A Six Word Review: Company

Saw it. Loved it. See it.

Best. Party. Ever.

Birthday week is going very nicely.

Some coworkers brought me a Juniors Cheesecake for lunch on Monday.

Great party Monday night. Lot's of friends (bloggers, ruggers, miscellaneous). Lots of martinis. Great gifts (actually, frakkin' amazing gifts). Showtunes. Cute guys. Fun.

And the actual birthday hasn't arrived yet.

Anyway, I thought I'd share a few of my best birthday memories from my life.

1. The year mom made me a Snoopy cake with a black gumdrop for the nose. I was probably five.

2. The year most of my friends got me Star Trek action figures.

3. My freshman year of college when I was feeling really lonely because I was celebrating my birthday by myself for the first time. There was a knock on the door and when I opened it, there was a note (like a ransom note with cut out letters) telling me to be in the lobby at 6. When I got downstairs, a group of my friends 'kidnapped' me and took me out for dinner. I still have the ransom note.

4. Buying my first "legal" bottle of booze. Peach schnapps, if memory serves. Gads.

5. Last year's awesome, awesome coconut cake.

6. Mom throwing me a surprise party that actually surprised me. I had no idea what she was up to.

What are your favorite birthday memories?

With special guest star . . .

After drinks the other night, I was thinking about what my life would be like if the world were a TV show. Truth be told, my life is entirely too boring to be a drama. Though I suppose that's a good thing considering the dramas I tend to watch (Dexter, Jericho, Law & Order, etc.) have remarkably high body counts.

So I guess by default, my life would be a sitcom.

Then it occurred to me that if I were in a sitcom, it would probably be someone else's. I might be Fred Mertz. Or maybe Sally Rogers (particularly apt, I think). But I wonder if I'd even qualify to be in the main cast like them. Maybe just a recurring character. Dr. Bombay, perhaps. Or, sticking with Bewitched, Esmerelda, the one who had a tendency to turn invisible.

So what have we learned from today's entry? First, I get maudlin when I drink. Second, I'm having doubts about my self-worth. Third, I should stop watching Nick at Night while drunk and depressed. Fourth, it's going to be one of those birthdays.

Essay Question

Chocolate Covered Mint Oreos: Proof of the Existence of a Divine and Merciful Creator?

Discuss.

School Daze

On Saturday, I'll be taking the GRE. For the record, the last time I took this particular exam was in the late '80s. On the practice exams, my verbal skills have been just peachy. My math scores, however . . . well, let's just say I'd be riding to school on the short bus. Or maybe I'd be the head cheerleader. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

I've been trying to teach myself basic math for the last few days. That explains why it is almost one in the morning and I'm just now going to bed. It also explains why I will probably be dreaming of complex fractions and geometry.

I can't wait for this crap to be over.

I love math. I really do. There is a certain beauty in the symmetry and logic of numbers. However, that doesn't help me when I can't remember how to calculate the area of a circle.

Argh.

Sorry

Sorry I haven't posted in a while. It's just that I'm horribly busy right now. Not so much with work, but with real life stuff. Things will slow down soon, but for now, I'm miserable.

Anyway, I'll write when I can.

BTW, I'm throwing myself a little birthday party at Splash next Monday (the 4th) at 6pm. Anyone interested? And yes, I'm aware that I just said I was horribly busy. But come on, if I can't take an evening to celebrate my birthday, I'll go crazy.

OMG

Now Rumsfeld has resigned.

I'm totally doing a happy dance in my office right now.

If the next announcement is that someone discovered pictures of Tom DeLay wearing women's clothing, my head will probably explode.

WOO HOO!!!!!!!

Ding Dong! The Witch is dead.
Which old Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Ding Dong! The Wicked Witch is dead.
Wake up - sleepy head, rub your eyes, get out of bed.
Wake up, the Wicked Witch is dead.
She's gone where the goblins go,
Below - below - below.
Yo-ho, let's open up and sing and ring the bells out.
Ding Dong' the merry-oh, sing it high, sing it low.
Let them know
The Wicked Witch is dead!

Rick Santorum has been voted out of office. I hope this is the first of a long string of concession speeches he will give over the course of his life.

Strangers on a Train

Based on what I saw on the train today, it appears Boyfriend 101 Guy has moved on to a new book. Another self-help book. I am intrigued.

And speaking of people who are on my train, I thought I'd introduce you to a few of the other regulars who make my life interesting during my morning commute.

Gilmore Guy - A goodlooking fellow who looks just like an older version of Matt Czuchry who plays Logan on Gilmore Girls (yes, I watch it . . . don't you judge me).

Angry Black Doug - This guy works at some delivery service and is always wearing his polyester shirt/shorts combo. I call him black Doug because he looks like a black version of Doug Heffernan the IPS delivery guy on King of Queens. I call him angry because he curses and mutters to himself whenever the train is held in the station or is delayed for any reason. If it goes on long enough, he starts yelling that he's in a hurry and he's got a job and they're making him late. Then he storms off the train at his station, shoving people out of the way. Angry Black Doug really needs to leave his house about ten minutes earlier every day. Or he needs to get laid.

Hoochie Mama - A rather zaftig woman who wears very, very, very tight low-rise jeans and works them. In her world, she is the sexiest thing there is. And I have to admire her for that.

The Redhead - He's hot. When he's on the train, he's the only person on the train.

Ms. Swan - A look-alike for Ms. Swan from Mad TV.

These are just the ones I've noticed for one reason or another.

When will it end?

You know that commercial for the fake boner pills that features the guy with the creepy smile (Smiling Bob according to the commercial) and the insipid whistled tune that goes on and on and on and on . . . ?

Well, since they show that commercial on LOGO every, I don't know, six minutes or so, it's been stuck in my head for two days. Two frakkin' days.

So today's question for my readers (yes, both of you): When you get a song stuck in your head, how do you unstick it?

Me, I normally start humming the I Dream of Jeannie theme. It bumps things out of my head, but doesn't stick. Sadly, Smiling Bob's Boner Theme seems to be impervious.

Lost

While watching Lost last night, it occured to me. I don't care anymore.

I don't care what the mystery of the island is. I don't care if Jack gets free from the Others. I don't care if Kate does/doesn't love Sawyer.

I used to really enjoy the show, but now it's like getting hit in the head with a hammer.

So until Sawyer finally power-fucks the attitude out of Jack, or Phil Silvers shows up on the island and puts on a musical version of Hamlet set to the music from Carmen, I'm done.

Go see this show

I'm reviewing this one, so I can't go into details, but it was terrific. Go see it before it closes. Marvelous horror, comedy, sex, gore, suspense, terror . . . well, Grand Guignol . . . what more needs be said?

The show is called The Blood Brothers present . . . An Evening of Grand Guignol Horror.

Sadly, it closes tomorrow (Sat. 28th).

I'm giving up

Today on the train, there was a really cute guy sitting across from me. Dark hair, thin, well-dressed, and . . . well, let's just say he had a rather impressive bulge.

He was reading this book, Boyfriend 101: A Gay Guy's Guide to Dating, Romance, and Finding True Love.

So if a cute, fit, well-dressed, hung guy can't find love . . . ?

Well, I don't want to continue that thought.

Anyway, at least there is a dating site just for me. And possibly Palochi.

Creativity

Over the last week or two, my nesting instincts have gone into overdrive. I've been unpacking boxes (one of which I'd packed in 1994 according to the papers I'd wrapped everything in), choosing paint colors, ordering furniture, that sort of thing.

Basically, I've decided that it's time to make my apartment into my home.

So I have a project for any of you who might be game.

I like to surround myself with pictures of my friends or with things that they've created. So your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to send me one of the following things:

1) A favortie photo of yourself or something that is important to you (preferably a photo that you took yourself)

or

2) A piece of art that you've made (it can be anything you like, but I have lots of small spaces to fill, so things that are postcard up to standard letter sized are best).

While you are welcome to send things to me via e-mail, I would actually prefer to get hard copies in the mail. Mostly because I'd like you to sign whatever you send me. If anyone wants my address, shoot me an e-mail.

So there you have it. I hope some of you give it a shot. I know a lot of you are extremely creative and I'd really like to have your art or photos hanging in my apartment.

I'll post pictures of anything I get in Flickr, so you can all be inspired by each other's creativity.

By the way, if anyone would like a photo or piece of art from me as a quid pro quo, I'm up for it. And at the very least, everyone who sends me something will get a (poorly) handmade Thank You card.

Huh

Well spank my ass and call me Sally. The old fogeys beat the youngsters. I'm shocked and amazed. Guile and experience beat youth and talent.

The game was brilliant, but I am so sore it isn't even funny. For me. For others, it's probably hilarious.

I pulled a muscle in my back and one in my forearm. My neck is stiff and won't bend quite right and my knees are a real mess. I also took two elbows to the head and one to the nose. No blood, though.

But I had so much fun today.

And we won.

Whee.

D'oh

One drink. A colleague was having a birthday party and I was going to have one drink then leave.

8 drinks later (3 ciders and 5 shots of vodka), I'm home, drunk, and ordering pizza. Lots of pizza.

Sigh.

Well, I'll be in great shape for tomorrow's rugby game (1 pm-ish on Randall's Island Field 19). Come for te laugh of me dragging my fat, hungover ass all up and down the pitch.

Truth is, we (the 'alumni' side) have been invited so the B-side can have one victory this year. We'll be getting our asses kicked by guys half our age.

So what? At least the drinks will be free. And if the boys on the B-side get their kicks beating a bunch of old men, well, more power to them.

Now I'm going to go watch, Dr. Who and BSG. Maybe I'll drunk dial a few of you, too.

The Rejection

This song has been in my head all day.

I just really enjoy the way the one line "I'd like to like you like you like me" sounds.

Of course, if it's still in my head by this evening I'll be sticking an ice pick in my temple, but whatever.

Busy

Been a little busy recently, so I haven't had time to post. Plus, I'm kind of lazy.

So here's a recap in reverse chron.

Lots of working out. A trip to Splash for Musical Monday. Broadway Flea Market. Rainy Days and Mondays at the Fringe Festival Encore. Oedipus for Kids at the NY Musical Theatre Festival. Work events. The Innovative Theatre Awards (an off-off Broadway award show). Drowsy Chaperone. Famous Author Rob Byrnes' book launch (go buy When the Stars Come Out).

Anyway. There you go.

Tagged

Sherry tagged me with a meme where you post five things to do in your city. Well, hello, I live in New York. There are probably indigenous people in the heart of the jungle who can come up with five things to do in New York. So I think I will make it more interesting by coming up with five things to do in my neighborhood of Astoria.

1. Visit the Socrates Sculpture Park.

2. Have a beer or eight at the Bohemian Hall and Beer Garden.

3. Stalk a cute cub.

4. Visit the American Museum of the Moving Image.

5. Eat some amazing Greek food (too many restaurants to possibly link to).

So there you have it.

As for the five bloggers I'm supposed to tag, I choose Jeff, Jeff, Tuna Girl, Scott and Knottyboy.

UPDATE: Hello, visitors from the Improv Resource Center.

Yea me!

Okay, I don't want to turn this into a weight loss blog, but I figure if I mention it from time to time, I'll have more incentive to keep up the good work.

As of today, I'm down 17 lbs. Slowly but surely.

Anyway, next week I start my weight-lifting routine, which will make me thinner, but will probably slow down the actual weight loss. I'm not going to worry about it.

I've made a few deals with myself about what I'm going to do once I hit my goal weight. First, I'm going to buy some nicer clothes. Like stylish, get-laid-when-you-go-to-the-bar, designer clothes. I'm tired of looking schlumpy.

And I'm getting a tattoo. I'm thinking of a double ouroborus (two entwined snakes in a circle, each one with the other's tail in its mouth). And maybe a second one which would be a celtic cross, if I don't cry like a little girl when I'm getting my first one. (Speaking of which, do any of you remember the episode of "Bosom Buddies" where Tom Hanks decides to get a tattoo to impress the girl that he likes? If you do, his reaction when the needle touches his skin (about 2:27 in the video clip) is what I fear my reaction will be.)

Anyway, that's majorly putting the cart before the horse. But it's fun to have a goal in mind.

What the cool kids are doing tonight

Thursday, September 14, 2006
6:00 PM - 9:00 PM
"When the Stars Come Out": The Launch Party at VLADA
331 West 51st Street
(betw. 8th and 9th avenues)
Manhattan

Another pet peeve

Bemused - bewildered, confused or lost in thought.

Amused - entertained, mirthful.

I'm reading some gay-themed young adult novels right now (I'm trying to write one and am getting a sense of the genre). The author whose books I'm currently reading uses bemused for amused with alarming frequency.

At first, I assumed it was on purpose. After two books where he does it repeatedly, I'm thinking it's not.

Would it be tacky to e-mail him and explain the difference? Or should I just give it up since no one at Simon & Schuster seems to have noticed either.

Do you have any similar pet peeves?

UPDATE: The author in question was Brian Sloan and the books were Tale of Two Summers and A Really Nice Prom Mess. Despite the bemused/amused thing, they were both good books. Sloan manages to create characters who really sound and act like teenagers; a rarity in young adult literature (at least based on what I've read so far). And the stories are amusing on top of that. In fact, I'd love to see A Really Nice Prom Mess as a film. Read them if you're interested in the genre.

And he's also the writer/director of the film WTC View which is on Logo now. I haven't seen it yet, but I intend to. But if I hear bemused used incorrectly . . .

9/11

I wrote it four years ago, posted it a couple of years ago. I'm posting it again because I'm too tired to write anything else. I hate this day.

September Morning

There were shoes everywhere
High-heels, clunky sandals, oxfords
Scattered among the briefcases, purses, gym bags
Anything that slowed us down

We ran in stocking feet
Through glass and metal, mud and ash
Not feeling the cuts
Not noticing the blood

How could we?

When all around was fire and smoke
Paper like rain, bodies like hail
The screams, the anguish, the chaos
What was our pain compared to that?

Only later, alone at home, safe
Could we look at our feet and guiltily wonder
How could something that tears open your soul
Leave such little marks?

And we're back . . .

Great vacation, but I'm exhausted.

I had a fun time, met some really cool people, shook hands with some celebrities, totally gave in to my sci-fi geek side, and all that jazz. I also have a new answer when people ask me the weirdest place I've ever had sex. Not that anyone has ever asked, come to think of it. But I'm ready in case they do.

Update from my awesome, awesome vacation

The score:

1/1/2005-8/31/2006: 0
9/1/2006-today: 3

If you can guess what those numbers indicate, you'll understand why I don't want to come back home.

Three. Three! Three!!!!!!!!

Resistance is futile

Oh, give me a home
Where the sci-fi geeks roam
And the Borg and the Peacekeepers play
Where Babylon 5
Is forever alive
And it's always Colonial Day

Home, home at the Con
Where a costume is just de rigueur
Watch vampires pounce
And George Takei flounce
While surrounded by Southern grandeur

Yes, I am that much of a geek. I'm already planning to attend a party for GLBT Star Trek fans, a Q&A with George Romero and Sam Raimi (even with my whole zombie thing), and (frak me) President Gaius Baltar's State of the Fleet Address. I'm even toying with going to the Buffy the Vampire Slayer Senior Prom.

I suppose I should give up the hope of ever getting laid again and should move into my parent's basement. Thank God they have room for my graphic novels and action figures.

See you in a week or so. Live long and prosper.

Theatre

Last night I went to DiverseCity Theater Company's Equality Playwrights Festival at the Clurman Theatre. Four one-acts all having to do gender identity. While all four were interesting and good in their own way, one of them was pretty damn brilliant. Veils, by Joe Byers, was about a soldier in Iraq about to have his first sexual experience with a local prostitute. Given that this play is about gender identity, neither the soldier nor the prostitute is what they appear to be.

It was a great little play.

Two of the others, Onna Field by Stuart Harris, and Cold Flesh by Jorshinelle Taleon-Sonza, were okay. Interesting concepts, but I had problems with the writing. Onna Field had a lot of very stylized language that the actors seemed to stumble on from time to time. Cold Flesh had an interesting concept (a woman investigating her husband's suicide and finding out about his gay affairs), but it seemed a little too easy for the main character to find out the truth about his reasons. Imagine a Law and Order episode where the detectives ask the first suspect if he did it, and he confesses. Too much, too quickly. Maybe if it had been stretched into a full-length play and the wife had to do more digging; I'm not sure.

The final play, Clean Living by Robert Askins, was the only comedy of the evening. It took on the whole "don't ask, don't tell" issue in a new and rather amusing way. Plus, there was a naked redhead onstage the entire time, which is always a plus in my book.

In all four shows, the acting, directing and production values were strong. Well, I would have made some different choices as a director in some of the shows, but I feel that way about everything I see.

The festival runs through this weekend, I believe. If you get a chance, you should check it out.

Choices

While working out on the elliptical machine tonight, I was faced with two choices:

1) Watch the big TV screen which some mouth-breathing moron had tuned to Wife Swap;

or

2) Watch the perky asses of the hot dancer boys who were using the machines in front of me as they swayed seductively back and forth.

Wanna guess which I chose?

[title of post]

Last night I saw [title of show]. I loved it. I want to see it again and again.

A few thoughts:

1) I wish I'd written it.
2) Since I can't date Faustus (a funny, clever redhead), I want to date Hunter Bell (a funny, clever redhead).
3) The show introduced a new word into my lexicon: procrastibator. I would like that inscribed on my headstone.

Anyway, the show closes on Sept. 9th (I believe) so go see it if you haven't yet. Hell, go see it even if you have.

Help

To my readers who are (or were) in theatre: Does anyone have a translation of Pierre Marivaux's The Dispute that I could borrow?

I know it's unlikely, but I don't want to purchase one and I thought I'd try this first.

UPDATE: Never mind. The library has it. God, I love this city.

But I want it now!

So after three weeks of eating (sorta) right and working out, I'm down nine pounds.

Naturally, I'm despondent. I can't help but think that the folks on The Biggest Loser would have been down . . . I don't know . . . like 40 pounds in that amount of time.

Yes, I'm losing slowly which is better, yadda, yadda, yadda. But I want to be skinny now. Right now, this instant.

My former shrink saw unreasonable expectations as one of my problems. Gee, you think?

Anyway, we'll see how this goes.

Joke

This Hasidic Jew walks into a bar with a bright orange frog on his head. The bartender looks at him and says, "Where on earth did you get that?"

The frog answers, "Brooklyn. They're all over the place."

Ba dum bum.

My Year Sunday of New Things

As a nod to Erik's blog, I've decided to list the handful of new things I did Sunday.

1) Ate chicken feet at the Golden Palace while having dim sum with Jase, Brian and Patrick.

2) Went to Coney Island and walked the boardwalk.

3) Had pizza at Grimaldi's in Brooklyn.

4) Walked across the Brooklyn Bridge.

It was a great weekend.

Venting

How fair is it that this cat received more press than any of my friends or family who've ever passed away?

I imagine when Baby Jessica passes on, there will be a national day of prayer and the flags will be at half-staff.

Last night

When I climbed the stairs out of the subway, the first thing I noticed was the flashing light. It looked like a Hollywood premiere.

I had my umbrella, but the rain hadn't started, so I was fine. But the lightning. It was like a sci-fi movie. Jagged spears everywhere, immediate booms of thunder. People were stopped on the sidewalks looking at the clouds. A couple of people had cameras out.

By the time I'd reached my street, the lightning and thunder had me rattled. Too close, too loud. A block away from my house, the rain started. Fat, heavy drops. By the time I had my umbrella opened, it was pouring. The wind whipped the rain sideways, catching my umbrella and rendering it useless. I ran the half-block down to my apartment. When I reached the scaffolding, I was dripping wet and my shoes were filled with water.

Once safely indoors, I looked out and marveled at the rain and the wind. The streets were filled with water and leaves. The wind tore at the branches and awnings. I could hear the pings as small hailstones bounced off my air conditioner.

Needless to say, I didn't make it to the gym.

This morning I noticed that the Lutheran church across the street had been cordoned off. Safety tape around the building, wooden barriers blocking the sidewalk and part of the street. My first thought was a bomb scare. Then I noticed the twin spires at the front of the church were no longer twins. One was now shorter than the other. And large pieces of carved stone had gouged chunks out of the pavement, ripped limbs from the surrounding trees and crushed the wrought-iron fence. I don't know if it was the wind or the lightning, but it's amazing what one relatively quick storm can do.

One other thing

Re: the whole blowing up airplanes thing.

I'm not good when it comes to flying. Haven't been since I was a kid.

When I was in my 20s, I was on a plane that hit an air pocket an dropped a fairly insane distance. That made things ever so much worse. From that point, even a little turbulence could make me start to panic.

But I dealt with it.

Then came 9/11.

At that point, flying became terrifying for me. I started having panic attacks while I was flying. If I fell asleep while flying, I would wake in a panicked state, sure that we were about to crash.

Since I couldn't deal with it, I let science help me out. I started flying with Prince Valium.

Now I take my Valium and use a pair of the noise-reducing headphones with my Walkman (yes, Walkman . . . not everyone has an iPod). Flying is actually fine, and from time to time is even fun.

The events in London (real or not . . . I'll leave that to the conspiracy theorists) may have screwed that up for me. Once again, I will be very worried while I fly and there is the possibility that I will be forced to give up my music and magic headphones. I'll basically be screwed.

I can't wait for the development of transporter technology.

Pretend I wrote something clever here

Last night I went to the gym considerably later than normal. I usually come home, grab a bite, and hit the gym around 7 or so. Last night I didn't get there until 9. Little did I know that the hotties come out at night. Seriously, there was so much eye candy, my workout flew by. And redheads. There were several really hot redheads.

That's the strange thing about my neighborhood. It's hopping at night. Restaurants are always packed with people at 10 or 11 p.m. Even during the week.

Ah well, considering the number of OTB Europeans, I suppose it's no surprise. But it makes me feel tired just thinking about it.

That being said however, my new workout time is officially 9 p.m.

And speaking of douchebags . . .

I have recently returned from a trip to Jesusland where I attended my high school reunion. Twenty years on and the popular assholes are still assholes, they're just fatter and wrinkly. On the flip side, the ones who were put upon and made fun of are really blossoming. I spent the evening talking to a girl who I was in band with. She is now a chef, looks stunning and is married to a comedian/writer who has an Emmy and is about to get his own series on Comedy Central.

It was one of those karmic victories.

I hope every single one of those bitches who were mean to her back in high school were eating their hearts out. Though she did seem pleased that one of the girls actually apologized for the way she treated her.

While it would have been nice if one or two of the people who made my life miserable back then had apologized to me, I will simply take comfort in the knowledge that I have a pretty fucking amazing life.

In Vino Douchebagitas

Or as we say in English, "In wine, douchebaggery."

Sometimes, while drinking, I say things I come to regret later (or even instantly). And when I examine the situations leading up to saying something I regret, invariably, I find I have only you, my reading public, to blame.

For why were you not at the bar keeping me from drinking? Why did you not nudge me under the table and say "Dude, shut the fuck up."? Indeed, why were you not there?

"Oh," I hear you say, "I have a job and can't watch over you 24/7." "Oh," you whine, "I live across a continent/ocean." "Oh, I only read your blog every month or two."

Feh! That's right, I said "Feh!" You only make excuses because you know, deep in your heart of hearts, that I'm right.

Well, at least I can sleep easy knowing that I was not being an asshole this evening; you were allowing me to be an asshole by your negligence.

You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Pet Peeve

The following words are not interchangeable:

Blond and blonde
Brunet and brunette
Masseur and masseuse

and I'm sure I'm out of fashion with this one:

Actor and actress

Well, that's it for today.

Another meme

From Rick:

Things always in my backpack:
1. Notebook and pen
2. Umbrella
3. Checkbook
4. Business cards
5. Cell phone

Things in my wallet:
1. Receipts
2. Credit cards
3. Book/play/article ideas I've scribble on scrap paper and don't want to lose
4. Driver’s License
5. Money

Things in my fridge:
1. Hard cider
2. Jell-O
3. Apples
4. Milk
5. Two cartons of eggs that expired in May

Things in my closet:
1. My skinny clothes
2. Guest bed
3. Rugby gear
4. Ugly shoes
5. Rugs

Things in my car:
Well, my car is a subway so here goes
1. Street people
2. Fast food remains
3. Unidentifiable odors
4. People with iPods
5. Attitude

Things on my desk:
1. Monitor
2. Books
3. Pens
4. CDs
5. Broadway Bares program

Affirmations

This morning on my way into work, I ran into a co-worker. We chatted about the (horrible, disgusting) weather and she mentioned that she had an affirmation that she uses on days like this "the weather is like a hug." In effect, making something positive out of a hot, humid negative.

That led me to think that I need an affirmation. I started with "Adversity leads to growth." But that sounded too Dr. Phil.

That's when I came up with "I am a strong, black woman and ain't nobody gonna keep me down!"

That was followed by a giggle fit in the (very crowded) elevator.

Five Questions

A while back, RcktMan Rick asked me five interview questions. I'm finally getting around to answering them. You can all stop holding your breath now.

Rick is a pretty amazing guy. I wish I knew some way to ease the pain he's going through now, but the best I can do is say that he is in my thoughts. And in a break from my usual style, I'm going to try to answer these honestly as possible. I may even manage not to sound whiny or glib.

1. In one of your recent posts, you talk about being hit on at a bar, and then you list the requirements for someone to date you. All kidding aside (as I am quite sure you weren't serious when you wrote that, because in my cynical mind, I think a lot of the same things about myself), what are the REAL things that you hope for in a dating relationship?

Yep. Clearly the list was a joke, born out of all the bad relationships (real and imagined) that I've had in the past. More than anything, I just want someone who makes me want to be a better person. Not that the guy wants or needs me to be different, but that I love him so much and am so secure in our relationship that I can let go of all the baggage that I've been carrying around for so long and can be myself, whoever that may turn out to be. My great fear is that I won't find a person like that, or worse, that it's some sort of pipe dream that I've created from a steady diet of TV and movies. But I think I've seen it in some of the couples I know.

I'd also like someone who has some of the same interests I do, but different ones, too. And that he enjoys teaching me about the things he loves that I've never experienced as much as he enjoys learning from me.

And maybe someone adventurous. Not sky-diving adventurous necessarily, but more adventurous than me. Someone who would push me beyond my comfort zone and help me grow.

2. You mentioned in another post that you have dreams where you are visited by your late grandfather. I have had similar dreams as well, only they are with my grandmother. I visit her in her second to last apartment (the one I liked the best) and we just sit and talk, although I can never remember what we talk about when I wake up. What would you like to talk to your grandfather about, and why do you think he wants to talk to you?

It may sound odd, but it's not really about talking to my grandpa. It's about being around him. He gave the best hugs in the world. He's been gone for twenty years now, but I can still feel them, as though he were still here. They felt like safety and unconditional love and comfort and everything good in the world. A part of me hopes that heaven is simply that, a hug from my grandpa.

As for what he wants to talk to me about, or why I've been dreaming of him, I don't know. Could it be him (or my subconscious using him as a symbol) telling me to calm down and not worry about things in my life? Possibly. Whatever it is, I take some comfort in seeing him, even if it's just in a dream.

3. You're in the middle of a pretty intense job search right now. I feel your pain about your current job, because I have felt extremely under-appreciated for the last few years but I simply HATE the thought of having to update (in this case, re-write) my resume, hunt for job openings, and pound the pavement looking for something better. What are the three top requirements you have for a new position, and why would they help you choose whether or not the company is right for you?

Well, that has hopefully become a moot point with my decision to return to grad school. But assuming it hadn't, the main thing for me at this point is that the job be in theatre or the arts. I am so sick of working for a soulless corporation. It would be a lot less money and a lot more work, but I would love to feel passionate about my job for a change.

So, quick answer: 1) in the arts, 2) makes me feel passionate, 3) good people.

In the arts because that's my background. Makes me feel passionate because life is too short to spend 8-10 hours a day feeling miserable. And good people because I want and need to be surrounded by people like that.

4. Your blog name, Crash and Byrne, seems to be the running theme throughout your blog persona. Do you really feel that life is full of 'Crashing' and 'Burning'? How do you rebuild yourself after a 'Crash and Burn' episode?

Crash and Byrne is not something that I put much conscious thought into. Clearly, it's a pun on my name, but really, it was the only thing I could think of. Well, I could have chosen Byrne, Baby, Byrne. But that hated song has been dogging me since elementary school, so it wasn't really an option.

When forced to examine the idea of crashing and burning, though, I suppose you could say it's one of my big fears. Failure. Embarrassment. Feeling ridiculous. Taking a risk and having it blow up in my face. It's paralyzing most of the time. That's why I think I've been in a holding pattern for the last decade, doing as little as possible, taking as few risks as possible, trying to be invisible. In ten years, the only daring thing I did was start playing rugby and even that tanked, mostly through self-sabotage. Whenever a play starts going well, I quit writing it. Or if I do finish one and send it out, the first rejection I get ruins it for me and sends me into a spiral of self-loathing. It's really fucked up.

And based on past experience, I don't really do well after a true crash and burn episode. I'm still really fucked up over a relationship that I had in college. There are things I refuse to do because someone at some time made fun of me for doing them. I live in dread fear of being talked about or laughed at. Normal people move past these things. I wish to God I knew how to.

5. Your use of sarcasm makes me giggle like a schoolgirl. I fully believe that sarcasm is our friend. Do you subscribe to that notion?

Sarcasm and humor are our friends, however they can also be defense mechanisms. It's either make them laugh at someone else so they won't hurt you, or hurt yourself so they don't get to draw first blood. The problem for me is turning it off. Not just when I direct it at my friends and hurt them when I don't mean to, but the constant barrage of sarcastic comments that I throw at myself.

To make an odd and kinda gay analogy, humor for me is The Great and Mighty Oz. Usually I use it when I don't want people to look at the frail old man cowering behind the curtain.

-Fin-

And there we have it. Five questions answered. And, my, oh my, didn't it turn a little dark there toward the end? I think I avoided whiny and glib, but it seemed to have landed me smack dab in the briar patch of my mind. Well, what the hell, those of you who know me probably realize I'm a little fucked up. Those of you who don't . . . feh, what do you care?

Rick, I hope this was what you had in mind. I bet you're sorry you didn't ask the "what kind of tree would you be" question.

Anyway, since this is a meme, I am posting the rules. If you'd like to be interviewed, here's what you do.

So now it's your turn: here are the rules!

If you wish to participate, leave a comment saying, 'interview me'.

I will ask you five questions - totally different from the ones I was asked.

You update your journal or blog with the answers to the questions.

You include this explanation of the rules and an offer to interview others in the same post.

When others comment asking to be interviewed, you ask them five new questions.

Grad School

Things I will have to do in order to apply for Ph.D. programs:

1) Take the fucking GRE again. Probably next month, which means I need a refresher soon. Luckily, I aced the test last time . . . of course that was 16 or so years ago.

2) Get letters of recommendation from two professors to whom I haven't spoken in a decade. Naturally, the person who is most qualified to write a letter on my behalf died in 2004.

3) Prepare a writing sample. Of course, they want scholarly writing and a rather substantial amount. So I can't use any of my plays (creative writing) or any of my theater reviews (too short and not scholarly). The last paper like this that I wrote was a history of swimwear. It sucked. I have no clue what I'm going to do about this.

I'm a little freaked right now.

Pop Quiz

Pick up your pens and open your blue books. This essay will count for one fourth of your semester grade.

Essay topic: Crash, fed up with the job search and dealing with all the bullshit at work, has decided to start applying for Ph.D programs. Is he insane? Be sure to use examples to justify your opinion (good starting points are the fact that students can't afford to pay rent and his rapidly advancing age).

Okay. At first, I just started looking into local Ph.D programs as sort of a 'one of these days I'll go back'. Then I couldn't come up with a decent reason not to do it now. I mean, if I apply now, I won't be starting until Fall 2007 anyway. And when I bounced the idea off my folks, they were really excited.

Is this really something I can do? I am terrified by change.

And, on a different note, a while back Rick posted some questions for me to answer. Then he went of vacation, so I held off answering. Those of you who read his blog (and you all should, he's a good writer) know what happened next. As you can imagine, I haven't felt that I should hurry and answer his questions. Now that he's back, I will. I'll post them tomorrow.

Confidential to Palochi

Palochi, I just found this online dating site, but I couldn't find your profile. I ran searches for ones containing "Starbuck" and "Crichton", but no luck.

For those of you who are free tomorrow

Really busy

I've been freakishly busy lately, but I will try to do some blogging soon.

In the meantime, here is a funny thing. I saw a job listing today seeking a "jack-off-all-trades."

I would totally apply if it were a job for a "jack-off-all-trades-as-long-as-they're-reasonably-attractive."

AVP March Addendum

Amusingly, there is a photo from the march with me in it on Towleroad. Probably the one and only time I'll ever be on it. An A-Lister I am not.

Weekend

Turns out it was a really good weekend.

I met up with FARB and his boys after work on Friday. I was just meeting them to pick up some samplers featuring his new novel, but I wound up staying for a couple of hours. It was great. Left to my own devices, I tend to be a hermit, and it was really nice to have some interaction.

Plus I had a guy hit on me, which is always a nice ego boost. However, as is typical, as soon as someone shows the slightest interest in me, I get hit with a feeling akin to the old Groucho Marx line "I'd never join a country club that would have someone like me as a member." So basically, I'd never date anyone who would date someone like me.

As a brief aside, if you would like to date me, here is the best way to approach it, based on what seems to have attracted me to guys in the past: Be completely aloof and disdainful; Give me just enough hope that there might be a future for us that I'll be willing to pay for everything; Tell me you love me when no one is around, but treat me like shit in public; Tell me you'd totally be into me if I weren't _____ [fill in the blank with something cruel and personal, and come up with something new each time you say it]; Tell me that you're not into me, but show up at my place everytime you're drunk and need to get off.

So, long story short, if you treat me with kindness or tell me you like me, you can expect me to disappear with a little puff of dust like a Warner Brothers character.

So where was I?

After a fun happy hour(s), I headed back to watch the Doctor Who marathon on the SciFi channel. I tell you, I'm just a hair's-breadth away from turning into one of those guys who dresses up as a scifi character and goes to Cons.

Maybe for the next one I can dress up like D'Argo. Palochi, do you still have your Chiana costume?

So Saturday I went to the AVP march and rally. Good, though I really expected more people. Three gay bashings in one week? I would have thought this would make people angry. I guess not. At least I got to hang out with Jase and Charles.

After the rally, I went to work for the rest of the day. Weekends are the only time I can work without constant interruptions.

Sunday was all about cooking and cleaning. Then I went to the midnight performance of Broadway Bares, which was great. Once again, I saw Jase and Charles. I heard Matt and Kevin were there, too, but I didn't see them. I also ran into Patrick and Karen as they were leaving the earlier performance. Bares was fantastic (even better than last year's) and the special guests (Cyndi Lauper, Alan Cumming, Fran Drescher . . . um . . . and others). It was a great time with lots of hot men and women, all in various stages of undress. And they had rocking bodies. I would absolutely love to date a dancer. But, you know, only if he treats me badly. I do have my standards, after all.

Anti-Violence March

The NYC Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence Project will be holding a march and rally tomorrow to protest the recent attacks in the East Village and Astoria.

People will be meeting at 2 p.m. at 14th and 1st Ave. I hope I'll see some of you there.

Pride Dance

If any of you New York bloggers are interested in attending the Pride Dance on the Pier on the 25th, but don't want to spend the money for tickets, I'm looking for some volunteers to help staff one of the bars at the event.

If you're interested, drop me a line.

Job search

I applied for two jobs in the last two days (I'm working on the assumption that the bad interview I mentioned previously pretty much scuttled that job). I would be great for both of them, but I'm concerned that neither one will be able to get near my current salary.

But then, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

I have 9 more job openings to apply for (and two or three more that I identified, but haven't researched yet).

Keep your fingers crossed.

Off to a good start

Which is worse?

1. Singing to myself while waiting for an elevator and getting caught?

2. Singing to myself while waiting for an elevator and getting caught by a really cute guy?

3. Singing '. . . Baby One More Time' by Britney Spears to myself while waiting for an elevator and getting caught by a really cute guy?

This is why I never get laid.

Well, okay, it's one of many reasons.

At least I wasn't doing choreography.

It's the little things

So last night was the awards event that our company does every year (though it appears this will be the last one . . . but that's another story). My boss got up there to begin his comments and started by thanking all the people that helped put the event together.

Well, all but one of the people who put the event together.

I'm sure you see where this is going.

Dude, where's my liver?

Tonight is the first official night of GB:NYIII (or GB:NY Trinity or GB:NY Electric Boogaloo or GB:NY Return of the Muppet on Crack).

Anyhoo.

Barrage, 47th and 9th Ave., 7-ish. Should be fun. I imagine there will be some drinking and some nudity involved.

It just keeps getting better and better . . .

Today I found out that my office has approved a raise for me. This should, I imagine, bring my salary more in line with the others who do my job, even though I also imagine it won't take into account the fact that I've been doing this job for nearly a decade and due to my experience should be making more than the others.

Okay, fine, whatever.

But here's the fun part. The only reason I found out that I'd been approved for a raise is that my boss let me know that it had been frozen indefinitely while my department goes through a shakeup.

As soon as I get an offer, I'm out of here.

Bingham Cup II

There is a really good article about the cup (with photos) at Outsports. Also, my friend Stuff, who's in China right now, said there was a news report on TV over there. Weird, no?

Bingham Cup

I'm sunburnt and thoroughly exhausted, but I had a great weekend. While Gotham didn't do as well as I'd hoped, they played hard and are much stronger as a team. Now we just have to start working toward winning Bingham 2008. At least the SF Fog didn't win; the Sydney Convicts did. Since they were rather attractive and friendly, I'm okay with that.

The various events were okay, though extremely expensive ($9 for a mixed drink?!?!). Needless to say, I'll be conserving my money for a while.

The closing night party at Webster Hall was a lot of fun; I even danced, which I rarely ever do.

Now it's time to start getting in shape for the fall season. Come hell or high water, I plan on playing.

I'm stuck here forever

So after three really good interviews at the new company, the last, and sadly most crucial, had me basically looking like a glorified secretary. It's a bad start when the guy who is interviewing you, and who is the one who will ultimately decide if you get hired, starts by saying, "I want an attorney in this position, why should I give it to you instead?"

I can do my job. I'm really good at my job. I've won awards for doing my job. So why in the fuck can't I seem to explain why I'm good at my job?

If I can hold on through the night . . .

Last night I watched the first half of The Poseidon Adventure, killing time while waiting for Lost to start.

I realized that I am turning into Red Button's character, Mr. Martin: alone, odd, fussy (though, God willing, I will never wear a cravat). Granted, I'm built more like Ernest Borgnine or Shelly Winters, but in the water, I'm a very skinny lady.

P.S. Did anyone else think that Roddy McDowall looked kinda hot in that movie? No? Okay, it was just me, I guess.

Hog Heaven

This weekend not only features the Bingham Cup Rugby Tournament (which, alas, I am not competing in . . . didn't make the cut this year) but it also is the first weekend of Fleet Week.

Six hundred gay rugby players, probably an equal number of closeted sailors, and I still probably won't get laid.

Maybe I should just go to seminary.

What's the word I'm looking for . . . ?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

And that, gentle readers, is my day in a nutshell.

Rugby

Last night I remembered why I like to play rugby. Very few things feel better than grabbing some guy around the thighs and smashing him into the mud. Since this was only my third practice this season and I haven't played any games in quite a while, I haven't done any tackling in a long time. It's physically demanding. It hurts. But, God in heaven, it rocks.

After last night's practice, I was bleeding, bruised and dirty. I was also exhausted from all the running. But I felt good. Elated. After I showered and put ointment on my cuts (the soil on Randall's Island is basically half toxic mud and half goose shit), I felt the best I have in a long time.

I also slept better last night than I have in months.

Granted, when I woke up this morning, I felt like I'd been run over by a truck. My right knee doesn't seem to want to bend. I have a welt on my thigh that is turning all sorts of interesting colors. My legs are scraped up. My shoulder is red and tender. My biceps just plain hurt. And my back has more knots than an Afgan rug. But despite all that (and maybe because of it), I still feel great.

I have a lot of training to do before fall season, but for the first time in a while, I'm really looking forward to it.

I Kind of Miss the Zombies

As has been mentioned on these pages (screens?) numerous times, when my mind is in turmoil, I have zombie dreams.

Well, that seems to have changed. Recently, I've started getting visits from my dead grandfather. I'm not sure what the dreams mean or even what has been happening in them. Like a light frost at daybreak, these dreams melt away once I begin to wake up. All I'm left with is a sense of longing and an undercurrent of dread.

Recently death seems to be playing a big part of my dreams. I wish I knew what was up with that.

Spell Check, stat!

From the New York Times online edition (I won't link since they'll probably fix it quickly):

U.S. Restores Dimplomatic Ties to Libya
By JOHN O'NEIL
Published: May 15, 2006

Dimplomacy - The art or practice of conducting international relations, as in negotiating alliances, treaties, and agreements, using nothing but a cute smile.

Empty Wallet

I discovered a Michael's, Home Depot, Staples and Best Buy all within walking distance (a bit of a hike, but not too bad) of my apartment. Between this discovery and the fact that I spent the weekend cleaning and organizing, my apartment is starting to look pretty good.

I also took some art to a framing store so I'll actually have something on the walls soon.

Soon I may even start having people over for dinner or movies.

Well, baby steps.

So f*cking tired

I'm so tired. I can't seem to fall asleep. I'm swamped at work. I've got a bunch of reviews to write. I've got a bunch of other writing to do.

Arrggh.

I need a vacation.

In the news

The Associated Press had an article about Lewis, a cat that has been terrorizing its neighbors.

Here is some of the text:

The neighbors said Lewis' long claws, along with catlike stealth, have allowed the cat to attack at least a half dozen people and ambush the Avon lady as she was getting out of her car.

Catlike? It's not catlike . . . it's a cat. Does no one use the word 'feline' any more?

Worse than death

There are few things worse than a family funeral. Well, clearly there are lots of things worse . . . vivisection, genocide, sleeping with Donald Rumsfeld, to name but a few.

I suppose the best thing to say is family funerals suck. Big time.

For me, it's less about the deceased - they're beyond mortal concerns, in a better place, blah, blah, blah - it's about seeing people I love in pain. When my grandmother passed away a couple of years ago, it was the only time I can remember seeing my dad lose it. We are not an extremely demonstrative family, so when I say 'lose it,' I'm not talking about gnashing of teeth and rending of garments. He just couldn't speak. And he cried, which I had never seen.

Recently, I went to another funeral and this time it was my mom who was grieving. Seeing her cry feels like being cut by razor blades or splashed with acid. It's so unexpected and alien. Deep down inside, there's a part of me that is still a little kid who thinks his parents are invincible. It's always a shock to be reminded that they aren't.

And of course, there is the ever-present reminder that someday (God willing not for a long, long time), I will be standing by the coffin of someone I love, someone who should have been invincible. And when I think of that, I'm struck with a dread, paralyzing fear. And following right behind that feeling is the greater fear that when I'm the one in the coffin, there will be no one standing next to it, mourning me.

The History Boys

I saw the new Alan Bennett play last night. Wonderful. Fantastic cast, great story, terrific production.

Ouch

I went to rugby practice for the first time in well over a year. Needless to say, I was really sore this weekend. Really, really sore.

Man, I am out of shape.

Scary movie

The other day I was in the mood to be cheered up, so I went to see Scary Movie 4. I figured the first ones were okay (with each getting progressively worse, though), so this one would probably be okay, too.

Man, this movie was twelve different kinds of awful.

Anyway, save yourself the money and wait until the DVD comes out. Then don't rent it.

Oh, the weather outside was frightful . . .

But my day was so delightful.

Interview: Aced it.
Charity Event: Wonderful.

Good food. Good wine (really, really good wine). Good company. Got to meet and talk to Anthony Rapp. Saw Patrick in administrative mode. Saw FARB sober. Frankly, it was like being in Wonderland.

So to make up for my fun time yesterday, I overslept this morning and was an hour late to a breakfast meeting.

As the philosopher once said, "D'oh!"

WTF?

It's snowing. Why is it snowing?

In other news, I have another job interview. With any luck, I'll have to choose between the two jobs. On the down side, if I don't get offered either of them, I can pretty much be assured a spiral of depression and self-loathing.

Either way, it's something to look forward to.

Oops

I just sent an e-mail to the HR Director in my company. Since I was trying to find out the number of employees, I wrote "Head Count" in the subject line.

Only I seem to have missed the letter "o".

Thank God for spell check. I think she would have been pissed.

Where to start?

Let's see. Palochi was in town. My liver hasn't quite recovered. I've seen what seems like a bazillion plays and have reviewed many of them for the two review websites I submit to. Last night I saw Red Light Winter with David; very cool, both in terms of the play and the company. I have a job interview next week; the salary is around $10,000 more than what I make now for the exact same job.

Good times.

No, seriously

Pillow. Smother. Now.

I'm actually okay if I keep standing. If I sit for more than a few minutes, I sort of lock in place and have a really hard time standing up.

This blows.

Ouch

Threw my back out this weekend. In a great deal of pain. I used up the last of my muscle relaxers from last time. Crap.

If anyone wants to come over and smother me with a pillow, I'd appreciate it.

You like me!

It appears that I won the Academy Award for best picture last night. As a rule, I tend not to photograph well, so if any of you more technologically-minded youngsters could send me a copy of whatever picture of me it was that won the award, I'd be forever in your debt.

All I need now is a Tony, Grammy and Emmy and I can legitimately call myself the Rita Moreno of my generation.

Mmmm . . . Sloane

Last night English David and I went to see a preview of Joe Orton's Entertaining Mr. Sloane with Alec Baldwin, Chris Carmack, Richard Easton and Jan Maxwell.

Really good, and not just because Carmack is beautiful. The cast was phenomenal, the sets were great, and even though the play is 40 years old, it isn't creaky.

A pet peeve of mine is people who applaud when someone famous makes their entrance. Yes, Alec Baldwin is well-known. But for god's sake, all he did was walk through a door. Save it for the end.

Whee

In what is surely a fit of insanity, I have tickets for six shows this week. One show each on Tues., Wed., and Thurs. and three shows on Saturday. I only have to review three of them.

If anyone wants to be my 'plus one' for any of them, drop me a line.

And now for something completely different

Sorry for yesterday's self-pity post. In a variety of ways, the last couple of weeks have sucked. But as the philosopher says, what doesn't kill us, leaves us in agonizing, soul-crushing pain, screaming for death's sweet embrace.

Anyhoo.

Despite my general bad mood and The Blizzard of Aught Six, I saw two shows this weekend. Well, in point of fact, I had to review them, so I couldn't bail, which is what I really, really wanted to do.

So, the shows were Edenville and Kiss and Cry. Both were good shows (and full of eye candy). Edenville has one of the guys from Dante's Cove, a gay soap opera/supernatural thriller/mini-series thing that was on the Here! on demand channel. The guy was way cuter in person.

Anyway, I think Kiss and Cry was the better show, but both of them were worth checking out. Especially since the tickets are reasonably priced.

Last night I attended WYSIWYG's Worst. Sex. Ever. show which was marvelous, as usual. I'll write a little more about it once I dig out from under the pile of work (and two theatre reviews) that I have to do, but I will leave you with these topics that were covered: underwater cunnilingus performed by Jacques Cousteau; a war between good and evil fought over a vagina; various instances of vomitting on genitalia; and plenty of other stories that make my worst experiences seem okay.

Well, except for the guy I went out with who wanted me to spit in his mouth. That still kind of icks me.

Anyway, more about WYSIWYG later.

St. Hallmark's Day

Nothing like a Hallmark holiday to make your life feel pathetic.

I am so fucking sick of being alone.

A teammate and a friend

If there's another world, he lives in bliss;
If there is none, he made the best of this.
-Robert Burns

Rest in peace, Doug.

Bad Day

It's been a really bad day.

Catch up

So the weekend was fun. I went to Jess and Marc's house. We ate, we drank, we were merry. As always, a fun and relaxing weekend in the 'burbs.

Monday was the NY Nightlife Awards with English David. Fun time. And now I can say that I've seen Elaine Stritch, Eartha Kitt, and Lesley Gore perform live. I also saw Charles Busch and Brian Stokes Mitchell, but I've seen them perform before. I majorly heart Charles Busch.

A couple of stand-out performances were given by A Little Traveling Music (never heard of them, but they were great) and Creation Nation (whom I'd heard of, but never made it over to Ars Nova [I think] to see).

It was a great night.

One other cool thing. So I'm watching last night's Lost and I think to myself, hey, the girl that Sawyer's scamming in his flashback looks familiar. Turns out she's a girl who was in the drama department with me in college. In fact, I was the stage manager for the first play she was in.

Now she gets to make out with Sawyer in Hawaii while I'm stuck in a crappy, drudge job, making out with no one.

Bollocks.

Brokeback to the Future

Really funny.

Light as a feather, stiff as a board

Some friends and I are doing a weight-loss challenge. We each chip in $50; winner clears $300. Woo hoo.

I'm down 9 lbs. so far. Woo hoo, again.

Between the eating right, working out (I got up at 6 a.m. to go to the gym this morning), getting plenty of sleep and drinking gallons of water, I've felt amazing for the last week.

I will admit that having my clothes fit better has perked me up some, too.

And speaking of perking, does anyone else find that they get frisky when they're dieting?

Things You Should Do This Week

Go see two shows before they close.

A Midsummer Night's Dream at Vital Theater on the Upper West Side. Wild, amazing fun. Closes this weekend.

A Myth Cycle: Ahraihsak at Theatre Mitu. Long, but absolutely amzaing show influenced by Asian forms. It uses masks, puppetry, stylized movement and language to tell a story that would have made Joseph Campbell proud. Sublime. Closes this weekend.

Um . . . WTF?

Today I received my online Time Warner bill. It was for $13,567.67.

I think I may drop Showtime and Cinemax.

Sorry

I find that I have nothing to write about.

By the way

My theatre reviewing seem to be going okay. I've had four reviews published and one of my reviews has been blurbed on the show's publicity materials. Woo hoo!

Soon I'll be as famous as . . . um . . . any of those other famous theater reviewers whose names I don't know.

Le sigh.

Speaking of which, if any of you want to join me at a children's theatre show I'm reviewing tomorrow, I'd love the company.

Yeah. I thought not.

So tomorrow, I may blog about my New Year's resolutions.

Yeah, so I'm back

Holidays were fine. In fact, they were actually really great.

Unfortunately, everything has kind of sucked since I got back.

So there you go. Happy 2006.