Carolina Christmas Eve!

Merry Christmas!

And now, without further ado, "The Shanty Where Santy Claus Lives". You have time to watch this.

About to Leave?

Here I go, everybody. I'm throwing stuff into a couple of bags, headed to the gym, then I'm headed to the airport.

But since there are flurries in Chicago, it looks like there are going to be MASSIVE delays.

But please don't worry about me, y'all. I've got a book or two, an iPod full of Christmassy tunes, and video games to beat the band. So please, don't worry. I'll be fine.

The next time you hear from me, I'll be headed toward a Cackalakee Christmas.

Wonderful

THIS is what's wrong. THIS is what's wrong with EVERYTHING in America. The New York Times has spoken and decided it really WOULD have been better if George Bailey had never been born. Pottersville looks like more fun than Bedford Falls? Is this a JOKE?

Some Play About a Bird part II

If you miss this production, please, please don't slash your wrists.

In fact, count yourself among the fortunate.

Dreary, bleak, and dull are only the first of many many MANY words that come to mind when describing not only this PLAY, but this particular production.

The moral of the story seems to be "the hell you know is a WHOLE lot better than the hell you don't--and if you go chasing after that 'greener grass' there's a VERY good chance you'll spend 85% of the second act sitting around in a mostly bare drawing room with peeling, mouldy old wallpaper saying, 'Remember how much happier we were back when we thought we were so unhappy? Yeah. Those were the days.' (kills self)".

Not a bad bit of moral.

It's precisely the same moral Dorothy learns at the end of the MGM version of 'the Wizard of Oz' ("If I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I'll know not to look any further than my own backyard...because if it isn't there I never really lost it to begin with") although the film's moral is a bit of a false one since MGM's Dorothy wasn't running away from home to seek fame and fortune (as Nina does in "the Seagull") but to protect the life of her dog from the dog-hater who lives down the street ("He practically gave me rabies!").

So props to Anton Chekov for cranking out a rather vivid life lesson that we all should take to heart.

However, unlike Dorothy who got to learn this lesson by leaving the dustbowl and going on a fun-filled adventure in a technicolor world of whimsy and weirdos, we must trudge through three hours of checking our watches and wishing "The Drowsy Chaperone" was still playing as this play more than adequately fulfills the stereotype set forth in that old Gershwin tune, "With love to lead the way I found more skies of gray than any Russian play could guarantee". And like the title of that song, this play was Not For Me.

I mean, I know the economy is in the pits or whatever, but couldn't we TRY to make the lake scenes a LITTLE pretty? We have to sit through three hours of this. Can't we have one set piece that's not in muted tones? Everyone's talking about how absolutely gorgeous the lake is, but all we get is a couple of ham-tacular and, at times, anachronistic actors (I'm looking at YOU, Kristin Scott) telling us how pretty it is as they look out over the audience with a dirty blank wall behind them and a pair of grotesque, withered 'Nightmare Before Christmas' trees framing them. And we just have to take their word for it that it is, in fact, breathtakingly beautiful out there.

For goodness' sake. Broadway uses the audience for so many things--lakes, oceans, sunrises, sunsets, Bali Hai, the Titanic--I'm about ready to demand we be listed in the program as part of the set.

But the gravest offense of all...

This production features the first performance I've EVER seen that made me--I'm NOT kidding--physically gag when the actor opened his mouth to speak. No, really. I actually gagged at this one point when he started speaking and I wasn't ready for it. His voice was so unpleasant, his characterization so appalling, his costume so dreadful...the whole package, the whole kit 'n' kaboodle...everything about this guy's performance was enough to make me very nearly throw up in my lap.

I'm not exaggerating. And Lawd Geeziz, I wish I wuz.

I'm not going to say whose performance it was as I don't want to hurt this actor's feelings when he google searches himself (and we all DO). But if you've seen it, you KNOW who I'm talking about.

Go see the Rockettes instead. I'll take those long legs over Russian drear and dispair any damn day of the ding-dong decade.

Snow

I went to bed last night all excited that I would wake up this morning and wake up to find New York City transformed into a snow-covered Christmas Wonderland.

Well, morning is here. And what I wanna know is

WHERE'S MY CHRISTMAS WONDERLAND?!?!?!

Some Play About a Bird

I'm about to go see what bored audiences are calling the most high-falutin' production of Joe B. Chekov's play "The Seagull" to be produced in our generation. The cast features a slew of prim British actors who promise to make this evening's production veddy, VEDDY siddius.

Pray for me now and at the hour of my viewing.

Churchy Christmas

So here's what happened at the St. Thomas Christmas Party. Holiday Party. Wait, no. I think this really was a Christmas Party. I got SO drunk.

No I didn't.

Well, maybe a little. Maybe JUST a teeny touch.

My hair is wet because I just came from the gym. I was lifting logs. It was difficult.

Watch. Enjoy. Meet all my friends.

Christmas!

Write a letter to Santy and tell him to stay in his shanty this year, because once you hear these Yuletide tunes you won't need him!

I hope you all enjoy this entirely homemade assortment of Christmas songs that were whipped up right here in the bedroom of my little Hell's Kitchen apartment in those skant moments when my noisy Puerto Rican neighbors were at work and the renovators were taking a smoke break! They buzz, they plunk, and I go sharp! It's a Forkulele Christmas miracle!

It's still a work in progress so downloading isn't available just yet. However, if you like what you hear and just HAFTA have it on your Christmas Playlist NOW, let me know and I'll do my best to .zip you the entire album...including two bonus songs that those on my Christmas card list can look forward to!

So break out the eggnog, the candy canes, and the protein bars (just for me!) and get ready to have your very own Forkulele for Christmas!

Click here to go there!

Gay Pyro Group Plans 'Flaming Christmas'

Amsterdam, Netherlands - A group of Nazi transsexual commie pyromaniacs said Monday that it has planned its first-ever "Flaming Christmas" which will feature a living nativity scene set ablaze while goose-stepping shepherds sing "It's Raining Men".

Other attractions will include Nazi transsexual commie pyromaniac-themed films, a bake sale, and having the animal tail of your choosing surgically attached to the end of your spine.

Daphne Van Der Slut, a self-made "shemale" and organizer of "Flaming Christmas" said the purpose of the event is to spread awareness and to provide choices for Nazi transsexual commie pyromaniacs during Christmas.

"At this time of year, there just isn't anything for Nazi Transsexual Commie Pyromaniacs to do," said Van Der Slut.

"Nobody likes caroling, eating delicious Christmas treats, going to parties with friends, visiting with loved ones, drinking eggnog, watching 'It's a Wonderful Life'. These things do nothing but make the Nazi Transsexual Commie Pyromaniac feel isolated and alone when their life choices must be embraced and celebrated by all."

"If you're a Nazi Transsexual Commie Pyromaniac at Christmas, there aren't a lot of options."

The three Christians in Amsterdam, who fled the city without turning around to look back, accused Van Der Slut of hosting this event "'cause he/she's insecure and wants to be antagonistic."

Van Der Slut insists this is not the case.

"Everyone knows Christmas isn't about religion anymore," he/she said. "It's about love and families and, my favorite thing, Santy Claus. And shoes."

"As long as Christians are allowed to exist, Nazi Transsexual Commie Pyromaniacs will feel sad that they aren't seen as 'normal' and will perceive that they are being judged by people who call them 'freak' and 'crazy' and 'feather boa'."

The flaming manger, which will also feature the Christ Child surrounded by shepherds who are all card-carrying members of NAMBLA, will be set ablaze nightly beginning at 6:66 on December 21st.

"Christmas should be about loving yourself and celebrating the fact that you're a cracked and broken person desperately in need of help--and crushing those who think you ought to do something about it."

Van Der Slut went on to say, "Me me me. Me me me me me. Me me me. Me. Me me me me me. Me me me me me me me. Me me. Me. Me me."

Organizers of "Flaming Christmas" hope the event will act as a reminder to the world that Amsterdam is Nazi transsexual commie pyromaniac-friendly, particularly after recent decline in Nazi transsexual commie pyromaniac tourism to the city.

Nofriendoland Party

It's a little lame, but hey. This was the party!

Christmess

I don't think I have to tell you that this is the most un-Christmassy year of all time.

I mean, what with the Election that Wouldn't Stop, the Moneytime Meltdown of NYC, That Wacky Taj, and me being naked almost every day this entire year (I KNOW!!), not to mention my total ab-session with this new log-lifting class, my parents uprooting from Texas, my sister preggers again, my brother still miles away, me about to turn 29 and a bevy of billowing cumulonimbus formations rumbling rapidly towards us as the horizon continues to darken...

I mean, I can't believe we haven't all just cancelled Christmas already. Forget this. There's no Tickle Me Elmo this year. There's no Wii. There's nothing. Nothing to wrap in glossy paper but a greasy, lumpy, cold helping of DOOM.

But it's not over yet. I still have my iPod. And tonight, nothing is going to stand in my way from smacking it with a Christmas playlist DAMMIT.

This Christmas s#it just got real.

Say Cheeeeeese

Not to be insensitive, but it kinda seems a little bit...I dunno. Pointless?

My Response

My response to an email conversation betwixt a few of my friends about how to fix conservativism:


All this is teddibly interesting, I'm sure, but it pales compared to what's going on down here at my first ever gig at the infamous freak show known as the New York Academy of Art.

The "girl" modeling next to me (I know!! A surprise double-booking!) has tattoos covering every inch of her anorexic body. And she has a cold.

When I was in college I never dreamed my life would end up like this...

Hopechange. Babies are the future.