Saturday, November 12, 2005


I hate the leather baseball hat. It's so....trashy. And I know, it's leather and therefore should be considered classy. But it's not. It's so trashy that when I think of it, pictures of pale, bleach blond 40 something women with fat asses and turquoise jewelry flash in my head. There may or may not be droopy cleavage involved in this picture of mine-ok, there is, and perhaps this is why I hate the leather cap more than I should...

It also conjures up that nasty stale smoke smell that often seeps out of this imaginary leather cap wearing hag. You know the smell-it's the one that lingers for at least a half an hour after they leave the room-it's so bad that when they are with you, you can actually see the smoke coming out of their pours. And they always have a rhaspy voice, and a constant cough.

These women? They go to flea markets in Maine on Harley's and buy those pictures of lions on foil paper-the kind you used to win at local fairs when you popped a balloon with a dart. They drink coffee from Cumberland Farms and think that Kraft Macaroni and Cheese is a delicacy.

In conclusion: Cotton baseball caps=good. Leather baseball caps=bad.

Thank you. Class dismissed.

Friday, November 11, 2005

Busy Balls

This is wicked hard to stop prepared to stare for at least 5 minutes.

Schooner Stories

I learned a valuable lesson the other night at rehearsal when my fellow cast members and I had some down time to chat.

Never let them know you're afraid of ghosts.

Let me set the scene for you: It's dark, it's creepy and it's old. That pretty much sums it up. The scene I am in takes place on the LA Dunton, an authentic North Atlantic fishing schooner which dates back to the 1920's (I think). It's very beautiful and majestic but it's also creepy. We spend our time below deck in the captains quarters, which obviously houses bunks. These bunks are set into the sides of the boat and have benches up against them, which is where we sit.

I simply mentioned that the boat was a little creepy at night, and that I'm nervous someone is going to jump out of the sleeping quarters...and badda bing! We got ghost stories.

Lucky me, right?

For those of you who don't know, I am the biggest wimp in the world when it comes to ghosts. I debated even writing this because I don't want to anger the spirits...

So, it was a dark, stormy night (really) in a 1920's fishing schooner, and you know SOMEONE had to die in there at some point of scurvy or lice or SOMETHING...and my husband in the play, Dr. Evil, tells story after story of ghost sightings he and his family have experienced. AND THEN he begins to tell stories of haunts that LIVE at MYSTIC, the VERY PLACE WE ARE.

Freak*. I wanted to promptly get up and bonk him on the head and yell, "Don't you know they don't like it when you talk about them?!?!" But I restrained myself. I think I did a good job of hiding just how freaked out I really was by deflecting it with humor, but, just so you know, at one point-I almost peed myself.

Not really. But it was scary.

*By freak, I mean, well, you're a freak, but I still value you as my fake husband the captain, and fellow scene player. 8-)

Thursday, November 10, 2005

House Broken: Part 5

It was a cool, clear October night in Florida. The stars were shining brightly and there was a full moon. The air smelled damp and swampy.

The resort was beautiful. She had never been on the grounds; only in the lobby when switching monorails. The entrance was flanked by 2 large coy ponds, each containing at least 10 fish. The valet circle had torches buring to light the way for its guests. Behind the resort there were winding trails all bordered by various tropical plants and rock gardens. They walked by a pool with a built in volcano on the way to the beach.

There were hammocks among the palm trees. The swayed in the cool air, begging to be used.

“If we sit on at the end of the dock over there we can watch the fireworks over the castle. It’s actually a really good place to watch them.” He said, wanting to impress her with his knowledge.

“Wow! That’s great! I’d love to.” She was eager to see all things new while on her internship, and she hadn’t yet seen the fireworks from anywhere other than Main Street USA, where she worked.

“You know, I really like you. I do think you are beautiful and funny and smart, and I’d like you to be my girlfriend this semester.”

“What do you mean this semester? Do you mean you just want to have your way with me and then forget me?”

“No” he implored, “I want to be with you for a long, long time. I just know that you won’t come back for me, and so I’m prepared to just love you for one semester.”

She looked away. She heard stories of his last girlfriend who was also on the College Program, and also worked on Main Street USA. She promised him that she’d come back, and she didn’t. He was taking another chance when he pursued her now, she knew.

“I can’t tell you if I’d come back or not, but I can tell you I like you too. And that I would do almost anything for love, and if you are ‘the one’ and we’re meant to be together, we will make it work.”

“I want to believe you, I do..”

“So believe.”

He was standing now. He pulled her out of her chair, and held her close to his body. His warmth filled her up, made her quiver with anticipation. His forehead was touching hers, his eyes searching her soul.

“If I kiss you now, my whole life will change.” He whispered, his breath caressing her cheeks.

“Then be sure you want it badly enough.”

And with that, he kissed her. His lips gently brushed hers at first, feeling her softness, learning her countours with his tongue. As his confidence grew, his kiss became harder, more urgent, needing her to read his emotions, to know that he already loved her.

When the kiss was over, he tilted his head back to look at her face.

Her eyes were closed; lips still slightly parted, swollen from the passion he transferred from his own lips just moments ago.

“Was that ok?” he asked.

She had no words, so she she kissed him again.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005

Etiquette Check

Let's say for the stories sake that you have a friend named Jerry. And Jerry has some tickets to a local college's basketball game-let's name it...UConn.

Jerry can't use the tickets and neither can a close friend of his. Jerry offers them to you.

You gladly accept, knowing that someone in your family will enjoy them.

Jerry then says:

"Here's a parking pass too-that's at least $6!" and proceeds to say, "as payment for the tickets, you can get my wife a tee shirt at the game."

I hope it's not just me who sees this as extremely tacky and cheap. I hope that at least 12 of you will agree with me and post a comment to that effect-agreeing that Jerry was wrong to comment on any type of "payment" whether it is in the form of an overpriced cotton tee or not.

If ever someone comes up to me and offers tickets they can not use ON THE SAME DAY OF THE EVENT, I will always believe they are giving them to me, unless they specifically say, "I have 2 tickets to tonight, would you like to buy them?"

I personally would not buy the tee shirt for his wife. I would instead tell him that I used the money to buy beer for myself and my guest and we enjoyed the game immensely and appreciated him thinking of me.

Of course, in real life, I'd wait in line for 1 hour to get the stinkin' tee and then wrap it in a shiny gift bag with a matching card...

Silly Laws

While perusing around some sites the other day, I came across some silly laws that are in place in CT. Check 'em out...

In order for a pickle to officially be considered a pickle, it must bounce.
This is funny to me, because, who was the first guy who checked to see if his pickle bounced? And I feel bad for the poor schmuck who's pickle doesn't bounce...though there's nothin wrong with a good cucumber now and again.

Town records may not be kept where liquor is sold

Because we all know that when people are liquored up they get the urge to search for land deeds and death records.

In Hartford:
You aren't allowed to cross a street while walking on your hands.

Fuck. There go my plans for this weekend...

It is illegal for a man to kiss his wife on Sunday.

We all know that men in Hartford only kiss prostitutes on Sundays, so this shouldn't be a problem...

In Waterbury:
It is illegal for any beautician to hum, whistle, or sing while working on a customer.

I wish it was also illegal to tell stupid stories.

In Devon:
It is unlawful to walk backwards after sunset.


Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Sing Me A Song

I will be making several hour long trips late at night in the next couple of months. I am bored with all of my music.

Can you all suggest a few songs I should load onto my IPod? What are you listening to now? What songs can't you get enough of?

Your input could help me stay awake on one cold, lonely drive home...

I'm just sayin'.

QnA Time!

1. Have you ever been the victim of a crime? If so, what was the crime and did you know the person?

2. When was the first time you drank alcohol (got drunk)? Do you still drink?

3. Finish this sentence: Dear ____, I'm sorry we never got to____.

1. Yes, I have been the victim of a crime. While I was at the beach in Clearwater, FL last year someone broke into my rental car and stole my watch and all of my cash. Luckily they left my credit cards and my license, but it still gave me an eerie feeling knowing a stranger was in the car.

2. I first had alcohol when I was young; taking sips from my family at holidays. The first time I got drunk was my freshman year in college. 2 of my boyfriends friends who were in the army "taught" me how to drink one night by giving me massive amounts of beer while we watched Beavis and Butthead. Yes, I still drink, but other than a few years in college and an occasional crazy sister night, I'm not a huge drinker.

3. Dear Papa, I'm sorry we never got to dance at my wedding.

Monday, November 07, 2005

Crazy Family Members

Everyone of us has a relative or close family friend who's a little nuts. They're the ones that we hide from at all of the gatherings, and dodge weekly phone calls from-always making up some excuse or another as to why we can't come to the phone. And for those of you who say you don't have someone in your family like this, as Dane Cook says, it's you-you're the person people hide from.

In my family, the crazy person is my Dad's sister. I think she literally has some sort of brain disorder and since it's not clinically proven, I feel I can make fun of her.

The symptoms of her disorder are as follows:

1. Having no concept of what is and is not approriate to say to people who don't know you well. Example: The way she openly shares information about her sex life, including comparisons of her ex-husbands genitalia.

2. The inability to know that not everyone wants to discuss THEIR sex lives. Example: The time she asked me if my ex-husband had a big penis. (Ew)

3. Yelling things that are deemed unacceptable in public Example: When my uncle walked out of a public restroom and she yelled, "Did you go number 1 or number 2?!"

4. Being late and unprepared for everything. This includes planning meals and parties, as well as daily coordination of life.

5. The inability to know that when we don't answer the phone the first 3 times she calls, that we simply do not want to talk.

So, as you can imagine, my crazy Aunt D is a very unique person and keeps us on our toes. She is my God mother, and so I do love her, however I went through a stage in which I debated everything she said, simply because it came out of her mouth.

Still...I am glad she lives in Maryland and only visits sporadically throught the years...

Do you have any crazy family members?