Friday, April 28, 2006
Lazy
For those of you blah blah blah see something cool yadda yadda yaa Queen III's blog *yaaaawwwnnnn* blah blah blah impressive muu guu gai pan click here.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Simply Dreadful
If you haven't already been over to A-Dub's blog and read this...well...you really should. I could write all day and still not come up with something this funny AND wretched. Be sure to post your thoughts.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
The Easter Story (concluded)
Scene: the office. Corporate America at his usual place with Yes Man on the left and Idea Man’s empty chair on the right. Lackeys are seated around, etc. etc.
Lackey #1: C.A., have you read the papers? Easter Nimrod is wrecking havoc on the city!
Lackey #2: C.A., the reports are in! Sales of our Easter pork eggs are down 100%!
Lackey #3: C.A., a recent poll shows that Easter has become the most frightening holiday on the calendar. It’s that Easter Nimrod!
Lackey #4: We’ve got to do something! Nimrod is killing us!
Idea Man: (entering) Have no fear, gentlemen!
Corporate America: Where the crap have you been? It’s been almost a week!
Idea Man: Sorry, C.A. The boys and I have been trying to think up something to counteract the Easter Nimrod and I think we’ve finally got it. I give you…(removes drape from nearby figure)…the Easter Judas!
Corporate America: No, no, NO! No more crazy people!
Idea Man: But sir—
Corporate America: What does he do? Give good children pieces of silver and deliver bad ones over to be crucified?
Idea Man: Actually, just the opposite! Isn’t that a great twist?
Corporate America: No, no, no. It’s all wrong. Our Easter mascot can’t be some ancient warrior king or some back-stabbing turncoat. Did you read his gospel, by the way?
Idea Man: No, sir, I have no interest in early gnosti—
Corporate America: Great book. Changed my life. Praise Allah. No, what we need is something that appeals to families. To children of all ages.
(a crash from outside. Some unimportant building topples at the hands of Easter Nimrod)
Corporate America: Tell me about this Nimrod.
Lackey #2: No more Nimrod! He’s going to destroy the city!
Idea Man: Well, he was a hunter…according to myth he was really into architecture and was the one who built the Tower of Babel. His wife—
Corporate America: Waitaminute…he was a family man?
Idea Man: Yes. According to these ancient manuscripts, anyway. (pulls papyri out of his pocket and blows the dust off them) “And lo, Nimrod, the Great and Mighty, knew his wife, Ishtar, mother of all whores, and when her time came, she brought forth Tammuz, father of all heretics and Roman Catholics.”
Corporate America: Aha! So Nimrod had a kid! What was he into? Baseball? Football? We can sell that…
Idea Man: No, actually, Tammuz is featured prominently in the development of the Babylonian Mystery Cult and a number of pagan fertility orgies. And (reading) “to make his virility known before all the world, Tammuz became thus known far and wide for his use of fluffy bunnies in his pagan rites.”
Corporate America: Fluffy bunnies? That’s stra—(lightbulb). Waitaminute…did you say "fluffy bunnies”?
Idea Man: That’s right, sir. Fluffy bunnies.
Corporate America: Bunnies…bunnies…Do bunnies like chocolate?
Idea Man: Why, sir, everybody likes chocolate.
Corporate America: (to Yes Man) Do you like chocolate?
Yes Man: Oh, yes.
Corporate America: Tell me, do children like bunnies?
Idea Man: Oh, most definitely. Especially if they’re surprised by them. There’s nothing like being surprised by bunnies.
Corporate America: Surprised by bunnies, eh? Supposing…supposing we took one of these…pagan Tammuz orgy bunnies and made it three parts Santa Claus, four parts cuteness and springtime, six parts corporate greed and twelve parts chocolate…what would we have then?
Idea Man: (scribbles on a pad of paper for a moment, then stops breathlessly as the idea washes over him) Why…sir! Y-you’d have…
Lackeys: The Easter Bunny!
Corporate America: Bingo.
And that, my dear children, is how the Easter Bunny was born. As for the Easter Nimrod, well, he’s still out there making sure bad children get what’s coming to them. But, as Obi-Wan Kenobi might say, he's just bringing balance to the force. So when next Easter rolls around, be sure to buy as many Easter pork eggs as you can. That makes the Easter Bunny happy and keeps Easter Nimrod from hurting your family.
Lackey #1: C.A., have you read the papers? Easter Nimrod is wrecking havoc on the city!
Lackey #2: C.A., the reports are in! Sales of our Easter pork eggs are down 100%!
Lackey #3: C.A., a recent poll shows that Easter has become the most frightening holiday on the calendar. It’s that Easter Nimrod!
Lackey #4: We’ve got to do something! Nimrod is killing us!
Idea Man: (entering) Have no fear, gentlemen!
Corporate America: Where the crap have you been? It’s been almost a week!
Idea Man: Sorry, C.A. The boys and I have been trying to think up something to counteract the Easter Nimrod and I think we’ve finally got it. I give you…(removes drape from nearby figure)…the Easter Judas!
Corporate America: No, no, NO! No more crazy people!
Idea Man: But sir—
Corporate America: What does he do? Give good children pieces of silver and deliver bad ones over to be crucified?
Idea Man: Actually, just the opposite! Isn’t that a great twist?
Corporate America: No, no, no. It’s all wrong. Our Easter mascot can’t be some ancient warrior king or some back-stabbing turncoat. Did you read his gospel, by the way?
Idea Man: No, sir, I have no interest in early gnosti—
Corporate America: Great book. Changed my life. Praise Allah. No, what we need is something that appeals to families. To children of all ages.
(a crash from outside. Some unimportant building topples at the hands of Easter Nimrod)
Corporate America: Tell me about this Nimrod.
Lackey #2: No more Nimrod! He’s going to destroy the city!
Idea Man: Well, he was a hunter…according to myth he was really into architecture and was the one who built the Tower of Babel. His wife—
Corporate America: Waitaminute…he was a family man?
Idea Man: Yes. According to these ancient manuscripts, anyway. (pulls papyri out of his pocket and blows the dust off them) “And lo, Nimrod, the Great and Mighty, knew his wife, Ishtar, mother of all whores, and when her time came, she brought forth Tammuz, father of all heretics and Roman Catholics.”
Corporate America: Aha! So Nimrod had a kid! What was he into? Baseball? Football? We can sell that…
Idea Man: No, actually, Tammuz is featured prominently in the development of the Babylonian Mystery Cult and a number of pagan fertility orgies. And (reading) “to make his virility known before all the world, Tammuz became thus known far and wide for his use of fluffy bunnies in his pagan rites.”
Corporate America: Fluffy bunnies? That’s stra—(lightbulb). Waitaminute…did you say "fluffy bunnies”?
Idea Man: That’s right, sir. Fluffy bunnies.
Corporate America: Bunnies…bunnies…Do bunnies like chocolate?
Idea Man: Why, sir, everybody likes chocolate.
Corporate America: (to Yes Man) Do you like chocolate?
Yes Man: Oh, yes.
Corporate America: Tell me, do children like bunnies?
Idea Man: Oh, most definitely. Especially if they’re surprised by them. There’s nothing like being surprised by bunnies.
Corporate America: Surprised by bunnies, eh? Supposing…supposing we took one of these…pagan Tammuz orgy bunnies and made it three parts Santa Claus, four parts cuteness and springtime, six parts corporate greed and twelve parts chocolate…what would we have then?
Idea Man: (scribbles on a pad of paper for a moment, then stops breathlessly as the idea washes over him) Why…sir! Y-you’d have…
Lackeys: The Easter Bunny!
Corporate America: Bingo.
And that, my dear children, is how the Easter Bunny was born. As for the Easter Nimrod, well, he’s still out there making sure bad children get what’s coming to them. But, as Obi-Wan Kenobi might say, he's just bringing balance to the force. So when next Easter rolls around, be sure to buy as many Easter pork eggs as you can. That makes the Easter Bunny happy and keeps Easter Nimrod from hurting your family.
THE END...?
Friday, April 21, 2006
Thursday, April 20, 2006
Toil and Trouble
Last night, A-Dub and I made a trip to the Reservoir Theatre to see our friend Jenny in a local big-budget production of Arthur Miller's The Crucible. And big-buget it was! I've never seen such marvels in a local show before!
The acting wasn't too shabby either, although the lengthy second act suffered a bit from "too much, too soon". When four different actors tell the judge six different times that the girls are liars and he's been duped, it might be more interesting for the audience if you, the actor, begin your grovelling at, say, level 3 or 4 and WORK your way to level 10.
It didn't really help matters that, in my opinion anyway, the guy playing John Proctor reminded me a LOT of Keanu Reeves ("Witches...whoa..."). This trend of casting people because they're hot and can half-way deliver a line has got to stop. It might work in a one act, but when your show is six hours long, go with someone else.
What should be:
"He's a great actor! And, as an added bonus, he's really good-looking! Score!!"
becomes
"He's hot! And, as an added bonus, he can sorta act a little too! I hope I can score!!"
Tut, tut.
Still, in spite of Goody Keanu (I know, "Goody" means "Mrs." I just couldn't resist), the show was QUITE good. I don't know if it was the Everycity Theatrical Event of the Year as the papers are saying, but still. Good stuff. It even sparked some scintillating conversation between A-Dub and me on our drive home. Let's face it folks, in the end, the girls WERE dancing naked in the forest, drinking chicken blood and conjuring the devil. Come on.
And Jenny did us proud! We hated her so much! Way to go!
(By the way, Jenny played Abigail. You were supposed to hate her.)
The acting wasn't too shabby either, although the lengthy second act suffered a bit from "too much, too soon". When four different actors tell the judge six different times that the girls are liars and he's been duped, it might be more interesting for the audience if you, the actor, begin your grovelling at, say, level 3 or 4 and WORK your way to level 10.
It didn't really help matters that, in my opinion anyway, the guy playing John Proctor reminded me a LOT of Keanu Reeves ("Witches...whoa..."). This trend of casting people because they're hot and can half-way deliver a line has got to stop. It might work in a one act, but when your show is six hours long, go with someone else.
What should be:
"He's a great actor! And, as an added bonus, he's really good-looking! Score!!"
becomes
"He's hot! And, as an added bonus, he can sorta act a little too! I hope I can score!!"
Tut, tut.
Still, in spite of Goody Keanu (I know, "Goody" means "Mrs." I just couldn't resist), the show was QUITE good. I don't know if it was the Everycity Theatrical Event of the Year as the papers are saying, but still. Good stuff. It even sparked some scintillating conversation between A-Dub and me on our drive home. Let's face it folks, in the end, the girls WERE dancing naked in the forest, drinking chicken blood and conjuring the devil. Come on.
And Jenny did us proud! We hated her so much! Way to go!
(By the way, Jenny played Abigail. You were supposed to hate her.)
A witch
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
The Easter Story (continued)
(The next day. Corporate America sits in his usual place, although this time he sips on a mint julep from a sterling silver tumbler. Yes Man sits at his left. The various Lackeys around the table eagerly await Corporate America's word.)
(silence)
Corporate America: (to the Lackeys) Y'all don't say much, do you?
(Idea Man enters, pushing a tall figure covered with a white drape)
Corporate America: 'Bout time! We've been waiting here for two days!
Idea Man: Yes, C.A. Terribly sorry. The boys and I have been working as quickly as we could...but you see...when you said you wanted pagan, well--(begins to lift white drape, a lion roars from underneath and Idea Man drops it quickly), pagan is a little more...er...difficult to manage than the Easter Jesus prototype you saw yesterday.
Corporate America: Ha! That old thing? Personally, I'm glad we gave that thing the axe!
Yes Man: Oh yes. Glad! Glad, glad, glad!
Idea Man: (sotto) You didn't even give me the chance to demonstrate to you that if you appease Easter Jesus by buying up as many Corporate Yummy Easter Pork Eggs as you can find, he might bring your favorite relative back from the dead so he or she can join you for Easter lunch on Sunday.
Corporate America: What's that?
Idea Man: I didn't say anything.
Corporate America: So what's this thing under the sheet? Or is this it? The Easter ghost?
Idea Man: No, we're saving the Easter ghost model for Halloween, in case Pumpkin Patch Man needs a Rudolph to spice him up a bit.
Corporate America: Good thinking.
Idea Man: No, this time we went further back. All the way to the source of Easter itself. So, without further ado, I give you...(drumroll, Idea Man pulls drape off figure to reveal) the Easter Nimrod!
(a pause)
Corporate America: Nimrod? What is this, a joke? Why don't you make an Easter Doofus next? Or an Easter Moron. Or an Easter--
Idea Man: C.A., Nimrod is his name.
Corporate America: Yeah? Some name! How about Easter Idiot? Haw! Haw!
(the Easter Nimrod slowly approaches Corporate America)
Yes Man: Oh, that was a good one, sir.
Corporate America: Or how about Easter Stupid Idiot!
Yes Man: Oh, sir! You're too much!
Corporate America: Or how about--
Idea Man: Umm, C.A., please don't incur the wrath of the Easter Nimrod. He's--
(Easter Nimrod takes Corporate America by the throat and lifts him from his chair)
Easter Nimrod: I am a mighty hunter before the face of the God of the Hebrew scum! I bring chocolate eggs to all the good girls and boys. And to the bad ones, my enemies, I cut their bodies into pieces as they sleep, and scatter what's left of them across the kingdom, where my wife, Ishtar, whore of Babylon and mother of lies, waits to reassemble them in a phallic orgy of pagan devil worship!
(Easter Nimrod throws Corporate America aside like a rag doll and pulls out his sword. He brings it down on the conference room table and hacks it to pieces. Mint julep and splinters fly everywhere. Easter Nimrod lets out another lion-like roar and crashes through the window, lowering himself with monkey-like agility down to the unsuspecting streets below. The sprinkler system turns on. The Lackeys whisper various ad-libs such as, "Dear God!" and "He's loose! He's loose!" and "Maybe no one will notice the ancient warrior king of Babylon roaming the streets." Yes Man goes to Corporate America who is sprawled out like an upside-down tortoise.
Idea Man: (sighs) Well, back to the drawing board.
(silence)
Corporate America: (to the Lackeys) Y'all don't say much, do you?
(Idea Man enters, pushing a tall figure covered with a white drape)
Corporate America: 'Bout time! We've been waiting here for two days!
Idea Man: Yes, C.A. Terribly sorry. The boys and I have been working as quickly as we could...but you see...when you said you wanted pagan, well--(begins to lift white drape, a lion roars from underneath and Idea Man drops it quickly), pagan is a little more...er...difficult to manage than the Easter Jesus prototype you saw yesterday.
Corporate America: Ha! That old thing? Personally, I'm glad we gave that thing the axe!
Yes Man: Oh yes. Glad! Glad, glad, glad!
Idea Man: (sotto) You didn't even give me the chance to demonstrate to you that if you appease Easter Jesus by buying up as many Corporate Yummy Easter Pork Eggs as you can find, he might bring your favorite relative back from the dead so he or she can join you for Easter lunch on Sunday.
Corporate America: What's that?
Idea Man: I didn't say anything.
Corporate America: So what's this thing under the sheet? Or is this it? The Easter ghost?
Idea Man: No, we're saving the Easter ghost model for Halloween, in case Pumpkin Patch Man needs a Rudolph to spice him up a bit.
Corporate America: Good thinking.
Idea Man: No, this time we went further back. All the way to the source of Easter itself. So, without further ado, I give you...(drumroll, Idea Man pulls drape off figure to reveal) the Easter Nimrod!
(a pause)
Corporate America: Nimrod? What is this, a joke? Why don't you make an Easter Doofus next? Or an Easter Moron. Or an Easter--
Idea Man: C.A., Nimrod is his name.
Corporate America: Yeah? Some name! How about Easter Idiot? Haw! Haw!
(the Easter Nimrod slowly approaches Corporate America)
Yes Man: Oh, that was a good one, sir.
Corporate America: Or how about Easter Stupid Idiot!
Yes Man: Oh, sir! You're too much!
Corporate America: Or how about--
Idea Man: Umm, C.A., please don't incur the wrath of the Easter Nimrod. He's--
(Easter Nimrod takes Corporate America by the throat and lifts him from his chair)
Easter Nimrod: I am a mighty hunter before the face of the God of the Hebrew scum! I bring chocolate eggs to all the good girls and boys. And to the bad ones, my enemies, I cut their bodies into pieces as they sleep, and scatter what's left of them across the kingdom, where my wife, Ishtar, whore of Babylon and mother of lies, waits to reassemble them in a phallic orgy of pagan devil worship!
(Easter Nimrod throws Corporate America aside like a rag doll and pulls out his sword. He brings it down on the conference room table and hacks it to pieces. Mint julep and splinters fly everywhere. Easter Nimrod lets out another lion-like roar and crashes through the window, lowering himself with monkey-like agility down to the unsuspecting streets below. The sprinkler system turns on. The Lackeys whisper various ad-libs such as, "Dear God!" and "He's loose! He's loose!" and "Maybe no one will notice the ancient warrior king of Babylon roaming the streets." Yes Man goes to Corporate America who is sprawled out like an upside-down tortoise.
Idea Man: (sighs) Well, back to the drawing board.
To be concluded...
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
So tender
For those of you anxiously awaiting the conclusion of the Easter Story, forgive me. It will be posted in due time.
In the meantime, I felt compelled to share with you this picture of a restaurant in Spain where their meats are so tender you can literally cut them with a plate.
It's kind of gross, especially considering they leave the animal's head on, but it's fascinating all the same.
See for yourself!
In the meantime, I felt compelled to share with you this picture of a restaurant in Spain where their meats are so tender you can literally cut them with a plate.
It's kind of gross, especially considering they leave the animal's head on, but it's fascinating all the same.
See for yourself!
Cocker cutlet anyone?
And Baby Makes Three...
Consuela had her baby last night.
So now...
I am...
officially...
in charge...
for the next three months.
Dear Lord...
help me.
Hallelu.
Hallelu.
So now...
I am...
officially...
in charge...
for the next three months.
Dear Lord...
help me.
Hallelu.
Hallelu.
Monday, April 17, 2006
The Easter Story
(Corporate America sits at the end of a large, polished wood table with Yes Man to his left and Idea Man to his right. Lackeys of various shapes and sizes fill in the rest of the chairs)
(Corporate America chomps on his cigar, deep in thought. Eventually he speaks.)
Corporate America: (to Idea Man) Well? Any ideas yet?
Idea Man: None yet, C.A. We're working as fast as we can.
Corporate America: If you know what's good for yuh you boys'd better work faster! Easter is comin' up and we still ain't got nothin'! Idn' that right?
Yes Man: Yes, C.A. Oh, absolutely. Nothing.
Corporate America: I mean, take the other holidays. First, and most obvious, is Sainty Claus. Then yuh've got Cupid for Valentines, Tom Turkey for Thanksgiving, the Tooth Fairy for President's Day, Pumpkin Patch Man for Halloween...
Yes Man: Oh, yes. We have all those, C.A.
Corporate America: But whadda we got fer Easter? Nuthin! I'm tellin' yuh, it's a disgrace!
Yes Man: A disgrace!
Corporate America: Why, in our Hong Kong factories right now we've got piles and piles of Easter baskets and Easter eggs and Easter chocolates and Easter...oh...what is that stuff? That plastic stuff that's like...y'know...it's shredded colored plastic...like tinsel?
Idea Man: Easter grass?
Corporate America: Easter grass! We got all this stuff, but nobody to sell it!
Idea Man: Well, C.A., if I may, the boys have just sent up their ideas for Easter mascots. I'm sure you'll be delighted. Any one of these could be the perfect person to sell our Easter products.
Corporate America: Whadderyuh waitin' for? Lemme see 'em!
Idea Man: Alright, C.A. Oh, this one is perfect! You'll be so impressed! Bring it in, boys!
(The boys enter with Easter Jesus)
(a pause)
Corporate America: What is THAT?
Idea Man: This, C.A., is the Easter Jesus. Since Easter is about him, we figured--
Corporate America: What does it do?
Idea Man: Well--I--that is to say--(reads from notecard attached to Easter Jesus' sleeve) the Easter Jesus is a top-quality holiday mascot. Not only does he live a sinless life and die in place of undeserving, sinful humanity, he also rises triumphantly from the dead on Easter morning and--
Corporate America: No, no, no!
Idea Man: Excuse me, sir?
Corporate America: We can't do THAT.
Idea Man: But sir--
Corporate America: No, no, no! Remember what happened when we tried to combine Jesus with Christmas? Remember what happened to our sales that year?
Yes Man: All-time low.
Corporate America: If it's Jesus doling out the presents, people are likely to be more humble in their greed and be satisfied with just being around their families and singing songs.
Yes Man: Singing songs.
Corporate America: And that makes me FURIOUS!
Yes Man: Furious!
Idea Man: But some small European countries still use our old Christmas Jesus prototype at Christmastime.
Corporate America: And HOW many XBoxes did we sell to Scartovania last year?
Idea Man: Well--I--
Corporate America: Right. What we need is something...less holy. Something further removed from the reason for the holiday... Wait a minute. The reason for the holiday... Say, wasn't Easter recently named the most Unholy Helliday?
Yes Man: Yes, C.A.
Corporate America: And why is that?
Idea Man: Well, sir, because Easter is actually a centuries-old pagan holiday that was renamed by the early Catholics so their new converts could both go to church and still party like heathens.
Corporate America: Pagan, eh? Pagan. That's good. Pagan is good. I want your boys to go back to the drawing board. Tomorrow, I want PAGAN. None of this Easter Jesus stuff.
Idea Man: Yes sir!
(Corporate America chomps on his cigar, deep in thought. Eventually he speaks.)
Corporate America: (to Idea Man) Well? Any ideas yet?
Idea Man: None yet, C.A. We're working as fast as we can.
Corporate America: If you know what's good for yuh you boys'd better work faster! Easter is comin' up and we still ain't got nothin'! Idn' that right?
Yes Man: Yes, C.A. Oh, absolutely. Nothing.
Corporate America: I mean, take the other holidays. First, and most obvious, is Sainty Claus. Then yuh've got Cupid for Valentines, Tom Turkey for Thanksgiving, the Tooth Fairy for President's Day, Pumpkin Patch Man for Halloween...
Yes Man: Oh, yes. We have all those, C.A.
Corporate America: But whadda we got fer Easter? Nuthin! I'm tellin' yuh, it's a disgrace!
Yes Man: A disgrace!
Corporate America: Why, in our Hong Kong factories right now we've got piles and piles of Easter baskets and Easter eggs and Easter chocolates and Easter...oh...what is that stuff? That plastic stuff that's like...y'know...it's shredded colored plastic...like tinsel?
Idea Man: Easter grass?
Corporate America: Easter grass! We got all this stuff, but nobody to sell it!
Idea Man: Well, C.A., if I may, the boys have just sent up their ideas for Easter mascots. I'm sure you'll be delighted. Any one of these could be the perfect person to sell our Easter products.
Corporate America: Whadderyuh waitin' for? Lemme see 'em!
Idea Man: Alright, C.A. Oh, this one is perfect! You'll be so impressed! Bring it in, boys!
(The boys enter with Easter Jesus)
(a pause)
Corporate America: What is THAT?
Idea Man: This, C.A., is the Easter Jesus. Since Easter is about him, we figured--
Corporate America: What does it do?
Idea Man: Well--I--that is to say--(reads from notecard attached to Easter Jesus' sleeve) the Easter Jesus is a top-quality holiday mascot. Not only does he live a sinless life and die in place of undeserving, sinful humanity, he also rises triumphantly from the dead on Easter morning and--
Corporate America: No, no, no!
Idea Man: Excuse me, sir?
Corporate America: We can't do THAT.
Idea Man: But sir--
Corporate America: No, no, no! Remember what happened when we tried to combine Jesus with Christmas? Remember what happened to our sales that year?
Yes Man: All-time low.
Corporate America: If it's Jesus doling out the presents, people are likely to be more humble in their greed and be satisfied with just being around their families and singing songs.
Yes Man: Singing songs.
Corporate America: And that makes me FURIOUS!
Yes Man: Furious!
Idea Man: But some small European countries still use our old Christmas Jesus prototype at Christmastime.
Corporate America: And HOW many XBoxes did we sell to Scartovania last year?
Idea Man: Well--I--
Corporate America: Right. What we need is something...less holy. Something further removed from the reason for the holiday... Wait a minute. The reason for the holiday... Say, wasn't Easter recently named the most Unholy Helliday?
Yes Man: Yes, C.A.
Corporate America: And why is that?
Idea Man: Well, sir, because Easter is actually a centuries-old pagan holiday that was renamed by the early Catholics so their new converts could both go to church and still party like heathens.
Corporate America: Pagan, eh? Pagan. That's good. Pagan is good. I want your boys to go back to the drawing board. Tomorrow, I want PAGAN. None of this Easter Jesus stuff.
Idea Man: Yes sir!
To be continued...
Thursday, April 13, 2006
I Xenu it!
The people have searched their hearts and thetans and have finally spoken!
What's even crazier than letting illegal immigrants conga-line their way across our feeble borders (cha-cha-cha!)?
What's even crazier than Paula Abdul?
Why, L. Ron Hubbard and his looney band of couch-jumping acolytes, of course! There are loads of crazy things out there, but Scientology is the nuttiest of them all. Thanks for the laughs, L. Ron! As long as Tom Cruise is out there, there are bound to be many, many more!
"Writing for a penny a word is ridiculous. If a man really wants to make a million dollars, the best way would be to start his own religion." -L. Ron Hubbard
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
42nd Floor on 42nd Street!
The world feels like a really different place when you've got piles of stuff to do on your desk. And no matter how much you do, how many websites you visit, how many minutes you waste on today's sudoku puzzle, that pile never seems to get any smaller. So for those of you waiting to hear about my trip to New York, forgive me. I really DID go, I just haven't been able to write about it.
Until now.
SO, without further ado...
I saw my first New York rat in the subway on Sunday morning as I was trying to find the church I was to visit. I couldn't quite believe my eyes. I mean, there, in the subway, by this door, a big rat with a pink tail just...waddled up and disappeared into a hole it had obviously nibbled for itself.
After a moment, I realized I was on the wrong platform (do they call the subway waiting area platforms?) so I followed the signs downstairs to the correct one. And what should I see there?
Another RAT!
In retrospect, I suppose it could have been the same one. He could have taken some little rodent-sized passage or something. But still! And it scurried right up to this guy who was also waiting for the train and came so close he had to stomp to try and scare it away. It didn't work. The rat just kept going.
It reminded me of a story that Candie, our receptionist, once told me about a friend of hers who was living in a kind of ratty (pardon the pun) apartment in Everycity. She came home early one hot summer day and took a nap. She woke up to hear a scritch-scritch-scratch in her room. Sitting up in bed, she saw a little critter sitting on the floor.
"Awww!" she thought in her naptime stupor. "A puppy!" She reached out her hand to pet the creature.
"Wait a minute," she thought suddenly. "I don't have a puppy."
That's when she realized that her little visitor was a rat.
But those subway rats wouldn't have stood a chance if someone had gotten them tickets to the one and only Moscow Cats Theatre (google it!). It was vaudeville...with cats! They danced, they rode in little cars, they pushed cute carts that had a dancing dog in them...
At one point they brought out this really tall pole with a little platform on the top. REALLY tall. One of the cats climbed all the way to the top and perched on the platform. Then, the main clown brought out this tiny pillow.
Yes, the cat jumped. We couldn't believe it. It was amazing! Even more amazing than the amazing acrobats of China! Kitty High-Dive right there!
Then they put one inside this big hula hoop and swung the hoop around. The cat sat comfortably inside the hoop as they spun him faster and faster...even upside-down!
I suppose I don't need to say that the highlight was the hand-standing cat. After the encore at the end of the show, I wondered what will become of the Cat Circus when that cat goes to Kitty Heaven. I mean, a hand-standing cat? Not exactly a dime a dozen. If I had a hand-standing cat, you can bet I wouldn't be sitting here writing about it. I'd be out on the streets making six-figures as a street performer.
Oh, and just for the record, Nelson can't do a hand-stand.
Until now.
SO, without further ado...
I saw my first New York rat in the subway on Sunday morning as I was trying to find the church I was to visit. I couldn't quite believe my eyes. I mean, there, in the subway, by this door, a big rat with a pink tail just...waddled up and disappeared into a hole it had obviously nibbled for itself.
After a moment, I realized I was on the wrong platform (do they call the subway waiting area platforms?) so I followed the signs downstairs to the correct one. And what should I see there?
Another RAT!
In retrospect, I suppose it could have been the same one. He could have taken some little rodent-sized passage or something. But still! And it scurried right up to this guy who was also waiting for the train and came so close he had to stomp to try and scare it away. It didn't work. The rat just kept going.
It reminded me of a story that Candie, our receptionist, once told me about a friend of hers who was living in a kind of ratty (pardon the pun) apartment in Everycity. She came home early one hot summer day and took a nap. She woke up to hear a scritch-scritch-scratch in her room. Sitting up in bed, she saw a little critter sitting on the floor.
"Awww!" she thought in her naptime stupor. "A puppy!" She reached out her hand to pet the creature.
"Wait a minute," she thought suddenly. "I don't have a puppy."
That's when she realized that her little visitor was a rat.
But those subway rats wouldn't have stood a chance if someone had gotten them tickets to the one and only Moscow Cats Theatre (google it!). It was vaudeville...with cats! They danced, they rode in little cars, they pushed cute carts that had a dancing dog in them...
At one point they brought out this really tall pole with a little platform on the top. REALLY tall. One of the cats climbed all the way to the top and perched on the platform. Then, the main clown brought out this tiny pillow.
Yes, the cat jumped. We couldn't believe it. It was amazing! Even more amazing than the amazing acrobats of China! Kitty High-Dive right there!
Then they put one inside this big hula hoop and swung the hoop around. The cat sat comfortably inside the hoop as they spun him faster and faster...even upside-down!
I suppose I don't need to say that the highlight was the hand-standing cat. After the encore at the end of the show, I wondered what will become of the Cat Circus when that cat goes to Kitty Heaven. I mean, a hand-standing cat? Not exactly a dime a dozen. If I had a hand-standing cat, you can bet I wouldn't be sitting here writing about it. I'd be out on the streets making six-figures as a street performer.
Oh, and just for the record, Nelson can't do a hand-stand.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Interviews
(The scene: the 42nd floor. Forky is busy at his desk. Good-time Katie, Consuela's temporary replacement during her maternity leave, enters)
Good-time Katie: Hey Forky!
Forky: Hey, Good-time Katie! What's going on?
Good-time Katie: Oh, nothing. I'm really stuck on this sudoku puzzle. Can you help me?
Forky: Sure, but...shouldn't we be doing things like typing up travel itineraries for Mr. Archibald or emptying the hole puncher?
Good-time Katie: Forget that! We don't get paid enough to work like slaves! Whaddya say we close up early and get some margaritas?
Forky: You're on!
Good-time Katie: Great! She's here!
Forky: What?
Good-time Katie: She's here, Forky!
Forky: What are you...?
Good-time Katie: She's here! Hey, Forky, she's here!
(Forky rouses from his daydream)
Candie: She's here! Hey! Wake up!
Forky: Huh?! Wha? Margaritas? Good-time Katie?
Candie: What are you talking about?
Forky: Consuela's replacement. For when she leaves in two weeks.
Candie: Two weeks? Ha! Consuela'll pop any day now!
Forky: Wait...who's here?
Candie: The first interviewee. Consuela's temporary replacement, remember?
Forky: What about Good-ti--oh. Yeah.
Candie: She's meeting with Jerrie right now. You should meet her. After all, you two are going to be working really closely.
Forky: Yeah...
(Jerrie Enemical, office manager, enters with Penny Pencilpusher)
Jerrie: Yes, he's very artistic. You have to be prepar--
Forky: Hello, Jerrie.
Jerrie: Oh! Hello ladies! (Forky winces) OH! I'm SORRY. I just keep thinking you're a girl! Isn't that funny?
Forky: I'll grow a beard.
Jerrie: Candie, [Forky], I'd like you to meet Penny Pencilpusher. She's on her way to Mr. Archibald's office to interview with him.
Penny: (timidly, but sweetly) Hello.
Forky: Oh, hi! My name is [Forky]. I work with Consuela.
Candie: (dreadful British accent) He's an ACT-toooor. (mimes tossing beautiful, long, brown hair)
Forky: Thank you for that spot-on imitation, Candie.
Penny: (timidly, but sweetly) Yes.
(silence)
Jerrie: Well, now that we've all gotten to know each other, let me take you to Mr. Archibald's office. Now, the first thing you need to know is if he yells at you (and he will yell at you), it's not personal. He's just overcompensating for his being so...petite. (they exit)
Forky: (after a moment) I kinda like her. She seems so... (subconsciously makes "round" gesture) soft and kind and sweet.
Candie: And round?
Forky: Oh--I was doing that, wasn't I?
Candie: You're such a freak.
(the elevator dings. A gaunt, put-together elderly woman steps out...purposefully)
Woman: I'm here to see Jerrie Enemical.
Candie: She's away from her desk at the mo--
Woman: I'm here for the interview.
Candie: Oh, yes. She's expecting you. Let me see if I can find her--
Woman: I'm early.
Candie: (beat) Yes. Yes, you are. If you'd like to have a seat, I'll see if I can find her for you. (mouths to Forky, "Validate parking" and picks up phone) Hey Janet, it's Candie. Do you know if Jerrie is by Mr. Archibald's office or...?
Forky: (to the Woman) Excuse me, ma'am, but did you park downstairs in the gara--
Woman: No.
Forky: Oh. Okay. Um, well, do you need me to validate your broomsti--er--parking or--
Woman: No.
Forky: Oh. Alright.
Jerrie: (entering) Penny's in with Mr. Archibald now. He'll eat her alive. When she comes out tell her I don't need to see her agai--
Woman: Jerrie Enemical?
Jerrie: Yes.
Woman: Cackleene Gultch.
Jerrie: Oh yes!
Cackleene: I'm early.
Jerrie: (even Jerrie is a little taken aback by Miss Gultch's abruptness) Y...yes. Well, that's a good thing! Here, let me take you back to Mr. Archibald's office. These interviews won't take very long.
Cackleene: Certainly. (gives Forky and Candie the once-over, sneering a bit at the sight of Forky's long hair and Candie's short hair. They exit)
(silence. Candie and Forky look at each other, then)
Forky: (mimes riding a bicycle and scats the Wicked Witch of the West theme)
Candie: Oh, Forky! She's awful!
Forky: (amused) Yeah, she is! Mr. Archibald is gonna be in for it with her!
Candie: What are you smiling about?
Forky: Huh?
Candie: If they hire her you do realize you're going to be her supervisor, don't you?
Forky: Super...vis...or? (Forky hears Cackleene in his head)
Cackleene: I will not take orders from a hippie-headed whipper-snapper like YOU!
Forky: This is terrible.
Candie: You've got to tell Consuela to hire Penny Pencilbottom.
Forky: Pusher.
Candie: Right.
Forky: Oh...nahhh. Candie, there's nothing to worry about here. There is no way they'd hire someone like that wicked witch.
Consuela: (enters...VERY pregnant) Hey [Forky]! Candie!
Candie: Hey, Consuela.
Consuela: Oh, hello Candie. Did you get to meet the two candidates?
Forky: Yeah, we did. Miss Gultch just came by. (Does his Wicked Witch impresh)
Consuela: (a little hurt) Aw...you thought so?
Forky: Uhh. Well. I mean, I didn't really get to talk to her. Just...first impression.
Consuela: Oh. Did you say she just came by?
Forky: She just went thataway. With Jerrie.
Consuela: (concerned) Really? Why'd she go there?
Forky: She was going to interview.
Consuela: What?
Forky: With Mr. Archibald. The interview.
Consuela: But Penny's in there with him.
Forky: Oh, she's going to go in when Penny gets out.
Consuela: Jerrie?
Forky: No. Cackleene.
Consuela: What about her?
Forky: (intense frustration) She's...she's going...Cackleene, I mean. Cackleene is...she's--
Consuela: I like Cackleene.
Forky: Oh?
Consuela: I think she's a perfect fit.
Forky: What?
Consuela: I can just tell. You know, she's worked in a law firm before. She's very no-nonsense.
Forky: But I'm gonna superv--
Consuela: I'm so happy we found somebody. Now I can leave and have this baby without worrying about the office during delivery. (begins to leave, then remembers) Oh, by the way, I'm leaving early so make sure you get the overnight shipments out, finish drafting the invoice request letter, send out the annual quarterly memo to our 243 clients, order a catered lunch for tomorrow's staff meeting, continue filing, and submit the reimbursements for travel expenses.
Forky: In that order?
Consuela: (Doesn't hear. She sighs happily) You know...I'm not young anymore. And with another baby coming and you taking over so many of my old responsibilities...I feel like...I just feel like I'm at the beginning of a new phase in my life.
Forky: I know the feeling. I've never felt so much like a confusing black woman in all my life.
Consuela: In fact, I've been thinking...after taking two months off to be with the new baby...I might decide to never come back.
Forky: Yeah, so--(record spindle scratches)--what?
Consuela: Have a good afternoon! Time for the baby's check up!
Good-time Katie: Hey Forky!
Forky: Hey, Good-time Katie! What's going on?
Good-time Katie: Oh, nothing. I'm really stuck on this sudoku puzzle. Can you help me?
Forky: Sure, but...shouldn't we be doing things like typing up travel itineraries for Mr. Archibald or emptying the hole puncher?
Good-time Katie: Forget that! We don't get paid enough to work like slaves! Whaddya say we close up early and get some margaritas?
Forky: You're on!
Good-time Katie: Great! She's here!
Forky: What?
Good-time Katie: She's here, Forky!
Forky: What are you...?
Good-time Katie: She's here! Hey, Forky, she's here!
(Forky rouses from his daydream)
Candie: She's here! Hey! Wake up!
Forky: Huh?! Wha? Margaritas? Good-time Katie?
Candie: What are you talking about?
Forky: Consuela's replacement. For when she leaves in two weeks.
Candie: Two weeks? Ha! Consuela'll pop any day now!
Forky: Wait...who's here?
Candie: The first interviewee. Consuela's temporary replacement, remember?
Forky: What about Good-ti--oh. Yeah.
Candie: She's meeting with Jerrie right now. You should meet her. After all, you two are going to be working really closely.
Forky: Yeah...
(Jerrie Enemical, office manager, enters with Penny Pencilpusher)
Jerrie: Yes, he's very artistic. You have to be prepar--
Forky: Hello, Jerrie.
Jerrie: Oh! Hello ladies! (Forky winces) OH! I'm SORRY. I just keep thinking you're a girl! Isn't that funny?
Forky: I'll grow a beard.
Jerrie: Candie, [Forky], I'd like you to meet Penny Pencilpusher. She's on her way to Mr. Archibald's office to interview with him.
Penny: (timidly, but sweetly) Hello.
Forky: Oh, hi! My name is [Forky]. I work with Consuela.
Candie: (dreadful British accent) He's an ACT-toooor. (mimes tossing beautiful, long, brown hair)
Forky: Thank you for that spot-on imitation, Candie.
Penny: (timidly, but sweetly) Yes.
(silence)
Jerrie: Well, now that we've all gotten to know each other, let me take you to Mr. Archibald's office. Now, the first thing you need to know is if he yells at you (and he will yell at you), it's not personal. He's just overcompensating for his being so...petite. (they exit)
Forky: (after a moment) I kinda like her. She seems so... (subconsciously makes "round" gesture) soft and kind and sweet.
Candie: And round?
Forky: Oh--I was doing that, wasn't I?
Candie: You're such a freak.
(the elevator dings. A gaunt, put-together elderly woman steps out...purposefully)
Woman: I'm here to see Jerrie Enemical.
Candie: She's away from her desk at the mo--
Woman: I'm here for the interview.
Candie: Oh, yes. She's expecting you. Let me see if I can find her--
Woman: I'm early.
Candie: (beat) Yes. Yes, you are. If you'd like to have a seat, I'll see if I can find her for you. (mouths to Forky, "Validate parking" and picks up phone) Hey Janet, it's Candie. Do you know if Jerrie is by Mr. Archibald's office or...?
Forky: (to the Woman) Excuse me, ma'am, but did you park downstairs in the gara--
Woman: No.
Forky: Oh. Okay. Um, well, do you need me to validate your broomsti--er--parking or--
Woman: No.
Forky: Oh. Alright.
Jerrie: (entering) Penny's in with Mr. Archibald now. He'll eat her alive. When she comes out tell her I don't need to see her agai--
Woman: Jerrie Enemical?
Jerrie: Yes.
Woman: Cackleene Gultch.
Jerrie: Oh yes!
Cackleene: I'm early.
Jerrie: (even Jerrie is a little taken aback by Miss Gultch's abruptness) Y...yes. Well, that's a good thing! Here, let me take you back to Mr. Archibald's office. These interviews won't take very long.
Cackleene: Certainly. (gives Forky and Candie the once-over, sneering a bit at the sight of Forky's long hair and Candie's short hair. They exit)
(silence. Candie and Forky look at each other, then)
Forky: (mimes riding a bicycle and scats the Wicked Witch of the West theme)
Candie: Oh, Forky! She's awful!
Forky: (amused) Yeah, she is! Mr. Archibald is gonna be in for it with her!
Candie: What are you smiling about?
Forky: Huh?
Candie: If they hire her you do realize you're going to be her supervisor, don't you?
Forky: Super...vis...or? (Forky hears Cackleene in his head)
Cackleene: I will not take orders from a hippie-headed whipper-snapper like YOU!
Forky: This is terrible.
Candie: You've got to tell Consuela to hire Penny Pencilbottom.
Forky: Pusher.
Candie: Right.
Forky: Oh...nahhh. Candie, there's nothing to worry about here. There is no way they'd hire someone like that wicked witch.
Consuela: (enters...VERY pregnant) Hey [Forky]! Candie!
Candie: Hey, Consuela.
Consuela: Oh, hello Candie. Did you get to meet the two candidates?
Forky: Yeah, we did. Miss Gultch just came by. (Does his Wicked Witch impresh)
Consuela: (a little hurt) Aw...you thought so?
Forky: Uhh. Well. I mean, I didn't really get to talk to her. Just...first impression.
Consuela: Oh. Did you say she just came by?
Forky: She just went thataway. With Jerrie.
Consuela: (concerned) Really? Why'd she go there?
Forky: She was going to interview.
Consuela: What?
Forky: With Mr. Archibald. The interview.
Consuela: But Penny's in there with him.
Forky: Oh, she's going to go in when Penny gets out.
Consuela: Jerrie?
Forky: No. Cackleene.
Consuela: What about her?
Forky: (intense frustration) She's...she's going...Cackleene, I mean. Cackleene is...she's--
Consuela: I like Cackleene.
Forky: Oh?
Consuela: I think she's a perfect fit.
Forky: What?
Consuela: I can just tell. You know, she's worked in a law firm before. She's very no-nonsense.
Forky: But I'm gonna superv--
Consuela: I'm so happy we found somebody. Now I can leave and have this baby without worrying about the office during delivery. (begins to leave, then remembers) Oh, by the way, I'm leaving early so make sure you get the overnight shipments out, finish drafting the invoice request letter, send out the annual quarterly memo to our 243 clients, order a catered lunch for tomorrow's staff meeting, continue filing, and submit the reimbursements for travel expenses.
Forky: In that order?
Consuela: (Doesn't hear. She sighs happily) You know...I'm not young anymore. And with another baby coming and you taking over so many of my old responsibilities...I feel like...I just feel like I'm at the beginning of a new phase in my life.
Forky: I know the feeling. I've never felt so much like a confusing black woman in all my life.
Consuela: In fact, I've been thinking...after taking two months off to be with the new baby...I might decide to never come back.
Forky: Yeah, so--(record spindle scratches)--what?
Consuela: Have a good afternoon! Time for the baby's check up!
TO BE CONTINUED...
Friday, April 07, 2006
cR@zY!
**An Official 42nd Floor Poll**
What's Crazier?!
Scientology
President Bush's Immigration Reform Policy
Paula Abdul
Thursday, April 06, 2006
Mission UNpossible
Time for another 42nd Floor poll!
I don't think there can be any question about how crazy we all think--er--know Tom Cruise is.
It certainly doesn't help his image that we've all had to stand by this past year and watch him couch jump, give stupid interviews, and drag sweet little Katie Holmes to the Scientologist funny farm.
So I'm curious. Are any of you going to see this kook in "Mission: Impossible: 3"? After all, they say Tom is the biggest star in the world. People flock to his movies. They can't help themselves.
Or can they?
Honestly, deep down in my thetan, I eagerly await the day when Tom Cruise becomes box-office poison. Like Joan.
So...will you go see him?
I don't think there can be any question about how crazy we all think--er--know Tom Cruise is.
It certainly doesn't help his image that we've all had to stand by this past year and watch him couch jump, give stupid interviews, and drag sweet little Katie Holmes to the Scientologist funny farm.
So I'm curious. Are any of you going to see this kook in "Mission: Impossible: 3"? After all, they say Tom is the biggest star in the world. People flock to his movies. They can't help themselves.
Or can they?
Honestly, deep down in my thetan, I eagerly await the day when Tom Cruise becomes box-office poison. Like Joan.
So...will you go see him?
"Tom! Bring me the axe!"
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Chuck Norris Humor
I've received multiple requests from folks to post the popular "100 Little-Known Facts About Chuck Norris" email. You know the one. "Chuck Norris is so tough he makes grown men cry." "Chuck Norris can chew nails and spit them out as bullets." "Chuck Norris can control the weather with his beard." "Chuck Norris knows the secret of photosynthesis."
Well I've got one to add to the list.
Chuck Norris is a Buddhist and is going to burn in hell.
Well I've got one to add to the list.
Chuck Norris is a Buddhist and is going to burn in hell.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Chewie's Wife
I'm sitting in the Newark Liberty International Airport getting ready to board my plane back to Everycity. It's pretty hot in the terminal and the yellow walls certainly don't help to minimize that sweltering feeling. It's like I'm in some sort of South American bus station. I turn on my Game Boy and proceed to lose myself for forty-five minutes when my hand starts to cramp and my eyes begin to cross. Time for a break.
I look up and see, there, in front of me, a big mane of long, shaggy black hair. I think, "Hmm. That's a lot of hair." Then the owner of the hair stands up. It's a man. He's about eight feet tall. He's sitting with a scruffy-looking woman...round, grumpy-looking, wearing a cowboy hat...and I think to myself, "I've seen these people before."
I call Catch in Wackytown.
"Hey, what was the name of the guy who played Chewbacca in the Star Wars movies?"
"Peter Mayhew."
"I'm 95% sure that he's sitting right in front of me in the terminal."
"You're kidding! Go up and say hi to him!"
"What? No! I'm not going to bother him! They're just nice, normal people, probably happily blending into the crowd, not wanting to be noticed...besides, what would I say to him anyway?"
A little background: The Mayhews live in the tiny town of Cranberry, which also happens to be where Catch and I had our first professional theatre gigs. The Mayhews were well-known supporters of the Cranberry Opera House and would attend fund raisers, hang with the cast after the shows...the set shop crew even went over to their lake house that summer and helped build their deck.
Knowing that Chewie--er--Peter sheepishly makes his living attending the Star Wars conventions he so abhors, I decided not to be a Star Wars freak and left them alone. And so I sat quietly in my chair, calm on the outside, but giddy on the inside, wanting desperately to tell everybody, "Hey! That's CHEWIE!"
But no. I resolved myself. In a few minutes, it would be over. After all, it's not like I could talk to him while boarding the plane. That's no place for a conversation. I figured they'd be in first class anyway. I mean, come on. It's freakin' Chewbacca. He's probably got, like, a million dollars and all the original Star Wars action figures.
We begin to board and Chewie ambles down the ramp with his scrappy little wife. There goes my big shot. Ah well. When we get to heaven they'll thank me for not saying anything that day and letting them just be normal people.
Wait a minute...I'm in 19A...and they're in 20C and D! What the crap? Now's my chance!
I turned to say something and Chewie gave me this look. I remembered what Han Solo said about Wookies being able to tear your arms off so I turned back around.
I returned to my Game Boy and, with great personal satisfaction, beat the game I had been playing during my evening "reading" time in New York. Behind me in 20A and B were two business executives. The one in A was truly obnoxious, talking about what a bigshot he was, that he's on first-name basis with the president of his company, that he gets to go on all these trips, that he usually NEVER travels coach...
...and as he gabbed about how important he was and how his wife gets on his nerves, I wanted so badly to turn around and say,
"WHO CARES?! DON'T YOU REALIZE YOU'RE SITTING IN THE SAME AISLE AS CHEWBACCA?"
The plane landed and I got giddy again. Could I say something? Would they remember the Cranberry Opera House summer season of 2000? What to do? What to do?!
We all stood up to get off the plane. I hurried to the aisle to remove my bag from the overhead compartment and as I opened the compartment door, I clonked Chewie in the head with it. "Oh! I'm sorry!" I said in a breathy voice.
I was humiliated. I mean, how could I DO such a stupid thing? I bonked a Wookie in the head with the overhead compartment door! I pulled my bag close and ran off the plane, choking back the tears as I went.
"There they go," I thought as I knelt there, getting my keys and wallet out of the side pouch of my Eddie Bauer bag. "There they go into the Everycity crowd. Oh well. I guess I should chalk it up to good breeding that I don't harass total strangers, no matter HOW famous they are."
I wandered through the airport looking for the exit and got pretty lost (most people don't know that the Everycity Airport is the size of Manhattan). I turned left, then right, then down an empty corridor, past Sudoku Airlines, down another deserted passage, and finally, out the doors.
And WHO, dear readers, should be sitting there but Mr. and Mrs. Chewbacca.
"E-excuse me," I stammered. The little woman turned to me, a cigarette nestled between her yellow teeth. "You don't know me but I was a company member at the Cranberry Opera House in their 2000 summer season, and I-I just couldn't help but recognize the two of you and I wanted to say thank you for supporting the theatre."
"Cranberry, huh?" croaked the Mrs. "We had you actors over at our place all the time. Did you ever come over?" Chewbacca looked on silently. He was smoking too.
"Oh no," I said. "But one of my friends helped build your deck that summer."
"Oh."
Silence.
"Yes, well," I continued, "I just wanted to tell you how much we all appreciated your support of the Opera House."
She shook my hand.
"Yep. No problem."
Silence again.
"Yes," I said. "Yeah. There you go."
I did it. I spoke to Chewbacca.
Well, I sort of did. They say he's known for being very quiet and reserved so I think talking to his wife sort of counts as talking to him. I think he muttered "Thank you" as I was leaving, but he might have been clearing his throat.
And can I just say, if they don't like being hounded by Star Wars fans, maybe Chewie's wife could find a different shirt to wear. There, stretched across her bosoms in all their Lucas-font glory, were the words "Skywalker Ranch."
Personally, I think they kinda like being famous.
I look up and see, there, in front of me, a big mane of long, shaggy black hair. I think, "Hmm. That's a lot of hair." Then the owner of the hair stands up. It's a man. He's about eight feet tall. He's sitting with a scruffy-looking woman...round, grumpy-looking, wearing a cowboy hat...and I think to myself, "I've seen these people before."
I call Catch in Wackytown.
"Hey, what was the name of the guy who played Chewbacca in the Star Wars movies?"
"Peter Mayhew."
"I'm 95% sure that he's sitting right in front of me in the terminal."
"You're kidding! Go up and say hi to him!"
"What? No! I'm not going to bother him! They're just nice, normal people, probably happily blending into the crowd, not wanting to be noticed...besides, what would I say to him anyway?"
A little background: The Mayhews live in the tiny town of Cranberry, which also happens to be where Catch and I had our first professional theatre gigs. The Mayhews were well-known supporters of the Cranberry Opera House and would attend fund raisers, hang with the cast after the shows...the set shop crew even went over to their lake house that summer and helped build their deck.
Knowing that Chewie--er--Peter sheepishly makes his living attending the Star Wars conventions he so abhors, I decided not to be a Star Wars freak and left them alone. And so I sat quietly in my chair, calm on the outside, but giddy on the inside, wanting desperately to tell everybody, "Hey! That's CHEWIE!"
But no. I resolved myself. In a few minutes, it would be over. After all, it's not like I could talk to him while boarding the plane. That's no place for a conversation. I figured they'd be in first class anyway. I mean, come on. It's freakin' Chewbacca. He's probably got, like, a million dollars and all the original Star Wars action figures.
We begin to board and Chewie ambles down the ramp with his scrappy little wife. There goes my big shot. Ah well. When we get to heaven they'll thank me for not saying anything that day and letting them just be normal people.
Wait a minute...I'm in 19A...and they're in 20C and D! What the crap? Now's my chance!
I turned to say something and Chewie gave me this look. I remembered what Han Solo said about Wookies being able to tear your arms off so I turned back around.
I returned to my Game Boy and, with great personal satisfaction, beat the game I had been playing during my evening "reading" time in New York. Behind me in 20A and B were two business executives. The one in A was truly obnoxious, talking about what a bigshot he was, that he's on first-name basis with the president of his company, that he gets to go on all these trips, that he usually NEVER travels coach...
...and as he gabbed about how important he was and how his wife gets on his nerves, I wanted so badly to turn around and say,
"WHO CARES?! DON'T YOU REALIZE YOU'RE SITTING IN THE SAME AISLE AS CHEWBACCA?"
The plane landed and I got giddy again. Could I say something? Would they remember the Cranberry Opera House summer season of 2000? What to do? What to do?!
We all stood up to get off the plane. I hurried to the aisle to remove my bag from the overhead compartment and as I opened the compartment door, I clonked Chewie in the head with it. "Oh! I'm sorry!" I said in a breathy voice.
I was humiliated. I mean, how could I DO such a stupid thing? I bonked a Wookie in the head with the overhead compartment door! I pulled my bag close and ran off the plane, choking back the tears as I went.
"There they go," I thought as I knelt there, getting my keys and wallet out of the side pouch of my Eddie Bauer bag. "There they go into the Everycity crowd. Oh well. I guess I should chalk it up to good breeding that I don't harass total strangers, no matter HOW famous they are."
I wandered through the airport looking for the exit and got pretty lost (most people don't know that the Everycity Airport is the size of Manhattan). I turned left, then right, then down an empty corridor, past Sudoku Airlines, down another deserted passage, and finally, out the doors.
And WHO, dear readers, should be sitting there but Mr. and Mrs. Chewbacca.
"E-excuse me," I stammered. The little woman turned to me, a cigarette nestled between her yellow teeth. "You don't know me but I was a company member at the Cranberry Opera House in their 2000 summer season, and I-I just couldn't help but recognize the two of you and I wanted to say thank you for supporting the theatre."
"Cranberry, huh?" croaked the Mrs. "We had you actors over at our place all the time. Did you ever come over?" Chewbacca looked on silently. He was smoking too.
"Oh no," I said. "But one of my friends helped build your deck that summer."
"Oh."
Silence.
"Yes, well," I continued, "I just wanted to tell you how much we all appreciated your support of the Opera House."
She shook my hand.
"Yep. No problem."
Silence again.
"Yes," I said. "Yeah. There you go."
I did it. I spoke to Chewbacca.
Well, I sort of did. They say he's known for being very quiet and reserved so I think talking to his wife sort of counts as talking to him. I think he muttered "Thank you" as I was leaving, but he might have been clearing his throat.
And can I just say, if they don't like being hounded by Star Wars fans, maybe Chewie's wife could find a different shirt to wear. There, stretched across her bosoms in all their Lucas-font glory, were the words "Skywalker Ranch."
Personally, I think they kinda like being famous.
Monday, April 03, 2006
New!
Hey gang! I'm back from New York and the Cat Circus! I saw so many strange and wonderful things, and I'm not just talking about hand-standing cats (which, I gotta say, may be the coolest thing you'll see on Broadway. Ten seconds of sheer upside-down kitty amazement!). I can't wait to tell you all about it, but at the moment, the man is breathing down my neck. Check back later for a full report on my first-ever solo trip to the Big Apple and my experience at what may be the world's first feline vaudeville!
I wonder if Nelson can do a handstand...heeere kitty, kitty, kitty!
I wonder if Nelson can do a handstand...heeere kitty, kitty, kitty!
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