The Fool Speaks

Have Musicals Gone "Meh"?

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sun, 23 Aug 2015 22:35:00 +0000

Summer is coming to a close and it's now officially "back to school" time. Which means nothing to me except for less humidity and less children in my restaurant. I've had a fun summer and saw a lot of shows, comedians, and concerts over the last two months. Didn't go on vacation, never stopped working the day job, but still had a nice time. I keep going to open mics to try and improve my comedy and last night I told a story to a small but polite crowd. So things are good.

Friday night I saw a musical (which I later reviewed). It was a good production (cast and crew worked hard and it showed), but I didn't really enjoy it. This is becoming something of a recurring thing in my life: seeing musicals with talented people but struggling to be interested by the story or the message. A few weeks ago I saw the tour of Kinky Boots and didn't care for it, although the audience seemed to be eating it up. (My own mother said "Well it's not fabulous." Must be genetic.)

This sent me into a spiral. Do I hate musicals? Are they not good anymore? Were they EVER?

It's possible that after reviewing a lot of them this summer I may just be on musical burnout. Or it's possible that I've grown since college and I need a bit more bite out of my theater these days. Or maybe after The Book of Mormon nothing else feels as clever.

Perhaps musicals are like improv: when they're great, they're great. When they're just okay, they're tiresome. Seeing an okay musical isn't the end of the world, but as you realize how much longer you have to sit through it starts to weigh on you. If the quality of the show doesn't improve you just want to scream "STOP SINGING! ALL THIS CAN BE SAID IN LIKE TWO LINES!". I probably just need a nap.

Am I becoming a musical hater? Has the magic (and the music) left my soul? I think I'm just looking for something more with my art. Kinky Boots has themes of acceptance and gender roles being irrelevant; themes I agree with. But it plainly says them in the show, doing nothing short of spelling it out for the audience. I get that Broadway is theater at its most mainstream and that it needs to appeal to a broad demographic, but shit. Give audiences a little credit. There was nothing said in Kinky Boots that wasn't said in La Cage aux Folles, but it felt subtler then. Or maybe I'm not a Cyndi Lauper fan.

Anyway, don't come at me theater queens. I still love seeing live shows and musicals are counted among them. Maybe my moods are shifting and I'm in the mood for something really dark and messed up. Less Kinky and a little more Killy? You know, for the holidays.

Something to Listen to:

From the previously mentioned La Cage aux Folles, here's Douglas Hodge singing the Act 1 closer "I Am What I Am." His character Ablin is a drag queen performing in his husband Georges' club act. Georges son doesn't want his future in-laws to meet Albin as he is worried what they will think of their "alternative" lifestyle. Albin is deeply hurt, as he practically raised the boy, and defiantly breaks into this number to show that he is not going to apologize for who he is. It's an awesome moment.

Something to Read:

Keeping with the musical theme, I just finished the graphic novel Fun Home which was adapted into a musical that just won big at the Tony's. It's a comic memoir of Alison Bechdel's childhood and the complex relationship she had with her father. Both Alison and her father were gay, but she didn't learn that until close to the end of his life. In the novel she examines things about him to try and explain who he was and how he could be cruel and distant. It's a terrific read and (presumably) a terrific show.

Something to Watch:

I've watched both seasons of Bojack Horseman. The first season was fine but it really took off for me in the second season. It looks like some stupid cartoon full of ridiculous animal characters, but it hits such strong adult emotional chords that can really punch you in the gut if you aren't careful. Give it a try on Netflix.

Also on Netflix is the documentary Tig. It focuses on comedian Tig Notaro when she found out she had breast cancer shortly after losing her mother (and dealing with the end of a relationship). Her feelings towards it all came out in a lovely set at the Largo (sold as an album called Live) that changed a lot about her work. Her strength to power through with her work is awesome and admirable, and she makes you cry as much as laugh throughout the documentary. She also has a comedy special on HBO out now, you should probably watch that too.

Apocalypse isn't the End of the World

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Wed, 22 Jul 2015 12:52:00 +0000

As I write this I'm trying not to sweat. My air conditioner is pointed directly at me and I'm still disgusted with myself. I can't help it, I come from a sweaty people. A customer at my restaurant today said "It's nice we finally had a day of good weather." To which I responded, "I'm only outside for one minute and then my shirt gets wet." Which was probably more information than she wanted, but that's what she gets for making small talk about the weather. People like to get cheeky; "You'll miss then when it's snowing!" No, I won't. I'll wear all my favorite hoodies and my snow boots and be fine.

I've come up with one good trick for beating the heat this summer: tear off your skin. Makes it harder to sweat.

The sweat is also not helping this feeling of being burnt out. I've seen two plays these last two weekends and each one required a review written for The Pittsburgh Stage Online Magazine (go, click, give them a follow, all that crap. I'm obviously not in charge of marketing.) I'm not complaining about getting tickets to see theater because it is absolutely something I love doing. But each review requires a recap of what happened, some opinions of performances/writings/designs, and then a bit of an explanation as to what I think the play's message or theme is. All of which has to be written in a way where I feel I come off as intelligent. For these last reviews I've been struggling with that last part.

I've just seen a wide variety of shows lately and they're all fighting for space in my head. I've seen ancient Greek tragedies, an Irish play, a Sherlock Holmes play, and a musical from the fifties that is still incredible to watch. I know, I'm just too cultured. Or as cultured as someone with underboob sweat can be. But the ability to watch and understand theater is important and I write my reviews to encourage people with similar tastes (possibly in my age group?) to see theater whenever they have the opportunity. As I wind down on my month of reviews I'll be singing a musical (that I love) based off a movie that's starring a cast member from Glee. Art comes in all forms don't it?

Speaking of art, last week "they" released photos of the new X-men movie Apocalypse, which is coming out months from now. I'm looking forward to it, but I'm someone who doesn't get excited until I'm actually seeing the movie. Trailers and photos aren't for me. But people were up in arms about the appearance/design of the character Apocalypse (Oscar Isaacs):

That's him in the middle.

I'll be honest; I think it's fine. It doesn't spark anything in me one way or the other. But from the way people carried on you'd think Apocalypse was the end of the world (HA, goodnight everybody). For one thing, this is one shot of the movie. The character could go through some changes, this could be early on, we don't know if this is what he'll look like. Even if it is, this is a superhero movie and things should be allowed to look a little silly.

Look at his face though; there's some emoting going on there. Maybe a bit of sadness. Like acting. Who knows? Let's judge after the movie is over. Remember how we all hated Quicksilver's design and that turned out fine? Just relax. It probably won't be as bad as this guy:

Yeah, Juggernaut was never meant to exist in live action.

But some people had the audacity to negatively compare the above Apocalypse design to Ivan Ooze, the villain from the 90's Power Rangers: The Movie.

Excuse me? That's fucking awesome! Ivan Ooze was great; he was centuries old and wanted to rule the world, same as Apocalypse. You could have the actual Ivan Ooze stand in for Apocalypse in the X-men movie and it would be great. Have Paul Freeman reprise the role, it'll be even better. Ivan Ooze almost succeeded in killing a whole city's parent population, tell me that's not evil. Almost orphaned thousands of youths. Shit.

I feel myself getting silly the more I talk about it. Does this discredit what I said earlier about being cultured? Eh. Oh well.

Music to listen to: "We Need a Hero" - Power Rangers Redux (*makes me wanna go out and kick something)
Last Book I finished: Silence of the Lambs
Here's a Picture of a Rainbow I saw the other day

I Sing Because I'm Cranky

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sat, 04 Jul 2015 14:40:00 +0000

If you've ever had to work a customer service job with me then you're probably aware of this fact: I sing. I sing a lot. To myself. Could be anything: folk, pop, jazz, rock, the occasional show tune and, of course, "What's Up?" by 4 Non Blondes. A good many coworkers have expressed annoyance at this habit (which is fair). So lately I've begun to ask myself: why the hell do I do this?

I have no aspirations to be a singing performer, and if you've ever heard my voice you'll know that's a fortunate thing. I don't even sing karaoke, because it's not endearing to me in any way. So why do I act like I'm rehearsing for my summer tour opening for an American Idol runner-up?

I've come up with this hypothesis: I sing to keep myself from going postal.

I've skimmed a few articles about how singing all the time is good for you mentally and emotionally, the equivalence to starting your day with a cup of coffee and all that (my therapist confirmed this study for me this morning). That's comforting, but really you can google any topic and find a hundred articles to support your claim. Although the other day I googled "Is it okay to pour bacon grease down the sink if you run water from the faucet?" and it turns out NO, that is still NOT okay by anyone's standards.

The fact that I work somewhere where Pandora radio plays all the time is probably a good reason why there's always a song in my head. I've actually grown accustomed to hearing "Pumped Up Kicks" on a daily basis. The truth is I have to listen to a good bit of complaints at work, ranging from the temperature in the building to the size of the free cup you get when you get tap water with your lunch. Nothing too awful, really, but after a while you just gotta let loose with a few choruses of "Faith" (covered by Lake Street Dive). It restores your...faith...that not everyone in the world needs to be set on fire.

Sure it's a bit dramatic, but I like to think annoying my coworkers with song will cut down on my annoying them with angry complaints. Ultimately NO OF COURSE IT DOESN'T. I can always find something to complain about and I will. Sometimes the only thing keeping me from rolling my eyes aggressively at customers is to sing "Pirate Jenny" to myself, and imagine being the protagonist in that song who orders the execution of the patrons who were rude to her. See? That's totally healthy.

So am I healthier for singing all the time? Maybe. Am I healthier for eating a salad in bed at 10 PM while watching Teen Wolf? I certainly hope so. But I shall keep singing all the time. Because it's far too late to get diagnosed/medicated for ADD, and because it makes me feel good when I want to be elsewhere. So I'll paraphrase that old hymn:

I sing because I'm cranky
I sing because I'm pissed
My eye is on the time clock
And I can't wait to be done of this

I'll leave you with Mahalia Jackson singing the real version. Keep singing, crabasses!

Find Your Art

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sun, 14 Jun 2015 14:01:00 +0000

Today was a big week if you live in Pittsburgh and have to be downtown. Three Rivers Arts Festival, Pride, Pirate Games, all the theater/comedy events...there's a lot happening. As someone who works two jobs, both downtown, I had a heavier-than-average workload this week. But I've reached the end and I even recall having fun a few times.

On Tuesday I saw the CLO's production of Mary Poppins with my mother as a late Mother's Day Gift (tickets were free; I'm such a cheap-ass). Yes, this isn't the "coolest" thing in the world by a long shot, but I did enjoy some nice childhood nostalgia (if you don't think that movie's great, you're wrong). There was tap-dancing and magic and we saw a woman fly across the stage and nobody died from a harness accident: Happy Mother's Day indeed. (You can read the review here, you probably missed the show at this point).

Wednesday I had some unexpected time between jobs so I went to the park by the Point to hang out. I had a sandwich, a book, a cherry Coke...it was like being in a commercial for Young People Having Fun! Except, of course, I wasn't prepared for the sun and ended up burning my arms and legs as penance for having fun. I wanted a little color, and that color is pink and it itches like a motherfucker.

The book I was reading was Greg Proops' The Smartest Book in the World. I've been slacking on my reading in general, but what little I've read of this so far has been awesome. Proops didn't write an autobiography, which I would've enjoyed anyway, but instead offers up a variety of subjects he thinks people should know about. I already have a list of movies started that he's mentioned in the book, like The Lifeboat and All About Eve. I'm learning words, I'll be learning some about baseball (yay?), and he provides some great quotes, like this:

"You are not required to agree with everything you read. That is submission. But laughing at it and trying to understand something you do not concur with is called being sophisticated."

Greg Proops

Boom.

So let me segue into my own thoughts about music. This weekend was Pride in Pittsburgh, and it sparked a controversy with its selection of outdoor concert artist. They picked Iggy Azalea, an Australian rapper/singer who gets in all sorts of heat for all sorts of reasons. Pittsburgh gays were outraged since Azalea used gay slurs in the past and wasn't a real ally, etc. Honestly I never cared, because I was never going to go anyway. For one thing, it's an outdoor concert in the street that you have to pay money to attend. No thanks.

Also, I have to admit, I really don't like Pride events. I think they're important for the LGBTQ community to know they're not alone and there's nothing wrong with anybody and we should all have the right to be happy. Totally all for that message. But for me personally...it's just so hot outside and there are too many people. I never know what to do. Walk around? Look at the tables of free stuff? That's fine but I couldn't really build an afternoon around that. I'm all for it, I'm just not going. Peace and love, from my apartment.

But onto my point about music: I saw countless articles about Iggy and Pride (she eventually pulled out, they got Nick Jonas, what a treat) and once again felt on the outside of everything. Because I was very excited to see Rhiannon Giddens performing at Arts Fest on Thursday. If you don't know her, she's one of the founding members of the Carolina Chocolate Drops, an all-black Americana group that does incredible work. Giddens has a powerful voice and excellent control over it, covering songs by Dolly Parton, Patsy Cline, Blu Cantrell's "Hit 'em Up Style", and Odetta. In addition to being excellent musicians, the Drops also aim to educate their audiences on the origins of folk/country music and the roots African American culture has in it. They're one of my favorites.

Rhianon Giddens

This concert reinvigorated me in the middle of my long work week. I sound like such a tool, but live music can really lift up my spirits when it's a great concert and music I dig. This was the ideal outdoor concert for me: the sun went down, the audience remained seated, and it was bluegrass and folk music performed excellently. It is moments like this, with great music surrounded by art, that I think "Damn, music is so important. Art of any kind is so important." I mean I'm a huge grump but a great concert can have me walking on air. The next day I had to work a double and I stayed in high spirits, fueled by the energy the music the night before had put in me.

Whether it's Mary Poppins, Iggy Azalea, opera, bluegrass, comedy, a good book, whatever, there is art out there for everyone. But I don't mean just "fun", which is also important to have. I don't mean "go to a country music concert and get shitfaced" or "go to a dubstep concert and take acid". That's not art hitting you, that's drugs hitting you. Find an art that hits you right in your soul when you're stone sober. I think that's an important thing to find. Your life advice ("But I didn't ask!") for today.

Sliiiiiiide!!

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Thu, 14 May 2015 15:25:00 +0000

The other night in our new apartment my roommate and I had our first power outage thanks to those fun summer thunderstorms. We lit candles, cracked a few windows to escape the heat, and then realized we had nothing to do. So we turned to the top of the fridge where the only two board games we own were sitting: Star Wars Episode 1 Monopoly and Sorry!. Seeing as how Sorry! had less things to read in the darkness, we chose to play that.

An hour's worth of game-playing commenced. Sorry! is an easy game for children, sure, but playing as an adult gives you the added feature of trash-talking your opponent. Simply by selecting our colors I was able to amp up the anger:
"What color do you want to be?"
Roommate: "Blue."
"I wanted to be Blue."
"Fine, I'll be Green."
"It's dark in here, why don't you pick a color that doesn't look incredibly similar to my color?"
"YELLOW THEN."

It was on.

I had to explain to the roomie how when you land on another player's piece you bump them back to their Start and say "Sorry!". There was some coaching I had to do ("It's not just Sorry!, it's more of a playground-taunt sound: Sooorrreeeee!!!".) but eventually we got to an angry, sneering place. If you need a frame of reference, I will always recommend the family sketch from The Carol Burnett Show ("sliiiiiide"). Oh we had our fun.

Did you watch that clip? It's 15 minutes, but seriously let's appreciate the beauty of Carol Burnett's insane energy and Vicki Lawrence's stone-faced quipping as Mama. Her face after Eunice screams "IT WAS A SEVEN!!!!"? Kills me. And then the venom barely contained in Mama's, "Eunice appears to be of the opinion that it was a seven." That's just gold.

Sorry! was a game I played often as a kid at my grandma's house, although luckily she wasn't half the bitch Mama was. I liked a lot of board games as a child. There was Kerplunk, the game that had something to do with marbles but the real task for child Isaac was not to swallow them. There was Mall Madness, a game to teach teens how to NOT own a credit card as an adult. Guess Who?, the game with all the flippy people and you had to ask questions about who your opponent was. Fun fact, there were only five women in Guess Who? so if the first question was "are you a woman?" and you were, chances were good you were going to lose. I think this was some sort of commentary by Milton Bradley on the unfairness of the sexes, but ten-year-old me just liked the clicking sound the board made.

Your classic murder board games were fun. There was Clue and all it's many different interpretations. Then VHS Clue. You guys remember VHS Clue? It was a videocassette you put in your VCR and it showed scenes of a small movie version of Clue (not the Tim Curry one, a lower-budget one). It was campy as all hell and me (and others in my generation) loved to simply sit and watch it without playing the game. Col. Mustard had a metal plate in his head that magnetized bullets and knives, which got him fired from spy work. That's beautiful stuff.

The not-as-popular 13 Dead End Drive also revolved around solving a murder and "bumping off" your opponents. Years later my generation would be told that video games like Mortal Kombat and Grand Theft Auto were too violent. Shit, board games were getting violent at that point. People were killing each other with candlesticks. That's got to be messy.

Just a game about a bunch of heirs killing each other over a will. Ages 9 and up.

Anyway, after a close game of Sorry! (I won by a hair) we moved the candles to the kitchen table to play a few rounds of Gin. Gin Rummy has become my go-to two-person card game when you need to pass the time (like when you're working during a Shakespearean tragedy). The first game my roommate won four hands in a row and totally schooled me. So we set up for a second game. I began to play hard ball: I payed extra attention to what she was picking up and what she was laying down. With no electricity to distract me I was in a good place and I bested her in the next game.

Card-playing is in my blood, probably because I grew up in West Virginia. In high school, no matter what "clique" you looked at chances were good at least 3 tables in the lunch room had a game of Euchre going at some point. My junior year me and my fellow band nerds would play it constantly. I don't recall winning, but we had our fun.

I also played a lot of Pinochle with my family. Pinochle is a bit of an old person's game, right up there with Bridge. My grandparents, aunts, and cousins would all play it regularly at family events and I eventually weaseled my way in to playing with them. Pinochle is no joke; it's hard as fuck. And my Pap was terrific at it. He was aware of every card that was laid down, to the point where he'd start telling you what to play ("Lay down your Queen of Spades."). When he started forgetting names and things in his final years it was as sad as an athlete who wasn't allowed to play anymore.

Anyway the power is back on and computer games are getting attention again. But I can appreciate nature's occasional interruption for some board game nostalgia. I like games like this more than things like Cards Against Humanity. To me the conversations and snarkiness that come while playing a seven-hour game of Monopoly are more entertaining than a cheap Helen Keller joke. Although sometimes the snarkiness gets too intense and crankiness ensues, like the one time during a game of Spoons when I hit my sister in the face with a spoon. Fun was not had for the whole family that night.

Get the Biscuits!!!

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sat, 28 Mar 2015 15:12:00 +0000

Today I peed in a cup for the first time. I'm not in any trouble, I'm just applying for a job that likes to do drug screenings. A seasonal, part-time job that may do random drug testing after being employed. I found it a bit odd since the job was one where I'd assume at least some people would be high sometimes, but I just went with it. The actual process of peeing in the cup is not a good story: I had a diet Coke and a ninety-minute car ride before getting to the center. Very straightforward. My only concern was whether or not it was rude to keep peeing after I reached the line on the cup.

Speaking of pee in cups, I ate at Red Lobster yesterday. I hadn't been to one in years but I was home for my mom's birthday. I generally don't like Red Lobster because I never know what the hell to order. When you ask people what to get there 9 out of 10 people will say "THE BISCUITS!" and you'll have to force a laugh with them. But of course that's the best thing there, it's free carbs. But they don't give you the biscuits 'til after you order an entree, because they're on to your "free meal" bullshit.

What do I get? Crab legs? No! My whole life I've watched people eat crab legs and I've never deemed it worthwhile. So much work: you need a small fork, a vice grips, everyone says it hurts their hands, you get a bit of flesh out at a time which you then soak in that liquid butter. This all needs to be done quickly because "it's not good cold". My nana brought her own scissors and plastic gloves, like she was performing surgery. After dinner she asked my mother to close.

I ordered salmon and everyone at the table proceeded to give me shit for it. My family is the kind that finds what they like and keeps ordering that. Which is fine, but I don't go to Red Lobster EVER and just ordered some fish. And it was good! It tasted like fish! Which is what I was going for! What'd they get? Coconut Crusted Shrimp, two of my least favorite things fried together. And they were disappointed with it, so really who came out better here?

But I won't go to Red Lobster any time soon because I generally avoid seafood. Actually I generally avoid sea life. The ocean scares the hell out of me. It's so deep, we have no idea where the bottom is, it's a pitch black space thousands of miles under the surface where who-knows-what is swimming around waiting to kill us. Seen an Anglerfish?

Look at that thing. That swam up from the mouth of hell, don't tell me otherwise. In some countries, though, Anglerfish are a delicacy. They taste like lobster and they come with their own candlelight.

I've had some time to myself during these past few days, when I'm not looking for work or peeing in cups. Lately I used one of those days to watch season one of Broad City. I'm late to that game, but it's a lovely show and I currently can't get enough of it. Something I'm not watching? The Jinx, that documentary no one was talking about until two weeks ago and then everyone started talking about it at once (and then smart asses everywhere went "Jinx! You owe me a Coke!"). I've never been too into true crime. I have to be in a very specific dark mood before I can read about grisly murders without depressing myself out. Also I don't like watching things about murderers because I don't need any ideas.

Speaking of things that need killed, there are going to be two places on the same street near me where you can paint while drinking wine. I hate those. They take something usually fun (wine), mix it with an activity some people actually work hard at (painting), and add something awful (other people). Gross. My neighborhood is really going to hell. "Oh, but it's a fun and good way to relieve stress and socialize!" So just masturbate in a group, it's cheaper.

Was this bitter? Eh. Well it's been my week. Happy March! (Happy Birthday Ma!)

Kissing is Gross, Killing is Fine

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Fri, 27 Feb 2015 16:39:00 +0000

The AMC hit series The Walking Dead has had some good episodes since returning from it's mid-season break this year. The show is based on the graphic novels of the same name and focuses on a group of people who are trying to live through a world infested with zombies. The show has featured many gruesome scenes in its past 5 years, but some people took offense to what happened in the last episode:

That's right, two men kissed. The horror.

It's true that up until last year this show could be seen as a winner in a homophobe's mind, as there were apparently no gay people that survived the end of the world. The lesbian character Tara was introduced last year and even had a girlfriend for about two episodes, but they weren't terribly big characters at the time and the girlfriend met her end anyway. But now we have two more gay characters, Aaron and Eric, who are in a loving relationship and shared an intimate kiss.

Most of the complaints I saw online were people who didn't want the show "shoving gay shit down our throats." Well let me put it this way: you don't have to approve of it, but you'd have to be a moron to think this doesn't exist. Walking Dead is science fiction but the world these characters lived in was based on our world. Our world that has gay people in it. Gay people who kiss sometimes.

Now this isn't a "gay visibility on TV" issue. This is an "I think you guys are watching The Walking Dead wrong" issue. If you watch this show for intense bloody zombie-killing fun, that's not the right reason. I mean, sure, you get bloody zombie-killing fun, but this show is about characters. If you want to watch people kill zombies, just go pick up any video game on the subject and you can do that.

This show is about human beings and what happens to them when society falls. Take Rick, for example. Started as the heroic cop kind of guy and now he's a hardened, paranoid leader who ties people up first and asks questions later. Former housewife Carol lost her family and has become a woman who is willing to make difficult sacrifices for the greater good. Carl is a boy who is essentially having his childhood taken from him by monsters (also he shot his mom), and who knows what kind of effects that'll have on his personality. It's about them. Like Rick said two episodes ago, "we are the walking dead."

You think gay people wouldn't be around in the zombie apocalypse? Please. Know who is used to situations where it feels like the world is against you? Gay people. Know who has experience in avoiding danger? Gay people. Know who would love the opportunity to just take a freaking bat and bash some heads in? Angry people. Some of whom are probably gay.

There are much worse people to be trapped in a zombie-ridden world with. Like, I don't know, KIDS. Kids will always bring you down in any disaster situation. Because they're young and don't know better, they do stupid things. How many horror movies have you seen with a child in it who ultimately fucks something up? They're the worst. Baby Judith is cute as hell but every time she cries she threatens to bring zombies raining down on our heroes. That's a huge liability. I wouldn't hang out with that group. Oh and how about those two girls Carol looked after? Remember how the one was a sociopath? Sure, that can happen to anyone, but still another good reason not to travel with kids.

It's unnerving for me to see people around my age saying things like "keep this shit off our TVs". No. This is life now. This will never stop. You're going to have to get used to this or stop watching TV. Might I suggest reading? You could try reading The Walking Dead comics...

...Awwwwww. Damn it. I guess you're screwed.

Severing the Tie Line

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Fri, 23 Jan 2015 17:43:00 +0000

Something embarrassing happened to me today: I forgot basic tech information that I learned in college. I forgot what "tie line" was called. Tie line is the thick string that I used daily all through college when I majored in theater tech. One of the simplest things I ever used, and I totally forgot the name. It didn't even come to me eventually, I had to text someone and ask them.

As a tech kid in college I hung a good bit of lights and equipment in high places. I carried a wrench with me on a daily basis. I used power tools. I used a lathe once, after asking what a lathe was. I openly faked my way through using computer software I didn't understand. And today...I don't do any of those things.

Now this isn't a weepy "I can't find work in my field" tale. My senior year I realized this goal of "lighting designer" I thought I wanted for four years was, in fact, a huge mistake on my part. I had been working hard (I thought) towards this goal but I had to face facts: I enjoyed very little of what I was doing. The computer aspect confused me and the physical demands were never my forte. I'm afraid of heights! I wouldn't reach out to focus a light if I felt unsafe. What, I'm going to risk falling to my death or severe paralysis so a handful of assholes can watch The Crucible? That's ridiculous.

This isn't about that choice, however (I've talked about that a lot in the past). The tie line thing, while small and excusable, made me think about how little I'd actually retained from college. In that quick moment, it felt like my entire four years of school had been deleted from my memory. I can barely remember what it felt like to be Theater Major Isaac, although I remember he felt a lot of anxiety and lost a lot of sleep. The few times I tell people I went to school for lighting I get embarrassed, afraid they'll ask a question I won't know the answer to, because I haven't had to for years now. It's bizarre to me how much I've changed since then, although I do think I'm better this way.

I'm not the only one who's changed though. All around me (on the Internet) I see classmates who are definitely not where they thought they'd be in college. A lot of them don't do theater; whether or not they made that choice or had it forced upon them I can't say. Some have jobs in totally different fields. Some are going to grad school in other subjects. Some have families now. Some lost the family they had. Some of them seem happy. Some of them don't.

And then there are the ones that majored in theater, were good at it, graduated (with honors if they weren't me), moved away, found work, and love what they're doing. I am so genuinely happy for them, but also fuck you for getting it right on your first shot while being under thirty. I mean good for you and all, but you're making the rest of us look like morons.

I joke, though. Life is weird and time changes things. Two totally unoriginal statements that have really dawned on me lately. If I told college Isaac what I was doing now, well I'd probably add more stress and sleepless nights to his life. But I sleep better now. Sure I have some bad times (who doesn't?), but on the whole I don't worry about the future like College Isaac did. He was worried he'd never find a theater job, which is a fair concern since some others a lot better than him have had little success.

I work two part-time jobs that on a light week get me thirty hours a week. On a heavy week it can get to over fifty. I have no "benefits" but I like what I do, plus I have time to write and to make jokes. Although I frequently hear peers talk about getting "real jobs", a phrase that makes me want to scream and cry. I'm sick of people referring to the jobs I have as not "real jobs". I spend my time and energy there. I support myself on the money I make. I'm real. Why is it never fucking enough? My roommate refers to a "real job" as a job where she can use her degree, a way of thinking I'm sure others share. I can't think like that though, because by that definition I will never have a real job and therefore I'll constantly be doubting my own existence.

It's hard not to worry about the future. It's wise to plan ahead, but if you worry too much about the future you may get so anxious you'll fuck up your present. As uninteresting as my life may seem on paper, I must say I'm enjoying myself more than Lighting Designer Isaac would. He could be an alcoholic from the constant disappointment of not finding work. He could be dead from falling off a light grid. Or he could have found work but be deeply unsatisfied with how he feels about what he's doing. That may be the worst option (just kidding, death is the worst option).

So it's weird, but I'm not embarrassed that I forgot about tie line. It may have been only four years, but really tie line was relevant to me a whole lifetime ago. So excuse me while I take my last piece of the thick black string and let the winds of time blow it out of my hand. I encourage any friends who are worried about letting go of the tie line in their lives to do the same. Some things, like tie line or a degree, seem really important. But we don't always have to use them. It's scary, it's weird, but it's also okay.

New Chapter

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Tue, 02 Dec 2014 05:51:00 +0000

The gelato spades I wielded for 14 months.

I've gone through some changes these last few months. Some are good, some not so much. But all in all I'm pretty excited right now. Because I am entering a new chapter. In some pretentious way I always plot ahead what would go in my memoir, were I ever to write one. I don't think every little detail would make a good story, but I like to force myself to think about making it one anyway. As if someone was just begging to know "please, tell me about the time you saw a mouse and cried."

Incidentally, I did see another mouse the other night. Then a few nights later it walked across my foot while I was sitting at my computer. I screamed obscenities at it and dumped more poison all over my room. While it sucks and it did shake me up, I'm not losing sleep over it like I was months ago. Granted, I wake up at 5 in the morning anyway for no obvious reason, but I'm pretty sure it's not mouse-related.

Now the biggest news and therefore what really makes me feel like I'm starting a new page is this: I got a new day job. Now it's not a full-time job; there are no benefits or anything, and it's still in customer service. I've accepted customer service is now something I have to list as a "strength" to find work. But the change of scenery is nice. I've gone from working in a restaurant in a neighborhood I don't like to working in a bakery close to home, which I love.

I've often joked about my old job (how exciting to call it my "old" job) and about how much material it would leave me for comedy, stories, etc. I won't relay them all in this blog (so much sorting needs done), but if I were ending the chapter of working in that restaurant it would read something like this:

"I headed home from my last shift at the restaurant and, sentimentalist that I am, began to tear up a bit. Sure the place had caused me a good share of headaches, but I began to remember the good times and the friends I had made in the last 14 months. The weird nostalgia sadness began to sink in and I almost started to cry. But then I thought to myself, "You know, [the owner] didn't stand up to hug me or shake my hand or even thank me for the last fourteen months of service."

That thought went through my head loud and clear. I shook my head. "Bitch." I said aloud to the empty sidewalk. The tears went away immediately."

Now I don't know whether or not this bakery will bring better memories or more headaches. Possibly both. But I do know I will get more stories, with new characters and locations, and that is so exciting for me. Also there are doughnuts and chocolate-dipped rice krispie squares, so hot damn.

I have other new stories. Some will be shared in public, like my recent horseback-riding trip I went on (yeah, I know). Other things will stay closer to me, for my benefit and for others. Speaking of the "others", I am taking a undetermined amount of time off of social medias. Checking Facebook regularly on my phone has given me a warped view of what the world is like, so I'm eliminating it to see how things improve. I will still post blogs and reviews, but that's as personal as I'm getting.

This is nothing revolutionary, nor do I think I'm doing something brave. But I have learned that life (or "the world") never gets easy, people just get better at dealing with it. I don't dream of the day life gets easy anymore. I actually sort of hope it doesn't, because I worry I will get incredibly dull if it does. Would I have stories if I didn't have complaints? Probably, but they wouldn't be as funny. And I probably wouldn't have complaints if life were "easy" and everything was "great."

Forgive me if that seems cryptic, and don't be worried about me (I can read my family's texts already, "Honey, you feeling okay?"). I'm learning how to deal with things both bad and good, and I don't think I'll ever stop learning. I guess this new chapter comes with a new outlook on life. Or perhaps I'm being foolishly optimistic. Either way, I'm excited for it to start. There are cake pops involved.

My Moody Monday

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Wed, 13 Aug 2014 03:57:00 +0000

These last few days I've been in a bad mood (ok, worse than usual). I've been cranky, I've snapped at friends, I've had bad attitudes for no reason. I can't pinpoint exactly why, but I can make a few guesses.

The job hunt is in full swing and for me that always brings the emotional ups and downs. Searching is tiring, waiting for people to respond can be stressful, getting an interview makes you sweat, and at the actual interview there's a good chance (if you're me) you're going to say something to mess the whole thing up.

Just yesterday I had two job search-related experiences. First I went to a temp agency in the morning and filled out a profile with them. I took a typing test (88, by the way and thank you) and discussed what jobs I did and didn't want. I'll be honest, I'm not holding my breath for anything but what the hell? I didn't pay for these services so no harm, no foul. Later that day I went to a job fair with my roommate. She managed to get herself a part-time evening job; I already have one that I like. I wanted to replace my day job, but this fair was just for events taking place at night time. So I just fumbled my way through an interview for a position I knew I wouldn't take. However I did get to respond to the questions the way I'd always wanted to. When asked "is there anything you struggle with?" I responded "No...I'm flawless."

So after a lukewarm/unsuccessful day of hunting (and wearing a tie and chafing my neck with dress shirts) I decided to relax the rest of the evening and go to a comedy open mic that night. And then without warning, like all bad news, I heard that Robin Williams had died. Now I won't make this one giant blog about his legacy and all the work he's done, nor about the struggles he was dealing with in his personal life (I'm sure you can find those blogs if you so desire).

But I will always be sad when a comedian I like passes away, no matter the circumstances. I remember watching one of Williams' specials (I can't remember which one, nor when exactly I watched it) and being amazed at his sheer energy. He never stopped moving, I think he drank four bottles of water that night and sweat all through his shirt. I laughed so hard, because that is what he was good at doing: making people laugh. I just finished watching The Birdcage on Netflix before writing this blog, and I laughed and cried for various reasons. He was a truly fantastic performer.

Now last night after hearing the news I went to the comedy open mic. It went how it usually goes: I ended up being dead last and the rest of the comics I'd sat through had all gone home, leaving me to shout my set at a crowd of two. It's about as un-Robin Williams as you can get. But, hey...I made those two people laugh. A small thing, sure, but it made me feel better and I had some genuine compliments. So I'm going to keep doing it and trucking through, no matter how many nights I go last or how small the crowd is.

I guess my point of this blog (besides just getting this crap off my mind) is that the world can be an ugly place, for those of you who weren't already aware. It can be things like finding a job or it can be tragedies like the riots unfolding in Ferguson, Missouri. Being the pessimist I am I tend to dwell on negativity and sometimes it takes its toll. But I know I have to grasp at the good things, like making people laugh or just seeing a good movie, to slowly but surely shift my mood into a better one.

I feel I need to insert a sort of disclaimer here and just say that I'm not casually writing off depression. I'm aware it's not as simple as "think happy thoughts and you'll feel better". I'm just saying this as someone who doesn't have depression but feels beaten down by life at times, this is what I do to cope. If you have depression you should seek professional help and do what they tell you to do.

So I'm going to go into the back half of this week with a (comparatively) positive attitude (even though today I had about two hours where I thought I might actually get fired, but that's another over-dramatic story for another over-dramatic time). I encourage everyone else to have a good week, and if you need cheering up pop in your favorite Robin Williams flick. Not just in memory of him, but because I believe there is something for everyone amongst his work. My personal fave is Mrs. Doubtfire and I'm not ashamed. My dad loves RV and he's not ashamed. Just do something to make yourself laugh. It sounds simple, but it helps.

Zoos, Bowling, and Toasting the Lady who Lunched

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sat, 19 Jul 2014 18:52:00 +0000

I was going to share the following in a podcast, however my throat is a little sore and I wasn't up to talking for that long. So I'm going back to the old writing ways. All the fun of the story without my voice reading it for you.

It's been a very active week for me, and not in the whiny "I work all the time" way. I've actually been doing things for fun that also happen to take place outside the house (shocking, isn't it?). It's been an eventful week so let's get into it.

I freakin' love elephants.

On Sunday I spent my morning at the Pittsburgh Zoo. My cousin and her family (husband and three kids) came up to go to the zoo and invited me along. It was a fun time, mostly because I hadn't seen the kids in a while. They are getting big: one of them is nine, another is seven, and the baby is...I wanna say two. If it's not obvious, I don't see them that often. But I love 'em. They're getting into that fun age where they talk and say funny stuff. I mean babies are cute and all but I prefer little smartasses I can trade jokes with. Even the two-year old (I'm committing to two) cracks me up: when I got in the car I said to him "How you doin, Kabe?" and he blew a raspberry at me. Precious.

I'm really not a big "zoo" person. It's a fine time, don't get me wrong, but it's one of many things I think I'd enjoy more if there weren't so many people around. Now this isn't a general "crowd" issue because it never feels too overwhelming. It's more like you just know you're going to encounter a lot of people who walk too slow or crowd around you or say dumb things. For example when we were entering there was a sign that said "Giraffes not on display today." and I heard a man ask the girl at the gate "Why are the giraffes not out, they sick?" Yes, sir, they all have strep throat. It's pretty ugly.

A flamingo enjoying a soda...

I'm very torn on how I feel about zoos. On one hand it is nice to see these animals most people would never get the chance to otherwise. I personally could look at elephants for hours and there were a lot of very interesting looking fish in that big aquarium of theirs. But then I also wondered about how unpleasant the world must be for animals in zoos. They don't have the most space to run around in and most of them are quite far from their natural habitats. They spend every day walking around eating and shitting while group after group of people stand and point at them. We personally wouldn't like it as human beings, but who can say if the animals feel imprisoned or not? Maybe they're happy being somewhere where they get fed daily and don't have to worry about predators.

But you can argue moral problems with zoos in your own time (side note: fuck circuses). On Monday I went bowling with some co-workers and we had a great time. I enjoy bowling: it's one sport you can play if you're in no shape whatsoever and you don't have to touch anybody. Plus, there's drinking. Out of the four people on our lane I didn't do too bad. Ok I lost the first game and there was a three-way tie in the last game. But on the second game I came in second by one point, and I broke one hundred points for the first time to my knowledge (which is nothing to people who bowl regularly, but I was please). I'd like to go bowling more often than every three years or however long I wait. It's a good release: I like knocking things over.

My score is 113.

On Tuesday I saw a screening of the indie film Coherence, which star and Buffy alumni Nicholas Brednon attended and did a Q&A afterwards. It's my third time seeing him in person (we've been to a few cons here and there) and he was lovely as usual. I'll talk more about the film in a review I'll write later.

Wednesday I went to my first ever bar trivia night, once again with some coworkers and some new folks. I didn't have a whole lot to contribute. There were categories like "Country by last three letters of the name" and "20th century quotes" that I just didn't know anything in. One category was movies by the first screencap and I sucked at that one as well. I was beginning to think it wasn't my night, but then in round 2 there was the "TV shows by last line of their theme song" category, and I got us four points there easily. Luckily my team was full of intimidatingly smart trivia people so our group won (mostly because of them, but hey four points is four points.).

Then on Thursday the great Elaine Stritch died and that was sad. I went home after work and watched the fabulous documentary on her life Elaine Stritch: Shoot Me. It was a beautiful look at her life and I loved watching it and enjoy what little work of hers I've seen. I mostly know her from the show Company, but she also played Jack's mother on 30 Rock and Mary's mother on 3rd Rock from the Sun. She was a hilarious woman and she'll be missed.

So that was my week. Next weekend I'm going to a family reunion which will probably supply me with some good stories for y'all. I'll leave you with Stritch and the Ladies Who Lunch.

My Oscar Picks (and the winners!)

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sat, 01 Mar 2014 01:24:00 +0000

The Oscars are 2 days away and while I usually don't care much, this is the first year I've seen all the movies before the awards. Therefore I feel I should put in my two cents. I'm going to say who I want to win and then also who I think will win (I never could pick a winner anyway).

NOW UPDATED WITH THE WINNERS

Best Picture (Links are to all my own reviews)
American Hustle
Captain Phillips
Dallas Buyers Club
Her
Gravity
Nebraska
Philomena
12 Years a Slave
The Wolf of Wall Street
Who I Want to Win: I enjoy so many of these. Gun to my head, though, I have to say Her struck me as most enjoyable, based on it's unique concept and all around great execution.
Who I Think Will Win: I'm leaning towards 12 Years a Slave taking it, or possibly Wolf of Wall Street simply because it got a lot of buzz upon release.
Who Won: 12 Years a Slave

Best Director
David O. Russell (American Hustle)
Alfonso Cuaron (Gravity)
Alexander Payne (Nebraska)
Steve McQueen (12 Years a Slave)
Martin Scorsese (The Wolf of Wall Street)
Who I Want to Win: Each of these films is so radically different, I'm having trouble picking one. I guess since Gravity was such a thrilling ride I'll say Alfonso Cuaron.
Who I Think Will Win: I also suspect the Academy will say Alfonso Cuaron.
Who Won: Alfonso Cuaron

Best Actor
Christian Bale (American Hustle)
Bruce Dern (Nebraska)
Leonardo DiCaprio (The Wolf of Wall Street)
Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years a Slave)
Matthew McConaughey (Dallas Buyers Club)
Who I Want to Win: Another tough one but I kinda think Chiwetel Ejoifor should take this one, although I love me my crazy ol' Bruce Dern in Nebraska (choices!)
Who I Think Will Win: Probably Matthew McConaughey. It's some of the best work he's done and a lot of people were surprised by that. Sometimes that helps.
Who Won: Matthew McConaughey

Best Actress
Amy Adams (American Hustle)
Cate Blanchett (Blue Jasmine)
Sandra Bullock (Gravity)
Judi Dench (Philomena)
Meryl Streep (August: Osage County)
Who I Want to Win: I love all these women, but I think Cate Blanchett will win for her awesome work in Blue Jasmine (I have a review of that I'll publish soon).
Who I Think Will Win: Cate Blanchett: she's already won most things and frankly her character is the most complicated.
Who Won: Cate Blanchett

Best Supporting Actor
Barkhad Abdi (Captain Phillips)
Bradley Cooper (American Hustle)
Michael Fassbender (12 Years a Slave)
Jonah Hill (The Wolf of Wall Street)
Jared Leto (Dallas Buyers Club)
Who I Want to Win: Jared Leto for breaking my heart. Or Barkhad Abdi for scaring me senseless.
Who I Think Will Win: Jared Leto.
Who Won: Jared Leto

Best Supporting Actress
Sally Hawkins (Blue Jasmine)
Jennifer Lawrence (American Hustle)
Lupita Nyong'o (12 Years a Slave)
Julia Roberts (August: Osage County)
June Squibb (Nebraska)
Who I Want to Win: For this one I'm going to go with a long shot and say June Squibb. She made me laugh hard and I love her for that. Lupita Nyong'o made me cry hard, so I'd be happy if she won too.
Who I Think Will Win: Sigh...Jennifer Lawrence. And she was good and I love her, don't get me wrong. She just wasn't my favorite out of these five. But everyone loves her so we'll see how this one goes.
Who Won: Lupita Nyong'o

Best Writing- Original Screenplay
American Hustle- Eric Warren Singer and David O. Russell
Blue Jasmine- Woody Allen
Dallas Buyers Club- Craig Borten and Melisa Wallack
Her- Spike Jonze
Nebraska- Bob Nelson
Who I Want to Win: Gotta go with Spike Jonze for creating a whole awesome world for us to look at and really make the audience think.
Who I Think Will Win: Spike Jonze. That's right, I'm backing my decision.
Who Won: Spike Jonze

Best Writing- Adapted Screenplay
Before Midnight- Richard Linklater, Julie Delpy, and Ethan Hawke
Captain Phillips- Billy Ray
Philomena- Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope
12 Years a Slave- John Ridley
The Wolf of Wall Street- Terence Winter
Who I Want to Win: Steve Coogan and Jeff Pope. This one's pretty selfish, I just love Steve Coogan and want him to have an Oscar.
Who I Think Will Win: Terence Winter. No explanation, just a hunch.
Who Won: John Ridley

I know there are a ton more categories but unfortunately I haven't seen the documentaries, short films, etc. I also don't know the qualifications for sound or camera categories. So to keep it simple I'll stick to these 7 categories. We'll see how I did come Sunday. UPDATE: I got 6 out of 8. Getting myself some ice cream.

Small Cakes, New Desks, Peanuts, and Pinochle: My Birthday.

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Tue, 25 Feb 2014 04:13:00 +0000

The new desk, where all this magic comes from.

Happy Monday internet people! I've been loving Mondays lately. I don't have to be at work til noon, I work a five hour shift, I always have my evenings free (Teen Wolf is on you know). Most people hate Monday for being the start of the work week but I am excited for them because I usually work all weekend.

But not this past weekend: this past weekend I went home to West Virginia for my birthday. The fact that I'm telling you this is uncharacteristic because normally I don't care about my birthday. I'm not being a grump or a scrooge, I just don't get festive or excited about it.

It's not like I've had really sad or tragic birthdays as a child, I just never seemed to get into it as much as everyone else did. Now that I'm in my mid twenties (I'm twenty-five, I'm not saying 'late twenties' til next year) I really don't care much for them. And yes, I know I'm in the minority. I know people that celebrate their birthday the whole week of the date and I just don't understand it. There are approximately 7.146 billion people on this planet. Divide that by 365 days a year and on any given day an average of 19,500,000 are having a birthday (yeah I looked this up). So I don't feel like I'm particularly special on that day What if everyone just took the week off for their birthday? Society would crumble!

However this year was a pretty solid birthday time, especially when compared to last year when I had a very bad cold and a bedbug infestation. There were no big plans to any unique locations or a big party. But nothing bad happened and in my experience qualifies as a good birthday.

First, after working my final shift for Company at the theater me and the rest of the staff were treated to leftover cakes from an event the theater held before the show. My mini cake (I think provided by Oakmont Bakery) had chocolate mousse on top, then a layer of chocolate cake, a more fudge-like layer under that, and the bottom layer was cheesecake. We all went into a diabetic coma that night, and it was a nice accidental birthday cake for me.


I took this pic mostly to show my Ma and say "And what are YOU making for me?"

Then after the show I returned home. Saturday was the day of the "party". It was a simple plan; family would come over for pizza and to play cards. And that's exactly what happened. All my relatives came, I got to see my little cousins, I drank most of a bottle of wine, and pigged out on local favorite DiCarlo's pizza. Although fun fact for you West Virginians: DiCarlo's also makes bread-sticks and they're terrible. Just an FYI if you're ever wondering.

Eventually the kids went home and the older people (I'm one of them now, you know) sat around and played cards and shot the shit. I love playing cards because in addition to the actual card game you also get to talking and sharing stories. A highlight story from my birthday night was listening to my aunts discuss how the plumbing was bad in their home growing up and they had to "flush" the toilet by using a bucket of water. "If you were nice you'd fill the bucket up for the next person." My aunt said. "We usually didn't do that."

I should also mention that we played I think four games of Pinochle on my birthday and, in the spirit of it being my birthday, I lost every one I played. I wish I could blame some of the loss on my sister but honestly I was just dealt shitty cards. Anyone my age even know what Pinochle is?

I told my family "no gifts" when I invited them over, which I think means I'm an adult now. Of course they brought cash anyway, which is perfect for me because I usually buy things I want the moment it's financially reasonable to do so. But I don't wanna seem ungrateful for all the presents I did get, so let's name them.

From my current and future roommates Mara and Gailyn I got a new computer desk (featured in the picture at the top). I'm quite thrilled with it, all though it has that "new desk smell" that makes one woozy. We also signed a lease together, but I'll talk about that in the future.

My mother got me a beanbag chair, to replace another chair I got at Christmas and broke (I can't have anything). It's comfortable and I'm gonna do lots of sitting it in, although I thought when you got older people stopped giving you things that are difficult to get out of.

Peanuts in coke. Don't knock it. (This isn't my photo).

Nana got me a six-pack bottles of Coke and some peanuts to put in it, in honor of my Granddad who put peanuts in his Coke. I saw him do it once and thought it was so bizarre. Then I tried it and holy crap it's delicious. Puts a little salty flavoring into your drink and the peanuts are still crunchy after the soaking. Nana also funded a gift that hasn't gotten to me yet, and when it does it will be changing things up a bit on the ol' blog.

My aunts and cousins got me money mostly (and a Books a Million gift card that went towards Dance With Dragons and some comics). My cousin Lisa supplied the alcohol for the evening, shout out for that.

Oh! And my mom made a Butterfinger cake. It's a cake mix chocolate cake with a Butterfinger glaze and then a cream cheese/cool whip frosting with Butterfinger pieces on top. Impressive for a woman who doesn't cook, no?

Was that interesting? See I don't know, I don't find anyone's birthday interesting so I don't know what qualifies as a good one. But that's the rundown of my weekend. It was a fine birthday and I'm excited for February to be over, not just for the weather but because I'm looking forward to a lot of things in March.

I'll leave you with a celebrity I share a birthday with: Ellen Greene, actress best known for playing Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors. I love a distinctive voice that annoys people. Makes me feel less self-conscious. Til next time!

Fun With The Skivvies!!

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Fri, 14 Feb 2014 14:23:00 +0000

I just got back from an awesome concert in South Side (not to brag). This weekend the City Theater is hosting four performances by the fantastic musical duo, The Skivvies. Composed of musical theater actors Lauren Molina and Nick Cearley, the Skivvies perform stripped-down covers and medleys of all sorts of tunes, while clad in only their underwear.

City Theatre's Lester Hamburg Studio gives the Skivvies a perfect cabaret-esque venue in which to wow their audiences. They have a wide variety of instruments they rapidly switch through, accompanied by Shannon Ford on drums. There are ukeleles, some guitars, that keyboard thing you play by blowing into a hose (I have no idea. I wanna say "Mouth Organ" but that's like crazy dirty, right?). Also Ms. Molina's skills with a cello are just an awesome thing to behold, and it's clear these guys are seasoned pros at what they do.

Both performers are gorgeous specimens with amazing sets of pipes. I mean, really, listening to them sing would be enough of a treat. The fact that they do it naked is just a bonus really (but, you know...don't stop). They have some awesome harmonies, the best are when Cearley goes into his beautiful falsetto. The medleys are fantastic, effortlessly mashing up song after song and putting their own spin on every one of them. One of my personal favorites was a great cover of "Pumped Up Kicks" that was interwoven with Molina busting out some opera skills from "Glitter and be Gay".

When they perform in New York City the Skivvies usually invite various Broadway performers to join them in song (in their underwear, obviously). Continuing that tradition, they've invited some local performers to help them out this weekend. Two of the guests were Hayley Nielsen and Bria Walker, both of whom were very funny and fit in nicely with the group. The third guest was Michael Campayno, who was in NBC's recent live production of The Sound of Music (can I get one more shoutout for dem knees?!?!?). Guests will rotate throughout the weekend (the Post Gazette has an informative article/interview here) and the Skivvies assured us no two shows would be the same.

I stumbled onto the Skivvies quite a while ago as part of an insomnia-induced Youtube session. I instantly loved them and when I learned they were coming to Pittsburgh I knew I had to see them. They actually showed up at the Public to see Company when I happened to be working. I recognized them in the audience and decided to tweet at them, because I'm a weird-ass and I don't know how to talk to humans. That combined with this blog probably has them thinking I'm a lunatic, but I swear I'm just a fan.

So bottom line: The Skivvies are in Pittsburgh through Saturday and if you're not doing anything, get over to South Side and see them. Go for Valentine's Day with a date, or go by yourself (fuck love!) because either way you'll have an awesome time. If you can't go this weekend, I say hit up their youtube videos or try to catch one of their concerts in New York City if you get the chance.They're an awesome group and I'd definitely see them again in the future (but I will stop tweeting at them Phantom of the Opera-style).

The Skivvies have 3 shows left (one on Feb 14th and two on the 15th) at The City Theatre in South Side. Information and ticket purchasing can be done here on their website.

"Role Models" and "Ending" Bullying

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Tue, 28 Jan 2014 02:05:00 +0000

The Super Bowl is coming up soon and ever since I started working for the theater I've been thankful for the excuse of "I have to work that day" when people ask me if I saw something specific. But as I mentioned in my recent marching band post, I don't care much for football. Of course I'm in the minority here. But I'm not going to talk about that again.

A few weeks ago Seahawks defensive back Richard Sherman gave a rather aggressive interview after his team won the game (I don't know what game it was, I don't care. What's a football?). It was deemed by many people to be unsportsmanlike and just plain rude. Of course I had no idea who this was, but I was filled in by the kitchen crew at my restaurant. They were listening to a sports talk radio program, where a table full of sports writers argued about the interview (separate issue: people get PAID to talk about sports).

Sherman's interview.

One writer made the point that Sherman is a role model to kids, whether or not he wants to be, and comments like that wouldn't do much to benefit kids and help them to "end bullying".

For one thing, I don't think it's smart to have a football player be a role model to anybody. Many players aren't very good students, a lot of them have multiple girlfriends, they make a career by slamming themselves into other people, and most of them stop working before age 30. I never understood the logic of making them seem like heroes. It is because they're bigger than us?

Before the sports lovers make this argument, allow me: the same is true for pop stars. Take Justin Bieber and his recent DUI. Everyone lost their minds when this 19 year old singer was caught driving drunk. It would be mildly scandalous if any 19 year old was driving drunk, but this boy is supposed to be a role model so the world flipped their lid.

Bieber's mug shot. I'll admit, smiling was a weird choice.

But think of the lives these people are living. Take Bieber: he's insanely famous and he'll probably be for the rest of his life, and he's not even twenty. He is loved by young girls all over the country, which has probably got to be annoying on some level even for him. People who own stadiums and concert halls want him to make tons of money. Advertisers know their sales will skyrocket if he endorses it. Everyone wants a piece of him and will do anything to get him. Imagine what kinds of things are getting shoved in his face: booze, drugs, women (did you see Wolf of Wall Street?) His life has to have an insane amount of pressure in it and he probably doesn't know how to deal with it.

Now I'm not totally defending him, driving drunk is incredibly stupid no matter who you are. But it's pitiful, the lives these people live are so outrageous and simply by living them they are given so many expectations. Sure he might have brought some stuff on himself with his "badass gangster" image he tries to project (or whatever he does, I really don't know what the appeal is) but overall who knows? He could be deeply unhappy with himself.

"Oh the poor millionaire pop singer, I feel so bad, boohoo." Yeah, I know guys. I'm not defending everything he does. My main issue is why do these people have to be the role models for children. Why can't it be a parent who works hard or something that makes sense? Why can't a parent say "it's nice that you love Justin, honey, but remember he's a flawed person like everyone else so don't try to imitate him." Or something like that, I don't have a parenting book.

Then there's the other thing that sportscaster said about ending bullying. Now bullying has recently become a big issue in this country and there are many organization out to stop it.

But they can't.

There's no way anyone can actually end bullying. You'd have to destroy the Internet first. Take Bieber again; how many people do you know on Facebook or Twitter that made a rude joke at his expense? Is that considered bullying or just mocking a celebrity? Rhetorical question, it doesn't matter. Because the internet has made it easy to lob insults at people. Hell, you can even do it anonymously so there's zero risk at all.

Obviously bullying leads to horrible things. Hearing about a bullied teen committing suicide is heartbreaking every time you hear it. It's awful to hear things like "you're fat", "you're ugly", "you're a fag", "go die", etc. No one should have to endure it, but mostly everyone will at some point in their life.

So what is the game plan? "End Bullying". Going to schools and explaining to kids that it's wrong to be mean to kids just because they're different. Which might seem like a good plan, but the thing about bullies is they usually know right from wrong but they don't care. Usually bullying is someone projecting something they dislike about their own life onto someone else, in an attempt to make themselves feel better.

Lots of comedians get called bullies for making fun of people. I'm sure I've been considered a bully before, because I tease people and make sarcastic comments. Usually I try to make sure people understand that I'm just teasing, but sometimes they don't always think I am. Because when I'm actually angry with someone, I'm not half as witty as I usually am.

My point is, you can't stop bullying from being a thing. The world is full of different people, and that leads to conflicts which can turn ugly. The goal I think we're aiming for is not to let them get ugly, but we don't have a surefire way of preventing that just yet. Now that we have organizations like One Million Moms who claim to want to make life better for their kids but are bullies themselves (said it, will say it again), it's clear the definition of Bullying is going to remain conflicted for some time.

I think that in addition to teaching kids not to be mean to each other it's also important to teach them how to deal with being a victim. I don't mean say "just tough it up!" I mean like rationally talk to them and help them overcome it. Even if we have to tell them to get off the Internet. The Internet can bring out the ugliest side in even the nicest of people, so if people are dicks to you on it when why do you even need it?

Anyway that's my PSA on idols and bullying. If this reaches any high school students that are getting bullied, here's some advice: just hang in there (I wish I could word that more originally). High school is nothing at all like real life and things usually improve once you graduate. You can do whatever you want after you leave; you can even move away and never see your bullies again. That's not called "running away", it's "making your life better".

Oh Deer

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sat, 11 Jan 2014 21:26:00 +0000

WARNING: This blog contains a few pictures that may be viewed as graphic. I mean, they don't bother me or anything, but I don't usually post pictures of severed heads so I figure I'd warn y'all.

I mentioned last time that I was making some jerky for New Year's and today I thought I'd elaborate more on that story. See a few months ago, around Thanksgiving, my father shot a deer. My parents live on a farm in West Virginia and so hunters in our family (and friends of family) like to come to our property and hunt in our woods. For my whole life growing up I was accustomed to seeing strange vehicles being parked along our lane for days and donning an orange vest for when I went on my walks (the orange was to prevent getting accidentally shot).

Dad with his deer.

Now this isn't going to turn into a pro-hunting/anti-hunting post. I personally have never gone hunting or have had any interest in doing so. I'm sure my dad might've asked at one point, but I think after a while he realized I'd get bored and start chatting nonstop so I wasn't a good asset to have along. Hunting seems to contain a lot of waiting, keeping quiet, and staying focused and for a hyperactive kid with ADD that probably wouldn't have worked out well. Also I can't see myself killing something that large and walking away unscathed. I'm not saying killing animals will lead to becoming a serial killer, but I'm worried in my case that would happen.

So hunting is what it is. I'm used to not seeing deer as sympathetic creatures, so I don't feel too bad for them. When you think about it, compared to chickens or livestock that are bred and kept in tiny habitats for meat, deers sort of get the better end of the bargain. And that's really why I'm writing this: it's about the meat.

I was proud of Dad for getting his deer, but also excited when I knew we'd be getting deer meat. See December is a slower month for me work-wise, so I have more time to cook things. So I agreed when my mom (probably joking) offered to send me some deer meat. I had to wait a while because the deer in question has to be skinned and gutted and all that pretty stuff. So my dad gave the deer to my uncle for all that happiness.

We got to keep the head of course.

For a while there I thought I wasn't getting any meat, and I got cranky. Apparently the people that clean the deer keep the meat. "You shot it!" I told my dad, "why don't we get to eat it?" He told me that the point of hunting was more about the rack (it had an 8-point rack, fyi) and he lost me there. You can't eat the rack, it would hurt going in and coming out.

But when Christmas rolled around my uncle brought me some gifts: 2 lbs of deer roast and 1 lb of deer hamburger. Hooray!

The deer roast, nice and bloody.

My first order of business was that I wanted to make deer jerky. So I looked up two recipes on allrecipes.com and got to work collecting all the ingredients. I had two recipes; one was more of a "basic" thing while another called itself "sweet and spicy". I thawed out the roast and cut it into strips. My cutting skills are not great, especially with meat, so instead of strips of jerky I was making chunks of jerky (but really, who cares?). Holding the roast I felt like I had a heart in my hands, and the blood of it left gross red juice on my cutting board. Also it stinks.

I marinated the chunks in each marinade overnight. Then, New Year's Eve, I stayed home to cook them. Now here's where things got shitty. We don't have a food dehydrator, which is the essential jerky-making thing. But the internet told me to keep the oven low and let it cook for hours, namely six. So I did. And after three, I had tiny black pieces of jerky sitting in my oven. "Shit." I said and took them out.

The raw drippy jerky going in...

...And the super well-done jerky that came out.

So, despite the overcooking and the misshapen pieces I was pretty proud of myself. First-time jerky all by myself with few necessary appliances? That ain't bad. This ain't a cooking blog anyway, bite me. We all ate the jerky and passed some around at the New Year's Eve party we attended. We all agreed it was too dry but the marinades made for some good flavor so everyone was happy enough.

But what to do with that hamburger? I thought about it for a while. Meat pie? Stew maybe? I couldn't decide. So I browsed some recipes and then found something awesome: Venison Meatloaf. And I already had the ingredients in the house. Score!

So I made that. It was a fun recipe, I got to put bacon on it which is always great. I forgot that bacon shrinks though so the effect wasn't totally great but I got to make a topping for it that was mostly barbeque sauce so, again, who cares?

Meatloaf pre-cooking.

Out of the oven, covered in sauce.

I'll admit it's not the most visually impressive sight, but it tasted delicious. I ate it with mashed potatoes (store bought, I usually make my own, but I was busy that night) and was in heaven.

These pictures look better in my mind.

So that was that: my first foray into cooking venison. Fun fact, though, "venison" used to refer to mostly any game meat (like boar or rabbit) but now we just associate with deer. It's kind of a snobby word though, I think. I told someone I made deer meatloaf and they said "Oh, venison?". As if "deer" was incorrect. Like "venison" means something that's dead and "deer" means I shoved a live animal into a meatloaf pan. But then jerky is always called "deer jerky", hardly anyone says "venison jerky" so what's up?

Anyway not sure how interesting this was, but I figured I'd share. Next time my father kills something and I get to cook it I'll probably share again.

Marking Time: My Memories of Marching Band

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Tue, 07 Jan 2014 02:19:00 +0000

When I was in elementary school I took up playing the saxophone. My parents encouraged me to do something extracurricular and, not being at all an athlete, I picked music. Why the sax? I guess I just thought it was cooler, jazzier. Cool people played the saxophone, right? Bill Clinton, Lisa Simpson, they all rocked out. I kept with it all through middle school and high school, were I was a band geek for four years.

Then it came time to go to college. I was going to WVU because, frankly, we couldn't afford much else and I was going to college because it seemed wise to do so (in retrospect, it was sort of a mistake). My family was very excited because it meant I would be joining the legendary Pride of West Virginia: The Mountaineer Marching Band!!! And me, thinking that this was apparently inevitable, agreed.

The punchline here is this: I hate marching band. Now don't me wrong, in high school we had fun times, I made great friends, really came out of my shell as a person thanks to being in band. But the actual act of marching band just sucked. For one thing, I don't care at all about football. SHOCKING isn't it? It's not because I'm stupid or snobby or whatever, I have sat in front of many a TV and watched football and tried to get into it and I just can't. Perhaps I'm too cynical, I'm not sure, not getting into that now. (although last night I went on a Twitter rant about football to cure my insomnia. Lots of hateful things I probably need to touch on.)

It's common when a child doesn't want to play football to get them into band, but that makes no sense because the entire purpose of band is to encourage football. Support the team, even though "the team" never talks to me at school and most of the rest of the school will call me a band fag for my trouble. That's not so much the case at WVU, where the band is over 300 people large and gets crazy amounts of love and respect from the students and players. Respect was no longer a problem; the problem was the sheer act of being in the Pride of West Virginia when you had little love for the Mountaineer.

But it seemed important to join this band, more so for my family than me, so I did it. I was used to doing things because people told me to, which is why when I learned I "had" to go to college I reluctantly selected theater as my major because I liked it in high school. I don't really have regrets, although the interest in theater would significantly wane by the time I graduated So there I was: a theater freshman in the marching band. Look out, world.

I experienced a few perks of being in the band. For starters I got to move in a week earlier than the rest of the campus so I avoided that mess of a process. Of course I moved in early because I had to go to band camp. And not funny American Pie sexualized band camp. This was "get ready to memorize all these songs/formations in the 80 degree heat for the next 12 hours" band camp. It was brutal. Admittedly I made friends during that time, and since there was no burden of class it was the only thing we had to worry about. But that was a damn long week.

Then it was time for the first home game, an important day for all band freshmen. If you've never been to a WVU football game, here is the legendary pre-show performance in a nutshell. The band hides out in the tunnels on one end of the field. The drumline marches out, plays a rocking intro (I wanna call it cadence, but I don't know if that's correct. Music people?), and then the band charges out onto the field. It's called "220" because that's how many beats per minute we're supposed to be marching at (but it's just running). Then we form the "Flying WV" and charge down the field. This leads to other songs and shapes, but youtube it yourself.

I'm technically in this video. Can you spot me? (I can't spot me.)

So we charge out onto the field and we're running and the crowd goes freaking wild! Somewhere amongst them my family is going just as wild, getting emotional and just so happy that I'm among this group I've been watching literally since I was 3. The world is a mess of yelling, clapping, and applause.

And I swear to you, I felt nothing standing on that field. I'm not a sociopath, it just didn't mean anything to me. I didn't have the Pride that the band was named after. I was a humble servant to the band and my saxophone was my tool. That stadium wasn't applauding for me, they were applauding for the band. They were applauding for the gold and the blue. They were applauding for football. And I don't give a fuck about football.

Looking back on those games I don't know how I got by, or didn't get thrown out. After doing the exhausting pregame show we would take our seats in the end zone. Fun fact about band uniforms: they're heavy enough to make fall games miserably hot but thin enough to not do anything against the chill of winter. We played many "stand tunes" during the games, and anytime we weren't playing we were supposed to watch the game but I would always try to see how much reception I could get on my phone (usually not much).

I wasn't an especially good band student either. Like I said, there are over 300 people in that band. The directors would encourage us all to memorize our music and play ouy because every voice was important. But if you're a cynic and a realist, then you know there are enough people there that half of them can phone 50% of it in and still be okay. Preshow was the same every game and I still never memorized all of it. Of course I was playing saxophone, and saxophone harmonies in marching band music usually give you the same four notes. Whenever I was unsure I would play G. No one said anything. I'm sure someone somewhere else was playing G.

Then there were these bus trips. Holy crap, how did Isaac do that? I do not travel well and we would have to go FAR away. On buses. With large groups of people. And then stay in hotels. Often with strangers because while I had friends, whenever there was pairing involved I tended to be the odd number. Which is fine, this is life, I was still kind of reserved, who cares?

Speaking of friends, I wasn't making many in the Theater department because band practices every evening. Which was problematic when you have to do things like work on a crew for a show. While I though I had a good schedule worked out with my crew assignment for my first show, it didn't turn out well. I actually failed my crew assignment and got a C in the class overall. The theater people hated me because I was "unreliable", I hated them because I thought they were being unreasonable, I hated the band for being such a time suck, and I hated football for being the cause of this mess.

I watched more football games in those four months than I have in my entire life and I still don't get it. It didn't help that WVU had a good year that year and we won almost every game by a landslide, which is so boring to watch. The game we lost I felt a feeling of happiness as everyone else around me angrily screamed at the outcome. I'm a sick person, I know. Judge away. I think I just hated being unhappy while everyone else is so I enjoyed those moments were everyone could be miserable for a while (oooh, emo. We can look up psychologists in the morning.)

The end of football season approached. The team (and the band) were going to Arizona for the Fiesta Bowl. Know what's in Arizona? I sure don't, because I resigned early from the band because there was no way in HELL I was flying (or busing, I forgot the options) across the country to watch yet another football game! So I turned in my uniform. But I had said I'd probably return next year.

In my spring semester I did some real thinking. I had time to do more theater things, actually made a few friends that semester, and did concert band which was great fun (once a week, awesome music, all I wanted). Then as that semester came to a close I realized there was no way I was going to return to that band next year. There were theater classes I really wanted to get into and I did not want to risk them hating me for my thousand band rehearsals and performances. So I decided to check out.

My family's group reaction was "Oh but whyyyyy?". I explained my very real fear that I wouldn't graduate on time, and didn't harp on the other "because I hate it" facts. I think someone even offered me money if I did it again. But I said no and broke a few hearts. Being an 18/19 year old, I went through a little fit and put the entire year behind me. Got rid of all the pics of me in the band (to an extent I can't find any for this blog), fell out of touch with all my band friends, and stopped playing the saxophone altogether (it's been about 6 years since I've touched one.) My ma (or maybe Nana) made a collage of the pictures she took of me in the band; it was on the wall for about a year and now resides in a corner in my bedroom at my parents' house.

The purpose of this story was not to shit on the band, mind you. They're great people and they do a great job. But it wasn't right for me and that was the problem the whole time. It was something I didn't wanna do that I somehow found myself doing and I just wanted to be angry about that.

My Nana loved to proudly tell her friends I was in the WVU Marching Band. "Oooh, I bet that's fun!" Little old ladies would say to me. "It's something," I'd said through my teeth. When I had finally officially quit Nana told me "I was disappointed when you said you weren't going to go back, but I'm proud of you for sticking with your guns and making that decision."

And that felt great to hear. It was my first post-high school big decision. It would be followed by many. Granted, some of these decisions might have been poor ones but they were mine to make. The band was a perfect representation of how I'd lived life before: suffering through things I didn't enjoy for the sake of pleasing others. I've since gotten over that and it's a good thing.

My one year in the band seemed to satisfy everyone. Technically I'm a marching band alumni (sounds better than "quitter"). Four years later my sister, who was majoring in MUSIC of all things, didn't join the marching band and no one really fought her about it. So "You're welcome" Sade, I took one for the team there. Every football game I've gone to since leaving the band has resulted in a loss for WVU; a clear sign that I'm a curse and a good excuse to never attend one again. Not that I need an excuse because, as we've learned from all this, I do what I want.

Jerky and Netflix, That's What I'm Doing!!

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Tue, 31 Dec 2013 17:45:00 +0000

A pic of the jerky (or chunks) I'm making today. I'll go into further detail in the new year.

I was wondering what sort of hokey New Year's themed thing I should write today. A list of resolutions? No, screw that. See if I put resolutions on the internet, the world will know when I haven't completed them and who needs that? I mean in addition to myself knowing I'm not going to the gym, now everyone on Facebook knows I'm not going (I'm not going to the gym, I'm continuing not having a car and not eating Doritos for lunch so I'm fine thanks).

I thought about doing a list of my favorite movies or books this year, but in the end decided against it. If you read my critic blog you'll see it was kinda a slow year, I saw less than 30 movies or plays and some of them I just netflixed. So maybe that will be a resolution, try to see more than 30 things this year. Same goes for books, I don't think I've read 30 books this year and I feel like that's a low number (take this moment to feel guilty if you haven't read 4 books in the last 5 years). I'm aware these are small goals, but I'll keep any big resolutions to myself and tell you about them if I succeed.

Anyway I don't know what I'm looking forward to in the New Year or the things I'd like to change. Of course I also don't know what I'm looking forward to for the rest of my life, let alone 2014 specifically. But I can take things as they come, this could be an awesome year or it could be really shitty. Never know til it starts I guess so let's get this over with and start changing the last number of the date on our checks!

How am I ringing in the New Year? Well I don't have to work so that's pretty fabulous. I'm currently cooking some deer jerky, which I'll give a whole blog about this story later (it's also going to keep me in the house for the next six hours). Also there's leftover chili I made in the fridge that I'm going to attack soon. And then because I always need a laugh (and perhaps to encourage me to make others laugh too) I'm spending the day engrossed in comedy. Last night I stayed up watching Mike Birbiglia's "My Boyfriend's Girlfriend" on Netflix and this morning I just watched Bo Burnham's "what." (also up on Youtube). They've very different styles but are 2 really brilliant shows, I recommend them both highly. I also have Jen Kirkman's podcast "I Seem Fun" lined up, a Joan Rivers special on Netflix, and the DVD I got for my roommate: Jessica Kirson "Talking to Myself". Hopefully today is a day full of laughs (and chili, all the chili).

Tonight we're going to a little party. It should be fun, we're excited to go and we're gonna dress up and look classy. It'll be a fun day and it should lead us into a fun week. I go back to work at the theater Thursday, if you missed The Chief in the last 10 years here's your chance all over again. I'm actually going to stop now and clean up the entire kitchen because I got jerky marinade splattered everywhere. So everyone have a safe and happy night and I'll see you all in the new year.

Why A Christmas Story is So Fudging Good

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Wed, 25 Dec 2013 18:20:00 +0000

Merry Christmas Everybody (or if you don't celebrate, happy hump day).

I'm typing this out on my ma's iPad, and I have no idea how these few pics I have are going to turn out. But to the left is a pic of our Christmas tree I took last night I wanted to share. And yeah, it's real.

We just did presents and now my ma, sister, and I are sitting around while A Christmas Story plays in the background. This movie is insanely popular, loved by mostly everyone including myself. Now I'm somewhat of a Scrooge; while I don't necessarily hate Christmas I don't really get excited about it. I loathe the many thousands of Lifetime TV Movies about white women falling in love around the holidays, and I don't even watch the old stop-motion classics. So why is A Christmas Story my one exception?

There are the obvious reasons, the reasons everyone loves the film: the classic scenes (leg lamps), the quotable lines ("he looks like a pink nightmare!"), the sweet subtle feel of the whole thing. It's incredibly well-written and perfectly cast. But I think what makes the movie so magical is the actual total lack of magic. There are no miracles, Santa Claus isn't real, and Ralphie never learns the true meaning of Christmas. It is quite possibly the most realistic holiday movie ever.

Take Ralphie: he isn't a cute kid who is totally in love with Christmas. He's like one of the "bad" kids in an animated feature, whose mind is solely on presents. And Ralphie is kind of a jerk; he's mean to his little brother, abandons a friend stuck to a metal pole, blames another friend for teaching him the F word...he's not a little angel to say the least.

But Ralphie isn't a bad kid; he's a normal kid that sometimes does bad things. And while he sometimes gets away with them, karma has a way of making him pay for it ("Be Sure to Drink Your Ovaltine"). His constant small-scale struggle with being a child combines with his overactive imagination is what makes Ralphie such a lovable character.

What else makes this film so great is that there is no clear message, like "Rudolph" (it's okay to be different) or "It's a Wonderful Life" (appreciate what you have, don't kill yourself). A Christmas Story shows us a typical family Christmas, for better or worse. While Ralphie goes through some troubles, there is no "laying it on thick" scene where a parental figure gives him encouragement. The emotional climax for Ralph is when he finally snaps and assaults the neighborhood bully, in one of the most satisfying movie beat downs of all time. His mom pulls him off, takes him home, cleans him up, and covers for him in front of his father. And that's that. A quiet and super real handling of a situation. A Christmas Story is like an alternative comic's Christmas movie in the way that it doesn't feel like any other kind of holiday film.

The movie is also a great way to transition a child from a believer-in-magic to a wise cynic. Case in point, one of the film's antagonists is Santa Claus. Here Santa is a pissed off, almost sadistic mall Santa whose maniacal "Ho. Ho. Ho." is so devoid of anything resembling Christmas cheer. His denial of Ralphie's request for a BB gun is the twist; in all other movies Santa would be the one to save the day, but here our hero's "last hope" fails him. But as we know, the Old Man (Ralphie's dad) gets him the gun anyway. So even as we see Santa himself denying a kid, we also see that sometimes things work out anyway, even if it's as simple as the gruff dad giving his son a BB gun. Of course, that pesky karma (or perhaps just simple irony) gets in the way and Ralphie almost immediately shoots his eye out.

The real beautiful moments of A Christmas Story don't stand out us much as the telephone pole scene, or the Santa, or "Mommy's little Piggy", etc. It's the simple moments where the family just sits around and enjoys life. Like in the real world, after the presents are opened the Christmas high is gone. As Ralphie sits with his parents on the couch after opening presents they reflect. The Old Man asks Ralphie if he got everything he wanted, to which Ralph says "Almost." The Old Man replies "Almost, huh? Well that's life." although we know he's got the gun Ralph desires. And that is a beautiful moment, a life lesson and an act of love in less than 30 seconds. The Old Man says that sure, life is disappointing but sometimes good things can happen, especially if you've got a family who loves you.

That being said, I'm going to enjoy my time with the family who loves me. Everybody have a great Christmas/holiday time today!

Falling Out of Love with Harry Potter

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sun, 15 Dec 2013 21:29:00 +0000

I have a confession to make that's startling to me: I have apparently fallen out of love with Harry Potter.

Now I loved Harry Potter when it was all the rage. I was in the stores at midnight to get the books, I saw all the movies, I listened to Wizard Rock, and I enjoy a bit of fan fiction now and then. Like seemingly the rest of the country, I was a super fan obsessed with the boy wizard.

Nowadays? Meh. I'm not saying I have a hatred for Harry Potter, nor for anyone who is still a superfan. No, this falling out of love is definitely on me.

Now of course these movies play all the time on ABC Family, which I don't watch because I'm pretty sure I have the DVDs. But it doesn't matter because the need to rewatch these movies has not struck me in months. Not that they're bad or anything, I just don't want to watch them again.

So what does that mean? People get tired of watching movies, it happens. But it's not just the movies. I haven't reread the books in ages, and I love those books. I read the Ice and Fire books now (I'm clearly a sucker for fads) and they give me my fantasy fix plus adult themes like murder and incest. So no rereading has happened lately.

I'm not sure what triggered this loss of interest, but I think it's simply time. I appreciate the things I read years ago and I love them, but I don't dwell on them anymore. I don't laugh at any Harry Potter-related jokes or gifs, because it feels like we've heard them all before.

Take for instance Harry Potter World at Universal Studios. I'm sure it's magnificent and beautiful and makes children really believe in magic. But if I die having never gone there I'd be fine with that. Of course the dark cynic in me just thinks a theme park is just a franchise's way of taking more money from you. I mean, a book series has become a THEME PARK. Kinda sad, right? It's like going to Disney World after learning there are just humans inside those character suits: the magic is gone and it's hard to get it back.

I was told you can stand in line at Ollivander's wand shop and get your own want at Harry Potter World. Here's my thing: Yes, we all want wands. We've all wanted wands since we read about them and practiced dueling in our rooms. We wanted to be wizards and witches. It was a fantasy and a fun one at that. And now we can find our wands and feel like our fantasy has come true. We'll give the wand a wave jokingly, but deep down some part of us will be disappointed to learn that we are not magic beings and that the fantasy will never come true.

Quidditch is apparently now something you can play. I've gone through Pitt's campus and seen a field set up with three recognizable hoops. And I'm sure it's a super fun time. But what we loved about Quidditch was how wonderfully impossible it was. It was played in the air! On brooms! There were balls that moved on their own accord! Again I say real world Quidditch is probably fun but I'm sure everyone playing it thinks afterwards "Damn, if only we could fly."

Recently Starbucks started selling "Butterbeer", a popular drink in the Harry Potter universe. People went nuts, acting like this meant magic had entered our world at last. I heard it wasn't very good, that it was just sugar and caramel and butterscotch. But of course it wasn't good! It's a fictional drink that was being produced by the monsters at Starbucks! (No offense Starbucks.)

So I think I've grown out of it. I'm not saying it's childish to like Harry Potter, I'm simply saying I get little out of it anymore. I know what happens, I know the funny parts, the sad parts, the beautiful moments. I know what happens to the smallest of characters and I know what everyone's favorite quotes are. I'll occasionally get into a discussion about the Potterverse. I favor fanfictions where Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan end up together, and I will always argue that the film version of Ginny Weasley is total crap compared to the book character.

But when I read a post or a tweet along the lines of "Harry Potter is on TV right now!" I just think "So what?" This is a story that is branded into our heads so I don't get excited anymore. I feel like I'm just in the phase after everything is new and before I feel nostalgic about it. When I was a kid I liked Power Rangers and Pokemon, then I backed off for a while because I was growing up and interests were changing. Now as an adult I'll occasionally revisit them and enjoy them, mostly for nostalgia's sake. But right now, I don't miss Harry yet. I'm sure a few years from now I'll wake up and think "Damn I wanna reread those books." and I will, and the love will return as strong as ever. In the meantime, Harry, I'm just gonna shrug when I see you. It's not you, it's me.

Is Ginny heartbroken? Nah, that's her resting face.

Christmas Time is Apparently NOT about Being Nice to People

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sat, 30 Nov 2013 15:58:00 +0000

Thanksgiving morning I woke up at 8 AM, as I am prone to doing, and went out to my parents' living room. I flicked on the TV and tuned in to the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on NBC. I pick NBC because they show performances from current hits on Broadway, and I like seeing what's going on there.

The musicals perform before the actual parade footage starts, as sort of a pre-show type thing. This year featured numbers from Motown: The Musical, Matilda, Kinky Boots, and Pippin. The performances varied: I found Motown to be a boring concept, and I have no real interest in Matilda or Pippin. But I remember watching Kinky Boots (a show I heard about but knew very little) and thinking "hey, this is actually kind of cute."

And life went on, as did the parade. It had all the classics; marching bands, giant balloons, floats with music stars doing bad lip-synch...all the things we've come to expect. There were cameos from my childhood, namely the Power Rangers and the Ninja Turtles. It was a fun time.

Then today what news am I greeted with by the internet? People are outraged, OUTRAGED that Macy's allowed a performance of Kinky Boots, a show featuring drag queens, to air during the parade. People were bombarding Macy's Facebook page with horrible comments.

And I lost my mind.

Now granted, anyone who goes on to a business' facebook page to complain about something is an idiot child. If you end a post with "I guess I won't be shopping there anymore", you're a loser. But these people, people who claim to be defenders of Christmas, are just hateful.

This is about Christmas, a time everyone pretends to celebrate peace on earth and good will towards men. Unless of course those men are dressed as women, in which case "EW GET THESE FAGGOTS OFF MY TV SCREEN!" Christmas isn't for everyone, people: you have to be one of the good ones.

I just love how easily people think Christmas gets attacked. "OH MY GOD WE HAVE TO SAY 'HAPPY HOLIDAYS' NOW?!? WHAT'S HAPPENING TO THIS COUNTRY??" And anytime someone brings up the "War on Christmas" I get a searing pain in my forehead, because there is no such thing as a war on Christmas. Even if there were, Christmas is still celebrated by well over half the country so there is no danger of "losing" the war. But goodness, people just love to play the victim don't they? It's hard to be a part of the most popular religion in the world, isn't it?

I won't make this about religion, although I firmly believe that is the crux of this "outrage". The major complaint from the good people of Facebook is "HOW ARE WE SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN THIS TO OUR CHILDREN?!?" That's very simple. You tell them that sometimes men dress as women and perform comedy routines for people. Because that's, um, the truth.

And can I just say, who cares about the children? I think people focus entirely too much on what "the children" are exposed to. Now if Macy's featured Santa Claus fucking a reindeer, I'd probably agree that was scarring to children. But no one did that. It was a little drag performance that could be explained in the sentence I gave above. No one said you had to explain to your kids any intricate details about sex, because there was nothing sexual about it. Just watch the number and move on to the giant floating Spongebob.

If you've never been to a drag show or met a drag queen and think they're disgusting, let me tell you something: they're not. They're human beings who are being themselves and doing what they love to do, and they deserve the right to be happy and celebrate the holidays too. There is nothing "anti-family" about a drag queen. They're actually fun; that's the point, see? They're entertainers.

And don't tell me that was an inappropriate performance. If those slutty Rockettes get dragged out into the cold year after year to kick their legs up in the air wearing no pants, then we can see a few drag queens in fabulous costumes. Men can be beautiful too.

Now I can't say I'm that surprised, really. People disagree about all sorts of things. Over my 24-hour stay with my family I was reprimanded for cursing and for telling a story about a time I got drunk. I am 24 years old and, frankly, living a healthy and safe life. But I'm not an exact version of the person people want me to be and that upsets them. But I don't care. I say "fuck" a lot and I occasionally drink. I'm still a good person, I think, and I don't hurt people. Nor do I expect other people to become who I want them to be.

And that's the issue with the parade. Some people didn't like what they saw with Kinky Boots but instead of just saying "well that was stupid" they go on a long temper tantrum about everything that is "wrong" with American and how "disgusted" and "ashamed" they are of Macy's and NBC. There are many things on TV I don't like, namely reality shows on E! and most half-hour sitcoms on right now. But because I don't like something that doesn't make it bad; as long as it isn't hurting anything what should I care what people watch?

Ironically, the actual number Kinky Boots performed had a lot to say about accepting others for who they are. And that's kind of what God/Jesus/Allah/Whoever would want you to do right? Everyone gets to celebrate holidays, including gays and transgender people. If you disagree with that, I have horrible news: you're on the wrong side of humanity. So why not take a page from Kinky Boots script and try to accept people for who they are this Christmas? And then keep accepting all year round. Because I think that's what decent people should be doing.

So, I applaud Macy's and NBC for allowing Kinky Boots to perform. As cheesy as Macy's Christmas commercials can get, their decision to be an inclusive and non-discriminating company shows that they really do grasp the concept of what the holidays should be like. This was not some political statement, no one is "lecturing" anybody (well, I'm lecturing right now). It's an award-winning musical and it was supposed to be fun. And for those of us with hearts, it was.

I'm sure I'll blog again soon, but in the meantime HAPPY HOLIDAYS FUCKERS.

Delirium: Noodles

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Wed, 27 Nov 2013 02:54:00 +0000

I'm writing to you right now in a state of food delirium. My friends and I, all having the evening off, decided to have a little mini-Thanksgiving. The menu? Fried chicken nuggets, rice with veggies, green beans, beer bread, and noodles. I made the noodles and I also made a chocolate pecan pie for dessert. Everyone is sprawled out in the living room waiting for death while we listen to Foster the People. My friends are yelling at me, claiming I put drugs in the noodles and that's weakened them. It's been a weird evening.

Anyway I actually have a topic this time that sort of ties in with Thanksgiving. I'm going to talk about noodles. That's right, welcome to some top-rate FOOD TALK.

Ok so for years of my childhood I adored my grandmother's noodles. Like she made them for every big family gathering and I couldn't get enough of them. Instead of going for pie for dessert, I would get more noodles. I was obsessed, fat, and happy.

Then as I grew older I learned how to make these delicious noodles from my grandma, and from then on every Thanksgiving I would help her make them. The recipe, and the noodles themselves, are actually very underwhelming. These are your basic egg and flour noodles, with a splash of milk to make them stick together. Combine these things in a food processor, roll up the dough, and then cut into noodles with an electric knife. Leave the noodles out overnight and the next day throw them in some chicken broth alongside a chicken breast. Simple and delicious.

What was fun (and is still fun) about making noodles is that it doesn't have to look pretty. Noodles were any shape, size, length, and consistency. It's the perfect food for a child to help make, and for a 24 year old who likes to be sloppy. I also don't own a food processor or an electric knife, so I go old school and that shows in the result. My mother doesn't particularly like to cook and I like it enough but don't do it a lot so it's nice to make something as stupidly simple as basic egg noodles.

Due to my work schedules these past few years I haven't been able to help cook the noodles with my family on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, which is the tradition. My grandmother, who is no longer with us, did get help from her great-grandchildren and they are keeping the tradition going with my aunts, so all is well in noodleville.

While I prepared the noodles last night in my underwear with my iPhone tucked into the waistband (listening to Alabama Shakes) I realized this was a far departure from when I started making noodles with Grandma. But that's okay. Making them reminds me of her, and that's a good enough reason alone (eating the noodles afterwards is an added plus).

Anyway, Thanksgiving is the day after tomorrow and that's exciting. We're doing a smaller get-together this year than we usually do, which is great. My aunts don't have to break their backs cooking this year, there will be more room for everybody...I anticipate a good time had by all. I offered to help make the noodles this year by preparing them in Pittsburgh and cooking them in West Virginia. However I was told my little cousins have grown very attached to making noodles and would likely pitch a fit if they were left out. Despite the fact that I've been throwing fits for 24 years, I decided to be the adult and let them make the noodles.

I'm going to make a peanut butter pie tonight and take it home tomorrow, at my mother's request. I was going to make a pumpkin pie but apparently my aunt's recipe makes 5 of those so it seems redundant. I always fight with my pie crusts, but lately I got lucky and was able to pull of this beauty...

Ok beauty isn't the right word. The crust falls apart kind of and we don't have a good pie spatula so I usually end up tearing it out with a fork. But hey, pie is pie, so as my mother says "Eat it and say it's good."

Alright that's it for me. Happy Thanksgiving y'all.

My Laptop is "Catching Fire" (and my plans for today)

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sat, 23 Nov 2013 15:05:00 +0000

I tried to write this post in the comfort of my bed on my 7-year old laptop. Unfortunately it's on borrowed time at this point. The above picture is a cable I ordered that came in the mail a few days ago. It now has a nice scorch mark from the input hole on my laptop. After countless times of knocking it off the bed the thing has always been difficult to charge and now it lives to burn any cable I plug into it. I'm planning on removing any files I feel attached to from it and then "pull the plug".

So I'm writing this from my awesome desktop and I'm writing it because I don't have to go to work today (either of them) and it's the first time that's happened in a long time. And so excited am I for the day I'm going to have that I decided to write my feelings before it starts.

This week was a long one. Starting on Wednesday I worked both of my jobs three days in a row. My first job starts at 10 and my second job ends at 10. Neither job is particularly stressful, but it's just a matter of being around people and wearing pants that bothers me. But I got through it, next week's paychecks should be bangin', and I got stuff to do today (stuff I can afford, thanks to all the working).

I will share this: during yesterday's shift at the restaurant (we've had a very slow week as far as mornings go) someone put a "Kick Me!" sign on our dishwasher's back. Classic prank, right? I'm not sure why but I laughed like a little girl when I saw it. It's the little things that get you through work, am I right? I snapped a creeper picture of the sign, and gave it a weird Instagram filter because, well, bored at work.

Anyway on to today. After I finish writing this I'm heading off to the library to pick up some books I got ordered. One is a book called Haunted West Virginia by Patty Wilson. I've been getting into West Virginia ghost/monster stories, and for a specific reason that I'm not gonna get into just yet. I'm also picking up an X-men comic and David Sedaris' Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls for when I get too scared or overwhelmed from reading about monsters.

This afternoon we're going to see Catching Fire and I'm really looking forward to it. I enjoyed the Hunger Games book series and the second book is very good so I'm hoping the movie adaption will be a good time. Then later tonight we're going to see Blue/Orange at the Pittsburgh Playwright's Theater, put on by new theater company The Phoenix. I will review both of these things and put them on my other blog, hopefully by tomorrow evening.

And then tonight, I'm unembarrassed to say, I plan on staying in with a bottle of wine and watching Josh Hutcherson host Saturday Night Live (I don't care, I went out last weekend). This combined with seeing Catching Fire is going to make for a very heavy Josh Hutcherson day which is totally fine. In fact let's start it right now.

There ya go: a little Catching Fire preview and some arm appreciation for both sexes. You're welcome.

Eek I don't really have a topic to talk about in full detail. This blog has become a sort of diary for me, sharing my thoughts no matter if they're mundane or interesting. It's also a way for me to force myself to write something, which is not something I'm always in the mood to do. So if you've made it this far, hey thanks for indulging.

I'll tell you about the dreams I just woke up from, because they were pretty weird and scary. I went to bed last night after reading about the Flatwoods Monster so of course it haunted me a little. It's a little hazy, but I recall being home in West Virginia and there were cars full of strangers parked outside (like a family reunion, they seemed friendly but I don't know who they were). Some of the cars were on fire, others had weird bird-like creatures inside scaring the passengers. I grabbed a fire extinguisher and put out someone's car, something I doubt I'd be capable of doing in real life.

I woke up suddenly because I thought THERE WAS A CAT IN MY BED AND THERE SHOULDN'T BE. I haven't lived with a cat in a while now but I swore I felt one jump over me in my sleep. Woke me up and had my heart racing. Stupid imaginary cat. At least I hope it was imaginary, I never did check under the bed.

Alright there, my plans and my dreams. Short and sweet, and now I'm going to abandon my computer for most of the day. Hope everyone has a lovely weekend. I'll leave you with Josh Hutcherson holding a dog.

Stories, Songs, and an Excess of Cereal

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Sun, 17 Nov 2013 20:53:00 +0000

My cereal intake. Why'd I use two bowls? I have no idea.

For the first morning I've had off in a while, I've done a load of laundry and consumed two bowls of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. It's been a good lazy morning to what was an eventful week.

Last Tuesday my roommate Mara and our friend Gailyn went to The Moth, a storytelling open mic event that I think I've talked about a few times before. This is the first time I've went without putting my name in the hat to tell a story, and it was nice to just sit back and enjoy listening to all the tales. The theme was "Planes, Trains, and Automobiles" and we heard stories about traveling and favorite cars that met a heinous demise. The winner was a woman who told us about when she was detained at the airport because her young son had some thumbtacks in his backpack. Next month's theme is "Home" and hopefully I'll have a story to contribute to that one.

Friday saw the opening night of True West at the Pittsburgh Public Theater (which I've reviewed on my other blog, if you're interested). Opening night is always a fun time, mostly because there's a fun after-party we get to attend. Gailyn and my friend Erika came and saw the show and then we all attended the after party. My coworker and friend Jodi had two friends come also, and it's always fun when you combine people together to drink, eat, and laugh (all of which we did a lot of). There's always fun grub at these parties; I was particularly happy to scarf down all the deviled eggs and churros I could find.

Then last night after work Gailyn and I went to Club Cafe in South Side to see an awesome concert: The Spring Standards and You Won't. I was familiar with The Spring Standards after seeing them on The Mountain Stage, but I'd never heard of You Won't. So imagine my very pleasant surprise when I was totally blown away by their set.

You Won't is two men, Josh Arnoudse and Raky Sastri, who make truly awesome music. Arnoudse plays guitar and sings lead with a high and powerful singing voice, while Sastri harmonizes and plays a variety of instruments ranging from drums, harmonica, xylophone, and the saw. Oh yeah, for at least three songs he played the saw, which is not something you see everyday and really should.

A real highlight was near the end of their set when they had the crowd at Club Cafe (a great intimate venue) form a circle in the middle of the room and shine phone flashlights on their faces while they played acoustically in the center. Sastri played an organ-esque thing that you squeeze a little (I don't know what it's called, I'll look it up later) while Arnoudse sang a beautiful ballad that I'm going to call "Fuck TV" because I don't know what it's name was. But it was fantastic.

Playing the Saw!

Acoustic circle!

Oh yeah, he hopped up on the bar a little too. Fun!

Then the Spring Standards came on and continued the fantastic-ness of the night. The trio hailing from New York City are really amazing performers, each boasting a great singing voice and the ability to play multiple instruments at the same time. They each have beautiful hair that they whip around while they sing, and despite the fact that I was tired at that hour their energy was too infectious to resist. Check them out!

We stayed for their first encore, which involved the acoustic circle and the involvement of You Won't. They sang "So Simple So True" off their double EP "yellow/gold" and it involved so many beautiful voices and, of course, the saw. Unfortunately it also featured the voices of the drunken patrons of Club Cafe who apparently didn't come to appreciate good music, because they kept talking and snickering during the beautiful moment. Some jagoff even whistled in a way to imitate the saw playing. I resisted the urge to beat him up, despite strong desires to do so.

Gailyn and I then high-tailed it out of there, missing whatever else the encore was going to consist of. Not because we weren't enjoying ourselves (we were!) but we had to walk 12 blocks to catch the last bus that would take us home. And if you don't know, South Side on a Saturday night is a shit show. Gailyn and I are both very fast walkers when we want to be and we zoomed through crowds of people. One man was lying on the ground in handcuffs while a crowd looked on, a bunch of college boys were getting into fights, some girls couldn't walk. When I drink I get giggly and sleepy, I can't imagined getting angry and/or arrested. Alcohol isn't for everyone, is it? Anyway, we caught our bus and completed our walk home without issue so it was a successful night.

Aaaand that was my week. I'm about the jump in the shower and go work a shift at the theater. Got a long week coming up, I'm working lots of shifts at both jobs. Which is great, because I like food and things, but I also like excess sleeping so it's little disheartening. But that's okay, I will make it and hopefully have some stories to tell later. Have a good week everyone!

October: Film Festivals, Idiot Girls, and Spock/Leia fanfic.

noreply@blogger.com (ICrow) — Tue, 12 Nov 2013 04:32:00 +0000

Whoops, and there went October. Sorry, I tend to get distracted. I mean I'm not busy or anything, sometimes I just wander off and forget what I was doing. There's a strong chance I'll wander off six times while I write this and I'll be impressed if it gets posted.

So...what's new with me? Not a whole lot. Like I said, October came and went. Halloween happened, I'm sure most of you got all dressed up and ran around and what not. This evening I just rolled and cut some homemade noodles that I'm really excited for. I think I'll talk more about noodles closer to Thanksgiving, it'll be more appropriate.

What I did right before writing this blog. In case you want context.

Oooh something that happened in October: I went to the Reel Q Pittsburgh LGBT film festival. Well, okay, I went on the one night I wasn't working that week. But I had a fun time. It was held downtown at the Harris theater and I went on the "Men's short films" night. It showcased seven short films; some were funny, some poignant, and all entertaining. The good thing about short films is that if they're good, great. And if they're shitty well then luckily they'll be over soon. Even the films I didn't enjoy as much I didn't downright hate, so I'd say it was a successful night of shorts.

They give you a scorecard at the festival for the shorts and you get to rate each movie and give them feedback. Here's my list. I'll spare you me reviewing seven films at once and just say that the final two, Summer Vacation and Spooners were my favorites of the night.

Summer Vacation was an Israeli film about a young couple enjoying a beach vacation with their children that gets disrupted when the husband's former/secret lover happens to be staying on the same beach. It was the longest of the short films but was very well-paced. The characters were fully formed and developed as we watched the husband go through some heart-wrenching stuff. It was a very effective short drama.

The cast of Summer Vacation

Spooners, which incidentally won "Best Male Short", was a hilarious story about a man trying to purchase a mattress for him and his husband. The man is uncomfortable about telling the world he is shopping for himself and another man, and unfortunately for him his fears are trudged out in front of everyone at the Ikea-ish furniture store. An overeager salesman shows the man a high-tech talking bed that picks a mattress based on your lifestyle. After learning the man is gay, disco music plays, an audience is drawn, and the computer proceeds to ask questions like "describe your body type as it is listed on you Manhunt profile." A very funny and tender film from beginning to end.

The crowd gathers to watch this gay pick a mattress.

Alright, what else happened in October? Ooh I took a trip to Morgantown last weekend. I have a few highlights from that.

I was going to Morgantown to visit my sister, see a show West Virginia University was putting on, and have a fun weekend off. I took the Megabus down on Friday. It was packed full of college kids, naturally. I brought a book (The Telltale Lilac Bush... for all you WV ghost story fans) to read and some podcasts to listen to for the relatively short trip.

I was going to put the picture of my actual copy, but my computer is being way stupid at this late hour.

But distracting me from my book was the chatter of a trio of college girls a few rows behind me. Now I don't want to shit on my school, because I'm sure all colleges are like this, but HOLY CRAP. College girls can be morons. One girl expressed surprise that there were deer in New Jersey. "Are there deer in South Carolina?" she asked her friend who lived there. "Wait, are there deer like throughout the country?" She eventually googled "Do deer live in all the US?". She read the answer aloud to her friends.

Another girl confessed she didn't know tuna was a fish, like an actual fish that swam in the ocean. I couldn't hear what she did think it was (I assume she thought it was like Spam?) but she was surprised to see how big tuna were. Because how could they fit in that little can? I wanted to scream.

These girls were also upset at how late the Megabus was in getting us there (fact; it was about 15 minutes late, which is acceptable to everyone). I'm not sure why these girls were in a rush to get there, they clearly didn't have a zoology course to get too where they learn that tuna are fish and that deer have legs. The girl next to me couldn't take her fingers out of her fake-black hair for one second. The boy across the aisle held a toothpick in his mouth the entire time. I was relieved to finally get off the bus.

That night we saw WVU's production of Cabaret. I saw a few of my professors there (I was a theater tech major) and it was nice to catch up with them. Judging by the beautiful set that folded in on itself, it seems the tech department still likes to keep its students busy. I won't go into a full-blown review, but Cabaret is one of my favorite shows so I had a good time.

The rest of the trip remains a blur. Overdid my drinking Friday night, like some 24-year old freshman. Shout out to my sister for taking care of me when I wanted to die. Next morning I did my hangover-cure routine before the rest of the house woke up and then we watched Cloud Atlas. It's 3 hours long and it's stupid. Then I hung out with my buddy Jack for a bit and later went to a costume party (I agreed to be the sober driver, it seemed fair). Saw a few kids from high school at said party, which was a nice thing even though I hate crowded house parties. The real highlight of this evening was watching Spock make out hard and heavy with Princess Leia. People took pictures of them and they didn't even notice. Good stuff.

I think that's it. That's the short/sweet version of my October. Ready for November. True West just opened at the Pittsburgh Public Theater. I have a lot of fun things ready to do this week that I'll probably yack about soon. Probably have some good stories too once Thanksgiving rolls around. So yeah, hello again internet. Let's keep in touch.