Blog Envy

Last summer, while I was in Chicago, I saw the musical mentioned in yesterday's post (if you're reading my facebook feed, you'll have to go to my site to see the post I'm talking about).

A friend of mine from school saw the tour around the same time (er...maybe some time later... I don't know, I'm not always listening) and got to meet the cast.

I'm insanely envious, but that's not what this post is about.

Anyway, he became fans of the actors in that show. One of them has a blog...vlog...both...something.

I checked it out for the first time today. It pretty much rocks. Would that my blog was that cool.

If you're interested, here's the url for Andrew's blog: http://www.keenanblogger.blogspot.com/

Incidentally, it's Andrew's sister that I met after Les Mis. I think I mentioned that a couple of posts ago, too.

The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

So I had to go to the Strange Reunion today (I wish I was making this up), and I started thinking about things that are, well, strange.

One of the things that came to mind was one of the strangest and most clever things I've seen: The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. If you aren't familiar with this, it's a musical that opened a few years ago that tells the story of.. a spelling bee. Kind of like the title would indicate. That sounds like it would be stupid and boring (or stupid AND boring), but it was probably one of the most enjoyable theatre experiences I've ever had. Here's a look at parts of it.

This is from the opening number on the closing night of the show. The quality's not so great, so I apologize for that. I didn't record this. Yay for YouTube.

And here's one of my favorite numbers from it: "The I Love You Song."





And this is "I'm Not That Smart"

Between Family, Friends, Writers and Facebook...

...I'll probably be doing memes for the rest of my life.

But I didn't have a post planned for today, so it's all good. Thanks to Colby over at Spittin' (Out Words) Like a Llama (http://colbymarshall.blogspot.com/) [Wow, I need to learn how to format stuff...] for this meme.

Here goes....

The Rules:List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring summer. Post these instructions in your blog along with your seven songs. Then tag seven other people to see what they’re listening to.

1. "L'un Vers L'autre" from the original French recording of Les Miserables. I know that makes me lame (or so cool that you just can't get over it... one of the two), but seriously-- it's Les Mis in French. How do you beat that?

2. "Buddy Holly" by Weezer. This is one of my favorite (non-Broadway) songs.I mean, come on. It has a line in it that's "Don't look now, but I've lost my shoe." Plus, I dig Weezer. For serious.

3. "Time in a Bottle" by Jim Croce. This is one of those songs that makes me wish I had worked harder in guitar lessons. Another fun little fact: it was the senior song for my dad's graduating class. That aside, some of the lyrics describe how I view life a lot of the time. "But there never seems to be enough time/To do the things you want to do/Once you find them...."

4. "The I Love You Song" from The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee. This musical is probably the most clever thing I've ever seen, and this is the sweetest song from it. I have a bit more of an attachment to it because I got to meet Celia Keenan-Bolger-- the original Olive Ostrovsky. Oh yeah. It was cool.

5. "Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk" by Rufus Wainwright. I heard this song on someone's MySpace page. I liked it so much that I kept visiting the page just to listen to it. Then the thought occurred to me that I could by the CD. Yeah.

6. "Hey There, Single Gal/Guy" from I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change. I hear this song, and I think of my parents. Scary. This whole show seems like it would be so much fun to be in, but this is probably my favorite number from it.

7. "The Next Ten Minutes" from The Last 5 Years. The prettiest song from my second favorite show. (Les Mis is first; Spelling Bee is third. In case you were wondering.) Really, I have a hard time with love songs sometimes because they tend to be really unrealistic-- "We'll always, always, always be together and everything will be sunshine and daisies"--but this one just seems so...I don't know. It seems more real. "Will you share your life with me/For the next ten minutes/For the next ten minutes/We can handle that/We could watch the waves/We could watch the sky/Or just sit and wait/As the time ticks by/And if we make it till then/Can I ask you again/For another ten...." Seriously--listen to it now. Now.

Okay, so now I have to tag seven people. (I wish I could tag more people. I'd really like to know what everyone listens to.)

Josh
Cait
Tori
Adrienne
Grant
Nathan
Kate

So go. Do the meme.

Debate

So Patti LuPone won a Tony this year for her performance as Mama Rose in Gypsy. This musical has been revived more times than I think anyone can count.

And, as with any musical that has more than one vision, there's a debate as to who did the best job in the lead role.

I'm not going to ask people to dig through every bootleg video of this show, but I am curious as to what other people think or the two most recent revivals: the one starring Patti (obviously) and the one starring Bernadette Peters.

Here's Patti.


And here's Bernadette.


Let me know which you like more.

I asked my mom who she thought was better between Patti and Bernadette, and she gave me the completely unhelpful though not untrue answer of Ethel Merman.

Here's Ethel. :)

I Hate First Drafts

Seriously.

Even for short stories.

I like for the things that I do to be as close to perfect as possible (just ask my roommate), so the idea of an unpolished piece of writing drives me crazy. I know the first draft is pretty much word vomit-- just getting the idea out in a form that will be only vaguely like the finished product.

But, God, it's difficult to leave things alone.

I'm trying to get better about it-- so far I haven't gone back and changed anything in my story. All of the writing I've done on it has been moving it forward.

That's not to say that, when the first round of edits comes, I'll be keeping it all. I might end up trashing most of it.

I know it's impossible to write something and have it be perfect after the first try. But wouldn't it be nice?

Best Stress Relief Ever

My job stresses me out.

Not because it's hard. It isn't. At all.

It does require that I be suspicious of people (there's a post about this somewhere on here, I think), which is not something I'm good at. I like to think that people are generally telling the truth.

Anyway, sitting at my desk for eight hours being suspicious and (at times) rude--you have to get the solicitors off the phone somehow-- stresses me out.

I'd love to be able to go home and collapse on the couch to unwind, but I'm not wired that way. If I lay down on the couch, I'll just think of a million and one things that I have to do.

Or Mom will tell me to get out of her spot. Either way, relaxing that way is out.

Some people who know me well might say that I should draw or write or sing to calm my nerves, but that doesn't work for me either. Those things all carry their own different stresses. (Especially writing, now that I'm working on a story for a competition--yikes!)

So all of that leaves me in a bit of a pickle. What can I do to de-stress?

My parents have a dog--a big, beautiful mutt-- that they don't get out to play with very often. Last week, I grabbed a tennis ball and went into the back yard to spend some time with the dog.

As the title says: best stress relief EVER.

The wonderful thing about dogs is that they realize that humans need to give love as much as get it. Petting and playing with a dog is the most relaxing thing in the world.

Even when you do have to remind the dog that a tennis ball is not the same thing as food (poor thing kept trying to eat the tennis ball--that's probably a good indication that she doesn't get played with anywhere near enough).

Now my problem is solved. Pretty great, isn't it?


see more dog pictures

This looks so much like Hershey! (I love my dog.)

The Time Warp

(Before anyone asks, yes, seeing Eddie Izzard was great. But that's another post for another time.)

Most of the time, I have a pretty reliable internal clock-- not to the point where I can tell what time it is without ever looking at a watch, but I am able to wake up on time without an alarm on most days and I never have to worry about napping for too long.

The only problem is that any change in my routine--and I do mean any change--and my clock's screwed up for days.

Yesterday, for example, I woke up with a migraine (the kind that spreads from the back of the head to the temples and gathers right behind the eyes... ick), so I didn't go about my usual Sunday routine.

I slept most of the day and, because of that, wasn't able to sleep last night.

So I overslept this morning.

It took longer than usual to get ready for work, even though I didn't do anything extra. The drive might not have been longer, but it certainly seemed longer. And when I got here, everyone was gone.

Well, okay, that might be an exaggeration. But the people in the offices closest to me aren't here. Which makes me feel weird, because I usually leave before they do.

So my sense of time has been pretty skewed today on it's own-- the last thing I needed was a computer messing with it.

But don't we always get the last thing we need?

I was sent some paperwork to work on by someone who uses a different version of software than I use. The computer, of course, flipped out.

Computers are good at that.

It told me that I'd have to download the compatibility feature before I could work on the paper. So, I (grudgingly) went to the website and started the download.

Those download things are little liars-- did you ever notice that? They'll tell you that something will take five minutes to download. Then it'll jump to three minutes. Then back to five; then to six.

After about ten minutes of trying to decide if the download would take two minutes or seven, the download was done.

All of this combined has completely thrown me off.

It's only ten o'clock in the morning. Why do I have to feel like it's three in the afternoon?

Surprise!

I have some free time and a plan right now, so it looks like you're getting a post today.

Aren't you lucky.

One of my guilty pleasures is a show on Fox called So You Think You Can Dance. I took dance when I was a kid, and, for a while, I was really into it. Then I discovered theatre, and that was the end of that.

But I digress.

Anyway, I've watched one full season (the one when Benjie won) and all of this season so far, and one thing I have learned is that I love Mia Michaels's choreography.

Like, LOVE it. Really.

Check it out.

Mia won an Emmy for this one. (Ignore the extra stuff--this is about the dance)


And this was on last Wednesday's episode.


Pretty cool, no?

Anyway, as much as I love her choreography, she gets on my nerves as a judge. And there are several people (and by several, I mean two) who I know agree with me. I think my sister had it right when she said that Mia watches a dance and judges it based on how she would have choreographed it and not on the dance itself.

It doesn't matter, though. I watch for the dances. Even the ones not choreographed by Mia Michaels are sometimes (most of the time, but not always--last night was really a bad night)great.



So now you know one of my deep, dark secrets. Well, I make no apologies.

At least I don't watch Hell's Kitchen. *cough*Josh*cough*

Post

I'd hate to post just for the sake of posting.

But that's what I'm going to do.

Tomorrow's going to be a hectic day at work (shocking, isn't it?), and I'm going to be out of town for the Eddie Izzard tour on Friday, so this may be it until Saturday.

Unfortunately, I don't have any observation to make or information to pass along. Bummer.

So I guess it's time for another meme.

A-ATTACHED OR SINGLE? Single and not worrying about being attached.
B-BEST FRIEND? That's a tough question, really. But I'll say Tori, since I see her the most often
C-CAKE or PIE? Both. But not at the same time
D-DAY of CHOICE? All of them. But not at the same time.
E-ESSENTIAL ITEMS? Chapstick, Dr Pepper
F-FAVORITE COLOR? Green right now. I never stick with one color for long
G-GUMMY BEARS OR WORMS? It doesn't matter.
H-HOMETOWN? Madison. Now guess which state.
I-INDULGENCE? Yankee Candles. I can't keep them at my parents' house because my mom can't take the smell, but I love them.
J-JANUARY OR JULY? July. Unless January is unusually warm.
K-KIDS? God, no. And not anytime soon either. I'm not good with kids.
L-LIFE ISN'T COMPLETE WITHOUT... Friends, Family and Food.
M-MARRIAGE DATE? See letter A.
N-NUMBER OF SIBLINGS? One sister and one brother-in-law. And a lot of kids that I think of as family.
O-ORANGES OR APPLES? Neither--strawberries, pineapple, kiwi and bananas.
P-PHOBIAS OR FEARS? Spiders, heights, anything that messes with my OCD (like Tori not letting me push in the buttons on the soda lids)
Q-QUOTE? "Acting is a masochistic form of exhibitionism. It is not quite the occupation of an adult." Laurence Olivier
R-REASON TO SMILE? Many.
S-SUPERMAN OR WONDER WOMAN? Neither. (Ha, you were all expecting me to say Wonder Woman because of the inner feminist, weren't you?)
T-TAG 5 PEOPLE Josh, Heath, Rachel, Cait, Adrienne
U-UNKNOWN FACT ABOUT ME? Once upon a time, I wanted to be a scientist. Yeah, weird stuff.
V-VEGETABLES? Spinach, artichokes, carrots (if they're cooked properly)
W-WORST HABIT? I can't pay attention for long stretches of time. If you're telling me something important, make sure I'm listening and not thinking about fried chicken or something.
X-RAY OR ULTRASOUND? Neither, if they can be avoided.
Y-YOUR FAVORITE FOOD? I don't really have one.
Z-ZODIAC SIGN? Libra

So there it is. Hopefully, the next time I'm able to post, I'll actually have something to say.

Gas Prices Will Kill My Writing

That might not make much sense, but it's true.

I love riding in cars and buses, especially when they're quiet. In my experience, there's nothing watching the scenery pass to make a mind ready to receive the spark of an idea.

There's a story writing contest in November that I've been planning on entering, but I hadn't been able to come up with an idea for a story--and I wanted to have time to edit whatever I wrote, so I was a bit concerned.

Riding back from the bookstore in the dark a few nights ago, just letting my mind wonder where it will, I came up with the beginning of my story. Not just the idea, but the exact words that I wanted.

This isn't the first time something like this has happened. The plot and title for one of the first stories I ever really worked on came to me while my dad was driving around a less developed part of the county; this story has since spawned into a piece of what will be a frame-style novel.

Car rides being one of my favorite sources for ideas, I'm finding myself more and more concerned as gas prices rise. It's hard to drive around in search for an idea when you have to sell your spleen to buy a tank of gas.

What do these prices mean? Is my best creative source being taken away from me all together? Am I doomed to mediocre ideas from now on?

No, I don't think so. But it is sad to see something so simple as a drive to nowhere in particular that can spark such good things becoming something of yesterday.

Though, if the quality of literature falls in the next few years, we'll all know that the oil companies are to blame.

Hm

So I blinked, and now June is more than halfway over.

What's up with that?

Why is time flying by so fast?

And why can't I like the Michael John LaChiusa Wild Party compared to the Andrew Lippa one?

Life's full of questions.

Sleep-working

A few days ago, I read something on Yahoo News that said there has been research to show that people who sleep 6 to 7 hours a night generally live longer than people who sleep 8 hours a night.

As a college student, I have to say that this is good news for me.

Anyway, last night I ended up staying up later than I normally do-- not to prove a point or anything: just because the Tony Awards were on last night, and I had to watch them through to the end (and it was a disappointing experience so far as musicals go, really, but that's what happens in dry years, I guess). Normally, I get 8 hours of sleep. Last night I was probably an hour and a half under that mark.

And today, I can barely keep my eyes open.

It doesn't help that my job in incredibly dull or that the blinds on the windows are closed and no outside light is getting in. But I'm really having a difficult time staying awake, here.

I think maybe the reason people who sleep less live longer is probably because they're too tired to engage in risky behaviors. Maybe the researchers should have thought about that.

Well, I'm going go find some caffeine so that I don't start snoring at my desk.

Tony Awards

The Tony Awards are tonight, so I thought I'd give you a glimpse of the winners of this decade. (Note that last year's winner, Spring Awakening, is already on here in another post.)

2000- Contact


2001-The Producers


2002-Thoroughly Modern Millie


2003-Hairspray


2004-Avenue Q


2005-Monty Python's Spamalot


2006-Jersey Boys

A Follow Up to Yesterday's Rant

I spent a little time last night considering star power and what actors, could make me go see a movie just for the fact that they were in it.

I could only think of one actor with that kind of draw for me.



What can I say? I love some Bette Davis.

Maybe It's Just Me...

...But I'm really tired of today's celebrities. (Please note that I use the term "celebrities," not "stars." I refuse to refer to today's celebrities as stars.)

A rant is coming. You've been warned.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, when I'm not busy at work, I read the news online. I don't dig very far into the sites (because then you get stories that are so old that they're no longer relevant or photo montages of ugly animals-- and some of them were really ugly), so you can imagine my reaction when I saw a story about how celebrities get away with-- and get publicity that increases their marketability from-- bad behavior on the ABC website. There was also a link from that story to a piece about how actors can't pull in audiences based on who they are alone. (Links to both stories can be found at the bottom of this post.)

Neither of those really qualify as top story material in my mind, but, since I had the time, I read them both anyway.

In regard to the bad behavior story, I have to say that famous people DO get away with things. But, so do "normal" people, in some instances. The difference is that famous people use it as fodder-- their bad actions become a springboard to skyrocketing sales.

So, really, the problem isn't so much that celebs aren't held accountable. The problem is that the public, in a way that it may or may not intend, celebrates a famous name that forces its way into the news, regardless of how it gets there. According to that story, there is only one crime from which an actor cannot flourish after committing-- only one that will kill a career: murder.

Wow. Are people really that numb to the gravity of some offences? Doesn't bode well for the future, does it?

I think the solution to this would be to avoid publicizing the trespasses of celebrities-- if people don't know about it, they can't talk about it. That would destroy the buzz normally created by trouble with the law.

That can't work, of course, because people are far too interested in celebrities' every move. So much so that celebs now sell tabloids more easily than they do movies.

Which brings me to the second story.

George Clooney was the main subject of the second story. His latest movie, Leatherheads (which I didn't see), didn't do as well in the box office "as it should have." Clooney starred in, directed and oversaw the writing for this movie.

And, God knows, if Clooney's star power can't sell a movie, no actor's can.

The story continues, saying that it takes a group of celebrities to sell a movie on "star power." They cite the movie Oceans 11. (Which I didn't see... do you see a trend?) That movie had "half a dozen" big-name celebrities in its cast and made quite an amount of money. I personally can't judge if it was just name power or if it was actually a worthwhile movie, and I don't think the folks writing the article were trying to say it sucked; they were just trying to make a point. I don't know if they did.

To me, the most accurate part of the story was the title, which stated "Stars: They Ain't What They Used To Be."

Um...duh.

Let's face it-- the majority of the actors and actress in movies today are less artists than eye candy. Before everyone gets on my case, I said the MAJORITY, not all. And this is the opinion of a snob-- a theatre fanatic and a classic movie lover. I'm biased: I'll admit it.

But, really, would it be too much to ask to see a movie that is truly art? Something with a real plot and visual appeal?

And I really want to see an ugly actress in a leading role. Or maybe a pretty actress who's not afraid of looking ugly. I mean, think Bette Davis's hideous make-up in What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?.

So I've given you a lot of words today. I guess what I clumsily tried to say in all of this is that I miss actors and actresses whose main concern wasn't publicity and numbers.

I want actors that care about the art of acting.

Is that such a bad thing?


http://www.abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/story?id=5058678&page=1

http://www.abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/story?id=4606752&page=1

...!!!...!

Apart from answering phones (and browsing around the Internet), what I do most at work is send emails.

I'm used to poor punctuation in emails-- in today's world, there's really no escaping it. In time, even someone like me can become desensitized to the occasional missing period or incorrect spelling of you're.

One thing that's really been driving me bugnuts, though, is the ridiculous overuse of exclamation marks.

I'm not a journalist, nor do I have any desire to be, but I did have a stint as a teen guest columnist for a local newspaper, and one of the first things that we were taught was that exclamation marks are a no-no.

But that aside, I have a personal issue with people giving me a too-generous helping of these marks. To me, an exclamation mark is not unlike a swear word or the shock factor of crashed cars sitting in front of a high school during the weeks before prom: if you use it too much, it stops carrying any meaning. I mean, think about it-- when you hear someone like Chef Ramsey (I mention him for you, Josh) drop the f-bomb twenty times within ten minutes, it stops landing on your ear with the weight it should have.

Apparently, the woman I have to email all day never received that lesson.

It's ridiculous. I'll send her a message that might say, "Hey, can you please check these numbers for me?"

Her response will be, "Ok!"

I'll send, "I didn't get the message about -x-, can you please send me a copy?"

I'll receive, "I'll send it right to you!!" (That annoys me even more, because, clearly, if you're sending me this message, you're NOT sending the message I asked for.

...But I digress.)

Really, I have to wonder if she just uses exclamations because they're the easiest mark for her or if she's actually just THAT chipper.

I'm hoping it's not the latter-- can you imagine how hard it would be to work with someone that enthusiastic?

I can only imagine how she'd deal with news of any real weight.

Maybe something like this?



See more dog pictures here.

Preparing

June might be a bit early to start hording furniture and such for an August move, but that's not stopping me from doing it.

I'm setting aside Saturdays to hit local yard sales-- there's been some luck with that already: my folks and I found a nice table and four chairs for $25.

Thriftiness is a real issue with all of this. Tori and I can't swim in our big vault of gold like Scrooge McDuck, so we have to furnish our apartment on a budget.

Which means that our place will be a fine example of Great American Left-Overs.

It's surprising how everything's coming together, though. Nothing we have so far is particularly fancy and I doubt that we'd be able to go to some antiques expert and find out that the dresser we pulled out of my parents' garage is now worth millions of dollars, but the stuff we have is charming in its own odd way.

I guess this experience isn't uncommon-- first apartments are probably supposed to have that vaguely confused here-and-there look. But it's a first for me. I've never had a place of my own to furnish as I please (er... within the budget).

It's kinda nice, even if everything does have to be second-hand (and sometimes third- or fourth-hand).

Trophy desk

When I came in to work yesterday morning, the furniture in my work area had been completely rearranged.

Which totally freaked me out--Monday is not the best day to spring drastic changes on me. But I dealt with it. Or, at least, I dealt with most of it.

There had been two softball trophies sitting on a table in the front area of the office building near where my desk is. The table they had been sitting on has gone to furniture heaven (or something like that-- whatever happened, it's no longer with us), so the trophies had to be moved. Perfectly reasonable, you might be saying. They do have to go somewhere.

I agree; they can't just be left sitting on the floor.

The trophies ended up being placed on my desk--I'm assuming that's because the desk was really the only other surface in the area.

Now, these are not the dinky little team trophies that kids get from little league just for participating. No, no, these were tournament trophies: the kind that are two and a half feet tall.

And they were right behind me all day yesterday.

In my mind, I could see these plastic monstrosities toppling over and cracking my skull open (I really think they were in league with the vending machines-- the one here has a thing against me too, though it's not out for blood like the one in the dorm used to be).

And there were TWO of them--I was outnumbered!

Fortunately, the trophies have been moved; I'm no longer in any immediate danger.

But now they're where no one can hear them plotting.

Looks like I'll have to keep an eye out for them from now on.

Only Six More Days...

...until this year's Tony Awards.

Here's a look at last year's winner for "Best Musical."

The 2007 Tony performance from Spring Awakening.

Chicken McNuggets

Or maybe not.

Apparently, a live chicken has been hanging around a California McDonald's. Quite the daredevil, no?

Anyway, this chicken, who I'm beginning to think may be a guerrilla warrior for the poultry cause, was finally caught by some quick witted fast food workers (...yeah).

So what are the folks at McDonald's going to do? Let someone take it home as a pet.

I think they might want to rethink this. Doesn't it just show the other chickens that, with enough tenacity, they can overcome all of us?

Here's the link for the full story. http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25055930/?GT1=43001

Bloodsucking Fiends

So last Monday, the girls and I (er... and Nate, our straight guy buddy we bring along just for kicks) went out to the bookstore.

Hey, we're cool. Don't hate.

When we were there, we played one of my favorite bookstore games: Guess What This Book is About Based Solely On the Title. My teammate and I won easily. Our strategy was simple. Whatever the title was, we guessed that the book was about vampires.

And, more often than not, we were right.

We did have an unfair advantage, though-- we were playing in the youth section.

This makes me wonder-- what's the deal with all the vampire books? What's so sexy about vampires? Maybe it's just me, but if something's going to try to drink my blood, I'm not going to hang around long enough to know if his skin sparkles (no, I haven't read Twilight, but if the phenomenon continues, I'll probably have to).

But, seriously, let's look at this. There are so many books about people who date or fall in love with vampires. Someone has to have considered the pros and cons of it. Here are some that I can think of.

They won't ever have garlic breath, so I guess that's a plus. They'll just have breath that reeks of dried blood. Mm... tasty.
No lunch dates. Ever.
They'll be pale. But so am I, so I can't really say too much about that.
If you're ever really going to see them, you'll have to work nights. Or not work at all, which means you'll be broke. Unless you're going to let your vampire be the bread winner. Which strikes me as a kinda dumb idea, seeing as how they tend to not be too sociable.

I don't know. I'm really not seeing the appeal. Honestly, I generally don't even like the vampire books and movies-- they're way to melodramatic.

Except for the ones by Christopher Moore. I really recommend people who aren't so into the vampire trend pick up those.

I guess whatever the draw is, I'll just have to put up with all of these teenage girls drooling over creatures of the night until the next fad comes along.

The only thing that worries me is that there's no telling what the next fad could be. I might find myself thinking fondly of the vampire days.

Odd Jobs

(Not only the name of the post, but also a potential title for the next Odd Thomas book, if there is one.)

Most of my friends are employed now. Save your congratulations for something else--we're still all leeches on society in one way or another. In my conversations with them, I've noticed something.

I've never had a typical teenager job.

By this, I mean that I've never worked as a clerk in a store, in childcare, as part of a lawn-mowing or house cleaning business or in a restaurant.

But I have been employed in some form or fashion since I started high school.

My first job was as a personal assistant to a Mary Kay senior consultant. If you know me, you're probably laughing your face off at the irony of that. This was probably the only time that I dealt with such enormous amounts of make up for something other than a show.

And this was during the time when all of the compacts and lipstick tubes were pink. As were a majority of the boxes. This made for a rather painful experience. It's also quite possible that this job led to the creation of my inner feminist. (So, now you know what to blame for that.)

After that job ended (I never quit and I wasn't "fired"... I think she just ran out of stuff for me to do), I worked as a shipping clerk for a company that makes detectors for coal mines.

Wrap your mind around that one.

I've never been near a coal mine. I don't know what the process is for making a detector, and I think my head would explode if you tried to explain it to me.

But I did well enough with my job. I got the detectors in their boxes; I made sure everything was properly packaged and wrapped.

And I only sent the marker I was using to mark the boxes to Ohio on accident twice.

And now I'm a receptionist, which, I've decided, is a job I couldn't do for the long term. There's way too much suspicion involved; it wears me down. But, if I'm going to be able to afford my apartment in the fall, I'm going to have to put up with it for a while.

I suppose I should consider myself fortunate-- as of yet, I've not had to flip burgers to get a paycheck.

Not too bad, really.

Shoes

I'm not a girly-girl. I don't wear (or particularly care for) pink, I could care less about fashion, even looking at too much make-up makes me ill (unless it's for a show, of course) and I don't like shopping.

There's only one stereotypical girl thing that I'm really in to (there might be more, but I can't think of any of them).

Shoes.

I love shoes.

Being the tee shirt and jeans type, I don't have much opportunity to don fancy footwear, but that doesn't keep me from trying on every pair of shoes in a store. Even when I'm not the one who's making a purchase.

I don't get asked to help friends find shoes anymore--I always end up running off and finding six or seven pairs that I'd buy if I wasn't a poor college student.

Even my mother hesitates to let me tag along when she's looking for shoes.

But last night, she was convinced to let me come.

After about a half hour in the store, Mom--the one who needed to buy shoes-- had tried on one pair of shoes.

I'd tried on about eight. I hadn't even brought any money along with me.

I think that frustrated my mother a bit. She didn't find a pair she wanted and decided that she didn't feel like looking anymore.

I get the feeling that, next time she goes to find some sandals, she'll leave me behind. I can't say I blame her.

Noise

From the sound of it, they're doing touch-and-gos at the airport.

The screeching made me want to listen to arias, so now I share two musical-theatre-y (it's a technical term) arias with you.

"Glitter and Be Gay" from Candide sung by Kristin Chenoweth



"Green Finch and Linnet Bird" from Sweeney Todd sung by Celia Keenan-Bloger (An alto singing a soprano role. What can beat that?)



Enjoy.

'Let' It Be

When I have nothing to do at work (which is never... *wink wink*), I read the news online. At more desperate times-- you know, when no one's blown anything up, started any fires, been involved in some kind of political scandal, etc.--I read the entertainment stories. Yesterday, I noticed something that bugged me. Every time a female celebrity was referred to, the people writing the stories called her a "starlet."

This bothers me on a number of levels.

First, the word "star" should be reserved for two things: the stars in the sky and actors from the Golden Age of Hollywood (y'know-- the people who created the medium, the real talent from the old days--oh, I've seen Gone With the Wind now, by the way). I can't think of a celebrity today that I think is worthy of being called a star.

Also, my inner feminist (some of you might not have met her; those of you who have a probably rethinking reading this post now that she's been mentioned) has a real problem with this word. "Starlet"? What? Just because someone's female, you feel the need to add a diminutive to the word? Someone ought to kick your ass with a pair of stilettos.

But I might have been able to live with these two had it not been for this:

EVERY female was called a "starlet," regardless of her age.

I'm sorry. Someone who's in their fifties or sixties is not a "let" of any kind. And I for one am offended that the people who write these entertainment stories think that I could be fooled into thinking of someone that age as a "let."

"Starlet." Please.

More on the Menagerie

I was just told how the cow managed to escape the pasture last week.

Apparently, this particular cow has watched The Great Escape a few too many times--it's managed to get free quite a few times by crawling (as much as a cow can crawl) under the fence. Extra fencing was put up to prevent the cow from getting out that way again.

So what did this determined cow do?

It hopped (er... as much as a cow can hop) over the fence.

I think it must've learned it from the peafowl.

My neighbors are selling the cow. I think they just need to keep a closer eye on the peafowl. They're cunning little conspirators, they are.

The Tony Awards Are LessThan Two Weeks Away...

So I thought I'd post something from a little-known musical.

Cause that's how I am.