Theater Prom- Where you can be kind of a big deal

It was recently brought to my attention that "prom was overrated".  On the contrary, I seem to remember it being a fairly serious affair.  Clearly.  I mean I liked it enough to grind through 6 x's. (Missing: PC Prom '93 aka "Too much fake-bakin'")

Note/Study Guide for "Normal folk"- Theater Prom is the jokey nickname given to the annual Twin Cities Theater recognition ceremony that I've attended since the inaugural year in 2005.  It's a chance for theater-folk to gussy up in their finery (In my case a welcome change from only having the opportunity to use those nice outfits for on-camera auditions or independent film-shoot wardrobes), schmooze, walk a red carpet, see buddies get an award that resembles a lava lamp, and drink.   Not always in that order.

Over the years, I've vascillated between treating this like a must-attend event to preferring a Monday night to myself on the couch with box wine and take-out.  I've retired the concept of tuxing-out ala' prom to wearing more comfortable fare- as many friends have done as well.  (A common kvetch is how your feet effing KILL by the end of the night*.)  Anyway, rather than bore y'all with a recitive of the night (I started off f#ck all crabby which could be attributed to my desire to tie my own bow-tie**.  I got better.)  I'd like to relay a funny interaction I had with a guy at the post-party who had abbbbbsolutely nothing to do with the Award ceremony and gave me a fantastic laugh/ego-boost.  To you, friend, I'd like to extend my gratitude.  I'm not gunning for an Ivey any time soon and get overwhelmed when I'm in crowds, but you made me feel like a winner.

Gettin' you picture taken hack:  Bring a good looking date, and hide behind her head to mask your abnormal number of chins.  Hack #2- colorful ties pull focus, and if you tie it yourself you'll manage a few compliments.

A Conversation At The Ivey's Understaffed Post-Party Hotel Bar, where Mikey Makes a Friend:

(Drunk guest on the bar stool next to me) Are you wish these people?
(Me- Sober***) I am!
(DGoBSNTM) So you're wish the Ivy Feshtival?
(Me- starts to laugh.  Then laugh harder.  Then I stop b/c I'm thinking I'll look rude.)  Yes I am.  I take it you're not?
(DGoBSNTM) Nope.  New York City.
(Me) Oh yeah?  I'm Mike.
(Greg) Greg. 
We shake hands and have a laugh.  I give my briefest explanation that it's kiiiinda like the Tony's, the correct name ("Ivey Awards"/"Shorry"/"Nope.  It was awesome."), and why everyone is dressed up.

...beat...

(Greg) So you look important.
(Mikey) Sorry?
(Greg) You look like someone important here.
(Me) Nope.
(Greg) Naw.  I mean it.  You've been hangin' around these beautiful wimmin all night.  I jus' saw you kiss that one a minnut ago (gestures towards my date), you bin' talkin' and kissin' on a couple over there an'...

(At this point, my friend Colleen- who looked fantastic, btw- comes over for a hullo smooch and hug)

(Greg) SEE!
(Me) It's theater prom, man.  It's fun to get a little lubricated and play dress up for a change.  We're lovey people.  It's like a family reunion, you know?  We're not all workin--
(Greg) It LOOKS fun.
(Me) IT IS FUN!
(Greg) Well good for you, Mark (He Drunk).  I still shay you look like someone important.
(Me) If it matters, I had a guy help me with my tie.

And there was some more hearty laughter as I excused myself after we shook hands and stated how nice it was to meet one and other.

In short- If you're involved in theater in the Twin Cities and trip on a banana peel and "accidentally" read this?  I'm kind of a big deal.



*I opted for my red Chuck Taylor's...like "Dwight" from "Sin City".

**Someone got frassy with me about telling them where certain parts of my ensemble came from, but I was hella proud.  And I didn't put too much thought into it, except for one day I was out shopping and thought a self-tied bow-tie might be a nice touch.  And that was really the only expense to my outfit.  (Which my s.o. picked out with the stipulation that it'd be great if it matched my Chuck's.)  Black blazer, checkered shirt from Nordstrom- AND PROCURED at the Goodwill in Minnetonka in addition to my lucky blue jeans.   In fact, the only other cost revolved around getting my watch battery replaced.

This was a great, comfortable outfit.  And when the charming lesbian couple sat down next to us at the start of the show, the woman next to me pointed out how we were wearing the exact same outfit.  Look up on Citypages.com's section on the 2013 red carpet.  They up there.

***A lot of hoy-palloy has been made of the slow service.  It's true, on average it took 25-30 minutes to get someone's attention- and because I can't do the hard stuff without tummy repercussions I opted out of bringing a flask.  The issue was, LAST year there were plenty of mini-bars and places to order up and cop a squat.  THIS year it was almost designed to get the crowd to disperse quickly.  (Including an 11:45 pm "Last Call")

In which I break a resolution...for good d@mn reason.

So I know that I'm normally a little gusty with the number of times I get to write for your humor/benefit, and mostly it's because keeping my job is important so I have my nose to the grindstone while I'm there.  Not a bad thing, I know, but there are usually stories and situations that whirl around in my brain that I'd love to post for your amusement.  Really.  This issue is after they whirl, they tend to go down the drain.  And the other issue is that they usually happen while I'm in the car and can't write it down.  I'm too busy being "me" in the car and trying to not have an aneurysm based on the other drivers behavior.

This doesn't even begin to capture my frass...

I've also had a lot of stress, compounding stress.  I should mention that we're now on May 1st, and are entering our 7th or 8th month of winter.  And the last few weeks the temps have been all over and we're experiencing "historical" snow cover.  Subsequently, I have SAD.  And I have not been able to start outdoor projects, long outdoor runs with my running friends, and pretty much everything that makes "Spring" one of the awesomest times of the year has been batted down and stepped on like an AT-AT steps on a snowspeeder.

Pictured: 29th and Johnson St NE, May 1st.  It'd be more accurate if the AT-AT was played by one of the frightening neighborhood wild turkeys.

The other reason that I've been stressed is that home ownership has decided to flex it's dickhead muscles and muck with my plumbing. See, my hot water went out again.    The pressure just disappeared in the bathroom sink and shower from a trickle to non-existent...all because I tried dicking around with it and made it worse.  Any house project that requires any form of mechanical fortitude, I will spectacularly make worse.

You might remember, this is what happened when I tried fixing the P-trap on my bathroom sink.

If not for my roommate, (and the aforementioned desire to run outdoors...which means copious sweating that must be removed) I'd drag my feet.  I can shower at the gym, friends houses, etc.  My roommate, however, does not have those luxuries and so he's resorted to boiling water "Little House" style.  Anyway, I'm a landlord and had to act.  I'm just on a fixed income (read: Poor) so emergencies like this bite hard.

However, it's at this "gym" I speak of where I can take luxurious showers.  It's forced me to drag my butt out of bed while it's dark and since I can't bring myself to check in, shower, and leave- I get to work out.  Which invariably makes me feel better and gets it out of the way for the day.  Moreover, it's usually pretty dead at the boot crack of dawn- with the exception of a few sassy senior citizens- so I have carte blanche in picking equipment without waiting, people hogging in on the weights, the locker room being reasonably clear.  I mean, it's healthy hog heaven.  When I leave is when the early yoga classes start, so I don't even have to deal with the smelly yoga bear-man.  I have effectively solved my own issues by avoidance.  AND I've been getting killer workouts without having to cram them in right before karate.  I will be effectively READY TO HAVE MY BEACH BODY BECAUSE OF JANKY PLUMBING!!!.

You're welcome

Except for the Oompa Loompa..."Wait, what, handsome Daniel Craig lookalike?  I thought you resoluted back in January that you would try to be more understanding of your fellow humans?"  Yeah. Well.  Threshold has been reached.  And I'll tell you that it took about 5-6 strikes today that I'll outline for you so you understand.  And it's not even this horrible:

...but wait...it's still pretty bad.

I was already pretty annoyed this morning.  There were only 4 people at the gym, but in the men's locker room there were about 8 keys missing from the complimentary lockers.   (Yeah.  The "good" lockers.  The "way back" lockers closest to the showers.   Apparently my gym has an issue with members taking home the keys and leaving their shit in the locker...like it's a private club.  And there are signs everywhere indicating they're not supposed to do that.)   That, coupled with the fact that there's been some treadmill breakdowns that haven't been addressed in a few weeks- I was ready to get cleaned up and go to work.

And yes...I was making this face, and quietly judging the people walking on the treadmill- reading "Shape" magazine- right in front of the TV with the local news and weather.  You'd make this face too if the only other TV is showing Fox News.

While shaving, a gentleman entered the shower area in the raw.  It's a gym.  Okay.  An older biscuit-head with military bearing although slightly going to seed, the man stops- surveys the area- and heads to the shower.  Now, bear in mind there are "3" showers next to one and other.  And while I'm rinsing off shave goo and imagining the day I'll be able to manscape in the comfort of my own home again, this...orangey-tan guy...up and goes to the middle shower stall.  This is akin to breaking the urinal rule in public bathrooms...

It's a real thing.

Anyway...NBD.  I'm in the zone.  He gets done 1st and leaves for his locker so I can continue luxuriating...(Friends, when you have NO HOT WATER pressure at home, you try and shower as long as you can, where you can.  I was ready to go outside with a bar of soap and a loofah the last rain shower we had before it up and decided to become snow again.)  I finish, dry off, wrap my towel and head to my locker when I notice...this guy...

Pictured:  Actual shade.  And yeah, he had a tighty-white tan line.  Which meant he was either a snowbird or addicted to the tanning specials at the gym.  As a "retired" fake-baker myself, I'm speculating the latter.

Is in the locker right next to mine.  As in, there are about 70 lockers in the locker room.  (Less the missing keys and the current attending members)  And this guy can't be bothered to use any other locker in the locker room?  You can see a missing key, dude.  You KNOW there's someone in that locker.  And even if you've mentally established that locker as "your" locker?  Get the natural eff over it and find another.  ("Like you do, Mister 'Needs the Treadmill in front of channel 11 to watch Jeopardy'?"  "Shut it, heid")

I don't think I would have been able to mask my annoyance at this point, or made my go-to joke ("Murphy's Law of the gym, right?!?! HAHAHAHAH!!!")...oh, when is it?  Right, when it's busy and unavoidable you'll be butted up next to someone.  No, this turkey slapper actually made me stop in my tracks before quickly emptying my locker while still drippy and throw my s*iton the ground around the corner to give us a little breathing room.

Like this?  Like this...

As of this writing, you may assume that I was hella annoyed.  Nope.  I'd say that part came when he put his leg up on a stool and started liberally spraying "Axe" all over his nethers.  (I f#cking TOLD you it'd get worse!)  The guy was practically euthanizing his gonads, with the toxic cloud wafting over the locker bank.  And next?  Promptly stands in front of the towel discard chute to apply his hair jelly to his spiky head (In the mirror next to the exit)...which meant sort of herky jerky tossing it "around" him so that he finally took notice.  And then when he saw me make my awful banked shot, he didn't take the hint he was in the way... and went back to his careful application of pomade.

To recap:
-Takes the center shower.
-Fake bake.
-Squats in locker right next to mine with full knowledge someone was there and 60 odd alternatives.
-Copious amounts of Axe Body spray.
-A nesting quality and need to hoard "space" so everyone ("me") needs to move around his crap.

5 strikes...

I won't lie.  I'm going to be happy- so stupidly happy- when my shower is operational again and I can go back to tossing and turning until 30 minutes before I absolutely have to get up and get ready for work.  The plumbing quote just can't come back fast enough.

Which will obviously look like this, except soapier.

So. Boston.

What I want to start by saying, is that I'm pretty surprised by how I reacted to the news of the events that occured at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  Unsurprisingly, someone articulated it better than I did.  So I'll defer to Craig's opening monologue.

I was shocked.  Yes.  I was upset.  Yes. And I hoped to God that whatever it was and whatever happened didn't cause a disproportionate reaction that caused more damage, and deeply hoped that people were able to mobilize effectively and safely to help the injured and (so help me) make sure that there were no more threats in the vicinity.  (As of this typing, there are 3 dead and 176 injured.  One of the dead is another child.  And some of the injured are maimed for life.)

So I'm a runner who's had the pleasure of running races.  I'm a runner in the sense that I'm a martial artist.  I'm dedicated, I learn enough to be dangerous, but these are still nothing more than serious hobbies for my health.  In terms of serious running, I'm barely barely a drop in the rain barrel.  I've volunteered a handful of times, I've spectated as much as time allows, I've crewed one full-Mary, and y'know I've never ran a full Mary myself?  It's kind of scary.  It's not "off" my radar, but it's there.  Like a store that looks interesting that you pass every day on your commute and say "some day I'll pop in there."

And I have no designs on Boston.  None.  That's fabled and storied and, frankly, a smidge intimidating.

But having acclimated myself to race culture, I know about Boston.  I follow the runners.  The "elites".  I know the history and the names.  I follow the tweets and social media updates.  The Master's was this Sunday and I was with a group who was rapt with attention at something that I could care less about, and consider to be kiiiiinda boring.   And here I am getting gooby about runner's. 

Oh, and I do know about running goodly long distances.  And pounding 26.2 miles- as much as I used to make fun of friends for doing it- is no fucking joke.  From the elites who finish in a little over 2 hours to the people (like the 101 year old Sikh marathon runner) who are running just to say the did it or just to finish.  It's...okay, so if you want to see people who willingly put themselves through the grinder, hang out at the finishing line of a marathon.  And cheer.  And watch.  It was humbling, filled with elation, tears, success.  It gets in your guts like no other sporting event I've ever attended.  And it is a feeling of accomplishment that you get to keep forever.

Same goes for running.  Everybody can have every single reason for wanting to run, and they can span from being insanely personal to just...plain enjoying moving outside.  It's unifying.  That's why I adore running with my friends on weekends.  That's why I love being in races with 10,000 other like-minded fools on a cold Saturday morning.  That's why I love plugging in and going for an 11 mile run around my neighborhood.  My mind floats off.  And when you're mildly ADHD, it's so wonderful to be able to engage in an activity that let's it all wash out into the world.  It takes every tiny to huge worry on my mind and let's it filter out into the universe.  It's hippy, but it's true.  There is absolutely nothing like the love letter I could write to running.

Which is why I feel like this is such a personal, and scarring act.   It's why I feel like I identify so strongly with those people.  I've cheered at a finish.  I've crossed the line in tears and ready to vomit.  I've had so many of these feelings while seeing a inflated banner that says "FINISH" that it's so unbelievably frightening how much I sympathize with the city of Boston over this tragedy.  Moreover, how every runner is probably feeling the same way. 

And it's why part of my heart reacted the way it did, and why Ferguson's words sat with me like they did.  I'm sick of this shit.  I'm sick of the fact that when it happened, I didn't fly off the handles- I wanted answers and I wanted people to stay calm and focused and to WAIT until more information was available.  Because when the panic bleeds into the instantaneous and wild speculation with which information travels these days, it can be so intensely detrimental to the situation.  And then I think I'm turning into my dad.

See, I found out via Facebook.  And from the first "What's going on in Boston?" post, I found myself doing all the Googling I could for information.  And when more and more social media posts came up, I noticed that there wasn't anything definitive that was being offered as to the "why" or anything about "victims".  (There were stories about limbs flung everywhere, blood running down the street, the explosion came from a hotel kitchen, etc.)  Websites and links were already showing some pretty gruesome images along with video of the explosion...And that, friends, is when I took a deep breath and stepped the fuck back.  And all within about 60 minutes.

In September 2011, I know where I was.  I was asleep.  I had a job interview. And I was popped out of bed and told to turn on the television.  I started scribbling in a notebook all the information I could assimilate from the news stations.  I still have it.  And I wrote down that they ("they") were reporting basically everything every conspiracy nut has posited over the last 12 years.  They ("they") reported that there were already over 10,000 fatalities.  (We know now that there were a little less than 3,000.  Including the aircraft.)  I wrote it down.  I thought I was watching history and needed to. 

And think about 18 years ago?  Before instantaneous gratification of social media and digital news feeds.  I was at my cousins wedding, and the only information we could get was what we'd see on the News several hours after the fact or in the paper the next day.  It must have been terrifying and devastating to the people closest to those who were lost.  And here we are now, looking for suspects and needing to know NOW!

And that's my point.  My 1st feeling was that I hope nobody panics.  That nobody loses their shit and starts immediately pointing fingers of blame.  That nobody get crazy and conspiratorial and start making rash leaps in logic and sense and swim in the murky cesspool of speculation and misinformation.  A Facebook buddy frassed something along the lines of  is that people don't question things and just accept what they see.  (In relation to why Snopes HAS to be the go-to place for debunking.)  I responded that it was because of that statement?  We need something to debunk the bullshit.


I also want to point out that I was deeply heartened to see that people spent more time on social media posting their support, Fred Rogers quotes, and finding out how they would be able to assist in whatever capacity.  Look to the helper's indeed, because there are always helpers.  And in spite of listing over 18 years worth of horrible tragedies that have befallen the US, I think that it's heartening to see that the way people are mobilizing in the face of these horrors is to meet it head on and to give strength where it's needed.  To give selflessly whatever support and care that they can.  I think that's pretty amazing if we stay on this course of action.

I love Boston.  I love the history.  The people.  I wish only light and healing and the hope that they will keep moving forward with their lives, and that in the following years this blight will become a sad and quiet footnote for a race that is the culmination of human perserverence, hard work, determination, and fortitude for 117 years. 

Temps are backing down...they never back down.

Go ahead and make your jokes, Mr. Jokey...

I've been feeling good.  I've been hitting the gym regularly.  Tracking my Cal on myfitnesspal is keeping me honest and I'm pretty sure I've dropped (maaaybe) 5 lbs?  (Amazing.  And all this time my frustration with working out was that I wasn't really losing weight when all along I was eating too much?!?  Fancy the f#ck that?!?)  I'm hitting karate 2-3 days a week and fixing to test for my brown belt.  And my cross-training elliptical/treadmill stuff has made the few times I can run outside in the winter...nice.  I've covered 5-6 miles and wasn't even laid up.

However...

I've re-established that it's approximately February 17th is my "Officially Done with this Winter Bullshit"...date.  At that point my mood is adversely affected and I stop wondering when I'll get to go sledding or skating and actively want to punch Jack Frost in the fleshy patch.   One year ago I was on a brunch date and we were able to traipse up and down Selby avenue in light jackets and sat in a sun-puddle while drinking coffee and getting to know each other.

Now?  Hey look...I'm still all for getting a few more inches of powder on the ground.  Gods know we need the precipitation.  But when I get home and my roommate is cackling that we're hitting another sub-zero deep freeze for a few days?  Something...something very deep inside me snaps and cries and dies a little.   Hope relents, and even little joys like the fact that my early-ass commute is now tinged with light blue sun versus bleak black cannot alleviate my misery.

This might sound melodramatic if you're a non-Minnesotan...and you may question my heartiness as a resident or (gasp) knee-jerk-off the old comment "It's Winter in Minnesota! <smack>  Whaddya exPECT?!?!".    Well eat a groomed wang.   I'm being robbed of my motivation.  Because right now, the only thing the cold has done for me is want to sleep...

...and skip the stupid gym...
...and order take-out...
...and drink an entire bottle of sweet Shiraz...
...and watch "The Running Man" before going BACK to bed...

Fuck you, sub-zero temps.  Back to the shadows, with you.  I'm tired of this abusive cold.

I'm not on your lawn, Old Man Winter.  And I'm about to send you to an assisted living facility.

Adventures in Gymfail

(This is a new-ish segment.  I'm hoping that I'll experience interesting kerfluffles at my loving neighborhood gym that I can share with you...like today.)

1st off, I'm notorious about over-packing for trips and OCD about checking my gym bag the night before I leave for work in the a.m. not because I'm an Over-prepared Oliver Billy-Boy Scout.  It's because, gawdammit, I'm a Forgetful Francis.   And this is true, because over the last 5 years I've belonged to my gym I've forgotten a fresh pair of underwear no less than...a lot.  Okay?  I've just plum forgotten.

                                              (No, Sweet Brown.  Nobody does.  Fo Sho.)

Today, I had the luxury of the morning off and so I was able to piece my ensemble (always tastefully matching my bandana, shorts, AND wrist bands) prior to the gym- and in a moment of divine inspiration I decided to toss my work clothes in my bag and under-dress my ensemble.

Except...except except someone with two thumbs and half a brain didn't pack a work shirt.  That's right.  Mikey gets to the gym and realizes that he just has his tank top...which will eventually become sodden and soggy in the upcoming 75 minute workout.

Now...you might be thinking "So what?  You forget your man-ties and now you've forgotten a shirt.  Where's the headsmack graphic?"  Oh.  That's because I was waiting to tell you that squirreled away in the bottom of my gym bag next to my shaving kit in a veritable nest is the following:

• 2 extra pair of boxer briefs.
• 3 extra pair of socks.
• 1 pair of long underwear.
• 1 extra bandana/wrist guards wrapped together.

So...I have back up.  And I cleverly wonder if I can cobble together some Tom Hanks/Castaway refugee garment from the above.  I quickly realize...I can't.  Natch.

Now, lest you think I Weismuller'd out of there to make a beeline for my jacket I want to remind you that we are in Minnesota in February- which affords me the luxury of wearing my zippered hoodie 80% of the time.  You know?  Without a shirt?  Which, I'll be honest, feels weird.  The zipper.  On bare skin.  Like wearing shoes without socks or going commando.  Not "awful", per se.  Just unnatural.  I couldn't even pull off the "Wolverine in the basement of the X-Mansion" scene from the 1st X-Men movie?  Remember?

(There is a very legitmate fear of losing chest hair on the zipper.  Don't pretend this isn't a real thing.)

So...less like Wolverine, and more like an embarrassed Terminator.  Which nearly happened the time I almost bolted out of the Men's Locker Room bare-ass because I'd forgotten a script I was working on and my Ipod in the fitness area.

                                     (Nothing clean...riiiiiight.  Also, hello anorexic Geef.)


We can now add that one to the current list of gymfails that includes forgotten skivvies, too-small or disintegrating t-shirts, gassy treadmill runs, "sweating out toxins" the day after a gin-fueled bachelor party by sitting in the sauna and smelling like a liquor store, and forcing the staff to move the floor fans from the weight room to the Men's Locker Room bathroom suspiciously minutes after I used it and noticed a fellow gym member come in after me- do an about face with a stink eye- and then make them re-circulate the air.*

I'm surprised that with all of these stupid gymfails I haven't actually, you know, had an actual accident on a piece of equipment.  (Knocks on wood)

*I'm only slightly mortified that I shared that.  I could have been being paranoid, but no.  I own that.

Cribbing Maggie Kuhn today...

Stand before the people you fear and speak your mind -- even if your voice shakes.

I have a confession.  I'll be resolution-ing all year long.   Sure, I'll be shopping locally.  So far this month I've spent Thursday's (and most days) cooking/creating new dishes with ingredients from the co-op that are healthy, well-portioned, and subsequently that (coupled with myfitnesspal.com) have been extremely helpful with my feeling better.  Cleaner.  And losing a few pounds for my effort.  Go me. 

I've already failed a few of them, but I'm resigned to the fact that they were lofty goals to begin with.  Because that asshole blew through the 4-way stop this morning and I saw it coming a mile away, even if I was there first.  And that other asshole at the gym didn't bother moving an inch when our lockers were right-next to each other.  In fact, he spread his shit out and made me walk around him- get my bag and my clothes out of my locker- and set up camp in the aisle so he could get ready with room to spare.  It's just not possible for me to take a deep breath and not think: "You people are selfish assholes".

What is possible for me is to pity them.  To feel sorry for them.  To heap my own compassion on my silly judgement and annoyed observations like a balm.  With the simple hope that maybe being a tempered man will help me be a better person on the day to day.  I don't need Oprah, a meme, the bible, or anything else.  I think I just need to be okay with not being a selfish dick- even if seeing selfish dickery in the world sets my teeth on edge.

On a slightly related note, and steering us back to today's subject...

I've noticed a trend of how I'm "tamping down" my emotions in light of those silly personal situations.  On a broader scale however, as an example, when I read/hear things in the news and social media?  It's normally not too hard to tamp...because I ain't there.  When I read wildly differing, varying opinions.  Stories in the media. It feels like...more or less...there's a marked lack of confidence and feeling of hope in the world at large.  In FACT, it feels a lot like gloom and doom have been the blue plate special over the last, ooohhhhh, 12-13 years.   Well I'm proud to say that, for my part, I have never added to the melange.  I've never had to voice my opinion because I thought I was above it.

When I resigned from my 1st corporate jobs amidst an (accurate) forecast that the job market would be scarce, I didn't worry.  I didn't buy in to the hysteria that happened after 9/11 and I watched and participated in a changed world with nary a complaint.  When th markets crashed causing job loss, when loved one's leave or pass away, personal challenges force me to acknowledge this terrible ongoing feeling that the other shoe will drop at any point.  I felt it was a personal responsibility of everyone to keep moving forward.  To keep gripping on to hope.  Myself included.

Omnia Mutantur, huh?

And here's where I rant:

In light of all this "head down and sally forthing", the world seems to keep splitting and subdividing like a cell.  And as this continues to happen, we're all witness to the entitlement that our country has pulled up to their chin like a protective blanket.  It's popped up all over and been elevated and inflated by the media (and yes.  Let's get real.  Really real.  It isn't "both sides".  One side is making extraordinary comments and damaging claims.  To become outraged while "The other side" is trying to stay calm should give you a clue.  Do you know who cops listen to when called to a domestic?  The calm one.  The one who isn't shouting.)  Guys...I know- for a really real fact- of websites that PAID two people to start some shit with one and other in order to drum up traffic.

 Politics and Religion, two things that polite society used to never discuss outside of our homes (Nostalgic Mikey misses that a lot.)  and moreover- were never supposed to meet IN government (the latter was meant to reinforce the former with the idea that people with faith are people who can lead and inspire, versus the current world where religion is tossed around so callously as to seem like you're flaunting a golden ticket.  Which, you know, makes sense? No?  Fuck no. )

Our Humility and faith has shaken free, and been replaced self-righteousness and cynicism.   And for good reason.   Corporations and politicians and religious leaders have abused our trust.  We're now able to see some really, really harsh and ugly truth's after spending the longest time happy in our ignorance and blind trust.  But accountability has been called into action.  And we're now on the road of harsh recovery.  So much money has been lost that we will never get back.  Jobs.  Homes.  Our own feeling of hope and security in the future has been impinged upon.  We can no longer trust our hard work will result in prosperity.  Job loyalty will no longer guarantee job security.  I'm not even saying upward-promotion. That notion is almost a mirage. A historical by-product of our tunneled optimism.

Do you get me?  You've seen all this, right?  Even superficially?

   As a nation, we have been watching as we're told that Santa and the Easter Bunny are fake, and mom's been taking both the tooth and the silver dollar under your pillow this whole time.  And that's that.
The bottom line is that life is extremely hard and unfair.  And if there's one thing we, as a nation can agree on, is that those are two truth's that are inescapable.   Nice that we can rally around those two nuggets of hope.    And after a lifetime of keeping my opinions out of the mix.  Of being told it's embarrssing and impolite to go stomping around and shouting my opinion.  Of attempting to stay neutral (while sending my support to things I believe in for the betterment of the world), I'm starting to reach maximum capacity with my bullshit meter.  Namely, and to start with current event- Guns.

Before I continue, I should really clarify what my point is with this lengthy and rambly blog:  I'm speaking my mind, here.

And the mind I plan on speaking is very plain and very simple.  Because there are black and white issues in the world.  There is right, and there is wrong.  When it rains, you don't get dry.  When the sun is shining, it's not dark out.  Minnesota gets blisteringly cold in January.  Outside of troll assholes, we can all agree with some strong certainty that these are true statements?  A raven is very well not like a fucking writing desk, dig?  I'm here to call out the bullshit.  Because there has been bulllllshit aplenty.  And it has to stop.

There are people who are finding it very easy to get ahead and push their own empowering agendas by fostering fear.  By exploiting the percussive mistrust and allowing anger to be a rallying point.  By taking the false hopes for a better world, laying them bare and transparent and saying "There.  See?  It's a shitty world.  But we can help you defend what's yours!".   Or something a lot of folks feel strongly about- Mother Church.  When I was growing up, church was a place of family.  Of fostering brother and sisterhood.   And I know for a fact that it's still that way for many of my friends, family, and loved ones.  Of welcoming new members and stirring hope and faith.  And yet...people are also using it as another safety blanket to push agendas that are, at their foundation, not very Christian.  

I'm sick of politics and I want out.  KIDding.  What I'm sick of is what I miss.  I miss it being a bunch of people in expensive clothes harrumping and making attempts at their harrumphs sounding like the other guys harrumphs so that even if the harrumphs don't mesh, at least a few mutual harrumphs will happen.  Usually for the benefit of our great nation.  Annnnd now?  Now the terribly stupid fight's my desk buddy and I had in 8th grade Social Studies about who we would vote for (meaning- who our parents were voting for.) which degenerated into name calling between us until we'd make up and still have 2nd period lunch together?  THAT seems like more of a civil discourse that is going on in the government.   It's white noise that is seemingly never acted on- and I'm not entirely certain people forget that when two people are shouting at each other in a relationship, they tend to miss each other's point entirely and there is no. Compromise.  There's Definitely no make-up sex.

Social media (sighs) is dead sexy for fanning the flames of discourse.  Here's another sexy truth- since the primitive days of arguing on the internet over, oh, who thought the movie "Face/Off" was genius and who thought it was a piece of crap (it was)- it's been proven time and again that arguing a point on the internet is as impossible as making a drinking cup out of a sneeze.  It is not.  Possible.  Even if you ask for an opinion you're going to wind up with a string of comments that resemble a stupid joke about lightbulbs and how many people it takes to change it. 

This last year during the election and the subsequent "hot button issues" (gay marriage, voter ID, et.al.) I watched things get seemingly hotter than they'd ever gotten.  Violently verbose discourse in an election year is nothing new, but that shamefully ignorant vitriol that kept bubbling up- the inability to yield...to accept another position...to take a deep knee bend-  kept raising up the mirror time and again.  And yet nobody became any better off.  No one took a long look at themselves.  I had to censor myself from commenting/writing to family members.  I found myself watching with disgust as friends and family posted information or would drop comments about how they felt about one candidate or the other.    Or I guess I should say my candidate.  The guy who won.

And these are my friends.  And my family.  Friends.  Family.  And fuck everyone else and the election, but I feel awfully strongly about my friends and my family.  I give a maddening amount of latitude to both.  Of acceptance.  And here I found that patience tested.  And as someone that doesn't go to church or have a support group, I found myself filled with quite a bit of despair. 

You get me?  That earlier optimism?  The desire to stay respectful and positive in light of adversity.  My belief that people can find calm and balance and come together?  Was tested.  Because of social media.  In short, fuck you election year social media.  Eat a dick for making me question my own family and friends. 

Because I saw it (and still see it) dripped in there.  I'm sure people have good intentions when they voice there opinion (or re-post "[fill in the blank]" article from "[your preferred political news source]").  I can't help feeling that their energy is wasted on their like-minded friends and usually reserved for swaying particular family members who have leanings to the contrary.  You might think that because an actor I'm automatically (Democrat/Liberal/Hangs out with smelly hippies.) and while the latter is true, I'm fairly moderate and conservative.  I just save my conservativism for polite and respectful discourse and try and use it to stay focused and steady- to not allow my passions to subvert my overall desires:

To see our nation make attempts at moving forward.  To stop digging in our heels collectively and realize that acting like a Schoolhouse Rock commercial makes more sense.  To remember that we can be great again.  To stop pointing the finger of blame.  To stop obstinately making progress impassable just because someone isn't in your political party.  (Or worse, the hyper-zealous off-shoots of either party.  Which, by the way- were created to create discourse. Don't believe me?  Google "Who created the Tea Party"...and I crap you not, I first read about it in Pl#yboy.) 

Look, here's a truth that isn't a crock of new age bullshit-  Peace, Love, Prosperity, Progress, Hope, Faith...there is nothing wrong with wanting this.  There's nothing wrong with wanting affordable health care for everyone.  For wanting a safe environment where our children can learn and be challenged to be better.  I'm not wrong (this is a theme, friends, that I will probably be pissing you off with) by saying All of these things are good things to aspire to.  If you say contrary, I'm going to believe you think standing in a thundershower is the best hair dryer, ever. 

Guys, I'm going to do something stupid and I'm going to speak my mind in the coming months.  I've pretty much dithered on about topical nonsense for the last 8 years I've been writing here- with a few patent exceptions- and it's been fun.  I have 3 readers who subscribe. 

And I'm going to sit with the self-loathing that it's taken the death of a bunch of children.  Of babies.  Of kids who are the same age as my niece and nephew.  Of people who were innocent.   That's the impetus for this.  Don't worry.  I'll still try to do my best to keep things shorter in the future.  (As promised.)  So here's a very simple truth to kick off 2013:

Guns do kill people.  

Okay?  Yay.  I'd sooner deny someone the right to bear arms as I would spit in their face for breathing.  Crystal clear?  There need to be changes in our current gun laws.  Not constitution.  How they're regulated.  Not taking yours away from you.  Who gets them.  And no.  Nobody needs a machine gun for home use.

I don't need to post links, statistics.  Guns kill people.  A lot of people.  And those are facts.  If you can leave out the NRA, the sales people who are trying to make a mint on home protection, and maybe welcome some dialogue instead of shutting down with imaginary scenarios- we might start taking steps in the right direction.

Be nice, until it's time to not be nice...

I'm almost positive I blogged about this ages ago.  Name callers.



Terrible ass movie.  Probably the best work the guy has done.

I should qualify this.  Many who know me know I personally have a metric f#ck ton of nicknames.  (Mad Dog, Baby P, Slender Branch, et.al.)  I think being referred to as "Mad Dog" has caused me-in turn- to give them out in spades.  FeeJ, Rusty, Ranch, Biggie, Geef, Ry-Gonn, Per-Per, Farvey...   And when I'm lazy? I just dole out the old jock-o throwback of "The Last Name".   I don't know why I do it.  I just know that it's the way my brain is hardwired.  And I know that it's never done with malice in my heart or directed cruelty.  'Cause let's face it- if it's a really, really good nickname?  It'll stick.  
Last year, I was given a tip from a girlfriend that she and her buddies give out nicknames.  And they tended to be pointy.  A little naughty.  And usually directed at a dude that may or may not have slighted them.  I called her out on it, and self-righteously pointed out that it was just plain mean for means sake.   Displaced anger at a person who doesn't even know you're doing it, and solely so you and your buddies can have a chuckle at the person's expense.  Shame shame.  I never do that- ever.


Orrrrrrrr do I?

Self-busted.

Since it was a few years ago, right here on the old blog, that railed on my fellow gym members.  Not just the occasional party-foul like the people who hog benches or don't wipe them down.  Who leave their towels in a pile on the floor of the changing room or take the locker immediately next to you even if there are others available.  The gym (or, when I'm not rehearsing...sadly, the place I tend to spend the most time outside of work or home.) is my place to find Zen.  To WORK OUT.  To focus, get rid of stress, beat on my body, to breathe, to shower quick and boogie on with my day.  And my natural tendency to stifle my umbrage means I get to kvetch about it here on the old blog for your benefit.   I don't like really talking to the other members.  Hell, I generally avoid talking to the staff even though they all know my name and I have a hard time telling Barry from Randy if they were both standing in front of me.. In short, my dirty hypocrisy as well as burgeoning misanthropy that I seem to be adopting in my old age- shines through.

And so, I'll make a concerted effort in 2013 to "not" cast mental disparagements at people which start with their well-deserved imaginary nicknames they are unaware of...and maybe actually engage other members in conversation.  I'm not great at engaging strangers in conversation and the only way I seem to be able to "flex" my conversational charm is with server's, convenience store cashier's, and the folks at the liquor store.  (Sheath your judgment.)


But I gotta get this out first...

I'll try and not refer to them as: "Meatballs" (the High School knuckleheads who hog the equipment and tend to camp out on a bench while talking about whatever it is they talk about.  One of them looks like a 'roided up Slytherin.) "Tiny Bulls" (They are there to take ALL THE CLASSES!!!), "Know-it-alls" (They comment, stare judgmentally, and "help" people without being asked.  They're gym rats...but total butt-inskis.  The asshat in question started wearing Veebs recently...sucka.), "Barbies" (Do I need to explain this?), the "Stinky Big Bear" (Look.  He's like 8 ft tall and has the WORST B.O.), The "Nickname Redacted Because It's Really Cruel" (This is the gay man who I've busted checking me out on multiple occasions.  And I don't.  Like it. At. The. Gym.  It's a local gym, yo.  Not a chain-y meat market.  He too, has started to wear Veebs.)  "Willem Dafoe" (He's frightening...and he looks like Willem Dafoe.)...and "The Grumpy Old Man"...guess what he looks like?

Like this, only with a silver flat-top and wearing a sleeveless "6-1-2" t-shirt.  Usually hogging the tricep pressdown machine.

Unfortunately for me, I don't think I'll be able to shake this one either.  I've tried to be more engaging with my fellow members...the dicey part is that most of those verbal interactions have been either in the sauna or steam room.  (With the former, I was always content to shut my mouth and watch my sweat dribbles form a rorschachian pattern on the wood planks) 

Awwwwwkward.

Love your Locavore

This year, I'm going to make every concerted effort to shop/eat/support locally.  I plan on doing much of this *in* concert with my frugal couponing self, but as a member of my local co-op and seasonal gardener in fair standing I feel the need to do my small part to support the local economy while simultaneously reaping the healthy benefits*.  (Am I that transparent?  This trend of combining tandem actions/activities to maximize my personal benefits?  Fundraising for a cause so long as it's a footrace?  Healthy eating by shopping locally and growing my own food?  Cripes, even my workouts are combined to save time and maximize intensity.  I'll be buying chickens and goats for "pets" next...do chickens cuddle?  They can cuddle, right?)

My other plan is pretty simple- try and stop eating shit that comes out of boxes and physically "cook" more.  I'm really, really trying to steer my kvetching away from workouts and body issues.  But in 2012 (my lovely year of fartistic fulfillment) I found myself slowly moving away from several "balancing" activities that always made me feel...like me.  And one of those was cooking with/for buddies.  (As an actron with a day job, you find your time between work and rehearsal to be limited.  Enter Chinese take-out 3 days a week or the "Super America" diet.  I'm guilty.  And I own that too.  A waste of money.  And a new- larger- waist.)  It sucks, because I fancy exercise and eating nutritiously as I can.  But it's just been the easiest route for me to polish off an entire box of buffalo veggie nugs for lunch or grab Chipotle- all while pretending that while it isn't eating "meat" per se, I was still eating healthy.   And then I went to get a physical after the 1st of the year, and got some more or less alarming news and stopped with the self-fakery.  I was eating a lot.  I was eating out a lot.  And during the entirety of 2012, I could probably count on both hands the number of times I actually prepared and enjoyed a meal at home.  From a recipe.  And ingredients.

I dunno.  The bottom line/new mantra is something I cribbed from Jack LaLanne:  "If a person made it, don't eat it".  I think it's time to get back in touch with that.  And starting tonight, I'm making Pad Thai.**  And if the Gods favor my attempt at restraint, I'll have "1 Portion" and bag up the rest for later.  (Versus my manly attempts at inhaling the contents of the wok with my manlier mantra of "F#CK LEFTOVERS"!  I thought it catchy at the time.)

So  if you're not a super-fan of Facebook photos of food -  (Or you're not into non-food/review-y people writing/posting about it.) tough hop.  It coming...

*Sad factoid the 1st- I went to the Farmer's Market in 2012 once.  In Saint Paul.  As a Nordeast cheerleader, I should be run out of town on a rail.  At the very least, my soul needs a veggie Mo-Mo from the Mill City Market to keep moving forward in life.
**Sad factoid the second-  In doing my inventory to confirm the non-produce related ingredients, I was chagrined to discover that almost all of it- Pressed peanut oil, blue agave necter, gluten-free soy sauce?  Yeah...it was all past the expiration date.  Pad Thai used to be made at my place at least 2-3 x's a year when it was cooked at my place.  I don't think I've given the wok a workout since 2011.  That makes the baby Jesus cry.

ps-  If the theater and scheduling Gods favor me, I'll have time in the Spring to be more dilligent with my garden.  Last years harvest- outside of banana and jalapeno peppers?  Was deplorable.  I could have cried.  Actually I did.  After cutting the peppers and accidentally rubbing my eyes.

pps- I'll welcome any and all suggestions as to what I should plant in 2013, which will mark my 6th year of home-gardening.  Something I never thought I'd do originally.  It's fun.

pps- If you don't provide suggestions, I will post semi or completely naked pictures here.  Of me.  C'mon.  Nobody wants that.  Nooooobody.


 

Do not inappropriately touch the inner-child...

A few days ago, the satellite radio at the gym went on a KILLER nostalgia bent.  "Physical" by ONJ, "The Tide is High" by...whoever those weirdos were, "Maneater" by Hall and Oates, "I'm Free" by Loggins (on my running mix, btw.), some Mike and the Mechanics, "Human Nature" by MJ...I mean these were killer jams that reminded me of Skateland circa 1982-1986.

Skateland, in good old BP.  Home of numerous Panda Parties.  Snowball dances that left me sadly playing "Joust" in the arcade while couples awkwardly skated face to face (and backwards!!!) while strains of Juice Newton or whatever passed for sexy music for the pre-teen set.  I'd fill my face with licorice and fountain 7-Up in a wax cup and even though I was in Hockey, I had to be one of the s#ittiest roller skaters on the planet.  Really.  The number of tailbone and wrist injuries I endured, not to mention the embarrassment while the skate attendent with the red pinney and acne skated out to be your skate floor savior was seemingly endless.  I don't know what was worse- Biffing while attempting to skate backwards to impress Wendy S. who was already side-by-side handhold skating (FOUL!  There was NO slow song playing!) with the kid who wore the parachute material sleeveless t-shirt and had a rat tail, or having to be slowly escorted crossways off the rink in the arms of a teenager who smelled vaguely of Old Spice and beef jerky while stifling back tears.

What I'm saying is, the fat kid in the Bill the Cat t-shirt was definitely staring down a future high score in "Rampage" versus an eventual peck on the cheek by a nameless crush while they waited for their parents to show up in their wood-paneled Pinto's to take them home by 8.  I'm not sad or bitter.  It's reality.  And I own the crap out of it.

My point.  Sideways, but my point:

Remember how excited I was to finally have hit up the local water slide park in Nordeast?  It was magical.  In fact, it was one of 2 water park visits I made last year and both were so much ridiculous fun that I was almost kicking myself for not having done it sooner.  It got me thinking outwardly about other things I've been stalling on over the last few years.   I haven't gone ice-skating since 1992, and we're all aware of the old story about me selling my hockey gear at Play it Again for college text book mon...LIES!  Beer money.

And there are trampoline parks.  And climbing towers...CLIMBING towers. I had forgotten how fun and terrifying they were at Summer Camp.  And water parks out of state!  And I have a DRIVER'S LICENSE!!!

And oh...yeah...there are still skate parks.  And I have a feeling that 2013 should be the year that I take a date...or even a group...and conquer my fear of the dreaded roller skate. */**

*I'm pretty sure if I fail, I'll still have a bang up time trying to high-score Moon Patrol.
**I'm defnitely wearing knee-pads, wrist protectors...hell.  I'll probably have to go back to Play It Again for my old hockey gear.

(ps- Anyone else think that Heather Graham couldn't possibly have been as stone cold foxy as she was in "Boogie Nights"?  Didn't think so.)

People forget Axl Rose was kind of right...

I have self-diagnosed myself without the benefit of a professional or Web MD with having "Selective Patience".  Do you have it too? 

I'm patient with about 80% of my life, except when I get behind the wheel of my car.  And then I turn into Goofy in that s#itty instructional movie we watched in driver's ed.  Every other driver...and possibly you...irritates me to a jaw-grindingly awful level.  And I'm right.  I recently had a conversation with someone and it went like this:

"I don't get frustrated at other driver's.  I pay attention to how I'm driving and drive safely".  (Insert "smug" sound in their voice.  It actually wasn't there, but if you imagine it...you can imagine my chagrin.)

No.  You're driving like a ray-ray. By not allowing yourself to be cognizent of everyone else out there, you invariably drive poorly.  And recently, I've noticed there are a metric ton of entitled wank-pants out there.  And it's winter.  In Minnesota.  Which exacerbates poor driving behaviors tenfold.

I literally have the shortest vehicular commute of nearly anyone I know.  In fact, my commute to high school was longer.  And even though it's barely 2 miles from my front door to my office?  I still can find a$$holes to get abraded by at 6 am.  (I'm talking to YOU, A-hole in the turquoise Cavalier that DOES NOT use their turn signal...consistently drives 25 in the 45 MPH ZONE, and takes wide left-turns starting almost a half-block back from your parking lot. 

Anyway.  This is going to be tougher than I thought.  I don't anticipate this will go past next week.

Cat Sat

If you've followed this blog with any infrequency, you know that I loooove aminals.  My druther's have typically leaned toward cats (as they were the pet of choice in previous relationships) and mid-to-large sized dogs, as they're usually amenable to play without the threat of tiny-dog smooshing under foot or tripping my primal rage factor with their yippy-yap.

After the loss of my roommate's (and mine by proxy...I guess?) kitteh, the noble Georgie- we've refrained from physically owning a pet since late 2010.  And, and this is about as honest as I'll get here on this blaug, I think that the stillness/lack of activity/lack of singing to the pet/lack of something to care for has had a palpable affect on my home.  Not a hugely depressive fug.  More like a petless ennui. 

Regular readers will also know that I've taken responsibility for dog-sitting my BFF's baby Deuce.   I'm DWD (Down with Dogsitting) Deuce in particular, because the dog is supremely chill.  And yes, if you're reading into it- I probably won't dogsit your puppies at my casa since there is really no way they can compare to Mr. Grumbles.  He's just. That. Perfect.

Readers also may remember our 3 day fiasco with attempting to foster kittehs, of which they went back to the owner, and then we were told we'd get them again, and then we wouldn't get them again, and then I sort of put my foot down and said that the energy I was putting into "will they come or won't they come" was too much, and if it was a "sure thing" then I'd be fine with pet-fostering.  I'm fine with it, but it tests my selective impatience and altruism equally.

Without getting into detail, a family member of my roommate had some health issues that necessitated a move into a place that would be able to provide better care/comfort on an ongoing basis while they recuperated and adjusted to (mild) assisted living.  He (the roommate) has been spending considerable personal time being their for her, and it should be noted and commended that it was through this kindness we came to be in possession of Fat Harvey D'Arcy. 

And it should be here that you've already figured out the following:  It was to be a temporary housing for him until she moved in and then we'd (keep) him on an ongoing basis for however long it took.  For my part, opening my house to her beloved pet/child was the least I could do.  And so we found ourselves with cat- albeit a very, very large cat last December.  And after about a month of getting to know him, helping him "work out" and diet, breaking out the lint brushes that found their way to the back of the linen closet, singing to the cat, and feeling the familiar (very very heavy) weight as he jumped into bed- I was mildly smitten.

As much as I assured the roommate that Geor---whoops (I do that a lot) Harvey can stay as long as he wants- and if his cousin wasn't able to care for him we could take over duties?  The roommate was mildly steadfast in his assertion that he would definitely be going back because he was basically like her kid.  (He told me that her 1st words while driving her to her 1st night in her new digs were "When is Harvey coming back?") 

And so- long story short:  After a run of loving up what amounts to a purring, wheezy, moody, furry spiral-baked ham, he will be going home to be with his owner.  And while my dark clothes are grateful, I think there'll be a large fuzzy ham shaped void in our home as we muster through the rest of winter. 

Au Revoir, Mssr. D'Arcy.  It's been fun while we had you.

(PS- To my BFF A.L. ?  Yes, I'll be able to dog sit again.  You're welcome.)

Coo-pawn...Q-Pon...what?

True story-

When I first started working at my first permanent job in almost 3 years, I thought- honestly thought- that I'd shot myself in the foot and would be fired within the first 2 weeks.  (Please note, I'm still here.  And after hanging so long in the temp pool, you kind of build up an ongoing feeling that the other shoe'll drop and you'll be unemployed any given day.  It's greeeeeat for the soul.)

I was dropping off some paperwork to fax my main office in Vegas in our HR office, and as I walked around the corner our friendly HR staffer looked up in surprise and (a little) shock.  It was the lunch hour, as was now, and they were hunched over their desk pouring over a Trapper Keeper sized folder- wait- COFFEE TABLE book-sized folder and piled high over her desk were Val-Pak folders, clipped coupons, and those "junk mail" looking $mart $ource rags while she was wielding a pair of scissors like a samurai and with the other hand sliding the latest clipping into a plastic pocket in the middle of the page.

"Old" Mikey, would have maybe snarked or laughed (loudly) or joked or looked around at other co-workers for some form of thumb-jerking and eye-rolling validation.  As I was new and (hopefully) wiser I said  that I could come back later.  The conversation- which was casual and more friendly than any previous HR encounter- revolved around her own form of "Extreme" couponing.  With 2 young kids and a 3rd on the way, she figured she was improving her savings upwards of $400 or more a month.  AND (as if my own tamped-down snark needed more tamping) her HUSBAND had already spent a great deal of time teasing her, until she made a practical compromise:  He could get out to do his (hunting/fishing etc.) and she wouldn't complain since the savings helped recoup the costs he incurred. 

I kind of understand the logic, but I mostly dug the give and take.

I'm a lackadaisical coupon-er, and while I think Groupon/Living Social/Yipit et.al is keen (The Underpants Run cost was halved as a result of Groupon.) they're still designed mainly for things you want versus things I actually need.  (Although it's saved my ass when it comes to saving money on sexy dinner night's out.  And I got a great pair of minimalist kicks, to boot.)  My normal justification was that I have such a boring and regimented diet that the items I usually get aren't usually covered by coupon specials- HOWEVER when I've found myself (since starting a few weeks ago) saving on average $7-$20?  Well it seems like the little things I should have been doing ages ago add up, dummy.

And for FOOK'S SAKE!   Do you have any IDEA how EXPENSIVE frozen fruit is?  I have this high-falutin desire in the interest of being healthy/losing weight/controlling my body-sauce levels to start making protein fruit smoothies, and as I'm meandering down the frozen aisle I thought they mis-printed the price code.  $13.88 for a 2 lb bag?

You know damn right I'm using my bi-weekly coupon book.  Now if you'll excuse me, Barilla pasta is on sale 10 boxes for $10, fools!

Can I start a Kickstarter travel campaign, too?

I was mulling the other day on my break over deep things...such as "What I'm going to type here for my January resolutions" when I had an Epi-Fanny.  (Anyone else pronounce epiphany that way?  It's fun!)

I have not had a proper vacation...like, get on a plane and go somewhere proper, in a long time.  Since early 2008 by my reckoning.  I mean, I've gone camping up North.  I was sent to Vegas for work when I first started here.  And hell, my best friend invited me to visit San Jose Del Cabo last Spring for the cost of airfare with a place to stay on the beach and everything.  (Until I did my taxes.  And Mr. Tax Man was all like "Give me yo' money!" and I was all like "Ha ha, Mr. Tax Man.  That's very fun--LOOK!  A TIE FIGHTER!!!"  and ran away.  Crying into my life.)

And yeah, it's been a tight few years if I hadn't mentioned that ad nauseum.  Job loss which meant temp jobs and income were never steady.  Dad loss which meant being depressed and self-anesthest---self-medi--- day-drinking when there was no work which in turn meant I didn't really want to go anywhere.  And then debt that was tickling my scrotum with no hope of diminishing.  And it sucked.  It was like an ongoing break-up that your partner instigated and you didn't see coming.   Except substitute "(your partner's name)" with "Travel".  "Don't go, Travel!  DON'T YOU KNOW I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.  IF I GET PREGNANT WILL YOU STAY WITH ME AND GET MARRIED WHEN WE'RE 20!?!?!"

Seriously.  I love the shit out of travelling.  And I don't even think I've escaped the state of Minny for leisure in over 4 years?  That...that feels almost criminal.  I mean, if I love it so much why in the name of delicious tacos am I not doing it? 

And so...I plan...to get the frack out of town in 2013.  Even if it's to Wisconsin.  Wisconsin, people.  That should give you every indication as to how Mother Hubbardly serious I am.

I'm just one man, 2013...

I'm not terribly political.  I don't like shouting.  And I think the reason behind my own personal inability to attempt to raise funds, go door-to-door for a cause, etc. stems from being either (A) A Cub Scout and expected to go door-to-door to sell M and M's or Christmas Wreath's---effectively asking my father to bring the sign-up sheet to work so that I didn't have to brave the cold or Minnesota discomfort of soliciting strangers and (B) the same thing I did when we were expected to sell candy bars for hockey.  Which didn't end very well, as I would find the requisite $.50 from either my allowance, couch cushions, under car seats, and on my mom's dresser that was needed to empty out ALL THE BARS!  (And that ended well.  I mean, f#ck.  When I say I was a pudgy kid?  Maybe if I wasn't hogging through the Almond Joy knock-offs)

I'm also kind of poor, and usually very busy with work/theater/family...so donating my own time can be mildly problematic.  And let's be fair, I cherish my quiet downtime if/when I get it.  Call it lazy.  I call it vital to my mental health.  I admire the hell out of the go-getters, the fiery, the repeaters (My buddy Dawn has kayaked the Mississippi for the last 4-5 years now to clean up the river.  And you know I'll throw her and her man some $ for that.)  the passionate, the one's who take up a cause with such fervor that...well, it borders flat-out envy.  So I give when I can.  Shoes.  I've been trying to give a toy a year to Toys-For-Tots.  Allowed myself to become heartbroken when the seedy underbelly of certain worthy causes is exposed showing off a prejudice or five. 

Anyway...living in the age of social media has made being a social crusader much easier.  Give to the Max Day, Kickstarter (I don't suppose my long gestating idea of starting a Kickstarter to re-hab and fix my bathroom is going to get off the ground?  Too George Costanza-ish?)...anyone who can attach a link can let you know their cause from the safety and comfort of their FB page...

What's cooler than that?  Is when the events that help raise funds align Beeeee-yootifully with my own.  (More on that in a second.)   So this year?  I'm going to be mixing my resolutions a little (again) of saving money on things (like not participating in a ton of races) with my ongoing desire to be more dedicated toward causes that I feel I can contribute to.  Even if it's just my legs (ala "The Big Gay Run" last Fall) and my voice (I'm loud).  Soooooo...

I've two races planned this year that will be designed specifically toward raising funds for (brain tumors in children and MS) respectively.  The first of these nonsensical ventures (more on the "nonsensical" part in a second) will be the Cupid Undie Run- Minneapolis!  On February 9th, I'll be running 1.5 miles in the bitter, bitter cold to raise funds for the Children's Tumor Foundation.  If you can, please consider donating to either me individually or to my team- "No Mas Pantalones".  I want you to think about this before you consider donating and (hopefully) spectate.   1,000's of people... men and women...in their underwear...running...jiggling...bouncing...this is no joke people.  And C'mon.  I bought socks with banana's on it.  Banana's.  Because symbolically, a peeled banana is analogous to aaaaaa DONATION!!!!  ZING!!!

The next one...Gods help me...is probably going to be returning to the cess pool which is dirty obstacle races...yes.  I'll be doing the Mud Run...or Muck Ruckus or whatever the f#ck that awful race is called.   And as my big brother has been bitten by the obstacle run bug...I'm gonna see if I can get him to do it with me.

And of course, if I do other forms of charitable activities this year it's a good chance I'll really want to write about it.  Here.  Or not..because I like the idea of being quietly generous.  I just wish I had more moolah to do so.

Sweet Dreams, baby...

One of my revolutions for 2013 is a slight holdover from 2012 and previous years.  In case you haven't read the gazillion articles out in the webisphere on the benefits of a good night sleep, you can check one out here.

The newest one that I hadn't really read up on, is how getting a full 8-hours is supremely beneficial for dudes who are active/working out, as it is the prime time for restoring testosterone.  (Check out the importance of natural testosterone and the effects here.  Check out the importance of replenishing during sleep here.  It has a lot more to do with man-boner's, but still an interesting read.)

Since I only have a "this is what worked for me" background I'll advise what I've done over the last few years to help me out.  (Barring that there are people in the world with enormous sleep issues that aren't environmentally related.  These were all changes I was able to make by exercising restraint that helped...A lot.)  I was a miserable insomniatic.  I snored.  Ground me toofs.  Flailed and punched.  And 50% of my week  I would usually get up like clockwork between 2-4 a.m. and pace, go online, read on the tasteful Gabberts sofa downstairs, and lay around in that passive, cloudy fug that means you periodically look over at your clock and watch the digital read-out tick by the hours while floomfing your pillow over and over hoping the "cool side" will guide you to slumber.  (I refuse to use my phone as my clock.  You might as well be activating a flood light in the face as soon as you turn it on.  NOT WORTH THE RETINAL BURN!)

And of course- the magazine and news articles were right.  Genetics notwithstanding (apnea, teeth grinding, and LOUD snoring have always been a part of my family) I was chemically assisting my waking and sleeping without giving it any thought. I had incorrectly assumed being active would arbitrarily lead me to better sleep.  However:
- I was waking up in a fug, and using caffeine to "push" me through the work day.
- After work, I was usually cocktailing.  (With the mixer usually being Diet Coke. And even quitting that...)
- I was still usually having a couple of post-work loosen-up cocktails or beers before bed.
- I HAD to check my business online.

Soooooo...
1) I cut back, way back on caffeine.  I figured I spent the morning naturally "waking up" and it wasn't until the afternoon that I'd start crashing.   So I won't have my 1st cup until mid-morning instead of 1st thing and my 2nd cup a bit after lunch- usually using it to help my post-work workout at the gym.

2) Cut the liquor.  (I'm actually doing the red wine and it's only occasionally muffed up my evening.  A huge improvement from 2-3 years ago.)

And new for 2013:

3) Weekends have always been for sleeping in and enjoying my coffee maker.  I spent a couple of "normal" mornings where I just didn't bother with it and got up and out with my day.  And I. Felt. Fantastic.  (One of them was after my birthday, where I stayed up until 3am.  I had the most luxxxxurious nap the day after.  And naps have always been fitful frustrating things for me at best.)

4) Shut down the computer at least 30-60 minutes before bed, get back into books.

5) Full glass of water right before bed.

6) No more energy drinks.  (This'll be hard, but I've noticed that it really- really messes up my stomach.)

7) Make a point to get at least 8 hours of sleep nightly.  Like, priority sleep. 

Go Go Gadget sleep!

Happy New Year! Oh Hai!

Happy New Year from the Happy Christmas Baby. 

I am a terrible, terrible blogger.  April, 2012 was my last post?  After having said "I'm going to blog more in 2012!"  Well...effed up that resolution toute suite, didn't we?   I'm sorry, Frodo...I was delayed.  A lot.
So here's the quick re-crap (I crap you not) of 2012 (Since end-of-year lists should not be compiled until the end of the year!!!  How do you KNOW some unbelievable s#it won't go down before midnight 12/31? !?!.):
From my vantagepoint, the biggest events of 2012 that weren't mired in tragedy would be the Minnesotan's chose to vote "No" twice.  They voted with their hearts and heads in place, and we proved that we can be a loving and progressive state that will not stand on any form of discrimination.  They voted on what was right.  And the world didn't end at midnight after the election.  Funny, that. 

For me personally I think 2012 will be remembered as a year of tremendous artistic fulfillment.  I was thrilled and humbled by having 6 solid months of soul (and occasionally pocket-book) filling theater/commercial work.  I don't think I've had that type of steady-flow work in theater in a long time, and I can't impart how wonderful it felt.  (On the flip side?  I'm available.  Call me.  I'm good.) 
There was also quite a lot of stress, loss, struggle, and a smidgen of hindsighted regret born of not having a better way of planning.  It was tough around tax-time from that thing that was my own damn fault (read your W4's, is all I'm saying about that), and there were a few of those burdens that pop up from time to time (car accidents, what?  Mom's basement flooded huh?  The election year SHOUTING at you for months, as well as the ignorant and beligerant diviseness that was created after so many national tragedies...well that shit stressed me OUT and gave me high blood pressure and heartburn.)

But I did my best to stay positive (which, okay, doesn't volunteer me at a soup kitchen- but kept me from drowning in what I can't control.  Something tough when you're starting a year as a single man living paycheck-to-paycheck.), and I although don't keep my resolutions posted on the fridge by way of a reminder- I remembered that I felt it was important to keep breathing, keep moving forward, and ride the waves.  Which I did. (Thanks, Dad.)  And I was fortunate enough to still have my family there, my old and dear friends, and find some new friends that I will always respect and cherish for having gotten to know this last year.  I've heard some negative comments about 2012, and I respect and understand how it was difficult for many.  But for me?  At least socially?  I felt like I'd won a contest.

Mostly, I'm grateful for 12 months of gainful and benefitted employment.  Friends, Lemme tell you...late 2008 through mid-2011 was kind of a blur of anxiety, hyper-insecurity, loss, belittlement in the workplace, s#itty contract and temp gigs that treated you like a piece of crap (something I so wish were cliche as to being hyperbolic...but it wasn't.), drinking, increasing personal debt, health scares, apathy, and entirely mistreating my personal health and wellness.   It wasn't until (knocking on wood) I was welcomed into my company that I found a place I could breathe.  Even after a start of the year (and subsequent 9 months) of some fear/uncertainty that my position may have been eliminated, I was commended for perservering and eventually rewarded with additional tasks/responsibilities and a voice to aid in the direction of my team.  I have a CEO that sends out emails to the company that advise they should see a show I'm in.  A boss that trusts me from across the country.  Some travel.   Grand flexibility.  Occasional hugs.  And autonomy.  AND close distance to my home.  Which brings me to...

2013 GOOOOOALS!!!-

I'm going to try and write more.  Here.  At home.  Sharpen up a bit.  As a way to keep me at it, I'll be posting my resolution-y looking things on Facebook with the accompanying link back here for any and all interested parties.  There'll be more stuff.  Pictures.  Frassin.  Pet pictures.  Observational kerfluffles.  Karate/running/outdoorsey shenanigans.  Cooking.  Home projects.  Gardening.  And who knows.  Maybe I'll repeat a 2012 goal and get back to the Jim Lupient Water Park...which is AWESOME! 
Happy New Year, friends.  Tune in tomorrow for another edition.  Don't read any old articles, lest you get skeered oft.  (Seriously?  I think at least 57% of past posts revolved around memes.  Or eaters/drinkers guilt.)

ps- The best movie of the year, without argument or question because it's correct:  "The Avengers".