Trouble
Oh trouble set me free
I have seen your face
And it’s too much too much for me
I'm in trouble. The funny part is it's from so many different sources that the trouble has started. It's amazing how a small leak can become a flood. I'm starting to feel a little bit of pressure. People like Michele, Meridita, DeRusha, and Worm tell me I'm funny and now the writing doesn't flow as well because I worry the next thing I write will drive the readers away.I'm not worthy of you, but I sure as hell appreciate all of you.
Trouble
Oh trouble can’t you see
You’re eating my heart away
And there’s nothing much left of me
I wrote about my sisters in a post not too long ago. Now, their both upset with me. It could be my terminology, it could just very well be the fact that I wrote about them. So, one sister is in Costa Rica for the holidays and not sure she wants to talk to me, and the other sister is at her home on the East Coast feeling as though I believe she's unable to be social.What both my sisters need to realize is that I was painting them to be human. No one can be perfect. Beyond that, if they had look deeper, they would have seen that I was explaining how much better than me they are.My parents have also started discovering what I've written about them. I've tried to keep everything positive. Yet now I have a family that is unhappy with me. The hardest part about being in a family is trying to get everyone to talk to each other. They may be angry with me, but my sisters are now talking to each other.
I’ve drunk your wine
You have made your world mine
So won’t you be fair
So won’t you be fair
I don’t want no more of you
So won’t you be kind to me
Just let me go whereI’ll have to go there
I was given my schedule of classes for the next semester. Three periods of Freshman English (Regular, not Pre-IB). Why is this trouble, you ask? Well, I managed to sneak a peek at the roster for each class, and I will be working mostly with the kids who I failed this past summer. Now, if they failed the BST class, how much am I going to have to change my English course? I have a feeling I have ALOT of lesson plan writing to do. A few of the students ran into me and told me they would, "make my life miserable," because of last summer. Oh joy. I better stock up on referral slips....
Trouble
Oh trouble move away
I have seen your face
And it’s too much for me today
Trouble
Oh trouble can’t you see
You have made me a wreck
Now won’t you leave me in my misery
I went to my wife's Holiday party last night. She warned me that I needed to, "keep your mouth shut." Unfortunately, I would be unable to comply.
Her company took over a section on the club level (Mrs. Leab thought it was to be a suite, but apparently they just bought out a section instead). From the moment my wife snuck me in (we have seats on the upper level, so I was there already), I knew I was in trouble.
You see, the company chartered a bus for the employees and stocked that bus with a great deal of booze. Thus managers and underlings alike were sauced to high heaven.
So how did the night go wrong for me? Well, right from the beginning I knew I was in trouble. One of my wife's co-workers grabbed my ass and made sure everyone knew she was grabbing it.
Then, a man who was leaving the company (and would turn out to be a higher up manager) used me as a therapist. I had never met him before and here I am learning all about why he was quitting, why he hated everyone, and why he even hated his wife. And I quote: "My fucking wife quit her job as an engineer and decided she wanted to teach. So she goes back to school and is now working for peanuts. You know how much of a pain in the ass it is that I have to make more money? All so she can be happy...."
Yeah, so then there was another guy who told me all about why he wanted to one day sleep with my wife. I don't know if he didn't get that I was her husband, but it took alot not break his nose (and it would have been SO easy).
My wife was also upset because I talked to her boss and made him uneasy. I am the only person who his wife has ever talked to at a company function. Because I know her name and ask about her (you have to understand, he's afraid of people), he gets uncomfortable. He said something to her, and she came right to me.
And the topper? At the end of night, I get home and my wife tells me, "I'm so mad at you! I just can't talk to you right now." Why? Because one gal grabbed my ass (unsolicited) and several other people asked me to tell jokes and talked to me about their problems. It's my fault for not just saying, "Sorry, can't help you."
I’ve seen your eyes
And I can see death’s disguise
Hangin’ on me
Hangin’ on me
I’m beat, I’m torn
Shattered and tossed and worn
Too shocking to see
Too shocking to see
People I used to go to school with are starting to track me down. It's kinda creepy and kind of annoying. Across the United States, there are only 75 listings for the last name Leab. Eventually, you can come across the right one. I wasn't lucky enough to have name like Smith, Jones, or Andrews. Lots and lots of people with those names.
It is because of this ease of being able to find me that I was able to discover who "Anonymous" is. He (and I was right, it is a man) is none other than "Isaiah", the man with whom my Ex cheated on me (he was also her ex). We never liked each other, and he came across my blog. He recognized the name and that was it.
Trouble
Oh trouble move from me
I have paid my debt
Now won’t you leave me in my misery
Trouble
Oh trouble please be kind
I don’t want no fight
And I haven’t got a lot of time
-Trouble by Cat Stevens
Thankfully it's Winter Break, so I can (try to) relax for a little while.
Namaste.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Slander a la Leab (12/15/05)
Snow, snow, snow. If you live here, you have to deal with it (but you don't have to love it, people).
Both my sisters are now slightly wary of what I might say. Revenge is a dish best served online. Just kidding. Relax, it's not like you'll be judged solely on what I say.
Before we start, I have to share with you the phone call I received from my wife:
"Honey, the company Holiday gathering is at the game tonight, so I'll be in a suite, and we'll get you in to join us."
"Oh," I reply, "That should be fun."
"Yeah. So don't talk to anyone."
"Huh?"
"You either intimidate or anger alot of the people I work with, so try not to talk. No jokes, no opinions. There will be bosses there, so keep your mouth shut."
Ah love. It's a burning thing.
I guess she's got a point.
So, let's get to the SLANDERAMA!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Preparations for 'The Prairie Throwdown' Complete:
Don King is a happy man tonight. With the upcoming "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown" (a nickname for the fight that Mr. King stole from yours truly. I want my cut, King!) set for this Saturday night, Minnesotans are anxiously awaiting to see who will win.
Why is Mr. King so happy? Well, all the seats at the Target Center are sold out, the pay-per-view, which is priced at a hefty $59.99 has been bought by several people worldwide, and the "Prairie Throwdown" T-Shirts are selling better than this season's must have holiday item: the X-Box 360.
"Only in America could a man like me make millions on a fight between two literary types. These men are not physical specimens. No! They are the cream of the
mental crop."
Both men are not really known for their fighting prowess and had to train.
Keillor, a literary juggernaut, was described at the weigh-in as, "not hitting harder than a mewing kitten."
Not wanting to suffer an embarassing loss, Keillor began training with local sports news anchor Eric Perkins. Perk, as the "Battler's" team has taken to calling him, started by having Keillor jog. However, this became a problem when Keillor kept slipping on the icy paths around Lake Calhoun. One spy told the I.T. Team:
"It was embarrassing. Most children can run around those icy paths without falling down. Hell, my toddler can do it. Are you telling me a two-year-old is in better shape than Mr. Keillor?"
This setback, however, did not affect "The Lake Woebegon Battler's" boxing training.
"He was at Uppercut Gym everyday," Perk told the I.T. Team. "Every freaking morning at 5 am, the phone would ring. I'd pick up and G.K. would be all 'Let's go hit the bag' in his dulced tones. The man is an animal."
While Keillor was in the gym, his opponent, Rex Sorgatz, was taking a different approach. "Basically, Rex has been hanging out drinking at Stasiu's," manager Margaret Andrews told us.
"I mean he trains, but nothing like what we're hearing out of the Keillor camp."
So how is "The Titanium Typist" getting ready for this fight?
"I watch alot of Buffy (the Vampire Slayer). I mean with all of her moves and stuff, she's shown me a great deal about how to fight."
But will the cult show be enough for Mr. Sorgatz to defeat Mr. Keillor?
Perkins is sure he knows the answer:
"Oh hell no! Look, LWB's been at it everyday. This Rex guy has been doing....What? Tae-bo or something. He's going to be creamed!
Andrews has a much different outlook on it.
"Rex is a tough S.O.B. Growing up in Edina, he had to really fight to stay alive in his neighborhood. Besides, Keillor sits at a desk all day. He doesn't exercise. Rex at least bikes to work."
Sources say that Keillor may in fact be nervous about the outcome of this fight. He's already talking about a possible rematch that would be done in two stages: 1. Another fight. 2. A literary debate.
Mr. Sorgatz's group had no comment on the possible rematch.
The city of Minneapolis is preparing for a ton of press and boxing enthusiasts to descend on the city. The Graves 601 Hotel reports it is completely booked.
"We're full, and we're ready," Dan Girard, the hotel's manager, explained. "It's about 70/30 Keillor fans. We're trying to separate by floors to ensure the peace."
As first reported here, local boy Josh Hartnett will be singing the national anthem. Mills Lane, best known for his work on Celebrity Deathmatch, has been lured out of retirement for one last fight as a referee. The commentary for the fight will be done by Jim Lampley, Max Kellerman, and special guest Roy Jones, Jr.
Those of you unable to attend will be able to watch the fight at The Local. There will be a cover charge.
Bets can made up to one hour before the 9 PM fight on Saturday.
The Ironic Teachings Team is curious to know who you fans think will win. So, let us know the following: Who's the winner, what round, and how (be it KO, TKO, etc.).
"This should be a great fight," Don King yelled at his press conference yesterday. "Only in America could this fight occur. We want to see which man is the better one, but we want a clean fight. A fight worth our money."
Everyone wants to see that, Mr. King. Everyone wants to see that.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-It looks like local gossip columnist CJ will be in "The Titanium Typist's" corner on Saturday night. The gossip maven has no love for Garrison Keillor or his unicultural show.
"Has there EVER been a non-white person in Lake Wobegon? I don't think so. Then again, I never listen to that show anyway."
Recently on Fox 9 Morning News, CJ was seen sporting the "A Prairie Ho Companion" T-shirt, and when asked told the morning crew she would be in Sorgatz's corner.
"I love that guy, and he's getting my support."
No one is quite sure if Mr. Sorgatz is happy about having the columnist backing him.
"If Muammar Khadafi says he wants to back you, you have mixed feelings. This is along those lines."
-"Dapper" Don Shelby is unhappy and everyone at WCCO knows it. It seems Mr. Shelby was supposed to have ringside seats to the "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown", but his tickets were revoked when he started making outrageous demands. According to one Target Center employee, the "Don" asked for the following:
*He would be seated between Sorgatz's manager Margaret Andrews and local boy made good Josh Hartnett's girlfriend Scarlett Johansson.
*He would be given $200 in free concessions
*A bottle of Roederer Cristal champagne chilled and served to him at ringside, along with two other glasses for the ladies.
*Face time. (This was later discovered to mean he wanted to be shown on the telecast as well as on the overhead board.)
With no seats ringside, Mr. Shelby is now cohosting a party with Diddy in one of the suites. No word on the guest list yet.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That's it for this week. Stayed tuned for next Thursday's entry which will have post-fight coverage. And get those bets in, ladies and gentlemen.
Both my sisters are now slightly wary of what I might say. Revenge is a dish best served online. Just kidding. Relax, it's not like you'll be judged solely on what I say.
Before we start, I have to share with you the phone call I received from my wife:
"Honey, the company Holiday gathering is at the game tonight, so I'll be in a suite, and we'll get you in to join us."
"Oh," I reply, "That should be fun."
"Yeah. So don't talk to anyone."
"Huh?"
"You either intimidate or anger alot of the people I work with, so try not to talk. No jokes, no opinions. There will be bosses there, so keep your mouth shut."
Ah love. It's a burning thing.
I guess she's got a point.
So, let's get to the SLANDERAMA!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Preparations for 'The Prairie Throwdown' Complete:
Don King is a happy man tonight. With the upcoming "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown" (a nickname for the fight that Mr. King stole from yours truly. I want my cut, King!) set for this Saturday night, Minnesotans are anxiously awaiting to see who will win.Why is Mr. King so happy? Well, all the seats at the Target Center are sold out, the pay-per-view, which is priced at a hefty $59.99 has been bought by several people worldwide, and the "Prairie Throwdown" T-Shirts are selling better than this season's must have holiday item: the X-Box 360.
"Only in America could a man like me make millions on a fight between two literary types. These men are not physical specimens. No! They are the cream of the
mental crop."Both men are not really known for their fighting prowess and had to train.
Keillor, a literary juggernaut, was described at the weigh-in as, "not hitting harder than a mewing kitten."
Not wanting to suffer an embarassing loss, Keillor began training with local sports news anchor Eric Perkins. Perk, as the "Battler's" team has taken to calling him, started by having Keillor jog. However, this became a problem when Keillor kept slipping on the icy paths around Lake Calhoun. One spy told the I.T. Team:
"It was embarrassing. Most children can run around those icy paths without falling down. Hell, my toddler can do it. Are you telling me a two-year-old is in better shape than Mr. Keillor?"
This setback, however, did not affect "The Lake Woebegon Battler's" boxing training.
"He was at Uppercut Gym everyday," Perk told the I.T. Team. "Every freaking morning at 5 am, the phone would ring. I'd pick up and G.K. would be all 'Let's go hit the bag' in his dulced tones. The man is an animal."While Keillor was in the gym, his opponent, Rex Sorgatz, was taking a different approach. "Basically, Rex has been hanging out drinking at Stasiu's," manager Margaret Andrews told us.
"I mean he trains, but nothing like what we're hearing out of the Keillor camp."
So how is "The Titanium Typist" getting ready for this fight?
"I watch alot of Buffy (the Vampire Slayer). I mean with all of her moves and stuff, she's shown me a great deal about how to fight."
But will the cult show be enough for Mr. Sorgatz to defeat Mr. Keillor?
Perkins is sure he knows the answer:
"Oh hell no! Look, LWB's been at it everyday. This Rex guy has been doing....What? Tae-bo or something. He's going to be creamed!
Andrews has a much different outlook on it.
"Rex is a tough S.O.B. Growing up in Edina, he had to really fight to stay alive in his neighborhood. Besides, Keillor sits at a desk all day. He doesn't exercise. Rex at least bikes to work."
Sources say that Keillor may in fact be nervous about the outcome of this fight. He's already talking about a possible rematch that would be done in two stages: 1. Another fight. 2. A literary debate.
Mr. Sorgatz's group had no comment on the possible rematch.
The city of Minneapolis is preparing for a ton of press and boxing enthusiasts to descend on the city. The Graves 601 Hotel reports it is completely booked.
"We're full, and we're ready," Dan Girard, the hotel's manager, explained. "It's about 70/30 Keillor fans. We're trying to separate by floors to ensure the peace."
As first reported here, local boy Josh Hartnett will be singing the national anthem. Mills Lane, best known for his work on Celebrity Deathmatch, has been lured out of retirement for one last fight as a referee. The commentary for the fight will be done by Jim Lampley, Max Kellerman, and special guest Roy Jones, Jr.
Those of you unable to attend will be able to watch the fight at The Local. There will be a cover charge.
Bets can made up to one hour before the 9 PM fight on Saturday.
The Ironic Teachings Team is curious to know who you fans think will win. So, let us know the following: Who's the winner, what round, and how (be it KO, TKO, etc.).
"This should be a great fight," Don King yelled at his press conference yesterday. "Only in America could this fight occur. We want to see which man is the better one, but we want a clean fight. A fight worth our money."
Everyone wants to see that, Mr. King. Everyone wants to see that.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-It looks like local gossip columnist CJ will be in "The Titanium Typist's" corner on Saturday night. The gossip maven has no love for Garrison Keillor or his unicultural show.
"Has there EVER been a non-white person in Lake Wobegon? I don't think so. Then again, I never listen to that show anyway."
Recently on Fox 9 Morning News, CJ was seen sporting the "A Prairie Ho Companion" T-shirt, and when asked told the morning crew she would be in Sorgatz's corner.
"I love that guy, and he's getting my support."
No one is quite sure if Mr. Sorgatz is happy about having the columnist backing him.
"If Muammar Khadafi says he wants to back you, you have mixed feelings. This is along those lines."
-"Dapper" Don Shelby is unhappy and everyone at WCCO knows it. It seems Mr. Shelby was supposed to have ringside seats to the "Prairie Throwdown in Downtown", but his tickets were revoked when he started making outrageous demands. According to one Target Center employee, the "Don" asked for the following:
*He would be seated between Sorgatz's manager Margaret Andrews and local boy made good Josh Hartnett's girlfriend Scarlett Johansson.
*He would be given $200 in free concessions
*A bottle of Roederer Cristal champagne chilled and served to him at ringside, along with two other glasses for the ladies.
*Face time. (This was later discovered to mean he wanted to be shown on the telecast as well as on the overhead board.)
With no seats ringside, Mr. Shelby is now cohosting a party with Diddy in one of the suites. No word on the guest list yet.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That's it for this week. Stayed tuned for next Thursday's entry which will have post-fight coverage. And get those bets in, ladies and gentlemen.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Story Time with Uncle Leab: Foot in Mouth Disease
When I was in college (many moons ago), I created problems for the Performing Arts Department.
I have this disease. Everyonce in a while, my foot just flies up into mouth. This is compounded by a form of neurological disease I have where I am incapable of thinking before I speak AND cannot hold my tongue. It's horrible. Happens alot.
Now, when I started in college, I was a Psychology major with dreams of having my own practice. Ten minutes into my first class, that all changed. I was the only student with any technical theatre in my background. In high school, I had been an actor, but also a stage manager, lighting guy, running crew, and more. So, when the teacher asked, "Anyone have any stage managing experience?", mine was the only hand in the air.
After being assigned to the show, I immediately learned two things:
1. I would be the first and only freshman in the history of the University's Performing Arts Department to stage manage the first show of the year.
2. I would not be in Psychology for long. I switched to Theatre and stayed there for my degree. (The actual degree is: Design/Technical Theatre with emphasis in Lighting. I would minor in Psychology and German Language and Literature. How? 21 credits per semester freshman year along with working shows and having a girlfriend...who would later break my heart.)
The show was The Importance of Being Earnest, and with a new director, a freshman stage manager, and an opening night only four weeks away, we had our work cut out for us. The show went well, but Seana (the director) and I would never speak again once the show was done. We drove each other nuts.
The highlight of my first year in the department came during a play written by the playwright-in-residence. The play was about a teenage girl in Ireland getting pregnant. Everyone who worked on the show, except for the playwright, had absolutely no clue what the hell the play was about. I remember one design meeting where the playwright (we'll call her Patti) asked for the set to be all fabric "to feel like a womb." When the show was finally over, Patti explained what the play was supposed to be about:
"There tried to outlaw divorce in 1980s in Ireland. That's really what this play is about."
You see, no one in the play marries. The young girl gives birth and keeps the baby sans husband. How does that speak to divorce? Anyone....Anyone....?
During this show, the director and I almost came to blows. At this point, I had a crew with which I was constantly working. There was Stephanie, my Assistant Stage Manager. She was a former model, a fellow freshman, and would come to me for advice on men (which at times was kinda awkward). The cosutme designer was the same gal I had worked with on Earnest. The rest of the running crew was made up of people I was in a class with. These people were close to me, and I was protective of them.
Well, one rehearsal, things were going very badly. The actors didn't know their lines or blocking (where they had to move to for non theatre people), the playwright was adjusting lines as the rehearsal went on (we wrote everything in pencil, because she would put in and then take out a line), and my crew was having a hard time with the fabric set.
So, we're running the "sex" scene between Kate (the protagonist) and the man who gets her pregnant, and my crew gets confused on where to put a block. The director, already upset with
how much pressure he's under (the department is touting this show as a "world-premiere play written by a Julliard graduate), explodes. He starts tearing into the crew as if every little mistake was their fault.
"What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you get your marks right?"
Remember, dear reader, this is a teacher. Sure, he's a director, but he's supposed to be a teacher first. He then sharpens his tongue for the strongest verbal lashing on Stephanie.
"In all my years as a director, I have never seen someone so pathetically underqualified for their job. Why the HELL DO YOU EVEN BOTHER! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
At his point, Stephanie slowly breaks down into tears. She manages to get out into the hallway before the real sobbing begins.
Again, I'm fiercely protective of my crew. They are like my family. I protect them, and they do good work for me.
It's at this point, that I first realized I had that disease. Without thinking, the affliction took over. "What are you thinking? That's my ASM! I need her to run the backstage."
With all the fury of a thousand suns, the director turned his vision on me.
"What did you say?"
Again, my brain was saying, "SHUT UP YOU IDIOT," but the affliction took over:
"Look, you need to go out and get her. Apologize so she calms down. I'm sorry if things aren't going very well, but you can't take it out on us."
This was not the right thing to say. He got in face so close that his nose was occasionally touching mine, and he was spitting mad.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you little pissant? You can't even call a cue correctly. The reason why we're stuck on this scene is you can't get Evan (the light board operator) the correct timing. I've got to worry about everything. You only have the crew to worry about. I have been doing this for 20 years. 20 YEARS! You've been here for what, three months?"
Again, I should have shut up, but the damn affliction kicked in at the wrong time.
"Don't take your frustrations out on us. I'm sorry if you don't get this play. None of us do! But don't make a girl cry and tell her 'not to bother' doing theatre when she's doing the best she can. That's bullshit."
Have you ever seen someone get so mad his or her face goes slightly dead trying to comprehend how not to kill you? Then the eyes on his or her face kind of bulge out as if the rage inside is attempting to pour out through the eye sockets? The director had this look.
He called for a five minute break, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to his office.
I would be screamed at for the next seven minutes. I remember it being seven, because I stopped listening and watched his clock. Later, I would console Stephanie.
The show was a nightmare. We managed to get the cues down, but because of all of the fabric that was put up, the booth (which meant myself, the light board operator, and the sound engineer) could not see the show. No one understood the playwright's meaning. On opening night, she held an post-show discussion to talk about what the audience had seen. No one (and I mean NO ONE) got that it was about divorce. She then told the audience (and I quote), "You just don't get it, because you're not Irish...or not very bright."
At the post mortem (when the show ends, the actors, crew, designers, and director meet to discuss what worked and what didn't), I managed to let the disease take over and put my foot in my mouth. The designers and crew had promised to back me up with my topic. I was going to discuss the relationship between the director and everyone who wasn't an actor. I stand up, say my piece about feeling like a second class citizen...and no one backs me up.
It went downhill from there.
The big show (meaning it was on the professional mainstage) the following year was Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I wanted that show. However, it was directed by the same guy who I had just stepped up against in the post mortem.
The department, fearing the two of us would have another war and destroy the show, gave the stage manager position to a new girl who had never done it before and moved me to work with dancers. The girl would end up angering every single member of the cast, crew, and even the director (who would later tell me, "he made a mistake" and would use me for the final production of my senior year). I went on to work with dancers which was a very interesting experience (and something I will talk about another time. Dancers...always makes me smile and cringe at the same time).
The problem was the director had been in the program longer and was better liked than me. I now had a reputation of being difficult to work with (this would go away, but not until my senior year). Several directors/teachers passed on working with me. I was lucky there were student productions, and that a few teachers didn't listen to the hype about me.
So what's the moral, girls and boys?
Well, you could say it's learn to pick your battles, but you all know that.
You could say it's you can't trust anyone, but that's obvious to almost everyone.
No, the moral here is: think before you speak. That's right. Make sure you think through what it is you're going to say very carefully before you say it. You may end up blackballing yourself out of jobs or potential friends.
I have this disease. Everyonce in a while, my foot just flies up into mouth. This is compounded by a form of neurological disease I have where I am incapable of thinking before I speak AND cannot hold my tongue. It's horrible. Happens alot.
Now, when I started in college, I was a Psychology major with dreams of having my own practice. Ten minutes into my first class, that all changed. I was the only student with any technical theatre in my background. In high school, I had been an actor, but also a stage manager, lighting guy, running crew, and more. So, when the teacher asked, "Anyone have any stage managing experience?", mine was the only hand in the air.
After being assigned to the show, I immediately learned two things:
1. I would be the first and only freshman in the history of the University's Performing Arts Department to stage manage the first show of the year.
2. I would not be in Psychology for long. I switched to Theatre and stayed there for my degree. (The actual degree is: Design/Technical Theatre with emphasis in Lighting. I would minor in Psychology and German Language and Literature. How? 21 credits per semester freshman year along with working shows and having a girlfriend...who would later break my heart.)
The show was The Importance of Being Earnest, and with a new director, a freshman stage manager, and an opening night only four weeks away, we had our work cut out for us. The show went well, but Seana (the director) and I would never speak again once the show was done. We drove each other nuts.
The highlight of my first year in the department came during a play written by the playwright-in-residence. The play was about a teenage girl in Ireland getting pregnant. Everyone who worked on the show, except for the playwright, had absolutely no clue what the hell the play was about. I remember one design meeting where the playwright (we'll call her Patti) asked for the set to be all fabric "to feel like a womb." When the show was finally over, Patti explained what the play was supposed to be about:
"There tried to outlaw divorce in 1980s in Ireland. That's really what this play is about."
You see, no one in the play marries. The young girl gives birth and keeps the baby sans husband. How does that speak to divorce? Anyone....Anyone....?
During this show, the director and I almost came to blows. At this point, I had a crew with which I was constantly working. There was Stephanie, my Assistant Stage Manager. She was a former model, a fellow freshman, and would come to me for advice on men (which at times was kinda awkward). The cosutme designer was the same gal I had worked with on Earnest. The rest of the running crew was made up of people I was in a class with. These people were close to me, and I was protective of them.
Well, one rehearsal, things were going very badly. The actors didn't know their lines or blocking (where they had to move to for non theatre people), the playwright was adjusting lines as the rehearsal went on (we wrote everything in pencil, because she would put in and then take out a line), and my crew was having a hard time with the fabric set.
So, we're running the "sex" scene between Kate (the protagonist) and the man who gets her pregnant, and my crew gets confused on where to put a block. The director, already upset with
how much pressure he's under (the department is touting this show as a "world-premiere play written by a Julliard graduate), explodes. He starts tearing into the crew as if every little mistake was their fault."What the hell is wrong with you? Why can't you get your marks right?"
Remember, dear reader, this is a teacher. Sure, he's a director, but he's supposed to be a teacher first. He then sharpens his tongue for the strongest verbal lashing on Stephanie.
"In all my years as a director, I have never seen someone so pathetically underqualified for their job. Why the HELL DO YOU EVEN BOTHER! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
At his point, Stephanie slowly breaks down into tears. She manages to get out into the hallway before the real sobbing begins.
Again, I'm fiercely protective of my crew. They are like my family. I protect them, and they do good work for me.
It's at this point, that I first realized I had that disease. Without thinking, the affliction took over. "What are you thinking? That's my ASM! I need her to run the backstage."
With all the fury of a thousand suns, the director turned his vision on me.
"What did you say?"
Again, my brain was saying, "SHUT UP YOU IDIOT," but the affliction took over:
"Look, you need to go out and get her. Apologize so she calms down. I'm sorry if things aren't going very well, but you can't take it out on us."
This was not the right thing to say. He got in face so close that his nose was occasionally touching mine, and he was spitting mad.
"Who the hell do you think you are, you little pissant? You can't even call a cue correctly. The reason why we're stuck on this scene is you can't get Evan (the light board operator) the correct timing. I've got to worry about everything. You only have the crew to worry about. I have been doing this for 20 years. 20 YEARS! You've been here for what, three months?"
Again, I should have shut up, but the damn affliction kicked in at the wrong time.
"Don't take your frustrations out on us. I'm sorry if you don't get this play. None of us do! But don't make a girl cry and tell her 'not to bother' doing theatre when she's doing the best she can. That's bullshit."
Have you ever seen someone get so mad his or her face goes slightly dead trying to comprehend how not to kill you? Then the eyes on his or her face kind of bulge out as if the rage inside is attempting to pour out through the eye sockets? The director had this look.He called for a five minute break, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to his office.
I would be screamed at for the next seven minutes. I remember it being seven, because I stopped listening and watched his clock. Later, I would console Stephanie.
The show was a nightmare. We managed to get the cues down, but because of all of the fabric that was put up, the booth (which meant myself, the light board operator, and the sound engineer) could not see the show. No one understood the playwright's meaning. On opening night, she held an post-show discussion to talk about what the audience had seen. No one (and I mean NO ONE) got that it was about divorce. She then told the audience (and I quote), "You just don't get it, because you're not Irish...or not very bright."
At the post mortem (when the show ends, the actors, crew, designers, and director meet to discuss what worked and what didn't), I managed to let the disease take over and put my foot in my mouth. The designers and crew had promised to back me up with my topic. I was going to discuss the relationship between the director and everyone who wasn't an actor. I stand up, say my piece about feeling like a second class citizen...and no one backs me up.
It went downhill from there.
The big show (meaning it was on the professional mainstage) the following year was Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. I wanted that show. However, it was directed by the same guy who I had just stepped up against in the post mortem.
The department, fearing the two of us would have another war and destroy the show, gave the stage manager position to a new girl who had never done it before and moved me to work with dancers. The girl would end up angering every single member of the cast, crew, and even the director (who would later tell me, "he made a mistake" and would use me for the final production of my senior year). I went on to work with dancers which was a very interesting experience (and something I will talk about another time. Dancers...always makes me smile and cringe at the same time).
The problem was the director had been in the program longer and was better liked than me. I now had a reputation of being difficult to work with (this would go away, but not until my senior year). Several directors/teachers passed on working with me. I was lucky there were student productions, and that a few teachers didn't listen to the hype about me.
So what's the moral, girls and boys?
Well, you could say it's learn to pick your battles, but you all know that.
You could say it's you can't trust anyone, but that's obvious to almost everyone.
No, the moral here is: think before you speak. That's right. Make sure you think through what it is you're going to say very carefully before you say it. You may end up blackballing yourself out of jobs or potential friends.
Bought and Sold like a Mule
I added a new link over in the "Students" section.
Blog Shares is a fictional Wall Street where blogs can be traded like stocks.
I have had a $10,000 gain from November to December. Apparently I'm a tech stock...hooray!
Still, it's a very odd idea. I have to thank Rex and Michele, however.
You see by adding me to their links, they increased my value which in turn increased theirs.
At last check MNSpeak was at around $32,000 and Voix was around $20,000.
It's an odd thing, but the more you read it, the more engrossing it is.
Again, it's just a game started up by a few guys, but more than likely if you have a blog, it's on there.
Check it out.
I also added Sopheava as a new student due to the fact, like Meridita, I really like her photography and the stories she shares.
My class is getting full. I'm going to need more desks...that is unless Rex confirms that he received an email about me.
Blog Shares is a fictional Wall Street where blogs can be traded like stocks.
I have had a $10,000 gain from November to December. Apparently I'm a tech stock...hooray!
Still, it's a very odd idea. I have to thank Rex and Michele, however.
You see by adding me to their links, they increased my value which in turn increased theirs.
At last check MNSpeak was at around $32,000 and Voix was around $20,000.
It's an odd thing, but the more you read it, the more engrossing it is.
Again, it's just a game started up by a few guys, but more than likely if you have a blog, it's on there.
Check it out.
I also added Sopheava as a new student due to the fact, like Meridita, I really like her photography and the stories she shares.
My class is getting full. I'm going to need more desks...that is unless Rex confirms that he received an email about me.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Ramblings for the Evening (12/13/05)
Still mulling.
So without further ado: I'M MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sibling Rivalry:
They will deny this vehemently, but I assure you, dear reader, I'm right, and they are wrong.
I have two older sisters. One is eight years older, the other is three. One could not possibly imagine how different the two of them are. It's quite...fascinating.
I love both my sisters very much. I believe that for all we disagree about, for all we argue about, if trouble arose, we could count on each other.
My oldest sister, we'll just call her "A", is one of the smartest people I know. She has a keen mind with a killer ability to remember facts, and she almost NEVER forgets anything. That's both a blessing and a curse. If you need it, her memory is your best friend. If you argue with her, she never forgets what you said.
"A" is also quite funny with a pretty good sense of humor. Sure, there are times when she doesn't understand you're only joking, but that's ok. You can't always have everything, right?
I'm also quite proud of the fact my sister has kept my neice alive to almost two years old. When Maddie was born, "A" was a nervous wreck. There was this unfounded belief she would kill the baby rather quickly. This is the only problem with my sister "A":
She has no confidence in herself. None. A person with a mean streak could snap her easily by ripping her apart not physically, but attacking her looks, her demeanor, etc. It wouldn't matter if it weren't true. For her, I wish she would get two things:
1. Start liking yourself, and others will follow.
2. You're a good mother. Believe it.
On the flip side, there's my other sister. We'll call her "C".
She was my best friend when we were younger, but we really grew apart. It was only in the last few years we started being friends again. Whereas my oldest sister is the brilliant one, this sister is the free spirit with better social skills then most party planners. The path of life for most people is road with just a few curves and the occasional obstacle. Not for "C". No, for her the path of life is winding like a mountain road with large trees for obstacles and many, many detours.
At her lowest moment, she had to watch her boyfriend die after a jet ski accident. You ever see someone die? It's not fun. No, it really affects your mind.
That being said, my sister "C" is a social dynamo. It's kind of scary how many people she knows, and how many people know her.
Is her social standing enough? No. Even though she has a new boyfriend, I truly believe that deep down "C" is unhappy. The world has changed alot around her, and, though she'll deny it, she has a bit of a Peter Pan Complex.
I love both my sisters, but it's hard, because they don't really talk to each other. The way we're spread out across the country is a perfect example:
"C" is in Seattle (the West), I'm here in MN, and "A" is in Connecticut (the East).
Not getting it?
I'm in the middle. I seem to have no problem contacting them, but they can't seem to connect with each other.
On a recent trip, they had a hard time even being in the same room.
It's tough. I hate middlemen...yet I am one.
Don't get me wrong, I love both my sisters. I just wish they talked to each other as much as I talk to each of them.
So what's my point besides the fact that I want my sisters to foster love? Well, one of them is brilliant, the other is a social savant. What does that leave me?
I listen to each of them complain about what's wrong, be it loneliness, jealousy, hard times at work or school, but the best is when they subtlely tell me the other one is so lucky.
"She's so great with people and has so many friends."
"She could do anything if she wanted."
And on and on it goes.
Yet, one of them is smarter than me (and a better writer, that bitch), and the other is better with people (and has more friends, that bitch).
What am I? I'm the average kid. It kinda sucks.
I don't want pity from them or you, dear reader. I'm just pointing out a fact. One sister is smarter, one sister is better socially.
I'm just the boy. No more, no less.
And finally (it's a short night)....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The War on the War on Christmas:
I'm starting a new war.
What with the war on terror, drugs, poverty, and now Christmas, I have decided that the average citizen (um, that's me, doi!) needs a war.
So, I am starting a war on the War on Christmas. This has to be the dumbest thing that has ever wasted my time and yours.
Everyone has their own opinion on this topic, but I hate politicians and pundits (this includes myself. If I could hit the man in the mirror, I would). I'm going to try and present both sides and explain to you, dear reader, why this is the dumbest argument possibly ever.
What Christians are arguing:
The ACLU and certain other groups are working overly hard to "take the Christ out of Christmas." Instead of saying "Merry Christmas," people are forced to say, "Happy Holidays!" or "Seasons Greetings!"
In a way, it can be argued that it's a form of religious persecution. No Christ for you!
The opponents of "Christmas" want all aspects of it removed. This includes trees, crosses, wreaths, and even Santa Claus. That's right, the Fat Man is under fire too. Even the colors red and green have been asked to be removed from government centers and schools around this time of year. Heck, even Wal-Mart and Target are being asked to remove the C-word (Christmas, not the fun word) from their stores.
Bottom line: The time of Christ's birth is being taken away from those who want celebrate it. On the flip side:
What (we'll call them) Secularists are arguing:
There are other holidays besides Christmas. Ever hear of Chanukkah? Kwanzaa?
Weeks of Christmas music over and over again? Annnnnd, where's the other music? There are Chanukkah songs you know.
And what about specials on TV? There's a bunch of Christmas, but no The Night Grandpa Saved Kwanzaa. What's up with that?
What about commericals? "You only have 25 days until Christmas! Why aren't you out shopping RIGHT NOW?!!!!!"
Christmas is being forced on everyone and other holidays are suffering or underrepresented.
Bottom line: Why can't everyone's religious beliefs be given equal time.
My Take on the Whole Thing:
Everyone on both sides: pay attention to this. Ready?
Shut up!
I'll start with the Secularists. Banning the colors red and green? That's insane. That's going too far. If you ban every color that deals with the holiday then you have to ban every color of the rainbow.
And the term "Merry Christmas" is not offensive. It's just a greeting.
If someone wants to believe that their savior was born at this time, let them have their time. You want to celebrate your beliefs at this time? Let them celebrate theirs.
That being said....
Christians: What the hell is wrong witn you?
War on Christmas? The holiday is everywhere! There are tons of Christmas songs on the radio all the time. (Side note: the guy in Alabama suing to have the song "Happy Holidays" removed from the radio because it's "offensive": You're an idiot.)
There are wreaths and garlands and trees everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I haven't seen alot of Chanukkah decorations anywhere, have you?
Yes, you are a majority in the country. Congratulations. That doesn't mean you ignore everyone else. Most stores have TONS of Christmas decorations. Yet, Chanukkah and Kwanzaa are usually given only a little bit.
And having a cow because of "Happy Holidays" on the White House Christmas card? What's wrong with you?
The bottom line is balance. If a Christmas tree is put up in a school, then everyone else has to be represented and that creates clutter. You need Chanukkah decorations, Kwanzaa decorations, and other religious decorations for that time of the year. You wan t to deal with all that?
As for Christ. It's your belief. That's fine, but remember two things:
1. The Puritans, the original settlers that some of you bring up when discussing the holidays, were AGAINST Christmas.
2. Some people believe Christ was born in the summer and the whole "birth" thing was moved to cover a pagan holiday.
Now, this is for both of you (and you media people as well). Stop this. It's a stupid argument. There are children starving in an unheated building just wishing for someone to help them. No, you instead choose to focus on how a tree has been renamed from Christmas to Holiday tree.
Secularists: You're a minority, but you do deserve representation
Christians: Stop talking about "Christmas being under seige." In 1959, it was argued that Communists were trying to drive the Christ out of Christmas. Well, almost 50 years later, I guess they're still trying, right?
So cut the crap. Go to temple, or church, or whatever and hope or pray that this year, Christmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukkah is event free (no tsunamis or natural disasters) and that the people who really need help get it.
So here's how the war on the war on Christmas works. I tell you all to shut up and help people, and you have a Scrooge moment where you realize "Wow, this is absolutely pointless to argue about," and you go out and help the less fortunate. You stop commercializing the holiday time, and you act, shock of shocks, like a human being.
Stop arguing (and commercializing, you bastards) and help those who need it. Bill O'Reilly, John Gibson, The New York Times, Jerry Falwell, The ACLU, and anyone involved in this argument: shut up. Go out and help someone instead. Help them to be warm, eat, and survive.
That's the true spirit of Christmas, Kwanzaa, and Chanukkah: to help those in need.
Don't argue, just do it, and do it now.
Otherwise I will find a way to raise an army, and we will bring this war to you. And, using humanity as a base, we'll win. Why? Because God prefers humanity to all that other stuff. Trees? Decorations? "That's not the cup of a carpenter."
Then again, what do I know? I'm the guy who calls it "The most humanizing time of the year." I could be wrong.
Namaste.
So without further ado: I'M MAD AS HELL, AND I'M NOT GONNA TAKE IT ANYMORE!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sibling Rivalry:
They will deny this vehemently, but I assure you, dear reader, I'm right, and they are wrong.
I have two older sisters. One is eight years older, the other is three. One could not possibly imagine how different the two of them are. It's quite...fascinating.
I love both my sisters very much. I believe that for all we disagree about, for all we argue about, if trouble arose, we could count on each other.
My oldest sister, we'll just call her "A", is one of the smartest people I know. She has a keen mind with a killer ability to remember facts, and she almost NEVER forgets anything. That's both a blessing and a curse. If you need it, her memory is your best friend. If you argue with her, she never forgets what you said.
"A" is also quite funny with a pretty good sense of humor. Sure, there are times when she doesn't understand you're only joking, but that's ok. You can't always have everything, right?
I'm also quite proud of the fact my sister has kept my neice alive to almost two years old. When Maddie was born, "A" was a nervous wreck. There was this unfounded belief she would kill the baby rather quickly. This is the only problem with my sister "A":
She has no confidence in herself. None. A person with a mean streak could snap her easily by ripping her apart not physically, but attacking her looks, her demeanor, etc. It wouldn't matter if it weren't true. For her, I wish she would get two things:
1. Start liking yourself, and others will follow.
2. You're a good mother. Believe it.
On the flip side, there's my other sister. We'll call her "C".
She was my best friend when we were younger, but we really grew apart. It was only in the last few years we started being friends again. Whereas my oldest sister is the brilliant one, this sister is the free spirit with better social skills then most party planners. The path of life for most people is road with just a few curves and the occasional obstacle. Not for "C". No, for her the path of life is winding like a mountain road with large trees for obstacles and many, many detours.
At her lowest moment, she had to watch her boyfriend die after a jet ski accident. You ever see someone die? It's not fun. No, it really affects your mind.
That being said, my sister "C" is a social dynamo. It's kind of scary how many people she knows, and how many people know her.
Is her social standing enough? No. Even though she has a new boyfriend, I truly believe that deep down "C" is unhappy. The world has changed alot around her, and, though she'll deny it, she has a bit of a Peter Pan Complex.
I love both my sisters, but it's hard, because they don't really talk to each other. The way we're spread out across the country is a perfect example:
"C" is in Seattle (the West), I'm here in MN, and "A" is in Connecticut (the East).
Not getting it?
I'm in the middle. I seem to have no problem contacting them, but they can't seem to connect with each other.
On a recent trip, they had a hard time even being in the same room.
It's tough. I hate middlemen...yet I am one.
Don't get me wrong, I love both my sisters. I just wish they talked to each other as much as I talk to each of them.
So what's my point besides the fact that I want my sisters to foster love? Well, one of them is brilliant, the other is a social savant. What does that leave me?
I listen to each of them complain about what's wrong, be it loneliness, jealousy, hard times at work or school, but the best is when they subtlely tell me the other one is so lucky.
"She's so great with people and has so many friends."
"She could do anything if she wanted."
And on and on it goes.
Yet, one of them is smarter than me (and a better writer, that bitch), and the other is better with people (and has more friends, that bitch).
What am I? I'm the average kid. It kinda sucks.
I don't want pity from them or you, dear reader. I'm just pointing out a fact. One sister is smarter, one sister is better socially.
I'm just the boy. No more, no less.
And finally (it's a short night)....
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The War on the War on Christmas:
I'm starting a new war.
What with the war on terror, drugs, poverty, and now Christmas, I have decided that the average citizen (um, that's me, doi!) needs a war.
So, I am starting a war on the War on Christmas. This has to be the dumbest thing that has ever wasted my time and yours.
Everyone has their own opinion on this topic, but I hate politicians and pundits (this includes myself. If I could hit the man in the mirror, I would). I'm going to try and present both sides and explain to you, dear reader, why this is the dumbest argument possibly ever.
What Christians are arguing:
The ACLU and certain other groups are working overly hard to "take the Christ out of Christmas." Instead of saying "Merry Christmas," people are forced to say, "Happy Holidays!" or "Seasons Greetings!"
In a way, it can be argued that it's a form of religious persecution. No Christ for you!
The opponents of "Christmas" want all aspects of it removed. This includes trees, crosses, wreaths, and even Santa Claus. That's right, the Fat Man is under fire too. Even the colors red and green have been asked to be removed from government centers and schools around this time of year. Heck, even Wal-Mart and Target are being asked to remove the C-word (Christmas, not the fun word) from their stores.
Bottom line: The time of Christ's birth is being taken away from those who want celebrate it. On the flip side:
What (we'll call them) Secularists are arguing:
There are other holidays besides Christmas. Ever hear of Chanukkah? Kwanzaa?
Weeks of Christmas music over and over again? Annnnnd, where's the other music? There are Chanukkah songs you know.
And what about specials on TV? There's a bunch of Christmas, but no The Night Grandpa Saved Kwanzaa. What's up with that?
What about commericals? "You only have 25 days until Christmas! Why aren't you out shopping RIGHT NOW?!!!!!"
Christmas is being forced on everyone and other holidays are suffering or underrepresented.
Bottom line: Why can't everyone's religious beliefs be given equal time.
My Take on the Whole Thing:
Everyone on both sides: pay attention to this. Ready?
Shut up!
I'll start with the Secularists. Banning the colors red and green? That's insane. That's going too far. If you ban every color that deals with the holiday then you have to ban every color of the rainbow.
And the term "Merry Christmas" is not offensive. It's just a greeting.
If someone wants to believe that their savior was born at this time, let them have their time. You want to celebrate your beliefs at this time? Let them celebrate theirs.
That being said....
Christians: What the hell is wrong witn you?
War on Christmas? The holiday is everywhere! There are tons of Christmas songs on the radio all the time. (Side note: the guy in Alabama suing to have the song "Happy Holidays" removed from the radio because it's "offensive": You're an idiot.)
There are wreaths and garlands and trees everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I haven't seen alot of Chanukkah decorations anywhere, have you?
Yes, you are a majority in the country. Congratulations. That doesn't mean you ignore everyone else. Most stores have TONS of Christmas decorations. Yet, Chanukkah and Kwanzaa are usually given only a little bit.
And having a cow because of "Happy Holidays" on the White House Christmas card? What's wrong with you?
The bottom line is balance. If a Christmas tree is put up in a school, then everyone else has to be represented and that creates clutter. You need Chanukkah decorations, Kwanzaa decorations, and other religious decorations for that time of the year. You wan t to deal with all that?
As for Christ. It's your belief. That's fine, but remember two things:
1. The Puritans, the original settlers that some of you bring up when discussing the holidays, were AGAINST Christmas.
2. Some people believe Christ was born in the summer and the whole "birth" thing was moved to cover a pagan holiday.
Now, this is for both of you (and you media people as well). Stop this. It's a stupid argument. There are children starving in an unheated building just wishing for someone to help them. No, you instead choose to focus on how a tree has been renamed from Christmas to Holiday tree.
Secularists: You're a minority, but you do deserve representation
Christians: Stop talking about "Christmas being under seige." In 1959, it was argued that Communists were trying to drive the Christ out of Christmas. Well, almost 50 years later, I guess they're still trying, right?
So cut the crap. Go to temple, or church, or whatever and hope or pray that this year, Christmas/Kwanzaa/Chanukkah is event free (no tsunamis or natural disasters) and that the people who really need help get it.
So here's how the war on the war on Christmas works. I tell you all to shut up and help people, and you have a Scrooge moment where you realize "Wow, this is absolutely pointless to argue about," and you go out and help the less fortunate. You stop commercializing the holiday time, and you act, shock of shocks, like a human being.
Stop arguing (and commercializing, you bastards) and help those who need it. Bill O'Reilly, John Gibson, The New York Times, Jerry Falwell, The ACLU, and anyone involved in this argument: shut up. Go out and help someone instead. Help them to be warm, eat, and survive.
That's the true spirit of Christmas, Kwanzaa, and Chanukkah: to help those in need.
Don't argue, just do it, and do it now.
Otherwise I will find a way to raise an army, and we will bring this war to you. And, using humanity as a base, we'll win. Why? Because God prefers humanity to all that other stuff. Trees? Decorations? "That's not the cup of a carpenter."
Then again, what do I know? I'm the guy who calls it "The most humanizing time of the year." I could be wrong.
Namaste.
Monday, December 12, 2005
Mail Mondays (12/12/05)
Short and sweet.
How about some mail?
It's been thin this week.
All the emails I have received have been...really negative. I was reading Sopheava's blog (yeah I read other people's blogs), and she had a wonderful comment about the ups and downs. Well, it's been really down for awhile.
For every nice comment I get, I get about seven or eight negatives. There was this HORRENDOUS email I will comment on from a guy who attacked me for being a teacher as well as for making Norm Coleman look bad. Wow, who knew that a guy read by, what, four...five people wielded so much power. Look out Drudge!
The truth is I am way down. I've been fighting it hard, but with so many things going right, I feel...wrong. Whatever. It doesn't matter. That's not why you and I are here.
To the mail!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Multiple comments that read as such:
Hey Leab
You suck!
(Note: Multiple variations on this.)
Anonymous
Dear Anon,
You're right. I do. You want funny? Go to Worm. You want political views on the world, go to the Aggregator. I have said it many times: I'm not worthy of being on the Aggregator. I'm not pretty, computer savvy, living it up in the nightlife, or even Minnesotan. You know what? Write Rex over there and tell him. Don't just sit here and say, "You suck," over and over again. Be proactive. Tell Rex to remove me, tell the people who read me to stop, and write me a simple email (you know where) and tell me to stop writing.
I will.
I write for two reasons. Two simple reasons:
1. I write in the hopes that someone, somewhere sees what I have done, what I think, or what I've seen and it effects that person to change the world, themselves, or whatever, or just plain laughs. There's way too much depression in the world right now.
2. I write to organize my head. To empty it and to make my brain stop running at full speed.
That's it.
But if you want me to stop, do what I suggest above, and I'm out. I'll delete the blog and walk away. Just do it in a manner that's more gentlemanly (and I know you're a man) then just leaving comments.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had another piece of mail here, but I kinda flew off the handle, so I edited it out.
Look, I had a...not great day, so I just need to sleep and think about things.
I have a major announcement, but that will come when the time is right.
Unless this blog is gone in which case I'll leaving a note before it goes.
Hug your loved ones, be loved, and feel needed.
Peace.
How about some mail?
It's been thin this week.
All the emails I have received have been...really negative. I was reading Sopheava's blog (yeah I read other people's blogs), and she had a wonderful comment about the ups and downs. Well, it's been really down for awhile.
For every nice comment I get, I get about seven or eight negatives. There was this HORRENDOUS email I will comment on from a guy who attacked me for being a teacher as well as for making Norm Coleman look bad. Wow, who knew that a guy read by, what, four...five people wielded so much power. Look out Drudge!
The truth is I am way down. I've been fighting it hard, but with so many things going right, I feel...wrong. Whatever. It doesn't matter. That's not why you and I are here.
To the mail!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Multiple comments that read as such:
Hey Leab
You suck!
(Note: Multiple variations on this.)
Anonymous
Dear Anon,
You're right. I do. You want funny? Go to Worm. You want political views on the world, go to the Aggregator. I have said it many times: I'm not worthy of being on the Aggregator. I'm not pretty, computer savvy, living it up in the nightlife, or even Minnesotan. You know what? Write Rex over there and tell him. Don't just sit here and say, "You suck," over and over again. Be proactive. Tell Rex to remove me, tell the people who read me to stop, and write me a simple email (you know where) and tell me to stop writing.
I will.
I write for two reasons. Two simple reasons:
1. I write in the hopes that someone, somewhere sees what I have done, what I think, or what I've seen and it effects that person to change the world, themselves, or whatever, or just plain laughs. There's way too much depression in the world right now.
2. I write to organize my head. To empty it and to make my brain stop running at full speed.
That's it.
But if you want me to stop, do what I suggest above, and I'm out. I'll delete the blog and walk away. Just do it in a manner that's more gentlemanly (and I know you're a man) then just leaving comments.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I had another piece of mail here, but I kinda flew off the handle, so I edited it out.
Look, I had a...not great day, so I just need to sleep and think about things.
I have a major announcement, but that will come when the time is right.
Unless this blog is gone in which case I'll leaving a note before it goes.
Hug your loved ones, be loved, and feel needed.
Peace.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
A Great Man Falls
I know it's the weekend.
I wasn't going to post, but I heard the news this morning, and I had to say something.
I would like to raise a glass to Richard Pryor. One of the funniest men who ever lived passed on this morning. He was a genius and will be sorely missed.
I remember seeing his comedy films as a kid, and I laughed very hard. The films he did with Gene Wilder (such as Silver Streak) were also quite memorable.
So, raise a glass to Richard Pryor and never forget his time as a comedy pioneer.
I wasn't going to post, but I heard the news this morning, and I had to say something.
I would like to raise a glass to Richard Pryor. One of the funniest men who ever lived passed on this morning. He was a genius and will be sorely missed.
I remember seeing his comedy films as a kid, and I laughed very hard. The films he did with Gene Wilder (such as Silver Streak) were also quite memorable.
So, raise a glass to Richard Pryor and never forget his time as a comedy pioneer.
Friday, December 09, 2005
Posted Schedule
It's the weekend.
I'm tired.
I decided that with my workload about to grow substantially next semester, I should set up a schedule for this little blog.
So:
Mondays - Mail Mondays (as long as mail or comments keep coming)
Tuesdays - Ramblings
Wednesdays - Free write (such as "Story Time with Uncle Leab," Ramblings, or etc.
Thursdays - Slander a la Leab (until Slanderous returns...if Slanderous returns)
Fridays - Ramblings
Hopefully you enjoy/find interesting/ just read the post about my former drinking and my take on AA.
Hope you have a nice weekend,
Leab
Namaste.
I'm tired.
I decided that with my workload about to grow substantially next semester, I should set up a schedule for this little blog.
So:
Mondays - Mail Mondays (as long as mail or comments keep coming)
Tuesdays - Ramblings
Wednesdays - Free write (such as "Story Time with Uncle Leab," Ramblings, or etc.
Thursdays - Slander a la Leab (until Slanderous returns...if Slanderous returns)
Fridays - Ramblings
Hopefully you enjoy/find interesting/ just read the post about my former drinking and my take on AA.
Hope you have a nice weekend,
Leab
Namaste.
In the Land of Alcoholics, the Drunk is King
I used to have a drinking problem. It's very hard to talk about it. Having read what Michele has said about a former Alcoholic partner, I feel guilt at times. Everytime I see that she had a man like that in her life, I honestly turn red. I feel embarrassed. Why? I don't know. When I drank, I never intended to hurt other people. I was labeled "A fun drunk" by many. In fact, I used to go to a bar in University City every Wednesday and entertain the crowd. The bartender knew me solely on the basis that he sold me drinks, but he once told, before I left Missouri, "You were damn funny, Leab, and you sold more drinks, because you brought more people to the bar."Yet, for as funny as I was, I was essentially killing myself, and I was damn lucky that I didn't kill myself or anyone else. I chose the wrong way to deal with pain.
I was in a relationship with a gal I really loved. Even believed we would get married. It didn't work out that way. When all was said and done, I was alone with good friend J.D. You know him as Jack Daniels. That was my choice drink. Straight shots of Jack. I would do a few a day. That's right a few A DAY.
I fell into a spiral. I was depressed, so I drank, which made me forget issues (and supposedly made me funny), so I drank more to stay in that state, but then I got depressed (because, and here's some science, kids, alcohol is a depressant or "downer") so I had to drink more to try and feel better. What a nasty cycle.
It was also compounded by a very high tolerance. My father's German, and my mother has everything in her (French, German, Irish, etc.). This means I have a very high (or strong as some say) tolerance to alcohol. My wife has two glasses of wine, she gets buzzed. I have to have a bottle to feel anything. When I was drinking, I needed at least five tall beers to get drunk. On some days I needed four, others it would be six or seven, but five was the ususal. That's alot of beer and a great deal of money, which leads to another problem: Paying for it. It would get to the point where I would stop eating and would instead drink. Thanks to my father, I learned that a Guinness (my usual beer of choice) and a donut would fill you up for a few days. This meant less eating and more drinking.
For a year and a half that's what I did. I did alot of things I'm not proud of:
-I joined the Century Club. That's one hundred shots in one hundred minutes. You do beer for nine and then one hard liquor shot on the tenth. It was bad. VERY BAD. Do not attempt this, kids.
-I got very drunk one night and woke up the next morning with a gal I didn't really know. We didn't sleep together (as I was on the floor fully clothed, and she was in my bed), but it was still bad. She had a crush on me (I was told), so it was the reverse of what usually happens. Instead of sober guy taking advantage of drunk girl, the roles were switched. Maureen Dowd would be very proud.
-I went to classes drunk. I went to play practices drunk. I managed to build a 60 foot wide set for an outdoor show (that ended up having my ex in it in a staring role, so I had to see her ALOT. Guess what that means? MORE DRINKING!). I worked with power saws, drills, and more, all while inebriated. That's really not good. I also managed to sandpaper my own face while drunk. Why? I was trying to show people what not to do.
At one point I gave a now famous (among Wash. U's All Student Theatre) speech talking about how "I don't care if your grandmother dies, or you lose your foot, you WILL show up to strike (taking down the set), or I will come to your home and drag you here. Don't test me. I'll fucking do it!"
It frightened many people, but they showed up.
-I drove drunk, and I was very lucky. On one occasion, I can remember driving a friend home. There was an S curve. Had it not been three in the morning, I probably would have hit an oncoming car and died. (You see, I didn't "curve", but actually drove straight. Not good.)
-I asked my future wife out while drunk. She was coming out of the Scene Shop, and I was heading to backstage. I said, "Hey. Do you want to go grab a drink with me sometime?"
"Umm. No thanks," She responded. "My fiance wouldn't like that."
"He could come too!"
"Nnno."
"Well...can I come to the wedding?"
"No. Again, don't think my fiance would like you."
(Author's Note: As we married each other, the irony is that I got invited to the wedding...in the end.)
You want more? Ok then.
-I learned how to speak the alphabet backwards very quickly (and can still do it to this day). Do it twice a day for 400 days, and you got it.
And the absolute worst moment:
I sat down on a Friday night at a bar with two friends and began drinking. I woke up the next morning on the side of 55 north (which would be on the way to Chicago...where my ex now lived). That means I drank, then got in my car and drove several hours on the freeway. Do I remember it? No. Was I arrested? Luckily no. I took the next exit, turned around and came back. That was the first time I realized perhaps I had a problem. I didn't remember a thing from the night before. There was a phone number on my hand from a girl named "Trish". I never called. There were three bags of chips in the back seat. No idea where they came from. Later, a friend of mine would show me pictures of events which I couldn't recall (including body shots, and more).
So, having reached the end of my rope, I decided I needed to do something. Fueled by the desire to fix myself, to stop being an idiot, and by a rather lovely girl who would not become Mrs. Leab, (remember, kids, at this point in my life, my wife as far as I knew was supposed to marry someone else, and she was not on campus as she was doing an internship.) I started trying to fix myself. No one would help me. I gave all my alcohol to a friend of mine (it totaled around $400 of booze. You figure it out.), and I started looking at Alcoholics Anonymous.
Now, I couldn't stay with AA. The steps bothered me ALOT. I thought it was more about introspection, but upon looking at the steps, it occured to me that (again, at least to me) it was giving up personal responsibility. Let me show you what I mean:
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The 12 Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous
1. We admitted we were powerless over alcohol--that our lives had become unmanageable.
Ok, that makes sense. We have a problem, and we have to admit it. Cool.
2. Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.
Umm. That depends on your definition of "Power". Now, the capitalization of power leads me to believe we're talking about God. So, we're supposed to believe that God can restore us to sanity. This is the first problem for me.
3. Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood
Him.
Ok this now shows that I was right about #2. "Our will and our lives over to the care of God...." Does this mean God will feed me soup? Ok, to be serious, however, if God is doing the work, then I am not. That's the problem. I believe, I TRULY believe that we have to take the responsibility. Turning it over to God makes me feel as if it's not my problem anymore, but his to fix. As if I am broken G.I. Joe figure. I'm not ok with this, but I want to be fixed, so I'm still sticking in at this point.
4. Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.Perfect. Here's another I agree with in principle. Reflect on who you are and figure out where you screwed up. Awesome. That's totally necessary to get better, and, in fact, this aspect more than any other made me get better. I made a list, a full-on written list of everything I had done wrong, and how I was hurting myself. That made me work harder. Plus, you know you did alot of "desperate things" to get drunk. Cough syrup, etc.
5. Admitted to God, to ourselves and to another human being the exact nature of our wrongs.
Here's another issue. If you define God as the actual Holy Host, then I can't do it. If God is everything and admitting it to myself and another human being means saying it aloud, then it works for me. If I just say it aloud to my friend, then God can hear it.
6. Were entirely ready to have God remove all these defects of character.
No, no, no, no. I will not have God remove my defects. No. I will work them out myself. Asking God to do it is the whole Cosmic Bellboy issue. God is not there to do things for me. I was given choice and ability and free-thinking in order to fix my own shortcomings.
7. Humbly asked Him to remove our shortcomings.
No. Again: my shortcomings, my problem. If God, or Fate, or Time, or Vishnu, or some guy named Murray who lives in the sun is really running the universe, then I am not going to waste their time to make them fix me. We are losing our personal responsibilities. "It's not my fault I drink, my dad did it...and God let me do it."
I understand that people need help, and that for some God is their help, but too many people use it as a crutch where if they aren't better, then it's God's fault. That's not how it works.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed, and became willing to make amends to them all.
Ok deep breath now to calm down. Ok. Good idea. Hard to remember if you're a blackout drunk, but a very good idea. This also goes along with number 4. You'd think they would be closer together.
9. Made direct amends to such people wherever possible, except when to do so would injure
them or others.
This one is a key. You MUST take responsibility. Say, "I'm sorry. It was my fault." Don't make it into, "Well, I wouldn't have done it if I were sober." That's a cop-out. That's like saying, "I'm sorry I hit you with my car, but it wouldn't have happened if you hadn't walked into that crosswalk...when you had the light...whatever...."
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong promptly admitted it.
Sure. We're keeping up numbers 4, 8, and 9. Those are really the keys to this anyway.
11. Sought through prayer and meditation to improve our conscious contact with God, as we
understood Him, praying only for knowledge of His will for us and the power to carry that
out.
Moving back to the problem area for me. Only "Knowledge of His will for us" can really get us through this? Come on. That means that again we are no longer in control and can then shed responsibility. That's not ok with me.
12. Having had a spiritual awakening as the result of these steps, we tried to carry this message to alcoholics, and to practice these principles in all our affairs.
The end. Having been "touched" (appropriately) by God or an angel, we know turn around and push this on others. Maybe I'm cynical, but isn't that also how cults work?
Yes, I am knocking AA, but I do understand, before you get all pissed off and try to kill me, that Alcoholics Anonymous works for some people. It never seemed right for me and so I moved away from it.
That's why I call myself a former drunk, not an ex-alcoholic. An Alcoholic seeks help from AA. A drunk doesn't. It's that simple.
I managed to take the steps from AA I believed would help me and fixed myself. I didn't go to God or Buddha for help. I stopped drinking by willing myself. I did meditate, but not on God.
My ultimate issue with Alcoholics Anonymous is the lack of perceived responsibility. God will "remove your shortcomings." YOU won't. He will. Not ok to me. You need to take care of it. You kicked the sheets off the bed, you put them back on.
I have now gotten to place where I can drink wine. I never have beer (unless it was a REALLY bad day and then I only have one and with supervision), and the only time I am allowed hard alcohol is when my throat really hurts (such as getting sick). Then I can only have one shot of Jack Daniels, and again, only in the presence of my wife.
Wine is different. I know some people can guzzle wine, but I have never been able. I have to sip it, which means I drink slower, which means I drink less. And unlike beer or liquor, I savor wine. I feel the taste around my palate. Sure, it makes me sound like yuppie, but...I love wine.
I really would love to open a winery after I retire and do all Shakespeare-themed wines.
What's worse is that now that I don't drink, I am pressured even more. Several of my wife's friends and co-workers are desperate to see me drunk. I don't know why. Actually that's not true, I do know why. I remain very composed around them, whereas all of them have gotten VERY drunk (or worse) around me. Back in October, a large group of us went to The Melting Pot for a birthday party (mine, and three other people's). I was pushed to drink a bottle of wine. Glass after glass was ordered for me. As they got wasted, I felt nothing. Part of that was tolerance for alcohol, but alot of it was also being annoyed at being a sideshow.
"Hey, let's get the former drunk REALLY drunk so we can see how he used to act."
It's no secret among Mrs. Leab's co-workers that I don't drink anymore. The reasons aren't known, but it is clear to them: He has the occasional glass of wine and that's it.
I am not condemning people who like to drink. Like I said, I still drink wine. I am also not going after people who choose to use Alcoholics Anonymous. The group has helped many people and that's wonderful, but it was not for me. I felt I needed to fix my problem, not (as I perceived it) have someone do it for me.
So there you go. I was asked about "the Lost Period" I mentioned and that's how it materialized. While it was mostly a negative period, it did make me into a better person.
Namaste.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
The Definition of Ironic: Holiday Edition
It's Holiday time. Sure, there people out there who are arguing the virtues of "Happy Holidays" versus "Merry Christmas". At the same time, there is a fight going on among those who believe that Christ is being taken out of Christmas versus those who want to see all religions fairly represented.This post is not here to argue that stuff.
No, this is about the tree that you see to your right. This is about the ultimate irony this holiday.
Urban Outfitters (a pretty trendy store) is selling the "Charlie Brown Pathetic Christmas Tree" you see on the right. It's ONLY twenty-four dollars (excuse me while I wipe the sarcasm off my screen...).
Now, if anyone has ever seen the A Charlie Brown Christmas special, you know that CB (and thus by association Charles Schulz) feels that Christmas is too commercialized. He then spends the rest of the time searching for Christmas' meaning. In the special, Linus ends up giving Charlie Brown a reading from the Book of Luke about the birth of Jesus.
Now here's the thing about the special that not alot of people know. I call it the original irony.
At one point in the special, Linus (or Charlie Brown, sources disagree) crashed into a sign advertising Coca-Cola after being tossed by Snoopy. (Current versions never show where Linus lands.) The closing carol originally included the complete verse (instead of fading out) with a final on-screen "Merry Christmas from your local bottler of Coca-Cola" right after the United Feature Syndicate credit at the end.
That's right. A special where the main character decries commercialism was itself overly commerical.
Now, to the ultimate irony.
Charlie Brown decides to buy the "pathetic" tree instead of a "brilliant aluminum one." Why? Because those aluminum trees are too commercial (and they're pink and blue and such).
So, here's Urban Outfitters creating a commerical trend out of a special that was against commercialism. Deeeeelicious irony.
The tree? It's already on backorder (ALOT of people have ordered it).
Slander a la Leab (12/8/05)
First of all. Happy birthday to my beautiful wife.
I know she'll never read this as she never reads my blog, but at least it's out there across the blogosphere. She's still the best thing that's ever happened to me (and I'm probably the worst thing that ever could have happened to her).
Once again, this has become the most popular segment on the ole blog. Let me just share something with you.
I received an email (ironicteachings@hotmail.com) telling me, "The rest of your stuff sucks, but your slander is sort of funny. Otherwise you suck."
Mmmmmm. Nastygrams.... Oh, and I got another email telling me not to use Alexis's name again. Awesome. I love it.
Ok. Let's get to tonight's SLANDERAMA!
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Boxing Match of the Century Leads to Ratings Stunt:
With the Twin Cities consumed by the upcoming fight between Rex "The Titanium Typist" Sorgatz and Garrison "The Lake Woebegon Battler," the local news outlets are attempting to boost ratings post-sweeps by having the evening news anchors combat each other in a four-team tornado tag-team tournament. (Gosh, I love alliteration...don't you?) Several variations of the tournament were discussed. At first, it was going to be a broadcast-off, where a randomly selected audience of Minnesotans would watch four hours of news back-to-back-to-back-to-back and then judge who was the best. However, this idea was thrown out when it was realized the audience would rather commit suicide then watch four straight hours of news.
In an attempt to capitalize on the highly publicized prize fight, an undercard was announced. However this was scrapped when the anchors began arguing.
Cyndy Brucato was quoted as saying, "I wouldn't fight Robyne (Robinson) on a bet. That bitch has a long reach AND she wears those damn Rox (available everywhere) which cut deep."
Brucato wasn't the only naysayer. "There's a reason my nickname is 'Dapper Don', people," WCCO anchor Don Shelby mused. "If you think I'm going to mess up THIS face (at this point he was holding up two mirrors. One for the front, the other for the left side), you're crazy."
It looked as if all would be lost, but then, a bolt of lightning (figurative, of course) struck local student Beverly Smith.
"Well, I'm from Mississippi, and in my family, when we have to solve a problem, we wrassle (wrestle). Pauses to spit tobacco. Why can't they just wrassle?
Thus was born the tournament. WCCO, KSTP, KARE, and KMSP will all be a part of the tournament (WFTC's Chris Conangla and Jordanna Green have been excused due to community service and impending birth respectively).
Odds makers in Las Vegas are favoring Fox 9's Jeff Passolt & Robyne Robinson because of his stone hard hair and her amazonian-like reach.
The rules will be as follows:
-It will be a free-for-all with anything being allowed (this includes chairs, hairstylists, teleprompters, etc).
-The final winner of the match will receive 2 full nielsen points.
-The "Don Shelby" rule will be in effect. (This means that no one can hit the face.)
On a final note, local boy Josh Hartnett will be singing the national anthem.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In Other News:
-Local boy John Madden was arrested in Philadelphia on monday night. Apparently, Madden was at the airport with Al Michaels. It is well known that Madden is afraid to fly and so he travels around the country in a triple decker bus. As Michaels was waiting to go through security, he discussed that night's game with Madden. At one point, Madden was overheard shouting, "BOOM!"
Security was sure Madden was making threats about bombs and took him down. As Madden was being dragged off, witnesses swore he was saying, "That guy who tackled me has no form. There I am and he tries to take me down, but BOOM, I threw him. Luckily the other guy plays like he's going to Outback and hit me harder than a blooming onion."
Madden is currently being held on $1,000,000 bail.
-Former ESPN anchor and late night talk show host has not been on TV in over a year, however, he has turned up in the Twin Cities. As Kilborn walked by the University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis, a fan recognized him and shouted, "Hey Kilborn, where you been?"
Kilborn shouted back, "Under 94...by Hennepin."
The fan laughed, but ten minutes later, Kilborn was seen grabbing a cardboard sign that read, "I used to famous. Please give me a dollar." He then headed over to the 94 off-ramp at Hennepin.
-UPDATE: The first fight on the undercard of Sorgatz/Keillor has been named. John Stewart and Bill O'Reilly will go toe to toe to debate Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas. Should be exciting stuff.
I know she'll never read this as she never reads my blog, but at least it's out there across the blogosphere. She's still the best thing that's ever happened to me (and I'm probably the worst thing that ever could have happened to her).
Once again, this has become the most popular segment on the ole blog. Let me just share something with you.
I received an email (ironicteachings@hotmail.com) telling me, "The rest of your stuff sucks, but your slander is sort of funny. Otherwise you suck."
Mmmmmm. Nastygrams.... Oh, and I got another email telling me not to use Alexis's name again. Awesome. I love it.
Ok. Let's get to tonight's SLANDERAMA!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Boxing Match of the Century Leads to Ratings Stunt:
With the Twin Cities consumed by the upcoming fight between Rex "The Titanium Typist" Sorgatz and Garrison "The Lake Woebegon Battler," the local news outlets are attempting to boost ratings post-sweeps by having the evening news anchors combat each other in a four-team tornado tag-team tournament. (Gosh, I love alliteration...don't you?) Several variations of the tournament were discussed. At first, it was going to be a broadcast-off, where a randomly selected audience of Minnesotans would watch four hours of news back-to-back-to-back-to-back and then judge who was the best. However, this idea was thrown out when it was realized the audience would rather commit suicide then watch four straight hours of news.
In an attempt to capitalize on the highly publicized prize fight, an undercard was announced. However this was scrapped when the anchors began arguing.
Cyndy Brucato was quoted as saying, "I wouldn't fight Robyne (Robinson) on a bet. That bitch has a long reach AND she wears those damn Rox (available everywhere) which cut deep."
Brucato wasn't the only naysayer. "There's a reason my nickname is 'Dapper Don', people," WCCO anchor Don Shelby mused. "If you think I'm going to mess up THIS face (at this point he was holding up two mirrors. One for the front, the other for the left side), you're crazy."
It looked as if all would be lost, but then, a bolt of lightning (figurative, of course) struck local student Beverly Smith.
"Well, I'm from Mississippi, and in my family, when we have to solve a problem, we wrassle (wrestle). Pauses to spit tobacco. Why can't they just wrassle?
Thus was born the tournament. WCCO, KSTP, KARE, and KMSP will all be a part of the tournament (WFTC's Chris Conangla and Jordanna Green have been excused due to community service and impending birth respectively).
Odds makers in Las Vegas are favoring Fox 9's Jeff Passolt & Robyne Robinson because of his stone hard hair and her amazonian-like reach.
The rules will be as follows:
-It will be a free-for-all with anything being allowed (this includes chairs, hairstylists, teleprompters, etc).-The final winner of the match will receive 2 full nielsen points.
-The "Don Shelby" rule will be in effect. (This means that no one can hit the face.)
On a final note, local boy Josh Hartnett will be singing the national anthem.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
In Other News:
-Local boy John Madden was arrested in Philadelphia on monday night. Apparently, Madden was at the airport with Al Michaels. It is well known that Madden is afraid to fly and so he travels around the country in a triple decker bus. As Michaels was waiting to go through security, he discussed that night's game with Madden. At one point, Madden was overheard shouting, "BOOM!"Security was sure Madden was making threats about bombs and took him down. As Madden was being dragged off, witnesses swore he was saying, "That guy who tackled me has no form. There I am and he tries to take me down, but BOOM, I threw him. Luckily the other guy plays like he's going to Outback and hit me harder than a blooming onion."
Madden is currently being held on $1,000,000 bail.
-Former ESPN anchor and late night talk show host has not been on TV in over a year, however, he has turned up in the Twin Cities. As Kilborn walked by the University of St. Thomas in Minneapolis, a fan recognized him and shouted, "Hey Kilborn, where you been?"
Kilborn shouted back, "Under 94...by Hennepin."
The fan laughed, but ten minutes later, Kilborn was seen grabbing a cardboard sign that read, "I used to famous. Please give me a dollar." He then headed over to the 94 off-ramp at Hennepin.
-UPDATE: The first fight on the undercard of Sorgatz/Keillor has been named. John Stewart and Bill O'Reilly will go toe to toe to debate Happy Holidays/Merry Christmas. Should be exciting stuff.
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Bat Mitzvah Update
Pictures from the $10,000,000 Bat Mitzvah.
In case you need a refresher:
(From IMDB)
50 Cent, Tom Petty, Stevie Nicks and members of Aerosmith and The Eagles joined forces to create one of the year's greatest live line-ups at the weekend, when they played a private Bat Mitzvah celebration gig. Multi-millionaire David H. Brooks paid a reported $10 million to hire the artists to perform at his daughter Elizabeth's party at New York City venue The Rainbow Room. Brooks is said to have chartered his company jet to pick up Aerosmith rockers Steven Tyler and Joe Perry from their Saturday concert in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He reportedly paid the stars $2 million to play a 45-minute set, while 50 Cent is thought to have received $500,000. Petty wowed the gathering with an acoustic performance, while The Eagles stars Joe Walsh and Don Henley played alongside Fleetwood Mac singer Nicks. Other acts to perform at the extravagant event included Ciara, Nicole Richie's fiance DJ AM and saxophonist Kenny G. However, Brooks has denied the reported cost of the event. He told the New York Daily News, "All dollar figures were vastly exaggerated. This was a private event and we do not wish to comment on details of the party."
These pictures say more than Brooks does.
Enjoy.
In case you need a refresher:
(From IMDB)
50 Cent, Tom Petty, Stevie Nicks and members of Aerosmith and The Eagles joined forces to create one of the year's greatest live line-ups at the weekend, when they played a private Bat Mitzvah celebration gig. Multi-millionaire David H. Brooks paid a reported $10 million to hire the artists to perform at his daughter Elizabeth's party at New York City venue The Rainbow Room. Brooks is said to have chartered his company jet to pick up Aerosmith rockers Steven Tyler and Joe Perry from their Saturday concert in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He reportedly paid the stars $2 million to play a 45-minute set, while 50 Cent is thought to have received $500,000. Petty wowed the gathering with an acoustic performance, while The Eagles stars Joe Walsh and Don Henley played alongside Fleetwood Mac singer Nicks. Other acts to perform at the extravagant event included Ciara, Nicole Richie's fiance DJ AM and saxophonist Kenny G. However, Brooks has denied the reported cost of the event. He told the New York Daily News, "All dollar figures were vastly exaggerated. This was a private event and we do not wish to comment on details of the party."
These pictures say more than Brooks does.
Enjoy.
The Movie? After the Ads...
"Moviegoers should get used to those ads shown as they settle into their seats."
That's right, boys and girls. According to USA Today, companies will spend even more money to get more ads on the screen by summer of 2006.
Now, I don't know about you, but I can't stand the ads. If I want commercials, I'll watch TV. So, here are some logical conclusions from this:
1. Fewer people will attend the movies.
Too many people already treat the movie theater like TV. That means talking (be it with other people or on phones), being slovenly, or worse. With more ads and quicker DVD (or home video) releases, a majority of people will stop going and just wait. Doesn't sound bad, right? Except, the next step is:
2. Theaters start going out of business.
With people not showing up, screens start to close. The rapid demise of megaplexes matches only the former rapid growth. Jobs are lost, the economy suffers only slightly. However, the real losers here are us. With fewer screens, Hollywood has to find alternate ways to get money from sponsors. An ingenious idea is formed....
3. Ads are put on DVD (or home video).
That's right. Ads, which cannot be skipped, are added to the movies. Thus, whenever the disc is put in, you have to suffer through 20 minutes of commercials before the film. The cycle continues. People will have to start the movie, walk away to do something for 20 minutes, and then return.
Now, there's no movie theaters and ads littered throughout DVDs everywhere.
This issue is much bigger than you think. There's a class action lawsuit against the Loews Theater chain, and at one point Congress asked for a bill where theaters would put down two times. The first when the ads started, and the second when the film actually started. Unfortunately, too much pork got added to this bill, and it was defeated.
I really can't tell you what the best way to fix the problem is. I like the idea of two times, but it will never fly. Theatres know they'll lose money if they implement it, sponsors will try to get rid of it, and there will problems with seat selection. (Imagine showing up at seating, say ten minutes before the film starts, you save your seats, and then leave for a half hour to grab dinner. When you return the rest of the theater is pretty full, but you have your seats. Is it fair to show up and then leave?)
Still, if I ran a theater chain, that's what I would do. Two times. I really believe that would bring in more business, and I would make it clear by using two colors. Black for start time, and red for actual film start time.
I love going to the movies. It's a sacred ritual to me. The problem I have with the ads is not their presence (though alot of them bug me as, like TV, they are way too loud), but the fact that if you go to a 2.5 hours long film, then you're in the theater for three hours. And a half hour of that is ads and previews. That's a long time for people who have a great deal of take home work (I'm just saying....).
Maybe you don't notice, and maybe you don't care. I can't speak for you, dear reader. All I know is that for my entire life I have been a movie theater goer. When the lights dim, it's a feeling of joy for me. Places like the Heights and the St. Anthony Main Theater don't have ads before the films. It's just straight to the previews (usually one or two) then the movie starts.
Then again, what do I know? I'm willing to pay 8 bucks for a ticket, 10 dollars for popcorn and a drink, and then sit through...well...nowadays schlock. I could be wrong.
That's right, boys and girls. According to USA Today, companies will spend even more money to get more ads on the screen by summer of 2006.
Now, I don't know about you, but I can't stand the ads. If I want commercials, I'll watch TV. So, here are some logical conclusions from this:
1. Fewer people will attend the movies.
Too many people already treat the movie theater like TV. That means talking (be it with other people or on phones), being slovenly, or worse. With more ads and quicker DVD (or home video) releases, a majority of people will stop going and just wait. Doesn't sound bad, right? Except, the next step is:
2. Theaters start going out of business.
With people not showing up, screens start to close. The rapid demise of megaplexes matches only the former rapid growth. Jobs are lost, the economy suffers only slightly. However, the real losers here are us. With fewer screens, Hollywood has to find alternate ways to get money from sponsors. An ingenious idea is formed....
3. Ads are put on DVD (or home video).
That's right. Ads, which cannot be skipped, are added to the movies. Thus, whenever the disc is put in, you have to suffer through 20 minutes of commercials before the film. The cycle continues. People will have to start the movie, walk away to do something for 20 minutes, and then return.
Now, there's no movie theaters and ads littered throughout DVDs everywhere.
This issue is much bigger than you think. There's a class action lawsuit against the Loews Theater chain, and at one point Congress asked for a bill where theaters would put down two times. The first when the ads started, and the second when the film actually started. Unfortunately, too much pork got added to this bill, and it was defeated.
I really can't tell you what the best way to fix the problem is. I like the idea of two times, but it will never fly. Theatres know they'll lose money if they implement it, sponsors will try to get rid of it, and there will problems with seat selection. (Imagine showing up at seating, say ten minutes before the film starts, you save your seats, and then leave for a half hour to grab dinner. When you return the rest of the theater is pretty full, but you have your seats. Is it fair to show up and then leave?)
Still, if I ran a theater chain, that's what I would do. Two times. I really believe that would bring in more business, and I would make it clear by using two colors. Black for start time, and red for actual film start time.
I love going to the movies. It's a sacred ritual to me. The problem I have with the ads is not their presence (though alot of them bug me as, like TV, they are way too loud), but the fact that if you go to a 2.5 hours long film, then you're in the theater for three hours. And a half hour of that is ads and previews. That's a long time for people who have a great deal of take home work (I'm just saying....).
Maybe you don't notice, and maybe you don't care. I can't speak for you, dear reader. All I know is that for my entire life I have been a movie theater goer. When the lights dim, it's a feeling of joy for me. Places like the Heights and the St. Anthony Main Theater don't have ads before the films. It's just straight to the previews (usually one or two) then the movie starts.
Then again, what do I know? I'm willing to pay 8 bucks for a ticket, 10 dollars for popcorn and a drink, and then sit through...well...nowadays schlock. I could be wrong.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Ramblings for the Evening (12/6/05)
The one thing I really don't like about this time of year is how dry Minnesota get. It is incredibly dry. My skin feels horrible, and I'm taking in what feels like double the amount of water. It sucks.
So, without further ado: I GIVE YOU...DERELICT!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Weather? Fair:
So the Vikings won their fifth straight game, and all of sudden everyone is ok with them. This is is hysterical. I was listening to KQRS yesterday, and they were ALL about how great the Vikings are. Only a few months ago, they left the team for dead and talked about how they couldn't cheer for them. It was the same with a bunch of my colleagues.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but it's amazing to me how many fair-weather fans there are out there.
My wife is a Kansas City Chiefs fan. Loves the team. Even when they are losing, she cheers for them and believes they can win the game.
Me? I cheer for many losing teams: The New York Mets, the New York Knicks, The New York Jets (that's a tough one this year, but I still cheer), the Minnesota Wild, and the New York Rangers.
I admit that I gave up on the Rangers two years ago. Not because they were losing, but because the General Manager traded away the most popular player on the team (a guy who had spent almost 20 years with them). However, last year he said he would commit to youth, and he has. That shows me something.
At Wild games, I am amazed that people would leave. Example? Phoenix came to town and took a two goal lead into the first intermission. People left. "That's it, dude. The game's over. Let's went!" And they left. It ended up being a close game, but no one cares.
When you win, the world loves you. When you lose, they scorn. Many Wild fans are walking away right now, because the team has been losing lately. However, if the team starts winning again, they'll come back.
It's the same for the Vikings. If they lose every game from here on out, all we'll hear about is the boat, and all the other crap this year.
Pick a horse and stick with it through thick and thin. That's how a real fan is.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Simple Life 4 (Or Why I Hate this Country):
SIIIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHH! Ok, a show like Arrested Development is going to be canceled, but fans clamored for and are now getting ANOTHER season of the Paris Hilton/Nicole Richie show? And what's the premise? The girls will split time as a surrogate wife and mother to a family, and the family will vote on who is better.
This is what people want. THIS.
Look, I laugh when I hear, for example, that Paris Hilton wants a mini-tiger for Christmas. Sure, I also die a little inside, because I know there are girls out there who will want to emulate her and so will want a mini-tiger, but mostly I laugh.
The problem is this whole "rich bitch" image is now being celebrated. Look at MTV's Super Sweet 16 show. Girls whine and complain in order to get a huge 16th birthday party. It's insane, and it shouldn't be celebrated. You want another example? Here's a story from the International Movie Database:
50 Cent, Tom Petty, Stevie Nicks and members of Aerosmith and The Eagles joined forces to create one of the year's greatest live line-ups at the weekend, when they played a private Bat Mitzvah celebration gig. Multi-millionaire David H. Brooks paid a reported $10 million to hire the artists to perform at his daughter Elizabeth's party at New York City venue The Rainbow Room. Brooks is said to have chartered his company jet to pick up Aerosmith rockers Steven Tyler and Joe Perry from their Saturday concert in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He reportedly paid the stars $2 million to play a 45-minute set, while 50 Cent is thought to have received $500,000. Petty wowed the gathering with an acoustic performance, while The Eagles stars Joe Walsh and Don Henley played alongside Fleetwood Mac singer Nicks. Other acts to perform at the extravagant event included Ciara, Nicole Richie's fiance DJ AM and saxophonist Kenny G. However, Brooks has denied the reported cost of the event. He told the New York Daily News, "All dollar figures were vastly exaggerated. This was a private event and we do not wish to comment on details of the party."
$10,000,000?!!! What the hell, folks? Sure, if you have the money, you should spend it, but what are they telling their daughter? "Everything you want, you'll get?" What happens if life doesn't turn out that way?
This, to me, is a huge problem in our country. Wasted money.
Let's say, however, the "dollar figures were vastly exaggerated." Does that mean it was ONLY $5,000,000? Oh joy. Hey, Danny the homeless guy off of 94, it was only 5 mil. Phew!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Law Students:
Apparently being a lawyer for Saddam Hussein will get you...uh...killed. Nice. So, here's my propostion for the newest reality show. As you may or may not know, the jobs for law students are drying up. It used to be (in the 1980s) there were three openings for every 1 law student. That meant options. Then, in the 90s, it whittled down to 1 to 1. Still ok for options, but now more cuthroat. In 2005 (that would be now), the pendulum has shifted. There are 5 or 6 students to every 1 job. Even more cutthroat. So, here's my proposal. There are going to be Law students who need a job. Why not create a show where fifteen of the brightest minds become Saddam's law team. Whoever survives, gets their own law firm. Could you imagine?
"Janel was in the lead, but she was killed by Shiite extremists. That leaves Andrew and Kate left."
Maybe it's too barbaric, but come on. Don't we have enough lawyers out there? Plus, could you imagine how you would put that on your resume?
John (or Jane) Q. Public
Legal Experience:
Law Offices of Jihad and Hallah
-Trial and appellate matters include commercial, construction, patent,employment, consumer, insurance, and personal injury disputes (including Saddam Hussein).
You'd be hired.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
People Say the Darndest Things:
Lewis Black has a bit where he talks about being in IHOP and hearing a woman say, "If it weren't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college." He then goes on to talk about how his brain essentially melts trying to figure out what it means.
I had that experience over the weekend.
My wife and I went to a Christmas Party (that's the final topic below). It was odd. Anyway, this guy is talking to me, when his wife comes by. He stops talking and turns to her in order to ask something. Her final comment is, "It's not like electrical tape hurts it at all."
That quote is still rattling around in my head. What does she mean?
The couple is Catholic. Is she talking about fixing their Christmas lights? A crucifix? Did she mean something about sex? How weird would THAT be?
This is the amazing thing about catching the end of conversation: Without the proper context, your brain goes searching to make connections. That's what Black was talking about in his schtick. When your brain goes into hyper-drive trying to make the logical connection, it starts to hurt. I stayed awake for an hour after the party (yes, an hour) trying to figure out what she meant.
The smart thing to do? I should have asked, but I didn't really know this woman, and they already thought I was quite weird.
And finally:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leab is a Stranger in a Strange Land:
One of my wife's Uber-bosses had a Christmas party on Friday night. Seeing as how it was for her career, I went along. You have to understand, the guest list was such that I knew NO ONE! Usually I know one or two people. Not that night. However, my wife waits until the last minute to tell me the ultimate surprise about the party: There will be an hour of Christmas Carol singing!!!!!
Can I sing? Sure. Can I do carols? Not so much. When I was a kid, we used to go to church at Christmas time so my mother could sing. She loves to sing. I didn't know the words, so I would just say, "Four" over and over and over again to the beat. It sounded like I was singing. As I got older, I started singing both the male and female parts (I got bored), but at this party, I knew very few of the songs being sung.
Let's begin with the arrival. From the moment we arrived, my wife and I got separated. I end up over by the appetizers watching her talk with her boss and co-workers. Around me were spouses (most of whom knew each other). Best moment? When a younger gal introduced herself and her husband. Turns out hubby is a honest-to-goodness rocket scientist. Also turns out that both of them were home schooled (and have the demeanors to show it) and hate teachers. Then they ask, "What do you do?"
My answer? "I kill baby dolphins."
There was a gigantic pause.
Now, I'm not knocking home schooling. It can be done very well, but more often than not, most home schooled kids have issues with talking to other people (or social issues for short). This girl did. Everything was TOO matter of fact, and when I proved her wrong on something, she stopped short of pulling out a knife and going for my eyes.
Back to the jobs. I let them stew. It was obvious they didn't catch the humor. So I told them, "Oh, I'm just kidding. I'm a high school teacher."
Another pause.
"That's...unfortunate." And that was it for our conversation for the rest of the night. They avoided me as if I was plagued with bird-flu and trying to bleed on them.
Want more fun stuff? I was the only person there with even a hint of Judaism in him or her. Everyone around me was Catholic and very aryan. Oh...SO aryan. When my wife mentioned that my father was a Jew, I was supposed to talk about how I understood guilt...just like the Catholics. Ummm, yeah. My mother is protestant, my father a Jew. This means : A. Not Jewish , and B. Not guilt-ridden. It's not a Jewish father sitting in the dark, folks.
When I explained I was a Taoist, my wife kicked me...hard.
Then, to complete my utter hell, we were given the "best seats in the house" for the carol singing. Catholics aplenty stared at me (The "token Jew" as my wife's boss's wife mentioned) to make sure I sang. Not going to lie to you: I didn't know half the songs. Part way through I got so bored, so I started singing them in German.
"O Christmas Tree" become "O Tannenbaum".
"Jingle Bells" become "Slichten Fah".
I did that until the local church choir director started asking, "What are doing? What's a Tannenbaum?"
SIGH.
It wasn't the worst party I've ever been too (At least my wife didn't cheat on me there, right?), but it was very uncomfortable for me. I can get along with anyone. Really. It's all about faking it, but this was really tough.
The ultimate highlight of the night? The boss's son runs over to me and hugs my legs? Why? No clue. He just ran over and hugged me. I was shocked. The boss was shocked. Every party goer was shocked. I just stood there and said, "Thanks kiddo. That was nice." He then hugged me again. Never talked to the kid before, never seen him before, and pretty sure that the boss wasn't too happy. Kiddo wouldn't hug his uncle, but random Jewish-looking guy? No problem.
Finally, at the end of the night, one guy says to me (SO NOT KIDDING), "You know, if you grew your hair out...you'd look like Jesus."
What would you say to that. "Gee..um..thanks. Well...that's me...I look like the savior...Wooo...yeah."
What did I say to that? "Thanks, Bob. I don't usually get told I look like J.C. Awesome" (with a thumbs up).
I love my wife, folks. I love my wife.
Final note: I know, I know. I have ripped on Christianity ALOT. If you're reading this and Catholic, I am not saying that you suck. All I'm saying is that I grew up in a predominantly religious-free zone. So when I come into someone's home and next to the Christmas Tree is a almost life-size crucifix...it's a little creeptastic. That's all.
Namaste.
So, without further ado: I GIVE YOU...DERELICT!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The Weather? Fair:
So the Vikings won their fifth straight game, and all of sudden everyone is ok with them. This is is hysterical. I was listening to KQRS yesterday, and they were ALL about how great the Vikings are. Only a few months ago, they left the team for dead and talked about how they couldn't cheer for them. It was the same with a bunch of my colleagues.
I guess I shouldn't be surprised, but it's amazing to me how many fair-weather fans there are out there.
My wife is a Kansas City Chiefs fan. Loves the team. Even when they are losing, she cheers for them and believes they can win the game.
Me? I cheer for many losing teams: The New York Mets, the New York Knicks, The New York Jets (that's a tough one this year, but I still cheer), the Minnesota Wild, and the New York Rangers.
I admit that I gave up on the Rangers two years ago. Not because they were losing, but because the General Manager traded away the most popular player on the team (a guy who had spent almost 20 years with them). However, last year he said he would commit to youth, and he has. That shows me something.
At Wild games, I am amazed that people would leave. Example? Phoenix came to town and took a two goal lead into the first intermission. People left. "That's it, dude. The game's over. Let's went!" And they left. It ended up being a close game, but no one cares.
When you win, the world loves you. When you lose, they scorn. Many Wild fans are walking away right now, because the team has been losing lately. However, if the team starts winning again, they'll come back.
It's the same for the Vikings. If they lose every game from here on out, all we'll hear about is the boat, and all the other crap this year.
Pick a horse and stick with it through thick and thin. That's how a real fan is.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Simple Life 4 (Or Why I Hate this Country):
SIIIIIIIIGGGGGGHHHH! Ok, a show like Arrested Development is going to be canceled, but fans clamored for and are now getting ANOTHER season of the Paris Hilton/Nicole Richie show? And what's the premise? The girls will split time as a surrogate wife and mother to a family, and the family will vote on who is better.This is what people want. THIS.
Look, I laugh when I hear, for example, that Paris Hilton wants a mini-tiger for Christmas. Sure, I also die a little inside, because I know there are girls out there who will want to emulate her and so will want a mini-tiger, but mostly I laugh.
The problem is this whole "rich bitch" image is now being celebrated. Look at MTV's Super Sweet 16 show. Girls whine and complain in order to get a huge 16th birthday party. It's insane, and it shouldn't be celebrated. You want another example? Here's a story from the International Movie Database:
50 Cent, Tom Petty, Stevie Nicks and members of Aerosmith and The Eagles joined forces to create one of the year's greatest live line-ups at the weekend, when they played a private Bat Mitzvah celebration gig. Multi-millionaire David H. Brooks paid a reported $10 million to hire the artists to perform at his daughter Elizabeth's party at New York City venue The Rainbow Room. Brooks is said to have chartered his company jet to pick up Aerosmith rockers Steven Tyler and Joe Perry from their Saturday concert in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He reportedly paid the stars $2 million to play a 45-minute set, while 50 Cent is thought to have received $500,000. Petty wowed the gathering with an acoustic performance, while The Eagles stars Joe Walsh and Don Henley played alongside Fleetwood Mac singer Nicks. Other acts to perform at the extravagant event included Ciara, Nicole Richie's fiance DJ AM and saxophonist Kenny G. However, Brooks has denied the reported cost of the event. He told the New York Daily News, "All dollar figures were vastly exaggerated. This was a private event and we do not wish to comment on details of the party."
$10,000,000?!!! What the hell, folks? Sure, if you have the money, you should spend it, but what are they telling their daughter? "Everything you want, you'll get?" What happens if life doesn't turn out that way?
This, to me, is a huge problem in our country. Wasted money.
Let's say, however, the "dollar figures were vastly exaggerated." Does that mean it was ONLY $5,000,000? Oh joy. Hey, Danny the homeless guy off of 94, it was only 5 mil. Phew!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Law Students:
Apparently being a lawyer for Saddam Hussein will get you...uh...killed. Nice. So, here's my propostion for the newest reality show. As you may or may not know, the jobs for law students are drying up. It used to be (in the 1980s) there were three openings for every 1 law student. That meant options. Then, in the 90s, it whittled down to 1 to 1. Still ok for options, but now more cuthroat. In 2005 (that would be now), the pendulum has shifted. There are 5 or 6 students to every 1 job. Even more cutthroat. So, here's my proposal. There are going to be Law students who need a job. Why not create a show where fifteen of the brightest minds become Saddam's law team. Whoever survives, gets their own law firm. Could you imagine?
"Janel was in the lead, but she was killed by Shiite extremists. That leaves Andrew and Kate left."
Maybe it's too barbaric, but come on. Don't we have enough lawyers out there? Plus, could you imagine how you would put that on your resume?
John (or Jane) Q. Public
Legal Experience:
Law Offices of Jihad and Hallah
-Trial and appellate matters include commercial, construction, patent,employment, consumer, insurance, and personal injury disputes (including Saddam Hussein).
You'd be hired.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
People Say the Darndest Things:
Lewis Black has a bit where he talks about being in IHOP and hearing a woman say, "If it weren't for my horse, I wouldn't have spent that year in college." He then goes on to talk about how his brain essentially melts trying to figure out what it means.
I had that experience over the weekend.
My wife and I went to a Christmas Party (that's the final topic below). It was odd. Anyway, this guy is talking to me, when his wife comes by. He stops talking and turns to her in order to ask something. Her final comment is, "It's not like electrical tape hurts it at all."
That quote is still rattling around in my head. What does she mean?
The couple is Catholic. Is she talking about fixing their Christmas lights? A crucifix? Did she mean something about sex? How weird would THAT be?
This is the amazing thing about catching the end of conversation: Without the proper context, your brain goes searching to make connections. That's what Black was talking about in his schtick. When your brain goes into hyper-drive trying to make the logical connection, it starts to hurt. I stayed awake for an hour after the party (yes, an hour) trying to figure out what she meant.
The smart thing to do? I should have asked, but I didn't really know this woman, and they already thought I was quite weird.
And finally:
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leab is a Stranger in a Strange Land:
One of my wife's Uber-bosses had a Christmas party on Friday night. Seeing as how it was for her career, I went along. You have to understand, the guest list was such that I knew NO ONE! Usually I know one or two people. Not that night. However, my wife waits until the last minute to tell me the ultimate surprise about the party: There will be an hour of Christmas Carol singing!!!!!
Can I sing? Sure. Can I do carols? Not so much. When I was a kid, we used to go to church at Christmas time so my mother could sing. She loves to sing. I didn't know the words, so I would just say, "Four" over and over and over again to the beat. It sounded like I was singing. As I got older, I started singing both the male and female parts (I got bored), but at this party, I knew very few of the songs being sung.
Let's begin with the arrival. From the moment we arrived, my wife and I got separated. I end up over by the appetizers watching her talk with her boss and co-workers. Around me were spouses (most of whom knew each other). Best moment? When a younger gal introduced herself and her husband. Turns out hubby is a honest-to-goodness rocket scientist. Also turns out that both of them were home schooled (and have the demeanors to show it) and hate teachers. Then they ask, "What do you do?"
My answer? "I kill baby dolphins."
There was a gigantic pause.
Now, I'm not knocking home schooling. It can be done very well, but more often than not, most home schooled kids have issues with talking to other people (or social issues for short). This girl did. Everything was TOO matter of fact, and when I proved her wrong on something, she stopped short of pulling out a knife and going for my eyes.
Back to the jobs. I let them stew. It was obvious they didn't catch the humor. So I told them, "Oh, I'm just kidding. I'm a high school teacher."
Another pause.
"That's...unfortunate." And that was it for our conversation for the rest of the night. They avoided me as if I was plagued with bird-flu and trying to bleed on them.
Want more fun stuff? I was the only person there with even a hint of Judaism in him or her. Everyone around me was Catholic and very aryan. Oh...SO aryan. When my wife mentioned that my father was a Jew, I was supposed to talk about how I understood guilt...just like the Catholics. Ummm, yeah. My mother is protestant, my father a Jew. This means : A. Not Jewish , and B. Not guilt-ridden. It's not a Jewish father sitting in the dark, folks.
When I explained I was a Taoist, my wife kicked me...hard.
Then, to complete my utter hell, we were given the "best seats in the house" for the carol singing. Catholics aplenty stared at me (The "token Jew" as my wife's boss's wife mentioned) to make sure I sang. Not going to lie to you: I didn't know half the songs. Part way through I got so bored, so I started singing them in German.
"O Christmas Tree" become "O Tannenbaum".
"Jingle Bells" become "Slichten Fah".
I did that until the local church choir director started asking, "What are doing? What's a Tannenbaum?"
SIGH.
It wasn't the worst party I've ever been too (At least my wife didn't cheat on me there, right?), but it was very uncomfortable for me. I can get along with anyone. Really. It's all about faking it, but this was really tough.
The ultimate highlight of the night? The boss's son runs over to me and hugs my legs? Why? No clue. He just ran over and hugged me. I was shocked. The boss was shocked. Every party goer was shocked. I just stood there and said, "Thanks kiddo. That was nice." He then hugged me again. Never talked to the kid before, never seen him before, and pretty sure that the boss wasn't too happy. Kiddo wouldn't hug his uncle, but random Jewish-looking guy? No problem.
Finally, at the end of the night, one guy says to me (SO NOT KIDDING), "You know, if you grew your hair out...you'd look like Jesus."
What would you say to that. "Gee..um..thanks. Well...that's me...I look like the savior...Wooo...yeah."
What did I say to that? "Thanks, Bob. I don't usually get told I look like J.C. Awesome" (with a thumbs up).
I love my wife, folks. I love my wife.
Final note: I know, I know. I have ripped on Christianity ALOT. If you're reading this and Catholic, I am not saying that you suck. All I'm saying is that I grew up in a predominantly religious-free zone. So when I come into someone's home and next to the Christmas Tree is a almost life-size crucifix...it's a little creeptastic. That's all.
Namaste.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Mail Mondays (12/5/05)
What a long weekend. I will be talking about it tomorrow.
Let's get to the mail.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leab,
You mentioned before that you were depressed for part of college. I believe you called it your "lost period."
Why?
What's the deal?
Concerned Citizen
Dear CC,
Yeah, it's true. For a good year and a half in college I was very down and did a lot of things to hurt myself. It wasn't a smart thing to do, but sometimes we don't think straight. Normally, I don't open up about stuff like this, so buckle up kids.
I was with a gal for two years. I really cared about her a great deal and changed many aspects of my life to keep her happy. When I moved into an apartment my sophomore year, I set everything up with this thought in mind: "Will she like it?"
The three cats I now own? I got them while with her. One day she found a stray cat. After shelling out $20 to litter and feed this cat, its owner turned up. Devestated, she begged me to get a new cat. Again, I should have been listening. "I love kittens," she told me, "but I think cats are boring." When we got the three boys, she agreed to take one of them with her when she graduated. Fast forward to her leaving...well...I'm getting way ahead of myself.
They say love is blind, and in my case it's also deaf and dumb. My sisters, my parents, and my friends all said this would end badly. Some even went as far as sitting me down and explaining to me why this gal (we''ll call her Lola) was wrong for me. I didn't listen.
The signs were all there. She had been in a relationship while in high school where her college-aged lover mistreated her. In college, she dated a man who went crazy and stalked her after their break up. This man (we'll call him Isaiah) would figure into the situation.
Before I explain what happened, let me set up for you how we met and dated.
Washington University in St. Louis holds a concert in the Spring called WILD (Walk In Lay Down). This concert usually features someone famous (this year was Porno for Pyros). It was at this time that I was visiting the school. Encouraged to tour the campus alone, I left my parents and went to the campus that night. It was here I met Lola. I wandered over to the main stage to talk to a few people I had met during the daytime tour. As we talked, this gal bumped into me. She was slightly shorter than me with dark hair, piercing eyes, and nice body. She apologized and in an attempt to not look like an idiot, I made a witty remark. She laughed, and we began to talk. After 20 minutes, this guy shows up looking very angry. He's about 5'5", muscular, and walking like an ape. Think Danny Bonaduce, but Jewish. He gets angry and drags her off.
Fast forward a few months. I am now a precocious (HAHAHA) freshman at Wash. U. After ten minutes in my first class, I become the stage manager for the first show of the year (I was the only person with any experience). During the first rehearsal, I discover that Lola is on my running crew, and she remembers me. I also find out that her now ex-boyfriend is running lights with me. This makes for a volatile situation. Everytime they see each other, they argue. Think Moonlighting but angrier and Jewish.
Auditions came and went and Lola was cast in the show I would be working on next. Though the first show we were working wasn't over yet, she had her script. One night rehearsal ends and Lola asks me if I could "help her with her lines." Now, I'm a guy, which means that...well...I'm clueless. I really thought she wanted help with her lines. I was wrong.
After that night, we were, for all intents and purposes dating. However, Isaiah was still in the picture. You see I would go to Lola's apartment every night to be with her. Sometimes, he was there. One night after a fairly rough rehearsal, he was there with her. Both of them were stoned out of their minds. Isaiah hands me his car keys and says, "You shouldn't be here. I think it's my turn tonight. So take my car and go do whatever you want."
I was embarrassed. I should have taken his keys, but I didn't. I walked back the three miles to my dorm room and spent a very sleepless night trying to decide what to do. It was answered for me the next morning. Lola called me and apologized. It was after a brief conversation that she explained to me that Isaiah was done. It was just the two of us now.
We remained together for another year and half as a couple. One night, one moment changed it all.
At a party being thrown by myself and a friend of mine (he had a bigger apartment, but it was our soiree), I lost sight of Lola. To compound matters, Isaiah had shown up. The last I heard, the two of them had walked off together. I asked Lola's friend, "Have you seen her?"
"No."
I was asked to go to the garage and get more beer, so I went.
When I walked in, I found Lola on the hood of my car in flagrante de licto (that is, having sex) with Isaiah. I was devestated. Even though I knew in the back of my mind it had to be happening, my heart was still crushed. I went back into the house and told my buddy:
"Go into the garage and tell Lola and Isaiah that they need to leave NOW. I'm going to get your bat and go out there in 30 seconds. If he's still here, he's going to be hurt."
No one consoled me. One of my friends even hit me with the "I told you so" speech. Never a good idea. It's like when a person jumps off the roof and breaks his or her leg. As the bone pokes out and blood spouts, that person doesn't need to be told "You idiot. I told you that would happen."
I went back to my apartment. A few hours later, Lola showed up. We fought viciously. I heard all about how she still has something deep in her heart for him. I also got to hear about his 13" penis (not something you want to hear about when you're sleeping with someone). For three hours it went on. Three hours. My neighbors would later complain to me that they heard everything...two floors up.
I should have learned my lesson. I should have ended it, but I didn't. She cried, she swore she wouldn't do it again, and honestly, I was a young man dating a good looking gal (think Alexis [Girl Friday], but make her a 40DD). Yes, I was a college student and not the smart man I am today. I thought about sex. I gues that makes me like every other man out there. Sorry to dissapoint. Anyway, I didn't learn my lesson until later. We stayed together.
One month later, she dumped me. We were lying in bed together post coitus, and she said she couldn't be with me anymore. She then rolled over and went to sleep. I went out. I ended up walking for four hours. I walked University City, the school's campus, and more. When I came back, she was gone.
Here's where it gets worse.
I know. You're thinking, "Leab, how can it get worse? You stayed with a cheating woman who dumped you. It can't get worse!" It can.
We may not have been together anymore, but we still slept together for two more months. That's right. We had sex together every other night for two more months. No talking, no feelings, just sex. Then it ended...for a little while.
Already unhappy and having lost many friends who chose her over me, I started drinking (that's another story for another time). I drank alot.
One night I was in a local bar (no one ever carded me) when a buddy of mine came over and sat down.
"We need to talk," He started.
"Fuck off," I responded and returned to my shots.
"Lola was never faithful."
"What the hell do you mean Greg (not his real name)?"
He paused, took one of my shots, and then sighed. "She didn't just sleep with Isaiah. She slept with four other people all while you two were together. She also tried to sleep with me."
That was a bad moment. You ever have a moment when you feel like the entire world is staring at you? Laughing at you? That no one at the very moment could possibly understand the emotions running through your system? That was my moment. Everything went dark.
I drank the next few months away. I worked, went to school, and even talked to my family, but I was never sober.
I mentioned that Lola and I were apart only for a little while. The month of graduation, we got back together as bed buddies. I was stupid again. There was, of course, a hidden agenda. She wanted me to help her move out of her apartment. I refused. She sent her father, who had once told me he didn't like me, to my apartment to ask for my help. Then her mother came. I buckled. And when all was said and done, I expected (and see this is the problem. I expected things. I hoped for things. It never works that way.) a thank you and a good bye hug. That's it. With her parents in the running car, Lola turned to me and said, "Well...have a good life." Then she hops in the car, and they take off. I screamed down the street, "Go fuck yourself, bitch."
Oh, and remember when I mentioned that she would take one of the cats? When I brought this up, she stared at me and said, "But I don't like cats. I like kittens. Do you have a kitten for me?" It worked out ok, however, because I love my three boys, and they love me.
But the whole debacle stayed with me. I didn't sober up for a year (again, for another time).
This was a good lesson, however. It taught me alot about love, trust, and reading the signs. It's why I can now read people VERY well.
Still, it is better to have loved and lost....
Oh, and the picture? It's for emphasis. That's not my car.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think I will end it with just the one letter tonight. It's funny. I've been feeling very down lately, partially because someone reminded me of this whole period in my life. Perhaps instead of Ramblings tomorrow, I will talk more about my "lost period."
Peace be unto you.
Let's get to the mail.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Leab,
You mentioned before that you were depressed for part of college. I believe you called it your "lost period."
Why?
What's the deal?
Concerned Citizen
Dear CC,
Yeah, it's true. For a good year and a half in college I was very down and did a lot of things to hurt myself. It wasn't a smart thing to do, but sometimes we don't think straight. Normally, I don't open up about stuff like this, so buckle up kids.
I was with a gal for two years. I really cared about her a great deal and changed many aspects of my life to keep her happy. When I moved into an apartment my sophomore year, I set everything up with this thought in mind: "Will she like it?"
The three cats I now own? I got them while with her. One day she found a stray cat. After shelling out $20 to litter and feed this cat, its owner turned up. Devestated, she begged me to get a new cat. Again, I should have been listening. "I love kittens," she told me, "but I think cats are boring." When we got the three boys, she agreed to take one of them with her when she graduated. Fast forward to her leaving...well...I'm getting way ahead of myself.
They say love is blind, and in my case it's also deaf and dumb. My sisters, my parents, and my friends all said this would end badly. Some even went as far as sitting me down and explaining to me why this gal (we''ll call her Lola) was wrong for me. I didn't listen.
The signs were all there. She had been in a relationship while in high school where her college-aged lover mistreated her. In college, she dated a man who went crazy and stalked her after their break up. This man (we'll call him Isaiah) would figure into the situation.
Before I explain what happened, let me set up for you how we met and dated.
Washington University in St. Louis holds a concert in the Spring called WILD (Walk In Lay Down). This concert usually features someone famous (this year was Porno for Pyros). It was at this time that I was visiting the school. Encouraged to tour the campus alone, I left my parents and went to the campus that night. It was here I met Lola. I wandered over to the main stage to talk to a few people I had met during the daytime tour. As we talked, this gal bumped into me. She was slightly shorter than me with dark hair, piercing eyes, and nice body. She apologized and in an attempt to not look like an idiot, I made a witty remark. She laughed, and we began to talk. After 20 minutes, this guy shows up looking very angry. He's about 5'5", muscular, and walking like an ape. Think Danny Bonaduce, but Jewish. He gets angry and drags her off.
Fast forward a few months. I am now a precocious (HAHAHA) freshman at Wash. U. After ten minutes in my first class, I become the stage manager for the first show of the year (I was the only person with any experience). During the first rehearsal, I discover that Lola is on my running crew, and she remembers me. I also find out that her now ex-boyfriend is running lights with me. This makes for a volatile situation. Everytime they see each other, they argue. Think Moonlighting but angrier and Jewish.
Auditions came and went and Lola was cast in the show I would be working on next. Though the first show we were working wasn't over yet, she had her script. One night rehearsal ends and Lola asks me if I could "help her with her lines." Now, I'm a guy, which means that...well...I'm clueless. I really thought she wanted help with her lines. I was wrong.
After that night, we were, for all intents and purposes dating. However, Isaiah was still in the picture. You see I would go to Lola's apartment every night to be with her. Sometimes, he was there. One night after a fairly rough rehearsal, he was there with her. Both of them were stoned out of their minds. Isaiah hands me his car keys and says, "You shouldn't be here. I think it's my turn tonight. So take my car and go do whatever you want."
I was embarrassed. I should have taken his keys, but I didn't. I walked back the three miles to my dorm room and spent a very sleepless night trying to decide what to do. It was answered for me the next morning. Lola called me and apologized. It was after a brief conversation that she explained to me that Isaiah was done. It was just the two of us now.
We remained together for another year and half as a couple. One night, one moment changed it all.
At a party being thrown by myself and a friend of mine (he had a bigger apartment, but it was our soiree), I lost sight of Lola. To compound matters, Isaiah had shown up. The last I heard, the two of them had walked off together. I asked Lola's friend, "Have you seen her?"
"No."
I was asked to go to the garage and get more beer, so I went.
When I walked in, I found Lola on the hood of my car in flagrante de licto (that is, having sex) with Isaiah. I was devestated. Even though I knew in the back of my mind it had to be happening, my heart was still crushed. I went back into the house and told my buddy:
"Go into the garage and tell Lola and Isaiah that they need to leave NOW. I'm going to get your bat and go out there in 30 seconds. If he's still here, he's going to be hurt."
No one consoled me. One of my friends even hit me with the "I told you so" speech. Never a good idea. It's like when a person jumps off the roof and breaks his or her leg. As the bone pokes out and blood spouts, that person doesn't need to be told "You idiot. I told you that would happen."
I went back to my apartment. A few hours later, Lola showed up. We fought viciously. I heard all about how she still has something deep in her heart for him. I also got to hear about his 13" penis (not something you want to hear about when you're sleeping with someone). For three hours it went on. Three hours. My neighbors would later complain to me that they heard everything...two floors up.
I should have learned my lesson. I should have ended it, but I didn't. She cried, she swore she wouldn't do it again, and honestly, I was a young man dating a good looking gal (think Alexis [Girl Friday], but make her a 40DD). Yes, I was a college student and not the smart man I am today. I thought about sex. I gues that makes me like every other man out there. Sorry to dissapoint. Anyway, I didn't learn my lesson until later. We stayed together.
One month later, she dumped me. We were lying in bed together post coitus, and she said she couldn't be with me anymore. She then rolled over and went to sleep. I went out. I ended up walking for four hours. I walked University City, the school's campus, and more. When I came back, she was gone.
Here's where it gets worse.
I know. You're thinking, "Leab, how can it get worse? You stayed with a cheating woman who dumped you. It can't get worse!" It can.
We may not have been together anymore, but we still slept together for two more months. That's right. We had sex together every other night for two more months. No talking, no feelings, just sex. Then it ended...for a little while.
Already unhappy and having lost many friends who chose her over me, I started drinking (that's another story for another time). I drank alot.
One night I was in a local bar (no one ever carded me) when a buddy of mine came over and sat down.
"We need to talk," He started.
"Fuck off," I responded and returned to my shots.
"Lola was never faithful."
"What the hell do you mean Greg (not his real name)?"
He paused, took one of my shots, and then sighed. "She didn't just sleep with Isaiah. She slept with four other people all while you two were together. She also tried to sleep with me."
That was a bad moment. You ever have a moment when you feel like the entire world is staring at you? Laughing at you? That no one at the very moment could possibly understand the emotions running through your system? That was my moment. Everything went dark.
I drank the next few months away. I worked, went to school, and even talked to my family, but I was never sober.
I mentioned that Lola and I were apart only for a little while. The month of graduation, we got back together as bed buddies. I was stupid again. There was, of course, a hidden agenda. She wanted me to help her move out of her apartment. I refused. She sent her father, who had once told me he didn't like me, to my apartment to ask for my help. Then her mother came. I buckled. And when all was said and done, I expected (and see this is the problem. I expected things. I hoped for things. It never works that way.) a thank you and a good bye hug. That's it. With her parents in the running car, Lola turned to me and said, "Well...have a good life." Then she hops in the car, and they take off. I screamed down the street, "Go fuck yourself, bitch."
Oh, and remember when I mentioned that she would take one of the cats? When I brought this up, she stared at me and said, "But I don't like cats. I like kittens. Do you have a kitten for me?" It worked out ok, however, because I love my three boys, and they love me.
But the whole debacle stayed with me. I didn't sober up for a year (again, for another time).
This was a good lesson, however. It taught me alot about love, trust, and reading the signs. It's why I can now read people VERY well.
Still, it is better to have loved and lost....
Oh, and the picture? It's for emphasis. That's not my car.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I think I will end it with just the one letter tonight. It's funny. I've been feeling very down lately, partially because someone reminded me of this whole period in my life. Perhaps instead of Ramblings tomorrow, I will talk more about my "lost period."
Peace be unto you.
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