Tag Archives: “Marty”

No Bug Zone

10 Oct

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Taking a break…

Am fortressed  in my office, away from all the peoples, as all the peoples I know are currently carrying some version or other of the plague.

Gnome-Idiot cheerfully informed me yesterday morning, (while hovering over my desk and mouth breathing) that she had spent the night hurling into the toilet , and would it be alright if she went home after this stack of paperwork?

…I mentally told her to get the fuck away from me, while verbally assuring her that I totally supported her choice in going home to get better, and that she should feel free to leave as soon as possible.

…This was roughly two days after the WHS Pimp started hacking up lungs n’ things in his office, returning from his day off.  The same day that Ma called and said she had abton of crockpot food she couldn’t eat by herself, and wouldn’t I like to come over while wearing a surgical mask and rubber contamination gloves, to pick it up…as she TOO was dying of some kind of stuffy head-cold.

Three totally different strains of plague, now surround me.  The battle has been fierce.  I’ve forced vitamins and liquids until my bladder is near to exploding. 

…So far, so good.

…Of course, now that I’m claiming that, I am prob’ly doomed to get one or all three in the next few hours.

Problem is, I don’t have time for that yet.

…I know the show is closed and all, but along with the final visit of Corp next week, at the office, I have two shows to see, a script to peruse, an Ab-Fab sleepover with Marty to attend, a Wedding, and The BFF’s way-belated BD-AWESOME-GIFT-OF-AWESOME to shop for, bills to pay, laundry to do, and TP to buy.

I’m booked.

…Also, I don’t WANT to get a cold.  Not any three of the current varieties seem very appealing.  So, I sit here, treating my appendages as germ-fields-of war, every paper pass back-and-forth with the rest of the office staff.  My hands are now chapped, cracked and dry from antiseptic overuse, I just shot my last Emergen-C this morning, and in a panic last night, I started chugging that awful Gollum juice toddy, in hopes to add it as another form of preventative.

…Surely, nothing could survive this onslaught of prevention, right?

(she hopes, heartily.)

…Providing all stands germ-free, my week of self-imposed quarantine will end tomorrow…as I watch Marty kick some ass in “Henry V,” and move directly into swilling “medicinal” alcohol…in the form of a lot of wine…until I pass out.  Waking up (at whatever o’clock that turns out to be), I then begin my quest of shopping and bill paying…and somewhere in there: some laundry.

…Which will bring me to the half-way mark of my weekend.  I’m pulling focus on one step at a time, at this point.  So as to not tempt the bugs too much.  If they think you have it all signed, sealed and delivered, they hit you even harder (I find.)

…So shhhh.  Don’t tell.

…Meanwhile, I’m off to face the “inbox” once more…and consider the options of Children’s Theatre, around the holiday. And, the calculated percentage of odds riding against mounting an entire show without grumbling curse words when I fuck up a line…or being a surly bastard to small people seeking hugs and smiles during tech week.

~D

Yippie Ki-Yay Mother F&$*%#

22 Jul

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Tonight: Marty times with Bruce the horse-dog, Die Hard, every kind of chip and dip known to mankind, and the Black Eyed Peas.  Mostly, this:

Coincidentally, I feel uber badass right now.

…Almost as badass as Bruce Willis.  But not quite.  No one is.  Even at age a hundred-and-something (in non-Hollywood years, also known as “close to 60”) in Red 2, I’d totally hit that.

He’s BRUCE-FREAKIN’-WILLIS!

Who WOULDN’T wanna ride that ride?

(Shut up boys, you so do too.  He’s on your top five “free-bee” list, we already know it…cuz he’s on EVERYONES.)

…It only really gets awkward when Alan Rickman joins him on screen.  Cuz then it turns into a kind of sexual potato chip war: You can’t have just ONE.  Good God, there’s far too much deliciousness hanging around for that kind of nonsense.  Have ALL the chips!  In all their suited-up, sweat-drenched, faux German accented, bleeding feet, bouncy eighty’s hair best!  Have it ALL!

…And then bust out to the Spike Mix, all the way home.

THIS is the way to kill a Monday, friends.  In a skyscraper, in LA, on Christmas…Beethoven’s Ode de Joy mix-taping with hip hop in strange perfect harmony.  Like Rickman and Willis will be, forever and ever, amen.

~D

Marty Times, Beautiful Creatures & High-Five Monkeys

26 May

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Nature walks, and College talks, and Marty hang time wherein the English Nutter (Emma Thompson for the new readers), Jeremy Irons and Viola Davis go all WTF awesome on a teen-movie that totally kick “Twilight’s” ass. (Aka: “Beautiful Creatures.”) 

…We delighted much, and gabbed at the screen and took turns wanting to be English, so we could grow up and become these beautiful people who act better, even as Americans, than Americans do.

They so very clearly had way too much fun.

…Also: many killer costumes. 

As guilty pleasures go: a total hands-down win.

Then we moved onto some BBC “Richard II,” followed by Nick Swardson in “Seriously Who Farted?” (Naturally.)

…Totally laughed, and at times, to the point of pain.

…Which is always good, plus saves on ab work outs later.

This was the part that killed me with most though.

…For me, it’s all about the dance.
 
~D

On The Docket

30 Apr

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Right.

…So, tomorrow is Wednesday.

I have to remind myself because I haven’t had a “normal” week in like two…”normal” not compared to other people, but just in junction with myself even.

I dunno if I’m coming or going, or really to where, or which county it is in.

This has been a problem since I first started the cold meds. 

…Work at home this day, into half of second, then office, then office again, airport run, south-end run, north-end triple runs: show – show – show, close. Mrs. Johnson pops up, birthday happenings…in another state…back home again, day off, think finally kicked cold, south-end again, half day work from home, airport run again, back to office, prep month-end, home to beat down rest of hangover and study for tomorrow, Ma’s to laundry, back home to blog.

…Is there any freakin’ wonder I’m a total mess right now?

Tomorrow is month-end, followed by about three hours of call-backs for “Importance of Being Earnest.”

…Called for Gwendolyn.

…Which means retracting the 40-something Jewish WWII mama, into a refined 20-something, posh, obsessive-compulsive, Edwardian, proposal-magnet.

Pffft!  I can totally do that on a dime! (She says, trying her best to state it without an inherent question mark at the end.)

…Which will only bring us to halfway through the week that already wouldn’t end. 

And this HUGE zit (which apparently has a cousin staying with Marty), just showed up yesterday.  Prime time for me to look my best, in times when it really matters.

…Meanwhile, I got m’first beautiful blue box of goodies from Tiffany’s in the mail, (c/o Aunty L), a new role offer from a theatre up north, (to keep me busy this fall), devoured this little lovely ditty (which I highly recommend for the equally obsessed) and now: I am off to bed.

Sleep.

…Guys, we ain’t even halfway through yet.

Oie.

Oops.

…I mean, “bugger.”

Shit.

I mean, “How very unfortunate that my current lifestyle is so fully without apparent rhyme nor reason,  when it comes to obtaining sufficient amounts of sleep and focus in order to successfully achieve one’s efforts, when one does try so hard to do ones best.”

(A little grindey on the gears there, friend.  Focus-up! it’s game-time!)

~D

Free Liquor, Love Amsterdam

12 Apr

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Sitting in horrifying Friday 5:00 traffic, northbound.

…Face in ten pounds of stage makeup, hair set in curlers, with a hanky wrapped round to seal in the heat, and sitting in my PT Cruiser…from the neck up, I look like a period prostitute…which is all the car occupants beside me can see.

The double-takes are priceless.

…I may look like a stripper, mister so-and-so, but remember, I’m a Lady.

(Wink, wink)

***

(Later)

Early to theatre for passing out Opening Night tokens.

…I like to give shots, for small casts.

First: because I have expensive taste, and second: because after living through Hell Week, everyone deserves a slug of something good.

…And I like to theme them, per character, based on what mine would give them. For this reason it can take me an hour rambling through a liquor store talking to myself. A highly attractive sight, ‘specially as undertaken today, in no makeup and sweats.

…But the inside joke giggle I give myself, is totally worth it:

For Putti (Mr. VD): A Bushmill and a decent stogie…his finest desires now seen to.

Mr Frank: Hennessey, as brought as a present and presented on stage in act 1.

Mrs. Frank: Grey Goose. For the neat, quiet, near absence of any kick.

Margot (actual age, mid-20’s): Cake vodka, for her youth.

Mr. Kraler: 1800 Gold…and Meip: 1800 Silver…for all it costs to keep us there.

Our kilt-wearing Director: Glenfiddich, 12 year….and our SM: Chives Regal, 12 year…for all the years of time it feels like we’ve been rehearsing to get here tonight.

Mr. Dussel: Queens own Bombay Sapphire…cuz all he needs is a strong woman to straighten him out.

…For the minors in cast and crew, I scored unbelievably, with cookies and candies from Amsterdam…thanks to World Market.

***
(Later, later)

Marty and I, post show, drinkin’ vino, eatin’ chips, talkin’ shit, and wachin’ Vicar of Dibley.

…Sheer…Joy 🙂

…Missed the hell outta her.

…Tomorrow: greasey breakfast of champions.

Hooray for Openings, and friends 🙂

~D

Night Off

15 Mar

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Climbing Mt. Laundry tonight, after trying to walk off the half-a-burger I tried to shove down my throat. 

…Lost the battle. 

The smell made me want to cry…all forlorn and partially eaten, after all that lust I’ve been batting away for the past six days.  There it sat…next to it’s little bed of left-over fries…quite possibly the saddest thing I’d seen all week. 

So I threw it away, and bundled up for some air. 

…45 minutes later, managed to get home just as it started to dump on me.  That was like half an hour ago. 

…Now am listening to the Julie London Pandora station, up to my armpits in sorted laundry, making dirty little islands of color all through my hallway into the living room.  Ten pounds of quarters are set in pre-piles on the stove, with the detergent…and the timer is set for my first two loads to get transferred into the industrial dryers.

God, I hate not having a washer and dryer in my own house.

…Granted, the facility in only in the basement on the other end of the building…but still…it’s “over there,” and I’m “here,” and “public” means having to put pants on and everything.

…So much work, you guys.

Meanwhile: Marty is nearly ready to get curled and wigged for her performance…having just Opened last night.  And I am recouping from a wicked bout of huge contract influx at work, followed by last night’s first run of the show.

…Not bad.

…The show, that is.

…The “office” is just the fucking “office.” And always will be.

Tomorrow: I’ll be traveling down to Marty, who will be teaching me to knit, for purposes of the show.  Which means when this is all said and done, I’ll have a most ugly, misshapen, worn-torn-Europe, black-market-yarn blanket as a souvenir.

Only I would be excited about this.

…And I am.  

(Sips at first can of Coke in a week, and burps loudly.)

Man.  That’s beautiful.  Do you have ANY idea how totally satisfying it is to get that deep, baritone, Coke burp again?  Lots.  It’s lots, satisfying. 

…Especially after 47 million cups of tea, black coffee and Talking Rain.

(Buzzer starts shrieking.)

…Whelp, that’s m’cue.

Off to wrestle the reds and whites.

Happy Friday, all.

~D

Dear SWAL (A Special Edition)

8 Mar

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An unheard of sneak peek into the Marty realm of workness.  Today we are listening LIVE to her and her Boss’s webinar meeting with 12 subscriber women (of their product.)

…As a ghost, I have full access to her written responses as “Support Diva” (fielding comments and calls) as well as hear both of their responses as the questions come in. This is open playing field, everything on the table, no topic forbidden, no comments filtered.

…Her Boss just signed on, eager to “get ‘er done,” as he has a hot date with the gym directly after.  Marty is currently tempering him for the remaining minute before broadcast.

The ticker is counting down the seconds…

…He is reading Star Trek “didja knows” to pass the time.  Apparently some Vulcan dude couldn’t do the finger “v” thing and had to have his fingers glued to get it done.  Useless information for the day #78.

…And…we…are…live!

***

“Lets do this!  Lets rock and roll!,” says Marty Boss.

…He explains the low-down, point of call, rules and regulations and so it goes.

“I’m 24 and never had a relationship last longer than one date…there’s this guy…there’s a 13-year age difference…I’m really interested…am I too young for him?  I’ve asked him out, he is always busy, or whatever, but brings up another time to get together that might work…”

Answer: I’m gonna say if you’ve never had a relationship longer than one date, that a 13-year age difference isn’t going to help you. There is a lot more of experience on his end, obviously. My question is WHY haven’t you had one last longer than one date?

…He asks her to define her stance, she provides that her lifestyle is super busy and work-heavy.  He suggests not going at it like a long-term deal, think of it in terms of just one date.  Then the next date.  Less worried about long-term.

***

…Later…

“If you’re dating a couple of guys, how do you let one down the kindest way, to pick the other one?”

Answer: Don’t lie. Just tell him the truth. It hurts, but trying to be nice can often be the meanest thing you can do. False hopes, not knowing where you stand. Don’t say too much, he might look for an angle to get back in…don’t be super specific, just truthful and straightforward and end it.

***

…Later…

“I just got out of a bad 4 year relationship, my first big one, and don’t know if I’m miserable because I was used to it, or if I really hurt and miss him. Then I kissed this guy at work and…”

Answer: I’m gonna say you’re not ready yet, you probably shouldn’t quite be out looking for a boyfriend at the moment. First of all, dating someone at work is almost always a bad idea, I’d take 6 months and give yourself a “no dating” policy…not that you can’t date or sleep with someone, but don’t FOCUS on it. 4 years is a long time…spend some time with yourself, do what you need to for you, recognize what you really want, give yourself time to heal from the last relationship…yes, it feels like death right now…but it isn’t…it will get better…you will be fine. Let yourself go through the pain…the pain is okay…I’m against “depression”…but pain is going to happen…just give it time. You don’t have to jump at the first “next” thing. You will find someone else…it WILL happen…you don’t need to rush it…it will happen when you are ready.

***

…Later…

“Do you have any suggestions for female police officers? It’s sometimes hard to get a date, it’s a turn off for a lot of guys when you tell them what you do, but seems withholding if you DON’T tell them.”

Answer: I don’t know that I’d put that just up front…maybe keep it to something like, “I’m in law enforcement” but not get big into the details. This is a tough one. I can see how it might spook them if you make that your dating profile and whole personal identity about being a cop…focus more on what you are passionate about…other activities, things you are into…so they get to know other sides of you as well. I’d save the whole “cop” thing for maybe the third date…far enough down the road to where they know other sides of you as well and therefore have a better balanced view of who you really are.

***

…Later…

“What does it mean when the sex is really good and lasts long…like over an hour…but he doesn’t come?”

Answer: It could mean any number of things. Could be drugs, could be masterbating too much. I doubt highly it has anything to do with you. If the sex is good and passionate and personal…then there’s nothing wrong. He’s lasting an hour…he OBVIOUSLY is attractive to you, if he is attentive and you feel good…then I wouldn’t worry about it. Some guys just take longer. You hear a lot about “premature” ejaculation…but almost no one talks about long-term as a “problem.” Which it isn’t. Sometimes you may just need to finish in “other ways.”

***

…Later…

“Is it okay to give kinky sex on the first date?”

Answer: Yeah, you can. Just know that in doing that, you are setting the precedence for the relationship to be a sexual one, not necessarily personal. It’s fine, just know that. There is nothing wrong with just looking for sex…I’ve had that before, lots of people have…”this is just this thing…just a play thing…it is what it is, and that’s all.” But just know what that means. I don’t suggest people looking for a “relationship” to have sex on the first date, at all. But if you realize what you are getting into, and are okay with it: go for it. Have fun.

***

…Later…

“Where do mature over 40 ladies go to find arty guys who are straight?”

Answer: (Marty here)….As a performer myself, I gotta tell yuh, there are a LOT more straight guys in the theatre than you think. (Marty Boss)…I agree…I used to do theatre, and I gotta tell you, as a straight guy in theatre, I dated A-LOT. You should just embrace the lifestyle. DO theatre, get INTO the arts…if you are there and in it, meeting people, you’ll find the men with that common interest.

***

…Later…

“If a guy says he’s straight, but has experimented with another guy, is he gay?”

Answer: No. I think you’d be hard to find almost anyone who HASN’T experimented with the same sex at some level at some time. That doesn’t mean that is necessarily how they identify themselves. These are also only labels. Some people are gay, straight, bi…what does that mean? Sometimes that is a personal identifyer, sometimes it isn’t. That’s like when women ask me if a guy wanting to do anal makes him “gay.” Of course not. It’s just something he enjoys…for whatever reason…it doesn’t mean an entire lifestyle change, it’s just a sensation/motion, or whatever that he enjoys or wants to try.

***

…After one hour, they begin to wrap-up with the final low down. But not before a highly interesting and intriguing experiance on my part. Actually learned lots, and nodded much from my little “amen corner.”

…Meanwhile, a last little insider for the lady-curious. (Adults ONLY.) Try www.danejones.com. Just won the “Feminist Award,” for best porn…highly suggested by Marty’s Boss, as, “a realistic porn site, where ladies actually look like they are having a good time for a change.”

…We apparently can thank the UK.

…And that’s this month’s Dear SWAL.

Learn and enjoy.

😉

~D

The Karen Drinking Game

1 Mar

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It’s my free night off from diet foodage.

Marty and I are post-show funking at my house, while festing “Will & Grace,” season two. 

…I am constantly yelling sexual things about Will’s pecks and shoulders in those tight sweaters, Marty is fawning over Grace’s hair…we both laugh at Just Jack, and bow down to the over all genius and magnificence that is: Karen.

…The bitch has got it goin’ on. In just every realm of everything.

…Which is what happens when you get Megan Mullally to do something.

We are currently on a short break, while Marty smokes, and I blog. We are approximately half way (I’d say) through the Karen Walker Drinking Game, which is exactly as it sounds in that you drink whenever she does.  Here are the rules:

1. You must announce each swig with, “Drink!” and then do so.

2. There are no penalties for extra drinking.

3. You must have at least one glass of water for every two of wine (because some people have rehearsals tomorrow. Those “some people” are not me, but it is still a good idea.)

4. Neither one  of us can get so sloshed that we can’t complete our required blog quota for the night.

5. In the words of Karen: “Do this like any respectable woman, lay on your back, point your heels to Jesus and think of handbags!”

…Yeah.

…My God. If Karen ever had an an oversea trip and met up with Patsy and Eddie in “Ab-Fab”,  my life would finally be complete.

Smoke break is over kids. 

…Back to the game.

~D

F%@$ You, Downton Abbey!: A Love Letter

19 Feb

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**Spoiler Alert**

If you haven’t yet watched the finale of Downton’s Season 3, then stop reading now…or I will ruin your life. 

…If you have already seen it: Julian Fellows ruined our lives, and this is the part where we grieve together.

First of all, Marty kept it secret for a whole week. 

…I’d gotten her the season for her Birthday, which she dutifully ate up, then drew blood on a continual basis by biting her tongue about what happens.  She was supposed to have brought the discs to our Friday Girl’s Night, but had forgotten them at home, so we both stewed, then got over it, then went to see a film which made us forget everything but awesome stuff.

…Regardless of how amazing Maggie Smith is, this still meant that I was gonna have to wait until at least Monday to see what the rest of the world was already going to know, by late Sunday. No cable, means streaming ability only, (thank you Masterpiece), and work, plus rehearsal meant it was gonna have to wait until late.

…And it did.

…And then I got really pissed.

…And used some choice words that apparently Dame Smith finds particularly appealing in her own personal lexicon.

…But before all that, I needed to follow through on a promise. A blood oath with Marty that I would hook in, as soon as the episode began, and IM her my immediate responses she would have been able to SEE, had she remembered to bring the damn discs last Friday. Which (because of the interactive way I tend to watch television anyway), became a mass flood in stream-of-consciousness updates yelled at both her, and the TV screen.

I include it here as follows:

**

Me Text: And Downton begins…

Marty: Ooooohhhh my Jesus!! Do you know what happens already?

Me Text: Nope. Surprised it’s a year later, automatically.

Me to TV: Ooo. Alternate intro. Mixin’ it up, kids…!

Marty: She’s pregnant!!!!

Me Text: Yup. 🙂 The end spoiler last week showed it though.

Me to TV: Well, they can’t kill off Mary, so it won’t be that. But something not right is gonna happen with the baby. Obviously. To freak everyone out about it. Bet it comes way early or something…

Me Text: It’s gonna be a Preemie…just know it.

Me to TV: Wait. Maid-chick-what? Nope. Bitch, step down!

Me Text: Crap. Branson and a maid. Crap.

Marty: I know. You see her and you are like, LAY OFF BITCH.

Me to TV: Dude, don’t be an idiot stereotype. Stay AWAY from the Help! Know your place!!

Me to TV: Meanwhile…A castle. With actual turrets…!

Me Text: Hello Scotland. Yes, please.

Me to TV: Party times! Boss is out!! Lets bust out of here everyone, and add some color into our wardrobes!!!

Me to TV: Shit. Everyone is gonna be gone from the house. Something’s gonna happen to the house…!

Me Text: If the house burns to the ground or something while at the fair, I’m gonna lose it.

Me to TV: Oh. Wait. Wait. Mrs. Crawley’s gettin’ all hit ooooon….

Me Text: Ahhh…Matthew’s Mama and the Doc. Bomb-chicka-bow-wow.

Marty: I know. Right?!?!

Me to TV: Oh dear lord in heaven. TWO Mrs. O’Briens. Save us all…

Me to TV: God. Mary, whhhhy must you allllways be suuuuuch a biiiiiitch.

Me Text: Mary is suuuuuuch a bitch.

(My stream freezes as Downstairs are collected looking out the window at a twitterpated Mrs. Patmore. I cuss. I doodle with the computer. I reboot and reset.)


Me Text: My stream just died. Trying to start over and skip to the same part. Fuck.

Marty: Nnnnnnooooooooo that’s not cool!!!! What part are you at?

Me to TV: Fucking computer and it’s fucking…oh…there. Ok. That works-ish I guess.

Me Text: Got it goin’ but had to go back a bit. Bates and Anna and the smoking peppermint.

Me to TV: I love you Bates’ so much…why haven’t you made babies yet?

Me to TV: …And back to the “borrowed” Jane Eyre plot point of the dude with the crazy wife no one knows about…

Me Text: Poor Edith and her shitty men. YOU’RE ALREADY MARRIED, JAGHOLE!

Marty: I know, but not really. I mean he shouldn’t have to suffer with an insane wife for forever. I mean, she doesn’t even know who he is.

Me Text: He shouldn’t. But she deserves better. Wow. This is like the “everyone hooking up with everyone else” episode…

Me to TV: (Totally cracking up and repeating:) Daisy: Mrs. Patmore? Why not? She’s a woman, ain’t she? Thomas: Only “technically”…

Me to TV: Establishing shot to die by. Lookit that! Lookit it!!

Me Text: Scotland is ridiculous. I want to go to there.


Marty: Yes it is!!!! And we will go there!!

Me to TV: Ohhhh! Shut up, shut up…romancing by a hot Doc…and she has like no idea what is ahead…but I do!

Me Text: A date! With the Doc!!

Marty: Holler!!!

Me to TV: OMG. Anna. Why are you so freakin’ adorable? Lookit her. Learning to reel. How fucking cute is she??

Me Text: I love Anna 🙂

(Computer stream freezes and jerks. And starts. And freezes again. And then goes. Kinda.)


Me Text: Dammit. Keeps freezing the stream…

Me to TV: Oh shit! Thomas is getting the living crap beat out of him!! Dude, Mason MOVE YOUR ASS!! Go get someone you freakin’ idiot!

(Stream freezes again.)

Me to TV: STOP IT!!! YOU’RE RUINING EVERYTHING!! WORK, GODDAMN YOU…!!!

(The stream freezes one last time, jiggles, pops and goes on seamlessly once more.)

Me to TV: And about fucking time! Now. Where were we. Oh. Yeah. Mason just standing there like an asshat while Thomas bleeds all over the place for him.

Me to TV: Oh…Carson and baby Sybil…how gross-cute is thaaaaaat?

Marty: Ahhhh you’re killing me. What part are you at?

Me to TV: Damn. Forgot Marty…

Me Text: Butler and the baby. Thomas just beat up. Anna about to show her stuff, I bet.

Marty: Carson and the baby is the fucking cutest thing ever.

Me Text: OMG. So cute 🙂

Me to TV: And Mrs. Hughes. I love them. They need to follow THAT love story line. It was TOTALLY there during the cancer scare and then just dropped off to nothing immediately.(Laughing and repeating) Mrs. Hughes: Lovely to see you cherish the wee bairn. Carson: No need to get all sentimental about it…

Me to TV: Men. In. Kilts. Thank you God. And Julian Fellows…

Me to TV: Who’d have thunk there could be someone to try and out-O’Brien, O’Brien?! It’s like evil, squared!

Me Text: Shit. That’s a good slug of whiskey.

Me to TV: Shit. I want a good slug of whiskey…

Me to TV: Oh, here it comes!

Me Text: Anna 🙂

Me to TV: Lookit him look at her…lookit that faaaace. Ohhh…and how he says that thing about…Go! Go and make babies you two!! I demand it!!

Me to TV: …And the part where Mrs. Patmore doesn’t get, at all, that she is being “used.” Stupid women…

Me Text: Alfred’s gonna be the new cook I bet. Geeze they are packing this episode FULL.

Marty: They have so much to cover. But I love that Mrs. Patmore is like, “Of course a man can cook!!”

Me to TV: What are you doing? Who do you think you are you little…Back it uuuup! Back! It! Up!

Me Text: GET AWAY FROM BRANSON U SLUT!

Marty: I KNOW!!!! HE’S SYBIL’S AND ALWAYS WILL BE.

Me Text: I know!!! Oh. Contractions!

Me to TV: … And so it begins. What new hell have you in store for us now, Downton Abbey…?

Me to TV: Meanwhile, of course. Have to “replace” the spirited dead daughter with another person who wants to be just like her, only is annoying, cuz she ISN’T her.

Me Text: I don’t want Rose at Downton. Dammit.

Me to TV: Oh. Mrs. Hughes. Can I keep you? I love that woman. So much. She’s just the best of everything that is good. Listen to her Branson, she knows what’s what.

Me Text: Mrs. Hughes…such a good woman.

Marty: I love her so much. She’s so smart and observant.

Me to TV: Shut up! I’m not crying just cuz he is…and she’s all there and comforting him and…shut up!

Me Text: I know. Baby Born!

Me to TV: Well. That was anti-climatic. Which just means some NEW kind of awful will be taking place. It won’t be Branson now…so is it the house? Is it one of the 11 romances flying through the air? Is it something at the Scottish castle? If something happens to Anna or Bates, I’m gonna kill myself… DAMMIT, Downton, you EXHAUST ME!

Me to TV: Dear Matthew, WHY do you INSIST on seeing “good” in that bitch wife of yours? She’s awful.

Me to TV: (Repeating with a scoff) Mary: I wish everyone else could see me the way you do, and not the way Edith and other people do… THEN STOP BEING A BITCH, MARY. IT’S KINDA REALLY EASY!

Me to TV: Driving. Driving fast. Oh shit…

Me Text:–Driving fast. Shit. No. Shit.

(Aaaaaan the whole Downton world implodes. With it’s eyes wide open, lying in a ditch. I actually, physically, stand up.)

Me to TV: FUCK! YOU! JULIAN! FELLOWS!!!!

Me Text: FUCK YOU, JULIAN FELLOWS!!!!

Marty: Bad. Bad. Bad.

Me to TV: Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME??!?!?!

Marty: (Like she could hear me.) RIGHT?!??! IT’S NOT OKAY!

Me Text: FUCK. YOU.

Me to TV: …I can’t even…SERIOUSLY??!?!

Me Text: Fuck! Yoooooooou!!!

(Inward sob.)

Marty: Apparently we have to say that to Matthew. He didn’t renew his contract cause he wanted to move on so they had to kill him. BUT IT’S STILL NOT OKAY.

Me Text: Fuck them all!!!

Marty: Fuuuuuuuucccckk it. How could he do that to us?!?!?

Me to TV: Stupid Actors, and their stupid careers!!!

Me Text: I am a Hulk of anger!!!! SMASH!!!!

Marty: Rrrrraaaahhhh!!!

(I sulk on the couch and yell at the credits rolling on the TV.)

Marty: You got so happy didn’t you. So fucking happy and then they took your heart and ripped it out.

Me Text: Those bastards.

Marty: And we have 10 fucking months until the next one.

Me Text: Fuck. Fuck. Just. Fuck.

***

…Which soon after ended our correspondence because I felt I needed to go to bed…being almost midnight-thirty.

…But then, I was too wound up to sleep (of course.) So instead, stayed up til 2 a.m. watching every. freakin. piece. of. supplemental. Downton. materials. I. could. find.

…Until I finally, finally fell asleep.

…And that’s the way it went down. In real-time.

The end.

~D

Back From Storybrooke

9 Feb

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Harriet has travelled 465.9 miles since Friday morning, and made her first International trip, smuggling Americans over the border.

…She was very accommodating.

…Even if we were totally legal about it.  (We tried to keep that part on the down-low to give her a more a feel for the dramatic.)

…She (and we) were welcomed into Richmond B.C., and the tiny hamlet that it Steveston, for a joyous and tiny trip abroad to geek out about the film-set town that is Storybrooke, Maine in “Once Upon A Time.” 

We took mug shots of Mr. Golds:

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…Gawked at The Library, ate breakfast at Granny’s:

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…And braved only poking our heads into the bread peddler’s:

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…As we sipped our coffees from a variety of coffee houses and frequented the tiny town boutiques, after an evening of yummy Birthday eats n’ drinks care of Marty’s family from Michigan, Indiana and Scotland abroad:

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It was a a perfect get-away, an excellent closer to our show, with an ironic theme which seemed to follow us everywhere…coming full circle to the end of our Holiday. 

…And what we found was a town of happy, and most accepting Canadians, who’d rather sleep in till 11 on a Saturday, than open early and sell something, owned an average of 1.5 dogs per person, preferred bicycles to motor vehicles, drink lots and lots of coffee from no less than 12 separate roasters, are in love with starch (mostly in the forms of baked goods and pastas), and are totally passive about the fact that Hollywood occasionally takes over their entire town to film some TV show, then halfway covers some of it back up until they return again later on whatever random dates.

…Whether filming, or not…life goes on in the little doppelganger that is sleepy little “Storybrooke,” much the same, either way. 

And we’ve seen it. 

So now you know. 

~D

The Nice Lesbian Couple At The End Of The Hall

8 Feb

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Tonight’s blog is a joint effort with Marty. Enjoy here.

~D

Harriet, Marty & Roz “Do” Canada

7 Feb

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So this is my “Friday.”

…Tomorrow, in the early morning times, I’m driving Harriet south to pick up Marty (and her Sailor Moon pillow and her Snooki slippers), and then we are OFF! Northbound for the border to the end of our lands…where Canadia lives.

…Oh, Canadia.

Canadia and your cheap booze, and UK book stock, and tiny port towns where you film all our American TV shows…we love you so.

…We love how you’re just there, at the top, like that.

…We love your funny money, and how you stamp maple leaves on everything…even McDonalds salt packets.

…We love how you have a Queen and are related to those people on the other side of the water, which is the best place in the world.

…We love how you talk funny and are charming about it, not “white-trashy.”

…We love how this is your idea of crime:

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Together, we girls are gonna explore your world for two days, in celebration of Marty’s Birthday! (As 99% funded by her brilliantly generous parents and siblings.) I dunno why I getta tag along for free, but dammit if I ain’t gonna grab that opportunity and jump on board while it whooshes by!!! To celebrate a Marty SHOULD take an out-of-country experience! And it’ll give a neat little ending to Karen and Martha’s finally getting to take their vacation together…after all.

…It’ll also be the last time we’ll get to see each other in a good chunk of time for a while after that. On account of being in two shows in two different counties, with another one in between, and both starting rehearsals the same week. Course we’ll still find a way to annoy our neighbors with loud wino nights of glory whenever we can manage it…lets not be ridiculous…this is anything but “the end.”

…But it is “the end” for our four-show, back-to-back, run of joy together. It was a helluva ride…we even eventually got to speak lines to one another and everything!

And what lines.

…Can’t wait for our ‘venture.

Hey Marty…is it tomorrow yet????

~D

Dear SWAL 3.0

31 Jan

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Welcome back to Dear SWAL…our monthly installment of where Marty fwds me her Customer Service woes and I answer them the way we would all want to, if it wouldn’t get us fired by doing so. For last month’s episode, click here. For the rest of us, let’s move on to a review of a common problem: Blatant Customer Stupidity, or BCS.

…A lot of us who deal with BCS on a daily basis, have figured out a variety of trouble shooting exercises and go-tos that can help, when their common sense has all but failed them. But sometimes, you’ll get someone in such an advanced stage of BCS that even the tried-and-true tricks of the trade are beyond their capabilities. And sometimes those people aren’t even customers really, their whole purpose is to review your product and write about it. These people are called just plain BS’s. (Conveniently this abbreviation works for both the placeholder of what they are AND what they DO, for a living.) And this is Marty’s exchange (in edit form) with them.

…SWAL’S comments are bolded for your convenience.

***

BS: I’d be interested in checking out a review copy of “X” so at least I’d know how to promote your new book…I doubt I’ll make it to your top ten list on this promotion. Since I haven’t started a list of my own yet. But, I do get over 1,800 visitors a day…so, I may be able to sell a few.

Thank you for the heads up about this

~BS

Marty: The first link is for the sign up and the second is to an affiliate copy of the program

(Link 1) (Link 2)

Login: “login”

Password: “password”

~ M

***

SWAL: …So far, so good…

***

BS: Oh, you’re such a tease. (SWAL: Uh, what??) If you didn’t want to send me a review copy why did you bother sending me this e-mail? (SWAL: She fucking sent you a link. TO THE COPY.) Clicked your first link and signed up, fine, I went through your first hoop like a trained puppy dog. (SWAL: Ummm…) Second link, put the e-mail and the password in you sent me and NOTHING! NOT-A. A waist of time.

…So, I’ll tell you what. If you’d like for me to get the review copy so I can promote the book then jump through the hoops for me and the download link should end up in my e-mail box. (SWAL: Woa buddy, excuse me?!) Or better yet just send me a download link and not waist each others time with this busy work non productive stuff.

~ BS

***

SWAL: …Oh HELL no…!

***

Marty: I am very sorry but when I click on that link and type in the below, I get logged into the program no problem. What problems did you have? There is no need to be rude, I will help you.

login: “login”
password: “password”

~ M

BS: Hey, I apologize, I didn’t mean to sound rude! (SWAL: Coulda fuckin’ fooled me.) I’m just frustrated now. My e-mail address is (“his personal email”) Right? The password you give me was (“password”) Right? It still doesn’t work for me. So, when I click lost password it says there is no such e-mail address in your data base or something along that line.

…I’m really getting tired of playing around with something so simple yet still won’t work for me. (SWAL: **facepalm**) Can you just send me a download link PLEASE? I don’t know what else to do.

~ BS

Marty: I am very sorry for any confusion, but I now see what the problem is. You need to use the login I gave you, as well. The (“login”) login.

login: “login”
password: “password”

~ M

***

SWAL: Its one thing when you “hear” something and mix it up so can’t follow it properly…but when the fucker is IN TYPE, what is your excuse then??)

***

BS: I know we are both speaking English here, (SWAL: ARE you though? ARE you?) maybe I’m just too stupid to do this… (SWAL: Well, OBVIOUSLY. Yes.) …but when I click login: and login…It takes me to a screen to write an e-mail. Is that what you want before you send me a download link? An e-mail with the password you gave me? Well here you go: “Account” (SWAL: **Double facepalm**)

…Now, it may be on my end (SWAL: Yuh think?!) …but, we are having a really bad misunderstanding of each other here. (SWAL: Only YOU, buddy, she understands you perfectly. Unfortunately.) All I asked for was a download link for the preview of this book so I could read it to get the jest of this book to know how to promote it without making promises to my readers the book won’t fulfill. Saving us both refunds and hurting our rankings in clickbank. (SWAL: And I believe that is exactly what she did.)

No other marketer has made me jump through this many hoops to promote their book before. (SWAL: What is with the fucking “hoops” crap?!) I’m confused and frustrated now. Skip the password stuff and PLEASE just send me a download link because I’m tired of these games where I’m on the losing end. (SWAL: She can only help your incompetence so far, pal…) …Maybe you’re getting paid to play e-mail tag but, I’m NOT. The time I’ve spent in our correspondence with this issue could have been spent writing a blog post promoting something else. (SWAL: And based on your performance here, no doubt with efficiency and intelligent, educated judgement.)

I’ll tell you what, if you can make your link work for you and the password work for you (which it doesn’t for me) I’ve tried it. Do me a favor and do it with using my e-mail address…
(SWAL: **Triple facepalm.** Have run out of faces and palms and am now borrowing other people’s.) …and I should see the download link in my e-mail box.

…One thing for sure is my blog readers will ask for a refund before they go through this much hassle to get a download. (SWAL: I would hope your blog readers are smarter then this, but then if they follow your blog, we can only hold out so much hope.) … And I’ve never had a return so far and don’t want to start now.

My goal of this e-mail was to be a simple thank you note to express my appreciation to you for even bothering to deal with me (SWAL: As well it SHOULD be.) …and say I got the download link and I was able to read the book now.

…But instead I have to admit I’m a stupid asshole that had to bug you again still without a clue what the heck I’m suppose to do to get a review copy. (SWAL: JUST FOLLOW THE INSTRUCTIONS! ) Oh sure I could have just said still can’t get the book to download for me (but where’s the fun in that?) I never made it to a download page to begin with. (SWAL: HOW?! HOW?! HOW can you STILL not figure it OUT?!) …And I’m not known for short and sweet anyway. I hope I didn’t sound too bitter or offensive with my comments here though.

Your Frustrated Buddy,

~ BS

***

SWAL: Dear Lord…how does she DEAL with this shit…

***

Marty: Am very sorry if any of this isn’t clear and will do my best to make it more clear. Apologies

Please click on this link

(“Link”)

That link should take you to a page where you are asked to type in a login and password. For the login please type: (“Login.”) For the password please type: (“Password.”) Do not type in your own personal email for the login. Please use the login and password I have given you.

I cannot send you a download of the book to read because we don’t have a direct download link for the book. The book is separated into modules and we do not have a link for all the material that we can give out right now. I hope those instructions are clear.

~ M

***

…And he was never heard from again.

That concludes this month’s edition of Dear SWAL. Here’s hoping all our retail friends in Customer Service, here and abroad, have less BCS and BS’s in their lives this month. And if not: at least you now know: you ain’t alone.

~D

More Later

19 Jan

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I know the yous understand another short post…as The BFF leaves tomorrow, and this is a last playdate post-show with the family.

…Plenty of reporting about it later 😉

~D

Oh, Hello

16 Jan

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This day is trudging by like slugs on salted pavement.

I dunno why, but our paperwork for all the Road Shows come in clumps or not at all…and after a first part of the week with “coming,” I’m in the “not at all” phase.  This makes me sit here for hours and hours, building show trailers and catching up on my TV shows.  Which sounds like an awesome gig…and prob’ly is…but I can’t appreciate it much, cuz I’m restless and need to keep getting up to pace the lobby.

…This seems an opportune time to run my lines, I think.

…Also: all my favorite shows right now have coinciding bummer endings this week, which makes me feel bad. 

I think I take my TV character arcs a little too personally.  For instance, here is Marty’s post from last night, while mid-way ‘tween viewings.

Meanwhile: Am listening to my “Karen/Martha Mixtape” and missing the show like crazy right now.  Who’d have thunk you could miss puking out your guts?  And it is actually the “performance” that I miss…not just the people and being at the theatre.  (Though I like them too…only don’t tell ’em.) 

…Maybe cuz a it takes work, and I feel like a total slacker right now. 

Or maybe I just like it. 

…Or both.

Harriet is still in the shop, for what now feels like going on infinity (in real-time, week two.) 

…In that amount of time, “Joe’s” car accidentally kicked into “JM’s,” leaving bumper dimples and a totalled light, Marty’s car has died and been brought back from the grave so many times, I’ve lost count, while Ma’s is now in the same shop as mine, with an even bigger price tag on the repair list. 

The Fella has called it, “The Great Car-Death of 2013.”

…And I feel bad about that too.  As I seem to be the one linking factor to it all.”

I am the “X” in the car-crap formula.

…So you should stay away from me, maybe.

…And never give me a ride.

I’ll understand.

…Am now being chauffeured by Ma’s rental until “whenever they get that one part back from the grinder.” 

I dunno what that means. 

I don’t fucking speak “car.”

…All I know is: it ain’t done yet, and is highly inconvenient. To me and everyone else whose given me a ride lately and thus paid for it by karmic damage as a risidual of it.      

All I can say is: “I’m sorry.  And I’ll buy you a drink. Someday.  When I’m done paying for all this shit.  So like in ten years.  If you’re around, totally look me up.  I’m good for it.”

~D

Dear SWAL 2.0

26 Dec

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It’s time for our monthly dose of Dear SWAL letters, with special thanks to Marty for passing the questions on from her working establishment. For our last installment, visit here.  For the rest of us, lets launch right in to the problems and solutions of the masses NOT in matters of sex, tech, and relationship circumstances, as per usual…but with special emphasis (this time of year) on customer service.

…These are the kind of things we retail workers of the world would LIKE to answer you, if only we wouldn’t get fired for it:

CUSTOMER SERVICE

Question: “jesus h christ…this mole goes on for ages and says absolutley nuffinn…just the the blokes on here……how can someone waffle on for sooooo long and not say one thing that is worth even 2 cents?”

Answer: “lord love a duck…Welcome to the world of dating, friend. Better get used to it.”

~

Question: “I do not understand the instructions on downloading. I do NOT have kindle. I do NOT have facebook. Only Windows XP on Microsoft. Could you please email me EASY to install instructions for reading this ebook.”

Answer: “You mean easier than the ones in the highlighted box next to the order screen that says: ‘You don’t need a Kindle to read the book. You can download the Kindle reader for your cell phone, tablet or computer or you can read the book in the “cloud reader” on Amazon, so there’s really nothing holding you back.’?”

~

Question: “How the fuck u.got my email address nd got into my.inbox ya sneaky fucj.”

Answer: “It’s this whole magical thing where, when you order something, we get your info so we know where to send it. Ya mindless idiot.”

~

Comment: “PLEASE HIT THE NAIL AT THE HEAD. STOP WASTING MY TIME. IF YOU WANT ME TO BUY JUST TELL ME NOT USING WORDS ON ME WITHOUT TELLING ME THE REAL STUFF.”

Answer: “IF YOU WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THE STUFF, BUY OUR SHIT. (Consider the nail, “hit.”)”

~

Comment: “Don’t waste your time sending me further crap regarding the devil species known as women. I have a dog that is better then any woman could be. I was curious about what you had to say but why bother when women are at best a distraction. I still love them but only on the porn sites as they are not much good for anything else.”

Answer: “This devil species member has duly noted your comments and cancelled your order. I feel compelled to tell you, however, that bestiality is still illegal in most countries, and frankly: your resolved abstinence elsewhere only saves the world at large from a hugely horrific task of having to copulate or accidentally breed your specimen of humanity any further. Have a nice day.”

~

Comment: “YOU ARE AN IDIOT ! AND IF I EVER GET A CHANCE TO MEET YOU THE FIRST THING I WILL DO IS TO MAKE CLARETTE SPRAY FROM YOUR FACE ! YOU ARE AN INSULT TO ALL REAL MEN YUOU HUMAN PIG ! !”

Answer: “Sorry you got dumped. Here’s a coupon for free chocolate.”

~

SALES ATTEMPTS

Comment: “my name is Prince Williams I have worked with three different spell casters on internet and i got no result…when i asked them for refund, they never replied to my mails again and it got worst when threaten to reveal all i asked for and let the one i wanted to cast the spell on knows about it too…While i was working with him, i was as well working with another and the other did not lie to me…only God has saved me from that.if you want to save yourself from all this contact Dr B he helped me with my spell.: and he will give you the help you ever wished for.”

Answer: “Dear Prince Wills: Though it may feel like it, we are not at this time casting spells to aid in relationship advice. We thought we’d try the old fashioned way of reasoning and communication, first. We are also unable to accept solicitations, specifically centering around the dark arts. We will gladly tackle a hydrogen bomb break-up, but not with the use of crippling voodoo, free-will eradication, and/or smelly potions. Sincerely, SWAL.”

~

Comment: “Get a rael suger mummy ,suger daddy,lesbiance sexys.in all conutry that are ready to pay any amount to an indevidual in 30 mins that can also last fore bed or sexualy vibrant. that can help you in all aspect of life,they can as well take you to travel art or to work in any company of your choice in the world.they are avalible now in…abuja…in lagose … in portac…in uk…in nigeria…try as much as posaible to grab one them to mark your history.”

Answer: “We are not currently in the market for sex trafficking, organized slave-trade, or peeing on people to mark our territory. Even for our ‘art.’ So kindly fuck off. Thank you.”

~

…More Dear SWAL next month, and until then: back to our regular programming…including tomorrow’s (prob’ly slightly hysterical) review on tonight’s “Les Mis” attendance…for which I am so exited, I could just pee!

~D

The Inheritance Argument

23 Dec

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I  am eating Doritos at 1 am, after another whirlwind day of, “oh, but I never knew that that was gonna happen.”

…It’s becoming a norm for me, which is really unsettling for a person who clings to habits and planning like one of those suction-cup window Garfields, from the 80’s.

I am growing, as a human, they tell me.

…After changing plans with J, because of a Mr. Cuteness illness, I was swooshed into Greek eats with Ma, then recruited to theatre viewings with Marty with about 40 minutes warning, secured a ticket via JM, met up and saw the show wearing the same fleece get-up from 10 this morning, and had after-drinks, while solving all the artistic problems in the Universe, with The Fella and Marty.

…Then there was this whole brush with the law, and Shop 101 class, discussion of why you need a penis on your side when talking about anything having to do with motor vehicle repairs, and finally made it home in time to send out another late blog, which I view as “technically” the correct day it needs to be done in, even though it is actually “tomorrow,”  on account that I haven’t been to bed yet, so it is “technically” still “today”

This is getting way complicated, I know, but one tends to reach when attempting to justify oneself.

…Also, these Doritos are from yesterday’s lunch.  And they are gone now. There were only about 4 left…slightly stale.

…Listen: I’m tired (big surprise), and still haven’t finished all the stuff I needed  to do today.  Namely stocking stuffers, and the ever insufferable wrapping.

God, I hate wrapping.

…It is the job that is just never completed. 

Presents seem to breed, even in tight pocketbook circumstances, and here I sit to eternity, paying for the consequences.  And now I have this huge turn-of-the-century framed picture to wrap as well.  It’s Ma’s gift, and she already knows about it, as she pointed at it in an antique store and said, “I want that.”  So I obligingly purchased it for her.  And it was then placed in a garbage bag to keep the rain off it in transference to the car. 

…A garbage bag. 

…On a $210 Bronte-esq print with original Kensington Hyde Street framing from London.  With a stamped label.

This is the world of irony I live in.

…And now it sits in my room…in the same garbage bag, waiting for me to return its dignity by wrapping it in paper with sleighs and Christmas trees slobbered all over it, so Ma can open it in two days, while pretending the whole time to be totally surprised by its very existence.  And she will go on about it, just like she did in the antique store, as if she has never seen it before this moment…including the highly unsavory moment she likes to always include in matters of collectables in reminding me that, “this will, after all, belong to you one day.” 

…As if plotting for my inheritance upon my mother’s death is something that I always consider in my present-purchasing.

Me: Why the hell would you say that, even? It’s Christmas and  this is your gift. Every time you say things like this it feels like you have my name on a little sticky dot placed on the back, just waiting so when you drop off the twig someday, this will all be mine.

She:  Well, it will.

Me:  But I don’t wanna think about it!  For god’s sake, you’re my mother!

She: But it’s a really good picture.  And it would look nice in your bedroom and all.

Me: Stop it!  Stop it! I’m buying you a Christmas gift, for shit’s sake! I don’t wanna think of how it may look on my wall when you are dead!

She: …I’m just saying…

Me: Look: Do. You. Like. The. Picture?

She: I do.

Me:  Does it make you happy?

She:  It does.

Me:  Do you have a place to put it?

She:  Yes.

Me: Then can I please buy it for you without death being in the same sentence?

She:  Sure.

Me:  Alright then.

She: …But, just for future reference–

…These are the kind of Christmas conversations I have with my mother. Sober or not.  In joy or sorrow.  Death and inheritance are apparently very  huge to her, even though I am an only child, who has a habit of keeping absolutely everything but gum wrappers…because of some sentimental link or another.  Which tells me, I have been FED this disease from childhood (one suspects), and have been programmed to accept it.  And I adore it.  But not when talking about a picture I’m about to buy you, whose exsistance in your home you are only justifying as a weird kind of savings account placeholder for when you kick the bucket.

…So, let it be known.

…And now I’m off to wrap some more…

~D

Marty’s Holy Vigil

14 Dec

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‘Member when John Lennon said The Beatles were more popular than Jesus?  That’s the same formula to apply towards Marty’s excitement level for The Hobbit tickets burning a hole in her pocket, versus her Christmas Eve visit from Santa Claus.

…Both are pretty awesome, but one keeps making her tear up and bounce on the sofa seats, staying up all night watching America’s Top Model because she actually, physically, is too excited to close her eyes and try to sleep.

We are going to the seven-something showing.

…And she is waiting that long, out of respect for me…and cuz of a bet.

I am helping her win, by attending this new relaunch of an already sworn-to-hate series (due to my previous experiences of it, as told here), and she, in turn, gave up the midnight showing, so I’m not forced to try and keep awake PLUS do it at four A.M.  We WILL, however, be standing in line from 5 until “whenever,” just so we can pick out the best seats. We chose the theatre with barcaloungers. It’ll be in 3D. A single ticket cost was like $18.

…Out of respect for her, I have taken the prep for this whole thing very seriously. I’ve had Q&A sessions with Ma on “who the hell so-and-so” is and why “la-de-da” matters. I look at all the trailers and supplemental materials they YouTube to me, I’ve seen History Channel documentaries on the sources that Tolkien used to come up with all of it…I’ve participate in games…I’ve even read The Book.

…This all culminated yesterday, in a plug-and-play Hobbit-naming generator tagged on my FB page. I got: Pansy Hamwich of Buckleberry Fern. And when a friend got Prisca Hamwich of Buckleberry Fern, here was my reply:

“…at least with a name like the Ham-sisters we obviously ride on the Tookish wild side…clearly involving gross amounts of mead and — oh @#$%. I’ve been infected. I actually know what all that meeeeeeeans. Noooooooooooooo!”

…So it’s official.

It’s allll fuckin’ over for me.

I know who these people (or thingsies) are, where they came from, and what their traits as races are. I admit: in the last stand of Thorin on the Mountain, I was all butt-hurt and pissed for the Wood Elves, Humans and Bilbo for being treated so crappily. Yes, I laughed at the stupid cave tolls. Fine, I was kinda bummed when those three characters died.

…but this DOES NOT mean I am a clean-cut convert!

I ain’t drunk of the Kool-aid for that whole…LOTR fiasco. It ruined too many Christmases for me. Forgiveness shall not be granted, that.

…And I STILL say they are climbing a lot of fucking hills…AGAIN…for beings in the CONSTANT company of a WIZARD.

(don’t tell me he can’t just whip up some two-second spell and just teleport them there. And if he can’t, he sorta sucks at his job, you guys.)

…And I don’t for the life of me see why the first installment of THREE – count them: THREE movies just for this ONE book – needs to be TWO HOURS and FORTY MINUTES LONG.

…But at least now, I will know what in the hell they are talking about while throwing words like “Wargs,” “Elrond,” “Mirkwood,” “Arkenstone,” and “The Battle of the Five Armies” around.

It doesn’t mean I “like” it or anything.

It just means I am prepared. And at least if a I fall asleep, when I wake up: I’ll know where we are in the scheme of things.

~D

BFF: The Famous, & Marty’s Ma

24 Nov

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Turns out, The BFF is a little bit of a Rock Star. 

…Her “celebrity,” via general awesomeness and bitchy wit, (which in turn, fulfills the requirements I reserve for being my BFF), thus often blogged, talked, and FB’d about…has created a monster woman of epic proportions, with our cast, on this her first visit home from L.A..

With the rate that me n’ The Fella go on about her, how could it be any other way?

…Of course people want to meet this freak-personage who is willing to put up with all our shit (and also happens to have a killer vocal comeback.)  Of course they wanna talk and laugh with the person who said that one thing about the ya-de-yah-duh, and made them spew coffee out their nose, while reading FB updates. Of course her and Marty are already thick as thieves to almost dangerous proportions.

…And, of course people tugged on my sleeve shyly and whispered, “introduce me?” at the bar, post show last night…eyes wide as saucers with both the wonder and joy of this person’s comedic histories already well known to them. But, also because…even not having met her yet, they can tell she’s a helluva dame.

…All of which The Fella and I totally agree with, even if we did get punched for our efforts of accidentally liking her so much that we talk about her and things.

…And now, as her reputation begins to grow further and build upon itself with every new post, like this one…it makes me happy to share her with the world. Cuz I love her, and others do too…even if just through proxy. So she is just gonna have to get used to it.

There, I said it in print.

Meanwhile: Much Christmas cookie baking with The BFF, and a lovely dinner with Marty’s Ma…a diminutive woman of certain eye sparkle n’ Judi Dench-like command of speech and presence.

…We talk theatre…as theatre too is her field…and football, and friends and kill a good two hours with laughter and stories.

…Then onto show, and trying to temper the four cups of coffee in my guts, meant to infuse energy…perhaps slightly overdosed.

Facepaint. Hair setting. Corset. And vocal warm ups. A bad night to screw up with a new friend and theatre crush in the audience.

…Let’s get this done!

~D

BFF Chefing & More

21 Nov

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The BFF is home from L.A. for a short week’s holiday with the us’s, who have missed her so.

…After a two hour journey that turned into six somehow, because apparently Virgin Airlines likes to relocate people by way of camel.

Due to overt, gross amounts of sexing tween her and The Fella, I was not allowed to see her upon arrival.  But today, I get to give her a monster hug…live, IN PERSON…and do that talking seventy miles a minute thing…even though we basically kept one another updated on everything already anyway.  Cuz it’s what girls do.  Even dude-ones.

…Anyway…the office is closing at one, (on command of Boss), and directly after, I will be swooping down upon her, at last! Together we will sweep our favorite shops for the best cooking goods and alcohol, and bring it all back to my house for our second favorite activity: togetherness cooking.  (Followed directly by our FIRST favorite activity: eating.)

Blending of the family, as is the case with EVERY Holiday, will bring Marty motoring up (thankfully, to provide another eating mouth and save us from our gluttonous selves)…and then, a meet with the next show’s Director, to drunkely talk character n’ script stuffs before our first read on Sunday.

…Cuz, yep, it’s team Marty and Roz, in this next one. 

Our fourth show together (third in a row), and the FIRST time we will actually get to work with one another for more than one line, on stage.

And I am so incredibly grateful to be intrusting all this personal history shit, with an already-sister, whom I would trust to Thelma-and-Louise lengths, on any journey that life would ever see fit to throw at us. 

You n’ Me, kid.  Let’s jump in that Cadillac and never look back.

…But before we peal out, stirring up all that dust with our tires…we DO have two weeks remaining on “Twelfth Night,” and its family…to continue to play and grow with.  We have time to enjoy the here-and-now with these people…and much as we are both eager beavers at digging in and getting right to work…we have earned this moment of happy play time with our current cast.

It’s been a good season of theatre this year.

…Have worked with four companies, met gallons of new friends, spent quality time with old ones, and have learned a lot. 

“Children’s Hour” will be the first of the new Season, opening in January…a kick-start to (one hopes) a helluva 2013. 

…I wish for a comedy as it’s predecessor. 

…I wish to keep branching out in new directions with new companies.

…And I wish to look back at its season’s end with at least as much fondness as I do this one.

Am thankful for a lot, today. And now, I’m gonna go home and enjoy it!

~D

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