your voice. It is amazing to discover who you are when you are onstage.

When someone asks "what is the favorite play/character you've ever done?" I have a hard time answering that (ADHD, you know) I end up talking about a rehearsal when I was running MacBeth at the Paramount in the 'Cloud. I was rehearsing w/Lady MacDuff & son (The scene right before she gets whacked) and it became intensely real for all of 5 minutes before I (Ross) exited. Intense. When we got up for notes, the director was crying, the dramaturg was crying, and our movement coach had left the room. I just didn't get it.

Later, the director promptly changed our tactics and the scene never had the same "Oomph" after that, even during the run. It was like an incredibly fulfilling sexual encounter with a person, only to have the next time (and subsequent follow-ups) be quickies. That's the best analogy I can create. Make sense?

But, I still had the memory of the 1st time. ; 0

I love the nervous energy of being in tech, which creates invariably the (occasional) feeling of being ready to open. (Lord knows many of my gentle readers know the feeling of standing onstage during final dress quietly thinking "Oh fuck...what the fuck are we going to do?") The inevitable shouts of "Focus" and "We need it QUIET backstage, please". I love getting to the theatre early, running my blocking/'Ography/lines before anyone gets there. I love hovering backstage. Talking to my castmates. All the way to moment any incidental closing music starts and you wait offstage for your turn to bow. (On the flip side- for the more lackluster productions, when you think "Thank God, only ___ more performances!" Seriously. A s#ite show that runs for 2 weekends can end up feeling like 3 months in Western ND if it doesn't do anything for you.)

Love it. All.

I also happen to love 'Fu. I'm okay at it. I practice. I have a helluva coach at home. And, if it is all right to say- it's one of the few activities I've been involved in that I feel good at. (See previous comment about having a good teacher.)

So what happens when you mix the two together in a comical little gimmick show? A really good time. I'm awfully proud to have been part of this process and to have been able to meet and work with some really funny and talented people, and some really badass M.A's. And you know something else? It's rare to be in a show with this much support. You wouldn't think it from the outside, but the dude's/ette's in the show are extremely supportive of one and other. And gawdamn, I don't think I'd actually need an audience. Or when Dr. Wong sez something liek "Okay, you have good control on your spins, so I'm going to come in a lot closer. Cool?" Hell yeah. Or from the get go when it wasn't just "Okay, blocking blocking blocking..." when doing stagey combat- It was, ohhhh more like "CLASH" (Quote for the quote board: MD saying "Look you just need to come up behind me and fucking grab me, okay?" Post stronger bear-hug "Yeah, thas' better.") Or going full out in a fight and being asked to "slow it down" Cool.
Maybe that's it. It's effin' Cool.

Most importantly (to me), it's gratifying to be in a show with my big brother. Go figure, the serendipity/kismet/fated moment we're in a show together. (Considering he joined Karate and I hopped on the bandwagon right after. Oh well, you figure if he's going to be in a show- What could be more perfect for him?) And I know that ham is having the time of his life. It's been a painful, bittersweet, organic experience...and a fookload of fun. I really hope that people come and see this bad boy.

That being said, I wonder if I drank a bottle of Dit Da Jao, and started sweating it out my pores during the show- Would it cure all the bumps and bruises from the inside out? Discuss.

Quote for the day: (From the mouth of big brother) : "I fucking love this kung-fu shit!" (At the end of rehearsal) : "I fucking hate this kung fu shit"

Awwww yeeeeah.

(MD looks like she has track marks on top of her forearms. I thought I was getting carpal tunnel until I realized that it was just the numbness of getting whacked.)

Because these days, you want to know...

Ask me a question. Any question. And I'll answer it 100% honestly. However in return, I get to ask you a question back which you must answer with honesty as well.Anyone else can join in answering a question as well that has been previously asked, as if the question had been asked to them. They can then ask a question as well. And so on and so forth. Thinking of it as a confessional/get to know people pyramid scheme.Here's your chance, kids. That thing you've either been dying to know, or dying to get me to admit in a public forum. No holds barred, and anonymous comments are fair game.

I s'pose this is kinda dumb, since I am an open book in all things (Well, I reserve the right to withhold 25-32% of my life for privacy issues)

Ax away!

My arm smells like Chinese Food.

Okay, so technically not food.


Our esteemed director brought a bottle of Dit Da Jao to rehearsal last night. For the layperson, it's a potent little mix to be rubbed on bruises and bumps, and is also rumored to "toughen the skin". It is favored by Kung Fu stylists, who tend to spar/practice using boo-too forearm strikes.

After our Hamlet used some on himself, he asked if I needed any (On the aforementioned "Ker-whacked" forearm) I agreed, and he did the applying and the rubbing and the smacking (Kinky, I know.) Ophelia had some put on her bruises (My bad girl. Until ya tell me otherwise I'm still gonna do it that hard. ) aaaaannnnd...

I took a sniff. Hmmmm...this smells like Chinese Food. Well, not exactly like Chinese Food, but you know. Like a poultice-homage to Chinese Food. And even after getting cleaned up afterwards, I still could faintly smell it this morning.


But... my arm isn't sore today. Dit Da JAO!!!!!

Kinda reminds me of "Short Circuit"

"# 5 is alive!!!", you know...back when Steve Guttenberg was cool?

I'm going out on a limb by saying 2005 was a re-dick year. Therefore, '06 will be for P:

• A year of travel (I gotta line on trips, yo. SF, LA, NYC, I may even try Vega$ again...I'm gone)
• Professional Growth (I've got way too many Business Analyst and Ins. Classes lined up. )
• I'm going to get cast in challenging shows. (Not just the one's that beat the tar outta me.)
• More time with Family
• More time with Friends
• More time on House Projects
• More time at the Dojo

And most importantly- I'm sinking this introspection trend. I believe that I should take this year as an opportunity to experience the journey, and take a minute afterwards to reflect.

Bogarted from Portana "That which is 5 and good!!!"-

5 Snacks I Enjoy: The cherry at the bottom of a Tom Collins, Pinot Grigio, St.Croix Vineyards Raspberry Infusion Dessert Wine, Yogurt covered Pretzels

5 snacks I actually snack on: Yogurt, Carrot Sticks, Banana's, Fat Free Cottage Cheese, Plain Pretzels. Yeah.

5 Musical Artists I like: Sting (and the Police), Prince, Miles Davis, Sarah MacLachlan, Showtunes. (Read my profile fer pete's sake!)

5 Things I would do with $100,000,000: Ah, dreams. I would do quite a bit more than 5 things. The biggest would be becoming a social crusader. Those who have more, need to give more.

Top 5 Locations I'd run away to: The Maldives, Maui, Madrid, Sydney in the winter, 4 corners...God's Country. Even if you aren't outdoorsy, it is incredibly beautiful.

5 Bad habits I have: Idealistic (It's burned me before, badly. Just don't mistake it for naivety, dig? It's tough to have old-fashioned ideals about love, romance, respect, acceptance, understanding...when there are so many people out there that don't.) ADHD (Yeah. It creates the impression of absent-mindedness, and I have to make sure I say a name over again in my head to remember. I'm better at it than most) Anal Retentive. (No dishes, I like cleaning, dusting, laundry, the works. ) Self-Deprecating (To a fault. Chubs, Ugly, Dumb...I'm my own worst enema somedays. Other days, we're pretty good friends.) Talking too much. (Speaks for itself. I'm working on that. )

5 Things I like Doing: Travel, Cooking, 'Fu, Exercise, and Reading.

5 Things I would Never Wear: A thong. (Once...just once. It's bad enough if I have to wear a dance belt for a show) Pre-ripped jeans (WTF? This is a trend?) Pastel/Pink (Sorry. The last pink shirt I owned was from County Seat Outlet. Ocean Pacific, or Nuovo. Yes, my brother and I loved "Miami Vice") Piercings. (Ummm...it's cool if it works for you. Me? I'm a big nerve ending anyway...and I don't think I need that. Nips, Albert, Nose. I thought about it, and I just don't believe it's me. If there is a me.) Anything See-Through. (You don't wanna see that. More specifically, anything sheer-or like the fishnetty tank tops that were popular with guys circa 1982)

5 TV Shows I like: I'm not a big TV head. Actually it hasn't been on in over 5 weeks.

5 Movies I like: Yeesh. Considering how pop culture topical I am?

Okay: These'll constitute movies I can watch repeatedly, annually. They are like a good book that you know you can always fall back on.

Ghostbusters, Lord of the Rings Trilogy (It's all one story!), Star Wars (HEY, it's all one story!), The Count of Monte Cristo (2002...although this may fall out of the repetoire for a while) and one or all of the following (Not really "1", but I toss them together all the same) Kill Bills, Legend of Drunken Master, The Matrix, Kung Fu Hustle (A gem), Iron Monkey, Showdown in Little Tokyo, Rapid Fire (Seriously- Brandon Lee is one bad mamma jamma. And the Jeff Imada 'Ography is incredible) Best of the Best (So, I only fast forward this to the fights. Only because Phillip and Simon Rhee's Dad founded the concept that my karate school was based on. And the fights are bad-ass)


QUICK POLL!
Red Lobster or Olive Garden. I know that it isn't the Oceannaire or D'Amico Cucina...but work just gave me a $50 gift card for winning a voiceover demo contest and it's redeemable at both. DECISIONS DECISIONS!

(I'm gonna throw my hat 1st towards the 'Slobster. More mileage for seafood, ya know?)

Damn.

The W.Va mining travesty is absolutely horrible, and in light of a previous fluffy blog I want to add something to my list of fears-

Buried Alive. Horrible. Can't stand the thought. It has supplanted my unnatural fear of being eaten by a great white shark (Which, btw, a friend of mine told me "Would actually be a pretty cool death". Okay. I can dig it.)

During the H'weenie season, the G and G tourguides get to tell 2 really narsty stories regarding live burial/trapped and buried alive, one of which is a natural mining disaster. (Which, if you want to hear them, you'll need to go on the tours. Annnnd, coughcough, the guides would loooooove to tell the Milford Mining story at the Wolf Caves again...I'mjustsayin'. ; ) These are my two favorite stories to tell, and I can sell'em pretty well- but only because of that fear.

I think it originally came to fruition during my childhood. Living in a cul-de-sac, the snow-plows would always push the biggest mound in front of my parents house. It made for perfect "fort building", but there were two times while tunnelling that the sumbitching thing caved in on me, and I had to get pulled out by the heels of my moon boots.

When I was 13 and in the 'Scouts, one of our camping trips was to Eagle Cave out in 'Sconnie. A fantastic time and one of my favorite trips- In the dead of winter, camping in a cave which held the balmy temperature of 52 degrees F. We'd climb around and down and down. Deeper. There were bats, and drips, a stalactites and stalagmites. Chambered rooms where you couldn't touch the ceiling lest it fall.

And even though I had a malleable 13 year olds body (read: Rubenesque), me and the old moobs managed to get wedged in real good while exploring. Facing down. With no room for purchase. Yeah. That fear was pretty immediate, and I remember getting a pretty good scratch around my tummy from freaking out and trying to pull my body out. (Funny that, our Australian scoutmaster told me it kinda looked like a shark bite. So I guess I've already survived that one and no longer need the fear.)

Oddly enough, that same year the Voodoo/Tetratodoxin movie "The Serpent and the Rainbow" came out with that deliciously creepy tag line "Don't let them bury me...I'm not dead!". Yeah. I don't know which gave me worse nightmares: The thought of being drugged up on dried up blowfish and buried alive, or Bill Pullman's over-the-toppedness.

So yeah. There's my fear. My heart goes out to their families during this awful time.

WHACK...

More like a "whaaaack"...but I'm getting ahead of myself.

The air mattress worked its evil wonders on me the other night, and I awoke the other day to a very cranky and stiff neck. I never get these dumb owies, so when I got to rehearsal last night and started stretching I implored my big bro to give'er a push. I've mentioned before that I have a fairly high tolerance to pain, coupled with a very high "ick" factor. (It's the anticipation of pain that I can't quite stomach. Just frickin' do it, and get on with it.) I don't know if years of getting kicked in the gob did it, or if it was the jock-o/suck it up attitude that ma and pa instilled. I just don't mind soreness/dings/etc. And I'm not an awfully big fan of taking NSAID's.

Well. 800mg of Ibuprofen and I'm at rehearsal.

Brother pushed the knot and I felt a very intense and brief explosion throughout my shoulder. White, hot, and cold all at once. It was glorious. And it cleared my brain.

"Jesus _____, there it is. (whispered) is that from sleeping on the air mattress?"
"Naw. That's my twin I absorbed in utero. Well, either that or where my angel wing is gonna pop out"

I'm ridiculous. But, the knot is broken. And there is prolly gonna be a photo of my brother giving me a backrub on the website. I know it. Angelina and her pervy brother got nothing on the P boys.


Which brings me back to pain.

Later, I was whacked over the forearm by a broomstick handle. (Bro said later: "I knew it probably hurt when you didn't make a smart ass comment afterward"). Granted it was covered in foam, but damn. Chowie felt bad. And I started to feel like I shoulda taken out a better insurance policy before accepting the gig.


I get home later- Sweaty, tired, and ready for bed. And as I'm in the shower* letting the hot water do its thing, I realize that it's helping me discover the other little aches...and then let them go. (How does one get a papercut on his foot? Must've been the spike tape. )

It's weird kids, and I'm not even kidding about this: I love it. I am thoroughly enjoying this whole experience as both a performer and a martial artist. Including every ding and scratch. It isn't a creepy feeling of S/M-my naughtiness, pain equalling pleasure, or an excuse to use as a way of forgetting "other things".

It just makes me feel...alive.

Crazy, huh?

* So, I'm shaving in the shower and I forget a part of my neck. Normally no big deal, except (1) I look like I'm trying to grow a mohawk over my Adam's Apple and (2) I have an on-camera today. Riiiiiight. Pretty man, P. Pretty Man. I probably shouldn't be hella worried, since the last on-camera I did was the day after I thought showering in fiberglass insulation was a good idea. (Of course you remember? The day I looked stoned with the little cuts all over my face? The Sherwin Williams deal?)

I really should be banned from home repair projects. And grooming. If you see me again, I'll be at Petsmart getting shaved.

Ooooo, Listy McListerson

What's your favorite thing to do when no one else is around? Read. Practice Forms. Try to (gamely) tap. Workout. Vacuum Naked.

Name a guilty pleasure. Reading and writing. I love books, and if I had more hours in a day I would spend hours reading. (From Non-Fiction to Dreck-y Pop Culture rags) And I've been writing shite down for a couple of months now in the interest of either writing a play or just..doing an open mic night.

What's your greatest fear? Moooovin' on. (Mostly growing older alone. I don't fear death. A dumb or accidental death, yes. I also can't stand the thought of falling. Heights, no prob. Falling would suck.)

What's your favorite part of your body? Arms. And pretty eyes. Otherwise I'm pretty milqetoast from an outside perspective.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? Somedays...(sighs) it kills me to be so moony/romantic/idealistic. And, I'd give myself a 16 inch phallus. It'd double as a belt.

What's your idea of perfect happiness? Peace of mind. Being content. Loving someone and being loved in return the same way. Daily laughter. Relaxing. Being dressed in sun-god robes while 1,000's of beautiful naked women throw little pickles at me. Am I the only one with that dream?

What's something you're good at that's totally useless? Useless trivia. Which can come in handy when your friend Matt calls you from LA asking "Who sang that lame-o song from the 1993 version of 'The 3 Musketeers'?" (Bryan Adams, Rod Stewart, and Sting. VO-mit)

What's your favorite album for a night of steamy monkey love? WTF? Nature. Something about being at a cabin with the windows open. Or a late night rainstorm in May.

What was your most memorable celebrity encounter? Gawd. Which one. I nearly spilled a latte' on Denise Richards filming "Drop Dead Gorgeous".

Who would you like to trade places with for a day? Johnny Depp. He's got it pretty good I'd wager.

Who's your favorite fictional character? Atticus Finch.

What Hollywood star would play you in a documentary based on your life? Sean Penn. Doi.

What song(s) best represents the soundtrack of your life? "This Island Earth" by the Nylons. If only for the first line: "Calling all dreamers, and optimistic fools. Don't let go of your dreams make them now, make them all come true. If you believe in a brighter day, you know you will find a way" Yup. Mr. Sensitivity. It was either that or Project Pat's "Make that A$$ clap"

If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
A yeti.

When you were a kid growing up, who did you imitate when you stood in front of the mirror?
So many things. Our imaginations were our best friends. (Me ma tells me that she caught me singing some Roy Orbison song when I was 3)

Name a book you've read recently and liked. I've just started "A Million Little Pieces". It's a pretty engaging read. I think Kaiser would really get a lot out of it.

Name a film you've seen recently and liked. Kong was recent. And decent. (The frickin' bug-pit scene just...ick.)

Name an album you've heard recently and liked. Concert okay? Pat McCurdy

Finish this line: "If we can send a man to the moon, then why... ?" Do I still feel the way I feel?

What will you remember most about the '90's? 90-95 were pretty teen/early 20's angsty. EVERYthing was so fucking serious and life changing. When in truth? It wasn't.

The latter part of the decade was pretty big in terms of personal and professional growth. I took school more seriously, I was single for the 1st time in forevah, and living by myself. So, I learned a lot and wound up figuring out the most important thing: I'm not going to stop making new personal discoveries. (Hopefully I will stop making Hallmark-y comments like that anymore either and just enjoy the quiet satisfaction that these are good life choices to make. )

And 1999, from what I remember, had a very good summer.

It made a noise...

"Tock!" That's what it sounded like.


But I'm getting ahead of myself.


1st-Happy New Year. I hope that everybody had a safe and enjoyable NYE surrounded by people you love.* I also wanted to let you know that I may be switching format's here in a couple of weeks. There is quite a bit of archived goodness here that I'm going to need to unload, so you maybe informed of a new and improved weblog/journalishness.

That being said: Things topical.

Kung Fu Hamlet

We open this Friday. Crunchtime. Yeesh. I just started to get saavy on my first fight and last night I finally made it through the "burly brawl" final fight with Hamlet. Opening in 3 days? No problem. Incidentally, read the 'blog on the No Refunds website. HI-larious. If anyone asks, yes we do hit each other sometimes. Hard. The sound effect I mentioned earlier?

Part of my first family fight is a bear hug grab to Ophelia. She's an a very talentd Martial Artist, and to get out of the bear hug, she throws both her elbows back into me then does the whole "Bruce Lee behind the head backfist". Well...P was a little bit tooooo close. And whacko!
I fell. I look up to see Big Bro, the director, and Ophelia all looking down at me. "You okay? Things Swimmin'?" and "P, I heard that across the ROOM! AWESOME!"

All I could think of saying was "That just made me so fuckin' horny right now..."

Real charmer, that's me. Go see my show.


* (emotionally sensitive disclaimer)
I want you all to know, all of you that have listened to me over the past couple of weeks. All of you that have prrrroooobably seen me at a point in my life I that absolutely do not care for the public to see. The lowest of lows. If you've seen me out in public, doing my best to keep it together. Busted! There it is! Twin Cities Bad Boy is a big soft sappy mcsapperson! He cries! A lot!

Anyway, I would like to offer you all my heartfelt gratitude. For those gentle readers who possess the capacity to understand this, not as an ideal or an abstract- but as a gospel which with I try to live my life: You should know that the love you given has brought me the strength and hope during a fairly dark time. Believe it. Truly. Honorable traits that I could never repay, but you should all know that I have a wellspring of love and respect for you all. Cool?

I'm not quite 100% (More like 42% for those who enjoy math) but I'm mending. I'm down about 15lbs. (Which, hah, ever the optimist is sort of a blessing in terms of getting into fighting shape.)

Anyway, I still have that love and passion. In the future, you'll just be reading about it in different ways, that's all.

Happy New Years. May the best days of 2005 be the worst days of 2006.

Oh, in case you're wondering what P was doing until the wee hours. The Fine Line was a good time.

Go figure, again....

I loved this movie...'specially when James Hong does that thing with his thumbs? "Ngngngngngngngngngngng"

Yeah...That's cool.



The Pork Chop Express.

Which B-Movie Badass Are You?
brought to you by

Oh....Child.

A 4th grade paper, by yours truly. (circa 1984) Feel free to discuss influences. This paper was written in lieu of your typical "What I did on my summer vacation". As it happens, my mom took my brother and I to the theatre to see "Ghostbusters"...twice. I've fixed the paper, in the sense that I've added my teacher's grammar/punctuation corrections, but left others as I felt they were just too cute. The remaining paper remains...in tact. This should give y'all an inkling of the weirdo I was to become.

Thou Self
(Catchy title, yes?)

by ___y____
Gr. 4
Room 12


My name is ___________. I am 9 1/2, going on 10 years old. When I was a child, I had a great feeling that I would be full of creativity in the upcoming years, and so I am.

An elementary student, I have had lots of adventures. In 2nd grade, I made a volcano, and I knew that fame was my destiny. Now in the 4th grade, my new teacher is Mr. _____. Then I learned a lot of martial arts. For instance, Judo, Akido, Ninja, and Karatae.

My favorite food is pizza, and my favorite drink is Mountain Dew. A weak spot is my stomach.

Right now, I am making a movie called Ghostbusters II. I like watching TV. My father's name is _________ (The same as me). My mother's name is ________ and my brothers name is __________. I have one pet and that is a ferret named Grodie. My best friend is Matt. I am the smartest one in my class. My brain rank is #1. I have a very happy, super-duper life.



-Yes, I spelled my 1st name in the kiddie vernacular of "key".
-Yes, I know that I misspelled "karate". It was how it was spelled on the cologne bottle.
-My favorite food is pizza and drink is Mt.Dew? Got that right. This is why I was a titch heavy.
-Funny that Ghostbusters 2 was go released 5 years later. Mine would have been cooler. ; )
-Yes, we had a ferret named Grodie. He replaced the 1st one named "Odie". Ooooooo.
-I think that the idea of my stomach being a "weak spot" was due to a biography I read about Harry Houdini, who it is rumored had died from getting punched in the stomach. Or maybe it was a weak spot because I loved food.

-I wasn't the smartest one, but close. This paper put me in the "creative students media center program". (I think that they wanted me to be in either that, or special Ed. ) Me and a few other 4th grade "indoor kids" took field trips to plays, the Science Museum, a animal dissection lab. I hated it. I faked strep for 3 weeks so I didn't have to go back to school.

It was in the "Creative Students Media Center Program" my mom saved where I found the paper.

That little putz sure thought a lot of himself.

Bavarian Walrus Flu....

So. In light of recent current events...I'm still kinda shook up over this "Bird Flu".

Bird Flu. I mean, why couldn't they have given it a really mean and forboding name. Hell, spin the story so that the animal is a bit more menacing. Like "Great White Shark Flu", or "Water Buffalo Flu". Heck.... "Black Widow" flu. I mean, fuck...people are at least scared of spiders.

Frickin' England had Rats spread the plague for cryin' out loud...and rats are at least grody. I mean c'mon? Do you think we'll get it here anyway? I mean, I don't think I'm alone in thinking that the worst season for colds and flu in MN also happens to coincide with our winter. All-8-months of it. All the sick birds will have gone to AZ with the seniors. THAT's where the NIH should be focusing their studies.

And you know, what do those birds chirp to each other when they get sick anyway? They're hanging out at the Pet store, when you hear an avian "AH CHOO", and the Gray African Parrot says to the Cockatiel... "Hey. Jeff? You wanna cover your beak when you sneeze? Seriously, that's gross. Some poor patron get's an eyeful of your bird-boogs and then WHAMMO....W will write a check to big drug companies for $7 bill. Do your part, buddy. Be an American. That money'd be better suited elsewhere"

And seriously...I've never heard a bird sneeze before. (Or a shark for that matter. I bet they don't sneeze because sharks are bad-ass. ) Have you heard one? I mean, if they're gonna watch an animal who (probably) get's bad colds why not watch Arctic critters like polar bears...or Walruses? Walruses have got to sneeze. Gotta. I mean, if there was an animal that would probably be subjected to colds, it'd be them. (Well, it'd suck to be an elephant or an anteater...with their big schnozzes. But those mo-fo's pretty much stay in warmer environs.)

No, the walrus probably shlup shchlup schchlups along on his big ol' flippers, scraping on the cold ground when BA-BOOM. Tusk-rattling sneezes. Tusk...Rattling. And I bet they speak with German accents. "Oh, Oh, Gerta...Mah noss ist zo gestuffen....Ich habs ein cold gerflugen in sie sung alles. Und no heisse bathen to gebathen innen. Und wir sind outs nach zem thera-flu alles nacht. Oooohhhh, meine kliene Valrus Flu gehaben!!!!") Those poor walrus need to join their manatee brethren in FL. Sure, they got the hurricanes, but at least you're in a warm climate! They can sit back poolside with a Hawaiian shirt, Jams, and that funny straw hat with the green tinted visor in the front brim. Sipping a sardine and plankton bloody mary...bits of tabasco and zinc oxide getting stuck in their bushy mustache. "Ahhhh, zis is der life gegangen. Wir sind immer paradise..." Mr and Mrs Walrus can hold flippers and watch the sunset.


There it is...a walrus rant

10 random things about me:

10. I'm random
9. We never shopped for clothes at "mainstream" stores. Garage Sales and relatives
8. I was in Cub/Boy Scouts until I was 16
7. I've never been fired from a job
6. I have a very high threshold of pain
5. I wrote a story about the MN Zoo opening that got in the MN Star Newspaper (Before it was the "Strib") My picture got in the newspaper, but my story didn't win. It was for the chance to feed the Beluga's. I closed my eyes.
4. I ate the "Mexican Feast" at Little Brooklyn's restaurant, which was: A Chipotle sized burrito, 3 enchilada's, and 6 hard shell taco's. (I had moobs)
3. To keep my mom from spanking me, I'd try to make her laugh.
2. My 2 favorite subjects in all schools have been English, and Social Studies (especially History)
1. Even though I love being an actor, love being on stage, and love being there for that wonderful interaction during a scene...I tend to really not care for my performances in anything I've done. This was reinforced by watching shows that were video taped. *

9 things I want to do before I die:

9. Write a book.
8. Skydive
7. Fall from a tall building into a crash mat
6. Scuba Dive
5. Be out of debt
4. Get paid a living wage to be a perfomer
3. Get married (Or not)
2. See the world
1. Try Stand-Up comedy

8 ways to win my heart/affection/respect:

8. Cast me
7. Be well-mannered and respectful
6. Don't be disrespectful/insulting/hurtful to others
5. Be cool
4. Compliment me. A lot. And be specific. (And laugh with me)
3. Think before you speak (Try to hit the edit button)
2. Have something to say, and It'd be cool if it's funny
1. Have passion in what you do

7 things I'm afraid of:

7. Failure
6. Becoming obese
5. Falling
4. Dying before I get to do the "9 Things" list
3. Hurting someone elses feelings
2. Invasive Goverment
1. Abandonment, and all of it's nasty connotations (The thought of growing old alone always scared me an awful lot.)

6 things I believe in: **

6. Unconditional Love
5. The unbelievable power of the mind- (Your attitude, Healing, your outlook- EVERYTHING!)
4. Reincarnation and Past Life experiences intruding on present times.
3. Change isn't always for the best
2. Loyalty/Honor/Chivalry. How can you not believe those are cool?
1. That things will always turn out okay. Somehow.

5 places I have lived:

5. Brooklyn Park MN
4. Medora ND
3. Park Rapids, MN (White Earth State Forest- Go MANY POINT!)
2. Deephaven, MN
1. Minneapolis MN...SW, Uptown, SE, and currently in the good ol' NE Minneapolis!

4 of my favorite items in my bedroom:

4. DVD player
3.The Bed
2. My books
1. My nightstand

3 things I do everyday:

3. Go online
2. Eat
1. Worry about my personal finances

2 things I'm trying not to do now:
2. Spend extra $
1. Be so hard on myself

This'll make less sense/Brother Cool

An excerpt from last nights audition: (Followed by observations...observe)

(2 brothers enter, and bow towards the director)
P: "Brother, how good to see you- now why are you here?"
Ro: "To audition for this show. A role mom says I was born to play"
P: "Ahhhh, so. But did mom give you a permission slip to drive in downtown Minneapolis?"
Ro: ""I, ah, ummmm....she always did like you better- I'm gonna settle this NOW!"

Ro runs towards P, throwing an almost simultaneous punch/front kick. P counters with a high wrist block (Think blocking high with a limp wrist...snerk) and comes down with a palm block for his kick. Ro's next block is countered again with a circle block followed by a double palm strike to his solar plexus

P: "HHHHAAAAADOOOOOKEN!!!" (Yes. Hadoken. From the Street Fighter video game. We're geeks)

Ro pops up to do a posey "Plus 4 lightening kicks" basic kicking a lot on the same leg. P yawns.

Ro attacks again (pissed at my boredom) with a flying Muay Thai elbow strike. P and Ro then engage in a elbow/brush block exercise. This continues about 5 or 6 times before....

Ro: "This blocking drill is both pointless and boring....like my kicks" (pushes away, winds up with an old fashioned "Popeye" punch) "HHHiiiiah!"
(Mikey blocks with "X-Block")

Ro: (Changing his punch into flat-palmed straight-pointed fingers) "PokeMON!"

P: "Pokey-Who"?

Ro: "Pokey YOU!" (Ro thrusts spearhand into P's throat. It is here, that Ro's self control diminishes slightly, and I feel his fingernails poke my chin) P falls to the floor...choking and slapping the ground, ala' pro wrestling.

Ro: (Doing a little victory dance, starts kissing his arms like Ron Burgundy) "Yes, Yes...I love you. Little pretty baby. Are you good? Yessss...you ARE good"

P stands up, does a flourish-y disrobe of his gi top and discards it. P is now standing in a Tank Top- He "tastes his own blood" Like Mr. Lee would do in his movies...then does another grandstandy kung fu arm move into this kinda pose: "The Constipated Van Damme"

Ro: "Damn you and your free weights"

P and Ro back away from each other. P preps both of them by throwing a back leg round kick. Which leads into our "Simultaneous attack"

Ro runs at me, executes a jumping side kick/I run at him, doing 2 tornado kicks and an "Ax Kick" to finish.

Ro: "Wait, there is one more move....in this combination" He punches. P does a circle block of his punch, followed by an elbow to the temple, punch to the groin, and lastly (my favorite) a jump spin hook kick.

Ro gets up again, setting up "Capoeria Combo"

Ro: "I will now try to destroy you, using 'the rhythm of the night'!"
P: "I have also studied El DeBarge!"

Ro sticks an Au Chibara (One handed handstand where you kick over your head simulatneously)

P:"Oooooo, fancypants"

P attacks. Throws one punch but (GASP) Ro traps it. Trys the other arm punch but (GASP) Ro traps that one....He jumps up and WHAMMO head butt to P...sending me spiralling.

Yes, that was the move bogarted from the Matrix tunnel fight. Look for it.

Ro: (Walking over to "finish it"...gloating) "Heh HA HA HA!" P, on the ground, get's him with a groin kick. Ro topples in pain.

P gets up doing a helicopter spin, Ro does a kip up.

We finish with some more honky dialogue about the movie "Road House" then get each other in that corny "throat rip-out" pose that Swayze does. We "Rip out each others throats" simultaneously...then die.

Fin

Weird P. Blog about your near life experience. Boooooring. I think it had to do w/my waxing on "Acute Pain" to a co-worker. Not "sustained" pain or injury (Although that sometimes follows) I'm talking pain that, for whatever reason, causes remarkable clarity. A "white" moment.

Ex: Barking your shins in the middle of the night. (I forget which comedian said "Shins are God's way of helping you find furniture in the dark") You shuffle along, half asleep, making your way to the loo' for a 2:30 am potty break when WHAMMO! (Or a muffled crack) of your shin barking agains the coffee table. Now, besides uttering a few curses you ever notice that you have a sort of "flash" and everything around you becomes a little clearer? Now I don't advocate hurting yourself or deliberately kicking around in the darker until WHAMMO you connect. But, it always amazes me how immediate and instant pain can cause this. (And it can't be premeditated either. It's the immediate adrenaline shot as opposed to the agonizing slow burn of anticipatory discomfort.)

Other examples:
Getting hit really hard without knowing where it's coming from (Yeah...)
Smacking yourself in the head. (See: Searching under a desk or in a cupboard)
Getting kicked in either the mommy or daddy button.
Waxing/Removing a band-aid
Paper Cuts/Razor nicks
Biting your tongue
Getting your fingers slammed in a car door. (As my co-worker did to me a few weeks ago)

In one of my many old Martial Arts tomes, I read that Wushu practitioners would nick themselves with thorny ash branches prior to engaging in combat. Something about the teeny tiny little cuts helping with clarity and focus. While I personally feel that's akin to the behavior of flagellents or more topically "cutters" (gross) I can sort of subscribe to the philosophy. I used to play hockey and football better when I had a cold/was sick. Even in shows, I get hyper-aware of my mechanics and usually can sing/speak better because I'm actively working on where I breathe from (And who I breathe on. Which, in turn, makes for a better listener.)

Ahhh, just an old man and his queer rantings. Anyone else notice this?

That's new...

(Gasp...Gasp...Huuuhhhwwwwuuhhh. Is it possible? Is my life flashing before my eyes?)

"Again! You didn't have much power that time. Your punch was harder than the kick."

WHHHHOMP, Tap-Tap

(Just, don't ask if I'm okay. If he asks if I'm okay, it'll be a signal of, something...)

"(Insert my first name) Want to (please don't ask if I'm okay) get some water quick?

(Ugh. He called me by my 1st name. Not, "Mr.P", just ___. In karate, they usually dole out your proper name out of respect. While it isn't disrespectful to not use "Mr." when you aren't a black belt, it does tell me: "You still got a loooong way to go, kiddo" )

"I forgot it. " (The one day I want to do curriculum. Not that it's so easy, but I didn't think I'd be losing pints of H20)

'kay. Switch stances. I'm going to come at you with the pad, and I want you to sidekick, punch, and then throw a jump-spin sidekick."

It's been going on like this for the last hour. Class consisted of just-me. So the instructor made it a point to work technique, not curriculum. After the 1st twenty minutes of drills, every breath I managed to draw came in like I was sucking on a blowdryer. After 45 minutes, my vision starts to get swimmy and my technique goes out the door. Vomiting seems like a pretty good idea. I can't hear very well because (a) the rush of blood in my ears sounds like a low-head dam and (b) the sweat has sort of blocked off my ear canal.

After a while I get into a nice groove. I start taking deep "well" breaths, imagining that I'm filling my body with oxygen all the way down to my feet. (Foomp, tap-tap, ...FOOM)

Good. You didn't really throw a jump spin, but you're improvising.

I stop thinking about the crappy day, the shitty flamer e-mails, the dumb ?'s from co-workers, house worries, bills, time...What I start thinking about trying to staying upright. (Don't faint)

This may seem, again, warshed with machismo, but I know what it really is. (And, as it has been explained to me in the past) Because of who my big brother is, they are going to try to work me just as hard as they would have worked him. And, yeah. I don't want to wuss out.

Okay, hand and footpads off. Line up for the end of class. CHARYO, KunYAY! (We bow)

After class, I try to engage in chit-chat which doesn't come out right- I sound like I've suffered a stroke. Getting dressed is a bit of a chore (You're going to be sore tomorrow, so you might want to ice down a bit. I figured since your getting into fighting shape, and since it's you- I'd work you harder tonight, cool?) My shoulders feel like I just finished doing a 2-hour handstand.

It's the Dowling Ave. exit before my swimmy peripheral vision starts to focus. If I was pulled over, they'd give me a DUI. When I get home, I toss my wet gi into the hamper, and fold a dry one and put it back in my workout bag. Back at it tomorrow.

And I don't feel so bad today. Kiiiiai.

You think that this is irrational?

And people wonder why I have an irrational fear of deep deep water....s#it like this

Yeah. That's right. A 26-foot long Architeuthis. That's "Giant Squid".


Thar be monsters...

What hasn't changed

(A continuation)

-Still pretty spastic. Can't be helped. I have me a lot of energy, but I think I'm getting better at where I direct it. Namely, my pants.

-Still very polite and respectful of others. Manners count, you know? Pleases, thank you's, How are you/Fine Thank you and yourself, Hold the door, let the next person through. All that jazz. Easy Karma.

-Still keeping an open mind: Mom tells me my teachers were happy that I was so quick to make friends with everyone (Truth is, I wanted everyone to love me. GOT to be the center of attention, don't we all?) and that the kids that most folks wouldn't spend time with-I would. When my dearest friend came out to me, he said that I was the first (straight) person he came out to. That felt really good. And you should always do it, if it feels good. See the correlation?

-Still pretty funny. Lookin' My uncle likes to tell friends and loved ones about how I made up a song when I was 4 years old, entitled "Radioactive Spider-Man Dookie" and sang it all through his wedding. There. You now have the genesis of my need to make-up song lyrics. And yes. Dookie.

-Still climbin. That whole Spiderman thing. Love climbin', but I have a dickens of a time getting back down again

-Still holdin' fast to Those "Olde Fashyoned Starry-eyed Romantic Ideals": like honor/twue wove/loyalty. I know it's a little old Fashioned, and I'm trying to temper it with (a little) more grounding and (a lot) less "wimby-wimby"

-Still have an active imagination. Word booty. But, don't we all. And wouldn't the old employers like it if I used it to do, oh, work? Instead of trying to create witty P-ism's all day

-Still love history. Thanks, "Raiders of the Lost Ark" for that. Did you know that I wanted to be an archeologist for a couple of months after that movie? Until a field trip with the Science Museum proved that real archeologists don't even carry a bullwhip, or fedora. (Most of them wear cowboy hats and carry dirty toothbrushes) And they look like hippies.

-Still love travelling. Thanks, Dad and Mom. I got a whole world to visit

Now and Then

Things I was better at when I was a kid (Like, 15/16 and under)

Camping/Being outdoorsey. I used to camp all the time and nothing made me happier than being out under the stars with a sleeping bag, ground cloth, and the sounds of nature. Now, I'd probably get so frustrated with putting the tent together I'd karate chop it or something dumb. My family and I camped all the time, from when I was a little-little kid...to the last time I went which was, Ooooooh, 1998? I can still start fires though...buh-wah-ha-ha!

Acting with Reckless Abandon. Teachers, Coaches, other parents...used to call it "Hyperactivity" but I beg differ. And differ to beg. I remember sort of plowing into everything "head first" without threat or fear of personal safety. I don't do that anymore which I guess is called "common sense" but I feels more like a flinch, or like I'm 2nd guessing myself. (This was apparent the last time I was asked by my folks to go up the ladder and onto their roof. "Is the ladder secure?","Dad can you hold it?" "Are there any soft parts in the shingles?" Also the pseudo-vertigo after losing my grip at the top.) Sometimes, I miss that lack of self-awareness...and since going to college and learning about "acting" I am so much more self aware, when I should be back "taking bigger risks"

Shooting things. In Scouts, it'd piss my big brother off to no end that I could do a little better than he would at archery and on the rifle range. (He loved shooting and throwing knives and shit. Except, he wore glasses, so he always had to "over-correct" Get it?) I got merit badges and the offer to join the junior rifle squad, etc.

I haven't fired a gun since High School, and to be honest, I hate them. A lot. I don't think I'd mind getting on the archery range again though.

Hockey. Like I said before, I haven't had a pair of ice skates on in 14 years. Last time I was at my folks, I dorked around with my old hockey stick (Yes, they still had it) and tried to slap shot a stuffed doggie toy, and it wound up on the roof of their house.

( That, Geef, is why it was up there. )

Biking. Again, I may just be out of practice, but since getting my drivers license I've been on a bicycle a total of 6 times. Seriously. I've just been a jogger/runner. And when I was recently given my brothers old bike, I inflated the tires and gave it a test spin. I started to think of the days when I was 12 to 15...and I used to bike EVERY-where. The entire NW suburbs were my turf, and it seemed like it took me years to get from point A to point B. (Even if it was only a handful of miles) And these memories played out like a movie... In the two seconds after I got on the bike and just as promptly fell on my ass. (I blamed the seat)

Drawing: Which I used to do all the time. I just, don't anymore. I took classes and everything...

Things I am better at as I get older

Domestic tasks: Cooking and Laundry. I used to cook like my dad. Everything on the stove with the burner on "Hi". I've learned finesse. And to use other spices besides "Salt" and "Saltier". 12 Spices? There must be doubles... I'm getting better at chicken, grillin, cooking pasta, breakfasts. Practice makes perfect. And, I can do my own laundry now. No mean feat for a guy who wouldn't separate his lights from his darks- unless I had a stick.

Sports: Sure, I don't play unless it's recreational...but the ones I am involved with I'm better at. Something to do with understanding patience and moxie. (Important in 'Fu, since rushing in will generally result in something broken) I throw a football a little better (even though I can feel it in my shoulder the next day) knock the ball a little farther (because I watch the ball) and hit a little harder...because trying to throw as hard as you can or kick as high as you can will never be as effective as throwing faster and with good form.

Singing: Just the breathing and the listening part. The sound is much better, and less forced. Thanks voice teacher.

Exercise: Again, paying attention to form and your mechanics will save your joints in the long run, and make the exercise more effective.

Being cool: This is broad, but I'll try to keep the explanation simple:

I am more self-aware around others, so I've reduced my level of obnoxion.
As a result, I am also trying to be a be a better listener, and not direct all conversations back at me.
I've stopped thinking about my behavior so much in front of others (So that I looked like I was"posing") and now I just sort of "be there".
I've tried to reduce the amount of quick judgements and snappy insults and comebacks which tend to diminish a person (In the interest of empowering the insulter) and tried to replace them with kindness and compliments. (Someone called it cheesy...but I'll take that over being called an asshole) Except with Carlton.
I'm starting to like the calmer, cooler, older me. As opposed to the insulting motormouth dickhead of my early to mid/late 20's. Poorer in wealth, but richer in love. Make sense?

Better lover/partner. A bit better. Slower, Patient, Understanding, not as needy. Getting better too. I hope. And the flirting isn't all "glaharbalaharlhab" and Ooooooo, they kissed me on the cheek and that means they liiiiike me. Nope. Comfortably me. Moxie and Finesse.

Better Eater: I know I get teased about not eating sweets, I know. (Those bike rides I mentioned earlier? Well before puberty and posing, a majority of those rides circa age 13 were to Speedy Market for a Hostess Apple Pie, Frozen-Choco Taco, 2 bottles of Jolt, and gummi worms) BUT, I've become more adventurous in my cuisine. As a kid, I was the one who would go to the Chinese restaurant and get a burger. Or any place that didn't have something that would resemble, said, burger. Now I say "bring it on!"

I can make phone calls now: As a kid, the phone terrified me.

I'm a better nudist: Okay, so as a kid at camp we had to take PI (Poison Ivy) baths and they had to be in the raw. So, you had a bunch of scouts running full bore to the lake with their bars of Fels Naptha soap. (I was nick-named "The White Streak")
This is kinda weird, 'cause when I was a little-little-little tike my mom told me (And tells my friends too. I have destroyed the nude polaroid from my pool party age 5 1/2...Thanks mom, for humiliation.) That I had no problems stripping my clothes off and jumping into peoples pools.

I've come full circle where it is really no big thing. Get it? "No-big"...Hardey Har Har?...grower, not a ?....nevermind.

Mother 2 is thanking her lucky stars that she hasn't seen "The White Streak" bolting up 29th when she's out walking the hounds. My neighbors, however, aren't so lucky.

"_______(My full first name, shouted by J) PUT YOUR CLOTHES ON!!! THE NEIGHBORS ARE OUTSIDE!!!"


This is too long, I should probably put part 3 on a separate post.

Party at the Formal Wear Store!

Last night at work:

3 guh-boys came into the store, 2 of them mid to late 40's. The last, 22-23 years old, if a day. They were in need of a tux for the young'un so they could attend a gala on Saturday. The youngster was a little pretty boy buffster, wearing a tight hot-pink faded t-shirt...raggedy cargo's...and flip flops. As I measured out the young man, he proved to be a bit on the fidgety side, always pulling up his shirt and chatting with the one gentlemen who I figured to be his significant other.

As I got the waist measurement, what to my eyes should appear but the telltale waistband on each side of his hips- Of "Le thong"*

'Kay.

I get 'em his shirt, and point them in the general direction of pants/appropriate coats/and vests, while I go over and help out a dad and his son ("Just joined the HS harmonic orchestra!") get fitted for his big kid tux.

As I finish checking out the father/son duo (A miracle since this kid was a 34 R coat...practically a large kids size. I made a faux-pas by asking the dad if he is going to be a sophomore this year. Nope. Turns out the kid is a senior. That's right, this kid who looked like he was 13 or 14 is entering the 12th grade. Whoops) I couldn't help but notice the dad looked a little uptight. I attributed this to the fact that (A) he's a suburbanite and (B) probably doesn't have much experience dealing with same-sex couples in close quarters. Yeah, it's an assumption, but I work in the 'burbs and hear a lot of crap like that. Not everyone can have an open mind, y'know?

I go over to check on the boys, and I observe a couple of things:
1) There are a couple of tux pants off of the hanger, randomly hanging on the rack. **
2) 22 year old pretty boy was wearing a pair, albeit a little too long
3) 22 year old pretty boys tattered cargo pants were lying across the counter.

Hmmmmm.

I ask if they have any questions, they say "Do you think these are too long" I say "Kinda, maybe you want a little bit shorter" they say "Okay, we have a pair that are the same waist but 2 inches shorter" and hand the shorter trou to the 22 year party boy.

Who proceeds to take of the pants in the middle of the store.

'Kay, 2.0

I quickly turn away to go in the back, creating some business, and over my shoulder I hear one of them say "As you can tell, he's not a big fan of changing rooms"

Not wanting to be a jerk (and, thanking goodness the store was deserted) I said:

"No worries. It doesn't become that kind of store until after 10pm"

They ended up buying $200 worth of merchandise.

The End, or, his End.

ps: To my "Lovers of Tatt's"- He did have the little sunfire tatto around his belly button
pps: These dude's didn't buy my brand of bullshit either. Except when the pretty boy buffster was fidgeting with the jacket, arms both extended outward and I say "Well, I hear the crucifixion pose is quite popular in formalwear this year." (Chuckles)




** The men were kind enough to hang up every single article of clothing they tried on. A rarity, in a store that people sometimes treat as a college student treats their dorm. Again, a generalization, but I appreciated their immaculate tendencies regardless.

Dammit!

I've quite possibly taken the level of personal stupidity to an all new high. I think I scratched my nose with a pen. With the cap off. There is a smudge of ink on my nose right now. It has brought my co-workers untold joy.

I'm seeing how long I can keep it on there.


I have a cold today. At least, I think I do. I'm not the "get sick" kinda guy (Knocks on laminate covered particle board desk) so you may possibly imagine my confusion and chagrin when I wake up and my nose is running like a thief. (Thanks Mama-San 2) I'm going to attribute this to staying up late to make for face time w/my baby and then trying to get up at 5:30am to make the most of the OT my office is currently offering. All while working out and trying to maintain a healthy balance of wine-to-blood ratio. Burning El Candle at the front and back.

Yeah. This is seriously putting a cramp in my (normal) invulnerability. Last time I was sick was, oh, 2002? Last time I was laid out sick has to have been, shoot, I can't even remember.

I even forgot the password to my online benefits provider. Imagine my surprise when I found out I have a doctor right up the street even. Which reminds me...I have my 5 year physical coming due. Yep, the one where they tap your boys and make you cough. Always a steller way to start your day.

Sick. And I hate it. And I seriously do not want to be around self-involved fussybritches tonight whilst managing house. 1st my immune system goes bunk, then my BS tolerance follows suit.

Prized Possessions

I picked this up from Planetdan.net (He's a guy I went to high school with who is now a photoshop mastah. In a weird co-inky-dink, Jabas was the one that turned me on to the sight. After looking through his pics I soon discovered that "oh, I went to HS with this dude". We were in German together.)

Anyway, with everyone in my family moving/recently moved (And in light of recent tragic events) we've all had to take stock of our stuff and (in an especially painful gesture for my mother) get rid of a fair majority of it. I told my mom "If it is something that you would take from your burning house, or would want buried with you: Take it to the new place. Your 5 cent paperbacks in a box out in the garage do not count." Mother tends to associate her stuff with memories, so parting with it is akin to forced amputation.

So, I put it out there: If your home/apt was going bye-bye due to (Insert catastrophic happening here) what would you save? Try and keep it under 10 items. And pets/loved ones don't count

I'm asking, because I look around my place and it all has value- yet I don't have anything that I'd call intensely valuable. (See Planetdan for that) nothing autographed, nothing rare...nada.

1- My running shoes.
2- My bathrobe
3-My picture box ('nuff said. It's heavy, but they're all in there)
4-My cell phone
5-My ichi-yen necklace. The only lasting piece of jewelry I own. I would destroy my own home to find it, were it lost.



If I wound up in a world ala' "The Stand" and had to travel with a back pack.
(And besides the necessary camping oddities)
-Comfy black walk/run shoes. Ninja shoes, dig?
-Comfy cargo pants. Yeah, I'm kinda Dirk Pitted, so?
-Zippered Hoody
-My Multi-Tool pocket knife
-Gum
-My bathrobe
-Michael Jacksons HIStory (Greatest Hits) Way I see it, Michael Jackson is like the Roman Empire of Pop Music. Rise, Decline, all that jazz. Plus, as I wander the earth like the "Omega Man"...I gotta have something to strut too.

Pretty basic.

"I'm gonna learn jujitsu?"

This post may seem a little boy-centric, so advanced apologies.

So my instructor got himself a wild hair up his butt and after stretching, doing our "Torquemada" exercises (Slow sidekicks with leg weights. They buuuurn.) he decides to spend the last part of class teaching Ju Jitsu concepts. For the Martial Arts Luddite, Ju Jitsu is the style O' Martial art that usually gets showcased in all of those pay-per-view full contact fights. (Ultimate Fighting Championships, K1, etc.) It's a grappling* style akin to wrestling which uses joint and leg locks to help secure, restrain, or otherwise destroy your opponent.

Except when you practice it? Ya look prrreeetttty gaaaay. Gay.

And it took just about all of my self control not to make a comment.

"Okay, Mr. P: I want you to lie flat on your back, and Mr.___ is going to mount you. Mr.___, you're gonna want to kneel a little further up on his chest. There you go, now wrap your legs around his waist Mr.P. Goooooooood. Then you're gonna want to buck your hips...."

Homo-Erotic Imagery abounds. I nearly lost it, but I was able to keep the "tea-bag" jokes in check. Good for me. And, I got to start re-learning ju-jitsu (Our instructor attends the Gracie Seminars in Cali. He has stories of little Brazilian kids who've practiced for years tossing adults around like they were dolls.)

And today? My bruises have bruises. On the back of my calves, no less.




* There are 2 major Martial Art categories: Striking and Grappling and their concepts are exactly as they are titled. Striking primarily focuses on punches and kicks, and Grappling relies on trapping the opponents limbs, redirecting their energy, and choking.

Some Examples of Striking Martial Arts:

Boxing, Karate (and it's sub-styles), Kung Fu/Wushu (and it's sub-styles), Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga, Kali, Capoeria, Pentjak Silat, Savate, Kenpo (Chi-nese, Japanese, Dirty-knees, Lookit these!)


Some Examples of Grappling Martial Arts:

Aikido, Ju Jitsu, Wrestling, Pankration, Judo, Sumo-tori


Example of Martial Arts before you've had any caffeine: Tai Chi

3 Part harmony

I'm gonna break this up into three separate and specific posts detailing the weekend. So, check back fur updates.


After work this last Friday, I met w/my extended fam (Dad's side) for dinner at a chain seafood joint here in the 'Grove. (Think about the seafood joint that was made fun of in "My Best Friends Wedding", mixed with Chotchkie's. ) Apparently, my aunt and uncle were visiting from the West Coast and it would be a good chance for me to finally meet my Goddaughter.

Me: "My...Gah, what?"
Dad: "You know you're her Godfather, right?"
Me: "(mumbling)Mmmnauaamonooo...Yes? What's his(zer) name, again?"
Dad: (yelling) "MY FIRST, MIDDLE, AND LAST NAME"!

Anyway, she was a cutie. (Think "Lilo" in "Lilo & Stitch") since both she, and my big bro's Goddaughter being adopted. Very sweet and well behaved. I was also able to see my other Uncle and Aunt (Poor man, having recently been treated to 3 open heart surgeries and the placement of stents. Although he had a seriously bad-ass cane.)

No, my non-plussedness came about (first) because of the food: I was extremely underwhelmed by the Salmon Rockefeller. Everyone else didn't mind their own choices, so, hello. Say Hi to Mr. Oceannaire-Snob. (2nd) The ambience:This place is stuck in 1999. Seriously. The songs "Mambo # 5", "YMCA Mega-Mix", and [shudder] "Macarena" were played very loudly. And the best part? The servers came out and DANCED for you. Fun little "made-up" 'ography that the staff performed with relish.

And with their asses way too close to my head. When I was eating.

"Why are they doing this?" my auntie asks
"They're being punished" was my reply.

Then I mimed swallowing a suicide pill (kept in a ring) and we wrapped up dinner. I brought J home some hush puppies and a crab cake. That's right. $6.99, and you only get a cake. Singular. Not even big enough to constitute "patty" status.

So yeah. It's nice to fraternize with family. Just stay away from restaurants that sound like "Hoe's Flab Tack".

TBYS*

*Think before you speak.

Or before you write something. Or, you know, before you decide to invade a foreign territory. I'm just sayin'.

I had a bunch of really snarky, mean-spirited things written just a few mo's ago. And I deleted'em. They were just too damn dumb.


"If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"

I can dig it. (Can't say I'm entirely innocent, but yeah)

"There is much power in listening"

Cool. I can dig that too.

"Stop Looking Into things P!"

Right. Best not to search for a deeper meaning when there really isn't one. As my darling fiancee' is wont to remind me. (It keeps me from asking "What's Wrong" if there is more than 2 minutes of silence in our house, you know? THAT would be an annoying habit.)

I am amazed by peoples capacity for kindness and understanding. Under times of stress, I've heard that we are actually at our best.

Similarly, I'm amazed by peoples capacity to limit their own perspective- Even when a person genuinely seems to want to be known as worldly or enlightened. They are fraught with the same sad paranoid judgements that they perceive in those around them. They are the reactionaries, argumentatives, and individuals who make the choice to limit their worldview by engaging in thoughtless verbal sparring for they lack patience. Sometimes, they assume that others don't care as much as they do about a particular issue or concern or topic because they perceive that nothing is being said. They mistake thoughtful contemplation for mere complacency. They rail against the injustice of things...the fairness. Isn't that type of judgement counter-productive? So much easier to just kinda jump into the fray, right?

"Life isn't fair, P. It isn't here to make you feel good. I'm a cop- I've got people making me feel bad every day. The only thing that you can do, is let it go. It's unrealistic to accept those things for what they are. I'm a realist."

(Actually. Dad was more of a pessimist, at least more so than he wanted to believe.)

I mean, look at the terrible situation in N.O. Terrible. The devastation is just overwhelming. Just as terrible as a December Tsunami. Or 800 poor men/women/children getting trampled and drowned because of a rumor. Or a poor man with Downs Syndrome being found at the bottom of a hole in the sidewalk. Terrible situations that break the heart, and too often short-circuit the mind, causing us to speak and write with fury and reckless abandon (Or go into shock). Great things can come of slowly stirring the pot, but more often it exacerbates and alienates both the listener/reader...the speaker/writer. Anger is a natural response to our fears and concerns...sometimes even "righteous" anger. (I'm guilty of it too) Pacifists and those who lean toward agressive behaviors would both agree that there can never any really good decisions made in the heat of an angry moment.

I've never purported to be good at withholding my feelings or thoughts ...and sometimes, the world is too much with me. IT scares me. Makes me fearful. I will not, however, let a world that keeps moving: Stop me. Because I believe in my heart I can find so much more satisfaction by not following the path of least resistance, and continue to challenge myself to rise above the need for immediate gratification (Which is, to say, be a reactionary.) I certainly hope to be consistent at it some day.

And it would be nice if the world could just take a deep collective breathe- And calm down.

Fruit on the bottom yogurt.

I hate it. Hate Hate Hate it.

This should rank up there as a testament to my laziness. A list which includes (occasionally) not using a wine glass because they are higher up on the shelf, making food/lunch on paper plates because I hate dirty dishes, Leave the TV on at night because I'm too tired to lean over and grab the remote (same goes for turning off the kitchen light. Hey, that's like, downstairs...man.), the collection of 20 oz. plastic water bottles behind my passenger seat (It never gets higher than "ankle deep") and avoiding going inside the house to use the bathroom after mowing the lawn because you don't feel like unlacing and taking off your dirty workboots. Ok that was an outright lie, but the thought did cross my mind.

(coughs)

My point is I like my daily dose of calcium, acidopholous and enzymes to be pre-mixed thankyouverymuch. Instead of a half-stirred glop which landed suspiciously close to my creeee-yotch, and has the unfortunate appearance of a private "fantasy induced" bathroom dalliance. Yeah. The day I don't wear my "stainblocker" dockers.

I'm just glad I have shout wipes. And a dirty mind.

Stoopid fruit on the bottom fuck-gurt.

I'm sick sad right now. A former SM that I had the pleasure to work with passed away as a result of a car accident on her way home from work. She was 24 years old.

In my brain, it has always been very important to befriend your tech crew during the run of the show. This goes (almost) double for your Stage Manager- SM's, good SM's are an incredibly rare and invaluable asset around these parts. And there are many of my friends and associates who would agree that the same can be said of this young lady. Personally and professionally she will be deeply missed by many of us.

My sincerest condolences to her family and (current) cast over at CTC.

Pax, Phylly Dawg.

Tag, y'all

Just a thought (brought about by a typo) Wouldn't be funny if it was called "bloffing" instead of blogging?

"7 Things" Time Waster...play along, playa's

Seven things you plan to do before you die: (1) Travel extensively overseas, (2)Get married, (3)Sell my house and buy a new one, (4) Learn to tap dance-well, (5) Get my black belt, (6) Buy a new car, (7) Be "Debt free"

Seven things you can't do: (1) Drive a stick (Not very well. I'll grind your clutch out), (2)Stay on task (easily distracted), (3)The complete sideways split, (4) Save $, (5)Brecht, (6)Sing "Pop" music, (7) Be serious all the time

Seven things you can do:(1) Jump spin wheel kick, (2) Cook and Clean (3) Make you laugh (4) Stand up in front of a lot of people and not wet my pants (5) Say "Hello" and various other dumb phrases in foreign languages (6) Really good impersonations- and not just of celebrities (7) Drink my weight in Pinot Grigio.

Seven things that attract you to the opposite sex (1) Sense of humor, (2) A bit of danger [Not "dangerous" per se, rather something personality-wise that is adventurous] (3) a little crazy. It keeps things interesting (4) Open Minded (5) takes care of themselves. They don't have to be fitness goddesses, but at least care (6) Flattery. Say something nice and I'll follow you anywhere (7) Toucher. ['specially themselves....WHOOPS!] Being unafraid to make physical contact says a lot about a person.

I was gonna say "Good teeth" but I think that fits under #5

Seven things you say most: (1) I love you (2) brilliant (3) fuck (4) my pleasure (5) not a problem/no worries (6) please/thank you/your welcome (7) The bottom line is...

Seven celebrity crushes: (1) Fergie from the Black Eyed Peas (2) Jennifer Connelly circa "The Rocketeer" (3) Gwen Stefani (4) Jessica Biel [A cop out, for sure] (5) Angelina Jolie [Another one, I know] (6) Salma Hayek (7) That chick that played Monique in "Better off Dead". Lane Meyer could have SO spent more time with her.

Seven people you want to take this quiz: Doi. Nanook, Redwright, Geef, Kaiser, Portana, Tallen, Ry-Gonn, G-7 and his Weef (The Raver) Butterfly Girl and whoever else wants to get their jollies being distracted.

Take My QUIZ!!!!

New irrational fear...

This just in- The lamprey #'s have increased in the great lakes. Man, if I ever need something else to be irrationally afraid of latching on to me bits and pieces whilst swimming, well... thar be monsters.


Yuck, Yuck, and YUCK!!! They ain't even good eatin'!

I've lost it...Really

I talked to the cat again last night. Not in some effed up "Son of Sam" type way, but we conversed. It may have to do with my refusal to talk "baby talk" to either babies or animals, thinking that they are just as important as anyone else we converse with...therefore are also deserved of the same treatment in respect toward conversational intercourse. That being said, a dialogue.

P: What?
Jazz: Mrrorw.
P: What?
Jazz: Mrrrr
P: Are you hungry? Did you want wet food or something?
Jazz: (walks forward and flops on my toes)
P: Well, could you maybe wait a half an hour or so? I was gonna go for a run
Jazz: (purrs while I scratch him with my toes)
P: Is that cool?
Jazz: Mrrrwow
P: I'm sorry, I don't speak Chinese. Well I understand Cantonese, just not Mandarin.
Jazz: Mao
P: Yes, Chairman Mao. (Bends over to pet his cuteness, only to have the cat launch up and bite the tender webbing between my thumb and forefinger.) Look, I don't agree with Communism either, but you brought it up!
Jazz: Murrr. (Runs off to flop on living room rug.)

He proceeds to interfere with me the entire time I'm trying to stretch out- curling into my legs, back, and anywhere else he wants petted. It limited my stretch time, and probably is the reason why I'm bloody sore today. We had a talk about it later, and I believe he agreed to not interfere the next time I jog. At least that's what I think "Mrrreeor" means. It could also mean "Fuck off" for all I know. Cats have tempestuous natures.


I get punchy on two job days. And yes, he did get his wet food after my jog, the little bastard.

Creepy

Filed under: I can't make this shit up.

I go to job number two, and am greeted by the most disturbing sight.

"Um, why are there, like, 200 Bunny heads stacked in the warehouse?"

Apparently, the primary warehouse was overstocked, and they did what they always do when they run out of room- stuff it in our store.

So, everytime I needed to go "in the back", I was greeted by 100's of garish, smiling, creepy, mall-bunny heads. And their hassenpfeffer eyes would follow me. When it came time to close shop, I actually had to run out of the back after shutting the lights off.

Nothing like weird silhouetted bunny heads...staring.

Jazz, the cannibal.

I tried taking a nap on Monday, and I woke up to the weirdest sensation: My cat was chewing on my elbow. Not quite painful, or even malicious. More like he was...tenderizing me.

Which is why, I'm quite convinced of two things:

1) If I were to accidentally pass away at home (Heaven Forbid), I'm positive that the authorities would never find a trace of me. An empty shell of a Gap polo shirt and Jeans in the corner of the room, and a very, full, kitty trying to look all innocent. And attempting to hide his fat-ass under the bed.

2) This is also starting to firm up the belief that my cat tries to steal my soul at night by sucking out my breath. Sure, when I wake up he is playfully licking my nostrils....but I know. Oh yes, I knoooooow.

Hmmm 2, Electric Boogaloo

So, this'll mark callback numero four that I didn't land a gig. Oh for Four. Do not despair, gentle readers, as there are a coupla things to consider before y'all click away to sights perverted:

I ain't trippin. Why I am not, said, trippin', is largely due to the fact that I do the following:

1. I know if I've "landed" a gig. Everything else, I just don't assume or rely that I'm gonna get it. I think, in my life, I've only been certain 100% that I got cast in something. Everything else, is up to another person. And I have enough problems thinking for myself than having to worry about what the director is thinking. (And, it lowers the level of disappointment, btw)
2. I don't, in my brain, pre-cast. (This also alludes to Bruce Lee's ethos: "Never assume the outcome of any fight- One must move, and accept every move that comes at them as it happens"- The Tao of Jeet Kune Do) I'm not one of those dudes that looks around the room and thinks "Well, if I played this and they played that, blah blah blah." Why would you do that to yourself? Focus on your job.
3. I pick what gigs I am willing to accept. J gave me that advice a while back (Well, it's actually her ethos...but I kiped it and it has worked for me since.) If you don't feel strongly about what you are auditioning for/getting cast in: Why do it? And that's that- Same with the whole "Taking every gig you are offered" argument. You could wind up cast in some really bad experiences.
4. I don't question the directors choices. I was tossing back cocktails one summer and conversatin' with some local unknown director who gave me the low down on how he casts- If they got someone else in mind, they're gonna go that way. Period.
5. It's a waste of time to be pissy about not being cast. You all know my feelings on wasting time. Seriously, even if you work your ass off for an audition- It doesn't behoove you to be the actor that whines because you immediately invalidate the work you put into the audition. Like building a sandcastle with your single intent of knocking it down again. "I don't understand whhhyyyy I wasn't considered for the role it was peeerrrfect for meeeee" Or some such nonsense. Phooey.
6. There'll be other gigs. Doi.
7. I gots puh-lenty of other shite to do. Seriously, the downstairs terlet backed up. I gotta fix that fucker.
8. I should think about trying stand up comedy. Maybe, Eug and Ryan...Maybe.
9. Maybe you should get to the dojo more than 1-2 X's a week? Yes, sensei.
10. Maybe you should try to get into better shape for your Vega$ trip? (I was pretty, how can you say, thick, last year. Or as my friend Ry said "Were you like, 200? I mean, 190?" Thanks.)
11. Maybe I could try writing....

So yeah. No worries. I'll see y'all at the next one. Just so long as it doesn't interfere with wedding plans. ; )


ps: And, really this is a common sense thing I feel- If you don't get cast, don't lambast. And if you've lambasted in the past...don't bother showing up. Over, you'll be passed. (How someone thinks that they can....well, let's just say people need to activate brain before engaging mouth. Or typing fingers.)

pps: I called the ol' agent to report my hours on the overnight shoot...and landed a stoopid audition. Weird, that.

ppps: There is always Pinot Grigio.

There are days....


When my job...


Sucks ass-o-saurus rex....


And my co-workers....


Get so punchy....



They get weirder than me.


Case in point: Yesterday. Sooooo durn busy, that my eyes (at the end of the day) felt like they were going to run out of my head like they were undercooked eggs. My co-worker, hotcarl, comes over with a plastic lei...and throws it on me like a ring toss. I proceed to turn it into a garotte and try to kill myself. He, in turn, wraps it around his bicep and starts pumping his arm (All while making these Hogan-ish noises like..."Ooooooo...yeah")

Me: "You're weird"
C: "Your mom's weird."

Doi...

Well, this can be filed under BFS (Big Surprise)


I mean really, really..."Lookin' Fine Smut and P0rn0"? (If I were a betting man, I'd wager that it is actually "Smut 'n", not "Smut and".) Maybe the judge would have given them more latitude if it was an adult smut shop called "Happy Warm Fuzzy Teddy Bear Flower Place"?

Yeah...I'd fire your, whoever, it is who invented that delightful sign.


I mean, why not put "Slutty McNasty's Palace of BeeJ: We're a veritable Pornucopia of Sex!"

Something. Maybe the "C'mon Inn" ? (Okay, it's a hotel in Fargo...but the name is kinda suggestive. Kinda)

And Stuff...

The idea's are pretty thin today. Can ya tell I'm gonna be on a vacation for a week?

Wanna see something cool?

This, is martial arts bad-assedness.


It might take a minute to open...so leave it alone while it does. Then hit play...

Iwonnawhutnow?

A 3:30 pm phone call from my friend Ry-Gonn promised free tix to a St. Paul Saints game, free food, and $1 beers. I said yes, and promptly hustled my buns home to get ready. (Seriously, fan or not, if you’ve never experienced the intrinsic joy of outdoor Minor League Baseball, well... you just haven’t lived.)

We arrive et the game, and try to find the group area where the food is being served- On the way, we guffaw at the plethora of Elvis Impersonators, until we discover that it is "Viva Las Vegas" weekend at the stadium. (They host theme weekends, see?) We narfed down burnt ‘dogs (The free concession area was closing when we arrived) and headed to find our seats.
Ry saw a BNW alum that also does stats for the game and they struck up a convo…the jist is, I heard "grumblegrumblegrumble…P can do an Elvis!" Horrified, I turn to see him pointing at me and the mascot smiling predatorily. "No", say I…and before I could do anything the guy grabs my ticket and tells me he’ll flag me down in the 3rd Inning. I was a little miffed at Ry, but I let it slide.

"C’mon, dude…you were in that one show where you did Elvis…’Picasso and the Phlegmy Rabbit' or some shit…?"
"No"
"C’mon, you’re a fuckin’ ringer…." (And then the seal of doom) "Don’t be a fuckin’ pussy"

Normally, I wouldn’t cave in to the double dog dare mentality, but when the dude came up to ask for my full name…I grew a little more daring. So- there I was…in front of a sold out Saints Crowd with two other dudes (Grimace and Olive Oil, was the best way to describe ‘em. Olive Oil took the liberty of Drawing on sideburns and a widow’s peak. Grimace just, well, ate.)
The gimmick was they wanted us to read a commercial spot in between innings ala’ the King. At first, I thought it was me and two "serious" impersonators. Mmmmnot so much.

After Frick and Frack had their turns (and were both, subsequentlycut- off mid-commerical) I did some quick editing of my script, went up and did it. (Something about the farmers market. I cut it so that the last bit was "All this talk 'bout produce has made-ah me hungry...I sure could go for a PB and Banana S-s-s-sammich...Thankyouverymuch.") The people cheered. (Even though they probably only heard: "Grimbledimble, Flim Flam Farmer, wimble Womble doon, dengdobeddybutch.") Heck, I even threw in a little hip shimmy for good measure.

The announcer thanked the other two Elvii, and asked me if I knew what I’d won. "Won? This was a contest?" He looked at me rather incredulously, and said "Ladeez and Gentlemen, give it up for Elvis #3"____", who wins a 5 Day 4 Night Stay at the Golden Nugget Casino in Las Vegas, NV!!!"

So there I was…the anti-ringer in my polo shirt and "Shakespeare in the Park" baseball hat…and apparently a free pass to a Vegas hotel/casino. The short version of the story is I won some shit at the Saints game this Friday night. But I find the punch line is rather gratifying when I say it the long way.

Friday Freakiness

> How music f##ks with my day:
>
> Someone just asked "Do you know where the fax is?", so I started singing (to the tune of AC/DC's "Shook me All Night Long")
>
> "She was a fax machine, something something something something...words and stuff and more" (I only know that first riff, and don't feel like looking up the words online)
>
> Then I went up behind my co-worker Carl, and started singing (to the tune
> of Night Rangers "Sister Christian")
>
> "Muffin Top! What's your price for fries? And find some jeans my size!
> My big-old-butt is wiiiiide!"
>
>
>
>
> We just received an audio update through our speaker system: "CCS (our "Consolidated Client Search" System) is now available. I repeat, CCS is now available". Sooooo, I said to my boss (rather loudly)
>
> "Dang it! Wouldn't you know it, as soon as CCS becomes available, I'm seeing someone!" (I had to explain that to her again.)

They aren't wearing any...

The new system roll out has got our buildings in a panic. Management tries to apply a positive reinforcement salve by letting us be "casual" for the next week and a half, and also instituing the popular "Theme Days". Yesterday, for example, was "Jersey Day" (Which means "Every Friday" if you're Kaiser)...Since I don't own any major sports teams, I had to break out the old HS jersey and explain to people that "Yes, I know they are Packer colors" and "Noooo, this is the foo'ball jersey of the PC Pirates baby...you're looking at the lightest O-lineman in their HS history...yeeeeeah!"

Today is "hat" day. More specifically "baseball cap day". So, out of the 3 "legitimate" baseball caps I own (The rest being for painting/manual labor/wearing to the gym because they have big sweat stains) I choose ever so wisely to wear my USA Karate hat. Nice little black number, w/Gold stencilling.

And WTF to my surprise? Nobody, and I mean NOBODY remembered to wear their flapsnappin' hats. Except one rassin'frassin rep over in policy acct'ng. And its a flippin' Nascar Asscar hat.

(Grumble) I'd take my hat off, but I didn't comb my hair. And my hair, when messy, scares small children. Swear.

"Whaaaat?"

Sc: Int.
(A dark, smoky room. Seated around a large table, is a group of well dressed...powerful looking men and women. The scene could be taken from the "Godfather". Standing behind these men are their individual bodyguards. An older Sicillian man at the head of the table, breathes heavy. He is dressed in a dark, pinstripe suit- a fedora sits next to a glass of water in front of him. He stands to address the table. The camera does a slow pan on all of those seated.)

M.D: "Friends of the family, I welcome youse to this impromptu meeting. I would also like to extend my appreciation to alls of youse for taking times out of what are certainly very busy schedules. Particularly to those who've come the farthest: Don Nicholo, Don Vannici....Don Ciccio, Don Davanni's, Don Johnson, Donny Osmond, Donna Summers, Dawn Wells...."


That just popped in there during my meeting this morning. Made me laugh anyway.
See Portlana? It is a strange place in there.

There is a reason...

I don't eat the filthy things. I think it is the writers use of describing the "Monster Burger" as two "gray-brown slabs of processed animal protein". 'Course, my cafeteria salad yesterday was no picnic either, with its withery greens and flavorless slices of chicken breast (Really, painted packing peanuts would have tasted better.)

That picture of the Rix burger is just weird. "Kill it! KIIIILLLL ITTTT!!!"

I think I'll stick with the grilled chicky boobs, thank you.