Thursday, June 29, 2006

"Honey, singing just isn't for you." -Mom

Sorry for not writing more this week, folks. I pulled a Garbo (I vanted to be alone). I've been in the throes of deepest despair and I'm only now able to laugh about it all. Or at least talk about it without bursting into convulsions.

I'm no longer a bad review virgin. After an unbroken stream of excellent notices, it's like some pissed-off gypsy told the papers, "Qvick! Zee boy, he eez movink to New York! You must destroy heez self-confidence!"

Thanks to Aretha, winner of last week's hastily chosen Best Ever, the show has become a singing contest, at least to the critics.

She sings songs and they sing her praises. Then they examine the opposite end of the singing spectrum. That's where I am. The great disappointment. "Weak of throat", "flat and sharp"...and that's just the first two reviews. Nevermind the fact that I fly all over the stage, deliver world-class Shakespearean monologues, and have a hot bod.

Ever since my Mom and sister came to see me in the Cranberry Opera House production of 'Fiddler' and told me that I should avoid singing at all costs, then seeing the video and realizing I had been flat the entire summer and nobody told me, I've wanted nothing more than to impress my family--no, the world--with my golden throat.

They all came on opening night. And the only people I impressed were some distant bloodhounds who joined in my blood-curdling, ear-piercing bays and howls.

It hurts my Mom and Dad to see their son making a fool of himself. I think they wish I would just stop trying to be something I'm not and accept the facts.

Okay, joking and self-effacing humor aside, I admit it. Opening night wasn't so great. I was battling fierce allergies and could barely talk earlier that day, my parents were sitting at eye-level on the hill (they were the first things I saw when I hopped onto the stage for the opening number), and I was absolutely scared to death by the 1,000 faces that met my half-naked body as I sang the first note of the show with our inconsistent band.

I've improved greatly in the days since. A-Dub even saw me on a night when I managed to score the affections of all the teenage girls sitting in the front row (thanks for the positive review, by the way, A-Dub!). But try telling that to the five critics who all came on the one night when I sucked hard core.

Every day a new review comes out. Every day I find out from a cast member or a loved one that, "Well, you ARE pretty flat in this song and this song and this song." And every day I feel more like crawling back to Alma Mater U and getting a "real degree" in computers or accounting or something like that.

I won't, of course. I'll get through this, just like I've gotten through everything else.

But in the meantime, it sure isn't any fun leaping onto the stage at the top of the show and singing my heart out to a once-loving audience that now looks like this:





Meh. Everyone's a critic.

Tuesday, June 27, 2006

As Requested...

Forkish Smoothie Supreme
aka Forkish Delight

You will need:

1 sturdy blender
5 ice cubes
5-7 frozen strawberries
1 frozen banana (not of the Bluth variety--too many calories)
1 spoonful organic peanut butter
1 heaping scoop of whey protein powder (the low-sugar kind--you can get an enormous tub at Sam's on the cheap! Personally I go with chocolate. Tastes better)
1 squirt local all-natural honey (helps with indigenous allergens!)
Water or Fat-free milk

Instructions:

First things first--break up the ice in the blender (there should be a setting for it). This is noisy and scary the first time you do it, but you'll get used to it. You can reduce the noise by picking up the blender as you do this step. Sometimes it's easier to press the ice-breaker button on and off quickly to keep the ice from sticking to the side of the pitcher.

Once the ice is all broken, add the strawberries, banana, and protein powder. Now fill the pitcher with water or milk so the fruit is a little more than halfway covered. You can use more or less, depending on your desired thickness.

BLEND!

Once everything's been chunked up, add a squirt of honey and a spoonful of natural peanut butter. Blend again. When it's all nice and smooth, stick a straw in it and enjoy!

Monday, June 26, 2006

If I can't take...my coffee break...

Opening weekend was insane. It was terrifying, wonderful, scary, thrilling, nerve-wracking, jubilant...

I'm back on the 42nd Floor now. I was so tired this morning I had to drink some coffee.

I love this show.

Friday, June 23, 2006

Best Ever, week...what week is it again?

Gotta make this brief. The gym is a-callin'.


BEST EVER
Week ???
Big Black Divas

The band was really off last night. REALLY off. Two of my songs had screwed up entrances...so screwed up that I missed them. It's like a train. You see it coming, it's here--and then it's gone. And you couldn't jump on because some joker had removed the hand rails.

Not being a "singer", I didn't feel I had the clout to demand them to get their act together and to please, please, for the love of God, PLEASE do it the same way every time.

But I didn't need to. Because the woman playing Titania, also known as the Aretha Franklin of Everycity, did it for me.

Let's just say when you screw up the intro to a big black diva's biggest number in the show, you'd better believe you'll be hearing about it. And since I've been encouraging her in this, her first Shakespeare (albeit a 70s rock musical Shakespeare), she took care of me.

When you're good to mama, mama's good to you.

And that's why big black divas are this week's

BEST EVER
Honorable mention: Getting through first preview, the 8 Minute Abs DVD, DMog's Pep-Talks

Thursday, June 22, 2006

First Preview

First preview is tonight. I have to hurry up and do my 8 minute abs video so I can run over to the tanning salon and get sprayed down with liquid brown.

We managed to get through the entire show last night. The co-writer/lyricist arrived in Everycity and I met with him, the director, and the composer at the Park yesterday afternoon when UV rays were at their peak (you see where this is going, don't you?). We talked outside for two hours. I got hot and removed my top shirt so I was just wearing my wife beater. It's all good though. We were in the shade.

Well, apparently I was cursed by gypsies as a child because the sun managed to find me even there. During the run through, I ran backstage between scenes and someone said, "Dude--What happened to your shoulders?"

Yep. BRIGHT RED. Like, CRAZY red. Like, they're gonna KILL me red.

Meanwhile, on the front, my fake tan was starting to peel off...BADLY. I had a solid, bright white stripe of my natural skin color running right down the center of my stomach, and splotches of pale Scots-Irish skin peaking out everywhere else.

I was a human rainbow.

Okay! Time for abs!

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Second Dress

We got through act one of the show last night. Hey, at least we got that far. What was meant to be a run through became another tech rehearsal. And thanks to the light rain we had on Sunday, the mosquitoes were out in droves. Freakin' mosquitoes. It looks like I've got tiny red abs all over my body. Normally, I'd be thrilled. The abbier the better, right? Only I'm not insane. These aren't tiny red abs. They're bug bites. And they itch!

I'm taking the rest of this week off work to prepare for the show. This morning I'm meeting with the composer, the director, and the lyricist (the guy who also originated this role). Tonight we're going to run quickly through the first act, then we're going to attempt to tech the second act.

The costumes are fan-freakin-tastic. And I'm pleased to report that Mr. Puckster is ab-o-licious! I'm so happy for me.

It occurred to me as I was looking at the program yesterday that if something dreadful were to happen to any of us in the cast...what would they do? I mean, Everycity is a pretty busy place. Road rage is pervasive on these crowded thoroughfares. That we haven't already lost a couple of fairies to Death-UVs is a miracle.

Seriously. They're taking a huge risk letting us leave the theatre until after this show is closed. If I were them, I'd heard us into cages at the end of the night and keep us there until the next performance.

Tuesday, June 20, 2006

First Dress

We're so down to the wire it's not even funny. The most anticipated show in Everycity! Two dress rehearsals, two previews, and Saturday marks our opening night. Normally I'd be bouncing off the walls right now. First dress rehearsal! Costumes! This is where it all starts to really gel!

Yeah, I would be feeling that way...if I weren't about to fall asleep at my desk.

Remember when you were a kid on Christmas Eve? Remember how you tried so hard to go to sleep, but you just couldn't stop thinking about the next morning and all the surprises that Santa was going to leave for you? It wasn't until about 3 in the morning that the sandman finally got the better of you and you drifted off to a fitful sleep, crowded with dreams of Christmas greed.

That's what last night was kinda like. I tossed. I turned. It was too hot. It was too cold. I could hear Nelson walking around the room. I couldn't stop thinking about the show. I tried reading a book. I tried playing a video game. I tried a glass of milk. I tried a glass of milk and two shots of Kahlua. Nothing. Toss. Turn. Toss. Turn. 11:00. 11:45. 12:00. 1:00. 2:00. 2:30. 3:00.

And now I'm at work. At the end of today I was thinking of leaving here and going straight to the park to start getting ready for tonight. Now I'm thinking I'm going to "suddenly get sick" and take off at noon so I can try to take my mind off the show and get some freakin' sleep.

And maybe do some crunches.

Monday, June 19, 2006

It's the week of the show...

...and work has reared its ugly head...with a vengance! Piles of papers everywhere. I don't want to be here. I want to be home going over my choreography and thinking about my notes from the run through yesterday afternoon.

Mondays kinda suck!

Friday, June 16, 2006

Best Ever, week 24

BEST EVER
week 24


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The DS Lite and the Sixth Coming of MegaMan

Nothing perks me up quite like the highly anticipated redesign of a portable dual screen gaming system and the next entry in one of my favorite video game series coming out on the same week!

Sure the DS Lite is just a smaller, lighter, brighter, sexier, more iPod-looking version of something I already have. Sure MegaMan Battle Network 6 Cybeast Gregar is almost exactly like its five predecessors (with the exception of MegaMan Battle Network 5 Team Protoman).

But that doesn't matter. Because even if Osama strikes again and the world comes crumbling down around our ears, I'll still have portable gaming goodness...at least until the rechargable battery runs out.

And that's why the DS Lite and the Sixth Coming of MegaMan are this week's

BEST EVER

Honorable Mention: Having Fridays off again, the anticipation of really good opening night presents

Thursday, June 15, 2006

Ball

I thought this exercise ball would help me get in better shape for the show.

Boy was I wrong. All I do is play on it. Queen III can attest to that. My favorite move is "skydiver". I always roll off in the end, but it's great fun while it lasts.

The best part of this purchase was the "8 Super Workouts!" DVD that came with it. Naturally, I skipped straight to the ab workout section. It had this woman sitting in some kind of Shinto Yoga Garden. Soothing music plays. A stream babbles gently in the background. The woman gets on the ball, says, "Here we go!" and she does, like, a crunch on it. Then she stretches for two minutes to make sure she didn't pull anything. That DVD is a coaster now.

Lately I've been trying to teach Nelson to balance on it. Make hay while the sun shines, I always say.

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

A Little Peek

So I almost left the 42nd Floor forever last Friday. Because of Yasriel.

I can't take this abuse anymore. She's a temp! She's completely out of line talking to me this way!

Maybe she wouldn't talk to you like that if you knew what you were doing.

I know what I'm doing! I've worked here for two years.

You think you know what you're doing, but you know you're a charlatan.

What are you talking about?

You know what I mean. Any day now they're going to realize you're completely clueless about your job.

That's insane! I couldn't work in a place for two years without knowing a little something about it!

It happens to those illiterate kids all the time. They can't read, yet they still get passed on to the seventh grade.

Oh my gosh. You're right.

Of course I'm right.

But still--that's no reason for her to condescend to me the way she does!

If you were nicer she wouldn't talk to you like that.

What?

Face it. You're a jerk. People are mean to mean people.

That's not true! I've tried really hard to be nice to--

You have a bad temper. If you weren't so mean to her you wouldn't have these problems.

Wait...no...that's not...I...

Tsk, tsk... it seems to me that she's not the problem. You are.

You're right. I'm a loose cannon. I'm out of control. I should just sit here quietly. And take it. Take it like the bitch that I am.

Aww...There's no reason to talk like that.

That's true, I guess. I may feel weak and powerless at work, but I feel confident when I'm on the stage. I mean, I do have great abs.

Didn't you have a beer this weekend?

Yes. But it was just one. We all went out and everyone said to have one so I thought, eh, what could it hurt?

Poor Forky.

What? What "Poor Forky"?

So innocent. So naive. Don't you realize? They're trying to sabotage everything you've worked for.

They are?

Oh yes. They're jealous of you.

They are?

They're angry because they wish they could have great abs. That's why they ply you with pastries and truffles and cheese fries.

What? No! They're my friends!

No they're not. I'm your friend. They want you to fail!

Yes, I guess you--I guess you're right. I have noticed a certain...animosity...

Just listen to me. I'll take care of you.

Yes...yes...

I'm your REAL friend. Not like those other people...

Yes...

What are you doing!? No candy for you!

Just...one...little taste?

No! Only green leaves for the next two weeks! Why aren't you doing crunches?

I did them this morning. I'm tired.

SLOTH!

I--! I--! I need to see my therapist!

To be continued...

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Monday, June 12, 2006

Under the Knife

(I wrote this last Monday and had planned to post it, but Damien's birthday post and the subsequent Zombie Survival Tips took precedence. These events may be a week old, but they're as fresh in my memory as if they happened only yesterday. Here 'tis.)

6/5/06

Sidmummers is moving steadily toward its opening night. I felt that now would be a good time, before we move outside and start hitting it hard-core, to take care of some last few cosmetic things.

No, I did not get ab implants.

I got a mole removed from my left hip.

Okay, I know that sounds weird. But seriously, the thing was big and sensitive to touch. For all I knew, it was killing me slowly. And really, I wouldn’t want death by melanoma to distract from my performance.

Sitting in the clinic, I started to have second thoughts about the whole thing. I mean, needles. Pain. Stitches. My heart rate increased and my breathing became shallow. While I was waiting for the doctor, I really did entertain thoughts of quietly leaving the clinic. Really.

The doctor finally showed up and looked at the blemish.

“It’s probably nothing. It looks okay. We can just leave it and see if it gets worse over the next three months or so.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. Okay! Back to work! No needles and knives for me!

“But there's a chance it could be life-threatening. That thing needs to come off. Right now.”

I waited in the sterile little room for a good fifteen minutes. At one point the nurse came in and loaded up a silver operating tray with needles, scissors, knives, buzz-saws, and gauze. I couldn’t look at it. It was too awful.

“The doctor will be with you shortly.”

Before I could sneak out (I really almost did this time) the doctor came back in. She paused for a moment.

“Hmm. Since the mole is on your left side, I want you to lie down on your right. Go ahead, sir.”

I did as she instructed…and now my face was about two feet from the silver tray of scary surgical equipment. Damn.

“Here comes a little prick.”

She then tested the newly-numbed spot with her surgical knife.

“Can you feel this?” she asked. (stab!)

“YES!” I cried.

“Can you feel this?” she asked. (stab!)

“YES!”

“Hmm. You seem to have a very low threshold for pain.”

“I’m very sensitive.”

"Can you feel this?" (stab!)

"GEEZE! YES!"

“This is really weird. Normally when we give someone an injection of this stuff it works immediately. Let me numb you up again.”

Three injections later, I could finally only faintly feel a sting of pain when she jabbed her razor blade into my flesh. I took deep, soothing breaths, but with my face mere inches away from her pointy tools, each one for rending flesh in unique and stomach-churning ways, it was hard to remain calm.

Then the doctor got this maniacal look in her eye and began stitching me back up. "Good Lord," I thought as she stitched and stitched and stitched. "Who is this woman? Dr. Frankenstein?" Once I got the bandage off a day or two later, I saw I wasn't far off. She had made a rather large slash in my side and sutured it up with three stitches! Good grief! I'd been savaged!

But it's gone now. That mole. Or skin tag or...whatever it was.

And, for the record, I exaggerated the events in this story for comic effect. I wasn’t THAT scared. Come on. It’s just a prick and a few stitches. I THINK I can handle that, seeing as how I'm well on my way to 30. Sheesh.

Mommy…

Friday, June 09, 2006

Best Ever, week 23

I'm really tempted to make this week's best ever, "Full Body Fear Workouts" (that is, being so frightened about something you clench your abs, your heart-rate skyrockets, your breathing becomes quick and shallow, cold sweat drips down your furrowed brow...) but I vowed long ago that the Best Evers would be real things to be happy about--no fake stuff.

There can only be one winner. And this is it:

BEST EVER
week 23
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Fake Happiness

Fake Happiness works like Real Happiness only it's not real. It's fake. Let's say you're a go-go girl who has been rehearsing a show for months. The director tells you to change something in the dumbshow transition to scene 1.4. Not too difficult, right?

Muscle memory kicks in, however, and you, go-go girl number 2, forget the note the director gave you the night before. The director, who is just as tired and nervous as you are, yells. Everyone gets scared.
Now let's say you're an actor who's been observing from the sidelines.

You've got to do something. The go-go girls are upset and nervous. Morale is plunging. Now's the time for a little Fake Happiness.

"This is gonna be the best scene transition ever, y'all," you say from backstage like Guffman's Parker Posey.

The go-go girls look at you as if to say, "Is this...happiness?"

"Oh YEAH! Scene 1.4 Transition '06! Go us!"

Later, after dancer girl number four looks like she's about to cry, you look at the big fake moon hanging behind the set and say, in total seriousness, "I don't think there are enough werewolves in this show."

"There aren't any werewolves in this show," says the girl.

"You're right... Wanna put some in?"

And you both howl at the fake moon.

The best thing about Fake Happiness is that, if you fake it long enough, Fake Happiness can morph into Real Happiness! It doesn't last long, but it should be enough to get you through rehearsal and to the ice-cold beer that's waiting for you at home. And that's why Fake Happiness is this week's

BEST EVER
For real!


Honorable Mention: Tracy's Beauty Contest, Beer, Damien's Birthday (he's three days old today)

Thursday, June 08, 2006

Happy Puppies...

We had our first rehearsal in the park last night.

So tired. Legs...not...working... Eyelids...too...heavy.

Holy crap. Am I becoming a Midsummer Zombie?

"Aaaaaaaaabs! Aaaaaaaaabs!"

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Brains a la Mode

(Gray-ham said he was gonna do this, but he hasn't yet...so I thought I'd help him out.)

If America's population of witches and warlocks did what they were supposed to do last night--and their majick spells and prayers to Nimrod worked (at the stroke of 6:66, naturalment)--your average metropolis should be gradually filling with zombies, animated skeletons, and Lovecraftian fish-people...right now!

Some survival tips:

1. Aim for the head.

2. Don't eat after people. Sharing food is an excellent way to contract a zombie virus.

3. Don't eat people. If you do, you've probably already contracted a zombie virus. Sucks to be you!

4. Be a Christian. If your soul belongs to the creator of heaven and earth, no amount of voodoo witchcraft can bring you back to be an undead servant of evil from the cracked, steaming fissures of hell. That's because you won't be in hell. You'll be in heaven. Where everyone plays beautiful golden harps and the clouds taste like cotton candy. Mighty Pat will be there, guarding the gates with his super-quads. The temporal plane will be in turmoil, but we'll have nothing to worry about.

5. Learn a skeleton dance. Skeletons love to dance, particularly to their favorite song, 'Dem Dry Bones.' If you find yourself surrounded by the undead, grab a pair of femurs and go to town on a nearby ribcage. The sound of your xylo-bone will set them dancing.

6. Convert! About to be eaten by the fish-headed members of the Esoteric Order of Dagon? Hit your knees and offer up a prayer to Cthulu, the alien squid that came to earth in the eons before time began and was sealed away in the depths of the sea, ironically, by its own black magic. The fish-people will think you're one of "them" and let you live. The downside: they may turn you into a man-eating fish person too. But hey, you'll still be alive.

7. Go to the mall. You probably won't survive in the end (no one ever does), but you can recreate your favorite scenes from Dawn of the Dead.

8. When talking about the zombies, refer to them as "those...those things!" Since your life has become a real-life zombie movie, you might as well adhere to the conventions of the genre. Just for kicks.

9. If you do become a zombie, look on the bright side! You'll no longer have to worry about counting those calories (brains are a great source of protein, BTW!), and everyone will be wearing tattered rags (no more worrying about the latest fashions!). Remember, being a zombie isn't a beauty contest.

10. Wash your hands. It may not keep you safe from the bat-faced demons circling your office building, but you'll get points for cleanliness! And cleanliness is next to Godliness. You never know. It might help. A little. On second thought, maybe you should just run for your life.

BONUS TIP! Be black! While "the black guy" is always the first to be eaten by dinosaurs, giant anacondas, hungry ghosts, and other monstrosities, it's a proven fact that heroic black males have a 75% greater zombie survival rate than cocky white dudes! Just don't show expect the SWAT team to help you.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

Top 6

It's 06/06/06. In honor of this most dubious of days, how's about a little stroll down memory lane?

We all love the eighties. However, there can be no denying that the "Hugs Not Drugs" decade saw the creation of some of the most nightmarish characters ever to grace the silver screen. Which of us isn't still a little scarred by The Black Cauldron? Sure, watching it years later you realize the movie was lousy, but when you're only four feet tall and you don't know any better, that damn cartoon was scary as hell.

Kids don't have anything to worry about nowadays. Their playgrounds are made of soft plastic. They've never even seen a merry-go-round or see-saw. "Scary" for them is Lord Voldemort who, let's face it folks, just doesn't have that "nightmare factor" that those 1980s movie monsters had. Maybe that's because our fantasy movies took themselves VERY seriously. No crotch jokes. No poo-poo humor. No anachronistic asides. No Ron freakin' Weasley.

After a lot of consideration and personal reflection, I've put together a little list of the top movie monsters who wrecked havoc on my childhood. There were so many that I didn't have room to mention them all (which made this list really tough to call seeing as how I was convinced for years that Gremlins were living under my bed).

Give a shout out to your favorite. And remember, Damien, it's all for you.


The 42nd Floor's
06/06/06 Top 6
Scariest Movie Monsters of the 1980s



The Wolf, The Neverending Story, 1984

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We all grew up with stories of big bad wolves. But, as most of us weren't raised by woodland creatures, it was difficult to imagine what a big bad wolf would actually look like. Sure, we had big bad wolves in the cartoons. But we knew, deep down, that real wolves don't wear hats and kid gloves. Real wolves bite. Real wolves hunt you down no matter where you go. Real wolves can talk and want to eat you. The Wolf in The Neverending Story did all those things. Dear God, weren't the muddy swamps, dying horses, enormous sneezing turtles, giant racing snails, evil talking sphinxes, rock monsters, luck dragons, gross little elf-people, the end of the world, and androgynous princesses enough?



David Bowie/the Goblin King, Labyrinth, 1986

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By the time Labyrinth came out in 1986, I had had enough. I would never be able to handle this one. I saw the trailer and knew David Bowie would give me nightmares. He walked upside-down through Escher-inspired stairwells. He kidnapped babies. He was evil through and through. And he sang. I didn't need that in my life. I saw it for the first time just a few years ago and knew I made a good choice steering clear of this one.


The Seskis, The Dark Crystal 1982

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I might have been able to handle Labyrinth if it hadn't been for this little crash-course in New Age Buddhism masquerading as a puppet show of grotesquerie. Those dag-blamed "Mmmm!"-ing vulture monsters. I mean, who comes UP with stuff like this? What child wouldn't be scarred for life upon seeing the ailing Seski Queen, black, withered and gurgling, holding what looks like a baby's rattle, crumble into dust while cackling "I'm still the Queen!"--I just can't go on. The green, one-eyed witch was pretty freaky. Sucking the souls out of cuddly elf people was freaky too. But the vultures. The humming vultures. No way. No damn way.


The Clown, Poltergeist, 1982

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The tree that ate Carol Ann was one thing. The muddy swimming pool that tried to eat her older sister was another thing. But the scowling demon clown that tried to eat the little boy is in a class by itself. I don't know what my parents were thinking when they let Forko, Forkette, and me watch this little slice of hell. I remember thinking, "Why does that little boy have a life-sized clown in his bedroom?" I could tell, even at my tender young age, that a clown in your bedroom is a terrible idea. Kids used to love clowns. They don't anymore. You do the math.


Large Marge, Pee Wee's Big Adventure, 1985

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She's been described as the Wicked Witch of the West of the eighties--the movie monster one must summon up the courage to overcome, or forever be ruled by. As far as I'm concerned, nobody ever really stopped being scared of Large Marge, despite claims to the contrary. The vivid excesses of the butch truck-driving spectre's horrible tale ("There was a sound like a garbage truck dropped off the Empire State Building! Yessir...it was the worst accident...I ever seen...!"), immaculately delivered with a mounting terror you could cut with a knife, could only have been topped by a little of Tim Burton's stop-motion weirdness. She was only on screen for two and a half minutes, but she'll haunt our nightmares forever.

The Wheelers, Return to Oz, 1985

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If there's one movie monster that appears on everybody's list, it's Dracula. If there's another, it's Frankenstein's Monster. But if you say, "Think more...80s" they'll pause for a moment. Then their eyes will go wide. Then they'll politely excuse themselves. That's because they've suddenly remembered the Wheelers, who seem to exist only to answer the question, "What could possibly be more terrifying than a pack of flying monkeys?" The Wheelers shrieked like banshees through an apocalyptic Emerald City, laughing insanely, their rusty wheels-where-their-hands-ought-to-be squealing like nightmare gurneys in a psycho ward. If they catch you (and you know they will), they throw you into the Deadly Desert which turns you into a human sandcastle the second you touch it. And I haven't even mentioned the evil queen with removable heads. It's as if some Hollywood producer was really ticked off at his bratty kid and thought, "I know, I'll make an official sequel to 'the Wizard of Oz', only I'll take out the songs and goofy midgets and throw in a few horrors. That'll show 'em!"


Horror-able Mention: The Alien Queen, the R.O.U.S.es, the Gremlins

Monday, June 05, 2006

Try it!

You can't say the words "Happy Puppies" without smiling.

The effect is enhanced by imagining happy puppies.

Try it. It really works.

Friday, June 02, 2006

Best Ever, Week 22

This week's Best Ever was another tough one. Mostly because my sister didn't get pregnant again. So since "more babies" wasn't in the running, that meant it was time to go back to the little things that gave me a perk. There were a few of those this week, but none of them gave me quite the same boost that this week's winner did. So without further ado, I give you:

BEST EVER
week 22
Getting the Callback

What can I say about this one that every actor doesn't already know? Getting called back for the lead in a Tennessee Williams play at a well-known Everycity theatre should keep you clean for at least a week.

As the opening of Sidmummers creeps ever closer like some kind of barking Lovecraftian fish-person and everyone (mostly me) freaks out because they aren't dancing well enough or singing well enough or whatever, you can lift your head above it all, knowing that, even if you aren't, in fact, the second coming of Ethel Merman, you've still "got it".

And that's why getting the callback is this week's

BEST EVER

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Elevator Etiquette

Chivalry is not dead. However, if left unchecked, it can get in the way of the simplest tasks.

If, for example, you are a male getting onto an elevator with two females, the polite thing would be to work your way to the back of the car and, once you reach your destination, let the ladies get out first. Such polite behavior facilitates quick and easy exits and shows the ladies you have respect for the delicate sex.

However, if you are a male getting onto an elevator already packed with females, the sensible thing to do would be to quickly exit the elevator as soon as the doors open again.

Unfortunately, some gentlemen don't realize that common sense always trumps chivalry. It is not unusual to see elevator doors open with a big man standing awkwardly in the doorway, saying sheepishly, “Please, go ahead,” to the ladies who have to crawl over him to exit.

Don’t be that guy. Get off the freakin' elevator.

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Good! The ladies will appreciate your thoughtfulness!

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Bad! The ladies will wonder why the crap you're just standing there!