Same Name Game (Lame)

I had a conversation a while ago about people with the same name and all of the confusion that causes. As a person with a common name, I'm very aware of the difficulties that name sharing can lead to, but there are some instances of same-name that are just ridiculous.

For instance:

Christopher Columbus: the man who, in 1492, sailed the ocean blue and discovered the new world.
Chris Columbus: the guy that directed Home Alone and the first two Harry Potter movies.

Tom Cruise: actor and all-around nutbag.
Tom Kruse: the Hoveround guy-- you know, from those God awful commercials.

Michael Bolton: the guy that sounds and looks kinda like he's in pain whenever he sings.
Michael Bolton: the character from Office Space.

Michael Jackson: a wide receiver for the Baltimore Ravens.
Michael Jackson: former member of the Jackson 5 who has made headlines in the past few years for... well, a lot of strange behavior.

Winona: Ryder, actress in movies such as Edward Scissorhands.
Wynona: Judd, country singer.

Red Robin: Gourmet Burger restaurant chain.
Red Robin: DC Comics hero-turned-villain-turned-hero again.

Ramon Galves Huerta: retired chef arrested for being a heroin dealer.
Ramon Galves Huerta: heroin dealer.
(For real. Here's the news story. http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090526/ap_on_re_us/us_wrong_arrest)

There are a ton of other examples, of course, but it's really just funny to think about all of the possible cases of mistaken identity that could stem from these names.

EDIT 7:33 p.m.: My roommate just reminded me of another same-name pair.

George Michael: the pop star, famous for "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go."
George Michael: Bluth, the character played by Michael Cera in the sitcom Arrested Development.

...What?

After months of hiding, I am proud (well, maybe not proud...) to announce my return to the blogosphere.

The past few months have been busy. And when they weren't busy, I was lazy.

I'm still lazy.

Anyway, since February, I've played a major role in my first university main-stage show, assistant directed my first community theater show, designed a set, seen Star Trek, traveled back and forth between school and home, held my three-year-old niece during a tornado and cooked chicken spaghetti.

Oh, and I finished my second year of college.

Weird, right?

So it's summer break now--at least until Tuesday, when I start my summer class (boo).

Summer means that it's time for me to
1. get some real writing done--I have about 20,000 words on the novel that I started for NaNoWriMo and lots of fun places to go with that
2. muddle my way through a science class--Again, boo.
And
3. find a job.

Exciting stuff.

But, even with that stuff to do, I still have more free time than usual. We'll see if I can match last summer's posts.

Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na POT GIRL!

So, as you know, I was on hiatus from blogging for a while to be in a show called Company. For those who don't know, the show is a musical by Stephen Sondheim and George Furth.

I believe I promised pictures. Well, I lied. You only get one.

Anyway, the show ran for two weeks (nine performances-- which is a lot for a Sondheim show, as theater people can tell you), and some members of the faculty from my university came to the performances.

One such faculty member was the woman who teaches the section of World Geography that meets before my class.

I get to class early (because I have an irrational fear of being late...but that's a post for another day), so she was still in the room, getting her things together.

And she was staring at me.

A professor staring at you is always unnerving, so I started racking my brain, trying to figure out what I had done to this woman to make her stare at me. I couldn't think of anything.

She walks up the aisle to where I'm sitting--I mean, she's pushing in front of students, standing in the middle of my row.

She leans over and asks me, "Were you in that play?"

"Yes, ma'am, I was."

"You were the pot girl, weren't you?"

In my scene, my character has just smoked pot. That's pretty much what the whole scene is about.

"Um, yes, ma'am. That was me."

I told a few members of the cast this at the next performance, and they, naturally, got a kick out of it. And they started calling me Pot Girl. Some of them even addressed me that way on their notes to me at the end of the show.

Pot Girl was hardly the endearment that I'd expected to leave the show with, but I've decided to make the best of it. I'm even working on a superhero idea for Pot Girl. I'm seeing a green costume and flower pot shaped grenades.


see more puppies


Here's my scene. :) Ain't we cute?

Fantastic Firsts

During a recent conversation, my roommate made the comment that my stories for "first times"-- first kiss, first night out with someone, that sort of thing-- are more interesting than most people's.

She's right. And that's why I'm writing this post. Thank you, Tori.

Let's start with what is my favorite example.

I got my first kiss on the night of my senior prom. (Take that, all you kids that had your first kiss in middle school!) This seems like a pretty conventional story so far, but just give it time.

My date and I (and Tori and her date... we spend an unhealthy amount of time together...) had a wonderful dinner at a nice restaurant and had a decent time through the beginning of the dance.

As the prom was nearing it's end, I did what every girl dreams of doing on prom night.

Yes, that's right. I stepped in vomit. Fresh vomit, at that. Ew.

For those of you who don't know, I'm more than a little neurotic. I don't like other people touching me even if they've just washed their hands--you can only imagine the horror that stepping in vomit must've been for me. Thinking about it makes me a little sick.

But that didn't spoil the evening-- though God only knows why it didn't. Maybe the whole ordeal of stepping in someone else's puke traumatized me so much that I didn't realize that I should stop enjoying myself. Or maybe I was just putting on a brave face for everyone. Who can say?

Anyway, I got my first kiss that night (morning? It was after midnight) before I went home, scraping vomit bits off of the heel of my shoe.

A very memorable evening, all in all.

More recently, on one of the weekends when my roommate abandoned me (she does that sometimes--she's like Batman, only less masculine and not as dark) , I went out with a friend for the first time (um... the first time with that particular friend--I'm socially awkward, but even I'm not that bad). We went to Burger King for milkshakes. At midnight, because that's what we cool college kids do.

Yeah.

As we were sitting around, drinking our milkshakes and chatting, another friend of mine walks up to me, hands me a flower and walks off without saying anything. This didn't really strike me as being odd, but apparently, it was odd.

But it was no more so than what happened next.

About midway through my explanation of why I didn't find girls in Burger Kings handing me fresh flowers to be strange, the fire alarm in the restaurant went off.

I was blamed for this, though I'm not really sure why. Apparently, people seem to think that I have uncontrolled powers of telekinesis.

Which I do.

So my first outing with my friend ended with a Burger King burning to the ground.

Okay, so the Burger King didn't burn down. But wouldn't that have made the story more interesting?

People say that firsts are supposed to be memorable. I suppose if that's the case, I'm in good shape.

After all, who can forget stepping in puke?

The Coolest, Weirdest Thing Ever

So my YouTube account knows that I'm a Bette Davis fan.

It's not a difficult thing about me to find out, really.

Anyway, my "recommended videos" has this listed on it when I hit the site today.

And it is the coolest, weirdest thing ever.

Someone (who probably has more time on their hands than is healthy) did a speed painting of Bette Davis. With a tube of mascara.

Check it out.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0sahHSNy_Uk&feature=rec-fresh

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

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

The Menagerie

(Don't worry, Josh and Heath-- there will be a post about the kiddie toothbrush.)

As I mentioned in an earlier post, I live next to a farm. Sort of. The house actually belongs to a local vet. In his spare time (there's spare time with that job?), he raises cattle and a few other farm animals.

If you live near someone who takes care of larger animals, you know that life near these people and their pets is a little different than life with most suburban neighbors.

When I was in middle school, I used to wait on the front steps for the people who drove me to school to come pick me up. One morning, as I peeked out the window to make sure that my ride hadn't arrived early, I saw something odd in the middle of the cul-de-sac.

"Mom, there's a big bird out in the street."

"What kind of bird?"

"... I'm pretty sure it's a peacock."

And so it was. And a peahen,too, now that I think about it.

Mom sighed and shook her head. "I'll go call the Whitworths."

As we later found out, these peacocks (peafowl?) had escaped from their pens by jumping over a few fences (who knew that there was a fence-hopping variety of peacock?). Though it was the first time I had seen the birds, the birds escaping was apparently not an uncommon occurrance.

In fact, I saw the birds three more times that week. I think the doctor took a cue from this and put a roof over the birds' heads.

Or sold them or something. Either way, I haven't seen them strutting through the cul-de-sac lately.

In addition to the birds, Dr Whitworth also seems to have a fondness for handicapped animals. Most of these I can handle.

But the three-legged cat gives me the creeps. Maybe that comes from the issue I have with odd numbers.... Whatever, the cat freaks me out. And I think it knows it.

Why else would it make a habit of hanging around my car?

Unless it lost its leg in because of a car, and it's looking for revenge.

But I digress.

The most recent animal experience has been with a cow--some of the same cows that keep me awake at night when I'm at home (there's a bit of animosity; can you feel it?).

Anyway, my dad and I were going out to get dinner and, as we're driving along, we see a cow on the side of the road. As the cow pasture is by the road, cows near by isn't strange.

But the cow was chilling out in the grass across the street from the pasture.

We stopped the car.

The cow ate some grass.

My mom slept through an episode of Law & Order.

"So, should we do something?"

We went to the Whitworth House. No one was there.

The cow was still eating the grass on the other side of the fence (was it greener?) when we got back to the car; by now, the other cows had noticed that one of their own had left them. All of the cows were lined up next to the fence watching the one free cow. It looked like a bovine firing squad.

Don't worry, animal lovers, the cow made it safely back to the pasture, I've never run over the three-legged cat and the peafowl are (as far as I know) safe and sound in their peafowl homes.

But who's to say what new creature will be roaming my neighborhood tomorrow?

"Woman Loses Home Over $68 Dental Bill"

I'm not making this up.

http://www.abcnews.go.com/Business/PersonalFinance/story?id=4896048&page=1

And the moral of all this is:
Brush your teeth and avoid cavities or you'll be trapped in a legal battle over whether or not you own the house that was sold to pay your dental bills.

Another Dumb Sign

Mother's Day is over, but most businesses haven't had the chance to remove all of the special "Buy Mom Stuff" signs from their windows and doors yet.

Which is fine-- redecorating takes time.

But yesterday I saw a sign that made no sense.

There was a Mother's Day sign outside of a gun store (that in and of itself was strange to me) that said:

"Make Her Day: Buy Her a Tazer and Get Store Credit."

...
...
...?

I think I stood on the walkway and stared at that sign for ten minutes. Now, maybe I'm just weird-- I can't deny that possibility-- but a tazer really doesn't seem like Mother's Day gift material to me. Let's think for a minute.

Jewelry
Decorative stuff
Homemade Crafts
Tazers

...One of these things doesn't belong.