Tag Archives: Facebook

Something Like Seven Years Later…

10 Jan

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When you do shows with people, there is this strange familial intensity of time, wherein these (sometime) total strangers, become the people you (for all intent and purposes) live with for two months (or more) of your life.

…And then, the show ends, and that living arrangement breaks up.

…You all go your separate ways…sometimes to OTHER shows with each other later in the season…or in the next…or five years after…or maybe, never again.  But aside from the total transplants and floaters, even if NOT working directly with these actors again, chances are: you’re gonna see ’em.

…See ’em in passing.  See ’em at Opening Night parties, or casting calls, or on stage in other shows. 

…And sometimes you get that little misty spike of endearment pop up, even just in those short moments together…when the chat comes super easy, and the catching up runs a mile a minute, and you both say, “Gawd, why the hell don’t we go out for drinks some time or something-or-other?!?”

…And you REALLY TRULY intend to…

…But then “life” and shows and movies and things happen…like one fucking thing after another (it seems)…

…And then it’s three years later, at the concession stand, waiting for your too expensive glass of bad house red to be poured out, seeing one another again…

…And it’s the same song, and the same dance, to the same tune…because there is obviously a genuine affection and intention there…as you (again) strike up a conversation like it was all yesterday when last you met, and it all ends with the same declarations of “friend dates” and nonsense hang-time in the pending scheduling…

…But it still doesn’t happen.

This occurrence is a regular phenomenon of the theatrical profession. Furious affections can lay dormant for years of time, and be revived immediately at first sight…years and years later…as if waking from a broken spell all of a sudden…like in a fairy tale.

Thankfully, we are (in current day) given the divination of the Facebook Fairy Godmother…so that even if we DON’T see our former family loves for half-decades at a time, we can still keep tabs on them from afar…

…Which (as tonight’s former castie-love, The Prodigal Blonde, pointed out), may be slightly freaky and stockerish…but gets the job done. Cutting out whole former initial necessitated opening lines like:

“Oh wow! How the hell ARE you?!”

“What have you been doing with yourself?!”

“Shut up, what?! You’re MARRIED now?!”

…Allowing us to cut right to the meat of the matter, instead…like:

“My god, it’s been…how long?! You look fantastic! Shut up, and you have a baby now! And that trip you took to France? Those pictures were AWESOME!! P.S. I really love your last headshot sitting!”

…Which obviously helps to make the ABSOLUTE MOST of our precious, cherished moments, whilst finally flung together for a matter of moments (waiting in line for the ladies loo, for instance), so as to not waste even a millisecond of visit time.

The Facebook (and other general social media) has become not only the ESSENTIAL self-marketing and networking tool of the artistic world…it has also helped us to Celebrity Stock our own friends, (as they orbit in the world outside of our immediate own), so that when (by chance), we actually DO manage to meet up for that drink we’ve promised to meet over for about seven years now (or maybe slightly less), we can just immediately get down and dirty to the real poop-hammock story realness of it all…

…Jump right into the deep end of cracking one another up, sparring wits, iknowwhatyoumeaning, and hearing (at least in this instance) that totally hilarious inverted squeak…of The Prodigal Blonde…which is one of the most wondrously definitive laughs of all time

…Immediately sending you back, to that one rehearsal, when you heard it for the first time, snorfled, and said something like:

“Um. What. Was. That. I’ve never heard a human make those kind of sounds. That’s not your REAL laugh. NOBODY laughs like that.”

…Which is how (I’m pretty sure) our whole friend-affair first began, (at least in MY book.)

…The end? infinitely ongoing.

~D

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Like A Burger, I Want It My Way

5 Mar

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After building twenty contracts today, I decided to blow off the rest of the day by endlessly screwing with m’blog design.

…It never looks the way I really want it to.

The only thing I miss about ye olde days of Blogger, was that you could pimp the hell outta these things, any way you wanted, without upgrade paying, without monthly dues, without the restrictions of tiny lettering here, ugly colors there, zero header options, and crappy backgrounds. 

…This was the same reason I mourned the forsaking of MySpace for Facebook, once upon a time.

Why cannot the people with the digital interfacing toys let us have our way? 

Why do they think they know better than us on how we want to interact with others and express ourselves? 

…Especially on something as social and individual as a blog.

Give us our aesthetic freedom!

…Yeah, I know you offer this platform, this storage, this face-page to us for free…but you are making shit-tons of money on us via ads, bumpers, imbeded commercials, and god knows what all-else…don’t tell me you’re the one doing all the charity, here.

All I want is a page with good font, set at a pitch that people can actually read, with pictures that are centered when they load (not random-focusing on a right eye and left boob), a background that isn’t choppy, ugly, or so busy you can’t read anything, with ample space for my header.

…Now, is that too much to ask?

…After like an hour-and-a-half dicking around in the themes section to try and find this, I’m here to tell you straight up: apparently, it is.

~D 

Our Casual Reader

25 Sep

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One of m’favorite bonus reports in WordPress stats, is the search engine results section where it tells you how people outside of the network or Facebook, have found your blog.  Sometimes they make me straight up laugh out loud.  And then, kinda feel bad.  Because I’m betting that what they THOUGHT they were getting as they clicked on my link, and what they ACTUALLY got were so grossly different that they were too pissed to even smile about it.

…Maybe.

…Or, maybe they are now subscribed readers, who only stay with me because I’m exactly as twisted as they were hoping for when they started their google search that one day.  There is no real way to be sure. But here are a few of my particular favorites used in finding SWAL.  (And my theories on the true purposes they were up to, when they pressed the “search” button.) They are in no particular order.  And their spelling et al, are as entered.

* “Snuggle Pinup”
(Pics of women in underwear hugging the Snuggle Soft bear from those one commercials.  Possibly has a stuffed animal fetish.)

* “Spandex”
(They just bought a “How To Make Your Own Superhero Suit” book, and need to order material in bulk.)

* “She coffee yes”
(A Dom’s “sub,” trying to find the closest coffee cart in the vicinity, while she is mid-whipping him, demanding he get her some caffeine immediately.)

* “I love not camping”
(They just heard a friend’s horror story of THEIR trip, and wanted to plant a meme on FB about how awesome it is to not be them.)

* “Girl pees for ass”
(A golden shower/butt man.  Boy was he disappointed when he clicked the link.)

* “Weight lifting wedding cake toppers”
(A tiny figurine wherein the Bride is bench-pressing the Groom. And I bet they eventually found one.)

* “Sexy lady flagellation”
(Pictures of naughty nuns, undergoing self discipline.)

* “Dame Wars”
(Possibly looking for spoof Mexican Fighting videos wherein Helen Mirren, Judi Dench and Maggie Smith take turns beating the shit out of one another.  Hold on. I’m gonna go google that too…it sounds awesome.)

* “End of an era young and restless”
(Fan sites with posting boards where people can wail in type about the loss of their whole noon-day purpose in life. They are now one of my most avid readers.)

* “She was too fucked up in her head”
(Clearly looking for a song lyric. That one about a psycho ex-girlfriend. They are STILL trying to narrow the search down right now, from 50 billion results.)

* “Gigolo want for wife”
(An Italian man is trying to get an American Visa the old fashioned way. I tried to reply once, but I don’t have enough funds to keep him in the living style to which he wants to be accustomed.)

* “Sneezing + feet fetish”
(Searching for a very specific fetish group wherein members sit around snurfing things up their noses to induce sneezing while taking turns painting each other’s toenails.)

* “Dorothy Parker love snarks”
(Whoever they are, I want them to woo me. But they are too busy making fun of wooing to do it.)

* “Cooking torture”
(S&M techniques involving hot frying pans, searing oils, how to convert onion layers into contact lenses, and various uses for wasabi and ghost chilies.)

* “Sally Field Audrey Hepburn lesbian”
(A severely specific fetish group – containing only the one member – looking for anyone…anyone…ANYONE who might like to share in their fan fiction delights.)

* “Consumer fury”
(Super stressed-out YouTubes of customers just letting it rip on weeping sales clerks, as caught on camera phone. Because they just lived that frustration and need to acknowledge it before they accidentally explode and do it for real.)

* “Agatha christie & then there were nun murder mystery”
(The well known cult fan fiction retelling of all Agatha Christie murder mysteries relocated in convent setting, featuring an array of postulents, novices and Mother Superiors from different orders. + Spoiler alert: the “Priest” always “did it.”)

* “50th kitchen pin ups”
(Remember that movie about all those older women in Yorkshire who got together, took off their clothes, and did a naked picture calendar to raise funds for a Hospital? It’s like that. Only themed around cooking and kitchen utensils.)

* “Sad flagger”
(That one website with pictures of depressed and zombiefied road workers, taken by motorists waiting in the line-up, via their cellphones.)

* “I’m crying out, loud loud to my father, cos he only knows”
(That beat rapper poem. You know. The one about crying. Out loud. Out loud. Cos my Father? HE knows!)

* “Happy Birthday fucked up”
(Some dude wants to throw his buddy a BD party, but wants that shit to come unglued…even more than those “Girls Gone Wild” bus parties. Otherwise he woulda typed, “Happy Birthday Co-ed Boobs”)

* “Pin up fruit seller”
(A foodie who likes to enact Adam & Eve scenarios in the bedroom. “Apples for sale, sir…penny a bite”)

…And all these sick-twisted people somehow managed to find this blog. Pretty wondrous, ain’t it?

Am so proud, my buttons are popping.

~D

Hello Idaho & The “I Quits”

19 Sep

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Boss: “We needed to do something to cut the bottom line…”

…This is maybe the second thing Boss said to me, when he arrived three hours late to work, my first day back from Vacation.

Me: “As in…?”

Boss: “You’re booking Spokane now.  And also, Idaho.”

Me: “So we aren’t doing the Spokane remote office.”

Boss: “Nope.  Oh, and also…the Vancouver Manager quit while you were gone.  So you’ll have to help the new guy figure some stuff out.”

Me: “Can you maybe be a little more specific?”

Boss: “Yeah.  Teach him how to do the job.”

Me: “Remotely.”

Boss: “Right.”

Me: “…While I catch up on the $47,000 in orders you didn’t process while I was gone, plus book all of Eastern Washington and Idaho.”

Boss: “…But I brought you whiskey.”

(He plops it on my desk.)

Me: “…Which is great if I didn’t have like fifty-thousand things to do right now…”

(He cracks it open.)

Me: “Also…it’s not even noon yet…”

(He tosses one back, clean.)

Boss: “I’ll be in my office.”

(He takes the bottle with him.)

…And this is how my Monday went. It just got better from there…the more buzzed he got.

[Around 1 PM]

Boss: (Singing from his office.) “…No I’ll NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

Me: (From my office.) “Can you maybe not sing so loud? I’m on the phone and things…”

Boss: “…No I’ll NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

Me: Seriously!

(He chuckles.)

…You guys, it’s taken me three days to stop hating him enough to find the “funny” in this shit, and actually write it down. Also…HE NEEDS to FUCKING LEARN MORE OF THAT SONG’S LYRICS. For three SOLID DAYS, it’s all he’s been hollering. Non-stop.

[Around 3 PM]

Me: “What is it with you and that song…why do you keep yelling that?”

Boss: “I just really identify with it, is all.”

Me: “Cuz you’re a 22 year-old pop-it Country superstar from Nashville?”

Boss: “Yes. And I’m gonna make you a CD of it to remember me by…”

Me: “No.”

Boss: “…Or a mash up, with that one Kelly Clarkson song…”

Me: “–I don’t want it.”

Boss: “Over a House beat.”

Me: “–Go away.”

Boss: “…And I’ll NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

Me: (Yelling.) “YOU AREN’T EVEN SINGING IT RIGHT!!”

(He stands there in the doorway and grins.)

Me: “What.”

Boss: “…It’s good to have you back, you know?”

Me: “I’m sure it is.”

Boss: “You missed this. Come on. Admit it.”

Me: “I will quit and leave all this work, if you say one more word. I swear to you.”

(He disappears back into his office. At some point, I get up to go pee. When I come back, a shot of whiskey is sitting beside my computer. I think of all the work I’ve done today, and how little I get paid for it, and how he’s getting a bonus that I earn him every month, so he can sit there Facebooking and drinking whiskey all day, while singing pop songs. Badly. I shoot the drink.)

Me: (From my office.) “This doesn’t mean we’re friends, you know.”

Boss: (From his office.) “… … … AND I’LL NEVER, EVER, EVER…!”

…You guys…sometimes, it’s just too much.

~D

Conversations In A Day

11 Sep

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The Cuz has arrived, and thus begins Vacation Part Two:

(First crack of morning.)

Puff: (On the phone.) Where you at?
Me: (In bed.) Huh?
Puff: I’m here!
Me: Wuh?
Puff: I’ve landed.
Me: (Bolting upright.) OH HOLY SHIT-FUCK!  It was 9:45 A.M.?!?!
Puff: Uh. Yeah.
Me: I AM THE WORST!  I thought it was 9:45 P.M..
Puff: Nope.
Me: I will TOTALLY be there in 20 minutes…I SWEAR!

***

Me: (With a toothbrush in mouth while making bed) Oh God! I screwed it all up!
Ma: (On phone, possibly still sleeping.) Hello?
Me: He’s HERE! He’s here already!
Ma: Who is this…?
Me: —I’m twelve hours behind, and I haven’t even gotten up yet hardly.
Ma: What’s happening?
Me: –I even asked him like yesterday to confirm. 9:45 he said. 9:45. Cuz like an idiot I kept thinking it was night and all.
Ma: Is this a wrong number?
Me: MOM! IT’S ME! PUFF IS HERE! I NEED YOU TO FOCUS FOR A SECOND!
(A gaging, choking sound.)
Me: I almost died just then. Fucking toothbrush…
Ma: Puff is HERE, did you say?
Me: YES! YES!
Ma: Well, GO GET HIM! What are you talking to me for?!
Me: I just freaked out, is all. I’m going! I have to–I’m going…!

***

(In car.)

Me: (via text.) OMG, I am the worst ever!! Let the ridiculous “me” stories begin. I am totally on the road right now, yelling at this old lady driving a boat, going negative ten miles an hour in front of me. My road rage is unparalleled with moroseness for not only making a 12 hour difference fuck up, but also being mean to a woman who already lived through eight wars and is prob’ly using a booster seat just to see over the steering wheel…
Puff: …No stress, I’m having some breakfast.
Me: …So you have stories to share already. Awesome. This will never be boring, Puff.
(Picture of breakfast arrives with a ding.)
Me: Hella. P.S. I need coffee like woa. And I look like I just rolled outta bed. Cuz I totally did. If you wanna pretend you don’t know me, I can hire a hot dude to meet you at the terminal and bring you to me. It won’t hurt my feelings.
Puff: … I’m at the Alaska arrivals area. Sitting on a bench.
Me: Grabbing parking now.
Puff: Where do I need to be?
Me: Wait. What airline?
Puff: A-las-ka. I’m right outside on the lower level…

***

(Still in car, calling on the phone.)

Me: So…I’m in the garage now.
Puff: Do I need to be in the garage?
Me: No, I’ll come to you. Only I’m…I’m looping here…
Puff: Huh?
Me: Looping. I’m looping to get out. Then I need to circle around.
Puff: What are you driving?
Me: A PT Cruiser.
(I take the totally wrong lane and end up in “departures.”)
Me: (Totally lying.) Um. I’m in a holding pattern. Almost there.
Puff: Heheh. “Pattern is full, Ghost Rider…”

***

(After another go-round on the terminal attack, and seeing him on the curb.)

Me: Dude. I’m an asshole, and I’m totally sorry.
Puff: It’s all good, cuz.
Me: Also, you know all those things that you wait to do until the day people come, when you are on vacation and just let shit go?
Puff: (silence.)
Me: …Like cleaning your car, doing dishes, dying your hair, sweeping the house, spraying toxic chemicals all over the bathroom and giving your fish a bath? Yeah. None of that was done. So I guess it’s good you’re family.
Puff: Yeah.
Me: I mean, I still need to get my nails “did” for shits sake.
Puff: I’ll go too! I need a pedi anyway.
Me: See. This is why I love you.

***

(On a short walk to coffee shop.)

Me:…And this is our park. And this is our gas station. And that is where The BFF lives. And this is our homeless man. And that is our Yuppie market…
Puff: –When do I get to meet her?
Me: Who?
Puff: The BFF.
Me: She gets off at five-ish, so maybe Tuesday? I dunno. But it’s happening for sure. You’ll love her. She’s like me. Only not at all. And way more fierce.
Puff: I know. I read your blogs.

***

(In Tacoma Boys.)

Puff: Psst…
Me: (In another world smelling a grape.)
Puff: Psssst. Pssst.
Me: (Wondering which onion is the “good” one.)
Puff: Hey!
Me: Huh?
Puff: (Whispering.) The “ginger.” Two o’clock.
(I look. I wrinkle my nose and shake my head.)
Puff: Not for YOU, for ME. (Idiot.)
Me: Ohhh. Really?
Puff: And he’s here with his gramma. Bonus points.
Me: “The good grandson.”
Puff: ‘Xactly.
Me: A “ginger.”
Puff: Definitely.
Me: Huh.

***

(Gigantic crash at base of stairs.)

Me: Sunofabiscutcruncher!!!!
Puff: (From the kitchen.) Are you dead?
Me: The damn paper bag broke. I just shattered an entire bottle of red.
Puff: (Now from landing.) Where?
(I move aside and show the kinda blood spill that only makes it on C.S.I.)
Puff: Oops. Want help?
Me: No. I’ll just lick it up. Its fine.
(Beat.)
Puff: You’re kidding. Right?
(Beat.)
Me: Sure. Okay. I’ll go get some paper towels. Be right back.

***

Puff: (From sink.) Um…
Me: Are you washing the bananas?
Puff: Wine spill. And you might wanna watch for glass splinters. I got one.
(He shows his finger, which is leaking the identical color of red as the wine bottle did.)
Me: That is exactly the same color as the wine.
Puff: Yeah.
Me: …Maybe we should toss the bananas.

***

The BFF: (On phone.) You called?
Me: Yeah. Come meet Puff and help cook Fajitas.
The BFF: I’m…(I accidentally blank out and have no idea what she says right here. I think I was putting junk away in the crisper.) …and then I will, at around 9:30. Okay?
Me: That’s P.M., right?
The BFF: Yes.
Me: …Just making sure.
The BFF: I’ll buzz you.

***

(While watching “Snow White and the Huntsman,” both basically ignoring it as we are on our computers separately…he to FB, me to blog.)

Puff: She. Never. Closes. Her. Mouth.
Me: My god. It’s all I’ve been thinking

~D

She’s Branding

28 Aug

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I feel like I just bought a cow and poked a searing hot branding iron at her ass.

She Writes A Little, now has it’s own dedicated Email and Facebook page with a line-up of materials coming your way should you choose to partake in them.  Mostly, I haven’t done this yet because I’ve been terrified since the last “outing,” that someone would sniff me out again.  But I think I’ve got the matter handled, secured and ready to launch out into the webosphere.

…The other “hold-back,” was what in the hell I’d do with a dedicated Email and FB page once I got them. 

This is the part where I drop heavy hints to people who might want to hire me to write things.  Don’t feel shy.  You should really give me a buzz and we can talk.  I can write serious, academic, literary, script and research article stuff too, you know.  I’d prove it by showing you my resume, but that would kinda blow my cover a little bit.  So you’ll just have to take my word for it.

…Meanwhile, as I anxiously await the many job opportunities blowing up my email inbox even now, I’d like to shift focus to the FB page a moment, if you will.

I’ve spent hours (2), tonight on my couch, deriving a cunning plan wherein scheduled materials will crop up on it, each and every day. Each day of the week will have a special post all it’s own, having nothing at all to do with the blog…(only sometimes)…and may or may not help me think of further writing ideas to expand upon, so as members you may or may not get a super special insider peek. It will be themed like this:

SWAL’s Facebook Datebook

Mon – Dames We Dig
(Dames we love and why. Inspiration in spades, these chicks got it to spare.)

Tues – Books To Read
(Book list favs from Hollywood, and bios and theatre and history. If I love it, you’ll love it…I mean, my God, we’re practically twins.)

Wed – Mmmmen We Love
(Famous fellas who get it done right, and why. With special emphasis on boys who have voices you could lick like a spoon. )

Thurs – Strange story of the day
(Weird but true news items or personal anecdotes in tiny blips. Like your own little Freak Show ticket, every week.)

Fri – Fetish Feast
(People, theatre, food, film, and lit within the fetish world. I am dedicated to searching it out…no matter what gross pop-ups thusly occur.)

Sat – Sins We Partake
(Bad-for-you or naughty favorite booze, places, delectable dishes, naughty reads, and “didja knows.”)

Sun – Saving Graces
(Quiet retreats, mental clean up, relaxing movies, books, happy place listings of “the greatest hits.”)

…At some point I’m prob’ly gonna need to come up with a better pen name, as well. Because “SWAL” prob’ly won’t sell a whole hell of a lotta books. It sorta sounds like the acronym to a disaster relief fund or hybrid disease or something. Maybe I’ll hold a contest to name me…like MGM did for Joan Crawford. And then I’ll thank the winner personally in my hypothetical book when it’s published. And maybe ship them some of this:
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…Because I’m a hell of a lot nicer than Joan Crawford ever was. All she ever gave out was sex and wire hanger welts.*

~D

* Note to self: Cross reference Crawford under Thursday through Saturday. And maybe Monday. I mean, lets be real.

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