Sunday, November 30, 2008

Teh Lolz Be Killin Meh

Oh, this just keeps better and better, doesn't it? As the title implies, teh lolz be killin meh. Look what's fallen into my lap: an incredibly bizarre, uncomfortable, and awkward Twilight video! I may possibly love it more than the pictures posted below. But that is unconfirmed and confidential information. So here we go. Curtain up! Light the lights!

Go ahead and watch it. I'll wait. Done? Fantabulous. I told you it was bizarre. What, did you not believe me? My personal favorite part is when Robert Pattison says, "I'm a tool." Good, so you admit it. He's also rather drunkish, isn't he? Poor chap. And Kristen Stewart. Oh, my. My second favorite part is where she runs her hand through her hair and slurs, "Get the f*ck to the theatre and see Twilight." Um, okay. I'll get right on it. No, really, I will.

Oh, how I look forward to the day when they make Breaking Dawn. The book alone is uncomfortable to read. We really don't need to read all the details of vampire birth, do we? Apparently we do. I cannot WAIT to see how that translates on to the screen. Especially with two young actors as impeccably talented as Kristen Stewart and Robert Pattinson. Oh, this is gonna be so much fun. Seriously, where can I preorder my tickets? Personally, I am not some sick sadomasochist who would want to be in a scene like that, but apparently KStew and RPattz are more than willing. After all, it's like the incredibly creepy Emcee from Cabaret says, "Money makes da vorld go 'round."

I can't believe that there are people who are actually going for all this crap. Take these guys, for example. Here we have four GROWN MEN practically going into cardiac arrest over the stupid trailer. Sure, it's freaking hilarious, but the guy in the lower right hand corner looks like he's about to eat his own hand. And then he actually gets so excited that he throws up. I thought only dogs did that, but whatever. All four of these guys claim to be straight. If the are, then the next generation is screwed beyond belief. So when your children's gene pools suck, blame Twilight. Just for the record, I find this video to be almost as funny as Stewie Griffin's reaction to Two Girls One Cup. ( That is Family Guy GOLD!

One last thing before I go: Apparently, I have 36 viruses on my laptop. Wonderful, right? So if you happen to read a post that says something like " i luv sarah palin n kristen stewart hsm 3 was the best movie everrr omg lol i hate family guy i am a republican," that's the virus talking, not me.

Friday, November 28, 2008

This Deserves an Entry All Its Own!

Okay, I know it's been like two hours since my last post. But I found something that I cannot in good consciene keep from you. My new Christmas wish is to have this picture framed and hung in my room. I seriously cannot possibly express how insanely much I love it, or how insanely happy it makes me. There are no words that could possibly express how much I love it. As soon as I saw it I thought, that goes RIGHT to the blog!!! It's also my new laptop background. Okay, kids. Curtain up. Light the lights. HERE SHE IS, BOYS! HERE SHE IS, WORLD!!!!I love this picture so much I am shaking. Yes, that's Kristen Stewart. Yes, she's smoking pot. This is gonna be all over the tabloids, but you heard it here first, folks. I don't even know what else to say to express how much I love this picture. The thing that makes it so hilarious is not that she's smoking pot, but that she's OUTSIDE. On her front stoop. Where absolutely anybody can see her and take pictures of her. What a freaking idiot. I have come to the conclusion that the only thing that could make me love this picture more is if it were Patti LuPone sitting there getting high. Oh, KStew. You have truly reached a new level of stupidity. At least now I know why she never seems to show any emotion. It's allllllll cooooolllllll, folks. It's alllllllll coooooolllll. She's gonna be able to buy lots and lots of drugs with her Twilight salary. But wait! There's MORE!

Her dog scares me.

The producers sure aren't gonna be happy. Maybe they'll replace her and I'll get my Christmas wish after all!! I don't think so, though. If Equus didn't kill Harry Potter, this probably won't kill Twilight. Them fancy shmancy Hollywood fellers'll get her out of it. They'll say it's herbal tobacco or something like that. I, however, remain unconvinced. Oh, KStew. You and your drugs.

Christmas Wishes

Welcome back, suckers. Glad to see you're still here. (If, in fact, you are actually reading this and I'm not just talking to myself like in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. And that's a freaking great movie, FYI.) So, today is the first official day of the Christmas Season: Black Friday. Already, there has been one Christmas Casualty. Some poor Walmart worker was trampled to death by a crowd of rabid shoppers. Come the hell on, people. This is not Lord of the Flies. Stand in line like a normal freaking adult. You'll get your discounted TV soon enough, you goddamn savage. I don't know about you guys, but where I come from, there are better places to shop than Walmart. This is not Wyoming. I would be pretty damn offended if my Christmas present came from Walmart. I guess Mormon-style floral print frocks and kitten sweaters just aren't my thing.

But, I thought it would be fun (for me, not for you), to list what I actually DO want for Christmas. So here we go:

First up are tickets to August: Osage County. I don't know about you, but I think it would be pretty awesome to see a grown woman scream, "EAT THE FISH, BITCH!" at her mother. For those of you who think I'm crazy, remember: I go for the offbeat stuff. Keep in mind that my second-favorite show stars a pair of Siamese twins. I don't care what anybody says, SIDE SHOW was Broadway gold. If my predictions are correct, August: Osage County, like most other good shows, is on its way out. I just hope I get to see it before they post the dreaded closing notice.

Two: A kickass time machine so I could go back in time to 2001 and see Gina Gershon in Cabaret. I love love love love love Cabaret. It's the darkest most bizarre-o show ever, and it's partly why I'm afraid of Alan Cumming. But that's a whole other story. In my opinion, Gina Gershon was the best Sally Bowles in that revival. Oh, and I don't think Liza is the definitive Sally. That's right, I said it! Now who's gonna care enough to call me on it? It's not really her fault though. When you get right down to it, the movie isn't really Cabaret. It's just another story built around the music. And the final song is meant to be a complete mental breakdown number, not a lovely little chance for Sally to show off her pretty purple dress. Seriously. Google "Jane Horrocks Cabaret" and prepare to be terrified. It's scarier than the economy.

Third: It would just be ginger peachy if they could remake Twilight. It would be even more ginger peachy if they could cast a new Bella that actually showed some emotion. Let's get one thing straight here, folks: I am no Twilight fan. I don't care very much either way. I can take or leave the books that most teenagers are reading as if the pages are laced with crack. I care even less about the movie. It just bothers me because it enhances the stereotype that Kristen Stewart is talented. If you'll excuse me, I'm gonna have a Momma Rose moment. Stand back. "You haven't any talent! Talent for the deaf, dumb, and blind, maybe! Not an ounce of it!" So there.

Fourth: I cannot tell you all how very much I would love it if Sarah Palin got her own talk show. I promise I would tune in every night. She could be like a Moose Whisperer. I think she would be pretty good at that, don't you? My next door neighbor, "Maisie" (heh heh. Maisie.) shares my sentiments. She too is fascinated with Sarah Palin. It's like when you drive past a car accident: It's a horrible, horrible, twisted wreck, and yet you can't look away. In fact, I promised Maisie that I would quote her on my blog. It was she who said, "I love Sarah Palin. I like become her at night." Truer words have never been spoken, friends.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Curtain Up! Light the Lights!

Hello, darlings! Well, looks like I'm going to be recanting some statements today, folks. Lenora and I went to see Gypsy this afternoon. Side note: Lenora's older sister is the only person I've met who can keep up when I talk Broadway. Brava. But anyway. Our day began with a visit to Starbucks. Let me make one thing abundantly clear: I don't do Starbucks. I have no idea what the difference between "grande" and "tall" is. I don't drink coffee. I don't know how to pronounce the word "chai." So while I stood in the world's smallest Starbucks, surrounded by people who were ordering fast and furious at the counter, I amused myself by playing Spot the Tourists and Spot the Actors. I'm very good at both, but Spot the Tourists in more fun. And less creepy. And easier. But that's all beside the point. So after this little corporate encounter I decided to show Lenora the greatest store in the history of absolutely everything: Colony. They have every single piece of sheet music ever written, and it's all for ridiculously high prices. Fun. (And if you've never gone to Colony get up and go RIGHT NOW. 49th and Broadway. I'll wait.) Of course, this heavenly store is on the same block as my poor fated Spring, and seeing the theatre where I was having so much fun a mere six months ago once again viciously ripped open the already festering and gushing wound in my heart that the closing notice had left. Happy Exaggerate Outrageously Day.

So we scuttled over to the St. James Theatre, where we were informed that Patti LuPone would, in fact, be going on today. Damn it damn it damn it damn it damn it. As we settled into our wonderful aisle seats, I prepared myself to sit through another three hours of her snarling voice and oka acting. Since I had seen the show before, I knew that Patti first made her entrance by running down the right aisle. It so happened that we were now sitting next to this very aisle. Lenora and I, being the freaks that we are, obsessively watched the back door, waiting for Patti to make her secretive entrance. Confession: When she finally did, my heart started hammering. I am not and probably never will be a LuPone fan. But she's still a legend, and being in her presence was enough to make me freak out. But, let me tell ya, Patti wasn't looking too happy. I dared to glance at her twice, and she was scowling at the stage. I was afraid to look at her after that, for fear that if we made eye contact it would cause her to attack me with a hatchet. This is the woman who told the orchestra to shut up as she was accepting her second Tony. Just imagine what she would do to and unsuspecting, innocent little girl like me.

When she finally did stream down the aisle yelling, "Sing out, Louise!" I knew right away that this time was going to be different from the first time I had sat through Gypsy. I wasn't too fond of the show back in July. But it was different this time. It had evolved. It had gotten better. All that time ago, when I was such a wee inexperience theatre goer (remember, it's Exaggerate Outrageously Day), I thought that LuPone's performance was underdeveloped and amateurish, because it was exactly how any person off the street would behave. I didn't realize how incredibly hard it is to get that good. So I'm not denying that she has the acting chops. HOWEVER, I still can call her on her snarling dog voice. And I'm sticking by my theory that the real one to watch is Laura Benanti, who plays Louise, "the stripper." The one that stole the whole show was Marilyn Caskey, who played Electra, the stripper who's had too much electroshock therapy.

We hung around after the show. When one of the ushers (and, may I point out, the St. James has rather snippy ushers. If I want to unwrap my Twizzlers during Some People I'll do it, damn it!) came up to us to kick us out, I grew indignant and thundered, "Don't you know who I AM?" The poor usher shrank back in shame and said, "Oh, my God! You're the Incendiary Goat! Oh, God, I'm sorry! How could I not have recognized you?" Yeah, that's right, punk. Well, due to my celebrit-ay connections, and the fact that Lenora is related to one of the ushers, we were able to talk our way backstage. We went through several narrow, freezing hallways, past a few setpieces, and finally stood center stage. Trust me, it's not that great to see what Patti LuPone sees every night. The theatre isn't that big. I was tempted to go all Rose's Turn and scream out, "Here she is, boys! Here she is, world!" or perhaps sing a chorus of Together, Wherever We Go, but I was able to fight the demons and contain myself. You gotta admit, though, it woulda been pretty kickass to tell my grandkids that I performed Rose's Turn on the same stage as the legendary Patti LuPone. Of course, she wasn't actually ON the stage with me at that time, but I would leave that part out.

So we scuttled back through the hallways. We saw Boyd Gaines, who played Herbie. I heard someone yell out, "Bye, Boydie!" I turned around and oh my sweet Jesus it's the actress who plays Mazeppa, the trumpet-blasting stripper. Guess what her name is, guys. Guess. Lenora Nemetz. LENORA Nemetz. I'm not making that up. Lenora Nemetz is my new favorite human being. Best part: We exited through the stage door. There were crowds of people out there, and they all looked up expectantly when we walked out. Hello, darlings! Yes, it's me. No autographs, please. Life's good on the other side of the barricade.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

The Twilight Zone

Wilkommen. Since I was an itty-bitty girl listening to the Cabaret cast recording, and Sally Bowles sang that wonderful mental breakdown number and convinced impressionable little me that life was a cah-bah-ray, I have loved the live theatre. I love how the audience can see and hear the actors, and how the actors can see and hear the audience. But, alas, this only goes for the thee-ay-ter. Apparently, the thousand screaming fangirls who sat through Twilight with me weren't aware of that. Oh, my God. There hasn't been that much screaming since Judy Garland played Carnegie Hall. From the very first moment when we first saw Kristen Stewart's Night of the Living Dead face, these freaks did not shut up. And, when Edward made his first entrance, with hallelujah choruses trilling and lights shining from behind him (I'm NOT making that up), the shrieks were ear-splitting and never-ending. So to the people that were in the theatre with me last night: Nobody cares that you think Edward Cullen is hot. He isn't real. Yeah, it was pretty cool when Alice ripped a guy's head off, but you don't need to scream, "YOU GO GIRL!!" No matter how many times you scream, "BITCH!" at Rosalie, she will not hear you and/or get insulted. Yes, we all recognized Stephenie Meyer sitting at the counter in the diner scene. You didn't have to shout out, "LOOK! IT'S HER!!!!!" And, to the girl who was sitting directly behind me. "Yell I love you, Jacob!" one more time, you freaking banshee. I dare you.

Now, I'm about to pull a Palin and recant a previous statement. That's right, I'm taking back what I said about Twilight. Yes, the movie was cheesy, and spoonfed the info mercilessly, and ripped off every other vampire movie ever made, but...I liked it. Don't get me wrong. This is not Gone With the Wind. We're not winning any Oscars here. KStew and RPattz are not the next Vivien Leigh and Clark Gable. But still, I enjoyed it. It had its moments. I liked how they incorporated the three evil vampires from the beginning, and didn't just throw them in towards the end, like Stephenine Meyer did in the book. A few very good, sweeping shots of the Pacific Northwest. Good special effects. Passable performances from some of the supporting characters. But, (and this is a huge but), there were drawbacks. Lots. One: Absolutely no character development, but the blame for that lies with Stephenie Meyer. Two: Lots of uncomfortably close close-ups of Edward, Bella, and, at one point, Bella's mother. That last one was so close it actually got a few laughs. Three: The movie seemed to assume that absolutely everyone had read the book. Example: Edward doesn't make his first entrance until at least ten minutes in, in order to purpose build tension for the one moment the director knew the audience would be waiting for. You can almost hear the voice saying, "Preeeesenting, in person, that six-foot one bundle of dynamite... EDWARD CULLEN!!" That may fly with the twelve-year-old fangirls who will love this movie even if it's worse than From Justin to Kelly, but it won't fly with me. Four: It was sooooo incredibly smug. You can tell that every single person in that movie knew it was going to be a hit, and they acted that way on the screen. "Grrrr! I'm Kristen Stewart! It doesn't matter that my method of acting is to make weird facial expressions and show no emotion! I don't have to be a good actress! I'm in Twilight and I can do what I want to!" Well, there you have it. They took a semi-good book and made a semi-good movie, complete with a rather violent scene in which Edward pins Bella to her bed. I thought the fangirls were going to die. All in all, I give it three stars out of five. By no means would I go out of my way to see it again, and by no means should you go rushing out to see it. Wait for the DVD. With the millions this movie's already made, you won't have long to wait.

Side note: Tomorrow I will be going back to Gypsy to see Patti LuPone play Patti LuPone. Starting tomorrow at precisely three o'clock, I will sit in the beautiful St. James Theatre and have to answer old ladies' questions such as: "There is intermission?" Yes, there is intermission. "Oh, Patti LuPone doesn't play the stripper?" No, she doesn't play "the stipper." Read your freaking Playbill. Hooooowwwwweeeevvvveerrrrr, word on the street is that Queen Patti isn't feeling too good today. She skipped the matinee. Maybe, just maybe, we'll get to see her understudy? It'll be like Stewie said in one of my favorite Family Guy episodes. "Oh, my God! We get to see Kurt Russel play Jean Valjean! Oh, God, how lucky are we, huh? Oh, curtain UP!"

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

Life's Little Joys

"Ladies and gentlemen, step right up. Right this way. There is no wait. We don't waste your tiiiiiiiiimmmmmeeeee!" Oh, how I wish I had gotten a chance to see Side Show live. Notice how I said "live." Never, ever underestimate the power of Youtube, children. Anyway, before we continue I find it necessary to point out that it has recently come to my attention that there is a mouse living in my basement. His name is Stanley Kowalski, middle name Sarah Palin. He is my best friend. Just felt like that had to be said.

Well, shall we press on? So! In order to further enhance the image that I am not a completely miserable person, and also to distract myself from the twisted, pale pink tale of rape, suicide, revenge, and extramarital affairs that is currently playing out before me on Lifetime, I have decided to dish about some of my most favoritest things in the whole entire world. Have I done this already? I don't remember. I'm having a blonde moment, kind of like this afternoon when I looked in a mirror and thought, "Wow, that girl looks just like me."

Let's start off with one of my favorite Youtube videos. The first time I saw it, I actually laughed so hard that I fell off my bed. That hasn't happened since the legendary I Want My Change video of 2006. Good times. Good times. So anyway, here it is. Ode to Joy, sung by the character with the skinniest head in television history. Disclaimer: By watching this video you are willingly subjecting yourself to at least a week of going around singing, "Mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee mee meeeeeeeee mee meee..."

Now, on to the sadistic baby upon which I hinge my entire existence. Presenting, in person, that two-foot-one bundle of dynamite, STEWIE GRIFFIN! This baby is my hero. He is everything I wish I could be. If any of us were as brilliant as Sir Stewie, or if any of us had his inexplicable British accent, the world would be an indisputably perfect place. Except Rent would still exist. Oh, well. I'll take what I can get. Ahh, Stewie. What can I say except AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA?! Wow, that sounded so obnoxious that I wanted to punch myself in the face. But I didn't. 'Cause I like me. I like me more than I like most other people in the world. Except Stewie. Who can forget what he immortally uttered in my all-time favorite Family Guy episode? "Buon appetit, douchebag!" That has become my personal catchphrase. That and, "Oh, GOD help you if there are pickles!" FYI, that was his second-greatest line. My third personal catchphrase is, "The world is round. Get over it." That, however, is not from Family Guy.
Life's third Little Joy is Spring Awakening. In the days since the closing announcement I have taken to calling it My Poor Doomed Spring Awakening, or sometimes The Most Underrated Show in Broadway History. Except it's not. That honor goes to SIDE SHOW. So I think maybe I have to find something else to call it. But trust me, folks. I have never had more fun than I did the night I stood at that stage door until after midnight, with all the other freako fangirls. Unlike them, however, I did not ask any of the actors to hug me/kiss me/give me their phone number/let me pet their dog. There's a fine line between devotee and stalker, children. That was also the night of the legendary Pretzels Out the Window episode. That timeless, defining moment in Spring history has been called "stupid," "childish," and "a little much." The people who call it that are just jealous that they didn't catch any of the Rold Gold. Plus they're all adopted. So there.
This next one isn't exactly something concrete or definitive, but I must say that since McCain lost the election, it's been great fun watching the Republicans throw Sarah Palin under the bus. The woman didn't know Africa was a continent. That is totally the reason why Old Man McSame lost the election. Yup, that's gotta be it. Come on, people. It is not ALL her fault. Granted, most of it is. But still, come on. (HOWEVER, no matter what I said in this paragraph, let it never, never, never, EVER be said that I am a Sarah Palin fan.)
Well, friends, I am venturing back to the movie theatre once again. This time I will be sitting through Twilight. I kinda want to go, but fangirls scare me. Keep in mind that these are the girls that have been asking Robert Pattinson to bite them. What the hell is that? He could have rabies!!! Oh, well. I've had my share of fangirls. I did make it through Wicked, after all. Maybe this won't be so bad. But, just to be on the safe side, if I don't make it out, I love you all. Except you there. And you. And you, guy sitting there listening to the Rent CD. God never intended for Rent to happen, kinda like he never meant for Cats to happen. If I have taught you people anything, let it be that.

Saturday, November 15, 2008

Cool and Composed...

Sorry for the dumb-ass joke in today's title, folks. So, as you may or may not have guessed, I'm dedicating this post to some of my most favoritest composers. If you've heard of more than three of them, then you deserve a cookie. So let's just get right into it, shall we?

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Stephen Sondheim, aka the greatest thing to walk the earth since Christ Himself. His music. Is brilliant. Let's see what I can dredge up for you to sample...

A Little Priest, which is generally considered to be his best song. Yeah, it sounds really messed up out of context, but it's from Sweeney Todd, which is definitely the most messed up musical ever. Except Cats. God never intended for Cats to happen.

Getting Married Today, which is MY personal favorite song of his. Check it out, if only just to hear how ridiculously fast it is. I am proud to admit that I can kind of sing it, but I nearly pass out from lack of oxygen and I'm no gifted singer to begin with.

King Sondheim is the all-time greatest, but my current favorites are Kait Kerrigan and Brian Lowdermilk. C'mon, she spells her name as "Kait," not the ultra-played out "Kate." How do you not love them for that fact alone?Well, if that didn't sell ya, might as well hear some of their stuff. (And they are strictly non-musical theatre, for the Broadway-phobes among us.)

"Freedom" from the Unauthorized Biography of Samantha Brown, sung by Helene York and Phoebe Strole.

"Not a Love Story" from Tales From the Bad Years, sung by Phoebe Strole.

"Thanksgiving Plan" from Tales From the Bad Years, sung by Nancy Kerrigan, Skylar Astin, Brynn O'Malley, and Phoebe Strole.

"My Life is Over" from Tales From the Bad Years, sung by Brynn O'Malley. I actually freaking hate this song, but it's one of the rare Kerrigan/Lowdermilk videos that does not feature Phoebe Strole.

My third favorites are Kander and Ebb. I'd post a picture of them, but my Google has suddenly and randomly turned to Spanish, and to find a picture I'd have to "Buscar con Google", so you'll just have to imagine what they look like. John Kander writes the music, and Fred Ebb writes the lyrics. They're responsible for shows like Cabaret and Chicago. Up till recently I thought their best show was Chicago, but I'm pulling a Palin and recanting the statement. It's most definitely Cabaret. "Start by admitting/ from cradle to tomb/ it isn't that long a stay..." That's brilliant. That's freaking brilliant. Almost as brilliant as the ending of the recent revival, where the background would split open and the whole ensembled would be standing there in concentration camp uniforms. *shudder* That was chilling even via Youtube.

My fourth favorite composer is whoever wrote the theme song to the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air. That was a defining moment in television history.

Fifth favorites: Tom Kitt and Brian Yorkey. They composed the incredible flop that was High Fidelity, but they hit it big with Next to Normal. I am going to Buscar con Google just to show you how very much I love the poster for this show. It's about a bipolar mother who keeps hallucinating that she is seeing her dead son. Note the shattered head. I actually hated this show, but it did have some good songs. For the record, it was better when it was called Feeling Electric. You know, before they cut the song where she passes out in Costco, aka the best part. "Didn't I See This Movie" aka the new best part.

Last one: Joe Iconis. He's the new age of the thee-ay-ter, right up there with Kerrigan and Lowdermilk. "Blue Hair." I love love love this song, almost as much as I hate hate hate Next to Normal. "I'm gonna do what I want to/And I wanna dye my hair blue." Simple, stupid, and ridiculously catchy.

Monday, November 10, 2008

Come Look at the Freaks, Part 3

Welcome back, suckers. It has recently come to my attention that I am rapidly running out of things to talk about. So, like a tourist in a NYC souvenir shop, I am grabbing at anything that seems vaguely interesting. Well, there's only one more thing to mention right now: In two weeks, I'll be making a return visit to Gypsy to see Patti LuPone snarl at her stage daughters and then have a nervous breakdown when they decided they hate her. Lenora was just tickled pink that I invited her to come along! Okay, she wasn't really THAT excited, but I'm morally obligated to use the phrase "tickled pink" at least once a day. She'll also be just pleased as punch (another random, stupid, old-person expression that I'm rather fond of) to find out that I mentioned her on the blog again. Once again, her name's not really Lenora. Just thought I should mention that. But anyway...

I have decided that this here post will be a testament to the many, many qualms I have with today's society. Heh heh. Don'tcha just love it when I'm all proper and everything? No? Really? Anybody? Nobody... Anyway, it has recently occured to me that absolutely everything that is wrong with the American population can be witnessed on my morning bus. There's the creepy fifty-year-old guy who scowls at everyone, the crackheads who discuss politics and economics and the Vietnam War, the twittering idiots who will remain nameless for now, the lady in the poncho who looks for reasons to yell at people, and our haggered, loyal bus driver. This zany (did I really just use the word 'zany?') cast of characters makes for a very interesting morning commute. They are all as dear to me as the Pakistani guy who sold me my Low-Fat Blueberry Muffin at Dunkin' Donuts yesterday.

Still, I can only deal with them in moderation. I think my personal favorites are the crackheads. There is nothing more entertaining than listening to them debate the state of our economy. It's a damn shame that Crackhead # 1 is gonna lose his illegal apartment due to a lack of funds and have to move back in with his "pill-happy-pain-in-the-ass wife." According to him, she's a crazy freak who has "some crazy-ass crap to deal with." Don't we all, my friend? Don't we all? The best is when they talk politics. Everything political fact I know comes from them. Thanks for that, guys.

Up next on my list of favorites, and giving the crackheads a run for their money, are the twittering idiots. They vary in age, race, and gender, but most of them are white females between the ages of twelve and eighteen. They are more fun to watch than the protestors outside an abortion clinic and more annoying than the four-year-old Midwestern kids at Broadway shows who keep asking, "When is Mary Poppins gonna fly?" When you shut your freaking trap, that's when! I'm digressing, as usual. Let's see if I can drag myself back on topic. Ah, yes. The twittering idiots. Just this morning, as I sat pretending to listen to my iPod, I overheard this conversation between two vapid little darlings: "So I said to him, 'You know what? I don't hafta deal with this.' I'm not texting him back." Don't text him back. That'll show him. What a truly mature response to your problems. No, really. I bow before your superior level of mental maturity. What are you, like eleven? Whatever happened to actual human interaction? The kind where neither party is hiding behind the screen of a laptop/Blackberry/iPhone?

Let's see if I can wrap this up with a general statement toward the sorry state of our national society. Hmmm....Okay. Hold your hats, people. Stephenie Meyer is not the best writer ever. The Jonas Brothers are not going to be legends. Troy and Gabriella are not the most perfect couple in the history of everything. Neither are Edward and Bella. (Rhett and Scarlett, anyone? Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy? ROMEO AND JULIET?!) We are not ALL hateful bigots just because Prop 8 passed. Not all of our nation's problems are the fault of George Bush.

And that's all I have to say about that.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

It's A Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World

Hello, darlings! Yeah, that was a weird opening but I'm watching Cabaret right now and Sally Bowles is starting to rub off on me. (And if you've never seen Cabaret you just don't know what you're missing. Ain't nothing like seeing Joel Grey waltz around with a gorilla in Nazi Germany.) But anyway. I have come to the conclusion that this world is soooooo incredibly messed up that my hero Barack Obama may not even be able to save it.

Before we get to why the world is so messed up, there is one thing I have to point out. Nothing annoys me more than when people knock in recognizable melodies. Oh, my God. I absolutely hate that! It is more irritating than a two-hour Richard Simmons workout video, more irritating than Patti LuPone's snarling dog voice, more irritating than even Rent. I'm sorry, but if you come to my house and knock in a recognizable melody, I will have to kill you. Don't take it personally.

Okay, now back to the main topic. Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please... You're gonna wanna be sitting down for this. The squeamish should look away. The emotionally vulnerable need not read any further. Okay, here we go. Presenting, in person, direct from the dredges of 1970's educational television, I give you: SAFETY SCOUTS!! Please tell me I'm not the only one who was subjected to this. Oh, how well I remember how my second-grade teacher would force all her unsuspecting students to sit and absorb the horrors. The poor dear had no clue how truly creepy this show was. I used to have nightmares that the scary puppet lady with the Howdy-Doody mouth and wide-open Paula Deen eyes was coming to get me. This was a show that graphically depicted the horrific things that would happen to you if you weren't obssessively, unrealistically safe every minute of every day. The grisly, gruesome scenes were played out using the creepiest puppets known to man. If you watch the video, pull the little slidey thing to 6:20. You'll see a squirrel getting run over by a tractor. That was the very image that sent me home in tears, screaming for my mother. To this day I still dream about the awful picture of a puppet, drugged-looking squirrel getting flattened by a giant tractor wheel. I've never forgotten it, and I doubt I ever will. My therapist and I are working on it.

Okay. Sitaution Two. See that girl on the left? That's Emily Kinney, one of Spring Awakening's new chorus girls. Yes, I know in this picture she kinda has the facial expression of a serial killer right before they bring out the bloody cleaver, but I promise she's not that scary looking in real life. I met her once at a flea market in the city. I bought a prop letter from the show. Our awkward little exchange went something like this.
Me: *smiles nervously, pays for letter*
Her: "Oh, hi! Do you want me to sign that?!"
Me: "Um, okay...I guess-"
Her: "Great! It's no problem!" *snatches letter, scribbles her name*
Me: "Thanks."
Her: "There ya go! Signed by Emily Kinney!" *holds out letter*
*awkward silence while I wait for her to realize that it would be very much
appreciated if she could be ever so kind as to ask the two leads to sign it, too*
Her: "Oh! Oh, God, did you want the others to sign it, too?"
Me: "Um, well, if it's not too much trouble..."
Her: "No, it's fine! Hold on a sec!"

But that's beside the point. See, the thing is that Miss Emily Kinney also has a blog, and I occasionally pop in to read it. I like to think that I'm a tad funnier than she is, but that too is beside the point. So this morning I was bored, and I decided to see if she'd updated in the three months since I'd bothered to check her blog. And she HAD! Well, as you may know if you pay attention, I was an adorable little bumbly bee for Halloween this year. So as I waded through her posts, I came upon one about her Halloween. And guess what she was: A bumbly bee! What a freaking coincidence. She posted a picture, but I don't think she would appreciate it if I posted it here, since I don't, you know, actually know her. I can, however, assure you that the costume looked better on me.

So there you have it. We're living in a world that is so incredibly screwed that second-graders are forced to watch shows in which puppets drown, fall down the stairs, and get run over by tractors and I end up with the same Halloween costume as a semi-talented chorus girl. I'd like to write more, but the DVD is almost up to the part where Liza dons her purple dress and signs Cabaret, so for now I bid you all adieu.

WAIT! HOLD IT!! STOP THE PRESSES!!! Five seconds after signing out of the blog, I found a picture that it too incredible not to share with all of you. The second I saw it, I thought, "Oh, God, the kids on the blog would LOVE that!" So here we go: Possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen in my life. Twilight fans, don't kill me for this.

Yeah, it's a freaking huge picture, but I want you all to notice the details. Yes, that is, in fact, Robert Pattinson. Yes, the girl that is clinging to him like a drunken little monkey is, in fact, Kristen Stewart. If you don't know (and lucky you), they are the stars of the Twilight movie, and, trust me, they're not the most talented things. I cannot tell you how much this picture makes me laugh. (However, it's like a kind of evil, crazed laugh, like the kind you hear from Mrs. Lovett right before she bakes you into a meat pie.) They are, obviously, under the influence of some kind of illegal substance. I'd say coke, though the lab results haven't come back yet. Oh, dear. KStew looks like she belongs in some bar in South Jersey wearing a blonde wig and singing a slurred reprise of Let Me Entertain You, then whining to the bar tender about her stage mother and eighty-four year old stepfather with a drinking problem. And RPattz. Oh, my poor, bewildered RPattz. He looks quite like one of the war-weary crackheads who used to discuss politics on my morning bus.

Well, I must say that of all the crappy posts I've penned so far, this one is by far my favorite. I haven't had this much fun since Rent closed. I hope you guys enjoyed this one. I'm sure it was filled with lots of eye rolling, maybe a few tiny laughs, and many, many, many moments of, "What the hell is she talking about?"

Wednesday, November 5, 2008


Extra! Extra! Hey, look at the headline! Historical news is being made. Preeeeeeesenting, in person, that six-foot-something bundle of dynamite, President-Elect Barack Obama! Sorry 'bout the random obscure vaudevillian intro, but I've been waiting all year to do that. Let me have my fun. Yessiree, on the off-chance that you're ignorant enough not to know yet, Obama has been elected. Yippo. Let me try to give you an idea of how happy I am right now. Hmmmm....ooh, I got a good one. I am so overjoyed that Obama won that I could sit through Rent, and not even boo during Seasons of Love! Okay, maybe not that. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here, folks.

But, I think we also have suffered a great loss with this election. We Americans are giving up something huge.

You may recognize the Stepford Robot pictured above as Governor Sarah Palin of Alaska. If you don't then you're a freaking idiot. But that's beside the point. Sadly, we Americans will no longer be able to make jokes about her political inexperience, annoying little accent, or all-around stupidity. I know, it's a great loss. But we all have sacrifices to make for our country, don't we? Fare thee well, Governor Palin. Your glasses and behive will not be missed, but the jokes they incited will be. Hope all goes well with London. See? See what I did there? See how clever I am? The joke there is that her daughter's name is Bristol, which is a city in England, and I like totally knew that, but instead of calling her Bristol I called her London, which, coincidentally, is another city in England! Get it? Wasn't that clever? Jeez. My superior comedic powers are lost on all of you, aren't they?

Oh, but there is one person who deserves his own personal paragraph here. You know him! There's a 70% chance you don't love him! Here he is, boys! Here he is, world!

G.W. Bush is arguably the nation's worst president. He has the lowest approval rating of all time. There are some people who will never forgive him for his misdeeds, like the crazy girl who made a Youtube video about how it was all his fault that, wait, seven Broadway shows were closing. Yup, that was totally his fault. He woke up one morning and said, "You know what? There's an area of the country that I haven't messed up enough yet! I'm gonna set out to destroy BROADWAY and provoke some crazy girl into making a Youtube video!" By golly, that's just what he done.

Oh, well. Obama has been elected. Sarah Palin can go back to chillin' with the caribou. Rent is dead and gone. That's enough for me.

Monday, November 3, 2008

One Day More..

Tomorrow is Judgement Day, folks. Excited? Nervous? Anybody? Okay, nevermind. Come on, America, flex them arms! Pull that lever! Vote for Barack! Well, I can't actually tell you who to vote for, but, while we're on the subject of politics, let me show you all a friend of mine. Ladies, and gents, I give you, the epitome of bipartisan politics: For those of you too lazy to watch the damn video, it's the heartwearming story of some crazy western lady who refused to hand out candy to trick-or-treaters who supported Obama. I got news for ya, lady: They're four! They don't know who Barack Obama is! Denying them Sugar Babies will not change who their parents vote for! Well, tomorrow we'll discover what our God in heaven has in store. Hopefully, my man Obama will win and then Shirley the Bitch can curl up in her house with her ten cats and all the candy she kept from the young Democrats. So may the best man whose name is not John McCain win.