As my feet and body begin to ache less, I quietly reminisce my fourth experience at Dragon*con this past weekend. According to a staff member, I am now considered a veteran. I suppose I am proud of my status but I still have trouble finding my way around hotels and trying to get to places. But I am very astute in the art of forming lines to see famous people. Germanically so.
This experience was fun and worth the money but paled in comparison to our experience last year. Dragon*con 2008 will forever hold a special place in my heart as my first 4-day Con and as the catalyst of my relationship with Graham. I'm glad that we will have a Labor Day tradition that will always prove better than cook-outs and watching sports. Not that we'd do that regardless.
The best part of the entire weekend was meeting Terry Gilliam. Unfortunately, I forgot my camera and realized it on the way there, so I am still waiting for our photos. Beforehand, I remembered that my mother's favorite movie is Brazil, and I was pet sitting for my parents Friday through Saturday, thus I decided to open up her Criterion Collection copy of the movie (on laserdisc- does anyone else remember those?) and retrieved the insert so I could get it signed. And I did, along with a promo photo for Gilliam's new movie The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus. Gilliam was very nice, funny, and he seemed pretty tired. I was glad we got to meet him
Other than that amazing highlight, there is not much to tell. I saw people I knew, I bought a few trinkets, I got some free swag, and I ended up not smelling too rank after the whole ordeal. We have endeavored for next con to obtain a hotel room and make epic sandwiches so we can avoid lines and blowing money on food. Graham and I are also planning costumes because he has now agreed to dress up. However, for fear of him backing out and for fear of jinxing it, I'm not saying what we will be:)
We bought a ton of comics on Monday and most were read today. Graham has also accused me of cleaning the apartment, doing the laundry, and washing the dishes just to get out of doing homework....which is partially true. So I will go do that. Until next time! Tchao!
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
How I Spent My Summer Vacation
I'll tell you how I spent my summer vacation- abandoning my blog! I didn't really write at all this summer; I mostly wrote lists and amusing comments. But now to break me of that habit.
This summer, I dreamed the impossible dream. With the ultimate decision of Graham and the accruing of funds from various happenstances, we have now officially moved out of Cartersville. That's right, kiddies! That brainwashed, backwards, medieval asshole of America I spent ten months living in that I never will get back is free and clear of two of its most intelligent inhabitants. Rood giddance to rad bubbish.
We house-sat for my parents for two weeks whilst oggling over Craigslist and various neighborhoods in search of new residence. We were focused on houses but we ultimately decided on a small studio we found very close to the Marietta Square. And, as a bonus factor, we now live about 18 miles round trip from my job.
It's nice having our own place. I worry about our bills because I fear not paying them on time. But then again, I really see no reason why they wouldn't be paid by a deadline. We have a kitty, Artemis (or Arty), and she's absolutely adorable. We can have people over, I can cook, we are close to everything. It's pretty damned wonderful.
I don't really feel like blogging anymore today. I have told these anecdotes so much that they seem overly rehearsed to me.
This summer, I dreamed the impossible dream. With the ultimate decision of Graham and the accruing of funds from various happenstances, we have now officially moved out of Cartersville. That's right, kiddies! That brainwashed, backwards, medieval asshole of America I spent ten months living in that I never will get back is free and clear of two of its most intelligent inhabitants. Rood giddance to rad bubbish.
We house-sat for my parents for two weeks whilst oggling over Craigslist and various neighborhoods in search of new residence. We were focused on houses but we ultimately decided on a small studio we found very close to the Marietta Square. And, as a bonus factor, we now live about 18 miles round trip from my job.
It's nice having our own place. I worry about our bills because I fear not paying them on time. But then again, I really see no reason why they wouldn't be paid by a deadline. We have a kitty, Artemis (or Arty), and she's absolutely adorable. We can have people over, I can cook, we are close to everything. It's pretty damned wonderful.
I don't really feel like blogging anymore today. I have told these anecdotes so much that they seem overly rehearsed to me.
Saturday, May 30, 2009
Forget It, Lee. It's Cartersville.
I decided to walk around Main Street in Cartersville today while waiting to pick Graham up from work to see Up! It was a fairly nice day, really sunny with puffy white clouds and a little bit of a breeze and as I parked Bruno, I decided that today would be a perfect day for a chocolate croissant and a cup of strong coffee.
I had parked by Agan's Bakery, an old brick shop along the old town strip close to the building labeled "Butcher Shop." I was excited because along with the charm and quaintness of old Cartersville (one of its only saving graces), it actually had an operational bakery. I had never been but I had seen its 1970s pale orange lettering every time I drove through. I walked in the door, not quite sure if they were open.
I entered to find there were no chairs or tables. Three glass display cases bordered the foyee and there were no menus or prices listed anywhere. There was a small handful of cakes displayed, a few breakfast pastries, and a small smattering of pies on the thin top shelf to my right. And despite my optimism, things looked dismal.
I searched for croissants but to no avail. I looked at the girl behind the counter who was rather young and not entirely enthralled with the idea of working in a bakery for the rest of her life. Her somewhat cheerful smile could not completely disguise her lack of legitimate enthusiasm. Yet she was the only one who could reveal to me where the tasty, buttery, flakey, sweet French pastries were horded. With a slight grin she asked me how she could be of assistance and I asked if they had any croissants.
She apologized first which could have lead to many other following statements like:
"I'm sorry, but we ran out! There will be some tomorrow!"
"I'm sorry, but they all were scorched because our baker is German!"
"I'm sorry, but the only one we have is plastic."
But no. She just flat-out told me that they didn't have any. I tried to mask my horror and disbelief with a dash of self-deprecation and endeavored to search for something else. I gazed through the abysmally small selection of much inferior pastries, staring at each one hoping to turn them into chocolate croissants with my eyes.
I decided to choose the apple bread that looked like a muffin but was, in fact, not. I figured it would be inexpensive but I still wasn't impressed with the lack of price display. I asked for a cup of coffee and did not see her prepare it nor even did she bestow me a small vessel for it. The total for my breakfast was $2.12, which pleased me seeing as I received a heaping pile of disappointment for free just by walking through the door. I gave a smile and thanks and then miraculously found where I could get my coffee. Two pump carafes were sitting on a small table next to an automated cappuccino machine, like the kind you get your quasi-coffee from at the waiting room of the ER. The Styrofoam cups were directly behind the carafes with the equally sorry looking lids. I saw a canister of powdered non-dairy creamer before I saw the liquid creamer cups underneath.
The best I can say is that at least the coffee was hot.
I retreated to the bench outside the building next door and removed said apple bread from the little white paper bag. I noticed the sugary glaze that covered most of the pastry and considered it rather unnecessary. Tearing off a warm piece and popping it into my mouth, I was greeted with a soft chewy fresh-baked texture, the sweetness of sugar, and the subtle savory kick of cinnamon. My next bite had a baked apple in it, syrupy and sugary. The bread was not as good as I had hoped for ( I had not anticipated much but I was still hopeful) but it was not entirely disappointing.
My visit to Agan's Bakery was a blow to my optimism. I left feeling cheated, aghast, and felt that this particular bakery was a sham. I could not, and still don't, believe that they didn't have croissants. Is that not a bakery staple? They didn't even have eclairs. All in all, this glorified donut shop should suck it up and change their name because it is incredibly misleading.
I had parked by Agan's Bakery, an old brick shop along the old town strip close to the building labeled "Butcher Shop." I was excited because along with the charm and quaintness of old Cartersville (one of its only saving graces), it actually had an operational bakery. I had never been but I had seen its 1970s pale orange lettering every time I drove through. I walked in the door, not quite sure if they were open.
I entered to find there were no chairs or tables. Three glass display cases bordered the foyee and there were no menus or prices listed anywhere. There was a small handful of cakes displayed, a few breakfast pastries, and a small smattering of pies on the thin top shelf to my right. And despite my optimism, things looked dismal.
I searched for croissants but to no avail. I looked at the girl behind the counter who was rather young and not entirely enthralled with the idea of working in a bakery for the rest of her life. Her somewhat cheerful smile could not completely disguise her lack of legitimate enthusiasm. Yet she was the only one who could reveal to me where the tasty, buttery, flakey, sweet French pastries were horded. With a slight grin she asked me how she could be of assistance and I asked if they had any croissants.
She apologized first which could have lead to many other following statements like:
"I'm sorry, but we ran out! There will be some tomorrow!"
"I'm sorry, but they all were scorched because our baker is German!"
"I'm sorry, but the only one we have is plastic."
But no. She just flat-out told me that they didn't have any. I tried to mask my horror and disbelief with a dash of self-deprecation and endeavored to search for something else. I gazed through the abysmally small selection of much inferior pastries, staring at each one hoping to turn them into chocolate croissants with my eyes.
I decided to choose the apple bread that looked like a muffin but was, in fact, not. I figured it would be inexpensive but I still wasn't impressed with the lack of price display. I asked for a cup of coffee and did not see her prepare it nor even did she bestow me a small vessel for it. The total for my breakfast was $2.12, which pleased me seeing as I received a heaping pile of disappointment for free just by walking through the door. I gave a smile and thanks and then miraculously found where I could get my coffee. Two pump carafes were sitting on a small table next to an automated cappuccino machine, like the kind you get your quasi-coffee from at the waiting room of the ER. The Styrofoam cups were directly behind the carafes with the equally sorry looking lids. I saw a canister of powdered non-dairy creamer before I saw the liquid creamer cups underneath.
The best I can say is that at least the coffee was hot.
I retreated to the bench outside the building next door and removed said apple bread from the little white paper bag. I noticed the sugary glaze that covered most of the pastry and considered it rather unnecessary. Tearing off a warm piece and popping it into my mouth, I was greeted with a soft chewy fresh-baked texture, the sweetness of sugar, and the subtle savory kick of cinnamon. My next bite had a baked apple in it, syrupy and sugary. The bread was not as good as I had hoped for ( I had not anticipated much but I was still hopeful) but it was not entirely disappointing.
My visit to Agan's Bakery was a blow to my optimism. I left feeling cheated, aghast, and felt that this particular bakery was a sham. I could not, and still don't, believe that they didn't have croissants. Is that not a bakery staple? They didn't even have eclairs. All in all, this glorified donut shop should suck it up and change their name because it is incredibly misleading.
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Month of "Yes, You May"
I feel bad that I have committed adultery against my lovely little blog to have an affair with my moleskine. So I suppose I have to dust off the keyboard with one of those stupid cans of compressed air that they sell at Officemax. As you are fully aware, we are at the tail-end of May. Which is just so weird to think about because I don't remember nearly six months passing by so quickly ever.
Since my last entry, I have completed yet another semester at Kennesaw State University, changed my major twice, and received my first A in a college course. I maintained a B average for the semester which boosted my GPA a wee bit so I'm on track to get the HOPE back. I am now a declared English major, licensed to judge the rhetoric and grammar of others for the greater good of humanity. So mind your Ps and Qs and where you place apostrophes. I have also decided to go with a French minor! There are so many French people that come through my line at work that I get to practice with that I've decided to push myself some more into that department.
I'm still employed at Trader Joe's and have almost been there an entire year, working steadily (11 months on June 1st!). I have come to love my job a little more every single day because I get to be surrounded by food, help people on choosing between two different foods, interact with some of the cutest children on the face of the earth, and make being dorky really cool. My job has helped me grow as a person over the past few months, teaching me to get over myself, teaching me how to describe foods better, and helping me deal with all kinds of different people. I used to complain a lot about living so far away but now I make a conscious effort to not bring it up in a grouchy way because I know that a few of my past coworkers lived around the same area too.
My aforementioned April trip to Athens was an experience. I had never experienced a genuine college town, where everything is so centralized that I saw not even a sliver of the real world. The dorms were small and a little uncomfortable; they had to share a hallway bathroom; you had to have your palm scanned to get in the doorway. I know that I could never deal with that. I like to go out and do things, I enjoy having my own space, I like having a kitchen and not having to go to the dining hall to get food. I like having a real job with benefits and really great pay. But it was interesting to see how everybody interacted within their parameters. Helen took me clubbing which the only aspect I liked was the dress I purchased:
That's me with the napalm orange hair. And since about a week later from that, my hair has been bright green, an accident resulting from me wanting turquoise hair on a whim. My hair is now just blonde because the green faded quickly and is now so fried that it can't hold any color on its own. Go me.
As far as the little things go, life is really great. Graham and I are doing very well despite the fact that even though we live together, we don't get to spend much time together. But he's come up with some plans for future things so I have stuff to look forward to. I have realized that if we move out now, all the money I could be saving to go visit my father, to go to school for another semester, or do anything with will never be saved and will be squandered on a place that isn't worth my money. Plus, if we move closer to my job, our situation will be the same only reversed- Graham would have a farther commute and all kinds of other inconvienences. I know that it will upset my mother to know that I'm not even going to take her advice and move out on my own into a subleted house with people I don't know and try to be closer to work and school. I have a perfectly good home right here where I can help out and not feel pressured and where I can save my money. I just have to come up with a good way to explain to Mom this concept.
I guess I'm finished. I'll more than likely update in July. Cheers!
Since my last entry, I have completed yet another semester at Kennesaw State University, changed my major twice, and received my first A in a college course. I maintained a B average for the semester which boosted my GPA a wee bit so I'm on track to get the HOPE back. I am now a declared English major, licensed to judge the rhetoric and grammar of others for the greater good of humanity. So mind your Ps and Qs and where you place apostrophes. I have also decided to go with a French minor! There are so many French people that come through my line at work that I get to practice with that I've decided to push myself some more into that department.
I'm still employed at Trader Joe's and have almost been there an entire year, working steadily (11 months on June 1st!). I have come to love my job a little more every single day because I get to be surrounded by food, help people on choosing between two different foods, interact with some of the cutest children on the face of the earth, and make being dorky really cool. My job has helped me grow as a person over the past few months, teaching me to get over myself, teaching me how to describe foods better, and helping me deal with all kinds of different people. I used to complain a lot about living so far away but now I make a conscious effort to not bring it up in a grouchy way because I know that a few of my past coworkers lived around the same area too.
My aforementioned April trip to Athens was an experience. I had never experienced a genuine college town, where everything is so centralized that I saw not even a sliver of the real world. The dorms were small and a little uncomfortable; they had to share a hallway bathroom; you had to have your palm scanned to get in the doorway. I know that I could never deal with that. I like to go out and do things, I enjoy having my own space, I like having a kitchen and not having to go to the dining hall to get food. I like having a real job with benefits and really great pay. But it was interesting to see how everybody interacted within their parameters. Helen took me clubbing which the only aspect I liked was the dress I purchased:
That's me with the napalm orange hair. And since about a week later from that, my hair has been bright green, an accident resulting from me wanting turquoise hair on a whim. My hair is now just blonde because the green faded quickly and is now so fried that it can't hold any color on its own. Go me.
As far as the little things go, life is really great. Graham and I are doing very well despite the fact that even though we live together, we don't get to spend much time together. But he's come up with some plans for future things so I have stuff to look forward to. I have realized that if we move out now, all the money I could be saving to go visit my father, to go to school for another semester, or do anything with will never be saved and will be squandered on a place that isn't worth my money. Plus, if we move closer to my job, our situation will be the same only reversed- Graham would have a farther commute and all kinds of other inconvienences. I know that it will upset my mother to know that I'm not even going to take her advice and move out on my own into a subleted house with people I don't know and try to be closer to work and school. I have a perfectly good home right here where I can help out and not feel pressured and where I can save my money. I just have to come up with a good way to explain to Mom this concept.
I guess I'm finished. I'll more than likely update in July. Cheers!
Thursday, February 19, 2009
By The Way Kids: There Is No Such Thing As A Silent R.
So apparently, November, December, and January decided to bound and gag me, pull the wool over my eyes, and have me find out that it's been about four months since I last updated anything about my life. At least via the internet.
So better start showin' up now.
To bring one up to speed since October, I am still living with Graham in Euharlee (to the left of Cartersville if you look at a map), so small there is no post office, in Bartow county where a distinct smell trickles into your olfactory as you cross the county border on 75. Where if the weather is nice, the moon is full, and the sky is clear, we just lay out on the lawn and listen to the meth labs blow up and the donkey haw. This is a little piece of southern gothic entertainment.
Gas prices slowly creep up as the stimulus package plunger attempts to dislodge the wad of economic toilet paper plugging up our country, but still manage to be relatively reasonable. Still have not beat Fallout 3 but I do get the urge to play it every day, just not the time. We have been playing Left 4 Dead, though, and that has given me new reasons to shout monosyllabically.
I got a raise in January and am now making more than I have ever made at any job. I am also planning on making a list of high fiber items for my store and that is just one of the many projects I have adhered myself to. I still absolutely love my job and I am getting more proficient at providing informative service as well as just being a good person.
I'm back in school as well! I am taking Political Science, World Literature, Sociology, and World Civilizations. I am pretty much leading two groups for my classes and have rediscovered my abhorence for relying on anybody else to do work for me. After the "life experience" I have obtained, I've learned that most of these college kids are spoiled brats who got the HOPE and went to Kennesaw because they thought it would be easy, all their courses would be bullshit, somebody actually cares about what they have to say, and that nobody needs to pay attention in class. I really want to pull the bitch card and chew people out, but I suppose I can rely on karma to kick their asses and motivate them.
I am planning to take a mini vacation to Athens at the beginning of April to visit and stay with Helen. I need to get out for a bit and I think finally cashing in on my promise to visit is a good idea. I've been making plans with friends from high school as well recently. I think I've reached a point where I really miss people.
Alright, it's two in the damn morning. I need to sleep in order to whine about the world spiraling ass-backwards. Cheers!
So better start showin' up now.
To bring one up to speed since October, I am still living with Graham in Euharlee (to the left of Cartersville if you look at a map), so small there is no post office, in Bartow county where a distinct smell trickles into your olfactory as you cross the county border on 75. Where if the weather is nice, the moon is full, and the sky is clear, we just lay out on the lawn and listen to the meth labs blow up and the donkey haw. This is a little piece of southern gothic entertainment.
Gas prices slowly creep up as the stimulus package plunger attempts to dislodge the wad of economic toilet paper plugging up our country, but still manage to be relatively reasonable. Still have not beat Fallout 3 but I do get the urge to play it every day, just not the time. We have been playing Left 4 Dead, though, and that has given me new reasons to shout monosyllabically.
I got a raise in January and am now making more than I have ever made at any job. I am also planning on making a list of high fiber items for my store and that is just one of the many projects I have adhered myself to. I still absolutely love my job and I am getting more proficient at providing informative service as well as just being a good person.
I'm back in school as well! I am taking Political Science, World Literature, Sociology, and World Civilizations. I am pretty much leading two groups for my classes and have rediscovered my abhorence for relying on anybody else to do work for me. After the "life experience" I have obtained, I've learned that most of these college kids are spoiled brats who got the HOPE and went to Kennesaw because they thought it would be easy, all their courses would be bullshit, somebody actually cares about what they have to say, and that nobody needs to pay attention in class. I really want to pull the bitch card and chew people out, but I suppose I can rely on karma to kick their asses and motivate them.
I am planning to take a mini vacation to Athens at the beginning of April to visit and stay with Helen. I need to get out for a bit and I think finally cashing in on my promise to visit is a good idea. I've been making plans with friends from high school as well recently. I think I've reached a point where I really miss people.
Alright, it's two in the damn morning. I need to sleep in order to whine about the world spiraling ass-backwards. Cheers!
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
October in the Basement with Graham
Here I sit next to Graham, whose face is illuminated by the reflection of Fallout 3 from the white sheet that is the screen. It is just shy of three o'clock in the morning. Two and a half hours ago we were driving back from the midnight launch of the game. Which we had reserved 3 hours prior to the midnight release. The release that only six people showed up to- me being the token chick. This is Cartersville: the geek population is about 20 and it has 3 game stores. Although the excitement level of waiting for the game is absent, the fact that the game is closer to tangible than in the Gamestops in Kennesaw is a nice amenity. In short, Cartersville has its perks.
I have spent the past month living in Graham's basement, in our squalor. Doing nothing but smoking cigarettes, watching movies and the Simpsons, eating microwaveable pseudofoods, wishing his mother would stop calling, and playing video games. I have dropped off the map and it's this solitude that holds me back from regretting it. I love the fact that I'm living with a guy who is just as much of a slob as me, loves me, and embraces my inconsistensies as much as I embrace his. I live far away from work but I really look forward to coming home and seeing him. I love driving through rural North Georgia to come home. But it is a bitch on my gas tank.
Speaking of which, *knock on wood*, gas has gone down by a $1.50 roughly, which is highly beneficial for my commute.
We are still looking for a place that's closer to town and the rest of civilization. I wish there were better schools up here but alas I love Kennesaw too much and Graham's set on GA State. Our search is on hiatus, though, because we don't have the money for a security deposit. We do have some roommates lined up, though!
This is what I get for allowing Graham to play Fallout 3 first. Now I have to wither and blog in my dispair. Woe is me- I want to play Oblivion!
Yeah, a good portion of my next paycheck is probably going to go towards video games. Sam and Max for the Wii, Morrowind Game of the Year Edition, and, if I'm feeling saucy, Fable 2. But we shall see about the last one; I will probably get it when it's cheaper.
Cheers for now. Got work in the morning and need to sleep enough to get up and make coffee to wake up more.
I have spent the past month living in Graham's basement, in our squalor. Doing nothing but smoking cigarettes, watching movies and the Simpsons, eating microwaveable pseudofoods, wishing his mother would stop calling, and playing video games. I have dropped off the map and it's this solitude that holds me back from regretting it. I love the fact that I'm living with a guy who is just as much of a slob as me, loves me, and embraces my inconsistensies as much as I embrace his. I live far away from work but I really look forward to coming home and seeing him. I love driving through rural North Georgia to come home. But it is a bitch on my gas tank.
Speaking of which, *knock on wood*, gas has gone down by a $1.50 roughly, which is highly beneficial for my commute.
We are still looking for a place that's closer to town and the rest of civilization. I wish there were better schools up here but alas I love Kennesaw too much and Graham's set on GA State. Our search is on hiatus, though, because we don't have the money for a security deposit. We do have some roommates lined up, though!
This is what I get for allowing Graham to play Fallout 3 first. Now I have to wither and blog in my dispair. Woe is me- I want to play Oblivion!
Yeah, a good portion of my next paycheck is probably going to go towards video games. Sam and Max for the Wii, Morrowind Game of the Year Edition, and, if I'm feeling saucy, Fable 2. But we shall see about the last one; I will probably get it when it's cheaper.
Cheers for now. Got work in the morning and need to sleep enough to get up and make coffee to wake up more.
Monday, September 15, 2008
One Minute Entry
And so I'm back to my normal speed of blogging. Which is once every six weeks. Which could very well match up with a menstrual cycle and therefore consist of "woe-is-me" crap that does not make for a good entry.
So in short, Quincy my laptop got murdered. By me. By accident so no charges were pressed. We tried to revive him but alas we could not and he's but a Gateway corpse.
Went to Dragon*Con and met Nathan Fillion. Now I can die fairly happy.
Am moving in with Graham into a rental house somewhere. Preferably soon. Can't wait to have my own place.
Yeah. Short entry. I'll come up with content soon. Promise!
Cheers
So in short, Quincy my laptop got murdered. By me. By accident so no charges were pressed. We tried to revive him but alas we could not and he's but a Gateway corpse.
Went to Dragon*Con and met Nathan Fillion. Now I can die fairly happy.
Am moving in with Graham into a rental house somewhere. Preferably soon. Can't wait to have my own place.
Yeah. Short entry. I'll come up with content soon. Promise!
Cheers
Saturday, August 2, 2008
VIDEO BLOOOOOOOOOOOG!!!
Yeah. This momentous moment in Leevee blogging history totally deserves all caps. BEHOLD! My first video blog post:
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Autotacular Hate Crimes
A week has passed and life has grown increasingly convoluted. Starting with the saga of Bruno.
The Saga of Professor Bruno
Bruno is my 1989 Ford Ranger, as I may have introduced him before. As he is almost antique, this car is doomed to have personality. Originally, his name was just plain Bruno, but with a Master's Degree in being a bitch to drive and a seat cover reminiscent of an old English professor's tweed sweater, he gained an aura usually saved for pipe-smoking old scholars that have nothing better to do than talk of Melville and Shakespeare all day. Hence the addition of Professor. He has a manual transmission (hence having a male name. I'd name it Hedwig if I were superstitious), no AC, just recently the gas gauge started working by divine intervention, he eats the clasps for the seat belts, and only the right speaker works. Now, occasionally, when Bruno liked a song, the right speaker would come in, allowing me to hear the intended harmonies and nuances in the music that would make me squee (yes, squee) with delight.
Well, last Thursday, Bruno decided to get in a fight with this:
What I endearingly call the Anti-Bruno. A black, huge, GMC Sierra with an automatic transmission and a grill decided to commit the Auto Hate Crime of all hate crimes and bitch slap my poor little podunk white, stick-shift Ford on the intersection of my parent's neighborhood and Chastain Rd. Now, this accident could have been avoided had I not failed to yield at a left turn and if the motherfucker has decided to go the actual speed limit. The accident was definitely my fault because, y'know, I failed to yield. Anyway, I make a left turn into the right lane and hear the honk before the crunch. I feel the guy slam into the back of my car, Bruno swerves to the left while Anti-Bruno plows into the passenger side and Bruno swerves to the left again to a halt, looking directly at the Sierra. I dumbfoundly get out of my car and gaze in horror at the damage done to my car.
On a side note, I was going to buy cigarettes before heading home to dress for Jessica's 21st birthday party and was coming home from my parents' house just after starting the process of signing Bruno over to me. And I was listening to Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell." The irony is so rich, it rots my teeth.
Anyway, to cut this long story short, my car is in the auto-hospital and looks like this:
Since then, I have had to use all the money I allotted for my personal gas to pay for the tanks of others. I am grateful that neither me nor the other people were hurt. I had the cutest cop in the history of ever evaluating my accident. The court date is September 23 at the lovely hour of 8:30 in the bloody morning.
So, other than that, I'm alive and well. Waiting for information on any repairs. If the frame is bent, I'm fucked sideways but if not, I think all that needs to be fixed is the wheel/axel. Sure, he looks ugly as sin but if he's salvageable, I will stick a band-aid bumper sticker on his side saying "Ouch."
I guess that's all for entertainment. I bid you good day!
The Saga of Professor Bruno
Bruno is my 1989 Ford Ranger, as I may have introduced him before. As he is almost antique, this car is doomed to have personality. Originally, his name was just plain Bruno, but with a Master's Degree in being a bitch to drive and a seat cover reminiscent of an old English professor's tweed sweater, he gained an aura usually saved for pipe-smoking old scholars that have nothing better to do than talk of Melville and Shakespeare all day. Hence the addition of Professor. He has a manual transmission (hence having a male name. I'd name it Hedwig if I were superstitious), no AC, just recently the gas gauge started working by divine intervention, he eats the clasps for the seat belts, and only the right speaker works. Now, occasionally, when Bruno liked a song, the right speaker would come in, allowing me to hear the intended harmonies and nuances in the music that would make me squee (yes, squee) with delight.
Well, last Thursday, Bruno decided to get in a fight with this:
What I endearingly call the Anti-Bruno. A black, huge, GMC Sierra with an automatic transmission and a grill decided to commit the Auto Hate Crime of all hate crimes and bitch slap my poor little podunk white, stick-shift Ford on the intersection of my parent's neighborhood and Chastain Rd. Now, this accident could have been avoided had I not failed to yield at a left turn and if the motherfucker has decided to go the actual speed limit. The accident was definitely my fault because, y'know, I failed to yield. Anyway, I make a left turn into the right lane and hear the honk before the crunch. I feel the guy slam into the back of my car, Bruno swerves to the left while Anti-Bruno plows into the passenger side and Bruno swerves to the left again to a halt, looking directly at the Sierra. I dumbfoundly get out of my car and gaze in horror at the damage done to my car.
On a side note, I was going to buy cigarettes before heading home to dress for Jessica's 21st birthday party and was coming home from my parents' house just after starting the process of signing Bruno over to me. And I was listening to Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell." The irony is so rich, it rots my teeth.
Anyway, to cut this long story short, my car is in the auto-hospital and looks like this:
Since then, I have had to use all the money I allotted for my personal gas to pay for the tanks of others. I am grateful that neither me nor the other people were hurt. I had the cutest cop in the history of ever evaluating my accident. The court date is September 23 at the lovely hour of 8:30 in the bloody morning.
So, other than that, I'm alive and well. Waiting for information on any repairs. If the frame is bent, I'm fucked sideways but if not, I think all that needs to be fixed is the wheel/axel. Sure, he looks ugly as sin but if he's salvageable, I will stick a band-aid bumper sticker on his side saying "Ouch."
I guess that's all for entertainment. I bid you good day!
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Paradise By Blogger's Dashboard Lights
I made myself a vow that I would not blog until I received and set up my laptop with wireless internet and such. As you can tell, I have either given the vow a fuck that or I have received my laptop in the mail. Those of you choice B selectors, give yourselves a pat on the back.
Actually, in the past week, more than I'd like to say has occurred. I was kicked out of my parent's house a week ago and has to scramble to find a new living arrangement. Thankfully my friend Beth's family has adopted me at least until I am financially stable on my own. My folks are giving me my car yet not their tax information to fill out my FAFSA. I probably will have to go after a private student loan in which they will still have to co-sign and then will result in me getting bitched at furthermore. Hopefully Dylan will intervene somehow if I ask him but I have to pull some weight and strings before I result to his tactics. I need to go up to financial aid and bring a book and wait in the line until I grow a beard but I'll do it.
In other happier news, I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Actor's Express tonight for only a dollar (I love being a member of a certain mailing list) because I could do "pay-what-you-can" admission. The show was amazing. What I love about Hedwig is that it is a deep story about self discovery, an empowering tale about the pride in being a woman, and how finding your other half is crucial in everyone's life. The music is beautifully written from hardcore beer dribbling punk rock to bittersweet ballads that bring a tear to your eye. The lyrics are filled to the brim with allusions from Aristophanes in "The Origin of Love" to the mentioning of Lot's wife in "Wicked Little Town." It's correlations of other works and motifs in literature that when set to music for a controversial show such as Hedwig makes me beam with joy and utter interest. I can't express how much I enjoyed the show. The music makes me cry if I'm watching Craig Waldrop in a one piece suit with fishnets and pumps belt it out or if I'm listening to John Cameron Mitchell sing it on my iTunes collection; it is just that moving.
Plus Waldrop had FANTASTIC legs. Wow.
I get paid tomorrow so this slight living in solo squalor thing won't last much longer. I'm not really bad off- I live with wonderful people, I have a car, I have a job, I have a laptop with internet. Life's pretty good I suppose.
Until I write again, adieu!
Actually, in the past week, more than I'd like to say has occurred. I was kicked out of my parent's house a week ago and has to scramble to find a new living arrangement. Thankfully my friend Beth's family has adopted me at least until I am financially stable on my own. My folks are giving me my car yet not their tax information to fill out my FAFSA. I probably will have to go after a private student loan in which they will still have to co-sign and then will result in me getting bitched at furthermore. Hopefully Dylan will intervene somehow if I ask him but I have to pull some weight and strings before I result to his tactics. I need to go up to financial aid and bring a book and wait in the line until I grow a beard but I'll do it.
In other happier news, I saw Hedwig and the Angry Inch at Actor's Express tonight for only a dollar (I love being a member of a certain mailing list) because I could do "pay-what-you-can" admission. The show was amazing. What I love about Hedwig is that it is a deep story about self discovery, an empowering tale about the pride in being a woman, and how finding your other half is crucial in everyone's life. The music is beautifully written from hardcore beer dribbling punk rock to bittersweet ballads that bring a tear to your eye. The lyrics are filled to the brim with allusions from Aristophanes in "The Origin of Love" to the mentioning of Lot's wife in "Wicked Little Town." It's correlations of other works and motifs in literature that when set to music for a controversial show such as Hedwig makes me beam with joy and utter interest. I can't express how much I enjoyed the show. The music makes me cry if I'm watching Craig Waldrop in a one piece suit with fishnets and pumps belt it out or if I'm listening to John Cameron Mitchell sing it on my iTunes collection; it is just that moving.
Plus Waldrop had FANTASTIC legs. Wow.
I get paid tomorrow so this slight living in solo squalor thing won't last much longer. I'm not really bad off- I live with wonderful people, I have a car, I have a job, I have a laptop with internet. Life's pretty good I suppose.
Until I write again, adieu!
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Leevee Pieces
hAPPY jULY TO ALL.
Maybe I'll get out of that so my post doesn't look like a ransom note. Peachy.
So I've discovered a solution to my lack of energy whilst blogging. I love to blog; it's incredibly therapeutic. I get to write out jokes that I tell people all the time, I get to formulate opinions, and I get to actually express them free of interruption. Thus, writing is an extremely cathartic experience every time I do it. Well, as long as the content differs from what I last wrote. I find before any blog post (except for this one oddly enough), I always write up a rough draft. I write minuscule hieroglyphics on yellow legal pads for an entire page getting everything out. I proofread it to perfection, I add, I subtract, I multiply and divide and pretty soon it's ready for my fingers to type it out and execute the same proofreading regimen. But at that point, I don't want to. I'm so burnt out on that story that it lacks pop or "za-za zoo."
Although, I have said to myself, "You did do a lot of work on this. You should post it on your blog for other people to read!"
Then my eyes roll up to my brain: "Don't wanna. Not gonna."
Then my brain threatens to aneurysm and I drag my obligated self to the computer chair to recreate a snappy blog entry with a witty title that would get Oscar Wilde to give me free absinthe.
But in lieu of my laziness conquering every other possible energy I have, my wonderful father is going to send me a laptop. Albeit, it is a little older than most of the models I've used, I hear tale that it does in fact work. Another thing I plan on doing is uploading more videos and stuff of me because I personally love video blogs and I write songs and love to act like a moron for everyone to watch. I have to give a little purpose to the actor inside of me who won't be able to breathe should I choose to be an English major.
This laptop should arrive in about a week, I'd say. I have to figure out all the wireless aspects, how to use the thing, and slew of foreign terms that come with the world of portable computers. Should be darn exciting and I should be able to blog a lot better when I'm all abreast!
Until then, sit tight and await snazzy changes!
Maybe I'll get out of that so my post doesn't look like a ransom note. Peachy.
So I've discovered a solution to my lack of energy whilst blogging. I love to blog; it's incredibly therapeutic. I get to write out jokes that I tell people all the time, I get to formulate opinions, and I get to actually express them free of interruption. Thus, writing is an extremely cathartic experience every time I do it. Well, as long as the content differs from what I last wrote. I find before any blog post (except for this one oddly enough), I always write up a rough draft. I write minuscule hieroglyphics on yellow legal pads for an entire page getting everything out. I proofread it to perfection, I add, I subtract, I multiply and divide and pretty soon it's ready for my fingers to type it out and execute the same proofreading regimen. But at that point, I don't want to. I'm so burnt out on that story that it lacks pop or "za-za zoo."
Although, I have said to myself, "You did do a lot of work on this. You should post it on your blog for other people to read!"
Then my eyes roll up to my brain: "Don't wanna. Not gonna."
Then my brain threatens to aneurysm and I drag my obligated self to the computer chair to recreate a snappy blog entry with a witty title that would get Oscar Wilde to give me free absinthe.
But in lieu of my laziness conquering every other possible energy I have, my wonderful father is going to send me a laptop. Albeit, it is a little older than most of the models I've used, I hear tale that it does in fact work. Another thing I plan on doing is uploading more videos and stuff of me because I personally love video blogs and I write songs and love to act like a moron for everyone to watch. I have to give a little purpose to the actor inside of me who won't be able to breathe should I choose to be an English major.
This laptop should arrive in about a week, I'd say. I have to figure out all the wireless aspects, how to use the thing, and slew of foreign terms that come with the world of portable computers. Should be darn exciting and I should be able to blog a lot better when I'm all abreast!
Until then, sit tight and await snazzy changes!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Summer in Suburbia: A Modest Display of Cleavage, Cleavage, Cleavage
With the changes of the weather, the gas prices, the seasons, and The Change itself, I have changed the title of my blog yet again. I can't exactly review performances much if I have not attended many. There are some and they will be reviewed but I will also provide insights on life and such. You know, the entire purpose of a blog.
It is sweltering in K-town and when I shower and step outside, I feel another shower is in order. But it eventually gets tolerable. But that could be that I've lived here for ten years and know what to expect. However, my friendship with Beth has gotten closer because we have a swim in her pool before we both have to go to work.
Today I am visiting my friends who are taking summer classes at Kennesaw. I have this odd feeling of "What time is it? Do I have class? My god, I hope it's canceled. I can't stand that bitch for the rest of the semester. Why does she always come here?" But then I am cheerfully reminded that I, in fact, do not have class, nobody I don't like as damned the circle with their undesirable presence, and I am free to enjoy the company and cigarettes of others.
I went to karaoke last Tuesday for the very first time and found it enjoyable between poorly and drunkenly arranged renditions of Journey, the Backstreet Boys, and the Spice Girls. I did however fall in love with the whitest emo kid who rapped like nobody's business and had all the black people in the audience cheering him on like there was no tomorrow. Also this one old, fat guy cranked out Louis Armstrong and sounded just like him. Beth and I harmonized and only one guy seemed to enjoy it, let us know openly, and resumed quaffing his beer. But I am going back tonight sans Beth because she looks like a chipmunk from wisdom teeth surgery and cannot go with us sadly enough.
Tomorrow I get to see Dylan *girlish squeal*. And probably will hang out with him and Hollis until he decides to say "I've got work in the morning."
Life update: I'm working at Bugaboo Creek Steakhouse off of Barrett Pkwy as the most intelligent hostess there. I may go back to retail if I can't work as a server. I'm headed to Nashville this Friday to see the Tubes play the Wild Horse Saloon (and I pray to God they play "Don't Touch Me There" and "What Do You Want From Life?"). Thursday I am going to Screen on the Green. And I have to work nine hours on Sunday for friggin' Father's Day.
Jam packed week. I'll write next month. I promise.
It is sweltering in K-town and when I shower and step outside, I feel another shower is in order. But it eventually gets tolerable. But that could be that I've lived here for ten years and know what to expect. However, my friendship with Beth has gotten closer because we have a swim in her pool before we both have to go to work.
Today I am visiting my friends who are taking summer classes at Kennesaw. I have this odd feeling of "What time is it? Do I have class? My god, I hope it's canceled. I can't stand that bitch for the rest of the semester. Why does she always come here?" But then I am cheerfully reminded that I, in fact, do not have class, nobody I don't like as damned the circle with their undesirable presence, and I am free to enjoy the company and cigarettes of others.
I went to karaoke last Tuesday for the very first time and found it enjoyable between poorly and drunkenly arranged renditions of Journey, the Backstreet Boys, and the Spice Girls. I did however fall in love with the whitest emo kid who rapped like nobody's business and had all the black people in the audience cheering him on like there was no tomorrow. Also this one old, fat guy cranked out Louis Armstrong and sounded just like him. Beth and I harmonized and only one guy seemed to enjoy it, let us know openly, and resumed quaffing his beer. But I am going back tonight sans Beth because she looks like a chipmunk from wisdom teeth surgery and cannot go with us sadly enough.
Tomorrow I get to see Dylan *girlish squeal*. And probably will hang out with him and Hollis until he decides to say "I've got work in the morning."
Life update: I'm working at Bugaboo Creek Steakhouse off of Barrett Pkwy as the most intelligent hostess there. I may go back to retail if I can't work as a server. I'm headed to Nashville this Friday to see the Tubes play the Wild Horse Saloon (and I pray to God they play "Don't Touch Me There" and "What Do You Want From Life?"). Thursday I am going to Screen on the Green. And I have to work nine hours on Sunday for friggin' Father's Day.
Jam packed week. I'll write next month. I promise.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Two Out Of Three Ain't Bad
Buckets pour from overhead and I forded the parking lot at Target, reminding me of my Oregon Trail days. So it is understood that the weather here is just short of a costa Rican summer.
The past couple of days have been eventful. The past few weeks I have been job hunting and I applied at 22 places (perhaps more, I've forgotten)
. I jumped through some hoops at Carrabba's, applied, came back, was told I passed their personality test but, oh, we're busy- come back tomorrow; came back to find that I hadn;t taken the test, took it and was told I can't be a server but they're looking for hostesses (who get paid $2.13 an hour plus tip share-which could potentially, for want of a better phrase, SUCK ASS) so come back Wednesday to speak to Mike. So I went back yesterday to speak with Mike after getting my hair done and running around the house to find nice clothing that wasn't wrinkled and was there for a total of 15 minutes. 5 of those minutes was speaking with him. Basically he told me if I fit the qualifications, he'll call me next week. Shook hands, grabbed a large handful of peppermints on my way out, and left.
I checked my email when I got home and found that there was the Enchanted April audition at Kudzu Playhouse that I had heard about previously. I knew I had the gas and played the "Should I or Shouldn't I" game until I decided to go and do it anyway. It called for a cold reading and I was already dressed up from my interview so I drove over and walked in. I waited to fill out my form because an older woman auditioning in front of me had the only pen and whilst filling out my audition sheet, she asked me, "What role are you audtioning for?"
"Rose, Lotty, or Costanza, " I replied. Costanza's part is completely in Italian and I could pick it up quockley. Plus one of my friends speaks it fluently.
She makes a comment that basically says, "I can tell by your age you aren't auditioning for the part I am." Snotty, much? She was auditioning for the old widow Mrs. Graves. I told her I played Mrs. Graves in a scene. If I were feeling saucy, I would have told her I have a talent for being cast as old, infertile women. But I didn't want to blow my chances or come of as a bitch.
I met the directer Adriana Warner, who is the snappiest, fiery old woman I've ever met. She has big glasses, is shorter than me, and wore the stock director's hat. She was very sweet and funny. She had me read many parts (mostly Rose and a little of Lady Caroline Bramble) and at around 9:45, we all left and she told us if we were chosen, she'd give us a call between 10 and noon the next day.
So this morning I'm getting ready for an interview with Bath and Body Works at the mall when at about 11:10 I got a phone call from Adriana telling me to come back on Tuesday for call backs! I'm blissfully excited! If I am cast, this will be my first show outside of a school production. I just need to get a script before then. And I get to use an English accent. Which shouldn't be too difficult seeing as I've had nineteen years of Dad chiming into my ear.
I then also received a phone call from Bugaboo Creek asking me if I wanted to come in at 2 for an interview. Seeing as I could, I obliged. I was told when I turned it in that they weren't hiring but they'd keep me on file.
I went to my B&B interview, which was a group interview. Something I was not entirely fond of. I acted cool and collected but I really do prefer to have an interview where it's me and the boss. She said she'd call us by Tuesday. Now that I think about it, I think that a group interview is not the most formal way of handling employees. And some people she asked more questions than others.
I leave and at this point, it is pissing down outside. I drive over to Bugaboo Creek and sit in my car, smoking a cigarette while trying to pass the next half hour. I eventually go in and am greeted by the hostess, who tells me to take a seat and offers me something to drink. I ask for a Coke and she tells me they only have Pepsi products, something I have not heard in a long time (they say they're Canadian. I guess authenticity has to start somewhere). I order a Mountain Dew and sit, humming along with the tunes that come in over the soft-spoken loudspeaker. I sit for a good while until I meet Susan, the assistant manager and my interviewer. I speak with her about my past job experiences and what I'm looking for in the next job. She asked about my availability , which I told her, as of now it is any time but it may change if I get in this show. She then asks her manager to come over and speak with me. He was a little more open ended with his questions. He asked me to tell him about myself and asked me my availability too. Basically a whole bunch of business stuff. He told me they really needed a hostess so come in with a black top, pants, and black shoes on Tuesday to file my paperwork!
So now I am employed and possibly will have a show to work on as well. Things are looking up for me and I am very excited. I hope my good fortuen smiles on everyone else too. It's really rainy but, hey, as Meatloaf said- two out of three ain't bad.
The past couple of days have been eventful. The past few weeks I have been job hunting and I applied at 22 places (perhaps more, I've forgotten)
. I jumped through some hoops at Carrabba's, applied, came back, was told I passed their personality test but, oh, we're busy- come back tomorrow; came back to find that I hadn;t taken the test, took it and was told I can't be a server but they're looking for hostesses (who get paid $2.13 an hour plus tip share-which could potentially, for want of a better phrase, SUCK ASS) so come back Wednesday to speak to Mike. So I went back yesterday to speak with Mike after getting my hair done and running around the house to find nice clothing that wasn't wrinkled and was there for a total of 15 minutes. 5 of those minutes was speaking with him. Basically he told me if I fit the qualifications, he'll call me next week. Shook hands, grabbed a large handful of peppermints on my way out, and left.
I checked my email when I got home and found that there was the Enchanted April audition at Kudzu Playhouse that I had heard about previously. I knew I had the gas and played the "Should I or Shouldn't I" game until I decided to go and do it anyway. It called for a cold reading and I was already dressed up from my interview so I drove over and walked in. I waited to fill out my form because an older woman auditioning in front of me had the only pen and whilst filling out my audition sheet, she asked me, "What role are you audtioning for?"
"Rose, Lotty, or Costanza, " I replied. Costanza's part is completely in Italian and I could pick it up quockley. Plus one of my friends speaks it fluently.
She makes a comment that basically says, "I can tell by your age you aren't auditioning for the part I am." Snotty, much? She was auditioning for the old widow Mrs. Graves. I told her I played Mrs. Graves in a scene. If I were feeling saucy, I would have told her I have a talent for being cast as old, infertile women. But I didn't want to blow my chances or come of as a bitch.
I met the directer Adriana Warner, who is the snappiest, fiery old woman I've ever met. She has big glasses, is shorter than me, and wore the stock director's hat. She was very sweet and funny. She had me read many parts (mostly Rose and a little of Lady Caroline Bramble) and at around 9:45, we all left and she told us if we were chosen, she'd give us a call between 10 and noon the next day.
So this morning I'm getting ready for an interview with Bath and Body Works at the mall when at about 11:10 I got a phone call from Adriana telling me to come back on Tuesday for call backs! I'm blissfully excited! If I am cast, this will be my first show outside of a school production. I just need to get a script before then. And I get to use an English accent. Which shouldn't be too difficult seeing as I've had nineteen years of Dad chiming into my ear.
I then also received a phone call from Bugaboo Creek asking me if I wanted to come in at 2 for an interview. Seeing as I could, I obliged. I was told when I turned it in that they weren't hiring but they'd keep me on file.
I went to my B&B interview, which was a group interview. Something I was not entirely fond of. I acted cool and collected but I really do prefer to have an interview where it's me and the boss. She said she'd call us by Tuesday. Now that I think about it, I think that a group interview is not the most formal way of handling employees. And some people she asked more questions than others.
I leave and at this point, it is pissing down outside. I drive over to Bugaboo Creek and sit in my car, smoking a cigarette while trying to pass the next half hour. I eventually go in and am greeted by the hostess, who tells me to take a seat and offers me something to drink. I ask for a Coke and she tells me they only have Pepsi products, something I have not heard in a long time (they say they're Canadian. I guess authenticity has to start somewhere). I order a Mountain Dew and sit, humming along with the tunes that come in over the soft-spoken loudspeaker. I sit for a good while until I meet Susan, the assistant manager and my interviewer. I speak with her about my past job experiences and what I'm looking for in the next job. She asked about my availability , which I told her, as of now it is any time but it may change if I get in this show. She then asks her manager to come over and speak with me. He was a little more open ended with his questions. He asked me to tell him about myself and asked me my availability too. Basically a whole bunch of business stuff. He told me they really needed a hostess so come in with a black top, pants, and black shoes on Tuesday to file my paperwork!
So now I am employed and possibly will have a show to work on as well. Things are looking up for me and I am very excited. I hope my good fortuen smiles on everyone else too. It's really rainy but, hey, as Meatloaf said- two out of three ain't bad.
Saturday, May 10, 2008
The Trees Are Coming at Midnight
Four in the goddamn morning is a fantastic way to start blogging. So far 2 Cherry Cokes, a Mountain Dew, a Dr. Pepper, and roughly an entire pot of coffee have coursed through my blood stream (or are currently tunneling through my veins) and I am very very awake. Whereas I could have stayed out all night with friends, listened to bad music, and probably somehow ending up in Peducka, Kentucky, I ended the night on a high note and headed home to where the internet could perhaps prove to be more entertaining. Yay for me that it was and gives me an excuse to blog.
Nothing performance wise, yet. I have watched a few movies, though: Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanimo Bay, Full Metal Jacket, and A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the Forum.
H&R was hilarious, with racist slander abound and a plenty. Lots of tits and vag, to which I'm not partial to, but I'm sure the Jailbait Trio who probably snuck in and were sitting next to me and Chris enjoyed every minute of it, only to discover they had their first wet dreams that night the next morning.
Full Metal Jacket- one of my favorite Kubrick's so far. Dark humor as well as verbal abuse that would make me piss my uniform were I in the Corp. "I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach-around." Fucking hysterical. But it was slightly disturbing because I thought that maybe Gomer would come out happy in the end and I was sadly corrected. And the part where the guy has a Polaroid taken of him and the dead Vietnam soldier is a little unsettling. But all in all, the movie was great. Plus Adam Baldwin is in it and I will watch anything Jayne Cobb is in.
Forum was great because of Zero Mostel and his nasty-ass teeth. And Buster Keaton was in it. Who knew?
It;s been an eventful day of me driving Satan to hell and back to be a good Samaritan, bettering my Karma, and driving 2 automatic cars in one day, which, boy howdy, took some getting used to. I think I'll go burn one and go to bed.
Adieu, adieu to you and you and you.
Nothing performance wise, yet. I have watched a few movies, though: Harold and Kumar Escape from Guantanimo Bay, Full Metal Jacket, and A Funny Thing Happened on My Way to the Forum.
H&R was hilarious, with racist slander abound and a plenty. Lots of tits and vag, to which I'm not partial to, but I'm sure the Jailbait Trio who probably snuck in and were sitting next to me and Chris enjoyed every minute of it, only to discover they had their first wet dreams that night the next morning.
Full Metal Jacket- one of my favorite Kubrick's so far. Dark humor as well as verbal abuse that would make me piss my uniform were I in the Corp. "I'll bet you're the kind of guy that would fuck a person in the ass and not even have the goddam common courtesy to give him a reach-around." Fucking hysterical. But it was slightly disturbing because I thought that maybe Gomer would come out happy in the end and I was sadly corrected. And the part where the guy has a Polaroid taken of him and the dead Vietnam soldier is a little unsettling. But all in all, the movie was great. Plus Adam Baldwin is in it and I will watch anything Jayne Cobb is in.
Forum was great because of Zero Mostel and his nasty-ass teeth. And Buster Keaton was in it. Who knew?
It;s been an eventful day of me driving Satan to hell and back to be a good Samaritan, bettering my Karma, and driving 2 automatic cars in one day, which, boy howdy, took some getting used to. I think I'll go burn one and go to bed.
Adieu, adieu to you and you and you.
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Every Frivolous Whim- Proper or Im
Happy Cinco de Mayo to all you people who run blindly through any excuse to Tequila yourself into a coma.
I have now completed my freshman year in college and it has been a delightful experience. I have made some amazing friends, worked with some frighteningly talented actors, and have gained awareness of all the fine opportunities that my school has to offer. I did not attend any ridiculously crazy keggers with frat boys, I avoided the corn syrup teeth-rotting sweetness of sorority girls, and I spent many nights playing laser tag into the wee hours of the morn. I studied less than I should have and am fully aware that my grades will suffer from that. I may take a leaf out of the Puckett and Phil volumes to participate in plays, KSU Tellers, and keep my grades up by forfeiting any vestige of social life. Of course, I will also have to keep having a job in this perspective if I want to have any kind of money at all.
I did not fully get laid, nor did I wake up next to a stranger fumbling for my clothes and the door at the same time in a silent manor. I did not gain an unbelievable amount of weight. I did dye my hair red with the blood of an ostrich and plan on getting my cartilage pierced and my tree tattoo that says "Never let the weeds get higher than the garden." I think if any quote is appropriate, Mr. Waits is a sure-fire candidate.
I have performed in an amazing show and some pretty sweet projects. Like today in Performance Studies for our final we had to create our own performance art piece and ours was about feminine beauty and the horrors that girls encounter every day with the questions about how they look, dress, act, and the burdens a materialistic society drops on them. I was caked in grotesque make-up and went up to our classmate spectators and asked them if they thought I was pretty while my coy group mates snickered at my expense. All this was intentional to show that it's a pretty catty world amongst the female species.
I had my first relationship, my first kiss, and my first break-up. I had my first shot of Jager. I learned to drive my first car. Hell, I learned to drive a stick period, that needs recognition. I learned that I still enjoy writing and expressing my passionate opinions. I've learned that I get tired very easily and that 4 hours of sleep sounds right at the time but is tragically unhealthy. I've learned that even idiots get to go to college and sadly, KSU seems to be a breeding ground for idiot cultivation.
I've learned a lot and a little and reflection is healthy. I like the learning and the experience. And I will continue to do so in the next few weeks as I enter the cutthroat world of either waitressing or the familiar monotony of retail. To wherever the wind may take me. Hopefully there's a theatre that needs an aspiring actress because I could use a show now.
Hopefully I've inspired one person today. More updates will be made. Sweeney Todd is coming to the Fox in a couple of weeks so a foreshadowed update is already in the works. Good night and have a pleasant tomorrow.
I have now completed my freshman year in college and it has been a delightful experience. I have made some amazing friends, worked with some frighteningly talented actors, and have gained awareness of all the fine opportunities that my school has to offer. I did not attend any ridiculously crazy keggers with frat boys, I avoided the corn syrup teeth-rotting sweetness of sorority girls, and I spent many nights playing laser tag into the wee hours of the morn. I studied less than I should have and am fully aware that my grades will suffer from that. I may take a leaf out of the Puckett and Phil volumes to participate in plays, KSU Tellers, and keep my grades up by forfeiting any vestige of social life. Of course, I will also have to keep having a job in this perspective if I want to have any kind of money at all.
I did not fully get laid, nor did I wake up next to a stranger fumbling for my clothes and the door at the same time in a silent manor. I did not gain an unbelievable amount of weight. I did dye my hair red with the blood of an ostrich and plan on getting my cartilage pierced and my tree tattoo that says "Never let the weeds get higher than the garden." I think if any quote is appropriate, Mr. Waits is a sure-fire candidate.
I have performed in an amazing show and some pretty sweet projects. Like today in Performance Studies for our final we had to create our own performance art piece and ours was about feminine beauty and the horrors that girls encounter every day with the questions about how they look, dress, act, and the burdens a materialistic society drops on them. I was caked in grotesque make-up and went up to our classmate spectators and asked them if they thought I was pretty while my coy group mates snickered at my expense. All this was intentional to show that it's a pretty catty world amongst the female species.
I had my first relationship, my first kiss, and my first break-up. I had my first shot of Jager. I learned to drive my first car. Hell, I learned to drive a stick period, that needs recognition. I learned that I still enjoy writing and expressing my passionate opinions. I've learned that I get tired very easily and that 4 hours of sleep sounds right at the time but is tragically unhealthy. I've learned that even idiots get to go to college and sadly, KSU seems to be a breeding ground for idiot cultivation.
I've learned a lot and a little and reflection is healthy. I like the learning and the experience. And I will continue to do so in the next few weeks as I enter the cutthroat world of either waitressing or the familiar monotony of retail. To wherever the wind may take me. Hopefully there's a theatre that needs an aspiring actress because I could use a show now.
Hopefully I've inspired one person today. More updates will be made. Sweeney Todd is coming to the Fox in a couple of weeks so a foreshadowed update is already in the works. Good night and have a pleasant tomorrow.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Opening Night of Bald Headed Activist Musician-Slang For Man's Genitalia
Opening night was last night and it was fantastic. We have endured six months of grueling physical rehearsals conducted by Hylan, linguistic perfecting from Dory, and the mastering of motives and aspects of our characters from Dr. Gentile. I have never felt the exillerated in any production. Just to be a part of a project that was over four years in the making, the tweaking, the commaraderie, the new friends I made, the goals I have set for myself, and the overall leviathan of what I have learned during this process is character building and irreplaceble.
And to think that I have only five more shows to do before we sweep away our mandala of whiteness. Its ending is bittersweet because, yes, I will have time to myself to get a job and hang around but I won't be around the best guys ever. I love being the girl in a group full of guys and the only girls in cast were me, Brianna, and Whitney. The guys really make the show what it is and I am so happy to have all of them be a part of my life. I hope to know them better in the future.
Et si le garcon mignon qui est dans l'ensemble avec moi quitte sa copine, je vais etre plus heureuse!
I blanked on a line during dress rehearsal the night before so I was nervous about it but I was perfectly fine and gave Mrs. Hussey the best run I think I've ever done. My towel dropped out of my apron and sat on the rake for a couple of scenes but other than that the production was smooth. That was minor in comparison to the millions of hazardous things that could have happened.
In other events, next Tuesday I will be auditioning for The Glass Menagerie, and sometime next week will also be auditioning for Steel Magnolias, both plays I did in high school. Hopefully I get into one of them. I should also be concentrating on getting a job. I won't say anything for fear I'll jinx myself.
Break my legs for me!
And to think that I have only five more shows to do before we sweep away our mandala of whiteness. Its ending is bittersweet because, yes, I will have time to myself to get a job and hang around but I won't be around the best guys ever. I love being the girl in a group full of guys and the only girls in cast were me, Brianna, and Whitney. The guys really make the show what it is and I am so happy to have all of them be a part of my life. I hope to know them better in the future.
Et si le garcon mignon qui est dans l'ensemble avec moi quitte sa copine, je vais etre plus heureuse!
I blanked on a line during dress rehearsal the night before so I was nervous about it but I was perfectly fine and gave Mrs. Hussey the best run I think I've ever done. My towel dropped out of my apron and sat on the rake for a couple of scenes but other than that the production was smooth. That was minor in comparison to the millions of hazardous things that could have happened.
In other events, next Tuesday I will be auditioning for The Glass Menagerie, and sometime next week will also be auditioning for Steel Magnolias, both plays I did in high school. Hopefully I get into one of them. I should also be concentrating on getting a job. I won't say anything for fear I'll jinx myself.
Break my legs for me!
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
The Leevee Sleeps Tonight: A Review and Lesson in Theatre Etiquette
I guess two weeks is a normal occurrence for a hiatus. I would know, I never say anything until I post a ridiculously wordy entry about everything in my life!
As you may have noticed, I tweaked my blog a bit, pulled some strings, pushed some red buttons. It has been recently that I realized that the majority of my blogposts have had something to do with performance, be it watching or performing myself, and thus I made it a little more specific. I find that everything I do that is blogged has something to do with theatre, which is totally kosher with me.
So, onto the most recent show!
As I have mentioned before, I am the happy partaker in a season pass to the Fox Theatre. This pass is for six shows: The Rat Pack, The Wedding Singer, The Drowsy Chaperone (an absolutely excellent show!), Avenue Q (again- most excellent), The Lion King, and Sweeney Todd (the most anticipated of all).
Now, some of these (the first, second, and fifth), I had predetermined that I would not enjoy them simply because they are not, in my mind, real musicals. In my biased eye, a real musical constitutes:
* An original script specifically arranged for the stage. Not taken from a film and adapted into a stage play.
* An immaculate cast, handpicked from the top musically talented actors from anywhere. As well as specifically trained attune ones.
* Actors that embody characters and really understand who they are and play them effectively. Method actors are, albeit, crazy, but at least they are damn good.
I did not receive any of the other night and am sorry to say that I think I am the only person in the entire world who did not like The Lion King, the musical.
We arrived at the Atlanta Civic Center an hour before showtime and had our tickets scanned. I went to go to the can and have a cigarette before the show. I ask one of the ticket scanners if it was ok for me to pop outside, have a cigarette, and come back. She said if I have my ticket, I should be fine so I thank her and go feed my tumors. I come back through a different door and the guy takes my ticket and scans it. As he's doing this, I politely tell him I already had it scanned and I was coming back in. He tells me I'm not allowed to do that and then tells me the person hadn't scanned my ticket the last time because it registered on his, yadda yadda. Maybe I haphazardly fed him bullshit but I got through and was in a very "fuck you" mood.
Took my seat at the far left side of the theatre decently close to the stage with intersecting aisles in front of me. I saw my OB/GYN, who stopped to say hello to my family. I saw her two weeks ago. Hopefully I can wait the full 50 more weeks before I have to see her again. The lights dim.
The show begins with Rafiki, played by________ (insert name here because I lost my goddamn program), who was absolutely amazing. She had this incredibly engaging, intriguing voice that belted out the famous "Na Sen Goynya" and it shook the house. Then the curtain to the left of us opened and a elephant came out. You can see the actor inside but you pay more attention to the elaborate detail of the costumes of everyone as all the other animals entered from various places in the house. I'm not one for spectacle, but I enjoyed how they staged that because it seemed like someone blew a horn on stage and all the animals came running from different areas.
However, shortly after about the fourth scene, the four seats next to me suddenly were filled with late-comers, who all had their cellphones on! The lady next to me crossed her legs, keeping her phone in the crease so she could text messages like a highschooler.
Rules for going to a production, not matter what it is:
* TURN YOUR GODDAMN CELLPHONE OFF OR I WILL BEAT YOU. Even if it's on silent, that light is a beacon and it disturbs the people around you who paid for the show to enjoy it without some dipshit ruining it for them.
* Arrive on time. Again, why would you pay for something just to get there late? Leave early. Sit awhile. Schmooz. Because you may miss integral parts to the plot and you definitely will disturb people next to you and around you.
I digress.
Any scene with Rafiki was awesome. The rest, however, were difficult for me to sit through. The actors who played Mufasa and Scar were awful. They would basically recite their lines, not pay attention to what they were saying, not pay attention to what the other was saying, actually listen to them, they presupposed emotion. It was all kinds of bad. Jess said I'm too critical because they probably got tired from doing the show day after day, but that doesn't matter! No matter what, you treat every night as if it were opening night. You don't allow yourself to slack off, you have fun with it. I could see the actors' boredom and I shouldn't have been able to see that.
The kid who played young Simba was flat every single song. He also was not a very good actor. Once again, if you think me too critical, there are child prodigies out there or, at least, kids who have had musical training.
As far as the music itself, I was delighted to hear familiar songs and hear Timon sing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." All the original songs from the movie are amazing because they're written by Elton John and they have that nostalgic meaning for me. Granted the whole score is written by Elton John and Tim Rice- so my question is: What the hell were you thinking when you ADDED the most meaningless songs ever?! Musicals don't necessarily have meaning but some do and those are the ones I like. These new numbers take away from the story. How else are we going to teach a watered-down version of Shakespeare's immortal tale of Hamlet to new generations of kids? The songs that are added are frivolous (Zazu's "Morning Report," the hyenas' "Chow Down," Simba's"Endless Night") and just reitterate ideas that have already been established. Zazu is going to give a morning report, hyenas are carnivorous, and Simba has to run through the dark to kill his uncle. They didn't add anything to the story.
They made characters more obnoxious, lame fart jokes a-plenty, sometimes the singers couldn't be heard, and there were 10 minute dance solos in the middle of songs.
It was all about spectacle and if you had never seen the movie before, I'd be surprised if you could follow the plot. I just wish they would concentrate on the content of the story because it makes you think. Thinking makes you smarter. Why are people so entertained by shiny things? Do we always have to see things outright or can we just form our own ideas about what went on? I understand it's a kid show and I was a kid when it first came out but there are a lot of themes to The Lion King and they can executed better.
Things I liked: Rafiki, the ensemble cast, the costumes, the amazing raked stage, and the songs that weren't in English. That's it.
And that's me being Simon Cowell and a cruel bugger. I hate bad theatre.
As you may have noticed, I tweaked my blog a bit, pulled some strings, pushed some red buttons. It has been recently that I realized that the majority of my blogposts have had something to do with performance, be it watching or performing myself, and thus I made it a little more specific. I find that everything I do that is blogged has something to do with theatre, which is totally kosher with me.
So, onto the most recent show!
As I have mentioned before, I am the happy partaker in a season pass to the Fox Theatre. This pass is for six shows: The Rat Pack, The Wedding Singer, The Drowsy Chaperone (an absolutely excellent show!), Avenue Q (again- most excellent), The Lion King, and Sweeney Todd (the most anticipated of all).
Now, some of these (the first, second, and fifth), I had predetermined that I would not enjoy them simply because they are not, in my mind, real musicals. In my biased eye, a real musical constitutes:
* An original script specifically arranged for the stage. Not taken from a film and adapted into a stage play.
* An immaculate cast, handpicked from the top musically talented actors from anywhere. As well as specifically trained attune ones.
* Actors that embody characters and really understand who they are and play them effectively. Method actors are, albeit, crazy, but at least they are damn good.
I did not receive any of the other night and am sorry to say that I think I am the only person in the entire world who did not like The Lion King, the musical.
We arrived at the Atlanta Civic Center an hour before showtime and had our tickets scanned. I went to go to the can and have a cigarette before the show. I ask one of the ticket scanners if it was ok for me to pop outside, have a cigarette, and come back. She said if I have my ticket, I should be fine so I thank her and go feed my tumors. I come back through a different door and the guy takes my ticket and scans it. As he's doing this, I politely tell him I already had it scanned and I was coming back in. He tells me I'm not allowed to do that and then tells me the person hadn't scanned my ticket the last time because it registered on his, yadda yadda. Maybe I haphazardly fed him bullshit but I got through and was in a very "fuck you" mood.
Took my seat at the far left side of the theatre decently close to the stage with intersecting aisles in front of me. I saw my OB/GYN, who stopped to say hello to my family. I saw her two weeks ago. Hopefully I can wait the full 50 more weeks before I have to see her again. The lights dim.
The show begins with Rafiki, played by________ (insert name here because I lost my goddamn program), who was absolutely amazing. She had this incredibly engaging, intriguing voice that belted out the famous "Na Sen Goynya" and it shook the house. Then the curtain to the left of us opened and a elephant came out. You can see the actor inside but you pay more attention to the elaborate detail of the costumes of everyone as all the other animals entered from various places in the house. I'm not one for spectacle, but I enjoyed how they staged that because it seemed like someone blew a horn on stage and all the animals came running from different areas.
However, shortly after about the fourth scene, the four seats next to me suddenly were filled with late-comers, who all had their cellphones on! The lady next to me crossed her legs, keeping her phone in the crease so she could text messages like a highschooler.
Rules for going to a production, not matter what it is:
* TURN YOUR GODDAMN CELLPHONE OFF OR I WILL BEAT YOU. Even if it's on silent, that light is a beacon and it disturbs the people around you who paid for the show to enjoy it without some dipshit ruining it for them.
* Arrive on time. Again, why would you pay for something just to get there late? Leave early. Sit awhile. Schmooz. Because you may miss integral parts to the plot and you definitely will disturb people next to you and around you.
I digress.
Any scene with Rafiki was awesome. The rest, however, were difficult for me to sit through. The actors who played Mufasa and Scar were awful. They would basically recite their lines, not pay attention to what they were saying, not pay attention to what the other was saying, actually listen to them, they presupposed emotion. It was all kinds of bad. Jess said I'm too critical because they probably got tired from doing the show day after day, but that doesn't matter! No matter what, you treat every night as if it were opening night. You don't allow yourself to slack off, you have fun with it. I could see the actors' boredom and I shouldn't have been able to see that.
The kid who played young Simba was flat every single song. He also was not a very good actor. Once again, if you think me too critical, there are child prodigies out there or, at least, kids who have had musical training.
As far as the music itself, I was delighted to hear familiar songs and hear Timon sing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight." All the original songs from the movie are amazing because they're written by Elton John and they have that nostalgic meaning for me. Granted the whole score is written by Elton John and Tim Rice- so my question is: What the hell were you thinking when you ADDED the most meaningless songs ever?! Musicals don't necessarily have meaning but some do and those are the ones I like. These new numbers take away from the story. How else are we going to teach a watered-down version of Shakespeare's immortal tale of Hamlet to new generations of kids? The songs that are added are frivolous (Zazu's "Morning Report," the hyenas' "Chow Down," Simba's"Endless Night") and just reitterate ideas that have already been established. Zazu is going to give a morning report, hyenas are carnivorous, and Simba has to run through the dark to kill his uncle. They didn't add anything to the story.
They made characters more obnoxious, lame fart jokes a-plenty, sometimes the singers couldn't be heard, and there were 10 minute dance solos in the middle of songs.
It was all about spectacle and if you had never seen the movie before, I'd be surprised if you could follow the plot. I just wish they would concentrate on the content of the story because it makes you think. Thinking makes you smarter. Why are people so entertained by shiny things? Do we always have to see things outright or can we just form our own ideas about what went on? I understand it's a kid show and I was a kid when it first came out but there are a lot of themes to The Lion King and they can executed better.
Things I liked: Rafiki, the ensemble cast, the costumes, the amazing raked stage, and the songs that weren't in English. That's it.
And that's me being Simon Cowell and a cruel bugger. I hate bad theatre.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
The Hussey Bloggeth
A week hath past since I last bloggeth. I sincerely wish my life weren't so devoured by grueling rehearsals that may or may not be in dire need of my presence, an active social life, and the obligation of using my superior intellect to type last-minute papers for my professors. But my life would not be so damn interesting if I sat and ate Cheetos all day, so for that I am greatful.
I have had a very constructive week, though, I must say. Last Friday I was very pleased to attend the Atlanta Storytelling Festival in "Fucking Decatur" (it is not longer solely Decatur- it is Fucking Decatur because it's 575, 75, 285, exit 40 miles away. That's fuckoff forever) with Chris, who took the Lincoln towncar from the limo company he works for. I felt very posh and was saddened to be sans grey poupon.
I saw my friend Scottie Rowell's performance and it was phenomenal. I don't know much about him personally and so it was great to see him perform this story about him growing up and his relationship with his family. I could empathize and sympathize with him and I came out of the show feeling closer to my friend. I really love how storytelling is like that- making peaceful unions with people on person levels. Seriously, world peace can be acheived through better ways than protests, smoking pot, and recycling.
I also saw a very odd performance that gave performance art a bad name. I consider myself an artistically open actor and am very supportive of new enterprises and experimental works but I did not get it at all. His introduction of a mock Carol Burnett opening really drew away from the performance, and his four minute dance solos that took place to different songs I hear in elevators across America made no sense sequentially. One thing I did like, however, was his prerecorded story and the interpretive dance that went with it. It was like a flowing kibuki theatre tecnique where he would move fluidly and then when he stopped on a beat, it would be a pose representing the word stated in the monologue. That was cool- the rest was crap. I think he was looking for a venue. But- kudos to the guy because it does take guts to pour your soul into something and to have exposed to critics.
I then Saturday night attended Rocky Horror in Norcross, whoring it up with Lisa and Jess. We arrived and were part of a six person audience with the rest of the roughly 14 cast members. For their April Fools edition of Rocky, they had their drag show where "drag queens and drag queens at heart" could compete to win. I race up there and this guy who looks familiar (who we later mutually realized was my partner in the math class I dropped last semester. Last time I see him he's an ASP coordinator at Kennesaw and then I see him in full on drag- who knew?) and we are the only competitors for the competition. He picks me up and spins me around- something everybody in the world does because I'm tiny- and we crack a few jokes. So we have to tell what our drag names are and why we should win. He replies with something that wasn't cheeky enough for me to remember. Naomi, our EmCee, asks:
What is your drag name?
My reply: Patty O'Furniture
Everyone laughs for about 2 minutes and then she says:
I don't think I need to ask now but why should you win?
Because I choose style over substance.
So by a round of applause, we are rated by our audience and I received a resounding wave. I presented myself in my dress and heels and so did he, the real drag queen, and I won. Well, technically we both won because they had two bags of candy. It was fantastically fun. And now that I have Bruno running, I told them that I would love to join cast and would probably do so after Moby Dick was finished.
I guess I have dedicated this post to my adventures in performance so I'll continue on with the theme. Today I discovered by being on the Facebook page for Theatre in the Square, I received 2 complementary tickets to see The Little Dog Laughed on the Alley Stage. I originally wanted to take my mom but she had a scheduling conflict so I decided to ask Miss Kelly Belly Jelly, a good friend of mine, to accompany me on my gratuitous opportunity. She obliged and I am very glad she did because not only is her companionship always appreciated, but I didn't have to see a risque, awkward play where there are naked men fucking on stage with my mother sitting next to me. The play itself was exceptional; the actors were believable and had spot-on cominc timing. It's people like that I aspire to be. We both agreed that we loved it and were also big fans of the free food served at the reception afterwards.
Moby Dick is fishing along swimmingly and curtain goes up April 15. So fill out your taxes and come see me in a fat suit. I expect to see a lot of familiar faces or I will take a herring to your face and don't think for a second that I am kidding. We've worked extrememly hard on this show and I want at least 3 nights to sell out, even if I am not being paid for this. Come support the theatre majors because the money may not directly go to our pockets but to the production department that we live in. Also the set is amazing and you should at least see it with actors on it. I'll step off my soapbox now.
Until next week, adieu!
I have had a very constructive week, though, I must say. Last Friday I was very pleased to attend the Atlanta Storytelling Festival in "Fucking Decatur" (it is not longer solely Decatur- it is Fucking Decatur because it's 575, 75, 285, exit 40 miles away. That's fuckoff forever) with Chris, who took the Lincoln towncar from the limo company he works for. I felt very posh and was saddened to be sans grey poupon.
I saw my friend Scottie Rowell's performance and it was phenomenal. I don't know much about him personally and so it was great to see him perform this story about him growing up and his relationship with his family. I could empathize and sympathize with him and I came out of the show feeling closer to my friend. I really love how storytelling is like that- making peaceful unions with people on person levels. Seriously, world peace can be acheived through better ways than protests, smoking pot, and recycling.
I also saw a very odd performance that gave performance art a bad name. I consider myself an artistically open actor and am very supportive of new enterprises and experimental works but I did not get it at all. His introduction of a mock Carol Burnett opening really drew away from the performance, and his four minute dance solos that took place to different songs I hear in elevators across America made no sense sequentially. One thing I did like, however, was his prerecorded story and the interpretive dance that went with it. It was like a flowing kibuki theatre tecnique where he would move fluidly and then when he stopped on a beat, it would be a pose representing the word stated in the monologue. That was cool- the rest was crap. I think he was looking for a venue. But- kudos to the guy because it does take guts to pour your soul into something and to have exposed to critics.
I then Saturday night attended Rocky Horror in Norcross, whoring it up with Lisa and Jess. We arrived and were part of a six person audience with the rest of the roughly 14 cast members. For their April Fools edition of Rocky, they had their drag show where "drag queens and drag queens at heart" could compete to win. I race up there and this guy who looks familiar (who we later mutually realized was my partner in the math class I dropped last semester. Last time I see him he's an ASP coordinator at Kennesaw and then I see him in full on drag- who knew?) and we are the only competitors for the competition. He picks me up and spins me around- something everybody in the world does because I'm tiny- and we crack a few jokes. So we have to tell what our drag names are and why we should win. He replies with something that wasn't cheeky enough for me to remember. Naomi, our EmCee, asks:
What is your drag name?
My reply: Patty O'Furniture
Everyone laughs for about 2 minutes and then she says:
I don't think I need to ask now but why should you win?
Because I choose style over substance.
So by a round of applause, we are rated by our audience and I received a resounding wave. I presented myself in my dress and heels and so did he, the real drag queen, and I won. Well, technically we both won because they had two bags of candy. It was fantastically fun. And now that I have Bruno running, I told them that I would love to join cast and would probably do so after Moby Dick was finished.
I guess I have dedicated this post to my adventures in performance so I'll continue on with the theme. Today I discovered by being on the Facebook page for Theatre in the Square, I received 2 complementary tickets to see The Little Dog Laughed on the Alley Stage. I originally wanted to take my mom but she had a scheduling conflict so I decided to ask Miss Kelly Belly Jelly, a good friend of mine, to accompany me on my gratuitous opportunity. She obliged and I am very glad she did because not only is her companionship always appreciated, but I didn't have to see a risque, awkward play where there are naked men fucking on stage with my mother sitting next to me. The play itself was exceptional; the actors were believable and had spot-on cominc timing. It's people like that I aspire to be. We both agreed that we loved it and were also big fans of the free food served at the reception afterwards.
Moby Dick is fishing along swimmingly and curtain goes up April 15. So fill out your taxes and come see me in a fat suit. I expect to see a lot of familiar faces or I will take a herring to your face and don't think for a second that I am kidding. We've worked extrememly hard on this show and I want at least 3 nights to sell out, even if I am not being paid for this. Come support the theatre majors because the money may not directly go to our pockets but to the production department that we live in. Also the set is amazing and you should at least see it with actors on it. I'll step off my soapbox now.
Until next week, adieu!
Thursday, March 27, 2008
S for Showstoppa!
Big wheels keep on turning as my life and my time on the computer seem to muddle together into one miniscule congealed blob. I have enough time to have a basic social life but it does not necessarily entail time in front of a screen. For this, I continue to feel the guilt because blogging is something that brings me joy and, regardless of people reading it, it provides closure for me.
I feel this week has been a balance as most of my weeks are. I saw Avenue Q on Tuesday and it was a fantastic show. All the songs I've listened to for the past two years now make even more sense with the addition of puppets and actors. Although, there were a lot of geriatrics in the audience and that made me giggle. I'm sure quite a few old folks are hip but it is still very amusing to see them attending such a racy show. I sincerely thought there would be more twentysomethings.
Rehearsal is coming along very well. I have now tried on my costume twice. I am in a fat suit, so that's part of my Moby Dick advertising: Not only is it a great show but you get to see me in a fat suit!
I will have ginormous tits, hips, backfat, and a bustleesque ass. I told that to fellow castmate Brianna and she asked, "Can I sit on it?" To which I retorted, "It's a bustle, not a saddle."
Hopefully on my next fitting, I will bring my camera and take risqué photos of my costume because it is totally worth posting!
I have a rather eventful day on the morrow. Dentist appointment at 8 in the morning (which I wish was much later but alas), then I pick up Chris, rehearsal for run through, and then I haul Bruno's ass to Decatur for the Atlanta Storytelling Festival so I don't fail my Performance Studies class. I'm pretty psyched about the show because I get to see my friend Scottie perform. I found out, also, it was cheaper to go Friday night because I can work my feminine wiles to tell the box office people that I'm a member of the ATML mailing list and pay $8 instead of the actual $15 because I'm that cool as an actor. I want to go Saturday, though, since my castmates Andrew and Dru are performing and they're really good storytellers. Many of my castmates are part of the KSU Tellers and they'll all be performing at the festival, which makes me even more supportive and inclined to go to all performances. Alas, I am not rich (my parents are) and cannot go back and forth to fucking Decatur for performances. *sigh* I will definitely be auditioning for the KSU Tellers next semester based on everything I've heard about them. It will help out with me writing and getting involved in other genres of theatre.
But I look forward to going because not only do I get to see my friends perform but Chris is going with me so I don't have to drive alone in the dark and to a place I have no knowledge of. That's pretty cool. Plus it's always nice to have a buddy along for these types of things.
I have lots of papers to write and they will all nibble on my ass cheeks if I don't go do them.
À plus!
I feel this week has been a balance as most of my weeks are. I saw Avenue Q on Tuesday and it was a fantastic show. All the songs I've listened to for the past two years now make even more sense with the addition of puppets and actors. Although, there were a lot of geriatrics in the audience and that made me giggle. I'm sure quite a few old folks are hip but it is still very amusing to see them attending such a racy show. I sincerely thought there would be more twentysomethings.
Rehearsal is coming along very well. I have now tried on my costume twice. I am in a fat suit, so that's part of my Moby Dick advertising: Not only is it a great show but you get to see me in a fat suit!
I will have ginormous tits, hips, backfat, and a bustleesque ass. I told that to fellow castmate Brianna and she asked, "Can I sit on it?" To which I retorted, "It's a bustle, not a saddle."
Hopefully on my next fitting, I will bring my camera and take risqué photos of my costume because it is totally worth posting!
I have a rather eventful day on the morrow. Dentist appointment at 8 in the morning (which I wish was much later but alas), then I pick up Chris, rehearsal for run through, and then I haul Bruno's ass to Decatur for the Atlanta Storytelling Festival so I don't fail my Performance Studies class. I'm pretty psyched about the show because I get to see my friend Scottie perform. I found out, also, it was cheaper to go Friday night because I can work my feminine wiles to tell the box office people that I'm a member of the ATML mailing list and pay $8 instead of the actual $15 because I'm that cool as an actor. I want to go Saturday, though, since my castmates Andrew and Dru are performing and they're really good storytellers. Many of my castmates are part of the KSU Tellers and they'll all be performing at the festival, which makes me even more supportive and inclined to go to all performances. Alas, I am not rich (my parents are) and cannot go back and forth to fucking Decatur for performances. *sigh* I will definitely be auditioning for the KSU Tellers next semester based on everything I've heard about them. It will help out with me writing and getting involved in other genres of theatre.
But I look forward to going because not only do I get to see my friends perform but Chris is going with me so I don't have to drive alone in the dark and to a place I have no knowledge of. That's pretty cool. Plus it's always nice to have a buddy along for these types of things.
I have lots of papers to write and they will all nibble on my ass cheeks if I don't go do them.
À plus!
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Church of England, Flight 537
Happy Easter. Happy birthday Rob. And happy belated birthday Walter Kovacs.
I once again have not been as diligent with updating as I promised myself. So in order to gain more readers, I am going to put the ultimate hook line down in bold lettering and I guarantee it is a true story. Ready?
I got to explain what the taint is to my Performance Studies professor.
That is correct. We were reading our poems out loud from the textbook and Brennan, a friend of mine, had chosen to present "Blue Ball Blues" by Jonathan Williams, which goes a little something like this:
O, Mr. Chemist, please let me buy
350 pounds of premium Kentucky KY
cause it's a dry season,
for the reason
Anglo-Saxon sex glands
Are awry…
Arise, arise, and come
to Perineum
("the more you come,
the more you can")
Let not your Sword sleep in your Hand
And we shall smear Petroleum
On England's Groin
& Pleasant Gland!
Karen (Robinson- my professor) analyzes the context of the poem. Just listening to stating with such passion and conviction that the speaker wants to have an orgasm sends me into a torrent of internal giggles. But then she asks what the "Perineum" is. Nobody knows except for me. I tell her the most eloquent, literal, anatomically correct response and she sort of gets it but nobody else gets it. Then I get slightly flustered and say "It's the taint!"
And of course now everyone gets it. Karen's confused and we explain why it's called the taint and she laughs. I love seeing scholarly people dip their toes in the gutter. It makes them seem normal.
And on some additional happy (albeit not as exciting for you) notes, I have tried on my fat suit costume for Moby Dick. I've got extra tits, extra, ass, extra hips, and backfat! I may actually turn into a whale.
Yesterday I went to Rob's for his birthday and laser tag.
It was one awesome day.
/\
Rob is the most pathetic birthday boy I have ever seen.
Digressions:
I also finished Watchmen on Friday morning. It is an awesome comic that I'm going to have to read again. I may reread Hitchhiker's Guide as well for giggles. I don't remember a lot of it.
And I'm toying with a few ideas, the main one being me getting a job that would cater to my ridiculous schedule. I'd like to make some money so I can buy crap and gas to feed Bruno. I may give the waitressing thing a shot.
Adieu until next Sunday I suppose. It seems I update then.
I once again have not been as diligent with updating as I promised myself. So in order to gain more readers, I am going to put the ultimate hook line down in bold lettering and I guarantee it is a true story. Ready?
I got to explain what the taint is to my Performance Studies professor.
That is correct. We were reading our poems out loud from the textbook and Brennan, a friend of mine, had chosen to present "Blue Ball Blues" by Jonathan Williams, which goes a little something like this:
O, Mr. Chemist, please let me buy
350 pounds of premium Kentucky KY
cause it's a dry season,
for the reason
Anglo-Saxon sex glands
Are awry…
Arise, arise, and come
to Perineum
("the more you come,
the more you can")
Let not your Sword sleep in your Hand
And we shall smear Petroleum
On England's Groin
& Pleasant Gland!
Karen (Robinson- my professor) analyzes the context of the poem. Just listening to stating with such passion and conviction that the speaker wants to have an orgasm sends me into a torrent of internal giggles. But then she asks what the "Perineum" is. Nobody knows except for me. I tell her the most eloquent, literal, anatomically correct response and she sort of gets it but nobody else gets it. Then I get slightly flustered and say "It's the taint!"
And of course now everyone gets it. Karen's confused and we explain why it's called the taint and she laughs. I love seeing scholarly people dip their toes in the gutter. It makes them seem normal.
And on some additional happy (albeit not as exciting for you) notes, I have tried on my fat suit costume for Moby Dick. I've got extra tits, extra, ass, extra hips, and backfat! I may actually turn into a whale.
Yesterday I went to Rob's for his birthday and laser tag.
It was one awesome day.
/\
Rob is the most pathetic birthday boy I have ever seen.
Digressions:
I also finished Watchmen on Friday morning. It is an awesome comic that I'm going to have to read again. I may reread Hitchhiker's Guide as well for giggles. I don't remember a lot of it.
And I'm toying with a few ideas, the main one being me getting a job that would cater to my ridiculous schedule. I'd like to make some money so I can buy crap and gas to feed Bruno. I may give the waitressing thing a shot.
Adieu until next Sunday I suppose. It seems I update then.
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