MOVING OUT!! (listening to: "Amphetamines," by EVE6)
That's right, boys and girls, I'm moving into my own little one-bedroom apartment in Apple Valley, MN. As soon as I figure out my exact address, I'll post it up here, and you can all send me housewarming cards. :) There's a problem with addresses in that particular area of Apple Valley. There's a house on the same street as my complex with the same number as the apartment building. So, in theory, both that house, and everyone in my building have the same address... so, something's up there.
The place is fantastic, you can ask Daisy. I have a deck that you can go out on, and barbecue... maybe even spit off of, if you so desire. :) A few things need to be done with the place: I need to re-paint the bathroom (color choices? I'm taking requests), and re-wallpaper or paint the kitchen. Currently, the kitchen enjoys a very busy white flower design that I may or may not NEED to tear down within 2 days in that place. Carpeting is all new, new appliances in the kitchen, including a dishwasher. :) Ample closet space, and finally... you guessed it... the thing I've always wanted...
One of those cool buzzer boxes on the wall so I can buzz people up to my unit. :) HAPPY FACE!!
(+5 bonus points to anyone who comes over and sings "I wanna kiss you all over" into my buzzer box.)
(+2 bonus points to anyone who can name that movie.)
Monday, February 28, 2005
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
Brand Name, Restocked
Oh, my love, how do I miss thee? Let me count the ways... Jordan, Matt, Heidi, Wyatt, Tommy, Karen... Six. Six ways. (listening to: "Flavor of the Weak," American Hi/Fi)
To anyone who may be reading this from the world of theatre: let me just say.. I have met the enemy, and they are beyond the fourth wall. Let me explain... no, there is too much.. let me sum up.
Improvisational theatre is still seen as the bastard child of the entertainment world. And it's a really appropriate title, as well. Improv is still young, only the product of the last 25 years or so, and more recently than that as a performance-worthy endeavor. And what really doesn't help the cause of legitimizing it is the fact that audiences treat it like baggy pants comedy night.
I just returned from a weekend in Sioux Falls, a smallish big city that is earning a name for itself as a mecca for improv. Even with such a reputation, budding though it is, still we find that audiences don't know how to be respectful to such a beast. In a one-hour show, billed as "one-man improv," (heretofore called "JL") there were two instances of horrible, despicable behavior by audience members.
1) A High School senior (or one who borrowed his older brother's "05" letterman's jacket) constantly took it upon himself to provide the in-house sound effects for the performer's show. Nearly every scene had a phone ringing, and there was the peculiar reoccurance of a cat. Big props to the man onstage who took it and did the best he could to acknowledge the idiot in the stands, while making it clear to everyone besides "phone boy" that now would be a good time to start. He didn't have to be upset with the kid and hate him.. he left that to we, the audience. Thanks, JL.
2) Solidly half way through the ONE-MAN SHOW, a woman from the audience (a friend of the theatre, and an actress of some experience) ran with what had to have been an insatiable desire to be a part of the action, and lept from her seat to join JL onstage. In my seat, I became instantly incredibly uncomfortable. WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON? There was a split second where JL looked exactly like you would imagine someone to look if you were to open your chest with a zipper and ask them to check for termites. Then, just as quickly as it had come, he decided to just roll with it again, and for the next ten minutes, it became a two-person show. To this lady's credit, she wasn't the worst improviser I've ever seen, but... her skill is not the issue. Her choice to make the show about her is.
Please, folks, love the theatre... just don't LOVE the theatre.
In other news. Brand Name reunited for what had to have bene the most refreshing and eventful 40 minute set in the last five years of our collective careers. SO good to get back on that stage. Daisy took pictures of the digital nature of history in the making, so for those who want to live the dream, just let me know.
Back home, and life is slowly returning to the normalcy I hate. Please, God.. show me motivation to not quit acting.
To anyone who may be reading this from the world of theatre: let me just say.. I have met the enemy, and they are beyond the fourth wall. Let me explain... no, there is too much.. let me sum up.
Improvisational theatre is still seen as the bastard child of the entertainment world. And it's a really appropriate title, as well. Improv is still young, only the product of the last 25 years or so, and more recently than that as a performance-worthy endeavor. And what really doesn't help the cause of legitimizing it is the fact that audiences treat it like baggy pants comedy night.
I just returned from a weekend in Sioux Falls, a smallish big city that is earning a name for itself as a mecca for improv. Even with such a reputation, budding though it is, still we find that audiences don't know how to be respectful to such a beast. In a one-hour show, billed as "one-man improv," (heretofore called "JL") there were two instances of horrible, despicable behavior by audience members.
1) A High School senior (or one who borrowed his older brother's "05" letterman's jacket) constantly took it upon himself to provide the in-house sound effects for the performer's show. Nearly every scene had a phone ringing, and there was the peculiar reoccurance of a cat. Big props to the man onstage who took it and did the best he could to acknowledge the idiot in the stands, while making it clear to everyone besides "phone boy" that now would be a good time to start. He didn't have to be upset with the kid and hate him.. he left that to we, the audience. Thanks, JL.
2) Solidly half way through the ONE-MAN SHOW, a woman from the audience (a friend of the theatre, and an actress of some experience) ran with what had to have been an insatiable desire to be a part of the action, and lept from her seat to join JL onstage. In my seat, I became instantly incredibly uncomfortable. WHAT THE HELL WAS GOING ON? There was a split second where JL looked exactly like you would imagine someone to look if you were to open your chest with a zipper and ask them to check for termites. Then, just as quickly as it had come, he decided to just roll with it again, and for the next ten minutes, it became a two-person show. To this lady's credit, she wasn't the worst improviser I've ever seen, but... her skill is not the issue. Her choice to make the show about her is.
Please, folks, love the theatre... just don't LOVE the theatre.
In other news. Brand Name reunited for what had to have bene the most refreshing and eventful 40 minute set in the last five years of our collective careers. SO good to get back on that stage. Daisy took pictures of the digital nature of history in the making, so for those who want to live the dream, just let me know.
Back home, and life is slowly returning to the normalcy I hate. Please, God.. show me motivation to not quit acting.
Monday, February 14, 2005
The Day is Came (sic)
Every damn calendar taunts me. February the fourteenth. Sigh. (listening to The Jesus Christ Superstar Film Soundtrack)
So. Another year, and another February 14th arrives with a great and terrible clamor. I think that I may be the only red-blooded American male that would actually look forward to Valentine's Day... if I had someone to bathe in its great capitalistic gluttony with.
How nice would it be to have someone? To be loved, and to love back. Someone whose hand fits into yours, whose waist was made for your arm?
(aborting this post right now before someone makes a crack about my masculinity.)
< goes to do something manly right now.. >
So. Another year, and another February 14th arrives with a great and terrible clamor. I think that I may be the only red-blooded American male that would actually look forward to Valentine's Day... if I had someone to bathe in its great capitalistic gluttony with.
How nice would it be to have someone? To be loved, and to love back. Someone whose hand fits into yours, whose waist was made for your arm?
(aborting this post right now before someone makes a crack about my masculinity.)
< goes to do something manly right now.. >
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
Get out your rulers, kids!
If it comes down to it, I really hope they pick corduroy. (listening to "Such Great Heights" by Iron & Wine)
So.. Virginia takes a stand against all you young whipper snappers who think that it's cool to wear your pants down around your knees.
Maybe sarcasm doesn't work too well around the blog world. Let's try something more blatant. Remember all your kids who went to private school, myself included? Virginia has taken the necessary first steps to making sure that we as Americans don't look like slobs anymore. I don't know where these lawmakers were in the 80's when bangs and big ass bracelets were around. Or in the 70's, when it was white guys in afros and big gold chains. But, let me just say that I'm SO glad that they're around now. No more shall we have people walking around exposing a full inch of their undapants. Soon, we're going to make it illegal for people to walk around with untied shoes. Then, you have to have 85% of your buttons on your shirt buttoned. And, how shall we enforce these laws? Well, we can't limit it to people who leave the house like that... oh no, we're going to have to have plainclothesmen entering houses with open windows to make sure that everyone is obeying the dress code.
I propose that we just go the way of Catholic schools, and make all the guys wear turtlenecks and sweaters with slacks; and girls have to wear white dress shirts with pleated skirts. Stop by the city hall to pick up your uniform, kids. And don't look at me like that. It's for your own good. Kids today...
So.. Virginia takes a stand against all you young whipper snappers who think that it's cool to wear your pants down around your knees.
Maybe sarcasm doesn't work too well around the blog world. Let's try something more blatant. Remember all your kids who went to private school, myself included? Virginia has taken the necessary first steps to making sure that we as Americans don't look like slobs anymore. I don't know where these lawmakers were in the 80's when bangs and big ass bracelets were around. Or in the 70's, when it was white guys in afros and big gold chains. But, let me just say that I'm SO glad that they're around now. No more shall we have people walking around exposing a full inch of their undapants. Soon, we're going to make it illegal for people to walk around with untied shoes. Then, you have to have 85% of your buttons on your shirt buttoned. And, how shall we enforce these laws? Well, we can't limit it to people who leave the house like that... oh no, we're going to have to have plainclothesmen entering houses with open windows to make sure that everyone is obeying the dress code.
I propose that we just go the way of Catholic schools, and make all the guys wear turtlenecks and sweaters with slacks; and girls have to wear white dress shirts with pleated skirts. Stop by the city hall to pick up your uniform, kids. And don't look at me like that. It's for your own good. Kids today...
Monday, February 07, 2005
Everything Incendiary
Something I've been wondering about off and on for a while now, and I'm curous if anyone else has the same thoughts I do... (listening to "Screaming Infidelities" by Dashboard Confessional)
So... I'm walking through Target this morning, waiting for the sushi guy to get his act together and put out today's fresh raw seafood covered in rice and yummy goodness when I pass by the TV wall. You all know the TV wall at Target. Fully half of these TVs are showing (mostly) bad music videos from the "Target Network," while the other half are showing horrible daytime TV. Now, I'm walking by them and what catches my ear is the phrase, "He's going to leave you? How do you know? Ray? Are you going to leave her?"
BACKSTORY FOLLOWS:
Trishelle is an extremely overweight woman who is (married? living with? lovers with?) her man, Ray. Maury Povich, in his infinite wisdom and philanthropy has decided to confront Ray with the information that Trishelle has taken to whoring herself out for money to support their two children.
Ray... I'm really feeling for Ray right now. He obviously loves this woman, they've got two kids and have been together for four years. He has to find out on National Television that his wife has been cheating on hime with... survey says-- at least THIRTY other men. And while Ray is trying to soak all of this in, he has to deal with Maury asking him, "You're not going to leave Trishelle, are you?"
FADE TO FANTASY WHERE I'M RAY:
Maury: "Ray? You're not going to leave Trishelle, are you?"
Me: "Well, Shit, Maury... let me think about this for just a second. I mean, I know that you're gonna want an answer to that question before you cut to a commercial break so you and your viewers can either applaud my chivalry or boo my boorishness. I know all this Maury, but give me just a minute to deal with the fact that my wife has been sleeping with the equivalent of a Major League Baseball team including pitching staff before I decide if I'm okay with that."
Maury: "Didn't you just say a few minutes ago that you're in love with this woman?"
(pause)
Me: "Hmm... Gosh, kind of a lot's happened since then, Maury."
And this is by no means the deviation from the standard of Modern Day television. What the hell is going on that people actually want to watch this trash? If you're a fan of the reality TV kick lately, then by all means, you should have stopped reading this post already. But, much like the Atkins kick, I think this is the stupidest thing ever. Television, for me, should be an escape from reality. Where I can walk alongside Kunta Kinte (Roots) and know what it was like to be there at that time, or laugh at families or groups of friends who can make the machine auto-laugh every ten seconds. (I'll bet I could get laughs like that if I had a team of six writers working forty hours a week on my jokes)
If I want to watch ugly people haggle over whether or not it's a good idea to incorporate their friends into their BDSM lifestyle, I'll pick up some extra hours at work.
So... I'm walking through Target this morning, waiting for the sushi guy to get his act together and put out today's fresh raw seafood covered in rice and yummy goodness when I pass by the TV wall. You all know the TV wall at Target. Fully half of these TVs are showing (mostly) bad music videos from the "Target Network," while the other half are showing horrible daytime TV. Now, I'm walking by them and what catches my ear is the phrase, "He's going to leave you? How do you know? Ray? Are you going to leave her?"
BACKSTORY FOLLOWS:
Trishelle is an extremely overweight woman who is (married? living with? lovers with?) her man, Ray. Maury Povich, in his infinite wisdom and philanthropy has decided to confront Ray with the information that Trishelle has taken to whoring herself out for money to support their two children.
Ray... I'm really feeling for Ray right now. He obviously loves this woman, they've got two kids and have been together for four years. He has to find out on National Television that his wife has been cheating on hime with... survey says-- at least THIRTY other men. And while Ray is trying to soak all of this in, he has to deal with Maury asking him, "You're not going to leave Trishelle, are you?"
FADE TO FANTASY WHERE I'M RAY:
Maury: "Ray? You're not going to leave Trishelle, are you?"
Me: "Well, Shit, Maury... let me think about this for just a second. I mean, I know that you're gonna want an answer to that question before you cut to a commercial break so you and your viewers can either applaud my chivalry or boo my boorishness. I know all this Maury, but give me just a minute to deal with the fact that my wife has been sleeping with the equivalent of a Major League Baseball team including pitching staff before I decide if I'm okay with that."
Maury: "Didn't you just say a few minutes ago that you're in love with this woman?"
(pause)
Me: "Hmm... Gosh, kind of a lot's happened since then, Maury."
And this is by no means the deviation from the standard of Modern Day television. What the hell is going on that people actually want to watch this trash? If you're a fan of the reality TV kick lately, then by all means, you should have stopped reading this post already. But, much like the Atkins kick, I think this is the stupidest thing ever. Television, for me, should be an escape from reality. Where I can walk alongside Kunta Kinte (Roots) and know what it was like to be there at that time, or laugh at families or groups of friends who can make the machine auto-laugh every ten seconds. (I'll bet I could get laughs like that if I had a team of six writers working forty hours a week on my jokes)
If I want to watch ugly people haggle over whether or not it's a good idea to incorporate their friends into their BDSM lifestyle, I'll pick up some extra hours at work.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
Hazy days of Winter
Minnesota encounters a warm-up.... area man relaxes inside anyway. Film at 11. (listening to "So Damn Lucky," Dave Matthews)
I'm with Biggy. Here's my story of my day off this morning. I got up early, and thought to go for a bike ride. In my head, I'm thinking that this is really odd, since I hate most outdoor activities, especially when I'm alone. But it was such a beautiful day, that I just had to get out of the house and get some air.. it would do my cold good. SO, I went to the garage and got my bike down, and the tires were out of air. Bummer. So.. I put it in my car, and drove to the SA to get air. Filled up the tires, and got about 100 meters (Yes, I'm european now. Get over it) before BOTH tires exploded. BOTH. Not one, or the other, but BOTH. Sadness. So, I took it as a sign from God that I was just supposed to be lazy today, and came back and watched anime. Good old anime.
Stupid bike. More video games. Yes. This is the will of God. And the church, too, apparently. Right, Biggy?
I'm with Biggy. Here's my story of my day off this morning. I got up early, and thought to go for a bike ride. In my head, I'm thinking that this is really odd, since I hate most outdoor activities, especially when I'm alone. But it was such a beautiful day, that I just had to get out of the house and get some air.. it would do my cold good. SO, I went to the garage and got my bike down, and the tires were out of air. Bummer. So.. I put it in my car, and drove to the SA to get air. Filled up the tires, and got about 100 meters (Yes, I'm european now. Get over it) before BOTH tires exploded. BOTH. Not one, or the other, but BOTH. Sadness. So, I took it as a sign from God that I was just supposed to be lazy today, and came back and watched anime. Good old anime.
Stupid bike. More video games. Yes. This is the will of God. And the church, too, apparently. Right, Biggy?
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