29 May 2008
May 29, 2008
ALl of the blogs below this one are from my OTHER blog that I brought to this one and deleted from that one. So if the dates and whatnot are really confusing, please know that they are, in ascending order, from mid 2006 til mid 2008. i just didn't want to lose them! :)
5 Things that make me happy
Anyone who knows me knows that I am a news junkie. And although I am usually up to date and insanely informed about the state of the world, being aware of all the "icky" things that happen on a daily basis can occasionaly leave me a little depressed and/or anxious. So, I've decided to randomly post blogs about things that make me happy....in 5's. Hopefully this will keep things in perspective and help make us realize that it's not all that bad....
So, here are my 5 happy things for today...
1. Rainbow traffic- yesterday I was driving into Chicago to my blues class at Old Town School of Folk Music. It had just stopped raining when I left my house. As I got closer to O'Hare, the biggest, brightest rainbow I had ever seen in my entire life stretched right across I-90. Apparently, I was not the only one to notice this, as traffic came to a hault because just about everyone else on the road saw it, too. It did take me 2 hours to get to school, but I can't complain about rainbow traffic- because usually when traffic is that bad, someone has gotten hurt in an accident. (I just told my mom about this and when I said 'rainbow traffic' she thought I meant I was stuck in a gay pride parade. no joke. I love her. She's getting an honorable mention for making me happy today)
2. Unashamed laughter- My 5 year old (6 tomorrow!) was watching TV the other day and saw the newest Burger King commerical where a man and his son are actually dressed as Whopper and Whopper Jr. As my son sat there and watched it, he started laughing hysterically and yelled out "AHAHAHA! They're Hamburgers!"
3.Simple games- my 20 month old daughter has a new game. She calls it "Woah" and asks to play it by name. We put this bumble bee bean bag in the middle of the floor and she runs and flops on it and yells "WOAH" as she rolls off of it. She does this about 42 times until she gets tired and asks for water.
4. Terry Christianson- I found him on myspace. Let the fun begin!
5. Melissa and Justus' card- i got a card from these two friends last week when I graduated college. I put it up above my desk at work, so i can see it every day. it says:
"Congratulations, Fina! We are so pround of you. Now that you are done with college, there is so much to do.
1. Get Married
2. Have beautiful children
3. Run a family business
4. Star in a huge, long running show
5. Sing blues on a legendary stage
6. buy a house
7. buy a boaat
8. be a model
9. Go to Disney World
10. Retire
i guess there's only one thing left to do! Love, Justus and Melissa"
Thanks guys!
So, here are my 5 happy things for today...
1. Rainbow traffic- yesterday I was driving into Chicago to my blues class at Old Town School of Folk Music. It had just stopped raining when I left my house. As I got closer to O'Hare, the biggest, brightest rainbow I had ever seen in my entire life stretched right across I-90. Apparently, I was not the only one to notice this, as traffic came to a hault because just about everyone else on the road saw it, too. It did take me 2 hours to get to school, but I can't complain about rainbow traffic- because usually when traffic is that bad, someone has gotten hurt in an accident. (I just told my mom about this and when I said 'rainbow traffic' she thought I meant I was stuck in a gay pride parade. no joke. I love her. She's getting an honorable mention for making me happy today)
2. Unashamed laughter- My 5 year old (6 tomorrow!) was watching TV the other day and saw the newest Burger King commerical where a man and his son are actually dressed as Whopper and Whopper Jr. As my son sat there and watched it, he started laughing hysterically and yelled out "AHAHAHA! They're Hamburgers!"
3.Simple games- my 20 month old daughter has a new game. She calls it "Woah" and asks to play it by name. We put this bumble bee bean bag in the middle of the floor and she runs and flops on it and yells "WOAH" as she rolls off of it. She does this about 42 times until she gets tired and asks for water.
4. Terry Christianson- I found him on myspace. Let the fun begin!
5. Melissa and Justus' card- i got a card from these two friends last week when I graduated college. I put it up above my desk at work, so i can see it every day. it says:
"Congratulations, Fina! We are so pround of you. Now that you are done with college, there is so much to do.
1. Get Married
2. Have beautiful children
3. Run a family business
4. Star in a huge, long running show
5. Sing blues on a legendary stage
6. buy a house
7. buy a boaat
8. be a model
9. Go to Disney World
10. Retire
i guess there's only one thing left to do! Love, Justus and Melissa"
Thanks guys!
Conversations with Jackson part 189b
Real conversation in the car this morning after a "treat" of Dunkin Donuts..
Jack: We can't let the bugs see our donuts.
Me: No problem, just keep em covered.
jack: and if they eat our donuts, we'll kill them
me: don't say words you don't understand.
jack: Oh, sorry....if they eat our donuts, we'll destroy them
me: *sigh* that's better....
jack: we'll destroy te grasshoppers, we'll destroy the bees, we'll destroy the mosquitoes and we'll destroy the beetles.
Me: Wow. It's like we live in the Phillipines.
Jack: But we won't destroy the Peacocks. We'll share with them. Can we call them on the phone?
Me: I don't know their number
jack: 1-800- Brookfield-Zoo
Jack: We can't let the bugs see our donuts.
Me: No problem, just keep em covered.
jack: and if they eat our donuts, we'll kill them
me: don't say words you don't understand.
jack: Oh, sorry....if they eat our donuts, we'll destroy them
me: *sigh* that's better....
jack: we'll destroy te grasshoppers, we'll destroy the bees, we'll destroy the mosquitoes and we'll destroy the beetles.
Me: Wow. It's like we live in the Phillipines.
Jack: But we won't destroy the Peacocks. We'll share with them. Can we call them on the phone?
Me: I don't know their number
jack: 1-800- Brookfield-Zoo
Conversations with Jackson part 13
(loud banging starts from the other room)
Me: JACKSON CHARLES! What are you doing?
Jack: Hammering!
Me: I can hear that! What are you hammering!
(hammering immediately stops...)
Jack: I....have...no...idea...
Me: JACKSON CHARLES! What are you doing?
Jack: Hammering!
Me: I can hear that! What are you hammering!
(hammering immediately stops...)
Jack: I....have...no...idea...
Conversations with Jackson part 67
Jack finds Sofia's toy cell phone in the toy box that rings and when you answer it says "hi there! Want to play?"
*ring ring ring ring*
jack: who's calling me now? (answers phone) Hello?
phone: Hi there want to play?
jack: NO! (slams it shut)
*ring ring ring ring*
jack: Give me a break! (answers phone) HELL-OOO?
phonel Hi there! Want to play?
jack: I told you! Stop calling me here!
(slams phone shut)
My son is truly a busy man of the 21st century.
*ring ring ring ring*
jack: who's calling me now? (answers phone) Hello?
phone: Hi there want to play?
jack: NO! (slams it shut)
*ring ring ring ring*
jack: Give me a break! (answers phone) HELL-OOO?
phonel Hi there! Want to play?
jack: I told you! Stop calling me here!
(slams phone shut)
My son is truly a busy man of the 21st century.
To Mr. Cookie
Dear Mr. Cookie;
I am writing you to respectfully request that you keep outside of the 500 foot radius my inner nutritionist has placed between you and me. It has come to my attention recently that no matter what sort of restrictions we put upon you, you have no regard for rules and you always show up where you are not wanted. This is a serious matter, Mr. Cookie and no matter what disguise you try to use; be it chocolate chip, peanut butter, those amazing crispy oatmeal raisin ones my mom makes at Christmas or the sugar covered with finger licking good frosting kind, you will one day be destroyed and banned from my world.
For example, I went to the bank today to deposit a well earned check into my account and when the deposit slip was returned to me, there you were; wrapped in paper and sealed with a big yellow smiley face sticker. All the while emitting that chocolatey smell you use to lure unsuspecting weak willed individuals like myself into your den of fat filled, sugar laced doom. For the safety of those around me, I had no choice but to take you into my car and dispose of you properly at once.
And even as recently as this past Tuesday, as I tried to avoid your presence by leaving the office five minutes before your arrival with the sales rep who thinks that we will cave to her demands by offering us your delicious roundness, you found a way to remain in the office; untouched, ignored and waiting. Waiting for me and my low carb, anti sugar attitude to come back and find you alone and begging to be consumed. What was I to do? You know it's in my nature to make every environment as safe as humanly possible for those I love. I, once again, was forced to get rid of you and all of your remaining crumbs- sacrificing myself so that I may save others from you and your diabetic agenda.
Please- for the good of me, my waist line, my pancreas, my mental health, and those that have to deal with my sugar crashes, find someone else to pick on. I am tired of your threats, the creepy way you just lay there and don't say anything forcing me to take action before something bad happens and the way you've made me so incredibly fat and lumpy. It's ALL your fault.
Get out of my life, Mr. Cookie- or I will be forced to...um....Jesus. You know I don't have the power. Just get out and stay out.
Sincerely,
Sarafina
I am writing you to respectfully request that you keep outside of the 500 foot radius my inner nutritionist has placed between you and me. It has come to my attention recently that no matter what sort of restrictions we put upon you, you have no regard for rules and you always show up where you are not wanted. This is a serious matter, Mr. Cookie and no matter what disguise you try to use; be it chocolate chip, peanut butter, those amazing crispy oatmeal raisin ones my mom makes at Christmas or the sugar covered with finger licking good frosting kind, you will one day be destroyed and banned from my world.
For example, I went to the bank today to deposit a well earned check into my account and when the deposit slip was returned to me, there you were; wrapped in paper and sealed with a big yellow smiley face sticker. All the while emitting that chocolatey smell you use to lure unsuspecting weak willed individuals like myself into your den of fat filled, sugar laced doom. For the safety of those around me, I had no choice but to take you into my car and dispose of you properly at once.
And even as recently as this past Tuesday, as I tried to avoid your presence by leaving the office five minutes before your arrival with the sales rep who thinks that we will cave to her demands by offering us your delicious roundness, you found a way to remain in the office; untouched, ignored and waiting. Waiting for me and my low carb, anti sugar attitude to come back and find you alone and begging to be consumed. What was I to do? You know it's in my nature to make every environment as safe as humanly possible for those I love. I, once again, was forced to get rid of you and all of your remaining crumbs- sacrificing myself so that I may save others from you and your diabetic agenda.
Please- for the good of me, my waist line, my pancreas, my mental health, and those that have to deal with my sugar crashes, find someone else to pick on. I am tired of your threats, the creepy way you just lay there and don't say anything forcing me to take action before something bad happens and the way you've made me so incredibly fat and lumpy. It's ALL your fault.
Get out of my life, Mr. Cookie- or I will be forced to...um....Jesus. You know I don't have the power. Just get out and stay out.
Sincerely,
Sarafina
Conversations with Jackson part 256
*jack gives me a hug and scratches my back*
Jack: I like scratching your back. Doesn't it feel great?
Me: yeah- it's very nice of you to do that for me
Jack: We all need to scratch eachother's back sometimes.
............yes we do, Jack, yes we do....
Jack: I like scratching your back. Doesn't it feel great?
Me: yeah- it's very nice of you to do that for me
Jack: We all need to scratch eachother's back sometimes.
............yes we do, Jack, yes we do....
The retractable deer leash
Jack: I would like a pet. Would you like a pet?
Me: I dunno
Jack: I'd like to pet a deer. And I'd like to have a deer as a pet. And then we could put it on a leash, but one that would come back automatically. He wouldn't even know he was on a leash but he'd never run away. Then he'd like us more......and he wouldn't hit us with his horns. What do deers eat?
Me: Hmmm....I don't know. What do YOU think they eat?
Jack: Cats.
Me: I dunno
Jack: I'd like to pet a deer. And I'd like to have a deer as a pet. And then we could put it on a leash, but one that would come back automatically. He wouldn't even know he was on a leash but he'd never run away. Then he'd like us more......and he wouldn't hit us with his horns. What do deers eat?
Me: Hmmm....I don't know. What do YOU think they eat?
Jack: Cats.
Sad but true...
...as I'm checking on the grilled chicken breasts I made for dinner last night....
enter Jack...
Jack: Mom, YOU know how to use the OVEN?
enter Jack...
Jack: Mom, YOU know how to use the OVEN?
Cross stitch, beets and a burn
I had my second appt with the nutritionist today. And I weighed 10.5 lbs more than I did the first time I went. EXCUSE ME? I've been running at least 2 miles a day for the past month and I GAIN that much weight? unacceptable. I have a feeling it was from a medication I was put on around the same time I last visited her. So, I took myself off of it. 10 lbs. Gross. (And if anyone comments "it's muscle gain" I will find you and slug you in the gut).
One of the things she urged me to do was to combine my fiber and veggie intake. Fine. Green beans, celery, carrots it's all good I can do it. And then she said "eat more beets". OK, number one, I don't even eat them to begin with. And number 2, it's 2007. Does anyone even sell beets anymore? Whenever i think of beets I think of Dwight Schrute's family farm and I giggle. So beets? I don't think so. I'll stick with the 4 bean deli salad that everyone laughs at me for eating cause i look like I'm 65 years old at a church picnic.
And THEN she told me that i need to keep my hands busy when i sit at the table waiting for my kids to finish eating so i am not tempted to eat more myself. I said "any suggestions?". First she mentioned doing my nails. But i really can't do that cause they'll inevitably get messed by me slapping myself in the face to stay awake while they're still tacky. Or pulling Sofia and Jack off of eachother as they fight over the apple juice. So then she said "how bout cross stich? Or crochet?". Have you MET me? Crochet or knitting takes me back to an EIU production of Dancing at Lughnasa where my friend Katie and I spent a good portion of our stage time knitting. We had grand plans for that knitting. We envisioned a huge afghan or beautiful wool scarves for all of our friends to be done by the end of the run. But really what we came up with every night were little blue traingle/rectangle/circles.
So cross stitch? I'm going to do it. And my first project is going to be a cross stitch of a couple beets above the number 10.5 and I'm going to give it to my nutritionist to hang on the wall.
After my meeting i threw my notes in the car and strapped on the ipod. And I started running. And I ran the Fox Trot 5k route. This is the first 5K I'm going to running on May 28th. And I actually ran it. I couldn't believe it. I was "beet" *(it all comes full circle, doesn't it) red when I finished. And I was still red an hour later. Behold! The first sun burn of the season! Welcome summer 2007!
I remember when i was in middle school and we had to run "the bear" in gym class, which was only a mile and i was always the fat out of shape girl who came in last cause I would walk the whole thing. I wouldn't even try. Oh, if Mr. Kottkamp and Mrs. Patterson could see me now. Sure I'm still fat and out of shape, but they'd be very proud of my cross stitch.
One of the things she urged me to do was to combine my fiber and veggie intake. Fine. Green beans, celery, carrots it's all good I can do it. And then she said "eat more beets". OK, number one, I don't even eat them to begin with. And number 2, it's 2007. Does anyone even sell beets anymore? Whenever i think of beets I think of Dwight Schrute's family farm and I giggle. So beets? I don't think so. I'll stick with the 4 bean deli salad that everyone laughs at me for eating cause i look like I'm 65 years old at a church picnic.
And THEN she told me that i need to keep my hands busy when i sit at the table waiting for my kids to finish eating so i am not tempted to eat more myself. I said "any suggestions?". First she mentioned doing my nails. But i really can't do that cause they'll inevitably get messed by me slapping myself in the face to stay awake while they're still tacky. Or pulling Sofia and Jack off of eachother as they fight over the apple juice. So then she said "how bout cross stich? Or crochet?". Have you MET me? Crochet or knitting takes me back to an EIU production of Dancing at Lughnasa where my friend Katie and I spent a good portion of our stage time knitting. We had grand plans for that knitting. We envisioned a huge afghan or beautiful wool scarves for all of our friends to be done by the end of the run. But really what we came up with every night were little blue traingle/rectangle/circles.
So cross stitch? I'm going to do it. And my first project is going to be a cross stitch of a couple beets above the number 10.5 and I'm going to give it to my nutritionist to hang on the wall.
After my meeting i threw my notes in the car and strapped on the ipod. And I started running. And I ran the Fox Trot 5k route. This is the first 5K I'm going to running on May 28th. And I actually ran it. I couldn't believe it. I was "beet" *(it all comes full circle, doesn't it) red when I finished. And I was still red an hour later. Behold! The first sun burn of the season! Welcome summer 2007!
I remember when i was in middle school and we had to run "the bear" in gym class, which was only a mile and i was always the fat out of shape girl who came in last cause I would walk the whole thing. I wouldn't even try. Oh, if Mr. Kottkamp and Mrs. Patterson could see me now. Sure I'm still fat and out of shape, but they'd be very proud of my cross stitch.
I came in 33rd!
.....in my age group. 522nd out of more than 1700 people. Not bad for my FIRST 5K run race today in Elgin. I feel great and am so proud of myself that I trained and stuck to it and did it!
My time was 34:20. I averaged about 11 minutes a mile. Not lightning speed, but dammit, I did it! And that's with an ipod that SEIZED UP at the 1 mile mark. Son of a bitch technology. So i had to run the rest of the race without Elvis and James Brown.
The coolest thing was at the end I saw this paramedic who was one of the guys who got me out of my house and to the hospital just in time when I had the staph infection in my spinal column. If it wasn't for this guy and his crew, I'd probably be paralyzed today. No joke, no exaggeration. That was the reality I faced back in 2002. So, I went up to him and shook his hand and said "you saved my life". He was very cool and when he asked me, "so, how you doin now?" I said "Hey- i just ran my first 5K." it was then i realized how far I've come from that horible experience. And then his sister, who had run the race, took our picture because he was touched that I took the time to thank him.
yay! I can walk! And run!
Happy memorial day! I'm going to go visit the Vecchio memorial today and then do a little swimming. My next race is on the 16th. We'll see if i can't get that tine a little better.
My time was 34:20. I averaged about 11 minutes a mile. Not lightning speed, but dammit, I did it! And that's with an ipod that SEIZED UP at the 1 mile mark. Son of a bitch technology. So i had to run the rest of the race without Elvis and James Brown.
The coolest thing was at the end I saw this paramedic who was one of the guys who got me out of my house and to the hospital just in time when I had the staph infection in my spinal column. If it wasn't for this guy and his crew, I'd probably be paralyzed today. No joke, no exaggeration. That was the reality I faced back in 2002. So, I went up to him and shook his hand and said "you saved my life". He was very cool and when he asked me, "so, how you doin now?" I said "Hey- i just ran my first 5K." it was then i realized how far I've come from that horible experience. And then his sister, who had run the race, took our picture because he was touched that I took the time to thank him.
yay! I can walk! And run!
Happy memorial day! I'm going to go visit the Vecchio memorial today and then do a little swimming. My next race is on the 16th. We'll see if i can't get that tine a little better.
That darn sticker
People have been driving really aggressively around my car lately. I was almost driven off the road this morning on route 47 by a crazy bitch in the same kind of car as mine. My KIDS were both in the back seat. I take that move on her part as trying to kill my children. I take this very seriously. Problem is, because the kids are in my car I can't, as a good parent who does put my kids first, do anything about it. I can't get out of my car at the next stop light, drag her out and punch her smug little Oakley sunglass (yeah, Oakleys) wearing face. I have to be a good example to my children and control my road rage at all costs. So I let her pass and silently fantasize about her getting pulled over and getting a $30 ticket for being ugly and a bad dresser.
This has been happening a lot in the past week and I can't understand why. I'm a good driver. A GREAT driver. I follow all the rules, but not to the point where I think I'm the captain of the speed and drive at just the speed limit in the left lane or don't pull out in the left turn lane on a yellow and piss off everyone around me. I go with the flow, get where I need to go, don't tailgate and don't flip people off who are trying to kill me or my kids. I just get out of the way and focus on my own safety, blah blah blah...
About a week ago, I saw my friend Kevin about to put a Barack Obama sticker directly onto his precious yellow convertible. I was jealous that he had one, so I asked him where he got it and he ended up giving me an extra one. Awesome! I have seen Barack Obama speak in person twice now. He is, to me, a rock star. Never before had I been so inspired by someone's words and presence. I really believe that he would make a great leader for our country as well as a wonderful new face of the US. And I think a lot of people agree with me. (In my opinion an Obama/Richardson ticket would be ideal, but that's a whole other blog I will reserve for next year)
So I put the sticker on my car. Not on the paint, but on the window so I can take it off the day after the election in either a satisfied "my work here is done" way or in a "what the fuck is wrong with people" rage. I don't want to be one of those people STILL proudly displaying a "W 04" sticker causing the reaction I SUSPECT I might be getting to my own sticker........
Do you think that people have been so aggressive towards me and my car because I am displaying the name of the candidate I support? I mean, I could see someone being irritated bmy democrat-ian (?) ways or the fact that I have chosen to support someone so early in the game, but to try to do me and my kids harm?? Is it possible that people are that crazy??
When I see a "W 04" sticker I think to myself, "poor dude. He's so delusional" or "looks like someone forgot about their sticker" or "hahahaha. That's funny." or "you stupid a-hole. You should really take that AND your "my president is Charlton Heston" sticker off your car. It's time." But I would never deliberately attack them with my Pontiac!
It's OK to disagree. I disagree every day. It's good to disagree and think and discuss. But perhaps we need to start focusing on our driving so we are ALIVE come election day? Isn't gloating way more satisfying than 2nd degree murder???
This has been happening a lot in the past week and I can't understand why. I'm a good driver. A GREAT driver. I follow all the rules, but not to the point where I think I'm the captain of the speed and drive at just the speed limit in the left lane or don't pull out in the left turn lane on a yellow and piss off everyone around me. I go with the flow, get where I need to go, don't tailgate and don't flip people off who are trying to kill me or my kids. I just get out of the way and focus on my own safety, blah blah blah...
About a week ago, I saw my friend Kevin about to put a Barack Obama sticker directly onto his precious yellow convertible. I was jealous that he had one, so I asked him where he got it and he ended up giving me an extra one. Awesome! I have seen Barack Obama speak in person twice now. He is, to me, a rock star. Never before had I been so inspired by someone's words and presence. I really believe that he would make a great leader for our country as well as a wonderful new face of the US. And I think a lot of people agree with me. (In my opinion an Obama/Richardson ticket would be ideal, but that's a whole other blog I will reserve for next year)
So I put the sticker on my car. Not on the paint, but on the window so I can take it off the day after the election in either a satisfied "my work here is done" way or in a "what the fuck is wrong with people" rage. I don't want to be one of those people STILL proudly displaying a "W 04" sticker causing the reaction I SUSPECT I might be getting to my own sticker........
Do you think that people have been so aggressive towards me and my car because I am displaying the name of the candidate I support? I mean, I could see someone being irritated bmy democrat-ian (?) ways or the fact that I have chosen to support someone so early in the game, but to try to do me and my kids harm?? Is it possible that people are that crazy??
When I see a "W 04" sticker I think to myself, "poor dude. He's so delusional" or "looks like someone forgot about their sticker" or "hahahaha. That's funny." or "you stupid a-hole. You should really take that AND your "my president is Charlton Heston" sticker off your car. It's time." But I would never deliberately attack them with my Pontiac!
It's OK to disagree. I disagree every day. It's good to disagree and think and discuss. But perhaps we need to start focusing on our driving so we are ALIVE come election day? Isn't gloating way more satisfying than 2nd degree murder???
Chaser...A Consumer Review
S o I went downtown with my good friend Adam on Saturday night and to say that we had a few drinks would be an understatement. And going into it I knew that this would be the case and that we would probably be out til all hours of the morning, as is usually what happens when I'm out with him.
So before I headed down to the city I stopped at the ol 7-11 to gas up the Pointiac and buy my caffeine-helper, Diet Dr. Pepper (Which really deserves more press- it's delicious). Now that 7-11's have been taken over by the producers of the Simpsons, I am, of course, very distracted by the Squishees, Buzz Cola and whatnot. This also puts me in a buying mood. But I can't drink Squishees as my pancreas will jump out of my body and punch me in the neck and Buzz Cola, sorry to say, doesn't hold a candle to the Dr. Pep. So I started in on the novelty lighters. Last time I was in a 7-11 shopping spree I picked up a talking Elvis lighter that was more than a little diasppointing because all it says is "This is Elvis Presley. Thank you, thank you very much" and not "Oh, Sarah, I know I've been dead for 30 years, but now that you're single again would you come to Memphis for a visit?". So, that was just far from a cool novelty purchase.
They did, however, have hot dog lighters. I almost bought one, but I pictured it dropping out my purse one day and someone mistaking it for a midget's dildo and I just couldn't handle that kind of embarassment right now.
So I grabbed the next thing I saw. "Chaser". You know that horrible commercial with guy sitting at the kitchen table looking like a zombie who got in a fight with a garbage truck and his SKANKY looking wife telling him he should have taken Chaser before he went out drinking the night before? Available at Walgreens, CVS and other fine stores? Like 7-11?
I bought it. And I took it with a glass of water as we started off our night with a Tequila sampler and the first of many margaritas I would drink with dinner. And then came the Miller High Life, the champagne of beers, which I drink lovingly because its taste brings back memories of my first directing success of "True West" during which the cast and I would drink High Life out the can at rehearsals in order to accumulate enough empty cans to use as props. Those cans glistened gold and red under the lights. It was a proud moment.
We drank for SEVEN hours. I went to sleep at 3:30. I woke up at 6:45. NO HANGOVER. A little tired from the lack of sleep, but still, NO HANGOVER. (I didn't smoke at all either which was a WONDERFUL feeling- to wake up without feeilng like I had swallowed an ash tray and my hair still smelling like my shampoo- so I'm sure that helped, too). I even had enough energy to take my kids- BY MYSELF- to the Kane County Fair (yep- the 4-H stuff and the carnies and cotton candy and everything) and not lose my mind. I did almost lose my lunch on the "Pumpkin Scrambler", though, but I think that was because I had just eaten- not because I had 12 gallons of alcohol floating around inside of me.
Chaser fucking works! i can't believe it. I will never ever ever go out drinking again without it and neither should you. Go buy some today, you drunk.
So before I headed down to the city I stopped at the ol 7-11 to gas up the Pointiac and buy my caffeine-helper, Diet Dr. Pepper (Which really deserves more press- it's delicious). Now that 7-11's have been taken over by the producers of the Simpsons, I am, of course, very distracted by the Squishees, Buzz Cola and whatnot. This also puts me in a buying mood. But I can't drink Squishees as my pancreas will jump out of my body and punch me in the neck and Buzz Cola, sorry to say, doesn't hold a candle to the Dr. Pep. So I started in on the novelty lighters. Last time I was in a 7-11 shopping spree I picked up a talking Elvis lighter that was more than a little diasppointing because all it says is "This is Elvis Presley. Thank you, thank you very much" and not "Oh, Sarah, I know I've been dead for 30 years, but now that you're single again would you come to Memphis for a visit?". So, that was just far from a cool novelty purchase.
They did, however, have hot dog lighters. I almost bought one, but I pictured it dropping out my purse one day and someone mistaking it for a midget's dildo and I just couldn't handle that kind of embarassment right now.
So I grabbed the next thing I saw. "Chaser". You know that horrible commercial with guy sitting at the kitchen table looking like a zombie who got in a fight with a garbage truck and his SKANKY looking wife telling him he should have taken Chaser before he went out drinking the night before? Available at Walgreens, CVS and other fine stores? Like 7-11?
I bought it. And I took it with a glass of water as we started off our night with a Tequila sampler and the first of many margaritas I would drink with dinner. And then came the Miller High Life, the champagne of beers, which I drink lovingly because its taste brings back memories of my first directing success of "True West" during which the cast and I would drink High Life out the can at rehearsals in order to accumulate enough empty cans to use as props. Those cans glistened gold and red under the lights. It was a proud moment.
We drank for SEVEN hours. I went to sleep at 3:30. I woke up at 6:45. NO HANGOVER. A little tired from the lack of sleep, but still, NO HANGOVER. (I didn't smoke at all either which was a WONDERFUL feeling- to wake up without feeilng like I had swallowed an ash tray and my hair still smelling like my shampoo- so I'm sure that helped, too). I even had enough energy to take my kids- BY MYSELF- to the Kane County Fair (yep- the 4-H stuff and the carnies and cotton candy and everything) and not lose my mind. I did almost lose my lunch on the "Pumpkin Scrambler", though, but I think that was because I had just eaten- not because I had 12 gallons of alcohol floating around inside of me.
Chaser fucking works! i can't believe it. I will never ever ever go out drinking again without it and neither should you. Go buy some today, you drunk.
taking the Stairs
What a week and weekend. If having my office flood twice, rehearsing every night, taking Jack to 3 different therapy sessions, seeing a show, running a 5K in 1 billion degree heat, going out with the bocadonnas and having a few too many and taking a 3 year old to a birthday party at a gymnastics studio wasn't enough...........i got stuck in an elevator. BY MYSELF.
This might be OK to the normal person, but to me- a control freak who has the occasional panic attack- this is NOT OK. I had to run Sofia back to her dad after the party so I could get to rehearsal- late- but still I got there. I got into the elevator to go up to the space where the rest of the cast was busy rehearsing and somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd floors the elevator lurched and stopped.
What came afterwards was a half hour of ringing the alarm, kicking the doors, screaming for help, calling the fire dept, breaking down crying when the lights went out and i was trapped in darkness and then imagining the air was depleting (which was not the case) and the air conditioning breaking and imagining my own death trapped by myself. In an elevator. In Elgin. I can't think of much worse ways to go. Dramatic? Yes. But it was still very scary. THIS is the reason I don't like to fly or ride roller coasters. YOU CAN NOT TRUST TECHNOLOGY.
So the fire men (always hot, always nice- too bad i had been crying and there was black mascara all over my face) got the doors open and I had to jump out of the damn thing. I went to the stairs and climbed the next couple stories to rehearsal and then broke down the minute iireached the hallway because, honestly, I really don't think there's much more excitement I can take in my life at the moment.
Most of my fellow cast mates were very comforting and understanding that I was in a sheer state of panic and anxiety. One, whom I love, laughed at me. That's OK cause I know he cares. But the other two who belittled it? I shall not talk to them much anymore.
After rehearsal I had to run back to my mom's house for her birthday party. i had taken so much xanax by that point that i nearly fell face first into the cake.When the kids and I got home we were all bathed and in bed by 9 p.m. I don't know if I've ever slept more soundly.
Ahh......tech week. The life of a single mom/actress/business owner knows not the meaning of relaxation.
Anyone want to go to the most secluded island in the pacific with me? no phones, no TV, no cars, no planes no nothing? Just us, the surf and the coconuts?
This might be OK to the normal person, but to me- a control freak who has the occasional panic attack- this is NOT OK. I had to run Sofia back to her dad after the party so I could get to rehearsal- late- but still I got there. I got into the elevator to go up to the space where the rest of the cast was busy rehearsing and somewhere between the 2nd and 3rd floors the elevator lurched and stopped.
What came afterwards was a half hour of ringing the alarm, kicking the doors, screaming for help, calling the fire dept, breaking down crying when the lights went out and i was trapped in darkness and then imagining the air was depleting (which was not the case) and the air conditioning breaking and imagining my own death trapped by myself. In an elevator. In Elgin. I can't think of much worse ways to go. Dramatic? Yes. But it was still very scary. THIS is the reason I don't like to fly or ride roller coasters. YOU CAN NOT TRUST TECHNOLOGY.
So the fire men (always hot, always nice- too bad i had been crying and there was black mascara all over my face) got the doors open and I had to jump out of the damn thing. I went to the stairs and climbed the next couple stories to rehearsal and then broke down the minute iireached the hallway because, honestly, I really don't think there's much more excitement I can take in my life at the moment.
Most of my fellow cast mates were very comforting and understanding that I was in a sheer state of panic and anxiety. One, whom I love, laughed at me. That's OK cause I know he cares. But the other two who belittled it? I shall not talk to them much anymore.
After rehearsal I had to run back to my mom's house for her birthday party. i had taken so much xanax by that point that i nearly fell face first into the cake.When the kids and I got home we were all bathed and in bed by 9 p.m. I don't know if I've ever slept more soundly.
Ahh......tech week. The life of a single mom/actress/business owner knows not the meaning of relaxation.
Anyone want to go to the most secluded island in the pacific with me? no phones, no TV, no cars, no planes no nothing? Just us, the surf and the coconuts?
Personal hell, personal heaven
Hell for me is...
1. How will I get to hell? In the backseat of a minivan driven by my mother. It is the most uncomfortable, panic inducing, nauseating experience of all time. And the window wouldn't open and her Rod Stewart CD would be blaring and the air could be on full blast so I couldn't hear but she'd insist on talking to me at the top of her voice anyway and she'd get mad at me when i couldn't hear her.
2. Who will greet me when I arrive in hell? Not to name names, but it would be a certain theatre "couple" who would insist on telling me their life stories and their take on everything having to do with any thing and everything going on in the world. Any time I opened my mouth they would correct me. And then they'd make out and make me watch. *shudder*
3. Where will they take me? Mr Champion's Algebra 3-4 classroom circa 1992.
4. Who will meet me there to answer any questions I have? Alan Keyes. And I wouldn't ask questions, but somehow I'd stilll have to listen to him go on and on and on. And then Ann Coulter would appear from no where and give a 16 day long hate filled speech. And then THEY would make out and I'd have to watch.
5. Who, then, will be there to make sure I know I am in hell? M*** M***o. (I can't write his whole name cause he probably googles himself every day just to sue whoever breathes his name. I should just call him "he who must not be named" but that wouldn't be very fair to Voldemort.) He was an attorney who sued my mom for millions of dollars 15 years ago. He had at one time been my dad's best friend but the day my dad died he started to harrass my mom and make the next 10 years of her life a living hell. Hence, hell.
6. What food will be served in my hell? tomatoes, liver and onions, turkey gravy, venison, clam chowder and mountain dew.
7. Who will drop by to remind me that I am in hell? George Bush. But he'll try to reason with me and tell me all the reasons it a good idea to stay in hell til we can declare victory. "if we leave, Satan wins".
8. What will I say when Satan asks what my least favorite thing about living was? The fact that wo many kids are forced to live with disease, disformity, mental retardation and paralysis with no say in the matter. They are born with these problems and will never have the opportunity to know what it's like to live a "normal" life.
9. My hell will also be filled with day before thanksgiving traffic in Chicago, country music, romantic comedies starring Kate Hudson, Sandra Bullock or Jennifer Lopez, dudes who only like to hang out in night clubs, mean cats, sweat coated exercise equipment, tummy exposing t-shirts, high heels and Lindsay Lohan.
My personal heaven...
Heaven For Me Is...
1. How will I travel to Heaven? if I had my way, it would be on a speed boat. Not a yacht, obviously not a canoe. But some boat where I can feel the water splashing on my face as we race along. And I get to drive.
2. Who will greet me when I arrive? Aunt Marci. She will give me one of her signature hugs and make feel feel at ease and welcome. She'll probably have made me a bowl of "pink stuff", too (family inside recipe...)
3. Where will she take me? In the book, Heaven is a familiar place that was a source of great comfort to the deceased while they were alive. For me, that place would probably be an olympic size lap pool. The one place where I have always felt strong and fast yet relaxed and safe. In heaven you can probably be in the pool for as long as you want without turning into a raisin.
4. Once I've been escorted to my personal Heaven, who will be there to answer my questions? Fr Schiffmayer. He was an older clergyman who once was the head of the church I grew up in. So smart, so spiritual and really very funny. He was very close to my family and I miss him.
5. After my questions have been answered, who will be there to comfort me and put me at peace? Oh my dad! (After he tells me HIS versions of all the answers, of course). I can't think of anything more comforting that being hugged and loved by him. I'll bet that i'd be put on a waiting list for this one, because I'm sure right now there is a long line in heaven just to get a meeting with him. He's pretty awesome.
6. What comfort food will be supplied for me in Heaven? Italian, of course. My grandma and Grandpa Vecchio will be there with all the mostaccioli I can eat, garlic bread soaked in butter, a nice steak medium rare, pistacchio gelato and heaven's biggest canoli.
7. Which deceased heroes of mine will drop by to visit? Gilda Radner and Madeline Kahn to go over what I did right and what I did wrong in ways of comedy...Harriet Tubman to tell me what it was really like...Elvis to make out with me...FDR to remind me that the US was once a place with hope...a sober yet still crazy as shit James Brown to sing his entire collection...Ethel Merman to tap dance and sing with me...
8. When God asks what I liked most about living, how will I answer? I"ll thank him for my kids. I can't think of a place I've been or person I've met or thing I've witnessed that's given me more pleasure than loving my kids.
My Heaven will also be filled with grassy hills to roll down, swingsets, sparkling lemonade, boats and boats and boats, surf to play in, spur of the moment Elvis concerts, all of my friends happy with their bodies and their brains and a window to watch my kids grow up and eventually the opportunity to greet them as well.
What is Heaven to you?
1. How will I get to hell? In the backseat of a minivan driven by my mother. It is the most uncomfortable, panic inducing, nauseating experience of all time. And the window wouldn't open and her Rod Stewart CD would be blaring and the air could be on full blast so I couldn't hear but she'd insist on talking to me at the top of her voice anyway and she'd get mad at me when i couldn't hear her.
2. Who will greet me when I arrive in hell? Not to name names, but it would be a certain theatre "couple" who would insist on telling me their life stories and their take on everything having to do with any thing and everything going on in the world. Any time I opened my mouth they would correct me. And then they'd make out and make me watch. *shudder*
3. Where will they take me? Mr Champion's Algebra 3-4 classroom circa 1992.
4. Who will meet me there to answer any questions I have? Alan Keyes. And I wouldn't ask questions, but somehow I'd stilll have to listen to him go on and on and on. And then Ann Coulter would appear from no where and give a 16 day long hate filled speech. And then THEY would make out and I'd have to watch.
5. Who, then, will be there to make sure I know I am in hell? M*** M***o. (I can't write his whole name cause he probably googles himself every day just to sue whoever breathes his name. I should just call him "he who must not be named" but that wouldn't be very fair to Voldemort.) He was an attorney who sued my mom for millions of dollars 15 years ago. He had at one time been my dad's best friend but the day my dad died he started to harrass my mom and make the next 10 years of her life a living hell. Hence, hell.
6. What food will be served in my hell? tomatoes, liver and onions, turkey gravy, venison, clam chowder and mountain dew.
7. Who will drop by to remind me that I am in hell? George Bush. But he'll try to reason with me and tell me all the reasons it a good idea to stay in hell til we can declare victory. "if we leave, Satan wins".
8. What will I say when Satan asks what my least favorite thing about living was? The fact that wo many kids are forced to live with disease, disformity, mental retardation and paralysis with no say in the matter. They are born with these problems and will never have the opportunity to know what it's like to live a "normal" life.
9. My hell will also be filled with day before thanksgiving traffic in Chicago, country music, romantic comedies starring Kate Hudson, Sandra Bullock or Jennifer Lopez, dudes who only like to hang out in night clubs, mean cats, sweat coated exercise equipment, tummy exposing t-shirts, high heels and Lindsay Lohan.
My personal heaven...
Heaven For Me Is...
1. How will I travel to Heaven? if I had my way, it would be on a speed boat. Not a yacht, obviously not a canoe. But some boat where I can feel the water splashing on my face as we race along. And I get to drive.
2. Who will greet me when I arrive? Aunt Marci. She will give me one of her signature hugs and make feel feel at ease and welcome. She'll probably have made me a bowl of "pink stuff", too (family inside recipe...)
3. Where will she take me? In the book, Heaven is a familiar place that was a source of great comfort to the deceased while they were alive. For me, that place would probably be an olympic size lap pool. The one place where I have always felt strong and fast yet relaxed and safe. In heaven you can probably be in the pool for as long as you want without turning into a raisin.
4. Once I've been escorted to my personal Heaven, who will be there to answer my questions? Fr Schiffmayer. He was an older clergyman who once was the head of the church I grew up in. So smart, so spiritual and really very funny. He was very close to my family and I miss him.
5. After my questions have been answered, who will be there to comfort me and put me at peace? Oh my dad! (After he tells me HIS versions of all the answers, of course). I can't think of anything more comforting that being hugged and loved by him. I'll bet that i'd be put on a waiting list for this one, because I'm sure right now there is a long line in heaven just to get a meeting with him. He's pretty awesome.
6. What comfort food will be supplied for me in Heaven? Italian, of course. My grandma and Grandpa Vecchio will be there with all the mostaccioli I can eat, garlic bread soaked in butter, a nice steak medium rare, pistacchio gelato and heaven's biggest canoli.
7. Which deceased heroes of mine will drop by to visit? Gilda Radner and Madeline Kahn to go over what I did right and what I did wrong in ways of comedy...Harriet Tubman to tell me what it was really like...Elvis to make out with me...FDR to remind me that the US was once a place with hope...a sober yet still crazy as shit James Brown to sing his entire collection...Ethel Merman to tap dance and sing with me...
8. When God asks what I liked most about living, how will I answer? I"ll thank him for my kids. I can't think of a place I've been or person I've met or thing I've witnessed that's given me more pleasure than loving my kids.
My Heaven will also be filled with grassy hills to roll down, swingsets, sparkling lemonade, boats and boats and boats, surf to play in, spur of the moment Elvis concerts, all of my friends happy with their bodies and their brains and a window to watch my kids grow up and eventually the opportunity to greet them as well.
What is Heaven to you?
Way to go, Christine Klein
Today is September 11. 6 years after the attacks that killed 3000 people. Since then 3,000 (plus) army, navy, marines, air force and national guard troops have died. Today is a very dark, gloomy day in the eyes of all Americans. You don't mess with today no matter who you are or what you stand for, right?
Will someone please tell that to Christine Klein of the Route 47, Huntley, Century 21 New Heritage Realty Office?
I opened my garage door today to welcome the sunshine and let the kids play outside for a few minutes before starting our morning routine of running jack to school and letting Sofia to listen to three very specific songs on the 'Chicken Little" soundtrack (one of which is a karaoke version of the Spice Girls' 'Wannabe' sung by two of the movie's characters. Sofia has a very specific dance to this one. And she's three. is this bad parenting? Perhaps.).
When I stepped outside I noticed that my entire street- actually, the entire SUBDIVISION had been decorated with American flags placed in the ground at the end of each driveway. I immediately thought that this was the overnight work of members of my homeowner assocation board. I thought it was a nice tribute, even though we weren't notified of it, but whatever. Who is going to say 'no'?
And then I noticed that there was a piece of paper at the bottom of each flag placed in each of the 100+ homes. I walked over to the flag, bent down and pulled the paper off of it. It read...
"We will never forget
In rememberance of
September 11, 2001
Century 21 New Heritage (with logo)
INSERT HUGE PICTURE OF A WOMAN WITH A BAD BLONDE DYE JOB, SNIDLEY WHIPLASH EYEBROWS, STAR JONES EYE GLASSES AND THE TYPICAL REALTOR BLAZER AND BUTTON DOWN SHIRT
Christine Klein
Century 21 New Heritage
12388 Princeton Drive
(Route 47)
Huntley, IL 60142
847-669-9555"
Wow. I find this SO FUCKING DISGUSTING.
Way to go, Christine. So what if thousands of people have died. You use that anniversary to get business. Hope your new Lexus or Delta Burke pants suit that you'll buy with the potential commision earned is worth the absolute jackass joke you've made out of yourself.
If I were willing to fight my readers on this, I would write "no wonder the rest of the world hates us and wants to kill us. It's because of money grubbing assholes like Christine Klein who give America a bad name".
But I don't want to fight with anyone but her.
Feel free to call her if you like!
Will someone please tell that to Christine Klein of the Route 47, Huntley, Century 21 New Heritage Realty Office?
I opened my garage door today to welcome the sunshine and let the kids play outside for a few minutes before starting our morning routine of running jack to school and letting Sofia to listen to three very specific songs on the 'Chicken Little" soundtrack (one of which is a karaoke version of the Spice Girls' 'Wannabe' sung by two of the movie's characters. Sofia has a very specific dance to this one. And she's three. is this bad parenting? Perhaps.).
When I stepped outside I noticed that my entire street- actually, the entire SUBDIVISION had been decorated with American flags placed in the ground at the end of each driveway. I immediately thought that this was the overnight work of members of my homeowner assocation board. I thought it was a nice tribute, even though we weren't notified of it, but whatever. Who is going to say 'no'?
And then I noticed that there was a piece of paper at the bottom of each flag placed in each of the 100+ homes. I walked over to the flag, bent down and pulled the paper off of it. It read...
"We will never forget
In rememberance of
September 11, 2001
Century 21 New Heritage (with logo)
INSERT HUGE PICTURE OF A WOMAN WITH A BAD BLONDE DYE JOB, SNIDLEY WHIPLASH EYEBROWS, STAR JONES EYE GLASSES AND THE TYPICAL REALTOR BLAZER AND BUTTON DOWN SHIRT
Christine Klein
Century 21 New Heritage
12388 Princeton Drive
(Route 47)
Huntley, IL 60142
847-669-9555"
Wow. I find this SO FUCKING DISGUSTING.
Way to go, Christine. So what if thousands of people have died. You use that anniversary to get business. Hope your new Lexus or Delta Burke pants suit that you'll buy with the potential commision earned is worth the absolute jackass joke you've made out of yourself.
If I were willing to fight my readers on this, I would write "no wonder the rest of the world hates us and wants to kill us. It's because of money grubbing assholes like Christine Klein who give America a bad name".
But I don't want to fight with anyone but her.
Feel free to call her if you like!
I'll renounce it- watch out!
So I just heard on the radio that an Anglican Bishop from Nigeria was giving a speech at Wheaton College about how the bible specifically points out that homosexuality is a sin and all that nonsense. This is before he goes to New Orleans to meet with the US Anglican bishops to discuss the church's "official" position on the subject.
WHAT? We need to love eachother no matter what. Period. If they take any postition other than this, I'm out of the church.
It's ridiculous how much time is wasted trying to figure out ways to hate other people. Funny that's how Christianity has turned out when that's what it was supposed to be AGAINST in the first place.
Where the Unitarians at? I might be visiting.
WHAT? We need to love eachother no matter what. Period. If they take any postition other than this, I'm out of the church.
It's ridiculous how much time is wasted trying to figure out ways to hate other people. Funny that's how Christianity has turned out when that's what it was supposed to be AGAINST in the first place.
Where the Unitarians at? I might be visiting.
Before I die
So as I was on my noontime run today I started thinking about life in general. What I had and hadn’t done, who I know, what I’ve seen, blah blah blah. (This was all being done in an attempt to distract myself from thinking about how nauseous I felt from the run itself...booo...the Race to Wrigley is only a month away and I’m getting naseaus running. Don’t let me be that girl. I haven’t run a 5K since August. That’s a long time and my flabby arms and gut know it.)
Anyway, I decided to make a list of the top 10 things I’d like to do before I die...assuming, of course, that I will die of old age, peacefully in my sleep around the age of 82, wearing a white lace nightgown and a tiara laying on my four poster bed in my house on a cliff in the south of England, surrounded by my children, grandchildren and my husband, a very old but still disgustingly handsome George Clooney, as well as the Elvis impersonator I will hire to serenade me everyday as I lay there, fading away from this Earth.
So here it is: The top 10 things I need to do before I die (as of today, which will surely change tomorrow)
1. Swim from Alcatraz to San Francisco through once shark infested waters. The swim is every September (called Shark Fest, for those of you interested in doing it with me) and I’ve wanted to do it for 10 years now. This will happen before I’m 40. It has to.
2. Walk the streets of Tokyo pretending I’m Godzilla. This is a no brainer.
3. Rent a villa in Tuscany for a summer and live on wine and pasta with no car, no phone and hardly any clothes.
4. ONE show on Broadway. ONE. I don’t care which one. Just ONE.
5. Run the NYC marathon. But, unlike Katie Holmes, this girl will wear a bra. Maybe two.
6. Surf in Australia.
7. Drive on the Autobahn in a black Porsche.
8. Get to do the zero gravity room at the space center in Huntsville, AL. My friend Kaitie went to space camp there when she was a kid. God, I’m jealous.
9. Tour for a year as a back up singer for Tina Turner.
10. Wear a Darth Vader costume for a day and see what happens.
Anyway, I decided to make a list of the top 10 things I’d like to do before I die...assuming, of course, that I will die of old age, peacefully in my sleep around the age of 82, wearing a white lace nightgown and a tiara laying on my four poster bed in my house on a cliff in the south of England, surrounded by my children, grandchildren and my husband, a very old but still disgustingly handsome George Clooney, as well as the Elvis impersonator I will hire to serenade me everyday as I lay there, fading away from this Earth.
So here it is: The top 10 things I need to do before I die (as of today, which will surely change tomorrow)
1. Swim from Alcatraz to San Francisco through once shark infested waters. The swim is every September (called Shark Fest, for those of you interested in doing it with me) and I’ve wanted to do it for 10 years now. This will happen before I’m 40. It has to.
2. Walk the streets of Tokyo pretending I’m Godzilla. This is a no brainer.
3. Rent a villa in Tuscany for a summer and live on wine and pasta with no car, no phone and hardly any clothes.
4. ONE show on Broadway. ONE. I don’t care which one. Just ONE.
5. Run the NYC marathon. But, unlike Katie Holmes, this girl will wear a bra. Maybe two.
6. Surf in Australia.
7. Drive on the Autobahn in a black Porsche.
8. Get to do the zero gravity room at the space center in Huntsville, AL. My friend Kaitie went to space camp there when she was a kid. God, I’m jealous.
9. Tour for a year as a back up singer for Tina Turner.
10. Wear a Darth Vader costume for a day and see what happens.
Tuesdays wih Matthew
I have worked, every single day for the past 12 years, with my mom and my brother. Side by side. Together. Every day. And, somehow, we are still all stab wound free. Actually, we all still completely enjoy eachother’s company....strange.
My mom and my brother go out to lunch together every single day. I usually opt out to go to the gym or stay in for lunch since I’m not as rich as they both think they are. But on the once a week lunch I do take with them, I am always so happy about the family into which I was born.
But this blog is actually about how great my brother is. We don’t sit at lunch (or even holiday dinner tables) and talk about the weather, or business or American Idol or some bullshit. We talk about important issues and I always walk away from these meetings learning something new.
Like a few weeks ago, when it was freezing cold, I offered up the question of the day for us to ponder while we waited for our food. I said "I would just like to know EXACTLY who the fist human was and how he/she knew how to survive in harsh weather. It’s amazing to me that they knew that animals could make leather clothing and shoes and how to hunt and how to eat the right things in order to live to create new generations." And for the next hour my brother went into an evolutionary theory that would make Darwin himself sit back and be proud. Among other things, he said that apes on Madagascar learned how to fish and it was possible that the fish oil helped to develop their brains. I never thought of fish oil.....
We talk about this stuff. We talk science, politics and the occasional Simpsons episode. My poor mom tries to interject, being that she is an incredibly smart and seasoned woman, but mostly we just go back to our heated discussion/arguement/rants which we believe only our super cool generation could possibly understand.
Today we talked about which parts of us are libertarian, socialist and democratic. We talked about the difference between libertarianism and true anarchy, socialism and communism...Matt had just printed out Obama’s speech he gave this morning which had many in tears. We talked about WHY we are voting for him as a democrat given the anger and frustration we have towards all the political parties. We basically decided it was because he really DOES give us hope. In our life times we’ve never had someone who inspired us so deeply and honestly.
I just thought I needed to blog about how cool my brother is. He has introduced me to so much: The Simpsons, The Young Ones, Real Punk Rock, The Blues, Good British Television, MST 3K, Star Wars and the ability to question everything I ever learned in high school history. No wonder that when I got to high school until this very day I’m still referred to as "Matt Vecchio’s Little Sister". Dude’s a legend. (Although I DO have to take credit for introducing him to The Rolling Stones. That one’s mine)
Thanks for being so kick ass, Matt!
My mom and my brother go out to lunch together every single day. I usually opt out to go to the gym or stay in for lunch since I’m not as rich as they both think they are. But on the once a week lunch I do take with them, I am always so happy about the family into which I was born.
But this blog is actually about how great my brother is. We don’t sit at lunch (or even holiday dinner tables) and talk about the weather, or business or American Idol or some bullshit. We talk about important issues and I always walk away from these meetings learning something new.
Like a few weeks ago, when it was freezing cold, I offered up the question of the day for us to ponder while we waited for our food. I said "I would just like to know EXACTLY who the fist human was and how he/she knew how to survive in harsh weather. It’s amazing to me that they knew that animals could make leather clothing and shoes and how to hunt and how to eat the right things in order to live to create new generations." And for the next hour my brother went into an evolutionary theory that would make Darwin himself sit back and be proud. Among other things, he said that apes on Madagascar learned how to fish and it was possible that the fish oil helped to develop their brains. I never thought of fish oil.....
We talk about this stuff. We talk science, politics and the occasional Simpsons episode. My poor mom tries to interject, being that she is an incredibly smart and seasoned woman, but mostly we just go back to our heated discussion/arguement/rants which we believe only our super cool generation could possibly understand.
Today we talked about which parts of us are libertarian, socialist and democratic. We talked about the difference between libertarianism and true anarchy, socialism and communism...Matt had just printed out Obama’s speech he gave this morning which had many in tears. We talked about WHY we are voting for him as a democrat given the anger and frustration we have towards all the political parties. We basically decided it was because he really DOES give us hope. In our life times we’ve never had someone who inspired us so deeply and honestly.
I just thought I needed to blog about how cool my brother is. He has introduced me to so much: The Simpsons, The Young Ones, Real Punk Rock, The Blues, Good British Television, MST 3K, Star Wars and the ability to question everything I ever learned in high school history. No wonder that when I got to high school until this very day I’m still referred to as "Matt Vecchio’s Little Sister". Dude’s a legend. (Although I DO have to take credit for introducing him to The Rolling Stones. That one’s mine)
Thanks for being so kick ass, Matt!
The Rev Jeremiah Swift Boat
I'm about ready to NOT vote. Ever again.
$4.00 gas.
My house is now $11,000 under what it was valued at 2 years ago.
Recession- the fax machine isn't ringing here as often as it used to.
War and war and war and war
How many people have been shot in Chicago in the last 2 weeks?
Airlines merging into one gigantic travel company which will soon hold everyone hostage with their prices
...And all we ever fucking hear about anymore is Reverend Jeremiah Wright and his "crazy notions". Well done, media. Fuck it up again. You are swift boating us all over again. Shut the hell up and focus on things that actually matter to us! We've had to start rationing RICE for God's sake! Why is no one talking about this??
My religious views do not save my house. Your religious views do not cut the price of oil because there's crazy shit going on in Nigeria. God is not going to take guns out of the hands of criminals. Can we focus on GOVERNMENT for once and not who said what in a sermon? I'll think about church to help my moral dilemmas- not to pay my real estate taxes or to help my business increase sales.
How in the world do we stop this nonsense? How can candidates reach the people without going to 165 million doorsteps? The media needs to stop giving air time to assholes like Wright. And Rove. And even Bill Clinton.
We are all going to be out of work, out of a home and out of a car sooner than we think. If things keep going this way all we'll have is the dumb gossip we saw on the NEWS that was playing on the TV outside the big box store where we'll have to stand and beg for change from the 1% of Americans who AREN"T affected.
Well done, CNN. Well done, Fox. Well done every newspaper in America.I'm surprised you all haven't merged with TMZ yet.
Let's hear it for John McCain the new president of the United States! Let's hear it for the permanent Bush tax cuts! let's hear it for Prince Bandar and his 15 billion palaces that our apathy helped build! Let's hear if for the next 5000 soliders to die in Iraq and the next 200,000 who will spend 10 horrifying years invading Syria and Iran! Let's hear it for all those assholes profiting off of the record number of home forclosures!
Well done, news channels! Thanks for suffocating the American people and not allowing us to get actual information that could actually affect our homes, families and wallets. Thanks for letting us listen to the ranting and raving of a lunatic cause it makes "good TV". God forbid you help me make an educated decision about who to vote for. How many people are going to go vote now NOT thinking "hmmm...Obama said this on education, but on the other hand Clinton made a good point about foreign policy, but McCain might have a good idea when it comes to (insert something here, cause I certainly can't think of anything)..."? NOT MANY. They are going to go in thinking "Hillary lied about sniper fire in Bosnia. Obama's church once had a pastor who had a view on America that i don't like..." because they don't know about ANYTHING ELSE!!!!!
Mike Gravel looks saner and saner every passing day....
$4.00 gas.
My house is now $11,000 under what it was valued at 2 years ago.
Recession- the fax machine isn't ringing here as often as it used to.
War and war and war and war
How many people have been shot in Chicago in the last 2 weeks?
Airlines merging into one gigantic travel company which will soon hold everyone hostage with their prices
...And all we ever fucking hear about anymore is Reverend Jeremiah Wright and his "crazy notions". Well done, media. Fuck it up again. You are swift boating us all over again. Shut the hell up and focus on things that actually matter to us! We've had to start rationing RICE for God's sake! Why is no one talking about this??
My religious views do not save my house. Your religious views do not cut the price of oil because there's crazy shit going on in Nigeria. God is not going to take guns out of the hands of criminals. Can we focus on GOVERNMENT for once and not who said what in a sermon? I'll think about church to help my moral dilemmas- not to pay my real estate taxes or to help my business increase sales.
How in the world do we stop this nonsense? How can candidates reach the people without going to 165 million doorsteps? The media needs to stop giving air time to assholes like Wright. And Rove. And even Bill Clinton.
We are all going to be out of work, out of a home and out of a car sooner than we think. If things keep going this way all we'll have is the dumb gossip we saw on the NEWS that was playing on the TV outside the big box store where we'll have to stand and beg for change from the 1% of Americans who AREN"T affected.
Well done, CNN. Well done, Fox. Well done every newspaper in America.I'm surprised you all haven't merged with TMZ yet.
Let's hear it for John McCain the new president of the United States! Let's hear it for the permanent Bush tax cuts! let's hear it for Prince Bandar and his 15 billion palaces that our apathy helped build! Let's hear if for the next 5000 soliders to die in Iraq and the next 200,000 who will spend 10 horrifying years invading Syria and Iran! Let's hear it for all those assholes profiting off of the record number of home forclosures!
Well done, news channels! Thanks for suffocating the American people and not allowing us to get actual information that could actually affect our homes, families and wallets. Thanks for letting us listen to the ranting and raving of a lunatic cause it makes "good TV". God forbid you help me make an educated decision about who to vote for. How many people are going to go vote now NOT thinking "hmmm...Obama said this on education, but on the other hand Clinton made a good point about foreign policy, but McCain might have a good idea when it comes to (insert something here, cause I certainly can't think of anything)..."? NOT MANY. They are going to go in thinking "Hillary lied about sniper fire in Bosnia. Obama's church once had a pastor who had a view on America that i don't like..." because they don't know about ANYTHING ELSE!!!!!
Mike Gravel looks saner and saner every passing day....
She was a young American
Since this story made Erin snort, I thought I’d post it...
In the fall of 1995, after only one year, I gave up a four year FREE RIDE scholarship to the theatre department at EIU and I moved to London. All by myself. Not through an exchange program. Just found a school, packed my bags and went. I had my own apartment off campus and an inheritance from my dad that, if he were alive today, would probably make me pay back every cent of when he found out what it went towards... but I was set. I loved it there, for sure. I’d move back in a heart beat. I met some of my best friends there- (Shout out to Milo) I loved it. It was definitely the best time of my life so far.
The thing about me at that time...I was...to put it bluntly...a blind, stupid, gluttonous, uneducated pig-whore of an alcoholic who constantly ditched class to go shopping in Knightsbridge or to catch a plane to another part of Europe. But I thought I was sooo cool and sooo worldly. Which was such a great way to be, given that the school I decided to go to was an international university full of people from every country of the world (I had never heard of Malta before I went, but would end up flying there for a wedding 8 years later. Cool.). This also meant that there were many different religions being practiced. Even then I did not pay attention because I’m an American and we never gave these things a second thought before September 11th when we all of a sudden woke up and discovered that there really are other people in the world who don’t think we’re as great as we do.
Anyway, after about 3 seconds of being there, I started dating the "big man on campus" which, in this world, was a 6’ 3" Indian dude named Rajeev who was the president of the student council and who was kept in Armani and a Jaguar by his family, who owned one of only 2 alcohol distribution companies in the middle east and just about all the duty free shops in UAE. I was 19. This, for some reason, was attractive to me, I guess. I still have the gold necklace of Nefertiti that he brought back for me. Really, the only good thing that came out of the "relationship".
OK- exposition over...here’s the story...
Rajeev was an RA. An RA who liked cologne. I mean really really liked it. Because he was an RA he had this huge room to himself with all these book shelves. He didn’t store books up there, oh no- he stored cologne. He probably had 50 bottles. No joke. And they were all shapes and sizes.
Well, one day I was bored yet feeling incredibly manic, so I decided to smell all the cologne. So I started into them, ripping the tops off, snorting em and putting them back. One right after the other. Rip top off, sniff, make a face of approval or horror, throw top back on and move on to next bottle.
About half way through, I get to a shiny bluish bottle shaped like an elephant and I try to open it by, what I thought was the most appropriate way, ripping its head off. But it wouldn’t budge or turn or anything. I was so frustrated. I tried cracking it open as many ways as I could. Finally I held it up and asked Rajeev, who I’m sure was probably looking at himself in the mirror, because I think it’s what he majored in,
"What kind of cologne is this?"
and he replied,
"That’s not a cologne. That’s my God."
And the ashamed young American very carefully puts the elephant God back on the shelf. Polishing it on its way up and whispers,
"Sorry".
In the fall of 1995, after only one year, I gave up a four year FREE RIDE scholarship to the theatre department at EIU and I moved to London. All by myself. Not through an exchange program. Just found a school, packed my bags and went. I had my own apartment off campus and an inheritance from my dad that, if he were alive today, would probably make me pay back every cent of when he found out what it went towards... but I was set. I loved it there, for sure. I’d move back in a heart beat. I met some of my best friends there- (Shout out to Milo) I loved it. It was definitely the best time of my life so far.
The thing about me at that time...I was...to put it bluntly...a blind, stupid, gluttonous, uneducated pig-whore of an alcoholic who constantly ditched class to go shopping in Knightsbridge or to catch a plane to another part of Europe. But I thought I was sooo cool and sooo worldly. Which was such a great way to be, given that the school I decided to go to was an international university full of people from every country of the world (I had never heard of Malta before I went, but would end up flying there for a wedding 8 years later. Cool.). This also meant that there were many different religions being practiced. Even then I did not pay attention because I’m an American and we never gave these things a second thought before September 11th when we all of a sudden woke up and discovered that there really are other people in the world who don’t think we’re as great as we do.
Anyway, after about 3 seconds of being there, I started dating the "big man on campus" which, in this world, was a 6’ 3" Indian dude named Rajeev who was the president of the student council and who was kept in Armani and a Jaguar by his family, who owned one of only 2 alcohol distribution companies in the middle east and just about all the duty free shops in UAE. I was 19. This, for some reason, was attractive to me, I guess. I still have the gold necklace of Nefertiti that he brought back for me. Really, the only good thing that came out of the "relationship".
OK- exposition over...here’s the story...
Rajeev was an RA. An RA who liked cologne. I mean really really liked it. Because he was an RA he had this huge room to himself with all these book shelves. He didn’t store books up there, oh no- he stored cologne. He probably had 50 bottles. No joke. And they were all shapes and sizes.
Well, one day I was bored yet feeling incredibly manic, so I decided to smell all the cologne. So I started into them, ripping the tops off, snorting em and putting them back. One right after the other. Rip top off, sniff, make a face of approval or horror, throw top back on and move on to next bottle.
About half way through, I get to a shiny bluish bottle shaped like an elephant and I try to open it by, what I thought was the most appropriate way, ripping its head off. But it wouldn’t budge or turn or anything. I was so frustrated. I tried cracking it open as many ways as I could. Finally I held it up and asked Rajeev, who I’m sure was probably looking at himself in the mirror, because I think it’s what he majored in,
"What kind of cologne is this?"
and he replied,
"That’s not a cologne. That’s my God."
And the ashamed young American very carefully puts the elephant God back on the shelf. Polishing it on its way up and whispers,
"Sorry".
Bye bye phobia, hello Melanoma!
I've been invited on 3 different trips, to 3 different countries, this year. And my first reaction is always "Oh God- I have to fly, there's no way I can go". But yesterday, for some reason, as I got the invitation (an awesome surprise!) to a vow renewal for two dear friends in the Virgin Islands in December, I slapped myself in the face.
These people who are renewing their vows have been a source of personal inspiration to me since I met them 5 years ago. It's them I think about when I am having trouble "rolling with the punches". They are both so positive and hard working. They have made such a wonderful life together and never EVER pass judgement on anyone they come across.
So when I thought about all the things they'd been through as well as all the things I've been through (especially in the past year) I was like, "and I think that FLYING is hard to do?"
My best friend invited me to her house in Greece this summer. HER HOUSE IN GREECE. ACTUALLY, 2 HOUSES IN GREECE. ONE IN THE MOUNTAINS AND ONE ON THE BEACH...And I was scared to go. Boooo...
Dezi and Mike, two of the most loyal and talented people I know are getting married on the beach in MEXICO in August. And I was also scared to go. Double boo......
So I am feeling a bit more courageous today thanks to that couple who have been so dedicated and brave to eachother for the past 25 years (!). When I am sitting in the plane, crying, shaking and hoping that the valium kicks in soon, I am going to try to remind myself that flying is NOT hard. Divorce is hard. Childbirth is hard. Losing a parent is hard. Losing friends is hard. Keeping a company alive is hard. Writing and directing a show is hard. Running a marathon is hard.
Flying is NOT hard....and it sometimes comes with lots of booze and a George Clooney movie...
Now I just have to find the money...yeah, that's HARD.
These people who are renewing their vows have been a source of personal inspiration to me since I met them 5 years ago. It's them I think about when I am having trouble "rolling with the punches". They are both so positive and hard working. They have made such a wonderful life together and never EVER pass judgement on anyone they come across.
So when I thought about all the things they'd been through as well as all the things I've been through (especially in the past year) I was like, "and I think that FLYING is hard to do?"
My best friend invited me to her house in Greece this summer. HER HOUSE IN GREECE. ACTUALLY, 2 HOUSES IN GREECE. ONE IN THE MOUNTAINS AND ONE ON THE BEACH...And I was scared to go. Boooo...
Dezi and Mike, two of the most loyal and talented people I know are getting married on the beach in MEXICO in August. And I was also scared to go. Double boo......
So I am feeling a bit more courageous today thanks to that couple who have been so dedicated and brave to eachother for the past 25 years (!). When I am sitting in the plane, crying, shaking and hoping that the valium kicks in soon, I am going to try to remind myself that flying is NOT hard. Divorce is hard. Childbirth is hard. Losing a parent is hard. Losing friends is hard. Keeping a company alive is hard. Writing and directing a show is hard. Running a marathon is hard.
Flying is NOT hard....and it sometimes comes with lots of booze and a George Clooney movie...
Now I just have to find the money...yeah, that's HARD.
Ladies- all the ladies
No one can win in this country. That's the lesson learned today. No matter what happens, there will always be an idiot who will try to destroy everything you stand for. There are 2 people running for the democratic nomination for president of the good ol' USA. Perhaps you've heard of them- their names are, if you use the ignorant way people have been talking about them as a way to give them names as, "Sally Pants Suit" and "Way to go, black guy".
Obviously, Obama is ahead on delegates. There's 2 more contests tomorrow. Clinton will win Kentucky and Obama will win Oregon. And it will continue. And it's OK. I mean, it really is. The talking heads talk about it cause their heads need to talk. But really, it's OK. It's not destroying the party. Well.....almost.
I read the blogs. And there are so many WOMEN seriously saying that if Hillary Clinton loses the nomination they will NOT vote for Barack Obama and WILL vote for McCain.
call me crazy, but i see just a few little itty bitty flaws in their reasoning..
McCain is not a democrat, which means he wouldn't do the same things in office that Hillary would have. You LOSE. Cut off your nose to spite your face.
Obama is not running on "vote for me, I'm a dude and we need a penis in the oval office". He's running on hope, change and liberal values. Basically the same thing as Hillary. But these WOMEN wouldn't vote for him because they see the chance for a woman to be president as so fucking important that they would sacrifice their values just to prove a point to a man. TYPICAL, LADIES! You're so OBVIOUS! I'm a lady and I voted for Obama! Does that mean that I'm not a "real woman"?
Haven't we learned by now that politicians really don't give a fuck what you think as long as you vote? So if you throw around these ridiculous threats and show yourselves as idiots who are OBVIOUSLY only voting for someone because they have a vagina, you're as big an idiot as those fools who voted for Bush because they thought the bible told them to.
If you're a democrat, support it and vote it. If you're a republican, support it and vote it. Libertarian, fine. (Green party- you're out of this one- read my blog from a couple months ago). But for God's sake, get behind the nominee and put your personal shit AWAY and think about the ISSUES- not the color of the candidate's skin or their religion or their sex. We'll get there, ladies. Rome wasn't built in a day. The fact that there is a woman who has come this far speaks volumes as to how far we've come as a nation. But if it isn't right at this EXACT moment, it doesn't mean it isn't going to happen! Would you vote for Katherine Harris or Condoleeza Rice or Anne Coulter if they were running just because they're women? I hope to God NOT.
THINKING IS ONE OF THE GREATEST PLEASURES OF THE HUMAN RACE!
FUCKING DO IT!
Obviously, Obama is ahead on delegates. There's 2 more contests tomorrow. Clinton will win Kentucky and Obama will win Oregon. And it will continue. And it's OK. I mean, it really is. The talking heads talk about it cause their heads need to talk. But really, it's OK. It's not destroying the party. Well.....almost.
I read the blogs. And there are so many WOMEN seriously saying that if Hillary Clinton loses the nomination they will NOT vote for Barack Obama and WILL vote for McCain.
call me crazy, but i see just a few little itty bitty flaws in their reasoning..
McCain is not a democrat, which means he wouldn't do the same things in office that Hillary would have. You LOSE. Cut off your nose to spite your face.
Obama is not running on "vote for me, I'm a dude and we need a penis in the oval office". He's running on hope, change and liberal values. Basically the same thing as Hillary. But these WOMEN wouldn't vote for him because they see the chance for a woman to be president as so fucking important that they would sacrifice their values just to prove a point to a man. TYPICAL, LADIES! You're so OBVIOUS! I'm a lady and I voted for Obama! Does that mean that I'm not a "real woman"?
Haven't we learned by now that politicians really don't give a fuck what you think as long as you vote? So if you throw around these ridiculous threats and show yourselves as idiots who are OBVIOUSLY only voting for someone because they have a vagina, you're as big an idiot as those fools who voted for Bush because they thought the bible told them to.
If you're a democrat, support it and vote it. If you're a republican, support it and vote it. Libertarian, fine. (Green party- you're out of this one- read my blog from a couple months ago). But for God's sake, get behind the nominee and put your personal shit AWAY and think about the ISSUES- not the color of the candidate's skin or their religion or their sex. We'll get there, ladies. Rome wasn't built in a day. The fact that there is a woman who has come this far speaks volumes as to how far we've come as a nation. But if it isn't right at this EXACT moment, it doesn't mean it isn't going to happen! Would you vote for Katherine Harris or Condoleeza Rice or Anne Coulter if they were running just because they're women? I hope to God NOT.
THINKING IS ONE OF THE GREATEST PLEASURES OF THE HUMAN RACE!
FUCKING DO IT!
Say it loud!
"Oh Those Critics; I do not say fuck the drama critics because fucking is too good for them" --Tennessee Williams in a letter to actress Maureen Stapleton.
The show I "wrote" and directed was torn apart this morning in the paper by a critic. At first I was so hurt, embarassed, defeated...And then I got to thinking...
I hate getting all "artsy". You usually won't find me talking about it cause it all seems so superficial and an excuse to try to make oneself look somehow more intelligent or cultured. But, I cannot deny, that it is actually what I am. I am an artist. I don't think I've ever called myself that. I always just thought I was a human being with some clever comebacks, a belty voice, a strong stage presence and OK timing. But now I realize that what I do is art. Some of it is good, some of it is shit; but it's art all the same.
The theatre critic can tear apart my show. I interpret his 1/2 page assault on my thoughts as his show of disappointment that what he thought he was going to see was not what he saw. By this I mean he expected yet another straight forward, respectable , TRADITIONAL interpretation of a classic genre. Have any of you met me?
I'm the girl who sat at recess in 2nd grade with Andy Moyer writing adaptations of movies we liked and turned them into plays instead of playing on the monkey bars. I'm the girl who in the fifth grade made the custom t-shirt shop make her a light blue t-shirt with the words "dare to be different" on it and would wear it to cheerleading practice just to piss the other girls off. I'm the one who in my 7th grade dance recital made up the huge "California Raisins" dream ballet sequence for the tap routine to "I heard it Through the Grapevine", at which my dance teacher laughed and quickly dismissed. (I even thought that my dad could make a huge "Raisin Bran" flat out of some extra plywood at the shop! I offered it for free, Donna Gould! FREE!). I'm the one who in high school acting class created the lounge singer "Lottie Sunshine" that took the school by storm! I'm the one who, at my wedding, tore the veil out of my hair when "Burning Love" came on because the thing was so damn obnoxious and I needed to dance. I'm the girl who sings "Homecoming Queen's Gotta Gun" at karaoke every single time cause it makes ME laugh. I'm the one who changes her haircolor once a year just cause it's fun...I DO NOT do things- ANYTHING- in the traditional sense.
My point is this....Art is about expression. Art is about making people start a conversation. Art is about originality and doing things YOUR way. My show, although a tribute to a great playwright, was done MY way. If it wasn't, who would want to see it? We do theatre or paint pictures or write songs because we need to be heard and we need to express ourselves. I used someone else's words to express myself, which is what most actors do....and because I was "in charge" of it and had an unbelievably loyal and dedicated 6 actor army working with me, we put our own little personality on it. And it was poo-poo'ed.
People who critique theatre need to check themselves. Whether it's a small town or a Broadway show or a blockbuster Hollywood movie, each and every person working on the project is there because of the passion for their art. When the critique itself becomes more important that the art, there's something wrong. If the art is not pleasing to a critic, so be it. That's fine. But these people need to understand that if they do not give artists the chance to be creative, the artists will stop taking the leap and stop taking the chances because pretty soon there will be no audience for it.
Critics- you don't have to like anything you see. That's fine. You usually don't. I've been involved in some 4 star shows. I've also been involved in some 1 star shows....either way, the same reasoning went into each of their creations- someone, somewhere had something to say and needed a way to get it heard. Remember this. We do not offer ourselves up to your judgement because we need your approval. We offer ourselves up because we need to be heard.
Stop trying to stifle our creativity. If every artist since da Vinci listened to people like you every single painting would be a paint by number of the Mona Lisa and that would be a shame indeed.
I'm an artist- and I'm proud (thank you, james Brown). I don't play by the rules; I don't care if you like it or you think it fucking sucks. I have something to say, this is how I say it and I will take the leap because I'm alive, and I can!
Like I have told the actors in this show time and time again: I would rather have leapt off a cliff in the hopes I could fly and end up falling to my death than never to have leapt at all...
The show I "wrote" and directed was torn apart this morning in the paper by a critic. At first I was so hurt, embarassed, defeated...And then I got to thinking...
I hate getting all "artsy". You usually won't find me talking about it cause it all seems so superficial and an excuse to try to make oneself look somehow more intelligent or cultured. But, I cannot deny, that it is actually what I am. I am an artist. I don't think I've ever called myself that. I always just thought I was a human being with some clever comebacks, a belty voice, a strong stage presence and OK timing. But now I realize that what I do is art. Some of it is good, some of it is shit; but it's art all the same.
The theatre critic can tear apart my show. I interpret his 1/2 page assault on my thoughts as his show of disappointment that what he thought he was going to see was not what he saw. By this I mean he expected yet another straight forward, respectable , TRADITIONAL interpretation of a classic genre. Have any of you met me?
I'm the girl who sat at recess in 2nd grade with Andy Moyer writing adaptations of movies we liked and turned them into plays instead of playing on the monkey bars. I'm the girl who in the fifth grade made the custom t-shirt shop make her a light blue t-shirt with the words "dare to be different" on it and would wear it to cheerleading practice just to piss the other girls off. I'm the one who in my 7th grade dance recital made up the huge "California Raisins" dream ballet sequence for the tap routine to "I heard it Through the Grapevine", at which my dance teacher laughed and quickly dismissed. (I even thought that my dad could make a huge "Raisin Bran" flat out of some extra plywood at the shop! I offered it for free, Donna Gould! FREE!). I'm the one who in high school acting class created the lounge singer "Lottie Sunshine" that took the school by storm! I'm the one who, at my wedding, tore the veil out of my hair when "Burning Love" came on because the thing was so damn obnoxious and I needed to dance. I'm the girl who sings "Homecoming Queen's Gotta Gun" at karaoke every single time cause it makes ME laugh. I'm the one who changes her haircolor once a year just cause it's fun...I DO NOT do things- ANYTHING- in the traditional sense.
My point is this....Art is about expression. Art is about making people start a conversation. Art is about originality and doing things YOUR way. My show, although a tribute to a great playwright, was done MY way. If it wasn't, who would want to see it? We do theatre or paint pictures or write songs because we need to be heard and we need to express ourselves. I used someone else's words to express myself, which is what most actors do....and because I was "in charge" of it and had an unbelievably loyal and dedicated 6 actor army working with me, we put our own little personality on it. And it was poo-poo'ed.
People who critique theatre need to check themselves. Whether it's a small town or a Broadway show or a blockbuster Hollywood movie, each and every person working on the project is there because of the passion for their art. When the critique itself becomes more important that the art, there's something wrong. If the art is not pleasing to a critic, so be it. That's fine. But these people need to understand that if they do not give artists the chance to be creative, the artists will stop taking the leap and stop taking the chances because pretty soon there will be no audience for it.
Critics- you don't have to like anything you see. That's fine. You usually don't. I've been involved in some 4 star shows. I've also been involved in some 1 star shows....either way, the same reasoning went into each of their creations- someone, somewhere had something to say and needed a way to get it heard. Remember this. We do not offer ourselves up to your judgement because we need your approval. We offer ourselves up because we need to be heard.
Stop trying to stifle our creativity. If every artist since da Vinci listened to people like you every single painting would be a paint by number of the Mona Lisa and that would be a shame indeed.
I'm an artist- and I'm proud (thank you, james Brown). I don't play by the rules; I don't care if you like it or you think it fucking sucks. I have something to say, this is how I say it and I will take the leap because I'm alive, and I can!
Like I have told the actors in this show time and time again: I would rather have leapt off a cliff in the hopes I could fly and end up falling to my death than never to have leapt at all...
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