my karate is for real

love me some mcbride

2010-09-22T14:34:00.000-05:00

Kenny Powers Gets Signed By K-Swiss - watch more funny videos

K-muthafuckin'-SWISS!

tunneling out

2010-08-24T18:20:00.000-05:00

I'm alive. I swear.

Wow. Do I miss this place.

Our firewalls at work updated/changed and now while I have non-stop access to facebook, I can't log into blogger, which makes posting here a bit of a challenge.

When I'm inspired to write, it always seems to hit at a "offline" time...and when I do have access (like now), it's on a clock ticking down...and man, I seriously can't produce on a stopwatch. A deadline, sure, but a stopwatch? Nope.

So I am around. I will find a solution. My need to spew my brain parts into the void hasn't altered and distance certainly has made the heart grow fonder.

So, fear not brave readers. The two of you just have to hang in there a bit longer and I'll be back.

With a vengence. Because, I have a lot of anger...so I might as well put it to use.

xoxo

rebar

While On My Way To Hell - 365 Sketches Project

2010-05-19T12:35:00.002-05:00

While On My Way To Hell is the sketch show I'm directing as part of the insanity which Joe Janes has wrought upon this earth better known as, 365 Sketches Project.

Joe Janes wrote one sketch per day and posted it to his blog every single day for a year.

Now, the world gets a chance to explore a year's worth of comedy writing:
...from the mind of one man
...under the eyeballs of 26 directors
...thru the commitment of 117 actors
...over the course of 10 nights.

Do you have the balls to witness this marvel?
You've got 26 chances to man up and do it.

Tickets can be purchased here.
Again. There are 26 shows. Make sure you click the right date!

While On My Way To Hell will be performed ONE NIGHT ONLY!
Saturday, June 5 at 10pm (sharp)
Directed by Rebecca Langguth
Performed by Kim Boler, John Brewster, Trey Hanks, Briana Hansen, Ben Harpe and Brett McGovern
Tickets for this are $10 (and include free Goose Island Beer, yo.)
Performing at Strawdog Theater, 3829 North Broadway St, Chicago.

They are going fast, I'd get them toot sweet!

a tale told by a fool

2010-05-18T16:23:00.000-05:00

This is the story I told at the SKALD event last weekend.

I had a hard time settling on the right story, in fact, I never remember it being this hard to pin one down. I changed my mind a dozen or more times over the last week and literally committed to this story about 24 hours prior to the competition. I wrote it the night before and edited it like nuts the day of...and just didn't give myself enough time to properly commit it to memory or time it out. (Contestants are only allowed 7 minutes to tell your story, then the lights dim and go out completely 30 seconds later.)

Of course, now I know where I wasted time...and how I would continue to edit it, but I will put it down here, in it's complete and long-winded goodness.  This occurrence happened in 1982. That's 28 years ago. I never told it to my parents, until my mom asked me, a couple days later, what story I told.

I figured, it's too late for her to ground me from going to the roller rink, so I fessed up.

Maybe, if he asks nicely, I'll tell it to my Pops.
Of course, he will still try to ground me.

Please insert knowing glances and glares where you feel I might have put them to really sell the shit out of this not-so-tall tale.

*********************************************

When I was a kid, I was what you might call "scrappy."

I was small for my age and rail thin. So much so, for a time, my parents thought I might have a tape worm or some rare aberrant illness. I was fine. I was healthy. I was just a grade A tomboy.

I lived to run and climb and brawl with boys just to show them I was their equal. My two role models were Huck Finn and Laverne De Fazio .

There wasn't a day that I didn't have some form of bruise or scab on my body, which I wore as a badge of honor and couldn't wait to amaze you with the story of how I overcame some perceived physical adversity.

And while I pretty much grew out of that stage by middle school, something happened there that proved to me other folks still saw me that way. Scrappy.

I recently read a quote by a 14th century scholar named Desiderius Erasmus of Rotterdam...let's call him "Desi." Desi was a Dutch Renaissance humanist and a Catholic priest and a theologian who enjoyed working on both religious texts and satirical works.

I am an American secularist who enjoys burritos.
So, we have a lot in common.

Actually, even though we lived centuries apart, I feel as though we might see the world through the same perspective. He was a very prolific writer and critic. You may think you don't know Desi, but you've heard his stuff.   He's credited for coining the adage, "In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king."

Not too shabby.

He's also credited for originating the phrase, "Pandora's box."

See, when he was translating it from the original Greek into Latin, he misinterpreted "pithos" (which means storage jar) with pyxis (which means box.) So, really, we should have been talking about Pandora's Jar for the last 600 years...but for my man Desi's screw up.

But the quote of his that's stuck in my brain is this...

The fox has many tricks. The hedgehog has but one. But, that is the best of them all.

Now, most people probably wouldn't associate their power animal with the hedgehog. I mean, it's not the most dynamic or virtuous creature. But, something about it rings true to me.

When I was 12, our school district was drawn in such a way that while I lived 10 minutes from the nearest junior high, I instead rode a bus for an hour to the school our house was zoned for.

It was a rare occasion that I ever stayed after school, as both my parents worked and there was no public transportation available. One day, my friend, Bonnie Begley wanted to stay after school to try out for volleyball and asked if I'd try out with her. That her mother would pick us up and drive us home.

Turns out, while scrappy, I was still pretty short and didn't have much "jump" in me and Bonnie was kind of a klutz. She was much more adept at playing the violin and was first chair in our school orchestra.

We decided that volleyball just wasn't for us.

Afterwards, we waited in the parking lot behind the school. Her mom hadn't arrived with the other parents and the lot starts clearing out pretty quickly. Students, parents...we even said goodbye to our teachers as they left.

Pretty soon, we were the only ones there, standing in the gravel, waiting for her mom's van to pull in and kick up a chalky white cloud of dust.

It was an early fall day, still sunny out with a blue sky and a nice breeze. We stood and talked about...whatever 12 year old girls talked about in 1982.

We suddenly noticed a group of boys approaching from the far side of the parking lot. They came from the direction of the high school that was only a few blocks away. Sauntering across the gravel, in no big hurry...but directly toward the two of us.

Two awkward 12 year old girls, standing alone outside a locked school.

Looking back, I'm sure the boys weren't more than 14 or 15 at best.
But to us, they looked tall.
And lanky.
And older.

Something was up.

While they were still a distance away, Bonnie turned and quietly pushed the violin case into my arms and said, "Don't let go of this."

Then they were there, standing in front of us, all smiles and chatty.
In a blink of an eye one of them made a grab for the violin.

I did the only thing I could think of, the only reaction my body could muster.
I threw myself on the ground and curled myself around that violin case.

Like a hedgehog.
A quill-less, clueless, spineless hedgehog.

Two of the boys grabbed Bonnie by the arms and held her while the other two tried to pry the case from my arms with little success.

And so, they started kicking me.

They kicked me in my arms.
In my legs.
They kicked me in my back.
Over and over and over and harder and harder.

The kicking seemed to go on forever...and then Bonnie screamed out in pain. And the kicking stopped. I looked over at Bonnie holding her arm and crying.

One of the boys immediately started apologising to her, afraid that he hurt her arm by holding it too tightly. All four of them, in that instant because boys again. Scared little boys, realising that they went too far.

They all apologized again to Bonnie and ran off.
Of course, her arm was fine. She was faking her injury.

I, on the other hand, was still lying fetal on the ground.*

Without saying a word to each other, Bonnie helped me to my feet and started dusting the gravel marks off my clothes. I handed her back her violin and in the next heartbeat, her mother's van pulled into the parking lot.

Bonnie sat in the front seat while I climbed in back. She told her mother all about the tryouts and how lousy we had both done. We knew in an instant if we told our parents what had transpired that neither of us would ever be allowed to stay after school again.

We wouldn't be praised for besting four high school boys with our grit and quick thinking.  Instead, the small measure of freedom we were recently granted would have been unjustly revoked.

[I can not speak for Bonnie, but to this day, neither of my parents know the true story of what went down in that parking lot.]

I stared out the window, in what I'm sure her mom considered my bitter disappointment as an athlete.

But as the world rushed by my window, I couldn't stop berating myself.

I had fallen to the ground instead of standing my ground.
I had let some stupid boys kick me over and over instead of making them eat gravel.
Or feel the pointy end of my elbow in their gullets.
Or let loose with a well placed knee.

I had never lied down and let someone hurt me before.

Why didn't I fight back?
Why didn't I defend myself?

I wasn't afraid. I wasn't. Sure I was outnumbered and knew that Bonnie wasn't about to throw down, but I was so baffled by my own response after years of never taking crap from a bully.

It took me a long time to realize that I did the right thing. The only thing. That my brain and body in an instant did the math and knew the only choice we had of keeping that violin was to curl up and wait for this brutal piece of business to pass.

Of course, I know that Desi didn't write that adage to make me ponder on my lack of bold response.

I'm sure he meant to imbue something grander in scale in his allusion to such a creature. That if we hold true to our nature...our instincts will help us weather the fray.

Still, he reminded me that I will forever have that tomboy...that girl...that scrappy little porcupine inside of me.

That I am still scrappy.
I am a scrapper.

The fox has many tricks. The hedgehog has but one. But, that is the best of them all.

*this is when my 7 minutes expired and the lights started to ebb, so I quickly wrapped it up with a very edited ending. The audience did not hear the whole end of the story. You get to. Lucky duck.

schooled

2010-05-08T19:23:00.005-05:00

File Under: Lessons Learned from the Inebriated

Lesson One: Do not get on a boat with more than one douchebag. If you need clues on how to spot a douchebag, please see our reference manual, Douchebags. They Live Among Us.

Lesson Two: Do not get on a boat that is zoned for six, when there is already 7 people aboard.

Lesson Three: In case of eminent plunge into freezing cold drink, Drop the Motherfucking Wine Bottle.

Lesson Four: If you are "fall down drunk" drunk, there is a 75% chance that you're going back in. There is no Pass Go for you. You're going back into the drink.

Lesson Five: The douchebag will always come to the aide of the blonde first.

Lesson Six: Elbowing your friend in the back to try to balance yourself will karmicly payoff by having a drunkass doucebag pull your arm out of its socket in his attempts "save you." You earned that trip to the ER.

Lesson Seven: It isn't "romantic" or "hip" to pay a couple of teen douches with a sixer in exchange for a private party on their dingy. Better to pony up and pay full dollar for the certified canal cruise. They at the very least, have life preservers and will not drive the boat away from your sinking drunk ass to save themselves.

Viva El Nederlanders!

by request

2010-04-30T14:50:00.016-05:00

**WARNING. SPOILER. WHAT HAVE YOU.**
This is the story I performed live at CHIRP'S Uncommon Ground fundraiser, "The First Time." It's about my first endeavour as a sexual personage. You've seriously been warned. I apologize for my godawful abuse of ellipses. This was written as a performance peice, so punctuation was pretty low on my concern list.

Picture if you will...

A small dorm room, circa 1987, in a college town somewhere in the great state of Illinois. Four walls of concrete blocks painted over in industrial off-white.

I had finished high school with the satisfying notion that I could wait for college.

That I would wait for an intellectual man.
I would wait for a creative man.
I would wait for a sharply witty man.

I waited three days.

In the room a young man of 19 stands in profile at the end of a bed. He stands, if memory serves, fully naked in front of his stereo, sifting through a pile of CDs.

As I lie in his bed with the covers pulled up to my chin, I look at him.

And while this is likely the first time I've ever seen a man completely in, what my grandmother referred to as, "the buff ," what I recall immediately isn't that he was naked. Although, I'm sure I stared bug-eyed at the spectacle of anatomy on display before me.

The only image my brain can register is watching him carefully making his musical selection and then the precise way the CD drawer mechanically opens...and closes.

And then there is music.

What that music is exactly?
I can't say for sure.
Oh...I can narrow it down.
Because, Big Poppa only had two CD's on that specific playlist.

It was either Rumours, the eleventh studio album by British-American rock band Fleetwood Mac...or the soundtrack to Amadeus.

Now, I would like to take a moment and encourage each and every one of you, at some point in your life (and I really hope you take this small piece of advice to heart)...to throw caution to the wind...and fuck your brains out to Mozart.

Nothing makes sex seem more like an otherworldly event than having oboes come in right as you're reaching climax.

I would mention the bassoons, but some things you need to discover on your own.

In fact, I dare you to have sex while listening to Symphony No. 25 in G Minor and not believe, with every fiber of your being...that Mozart wrote it specifically to underscore your ride on Willy Wonka's Glass Elevator.

Oh. I'll say it.

Mozart is the symphonic equivalent to Al Green's Greatest Hits Volumes 1 and 2.

But, I digress.

That very first night we were together, I'll admit, I really didn't notice the music. There was some other shit going down that pretty much had my full attention. It was in the background. A lovely undercurrent to the proceedings.

Years later, looking back...it occurs to me that we were doing it...to a Requiem.

1. Requiem (via the Roman Catholic Church)
a. A mass for a deceased person.
b. A musical composition for such a mass.
c. A hymn, composition or service for the dead.
d. In music, a mass for one or more dead persons, containing biblical passages and prayers for the admission of the dead into heaven.

Uhmm...okay...maybe we weren't listening to a death hymn the first time I did it....

Maybe...

Maybe, we were listening to the critically acclaimed, Grammy award winning Rumours, which has sold over 40 million copies since it's release in 1977! It is, after all, the 10th best selling album in US history!

I mean, there are a ton of kickass songs on that album.

Like...You Make Loving Fun!
Which, incidentally, Christy McVie wrote about her boyfriend...
Who was also Fleetwood Mac's lighting designer....
Who she just happened to start banging right after she split from her husband and band mate, John McVie.

Or...maybe, Go Your Own Way.
Penned by Lindsay Buckingham...
A song he wrote about his band mate Stevie Nicks...
With whom he had just ended an on again/off again romantic relationship?

Fuck.

Did I mention that, during the recording of the album, Mick Fleetwood discovered that his wife had an affair with his best friend?

Yeah.
These are my choices.

I can either recall that the soundtrack of my first sexual encounter was - a record about romantic dysfunction, personal turmoil, anger, recrimination and loss...

or a death hymn.

Funny thing is the boy never asked me what I wanted to listen to.
For two years the boy never asked.

And while I grew to enjoy the ever present one-two punch of the pop-rock feel of The Chain and the powerful orchestrations of Don Giovanni, not to mention the fact that either was a pretty good indication that at least two people in the room would be getting lucky that night...

I definitely would have enjoyed a third option.

And so, I choose to rewrite my history.

I want to pull the covers back up to my chin, look at the naked man at the end of the bed and dream of a different track.

A song, still as melancholy and infused with suffering and longing - because, obviously, that works for me - but, one that my 18 year old self, had she been sifting through her own CDs, would have fully embraced.

I choose Morrissey.

I choose The Smiths.

And I dedicate a new-wave sex dirge to that girl still hanging out under the sheets.

track marks

2010-04-29T14:18:00.010-05:00

Here's the thing...
I love performing.

Every part of me, down to the double helix of my DNA longs to have an audience pay attention when words fall out of my mouth.

Whether or not I'm reading words I wrote, reciting ones someone else penned or standing there making it all up on the spot, entirely out of whole cloth? That's an equation that ends with Me + talky = You listen with rapt devotion.

It's that part of myself that I both adore (the ability to spark an adrenaline rush quicker than a junkie can heat up a spoon full of horse) and despise (the soul crushing need for that junkie high.)

Whether it's at a backyard bbq or on stage front and center, the spotlight is my crack.

And while it's true that admitting you have a problem is the first step, the actual act of admitting that fact aloud is yet another chance to make someone listen to something you have to say....about yourself.

Since I'm too brain dead to come up with a less obvious analogy, we'll run with it. Like a junkie, I can go into rehab.

I can stay far enough away from the stage - as a writer or director or costumer - that I don't burn myself with the proverbial spoon.

But, when you hang down the block from the crack house...temptation is a mere dime bag away.

Last night I fell off the wagon...in the most glorious way. I was invited to participate in CHIRP's (Chicago Independent Radio Project) funky fundraiser, The First Time, at Uncommon Ground - an out and out fantastic event.

Each of the performers - Scott Smith, Margaret Hicks, Paige Worthy, Leah Jones, Karen Louis, Steve Frisbie, Jocelyn Geboy and myself - hit the stage to regale the crowd with a story which was immediately followed by a lovely rendition of a song connected to the story in some way.

The theme of the night was...well...about your first time. Doin' it.

And while there were a lot of shared moments of frustration and heartbreak, there were equal (if not more so) moments of balls out hilarity.

The trio of musicians, the aformentioned Steve on guitar, Liam Davis on guitar/piano and Gerald Dowd on drums/guitar - holy schnikes! I've been letting out sigh after sigh, wishing I could get my hands on a recording of the covers they performed last night. Marvin Gaye, The Grateful Dead, The Smiths, Death Cab for Cutie, Michael Penn, Modern English, Extreme ...

Dude.

The cover of More Than Words had the crowd singing along to the point where we nearly tore the roof off the mutha!

And the final song - Van Morrison's Madam George - was so full of loveliness...you could have heard a pin drop, the crowd sat so perfectly still with listening.

Honestly, I wanted to pull a bottle out of my pocket and pour that moment inside, Jim Croce style.

For my part, standing up there, telling my own tale of comic woe...it reminded me why I spent so much of my 20's and 30's onstage. And while I've kept my performer's life on the down low for the past few years - only performing once or twice a year (if that) - just putting my toe onstage brought it all back in a rush.

I need my fix, yo.
The genie is out of the bottle and I'm not sure I can put her back in.

leon's definitely getting larger. again.

2010-04-14T10:40:00.006-05:00

So here I am.

Once again.

Staring at that wagon I need to climb back up on towards dropping weight and getting healthier.

I am my own biggest hurdle and let me tell you, I'm very talented at getting in my own way.

It's amazing how logical and reasonable doing the right thing for yourself can be...and equally stunning how easy it is to ignore your own mindset and fall into extremely bad patterns.

Of course, that fall is cushioned by burritos, my friends.
Also known as my friend, the burrito. (who is only pretending to be my friend. sigh.)

I've never had to overcome an addiction like smoking or drinking or shopping [insert any addiction you may partake in or have been witness to.] But, the way I continue to fall off the wagon has got to be similar to a smoker giving in to that physical craving for some nicotine or the alkie's perceived comfort from a bottle.

It's literally a daily battle. Whenever I start to feel cocky about small successes, that's when I bend...which ultimately leads to the fall.

I've been watching quite a bit of Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution and while the cynic in me cries out about ratings and ad dollars, I can't help but be moved by what I perceive to be his sincere desire to inspire folks to put down the frozen pizza and pick up a wok.

Here's his TED talk on the subject that I feel cuts to the quick - it uses clips from the show and covers all of the salient points in a quick 20 minutes:

I've also been fairly mortified by a newish blog run by a grade school teacher in my own state regarding what her students are being given to eat. It's her own year long version of Super Size Me. At her school, kids get 20 minutes to eat this crap...and there's no recess anymore. This school only gets gym class once a week. It boggles the mind.

Kids are all energy. Add a diet high in sugar (and high fructose corn syrup) and 0% way to burn off any of it? How do teachers get anything accomplished in a day? Brains need nutrients, yo.

I don't know about you, but I got way more exercise running around at recess versus waiting for my "turn" in gym. Grade school with no recess? That's criminal. CRIMINAL. For the kids, the teachers and any sitters/caretakers/parents who have to deal with all that unleashed post-school energy.

Sweet baby jaybus! No wonder every one's got their kids on Ritalin.

While it's just another confirmation that we as a nation of immediate gratification driven consumers are swimming in - our own bad choices. Choices we vote for with our representatives, by our purchases and with our behavior.

That we are a nation (about 2/3) of fatties who don't want to look at the big picture (no pun intended) of what we are doing to ourselves, each other and to future generations.

I was a uber healthly kid. I played sports, was nearly always the first girl picked for the team (sometimes, even before some of the boys, yo!), and was an all-around tough little sob. You did not mess with me on the kickball diamond, the soccer field or at the public swimming pool where I spent pretty much every day during summer break.

Personally, I blame puberty as a root cause for my eventual down slide...but that's a story for another day.

Here's likely my greatest challenge that I have only begun to really embrace.
While I love eating veggies and healthly stuff...I'm just not a fan of cooking. At least not at the moment (I do recall enjoying cooking for others at time.) But, cooking for myself is just a pain.

A pain/hurdle I need to figure out my way around.

teenagery

2010-04-06T11:25:00.004-05:00

Last night I caught The Factory Theater's send-up of (a segment) of 80's pop culture Hey! Dancin'!

While it wasn't entirely my cup of comic tea, there was a lot of fun and funny being thrown down onstage. Some stuff worked tremendously well, other stuff...eh, not so much for me.

The costuming was outrageously gaudy to the point that I recoiled in my own brain remembering a certain pair of leg warmers I tried to pull off. ONCE. Noah Simon was pitch perfect as the cable access station manager and Dominque Johnson as Princess (a devotee of Prince circa "Purple Rain") reminded me of one of my friends who embodied the same fervent spirit...along in my friend's case, she was devoted only to Cindy Lauper.

I also enjoyed the dry-humping quite a bit as I'm sure it will be a while before I get that slice of physical slapstick scrubbed out of my head.

What didn't work for me was the "screaming as acting" school of theater that some of the cast obviously attended. Some of the piercing delivery hit the mark, mostly though, it just kind of flat lined for me after a very short while. Oofie.

Overall, it was like watching a bit of collective history through a wildly colorful and overtly stereotypical kaleidoscope.

*******************************************************

As I waited for the bus, thinking about the show and how being a teenager was so vastly naive and tame to being one now, a conversation I had on the phone with my sister just a few hours before the show slams into my brain.

Yesterday, my nephew was punched in the mouth by a bully.

This is one of those seemingly typical bullies who pushes and shoves and verbally abuses many of his classmates. While my nephew has had run-ins with this kid before, yesterday was different.

This kid walked up to my nephew in the middle of a crowded hallway, shoved him and said, "Hit me. I dare you to hit me!" My nephew said no, he wasn't doing that....and the bully socked him in the mouth.

When he was reported to teachers by other students, the bully went AWOL from school grounds.

This was not the first time this kid has pushed or yelled at my nephew, but it was the first time he hit him.

After being called about the incident, my sister went to the school to find out exactly what had happened. The school admitted this was not the first time the kid had hit someone. While the school called the police regarding the truancy...they did not report the hitting/assault.

My nephew's mouth was swollen and bleeding - due in part, I'm sure to his braces. (As someone who wore braces, I can only imagine how much getting punched in the mouth must hurt.)

My sister decided that, had it been the first time this kid hit someone, she would have let it go and let the school handle it. But, because this was an ongoing situation and he had hit other kids and it was now escalating with her son, she decided to file a report with the police.

Her reasoning being that the kid needed help - and by ignoring this behavior and letting it slide, the school (and possibly his parents) was letting the cycle continue and build. By filing an assault report, the kid might be forced to get some counseling to deal with his anger or whatever is causing him to lash out at other kids.

The police took pictures of my nephews injuries, made a report and acknowledged to my sister that this is a kid whose name is familiar to them.

The only way for bullying to stop is when parents and the community step up.

The schools will not take on the responsibility, nor should it fully lie at their feet.

Much of the time, the outcome of bullying is damaged kids.
It's damaging to the victims, the witnesses and the bullies themselves.

More often than it should, it ends tragically.

On a positive note, and the thought I just can't get out of my head is how impressed I am with my nephew. He's not a scrawny, fearful little kid. He could have easily mirrored the anger that was being directed at him and, in the name of self-defense, hit back. But, he didn't.

When his friends asked him why he didn't defend himself he said, "Getting in a fight would get me an automatic suspension. He's not worth it. I want to be in school."

My nephew isn't a boy scout. He'll sneak phone calls to girls when he's grounded from the phone. He fib about chores that haven't been finished.

That boy will tell you whatever you need to hear...if it will result in consumption of a pepperoni pizza.

But, lately, when it comes to showing us the kind of character you dig down deep for, my nephew has really stepped up and shown that, as goofy a kid as his still is, he is growing into a responsible and thoughtful adult.

I'm very proud to know him.

why it's important to have friends

2010-03-30T11:54:00.003-05:00

Reason #6: They introduce you to stuff that you might have missed since you spend 40% of your day with your head up your ass.

Case in point...without Julie, I would not have this shot full of awesome in my world today.

I'll apologise for repeating myself yet again, but I love, love, love watching art influence art influence art (into infinity, yo.)

The humor, creativity and just plain sweat that went into the details of this video make me want to tell Ok Go to watch their back.

Jules, you are 2 for 2!

While On My Way To Hell

2010-03-17T14:25:00.004-05:00

If I haven't mentioned it, I'm a participating director in 365 Sketches.

Joe Janes, who is many things, but mainly what I would call, "a writer" gave himself a challenge to write one sketch a day for a year. Fuck yeah, he did it!

Now, with the assistance of Don Hall, every single one of those sketches will be performed in 26 revues over ten nights in June at the Strawdog Theater's Hugen Hall (more show info as we approach June.) Each revue will be compromised of two week's worth of sketches.

I'm directing weeks 13 and 14, which Joe has so aptly titled, "While On My Way To Hell."

These are truly sketches which show a different, sometimes darker side to Mr. Janes...and man, I adore them. Darkly humorous, heartbreakingly honest at points - every time I read them, I get a little more excited to put a cast together and run them.

If you're interested in being a part of my cast (or any of the other 25 revues), you can audition for the show (or, if we've worked together before, drop me a line) next Saturday, March 27th.

There is currently a wait list, but I'm telling you, some yahoo will cancel at the last minute or blow off the audition, because there are always inconsiderate idiots who do that shit.

So, getting on the wait list is a good idea.

Since this is a one night only show, there will likely only be a few intensive rehearsals scheduled. This is one of those opportunities to be involved with something pretty unique and exciting...with a small time commitment.

Interested?

To schedule a slot (or get on the wait list) email Joe at joejanes1065@gmail.com and he'll get back to you with a time slot.

WHERE: Zoo Studios, 4001 N Ravenswood (just off the Irving Pk Brown line stop)
WHEN: Saturday, March 27th from 11-6pm
WHAT: Small group auditions - improvisation and cold readings.

Some of the other talented director types you'll be auditioning for include: Rich Baker, Mary Jo Bolduc, Regan Davis, Becky Eldridge, Jen Ellison, David Rocco Facchini, Jason Fleece, Lillie Frances, Rose Kruger, Bina Martin, Scott Olson, Chris Othic, Rinska Prestinary Amanda Roundtree, Tony Soto, Rachel Staelens, Derek Van Tassel, Trish Vignola, Rebekah Walendzak and Wendi Weber.

The show I'm directing will run on Saturday, June 5th at 10pm.

I am uber stoked about this project. Uber, yo!

5 days and counting

2010-03-14T08:43:00.003-05:00

I have decided that it is time that I can be excited about going to Vegas (while being broke) and not feel guilty about it.

And thanks to BV, I have the first song for the official playlist for the trip.

As Bries put it so succinctly, this is a remix that makes liking KeSha not feel dirty.

an open letter to Mars, Incorporated

2010-02-16T19:58:00.002-06:00

Dear Mars Incorporated,

RE: Your Agency Who is Creating These Snickers Ads.

Please keep on bringing this magic into the world.

This is 180 degrees from your past couple of godawful campaigns which forced us to look at brain collapsing words like "Hungerectomy," "Peanutopolis" and "Substantialiscious."

Granted, I make up horrible words all the time.

But, I don't slap them on the side of a bus and unleash them unto an unsuspecting public. You were not part of the answer back then, Mars. You were a part of the problem...to turn our nation state into a horde of Beavi.*

But with this new campaign...I forgive you and welcome you back with open arms.

While I rarely partake in a Snickers, I can promise to do you a proper and pick up a Milky Way Midnight.

Keep it coming.

*the plural of Beavis

just do it

2010-02-07T08:19:00.005-06:00

Maybe it's because I've had less than 5 hours sleep.

Maybe it's because I'm tired of the Dems rolling over on all the bullshit that FOX, the tea baggers and a number of conservative/republicans have been slinging for months and I agree that turning on each other right now over something like this is the last thing we need.

Maybe it's that I'd give my left nut (I have a pair under my bed) to hear once, JUST ONCE, someone in Washington just let down their guard and really say what they are really thinking, instead of what is expected...

But, man. This SNL monologue hit me just right.

I'm no fan of Rahm Emanuel, per se, and I think that this is Andy Samberg's imitation of Mark Walhberg channeling Emaunel...but, hell, it works for me.

"In conclusion, boo fucking hoo. Get over it."

In other news...Dave Grohl has another band?
Jaybus. I'm always the last to know.

get yourself a sweet Madonna

2010-02-04T20:15:00.002-06:00

Feeling like I've spent a night in the box.

second banana

2010-01-30T12:05:00.003-06:00

Olive just turned 11, yo.

I wish I had some awesome video of her acting a fool, but
1) I don't have a camera and
2) the Beast is like Greta Garbo when it comes to being photographed.

Instead, you'll have to settle for this:

Wow. That is one shitty magician. I mean, the dog performs well (and rocks those shades), but that guy's slight of hand is on the level of a 6 year old trying to kick a 5 year coke habit.

Still, I wish I had the balls to whore Olive out on this level.

A level which includes a website, youtube videos, press releases and directions to the dog's facebook page. Bitch, it ain't like you Benji or shit.

Wait. Hold that thought on whoring my dog out. I just saw this video...

That pooch is NOT having it, yo. Get me off of this stand, take this hat from around my neck and fucking listen to me when I'm barking at you.

And while I am occassionaly guilty of putting a sweater on Olive (when the temps get sub zero and the snow is higher than her belly), I will proclaim loudly that anyone who puts a speedo on a dog should be sterilized.

I find it to be not at all coincidental that, at the moment,"How much fun is this for you?" that "Bobby" makes his true feelings known to the camera, but exposing his poop chute.

Basically...what I'm saying...fuck it.

I just wish Olive could skateboard.

carpe diem

2010-01-29T12:17:00.007-06:00

Okay. So, maybe you're a little trepidacious....

You've been burned by new plays before.

You don't know if you're ready to gamble your heart away.

But a life lived in fear is a life half lived, my friend.

Regret can eat your liver, if you let it...

So, Come On Down to the Storefront Theater (66 E. Randolph), sit amongst friends and neighbors and drink in the Hopper kool-aid! It's fortified with lye!*

Photos by John Sisson

Honest! You'll want to tell all your friends about the good time you had at The (edward) Hopper Project!

*sorry. can't resist the lure of an inside joke!

vote...i double dog dare you

2010-01-27T11:57:00.005-06:00

I am less than a week away from my 15+ hour day as an election judge.

I know that voting in primaries is about the least sexy/interesting/recreational thing one can do on a Tuesday, but you know...primaries do impact elections...and I think you all know how I feel about an individual's duty to vote.

(Uhm...you should totally do it. I bet someone in your family at some point in history was refused the right to vote. Immigrants, Woman, Minorities, etc. They would kick this entire nation in the balls if they knew how apathetic we can be about the process electing our local and national representatives.)

And yeah, it's confusing and the ads suck and who has time to figure it all out?

I'm with you.
And I'm here to help.

A great place to start is eVoter.com, where you can find your polling place and see a sample ballot.

I find those ballots pretty helpful.
- You can skip researching the seats that only have one candidate *
- You can focus on the races that you deem the most important of your time/resources.
- If you bring in your list of folks you already know you want to vote for, the actually process goes by SO much faster!
- Lastly, one of many of these folks will be running in November...and you'll be that much more knowledgeable about their candidacy.

*Hell, if you register Green Party for the primary, you only have to actually choose a candidate for one position as, aside from two folks running for Cook County Board President, they only have one person per role running. Bingo Bango, you're done, Greenie!

Also, eVoter has an option on the ballot page to show who received endorsements from various organizations including: Sun Times, Federation of Labor, Citizens for Ethics, Sierra Club and so on.

If you want to see who's the most green candidate, Sierra Club should point you to them. If you are pro-Union, Labor might give you some direction.

In addition, some of the candidates have links to "statements" and other bio and press info.

The point is, with the internet and a reasonably small investment in time, you can be up on the candidates and make a more informed decision.

Bingo. Bango.

Photo by Sarah-Ji

my new secret boyfriend

2010-01-26T12:04:00.003-06:00

I am in LOVE with the Wu Tang Clan and Beatles mash-up, The Magical Mystery Chambers conceived and mixed by Tom Caruana.

I am in LOVE with it.

It puts a secret smile on my face.

It makes me want to put my hands in the air and wave them as if I just didn't care.

In fact, I want to shake the man's hand for taking such divergent sounds, tones and beats and making them smooth and dirty and sweet. (Thank you, Tom Caruana. Thank you.)

Highly recommended tracks: C.R.E.A.M., Uh-Huh, R.E.C. Room and Save Me Dear.

I totally want to marry this download.

influence and perspective

2010-01-24T15:47:00.002-06:00

I'm fairly sure, at least in my time at WNEP, we've never had as much press coverage for one show, as we've been granted for Hopper.

As an off-loop theater company (with 100 other small theaters competing for press as well as the decrease in arts coverage - too many shows, not enough reviewers, publications cutting back in size and scope - most reviews are barely more than a paragraph, these days), to have so many reviewers interested in Hopper, we're in a very fortunate and rare position to get such a cross-section of feedback. See D-Ray's blog for links to all the reviews.

While the reviews have been all over the board - some like the comedy, some prefer the drama, some want more of a traditional story arc, some wanted less, some loved the grand scale of a giant set and cast, some thought it was too far reaching, some believed there were "too many cooks" in the writing and some really dug the whole kit and kaboodle.

Mostly, what I've been interested and asking folks who come see the show is:
1) Did you enjoy the show? and
2) What do you think about Edward Hopper?

I wish I had kept better statistical data, because, again, it's been all over the board.

Some folks love Hopper's work.
Some folks are only really familiar with "Nighthawks."
Some folks know the painting...but only as pop art parody.
Some folks really are not a fan of his work.
Some folks were "meh" about him. (Why those folks came to the show? I suspect to support someone working on it, and other folks said they support DCA shows in general...which is really outstanding, as a rule.)

When you look at any painting, you find your own story and connect emotions with it that someone standing right next to you, well, they'll have a completely different tact on it. Theater is very much like this reaction.

Your personal experience impacts your perception.

Yes, yes...that statement can be true about all things throughout life.
But, looking at a painting or watching a play almost seems to magnify this result.

My favorite responses have been such...

"I went to the Art Institute today and looked at the painting before I came and saw the show."

"I am not a fan of Hopper. I generally find his work to be isolating and depressing. But, I loved this show!"

"What painting was that scene from?"

"Afterwards, I went online and looked at a bunch of his stuff. I really liked it!"

Personally, the greatest compliment I can ever give to a show is that I want more. If it's from a book, I want to read the book. If it's inspired by history or a true story, I want to research it and learn more.

In our case, if our show puts the desire in someone to see more of Hopper's works? I feel like we won.

It's an interesting cycle. Hopper creates, which influences us to create, which influences some folks to reconsider (or consider for the first time) Hopper's work. Or who knows? Maybe this show will inspire someone else to create something?

Of course the circle of influence is stretches beyond Hopper alone.

Speaking for myself, I reimmersed myself in the works of Studs Terkel and Nelson Algren as I was writing the pieces I submitted for the show, not to mention all the research I did for the costume design for the show. D-Ray's direction was very much influenced visually by Joseph Cornell along with 50's jazz music he uses in the show, along with other influences I'm probably unaware of.

In my mind, Art, in a way, is like paying it forward.

Brass tacks? Art is sharing. Sharing an idea or a feeling or a laugh. Edward Hopper (1882 - 1967) saw something and decided to put in on canvas decades ago. I'll never know what he was feeling that day, or what he might have wanted me to feel about it...but I have a reaction to it all the same.

His work inspired many people to create this show, which (hopefully) will influence some folks to look at his work with new eyes, perhaps. Or encourage them to put their coins on the counter and see another play by another small off-Loop theater company in the future. Who knows.

Art creates art. Art is encouraging. Art is free speech. Art is fun. Art is a release. Art is connection. Art is so many things. And pretty much? All of those things are a good thing.

I am often fascinated by the influence of art.
How the ripples can stretch out, sometimes quietly and find it's impact years later.

Here is a song. It is one of my personal favorites.
Originally written and recorded in 1964, it never made it to the charts.

Still, this song went on to influence many folks.

Nearly 20 years later, an English band re-recorded it to much success (the first version I heard and loved.) And more bands and artists continue to put their stamp on it.

But, once I heard the original, I was struck by how a piece of art can, by critical and/or financial standards, "fail" - and yet still be a beautiful piece of work that still ripples out.

I'm not comparing this to Hopper directly...I consider our production to be a complete success.

I'm only using this as an example of how art can reach across the years to impact other artists and "civilians" across the globe...and how, when I like something, I want to know as much as I can about it.

Enjoy.

Tainted Love (1964)
Written by Ed Cobb (1938 - 1999)
Originally Recorded by Gloria Jones

over my shoulder (the 2009 edition)

2010-01-20T13:24:00.004-06:00

I'm stealing a meme (again) from notnits: Post the first line from each month of your blog over the previous year.

While self-evaluation is great, I'm not a fan of sitting through "year in reviews" (or making you do the same), but I found this entertaining...and a tad revealing last time, so...why not.

I'm following my pattern of last year and adding the title of the entry (note the parentheses) and linking to the full entry (hit the month), if you're curious to see where the stray thought ended up.

JANUARY: (over my shoulder) I've been avoiding doing one of those "year in reviews."

FEBRUARY: (hiro worship) Lately, I've noticed that Time has been swirling around me...but it came to a slamming halt when his car hit my car this AM.

MARCH: (major) First, the meme: 1. List three of your major artistic influences and three unexpected ones.

APRIL: (back to life) I'll assume that most if not all of you know that I had a fairly serious health issue that laid me out last week. It's improving, but ongoing and I'm sure I'll talk about it at length some other time.

MAY: (rock paper scissors lizard spock) Next week, I'm taking a sabbatical from blogging as we enter the final phase of getting the show up on its feet.

JUNE: (precious) At the end of the day, when I finally made it back to my office, and as I was hacking my lungs out, an office mate peered around my cube and told me I sounded just like Gollum.

JULY: (slowly i turn) Yeah. I've been gone.

AUGUST: (give me these moments back) So, I'm thinking you might have heard by now.

SEPTEMBER: (the lost footage) If you missed it on FB, John put together this "trailer" for our show, which if very helpful, when you're trying to describe a live, sci-fi, improv show and folks look at you funny.

OCTOBER: (backing the wrong horse) I thought I could be quiet about the Polanski arrest.

NOVEMBER: (awol) First I was having issue with my access to the blog. "Gaw! Why can't I load this picture? Damn you to hell, Blogger!"

DECEMBER: (let it be) Many times I find myself drawing strength from the example of others.

brain sorbet

2010-01-20T09:26:00.002-06:00

Just when I start to think that James Franco is edging on overexposure, I see something like this and it just makes me root for him all over again.

[From April 2009]

feedback

2010-01-19T10:16:00.010-06:00

Here's the truth about reviews.

Some of it is actual constructive criticism. Some of it is just pulpy word play. Sometimes, it's based on personal likes/dislikes or preconceived expectations. And sometimes, it's just mean for no good reason.

Here's the truth about theater.

It's a group effort. You need a director with a focus to corral it all, but everyone has to hold onto their length of rope to keep the sail up and the boat headed toward the right destination. That's the actors, writers, technical staff, everybody. Everybody.

Photo by Sarah Jane Rhee

So when a review points out something grand, or less than such...it's a reflection on the whole, no matter which part was held to task.

I've performed in (or worked on) a lot of shows. LOTS. A few were heartbreakingly excellent, a couple were painfully bad and many more than I can count were quite entertaining (which is the very least a show should be at any given time.) All of them share one constant:

Artistic types (on the whole) seek response.

And, let's face it, positive response is 84% sweeter than negative.
We want our work to be appreciated and understood.
Or at least appreciated.

Some years back I was in a really great show. Audiences loved it, critics loved it...well, except for my character. There were seven cast members. One particularly glowing review mentioned how fucking awesome every single actor was by name (and they were)...with the exception of me. I was listed as an "also ran."

Let me tell you, years later, the thought of that review is still like a tiny splinter in my thumb. It doesn't really hurt, unless I jab at it, but it's there, just under my skin. A reminder.

The thing is, I was happy with my work in the show. (Still am.)
And thrilled that we got such a great response.

But actors are, well, we hate admitting it aloud, but we are needy, attention seeking motherfuckers. We play it cool (or learn to), but really, down deep, we just want you to tell us how fucking awesome we are.

24 hours a day.

Of course, that's highly unrealistic.
At some point, we need sleep.

So, I suspect that's why, while we try to ignore bad reviews (but sometimes can't), when we hear words that flatter our giant balloon animal egos (like the ones they use outside of car dealerships), we tend to let them wash all over us.

I've said it before and I'll say it again. I'm super proud of all the work everyone put into this show. More than once,my jaw has hit the floor at the display of talent and professionalism these folks have thrown down.

That said, if anyone could use some air in her giant balloon animal, it's me.

So, for today, I'm going to take it and run with it.
Enjoy it.
Let my brain explode, squeegee it off the wall and let it explode again.

Photo by Sarah Jane Rhee

Sun Times: Several scenes do justice to Hopper's paintings, including the winningly raw and poetic Nelson Algren-like riff that starts the show, and some exchanges of body language that capture hints of longing and disappointment.

DUDE. Nelson Algren is one of my all-time favorite writers and for someone to pick up on that tone and reference makes my brain explode and fills me with an excitement akin to Navin Johnson finding his listing in the phone book.

New City: There are eight million stories in the naked city, and WNEP lets us eavesdrop on a handful of them. Fragments, not full narratives, consistent with the mystique evoked by Hopper, create a mosaic of life. Not surprisingly, there’s a noir tone to it all, with spot-on night and the city costuming by Rebecca Langguth and a cinematic jazz soundtrack.

Although, I believe this reviewer was less keen on my writing "...the writing is spotty, ranging from clever meta-noir tone poems to ineffective melodrama."

I'm the only one (I'm pretty sure) who's pieces could be compared with a meta-noir tone poem. If you've seen the play, you'll find some ironic comedy in my writing being called "clever." Ah...callbacks.

Still, it's awfully nice to get a shout out for all the hours upon hours I spent digging through thrift stores and pulling my hair out when I lost on Ebay auctions.

So there you are.
Or there I am.
My ego. Sated for the moment.

Although...the day? She's still young.

It's a Hopper World

2010-01-18T14:31:00.007-06:00

The show...she is open.

I'm celebrating my 10th year with WNEP and I have to tell you, I'm very happy that this is the show that marks that anniversary.

- The writing is very much reflective of our company. Dry, smart, funny, dark, and awkward (in the most delicious way.)

- While we normally strive for rather simple set designs (if at all), the set Heath Hays created in tandem with Mike Durst's light design is as lush as the set for "Metaluna" (John Wilson/Sarah Gorsky), with the scale of it amped up times 10.

- The actors have been firing on all cylinders and I love to watch them bring it all into flesh and bone. Best part...they all seem to be enjoying themselves, which makes it even more delightful to watch.

- The crew is just freaking on point. ON. POINT. You wish you had these ladies in your corner. You dream you had Joe Griffin layering your world with sound.

- A special shout-out to Henri Dugas (another company member), who, in the final days of rehearsal, with very little notice, created several key set peices that you would give your eye teeth for.

- Our director, Mr. D-Ray Hall should be very proud of the beautiful and awkward caliope he fostered into being.

I'm very happy with the show.

I'm happy with the writing I put into it. I'm happy with the costuming (although, it will be a while before I costume a show this size again. Woof.) I'm happy for the small pieces of direction here and there that I've was able to offer up as Don's second pair of eyeballs.

Happy. Proud. Satisfied.

With theater, like any art form, what you see is what you want to see. What you get out is often the perspective you walked in with. Maybe you'll see something new, if you're open to it...or maybe something familiar.

For me, this show is about stepping into a painting. Stepping into a world inspired by Edward Hopper. It's likely the most Studs Terkel-esque show I think we've done (since Postmortem.) It's full of small stories about every day folks.

Some funny, some awful, but always honest. Like watching a slice of a city. So much goings on, so many small moments that add up to the bigger picture. Like any other day, it can be filled with the mundane or magic.

Of course, I prefer my magic with a large serving of mundane.

Photo by John Sisson

(by the way...that's not the painting. that's a pix from the show. chew on that.)

role models r us

2010-01-03T23:35:00.004-06:00

I had such a long day freezing my ass off tromping around this city getting Hopper schtuff done...but, suddenly...not having a car, waiting at the bus stop in 11 degrees of bone chilling cold, with five giant overstuffed bags of sundry costume peices...

It all melts away when I watch this.

Stephen Colbert was one of the folks who taught me about improv, writing and sketch comedy years ago. I continue to learn from his example (and his fine staff of writers) to this day.

joy is where you find it

2009-12-24T10:07:00.005-06:00

There are many Christmas songs.
There are a few I look forward to hearing each season.

But there is only one song that caresses my cheek, pulls my heart out of my chest, sticks it with a needle full of horse, slams it back into my body and then crawls into my lap purring.

And while I LOVE LOVE LOVE the original by the Pogues, I have to say, I really love this version of "Fairytale of New York" by Billy Bragg.

It's beautiful, it's awful, it's desolate, but in the end, it's hopeful.

It was Christmas Eve babe
In the drunk tank
An old man said to me, won't see another one
And then he sang a song
The Rare Old Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you

Got on a lucky one
Came in eighteen to one
I've got a feeling
This year's for me and you
So happy Christmas
I love you baby
I can see a better time
When all our dreams come true

They've got cars big as bars
They've got rivers of gold
But the wind goes right through you
It's no place for the old
When you first took my hand
On a cold Christmas Eve
You promised me
Broadway was waiting for me

You were handsome
You were pretty
Queen of New York City
When the band finished playing
They howled out for more
Sinatra was swinging,
All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on a corner
Then danced through the night

The boys of the NYPD choir
Were singing "Galway Bay"
And the bells were ringing out
For Christmas day

You're a bum
You're a punk
You're an old slut on junk
Lying there almost dead on a drip in that bed
You scumbag, you maggot
You cheap lousy faggot
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God it's our last

I could have been someone
Well so could anyone
You took my dreams from me
When I first found you
I kept them with me babe
I put them with my own
Can't make it all alone
I've built my dreams around you

traditions

2009-12-22T21:23:00.004-06:00

Our grade school had a daily assembly where 7-10 year olds would vie for the chance to fiddle with the giant thermometer and proclaim our high temp for the day while sharing other tidbits of news and delights.

I recall the winter day, in 2nd grade (or maybe it was 3rd grade?) that a brother and a sister, the blondest kids in the room, stood up, pulled out a menorah and told us about the festival of lights.

Mitch Gordon was in my class and I'm sure we played more games of kickball than I can recall. He was like any of the other boys in my class. Usually in my way and looking to get thumped by this tomboy.

But on that sun dappled morn, I looked at him with fresh, new eyes. I can say with 100% certainty, that he was he first boy I ever remember looking at and thinking, "Hmmm...he suddenly looks interesting enough to hold hands with at recess," and, "He's so dreamy."

And thus began my on again, off again lifelong love affair with men of the Jewish faith.

Also, many of them are funny fucking bastards.

let it be

2009-12-21T09:02:00.004-06:00

Many times I find myself drawing strength from the example of others.

This weekend I was twice reminded that not only are people filled with the brand of humanity, kindness and grace that I aspire to, but that it's real and outreaching...it you let it be.

Last Saturday, Dec. 5th, something startling and wonderful happened at The Aramingo Diner in Port Richmond.

The manager on duty, Linda, tells me that a couple in their 30s paid their check at the register, then asked the cashier to let them secretly pay the check of another couple in the dining room - a couple they didn't know.

"They just wanted to do it," she said. "They thought it would be a nice thing to do."

When the unsuspecting patrons went to pay their check, they were floored to find out that strangers had picked up their tab. So they asked the cashier to let them pay another table's check, also anonymously.

When that table's patrons approached the register, they, too, decided to pay the favor forward for yet another table of unsuspecting strangers.

For two hours, delighted customer after delighted customer continued to pay the favor forward. And a buzz began to grow. Not among patrons, who had no inkling what was going down at the register, but among the dining-room wait staff - Marvin, Rosie, Jasmine and Lynn - and other Aramingo workers moving in and out of the room.

The impact made an out-sized impression on the staff, who marveled at how that initial, single act of generosity kept repeating itself.

All in all, about 20 checks were "paid forward."

The lovely cycle finally ended, two hours after it began, when a lone diner, clearly unacquainted with the "pay it forward" concept, seemed befuddled that someone had picked up his check. He simply accepted the favor, grunted, and left.

Notes Linda, "He didn't even leave a tip."

So, on the off-chance that the first pay-it-forward couple at the Aramingo Diner is reading this, please know that your gesture of kindness didn't end when you walked out the door.

across 110th street

2009-11-20T21:34:00.003-06:00

Friday night.
Looking for a little inspiration from my favorite Tarantino film.

Some days, I wish I had even .0008% of Pam Grier's badassery.

Turn it all the way up...and sing along, my friend.

and so we begin

2009-11-11T14:38:00.009-06:00

Last night was our first rehearsal of The (edward) Hopper Project.
One could feel the collective sigh of relief go up in WNEPland.

What started out as a writing assignment (write a scene inspired by a specific set of Edward Hopper paintings) over 2 years ago, has finally been put into the hands of 17 actors and a band of able-bodied production folk.

I'm a contributing writer and as we went through the reading for the very first time with the cast, the actor playing the character I mainly wrote for was sitting directly beside me.

It's hard to describe listening to someone else read words you put on a page. Overall, I would define it as "quite satisfying."

My job as "writer" is complete.

My job as assistant director is just getting started.
(more on that later.)

My job as costume designer is already in full swing.

I have several goals for the costume design:
- maintaining/representing the fashions of 1952 accurately.
- using the paintings that inspired each scene for some direct/literal design ideas
- other costumes will be influenced more symbolically by Hopper's colors and themes - using colors from the "Hopper palette."

The supra cool part is that I adore his paintings. Getting to study them to find the elements which I think apply to each scene and character is really just a delightful exercise for my brain.

Now...finding all these vintage pieces?
That's gonna take some work.

I hear the words of my lord and saviour, Tim Gunn in my ear, "Make it work!"

With you in my heart, Tim...I shall.

jilted

2009-11-10T14:05:00.005-06:00

While we have many more weeks of Autumn, it seems like most of the trees are on the tail end of their "beauty of decay" cycle.

There are still a few colorful leaves hanging on for dear life here and there, but instead of a robust array of reds, oranges and golds, it's getting to be pretty much mustard and brown uber alles.

And mostly, it's uber alles the ground.

I'm one of those folks who's mood is very affected by the weather.

When I notice a spectacular blue sky?
My heart will expand three sizes.

When I see the wind move through a tree straight out of a crayola box?
I want to point it out to strangers waiting at the train station with me.

When I feel a breeze (hot or cold) that hits you at just the right time?
I want to pull out a mason jar and chase it around like a firefly.

It's not really Seasonal Affective Disorder...it's not like I'm just happy in the summer (I'm not, I bitch about the humidity non-stop), or sad in the winter (there's nothing I like finer than a snowfall...if I'm stuck at home and not out in it.)

Just call me easily swayed.

I saw this picture over at dooce and got all swoony when I saw this ivy covered fence.

(I encourage you to click it to see the BIG version which is way better than this rinky dink copy.)

See.

Just looking at a picture of autumn in all her colorful regalia makes me go all knocked-kneed. There is no hope for me.

I'm in love with Autumn...and it's totally getting ready to dump me.

in the hopper

2009-11-03T09:13:00.011-06:00

This is a peek at what WNEP's currently working on...

Photography by the excellent John Sisson.

The (edward) Hopper Project

Inspired by the works of American realist painter Edward Hopper, WNEP spends a day in New York, 1952. This production will run Jan 15 - Feb 21 at the DCA Storefront Theater.

This was a group written piece for which I am a contributing writer*.

We have found an amazing cast (of 17! Holy crap, that's a lot of actors!) and rehearsals begin on Tuesday. I'm sure I'll be mentioning it quite a bit, so prepare yourself to OD on Hopper. I'm slapping my veins in anticipation!

*I'm also the assistant director and costume designer for this show.

awol

2009-11-02T10:43:00.003-06:00

First I was having issue with my access to the blog. "Gaw! Why can't I load this picture? Damn you to hell, Blogger!"

Then it morphed into, "Everything in my brain is the equivalent to sensational news reports. It's all car accidents, cave-ins and child abductions. I really don't want to blog about that crap today. Or today. Or today. Or ever."

Then I went on vacation thinking, "Okay, I'm ready to write! I'll finally have time and be in a delightful mood!"

Instead I slept and read and procrastinated. A LOT. I was barely online that whole week.

In the midst of all of it, I was working on stuff for WNEP's next project which I'm REALLY EXCITED ABOUT, but that took the remains whatever reserve energy I had left in my back pocket.

Also. I blame Facebook.

Why spend time writing a coherent collection of paragraphs, when a well phrased zinger (not necessarily a complete sentence, even) will do!

When I look back at October, while a bunch of good stuff happened last month, it was the least Rockingest Rocktober in quite a while. Which, to be honest, confused the hell out of me. October was crowned long ago as the Most Awesome Month of the Year. When it failed to meet my usual expectations, I sat in a stunned bubble of "WTF!" for a wee bit longer than I should have.

I'm taking a cue from Fred and Ginger.
I have "Pick Yourself Up" playing in my head on a loop.

Nothing's impossible, I have found.
For when my chin is on the ground,
I pick myself up, dust myself off, start all over again.

Don't lose your confidence if you slip.
Be grateful for the pleasant trip,
And pick yourself up, dust yourself off, start all over again.

Work like a soul inspired 'til the battle of the day is won
You may be sick and tired, but you'll be a man, my son.

Will you remember the famous men who had to fall to rise again?
So take a deep breath,
Pick yourself up,
Dust yourself off,
Start all over again.

- Swing Time, 1936

I've decided to give November a shot at the title.

WNEP Theater Auditon: The (edward) Hopper Project

2009-10-13T09:23:00.005-05:00

WNEP Theater is holding General Auditions for the World Premiere of "The (edward) Hopper Project," an original two-act play scheduled for production January 15 - February 21 (Thu-Sun) at the Storefront Theater on Randolph.

Auditions are SATURDAY, OCTOBER 24 and SUNDAY, OCTOBER 25 from Noon - 5pm at the DCA Studio Theater, 77 E Randolph (located inside the Cultural Center.) Must be available for callbacks on Monday, October 26 from 7pm - 10pm.

To schedule a 5 minute audtion, please email Don hall at hall@wneptheater.org. Include your full name, email address, and contact phone number.

We will schedule a slot for you and contact you with audition requirements. There is minimal pay.

Dude. You should totally audition for this.

backing the wrong horse

2009-10-02T14:39:00.005-05:00

Note: I started this post last week and got sidetracked. I'm having a "finish what you start" kind of day, so I'm gonna post it even though I'm coming late to the table.

I thought I could be quiet about the Polanski arrest.
Folks more versed than myself, were saying what I would, but more concisely.

Honestly, in this day and age, can anyone defend a 40 yr old who had sex with a 13 yr old? Really?

But then a small contingent of "artists" had to put their .02 down on the wrong horse. Here is a list of folks I really lost respect for today:

Pedro Almodovar
Wes Anderson
Darren Aronofsky
Gael Garcia Bernal
Adrian Brody
Jonathan Demme
Penelope Cruz
Alfonso Cuaron*
Guillermo del Toro
Stephen Frears
Terry Gilliam*
Buck Henry (which makes his SNL character "Uncle Roy" really really gross.)
John Landis
David Lynch
Michael Mann
Jeanne Moreau
Richard Pena
Martin Scorcese
Tilda Swinton
Tom Tykwer*
Wim Wenders

This is not about a crime against artistic freedom or expression.
This is not a criticism of a man's creative work.
This is not about political persecution of an artist.

This is literally about the fact that after admitting to giving a 13 yr old girl alcohol/drugs and having unconsensual sex with her (read the grand jury testimony) and pleading down to lesser charges...after spending 45 days in jail and taking to a psychiatrist, Polanski jumped bail and left the country.

Period.

It's so overwhelmingly disappointing that these folks can't separate Polanski the filmmaker from Polanski the fugitive child rapist (because no matter what he pleaded down to? He raped that girl, folks.)

Some of these folk - their work - mi dios! It's had a big impact on the kind of stories I want to tell. So much so that I want to find an excuse for them for signing this petition. That they were in a rush when someone stuck a petition under their nose and they didn't really think about it and just signed.

But, I'm making excuses.

They signed it. And they're wrong. Period.

I'd add Woody Allen to the list...but honestly, I lost all respect for him in the mid-90's. Also, the complete lack of irony in Allen's support? Unfathomable.

the lost footage

2009-09-04T19:16:00.004-05:00

If you missed it on FB, John put together this "trailer" for our show, which if very helpful, when you're trying to describe a live, sci-fi, improv show and folks look at you funny.

For those folks in town who haven't seen THEMS, hopefully this might tempt you into coming out...there are just a few more weeks to catch it.

For those of you who have seen it, the video below is a completely different perspective on the show.

Last week, the fantastic Kevin Reome came in as "Jack Bannion." Think something along the lines of a documentary/reality show in the vein of "Dirty Jobs" or "Man vs. Wild." As the host of "Space Danger," Jack is following the the EHT crew and documenting life aboard a mining class ship.

It's like seeing the show thru entirely new eyes. I adore it.
It's very Blair Witchy - in the best sense.

This is actual footage Kevin shot while performing live during the show, in front of an audience.
None of this is scripted, none of it rehearsed.

THEMS is...

Jarrad Apperson
Chris Biddle
Jamie Buell
John Eiberger
Glenn Fancher
Ross Foti
Sabrina Harper
Lisa Linke

swagger

2009-08-13T19:47:00.002-05:00

When I blow my candles out on my birthday cake...my wish will be to acquire some "swagger." I'm in short supply of it these days.

If I need a little inspiration...I know where to go.

This one's not shabby either.
Go on, kid. Show 'em how to work it.

give me these moments back

2009-08-06T23:16:00.009-05:00

So, I'm thinking you might have heard by now.

Whether you were a fan or not matters little - if you were a teen (or pre-teen) in the mid-80's, the influence of John Hughes' movies likely impacted you on some level.

I was 14 and a freshman the spring "16 Candles" came out.

And like so many girls that age, it didn't take long for me to idolize Molly Ringwald and her characters - her cool, her clothes, her car, the fantasy of the cute boy throwing over the prom queen for you and "getting you" even though you were six kinds of awkward misfit.

And after getting her boobies fondled by grandma, she developed a backbone and retorts and, while still agnsty, she stood tall in her "apartness" and was true to herself.

But more than the stories or characters on screen, what I really connected with was Hughes ear for soundtracks. He put songs my friends and I listened to on screen. Artists that probably didn't get much radio play in the days of Madonna and Whitney, but folks we worshipped on our headphones and dance floors.

His soundtracks were freakish mirrors of the mix-tapes we would make and pass around to each other.

English Beat
OMD
Everything But the Girl
Tears for Fears
Sigue Sigue Sputnik
Joe Jackson
Love and Rockets
Gene Loves Jezebel
Oingo Boingo
Jesus and the Mary Chain
General Public
Killing Joke
The Pyschedelic Furs
Wall of Voodoo
Big Audio Dynamite
New Order
Echo & the Bunnyman
The Smiths
XTC

I had "Pretty in Pink" on vinyl.
I had "Some Kind of Wonderful" on cassette.
I still have "She's Having a Baby" on CD around here somewhere.

I said it.
I own a copy of that soundtrack.
Jealous?

Admittedly, while not the greatest of his many hits, "She's Having a Baby" is still one of my favorites for three reasons. The soundtrack was hawesome. The silly outro of folks coming up with a baby name during the credits still makes me grin. Last, but not least, it was the first time I heard this song...

I can't embed it her version of the actual music video...so you have to go elsewhere to watch it. Trust me, it's worth the click. (It's worth noting that Bush directed that video.)

I already knew Kate Bush.
Loved "Running Up That Hill."
But, this song.

If you ever want to see me cry like a little girl, put this song on and turn it up.

20+ years later and I still think it's one of the most beautiful songs. Ever.

My only gripe is that in '89, it wasn't nominated for an Oscar* - hey, it might have still been beat out by Carly Simon's "Let the River Run," but we'll never know because it was never nominated. Idiots. Hell, I'm still shocked that the woman was only nominated for a Grammy one time. Once. Arg.

But, this isn't about awards and accolades, it's about memories and influences and those things hardwired into your brain.

I will always think of John Hughes when I hear this song and I will always think of this song when someone mentions John Hughes.

Thank you for putting this in my head John Hughes.
And thank you for embracing a music culture apart from the mainstream.

Rest in peace.

*indeed, Bush wrote this song specifically for the film and then released it the following year on her album, "The Sensual World."

better angels

2009-07-26T22:53:00.004-05:00

Recently, I've been thinking about the nature of friendship.

On what kind of friend I've been (sometimes good, sometimes not so good), what friendships I've fostered or been fostered by, the different types of friends that float in and out of my life and the ones that have been stalwart and sure for decades.

A big part of my identity has always been based in my self perception of "friend."

Much of what I consider to be good in my life is based not on my intelligence, experience or humor...but in the intelligence, experience and humor shared and discovered with my friends.

Tonight, as I kicked back with a group of folks I would likely go to the ends of the earth for, I told an old chestnut of a long-running joke about one of my oldest and dearest friends who was present. After the laughter died down and most of the crowd left us alone, I asked him if he ever got mad at me for some stupid thing I say or did. He thought about it for a moment and said no. (Which I think has a little more to do with him being such a laid back and easy going fella and less to do with my loud mouth.)

It made me consider the times I've been a good friend and other times when I've been kind of a louse and my very good fortune of having friends willing to put up with the louse-y parts of my personality to enjoy what might be my better angels.

Then I saw this video and I'm amazed by how much it says (and so simply) how much I wish I could go back and undo all the silly, stupid things I may have done or said to my friends (and even folks that just crossed my path at the wrong moment) who I might have injured - even on the smallest level.

I suppose this is an unofficial declaration of my rededication to the friendships in my world - of all shapes and sizes.

taking the Bee back

2009-07-06T08:51:00.006-05:00

As a post-modern-modern woman, I'm a big believer that there are some things worth "taking back." Not only to honor what they historically represent, but embracing what those representations mean today and applying them to our everyday lives.

In days of olde, women gathered for quilting bees and sewing bees - ever the productive and efficient gender.

When reviewing our skill sets and our need to take a break from both bringing home the bacon and also frying it up in a pan, our ladies auxiliary went for an event more social than utilitarian.

We decided to hold a Tequila Bee.

I'm not a big drinker these days.
I'm what you would call the "occasional imbiber."

It should be stated that, more times than not, if I feel like putting my drinking cap on or attempt to relive my rowdy 20's, I normally have to Plan. That. Shit. Out.

I believe the equation is that for every 1 hour I drink, I need 5 hours of recovery time.

Even after doing the math, I was highly anticipating the chance to throw a few back with friends and letting my brain float away on a wash of fermentation, come what may. Friday was such a day.

A few of the ladies gathered on a friend's back porch. Reminiscent of a pot-luck, we each brought something to the table.

I showed up with the Tequila (two kinds), limes and a double batch of fresh guacamole. B picked up the chips, salsa, fancy cookies and the Triple Sec. J brought some tasty mini-tacos a la Trader Joe's (damn. TJ's has some tasty hors devours!) And K made some of her home brewed sour mix especially for the occasion.

It was the perfect weather to just sit on the porch and swim around in Margaritaville. We people watched (the porch has a bird's eye view of an el platform), regaled each other with saucy tales and just plain relaxed our minds and bodies.

While we didn't walk away with a Friendship Ring quilt or husk any corn, I think that we lived up to the true nature of a "bee" and accomplished a productive task that drew us together as friends and neighbors.

We got stewed.

In fact, we had such a delightful time, we're already planning another for later this summer...and I wouldn't be surprised if a Martini Bee doesn't pop up in the fall.

While a huge party of friendly folk is nice, a small cadre of companions is sometimes a better balm to soothe the beastie within.

My recommendation to you (whether or not you have alcohol on hand) is an afternoon spent on a back porch with a small group of friends telling stories and making each other laugh.

Although, I really would recommend the liquor.

On a specific note, while the standard José Cuervo Gold is fine for mixing, do yourself a proper and get a better quality tequila for doing shots. We went with José Cuervo Black Medallion (aged for more than one year in oak casks) and baby, that was some smooth agave for anyone on a budget.

slowly i turn

2009-07-01T12:32:00.003-05:00

Yeah. I've been gone.
Yeah. I'm back.
Yeah. My brain is slowly recovering from a slight bout of heat stroke.

Until I'm back in the proverbial saddle, I'll give you this...which puts a smile on my face and makes me dance in my seat until I get up and shake what my mama gave me.

Enjoy.

The gentleman in the video is Jim Slonina, currently a clown with Cirque du Soleil and former member of the brilliant (now defunct) Defiant Theater company here in Chicago.

matinee

2009-06-10T20:30:00.004-05:00

There's just something glorious about catching a mid-week matinee.
It's a small slice of freedom, it is.

Go see Star Trek.

Ok. Yeah. You've probably already seen it. I try to avoid the opening weekend flicks. I tend to wait a few weeks so I'm not ass-to-elbow with other theater-goers. Although, I think a big crowd would have been nice on this score. We had a small crowd, but some really vocal responses to the flickering screen - which had me snorting in my popcorn.

It's everything a summer blockbuster should be and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Although, it's fairly ironic that while I enjoyed this freewheeling feeling of a Wednesday afternoon at the movies, the clock was ticking down to pull my other chariot out from under me. My car was in the shop, awaiting a brake inspection while James Tiberius Kirk was attempting to save the day.

I always wonder how people live without a car in the city. Yeah, I know how to get around on public transit, but I wouldn't be able to do half the things I do with a regular set of wheels at the ready. To be honest, when I bought my condo in 2004, I thought by 2006 or 2007 at that latest, I'd be turning in my beater for another set of (used) wheels.

Of course, 18K+ in special assessments and frozen pay raises and a bum economy and my personal hurdle of being a "challenged" saver, has kept me in one beat up hunk of auto. I've had this car (which I bought with 40k miles on it) for 10 years and (an additional) 100K miles.

She ain't pretty, but she gets the job done.

Many times I've considered turning her into an art project...she's never going to be traded in, and she's worth next to nothing in blue book. Her next home will be the auto yard. So, I toy with the idea of doing something like this or this or even this.

Maybe this is the year.

Maybe I put her up on craig's list and allow some up and coming art major to use her for their thesis. My fear is that I get some modern-day O'Keefe who wants to turn my beater into a giant, four-wheeled vagina.

Not that there is anything wrong with a giant vagina...I just don't really want to go grocery shopping in one.

nph

2009-06-08T20:48:00.005-05:00

I caught about 10 minutes of the Tony's and then turned the TV off. Before my wondering eyes did appear yet another revival of "West Side Story," and while that is a fantastic musical, it pains me that there are so few fantastic new musicals (that aren't based on a flipping movie) that Broadway has to have a revival of the same 5 chestnuts every 3 years.

Not even thoughts of the delightful Neil Patrick Harris hosting could woo me to turn it back on.

This morning, I heard about NPH's closing number and I have little doubt, that it was the finest moment of the show.

And I quote,

This show could not be any gayer,
If Liza was named mayor
And Elton John took flight...

The curtain falls
I'm off to hit some big Tony balls....
Goooooodniiiiiight!!!

Enjoy.

This is why Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog is so freaking worthwhile...Mr. Neil Patrick Harris, my friend. Except no substitute.

And yes, I'm tickled by the quaint irony that he's singing to the tune of the very song/show that made me run screaming into the night. The universe, she's got a sense of humor, that one.

precious

2009-06-02T20:05:00.003-05:00

At the end of the day, when I finally made it back to my office, and as I was hacking my lungs out, an office mate peered around my cube and told me I sounded just like Gollum.

And then reenacted a scene from "Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers" to prove his point.

I think Andy Serkis would have been proud.
Of both of us.

perspective

2009-05-11T15:32:00.002-05:00

The first reviews for THEMS are hitting the wire, kids!

TimeOut Chicago
On Saturday 9, the Playground Theater debuted THEMS, a simultaneously creepy and goofy improvised play that lovingly spoofs the sci-fi/horror genre Ripley Scott mastered with Alien, the film that began an enduring (if not eventually lame) franchise and countless knockoffs.

THEMS takes place in 2156, in a post-earth society in which humans have now colonized Mars and are attempting to do the same with Venus. But in order to make the planet inhabitable, they must secure a rare element known as Carbon9. A crew of futuristic 49ers have landed on an uncharted asteroid and culled the largest concentration of the element in recorded history—a feat which will make them rich beyond their wildest dreams—if they can survive the journey home. A mysterious bacteria is latching onto crew members and zombifying them all—one poor bastard at a time.

In order to more fully immerse the audience into this premise, show producers John Eiberger and Ross Foti along with director Rebecca Langguth, have done something improvised shows rarely do, ratchet up the production values, and they’ve done it successfully. THEMS admirably transports the audience into outer space with painted canvass backgrounds that recreate the inner bowels of a spaceship, spacesuits for crew members, a crafty mainframe computer named VOX (played with deadpan earnest by Chris O. Biddle) who spits out commands and ship details and who we sense, like Ian Holm’s nefarious android Ash in Alien, has an agenda of its own, and face masks for the audience (a gratuitous, if not funny addition). There’s even a flamethrower!

But the real attention to detail is in character archetypes. THEMS‘ motley crew of greedy, booze-swilling space cowboys each maintains his own position aboard the ship—the veteran space engineer, the dutiful captain, the company man, etc.—and like in Alien (or even more accurately, Alien Resurrection), this grizzled band of galactic pirates each has an ulterior motive; they’re more devoid of humanity then the monster they’re warding off. THEMS is a wink-filled tribute to the characters and situations that fill the sci-fi genre and the ensemble plays this to the hilt. The pleasure in THEMS is watching these guys improvise their way out of stock sci-fi conundrums (the ship is self-destructing!, there’s not enough room in the escape pod for everyone!, there’s a stowaway on board!) and do so within the constraints of the genre. Although these feats were pulled off with only partial aplomb on opening night (a lot of plot lines ended up unresolved), as the ensemble continues to experiment week after week, it will be interesting to see how they’ll play with sci-fi’s unlimited possibilities.

THEMS probably won’t appeal to anyone who greeted the release of J.J. Abrams’ rebooted Star Trek with a yawn. But if you can name the actor and film in which the line “Game over, man! Game Over!” is uttered, then the Playground has a nice alternative to Sigourney Weaver duking it out with an angry alien bitch.

Then there's Don, who was less impressed with our efforts.

And since Don taught me the "art" of the "pick" when it comes to reviews, I'd like to thank him for writing the following in his review: "...unique...", "truly inspired", "sincerely busting their asses" , and "a real bitch."

Here's the deal. You don't create theater for reviews. You create it because you get an idea in your head that gets under your skin until you have to pull the trigger and manifest it on a stage.

(Good reviews can be helpful in getting asses in the seats, though, so I'm not looking any gift horse in the mouth. Nobody attached to THEMS is getting paid for their work - the main goal is to recoup production costs. Sounds kinda familiar, huh...?)

For me, the only opinions that truly matter are the folks who are working on the show. The ones who put the sweat in. When they are satifisfied with the performance they have given...that's the success. That's the worth.

That said, I really want the folks who lay down their dime to enjoy the show. Because I enjoyed my part in putting it there for their amusement.

Rooty toot.

open for business

2009-05-10T20:27:00.002-05:00

THEMS is finally open.

Opening night was...bumpy. It had it's moments, but overall, it was a bit rougher around the edges than it should have been.

Normally, prior to opening, a show will have a rough rehearsal where wrong turns are made. We never had that bad rehearsal...and I feel that, in a way...last night, it happened.

The thing about a rough rehearsal is that by going through it, like any time you make a misstep, you learn so much and benefit from it more, than when things go smoothly. Last night wasn't awful, by any means, but it was rough in more places than we've encountered in the past month plus.

We learned a lot last night.

I personally make a rookie mistake that was a big lesson for me as a director and which I believe set the tone which started the show.

We also added a bunch of elements that the crew had not played with (due to various reasons) to the show last night...so the crew (what I call the cast), were juggling knives while spinnning brand new plates.

There were some hits and misses.

Our biggest hurdle with this format is getting too caught up in plot and not focusing on the relationships. We got plot heavy. Plot is a nowhere road, my friends.

Overall, I gave it a C.

Of course, I'm an asshole with really high expectations of myself and these folks. The show was only firing on about half of the cylinders we've constructed. Enough cylinders to make it fun for the audience...but not enough to make it satisfying for the crew.

That said, I was really proud of everyone. They've all put a lot of work into this peice and good work will out.

Yes. It was bumpy. We basically had an unplanned dress tech in front of an opening night audience. We set an amazingly high bar and fell a bit short of it last night.

I know what these folks can do. I've seen it and it's phenomenal.

I sprained both ankles last night (long story) by tripping twice on the same stair.

It's kind of an odd mirror, because I think we tripped the show up - got in our own way, instead of doing the work and embracing the joy that we normally bring to the floor.

I think last night they tripped...but now that they know where that fucking stair is, I have no doubt they will jump it and bring the bar back to the place where they want to play.

Next week, I expect our cylinders to be fully functional and I can't wait to watch them create that world and play in it. I think the world of those folks and can't wait for more audiences to see what they can create.

soundtrack

2009-05-09T10:47:00.003-05:00

Olive woke me up early, and I needed to make a run to the store, so after a walk, we jumped in the car and I hit the Jewel.

On the drive home, with the window down, the pooch with her nose out the window, I channel surfed onto this song. And then I cranked that motha.

The very first album I ever bought (which technically was an 8-track), was back in 1977. I was 8 and my parents had just joined one of those new fangled music clubs (I think it was Columbia House) and they let each of us pick a couple out.

I have little doubt that, as much as BOSTON FREAKING ROCKS, in the age of glorious 70's cover art I'm sure that I was more than swayed by the spaceship. (I find it more than slightly amusing that, in a few short hours, we open a show set on a spaceship. Hmmm...beshert.)

While I don't have that 8-track anymore and never got around to replacing it on vinyl, cassette or CD over the years, I still can't help but crank a Boston song when I hear one on the radio.

As I put together the pre-show music for THEMS, I was focused on late 70's and early 80's rock that would have been playing at the same time the movies we used as inspiration were released.

Of course, Don't Look Back jumped right out at me...which got me playing more and more of Boston's discography...and wondering why I never replaced that 8-track.

Maybe I just like the way songs like that always take me by surprise when I hear them after not hearing them for a bit.

I have to say, when asked "What was your first album?"
I think 8-year old me nailed it.

Way to go, 8-year old me. Way to go.
[high fivin' my 8 year old self.]

Now if youre feelin kinda low bout the dues youve been paying
Futures coming much too slow
And you wanna run but somehow you just keep on stayin
Can't decide on which way to go
Yeah, yeah, yeah

I understand about indecision
But I dont care if I get behind
People livin in competition
All I want is to have my peace of mind.

Now youre climbin to the top of the company ladder
Hope it doesnt take too long
Can't cha you see there'll come a day when it wont matter
Come a day when youll be gone

I understand about indecision
But I dont care if I get behind
People livin in competition
All I want is to have my peace of mind.

Take a look ahead, take a look ahead,
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah...

Now everybodys got advice they just keep on givin
Doesn't mean too much to me
Lots of people out to make-believe they're livin
Can't decide who they should be.

I understand about indecision
But I dont care if I get behind
People livin in competition
All I want is to have my peace of mind.

Take a look ahead, take a look ahead. look ahead.

Words to live by...which still hold up 30 years later.

relations

2009-05-09T02:23:00.003-05:00

This has been a week full of me thinking about aspects of family.
The ones you were born into...and the ones you make for yourself.

When I heard about this, I had to laugh.

t-minus five

2009-05-04T17:00:00.008-05:00

Okay. I know said I wasn't going to blog this week, but I changed my mind. I am, however, putting a moratorium on my brand new format this week, because my brain can only process show-related stuff.

Random thoughts swirling:

1. It's been a while since I've directed improv. I am so utterly excited and proud of this show and at the same time, I'm in fear that I will be the one to fuck it up. Or rather, keep it from being as utterly awesome as it already is.

2. I totally have a crush on every member of my cast. It's not a "dude, I wanna mack on you" crush. It's the kind of crush you get about a person's inner attributes. I'm crushing on their smarts, ability to be giddy with each other, commitment to the material, sense of timing and play, willingness to go there and the fact that they let me get away with using my vagina as both a reference point and a threat.

I recall something about refering to my vagina as a "control patch."

It seemed to make sense at the time. I'm sure the actual humilation of that moment will hit me in about a week, when they respectfully throw it back in my face.

3. My brain is tired due to an immense lack of sleep. All weekend I had trouble finding my words to express myself (which, hey, when you're directing folks? Being specific and using your words, is really the main requirement.) Here's the weird thing. I came in 2nd in a Spelling Bee on Saturday night. While drinking 3 beers.

I'm still shocked that I spelled bouillon correctly in the first round.

4. Yes. I shouldn't be drinking beers while on my meds. So noted. But, do I get points for not eating any chocolate cake or like a Whopper at 2am after getting drunk? People! I think I should get points!

5. As a rule, once a show is up (in the regular theater world) the director doesn't come to every single performance. There was a brief time when I thought, "Hey, I might miss a couple shows during the run for WNEP related stuff."

That day is over. I will not miss one minute of these shows and a part of me is already aching with the knowing that it will be over in just 8 performances.

6. Did I mention that Ross and John are assholes? They totally are. More people should have assholes like these in their periphery. You can't have them, though. They are my assholes. Get your own.

7. Getting emails from the cast that read, "I'm fucking excited." And, "effing out of my mind happy we open Saturday!" make me effing out of my mind happy and fucking excited that we open on Saturday.

8. Did I mention, starting May 16th, Don Hall is going to make me workout at 8am every freaking Saturday morning? I already hate him. And yet...no, I hate him. In the best way possible! Woot!

9. Our s***ies are the best s***ies in all the land! [You will never cypher this out...unless you see THEMS. Sorry. Dems da breaks.]

10. You'll be delighted to know that "Eat a bag of dicks," has dropped from the forefront of my brain. It was, instead, replaced by a new catch phrase that is both family-friendly, while still conveying the message and intent of "Eat a bag..."

I present to you, "Simmer down, pot roast!"

Okay. I admit, it's kinda in the delivery, but man?
If you could hear it in my head? You might just do a spit take.

Word.

Okay. I've got a list of shit I need to suss out tonight.
I've got to get to sussin'!

rock paper scissors lizard spock

2009-05-01T11:56:00.006-05:00

Next week, I'm taking a sabbatical from blogging as we enter the final phase of getting the show up on its feet.

We have one week left to take the training wheels off this bad boy.

Did I mention...it's a comedy?

This weekend is going to be non-stop production and rehearsal pandemonium. I just hope I'm not scratching myself in an inappropriate manner in front of the cast. Nothing undermines your authority like hopping around like you're an extra from the "itching powder in the sleeping bags" episode of The Brady Bunch.

Yesterday was plain awful. (Yeah. I'm quoting a singing redhead. Sue me.) Today is just as itchy and bumpy and annoying as yesterday. I'm counting the minutes until I can pop another Claritin (don't tell, I'm going to take it a little sooner than 24 hours!)

For someone who's really never had a lot of medical problems, this last month has been a roller coaster I would like a refund on. And yet, it's been supremely enjoyable in terms of working on the show.

Every day brings a new and glorious prop/costume peice or (even better) a fantastic choice by a performer to move the story along. Sitting watching smart people play smart people? It's the bee's knees, brother!

I wonder if I've ever said thank you to John and Ross?
Ah. Fuck 'em.
Those assholes can eat a bag of dicks.

In other news...be afraid, be very afraid.

And since I don't want to leave you entirely in the lurch for something to keep you occupied while I'm "offline", here's an upgrade on a classic.

Don't say I never did nuthin' for ya.

Note: I read "eat a bag of dicks" on a news blog today and it cracked me up and made me think of Mike Powers, who had that line in a play some years back. Nobody, and I mean nobody can deliver the line "eat a bag of dicks" like Powers.

Unfortunately, now, I can't stop repeating "eat a bag of dicks" in my head. I'm sure the meds are causing this along with the vertigo and the allergy. Stupid meds.

picture day 04.29.09

2009-04-29T14:40:00.001-05:00

I've actually been thinking more about green related issues this week than I did on Earth Day. In fact, I think the Bernard Court Ladies Auxiliary might be signing up to support local farmers.

Baby roo judges you.

Or, he might want to chew on your skull. Hard to discern.

I would like to throw out a fist bump to our President for making it through these rocky first 100 days. Nobody said it was going to be a cake walk. Actually, someone may have said that. Keep on trucking, POTUS!

Get Up On This: Spelling Bee

2009-04-28T13:45:00.007-05:00

Okay, this one is slightly self-serving.

The gents who are producing THEMS are throwing this shindig. And I'll be there.

And I believe it's BYOB, so let's get a sixer and spell our brains out!

It's a Winner Take All Spelling Bee at the Playground Theater on May 2nd. Pay $15.00 and enter the Bee, or pay just $5 and watch!

The winner will take the money from gathered from the entrants!

So, the more people who play, the bigger the pot!

Doesn't this sound like fun? You can watch or play...and isn't there a part of you that's always wanted to try your skills in a Bee...but discovered that you can't go back to 5th grade?

I'm a decent speller, but a horrible typist...so who knows if I'll make it past the first round.

10pm - this Saturday night @ the Playground

$5 to Watch, $15 to Play!

For those of you who will be too far from Halsted to participate, I'll recommend a viewing of Spellbound which was the documentary of the 1999 Scripps National Spelling Bee. Think of it as a warm-up to the 82nd Scripps National Spelling Bee which is coming in about a month.

Last night I caught a bit of one of the early Harry Potter movies. Chamber of Secrets, methinks. Anyway, what struck me is how beautiful and descriptive the english language can be when you use it...correctly. Damn Brits always sounding so high falootin'!

I'm as guilty of buffoonery as the next guy, when it comes to the grunts and mutterings that fall out of my pie-hole. I think that's why I love the idea of spelling bees. It's not just about the ability to retain correct spellings and meanings of words. It's about WORDS. The noble building blocks for novels, poems, songs, conversations, philosophies, jokes, eulogies...hell. Even blogs.

de plane

2009-04-27T11:12:00.006-05:00

I suppose there's history to be found just about everywhere you go in the world, but as I've mentioned before, I really enjoy the seemingly unlimited histories of Chicago.

Last week, a marine salvage company, working with the naval aviation museum, hauled this out of Lake Michigan, about 30 miles from shore:

The aircraft went down during WWII training operations when naval pilots were being trained off Navy Pier for takeoffs and landings on aircraft carriers.

The plane was lost Nov. 24, 1944, as Ensign Joseph Lokites, a pilot with 380 flight hours, tried his third of about six required landings on the USS Wolverine.

"It just crashed. I guess it ran out of gas or something. I took over from another pilot," Lokites, 86, said in a phone interview from his Des Moines home. He landed in frigid water, and the right wing dipped under, but he was still able to jump out.

"It's not cold when you're fighting for life or death," he said, chuckling. "I was lucky."

A handful of pilots died, and more than 100 planes were lost to the lake. About 40 have been recovered, restored and spotlighted in Naval collections, museums and airport terminals.

While there are still about 60 planes hidden beneath the surface of the lake, chances of recovering them are getting slimmer due to the invasion of deep water quagga mussels (seen covering the plane.) Post restoration, this aircraft will be put on display in the National WWII Museum in New Orleans.

Man! I'm just thinking of all the Postmortem monologues I could have done if I read this ten years ago!

don't look behind you

2009-04-23T11:17:00.005-05:00

My internet was wonky last night, so I couldn't get online in time for a Wed post. Dagnabit.

We are 5 rehearsals away from opening this puppy.

Tonight's my first night off since Friday. I'm sure this rehearsal process is making the cast roll it's eyes at me every now and then, but I really think there is a method to the madness I'm inflicting upon them.

This is such a fun mesh of improv and stagecraft, I really can't wait for it to be ready for folks to see! The base for the crew costumes arrived this week and they look HAWESOME. We need to spruce them up a bit, make them look a little more lived in. I won't name names, but there's at least one crew member who doesn't want to take his off. That's how swank they are.

The cast/crew is so right on track it kills me. They really have gone above and beyond in creating folks with depth, personality and humor. For me, the devil is in the details. Delicious, delicious details.

At this point, it's all about running the show and tweaking the show. Tweaking costume, prop and tech details and helping the performers get comfortable enough to "oh yeah, go there!"

Also, did I mention....it's hysterical? They are hysterical. And so much fun.

I really owe the boys for bringing me onboard.
This show is makes me six kinds of giddy, yo!

THEMS
Opening Night...May 9th.
Tickets $20 (worth every penny, son.)
Reserve your seat at: www.themsiscoming.com

Get Up On This: Public Libraries

2009-04-21T09:39:00.004-05:00

I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to be really honest with yourself...

When's the last time you went to your public library?

Dude. That's too long.

Now, granted, I live in a swinging metropolis and our public library system isn't too shabby, but no matter where you live, supporting your public library is one of the best things you can do for your brain, your wallet and your community.

My nearest library is the Kimball branch and it's kinda like your grandma's basement. It's not pretty or bright or architectually interesting like some branches, but it's got books and stuff!

They have the usual on tap - books, audio books, DVDs, free wifi - but, once you get your library card, you can also get a TON of stuff online via their downloadable media site! Ebooks, audio books, mp3s, video.

Did I mention the free downloads of mp3s and audio books? In mere minutes you could be listening to 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Ender's Game or The Art of War...or jamming to Mavis Staples, Schubert or Skinny Puppy.

Most branches have book clubs and many offer additional educational programming - such as this program teaching kids about being smart with money.

But even in spots like Elkton, Maryland or Cocoa, Florida...your local public library is worth checking out, yo!

city-fied town

2009-04-20T10:31:00.012-05:00

Photo Credit: Sarah-Ji

So, it's kind of an old cliche that Chicago is more like a midwestern town than a world class metropolis. For me, it's more like they co-exist in the same plane.

I've borrowed Sarah-Ji's pix (that's a shot of Phyllis' Musical Inn, btw), one, because it looks like an amazing set that she designed and lit just for that picture...but in reality, she just walked into the bar and took that shot. The lady's got the most amazing eye, I tell you! And two, because I seemed to spend a goodly part of my weekend socializing in bars.

That shot is what Chicago looks like in my mind.

A very simple everyday scene that, if you look at it closer, seems to hold a bit of magic.

And better still, a fully stocked bar.

my own worst enemy

2009-04-17T13:23:00.003-05:00

My brain is not functioning within established parameters.

1) I woke up this morning and was convinced it was Saturday. Not that "oh, I kinda wish it were Saturday" or "for the 10 seconds between sleeping and waking I thought it was Saturday." I literally had to sit there and think about what day it was.

For 20 minutes.

2) I love broccoli. I read the best way to prepare it is to nuke it (otherwise, you lose all the nutrients or something.) Last night I baked the perfect pork chop (so tender and juicy) and nuked an entire head of broccoli. I took about 1/4 of the broccoli out of the dish and left the rest in the microwave, since I figured I might want a bit more and figured it might stay warmer if I left the dish in there.

And then I went to bed.

I just this instant remembered that I have this huge amount of broccoli just sitting in my microwave.

3) My brain continues to self-implode. Even though my smarts kicked in enough to realise it's Friday and got my ass to the office? While it was willing to concede that today is Friday? Somewhere it decided that it's now Friday the 24th, instead of Friday the 17th.

I sent an email out to a bunch of folks about a rehearsal that will happen next week, but instead made reference to it being tomorrow. I lost count at how many red flags got tossed within 2 minutes of hitting "send."

4) We have a "temp" (who has been here for nearly a year) who was given her notice on Wednesday that today is her last day. Our office didn't even send out any kind of message to our team, since she's a temp and not salaried, which is all kinds of fucked up.

This morning, someone brought in donuts for her last day here. Donuts that were on the other side of our office. Donuts that I didn't know existed, until an email alerted me to both her leaving and the fact that there were donuts.

I've successfully avoided the donuts, but I have to admit, for about 15 minutes, even though I wasn't hungry, I felt like I was having physical reaction - much like a junkie going through DTs. I literally had to force myself to stay in my chair and say, "Pinata Leg. Pinata Leg. Exploding Heart. Pinata Leg." Over and over until it passed.

I'm fine now. But, man, that was viceral.
Especially when I'm not that really into donuts.

5) I have a little scab on the corner of my mouth and another just to the right of my chin. The six year old in my can't stop scratching them or touching them 1,000 times an hour.

You know, if it was my knee or my elbow, I wouldn't be so annoyed, but it's my face, asshat! Stop touching them! You would think that the idea of having a couple tiny scars on my face might deter me...but my hands...my hands! Won't stop!

Who will win this test of wills?!!

Dammit. I just scratched at it again.

addendum

2009-04-16T15:17:00.004-05:00

The other thing I'm working on is my skewering of a School House Rock classic...to be performed LIVE at Timber Lanes tomorrow night...around 10:30pm.

All in an effort to raise money for WNEP.

Unlike other Chicago companies, the Chicago Theater scene will not collapse if you do not donate ten cents per pin to your favorite WNEP Bowler. Chicago won't suddenly become like St. Louis, no children will be without a decent theatrical education, the vast array of Chicago original productions will not dry up and leave you with no theater to see except for the fifth production of The Tempest and a slew of Neil Simon plays.

But, if you want to see my SHR skewering, you'll have to pony up some dough! Much like our ousted govenor, I'm embracing a pay-to-play ideology.

So far I have $65 on the line...you want to throw another sawbuck in the pool? I'll happily send you the link.

Even if you don't have lots of dough, come hang out and have a beer and a cheese-it brand cracker. We'll likely throw a split the pot raffle in the mix as well.

A nice night at Ye Olde Bowling Alley...it's just what the doctor ordered.

thems

2009-04-16T12:37:00.002-05:00

I'm working on a show that opens next month called THEMS.

It's an improvised homage to some of our favorite sci-fi films, and is, for all intents and purposes, "Alien meets The Thing." I was brought on to direct. Finally, all those hours of watching (and rewatching) those movies on many a lazy Saturday is paying off.

I'm working with a great cast who is taking this project with all the seriousness and sense of purpose it requires. It's not a spoof. This is not "monkeys-flying-out-my-butt" improv. Each performer is crafting a fully-formed character which they'll maintain throughout the run. It's no small feat to take an archetypical character and make it live and breathe without becoming a charicature...but that's the ultimate goal and I think the cast is doing a hell of a job thus far.

While I'm a big fan of solid bare bones, long form improv...I'm really digging what we're creating. Something like a half-breed of improv and a fully formed play. We're not recreating the wheel. Structured improv has been around for ages. But, I don't think I've seen this genre before - and this level of commitment to the genre without making it a parody of itself.

We're trying to create the world of THEMS as fully as possible on a tiny stage. Costumes, some killer props, a good amount of simple (but impactful) tech to take you even closer into that world.

There are strong structural elements to the show - within which the cast will improvise toward the ultimate conclusion.

What that conclusion turns out to be each week...I can't wait to find out.

If you're a fan of any of these films, I'd recommend you check it out:
Alien
The Thing
Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956 or 1978 versions)
Dawn of the Dead

In the meantime, I'll be over in the corner, doing what I can to help make this a freaking kick ass show.

THEMS
Opens Saturday, May 9
$20 (it will be worth it, I promise)
10:30pm Sat nite thru June 27.
The Playground Theater

picture day, 04.15.09

2009-04-15T14:05:00.014-05:00

Oh...how I long to put a list up next to this with the heading of, WHAT YOU WOULD BE GIVING UP YOU MORONS: traffic signals, drinkable tap water, public education, plowed roads, forest preserves, public parks, mail delivered to your home, lead free toys, libraries, the ability to call 911, affordable utilities, disease-free pets, clean lakes/rivers/ponds, breatheable air...etc, etc. etc.

Idiots. And I love how they're putting this all at the feet of Obama.
Who's not even 3 months into the job.

Also, anyone going to a protest and using the phrase"tea bagging" is just wholely without a compass in this world.

Is it just me, or does everyone hear Harvey Korman saying, "Lily, Lily, Lily..." (circa "Blazing Saddles") when they see this picture?

Go Cubs.

Is it wrong to think having a player named Milton Bradley is just plain awesome?

Answer: NO. It is awesome.

I'm not sure what the title of my autobiography is today...but I'm pretty sure this is the cover art.

I don't care if it is a photo op.
I love this picture for 10, 000 reasons.

back to life

2009-04-14T16:00:00.002-05:00

I'll assume that most if not all of you know that I had a fairly serious health issue that laid me out last week. It's improving, but ongoing and I'm sure I'll talk about it at length some other time.

Since I'm baby-stepping all over the place, I'm just going to make this a quick and painless post.

I've noticed that on many blogs that I frequent that they have a structure to their posts - a way to help focus and generate the material published that is content specific. I've decided to co-opt that plan for this blog.

From now on (or until I change my mind) I'll be posting as follows:

Mon - Focus on Chicago centric stuff and/or my pending To Do List
Tue - A "get up on this" entry - website, movie, etc.
Wed - Picture Day. The last one made me laugh. So, I'm keeping it.
Thu - What I'm Working On. Could be a show, could be a new soup recipe.
Fri - Random. Whatever I feel like posting. Could be a rant, could be a youtube vid.

The weekends will be free and breezy and I'll post what and when it seems like a good idea.

So, tomorrow, we'll kick it off with Picture Day.
Aren't you foaming at the mouth?

Oh...one last thing. Due to my health, I've been sidelined for the WNEP Bowl-a-thon this year. I'll still be attending on Friday night, but I'm not planning on bowling until my Pinata Leg is completely human and weight bearing.

Still, I'd like to help raise a few bucks for Ye Olde Theater Company, so if you were planning on pledging, please consider a flat donation. I know that this is also a rough year for lots of folks (including myself) with the economy in the tank, so really, any amount is truly appreciated!

All are welcome to hang out at Timber Lanes, nosh on some grub, have a drink at the bar and watch as I skewer yet another School House Rock classic.

Yes, the pool is now up to $65 for me to perform a SHR song and have it posted to youtube.

What song will I sing?
Only the Shadow knows!

If you're in town and are looking for some laid back Friday good timing, stop on by!

WNEP Bowl-a-thon 2009
Friday, April 17th @ 10:00pm
Timber Lanes - 1851 W Irving Park

how to bottle joy

2009-03-30T12:50:00.007-05:00

In three easy steps:

Step one: Commission and produce a glass replica of a Crystal Skull.

Step two: Create a quadruple-distilled vodka, triple filtered through carbon...and then triple filter is through "500 million year old quartz crystals, known as Herkimer diamonds."

Step three: It puts the vodka in the skull.

It is entirely worth your precious, spare moments to watch the video by Dan Ackroyd. I guess this went "viral" in October, but this is the first I've heard about it.

All I know is that at $250 a bottle, this vodka better cure cancer or magically refill itself. For that kind of coin, it better sing me lullabies at bedtime and walk the dog on rainy days. Or at least make me so drunk that I'm unaware that it's raining out when I'm walking the dog.

Oh, wait. The suggested retail price (if you can find it in stock) is a more affordable, but still pricey, $50. Damn! That's some serious price gouging!

Although, I think we all knew going in...joy doesn't come cheap.

picture day

2009-03-27T13:41:00.007-05:00

Some days you are the baby kimodo dragon.
Some days you're the bug.

*********************************************

I do not like Peeps. They are my least favorite thing about Spring/Easter. In my opinion, the only good peep is a carmelized peep. The fact that grown-ass adults would create diaramas using peeps only makes me want to smash them more.

Although...if this could solve the pothole problem in Chicago, I would be all for it.

And if I was voting, I would crown this one.
And then set it on fire.
"Peep on a Wire."

*********************************************

Recently, I bought this shirt for my sister, who is:

1) a leo
2) a girl
3) a gay

It's from the threadless folks and is titled, "Gay Pride."

I am also:
1) a leo
2) a girl

But, I am not gay.

I really covet this shirt, since it's all pink and covered with Lions (dude, I wanted to name our dog Aslan, but was out-voted.) If I were to wear this shirt, I have no doubt that many folks I know, would think I was gay....which normally? Whatever. But, as I believe much of the population already thinks I'm gay, I'm kinda fighting an uphill battle as it stands.

While I love that shirt, I'd rather avoid having this conversation.
Again.

- Dude, I'm not gay.
- But you're shirt is sooooooo gay!
- Yeah. But, I'm not gay.
- Are you sure? You kinda seem gay.
- I'm sure. Not gay.
- Really? Cuz I always kinda pegged you for...
- Not gay, dude.
- Oh. Okay..... Are you sure?

*********************************************

Hey.
I dig robots as much as the next nerdling.
I celebrate all machinery that make my life less toiling. I [heart] my washing machine, the timer on my lamp. Even my beater of a car.

I'm even cool with them being better at math.

But, a giant robot that breathes fire?

"The system goes online on August 4th, 1997. Human decisions are removed from strategic defense. Skynet begins to learn at a geometric rate. It becomes self-aware 2:14 AM, Eastern time, August 29th."

Oof. No more giant robots, okay Tokyo?

happiness is...

2009-03-24T11:47:00.003-05:00

Things that have made me happy recently.
In no particular order...

- The latest episode of Dollhouse. It's been a slow build, and part of me worries that Whedon is writing with the thought that DH will have the same short-lived fate as Firefly, but this week's show came out swinging. Hixx, you should really give this another shot. When Helo and Eliza D finally meet, it's on like MFing Donkey Kong.

- That the outro song for Dollhouse this week was "Sweet Dream" by Greg Laswell. I can't get enough of this album. In a way, I'm really happy I'm not in a relationship, because it has a very sweet romantic vibe to it...and I'm kinda glad that it won't have that brand on it 10 years from now, where I connect it to some guy I was schtupping.

- The name Ulysses Brambor. I invented this name today. I'm pretty sure I need to write a scene about Ulysses...or the people who've crossed paths with him.

- Vegas in the fall with M (fingers crossed) and S. Just the idea of this puts a huge smile on my face! But, even if it's just me and S, that would be delightful in and of itself. I'd get some solo time to crash out poolside while he's at his seminars and we'd hit some tasty meals and some even tastier table action. I was going to cash in my giant "coin jar" and throw it in my savings, but I think that I'll just keep adding to it until the trip, and use it for my spending money for the tables instead. Come here little coins!!

- Dusting off the creative part of my brain. I'm going to be directing a show in May-June (info forthcoming), and working on some pre-production schtuff with the producers has been delightful. I've been working out rehearsal agendas (what I want to accomplish in each) and thinking about format and technical ideas. Basically, my job is just to point the ship towards it's ultimate destination, the cast has to man the boat, stay on course and keep it afloat. While battling zombies.

- Olive crashing out on the bed last night. I don't know how many of you live alone and have a dog. (I'm not sure it's the same experience as a cat, so I'm keeping it specific.) Next month it will be 10 years since I ran into Olive on a farm down in TN. There is no doubt that Olive loves YOU, but, she's quite fickle when it comes to me. While she enjoys napping near me on weekend afternoons, she's gotten into the habit of crashing solo at night - either on the floor of my room or in the living room. She was gone by the time I woke up, but it was nice to fall asleep with the beast curled up next to me, once again.

Part of my brain tells me that she has stopped bunking with me regularly as a method to "wean" me. That way, one day, when she's gone on to that great bacon filled resort in the sky, it will be easier to get used to sleeping without her. (how hard was that sentence to type? HARD.)

The other part of my brain thinks she's just sick of my snoring.

- Meals with friends. Last week I had one dinner with J, another dinner with J, her sister A and a couple other ladies (S and R) and a spectacular lunch with JS (no relation to J.) Now, as much as I need to pinch some pennies, those meals were worth every cent (especially the one where J picked up the tab - thanks, yo!) Sometimes, I forget that friends (and alcohol) are gifts we give ourselves. And renewed friendships are like getting a round on the house. Holla.

- Youtube. My mom is a proud turtle owner. I said it.

She found one on the side of Interstate 57 on a trip to visit me in college...over 20 years ago. I often wonder, if he outlives her - would I adopt it, or find a nice home for it? I doubt after two decades of being hand fed, he'd survive in the wild. Then again, I know squat about turtles and their ability to adapt.

Anyway, maybe you've seen that video where the turtle is humping a shoe.
And it's making that noise? And you can see its turtle junk?

So...yeah.
A turtle humping a shoe....made me think about my mom.

So...I...called her. In 20 years, I've heard lots of stories about Saluki (the turtle), but I never heard about it humping stuff. I had to know.

As blunt as I normally am, I have to say, describing that video to my mom was hysterically awkward. Long story short, she had never witnessed this kind of behavior from her pet...but was beyond curious and had me send her the link.

I sent my mom a link to a turtle humping a shoe.

And all is right with the world.

perception

2009-03-18T23:01:00.003-05:00

My brain says, "This is what happy sounds like."

I dare you to karaoke along...wherever you are right NOW.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

Gonna keep on dancin' to the rock and roll
On Saturday night, Saturday night
Dancin' to the rhythm in our heart and soul
On Saturday Night, Saturday night

I I I I I just can't wait
I I I I got a date

At the good ole rock and roll road show, I gotta go
Saturday Night, Saturday Night
Gonna rock it up, roll it up, do it all, have a ball,
Saturday Night, Saturday Night

It's just a Saturday Night
It's just a Saturday Night
It's just a Saturday Night

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

Gonna dance with my baby till the night is thru
On Saturday Night, Saturday Night
Tell her all the little things I'm gonna do
On Saturday night, Saturday Night

I I I I love her so
I I I I'm gonna let her know

At the good ole rock and roll road show, I gotta go
Saturday Night, Saturday Night
Gonna rock it up, roll it up, do it all, have a ball,
Saturday Night, Saturday Night

SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night!

SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT
SATURDAY NIGHT...

when worlds collide

2009-03-12T20:25:00.002-05:00

Witness. A perfect storm of comedy.

"These are the "no go" areas: drugs, child abuse, the Holocaust."

"N. Do you know what Necrophilia is?"

Give it up to Elmo for holding his own with Gervais.

major

2009-03-03T16:42:00.006-06:00

First, the meme: 1. List three of your major artistic influences and three unexpected ones

It's kind of a hell when you have writer's block. Or is it writers' block? Not sure. Either way, "tomorrow" took a few more days than I originally planned.

My three major influences?

1) History. I know that's kind of all encompassing in a way, but looking over my work and life, it's the history of places and people and even things that seems to spur me on. It's reading about other lives and views and both building and reflecting and homaging those stories that excite me.

I am a big believer that unless we learn from the past, we are doomed to repeat the same mistakes. That we have to connect with the humanity of the folks who created the world we live in as much as the folks who live across the street...or across the globe.

Here's an example - The Tiffany Dome in the Chicago Cultural Center.

It's the largest of it's kind in the world. It's the kind of thing I could ponder for hours.

Imagining when the Cultural Center was first built - it was Chicago's original public library. All the people who came into the library from 1897, 1924, 1958, to borrow a book, or just get out of the rain.

What the laborers were like who created that astounding piece of art.
All the folks, who stared up at it over the years...like indoor stargazers.

Two of my favorite shows have always been Postmortem and Defending Your Life. The casts were both amazing to work with, but it was the chance to create a moment out of time or in another time...it's always been the most fun I've ever had.

So, yeah. History.
Be it small and personal or large and global...History eggs my brain on.

2) Studs Terkel/Errol Morris. I'm not sure if it's wrong to have these guys share a tier, but in my mind, they've had equal influence. Much like a branch off "History" - both these gents, in their own genres, have put spotlights on both the everyday folk and the celebrity. And really, aside from a publicist, there is no difference between folks and celebs.

Every person has a story, sometimes you have to really be patience, but sooner or later, they will tell it to you. It matters not the depth or breadth of the tale. All stories have the potential to connect the teller to the listener. And that connection? It makes the world go round. Or makes it go bumpy. But it makes it go.

3) Louis Armstrong. I don't tend to play those "what would your desert island Top 10" games. But if I crashed and was stuck on an island and I could only have one record (although I would wish for the whole catalogue) of one artist, it would be Louis Armstrong.

As a kid, when I said my prayers, I would silently ask God to make Louis Armstrong my guardian angel. He just always seemed so full of wisdom and joy and made amazing music.

Whenever I get really stuck...be it writing, or in my head, or in life? I listen to Louis. He is my reset button. He is who I celebrate with. He is who I cook or clean or screw around on the computer to...he fits every mood, every occasion. And at all times, his music gives me a peaceful mind.

Three unexpected artistic influences, which I will not elaborate on: The Quiet Man, Roderick Jaynes and Annie Duke.

muddy gestures

2009-02-25T11:57:00.003-06:00

Last night, as I left my office and walked out to the parking lot, I noticed in the growing dark that my car seemed...tilty.

Hello, Flat Tire At The End Of A Long Day.

I used to have this awesome (and insanely affordable) AAA-like coverage through my cel provider...but they were losing money on it, so they pulled the plug. Since then, I've been AAA-free. Which meant, I'd be changing that spare thank you, very much.

Lucky for me, a co-worker was also working a bit late. I figured it would be easier to deal with the flat in the burning light of day (versus the cold and dark of night), so I finagled a ride to the Cumberland stop on the Blue Line. A couple stops down is Jefferson Park, where I caught the bus and was home by 7:40pm.

My 70 year old father would not hear of my plans to change the spare. Even though I have changed multiple spares in my day. By myself, thank you. He drove over to my office around 11am this morning and met me in the lot.

I honestly think it took longer to empty out my trunk to get to the spare...than the actual "changing" of the spare. Mi Dios. My pack-rat traits are astonishing to behold. Perhaps later, when I "repack" the trunk, I'll make a list of everything that was in there. Oof. It was like my trunk threw an ambush intervention to expose my addiction to the world. Or at least, my father. Erg.

Well, 70 year old Pop quickly realised that the equation of: his knees + hard asphalt x cranking the jack/loosening lug nuts = not gunna happen.

Which is how I ended up covered in muck while trying to position the jack. (Yes. My bad for not bringing something to change into...against my better judgement, I know, I know, I know.)

Bingo Bango, Spare is on the Car.

I'll have my tire fixed after work (nail/rivet was the culprit.)

When everything was put away and as I prepared to head back into work, my father told me he had brought a few things to give me.

Chalk it up to that parent DNA that you must send your child out into the world with, at the very least, a bag lunch. I received:

3 containers of Frozen Soup (homemade!)
1 head of iceberg lettuce
2 cans of Barq's Diet Root Beer
1/2 a loaf of French Bread

...and a small bunch of white daisies.

"I figured you could use 'em."

I know there are a lot of folks out there right now who have much bigger woes on their plate - unemployeed, stressed, worried about their kids, how to pay for college, how to pay the rent...and so on.

In the big scheme of things, a flat isn't that big a deal.
It's the teeniest of fleas in the ointment.

I guess, I just want to say, that if you're reading this...and you get "muddy" today? I hope somebody turns around and hands you "daisies."

It's usually the smallest of gestures that give us the resolve to keep on keepin' on.

Word.

the look

2009-02-24T15:13:00.009-06:00

Maybe you know Chuck.

He is the canine muse to Beth H, creater of dooce.
He's kinda "internet famous" for being able to balance things on his head.

This is Chuck's counterpart, Coco.

I'm always envious of the shots Beth can get of these two.

While photogenic, Olive isn't really into posing for the cameras. Most shots I have of her are of furry out-of-focus dog ass.

Instead, I live vicarious thru Beth's awesome pooch photography.

I haven't been over to the site in a couple months...but it's been a longish day, so I thought I'd head over and get a dose to get me through the afternoon.

Normally, this is the sort of sight one might behold.

Which makes me feel better that Olive is Queen Destructor at my abode.

But this is today's post.

The most HAWESOME shot ever.

Go ahead. Click it.

You need to see this in a large format.

And yes, Chuck's male and Coco's female.

Which just adds to the delightfulness...

But, really? It's that look.

That look on Chuck's face.

Priceless.

Enjoy the rest of your day, my friends.

It's all downhill from here.

whatever happened to hi-fi?

2009-02-18T09:28:00.005-06:00

Back in the year 2008, J tagged me to blog about artistic influences.

I've started that response at least three times and left each post to fester. But this morning, my ipod shuffle is screaming at me to at least respond in part.

First, the meme: 1. List three of your major artistic influences and three unexpected ones, and 2. If you post something in the comments here, I will guess three of your artistic influences.

Before my reveal, here were J's guesses for me: Dorothy Parker, Buzzcocks, Jean Shepherd, Samuel L. Jackson.

Man. J gives me credit for being way cooler than I really am.

While my humor has always been fairly dark, wise-cracky and based on an ongoing game of one-upmanship since puberty (perhaps even earlier), I really never saw myself as smart enough to keep up with the likes of the Algonquin Round Table.

Even in my heady 20's when I thought my snarky retorts were my best and brightest feature. Still, that's a swank compliment...so I'll take it!

J was much closer to the mark on the Buzzcocks!

I was very much in love with anything British in junior high and high school. I wore out my dubbed cassette copy of The English Beat ( I Just Can't Stop) on one side and The Police (Synchronicity) on the other. I have no doubt that I would have followed Elvis Costello or Joe Jackson to the ends of the earth.

The Buzzcocks pop/punk was not only kick ass to listen to, but filled the requirement to at least sound risque to the point that I hid my cassette of Love Bites at home, for fear my father would make me get rid of it.

I lived in a house where "stinker" was the worst allowable word you could use. Even a quiet uttering of "crap" would get you grounded. I didn't want to find out what punishable fate owning a tape with the word "cock" emblazoned on it might deliver.

I have to admit Jean Shepard threw me for a loop. No idea who that was. I'm not sure if J meant Jean Shepard (DJ/writer/narrator) or Jean Shepard (country music singer/songwriter.)
Either way...I had to look them both up. Oof.

As for Samuel Jackson...I do believe that he inspired me to use a certain word way more than I used to in both my personal and artistic life. And, I think you motherfuckers know which motherfucking word I'm motherfucking talking about.

Tomorrow, I'll post three major artistic influences.

While I have no idea where my duped cassette copy of the Buzzcocks may have landed after 20 some years, after J mentioned them, I had an old gift certificate that I traded in for Singles Going Steady.

For now, I just wanted to post the song that finally spurred me to action. I can't access youtube at the moment, but I'll try to add a link later.

I wish you could see you the huge grin that listening to this song is giving me.
1) It's got a rockin' good punk sound.
2) Remembering how this song fueled my ideas of teen rebellion..is cracking me up.
3) The delivery of "oh shit" is so...impotently agnsty? Past the anger, just plain annoyed acceptance of the truth.

Oh Shit
Oh shit I thought you and I were friends
Oh shit I guess this is where our love ends
Oh shit I thought things were goin' well
But it hasn't turned out so swell
Has it?
Oh shit
Oh shit

Pride comes before a fall
Oh shit and once you lose one you've lost them all
Oh shit I guess that this time's the time
And it seem you're no longer mine
Don't it?
Oh shit
Oh shit

Oh shit I wish I'd known before now
Oh shit that you were such a cow
Oh shit I wouldn't've wasted my time
Oh shit chasin' somethin' which wasn't mine
Face it
You're shit
You're shit

Oh shit I wish I'd known before now
Oh shit that you were such a fuckin' cow
Oh shit I wouldn't've wasted my time
Oh shit chasin' somethin' which could never be mine
Admit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit
Admit
Admit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit
You're shit

For the record, I don't think anyone is "shit."
I'm just rocking out to my teenage soundtrack.

I hope you can embrace the awesomeness the Buzzcocks have bestowed upon us all.

bad example

2009-02-16T14:42:00.003-06:00

Why do we even call it "Monday" anymore?
Why not call it "Cliche-day" and be done with it.

Ex: I hate my new haircut.

Dude. I just typo-ed "hairbut" and why did I change it?
It really is a hairbutt. With all the grossness implied.

Ex: I emailed my little sis to get her new (since last summer) address.

She calls me back to enlist my help trying to get my nephew to stop being disrespectful and talking back. (He turned 13 this weekend.) I said I would talk to him, but also encouraged her to 1) Call that Boys Town hotline and see if they had any parenting tips/advice/behavior to nip this mouthy thing in the bud, and 2) encourage her to make amends with our father so we can all provide a united/family front on the issue of being respectful.

Yeah. I'm not sure which pissed her off more, but I am, once again, the idiot sister who has no children, so why did she even call me as I obviously am not coming to the table with solutions.

Ex: Leaving early to have car appraised.

Have to haul over to Elmhurst to have my insurance company tell me that they aren't giving me any money towards fixing my junker of a car...even though the other driver's at fault. Because we are BOTH ON THE SAME INSURANCE. So, they don't want to pay either of us.

I know I drive a 12-year old beater...but he HIT my CAR. I don't expect it to be fixed to a pristine glow...but I'm going to waste the rest of my afternoon with them telling me that I'm going to have to come up with my deductible to have it fixed. My stomach is already churning.

Speaking of which...

Ex: To get back on a healthy eating routine, I started eating cereal in the mornings.

Unfortunately, instead of the regular shredded wheat, I forgot that I picked up the Shredded Wheat n' Bran. I've been eating it for a few days now and, man, today was the day when the "Bran" decided to step up to the plate.

Two words: Colon Blow.
My insides must be as clean and pink as a newborn's.

In other news...I'm not proud to admit to being a reality tv junkie. But, it's true. The Amazing Race, America's Next Top Mode (next month!), Project Runway, Survivor, the occasionally Dancing With the Stars and assorted others.

But the only one I ever really write or communicate with others about is American Idol.

For the past few years, I've been part of an email list...this year, we kicked it up to a blog (where I'm pretty sure I'll be the main contributing writer.)

If you follow AI, enjoy some snark and would like to unburden yourself amongst your peers, check us out at idol words.

Oof. Time to take the car in....wish me luck.

penny for you thoughts

2009-02-12T20:46:00.005-06:00

Just thinking about Abe today.

Growing up in the "Land of Lincoln," our 16th president is omnipresent. As a kid, you're told the about log cabins and wrestling as you examine your copper pennies.

Later you learn the about the stateman, the speaker and Great Emancipator. You learn to recite the Gettysberg address and maybe part of his debates with Douglas.

Later still, you learn that maybe all your history books have built him into this myth of a man and that, like all of us, Lincoln was more complex, more foibled, more human than you considered.

But, man. That guy could write.

So here's to all your imperfections, Mr. Lincoln.
You kept this union from breaking, you put us on a course to embrace a new future.

We definitely owe you a beer.
Happy Birthday, yo.

a stop along the way

2009-02-10T07:32:00.005-06:00

Fly away little bird
Any place in this open mouthed world
Begs to be fed like a bed that beckons you, but you won't rest

Sunday night Pete treated me to some sushi...man, I love sushi!

We went to Tampopo and I really recommend it (for sushi.) Mmmm, Tuna! The fish was very fresh and generously sliced. The maki was tasty, too. They make one roll that has sweet potato tempura in the middle, and the outer layer of the maki is wrapped in avocado. I never would have put those flavors or textures together, but hell if it doesn't work!

We caught up a bit while we ate and after downloading the economy, the stimulus package, folks we know that have been laid off (or have made it thru them) and Obama's first 15 days, the subject ended up on much lighter fare - American Idol.

Specifically, if I'd be starting up with my Idol "rants."

Every one's got a need to go
Most of us stick with our row to hoe
But not you, you're the black crow
With a straight line, and no time

For the past couple of years, I've been emailing a recap of my perceptions and opinions of the Idol performances to a small group of folks who follow Seabreeze & Co.

"His voice just doesn't fit this song and if he was tring to exude some kind of sexy beast attitude? It came off as more a half-assed drunken hobbit singing karoake at Bilbo's going away party."

"He made some serious stoner contorted faces during that song. I suppose one man's "intensity" is another man's "bong hit.""

"WTF was that whole crossing the stage thing about. If you know you move like a broke-ass Teddy Ruxpin, DON'T HIGHLIGHT IT BY WALKING ACROSS STAGE MID-SONG."

It's all been just a bit of snarky fun with folks that - many of them being friends of friends - I barely know or only have conversed with online during "Idol season."

Most folks just read my Idol missives, but one, Sandy, (a former co-worker of Pete's) would respond back weekly and with gusto. She'd email me back, letting me know if she agreed or disagreed with my comments - and would always encourage me to keep writing.

For the birds of prey who wreck your nest
Twice your size steal your best
They set you on this course of your collision

Lively and funny, Sandy is one of those people who live on your periphery that you figure you'd meet sooner or later at some backyard bbq or bar outing.

Pete told me Sandy passed away last week.

It took me a while to register that info.
My brain kept trying to hear it as, "She got laid off."
She got laid off. She got laid off. She got laid off.

I am a stop along your way
I am the words you'll never say
I crossed the great beyond of fear
I opened my eyes and saw us there, what a view
You went there too

It's strange. I never met this woman, our only connection was snarky retorts about a tv show. I barely knew any facts about her life except where she worked and her favorite Abba song.

Fly away little bird
Find the song in you that no one's heard
Strengthen your wings as you sing your solo flight
Through this short life

It feels silly to say about someone I've never seen, but, I know I'll miss her. I felt a small, but solid affinity to her and had been looking forward to our annual Idol repartee, which was quickly approaching.

Such a small, silly thing to share.
Such an odd connection to feel.

Every one's got a deep regret
We try to ground ourselves to forget
But your race to the end is neck and neck
You love them, you love them not

The birds of prey who wreck your nest,
Twice your size steal your best
They set you on this course of your collision

But, she's stuck in my brain this week. This friend/stranger.

I threw some CDs sitting around on the Ipod over the weekend...and this Indigo Girls song just came on.

I am a stop along your way
I am the words you'll never say
I crossed the great beyond of fear
Opened my eyes and saw us there, what a view
And you went there too

Every time I hear it, I get a lump in my throat - it's a song that is extremely motivational and beautiful. Something that you might hear in an off-loop musical. Simultaneously, it sounds like something I'd want played at my own funeral/kegger blow out.

Hearing this song, as much as we foist our our feelings and baggage onto lyrics, it just seemed so apropos regarding this lady that I barely know.

I can't tell you how many times we chatted about what song would be good to audition with, or a better choice for country week or disco night or what we'd sing at the finale if we got the chance...and if we could hold a tune.

But all along your chosen path are
Window panes and sheets of glass
That you won't see
You fly too fast
One day it will be over

I don't really do dedications...but I think, since our entire connection has been in the ether of the internets, I'd like to dedicate this song, in this moment, to Sandy.

This is the song I'd sing....if I could do it justice.

Fly away little bird
The saddest song I ever heard
Was the one that I wrote you in my heart
That never made it to the world

Seems that the Indigo Girls have yet to release an official video for this track. This Star Wars fanvid had the best sound quality (over some live concert cuts)...I'd like to think it would give Sandy a good laugh as well. Enjoy.

rock out

2009-02-09T11:52:00.002-06:00

Tonight!

Ravin' Dave Lykins
Sylvie's Lounge
1902 W. Irving Park Rd

I'll be getting there around 9:30 or 10pm.

Yes, it's a school night.
Yes, Dave goes up 4th. Oof.
Yes, hanging out with friends, listening to Dave sing is worth the loss of sleep.

hiro worship

2009-02-04T12:11:00.005-06:00

Lately, I've noticed that Time has been swirling around me...but it came to a slamming halt when his car hit my car this AM.

I was turning left into a parking lot, he was careening around the SUV that was giving me the high sign to cross. I hit the brakes. He hit his brakes.

Time actually held for a beat, when I knew that he would hit me.

It actually felt like everything around me froze - Hiro style - while I sighed aloud and rolled my eyes at the pending impact. The moment passed and boom.

We did all the responsible driver bidness. I pointed at him to pull into the parking lot, which was about the crabbiest thing I did. We traded insurance info. He followed me in his Civic for three blocks to file a report at the police station . While we agreed on all the details of the incident, and were very calm and civil to each other the entire time, I had a hard time looking directly at the guy.

It was an accident. A very minor fender bender. My car seems find - just another lump on my very beat-up beater. His car didn't even look scratched. I'm still having everything checked out, in case my axle breaks in a week's time.

The good news is, nobody was injured and both cars are in (fingers crossed) running order.

The bad news is, MAN. Nothing screws your brain around like a stupid fender bender.

The funny part is that after leaving the police station, I went right back to the place the impact happened. I still needed to pull into that lot and hit the ATM. Of course, 30 minutes or so later, much less traffic. Easy peasy.

The thing that keeps rolling around my brain is that moment when time froze:

When I knew the hit was coming.
When I knew we'd all survive it.
When I knew that I'd be late for work.
When I was glad I didn't have coffee.
When I thought about what the SUV driver must be thinking.
When I knew that my car insurance was paid.
When I added up all the car expenses I've had in the last 6 months.
When I thought, I should have entered the lot from Lawrence.
When I sighed.

Trippy how many things can run through your head in an instant.

As much as I think I would dig a Hiro style superpower...it would be wasted on me. I would just use it to take naps. Or attempt naps.

I look at the calendar and see that it's already February 4th.
Time traveling like a run-away locomotive.

What do I do whenever I get overwhelmed with Time?
I make a list.

I'm going to publish my list and see if it keeps me honest.

February 2009
- File Taxes (mine and Pop's)
- Collect items for Box o' Crap Giveaway* (at least 12 items)
- Organize Kitchen (this is the big one.)
- Keep/Trash ONE box of stuff in the spare room.
- See Touch...New Leaf Theater.
- See They Put Handcuffs on Flowers...Right Brain Project.
- Rally the troops for a Quizzo Night (one year and still rockin'.)
- Climb back onto the WW wagon. Lose 5 pounds
- Bathe Olive (she's never gone this long without a bath. Oof.)
- Start a writing/research schedule and stick to it. (Must have something NEW finished to submit for WC in March.)

Okay. 10 to-dos is a decent enough start.
Feel free at anytime to publicly ask/shame me about my list.
But, give me a 24-48 hour running start, please.

*Box o' Crap Giveaway will be a monthly giveaway of sundry items offered to the populace for 7 days. (Books, cds, weird garage sale-esque crap I hold dear.) If no home found, items will be donated to the thrift store/library/salvation army on the 8th day.

Please note that at no time, will the Bo'CG ever include the Monkey Pirate Nutcracker.

what do i get?

2009-01-27T18:09:00.004-06:00

I need to get up and get dressed for our awards dinner. Fahk.

What I really want to do is climb into bed, order room service, eat in my pjs and sleep until I have to get up at the crack of dawn for what I'm sure will be a 16 hour day and then some.

I'm trying to quickly find a song on youtube to get my ass in gear.

Greg Laswell? - I still love this track...but not quite ass kicky enough.
Kanye? - Yeah. But I just don't have it in me to pull off the attitude this needs.
Beyonce? - The earworm that I can't escape.
Flight of the Conchords? - Ah...the sugar lumps.

J recently reminded me of my abiding love of the Buzzcocks. I can't find the worn out cassette tape (a copy) that I listened to on my Sony Walkman over and over back in the day...but I had a gift card to Barnes and Noble that was gathering dust, so I went and bought a Buzzcocks Greatest Hits CD...and it's like the decades just melt away.

Yeah. The Buzzcocks. That's the ticket. (Thanks, J. I owe you a drink.)

cup...cakes...

2009-01-24T14:02:00.005-06:00

Omigod. The close-up shot on this dog?
I laughed so hard I think I may have had a small stroke. Here for link.

Of course...cupcakes have the same effect on me. Gar.

puttin' on the hits v2.0

2009-01-22T21:59:00.004-06:00

Passing this along to the masses.

J directs the sketch comedy duo Kerpatty.
They recently performed at Chicago Sketchfest and this was how they opened their set. Enjoy.

[WORTH THE TRIP TO YOU TUBE TO WATCH IN "HIGH QUALITY"]

Hell. It made me laugh.

one small step

2009-01-21T08:50:00.007-06:00

Back in December I made mention one of my ongoing, but semi-secret, goals in life.

I've always wanted to be one of those folks who creates a word/phrase that becomes part of our modern lexicon.
I want to create the next woot, necker's knob or "Keep on truckin'." It has been a goal of mine for many years. I shit you not.

People.

I think I'm going to need a moment.

Lady Court has arrived.

I guess it actually was published way back in December...I just hadn't checked up on it. I'd like to thank Sir Dennis (of whose court I am a member) for making the submission to Urban Dictionary.

Now that it is officially acknowledged on the internets, GO FORTH! And bring the good news to all you encounter about "Lady Court!"

My dream of hearing a stranger say it in my presence by Spring 09 is truly attainable!

exhale

2009-01-20T21:21:00.003-06:00

I feel a sense of peace and optimism and possiblity that I haven't felt...since, well, I can't remember when. Tomorrow the work begins.

But for today, we'll just let that breath we've been holding in all the way out and take a deep breath in...and drink in the moment.

At last.

In other news...when you get a chance, do yourself a proper and check out http://www.whitehouse.gov/

Change is here, and it's the real deal, babe.

ode to a dog

2009-01-15T15:23:00.017-06:00

Ten years ago this coming Easter, standing in the middle of a dirt farm in Tennessee, as pigs and turkeys ran around me, I made a snap decision that altered the course of my life.

I became a dog owner.

It's funny to think that there are a vast number of my friends who don't know me without Olive. It's been a decade with the beast and as much as I loathe when we play "I'm rolling the ball in a place that I'm unable to retrieve it, thusly you must get off your ass and get it for me," I do believe that this dog has brought myself and most folks who meet her - wait.

The ball is under the TV console. Faaaaahk.

Where was I?
Oh yeah, she brings the sunshine.

So, here's to her.
Twelve pounds of tenacity, neurosis and adorable.

May you live to have a creature bring as much sweetness into your world, as that ball of teeth and fluff has brought into mine.

10 Facts about Olive on her 10th birthday
1) She does not like it when you touch her paws for any reason.
2) She does not like it when you leave.
3) She does not like it when you try to hide her ball because she rolled it under the cabinet for the 11,485th time that day.
4) While her breed are known for being water dogs, she hates both the rain and baths.
5) She, like most terriers, is extremely savvy and resourceful.
6) She got into a nearly full bag of treats on Tuesday. On Wednesday, she spent the day taking a Marmaduke worthy crap (about 6 of them) in the bathroom. As I've told her more than once, "If you're going to shit in the house, shit on the linoleum." I appreciated her thought...wait.

Ball.

7) I don't know the actual day she was born. I forgot to ask the Amish folks that I procured her from. When I got her to the vet, he estimated her age and figured she was born in mid-January. Let me tell you, the Ides of March has nothing on Ides of January.
8) Favorite food? Baked Acorn Squash. Watching her gnaw out a husk is a wonder to behold.
9) While she is completely untrained, in her salad days, Olive performed or was featured in several shows in the off-loop Chicago theater scene, including:

The Armageddon Radio Hour (pic above) 2000-2004
The Armageddon Radio Hour New Year's Eve 2000-2004
The Gong Show (she was a popular judge) 2000-2005
Leopold (featured - see pic below)

The SKALD (2006) - Told the heart-wrenching saga of her 11 day adventure as a lost dog.

She also, sadly, inspired a indelible portion of J's one-woman show, The Emily Show (2002)...when one strange and awful night, Olive killed J's pet hamster, Deluxe.

This was Olive's standard program bio:

Since September of 2000, Olive has been seen in no less than
five productions in Chicago, including an open run of Armageddon Radio Hour, where she originated the role of Fineas McFineas. Olive is named after a cemetery in
the great state of Tennessee. Please don’t feed the diva.

She also holds the canine record for viewing DADA poetry. Word.

To all the folks who had Olive foisted upon them (never work with kids or animals!), not only did every single person handle it with aplomb, but with complete helpfulness for which I am ever grateful. If I never thanked you in person, please know that I have always appreciated any and all deference you showed that furball.

Finally, the only real fact you ever need to know about Olive is this,

10) Olive is a whore. In the best possible sense. She loves every one of you. If you visit, she will want to sleep on top of you and steal your blankets. Because she loves you. She'll want to play ball for 1286 hours. In a row.

She will snap your arm off like a twig if you even dare to play rope/tug with her. She wants you to rub her butt, her ears, her belly. She'll lay next to you or better still, nestle herself under your blanket.

All she wants is to be near you.
For truly, she's the best kind of whore.
The kind where your money's no good here.
The kind who makes you pancakes the morning after.
The heart of gold kind of whore.

Ok. I lied about the pancakes. But that dog is a whore from the word go.

Here's to you, my beastie.
Happy Birthday and many more, my sweet.

cups running over and over and over

2009-01-14T18:57:00.003-06:00

Arg. This is about the 5th post I've attempted in the last week. I have so much to pontificate about, but my writing has been...well, I'm literally boring myself. Oof. Not good.

I'm sure I'll climb out of this wordless trench where hyperbole comes to die...but in the mean time....

I will share this much.

For 2009, I've decided that "I'm not a morning person" is just not cutting it anymore. So, I've embraced the life of a coffee drinker. I've spent my entire adult life avoiding the "coffee trap" and now, I'm diving in.

I'm not sure why I've been avoiding tea. It's like I feel like I'm cheating on my commitment to coffee. And somehow to drink coffee and tea seems at odds. Yeah. The caffeine is already doing a number on my reasoning and logic functions.

Basically, a part of me misses me tea.

over my shoulder

2009-01-06T08:15:00.007-06:00

I've been avoiding doing one of those "year in reviews."

Not that a bit of evaluation can't be productive...mostly, I've been in an "offline" state of mind over the holidays and just can't seem to get back on the proverbial bicycle. Yet.

Instead, I'm stealing a meme idea from my friend notnits:

Post the first line from each month of your blog over the previous year.

I'm going a bit more indepth- because I find myself as facinating as you obviously do. I'm adding the title of the entry (note the parentheses) and linking to the full entry (hit the month), if you're curious to see where the stray thought ended up.

I'm a big believer in trying to create writing that is, what I like to call, "round." Meaning, no matter how tangental you get, you always attempt to come back around to your initial intent and finish your point/thought/idea.

I added the titles because I found them to be odd and amusing when you're just reading the first line. Also...I started the year over at vox and transitioned to blogger, so for a few months, I have two blog posts. Hell. Since I kept two going, I might as well get traction out of them.

JANUARY: (wtf) Truth be told, my karate has been in need of a good kick in the arse.

FEBRUARY: (lost) Uh....my wallet went MIA yesterday.

MARCH: (rule the world) Nephew this weekend.

APRIL.vox: (grading on a curve) This morning I was driving into work (late) and caught an interview on WLUP with Alec Greven, a 3rd grade student in Denver, who penned the homework assignment, How To Talk To Girls, which was later turned into a book sold at the school book fair.
APRIL: (elbow) I was born into a legacy of Beta over VHS.

MAY.vox: (nerd party) I think I've previously mentioned some of my friends and myself get together on Wednesday to partake in the nerd party that is Quizzo.
MAY: (file under: wtf) I love kids.

JUNE.vox: (yes) Yes, it's 2am.
JUNE: (high hard ones) Ironman ROCKS.

JULY.vox: (arts is good food) My brain is breaking that it is July 8th.
JULY: (WTF) My blood is boiling right now.

AUGUST.vox: (habits) My birthday is next week and although I am awash in riches of friends and home and really want for nothing to speak of (with the exception of winning the LOTTO that I never remember to play anyway)...I still feel a bit off about it.
AUGUST: (shooting blancs) There is very little improvisation in Metaluna.

SEPTEMBER.vox: (still) My friend wrote, "I am sort of troubled by the fact that I didn't make any mention of September 11th - the DAY, The Anniversary - in my post. "
SEPTEMBER: (humped) I just watched McCain.

OCTOBER: (rocktober) It's October 1st.

NOVEMBER: (It's on like Donkey Kong) As I ponder what my experience might be tomorrow as a novice election judge, I'm torn between utter excitement at being part of the process (and a bit of history), and the idea of a day that starts at 4am and may end 15 or 16 hours later.

DECEMBER: (by the dashboard lights) A Poem to Celebrate our First Snow in the City.

Uh. No comment.

schwoosh

2008-12-31T14:55:00.003-06:00

I was just thinking...

That's about how fast it goes by.

Unsoliciated advice to myself for 2009:
Don't blink. You may miss something important.

a christmas carol v2.0

2008-12-25T02:19:00.005-06:00

Like I needed more reasons to adore Aimee Mann.

The soundtrack to Magnolia.
Her (nearly) unsung, but pivotal role in The Big Lebowski.
Her cameo in Buffy The Vampire Slayer (the series.)
The idea that she is related (even by marriage) to Sean Penn. (I'm extremely curious what that family holiday might be like.)

I could go on and on listing the many reasons I dig Aimee Mann.
Instead, I am telling you to sit your ass down and watch this:

I do not know how much farther out of my way you expect me to go for your crippled son, alright?

You tell Tim, from me, "Bah Fucking Humbug."

Delicious.

And when hubby Michael Penn gets in the act as Marley?

A: What what what what what what? Michael Penn? You've been dead for weeks. Oh. I know. It's a bad dream. I must have eaten like some bad yogurt or something.

M: Aimee, your yogurt did go bad, but that's just a coincidence. I'm really disappointed in you. Doing shows for yogurt and juice and deodorant. You're kind of becoming a whore.

The fog machine alone makes it worth watching.

Part 2 here. (the weakest section...keep watching anyway.)
Part 3 here. (it picks up speed again)
Part 4 here. (best ghost of xmas future ever...plus more fog machine)

I promise this is worth the 15 minute time commitment.

And if you don't know who Aimee Mann is...well, you have bigger problems than I can solve, brother.

Merry Christmas! Now get offline and enjoy your holiday!

my xmas wish for you

2008-12-24T10:44:00.004-06:00

Sometimes, you just have to laugh.

As it has always been, day in and day out, since days of olde...my cynic's mind will once again battle with my optomistic heart.

There is a little chunk inside me that believes that no matter how crappy the economy gets or how shitty people can be towards one another be it in a war zone or mall parking lot, we all have the capacity for good and that the universe will unfold as it should.

And nothing reminds me more than a night's veiwing of my all time favorite movie.

One of my favorite lines is a throw away line that Uncle Billy says in his frantic rambling. I normally don't like when writers try to tie in the title with dialogue, but for me this is really what the entire message of the movie is about. Listen for it when he spills the basket of money.

Isn't it wonderful? So many friends!

I love this movie. I watch it all year long (not just at xmas.) I've probably seen it more than any other movie in my lifetime. I have so many memories of home and holidays tied to it - as I'm sure a lot of folks do.

One memory is a few years back at WNEP, when we had our theater space on Halsted. That year, we put up a tree and threw a big party with a potluck dinner. We had a grab bag and at the end of the night, we set up a big TV and all sat and watched It's A Wonderful Life.

Timed to perfection, just as the scene came up with everyone bringing in the money to give to the Bailey's, a friend of ours (who looked quite a bit like a young Jimmy Stewart) came running in, dressed as George Bailey, carrying a basket full of dollar bills yelling, "Merry Christmas Movie House! Merry Christmas WNEP! Merry Christmas you wonderful old Theater!"

He dumped the money (a donation of one hundred dollar bills) and ran back out.

We were all laughing and cheering and crying and it remains one of my favorite Christmas memories of all time.

So to all the sweet folk I know...for all the holiday annoyances and family drama and travel nightmares this season can bring...what I wish for you this Christmas is a memory that can fill you up with laughter and goodness.

Sooner or later all that other stuff falls away and it's the memories of a Jimmy Stewart look-a-like running in and yelling, "Merry Christmas Emporium!" that make it all worthwhile.

Have a safe and lovely holiday folks!
I love and adore you.

xoxo

rebar

Note to Amy...please tell your hubby I continue to be thankful for witnessing that moment.

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

2008-12-23T18:46:00.004-06:00

IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!

And all the world is right again...

The hard part will be saving these for my New Year's Day of recovery and DVD watchin'.

a cynical winter's day

2008-12-23T11:40:00.007-06:00

I rolled the dice and drove to work today.

The seers are predicting another 2"-10" of snow over the next 24-36 hours, depending on who you listen to and where you live.

[rant/]This is one of the shitty things about living in the city and working in the burbs*. While the city may get a couple inches to dig out from, my office will get 5".

While the main arteries in Chicago may be clean as a whistle, the burbs can end up looking more like the side streets that get one plow per month.

And while there is a public transportation option to my office, it includes a bus, a train and yet another bus (which only runs 6 times a day. You heard me.) So, you can't run late, the bus can't run late and the train can't run late. Which is what happened on Friday. (No train.)

As I listen to some friends who rarely (if ever) leave the city proper claim, "it's not that bad," when the seers predict a few additional inches or back-to-back storms, I want to knock folks (who dismiss the weather) into a snowbank and give them an old fashioned winter swirly.

They haven't spent 2-3 hours quality time in an auto on icy slick, unsalted, unplowed roads, after which spend an additional 20-30 minutes (or more) trying to find a parking space.

To those who do not drive outside of city and/or do not own a car, I say, STFU about the snow.

And yes. It is my choice to own a car.
It is my choice to work outside of the city.
It is my choice not to take public trans (even if the freaking train is over an hour late.)

Yes. I screw myself with these choices.
You're absolutely correct.
Now...STFU. [/rant]

Needed to purge. Apologies. We're already having one of the wettest years (rain/snow combined) and one of the coldest, snowiest winters on record. Which is great if you're 9 and get a snow day, but sucks if you're 39 and are working in a f'ed up economy.

What I started to write about was my drive in this morning.

I dug out my car back on Friday when the snow fell. Then the temp dropped to sub zero averages and everything froze (we're talking single degree temps with -33 wind chill.) As I tried to drive out of the now solid ruts of ice my car was trapped by, my wheels spun round and round. Much like the famous bus.

I tried rocking it. I tried to shovel additional snow/ice out of the way. I got the barest hint of traction and progress...and then got stuck ON the icy rut. Joy.

All the while, a car sat patiently behind me, like a vulture, waiting to pull into the space I was to vacate.

After about ten minutes of me in and out of the car...and perhaps coming to the conclusion that the girl with orange scarf was S-T-U-C-K....the waiting driver finally got out and offered to help.

Granted, it was equally for his benefit. The sooner I was gone, the sooner he could park...in the sweet, shoveled out (but icy) spot I had to offer.**

After pushing didn't work, he did try something with my shovel, which gave me just enough traction to rock myself out. It took another few minutes, but I finally got farther up on the rut to let physics work it's magic and I got out of the space.

I said "thank you very much" and "Merry Christmas" and tried not to think about finding a new spot when I get home tonight as I pulled away.

Please Baby Jesus, Let there be many people who are leaving/driving to a holiday destination and will leave plenty of parking spots for the rest of us jerks. Thank, ye.

So, yeah. The guy helped me, but only after getting tired of watching me muck around for a good 10 minutes or more. And yeah, there was NO WAY I was getting out of there without some kind of assistance.

I think it was 55% good deed, 45% selfish act.

So, part of me wants to be all, "The city is such a bastion of good will!" and the other part is like, "Hell, if I wanted the [bleeping] parking spot, I'd [bleeeping] get out and push [bleeping] too!"

*I just got a call from an office in Bolingbrook (about 45 min south of my office) that closed down due to the snow falling. I was told, "We can't even open our front door. We're sending everyone home now, before it gets worse."

**I'm one of those folks who is not a fan of the "crappy lawn chair marks my spot." I believe that if you own a car, and plan on moving it from Nov-Mar...and it snows? You should dig out the spot around your car. Not just drive away. Not half ass it. If everyone dug out, we'd all have parking.
Call me a commie, but that's what I believe. So, even if I'm the only one on my block who does it? Sure, maybe I'm a sucker. But I'm a sucker with a clear conscience.

I believe that, much like voting, if you don't shovel, you can't bitch.

guilty pleasure

2008-12-18T14:56:00.006-06:00

It seems like nearly every day, I get another call or hear about another friend who's getting laid off.

When people cheerily ask me "How are things, goin' with you?" I want to clock them. I know it's more out of habit to ask that, but really...look around! Things are freaking rough out there. I feel like I'm juggling and dancing and at any moments all the plates that I'm spinning will come crashing down on top of me.

And I've still got my job.
Good times. Good times.

Well, today, we had our annual end-of-the-year team lunch. It was decidedly dressed down compared to prior years, and to be honest, I was stunned that my boss gave the green light to even a cheapie lunch out on the company dime.

One of the youngsters I work with brought up the plan for a $20 grab bag. I've been watching most of the nickels I have left, so I figured that I would skip it this year. I mean, I really wasn't all that interested in exchanging a bottle of good tequila for a gift certificate to Starbucks/Dunkin Donuts/whathaveyou.

Last night, as we prepare ourselves for the onslaught of nature kicking our frozen asses yet again, I stopped at the grocery store to stock up on provisions. Milk, soup, tomatoes and a box of Little Debbies. I can't survive the storm without that little brat making good with the swiss rolls.

As I careened through the aisles, my brain started to tick about the grab bag and the next thing you know, I'm blowing good money after bad and putting together a holiday survival kit.

Rebar's Holiday Survival Kit:
Candy Canes. Check.
Nestle's Hot Chocolate Mix. Check.
Mini-Marshmellows. Check.
Breast Cancer Awareness Mug. Check. (Only mug I could find at the Jewel)
Hiram Walker's Peppermint Schnapps. Check it.
DVD of the 1969 made-for-TV holiday special, The Littlest Angel. Check.

As they say in merry olde England, "How's that for a slice of fried gold?"

If you've yet to swim in the delights that a hot mug of chocolate spiked with peppermint schnapps, stirred to perfection with your candy cane swizzle stick can offer?

Baby, get on board, because the joy of the season is passing your ass by.

Swimming in that mug, while watching Fred Gwynne, Cab Calloway and Tony Randall kick out the heavenly jams? This is the blessing you have prayed your whole life to receive.

Back at lunch....we did that version of "grab bag" where people can "snatch" your present. I was, er...the snatchee. At the end of the game, I ended up with a gift wrapped in newspaper - which, while a very green choice - gave me a bit of deja vu for a christmas some years back where I got stuck with a gift wrapped in some paper towels.

But that's a story for another day.

To my delight, I opened the giant box and after much digging, found a sheet of paper to serve as my gift certificate...to Amazon. For $25 large, yo. The giver, feeling somewhat shamed for not having bought an actual gift, threw in an extra fiver. Sweet.

I've been pining for The Thin Man Collection. All SIX of the Thin Man films! Every now and then, I check over at DeepDiscount.com to see if they put it on sale. I know $40-50 isn't much, but when you're trying to pay down your bills...I just could never pull the trigger.

And that's when the Baby Jesus showed up.

Amazon had the DVD set for a mere $26.99.
With free shipping, yo!

I was more than happy to pony up the extra $1.99!

And now the guilt sets in.

While I know I couldn't pay my bills with an gift certificate...

...money's tight with my sister, maybe I should have gotten my nephew an extra gift.
...or given it to someone who just got laid off, who could use it more than myself.
...perhaps bought a toy for a sick kid who's laid up with a bald head in the hospital.

I'm sure I'll get over it, but all of a sudden, spending that $25 on myself makes me feel like a grade-A heel.

Ho. Ho. Ho.

me heart noir

2008-12-18T06:48:00.002-06:00

A holiday lesson for us all...

Hint: This looks even better in that new widescreen setting on youtube.

file under: eye roll

2008-12-17T11:43:00.009-06:00

I was going to opine about how much I would personally like a shot at throwing my shoes at Bush.

About his cavalier attitude about this presidency and the ravaged state he is leaving this country in - the economy, the wars, the continued non-response to Katrina (and other disasters), and his lack of concern for the body count he has accrued both in American and Iraqi lives.

About how offensive and repugnant his behavior, attitude and "leadership" continues to be to me.

How each minute he has left in office is yet another opportunity for him to open his mouth and damage this country. It literally will not end until January 20th.

But, then I read this on Crooks and Liars.

JoyceLynn Aryan Nation Campbell, Honszlynn Hinler Jeannie Campbell and Adolf Hitler Campbell.

Good names for a trio of toddlers? Heath and Deborah Campbell think so. The Holland Township couple has picked those names and the oldest child, Adolf Hitler Campbell, turns 3 today.

This has given rise to a problem, because the ShopRite supermarket in Greenwich Township has refused to make a cake for young Adolf's birthday.

[Jaw hits floor. Picks up jaw. Repeat.]

Here's a photo gallery of the family domicile.
It's very Early Colonial White Trash.

Christ on a stick! It's one thing to make the decision to be a complete hate-mongering douchebag. Putting swastikas on your home, your body, your car? All your choice.

But to name your kid Adolph Hitler? Or Aryan Nation?
Game over, Shithead.
That is completely off-the-charts Bullshit.

(And I pronounce "bullshit" like I would imagine Matthew McConaughey would do it in Dazed and Confused. Just so these folks can grasp my complete meaning.)

The Campbell's have swastikas in each room of their home,
the rented half of a one-story duplex just outside Milford, a borough in Hunterdon County. They say they aren't racists but believe races shouldn't mix.

. . .

The Campbell's said they wanted their children to have
unique names and didn't expect the names to cause problems. Despite the cake refusal, the Campbell's said they don't expect the names to cause problems later, such as when the children start school.

I'm trying to imagine the delivery room, when the baby boy arrived and the father turned to the doctor and nurses and proclaimed that this infant shall be named after the biggest mass murder of all time. Would it be wrong to call child protective services even before they left the hospital?

I mean, those kids are in for a world full of hurt.
Especially when they go to school.

Heath Campbell said some people like the names but others are shocked to hear them. "They say, 'He (Hitler) killed all those people.' I say, 'You're living in the wrong decade. That Hitler's gone,'" he said.

"They're just names, you know," he said. "Yeah, they (Nazis) were bad people back then. But my kids are little. They're not going to grow up like that."
. . .

Robert M. Gordon, a clinical psychologist in Allentown, said the names would hurt the children.

"Certainly society is going to be hostile towards those kids, especially when they go to school," Gordon said. "By the time they get to school, they will already have been damaged," Gordon said.

"Any parent that would impose such horrific names on their children is mentally ill, and they would be affecting their children from the day they were born.

Only a crazy person would do that."

Hey there, Heath, is it? Why don't you, the "adult" who seems to be so in love with your cause, legally change YOUR NAME? Why don't you go to the grocery store and sign your checks, head over to the DMV for a new license, drop by the bank to deposit your paycheck and show up for jury duty with that name? You know, the name you seem to be so in love with?

Just leave the toddlers out of it.

The most insane part is that they feel so wronged, so slighted by ShopRite having the balls to say, "Uh. NO."

Hang on.
This next bit might ratchet up the insane quotient a wee bit.

Young Adolf Hitler Campbell will be getting a cake from Wal-Mart this year.

Hold. The. Muthascrathin' Phone.

Does that mean that Wal-Mart is willing to personalize the cake?

The Campbell's say Wal-Mart made cakes for Adolf's first two birthdays. A spokeswoman for Wal-Mart said the store won't put anything illegal or profane on a cake but thinks it's important to respect the views of customers and employees.

"Our No. 1 priority in decorating cakes is to serve the customer to the best of our ability," Anna Taylor, the spokeswoman, said from Bentonville, Ark.

I have a lot of reasons why I don't shop at Wal-Mart, but I do believe that this might shoot to number one with a bullet.

To sum up...

Even Jesus is rolling his eyes at this bullshit.
(click to enlarge Jesus' annoyance.)

baby, it's cold outside

2008-12-16T13:39:00.009-06:00

I'm back! I got a little wrapped up last week celebrating Blago-gate.
Also, knitting, drinking and avoiding the icy embrace of winter.

Speaking of priorities in frigid weather...who'd like to get in line to stone this idiot?

On a day when temperatures hovered near single digits, a
suburban mother left her toddler in a cold van while she
went shopping Monday, police say.

Pamela J. Weberski left her 20-month-old son in her car
with the heat and ignition off while she shopped at the
Target store, at 300 S. Randall Rd., in Elgin, authorities said.

An off duty firefighter who happened to park next to the vehicle spotted
the infant in the car.

Weberski's husband, Dan, said the family made a horrible
mistake and now they are paying for it. He said the child had
fallen asleep and his mother didn't want to wake him.

One police officer said the air temperature was 8 degrees, with
-11 degree windchill, at the time.

Authorities said Weberski was Christmas shopping and had
been in the store for about 25 minutes. Weberski, 43, was
charged by Elgin Police, accused of endangering the life of a
child. She was released after posting a bail of $100.

Listen, I grew up in a childhood void of: seatbelts, helmets, car seats, bike lanes, baby monitors, safety gates, outlet covers, faucet covers, child-safe aspirin bottles, cabinet/toilet seat locks, sun shades, table corner cushions and the like.

We had night lights and Bactine, people. That's it.

Leaving a toddler asleep in a car with temperatures in the single digits? It was 9 out when I was leaving for work yesterday and got to a high around 15 (but not until 3pm.) I COULD NOT GET MY CAR DOOR OPEN yesterday due to the icy temps.

I wouldn't leave my dog alone in my car for 20 minutes in this kind of weather...and she's got a fur coat!

And yes, I do leave Olive alone in the car sometimes.
But, not when it's 90 degrees in July or 9 degrees in December. WTF!

You know, I could ALMOST be understanding, if this was some young, inexperienced mom...but this was a 43 yr old woman. At that age, if you don't have the common sense to figure the equation:

Baby + Below freezing temps + 25 minutes = Poor Parenting Choice

If you can't add that much up, then you really should consider sterilization.

Besides....Blago Baby is the only one we should be leaving out in the cold.

Note: I do not approve the "Obama link" on this doll.
That's 100% bullshit.

We're Number One!

2008-12-09T12:06:00.008-06:00

We are the Land of Lincoln.
The City of Big Shoulders.
Former Hog Butcher to the World.
And on days like today...we are the Stinky Onion.

Some wise ass updated the Wikipedia page for Chicago.
Stating, in bold:

Chicago (pronounced shi-KAH-goh or shi-KAW-goh) is the largest and most corrupt city in the United States city by population in the state of Illinois and the American Midwest of the United States.

Har-dee-har, asshole. That said. Turns out it's pretty spot-on. Every time we look to be moving past the "political machine" that this city was built on, a new beetle crawls out from under the rock.

Our current governor, Rod Blagojevich (D) has completely outdone our former governor George Ryan (R) - who is currently serving time for corruption, mind you - by the breadth of his illegal "pay for play" machinations.

Hell, they gave him his own page on Huffington Post!

Which goes to show you, greed is not about party affiliation. It's just about you being an arrogant bastard who thinks he can pull one over on an entire state and get paid while doing it.

I'm thrilled he got arrested. Our state needs an governmental enema. Now, if my secret boyfriend US Attorney Patrick Fitzgerald, who arrested Blago at the crack of dawn Tuesday AM, (and who also convicted Ryan) would do me a favor and turn his laser focus on our Olympic-obsessed Mayor Richard Daley (D) and our County Board President Todd Stroger (D)?

If we could cut the corrupt heads off our hydra in a domino-like fashion, the underlings might take notice that the times, they are a'changin.

These arrests come too few and far between. But, if they [bleeping] started to start slicing and dicing the big guns, I think that this [bleeping] city (and [bleeping] state) might have a chance to clean out it's [bleeping] gutters.

And while our Congress never had the balls to impeach Bush, I'm hoping that Illinois can show them how to show a corrupt official the [bleeping] door.

And God Bless Stephen Colbert and his writing staff. If you haven't seen their response to Blago, it's a must. (And it has one of the best interviews of Charlie Kaufman I've seen.) Rock on.

Update:

Hey! Turns out that today is Blago's 52nd birthday!
Don't forget to wish that mother[bleeper] a happy [bleeping] birthday!!

Quote of the day: (Atlantic Monthly) "Incredible. Blagojevich was already under investigation. And then he tries to sell Obama's Senate seat? I don't think I've ever seen anything like this. This dude tried to auction the Senate seat of the President-Elect of the United States. Wow. They haven't even invented a machine that can calculate the Fail Factor here. I do believe we have gone to Interstellar Fail. Intergalactic, perhaps."

FACT: You can see his arrogance from space.

When vanity attacks.

2008-12-08T21:10:00.010-06:00

Here's a truth about me. I can, at times, get a bit obsessive-compulsive about very specific things (with the exception of housework. Housework is unarguably evil and it must be destroyed.)

If you're a regular viewer, you know that I spent most of November toe up. While I showered (most days) and brushed my teeth, I misplaced my tweezers and my eyebrows ran wild.

Wild, I say!

After two weeks of saying, "I'm sure they'll turn up, today," and then tossing my place, I finally broke down and bought my 24th pair of tweezers.

Some people lose socks.
I lose tweezers.
It's my fatal flaw.

I must have at least 7 pairs squirreled away in my tiny home. Of course, I can't find any of those, either.

Much to my delight, after said purchase, I came home after work and went to town on my unruly brows. Mmmm...and to my horror...in my lust to "clear the brush,"...I went a bit...overboard.

I went from a full-on Frida (and I looked waaay more unkempt than Kahlo.)

To a pencil-thin Gloria Swanson in a matter of minutes.

Actually, Gloria looks pretty adorable there.

If I'm really honest, I think I went 6 miles beyond overboard and crossed over into the land of Sunset Boulevard.

Please. If you run into me over the next few weeks, avoid direct eye contact for both our benefit.

Someday, I'm going to let the Seether out and she will pluck my brows bare. Someday. [shiver]

Oof.

2008-12-06T10:52:00.002-06:00

WARNING. This video is NSFW (repeat NSFW!)
Did I mention it's not safe for work?

But, it's pretty damn funny.

So wrong.

Happy Saturday!

I can't go back to jail.

2008-12-05T21:20:00.006-06:00

If you are a Chicagoan, I dare you not to laugh your ass off.

[For you out of town folks, I worry that you'll miss many of the spot-on local references...just to clue you in, Walter E. Smithe Furniture has been a Chicago staple for decades.

That's Smithe with an E, is as ingrained in our psyche as 588-2300...Empire! or Rockabye your BABY, Hi, I'm Harry Schmerler your singing Ford Dealer. All of which...again, likely lost on you.]

Schadenfreude is a fantastic sketch comedy group in town who have more than earned their due (get off your ass Comedy Central...or better yet, HBO.)

This makes me laugh every time I watch it.
Fantastic delivery by all.

Emmy...with an E from Schadenfreude Media, LLC on Vimeo.

For more Schadenfreude goodness, head here.

Nod to D-Ray. I can't keep up with all the websites I should be paying attention to.

this one goes to eleven

2008-12-05T01:17:00.003-06:00

What are the six words I want to hear most in the world?

David, I've got cake.
Woo Hoo!