Comfort and joy for who?

WELL, I'm angry. Not at what I'm going to write about, but because I can't figure out how to capture an image of my screen. Anyone, Brock? I wanted to show the image that I am going to write about, but it's part of a flash project, so I couldn't download it to my harddrive, so I was just going to save an screen capture... anyhow.

Have you seen the Banana Republic ads this holiday season? Check out my link -- and I'm talking about the cover image and the girl on the next page with the antlers on her head. Gracious sakes! (is that catching on yet?) Those two look like they're so terribly unhappy. They're barely touching, they're all in wool, they've probably been in that position for thirty-eight minutes already, and were probably there for another seventeen while the photographer took pictures he wasn't even going to use.

And the girl with the horns. She's like, "Ugh. Can you believe I'm actually doing this?" Of course, saying that to the off-camera, way in the distance invisible and imagined "other."

The tag reads: comfort and joy for you. Of course for me, because I won't be wearing those clothes or spending so much time in what could have been a very exciting position. Am I wrong? Wouldn't you want to be lying there in the middle of both of those gorgeous people?

What I Didn't Write About

I actually had a lot of ideas for topics today. I mean, Danny DeVito partied with George Clooney last night, didn't sleep, and showed up either drunk or slurringly-hung over on ABC's THE VIEW this morning. That's pretty good in itself, right? I guess the trouble started when he was talking about an overnight at the White House. He couldn't remember if he slept with his wife in the Lincoln Bedroom or not. Eventually he decided it was her and that "we made it our business to really wreck the joint." DeVito's publicist said he's never had a problem with his drinking ... until now!

But, I decided not to write about that. Or Britney's newest problem. She was photographed two nights ago without her unmentionables on. Gracious sakes! This girl, who will be 25 on Saturday, used to be sweet and wholesome. Then she got dirty, got married, had some kids, dropped off the radar, got divorced and got ready for a comeback (not all necessarily in that order). Well, folks, here's the comeback, and it's with her new pal Paris Hilton. They are the dual hosts of the Billboard Music Awards on FOX this Monday. B-dog, keep your pants on. There's zero need for you to not have them. Remember when you used to look like this photo here? Those were the good ol' days, huh?

I also considered writing about how people go to the gym (myself included) to spend however long running, walking, swimming, aerobicizing or lifting, right? But, if we get there and the lot is full, well we don't want to actually walk from the back of the parking lot all the way to the entrance of the building, right? So, if possible, we will spot someone coming out of the building and walking to his or her car, follow them, put our blinker on (to tell other cars, "no no, this is my spot"), and wait for them to get in the car and drive away. Gracious sakes!

Instead, I chose to write about the weather. We broke a record high temperature today in the Queen City -- topping last year's record-breaker by one degree. That's right, a balmy 68 degrees here today. Of course, the National Weather Service predicts a 60% chance of snow Friday night.

Borat, jak się masz?

Born to Asimbala Sagdiyev and Boltok the Rapist, who is also his maternal grandfather, Borat is brother to a caged and retarded brother and Kazakhstan's trophy-winning fourth-best prostitute. He has had several wives and fathered three children, including Hooeylewis. He has been a guest of Conan, Leno, Letterman, Regis and Kelly, Jon Stewart, Harry Smith, Matt Lauer and more. When FOX's Gretchen Carlson said she would be seeing his upcoming documentary, Borat responded: "You let women in cinemas here? In my country we have a pen outside for the animals and womens!"

"I hope you kill every man, woman, and child in Iraq, down to the lizards...and may George W. Bush drink the blood of every man, woman, and child in Iraq," he said before a crowd of boo-ers in Salem, VA in January 2005. This and his other antics have caused a wave of legal issues for Sacha Baron Cohen (and distributor 20th Century Fox). He's the guy who created this character and produced and wrote and starred in the film. According to Page Six, however, Pam Anderson was in on the whole thing ... well, at least her "sacking."

Having the cops called 91 different times during the filming of one's movie (according to IMDB) might make one say, "Whoa!" But comedian Cohen didn't, and his Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan is certainly a hysterical feature. Without a doubt, much of the footage is in poor taste, derogatory, graphic, obscene, gratuitous, silly, stupid, drunk and/or X-rated for language, sex, nudity, violence, et al. However, I put my PC Hat away on the shelf and laughed all the way through this movie. Even my guest L'il B guffawed throughout. I mean, if the Atlantic Monthly can call this "may be the funniest film in a decade" surely you too can get out of your easy chair and close this blog and see it.

Wikipedia has some fascinating stuff on this. Check out these links: The Movie and The Guy for some more blindsiding (or is it blindsighting?) facts. Then, do what everyone doesn't want you to do and go to see this. Although, perhaps you should pick one of those days when your local movie palace offers the cheap tix like I did. Yeah, maybe the guy should have actually gotten real consent from these people--or hired talented actors like Beedow to play dumb college kids instead of giving away another acting job (thank you reality tee-vee)--but still, he's damn funny. And if you can't laugh at yourself, then don't go, because you're sure to be insulted at some point.

Dziękuję.

Liza

I was forced, a few months ago, yes, forced (!) to sign up for myspace, which I did. So, a friend of mine had this fabulous video on his profile, which I've ganked and need to share with you. Now, Liza gets a bad rap sometimes -- a crazy mother, an abused ex-hubby, not to mention some of her own troubles -- but really, she's "just terrific." This footage, of course, is for people who already know her and can laugh with her. I'd be ashamed of you if you laughed at her in these clips. To get to know her, check out her absolutely marvelous, Emmy-Award winning show from 1972, LIZA WITH A Z, available via today's title link.

Anyhow, this montage is brilliant. Her devilish laughter and out-of-context quips are to die for. "I worked with retarded children/No she didn't!" And the cut after the Bette comment to Liza just sitting there, sad-eyed. Yes! Oh, and the laugh at the first caller is priceless. Of course, credit to the brilliant editor of this clip, but all the same -- love ya Liza.

Third Time's the Charm (1/365.c)

It was one week ago when I last posted here. An entire week of failure at the now infamous PROJECT 365. But, I think I've learned a lot in this week. Perhaps most importantly, who cares if I fail? There's been so little discussion of it, no comments really, and so, who cares? Why am I even attempting to write a post each day? For what purpose am I striving?

I think what it comes down to is self. We challenge ourselves to be better people, better sons or daughters, mothers or fathers, teachers or students, artists or atheletes. It's inevitable that we want to become good at something. Perhaps some of us are good at something already: mathematics, science, finance, trading stocks, taking our vitamins each day without forgetting... but there are others of us who are in need of something to challenge us further.

I initiated PROJECT 365 as a way of challenging myself to a major goal. It's an enormous enterprise, this writing every single day for an entire year thing. But as I considered backing out again this week, I realized it would just be another notch on the failure stick I have under my bed. Each time I don't complete a task, I put another hash mark on the ol' hickory. I didn't want to do it again, so, I left the failure stick in its place, opened my PowerBook and logged on to the beta version of Blogger.

Don't be a stranger. Leave your comments and criticisms, as they might stir in me some fabulous ideas. I look forward to writing for you every day.

YouTube Finds

I've recently become addicted to this fabulous website, TIME magazine's invention of the year. And, from time to time, I think it will be my duty to share with you some fantastic finds. Today, two Broadway clips, both act one finales.

First, an eight-and-a-half minute segment from the 1982 TONY Awards. Jennifer Holliday performs "And I Am Telling You (I'm Not Going)" from DREAMGIRLS. It is fantastic--she's the only person who should ever sing this song I believe. Except JJ who supposedly does a mean karaoke rendition.

Second, a clip from the infamous Broadway flop, CARRIE. I was going to link to "And Eve Was Weak," which I saw the other day online and LOVED, but now it's gone, as is the downfall of YouTube. I wish they offered a pay service (or free!) that would let us download the clips. Maybe soon. But, here is Betty Buckley and Linzi Hateley, "I Remember How Those Boys Could Dance."

Busy Saturday

Post.

Holiday Commercials

So, it happened about a week ago, that's approximately two weeks before Thanksgiving. I saw my first commercial for the holiday season. Goodness. I'll gripe about that some other time. My issue tonight is not that the commercials are on, but that they're the SAME as last year. The jewlery commercial where Santa needs a ring for "someone very special" and Mrs Claus gasps at the end, "Kris! How did you know?" Or, the animated credit card one where the cars drive up to the house through the snow. Gimme a break. I've already seen these! What're your R&D people doing? They should D* a new ad campaign!

*that's "develop" from "research and development" for all you crazies.

Next time: finds on YouTube

Survey: Movies

1: Popcorn or candy? Nothing. I don't know why people insist on eating during a movie. It makes loud noises (gurgle, crunch, pop, cicero, lipshitz) and sticks to the floor and drives me insane. Plus, the popcorn kernels get stuck in my teeth.

2. Name a movie you've been meaning to see forever. STAR WARS, any or all of them.

3. You are given the power to recall one Oscar: Who loses theirs and to whom? I don't care, but they should give it to me.

4. Steal one costume from a movie for your wardrobe. Which will it be? Ray Bolger's scarecrow.

5. Your favorite film franchise is... Christopher Guest-u-mentaries.

6. Invite five movie people over for dinner. Who are they? Why'd you invite them? What do you feed them? Jack Nicholson, Julie Andrews, Gene Kelly, Meryl Streep and Dustin Hoffman (and Gene Wilder and Faye Dunaway). They all seem like fun, and I think we'd all have a lot to chat about. I'd have them fill out a menu card in advance: check one - bacon cheeseburger, beef on weck, chicken finger sub, or for the veg's, beer.

7. What is the appropriate punishment for people who answer cell phones in the movie theater? Chinese water torture.

8. Choose a female bodyguard: Ripley from Aliens. Mystique from X-Men. Sarah Connor from Terminator 2. The Bride from Kill Bill. Mace from Strange Days. What about Angelica Houston from THE WITCHES? I bet she'd bite someone's head off.

9. What's the scariest thing you've ever seen in a movie? Not a movie. Youtube. Just watch.


10. Your favorite genre (excluding comedy and drama) is? SINGIN IN THE RAIN. It's a genre in itself.

11. You are given the power to greenlight movies at a major studio for one year. How do you wield this power? I cast me in as many films as possible, giving me an extensive array of characters and situations to play, offering the public exactly what they want: me.

12. Bonnie or Clyde? Well, Bonnie. Because didn't Clyde have some sort of sexual inablities? I don't want that. So, Bonnie.

13. Who are you tagging to answer this survey? All y'all.

BEDROOM WALLS

What do your bedroom walls say about you? What do they look like? What's on them? What were they previously? When and why did you change them?

Me? Well, I've moved around a lot in the past year, but at home, mine used to be blue. They were painted red when I was in seventh or eighth grade, I believe. Not red, but the red like the inside of a red ball. Deep and dark. One wall is wallpapered with an image of a space shuttle flying over the earth.

Your turn.

PS: I wrote a post about dreaming, and deleted it. I won't be posting it; it was strange, weird and revealing.

Family Dinner (2/365.b)

My sister came home from college tonight for her fall break. Since she was home, we had a nice chicken parm dinner with spaghetti and green beans. Mmm. Plus, brownies for dessert.

Anyhow, we laughed a lot. How many families, I wonder, actually sit down together and eat in a civilized manner? I'm sure I could google the statistics, but I'm lazy, remember? It was actually nice to sit there and make jokes at each other and spit food out of our mouths, try to keep the milk from coming out our nostrils and look at each other for just long enough not to see all the chewed up food inside each other's mouths.

Most of the laughing, though, was about one of television's greatest mold-breakers: THE OFFICE. We sat there and made faces to the invisible cameraman, just like Pam and Jim do. For nearly an hour. HYsterical.

And now it's over. Back to the sadness.

STILL TO COME: movie survey, self-lauding dreaming, bedroom walls, endorphins

NB: This post is number two of 365 in my second attempt at blogging for a year in a row, thus 2/365.b

Failure

What a terrible word. Perhaps if I am ever interviewed by the ever-prepared Jim Lipton, I could tell him that is my least favorite word in the English language. Mr Lipton, I don't think, has ever failed anything. Let's look at some definitions, courtesy the Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary:

FAIL (v)
to not succeed in what you are trying to achieve or are expected to do;
to not do something which you should do;
to become weaker or stop working completely

FAILED (adj)
having not succeeded

FAILING (adj)
becoming weaker or less successful

FAILURE (n)
when something or someone has not succeeded;
when you do not do something that you must do or are expected to do;
when something does not work, or stops working as well as it should

Now, for an example which befits all the above definitions: Project 365 failed when Beedow did not create a post yesterday.

We all knew it would happen, it was just a matter of time. There had been eleven posts, and on the day of post twelve, this blogger simply forgot. He had remembered while watching television, thinking, "gosh, I hope I don't forget to blog." Still, he did. He failed. He has failed before, some of them more grandiose, some less public, all failures however. He hopes to not fail again.

The inevitable question, though, becomes: What becomes of Project 365? Are we to assume that now the project will last an extra day, becoming P366? Does this post, which should have been number thirteen, become reduced to numero doce? I think we shouldn't dwell to much on the issue lest it become synonymous with other too-heavily-dwelled bits of news such as Watergate, the Crusades, the Loch Ness Monster or the Britney-Kevin Story. Project 365 was meant to bring joy, not create scandal. So stop bugging me. Stop calling your Mother. She doesn't care that I forgot to write on here last night.

Ah! Feels so Good

I cleaned my room this morning. It had been a sty. I couldn't (literally) get from the door to my bed without stepping on something. Two days ago, I took a hard step onto a razor that was lying blade-side-up on the floor. I had never before actually lived in a room, nor actually seen one, where a person really actually truly couldn't see the floor. It was cluttered. A mess. A real bad deal.

But I woke up and made a cup of tea with honey... mmm. Then, I picked up all the clothes and put them in the hamper, put all the papers into a pile, and the receipts went into my I Love Lucy tin lunch-box which I use to store receipts until I sift through them looking for deductibles at tax-time. I didn't even spend more than three minutes reading or reminiscing at the various scribbles and notes that usually would distract me from the task at hand, no, not this time. I was on a mission. The loose change went into the cup with the crayola markers, the chocolates were put back into a mug on the desk, the toiletries went on the shelf, or back into the bathroom where they belong.

Then I vacuumed. Now I'm sitting on the floor of the room, so happy.

Solitude @ the movies

What's wrong with seeing movies alone? There's too many people out there (authors, critics, celebs, regular joes) who are, I don't know, ashamed maybe, or embarrassed to go to the movies alone. They think it's uncool, it's not hip, it's a sure sign that they're loners and losers who can't even find someone to go sit with them in a dark room and not talk for two hours. Even a loser should know someone -- or should be able to pay someone to go see the film, right? Just so they won't walk in and sit alone?

Well, I'm here tonight to dispel that myth. Last fall, on my eventful six week tour of the upper midwestern states, I had a great deal of free time and felt that there was no better way to spend it than seeing just about every film out during that time. It was ... GREAT FUN. I went alone because the person I was driving along with didn't really want to go. No problem. I cam to realize there is a great and wonderful peace and brilliance in solitude at the movies.

Why would you want to go with someone when you can go alone? You won't have to pretend you're enjoying it if you're not. You won't have to answer any questions they ask. You won't have to listen to their popcorn chewing and root beer slurping. You don't have to hold their hand if something scary happens, and you won't have to get a stiff shoulder when its a sad movie and they put their head on it. Come on, tell me, what's bad about going alone?

Plus, you can see anything you want and don't have to compromise. You can go early if you want and watch "The 20" and enjoy ALL the previews. I love it and will continue to go alone whenever I can.

Just Barely

Getting this post in at two minutes under the wire means it'll be short. But, it IS a post, and it does count for a daily blog entry as I continue to try not to fail this terribly challenging PROJECT.

Also, I was born in the Year of the Dog. I just found this out.

passing time @ work

I'm working now on days when I am not performing at night, and it's actually okay because the job is mindless and allows me to listen to my iPod. There are some things to discuss here.

One: THANK GOD for my iPod. I can't imagine living in a society sans personal music devices again. On an unrelated note, I remember when I first broke down a got a cell. Sheesh! Now with my laptop, cell and iPod, what else do I need? (bluetooth devices, a blueray DVD player, a DVD recorder, a TiVo for goodness sake... I guess I've got a Christmas list in the works)

Two: I can't stand my iPod. Wait. Stop. Did I just contradict myself? Well, sorta. See, all day long I do mindless, finger strengthening jobs and I listen to my headphones. Well, luckily I work less than an eight hour day, but still, six hours with those little earbuds in my ears makes me sore! My left ear lobe is especially prone to pain after about two- or two-and-a-half hours. Sometimes I am moved to a job that's quite loud, so I wear ear protection, right? Well, my earbuds fit inside the protection, but that causes a whole other set of pain issues--different parts of the ear, different pressure, etc.

Three: Books on Tape. I'm using the mornings to listen to Myla Goldberg's BEE SEASON (I blogged about the movie here) on CD. It's my first audiobook, and I think I might come around to them. They're quick and easy to get through, evidently, as I can "read" at work. But, I can't imagine listening to them at home while I'm sitting around the living room. I would rather pull out an actual old-fashioned, bounded grouping of pages, that, in previous centuries was commonly known as a BOOK. Also, Goldberg does the reading herself, and I've found her voice to be difficult and challenging to listen to continuously. Each morning as I turn her on, it's fine. But thank goodness I stop after two-and-a-half hours and switch to music.

Four: Music. It's a good opportunity for me to finally listen to many of those showtunes I've purchased or downloaded (always legally, always) and never actually heard. There are some gems out there that I've found recently, including APPLAUSE and, I know, but I'm just now learning it, DREAMGIRLS.

I was definitely going to blog about another issue entirely, but now I'll just be able to save it for tomorrow. Then, coming soon: solitude at the movies, self-lauding dreaming.

SHE LIKES CAKE!

[photo: DRAMA DESK AWARDS, MAY 06]

I had just turned on my computer and was pondering what to write about tonight when I noticed I had just missed a phone call and had a voice mail message. Now, I can't go into a lot of specifics here, because that would mean divulging myself or my friends' names. So, my friend called with two messages. One of them was fantastic, but I will save it for another dry day in blog land. The second was from her roommate, who sometimes works in a certain capacity at a certain Broadway show. The roommate said, simply: "Beth Leavel told me today that she likes cake." HOLLER!

Earlier this summer, I professed my love for this woman and thought, hey, maybe I should send her a banana bread that I cooked since I am pretty darn good at baking banana bread (no nuts, "cuz men don't like nuts" <---anyone? name that musical). Well, we decided that if I did send the bread, Beth would probably have thrown it away because, hey, could have been a scary stalker, right? So, we left it at that and ate it ourselves. I had forgotten about that proposed idea and moved on in my life, until tonight.

I came home from the theatre, seeing a production of Greenberg's THREE DAYS OF RAIN, to this amazing note on my voice mail. I should start practicing baking cake. I wonder what kind of cake she likes? Chocolate? Vanilla? Ice-cream? And frosting... cream cheese? Strawberry? The kind with those little flecks of sugar in it? And, just as vital, what should I write on the cake when I do have it delivered to her dressing room?

My grandmother used to work in a bakery. She is one of the foremost cake decorators I know. She's great. To this day, damn, she makes a good cake. I'll have to talk with her about it and get her ideas for what I should send to this amazing lady. I can only hope that this lady doesn't get freaked out by a cake. By my love for her. Maybe I should avoid the word love all together. Maybe it should be something like, "YOU ROCK." Or, "HERE'S A CAKE YOU CAN HAVE. AND EAT, TOO." I'll work on some other ideas.

WOO HOO. The excitement is in the air.

Election Calls

Tomorrow is election day. I should be pumped up, methinks, but alas, I am not. I don't really care. I don't. Sorry, folks. What I do care about, however, is how I spend my free time. So, it makes me mad, it gets my dander up (if you will), when I get telephone calls from Tony Bennett and the like, asking me to vote for Whoozits or Whoohah. Tony, you called me twice in the span of ten minutes the other evening, and I hung up on you both times. I don't want to listen to you. If I did, I'd certainly rather hear your crooning than your begging. This isn't your style. You're supposed to be on AM1230: The Music of My Life, with those lilting melodies and creamy tones. THAT's what you're about. That's why people know you and (maybe still) care about you. They are the folks who will listen to your phone messages... but maybe you should reward them with a couple of bars if they listen to your whole message. And maybe you do. I didn't listen long enough to find out.

Step bump, step bump bump

Watch this.

Now, tell me you didn't laugh. It's HYsterical. And I know various people in different circles of my life who have turned me on to this show, these people, and this clip. Brilliance epitomized.

I think it's important... well, to be able to hitch-kick when it's required of you. Readers, if you cannot hitch-kick, please just go find a dancer friend and say, "Hey, this will only take 3.2 seconds, but Beedow wants me to learn a quick l'il ol' hitch-kick. Could you show me?" They'll inevitably say, "Sure!" and you'll be on your way to becoming a star.

Little Mysteries

Look at yesterday's post. See the text justification? Each line with hard spaces after it, so instead of wrapping around the line nicely like this post is doing, that one makes it look goofy on the page. The reason? Well, I wrote yesterday's post in my email program (Apple's Mail) and sent it off to be published. Blogger offers a really easy way of doing that, which I LOVE. It's easier than signing on to the website and using the form on the various webpages, et al. The problem is that it automatically puts in these hard spaces. I don't like it. I don't know why it does it and I don't like things that I don't know why they happen.

Like itches. You know, on your skin. I was just sitting here trying think of something that happens that I don't understand the reasoning behind, and I got an itch on my arm. Now I have an itch on my collarbone. Why is that? It's not like (--now there's one on the skin between my upper lip and my left nostril--) I said, hey, I wish I would start itching. Argh. I don't get it, and I don't understand it.

If someone knows why thing one or thing two occurs, please comment and let me know. You can even do it anonymously so you don't have an onslaught of people writing to you, calling you and driving by your home honking their horns in thanks for the answers to two of life's little mysteries.

Loopy Lotteries

What's the story with the lottery, huh? I have two friends who share
"Lotto Tuesdays" and share the cost of various lottery games each
week. They've done okay in their winnings, but they haven't hit it
big yet... at least, they haven't told me if they have. So why do I
feel I should play? What makes me think that I'll have the luck to win?

Earlier this week, I bought a lottery ticket -- and lost -- but so
did the rest of the country. No one one last Tuesday's Mega
Millions. So, the next drawing is tonight, and the jackpot went up.
I figured if I didn't buy a ticket, it would have been a waste of my
dollar early in the week, right? Does that even make sense (or
cents! ha!)? I also picked up a scratch off ticket. Each time I buy
these tickets (mind you, my total lottery spending in my whole life
is probably under $25), I feel -- I really feel -- like I am going to
win. I get excited about it. I get myself all geared up... how will
I spend the money? Will I tell everyone I know? Will I give to
charity? Will I be the same person or will I become a crazy fly-by-
night who goes nuts and is found face-down in a gutter in Connecticut
in a rainstorm some random April night next year?

Who knows... here's crossing my fingers though that I have the chance
to get the cash and NOT wind up in that CT gutter.

Bed Bugs (2/365)

Well, let's call yesterday's post #1 in our official PROJECT 365/365. So, this morning I woke up early because I had been bitten in the night by a bug. That's right, some sort of insect attached itself to my left ankle, stuck it's sticker in me and drew out my blood. Well, I immediately thought it was a bedbug, what, with the recently announced reinfestation of them here in the US. Plus, my sister mentioned that she thought she had them in college, and told us about it when she came home last weekend -- probably as a carrier of these nasty little buggers.

I did a little research this morning and found out I was probably wrong. It looks like mine isn't a bite due to the BBs, but maybe some spider or something. Anyhow, you should check out the link to make sure you're not infested, and if you are, how to get rid of them. Of course, the information is from Pest Control Canada, but I think the same applies to humans on both sides of the border.

And, lastly, in Canadian news, I took a friend of mine to Niagara Falls on Monday. I forget how spellbinding it is to first-timers. I've seen it often, and think it's grand, but not like newcomers. So, if you're in town, check out the Falls again, or for the first time. And if you want me to go with you, just send me a note and I'll come too, I will!

I'M COMING BACK

In light of my recent departure from the web, I am contemplating a return engagement to the blogging world. Most probably in an organized manner, pulling from the ideas and concepts behind Susan Lori-Parks' 365 Days/365 Plays. I will, once I begin, write here something every single day for an entire year. It promises to be exciting ... there are many things brewing in the pot for the coming months. It is also because I just realized that I began this blog just over one year ago (10/10/05) and why not come back to it?

It will change in essence, in ideas, in spirit ... but that's the fun of it. It'll be a buffet of information and thoughts, piled high on a brown plastic tray that looks like the one you'd get at Joe's. You know, EA(t) A(t) (j)OE'S.