I believe I was the first to coin the phrase...

You Better Believe It!

So, here I am (Yes, JJ), back. For good? Well, maybe for bad. But, back at least for the time being temporarily. It's tough writing a column all the time. I mean, think about it. Not only do I have to live my life, but write to my Dear Diary each evening and then fill all y'all in on it? No wonder I'm writing this post at quarter past three in the morning in the middle of my busy work week.

That's right folks - just because you're on a weekend doesn't mean we all are. I get Mondays and Tuesdays off - but not this Monday because of the holiday, I have to get up and put on a damn show Monday night. So, while most of the world is sitting on their easy chairs on Saturdays and Sundays, I'm waking up at the crack of eleven to warm up la voce so I can sing a song for the nineteen of you who choose to come to any of our two shows either day. Of course there's also a Friday evening, and this week a Monday evening, so whatever, life gets busy.

But, I'm less busy than I would be if I weren't on this job. Were I back in the Big Apple, I'd probably be pulling my hair out from balancing two or three jobs, and covering upwards of 50 hours a week. Down here on the beach, I'm working an easy 20 hours a week, and feeling grand.

Love to my homies.

There's a Storm Comin'

Today, I simply applaud the prose of my buddy JJ over at As Little As Possible from December 12. Yours truly was also raised Catholic, and having gone through a few angry years is coming back again... but it is sh*t like this, this intolerance, that makes me (and so many others) so angry. I hope JJ is not upset by my reposting here... have an equal opportunity day everyone.

Same-sex relationships — like nuclear arms proliferation and environmental pollution — constitute "an objective obstacle on the road to peace," wrote Pope Benedict XVI in a statement released by the Vatican yesterday.

This from the man who wears Gucci sunglasses and red Prada loafers. Did I mention he's also calling for an "equitable distribution of wealth" throughout the world?

Your Holiness:

Surely you've already sold your couture wardrobe and given the proceeds to the poor, so let's not waste time on that. As someone who was raised Catholic, I must politely register my displeasure over the first part of your statement. You are in a remarkable position; a great number of people listen closely to and follow what you say. You advocate peace, but you do so at the expense of a vast sector of society that includes not only the GLBT community but also the straight people who stand with it. You, as the leader of a religion that calls for loving one's neighbor as one's self, have the power to very bravely say, "Love manifests itself in many forms, and its power or worth does not diminish as it shape-shifts. We are finished with senseless discrimination and effrontery. It is beneath us. We welcome all people who choose to believe that life is better lived with and for others rather than above and apart. A love for God and the espousal of the altruistic tenets of Jesus Christ are all we ask for — we do not care about your race, sexual orientation or any other personal aspect over which you have no control. We only care about the part you can control: the manner in which you conduct your life. Conduct it peacefully, with an open heart."

Instead of leading us into the future, Your Holiness, you have chosen to remain rigidly anchored to dusty, antiquated prejudice. You have chosen to inculcate intolerance. You are tilling the soil of society so it remains fertile for the seeds of hate. I look forward to the day when you realize your mistake — your sin — and I pray that time comes soon, on this Earth, rather than in the afterlife, when your god will no doubt purse his lips, shake his head and break the news that you were very, very wrong.

With love and in hope,
J.J.

Boxing Day

One month ago, when I wrote my last post, I never imagined it would have taken me so long to have something to say again. Well, perhaps I did have things to say, I just didn't have the time (or the internet connection) to say them. And now, perhaps I don't have anything relevant to say either, but here goes nothin'.

1. Spending the winter in Florida is like swimming in the desert: it doesn't make sense. Sure, it's lovely weather... I mean, come on, I spent Christmas Day in shorts and a tshirt, and I didn't have to shovel any gd snow, but, it's just wacko.

2. Reality TV now offers programming showcasing real people with drug addictions, and we watch them shoot up, dance around high and then come down. Wow, gimme more o' that!

3. The special features on the BORAT dvd are brilliant. Just watch him go to the supermarket. You'll never frown again.

4. Candy cane martinis are too milky to drink a lot of. I prefer a chianti [insert Hannibal Lector slurp here].

5. JUNO is a really wonderful movie - lots of fun, very sweet and lovely.

6. SWEENEY TODD should not be remade without singers.

Rambling Holidays

There's nothing quite like this week of Thanksgiving. Seriously.

It begins with anticipation - the eagerness for fun, family, food, friends, and naps. I start getting excited on Monday or Tuesday. Then, one has to worry about traveling, and getting those activities in order: plane tickets, cab fare, putting all your shampoo into little tiny bottles and then into plastic bags, getting to the airport exceedingly early, only for there to be no line and then you have to sit at the gate for over two hours before they even board your darn plane...

Then comes Wednesday, the biggest bar night of the year. We've been celebrating Big Wednesday for a few years now. This was certainly a good one - our friends stayed out with us instead of running home to the comfort of their blankies.

Thursday is the day of the turkey, of course. It's fun to watch relatives with hangovers deal with their little cousins. Muhahahaha.

And then just the days of meeting friends, having a good time...

I'm realizing this is a rambling, lousy post, so I'll stop. At least I won about $40 playing poker last night.

My Favorite Holiday

Steve: "I'm fricking starving."
Greg: "Go get some food, a$$hole."

This is my last day in New York for a while. I'm going home for Thanksgiving, and then I've taken a job out of town for a couple months, so I'm savoring my last moments here. Savoring, as in, I'm spending all day cooped up in a former vault answering telephones.

Thanksgiving is a great holiday. My favorite I think. There's nothing else like it. Well, the problem though, is that I don't think Thanksgiving ever really lives up to the way the movies and books make it seem. I want a huge extended family gathering, lots of kids and aunts and uncles running around, dogs upending tables, babies crying, wine flowing like water ... you get the drift.

I mean, come on. Look at the classics: Hannah and Her Sisters of course! It's brilliant and such a wonderful Thanksgiving movie. Gosh, I can't wait to watch it. And, for some reason, Home Alone has been in my mind all day too. "Keviiiiiin!"

So, get ready. Put on your holiday socks, poke another notch in the belt (you know you'll need it, if not Thursday then over the next month or so), and uncork a bottle of Pinot.

Catching Up

What hasn't happened since last we spoke?

Everyone's on strike, which is really throwing a wrench in the gears around here. Pretty soon we won't be seeing any new episodes of Grey's or 30 Rock, or worse, Gossip Girl. I don't think the writers are coming back to work anytime soon. And, the word on the street that the stagehands would come back tomorrow is definitely a false hope. They've cancelled just about everything all week already. That's going to put this strike at at least 17 days or so... not good for business. Good thing I saw those plays before they all went dark... my guess is that a lot of them won't even be returning. IS HE DEAD? has only played two previews (I saw the second) and hasn't really been publicized, so I doubt it's going to get any legs to come back. And the real winner of the season, AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY, had great word of mouth, but is missing its opening night now and who the hell knows. I think if any of the shows will pull out of this okay, it's gonna be that one. FARNSWORTH's Hank Azaria is not going to sit around twiddling his thumbs (like one writer noted last week) waiting for the strikers to come to terms, and it's going to close that show.

Too bad for Broadway. Good for off-Broadway. Keeps me busy at work anyway.

Remember when life sucked? Well, I've been pretending that I'm happy, and things have been working out actually. I've met some interesting people, created laughter, had tea parties and made dinner in costume. After, I danced with tigers, took a rifle class, had lifeguard training and splashed in the puddles I created in my bathroom because the toilet was broken and so I just emptied a bucket of water on the ground. And then just now, I talked in a fun-Godfather-Italian-accent with coworkers.*

I'm coming home for Thanksgiving, spending some time on the couch, and then shipping out to the sunny skies of Florida for a couple of months. Wowza: you're excited I can tell. I look forward to seeing you and/or hearing from you. Write comments, show me the love...

*Some of the above mentioned events have been fabricated.

...Moving On Up

No worries. I am okay. And writing (almost) stream-of-consciousness today:

I realized the last post was crazy and haphazard and made some of you worried or conerned for me and my life. Well, almost immediately after I wrote it, my apartment was burglarized while I was there. I'm not going to rehash the thing, but don't worry - I'm okay. I was pretty shaken up about the whole thing, and ready to just get the hell out of dodge (i.e.: New York City), but I thought that might have been a little rash looking back on it.

I'm better and calmer now. I am also less streessed out and less depressed about life in general. I guess you just have to turn lemons into lemonade, and who doesn't like lemonade? So, I'm making efforts to consciously turn my attitude around and crawl out of that darkest corner of the dark place. No more dark place, instead, I'm actively searching the happy place.

So, I'm working a lot this week, seeing a couple different plays, putting money in the bank, and eating what I want (yep, I broke down forom my no-McDonalds-until-Thanksgiving-binge and had quarter pounder meal yesterday, it was delicious). I'm happier and that's what counts.

I've also just started working on my new project which will keep me busy in my downtime (that's right - I'm gonna write a book!). So, don't fret my pets. Just send me emails and comments so I have something to do during the 50+ hours I'll be at work sitting in front of a computer this week.

Thanks!
Beedow

Oh Brother

So, I'm a lazy ass. I often wonder if all people are like this. Or, would they be if they could be? I mean, I am basically just scraping by. I don't work enough hours to pay the bills, but I always seem constantly busy. I think it's because I sleep most of the time. I'm lazy. And I make up excuses.

Last night was Halloween (or, if you'd prefer Hallowe'en) and what did this guy do? Well, I sold a ticket to a Hollywood celeb (think, The Illusionist, Death to Smoochy) and then took the train home, ran on an elliptical for thirty minutes before chickening out and not doing the rest of my workout. I came home and reheated some chili I made Monday night, tried to watch Curb Your Enthusiasm season one, disc one, but the Netflix disc was cracked. So I went to bed. And slept about ten hours.

Then, today, I should have gone to an audition. But I talked myself out of it because, well, I'm really not right for the role anyway. So I made a sandwich and started to catch up on The Office. It was mid-afternoon by the time I took a shower.

Goodness. This is ridiculous. Tomorrow's going to be similar. I'm going to talk myself out of an audition that I'm not right for, go in for an audition later, only because I have an appointment, and well, probably sit around some more.

I'm just getting by. I'm making up excuses so I don't have to go and see people - why? Why don't I actually just go and see them? I don't have anything better to do with my time. I should see my friends.

I feel like I need some sort of thing, some motivation, to keep going. What is making me tick? What's exciting in life? What is going to make me really excited about getting up and doing something? More importantly, what can I actually DO? If I don't get scheduled at work, then I have all this time off and nothing to do...

I have so much time, I should at least blog every day and I don't even do that. Nor do I have a witty closing to this post.

Insider's Scoop

It's fun to live in New York when good things happen. I was lucky enough last weekend to score passes to two movie screenings. I will divulge a little here; not a lot, but enough to make you wish you were me (if you didn't already).

AMERCIAN GANGSTER
Yeah, this comes out in a week or so, but it was nice to see the foreign press screening of it here in the city. I guess I hadn't been reading up on it, so I had know idea it was about drug trafficking, but, okay. Once I woke up (after the first very slow twenty minutes), I really enjoyed it. Do I recommend? Yes if you want to see a good film in the long line of standard/middle-of-the-road gangster, mafia, shoot 'em ups.

BABY MAMA
This one isn't scheduled for release until April 2008, but I got to sit in and be a test audience for it. It's another comedy from Tina Fey, but it's essentially pretty sappy. I wanted it to be like Wedding Crashers, but it wasn't. I don't know why I wanted that, though, because I should have said, "oh, it'll probably be a morality play like Mean Girls." And it was. But it was a funny morality play nonetheless. With the likes of the UHMAZING Amy Poehler, Steve Martin and Sigourney Weaver, this has some really brilliant moments. I won't spoil my favorite, but remember this: it's when Amy offers to pay Tina for gas money.

Also, I finished the second season of WEEDS at three in the morning. I love it. And what an ending. That's good, because it was sort of getting lazy and sloppy I thought, but they sure pulled out the big guns (pun intended).

While I go spend the rest of my day off catching up on network television (Brothers and Sisters, 30 Rock, The Office and maybe Private Practice), I want to know what have you been watching?

Weekenders.

I am at the end of my first real weekend in so long - two entire days off without other obligations, plans, activities, events, or other things to suck up my time. Instead, I slept in, watched some TV, had a vocal coaching, ate, bought some new music, called people, went out for a lovely (and higher-than-i-really-should-have-paid) dinner where i ordered (gasp!) a glass of wine. And so now, some thoughts:

1. I love Joni Mitchell. Go purchase her new album, SHINE. And then, consider the new Herbie Hancock album, RIVER: THE JONI LETTERS.

2. I still love red wine. Mmm. I haven't had a glass since before summer, but it was so tasty last night, and so perfect with the chicken and spinach dinner special I ordered. O! Perfection.

3. WEEDS is a brilliant show! I have watched all of the first season and am just beginning the second season. Mary Louise Parker is beautiful and lovely, and I found a new favorite song (Cotton) on the soundtrack.

4. THE CAINE MUTINY is a wonderful novel. It's my second Herman Wouk, and so darn good. He's an excellent storyteller, good for me as I haven't had a book I wanted to really read since the end of the HP series. I highly recommend it.

5. I miss my friends and will be happy to see them on Big Wednesday.

Splash.

Last night, I was walking with a friend of mine (we'll call him Tim) through Times Square after a really great (!) masterclass, which I should write about because it was amazing, but then this happened, which took the cake:

EXT. NIGHT. CORNER OF 42ND STREET AND BROADWAY.

Tim: Watch out!
Me: What?

WE HEAR A SPRAYING SOUND, LIKE IF SOMEONE WAS WASHING THE SIDE OF THEIR HOUSE, SPRAYING WATER AT IT FROM A HOSE.

Me: Oh shit.

THE TWO GUYS MOVE TO THE SIDE AS A PUDDLE CONTINUES TO FORM UNDERNEATH THE HORSE WHO IS DRAWING THE HORSE-DRAWN CARRIAGE.

Tim (in a Southern drawl): Well, I can sure tell when a horse is pissing on my boots.
Me (in a Southern drawl): Hey, have ya ever seen a horse piss before?
Tim: Yep. In the middle of Times Square.

Couldn't be Happier...

Oh! It is so wonderful. Mom and Dad drove up (down?) this weekend and brought my stuff. I feel like I'm at home again, now. Instead of being a guest living on an aerobed on the floor (which, remind me, I still have to get my $10 rebate on), I now am the proud owner of a real live boxspring. I have a chair, a rug, a desk, tv, blinds: the works! I want nothing more than to go home, sit down and read, sit on the floor and play marbles, take a nap on my bed, clean the windows again or rearrange my closet. I'm walking on air! This is what people feel like in real life, isn't it? They're really here, really alive - I am happy.

Of course, I've been scheduled off from work Monday and Tuesday, so I'll have a lot of time to sit in my room and think about how much money I'm not making. Although, it's sort of like real life, because this week, for the first time in a very long time, I have a weekend. Which is fantastic. Sure it's during the week, but I have two days off in a row with nothing to do except buy a plant, order some prints online, gossip with the girls, and get my nails done. Woohoo!

Sleeping on Air

I moved into a new apartment about a month ago. Of course, as the world-weary traveler I am, I move from place to place with a large suitcase and a couple of duffle bags - not much. Definitely not enough to furnish a room, let alone an entire apartment.

So, my parents are driving in today, bed in tow. Last night was the final time (for the forseeable [?] future) that I will sleep on my air mattress. However, I want to take a second to expound on the virtues of the air mattress: compact. multi-faceted. fun. semi-comfortable. easy. breezy. beautiful. covergirl.

I am excited, because I will finally be able to arrange this bedroom into something that looks like a human actually lives here, and not some strange hobbit who needs everything close to or on the floor - what things we take for granted! I never knew how appealing shelves were until I didn't have anything except the floor on which to put everything I own. (Notice how I avoided the dangling modifier.)

Underground Old Woman Hatred

The other morning I was standing on the subway platform waiting for the train, which took FOREVER. Like that kid from The Sandlot, you know, "for-ev-er." Anyway, there was a little old lady with a pen in her hand in front of a Chase billboard. She looked around to make sure noone was watching, which, of course, I was. Anyway, she drew a large swastika on the person in the ad. Then, she drew two smaller ones near the bottom of the sign.

What? Not the image of graffiti artists that I had in mind, but, to each her own I guess. Either way, what was I supposed to do? Stop her? Nah, she might have been wielding a sharp kitchen knife under that floral-print blouse.

Toe Skin

I am not going to discuss this past weekend except to say I think it was probably a good time.

It's been a very crazy busy time, but I was able to spend a few minutes out with some friends last night. Because I have no clean clothes left (thank goodness I have the afternoon off today to get it done, along with some shopping for items for my new bedroom!), I wore flipflops since my socks are all dirty. But it started to aggrivate the skin on the underside of my big toe on my left foot. What is the deal? Now, today, wearing my last pair of clean socks and a dirty shirt, I sit with a bothersome flap of skin on my toe.

Also, I watched this season's GREY'S premiere online last night. Since I don't have a TV, I am relegated to watching after the fact a few days later. (Hurry, TV, hurry!) Anyway, I was sort of not excited about it... but then there was George and Izzy. I love them. They're fantastic. I'm so happy. I can't wait until Thursday... well, Friday or Saturday when I watch it online.

The Good the Bad... and well, i'm not ugly

There's some days that being in a big city is fun. Like today. The new mega-expensive musical, YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN is loading in currently. So, I walked by the loading dock this morning and saw lots of sets, costumes, etc. Woohoo, said I. Then, I had to let Bill Pullman into the building, and Judy Ivey came by to drop off some stuff, and Dallas Roberts walked out for a smoke break. Ah!

On the other hand, there's some things that aren't fun. Like this guy I work with. He just answered the phone "Yep, yep?" Are you serious? "Yep, yep." Oh for crying out loud. We all think he's going to kill himself, or someone near him. Which basically means I need to watch out for number one, or else I might be running around with my head cut off. Of course, the weirdo leaves this weekend to go back home to "figure some things out." Yeah, we've heard that one before. Go get a pickup and a dog and drive around or something, that usually seems to work, Bucko.

Two Happy Endings

Julie and the Beatles
ACROSS THE UNIVERSE has its moments, but in all, I guess I just didn't like it. Don't get me wrong, FRIDA is one of my favorites, but this one just doesn't have that same spark. Of course, it would have been better after a few magical brownies ("reefer madness, reefer madness!")... Some very touching scenes, neat colors and spectacle, but overall rather blah.

I Was Going to Go Anyway
...even if I didn't get a free pass. ENCHANTED, first of all, is narrated by none other than that glorious voice of voices, Ms Disney herself, Julie Andrews. Also a venerable who's who of Broadway (including Tonya Pinkins in a hysterical scene or two), this new flick from the Mouse is ... well, enchanting. Amy Adams is beautiful and does a brilliant job. I guess I just had a big smile on the whole time - sure, it's for the kids, but hey, I'm still a kid.

His name was Rico...

It had been an early morning. I arrived early to the airport, and actually was seated on an earlier flight than I was scheduled for. We landed at JFK and sat on the tarmac for about thirty minutes before we could deplane. But, eventually we did, and I airtran'd it to the subway and got to my new apartment around noon.

By mid-afternoon, it was time to go. A new (we worked together this summer) friend of mine had been offered four tickets to the taping of Barry Manilow's new PBS special, which will also be put out on DVD late this year (I believe). So, we followed the rules and wore dark colors, didn't bring any coats, no bags, no cameras, not even our cell phones... it was like living in the 90s again. Wowza.

But, for all the stinginess we had to endure, heck, we were treated well. As VIPs, we had access to the preshow open bar (2 or 3 gin and tonics for this guy), an escorted bathroom trip, and then fourth row center seats inside the soundstage at Brooklyn's Steiner Studios where it was being taped. For three hours or more, we sat around and waited, clapped a hell of a lot (often just because a guy in a headset told us to), stood up for Barry a lot, watched him forget some lyrics and have to go back and reshoot, sing COPACABANA and MANDY twice... in all it was pretty cool. Of course, were we actual fanilows, it would have been way cooler. I mean, between us, we probably recognized four songs (and that included the STATE FARM insurance jingle).

But worth it it was. Following the taping (where I saw two friends who had been hired to dance and cheer for Barry), we VIPs flashed our invites to the redcarpet after party on a rooftop at the Studios. More gin and tonics were drunk, steak and sushi offered (hell, I even ate some sort of duck roll because it was free!) and really rich desserts carried around on trays by other actors who were just making a buck as cater-waiters.

I wish I had been allowed a camera or something because I would insert here a picture looking at New York across the water in the night sky. It was great fun and very exciting. So, don't forget to watch Barry Manilow: Songs of the Seventies on PBS or get it on DVD. You'll probably get a glimpse of some crazy guy sorta clapping in the fourth row...

NEXT: Ms Lion King herself and the new Beatles' flick

Autumn of Awareness, and Action

I've failed you as a friend and a confidant, but, if you'll have me, I'd gladly take you back. My "summer in the hills" has come to a close, my retreat to the homeland is nearing its end, and the return to life in the big city all but a reality at this point. I am making it an autumn of awareness, these next few months: aware of my struggling pocketbook, distant friend contact, lack of continuing education, failure to reach my new year's resolution... all of these things make it seem like I need to become aware, and then act.

So, I begin today, this ninth afternoon of the ninth month of the year. I vow to blog more faithfully. And (hopefully) interestingly.

I look forward to coming into your lives more often, beginning ... soon.

Back in Business and Ain't it Grand

Well, I actually am alive, contrary to popular belief. I don't want you to get teary-eyed or anything, but I'm glad you're here. I got my stats-report in the email last week and see that there are a couple of you (I don't know who you are, I just know you're there) who continue to check the site to see if I've said anything. And I know I've been a disappointment.

But now, about six weeks since my last post, I am simply here to say that this Friday at midnight, I will be joining the oodles of underage wizards and pick up my reserved copy of HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS. And no, I won't give anything away here until I feel enough time has passed that anyone who's anyone will have already read it already. But, needless to say, I'm glad that I have some extra time this weekend to read -- I only have a Saturday evening and a Sunday matinee performance to prohibit my continuous reading of what may be the most anticipated novel of all time.

Leaving on a jet plane...er...trailways...

This is it. The end of the road and the beginning of the highway. I have spent all of 2007 in New York so far. And tomorrow I leave for the mountains for the summer. Keep your fingers crossed that I'll be able to communicate with y'all still... and that I don't fall into the river and get rushed into the ocean and end up in the Bermuda Triangle somewhere. I guess if I did, though, it would be okay, because I could say hey to Jack and Kate and Sawyer.

wishing and hoping

It's almost here. The sweet sounds of summer. Warm breezes. Laughter and frivolity.

So, I woke up this morning to the warm breeze coming in through the window. And I wanted to just roll over and close my eyes for a little while longer, then get up and have a leisurely breakfast, and take a dive into the ocean. Of course, I'm not even near the ocean. Nor do I have time for a leisurely breakfast.

But I will soon. And I will frolick in the sand. Sit in a hammock. Nap. Eat strawberries. Wear suncreen. Breathe in ocean salty air.

...the temperature's rising!

This is oppression if I've ever seen it. I'm done with it and there's no holding me back. All of a sudden, it happened, too... like wam-bam-thank-you-ma'am, all at once the cold air breezed away and WOOSH! we're having a heat wave.

I visited the NYC once in mid-August and thought it was pretty hot, yeah. But now I'm living through it. And working through it. And spending my days in it. UNFAIR. I am going to do my best to never actually spend a summer in this city in my life if I can help it. And hey, so far so good.

I leave town one week from today for the tropic clime that is the Pocono Mountains. Of course, where I'll be working is supposedly internet-free... no, not no-cost-internet, but no internet at all... so updates my be fewer and farther in between than normal, but hey, sue me.

Three down.

Yes. I warded off the Dementors and finished the last page of the third book on the subway into work this morning. Don't worry. I was at the Strand yesterday and bought my own copies of the next three books as well so I don't have to borrow my roomies' anymore.

I think the whole thing about these books for me is the lives of our three best friends. Harry, Hermoine and Ron are unflappable, unbeatable and attached at the hip. I love them. They love each other. There's nothing that can get in their (collective) way. Basically, I want what they have. I want to live in that sort of world.

I guess, though, in the real world, you can't have that. It's possible in school, and save for Quidditch, sorting hats, Diagon Alley and other magic, I like to remember my time in school very happy like the three kiddos. But lately, it's hard - you know, in the real world. Like THE PARTY used to sing, "if I'd known then what I know now, I'd have stayed a child much longer."

I want to have a Ron and Hermoine to spend my afternoons with watching the lazy squid on the lake. Any takers? Let's just find an invisibility cloak and get the hi-ho outta town.

and the Prisoner of Azkaban, currently

"Ah! I haven't done this in so long and I can't figure out why I stopped."
"What?" you ask, slyly.
"Reading a good book!" I yelp. "I can't get enough of JK Rowling!" I let out a little squeal and a yip before jumping in the air a little and grinning wide.

There is nothing quite like it. Last week, after finishing Tim O'Briens interminable and lesser novel, GOING AFTER CACCIATO, I figured the time was ripe to finally begin reading the series everyone has been talking about for the past decade. Dwight referenced it in the penultimate episode of THE OFFICE this season and, well, frankly, that's enough for me.

So, here we are, approximately one week later (give or take a day or two) and I'm midway through the third book. Hermoine is taking so many classes, her books just ripped a hole in her bookbag. Harry was told he's going to die by the Divination teacher. Draco is milking his stupid arm wound for all it's worth, giving poor Ron a terrible time of it. And Beedow is loving it.

I stay awake late. I get up early. I don't mind the long-ass subway rides I had to take over the weekend. I've forgotten about food (but not the season finales this past week, nor have I calmed down about what's going to happen Wednesday on LOST, but that's for tomorrow night), and if you know me, you know that means something's afoot! sir (as Sir Sherlock would have exclaimed).

I'm giddy as a schoolgirl, although, thankfully with my new fangled haircut, I no longer have the longish hair to be confused with one anymore. That's right. Beedow got what amounts to a military cut - no worries, I'm not going off to fight for my country and save our land or our fine upstanding president's hide. I just look like I am.

Thank you. I hope I made sense (said Parker Posy - nice link, JJ).

Graphic Subway Ride

Well, I thought I would talk about the last production in the City Center Encores! series which I saw last night, STAIRWAY TO PARADISE. I was going to write about how Ruthie Henshall (the only reason I wanted to see it) got shafted by getting only two songs two sing. Plus no one knew who the hell she was. How can you not know someone who has done so much, she doesn't even need to include the 10th anniversary LES MIZ concert in her bio?! Amazing.

I was going to say that although actress-turned-celebrity Kristin Chenoweth did too much and was just sticking to her usual antics that everyone so adores, she was very funny in her sketches and songs with clowns Kevin Chamberlin and Christopher Fitzgerald.

I was going to say all that. I was going to say I even enjoyed Jenn Gambatese.

But then I got on the subway to come home and I was leaning against the third door of the third car, just like I always do. And I was looking around at people, scoping out the general situation, just like I always do. And then I saw it. My stomach realized what was happening before my mind did. Mister Subway Stranger's (see yesterday's post) brother was holding his hand in front of his mouth. His eyes were wide and there was a look of panic behind them. As he moved swiftly to the door, waiting patiently for it to open, he was holding the vomit inside his mouth. Some of it escaped, though, and was dripping down his lips, over his chin and onto the floor of the car. TERROR! AWFUL! GROSS! SMELLY! YUCKY!

So, once I saw that, I couldn't write about the concert anymore. Tomorrow: blueberry muffins, or how I learned to eat something other than Timbits for breakfast.

Open Letter: Subway Stranger

Dear Subway Stranger:

I know the weather is warm. Heck, I am perspiring myself from my six-block walk here this morning -- I mean, it's not even 9:30 in the morning yet. The problem isn't the heat, it's your attire. Well, more specifically your podiatric health.

Take a look at the pretty girl over the wearing her strappy sandals. See? No problems. She cleans her feet, paints her nails and wears nice summer shoes. Now look at my feet. Can't see 'em, right? That's because I have to wear shoes to work, so I hide my feet. Now look at yours. WHOA! Yep, you almost vomited, too, just like I did.

Okay, why is this? See, you have disgusting toenails. And you're wearing flip-flops. This is 100% unacceptable. You should either (a) fix your toenails, (b) cover them up, or (c) get the hell away from me.

That's it. K.I.S.S.

Beedow

rants: tele

Color me confused, I guess. I was reading some articles on CNN.com while I'm here getting paid to wait for the phone to ring. Americans today have such interesting and strange concerns, habits and feelings, don't you think?

For instance, the article was about television. NBC had its worst two weeks EVER last month, and ratings are generally down across the boards. Okay, they said and tried to figure out why this was. Perhaps because of the early daylight savings time. Maybe because television sucks. Or, maybe because people are simply using their DVRs to record and watch later, when they choose, sans advertising. Well, advertisers hope it isn't the latter.

I'm going to side note on this topic for a minute. Now, don't get me wrong. Since moving into my apartment in January, I began to discover the joy of DVR. I can tune in to GREY'S ANATOMY at 9:15 and watch the whole episode, sans commercial interruption and still be done by 10:00. "Wowza!" thought innocent little me. Now, four and a half months into this charade I've come to realize that in fact, *I AM MISSING OUT!* Sure, I get done with my program in 3/4 of the time, but I am oblivious to society. I don't know what movies or new television programs are coming up, I don't know if I should buy Scott or Charmin, and I don't know what my brain looks like on drugs. So, maybe I should go back to watching the commericals again. Or else hire an assistant to watch them and report back.

People then were able to respond in blog-like commentary about the article's merits. Anonymous responders commented they don't waste their time watching television (but they do waste it reading and writing about television online?). Or that they'd rather read a book. Or read the paper. Or get their news from online sources rather than the commercialized-we're-reporting-this-with-sexy-pictures-just-to-get-you-to-watch evening news, no longer with anyone we care about by the way.

Okay. Well. You can find some nifty, educational and exciting programs on television. Take the Discovery Channel's recent PLANET EARTH series. Damn nifty if you ask me. And what's the difference between spoiling your mind in front of the tele or surfing the net? Same difference, I'd say. And, if the technology we currently have at our fingertips had been invented back in the days when writing was invented, maybe there wouldn't be so many books. And would that be a bad thing? You can get some pretty sh*tty books and magazines out there.

I guess it's all in the way you look at it. For Beedow, I know after spending a week of staring at the internet from 10-7:30 each day, I like to go home and actually (gasp!) not turn on my trusty MAC. Instead, I spent the time on the subway home reading my book or magazine, and when I get home, I make dinner and sit in front of the television. It's relaxing. It's nice. It's comforting. And it's the same as sitting in front of a computer, or wasting one's time in a tabloid or bodice-ripper of a novella.

Tomorrow: how to cook a creamy chicken dinner and get drunk on an entire bottle of wine at the same time.

Monday Monday

I've been scoring some sensational tickets to shows this week, thanks to Millie's hookups. We went to see TALK RADIO Saturday night, and it was really excellent. Much better than RADIO GOLF, which, yikes, was pretty much in shambles I thought. More importantly, though, I began thinking about the before and after category on Wheel of Fortune and how it could apply to Broadway shows.

TALK RADIO GOLF
or, go a step further: TALK RADIO GOLF WITH ALAN SHEPARD

I want to create a whole list but I'm currently without any thoughts. Let's start doing this, it would be fun. I guess we could include movies or whatever, too, just for kicks.

Also, I saw THE 5TH DIMENSION at Town Hall the other night. Phew. Good thing they were $3.00 seats. They were grand when they were singing their music. The problem came when they deviated from Wedding Bell Blues, Up Up and Away, or Aquarius and sang songs from the Four Tops, James Taylor and others. Whatever. But I'll tell you, on their tunes, they ROCKED. Love that music.

Purr...

I had another smile with yesterday's said celebrity. Both days she has been unrecognizable because of her big (stylish) sunglasses. Yesterday she was flustered because she didn't have her door code to get into the building and she was a few minutes late for her rehearsal. I was waiting for her to figure out her code when she moved her glasses up to her forehead -- "oh gosh!" I thought. "I can just buzz you in," I said and did. She thanked me.

Today, it was just a lovely smile on her way out from rehearsal.

Partial disclosure to come in the following days, especially considering I'll be working here every day next week since my boss is out of town for a (gasp!) software conference. I'm hoping to see lots of her and maybe even have some conversation.

A New Leaf?

Perhaps I'm going to turn my life around, right? I mean, like, May is totally the month for sunny happy thingers, right? So, um, maybe I'll just start writing every day again, or, maybe I won't because it would be like too much to handle. Way to rough.

Anyway, had a nice exchange with a celeb today at work. She was just lovely. And, I sent off another banana bread to my real favorite celeb -- she's been asking for it, so.

And what's with my mother? She sent me an email that started with OMG. No, Mom, don't get all sorority on me.

Ranting Return

So, CRAZY. Lots of things going on keeping me busy and out of the blogosphere. Can't, of course, talk about them here or else you'd learn my true identity... but one of the problems is about my summer and fall coming up and scheduling it all to work and make sense.

Yikes! I have a job offer in Pennsylvania for the summer, through early September. They're even being kind and giving me four days vacation to visit my family in North Carolina when they don't have to, which is just grand. But, there's another offer that I was supposed to get in New Hampshire which actually didn't come through, which is fine, however. The problem is what happens if I get this autumnal job offer, which I really must take, thus creating a two week overlap of work? Will I be able to be in two places at the same time? Also, what will I do with all my crap when I have to move anyway? I've accumulated a lot. Maybe I should drive home, thereby allowing myself to fill up the backseat of a car. Of course, who the hell knows if any of these things will happen.

Also, who could have predicted (well, basically, all of you did) back in the fall when I started Project 365 that by this point my posts would have dwindled so dramatically? Maybe if I ever decide to attempt some sort of major project again, I won't tell anyone so when I fail, fewer people will notice it. Or, perhaps I should just write it here because then it's certain that in fact the fewest possible people will read about it.

Over and out.

Going Down in History

On the train home last night, after a long day of work and rehearsal, and before another long day of work and rehearsal, I smiled. Why? Because a strange weirdo was singing "Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer." Brilliant. Some people on the other side of train even started singing along. I was about two shakes away from adding "like a lightbulb!"

SUMMER SUBLET

Beedow is leaving the City for the summer. He is currently subletting an apartment from a friend, and needs to find another renter. If you or someone you know needs an apartment in Astoria, please contact Beedow soon before you miss out on this wicked pad. (June-July-August)

Sorry, I'm Texting . . .

A boy and his dog just walked by me. There's a man big coat sitting on a bench across from me. A kid is standing near that pole listening to his headphones and sipping a smoothie. There's a suit just talking to himself, strike that, to the person on the other end of his bluetooth headset. A girl sitting against a concrete wall is scratching her neck while an old geezer stares.

Of course! You guessed it. I'm in the JetBlue terminal at New York's JFK. (Why am I here? Well, it's a surprise, and Mom, if you read this in the next couple of hours ... well, there goes the surprise.)

What a shock! Remember the days when a person in a strange surrounding (like this, an airport terminal full of strangers) would have to actually read a book to keep busy. Or, better yet, speak to the guy sitting next to him. Say hello and make friends with that person who just might be a friend of a friend or something. But, no, not in today's "advanced" day-and-age.

Today, we sit here (probably 60% of the waiting passengers) with our laptops on. The other 40% are divided between their cell phones or mp3 players. The ones who aren't involved there are watching Grey's Anatomy or Family Guy on one of the flat panel televisions hanging from the ceiling. (I, of course, already checked and found out that Grey's was a rerun, otherwise, yes, I would be there too.) It's distressing.

It is distressing, well, and exciting I guess. Sort of exciting because from that first paragraph you thought I could have been talking about Bryant Park. But, from the rest of this, it's clear that it isn't a park. And, even if it was, do you think it would really be any different? We're not in tune with each other anymore as people. We would rather all turn on our electronics and "talk" to someone who isn't even here or play tetris again than actually try to become involved with someone else in the room.

"Of course, Beedow, you're such a hypocrite! You complain about the inhumanity and non-connectedness of this world, and here you are, sitting in the middle of it all."

I agree, o sage master. To combat this, I think fate dealt me a little jab. The woman next to me sneezed. I said, "bless you." She said, "thank you." Just a little humanity, folks, that's all I'm asking.

Tomorrow, how I stoped thinking and wound up not at the airport ninety minutes before my flight. Whoops!

Do Mi Sol

In other parts of the world, people go on with there humdrum lives and never realize certain things. Here A(t) (j)OE'S, we try to bring to light life's little curiosities for your pleasure.

So, I'm in rehearsal for this children's musical. It's fine, it's fine, whatever, no biggie. But I have spent all week with these repetitive musical phrases, and then I come home and find myself swimming in the lyrics and melody lines. AHHHHHH! Get out of my head. They're there when I shower, when I eat, when I think, when I sleep, when I wake up, when I am writing this ...

So, mister and missus scientists out there, why is it that these damnable songs won't leave my friggin' skull? Get out! Go away! Never come back because I hate you.

Gluttony

Today, I wasn't going to buy anything.

Instead, I bought a snickers bar. A big one. And ate the whole thing.

Worse, I'll probably go home and eat nachos. Or oreos. Or ice cream.

Spring Fling

So sue me, it's getting longer and longer between posts. Alas, the tasks and toils of this thing we call LIFE have gotten to me and keep me otherwise occupied, which is not always a bad thing, nor, however, is it always a good thing. In either case, I'm here now for you, and what a day (!) we had, am I right?

The weather was gorgeous ... what I like to call coat-less, pant-less weather. That's right. I wore short pants and short-sleeved shirts today. It was lovely. I opened the windows in the apartment and a breeze flowed through. I was scheduled only one day at work this week, and the majority of auditions are finishing up for the summer season these weeks, so things are winding down. I was finally able to sleep in today, and I did -- until noon. I had lunch, cleaned my room, went to an audition, came back, cleaned some more, went to rehearsal, came back, cleaned some more and now I'm writing about it for you.

It's what they call spring cleaning. I wish I could call it a spring fling rather than clean, but you know how things go. I put on my iPod playlist called "Public," which is the one I use when I'm somewhere someone says, "hey Beedow, play your iPod for us." It contains generally acceptable music in the public lexicon of musicology, and actually is perfect for a warm breezy day. It reminds me of our drives in the van last year on the road -- a little Mayasiahu or however the heck one spells that.

Horns are blaring outside, people yelling, and it's a fantastic soundscape.

I'm excited this week -- at the possibilities unfolding in the future. I've got a couple great things in the works and others are just waiting to bust at the seams, all of which would make me happy and could keep me employed theatrically through a year from now, so cross your fingers. Surprises, seals, stories and songs are swell, so some say.

Guns on the Street

So... I've given up on the story here, at least for a while. The whole point of writing them was to have a soapbox on which to write about the insane presence of armed police officers in Times Square last week. I don't know, maybe they're always there, but usually avoid the area like the PLAGUE!!!!!! and don't know what happens there daily. In any case, twice last week I had to walk through and past the clusters of cops with big guns, dogs, and the like. WHAT?

What sort of country are we living in? Do we really need that? Were they just protecting me that day? From harmless bums on the street? Or was it because they were concerned Iran might decide to bomb us? And if so, what good were their guns going to be? Hrmph. Either was, I was put-off by them.

Have a safe week.

Our Story 2

He was moving briskly in what is perhaps the busiest intersection in the world, or maybe just one of the most famous, or more likely, he just made those ideas up because he wanted to feel more important that he already was. Well, not that he was very important in the first place, but, well, you get the idea.

He felt like he had grown old in this place, this juncture of time and space, and didn't want to accept the fear that his time might be coming to an end. "Watch out jerkface!" a foreign cabbie hollered at him just in the nick of time--our hero managed to twist his body into a sideways horseshoe and not get struck by the yellow vehicle.

"Who uses the term jerkface?" our hero pondered, this time a few steps back from the path on oncoming traffic.

Our Story Begins... 1

He rolled over to the familiar sound of the alarm clock stutter and grumbled before squeezing all the buttons to make it stop and pounding his head into the pillow for eight more minutes.

Then, more beeping, this time more arresting than the last. "But, it's still dark," he thought. Usually by the time the buzzer went off, rays of light were pouring through the shades. He purposely left them open before falling asleep so the sunlght would help wake him up. Not that it ever did. But today, it certainly didn't.

At six thirty, he [our hero] finally fell out of bed and showered. There was no time for much else, as today was the day he planned to get out of the house earlier than usual. Today was the day he was going to take over the world singlehandedly, and noone was going to stop him.

Of course, as these things do happen, he was inevitably stopped almost immmediately upon arrival. The doors were locked and there was already a line of hero-wannabes waiting. By the time he made it inside and signed his name to the two all-important lists of his choosing, he was number seven (on one) and eleven (on the other).

A short train ride away, hundreds more were doing the same thing at other buildings and on other lists, but how was our hero to know? He thought it best to do it his way, like Burger King or Robert Frost, and wasn't ashamed of it either. In fact, he smiled that familiar smirk of his and wondered if he would ever be as famous as either one. He figured probably not and kept walking.

Busy

Good thing I stopped this blogging bananza. Since I've stopped, I would have been failing anyway I've been so busy these past few days, and I see no sign of it letting up on the horizon either. Luckily, I have a couple hours in the middle of my day today to come home and put my feet up.

Problem is, I've been sitting here for five minutes now and can't think of a blasted thing to say. Tomorrow afternoon and evening look free for now, so I'll plan to fill you in on something newsworthy then. Until then, I'll just say there's some sort of sore in my mouth on the right cheek behind my back teeth. And gosh it hurts.

$ob $tory

What's the deal with money? Everything is so expensive nowadays.

I begrudgingly went to my audition this morning for a theatre I've been told never to work for, and they didn't even give me a callback. BAM! Ridiculous. So, I then meandered through the city trying to decide what to do next. I ended up spending about $80 in the next few hours, on simple necessities.

Stamps
Oh brother. Remember when first class stamps used to be like $23 cents? Sheesh. I bought two books of postcard stamps today because I just ordered some postcards with my picture on them to send out to casting people to remind them who I am, right? Well, it now costs $0.24 to send a postcard. That's almost a quarter! Are you kidding me? It's insanity. And don't try to send out a headshot to anyone or it'll cost you upwards of sixty cents -- $0.63 to be exact. And for cripes sake, I send out a bunch of them every week. No wonder I don't have any money. And, I had to stand in line for about twenty minutes to spend $22 on postage.

Vitamins
I went to replenish my supply of multivitamins, supplements and the like at GNC, using my member card. Now, thank goodness I have that, because I saved just under ten dollars today because of it. However, is it really fair to charge me thirty bucks for 180 vitamins? Of which, of course, I have to take two a day. So that's 30 bucks to get me through 90 days... which turns out to be $0.33 repeating each day for multivitamins. Oh brother.

Groceries
Come off it! There is no way I should have to spend over thirty dollars on orange juice, tomatoes, bread, mac&cheese, soup, apples, oranges, bread, cheese and turkey. For crying out loud! I just need to survive here. But, $35 later, the kind man who didn't speak my language (which is FINE! ... for today at least) just didn't have enough smile to make it worth it.

Finale Ultimo
What makes the whole tragedy sad, though, is the simple notion that I CAN'T AFFORD ALL OF THIS. I'm an actor. Which means my days are full of auditions. Which means my nights are full of rehearsals. Which means there is no time for a real job. Which means I can't make any money. Which means the jobs I do have a few and far between. Which means I now am beginning to realize why they came up with the whole starving artist mentality. I guess I'll just have to stop buying things, stop auditioning, get a job in a cubicle somewhere, begin hating my life and then be able to buy things again which won't make me happy anyway because I'm stuck in corporate America doing something I don't want to be doing next to fifty other people who feel the same way and are just spending their time updating their myspace profile on the boss's dime....

Love and peace. Beedow.

Limp as a Puppet and Simply Fantastic

I feel twitchy and bitchy and manic ... but alive / I feel wicked and wacky and mello ... / Partly Jane Fonda and partly Jane Austen, but alive! That's the thing! Alive!

First off, name that musical and who sang the song originally.

Secondly, it is so refreshing and freeing to not even think about this blog or dream about it or worry about it or whatever. I feel free (oh, what a word, oh, what a word!) and alive! So, let me fill you in on my week.

I saw an ambulance trying to get down the avenue, and wowza! what a terrible time it had. You'd think people would be empathetic enough to get out of the way of an ambulance. But no. Instead, watch them cut and dart in front of it, take long turns in its path, and otherwise try to block it just so said car can make the light or get to the liquor store before it closes. Come on! Get out of the way of your friendly, caring neighborhood emergency vehicles.

The New York lottery is over 275 million dollars this week. Two friends and I purchased tickets and agreed to give each other $500,000 each if any of us win. That's kind. What I couldn't do with $500k. Jeepers.

I saw the final dress rehearsal of Terrence McNally's SOME MEN last night off-Broadway. Despite the nudity, I enjoyed the production immensely. I think McNally brought up an array of valid arguments and points, and presented them to us without shoving them down our throat like another playwright may have. I recommend it.

My roommate has hooked me on LOST. Now, I realize a lot of people are hooked, and have been for three seasons now... as long as I've been wowing about GREY'S. But, for whatever reason, I never got involved until now. Let me say, all of you who were blinded as I was and haven't yet joined the ranks of those who adore this show, go to your nearest neighborhood video store and purchase seasons one and two on digital-video-disc and watch them all as fast as you can. Of course, I'm only halfway through season one, but it is just DYNAMITE. I'm loving it and actually think about it while I'm away all day... can't wait to get home and pop in another DVD.

Lastly, there was a brilliant ad in this week's Village Voice for a bar offering BORAT giveaways. Made me laugh. Check it out, it's in the bottom right hand corner of the right page... don't know the page number though.

Have a lovely weekend. I'll check in soon.

Norma's Back at Last

Some days, a person just feels complete, you know? For me, it was today. And lately, I guess, in general. I think it's this city. There's something electric about it that I can't escape, and I don't think I really want to. It's so wonderful.

Today, Millie and I went to see the matinee of the Durang/Melnick musical ADRIFT IN MACAO at Primary Stages at 59E59. I saw the production back in its Philly tryout and enjoyed it. I think I enjoyed it a lot more there, even though here my seats were significantly better, and cheaper. Either way, it is still so fun, and Michelle Ragusa is a dynamo: there's no stopping her, and it's so exciting to see such a fabulous performer onstage.

Anyway, my point. I was reading the program, thinking "oh, Alan Campbell is in this." (He's the original Joe from SUNSET BLVD on Broadway.) Literally thirty seconds after I mentioned it to Millie, I turned to see who was walking up the aisle to sit in the pair of empty seats next to me, and it was none other than Glenn Close. GLENN CLOSE. Next to me. Immediately in the seat beside me. Her knee was touching mine.

Some backstory and facts:

1. the first CD I ever purchased was the American premiere recording of SUNSET starring Glenn Close and Alan Campbell. Today, I sat next to her and we both watched his performance.

2. As a kid, I loved the circus. In college, I got to play the lead in BARNUM which starred Glenn Close and Jim Dale. Today, I sat next to her.

3. A few weeks ago, I made banana bread for a Tony winner. Today, I sat next to one.

4. Years ago, I saw Betty Buckley perform a concert from the fourth row. She replaced Glenn Close in SUNSET.

5. Alan Campbell and Lauren Kennedy made their Broadway debuts in SUNSET. Now they're married.

6. Elaine Page was a replacement Norma in SUNSET. Now, she's a replacement Chaperone in London's DROWSY. I saw Page perform SWEENEY with the NYC Opera (in 2003?). I sat next to the original Norma today. I made banana bread for the original Chaperone a couple weeks ago.

7. AND, if I'm not mistaken, I saw STUDIO 60's Sarah Paulson at work yesterday. Those lips are unmistakable.

8. This is too much. New York is grand.

An Open Letter to the Sun

Dear Mr Sunshine:

It has been a long time since we've seen each other, and I just wanted to thank you for shining this afternoon. I spent the morning in an audition studio and when I emerged, like a butterfly from a cocoon, I smiled at your warmth. In fact, I decided not to even cross the street where I should have so that I could spend another few blocks in your rays.

I look forward to seeing you again soon. Maybe we could continue this friendship into next week.

Yours,
Beedow

Failure = Success

It was inevitable, I guess. There's only so much a dog can take, you know? And I guess this was it. A few days shy of three months, and I lost it. My brain stumbled, and actually began to think of other things. But, there's no excuse, I failed again.

Maybe it's for the better. I decided to observe some Lenten obligations beginning yesterday, and I fasted. Let me tell you, I was STARVING. But it felt good knowing that I didn't eat an entire bag of chips before I went to bed like usual. And, I am on day five of my before-bed-better-belly-brigade. So, perhaps I was spending my time thinking about other things and just figured that there was no need to remember (j)OE'S.

Either way, I'm not going to get myself down. I'm excited about my new found freedom, the endless possibilites that await me now that I'm no longer tied to a daily writing routine here at (j)OE'S.

Now, I know some of you will be angry, and think I've failed. But what is failure? To me, it's not completing a project you set out to do ... well, OK, then I guess I have failed. But, perhaps we should measure the success I've encrued while failing. I've gotten back into blogging, and have had something to keep me busy daily. Last night, as I was drifting off to sleep and realized I hadn't posted, I make the conscious decision to let it go. It's fine. Let it go.

From now on, I'll try to post regularly, but am not going to stress about it. Take this as an opportunity for you too to let some stress go, release yourself from the shackles of yesterday and go fly a kite.

(Name the two musicals for extra points ...)

Laundry in the Afternoon

I was just doing some laundry this afternoon. Minding my own business. When I took note of instruction numero uno on the dryer:

1. Check inside of machine for children, pets or other foreign objects.

What?! Check inside the dryer for children? And pets? I think I'd notice immediately when I looked at the dryer, since there's a glass door on it, if a child or an animal were inside, wouldn't I? Wouldn't you?

And what makes the instruction-writer automatically assume that only foreign children and pets are likely to crawl inside a dryer, whose opening is perched approximately four feet off the floor? Why couldn't they be indiginous children or pets?

And who brings their kids or dogs to the laundromat (there's that blasted word again) anyhow? That's what nannies and pounds are for. Call a sitter, latch your adorable drooling pooch to the lamppost and wash your stockings. Don't subject the kids to waiting around in the oven-like room of washers and dryers. They don't want to be there and you don't want them there. Plus, since they're technically not allowed to play inside the dryer, it's no fun for them.

Hmm. Actually, there weren't any signs that said not to allow your children or animals (or other foreign objects) inside the dryer. The sign just said to check for them. Maybe you should check to make sure they're there. Or, because most children actually do play inside of them, you should check in case you've lost yours.

Also, there were no similar signs on the washing machine. So, by the sin of omission, I guess it's technically permitted to not check the washing machine for children, pets or other foreign objects. Which therefore means it is generally accepted to let them stay inside the washing machine throughout the complete cycle.

I don't really think we should do that, though. Because they could drown. Or, they might look like prunes when they come out. Worse, how would we best dry them? We know they're not allowed in the dryer, so we'd have to go back home and get a towel.

That's why I don't have kids.

Or pets.

Or other foreign objects.

President's Day

Or is it Presidents' Day? Or perhaps Presidents Day? Even the New Yorker don't have a clue. Wow.

Anyway, BONE CHILLING today here in the Big Apple. Ridiculous.

I was up and out of the house early today, in order to signup and try to be seen for three different auditions. I was seen for two of them, and one callback! Zinga! Also, what's amazing... is I saw at least seven people I knew today. One in an elevator, others in jam-packed holding rooms, or walking down the street. It is amazing that in a city so dense, a person can always find someone he knows. Wowza.

And now off to see Mr Sorkin's bombing backstage boobtuber.

Origins

I feel like I once wrote a post titled Origins already, but, here goes again... I've been asked by two readers about my namesake, and so I figured today would be as good a time as any to divulge.

In fourth grade, I was taking a test and finished early, so I had some time on my hands. I looked around the room and remember locking into the alphabet displayed across the top width of the chalkboard -- you know, that cursive correct-form alphabet that no one actually still uses once they pass the fourth grade? Anyway, I started combining letters and resulted in:

ZACKMANBEEDOWLOW

It turned into the name of a comic book character I only slightly developed. He looked like this guy to the left. What followed was zilch, however, and I never actually created anything past a name and a face.

However, when my family got the internet during my seventh grade year, America OnLine was the big name in service. Those three telephone numbers, all of which were usually busy, resulted in a person spending up to thirty minutes or so just to actually connect to the 'net. Once on, of course, it took just loads of time to actually complete a task as simple as checking email, or seeing a website. Goodness, it was so long ago and so slow ago. Either way, when we got AOL, I was able to choose a username. I chose Beedow, which, as you may have already surmised, is an abbreviated nickname derived from the aforementioned moniker.

Flash forward to the present time. I use Beedow as a nom de plume and am consistently referred to by this pseudonym on the world wide web.

Office Post 2

B-O-R-I-N-G-!

I have literally exhausted every idea I have on internet surfing today. I read an entire magazine (Nov '06 edition that I finally had an opportunity to read), but can't fathom reading another issue. I've responded to all my outdated emails, and even sent myself five emails. I've watched narcoleptic dogs on youtube and made mental notes of my friends' birthdays on myspace.

I don't know what to do anymore. No one calls here! Ahhhhhhhh!

Live, from the Office

Today's a biggie, folks. It's my first post from work. That's right, I've entered the high-paced, fast-moving life of the standard American workforce. And, because of that, I have LOTS of free time to write, read, sing, dance, and be generally useless during the day while making my meanial wage.

I'm excited to bring you all into my daily life, and offer wisdom from the computer here at work while I should be doing other things. Or, should I? What else should I be really doing? Should I try to read all of the papers posted around the office? Should I close my eyes and try to complete my tasks as if I were a sight-impaired individual?

No, of course not. I shouldn't be doing anything else. And, I'm happy to have figured it out. I don't owe anyone anything more than I'm giving. I just hope this computer isn't bugged and they're not reading everything I'm writing.

Belated V-Day Poem

In lieu of an actual post tonight, simply because I'm wraught over the episode of GREY'S ANATOMY that aired, I will just post this little video. A belated Valentine to all y'all. She's funny!

Valentine's Snow

What happens in New York when it snows?

It takes longer to walk everywhere because of the buildup of snow on the corners, on the curb, off the curb, in the median, on the steps, around the wall, et al. Today was a mess in the city. Phew.

That's all. Happy VDAY.

Only Downhill from There

Before my day became perhaps one of the worst ever (long story, but maybe I should consider changing careers), it was essentially fantastic! I worked, I did some time at the library, I had a fantastic audition, saw Millie for coffee, and then I was having dinner.

At dinner, my new favorite place ever (CHICKEN BAR on 45th and 8th), I was sitting, having a Number 3 (crispy chicken, lettuce, tomato, mayo, honey mustard, fries, and coke -- with ice) and looking out the window down 45th street. The lights were glowing, the traffic bustling, the people moving. And these girls were stopped waiting to cross the street. And one looked at me, and then said something to her friend who then also looked at me. I, of course, looked away because I figured they must be mocking me for having hat hair, or mayo on my chin or something. But when I looked back, one blew me a kiss and crossed the street.

(and then later, I saw her friend give her ten dollars)

OUCH

Why do some nights, people sleep weird and then their body is sore? I don't get it, but I guess last night I slept in a wonky way because my right shoulder is KILLING me today. Hrmph.

Anyway, if you're a medical doctor, or a person of spiritual medicine, please contact me.

She was wearing a cute blue hat.

It's amazing how, in a city of 8.1 million (or 18.7 if you include the surrounding areas), it's still easy to see someone you know or recognize almost daily. Today, after quite a bout with the drink last night and having succumbed to its day-after queasiness, I made my way in to rehearsal on the Q train. Why the Q? Because this weekend begins a lot of crazy maintenance work on the tracks, and the Q was going in and out of Queens all weekend.

Anyway, at 5th Avenue, Michele Ragusa quickly stepped on, and made her way to the very front of the car. Now, this woman, you will remember, is the one I raved about in last season's Philly production of ADRIFT IN MACAO. She spent a couple months in the Queen City last season doing BAD DATES and now is in the big city to do the off-Broadway mouting of MACAO. And not a soul on the train clammored after her for a photo or autograph.

Now here is a woman who is making a very decent living as an actress, and yet, is still anonymous enough to be able to ride the train and not be worried about anything. Of course, maybe that has to do with New Yorkers not caring about anyone or anything. Or, the fact that no one on the train goes to theatre. Or, maybe they just thought she was terrible and didn't want to say anything. But most likely, it's just that they didn't know she was anyone special, and let her be.

That's what's nice. I like that feeling where a person can be onstage and so special under the lights and in front of the applause, and then walk out the stage door, scurry into the front car of the Q train and blend into the city and no one is the wiser.

Also, if anyone can find me the photo of Ms Ragusa from the Feb 12 issue of THE NEW YORKER (p6), I'd be grateful. I can't seem to find it online.

I'm So Glad I Came

ONE: I saw the Encores! production of FOLLIES Thursday night at City Center (apparently Steve and Hal were both in the house that night as well, albeit in closer seats than my second-to-last-row-humdinger). Brantley is spot on in his review. It was epic, magnificent, and gorgeous. Musically astounding, emotionally wretching, personally inspiring ... it didn't stop for the whole two-and-a-half-hours. And, throw in the dream team of Vicki Clark, Donna Murphy, and Casey Nicholaw, there's no turning back: we're in whole-hog, and happily rolling around in the mud.

It was something to it there and listen to these extraordinary voices sing these delicious songs and receive enormous amounts of applause. I was sure the entire show was going to stop a few times, notably after "In Buddy's Eyes," "Losing My Mind," "Could I Leave You?," and "The Story of Lucy and Jessie." No surprise here, those were the four solos by Ms Clark and Ms Murphy.

TWO: I met a certain actress last night, backstage at a certain broadway show and presented her with a certain baked good. It was brilliant. And she was just delightful, and beautiful, and so kind.

Skate Spectacle Skeptical

Late last month, a workshop of the new rollerskating tuner XANADU took place at the Minetta Lane Theatre and is currently sked'd to open in April at the Helen Hayes. Critics called the Olivia Newton-John film "the most dreadful, tasteless movie of all time," yet B'way execs think it can make it on the boards. Star Jane Krakowski decided last Friday, however, to pull out of the planned mounting to stick with the boob-tube laugher, 30 ROCK, for which she's obviously raking in a lot more green.

Sources were quoted in the POST saying "I don't see how they can do it without her. She's the show." It makes one wonder if the show that'll try to forgive STARLIGHT EXPRESS for ruining skates and stages will be able to get itself together for those harsh critics in that big apple sans Krakowski. We'll see. The book is being fixed by Douglas Carter Beane, currently rep'd on Bway with gay romp, THE LITTLE DOG LAUGHED. Auditions are happening now, and official rehearsals will most likely begin shortly, however, actors already associated with the project have been taking skating lessons into their own hands.

But, hell, wouldn't that be something? To have to turn down an above-the-title role in a new Bway smash (well, probable failure?) to do television? Sheesh. And I have yet to be able to turn down non-paying, way the hell off-off Broadway shows.

Directions Anyone?

Check this place out: hopstop.com.

It speaks for itself once you get there. It's a MapQuest for those of us using public transportation. There's nothing like it. It makes me happy. It gets me excited. It delivers me to my destination. What else is there?

Yucky Murakami

When I was in Chicago, I began my as-yet-quite-short relationship with mister Haruki Murakami by was of Frank Gelati's adaptation (and brilliant staging) of after the quake. That was fall of ought-five. I read that series of short stories in spring ought-six, and now have just completed his Kakfa on the Shore.

In a sprawling, mystical tale, we meet Kafka, his conscience, his "mother," his "sister," his father, his father's killer, and a few other assorted characters along the way. It's a terrifying Oedipal story of love, loss and memory.

I say terrifying because it is. For the reader as well as our fifteen-year old runaway, Kafka. It's unbearable for about 40% of the 400 page novel, in that it's so egregiously graphic and excessive. I'm actually cringing writing this right now.

Of course, some of it is quite interesting, especially if you just give up the real world and let Murakami's crazy magical world live. It's fine, but I'm glad I've finished and can move on to Crichton's newest, Next.

Required Wall Art

Don't be upset. These are not some stock images I'm simply grabbing from some major corporate site. In fact, these are my own creations, beautious as they are. This is giving me inspiration already, I can feel it.

What I See

So, Beedow is going to start a series of photographic posts while he thinks of something to say.

Bumpkis

What is it with life, huh?

So, I've got this friend, let's call him Bumpkis. OK, so Bumpkis can go through one week feeling really well, and then the next week maybe he'll be down. Or, then maybe he'll have a good day and then a bad day. But what about having like a good morning, a weird afternoon, a strange evening and then a lousy night? How does life do that?

I can't ... um, strike that. Bumpkis can't figure it out. Mood shifts, emotional swings, feeling alterations... what the heck he wonders? Why can't he just be happy all the time? Why does he have to beat himself up when things aren't perfect? Hasn't he figured out yet that life, like his namesake, can be bumpkis sometimes? Dull, boring, terrible, lousy, unfeeling, ineffective, irrational, stupid, difficult, crazy, insane, problematic, unseemly, depressing, poopy ... the list goes on. But, othertimes, everything can be sunny, cheery, warm, wonderful... hmm, that's a significantly shorter list.

Anyway, he just needs to eat some pizza, watch some futbol and take a siesta and start the week over again tomorrow. Thank goodness for Mondays.

PS: He doesn't even care about futbol.

...

I nearly forgot to write anything here today, it was such a relaxing afternoon and evening. I think this whole Project 365 is stupid and pointless. I should just write when I have something to say instead of forcing myself to write crapola like this for y'all to read, which you don't even want to because it's not worthy of reading even.

Alas, poor Blog, I knew it well.

No Shadows Here

Phil didn't see his shadow this morning, and come to think of it, neither did I as I walked around the corner to do some laundry earlier today. It's an early spring -- which means things are looking up. It's a grand way to begin a new year. Of course, today is the real new year's day for me and Phil, who both consider this date probably the most important on the calendar. I mean, if it weren't for this date, neither of us would be who we are today.

I'm now about thirty minutes into my twenty-fourth year of life. It's exciting. Birthdays are always nice, because you see who really cares a lick about you. I got some early morning phone calls today from some friends, a bunch of texts, and a gaggle of messages on my myspace and facebook "walls." Of course, technology nowadays tells us immediately whose birthday it is, so it's no big deal to actually remember it or worry about forgetting someone's. Which, I guess, is nice because it allows the birthday boy (or girl or groundhog) to feel worth. Which is a good thing.

So, today I feel like a million bucks, and gosh darn it, I look like it too!

Drink, Drank, Drunk

So, I was going to write a post tonight about my last thoughts on being 23. But, instead, after getting out of rehearsal fifteen minutes early, I actually made it to the grocery store before it closed, and purchased beer, bread, and potato chips. Then, I came home and watched by DVR'd GREY'S ANATOMY and THE OFFICE while consuming said chips and beer (four of them). So, I cannot really speak coherently for what twenty-three was like. Twenty-four, however, is coming in like a lion, and I expected nothing less.

More when soberness hits me like a train.

WheNever Trains

damn traffic. i thought nyc was supposed to eliminate traffic congestion right? i mean, in the subways at least. that's why i don't have a car, because it's easy and fast to get around on the subway. not today! how about adding an extra thirty minutes onto what is normally a twenty-five minute ride? sheesh. i ended up getting off a stop early and walking... and when i got there, along came the people who had waited and just gotten off. so, i made the same amount of time and got a little exercise out of it.

tomorrow, thoughts on the last moments of age twenty-three.

Let's Just Laugh to Ourselves

...so goes the line of dialogue in COMPANY, now playing at Broadway's Barrymore Theatre.

It's fine. It's a John Doyle show, and I had a really hard time with SWEENEY, and COMPANY too seems just out of place. These people interacting and living while carrying their instruments... musicians, don't freak out! I know you can speak and hold your trumpet at the same time, but you don't always carry your trumpet around with you, do you? Like, to a one-night-stand? Or your flute to a park?

Anyway, the best scenes were had when there were no annoying pieces of brass to get in the way. Angel Desai (as Marta) was far and away the greatest thing on that stage. Her "Another Hundred People" was full of intrigue, compassion, understanding, development, color, creativity, et al. She knew what she was singing about and made it very clear. And she was able to have fun doing it -- go figure!

Barbara Walsh did as fine a job as she could with Stritchy's tune, which, let's face it, no one is going to master in any way close to the best. At least she did something different and tried. Plus, wouldn't it be just great to drink like Joanne does? Goodness, that looked fun.

Mr Esparza did fine work as well. He has such a lovely character and quality to his voice, but it evoked, at least in my mind, so much TICK, TICK ... BOOM! that it was distracting. It's OK. I'll get over it. He deserves me getting over it. His "Marry Me a Little" was lovely, and after he got through that trying, stunted first half of "Being Alive," well... he sure sang it out, Louise.

Perhaps part of my dislike of the whole thing was the decision to not let the audience applaud -- not that we would have anyway, maybe, but still. Why couldn't we applaud for "Another Hundred People" or "The Ladies Who Lunch"? It's unfair to make us sit there without a release... maybe they should have served complimentary vodka stingers. Now that would have been a release.

And... does Fred Rose remind you of John Michael Higgins.










Also, Robert Cunningham looks (looks only) like a younger Joel Grey.

no human contact no more

Technology is something, isn't it?

I spent some time today sorting out my online finances. It turns out, I can transfer funds electronically, not just from my checking to my savings account, but also from a totally separate banking institution's checking account. Just with an arsenal of routing and account numbers, my passwords and some glue, one can easily click money from place to place.

It's something. It's something that we can actually accomplish so much across these invisible waves of the web. I am doing some freelance design work right now, and am actually doing the designs and getting paid for them all across the 'net, without ever having to see a person. OK, well, that's a lie. I'm meeting the guy to get paid in cash, but, I could have done it across the net.

It's brilliant. It's my goal. You know, to make enough money to pay all of my bills and never have to change out of my pajamas.

Korean Delicacies

I at kimchi for the first time tonight.

Spoilers Ahead.

I watched THE UPSIDE OF ANGER half last night and half this morning. One word=insane. The guy blows up at the dinner table! The husband didn't go off to Sweden with his secretary, he fell down a well in the back yard. Huzzah! it's hysterically flawed and fatal, and yet, I watched the whole thing.

I then proceeded to spend most of the day in my pajamas, singing in my bedroom at the top of my lungs. Now I'm hungry so I'll eat something, and then I'll probably drink something tonight since I have off until dinner time tomorrow night.

Anybody got a job for me that pays extraordinarily well and doesn't require me to keep regular hours? How could I not have gotten hired? I applied for this job this week, and apparently didn't get it. Come on! I even had an in. What've they got that I ain't got? Oh well. They'll eat their shorts next week when I'm on the silver screen next to Mr MacGuffin.

EPAs

There's nothing like wasting time.

Yesterday, I went to an EPA for BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, and didn't get seen. So, today, I decided to get up with the sun (well, ok, I was half an hour later than usual), and go to two other EPAs, one at Actor's Equity and another at another audition studio, about two avenues and nine blocks away.

The air was fuh-reezing. Absolutely bone chilling, and I had to make the walk about 5 times or so.

And, I didn't get seen for either call. No matter that I had prepared in a flash a James Taylor tune. No matter I don't have a real job so that I can spend my days sitting in hallways on hard benches and not even get a chance to audition for the role I won't get. Oy!

So, tomorrow I might get up and do it again, or I might not. We'll see.

So sleepy . . .

Denver, Brock and JJ put smiles on my face tonight when I saw your love. What, with a comment-free week, what was Beedow to expect? More is the answer. And now I got more.

So, I'll give more. My 25 days into the New Year resolution is to give more. Starting tomorrow.

Hiatus?

I spent lunchtime passing out postcards in an undisclosed location in an undisclosed city today.

[full disclosure:] Amazing how nice a lot of New Yorkers are. Instead of just walking by or ignoring me (like I would have done if the roles were reversed), many said "no thank you" and actually smiled at me. BRILLIANT.

Oh brother, I need to start writing more interesting things. Or at least having more interesting things happen in my life. Perhaps I should put 365 on hiatus until I come up with something of value.

Don't blow your socks off

Okay, crazies, let's not sneeze over everything and start sobbing into our downstairs neighbor's coat rack. Dreamgirls didn't deserve an Oscar nom, that's why it didn't get one! Bam. But can't wait for Ellen's take on things Feb 25th!

In other, and frankly, more life-important news, on my midday trip home today, the N train stopped on the tracks for, oh, about twenty freaking minutes while "workers [repaired] the tracks directly in front of this train." Goodness. And then, it decided to automatically become express, bypassing four stations it normally stops at. Whazzup wit dat?

Pooped

I'm wiped out. And need sleep. Tomorrow's a long day.

And, the subways smelled particularly of trash and general grossness tonight.

And, I like catching the subway at 49th and 7th, right next to the new Hawaiian Tropic Restaurant. Most of the glass windows have enormous draperies blocking the inside view, but at the corner, as one heads down the steps into the subway, one can catch glimpses.

...but where did he get the book from?

I was walking down Broadway at 108th street this afternoon on my way from a reading to a rehearsal. I passed a guy sitting next to a table of books. One caught my eye, as I turned back to him, asking how much.

"Which one?"
"This one," I pointed to Michael Crichton's NEXT.
"Uh, eight dollars."
"Eight?!"
"Come on, you know that's his newest book. It's $29.95 in the store."
"Nevermind. Not for eight bucks" I mutter and proceed to cross the street. Half way across the street, I turn back and re-approach the man. "OK, you got me."
"You would've got yourself if you didn't take this book," he quipped.

So, now I have Crichton's newest on the shelf, waiting for me to finish Murakami's meandering story about a boy named Kafka, children mysteriously falling down and losing consciousness in the forest, and a man who talks to cats.

blue now red, what will they think of next?

What's up with that crazy thing called myspace? Those of you who aren't on it, get it. Those of you who are, riddle me this: why all of a sudden are the links in bright red "ink" instead of the standard internet blue link color? I don't get it. I don't understand it. I just signed on the other day to a sea of red - I thought I was Ophelia, drowning in the blood of the dragon Fafner.

I Happen to Like New York

She says it all, in a 1987 rehearsal for her Carnegie Hall concert.

Another Bump in the Road

Oh, when it rains it pours. I'm in adjustment mode to this enormous, gigantic city, and I just have to keep reminding myself of that. Even though the only thing that makes me feel better are candles, chocolate and Joni Mitchell... nope, I'm still not a woman either. I'm fine, I'm just bummed. About life in general I guess. Of course, Shonda Rhimes didn't help with tonight's GREY'S episode -- ugh. I love that show. Gave me a chance to have a good cry.

On the other hand, rehearsal tonight was HYsterical, and it's for the reading I've been lukewarm about. Maybe I was just in a silly mood, but it was nice to laugh with other people. HAHA. And a pretty girl sat next to me for a while and we made music jokes (you know, "No! Not measure 23, measure 27! Ahahahahahaha!"). Oy, that's depressing now that I reread it. At least that wasn't an actual joke we laughed about -- sheesh, that would make everything terribly awful.

But, tomorrow's Friday. Which might mean drinks. Which should definitely mean drinks. Even though it's not like I've worked a full week or anything and need some sort of vacation. Quite the opposite. BUT, I am moving ahead in my endeavour (love that extra "u") to become self-employed... albeit V E R Y slowly. But if you or someone you know wants a website designed or redesigned, or needs posters, postcards, business cards, blah blah, etc., shoot me an email kiddos. beedow@gmail.com

Dear Diary

Here, now, a sort of entry perhaps I should have reserved for my locked-and-chained-pink-and-white-flowered diary:

ARGH! I'm so frustrated. I don't know what's wrong or why and it's just making me so mad. AH. OK, so, I didn't go to the audition today. In fact, I didn't go to an audition all week, and now I have to wait until Friday morning for another opportunity. And I don't know why I'm not going. Well, that's a lie. I sort of do. I'm nervous. I'm nervous to go to any audition at AEA and sit there and not be seen. WHY? For goodness sake, I should be less nervous because the odds are I won't be seen, therefore no need to be nervous. I should be nervous when I go to a non-eq call and actually am seen, because I am sucking at those and people are actually seeing me suck at those.

Of course, the hour of the morning doesn't help. If an audition starts at 9:30, and I'm told the doors open at 7:30, then I sure as hell better be there at 7:30 to get my name on the list in the hopes of possibly being seen. If I get there at 8:30, I have a zilch chance, I am assuming. Of course, in high school, I was up at 5:55am every day. But that was a long time ago.

I don't understand this. And it's frustrating because I don't have a survival job, and so all I can do it sit at home, surfing the various audition notices, trying to find out which audition I won't go to next. COME ON. I can't figure it out. And I need to stop being a baby about this and actually go. That's the only solution to not going: going.

So there. Actual insight into my life. And about twelve hours earlier than I've been posting lately. And hopefully it will make me feel better when I now go and watch my Ti-Vo'd REGIS AND KELLY or last night's infomercials. Of course, (well, maybe not of course, but truly) I am kidding. I'll now have lunch, do some reading and then head off to rehearsal.

Gracious sakes.

I never played in the dryer

I did one productive thing today, thank goodness. I discovered the local laundrymat/laundramat/laundromat (I wonder how one should spell that). I divided my clothes into three wash piles (nice clothes, whites and darks). Each wash cost only $1.25 which wasn't too bad, I thought. But, the dryer was another story.

The dryers are huge mammoth machines, so I put all my clothes into one. What can happen in a dryer anyway? I knew nothing was going to shrink. I got three quarters in (25 cents gets you eight drying minutes) before the machine started eating my quarters. It ate two of them, so I just stopped and let it run its course.

Once those 24 minutes were done, my clothes were still very wet, so I put another quarter in. GULP. Gone. So, I moved my clothes to another dryer. That machine wouldn't even take a quarter, it was jammed. So, I moved them for a third time into another machine, and put seventy-five cents in. Finally the clothes were dry.

Of course, clean clothes take up more space than dirty ones, it's true. So, my jam-packed bag of dirty laundry was now too small to fit all my clean items. So I piled my jeans on top of the bag. Of course, everything in the bag was terribly wrinkled the minute I dumped them out of the bag here at home (a quick 2 minute walk from the laundro-place). Argh. So, now I'll have to wake up early, or stay up late, or find some daytime hours to iron my clothes. QUIZ: Or wish I lived in Lake Charles, LA. Name it.

Equality Soapbox

Thanks to my DVR, I got to watch last night's episode of BROTHERS AND SISTERS tonight. I don't know why, but it struck me as a very positive episode. Positive for the country that we're living in, that apparently people are getting progressive and accepting. If a network television program (albeit in the 10 o'clock hour) can show two male characters kissing, I think we're moving forward. Probably this isn't news (I guess ELLEN did this years before, right? And I don't even know what other shows have done it... lo siento), but it struck me today.

I also saw Broadway's SPRING AWAKENING about a week ago, and it's similar. Men have been kissing (and more) on stages all over the place before, but now it's happening on Broadway, and it's grand. It's grand if only for the fact that it's equality, proof that W. isn't going to run this country into the ground.

We need to fight for equality, across the boards... race, creed, orientation, gender... we're all here and human and each should be guaranteed the rights that everyone else has. What a crazy thought that was years ago (Civil War, Women's Suffrage, Civil Rights...) and what's crazier is that today, it's still often a crazy thought. We need to respect people no matter their differences from us or others. We're all here together and we need to work together to save this planet and save ourselves from each other. If we don't start now, when will we?

So, wow. On my soapbox, and probably terribly confusing and unspecific and uncohesive and unorganized... but, you get my drift. Fight for equality, and recognize the steps that are being taken already. We just need to start jogging instead of walking.