It happened, yet again-In bed last night at 11:30. No sleep. At all. Toss and turn and cover head, cover body, sweat, awake. Frass online. Back in bed. Repeat. I blame the bean burrito's I made after softball, but man. Show some food restraint, kiddo. Please.
Speaking of burrito's, this was the weekend of the tortilla. Friday, before "Triple Esfrasso" Moses and I hit Pancho Villa's to share fajita's and margie's. The show was great. I haven't laughed that hard at a theatrical show since probably "Flaming Guns". (Weird. Out of all the theatre I've seen in Minneapolis and after catching show's at every major venue- The Music Box was one I'd never patronized. Bad Minnesotan) Afterwards we stayed up and had a cocktail across the street @ the Market before heading home and passing out.
Which would be the only good sleep I got all weekend.
Caturday I spent working out, cleaning the house. Went over to Mo's for dinner (Free Chipotle. Tortilla number TWO) napped. We split so she could meet buddies for a housewarming and I went home and waited for my friend Ryan to call so we could hit one of my old friends bachelor parties down town. Got home around 1:40 and did the old tossing and turning thing until 5:30.
Sunds was spent making runs to the grocery store, making a breakfast burrito thingie (Making it tortilla # Three) Home Depot run (Bought a ton of perrennial's: Asiatic's, Daisies, etc) More hosta goodness, and the beginnings of the 100 odd pavers I'm fixing to lay down to landscape the backyard. I'm still needing to finish painting the Southside of the garage so I don't get fined.
It's late, and softball is coming up soon so I go in and fix a tequila lime grilled chicken avocado wrap for dinner (#4). Incidently, I sucked and had entered the game under the false presumption that I could just go in and play and do all right. Not so much. Embarrassed myself, I did. Wiffed all my at bats. I should just stick with T-Ball. Or not volunteering to scab for a team that already works well together as a unit. Grump.
So I went home and watched the end of "First Blood" and fast forwarded through"The Matrix" whilst munching two bean burrito's to drown my sorrow (#'s Five and Six) . I ended up with a full beany tummy, then went to bed and engaged in the aforementioned fitful tossy turnies.
So that's that.
Tonight I go home and maybe nap. I need one. I feel more out of it than normal. I get to hit a PWYC performance of "Our Town". Hopefully get the sleep I need.
And I was fresh outta Ny-Quil too. Boo.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Happiest of Happy's!!!
To big bro' RSvP!!! The new daddy-o is celebrating the 13th anniversary of his 21st Birthday, and to celebrate I'm skipping out early to have a lil' lunchable's with him. No embarrassing stories will accompany today's happy blog, although the other day when I was driving home from work I remembered the time he got run over by a bus...
That'll bake your noodle, won't it? "What??? The master ninja was attacked by a deadly ninja school bus? Say it ain't so?!?!?!" Nope. True story. This was before his training, you see. Nowaday's, those school buses wouldn't stand a chance. Hiiiiii KEEBA!!!
Other famous Cancer-ites sharing their b'day's with big brother include Picard, Han Solo, and the dude that directed "Fast Times at Ridgemont High", and my buddy KH. (Happy birthday, gorgeous)
So shout out, email, call, frass and wish the bestest role model you could ask for a happy birthday!!!
That'll bake your noodle, won't it? "What??? The master ninja was attacked by a deadly ninja school bus? Say it ain't so?!?!?!" Nope. True story. This was before his training, you see. Nowaday's, those school buses wouldn't stand a chance. Hiiiiii KEEBA!!!
Other famous Cancer-ites sharing their b'day's with big brother include Picard, Han Solo, and the dude that directed "Fast Times at Ridgemont High", and my buddy KH. (Happy birthday, gorgeous)
So shout out, email, call, frass and wish the bestest role model you could ask for a happy birthday!!!
Monday, July 09, 2007
Two to grow on:
First, this represents one side of the two sided shelf which housed the sauces that were Heiss. Note the "Danger" sign. I opted for one of the few sauces that didn't have a warning label requesting that you make sure it doesn't come in contact with your skin. The way I see it, if it's so hot that it diminishes the flavor? The sauce is useless, and you wind up loosing the feeling in your mouth. And that's if you're lucky. Recall the story of my buddy Adam, who topped his steak dish at El Meson with "Ass in the Tub Hot Sauce". He lost his hearing for about 25 minutes) If you look at the first bottle on the second shelf down (The reddish cap with the white top) that's mine. It's supposed to look like a Santa hat.) Directly below that and to the right in the photot is a bottle with what appears to be Mardi Gras beads. That's the "Show yer T#t's" brand hot sauce. Not that the two have even a remote connotation. I held the bottle up over my head for nearly a minute and it didn't do a dang thing. Well, the Abuela that was running the counter put a suspicious hand near the hem of her shirt...but that was all. Close call, that.
And here is the infamous flat tire. We carefully took her up to the corner Chevron station where I valiantly attempted resuscitation to no avail. After the free emergency Mavis roadside assistance showed up, he recommended that we take it to "Chip's Tire's" on Monday a.m. Chip was an affable man. Skinny, pepper gray handle bar mustache to match his hair. Tinted specs. Pall Mall hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Barking orders and running around like a man half his age. He delegates tire patching detail to one of his employees who after a cursory glance discovers the culprit: A well placed nail. The head of the thing looked like it was the size of a dime. Our tire didn't stand a chance. One quick patch and we were off like a prom dress.
And While we were frassin' in the Tire store wait area...working our crossword with gusto ("Quick! What's a 16 letter word for a 1988 movie starring Tom Selleck, Steve Guttenburg, et.al?") , this man who was from NYC was audibly talking to (I presume) HIS insurance agency or roadside service. He made this big deal about being from NY, loudly announcing it to the person on the phone's recieving end AND to the Tire store patron's. ("WHAT? YEAH'S. THAT'S RIGHT, DIRECT FROM NEW YORK CITY, NY...WHAT'S IT TO YA? EHHHH, YEAHYEAHYEAH DESE GUYS ARE GREAT.")
People amaze me. They really do.
First, this represents one side of the two sided shelf which housed the sauces that were Heiss. Note the "Danger" sign. I opted for one of the few sauces that didn't have a warning label requesting that you make sure it doesn't come in contact with your skin. The way I see it, if it's so hot that it diminishes the flavor? The sauce is useless, and you wind up loosing the feeling in your mouth. And that's if you're lucky. Recall the story of my buddy Adam, who topped his steak dish at El Meson with "Ass in the Tub Hot Sauce". He lost his hearing for about 25 minutes) If you look at the first bottle on the second shelf down (The reddish cap with the white top) that's mine. It's supposed to look like a Santa hat.) Directly below that and to the right in the photot is a bottle with what appears to be Mardi Gras beads. That's the "Show yer T#t's" brand hot sauce. Not that the two have even a remote connotation. I held the bottle up over my head for nearly a minute and it didn't do a dang thing. Well, the Abuela that was running the counter put a suspicious hand near the hem of her shirt...but that was all. Close call, that.
And here is the infamous flat tire. We carefully took her up to the corner Chevron station where I valiantly attempted resuscitation to no avail. After the free emergency Mavis roadside assistance showed up, he recommended that we take it to "Chip's Tire's" on Monday a.m. Chip was an affable man. Skinny, pepper gray handle bar mustache to match his hair. Tinted specs. Pall Mall hanging out of the corner of his mouth. Barking orders and running around like a man half his age. He delegates tire patching detail to one of his employees who after a cursory glance discovers the culprit: A well placed nail. The head of the thing looked like it was the size of a dime. Our tire didn't stand a chance. One quick patch and we were off like a prom dress.
And While we were frassin' in the Tire store wait area...working our crossword with gusto ("Quick! What's a 16 letter word for a 1988 movie starring Tom Selleck, Steve Guttenburg, et.al?") , this man who was from NYC was audibly talking to (I presume) HIS insurance agency or roadside service. He made this big deal about being from NY, loudly announcing it to the person on the phone's recieving end AND to the Tire store patron's. ("WHAT? YEAH'S. THAT'S RIGHT, DIRECT FROM NEW YORK CITY, NY...WHAT'S IT TO YA? EHHHH, YEAHYEAHYEAH DESE GUYS ARE GREAT.")
People amaze me. They really do.
I can't make this stuff up. The first night in Santa Fe, this Baptist church was touting a legendary and renowned pastor who was coming in to give the Sunday sermon. I allowed it a fleeting glance before diving back into my book.
Cut to the day we're leaving to hit Taos. Dorajar and I both did a double take, pulled a U-ey so we could bring you the latest bout of mild church vandalism:
Seriously. This was also a bit ironic since not 3 days prior we were listening to one of the only stations to provide any airplay in the desert which happened to be a religious station. Touting the fact that pre-marital sex is not only sinful but a gateway for demonic possession, and that Ted "The Nuge" Nugent was sinful due to the fact that he hunted animals and committed the demonic pagan act of drinking the animals blood.
Heh.
In two otherwise completely unrelated notes, I am proud to say that I was able to get a spat of fiction reading in during the week (after picking up some used nickelbacks at the Moab used bookstore.) and I demolished not one. Not two. But four, count'em FOUR adapted screenplays based on their respective movie. (With the exception of "Jaws", which technicallyh came first.) "Dragonslayer", "Krull", and "Willow" all became my b#tches. Between those and the bachanalian number of crosswords we did over pints of micro-brewed pale ale? I feel like a new man.
Secondly, one of our other bullet points was obtaining a unique and powerful hot sauce. We found a shop in Santa Fe that catered to this wish, however the shelf proved overwhelming in the number of potential candidates. (Varying from "Hot as F#ck" hotsauce to "Show your T#t's" hot sauce.)
I opted for one called "Christmas time" Hot Sauce. Appropos for nothing.
Lastly, I hate the term "Snuggle Pouch"and any physical area that term may be associated with. You heard me. And I hate being in crowded stores when SOMEone behind me asks if my chlamydia is acting up. In an outdoor voice. >: P
Cut to the day we're leaving to hit Taos. Dorajar and I both did a double take, pulled a U-ey so we could bring you the latest bout of mild church vandalism:
Seriously. This was also a bit ironic since not 3 days prior we were listening to one of the only stations to provide any airplay in the desert which happened to be a religious station. Touting the fact that pre-marital sex is not only sinful but a gateway for demonic possession, and that Ted "The Nuge" Nugent was sinful due to the fact that he hunted animals and committed the demonic pagan act of drinking the animals blood.
Heh.
In two otherwise completely unrelated notes, I am proud to say that I was able to get a spat of fiction reading in during the week (after picking up some used nickelbacks at the Moab used bookstore.) and I demolished not one. Not two. But four, count'em FOUR adapted screenplays based on their respective movie. (With the exception of "Jaws", which technicallyh came first.) "Dragonslayer", "Krull", and "Willow" all became my b#tches. Between those and the bachanalian number of crosswords we did over pints of micro-brewed pale ale? I feel like a new man.
Secondly, one of our other bullet points was obtaining a unique and powerful hot sauce. We found a shop in Santa Fe that catered to this wish, however the shelf proved overwhelming in the number of potential candidates. (Varying from "Hot as F#ck" hotsauce to "Show your T#t's" hot sauce.)
I opted for one called "Christmas time" Hot Sauce. Appropos for nothing.
Lastly, I hate the term "Snuggle Pouch"and any physical area that term may be associated with. You heard me. And I hate being in crowded stores when SOMEone behind me asks if my chlamydia is acting up. In an outdoor voice. >: P
Hi. Aloha. Mazel Tov. We're back now. Alive. Barely. I won't spare you all the gory details. Maybe I'll cut/tag them into episodic LJ entries. Maybe I'll just make a mini-book that can accompany the DVD footage we shot while tripping on the road. Sufficed to say, it was a helluva a trip and I'm already going into post-trippy depression. Some highlights:
1 flight into Denver with a SCREAMING pampie right behind our ears for 1.5 hours. (Mo was upset that she didn't bring a taser. That child was Chucky and Damian all rolled up into one. It was his evil eyebrows.)
We logged 1,540 miles on the borrowed Ford Focus.
Hit 3 states.
Met a hippy with a lisp at the Hostel. ("I am the offith!")
17 margarita's. (Part of our half-assed itinerary was to find the perfect margarita. I tell you what, it was NOT the margie they served in Eagle Nest, CO at the Historic Grand Vault Saloon and Inn. Cheap bastards. At least it served as the "quirky bar" we wanted to visit)
15 different kind of brew pub pale ales.
One "Half" Litre of Jack.
One "Half" Litre of Morgans.
Eating more different versions of beans and tortilla's than you'd want to eat and be in the same room as another human being. Prrrrrt.
1 flat tire fixed by Chip the magical tire guy.
1 retarded Mikey thinking that a jog in 109 degree heat with 0 humidity was a good idea in Moab. (As well as an uphill jog at 8,000 feet above sea level in Santa Fe)
A burning desire to relocate to Durango, CO (While we're young. We had the best breakfast there) or Santa Fe, NM when we're older. (We danced with the hippies in town square, pausing to realize that we were probably the next youngest demographic by 20 years)
5 different hikes of varying intensity- ranging from a leisurely 2 mile putter around the Canyonlands, to an intense 4.5 mile hike that went from 8,000 to 9,010 feet, then down. Then right back up again. (And some mo-fo was jogging it! With his pregnant wife! Nootz to them!)
A deranged multiple-personality disordered tour guide at Mesa Verde named "Ranger Jo" She was a trippy lady. She kept channelling "Grandfather". "Grandfather, will you tell us why?!?!"/(Back to herself) "Girl? You don't wanna know"
In all that, we managed to sneak in both a sushi night in Santa Fe (The owners appreciated my lame attempts at Japanese. Kampei indeed) and Thai food whilst parked in Denver on our last night.
Then I got home and found out that my water heater is busted. Flooding the basement. Again.
At least he kept the lawn watered. It's greener than my nabes, anyway.
Hi guys. It's great to be home. I missed my city. And my roommate. And my kitty...
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Good bye, all!!!
We're leaving on a jet plane! Hope to post pictures etc. on our return!
See you when we're sunburned!
See you when we're sunburned!
Monday, June 25, 2007
Ah HA! You all forGOT didn't YOU!!!!
Today...of all days...Is the infamous Baby P "Half Birthday" extravaganza!
For the unitiated, a Cliff Notes History:
Doi, I was born on X-mas. And while the big question that begs addressing whenever I get that pitied look from folks after disclosing said birthday is: "Oooooooo, you must get gypped on gifts, huh?" Actually, not really. I think we all do pretty well. (Well, to be fair? Papa P usually gets quite a bit. But boy deserves it, yo) The one really chagrining thing about X-mas b'days is that growing up, Baby P's buddies were usually home with their family and relatives. Setting up their own toys or eating their own X'Mas meals. In other words, no Panda Party at Skateland for this bouncing boy. No swimming parties at Elm Creek. No going apeshit at Chuck E Cheese. It was the same for me as the rest of them. Sadness Pie. : (
But never fear, quoth the folks. We will celebrate MID-way through the year, so that you don't have to miss out on the festiveness which is the childhood b'day. It was dubbed, the HALF-birthday. (Or for the truncation-inclined: "H'B'Day".) Right after school'd let out, we had days and nights free to frass. We had a Panda Parties. McDonalds Parties. (And that cake they made. Awful. I'll never forget biting into one of the balloon decorative things and it was like biting old hard bland sugar.) Giving myself a bloody nose on the zip line at Elm Creek. (Face first into the gravel) And? One of my favorite H'B'Day mems:
At age 5.5, we threw a theme party at the (At the time) new BeeP's house. In the interest of being cost effective, Mama-san read in a party book on how to throw an inexpensive theme party for kids. This gimmick was to blindfold the kids, have them walk single file (Hand in Hand) and walk them threw your house/outside pre-set "obstacles" while the host (Mom) narrated. (ex: Tape a bunch of string to the ceiling and say "Watch out for the spider web" or walking us over to sheets laid down with cornflakes and warning us to "Be careful not to break the bat eggs!", and the last number= Walking us outside threw the little blue kiddie pool saying "Ooookay. We're crossing the river now, hurry across to avoid pirahna!")
When it was all said and done, I ran upstairs to ask mom if I could go swimming in the pool. (Addicted to water, I was) She acquiesed with the reminder that I was to not-under any circumstances-get my "Good" H'B'Day clothes wet. (She had full knowledge, even at that tender age, of my penchant for flinging myself in pools/lakes/ocean's while fully clothed)
So I did. In a nice little pile by the back door to the porch. Sploosh Sploosh Sploosh.
By the time the cry of "CAAAAAAAAKE" followed by "DON'T TRACK WATER IN THE HOUSE, KIDDO!!!" we all barrelled upstairs like so many stampeding water buffalo. What happens next is LEGEND!
I obeyed the letter of the law. If not the spirit. And standing there with my big brother, and little neighborhood buddies. Boys and Girls. Yes, standing there in the dining room stuffing the cake in as fast as I could masticate it: Butt-Bare-Butterball-Nekkid. Ma snapped a polaroid for posterity, showing me so many years later that what amazed her was that no one in the picture seemed to care. Oblivious. Everyone is standing around, eating cake, with this nude dude in the middle. Ah, the folly of youth.
Nowadays I do such things for pure shock value (ala' Saturday night, when either Dorajar, the curious, or myself'd wind up lifting up my kilt up for giggles. Don't worry Ma. I was hammocked)
So, I have the best old gift coming up which is getting out of Dodge for a week, and in a completely self-serving act (In addition to trying to drum up commentor's. Y'all have been ridiculously quiet. Time was when folks'd leave 6 comments a gander!) I want you to comment on the following:
A) 1st memory or any memory of yours truly that sticks in your head (Doesn't have to be from a birthday, but it'd help.
B) A great birthday memory of your own, or regarding someone else.
Word. This'll go up on LJ to, frasser's.
HAPPY HALF B'DAY TO MEEEEEEEEEEEE!
For the unitiated, a Cliff Notes History:
Doi, I was born on X-mas. And while the big question that begs addressing whenever I get that pitied look from folks after disclosing said birthday is: "Oooooooo, you must get gypped on gifts, huh?" Actually, not really. I think we all do pretty well. (Well, to be fair? Papa P usually gets quite a bit. But boy deserves it, yo) The one really chagrining thing about X-mas b'days is that growing up, Baby P's buddies were usually home with their family and relatives. Setting up their own toys or eating their own X'Mas meals. In other words, no Panda Party at Skateland for this bouncing boy. No swimming parties at Elm Creek. No going apeshit at Chuck E Cheese. It was the same for me as the rest of them. Sadness Pie. : (
But never fear, quoth the folks. We will celebrate MID-way through the year, so that you don't have to miss out on the festiveness which is the childhood b'day. It was dubbed, the HALF-birthday. (Or for the truncation-inclined: "H'B'Day".) Right after school'd let out, we had days and nights free to frass. We had a Panda Parties. McDonalds Parties. (And that cake they made. Awful. I'll never forget biting into one of the balloon decorative things and it was like biting old hard bland sugar.) Giving myself a bloody nose on the zip line at Elm Creek. (Face first into the gravel) And? One of my favorite H'B'Day mems:
At age 5.5, we threw a theme party at the (At the time) new BeeP's house. In the interest of being cost effective, Mama-san read in a party book on how to throw an inexpensive theme party for kids. This gimmick was to blindfold the kids, have them walk single file (Hand in Hand) and walk them threw your house/outside pre-set "obstacles" while the host (Mom) narrated. (ex: Tape a bunch of string to the ceiling and say "Watch out for the spider web" or walking us over to sheets laid down with cornflakes and warning us to "Be careful not to break the bat eggs!", and the last number= Walking us outside threw the little blue kiddie pool saying "Ooookay. We're crossing the river now, hurry across to avoid pirahna!")
When it was all said and done, I ran upstairs to ask mom if I could go swimming in the pool. (Addicted to water, I was) She acquiesed with the reminder that I was to not-under any circumstances-get my "Good" H'B'Day clothes wet. (She had full knowledge, even at that tender age, of my penchant for flinging myself in pools/lakes/ocean's while fully clothed)
So I did. In a nice little pile by the back door to the porch. Sploosh Sploosh Sploosh.
By the time the cry of "CAAAAAAAAKE" followed by "DON'T TRACK WATER IN THE HOUSE, KIDDO!!!" we all barrelled upstairs like so many stampeding water buffalo. What happens next is LEGEND!
I obeyed the letter of the law. If not the spirit. And standing there with my big brother, and little neighborhood buddies. Boys and Girls. Yes, standing there in the dining room stuffing the cake in as fast as I could masticate it: Butt-Bare-Butterball-Nekkid. Ma snapped a polaroid for posterity, showing me so many years later that what amazed her was that no one in the picture seemed to care. Oblivious. Everyone is standing around, eating cake, with this nude dude in the middle. Ah, the folly of youth.
Nowadays I do such things for pure shock value (ala' Saturday night, when either Dorajar, the curious, or myself'd wind up lifting up my kilt up for giggles. Don't worry Ma. I was hammocked)
So, I have the best old gift coming up which is getting out of Dodge for a week, and in a completely self-serving act (In addition to trying to drum up commentor's. Y'all have been ridiculously quiet. Time was when folks'd leave 6 comments a gander!) I want you to comment on the following:
A) 1st memory or any memory of yours truly that sticks in your head (Doesn't have to be from a birthday, but it'd help.
B) A great birthday memory of your own, or regarding someone else.
Word. This'll go up on LJ to, frasser's.
HAPPY HALF B'DAY TO MEEEEEEEEEEEE!
Bass Ackwards...
So you heard Sunday. Low key pride-ing with the Porkchops. Caturday was fairly uneventful too during the day. I got up and used my back rublet gift card to call in my complimentary one hour massage. She recognized and got the bits that have given me some area's of irritation in my trapezius/sternocleidomastiod tie-in's. (Or as I say: My twin I absorbed in utero) She told me she could tell I was a runner due to increased tension in my "ITS"...and I went home with a puffy head. (After stopping in for a small smoothie at Tao. I haven't been in a year, and a protein power smoothie seemed like a nice hippie way to round out the a.m.) I spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning my house a little before Ry-gonn and Dorajar stopped over for home made fajita's and to watch a little "Ali G" and "Robot Chicken" (Bock bock bock, buh-bock bock BOCK!)
Then Mozzle came back from her show, we grabbed the Pust and all caravaned out to the B'day. I went kilted coz that's how I roll. Mozzle looked leggy and hot. And lightsabers. Oh, the aforementioned lightsabers. They're "not for connecting" with one and other, but that didn't stop the whole bally lot of us nerds from going outside and playing. Awwwww yeah.
It was a long, LONG a$$ night in spite of being so fun. So yeah, happy birthday boys. Many happy returns.
Then Mozzle came back from her show, we grabbed the Pust and all caravaned out to the B'day. I went kilted coz that's how I roll. Mozzle looked leggy and hot. And lightsabers. Oh, the aforementioned lightsabers. They're "not for connecting" with one and other, but that didn't stop the whole bally lot of us nerds from going outside and playing. Awwwww yeah.
It was a long, LONG a$$ night in spite of being so fun. So yeah, happy birthday boys. Many happy returns.
Why, Morpheus, Why?
Well. That was a full blown evening of insomnia. I went down at 10:30 after having stayed up until 3:30 the night before. (So worth it. The joint b'day party was a s#it ton of fun. Where else can you say that you frassed around with lightsabers to the wee hours? My hands were KILLING me the next day) I got up early after some guilty voicemail goading from the gay burrito to come over to a pre-pride party. This year I just, didn't wanna go. I've already filled my in-town parade quota for the year with last weeks NE parade (Unless the old torchlight parade brings me out) So he insisted I just pop over and see some old NHCC buddies and swill some mimosa's.
It was fun. Really. We et quiche, and mim's/BM's/Screwdrivers and sat around BS'ing and catching up. The sun did it's damage tho', and instead of going for a run I went into my conditioned air home to wait for Mo-Mo to get done with rehearsal. We made it through one, count it, one episode of Slings and Arrows before hitting the hay. When...nada. I was too tired to sleep. And sweating again. I couldn't keep my legs together without the perspiration driving me crazy. So it was toss, turn, grab some towels to lay down, flip, grab pillow, get cold (AC) go back under. I think I had one small weird moment of sleep where I dreamed that I was Superman and this group of villains from the phantom zone threatened my family. They then made me come out to dinner while they made frightening comments towards which my family remained blissfully clueless. I then excused myself, and flew off to distract them.
I don't even care for Superman that much.
Anyway, 12 became 1 am, 1 am became 2am, etc. Etc. By the time 5 am came around I just wanted one, solid, hour of sleep. Niente. Furg.
Today'll be...interesting, to be sure.
It was fun. Really. We et quiche, and mim's/BM's/Screwdrivers and sat around BS'ing and catching up. The sun did it's damage tho', and instead of going for a run I went into my conditioned air home to wait for Mo-Mo to get done with rehearsal. We made it through one, count it, one episode of Slings and Arrows before hitting the hay. When...nada. I was too tired to sleep. And sweating again. I couldn't keep my legs together without the perspiration driving me crazy. So it was toss, turn, grab some towels to lay down, flip, grab pillow, get cold (AC) go back under. I think I had one small weird moment of sleep where I dreamed that I was Superman and this group of villains from the phantom zone threatened my family. They then made me come out to dinner while they made frightening comments towards which my family remained blissfully clueless. I then excused myself, and flew off to distract them.
I don't even care for Superman that much.
Anyway, 12 became 1 am, 1 am became 2am, etc. Etc. By the time 5 am came around I just wanted one, solid, hour of sleep. Niente. Furg.
Today'll be...interesting, to be sure.
Friday, June 22, 2007
This is killing me...
You want a laugh? Go to wiki and look up movies that either you've seen, or not seen, and see if they have a "Detailed Plot Summary". No lie, I've gone through almost the ENTIRE Schwarzenegger canon and the summaries are frassin' HY-Sterical.
Take this little ditty from "Raw Deal":
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raw_Deal_%281986_film%29
"Kaminsky escapes, assisted by Monique (who has grown fond of him). He then suits up, gathers an array of firearms and raids one of Patrovita's gravel pits, eventually killing everyone and walking off with the cash left behind. He hands the cash to Monique and gets her on a chartered plane, then sets off to Patrovita's casino, hidden in a basement level of a high class hotel. There, he single-handedly wipes out Patrovita and all of his men, including Rocca. On his way out, he encounters a whimpering Baxter, and offers him a gun with the same line Baxter earlier used on Kaminsky: "Resign, or be prosecuted. Any way you want it." Kaminsky starts to walk off, and when Baxter attempts to shoot him, turns and shoots Baxter in self-defense."
I'm sure not everyone is going to find this as comical as I am, but thus spake the wiki. I also read up on Perseus vs. the Gorgon. Great stuff.
Take this little ditty from "Raw Deal":
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raw_Deal_%281986_film%29
"Kaminsky escapes, assisted by Monique (who has grown fond of him). He then suits up, gathers an array of firearms and raids one of Patrovita's gravel pits, eventually killing everyone and walking off with the cash left behind. He hands the cash to Monique and gets her on a chartered plane, then sets off to Patrovita's casino, hidden in a basement level of a high class hotel. There, he single-handedly wipes out Patrovita and all of his men, including Rocca. On his way out, he encounters a whimpering Baxter, and offers him a gun with the same line Baxter earlier used on Kaminsky: "Resign, or be prosecuted. Any way you want it." Kaminsky starts to walk off, and when Baxter attempts to shoot him, turns and shoots Baxter in self-defense."
I'm sure not everyone is going to find this as comical as I am, but thus spake the wiki. I also read up on Perseus vs. the Gorgon. Great stuff.
Feerkin' Essited
Minneapolis to Denver
Denver to Moab
Moab to Cortez/Mesa Verde
Mesa Verde to Santa Fe
Santa Fe back to da airport
Homeski and Hutch
Good lordy I can use a vacay.
Denver to Moab
Moab to Cortez/Mesa Verde
Mesa Verde to Santa Fe
Santa Fe back to da airport
Homeski and Hutch
Good lordy I can use a vacay.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Gah! I suck!
I suck worse than "Short Circuit 2"!
Okay:
Happy belated Anniversary to Ry-Gonn. The first of many. The symbol for Annie-#-one is "paper". So, uh, give her a Mead loose leaf notebook or something. (I mean for the love, Rainbow foods of all places has cleared out a section by the soup to advertise school supplies. In JUNE! Hello, let's not depress kids too soon. 'Kay? I mean, will you be pimpin' X-mas over the 4th of July? Bastiges)
Happy early Anniversary (6/29) to Mom and Dad. It's nice to see dad relaxing more.
Happy Birthdays (Belated) FeeJ, Forte', Kaiser, Grantpa, Linzie, Srustie, BeeJ, BWJ, et.al.
Happy Birthday...Today...to Daddy-O P. He turns the big 6-4 this year. Many happy returns, Papa-san.
Happy Father's Day. Spent it frassin' with the rents, admiring my big brother (And Dr. Weef's) parenting skills, and amazed myself by wishing HIM a happy father's day. (Much to my dad's chagrin. It used to be all about him. Poor guy)
Happy (early) Pride. Way to be gay!!! (And am I meeting Sssssteve and Twocherries or whart?)
I ate grilled halibut. Pip Pip. X can cook like a beast.
I went to an amazing fundraiser party. Good times.
I attended a Fijian luau and ate lamb in honor of the birth of FeeJ. This was a weekend of eating foods that my normally panic induced fanatical healthy-pants self wouldn't touch. (Steak on Father's Day, being the 2nd) I also pimped my idea for a project to her beau. Thoughts be a-brewing.
Um. Big brother is going to start fighting in BC again. Gotta get in shape.
Nordeast had there annual parade. Dorajar and I walked to it and admired the steamy seamy throngs of individuality and culture that milled around, planted on so many folding chairs. Watching the pampies scramble after dirty strewn candy. As the representatives and council members waved from convertibles. As the princesses from towns as far as Red Wing waved that familiar and strangely comforting pop and lock wave of theres, smiling their princessly smiles. Listening to the marching bands, and the step teams, and the hollering Shriner's. And getting mauled by Klondike Kate. It was such a profound, and robust feeling of connectivity that I found myself getting all emo over it.
Maybe it was the booze. Who knows.
Everyone who reads this, who hasn't seen it- Go see Uncle Vanya at TRP. I don't care if you live in Walla Walla, Washington. This is the final weekend, and it is a profoundly moving piece of work. And yeah, bias is as bias does- Dorajar does some fantastic work.
Okay:
Happy belated Anniversary to Ry-Gonn. The first of many. The symbol for Annie-#-one is "paper". So, uh, give her a Mead loose leaf notebook or something. (I mean for the love, Rainbow foods of all places has cleared out a section by the soup to advertise school supplies. In JUNE! Hello, let's not depress kids too soon. 'Kay? I mean, will you be pimpin' X-mas over the 4th of July? Bastiges)
Happy early Anniversary (6/29) to Mom and Dad. It's nice to see dad relaxing more.
Happy Birthdays (Belated) FeeJ, Forte', Kaiser, Grantpa, Linzie, Srustie, BeeJ, BWJ, et.al.
Happy Birthday...Today...to Daddy-O P. He turns the big 6-4 this year. Many happy returns, Papa-san.
Happy Father's Day. Spent it frassin' with the rents, admiring my big brother (And Dr. Weef's) parenting skills, and amazed myself by wishing HIM a happy father's day. (Much to my dad's chagrin. It used to be all about him. Poor guy)
Happy (early) Pride. Way to be gay!!! (And am I meeting Sssssteve and Twocherries or whart?)
I ate grilled halibut. Pip Pip. X can cook like a beast.
I went to an amazing fundraiser party. Good times.
I attended a Fijian luau and ate lamb in honor of the birth of FeeJ. This was a weekend of eating foods that my normally panic induced fanatical healthy-pants self wouldn't touch. (Steak on Father's Day, being the 2nd) I also pimped my idea for a project to her beau. Thoughts be a-brewing.
Um. Big brother is going to start fighting in BC again. Gotta get in shape.
Nordeast had there annual parade. Dorajar and I walked to it and admired the steamy seamy throngs of individuality and culture that milled around, planted on so many folding chairs. Watching the pampies scramble after dirty strewn candy. As the representatives and council members waved from convertibles. As the princesses from towns as far as Red Wing waved that familiar and strangely comforting pop and lock wave of theres, smiling their princessly smiles. Listening to the marching bands, and the step teams, and the hollering Shriner's. And getting mauled by Klondike Kate. It was such a profound, and robust feeling of connectivity that I found myself getting all emo over it.
Maybe it was the booze. Who knows.
Everyone who reads this, who hasn't seen it- Go see Uncle Vanya at TRP. I don't care if you live in Walla Walla, Washington. This is the final weekend, and it is a profoundly moving piece of work. And yeah, bias is as bias does- Dorajar does some fantastic work.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
I love...
Love...the fact that my workplace cafeteria has an "Imagination Bar" in lieu of a "Salad Bar". And that Wednesday's theme was "Pasta- YOUR way!" and part of the offerings was "Your Health-YOUR way" (Being that it offered whole wheat penne as a substitute)
I meandered in there to check it out. Yup. There was the wheat penne in one pan, regular in another, parmesan cheese powder in the third, and...what's that in the sauce pan? The single sauce pan? The only sauce option available?
Hamburger meat sauce.
Your health, your way indeed. As long as you eat your noodles plain.
I meandered in there to check it out. Yup. There was the wheat penne in one pan, regular in another, parmesan cheese powder in the third, and...what's that in the sauce pan? The single sauce pan? The only sauce option available?
Hamburger meat sauce.
Your health, your way indeed. As long as you eat your noodles plain.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Beck in Bleck
I'm wearing all black today. Not for some weird sense of mourning or anything like that (Well, I guess the 63rd anniversary of the Normandy Invasion could count.) It was more of "Let's stick our hand in the closet and see what kind of costume you can pull off today" kinda...deal.
Well the shirt is, how do you say, sateen? The kind where when you hug someone they'll occasionally comment on the fabric. Well this shirt poofs out a little in this pirate-y sort of way. So couple the blousing blouse with my long legs and what do you get?
The effect of a marshmallow being stuffed into two straws. A black marshmallow. And two black straws.
I'm terrible.
Well the shirt is, how do you say, sateen? The kind where when you hug someone they'll occasionally comment on the fabric. Well this shirt poofs out a little in this pirate-y sort of way. So couple the blousing blouse with my long legs and what do you get?
The effect of a marshmallow being stuffed into two straws. A black marshmallow. And two black straws.
I'm terrible.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
I'm deadly serious...
Why don't we celebrate this?
nopantsday.com
May 2nd
Oh right, baby P. EVERY day is no pants day to you, isn't it?
nopantsday.com
May 2nd
Oh right, baby P. EVERY day is no pants day to you, isn't it?
Saturday, May 26, 2007
A day late, but...Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday Star Wars!!! (*Thanks to the photoshop mastery of Lando CalrissIan. Please note Mo-da in the background)I started a nostalgic thread on the old Frassboard when I remembered that it was the 30th anniversary of the saga. I blathered on about how we sat through it twice in the theatre. How we had the toys. How it really affected the way big brother and I acted and played, and eventually our pursuit of arts which are martial. How to this day, if there is an automatic door to a building I'll wave my hand in front of the thing to open it. How flashlights became impromptu lightsabers. How the family camper became the Millennium Falcon. And how on one fateful Father's Day a few years back, we all drifted into the TV room at big brothers old house to watch a Sunday airing of Episode one. And my dad cheekily said "Taking you boys to see that film was the worst thing I ever did".
Well the thread blew up, to my untold joy. Some of the mods and posters even started using Star Wars themed "Handles" (ex: "Bri-G-88", "Echelobot", and the aforementioned "Moda" and "Lando CalrissIan". Me? Luke. Doi.)
Geeks? Sure. 32 year old geek, right here. Now if you'll excuse me? Before I drag my tired Wookie buns outside for some trimming and mowing? I need to grab that broom handle and make like a jedi.
May the Force be with you...Frassers.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Quick "WTF?"
Um # one: Dude? I'm all for equal rights. Equally. But, like...Why don't you carry something that can turn into a deadly bo-staff ala' Matt Murdock: "The Daredevil"? http://www.startribune.com/462/story/1186120.html
I'd like to state that this sounds strangely like someone actively searching out a lawsuit. And the fact that you seem to actively want to amass conceal and carry gun permits in varying states is sort of leaning towards that fact. And I hate guns. There. I said it. My only bias regarding this article. Dude...stop. I have ADHD. That doesn't mean I'm suing key-makers because they jingle and cause a distraction every time I HEY! A kitty! http://icanhascheezburger.com/
Um # two: Lemme get this straight. Because the water breach is closer in resemblence to the noble bass, the artistic portrayal of the walleye on the MN state liscense plate is inaccurate. And you wanna bitch? Baby P SEZ! Get. A. Life. M##herf##ker's.
http://www.startribune.com/531/story/1185887.html
I crap you negative. It's antics like the above that make my soul weep.
I'd like to state that this sounds strangely like someone actively searching out a lawsuit. And the fact that you seem to actively want to amass conceal and carry gun permits in varying states is sort of leaning towards that fact. And I hate guns. There. I said it. My only bias regarding this article. Dude...stop. I have ADHD. That doesn't mean I'm suing key-makers because they jingle and cause a distraction every time I HEY! A kitty! http://icanhascheezburger.com/
Um # two: Lemme get this straight. Because the water breach is closer in resemblence to the noble bass, the artistic portrayal of the walleye on the MN state liscense plate is inaccurate. And you wanna bitch? Baby P SEZ! Get. A. Life. M##herf##ker's.
http://www.startribune.com/531/story/1185887.html
I crap you negative. It's antics like the above that make my soul weep.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
She said it better than I...
From Redwright. Regarding new play readings:
"They're like vegetables. You feel like you SHOULD do (read: eat) them."
But guess what? They don't always taste good. Like the one I went to last night? Painful. We actors, who were patiently waiting our turn. And who like good little actor's should, actually read the stupid thing...well we were trying to figure out ways to read it faster so we could get out of there.
Oof.
"They're like vegetables. You feel like you SHOULD do (read: eat) them."
But guess what? They don't always taste good. Like the one I went to last night? Painful. We actors, who were patiently waiting our turn. And who like good little actor's should, actually read the stupid thing...well we were trying to figure out ways to read it faster so we could get out of there.
Oof.
Ahem. An open frass...
Dear corporate psycho's who are currently marketing "Spidey 3". I dig, I really really dig...the need to come up with new products to pimp to the younger set. The days of "just articulated action figures" is nigh on over. You need the new. You need...the better. I understand things like "Spider Man Web Shooters" that shoot non-toxic (Hmmmm) silly string. Or "Venom Goo/Sandman Sand" that some kid could easily replicate with Mrs. Butterworth (Which it looks like) or a simple visit to Elm Creek Park Reserve Beach. I understand plush. Heck, even I have a vintage Spider Man hot wheels car from 1981.
Here's the thing: Neither Spider Man, nor Sandman ride motorcycles in the new movie. So to be selling a set of these rip-cord activated dealies which kids will invariably use to perform makeshift chicken fights on the sidewalks and cul-de-sacs in front of their houses...all for the bargain rate of $17? No mothers. More over, you sell "Spider Man with Scuba Gear" or "Spider Man with Jet Packs" for the younger demographic. But dudes...Seriously? He swings. On. A. Web. The need for a jet pack is superfluous. And there is no way that an arch-nemesis is going to frass around the NYC bay when it's a filthy cess pool of decay, oil, trash, and God knows what else. Well. The need for scuba gear seems rather moot.
Stop now.
My kids, if I ever adopt, will get a red ski mask and blue long johns. And a rope. That's what I had. And gawdammit, if I didn't get stuck up my fair share of tree's. But I was Spider Man. Gawdamn right I was.
Here's the thing: Neither Spider Man, nor Sandman ride motorcycles in the new movie. So to be selling a set of these rip-cord activated dealies which kids will invariably use to perform makeshift chicken fights on the sidewalks and cul-de-sacs in front of their houses...all for the bargain rate of $17? No mothers. More over, you sell "Spider Man with Scuba Gear" or "Spider Man with Jet Packs" for the younger demographic. But dudes...Seriously? He swings. On. A. Web. The need for a jet pack is superfluous. And there is no way that an arch-nemesis is going to frass around the NYC bay when it's a filthy cess pool of decay, oil, trash, and God knows what else. Well. The need for scuba gear seems rather moot.
Stop now.
My kids, if I ever adopt, will get a red ski mask and blue long johns. And a rope. That's what I had. And gawdammit, if I didn't get stuck up my fair share of tree's. But I was Spider Man. Gawdamn right I was.
Time to breath a collective siiiiiigh.
Well...I don't think I got the noble beaver gig. Dag.
The weekend was too toooooo busy, but remarkably enjoyable. It all started on Thursday night into Frrrrriday.
I took a little half day so that I could get home and nap/pop a couple of IB's before the show. We were blessed with good crowds nightly, and the biggest surprise was that 'Bean, AL, Rusty, Portana, and RSvP came out to see us on Friday night. (I shouldn'ta turned my back on RSvP though. One second I was talking to AL, the next he was charmin' Marvin the crowd. Folks, he's been doing this to me since I was in the 8th grade. Frass! And the next moment he was throwing hook kicks over Matty-boom boom's head. In nice dress slacks. My mother would be mortified. I just thought it was cool that he could do'em w/o stretching out first.) Party foul of the evening was that I ripped out the crotch of my jeans while stretching and exacerbated it during fight call. I mean, it was already frayed quite a bit. I just didn't expect my bits to have so much...exposure.
Afterwards, we mosey'ed on over to Dorajar's for a small intimate gathering...and I proceeded to eat my weight in chocolate espresso truffles and cheese. I also got into an argument with Sciple regarding the name of the brutish robot Neanderthal that was the arch-nemesis of Super Joe Commando's Adventure team. (He was absolutely positive it wasn't in the GI Joe canon, and I had too much wine to effectively Google the stupid thing. And I know you wanna know what we nerd-burgers were talking about:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:GIJoeIntruderCommander.jpg
Sats...well I just didn't sleep in like I shoulda. I got up, split with Dorajar and went home to frass around for a bit. (Read: Clean) hadda brief dinner, did another show (Heisse Carl from work, LSA+Tim, Tootchie, etc. I just realized that I could totally be getting my days and audience members mixed up) And Gabpril. At this showza, Chowie's weefie took some awesome pics which I'll post like toast when I get a copy of the CD. Afterwards I went to a HUGE old party at Redwright's, frassed, talked 7th grade politic with Frank, met "The Baron", and again...stayed up way. Too. Late. Snnxxkzzk
Sunds..MAMA's day (Where our illustrious scoundrel was unable to contact his mother, since she and papa-san were in...Lisbon? I think?) Went jogging with Dorajar nice N early before she split to hang with her mama. Attempted another omelette brefkist for myself (With the accompanying veggie sausages and whole wheat English muff-muff. The egg turned out all right, but broke in mid-flip. Frass!!!!!)
It was a great final show in terms of audience-age. KWT and clan were there, as was Phyllis and her mama...so we were guaranteed the most raucous and unique sounding laughter throughout the show (Including the heaviest laughter during the more obscure theatrical references) For yours truly it was a so-so show. Even with 800 mgs of IB, I was at the Zenith of pain in terms of soreness. I f#cked up my kip-up for the first time during the run, I f#cked up the Wizard fight (Again) And in spite of a tutorial from Robby on how to do a helicopter safely & correctly? I managed one rotation before my body just...stopped.
Post show, all the usual infirmaries were there. In addition to re-opening all of my cuts on my foot (And bleeding over my white gi pants) my arms and back started to go numb. And while I was bummed that the show was over (And that my kids didn't show up. ) I knew that a much needed recovery was necessary. See? I'm gonna listen to my body! Don't wanna risk over-training and cause permanent damage, y'know? I wanna get mileage out of the old carcass, and I'd DEFinitely be unable to train at the best of my abilities when I'm injured.
Yeah. What?
Anyway, post show I hit the Tower with some castmates (W/Dorajar and X coming later) where we frassed/listened to bad music (Seriously. To the a$$hat who thought that a Green Day marathon was a good idea? Eat me.) and discussed awful performance art. After we left I ran into the Fabulous Former Fringe director and her hubby, Rik, Foster, etc. where I found out she was at the show as well! Well awesome blossom.
I showered and napped while Morajar made stinky veggie wraps, we read about Moab (I read my script) then headed to hot tubville before hitting the cop bar for karaoke goodness. I don't think that I've laughed that hard in a while- Specially with Carlton singing "Ape Man", Mo doing interpretive dance behind Carol-ton singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart", and 'Bean rocking out some AC/DC. Well scratch that. Some Archie Bunker looking dude sang some Shaggy...And we alllll stared.
Bed. Again. Late.
So to all the folks who missed the show...well to quote the Wizard "ha HA!" You missed out. Fiends.
The weekend was too toooooo busy, but remarkably enjoyable. It all started on Thursday night into Frrrrriday.
I took a little half day so that I could get home and nap/pop a couple of IB's before the show. We were blessed with good crowds nightly, and the biggest surprise was that 'Bean, AL, Rusty, Portana, and RSvP came out to see us on Friday night. (I shouldn'ta turned my back on RSvP though. One second I was talking to AL, the next he was charmin' Marvin the crowd. Folks, he's been doing this to me since I was in the 8th grade. Frass! And the next moment he was throwing hook kicks over Matty-boom boom's head. In nice dress slacks. My mother would be mortified. I just thought it was cool that he could do'em w/o stretching out first.) Party foul of the evening was that I ripped out the crotch of my jeans while stretching and exacerbated it during fight call. I mean, it was already frayed quite a bit. I just didn't expect my bits to have so much...exposure.
Afterwards, we mosey'ed on over to Dorajar's for a small intimate gathering...and I proceeded to eat my weight in chocolate espresso truffles and cheese. I also got into an argument with Sciple regarding the name of the brutish robot Neanderthal that was the arch-nemesis of Super Joe Commando's Adventure team. (He was absolutely positive it wasn't in the GI Joe canon, and I had too much wine to effectively Google the stupid thing. And I know you wanna know what we nerd-burgers were talking about:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:GIJoeIntruderCommander.jpg
Sats...well I just didn't sleep in like I shoulda. I got up, split with Dorajar and went home to frass around for a bit. (Read: Clean) hadda brief dinner, did another show (Heisse Carl from work, LSA+Tim, Tootchie, etc. I just realized that I could totally be getting my days and audience members mixed up) And Gabpril. At this showza, Chowie's weefie took some awesome pics which I'll post like toast when I get a copy of the CD. Afterwards I went to a HUGE old party at Redwright's, frassed, talked 7th grade politic with Frank, met "The Baron", and again...stayed up way. Too. Late. Snnxxkzzk
Sunds..MAMA's day (Where our illustrious scoundrel was unable to contact his mother, since she and papa-san were in...Lisbon? I think?) Went jogging with Dorajar nice N early before she split to hang with her mama. Attempted another omelette brefkist for myself (With the accompanying veggie sausages and whole wheat English muff-muff. The egg turned out all right, but broke in mid-flip. Frass!!!!!)
It was a great final show in terms of audience-age. KWT and clan were there, as was Phyllis and her mama...so we were guaranteed the most raucous and unique sounding laughter throughout the show (Including the heaviest laughter during the more obscure theatrical references) For yours truly it was a so-so show. Even with 800 mgs of IB, I was at the Zenith of pain in terms of soreness. I f#cked up my kip-up for the first time during the run, I f#cked up the Wizard fight (Again) And in spite of a tutorial from Robby on how to do a helicopter safely & correctly? I managed one rotation before my body just...stopped.
Post show, all the usual infirmaries were there. In addition to re-opening all of my cuts on my foot (And bleeding over my white gi pants) my arms and back started to go numb. And while I was bummed that the show was over (And that my kids didn't show up. ) I knew that a much needed recovery was necessary. See? I'm gonna listen to my body! Don't wanna risk over-training and cause permanent damage, y'know? I wanna get mileage out of the old carcass, and I'd DEFinitely be unable to train at the best of my abilities when I'm injured.
Yeah. What?
Anyway, post show I hit the Tower with some castmates (W/Dorajar and X coming later) where we frassed/listened to bad music (Seriously. To the a$$hat who thought that a Green Day marathon was a good idea? Eat me.) and discussed awful performance art. After we left I ran into the Fabulous Former Fringe director and her hubby, Rik, Foster, etc. where I found out she was at the show as well! Well awesome blossom.
I showered and napped while Morajar made stinky veggie wraps, we read about Moab (I read my script) then headed to hot tubville before hitting the cop bar for karaoke goodness. I don't think that I've laughed that hard in a while- Specially with Carlton singing "Ape Man", Mo doing interpretive dance behind Carol-ton singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart", and 'Bean rocking out some AC/DC. Well scratch that. Some Archie Bunker looking dude sang some Shaggy...And we alllll stared.
Bed. Again. Late.
So to all the folks who missed the show...well to quote the Wizard "ha HA!" You missed out. Fiends.
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