Why? Jessbecause

Catch up and love it.

2012-01-31T19:21:00.000-08:00

So here is the abridged theatre/medical update so I can move on to holiday fun. I will be using hasty, unfinished sentences that are the stuff grammar nightmares are made of... so just be prepared.

Theatre: Finished Whorehouse. Wonderful show, sold out houses, excellent cast/crew and pictures on my facebook page (here it is if you can't find your way from the link on the left side of the page). Preparing to start rehearsals for Alice in Wonderland at BCT and another production that I will wait until the official announcement goes out before I post it up on the old blog. But I am super excited for both shows. Possibly meeting with an agent in Savannah in the next few weeks. Still doing super secret scene studies with my cat. Until you see a cat do Strindberg, you haven't seen Strindberg.

Medical: Back in December I met with my lady doctor and discussed once again all the problems I had been having for the past few years and mentioned the increased blackout/dizzy spells and once again they checked my thyroid, but they also checked my prolactin levels. Twice. Both times the prolactin levels were elevated. At that point, combined with all my other symptoms, they sent me in for a ct scan of my head just to "make sure there aren't any tumors". Let me tell you friends - a good day is the one when you find out you don't have a brain tumor. So yay on that end. However I have been through multiple blood tests, doctors appointments and spent 24 hours peeing into what looked like a laundry detergent bottle and there are still no answers. Seeing an endocrinologist soon and most likely am looking at more ct scans/mri of my adrenal glands/etc and more blood work. Worst case scenario is a cancerous tumor on my glands. However, that does not fit in with my plans this year and I feel fairly certain that as frustrating and inconvenient as my symptoms are, they would be a billion times worse if it were cancer. So, probably just some crazy lady problem. Ah the body of a woman is a battlefield!

So now I can move on to a topic I have been all giggles and cartwheels about. Valentines. Day. Crafts.

For the record these ideas are brought to you courtesy of instructables.com and dollarstorecrafts.com and there should be a link to each craft with a complete "How To". Oh, don't thank me. Really, I didn't even come up with this stuff. It just takes superior interweb and google skills to find these treasures - thank me for that!

Are you poor as dirt, but want your front door to shine with love? Dude, me too. So why not a paint chip valentine's day wreath? You'll look festive and you'll help your neighbors finally decide what shade of pink they want to paint their kitchen cabinets! (before the landlord makes them paint them back to the shade of faded off white they were before)

Are you Mauvelous Mauve or Pepto Bismal Pink?

Do you and your sweetheart live under the sea? Or, do you at least wish you did? Here's something to place in between your insanely exotic aquarium and one of your billions of blue glass dolphins: Heart shaped tentacles. Or you could make this totally ironically because, octopuses, man. Octopuses.

Has your lady threatened to leave you if you give her one more gift certificate to Applebee's in an oversized box while laughing hysterically about putting a tiny gift in a large box? Well, I don't blame her. Look thoughtful, talented and a little less douchey with a handmade hex nut heart pendant.

Perhaps you've had too much of the love stuff and are celebrating your singleness; or are you the proud owner of a restraining order from that stuck up girl who just won't give you a chance but if she did she'd see all the inner beauty your mom keeps telling you about? Well mister, sounds like you need a robot. A roboGrinch, to be specific.

This robot doesn't take you out to dinner, he just takes. you. out.

So there you have it friends. Sorry about the delay between postings. I will try to be more on top of my game and my updates from now until I am swamped with play actin'. Happy Valentine's from one who truly appreciates you!

It's not that I don't love you...

2012-01-24T11:52:00.000-08:00

It is just that my life has been full of theatre, doctors' appointments, medical tests, cat scans and sleeping whenever I get a chance. I promise that I will post a full run down of the magical medical adventures of Jessica Clark, as some people were concerned as to whether or not I was okay (This in: tests show no brain tumor. Yay! But my head still may explode. Boo.), but I will save that for later.

Instead I will shameless promote yet another musical where I dance in my underwear and use a funny accent. THE BEST LITTLE WHOREHOUSE IN TEXAS!!

You shoot on the Yee, not the Haw.

It has been a fun experience and has made me happier than a rich Texan. If I owned guns, I'd be shootin' them in the air, yelling "YeeHaw!".

We got a five star review, thank y'all very much. There's even a shout out to yours truly. And the audiences have loved it too, I tell you what! Tickets have been going fast for this one and there is only one more weekend to purchase them. So get on it if you are in the Birmingham area, or just love theatre road trips.

I mean it now. Pull those boots up, put away your nervous pants, and come on out for a little harmless fun. You can't just stay home watching the Dolly Parton film version (although Charles Durning has a very entertaining number in it). I didn't study all those King of the Hill episodes for nothing. So have a beer and pretend it's a Lonestar and come on down to the theatre.

The Year in Yikes

2011-12-29T14:48:00.000-08:00

Dear Jessbecause,

What a little year you had for yourself, fancypants! You filled it with unemployment, agoraphobia, friendship/relationship crippling depression, a diabetic kitty, the loss of a family dog, the gaining of an extra 15 pounds to add to the 10 you gained in 2010, constant exhaustion and illness, and now a possible tumor in the old noggin (we'll know more after the ct scan on the 9th -thanks elevated prolactin!)...

But hold up there, Sullen Susan. You did have quite a few tech/ensemble/teaching gigs and voice over work; you got to go on tour with a great group of actors for three months, you realized that you can actually count on your special someone to be more than a good laugh and ~~sweet piece of meat~~ excellent hand holder (never know if his folks are reading... I hope for his sake, and mine, that they never feel compelled to check out the blog - not that I am ever anything but a lady in all I say and do), you met some wonderful people, learned to crochet, went on a top notch camping trip without getting sunburned and/or drowning in your own tent, and you're closing out the year doing a great production portraying, once again, a singing and dancing ~~whore~~ sample provider.

So while I may not exactly be mourning the loss of 2011, it will be a little bittersweet to end the year of seemingly never-ending trial. The great gift of the year was to learn how to trust and to believe that people can be counted on to do more than scoot when the going gets rough.

Those crazy Mayans may have predicted doom and gloom for 2012, but the Druids - who's word I'm inclined to take purely based on the fact that they have the balls to follow a great goddess, or at least that is my understanding from reading The Mists of Avalon 6 years ago - have claimed that not only will 2012 be just fine, it will be straight up Bitchin'.

Rock solid, Druids! Let's get this new year started then! Here are my suggestions as to how you can fully enhance my next 12 months that your prediction so wisely says will be so mind melting, car window punching, dancing on rooftops and Muppet style exploding-ly awesome.

1. No more unemployment. Yes, I am mostly speaking for myself - but lets cut the rest of the U.S of A a break and knock down that unemployment rate. It's making people cranky and a little too ready to believe whatever fear based "news" is thrown their way.

2. Tell those extra pounds that have overstayed their welcome in spite of all my hints and constant watch tapping just where they can get off - and then throw them and their hat right out the back door ( a purely figurative back door- although I understand the fat has to get out somehow).

3. Theatre/film/voice over work only please. Good theatre/film/voice over work only please - I've done my 9 to 5 time and even Dolly Parton agrees that being a professional door mat is not a preferable way to make a living.

4. No tumors. Self explanatory. Good health physically and mentally, please.

5. Make sure I stay on my best behavior this year - no self sabotaging or Bridget Jones-ing it or messing up the good things I managed to keep going in 2011.

6. Good luck and more good luck, even if that means I'll have black eyed peas and greens coming out of my ears New Years day.

7. Last one, because we don't to ask too much of the year - please make me the best me I can be. No that sounds corny. Make me better than I or anyone else could have ever imagined. I would like to feel like I am fulfilling some kind of purpose, not just farting around from gig to sad little paycheck to gig.

No resolutions this year, Jessbecause, just requests to be sent up into the universe and beyond. I think the new year can handle it - plus it will be a little nice to take the pressure off of myself this year to follow through with promises that I can't possibly have total control over. Girl, whether you deserve a break or not - I'm a little conflicted over the whole notion of "deserving" things - I sure hope you get one!

Happy New Year and may good luck and blessings rain down upon your anxious little head.

Love,

Jessbecause

As for everyone else: I hope you all have an outstanding year ahead of you. I raise the whole damn bottle to you!

Jessbecause of 6 years ago wishes you the best freakin year ever- right before she passes out on the beach with a sparkler in her hand.

Please excuse my busy hands

2011-12-21T19:28:00.000-08:00

Christmas is for ~~lovers~~.

~~Family~~?

~~Three dollar wine from Whole Foods~~?

Friends - I'll tell you what Christmas is for.

Crafts.

My apartment is deceptively crafty, in the sense that every time I've gone through a brief phase of fancying myself as a painter/knitter/collage artist- some new piece of crap I threw together gets stuck on my wall and lives there forever.

Sue me. The dollar section at Target is full of paper goods that ignite a young(ish) girl's imagination, and Joanne's and Michael's stay in a constant state of 60% off! What am I supposed to do, ignore that?

This Christmas I have picked back up a skill that was taught to me last year: knitting. I don't know why my knitting dropped off in the summer time. Perhaps my hands freaked out handling all that bulky yarn in 90 degree heat.

I also picked up a little "do it yourself" stocking kit for around 2 bucks and it has resulted in felted magic. Okay, yes, all I had to do was join the pieces together and sew on the little snowflakes, but I added a little special touch on the back- no pattern required, thank you very much!

Complete with balls.

Secret hearts are a perfect touch. Even if they did take me over an hour to make.

And finally, I have learned - via the interwebs and youtubes - how to crochet. Before she slid into dementia and eventually Alzheimer's, my grandmother was quite gifted at crocheting. Every Christmas she made delicate little snowflakes for her church and her friends and family.

One night after rehearsal I sat down in front of the computer and youtubed "crochet snowflake". And five hours later - I had made my first snowflake! Granted, it doesn't even compare to my Mimi's, and granted, there is not a snowflake on god's earth that looks like mine, but I was still proud of my over sized, red floppy flake.

Snowflake ornaments drying

I then tried it again and attempted to keep them ornament size. After I made each one, I soaked it in a mixture of glue, water and, of course, glitter, and left them out to dry, and holy glass balls! It worked! I have now developed a very minor skill (to be improved upon). Only through the magic of Christmas could this have been achieved, folks. What new skill(s) did you pick up this holiday season?

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas (with sad movies)

2011-12-08T18:00:00.001-08:00

The apartment has exploded with Christmas. But not in the, "Oh, you just caught me lounging around in my catalogue worthy living room, with my designer garland draped ever-so-elegantly over my mantle, and tiny little polar bear cubs playing in my winter wonderland atrium in the background". No, it is more like Target and the Dollar Store had an ugly half-priced holiday craft baby, and is complimented by the afterbirth of half full plastic bins overflowing with old cards and hand me down ornaments.

Among the piles of seasonal memorabilia I dug up were all of my Christmas movies and number of childhood favorites. On VHS, friends! No dvd Charlie Brown for me! As I was going through the list of films I found, I was reminded of one of the few clouds that hangs over my current relationship.

Me: Hey! The Never Ending Story!
The BF: Ugh, I hate that movie.
Me: Why?
The BF: It's too sad. That poor horse.
Me: Well, he comes back in the end.
The BF: I don't care.
Me: Oooh, here's Prancer.
The BF: Too sad.
Me: Willow?
The BF: Pffft.
Me: Hook?
The BF: Too sad.
Me: Ugh, Annie.
The BF: I love that movie!

I began to realize something. Gremlins, Ghost Busters, The Monster Squad, The Princess Bride, Who Framed Roger Rabbit - are, obviously, all awesome movies, but are also the only ones welcome for display on our Target bookcase. The "Too Sad" films stay stuck in storage.

Um. Why?

I've accepted that the Bf has a strong aversion to movies that are too sad. For example, he has vowed to never watch Fried Green Tomatoes ever again. Not because of it's supposed affiliation with other popular "chick flicks", but because he isn't emotionally strong enough to handle the end of Idgie and Ruth's friendship. (By the by, according to him, FGT is one of the best fims ever on the subject of friendship. Period. But still - too. sad.)

So why am I not driven away by these kind of movies? Surely not because of my lady emotions and a need for a good lady cry every now and then. No, I genuinely enjoy them. I am not saddened by them. Frankly, why should I be? Is it so awful that a children's fantasy would be honest about the fact that, even in the prime of your carefree youth, life still blows?

In fact, life, in it's own way, is even worse when you're a kid. There is a pretty harsh introduction to the reality of man, there is the discovery of death and how that sucks balls, children start develop their own crappy prejudices, and then, worst of all, we abruptly realize there is no real magic on earth; that everything you thought just happened by it's own mystical accord, has an explanation- and often not a good one.

Get it together, you pansy ass pony!

Like so many kids, I was forced to grow up too fast. There were several instances in my teens where the loss of my childhood hit me over the head so hard that I would burst into tears. Yes, I was being inducted into the world of antidepressants due to my artsy fartsy emotions, but it still really hurt to realize: My childhood was over. I'd never get a second chance to try and make it as ideal as so many movies suggested it should be.

I mean, even films that touched upon more painful realities had a tendency to gloss them over and keep the tone light, funny and exciting. But even in the most ideal homes, there is a constant underlying sadness and/or frustration in every child's life. That's fine. That "sadness" is often what pushes us to find happiness and to develop the more generous, the more empathetic parts of our nature.

Alright, yes- there is a somber note to the storage films. There are upsetting realities and even some devastating scenes. But, like Atreyu's horse, Artax, if you let the "Swamps of Sadness" overpower you, you will drown in them. As children, most of us learn to not only accept that there is sadness, but to cultivate an ability to not let it ruin our perception of reality. Sadness and magic, for a brief moment, find a way to co-exist.

That is why my Christmas movie recommendation for this year is the movie Prancer. Yes, you better watch all of my other faves, Home Alone, Christmas Story, Christmas Vacation and of course, Muppet Christmas Carol, but I say strap on an emotionally mature pair and settle down for some quality time with a magical reindeer and your 2nd favorite bouncer, Sam Elliott (1st favorite being Patrick Swayze, duh!).

In my humble opinion, the film pretty perfectly captures the problem with our idea of childhood. Spoilers ahead, for those who haven't yet seen the movie. There is one scene in particular, where the main character, a girl named Jessica (a rockin' name for a main character, if I do say so myself) has climbed on top of a tall cage in the middle of a snowstorm to release the reindeer she believes to be Prancer, who she is convinced will fly out as soon as she pries open the top of the pen. In one heartbreaking moment, you see all of her dreams and beliefs cruelly dashed as her magical friend fails to perform. As she is trying to climb back down, she slips and falls- hitting her head and blacking out.

When she comes to, she is in her bedroom. Her father, who she has been at odds with ever since the death of her mother and who has been discussing sending her off to live with her aunt, has bought the reindeer and plans to take her out to the woods so they can release him, allowing him to return to the North Pole. However, little Jessica, who survived the death of her mother, who has stomached the emotional absence of her father, has finally had bitterness of reality hit her over the head... so to speak. There is no magic. The reindeer is just a reindeer. In the following scene, her father reads to her a selection from the famous letter, Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus, and admits he can't promise that things are going to always be okay. But he loves her and needs her home with him.

It's a beautiful scene, wrapped in sentimentality as it is. It is where we realize that even though life is hard and the fairy tales we hear as children aren't real, there is still a deeper and more mysterious and beautiful magic out there- the magic of love, friendship, imagination and everything unseen, but as real and common as breathing.

So you see, friends! No need to fear the "sad fantasy movies". If anything, they are quite uplifting. They show us what wonderful and resilient creatures we are in our youth. If you saw the movie Finding Neverland, there is another great scene where, in spite of grief, or perhaps because of it- the main character is able to see the "magical world" that adults aren't able to see. It is one of the amazing qualities we possess as children - our ability to see the real world, and the ethereal one. Yes, sadness exists, even when you're an innocent. But so does magic- whether it's the magic of a flying reindeer, a book that transports you to a alternate world, a gang of monsters that only you and your friends can defeat, or the magic of life itself.

It's the most anxious time of the year

2011-11-27T18:35:00.001-08:00

Ah balls.

Hello, holidays! What's that? You want to tap into my saving account to buy food and presents while I woefully ignore my back pain and month long chest cold? Why, sure!

Oh, you also want me to hunch over my computer screen glaring up at amazon.com like an old crone looking up at a sexy prince? You got it!

And you want my head to turn into a mound of explosive jello while trying to juggle dates, money, arrange meetings with family and friends, all in the name of a peaceful carpenter who probably wouldn't tolerate this panic attack inducing madness for one second were he here today?

No problem, Holidays.

However I do appreciate you making it all up to me by bringing my friends into town and for making it totally cool to make yourself sick with sugar and alcohol, and for giving me Muppet Christmas Carol, shiny lights, holiday film fests at the Alabama*, and Christmas hayride sing-a-longs. Plus, there was a warm, fuzzy kind of attitude at the Whole Foods last week- perhaps because they had just set out the pine trees, or because there were samples galore, or just because people were looking forward to Thanksgiving; but it wasn't the day before or after, where you become a violent Christmas caroling maniac, knocking people over to get jellied cranberry sauce and a Snoopy football phone for a piece of straw and a hay penny.

I think this holiday season is even more stressful because people are clutching onto their pennies (and, ironically, their iPhone 4's, iPad 2's, and
iEverythingFrivolousYetSomehowJustifiedByAppleGeeks). I love giving gifts, but somehow being an underemployed actress in the south has yet to make me super rich enough to buy everyone an antique sailboat and a spanking new Wii. Someday?

Ah well. Be of good cheer, y'all. We're gonna make it.

It's also the season where I make my friends cry by using too much tinsel. True story.

*I do believe Mike and I are going to have a hand in helping the Alabama Theatre decorate their window for Christmas. On a whim we sent them some ideas of things they could do this year for their display, and instead of telling us where to get off, they said they loved the ideas! Pictures to follow!

I'm not dying, I just can't think of anything good to do

2011-11-20T18:02:00.001-08:00

Excuse me.

ducks head under table and coughs with purpose

Ok, better. After a week and a half of the sinus infection/cold/flu hybrid monster baby from hell, I am finally expelling the last little bits of diseased phlegm and winding down this never ending cough. Misery. Absolute misery. Not only that, but I have done some kind of serious... something to my back- I'm not sure what. But my entire back yelps in pain every time I bend/cough/pee/attach a horse harness to it*... and now I am feeling the dread and helplessness that a young woman without health insurance feels.

However, I have an entire week off from tour, in which I hope to fully recover and blog up a storm. That is, if I am not baking up a storm for the impending holiday.

I am actually not making a ton of food, just my old two standbys- squash casserole and the best damn apple pie ever. God help me if I ever have to make a main course, but I am a fan of making side dishes and dips and deserts. Oh, and crock pot meals. That $10 crock pot is possibly the smartest investment I have made in my young adulthood. No foolin'.

I would like to start cooking at home again more. I have divided so much of my time between being sick, being in rehearsal, being on the road, etc, that I haven't been able to stand in my kitchen for more than five minutes at a time. And when I do have the time, all I want to do is cradle a bottle of Rex Goliath to my bosom and curl up in a ball on my couch. But, you know, I used to cook every day. Really! Well, I use the term "cook" lightly. I made box meals and pasta and soups and a few lazy meat dishes (roasts, stroganoff, hamburgers). My diabetic cat probably eats better than I do. But the point is, I was spending time making what was going in my gut.

Speaking of guts, I am sitting here sipping kombucha that I bought from the Western. I know many people are making their own, but I wanted to see how it tasted first before I devoted a month to making petri dish tea. It is like slightly yeasty ginger ale, which sounds perhaps less than appetizing, but it is not that bad. I was a little put off by the strands of culture floating in the drink, but as the bottle assures me, " They are natural, normal and only occur in raw kombucha.". Normal. Natural. Live strings of bacteria. This is supposed to be great for your gut- so I am sitting here awaiting the tummy miracle. If nothing amazing happens, I am having a cupcake.

Oh fuck it, I'll have one right now.

*Not part of some kinky sexual practice, but it is for part of my show. Which is incredibly ~~kinky~~ appropriate for children.

Yes, this post was extra pointless, but I needed to warm up my typing fingers if I wanted to create blog gold later on in the week. Apologies.

And then he said, "I kinda like being directionless" (pretentious post ed.)

2011-11-12T11:01:00.001-08:00

I spent the morning/afternoon playing music catch up and hanging curtains in an un-traditional manner. (Why must all curtain rods be hung with screws? It is a rather bold assumption that everyone owns a screw gun, which is the only way to get those little shits up. In short, screw screws.)

In the past, I've confessed to being a music junkie, and I'm sharing my favorite finds of the morning. I've also been accused of being a music snob... Well, that's just because no one gets me. Man, I am so, like, deep and unique.

I have sometimes wondered if I do come across as too pretentious. I can't imagine that I do, given my penchant for fart jokes (farting preacher, anyone?) and utter disdain for pretension and arrogance in general. However, if I have ever made anyone feel like I was belittling them or their tastes- I apologize. Unless you had really crappy taste and in that case, you should truly be thankful for my help. I mean, really. (jokes, everyone!) But, for true- if ever I wax a little too full of myself and my interests, then I will kindly remind everyone that I spent a good chunk of college listening to nothing but classic and corporate rock pf the 70's and 80's and 90's rap and soft soft, gooey chewy cheesy rock with complete sincerity while seeing how long I could balance cans of Spaghettios on my tummy and watching mst3k. Who knew how to rock a Friday night? This girl!

However, spending hours upon hours in a tour van has taught me a thing or too about controlling my "Ughh, lame!" reaction when other people plug in their iPods/Phones and start belting out to, I dunno, Lady Gaga, or some country band whose name I can't remember, or some wah wah male singer beloved by sorority and youth group girls alike... That's when I have to remind myself to not get a little too big for my musical britches. But it is hard to not want to find a way to gently explain why I believe a certain song or artist is over produced, over played and under talented- because if I did, then that would just sound like I should be wandering through an Urban Outfitters, purchasing house goods and thinking, "Wow, this wall mounted beer opener shaped like a drunk owl is one of a kind- even though there are 30 more on display, right next to the shelf of monogrammed flasks with ironic and asshole-ish sayings". This is when I use that trick of saying to myself

"Jess Because, remember when your favorite song was What About Love by Heart?"

and that usually keeps me on the right track. Plus, it is still an awesome song and then I just want to stick on my headphones and amaze people with my Ann and Nancy Wilson impressions.

Hey, how about we get this music party started? I welcome you readers to come up with a fall themed title for this selection of songs, if you choose to download it.

Austra - Lose It

The Dø - Slippery Slope

Tokyo Police Club - Party In The USA

Mister Heavenly - Pineapple Girl

Nikki & The Dove - The Fox

Stevie Jackson - Man of God

My Brightest Diamond - Reaching Through To The Other Side

Bjork - Cosmogony

Here is a band that I have been a youtube fan of for years. They've gone through a few members, but truthfully I haven't followed them closely enough to know the back story to all of this. Thankfully, though, they are still making awesome videos.

This little lady has popped up with her great music and her pouty face that makes all the boys silently curse buying such tight jeans. But for real, the music is top notch.

What is some of your favorite new music? Please share!

Good morning to you

2011-11-06T08:52:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning to the sound of a baby being run over a tractor - but as usual, it just turned out to be my cat, hunched in front of my face, begging to be fed. I buried my face in my pillow and reminded him that he wasn't due for breakfast for another hour and would he please just "shut up and snuggle, you fat asshole!!". But he succeeded in getting me out of my warm bed and I started my day as I always do: Sluggishly moving through the kitchen, fixing Dobby his breakfast and insulin shot while growling at him*, then making myself the strongest cup of coffee my french press is capable of and sitting in front of my computer until I had to go to the bathroom.

When I'm overnight-ing it on tour, it is more or less the same. Waking up to the phone alarm and after hitting snooze for the fourth time, a jolt of panic runs through my body that I might be running late and I jump out of the hotel bed, counting my blessings that I showered the night before, or coming to the divine conclusion that I smell like a basket of roses and angel babies even without showering, and I grab my bags and hope that I didn't leave anything (like my Converses at the Comfort Inn in West Palm... sigh) and scurry down to the lobby to grab coffee that tastes like it was brewed years ago after a long night of drinking Billy beer and Alabama Slammers and excuse myself once we reach the theatre to go use the restroom.

If morning rituals have any bearing on how our days pan out, then perhaps I need to find a better ritual than one that's centered around pooping. I'm sorry, I should have used the more delicate phrase: "Take a Big Girl", but if you haven't yet figured out that my mornings are all about successfully, um, moving, then you probably are also missing a lot of the not-so-subtle suggestive language I use in this blog. Plus, I figure most of you spend your mornings pooping- discreetly, if you're partnered or room-mated.

I've tried various additions to my morning rituals: yoga, light jogging, going back to sleep... When I lived up north, my morning walks to work or to the train, especially through the snow, had a powerful calming effect over my state of mind and generally made me less of an Anxious Annie. I liked that. If I woke up tense and shrieking like a banshee, I'd move through the rest of the day terrifying anyone who came in contact with me.

Different things work for different people, as far as setting the tone of your day goes. Some people, some freakish, inhuman people, have to go to the gym first thing in the morning in order to feel good! Others, brace yourself, watch cable news. Blargh! I know, outrageous, right? For me, I've found the best morning ritual is laughter.

Ugh, that sounds so fucking corny, The best medicine is laughter, but dammit, for me it is one hundred percent true. If I wake up laughing, I will spend the rest of my day as affection and sweet tempered as basket of puppies. Speaking of puppies...

Like the rest of America, I love funny animal videos. Talking dogs, Canadian beavers, Honey Badgers who don't give a shit, I love it all. Recently one of my favorites is, appropriately titled

EPIC CAT FIGHT Cat's Horror

Try and doubt it's awesomeness and it will slap you in the face with it's perfect and amazing use of the Predator 2 soundtrack. Holy moly, this thing is the best ever.

So there you have it, my morning. I drink coffee, use the ladies room and giggle. How do you start your day?

* I truly bear my cat no ill feelings, no matter how much he whines. If someone only fed me half a cup of dry pellets while jabbing me in the back of the neck with needles twice a day every day for the rest of my life, I'd be pretty fussy too. Plus, look at this butterball of sass and sunshine!

The Wilford Brimley of Cats.

HiYA! Keeping your love and good sense in the same place

2011-10-28T11:31:00.000-07:00

Of all the places you expect to run into an ex that you have semi purposely avoided for approx. two years, a special public screening of The Exorcist is not the first unfortunate meeting place that comes to mind. Here was a very short and very unimportant, but cruel spirited relationship that kept my head spinning Linda Blair style for a few months afterwords with sheer confusion as to how people you thought highly of could behave so poorly, and here we are finally at the same place and the same time, and it happens to be at the "scariest movie of all time"*. Granted, we didn't actually see each other face to face. And granted, I haven't really thought about the guy, or even actively dodged him, for well over a year now- but it makes for a good opener for this post.

It is about relationships. Well, healthy relationships. Which is ironic, because if you look at my personal history, my relationships have been as healthy as the digestive track of a small child in a third world country.

Healthy relationship, kept on track with a little karate.

When I began to seriously notice the opposite sex, almost immediately I developed a set list of goals.

1. Find a dude with a tortured soul and floppy hair (please, let's remember I was 13 when this list came into existence).

2. Make him realize that I am the
                                                      A. Cutest
                                                      B. Funniest
                                                      C. Deepest
                                                      D. Smartest
girl around. (aka The Bee's Knees)

3. Have him touch my secret. ASAP.

4. Have him declare his endless and undying love and devotion to me.

5. Then figure out whether or not I wanted to keep him around or trade him in for a better model.

Ok, so as foolproof as this list may sound, I actually did not do a lot of, well, anything in my early years. No dating, no kissing, no secret touching. Nada. Instead, I had minor panic attacks anytime a boy showed interest in me and in defense of my heart and my loins, became an unbearable bitch until their interest withered and died.

Unhealthy relationship, where nebbishy goes from sexy to needy. Eww.

Hey, don't blame the list! Not when there is so much more we can lay blame on - my immaturity, my parent's own failed relationship, my vhs copy of Franco Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet that burned a hole in my vcr, my warped reasoning that love and lust were interchangeable, with lust eventually being the deciding factor of the success of any relationship...

Perhaps it was because I judged relationships by their success. I mean, let's look at this realistically. If you base a relationship's success on whether or not they make it, then you'll never really know if you've won Love's grand prize until you or your partner drop dead without having gotten divorced or broken up. I know, cheerful right?

It took several years of "failed" relationships before I realized my focus was a little misguided. Instead of making sure my relationships were healthy, I was too centered on making them last, which ironically can be one of the biggest relationship killers. Anyone that has gone through a break up knows that you can often put off what needs to be said until you've already parted ways, and then it just mostly comes from a place of vengeance or anger, instead of simply trying to assert yourself and make sure you're keeping your place in the relationship, in order to keep from becoming someones whipping post.

I recently listened to a very funny old Phil Hendrie episode, where the topic was about 50/50 relationships. For those of you who don't know, Phil Hendrie is a radio host who will have special guests with outlandish and controversial views on his program, but what the people who call in to respond to the guests don't know is, Phil Hendrie is actually also the voice of the guests himself. On this show, he was pretending to be a young man about to get married and who was convinced that his relationship was 50/50. His fiance worked, paid the bills, cleaned, cooked and took care of her three year old son; his part of the union was being good looking, watching Payback with the kid and bringing some "serious lumber" to the bedroom. Of course, everyone who called in was incensed at the "guest's" gall and his fiance's stupidity and it was all very funny- but at the same time it was very real, because of how many people allow themselves to be used and walked all over just to keep the person they love around.

I have always considered myself to be a rather assertive person, to the point of tactlessness at times (although I really have been working on that over the years, I swears!) but for some reason I was a willing doormat to many a guy. If the teenage Jessica, with her school yard flirting techniques and limited experience could have seen the way adult Jessica sometimes acquiesced to such bullshit, she would busted a lamp over adult Jessica's head.

I have often expressed my love for women on this blog. I love our spirit, our unique understanding of humanity, and our strength. But when love enters the picture, it is so easy to let common sense fly out the window. Why is that?

I wish I could say that life, if you get it all figured out, is pretty straight forward, but it simply isn't. We're in a million pieces and when you're with someone, those broken fragments mix. And while one of my greatest and weirdest joys comes from sometimes not knowing whether an idiosyncrasy comes from me or from sharing my life with my boyfriend for over a year and a half - at the end day it is important to know which pieces are truly my own. Having that definite sense of self not only propels my own life forward, but it allows me to know the difference between selflessness and selfishness... and which I should choose when life asks you "what is best for you?".

Healthy relationship, with give, take and everything in between.

Having my own projects and my own interests keeps my energy and focus where it needs to be. It keeps me knowing who I am and knowing that I am not defined by who I am with. Because there is no guarantee on any relationship, knowing who you are outside of it is the most important thing to remember while you are with someone. It gives you the power to know what you want, and to stand up for it. Does that mean that I don't compromise when it is necessary? Nope, because I know being with someone takes work, but it allows me to point out piles of emotional doo turds as I see them and to not silently slip into a world where I have no definition outside of my relationship.

So why am I talking about all this? Well, a month ago I was invited to talk about healthy relationships for Alabama Coalition Against Domestic Violence's very first Domestic Violence Awareness Month blog-a-thon. After staring at my email in shock and trying to decide if I should laugh, cry or run and tell every boy who ever dumped me that I had been asked to share my take on healthy relationships, I realized I absolutely wanted to be a part of this. October is Domestic Violence Awareness month, and I was incredibly flattered to be invited to be a part of this. However, and this may totally shock some people, I am a champion procrastinator and I waited until the last minute to finally piece together all my sentiments into a somewhat easy to follow train of thought (although I have a super duper excuse of being in rehearsals and shows nonstop for the past month and a half). But I still wanted to take a moment to share this with everyone, because I do believe it is an important organization and that domestic violence is preventable. Many people may not feel they are able to, or even have the right to escape an abusive relationship, but it simply is not true. We are all entitled to our own safety and allowed to be our own unique and wonderful person- not just someones victim. Please take a moment to view the site. And then go celebrate your individuality, you wonderful creature, you!

*After re-watching The Exorcist, it is important to note that it is not as scary as I remember. For one, nothing happens for an hour. And two, it is really more disturbing than it is scary. I now think of it as a drama that goes bat shit crazy in the last hour. However, it is still a great film, kids.

October is National Domestic Violence Awareness Month. Are you or someone you know being abused? Please call the Alabama Coalition Against Domestic Violence for help 24/7 at 1-800-650-6522 or visit them online at www.acadv.org.

What I've Been Up To

2011-10-17T14:16:00.000-07:00

I told you all I'd be a bit of a ghost on my old blog, and I reckon I have fulfilled my promise! What has been eating up all my time? Well:

THE WILD PARTY at Virginia Samford Theatre. Singing, dancing, and rubbing my secret all over some very lucky guys. Musical theatre, kids! Dirty, raunchy, jazz filled musical theatre! Read our four star review here and come on out next weekend! Details here.

My day job has been far more tame, but just as fun- for the real kiddies (and some very silly adults like myself).

THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW at Birmingham Children's Theatre. It's silly AND spooky - the best of both worlds. Be sure to come out to the family days the weekend before Halloween, where al.com is sponsoring a costume contest for the kids. Plus I drag my petticoated self up to the lobby for autographs! Details here. Don't live in the Birmingham area? Never fear- we're taking this show on the road. We'll be in Florida all next week and back in 'Bama, then on up to North Carolina... and so on and so forth until December 9th. Check with your local theatres to see if we're stopping by!!

Now that all that shameless self promotion is over, I am glad to tell you starting this week, I'll have a new post every week, at least until I start coming home from my morning shows, still covered in stage makeup, sulking in the corner and glaring up at my laptop from under my false eyelashes. Be proactive- that is my goal. Proactive. Proactive Proactive Proactive. (Hopefully this works out better than the acne cleanser of the same name)

I've been around

2011-09-15T18:11:00.000-07:00

Ah merciful heavens and praise Jebus- I finally have my interwebs back. But alas, I am only stopping by the old blog to say that you might not see much of me round these parts over the next couple of months. Why, Jessbecause? Because I start rehearsals for not one, but two shows on Monday- which should keep me in a frantic, but happy, state through early December.

But I don't want our summer romance to end, dear readers- so lets just say our over dramatic goodbyes now, that way when we run into each other at the tailgate party, me wearing a cheerleader's uniform, you wearing a leather jacket and hanging out with the local street toughs, it will be a wonderful surprise!

(But really, you will hear from me before December, because we have so much to discuss. Theatre, rescued dogs, auditions, boys, upcoming Muppet movies, music, holidays, girls, self esteem, my poor birthday planning skills, southerners, etc etc etc!)

Promise me that in these last few weeks of summer, you will go out in your shortest shorts and strut your stuff like so many women of Walmart do- only to return home at night to drown your end of summer blues in honky tonk, honey and bourbon and star gazing.

Love until next time.

Frustration, dirty words and poop

2011-08-28T00:41:00.000-07:00

Writers block. I got it.

I've started about four different posts and had a door slam itself shut in my brain's face about four lines in each time. It is frustrating, mostly because I have been sorely deprived, creatively, over the past few months. I mean, I realize that it is not genius that I have been spewing forth over the past 3 years on this blog- if anything it is more like internet diarrhea. I am obviously grammatically challenged; my writing isn't terribly unique or even readable at times and certainly no one expects me to be writing professionally. Ever. But it has been a relief to me and that feeling of relief after creating a post overrides my slight feeling of shame (also like diarrhea).

But over the past few weeks, I have been stuck. A huge part of it is that I often am not able to stay focused long enough to form complete sentences, much less a complete series of thoughts strung together in a semi cohesive post. This personal flaw has always been present in my life, but lately it has taken a turn for the worse. I am constantly stopping in the middle of conversations and finding myself in a complete haze, wondering what the hell I was talking about. I mean that literally. I'll start talking and then totally lose my train of thought mid sentence. All. The. Time. Perhaps it is slightly poetic and symbolic of the fact that, in the giant, overall, "What is life all about anyway and why can't I live it 15 pounds skinnier?" picture, nothing anyone says ever truly matters - it's just words words words and most people don't give a damn anyway. But I don't care! I still want to have a constant flow of those inconsequential words! But so far the only word I can get out without hesitation is "Fuck". Ex: Where the fucking fuck is my fuckity flow? It's disappearance has left me blocked up worse than an old person surviving on a diet of biscuits and candy corn.

Basically, I need a mental laxative.

*I took me almost 3 hours to create this post. No foolin'.

When Doves Review Movies

2011-08-11T05:02:00.000-07:00

When I was 14, my mom confessed to me that she thought Prince was sexy.

Not this prince,

not this one,

not even this one

THIS Prince.

Well after several glimpses on late night television and (indiscriminate noise) years later, I have made the command decision to watch Purple Rain. The whole. Thing. As far as I can tell, it ~~either has something to do with global warming or is a sexy musical vehicle for actor Rainn Wilson~~ is a semi autobiographical film about Prince. I am sure it will be silly melodramatic fun (my favorite kind of fun, I tell you what)- so much so that I am debating doing another running commentary, kind of like my Let's All Go To The Lobby post.

I don't know though. I can't tell if I would get as worked up over Purple Rain as I was over that mumbley, raging inducing boinkfest, 9 1/2 Weeks.

So I watched a clip from the movie, where some girl wears hideous purple lipgloss favored by porn actresses of 90's, Prince humps a speaker and Steve Harvey looks super pissed.

Oh my. Hurry up, netflix!

Hello Gorgeous

2011-08-04T00:30:00.000-07:00

Warning: This is a musical theatre post. I call Barbra Streisand "Babs" and I talk about belting and a woman named Fanny, with absolutely no irony and no attempt to hide the light of my musical loving heart under a bushel. If it is too much for you, I understand. I'll smell you next round!

I am a big old geek for Funny Girl. I know, it is beyond cliche', that the awkward and silly theatre girl would love that big Babs-filled musical about the tragic comedienne, Fanny Brice - but there you have it. I love the mess out of it, and yes, my heart breaks for Fanny, and yes, I have stood my underwear in my bedroom at 2am and sung the title song, with tears streaming down my face, amazed at my own brilliance- until the cat comes around the corner and stares up at me with "What fresh hell is this?" eyes.

I have heard tell that there is a revival, starring Ms Lauren Ambrose, of Six Feet Under fame. Like most people, I am surprised, but very interested to see what she'll bring to the table. And here is a little bit of truth telling, followed by an explanation, and then I am moving on. I am so very glad that we dodged the Glee bullet. Now, this may steam some people's mustaches to hear that I am not a fan of Lea Michelle's seemingly neverending campaign to play this role, but frankly, I am not interested in shallow Barbra Streisand imitations. Perhaps this is a conscious choice on the behalf of Ms Michelle, seeing how she is currently playing a naive teenager with stars in her eyes and a pop rendered showtune in her heart. Most teenage actors start out imitating a performance instead of interpreting a character. So, I'll give her the benefit of a doubt that this was what she is trying to capture- nonetheless, I am super happy I do not have to witness her pull faces and fake tears throughout "My Man"*.

I really can't blame young actresses wanting to claim a little bit of that original performance for their own. It truly was iconic. But honestly- have you seen/heard the real Ms Fania Borach, aka Fanny Brice? Several of the songs in the musical, Funny Girl, were real standards of Ms Brice's. For true!

A quick background for those of you who don't know what the doo doo I am talking about: Fanny Brice was a real woman.She was a comedienne, singer, theater, film and radio actress in the early part of the 20th century. She was most famous for her time spent as a performer in the Ziegfeld Follies and her radio career that she had up until her death at age fifty nine.

Thirteen years later, a young unknown named Barbra Streisand blew everyone away with her portrayal of Ms Brice in the stage and later film musical, Funny Girl, which centered on Fanny's rise to fame, while her personal and romantic life tragically crumbled around her. Like any biopic/musical- it was expanded upon and fictionalized, but one thing was definitely true - Fanny spent most of her adult years in love with a gentleman who was more sponge than man. I'm telling ya- look it up. It is not uncommon that a successful comedienne would have a tragic love life, but Fanny's is the most famous story and to this day, the title song still kills me.

Please, find me a character actress who hasn't felt like Fanny in her personal life at least once and I will buy you drink. Two drinks, even. I know I have come out of a few relationships with this song lodged in the back of my mind. Sue me. (Please don't sue me. Blood, turnips, you get the picture.)

A few months ago I found a copy of one of Ms Brice's comedy albums based on her most famous character, Baby Snooks, but was unable to purchase it at the time. Thanks to the interweb and youtube, however, I can dig up all of her old hits, performed by the funny girl herself.

These are ones that also appear in the musical Funny Girl. It is interesting not so much to compare the two performances, but to see how Streisand took these original numbers and filled them out, while still staying true to the real person.

And of course, I would be loath to neglect to mention her most famous number, "My Man". The depth of feeling presented in this one song truly allows you into her private life, where things simply were not that "funny".

Years after her death, Barbra Streisand took this song, made it her own heart wrenching and belt-tastic number, and a legend was (re)born...

*This makes the bold assumption that I could ever afford to go see this production. Oh- poverty** and insomnia has made me delusional.
**Poverty, she says. I've got my coffee and my netflix. I'll stop exaggerating my need for money. Unless you feel compelled to donate some. Well hey then, I'll gladly break out my Dickensian garb and do bell kicks while you drop coins into my pay pal account. Thank yer. Thank yer kindly.

Half hearted

2011-08-03T06:57:00.000-07:00

My stars and garters. Okay- I only posted twice last month. This is not good. I really do have several subjects that I wanted to talk about (not just blenders and music videos, although I certainly know the blinding, magnificent appeal of both of those topics), but it has become just so damn hard to sit down and focus my thoughts for more than 10 minutes at a time I sure could go for some coffee...

Bwaugh? Oh, staying focused and being a productive blogger. Yep, I am neither of those things. I do so apologize and promise that I am working on bettering myself in both areas. Please, accept this video of a talking cat as part of my apology- the part that distracts you from my poor blogging skills.

But I mean... Cats! In glasses!

Set your clocks to "Domesticate"

2011-07-19T16:27:00.000-07:00

I have a new blender.

And outside of the one Godiva chocolate liquor laced milkshake I made (and subsequently spilled half of on the floor because I apparently do not know how to use a blender) I have no clue as to what the heck I will do with it.

Let me be clear about this. I asked for the blender and was delighted to pretend I was surprised when I received it for my birthday. But now I am stuck with a blender that, while it looks nice on my counter, I really don't know what to do with.

Well, that is not entirely true. I know I could start a journey of endless smoothies and avocado margaritas, but I have a fear of dropping a ton of money on fruit and tequila* that may just sit around and rot because I am really bad about remembering to use the fresh food I buy before it expires.... and gift cards, I'm horrible about using gift cards before the hotel/store/day spa/hair salon suddenly declares that the time to exchange services for the $100 they received has ended. (Yes, those are all real examples of gift cards I let expire, much to the dismay and disappointment of those who were foolish enough to waste their thoughtfulness on me - I'm really sorry, you guys)

If this whole blender thing is going to work, I really need to have some kind of beeping wristwatch that old people use to remember to take their medicine to remind me to use my fresh fruit and vegetables before they turn black and fuzzy and totally unusable.

But as it stands, I am stuck with figuring out how to properly deflower a semi-virgin blender. Suggestions?

*I know tequila doesn't rot. But if it is anything like our bourbon, it does tend to magically disappear whenever I stop keeping tabs of who is getting their hands on it.

Right Over My Ears (and eyes)

2011-07-06T12:27:00.000-07:00

Hiya. Not much to post, except to share videos/bands that you may have missed in the past few years (several of which I am just now noticing myself). Or you totally already noticed all of these and now feel slightly culturally superior to me, which is perfectly okay.

PANDA BEAR "Surfer's Hymn" from m ss ng p eces on Vimeo.
2011 Panda Bear, who you have probably already taken notice of for a few years now, proves that beachy dream pop simply will. not. die. But we don't mind so much (for now).

2011 There is quite a bit of glitter in this- which I fully support.

2010 I can't say with certainty that this wasn't made by a couple of high school drama rejects (speaking as a former hs drama reject myself). Whatever. It's cute, the song is catchy and I missed it when it came out last year.

2008 I don't know how everyone feels about house music (it is not necessarily my cup of tea) but this video is undeniably beautiful and committed to it's tone and style - 90's house and "Disco Revolution".

2006 Good gravy. This completely fell under my radar and I suspect everyone else's... I could be wrong. But I really kind of like this. Kind of. Really.

Saying "Smell You Later" to my mid twenties

2011-06-29T22:00:00.000-07:00

In the these last few weeks where I have been wrapping up my mid twenties, I have

1. Worked. I mean, as an artist. In my field. Kinda sorta.

I mean, I did some voice over work and I have been, once again, teaching theatre to kids age 6 to 17. Specifically, I taught the younger kids dance and I have been teaching movement, voice/diction and Shakespeare to the older ones. Surprisingly, the class I have had the least trouble with so far is Shakespeare. I know, color me shocked. Perhaps it was because it was scheduled before dance and I hadn't yet begun to use my outdoor voice for an hour straight, leaving me with a sore throat and a sour disposition.

Dance was a nightmare. Now, disregarding the fact that I am no dancer by any stretch of the imagination (outside of picking up basic jazz/musical theater moves and being an enthusiastic wedding floor dancer) I figured I could piece together a solid minute and a half of step touches and jazz squares for a group of elementary school kids. How wrong I was.

First of all, every child is the world is apparently suffering from ADHD, not just the poor souls who are actually literally suffering from it and struggling to keep up with the rest of the class. I had to threaten these kids within an inch of their lives to keep them on task for more than 20 seconds at a time. I can't tell you how many times I said

"If you don't all start your Elbow Macaroni Dance at the same time, you'll be behind for the Grapevine. Now get with the program or you're out of the dance! Starting. With. Zombie. Hands... 5,6,7,8...."

It wasn't until I cut half the dance and told them they had no one to blame but themselves, that they finally shut up and gave me some semblance of attention. Of course, by that point I had already made the youngest one cry and turned the oldest kid into He-man Woman-Hater who looked like he wanted to rip off my limbs and shove them down the organ pipes while he played Baby Elephant Walk.

Miraculously though, we made it through alive and by the time they performed their dance for their parents on Friday, they were at least able to trip over each other and look totally lost on beat and in their assigned line. They ultimately had a good time, the parents adored it, everyone was happy. Plus, the one move they got right was directly from the music video of the song we used, Birdhouse In Your Soul (the one that looks like robot arms into a waist bend)- so I was satisfied.

This week, I only had to contend with the older kids, which was far less of a headache, and actually quite enjoyable at times, outside of dealing with some "teenage moments".

I think the problem is, I am an actress. I am a teacher strictly based on my need for money. There are times when I adore working with students and sometimes nothing can be more rewarding than watching someone have a breakthrough after hours, days, weeks of work.

But truly, I just want to act. Which would explain why in addition to doing radio spots and teaching this past month, I have also been going to every regional/professional theatre audition I can drag my poor, mostly unemployed self out to.

This is when I ask myself: Why can't I have other dreams? It is a curse.

Let me rephrase slightly. It is a curse when you come from a background that cannot financially support you while you pursue acting full time, therefore leading you off into working in fields that are totally unrelated to your line of study/interest just so you can stay afloat and ultimately causing you to lose some of your peak audition years to various soul sucking desk jobs and when you finally cut loose and throw yourself back into the "cattle call" game, you are rusty, older, broke and always on the verge of taking yet another job you hate just so you'll have food and shelter for you and your diabetic cat and also so you can get a break from constantly feeling like a boil on the butt of humanity, because no one understands that while it is certainly hard to get a "regular" job and takes persistence, pursuing a career in acting takes a special kind of masochistic maniac because it is damn near imfuckingpossible to land gigs with a theatre you've never worked with before because it all who you know and how much experience you have, which at this point is not much because you had no choice but to work aforementioned desk jobs because you didn't have the support from real parents or sugar parents that you needed to travel around from audition to audition, and it all has very little to do with your actual talent, and as a result you just look like a lazy, untalented piss-ant turkey.

Plus you find yourself going off on bitter and tacky ramble-filled, run on sentence tangents - and no
one wants to put up with that kind of drama.

Hey, wasn't I making a list?

2. I also tried to boil some eggs, but promptly forgot that I had started to do so - which resulted in some cool sounding explosions in my kitchen and a foul after stench of burnt yokes.

I turn 28 on Sunday and after some reflection, I am sure that I am wiser and stronger- but none of that really matters. There is no way to be totally prepared for life - just being flexible is hard enough. Last year I had a "big girl" job, full time, benefits, yadda yadda yadda- and I was totally unhappy.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like a I'm a ball of sunshine with rainbows coming out of my butt right now and I am sure I am disappointing people left and right- but at least I am working on not disappointing myself. And I totally was disappointed with who I had become last year.

Therefore, I proclaim 28 to be the year I kick disappointment straight in the nuts. My first present to myself is to add to the never ending list of personal mantras.

Skinny. Successful. Smart.

Grow. Go. Girl.

Crisi-tunity!

In the nuts, Disappointment!

I am a believer in the birthday mantra/resolution. You add a new one each year, and retire which ever one (ones) you feel have served their purpose.

So. What was your birthday mantra this year?

Song of Summer (moving past your fear of short shorts and short income)

2011-06-18T10:18:00.000-07:00

Summer is usually reserved for relaxing and over indulging, which are both wonderful things as long as you are financially secure with extra money blossoming out of the tiny crevasses in your apartment and so skinny that you look like a Dickensian reject in a romper.

Yes, we like to fantasize about the summertime as life being uninterrupted by, well, life. Kudos to those ~~jerks~~ folks who are able to live out this dream, but for the rest of us who are feeling the burn of an economy that doesn't favor the norms, you might trick yourself into thinking you haven't earned the right to take a holiday.

Bull roar.

You know who loves summertime and for almost next to nothing (not counting family vacations and various arts/sports camps)? Kids. Those lazy little dweebs* who, after a year of apparently not learning any grammar that they will actually apply to the most common activities in their lives, texting and interwebbing, have suddenly earned the right to a couple months off. From what, I ask you? Who cares? It is summer and for some reason, nature insists that everyone must enjoy their lives and their surroundings for approximately 2 months, until it is so ungodly hot that you have a heat stroke if you even think about stepping outside.

The Summer will demand that you marvel at it's awesomeness.You really don't have a choice, so why honor it by:

sunbathing on the rooftop terrace of your kinda rich aunt's beach condo that faces the ocean and reading something you saw the detached but cool looking girl at the non Starbuck's coffee shop reading,

floatin' down the crik' with a cooler full of beer in the tube next to you while talking to your bff on your cell phone about the latest episode of True Blood (it starts next week, y'all!)

or opening all the windows in your apartment, fixing a pitcher of sweet tea and bourbon and inviting your 20 closest friends to come have a bad movie marathon.

And for the love of god- don't forget to indulge in all those summer treats. If you have country cousins, disguise a visit to pick all their wild strawberries and blackberries with a need to go off roading with them. Once you are smothering that fresh baked berry cobbler with french vanilla ice cream, you won't regret it.

Put on your shortest shorts, or jorts, if you must, light a shit ton of citronella candles and try not to punch your coworker at the company bbq while they talk about how they dragged their husband away from the golf course at the country club and took their skeletor-ish daughters, their skeletor-ish daughters' douchy boyfriends, their parents and all 50 of their neices and nephews on their 250th visit to Disney world (and 25th visit to Harry Potter world, even if they don't "support witchcraft").

Porch Tunes

Hold On - The Postelles from The Postelles on Vimeo.

Slow Down, Molasses - Late Night Radio

Bruce Peninsula - Light Flight

Volcano Playground - Waiting

Lake - Roger Miller

*It is important to note that I don't really think all kids are lazy little dweebs... just yours. (hey, jokes)

You have a new friend request

2011-06-02T14:46:00.000-07:00

There is a special kind of "Oh Shit" moment in every young person's life. That is, of course, when your parents take the most defining leap into the 21st century and get a facebook account.

This usually arrives after years of ridiculing it, refusing it and denouncing it as something they're "too old" to do, leaving you with a false sense of security that you've potentially avoided some intense confrontation, until the day they mention in an eerily casual tone that, even though they still don't understand it, they've joined The Facebook .

So what is a young person to do? I mean, you have to accept your parent's friend request, unless you want to unleash several months of

"Why can't I see your page yet? "
"Have you accepted my friend request yet? "
"I don't think the facebook is working- it says we aren't friends! "
"What is on your secret page that I can't see??? "

Okay, fine. It might even be fun to be friends with your folks, you foolishly tell yourself. You suck it up and prepare for a period of adjustment while they learn the ins and outs of the whole "social networking" thing. You patiently introduce them to the idea of Facebook Etiquette. You gently remind them not to accept every request to play Farmville, Cityville, Suburbanville, Veganville, GiveMeYourPrivateInfoville and Mob Wars. You smack their hand the first (and second) time they get hacked and repeatedly point out spam (You are never going to know who is looking at your page, folks! And I don't care if your old friend from high school posted it on your wall, any video that begins with "OMG!" or "You'll never believe.." is never safe. Period). And then you cringe with embarrassment when they start

1. Responding to the posts of friends of yours that they've never even met.
2. Posting on your page, like, 15 times a day.
3. Publicly, but never intentionally, criticizing you, your friend's comments, your photos that they find unforgivable * Funny, Tragic and True Story: My own aunt de-friended me after seeing photos that made me look "like a jezebel" . As I am fully clothed and at a respectable level of soberness in all of my photos, I still can't figure out which one pushed her over the edge.
4. Posting embarrassing statuses about their children and then getting defensive when you mention that perhaps talking openly about my mental health with people I hardly know (or never met) may not entirely appropriate, considering the open forum and all, and besides, I save that gold for my blog, not my facebook! .... Ahem.
5. Complaining about not "getting what their giving" via friend requests, messages, comments, etc- and then broaching that delicate conversation of "people are self involved, don't take it personally".
6. Start friending your those friends of yours they still have never met.

That's when the gates of hell start showing strain and little bits of dialogue and info start seeping through while you stare at your computer, clutching the sides of your face in horror.

The thing that seems to take the most time, is getting them to understand the difference between private messaging and public posts. Any kind of assistance in differentiating between the two usually results in

"Oh Jessica, don't be ridiculous! "
"Well, I just can't understand all that- messaging and comments and stuff " or worse,
"If you're so embarrassed by your mother, then I just won't be your friend on the facebook anymore "

And then, all of a sudden, it becomes an argument about how you, the child, once again just don't have any respect for their years of sacrifice while you feel your temperature boil over until you find yourself screeching like a banshee,

"Everyone can see! Everyone can see! Arrrghhhh "

The silver lining in this is, eventually it all settles down. Really, it does! Your parents become productive members of facebook, their good intentions become a little less abrasive, and you start wondering what you were so worked up over. They have found a little internet discretion and you have stopped freaking out over every little comment, wondering if people are judging you based off of what your parents are saying.

You only have to deal with occasional missteps, like today when my mother posted a link to an article on NPR about healthy eating.

I chose not to fight her on this. I chose to not melt into pile of paranoid goo. Perhaps not everyone looked at that and immediately thought that I was a fat fat fatty on a diet (I am on a diet) or that I was an unhealthy eater (I am kind of an unhealthy eater).

Oh, dear god, I hope that is not what they think.

ps- Mom, if you read this, you know I love you more than french toast and cupcakes combined. My blog is mostly giggles and dirty talk and less Salem witch trials. I think your facebook-ing is coming along swell.

I am the Log, I am the Ravine. I have an Announcement.

2011-05-29T06:09:00.000-07:00

Friends, Bloggers, Wine Drenched Housewives, Insomniacs, Online Predators...

Welcome.

I have found a new way to make my blog a teensy bit more ~~self indulgent~~ fun and interactive and it is with ~~a little hesitation~~ great pride I present to you

LIVE!

24/7 Live Streaming of special programs including:

music videos, random clips, movies, live webcasts and more!!

Now you can watch whatever is currently catching my fancy these days by simply clicking on the newest tab located at the top of the page. It is like regular tv, but a little less organized. And less Jersey Shore. I am still trying to work out all the kinks and create a steady stream of entertainment that is actually, you know, entertaining and not just repetitive.

Currently I have put together a mix of music videos to fill your nights (entitled "Midnight Mix"- I know, the cleverness), I have picked out your first movie of the week (in the "Masterful Movies" series, if you will) and I've mod podged a random assortment of clips to play during the day. Yes, more or less, you are signing onto my ADD when you check out the channel, but don't let that scare you off! Just think, this may be one of the few places where you can see Mr Show clips lumped in with Arthur the Anteater clips.

The schedule will change weekly, so be sure to check back for any changes or upcoming special events! As of right now, it is:

On Memorial Day we'll be watching the worst movie you ever loved, Hail to the Chimp! I mean, Troop Beverly Hills! Will the poor little rich girls beat those middle class bitches, The Red Feathers? Will Shelley Long learn to do something other than shop in order to win back her asshole husband, republican Craig T Nelson? Will Jenny Lewis show signs of being moody, introspective and ironic enough to become the front woman of her own band 15 years later? Will we ever learn what kind of "thrill" Beverly Hills actually is? And most importantly, will they sell all those fucking cookies??

Kids. This is the latest in a set of experiments in what might make this blog more enjoyable. We'll see how successful it is and if not, we'll move onto something else! If you have suggestions of things you'd like to see more or less of, let me know. Until then, grab your drink of choice and keep those peepers locked onto JessBecause LIVE!

I just had an internal shudder when I imagined reading that last sentence aloud. If anyone knows how to promote one's self without being a total cornball, please let me in on the secret. Please.

It's fancy jam time

2011-05-25T12:56:00.000-07:00

Through the natural order of things, tonight turned into an Albert Brooks double feature night. Naturally. There may have been some whiskey and peanut butter pie (homemade, I'll tell you what!) involved.

Now, I'm no Albert Brooks expert. In fact, for years I only knew him as the guy who repeatedly voiced some of the best characters on The Simpsons - Hank Scorpio, anyone? From one of the best episodes ever, You Only Move Twice ? And from season 8, no less (for those of you who stubbornly hold to the notion that the show lost its steam after season 7...Oh you foolish fools).

Over the past few years I have been trying to add to my A Brooks movie knowledge. I had seen clips of his old standup, I had watched a few more films, although I still have yet to see Lost in America or Defending Your Life -ah the shame!- and I started to realize that indeed, I had seen him in a number of things and I had lumped him into a small hammock district of actors/writers whose work you see repeatedly without taking notice of their name.

That's a bold confession, and I actually feel better getting it off my chest. I was completely blind to weight, the distinction of comic, actor and writer, and east coast-seizing supervillain : Mr Albert Brooks. Now, I suppose we could go through and list his faults as a writer; It was pointed out to me that he really does create these superbly crafted scenes, but then he'll get lost in his own story and all of a sudden tack on an ending just to wrap things up. Okay, well, sure.

But man, when he gets something right, it is so so right. I can't truly pin it down what those things are- it is a lot of little things. And you can't argue with the little things, it's the little things that make up life. For example, tonight I watched two films of his that I'm sure are not the shining beacons of his career, but they were enjoyable nonetheless. He fairly consistently portrays this neurotic, nebbishy, somewhat sentimental guy that quite a lot of us can relate to (I'll be surprised if one day my tombstone doesn't simply read "Neurotic and sorta sentimental"), but his work is surprisingly daring and subtly bold... like a gentle enema or something (perhaps this is a failed analogy).

Okay, maybe "subtly bold" is a bit of a stretch for Mother, one of the movies I watched tonight. But you will notice, my new best friend, it is good in the sense that it has a common theme fleshed out with talented actors and some excellent scene work. It is a bit of a time capsule, what with the picture phone and those nineties character actors; Rob Morrow is perfectly needy and whiny as the brother. And what has happened to this guy? I mean, I am assuming we all had a special relationship with Northern Exposure at some point in our lives, yes? Yes, and he was great on that.

Oh god, and it had a brief dinner scene with Lisa Kudrow, wasn't that fun? Back before we all realized she was kind of limited and we were all charmed by her? Oooh, I honestly can't see her without wanting stop whatever it is I'm watching and put in Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion .

But I digress.Well, actually, there isn't much of a point to digress from- I just wanted to talk about watching Albert Brooks movies tonight. Stay with me, we'll go bowling, I'll get back on track. So moving on to the other one, Searching For Comedy in the Muslim World .

Talk about a movie that fell under the radar. And y'all, that is a pretty solid little film- again, a tacked on ending, but at least you have Penny Marshall in the beginning letting you know what to expect. If you get a chance to netflix it, I say go for it. Yes, it is another film where comics talk about comedy, and the idea is a little Curb Your Enthusiasm-esque (Brooks and others play elevated, or characterized versions "themselves") but it manages to take miscommunication, ego, and sense of humor (or lack thereof) and make it a universal thing, in art, religion and politics. It's a charmer. I mean, in what other movie are you going to see Al Jazeera try to commission Albert Brooks to star in a sitcom called That Darn Jew ?

It looks like the next Brooks hit on my list is going to be Lost in America . Tonight was a welcome distraction from the unwelcome news we've had lately. It is official- I am now the owner of a diabetic cat. And despite the dread that fills me as I begin to broach financing the constant attention and treatment this cat will need, I am grateful that it isn't a kidney problem. I've given him his first few injections without passing out and as the pile of syringes grows, I am filled with a sort of sick fantasy that people will see them and believe that my cat or myself are dangerous junkies and that we are to be treated with fearful respect.

I like being treated with respect, even if it is fear-based (Although, it would be preferable to not have to scare people into believing they can't walk all over all five feet of you. Yes, five feet.)

So. Anyway........Oh dear.

I am having my own Brooks moment where I realize I have no idea how to wrap this all up.

But truly, I've gotta go- somebody ate part of my lunch.

I should post a small addendum to say that if this seemed a little more wackadoodle than usual, it was because I was desperately trying to squeeze in all of my favorite Hank Scorpio quotes into one piece and it really didn't matter to me if they made sense within the context of a thought or if they ruined the entire structure of a sentence in fact I didn't even give you my coat!

(Can you pick out all those quotes?)

My cat and John Lithgow

2011-05-20T00:02:00.000-07:00

I reckon we are continuing the possibly never ending list of "wants"-

Right now what I want the most is the health of my cat and myself, as we are both a little sassy and unwell, as this old photo from my Chicago days should prove.

Neither my cat nor myself are smokers. Anymore.

I also want peanut butter pie.

Yes, I have the personality of a bowl of black liquorice at the moment, so to make up for it- I am sharing funny things that are funny to tide me, and anyone who has wandered over here looking for a good time and instead found an anxious lady and her sick cat, over. Apologies.

If you don't watch the Colbert Report or like John Lithgow, I have nothing to offer you. If you like both, boy are you in for a treat. I like this because well, it's John Lithgow. And it reminds me that I actually did a scene study with him, even though I am certain I had a manic, fangirl "please think I'm talented" look on my face the entire time (long story- maybe next time). His talent is larger than he is, and that is one tall man.

Because I am having "photos as links" issues all of a sudden, here is the link to the awesome clip on Gawker.

Also, do you remember the "Radio Bart" Simpsons' episode? Oh you know, the one where he gets a microphone for his birthday, throws it down a well and pretends to be a little boy named Timmy trapped in the well until he himself gets trapped in the same well while trying to retrieve the mic (umm.... spoiler alert?). Well anywho, one of the best parts of the episode is the commercial for the mic, the Superstar Celebrity Microphone, which includes a guy driving by announcing "Hey good lookin! We'll be back to pick you up later!"

Well, here is the real commercial that it is based off of! Chuckles for days, I tells ya. (if you have seen the episode, that is)

You're all welcome. I will be back when I am full to bursting with good news.

With sass and love, Dobby the cat and Jessbecause

Yes, this is how I blog. I won't do it any other way.

Things I want, no, NEED and no one has thought to get me yet

2011-05-14T02:37:00.000-07:00

Subtlety has never been my strong suit. Of course, I could just be sharing these with you so you'll have more insight into my tastes and desires and think:

"That is one awesome chick. Man, I'd like to make some time with her, based on her preferences in popular culture. Yeah."

Well, I'm not. I am just putting this out there so you'll know that, as a greedy and lazy person who doesn't like to spend money on herself unless it is for brunch or alcohol, I want. These. Things.

Hello. It has been my favorite movie of the past five years. I haven't been so silent about it. It was my facebook picture for a good chunk of time. I made an old beau a grape soda pin modeled after the one in the film. I love this movie, just like everyone else. Why is the dvd not sitting in a place of honor in my apartment?

Obvious reasons. Funny girls like funny girls who are being successful because of their funny girl-ness. And I would carry it around just to read in public places- therefore producing the reaction I mentioned earlier.

I asked for this at Christmas. Fuck you, Santa. This is why I haven't been fulfilling the Craft section of my blog.

The first step in getting something is by announcing you want it. In fact...You know what? I officially proclaim this a month of Getting Whatever the Hell You Want!

So.

What do you want that you haven't gotten yet? Not like, "A meaningful job" or "To feel Happy" or "A special someone" or "The death my stupid bitch boss". I mean like, something I could go buy you right now at the Target. Although if you say "Love", I could probably find that there for you. They have everything.