Welcome to my nightmare(s)

(Note to readers: This is the first official DrAstroZoom Myspace blog simulcast.)

Last weekend, I had two remarkably similar dreams in one night. They still have me somewhat baffled.

In the first dream, I was to play a leading role in a musical version of “Hamlet.” (It may have even been Hamlet himself, but I’m not sure.) The production had a rock-opera feel to it along the lines of what Andrew Lloyd Webber might have generated had he set his sights on the Prince of Denmark rather than the Prince of Peace. And it was in a far more ornate theater than I’ve ever performed in.

On the first day of tech week, however, I was attacked by birds that pecked at my legs. I was left with unsightly sores that threatened infection. Regardless, I attempted to soldier on, but my performance that night was horrible.

Later that night, a similar dream came. This time, I was the Emcee in Cabaret, and again, the venue had a professional (if antiquated) feel about it. As I left the dressing area to go on, I realized the ramps to the stage had been removed. I somehow made it on stage, only to discover the stage was drenched, causing me to slip and slide, even at one point flying from a raised portion of the stage to a lower level down center. Again, my performance was wild, sloppy and generally pathetic.

And that’s all I remember.

I immediately dismissed the idea that these dreams were related to my current show. Actually, “Annie Warbucks” is going quite well and is a far cry from what devoted readers will lovingly remember as “Theater Armageddon.” My next audition is for “Assassins,” but that audition date had not been announced when I had these dreams, and I hadn’t even begun pre-obsession over it.

All I know is this pair of dreams were as vivid as any I’ve had for months. I also found it curious that not only was I clearly in a wheelchair in both dreams, but it played a part in the “plot” of both. This, too, is relatively rare for me.

In other news, Mrs. Z is headed to southern Illinois tomorrow for her sister’s 25th wedding anniversary. She has mercifully allowed me to stay home, seeing as I’m moving into the most grueling part of my AW rehearsal schedule. Still, even one night away from her is cause for sadness. I’ll have my mom to take me to dinner and a movie, but that doesn’t hold a candle to Mrs. Z. (Sorry, Mom.)

All that said, I’m not remotely in the state of melancholy this post would seem to indicate. Quite the obvious: life is good right now, and as Howard Jones sang, “Things can only get better.”

Who oh ohhh oh who ohhh oh, indeed.

That sinking feeling

Take the "Which Poseidon character are you?" test at Hell in a Handbag Productions

So, I'm an Ernest Borgnine character. Exciting!

So, too, is the movie translation of "Aeon Flux." If you're a sci-fi fan, don't believe the inexplicably preponderant negative critical reviews of this movie. Instead, enjoy a fairly thoughtful plot, exquisitely crafted visuals and action sequences and ... oh yes ... Charlize Theron. Grr, baby. Very grr.

I'll try to build on my tentatively progressing blogging momentum this week, dear readers. Keep the faith.

How to see in the dark

I apologize for my radio silence, dear readers. Life has been imposing itself, and I take consecutive moments I have to breath without an agenda as blessed.

To make up for my absence, I point you to a page that does, in fact, explain how you can see in the dark. Just click the link above!

A musical interlude

If you don't recognize this tune, marvel at the guitar ambidexterity. If you do, enjoy the warm fuzzy.

Hate the sin. Love the spinners.

Let me start by saying I was appalled and offended by the ending of this week’s conclusion of the two-part “South Park” episode “Cartoon Wars.” The depiction of Jesus, President Bush and the American flag was, by turns, rude and sacrilegious. That said … I totally see where the show’s evil geniuses, Matt Stone and Trey Parker, were coming from and can’t help but applaud their ingenuity in making a valid point.

To catch up, click the link in this post’s headline.

What started as a skewering of Scientology has blossomed into an animated debate on censorship and hypocrisy. When Comedy Central refused to show Mohammed as part of thew climax of “Cartoon Wars,” Stone and Parker decided to end the show by cramming in all the offensive material the network would allow, couched within a fictional retaliatory film by Al Qaeda.

The decision on the Mohammed image was apparently “made over concerns for public safety.” Or as the network itself said in a statement: "In light of recent world events, we feel we made the right decision."

Seeing Comedy Central would allow blasphemous images of Christ where it wouldn’t air an image of Mohammed, the network was essentially saying: “We trust Christians not to go all crazy and stuff. Muslims, on the other hand …”

And how offensive is that?

Image Essays, Part 2: The Subconscious

Right from the moment I awoke this morning, there was something amiss. I should have been up at 6:30 a.m.; I ended up snoozing it until 7:15. And when I did get up, I commented to Mrs. Z. that I didn’t feel like I slept well.

But even as I said that, it didn’t ring true. I didn’t remember any extended periods of sleeplessness through the night. Worse still, my vague unsettledness had turned into a vague depression, for which I had even less justification.

Then, I had a flash of a dream I realized I had had just before waking. It’s a recurring nightmare in which my father, who passed away 12 years ago of a sudden heart attack, has not died, but instead lives on in a greatly weakened state with only a matter of time remaining before his death. And as an added bonus, my mom was in a similar condition in this particular dream.

A funny thing, the subconscious. As far as I am concerned, I have long since grieved for my father to the point of closure, and yet these dreams resurface. Do I still have subconscious issues concerning my father to accompany the quite conscious fears I have of seeing my mom grow old?
The most ironic thing is that this dream and the subsequent nervous introspection follow what I would consider four of the happier consecutive days I’ve had in a while. What to do when one’s mind’s eye develops a twitch?

Orbits: Part 1 of an Open-Ended Image Essay Series

I have a tendency to give people the benefit of the doubt -- perhaps to a fault. One example is my forgiving nature when it comes to friends who fall out of contact with me. My explanation for this is that people are like celestial bodies -- all with their own orbits. They rotate around the things that are most important in their lives, and it's not my place to judge the center of someone's universe.

Rather, I enjoy the time my oribt takes me into the paths of friends whom I don't see often. And I trust the fact that once our orbits have completed, we'll enjoy fellowship again.

True friends, on the other hand are gravitationally attracted to one another to the point where the orbits seem to coalesce. And those are special friends indeed.

(One editorial note: I apologize for my infrequency of posting, but health and other issues have kept me away. Hopefully this bit of metaphysical meat is enough for you to chew on for a while.)

Happy St. Patrick's Day

THE CELTS (Enya)

Video Code provided by VideoCodeZone.Com

In honor of the Emerald Isle, enjoy a little Enya. And thanks to CatPants for letting me know about VideoCodeZone.

We are supposed to make much revelry tonight and tomorrow, but Mrs. Z was feeling puny this morning, so we're not certain what the future holds. I've been informed I may need to take over as, in her words, "Party Master."

I'll brief you Monday.

After the storm

Photo by T.J. Salsman

So very much to write about.

First of all, thanks to all of my readers who expressed concern for our safety after the storm. This was a time it was very good to be living in an English basement downtown. Our apartment proper was undamaged, though the complex’s courtyard showed the signs of the storm. (The patio furniture was smashed and twisted together.)

Furthermore, because we live so close to St. John’s Hospital, we were two of about 2,000 residents who has their power restored within an hour of the storm’s passing. It was surreal to, at 10 p.m., circle our block, which looked relatively normal, but look just a block away into a pitch-black void. It was much like the moment of realization for the lead character in “Dark City” in which he almost falls into space. Though the experience was unsettling, at least we were able to return to the comfort of our well-lit home. Others weren’t so lucky.

















photo by T.J. Salsman

It was only when daylight broke and pictures started hitting our local media that I was able to grasp the scope of what had happened. You could tell it took our local media by surprise, too. It’s one thing to report on a twister in a rural central Illinois town. It’s quite another when it’s your city that looks like a war zone.
















photo by Shannon Kirshner

Still today, three days after the storm flattened sections of both the west and east side, about 20 percent of Illinois’s capital city has no power. Mrs. Z and I are truly blessed, and we’re grateful. Meanwhile, life goes on.



























And Muni casting went on. I will be playing FDR in “Annie Warbucks” (the fourth time I have played Roosevelt on stage), while Mrs. Z will be in the chorus of “Aida.” Unfortunately, it means me and the missus will be two ships passing in the night for most of the summer. This means we have to celebrate while we can.

















And celebrate we will, starting tonight at the Hickory River Smokehouse, home to Springfield’s finest barbecue. And the celebration will continue this weekend, as we embrace our alcoholic heritage and revel in honor of St. Paddy.

Once more, with feeling

Yes, it's that time again. Muni auditions have arrived. This is me reading for Daddy Warbucks, moments after having read for Amos in Chicago. There have been no word on callbacks yet, but it's only 72 hours until the longest night of the year. More on that Monday.

Right now, however, life has a melancholy vibe. My mother has had pneumonia for two weeks and is entering her second round of antibiotics and her first round of Predazone.

I did get some good news this morning. Mrs. Z received the February Employee of the Month Award at her workplace. Way to go, baby!

Core despondence school

While I’m not at the “Suck, suck, suck, suck, SUCK!” stage, I have felt myself slipping into a melancholy state the last day and a half. Perhaps it’s a convergence of several nagging items:

Concern over my mom’s health. She has what I guess would be called “walking pneumonia,” in that she’s not in the hospital. But it’s never fun to hear someone you love suffering on the other end of the phone. She cancelled lunch with me today, so I know she’s really not feeling well.

Resignation over upcoming auditions for The Muni. There just aren’t a lot of meaty roles for me this year. I’ve had a great last 12 months as far as that goes, so I’m not as desperate to be cast as I normally would be under the same circumstances. But by the same token, I’m finding it hard to work up any enthusiasm for a fortnight that is usually the source of breathless anticipation and intrigue.

NFL labor strife. Admittedly, this doesn’t have much of a direct bearing on me personally, but one of the many reasons football is my favorite sport is it’s historical labor stability. Now, the landscape is just about to change forever, and it makes me sad for the immediate future of my favorite team and the long-term future of the sport in general.

It could just be my latent genetic tendency toward bipolarity manifesting. And that itself would be cause for a whole new level of joy.

***

Thankfully, as Mrs. Hammen says in “Airplane,” “At least I have a husband.” Err … a wife. And it was the inimitable Mrs. Z who this morning coined a brand new catch phrase. I’d like to share it with all my dear readers in hope it will spread faster than the Numa Numa Phenomenon. The phrase: "It's roller derby now."

DEFINITION: Entertainment that, having started out innovative and unique, has degenerated into appealing to the lowest common denominator.

ORIGIN: Mrs. Z and I are watching VH-1 as we get ready this morning when Madonna's new video for "Sorry" comes on. Mrs. Z, never having seen it before is inclined to dismiss it at the beginning.

"Oh, it's another boom box disco video."

But it holds her interest, which peaks during the dance break.

"So what ... is she keeping the rappers from rapping by doing yoga? Who knew that would work? This is great!"

But then, Madonna and all her posse start roller skating for the balance of the video.

"Oh," Mrs. Z comments. She sighs deeply. "Well, it's roller derby now," and starts to leave the room.

"I think you've invented a new catch phrase," I say.

We chuckle in agreement.

Ulysses lists

I have been racked by guilt over posting not a thing worth clipping and saving in past weeks that I have put off procrastination and decided to let my words flow in what some may identify as an homage to James Joyce. Others may just say "What the ...?"

The Chicago trip is fading into a burnt sienna memory even as plans take shape for a longer voyage in summer. We hope to revisit the sporty theatricalness of The Exchequer Pub, the spicy homestyle goodness of Harold's Chicken Shack, and the 24-hour-a-day instant gratification of Dunkin Donuts. Fie on thee, Mel-O-Cream, thou sad impostor!

But now, thoughts turn to the longest night of the year, in which my theatrical destiny shall be decided. Four shows beckon -- Annie Warbucks, Chicago, Aida and The King and I. And none may well bid me enter.

And now ... respite.

Have you heard the one about the lost camera?

A bit of a break from "all about me" posts here. A story is making its way through the blogosphere that is at one compelling, discouraging, maddening and fascinating. Follow the link above to find out what happens when someone loses their camera, finds out who found it and learns the finder has no intention of returning it.

Then read the 400+ comments. This event has officially become a phenomenon.

Just a dog-gone minute

I'm still trying to find time to do a legitimately meaty post about my fabulous weekend in Chicago. Here are the headlines: great trip, great food, great hotel and the most entertaining show I've ever seen.

But for now, just to give my dear readers some value-added content, I present a clip of the dog I am in another life:

A slice of things to come

As you might guess, this week's entries are going to be pretty-well dominated by the upcoming wonder-trip to Chicago. And since I do such a hit-and-miss job of blogging about big events after the fact, I figured I'd take a more pro-active approach with this trip and give you, dear reader, a preview of our itinerary.

We leave for Chicago Friday night. Once we're settled in at the Hilton, we're planning on getting what is areguable the best pizza in America: Giordano's. Up for debate: whether we walk (it's a little over half a mile from the hotel) or have it delivered. It will probably depend on the weather and how tired we are from the day.

In other news, Super Bowl weekend was a bit of a super dud, eh? I was hoping to win a little extra trip money playing Texas Hold 'Em, but it was not to be. And as for the game itself ... zzzz ...

More on the trip agenda tomorrow!

What a difference four days make

For those who read my rant on Monday, I sincerely apologize. I realize being a continuous inspiration is a serious respnsibility, and I was less than inspiring (and inspired) Monday.

That all changed last night, when I learned the lovely and talented Mrs. Z had won a sales contest at work. The prize? Two tickets to a Chcago performance of this little musical you may have heard of. (Hint: Look up.) And these tickets are in The Loge. Row B. Just off-center. Ho. Lee. Crap.

And if that isn't enough, the prizse package also included a two-night stay here. Oh, and all this is happening next weekend.

So if you care to find me, look to ... the ceiling, off of which I shall be continuously bouncing today.

I'm a Honda S2000!

You live on the edge, and you live for the adrenaline rush. You don't need luxuries, snob appeal, or superfluous gadgets. You put your top down, get your motor revving, and take all the curves that life throws at you at full speed. So what if you spin out occasionally?

And speaking of cars ...

This day has been a total wreck. Almost everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. And my frustrations, disappointments and aggravations have run the gamut from the trivial (one of my favorite Springfield restaurants closing down with no notice) to the merely annoying (a class full of new agents tromping by my cubicle all morning) to the genuinely sad (learning Mrs. Z and I can no longer communicate via e-mail during the day) to the disgustingly self-pitying (having one of those rare instances when I allow myself to dwell on how much it bites to be in a wheelchair).

Oh, and I was going to share a video clip to make good on my promise to explain what I was doing in a tux on New Year's Eve. Of course, that didn't work either. So here's why: I was singing at this event. Whoo-hoo. Just try to imagine the excitement.

In conclusion, I'd like to say, "Suck, suck, suck, suck, SUCK!"

Exit the petulant man-child.

Sunset epiphany

Yes, yes ... I know I promised the New Year's Eve story, and that will come. But first, I wanted to share one of those special moments that become a lasting snapshot in your memory.

The building pictured above is the Springfield Hilton, and it towers about a block away from my apartment. Most of the time, the structure is a monolith of gray stone and glass. But as I was rolling down the alley which leads to my apartment gate, I looked up at the Hilton and had my breath taken away.

You see, we've reached that point in the winter when night slowly gives back light to the day. While for most of December and January, nine-to-fivers are greeted with depressing darkness as they leave work, this is the time when sunset greets them instead.

Such was the case last night, and as I looked up in the alley, the Hilton was bathed in a golden light which gave the entire structure a warm, amber glow. And just as my mouth gaped open, a flock of birds swooped down into the alley and in front of the Hilton, completing the picture.

So remarkable was this split-second image that, at that moment, the birds could have turned my way and defecated on me en masse, and I wouldn't have cared.

Such is the momentary beauty that can make your day, if only you keep your eyes open.

Girls, girls ... you're both pretty

I’m about to post an entry that could result in not one, but two people never speaking to me again. Now that I have your attention …

The two people in question are both bloggers, and although I’ve never met either one of them personally, I have corresponded with both enough to call them friends. I follow their blogs closely, and for the most part, their writings are interesting and, quite frequently, compelling. I have no doubt that, given some proximity, I could become fairly close with both of them.

That said, these two bloggers have each devalued their blogs by ranting about each other within them. This has been going on intermittently for several months, by my count. And it appears to me to have roughly the maturity level of arguing over whose Hello Kitty screensaver is more awesome.

I have not attempted to do any detective work to determine who started it. I have no idea whose offenses are more egregious. Frankly, I don’t care. Don’t. Give. A. Shit. All I know is it’s tiresome, petty and a waste of bandwidth.

And so, at the risk of totally alienating the parties involved, I say: I’d love for you to be able to settle this like adults, but if you can’t, for all of our sakes, get over yourselves. Get over each other. Get on with life. Get back to the business of blogging.

Of course, you can write about whatever you want. But ask yourself … does anyone else want to read it?

End of sermon. Next up: why I wore a tux on New Year’s Eve.

The Downtown Dash

True to my word, herein starts the catch-up on my life in the period I fell off the blogging wagon.

Mrs. Z and I instituted a new tradition for Christmas this year.

The week before Christmas, we each made up a list of items we wanted or needed which could be obtained in downtown Springfield. We each made the list with the understanding that the other would not be able to get every item on the list, and if an item not appearing on the list struck the other’s fancy, he or she was free to add that to the haul.

On Christmas Eve, we started off with coffee here. For the record, the place does a wonderful quiche as well, but that’s not important right now. After coffee, we each took a pre-determined, modest amount of cash and set off in search of downtown treasures.

It was an exhilarating day of bargain hunting, and after we had ditched our individual loads in hiding places at home, we met here for lunch and to watch football. Unfortunately, the place was packed and even noisier than usual, so we headed home.

That night, we met Mom for dinner at Gallina’s Pizza. It was a nice, warm time marred only by the Case of the Missing Cat (I’ll blog on that another day). Soon, the missus and I headed home to listen to Christmas music, wrap our presents and drink hot chocolate with peppermint Schnapps.

We started out saying we would only unwrap a few presents that evening and save the rest for Christmas. But that fell by the wayside, and we ended up unwrapping all of our presents to each other as Christmas Eve turned into Christmas Morn. We marveled at how our choices showed how well we knew and loved each other.

As for the loot, here are a few highlights of what I got the missus:

• Three necklace charms by a local artist;
• A 1944 “Servicemen’s Family Album” printed by WLS-Chicago;
• A Duran Duran greatest hits collection;
• “Dante’s Peak” on DVD (she’s a sucker for disaster movies); and
• Chardonnay from the winery we visited during our magical Seattle vacation

And now, a few highlights of the treasure trove I received:

• A gorgeous (and lucky – more on that later) horseshoe ring;
• A Genesis greatest hits collection;
• The Sept. 18, 1972 issue of Sports Illustrated (notable both because it includes an NFL preview of the season which would turn out to be magical for the undefeated Miami Dolphins and three articles on the Munich Olympic tragedy);
• Some sweet cologne; and
• Volumes 1 and 2 of “Girls Gone Wild” on DVD.

We’ve got a groovy kind of love.

I haven't been eliminated

You're Vic Romano! You're almost always calm and
cool, but sometimes you'll get a little angry.

Which MXC Character are you?


Thanks to Mz. Ouiser for the link to this silly little quiz that gave me a great way to let you all know I haven't fled for Canada. Thanks to Maribou Sue and any other Web worry warts that had me lying in the proverbial ditch.

I had an incredibly busy and rich holiday season, and 2006 has been berry berry good to me so far. I'll try to catch you up, dear readers, in the next few days. Among topics to be covered:

1) A new tradition: the Christmas Downtown Dash
2) Why I wore a tux for New Year's Eve
3) My professional poker debut
4) How I was nearly kicked out of Hooter's

Chew on that for awhile, and I'll have an update soon.

O Canada!

I don't think the blogosphere is ready for my literal participation in Half Nekkid Thursdays (go here to see someone doing it right), so I offer this instead.

Canadian Supreme Court: Swinger's clubs and group sex are ok, eh!

Me thinks it's time for a road trip. Who's with me?!?

Four on the floor

It's the new hip thing! And you know how I like new hip things.

The 4's

FOUR JOBS YOU'VE HAD IN YOUR LIFE:
1. Senior Communications Consultant
2. Retention Specialist
3. Customer Service Representative
4. Library clerk

FOUR MOVIES YOU COULD (AND DO!) WATCH OVER AND OVER:
1. Close Encounters of the Third Kind
2. Clue
3. Team America: World Police
4. Bound

FOUR CITIES YOU'VE LIVED IN:
1. Springfield, IL
2. Kankakee, IL
3. Westminster, CA (Orange County before it was “The O.C.”)
4. Homestead, FL

FOUR TV SHOWS YOU LOVE TO WATCH:
1. Lost
2. 24
3. Amazing Race
4. Survivor

FOUR PLACES YOU'VE BEEN ON VACATION:
1. Seattle
2. NYC
3. Chicago
4. St. Thomas

FOUR WEBSITES YOU VISIT DAILY:
1. Finheaven & Co.
2. MSNBC
3. ESPN
4. The Internet Movie Database

FOUR OF YOUR FAVORITE FOODS:
1. BBQ
2. Donuts
3. Mom’s fried chicken
4. Rebexican

FOUR PLACES YOU'D RATHER BE RIGHT NOW:
1. At The Underground in Seattle
2. At Scores with an unlimited expense account
3. At the Golden Gate Bridge
4. In an arcade

Stuff my stocking or I'll steal your soul!

Greetings from Theater Armageddon! 

The show closed yeaterday, and I am so relieved.  With the exception of three First Night performances and two perfomances (more on these later), I'm done with theater for a while.  Got some me time and it feels so good ...

By the way, if you do happen to want to stuff my stocking, my Amazon Wish List is still in effect.

Speaking of new looks

It was time to give the old blog a facelift. So, stand in wonder!

Actually, my main motivation was to give myself something to do so that I wouldn't keep going for the mug o' chocolates I received this morning. Unfortunately, I learned I can screw around with my blog template and snarf chocolates at the same time. Damn my multitasking genius!

***

Tonight is the pickup rehearsal for GWB 2000. The director promised we'd be in and out in 90 minutes. "We'll see," I scoff. I'll certainly do my part. I'll be thinking less Prince of Darkness and more Mr. Spleen.

And then, it's three more shows. Ahhhhhh ...

Bald is beautiful

Here's my first head shot since going bald for George W. Bush 2000 (nee Theater Armageddon). The question now is: do I keep it like this after this weekend? Polls are open.

It’s the Belated Blog Birthday Bash

I realized earlier this week that it’s been a year and a week since I launched this blog. I just wanted to say thanks to old friends and new friends alike who have faithfully read and commented on my meanderings. And if one of my lovely readers wants to leap out of the cake, I certainly won't stop you!

And now, a Murray update. The good folks at Wheelchairs ‘R’ Us (not their real name, in case I want to bitch about their service later) did, in fact, have the right bearings. Murray just got out of surgery, and I’ll have my wheels back tonight.

‘Sinister with a comic touch’

So read the newspaper’s review of my performance in Theater Armageddon, which hereafter will be referred to as “George W. Bush 2000.” Where did I get such a whimsical name, you ask? Despite all odds, we triumphed, and I’m still not sure how — or even if we really did.

Perhaps most interestingly, the review featured this nugget: “The musical highlight of the evening, under the direction of Schmuckety Schmuck (name changed because I’m actually a nice guy), was an intricate a cappella section in "Songedy Song" (title also changed).”

Mr. Schmuck, faithful readers will remember, was the staff member who, after recruiting Mrs. Z and I to help round out the cast, dropped the show with three weeks to go before opening. The trio who sang the song lauded by the reviewer learned it on Tuesday of tech week.
This is what can happen when programs are printed far in advance.

So, GWB 2000 has wrapped up its opening weekend, and I’m in a state of contented bliss. This is in spite of the wheelchair trauma that I’m currently experiencing.

The trouble with Murray (yes, that’s his name) is this: on Saturday, as I was rolling to the sports bar across the street, I heard a disconcerting crunch, crunch emanating from my starboard fore. I looked down, and saw my front right tire wobbling in a similarly disconcerting manner. The problem is that I need some new ball bearings for the wheel (and probably for the left one as well, though it hasn’t started crunching yet).

I do have a backup chair to use, but whenever I have a wheelchair out of commission, I have a sense of vulnerability and anxiety I can’t adequately communicate to my able-bodied brethren. I hope to have it all sorted by this weekend, though getting the right bearings is proving to be a bit more of an ordeal than I had hoped.

And yet, it’s a dark Monday, and I have six hours of science fiction (the Sci-Fi Channel's

Santa, santa Kimita

Days until the Opening of Theater Armageddon: 3
Show Status: UPGRADED to “Barely Tolerable”

It wasn’t quite a Christmas miracle, but the show made a sizeable stride last night. First of all, we now have sound and light board operators. Admittedly, the sound board operator is the director, but just having those holes filled stabilized things.

Now, the really big news: we somehow managed to trim 30 minutes off the show’s running time. I can’t recall ever tightening a show that much from one rehearsal to the next. The cast finally took the director’s urging on pace to heart, and it paid dividends.

Tonight is our last rehearsal before opening on Friday. It amounts to a soft opening, as we’ll have several disabled guests in the house. I am particularly anxious to see what effect a real, live audience has on the cast’s energy, pace and offstage behavior (the kids have been a load).

The best thing that happened, last night, was this wonderful woman showing up after rehearsal like some Florence Nightingale of the boards. Knowing the hell we have been experiencing, she came with an right-pack of Icehouse, bottles of vodka and root beer (for Russian Beagles), pizza rolls, french-fried onions, Tostitos, Montery Jack queso and Dove chocolate chunk cookies. We laughed, drank and listened to show tunes until 1:30 in the morning.

After about the third time we had profusely thanked her, she said simply, “Y’all would do the same for me.” And that’s when the blessing folded in on itself, doubling in thickness. The fact we could have engendered such faith in our willingness to give at a moment’s notice gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling – a feeling that lasted through much of today. The exclamation point came in the form of a clear, cold, blindingly blue sky braced by bare trees whose branches twinkled when the sun hit the strings of Christmas lights they held.

It's confirmed: I'm a webhead

Your results:
You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 90% Iron Man 60% The Flash 55% Superman 50% Supergirl 50% Wonder Woman 50% Green Lantern 50% Robin 35% Catwoman 35% Batman 25% Hulk 25%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

At least my cave is impressive

Days until the Opening of Theater Armageddon: 7
Show Status: UPGRADED to “Bad”

Well thankfully, last night marked our last rehearsal singing along with the crappy CD during the musicals numbers because of not having an accompanist. The sets look nice, but they're difficult to move (and in fact, we had two set malfunctions last night). The props are coming together well.

We also finally had our lights set. Unfortunately, we still are without anyone to actually run the light board. Ditto the soundboard, which may be even more crucial, because the plan is to body mic several performers. That will require some finesse on the part of the sound operator. (The light board, by contrast, is programmable and could be run by a trained monkey.)

People are doing somewhat better on lines, and have started to show the ability to plow on even when there are problems. There's still some work to do here as well, however.

All in all, I'm entering tech week proper with a feeling of "eh."

Old hat

Sorry for the blog hiccup that appeared briefly in the last 24 hours. That's what happens when I try to do two entries in one day. Now, on to business.

Days until the Opening of Theater Armageddon: 7
Show Status: “Really Bad” and holding

Here's good news. Mrs. Z went rummaging through the car last night and found not the $1.39 stocking cap, but a groovy fleece hat I lost two winters ago. This baby warmes my Ming the Merciless 'do better than a stocking cap ever good. What a woman.

The Great Hilton Fire of '05 turned out to be nothing more than a lot of smoke caused by dryer lint. The party is on! That deserves an "Ooby Dooby Dooby!"



And speaking of drinking, Mrs. Z and I were greatly disappointed to learn we had not, as we suspected the other evening, concocted a new cocktail. Our root beer and vodka creation, which we dubbed the "Root Beer Barrel," alread has a name: a "Russian Beagle." There is nothing new under the bar.

Finally, a fascinating (if really dense) bit of reading that's making its way around the blogosphere. Seems there's a viable scientific theory explaining déjà vu. It makes perfect sense, but it's sad to demystify what had always been one of my favorite metaphysical phenomena.

Hello, December!

Days until the Opening of Theater Armageddon: 8
Show Status: UPGRADED from “Total Train Wreck” to “Really Bad”

7:50 a.m. — I’m on my way to work, and our first real snow of the winter has arrived. It’s falling slowly in big, downy, soft flakes. They’re the kind stage hands would start tossing from the catwalk at the end of “Wonderful Life: The Musical.”

This is the only snow I appreciate. It looks beautiful on cars and lawns, yet doesn’t make the sidewalks an impassable mess. What a nice way to start December.

Noon — I’m heading home for lunch. The snow is gone, and in its place is a ruthless, bitterly cold wind. And of course, I lost my priceless $1.39 stocking cap at the theater last night. And I’m bald. Shit.

1 p.m. — The wind has died down to almost nothing, so my ears don’t feel like they’re going to fall off. The day is back on track.

3:10 p.m. — Word comes that the basement of the downtown Hilton is on fire. I’m concerned for the possible loss of life and property, but really, I’m worried about how this will affect the office Christmas party.

3:30 p.m. — No casualties reported, but there was smoke damage. In the basement. Where the party was scheduled. Shit.

Oh well, at least my show’s on the fast track to mediocre, and we have our Friday free. Good times.

A postcard from Hell

Mrs. Z and I were recruited during the run of Jekyll & Hyde to be in the theater's Christmas show. The vocal director, begged us to be in it. We agreed.

Then, we found out the show didn't have a rehearsal pianist. Or a costumer. Or a props person. Or a light designer.

What it did have was a cast full of ... spirited ... children and a handful of veteran actors.

Then, three weeks ago, the schmuck who dragged us into the show quit. So, we've been trying to learn music without a vocal director or a pianist. We have, on the bright side, found a costumer and a props person, and we have a bead on a possible draftee for light design. But we don't have a light or sound board operator, several cast members are struggling mightily with lines and music, and the show is running about three hours.

Oh, and did I mention we open a week from Friday?

Almost makes me long for the days of my UTI.

Disquiet on the Midwestern front

In one month, I went from planning what might have been the best family trip ever over Thanksgiving to teetering on the brink of a Thanksgiving dinner apart from family altogether.

First, this disclaimer: Mrs. Z and my mother generally have quite a good relationship for a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law. However, on the rare occasions when conflict occurs, fireworks follow. This is made even more difficult by my mother’s emotional fragility.

So it was incredibly bad timing when Mrs. Z. made a joke that Mom took in a completely wrong way over the weekend. An awkward silence ensued, and by the next day, Mom was suggesting maybe we should celebrate Thanksgiving separately to avoid any chance of further conflict.

On go the kid gloves …

Between some warm words of encouragement from me and some trademark grace under pressure from Mrs. Z, we were able to establish a truce that should last through the holiday weekend.

Add to that the fact that I’m mired in a show that is my equivalent of a theatrical good deed, and it’s been looking like I was going to have to go deep on my “What I’m Thankful For” list … all the way down to #347: that I don’t have a shunt valve sticking out of my head. Or that my days of riding the little yellow bus are far behind me.

Oh yes, dear readers, I was a prisoner of the short bus in my childhood. And since tales from that time have always been popular with friends, I have decided I may have to commit them to cyberspace. Stay tuneded.

Thoughts set to ‘shuffle’

Well, fall has officially come to central Illinois. And by fall, I mean winter. That’s the typical way of things ‘round here, where autumn generally lasts from 10 a.m. on Oct. 30 until sometime later that week. This morning, I was greeted with a flurry or two and this icy wind that ripped my breath from my chest.

***

And then there’s the issue of my newly-shorn head. I keep meaning to get a picture up on the blog, but I haven’t had a picture taken since I went bald. It looks cool as hell, but it feels much, much colder. I had to break down and buy a stocking cap on lunch to replace the one that’s lost in my winter clothes black hole.

***

Speaking of “Lost,” there’s a fascinating episode on tonight that traces the first 48 days on the island for those who were in the tail section of the plane. Truly, must-see TV.

***

Of course, I have to tape it because I’m in rehearsal for “Santa Claus: The Musical.” I wish I could say I’m having a better time with it, and that what started out as a favor has turned into a labor of love. Unfortunately, I can’t say that. The book and lyrics are cute enough, but the music annoys the crap out of me, the show runs too long and, all in all, I’d rather be preparing for the holidays at home.

But there’s this “commitment” thing that I have to honor. And honor it, I will.

***

I read that 73% of babies born with spina bifida (the condition that rendered me a “wheelchair user”) end up with an allergy to latex. As far as I know, I’m part of the 27% that aren’t, but I’ve never been to a fetish club, so I guess I can’t say for certain.

***

It’s interesting that folks like her and her are pondering why people blog. I’m three weeks away from hitting the one-year anniversary of “Graduate Level Sykesology,” and I’m still figuring it out. More introspection along those lines in … say about three weeks.

***

As the film opening of “Rent” nears, I must confess: I've never seen the show. Moreover, I never had really had any desire to see it. I know. I'm an infidel.

This was mostly due to the "Everyone says it's an awesome must-see, so crew the herd" mentality. I rebelled. That, and "Seasons of Love" always sounded kind of show choirish to me.

However, the trailer for "Rent" has kind of sucked me in, and now I'm looking forward to seeing it. And don’t underestimate the Rosario Dawson Factor.

***

Speaking of Rosario Dawson, do yourself a favor and rent the “Josie and the Pussycats” movie sometime. It’s not nearly as bad as critics indicated, and in some cases is actually howlingly funny. There are particularly solid performances from the aforementioned Dawson, Alan Cummings and Tara Reid (before we realized she wasn’t really performing at all).

Rachel Leigh Cook also perfects the hot-looking-in-a-sweet-way thing here, and I’m not sure why her career never really went anywhere. Oh well: “DuJour means seatbelts!”

***

One more thing: get ready for White Trash Thanksgiving!

Urethra Laurifer

No need to break out the Latin dictionary, Sykesology fans. You probably recognize the first word, and the second translates “Triumphant.” Yes indeed, dearly beloved: Mr. Firehose is back in business. It’s amazing what some horse-choking Cipro will do for you. Mostly, it’s allowed me to leave a restroom without crying.

One more quick thought, while we’re on the subject of restrooms: do you or have you ever worked in a multi-floor facility where the restrooms on each floor have identical designs? Have you ever had to use such a restroom on a floor other than your own? Isn’t it a little like visiting a parallel universe?

Yes, I’m better … as better as it gets for me.

Peace out.

Owie! Owie! Owie!

Let’s just get the TMI disclaimer out of the way right now.

I’m going to the doctor tonight for what I am 99% sure is a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI). As if making an acronym out of it makes it any more pleasant. I’m about to split from work to crash until then.

I say that to say this: you’re probably reading my last entry for a while. Instead, I’ll be spending much of the next few days looking down and yelling: “C’mon Mr. Firehose, you can do it. You’ve never given up on anything before, so live, damn you, LIVE!!!!!”

That is when the fever doesn’t compel me to sing the guitar part of “Kashmir.”

Think good thoughts, kiddies.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul

Long before there was a Graduate Level Psychology, I had (and still have) a regular cyberwriting gig at Finheaven & Co., the pre-eminent Miami Dolphins fan site. For the first couple of years, I diligently wrote columns weekly or, at the very least, every other week.

Then came last year’s disastrous 4-12 season. It’s tough writing about a team that can pretty much be counted on to lose week after week. But still, I was relatively faithful.

Now, the team is, despite its losing record, a lot more fun to watch than it was last season. The Dolphins are only a game out of first place in their division. The new coaching staff has fans really excited. And yet, it’s been an eternity since I wrote a column.

Meanwhile, I’ve averaged a little more than a post a week on my blog. Hmmmm …

It feels like I’m cheating on my girlfriend.

This just in! Two more for "The List"

Sometimes one urge trumps another.

My To-Do List

I'll have some chewy political stuff next week, but it's freaking Friday, people! So, because everyone else is doing it, why not me? Here are the celebrities on my current agenda, provided I ever get enough time off work to properly pursue them.

Evangeline Lilly

Amazingly, the grungier this Lost star gets, the hotter she gets. Which isn’t to say the occasional scene depicting her cleaning up isn’t hot as well. Either way … grr, baby. Grr.

Jennifer Tilly and Gina Gershon

At the same time. In an empty room. On a mattress in the middle of the floor.

Liz Phair

She sings about playing X-Box and ... well ... you know. Awesome.

Bjork


I know this pick probably will rob me of all credibility with many of you, but I can’t help it. As a singer, I am entranced by her wholly unique vocal instrument. And her kewpie-doll face, when combined with her borderline-wacko persona, seal the deal for me.

Pauley Perrette


I’ve never watched a full episode of Navy NCIS. In truth, the only exposure I’ve had to it is the five minutes I usually see of it right before The Amazing Race. But I’ve decided I really need to get into it, if only for the delightful punk princess Abby Sciutto, as portrayed by Ms. Perrette. She’s a punk. She wears schoolgirl clothes. She solves crimes. ‘Nuff said.

Devon Aoki

If you saw her kick ass and take names in Sin City, you’ll know why Devon has captured my … ummm … heart. She fits nicely into the genre of hot women who could kill me and leave me a happy corpse.

Madonna

The older she gets, the more attractive. Have you seen her latest video? Of course, she’s as annoyingly self-important as ever, but damn …

Today, I am Surly Duck

And now, some good reading that my many left-leaning friends may not appreciate. But it is apparent that Iraq intelligence was flawed long before George W. Bush took power and that the support/criticism tide for the war has ebbed and flowed with its political advantageousness.

I'll shut up now.

Glenn Reynolds and Harry Reid's Exploding Head

Birthday wrap-up, Halloween and impersonating turkeys

Let's work backward, shall we?

As much as I bitch about how boring it can be to write insurance advertising, there some days I get to say things like, "I spent some time recording a turkey gobble for a Flash e-mail."

Not exactly Mel Blanc material, but it was a helluva lot more fun than writing about the benefits of a fixed annuity.

Tonight, Mrs. Z and I are going to celebrate a fairly low-key Halloween. We're going to watch a couple episodes of the Discovery Channel's A Haunting and perhaps an episode of Xena before getting some rest (and perhaps some recreation).

We're in need of both, as my birthday/Halloween festival provided three straight nights of activity:

• I did, in fact, hit five bars on my birthday night. What a blast. And how blasted I was. While the evening was short on bar sluts, it was long on her dependable friendship, the unexpected but most welcome appearance of The Former Mr. Midnight Shift and, of course, the companionship of Mrs. Z. I really don't remember that much about the last bar, except that I was in the bathroom when the band gave me a shout-out.
• Thursday night, the missus and I were treated to dinner at Damon's by my mom. Good food, good times.
• Friday night was my birthday party with friends. While it didn't turn out to be the deabauched, depraved affair it sometimes can, I was nonetheless a happy drunk by midnight.
• Saturday, I went to "Ghouls Gone Wild"at the Hilton, having scored tickets earlier in the week. This costume party was considerably more entertaining than many radio-sponsored events I've attaneded. Part of that was due to the band, The Brat Pack, who delivered some totally awesome 80s tunage. (Ummm ... sorry about that.) It also didn't hurt that I scored a free night's accommodations.
• By Sunday, we were ready to settle down to a Xena marathon crowned by Lucy Lawless in Vampire Bats on CBS. Heterosexual lesbian couple heaven.

So tonight, I'll be dodging the raindrops in the dark just to get a little mellow time at home. Happy Halloween.

Love. That. Ouiser.

Just when my birthday was threatening to get down and dumpy, to the rescue came that fiery-headed Mistress of Mercy, MzOuiser.

Not that it was a complete surprise (she was the one who urged me to set up an Amazon Wish List in the first place), but I was nonetheless pleased as punch to find the new Liz Phair CD in my mailbox last night, compliments of Mz O. Read all about the O here.

It is at once a great joy and a great sadness that I only became close with Ouiser as she was moving away. Nevertheless, she’s been a great friend and a blogging inspiration.

So tonight, when I’m boogeying down to celebrate my birthday, my only regret will be that she’s not in attendance to demonstrate #50.

***

Birthday algebra

If Dr. Zoom gets a free birthday drink at five bars, and the free drinks at two of the bars are as big as three normal size drinks, and Dr. Zoom can con two friends into buying him a drink each, how shit-faced will Dr. Zoom be by the time he sings karaoke at the fifth bar?

Shit-faced enough to earn the Native American name Dances With Barsluts? You betcha.

My last post as a 35-year-old

Sigh.

As of 1:56 a.m., I will have lived on this planet 36 years. And I haven’t even gotten the stupid T-shirt.

Tonight, I celebrate with Kentucky Fried Chicken. Screw you, PETA.

Tomorrow, on the magical day itself, I will celebrate with a meeting with management at which they will tell us that, yes, they are listening to all our concerns. And then, I will drink. Heavily.

One of the charming aspects of downtown Springfield is that there are several fine establishments willing to give residents a free alcoholic beverage on their birthday. Some of these are quite large. More on that tomorrow.

Thursday night, a birthday dinner with Mom at Damon’s: The Place for Ribs.
And Friday night, all hell breaks loose. In other words, it’s a party at The Sykes Pit.

This ... means ... something

Your Personality Profile

You are dependable, popular, and observant. Deep and thoughtful, you are prone to moodiness. In fact, your emotions tend to influence everything you do. You are unique, creative, and expressive. You don't mind waving your freak flag every once and a while. And lucky for you, most people find your weird ways charming!

The World's Shortest Personality Test

Oh yeah ... there will be some freak-flagwaving next week.

Many thanks to those who felt my pain yesterday. I zoomed through the grief stages in no time at all. This was owing to several things. More than anything else, knowing that cancelling the trip now would allow us to get on with our lives and have a good Christmas made the loss easy to take. Also, there is the fact that staying in town sets up a bitchin' moviefest on the day after Thanksgiving.

Finally, staying home means the grand, glorious tradition of White Trash Thanksgiving can continue. More on that as the day approaches.

***

I have a really brief pickup rehearsal tonight. Then, the J&H train rolls into its final weekend. Let me take this opportunity to give a shout out to my fellow thespians to the south who open Seussical this weekend. Break legs, kids.

***

Finally, it's less than a week until you-know-when. Have finished your shopping yet?

Bad paraplegic. Bad!

Gloom ... despair ... agony

We have just encountered a major, unexpected expense which will have the immediate upshot of forcing us to cancel our Thanksgiving trip to Minnesota.

I had damn well better clip through Kübler-Ross's stages of grief in the next week, or my birthday will be as happy as a horse shooting.

Gettin’ Wiki wit it

And now, I’d like to pimp out a site that probably doesn’t need my help at all. Nonetheless, it has become my go-to online source for information about, I don’t know, EVERYTHING.

I speak of Wikipedia, a free online encyclopedia of breathtaking scope, laudable thoroughness and a scholarly level of accuracy. Want to know about the Order of Knight of the British Empire? Check. The political structure of Poland? Check. A compendium of all things “Lost”? Check. A biography of Xena, The Warrior Princess? Check.


Do yourself a favor and bookmark Wikipedia now.

End commercial message.

A glutton for punishment

Jekyll & Hyde opened this weekend with a bang. We had a near-sellout Friday, a sellout Saturday and a more-than-respectable house for our Saturday matinee.

Friday night was particularly electric. While the opening show of a run always features a special energy, the J&H opener had a rock concert dynamic. We attributed this to our observation that, in addition to the normal complement of regular “theatre types,” the audience included about 200 people who had been in a production with at least one member of the J&H cast. There was wild cheering after every musical number, and the curtain call ovation was almost deafening.

Our joy was compounded by a radiant review from the local newspaper. And yet, there was something of a cloud in the Saturday morning afterglow.

(This is where your truly reveals a negative personality trait. If you don’t want to be disillusioned, you may want to click away now.)

I didn’t appear in the review. Each of the four other principals — Jekyll/Hyde, Lucy, Emma and Utterson — received positive mentions (and more than deservedly so). But that’s where the specific shout-outs ended. There was no print love for Sir Danvers. And it bugged me.

Understand this: I generally do a good job of keeping my attention-whoring tendencies at bay. And I generally despise it when local actors are put out by what appears (or doesn’t) in a show’s review. But as Ted Striker so eloquently puts it in Airplane, “I guess the foot’s on the other hand now!”

So, what’s a recovering attention whore to do? Well, in my case, it’s signing on to do a Christmas show: Santa Claus: The Musical. In this holiday show primarily aimed at children, I play an over-the-top villain named Scourge. No … not this one.

Now, appearing in this show breaks three more-or-less solid theater rules I’ve instituted for myself.
1. Never appear in a “kids show” (although I broke this rule last summer by appearing in Honk!).
2. Never appear in a show that runs into Christmas.
3. Never do two shows in a row.

But having read the script, I can tell you playing Scourge will allow me to go completely berserk on stage — a prospect that should strike fear into the hearts of the Springfield theater community but which fills mine with evil glee.

So yes … I’m an evil, horrible person for letting pride mar the J&H experience at even the most trivial level. But instead of exorcising my demon, I will become one onstage.

Wait’ll they get a load of me.

The many faces of Mister Hyde

Meet Joshua Ratz. Josh is the star of the production of Jekyll & Hyde which I’m in starting tomorrow. Josh is a great singer, a phenomenal actor and possesses a great personal attractiveness. But get this … he can walk, too.

Therefore, he must die.

Josh is the latest in a long string of actors to play the literary world’s most famous split personality, and J&H is the latest in an equally long string of incarnations of the Robert Louis Stevenson classic. I’ve slapdashed together a Top Five list of the most unusual film versions of J&H … just because I’m a listy kind of guy.

#5. Abbott and Costello Meet Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1953)
This was the fourth of six “Abbott and Costello Meet …” movies, and the second to match the comic team with horror legend Boris Karloff. Look for a funny bit at the end with Lou Costello providing a literal answer to the question, “Are You a Man or a Mouse?”

#4 The Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde Rock 'n Roll Musical (2003)
An extremely low-profile vanity project by writer and star Alan Bernhoft, it is definitely NOT to be confused with the aforementioned J&H. This has been described as part Rocky Horror Picture Show and two parts The Who’s Tommy. Released in 2003, the movie has an interesting official site, but good luck trying to find a copy of the movie itself. And speaking of things that are hard to find ...

#3 Docteur Jekyll et les femmes (1981)
Wow. Where to start? This production was directed by Walerian Borowczyk, director of several “Emmanuelle” movies. The Prurient Pole also helmed a series of really weird art house horror-erotica films, of which this is one. Hyde’s sexual nature is front-and-center here, with a disturbing amount of attention given to his monstrous, 35-centimeter “organ.” Go ahead … Google a metric conversion page. I’ll wait.

#2 Dr. Jekyll and Sister Hyde (1971)
The sensually macabre is also on display in this import. The twist here is that a mild, near-asexual Jekyll is transformed into a feral, libidinous woman (played by Bond Girl Martine Bestwick, of From Russia With Love). Its sexuality was pretty blatant for the time, as was its female-empowerment(?) storyline.

#1 Jekyll and Hyde... Together Again (1982)
Ah, the early 80s. A time when casual sex and rampant drug use was not only common, but fashionable. What better way to celebrate the two than with a horror twist on another 80s staple: the sex comedy. Here, Dr. Jekyll’s secret formula takes the form of a white powder (hmm hmm hmm HMMM!) that unleashes a wacky party animal. Hilarity ensues.

Must-see TV

Click the link above to see an advertisement for the "must-see musical rollercoaster of passion and murder."

Welcome to Hell Week

This week’s entries are bound to be a bit dominated by things theatrical, as the production of Jekyll & Hyde I’m in opens Friday. If you don’t like it, you might want to visit his site for a week or so. Nothing artsy-fartsy there, I assure you.

Now, back to J&H. There are some weird bits of personal trivia happening here.

1. First of all, even though I have a substantial amount of stage time in the show, I don’t have one prop. Not one. This is a relief when you consider …
2. I have never had the number of insane costume changes I have in this show. And they all involve going from one formal outfit to another. Let’s just say that when the dorector starts his notes after a rehearsal saying, “There are only a few people with really quick changes,” and the first person he names is a paraplegic, you’d better be praying hard to sweet St. Genesius. Thankfully, I have her as a dresser.
3. I have my first onstage duet in this show, which is a little weird, considering I have played a musical lead before. However, Julian Marsh and Peggy Sawyer never sing together in 42nd Street.
4. This marks the second time I’m playing someone’s father in a show. This time, sadly, I’m not being aged to play the role, which is just ridiculous. I’m not 50, I don’t feel 50, and I sure as hell don’t look 50. Midlife crisis, here I come. Thankfully, I have a drinking holiday built in about two weeks from now. Unfortunately, the holiday is another statement on my getting older. (Have you finished your shopping yet?)
5. This isn’t so much trivia as an observation: there’s something profoundly visceral and unnerving about seeing a death on stage. We’ve all more or less become desensitized to watching murder on screen, but put a murder in a theatre roughly 15 feet from the first row (and J&H has seven, count ‘em, seven!), and you have a different experience entirely. I can’t wait to see the audience’s faces.

More from tech week, otherwise known as Hell Week, as it progresses …

St. Genesius be praised

According to the original Jekyll & Hyde rehearsal schedule, Starting yesterday, we were to have had nine straight scheduled run-throughs before it opened next Friday. That would have had us running the show 12 times in 12 days. Madness.

Miraculously, our Friday and Saturday rehearsals have been canceled. We’ll be able to breathe after tonight.

And now for something completely different.

Ten Things I Think

1. I think for all the jokes about his intelligence, George W. made two extremely shrewd Supreme Court nominations. However, given their obscurity, I halfway expected my phone to ring Sunday night.
2. I think I’m looking forward to the family’s Thanksgiving trip to Minneapolis more than any trip I’ve taken in many years.
3. I think Lindsey Lohan should just take the bus.
4. I think that tuxedos with tails are a bad idea for men in wheelchairs.
5. think I may have to get Fiona Apple’s new CD before I get the latest Liz Phair offering, even though Liz is one of my celebrity crushes.
6. I think a White Sox/Cardinals World Series would actually get me interested. (Sorry, Frecklehead.)
7. I think we’re alone now.
8. I think this is one of the deepest and most unsettling things I’ve read in a while.
9. I think nothing beats the satisfaction derived from drinking the perfectly crafted Bloody Mary.
10. I think I love you. So what am I so afraid of?

Still more shamless self-serving self-promotion

A dear friend e-mailed me today: "Excuse me, but why isn't your Amazon Wish List not linked from your blog???"

Well, first of all, I didn't have an Amazon Wish List. I just couldn't picture enough people in my circle of friends who would have the inclination to shop for me online.

But I've fixed that, and just in time for my BIRTHDAAAAAAAAY! People of Earth, you have exactly three shopping weeks left. You can click on the link above, or just click here.

Shameless self-promotion

If you happen to be in the Springfield, Ill., area in two weeks, you might want to stop by and see this show -- and not just because I'm in it.  You'll love Jekyll & Hyde if even one of the following is true:

• You love musicals.



• You love horror movies.



• You love catchy songs.



• You're horny.

Oops.  Did I say that out loud?

How I deal

I had a friend disappoint me today. I had a choice: become dejected and despondent or defiant and surly.

I chose the latter and surfed over to uberprints.com to design a T-shirt:



Who needs therapy when I have the Internet?

San Francisco Stories: Part I

One of the many highlights of my recent trip to San Francisco was my frequent brushes with fame. The first one happened before I’d even left the state of Illinois.

My co-worker and traveling companion, Ron, and I were at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport waiting for our connecting flight to San Francisco. Our flight was delayed to allow passengers on an incoming flight from San Diego to disembark. Among the rabble waiting for loved ones to arrive was an older woman, nicely if not spectacularly dressed. She was holding up a spiral-bound notebook with “B.WHITE” printed on it in marker.

Ron and I looked at each other with a smile. Seconds later, Ron verbalized what I had been thinking.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if that were Betty White?”

Sure enough, when the passengers from San Diego emerged moments later, among them was the Golden Girl herself, looking a bit older than I had remembered, but with the same trademark sparkle in her eye. She winked at the few of us who showed signs of recognizing her, joined her friend in one of those airport people-movers for the mobility impaired and whisked away.

Fast forward to that evening. I had checked into my hotel. Remembering San Francisco’s reputation as a non-smoking city, I had asked the concierge if there was anywhere on the property I could smoke. He said no, but as I started to roll away, he said, “Wait a minute. There’s the Roof Garden.”

The Roof Garden, as it turns out, is this gorgeous little enclave on top of the second story. Here’s a crappy picture I took of it the night I found it.



There are beautiful shrubs, palm trees and a gorgeous fountain. There’s a beautiful view of the skyline, including the Transamerica obelisk-shaped headquarters. And there are plentiful.

Now because smoking is a egregious offense in California, the doors leading outside to the garden (one from the lobby, one from a banquet hall), are emblazoned with a warning that beyond lies an area that contains dangerous chemicals. Then … all is peace and tranquility.

It’s sort of like the Betty Ford Clinic, except they let you keep the drugs. And it was here, on the next morning, that I had my second brush with fame.

I was showing Ron The Roof Garden, when we saw a throng spilling out of the banquet room into the garden. There were several cameras. Children in scouting uniforms and Eurpean-looking costumes were nestled toward the center of the mob. Meanwhile, at the crowd’s perimeter, several buff-looking men spoke into their cufflinks at regular intervals.

Secret Service, I instantly thought.

Ron and I looked at each other quizzically. Finally, Ron got up from the stone bench on which he had been sitting and strode over to one of the photogs. They exchanged words, and Ron came back over to where we had been sitting.

“It’s the Polish president,” he said.

At this point, the throng moved in our direction. And at the center of the crowd, surrounded by European journalist speaking in a cacophony of Salvic tongues, was The Man, whom I have since learned is named Aleksander Kwaśniewski. It turns out he’s been The Man since defeating populist hero Lech Walesa ten years ago. And his second and final five-year term ends this year.

“He looks like John Roberts,” Ron remarked.

After the crowd had dispersed, I asked Ron the $64,000 question.

“On the celebrity scale, who wins out: Betty White or the President of Poland?”

“It’s got to be Betty White,” he said. And for emphasis, he proclaimed. “Without. A. Doubt.”

I had to agree with him.

A cushy pushover

You scored as Pillow. You are a PILLOW.
Soft and cuddly, you are a great and loyal friend, but a bit of a push-over.
People love the fact that you are reliable, but you should also learn to stick up for yourself, jeeze
Which Random Object Do You Represent?
created with QuizFarm.com

I left my heart ...

I'm baaack ....

And except for an upper respiratory infection (bad recycled plane air, says my doctor) and a pile o' work, I'm not too much worse for the wear. I'll be posting more words and pictures later this week, but this will have to keep you interested for now.

More on Katrina: How politics, not incompetence, delayed assistance

This is fascinating reading, and the clearest, most concise explanation we'll probably see as to why federal involvement in Katrina's wake was delayed. It shows a situation, in my view, made worse not by political incompetence, but politics in general.

There are no valid excuses here per se, but there is definitely more than a shrug and a blank look. And it cetainly elevates the issue above partisan finger-pointing.

You may have to register with the NY Times to read the article, but it's free. And it's worth it.

A tale of two cities

If you’re going to San Francisco
Be sure to wear some flowers in your hair
If you’re going to San Francisco
You`re gonna meet some gentle people there

Well, I can only hope the people are gentle, because my hair won’t support the use of flowers.

That’s right. To quote another 60s classic, I’m leaving on a jet plane. The powers that be have determined it would be a good thing for me to mix and mingle with other people who write about the insurance industry. Based on my experience, it will either be an extremely boring bunch or quite the rowdy one. And the shindig happens starting this weekend at the San Francisco Fairmont

All things considered, I’d rather be staying home.

Take one part general travel jitters, add about a million parts separation anxiety (this is the first time I’ve left Mrs. Z at home in more than seven years) and stir in a dash of domesticity, and you’re left with a recipe for travel ambivalence. That said, San Francisco is one of the few cities I have an active desire to see, and I have an agreeable colleague as a travel companion, so I’m sure I’ll survive — perhaps even thrive.

Meanwhile, my thoughts are still dominated by another city: New Orleans. Nearly two weeks after Hurricane Katrina slammed into the Gulf Coast, my thoughts on the tragedy are only now starting to resolve to the point where I feel I can write about it. Here are some of those thoughts, in no particular order.

I find myself nodding in agreement with this guy, who comments that: “I fully expected that watching the events of 9/11 on TV (only a couple weeks after I'd been in both NY and Washington for job interviews) would be the most horrifying experience of my lifetime. I was wrong.”

Indeed, I would imagine that if you played word association and said “national tragedy” to a random sampling three weeks ago or more, a solid majority would say 9/11. And yet, here we are, facing an event that will probably end up having ten times the death toll and as deep (or maybe even deeper) an impact on our national culture. Call me a pessimist (it would be a first), but I can’t imagine New Orleans ever being the same – at least in my lifetime.

I’ve been pretty emotionally erratic in Katrina’s wake. I spent two days in sadness, but I’ve been given more recently to fits of anger over the disgusting politicization of the talk surrounding the storm. I can safely say that 9/11 never made me as angry as I have been over this. For God’s sake, people, there is no enemy here … only our countrymen and brethren in the family of man. Can we please postpone the self-righteous indignation and finger-pointing until we have resuced the living and buried the dead?

All in all, it maybe best that I’m getting away. Though leaving Mrs. Z at home breaks my heart each night my departure gets closer, I long for a fresh perspective. Maybe it will wash over me when I pass through the Golden Gate. Maybe I’ll see it in the face of an impassioned Giants fan. Maybe I’ll find it in the industry babble that is my reason for leaving.

Maybe I won’t find it until I’m home again.

Knowing Meme, Knowing You

Two posts in one day! And you have her to thank. Feel free to make your own list.


7 things I plan to do before I die:
1) Finish a novel
2) Get back to New York
3) See the great Wall of China
4) Quit smoking
5) Play George to Becky’s Martha in “Who’s Afraid of Viriginia Woolf?”
6) Get a tattoo
7) Play Richard III

7 things I can do:
1) Do a 360 while holding a wheelie
2) Eat and enjoy food so spicy it makes me sweat
3) Make cashiers swoon with an inpromptu snippet from a love song
4) Shoot a three-pointer
5) Make killer sauces
6) Write zippy headlines
7) Make people laugh

7 things I cannot do
1) Walk
2) Run
3) Jump
4) Grapevine
5) Tie a tie
6) Sing one song while another one’s playing
7) Stay mad

7 things that attract me to the sex of my preference:
1) Shortness
2) A wicked smile
3) A sense of humor
4) A bouncy butt (hey … honesty frees the soul)
5) the ability to simultaneously display devotion and independence
6) Self-confidence
7) Open-mindedness

7 things that I say most often:
1) I Love YOU!
2) Give me a smokie treat.
3) Now that I have your attention …
4) That's Hot!
5) Oh dear God!
6) I'm not drunk!
7) Where are my keys?


7 celebrity crushes:
1) Gwen Stefani
2) Liz Phair
3) Angelina Jolie
4) “Mythbuster” Kari Byron
5) Xena & Gabrielle (you can’t have one without the … other!)
6) Drew Barrymore
7) Anna Paquin

Let's go debunking

1.Money isn't made out of paper. It's made out of cotton.
Well, yes and no. Paper money is made from paper made of rags. Cotton or linen fabric is beaten to create cotton or linen fibers. You have probably heard of "rag paper" or "fine linen writing paper." This is where it comes from.

2. The Declaration of Independence was written on hemp paper.
True, but not shocking. Much of the paper of the day was made of hemp.

3. The dot over the letter i is called a “tittle."
True. The term refers to any raised dot in writing, however.

4. A raisin dropped in a glass of fresh champagne will bounce up and down continuously from the bottom of the glass to the top.
Sometimes, depending on the raisin and the champagne. After a while it becomes soaked and sinks to the bottom

5. Susan Lucci is the daughter of Phyllis Diller.
False. Although their ages don't preclude their being mother and daughter, Phyllis Diller and Susan Lucci are not related. Phyllis Driver was born in Ohio in 1917 and married Sherwood Diller in 1939; they had five children together before divorcing in 1965, none of whom was Susan Lucci (who was born in New York in 1946).

6. 40% of McDonald's profits come from the sales of Happy Meals.
Not true, although when they were first introduced, 40% of McDonald’s sales might have been attributable to Happy Meals.

7. 315 entries in Webster's 1996 Dictionary were misspelled.
Which Webster’s? There are many dictionaries that carry the Webster name.

8. The 'spot' on 7UP comes from its inventor, who had red eyes. He was albino.
Uh-uh. 7Up’s creator, Charles Leiper Grigg, wasn't an albino. In photographs (albeit black and white ones), he appears normally pigmented, and we've yet to encounter a biography of him that makes any mention of his displaying traits of albinism. (By the way, though it is possible for an albino to have reddish or violet eyes, most people with that condition have blue eyes, and some have hazel or brown eyes.)

9. On average, 12 newborns will be given to the wrong parents, daily.
Impossible to verify, making it likely this number was pulled out of someone's ass.

10. Warren Beatty and Shirley MacLaine are brother and sister.
True dat.

11. Chocolate affects a dog's heart and nervous system; a few ounces will kill a small sized dog.
Sadly this is true. According to the SPCA, cocoa beans contain the stimulants caffeine and theobromine. Dogs are highly sensitive to these chemicals, called methylxanthines. In dogs, low doses of methylxanthine can cause mild gastrointestinal upset (vomiting, diarrhea, and/or abdominal pain); higher doses can cause rapid heart rate, muscle tremors, seizures, and death

12. Orcas (killer whales) kill sharks by torpedoing up into the shark's stomach from underneath, causing the shark to explode.
No one has ever witnessed this behavior in nature. Moreover, the two aren’t natural enemies.

13. Most lipstick contains fish scales.
Sort of. A fish scale extract is one ingredient.

14. Donald Duck comics were banned from Finland because he doesn't wear pants.
False. In late 1977, the city of Helsinki found itself in a bit of a financial crunch. With monetary resources limited, Mr. Markku Holopainen, a local Liberal Party representative, proposed at a meeting of the board of youth affairs that the city economize by discontinuing its purchase of Donald Duck comics for youth centers in favor of hobby and sport publications. His suggestion was heartily approved — and was later incorrectly lambasted by international tabloids as being morally, rather than financially, based.

15. Ketchup was sold in the 1830s as medicine.
True (Dr. Miles Compound Extract of Tomato)

16. Upper and lower case letters are named 'upper' and 'lower' because in the time when all original print had to be set in individual letters, the 'upper case' letters were stored in the case on top of the case that stored the smaller, 'lower case' letters.
True.

17. Leonardo da Vinci could write with one hand and draw with the other at the same time.
There is no evidence of da Vinci being ambidextrous. (He was left-handed.) On the other hand (d’oh), he was proficient in the practice of mirror writing, or writing that could only be read if held up to a mirror.

18. Because metal was scarce, the Oscars given out during World War II were made of wood.
Not true. During World War II, award winners were given statuettes made of plaster, which they were later able to exchange for gold. The only wooden Oscar was an honorary one given to ventriloquist Edgar Bergen.

19. There are no clocks in Las Vegas gambling casinos.
This is true, as a rule. There is also a scarcity of windows. Both practices have the same effect: masking the passage of time.

20. The name Wendy was made up for the book Peter Pan; there was never a recorded Wendy before!
Not true. The name Wendy appears twice in the 1881 census of England, one born 1840, and one born in 1880. The magazine Family History also states that Wendy, along with the names Marian and Shirley were once boys’ names, and that in 1797 a boy named Wendy was apprenticed to some one in Glos.

But the name may have even older origins. History makes reference to two different emperors in China who have the name "Wendi" (sometimes also referred to as Wen-Ti).

However, J.M. Barrie’s 1904 novel certainly popularized the name.

21. There are no words in the dictionary that rhyme with: orange, purple, and silver!
True. Well, “quicksilver” rhymes with “silver,” but that’s cheating.

22. Leonardo Da Vinci invented scissors. Also, it took him 10 years to paint Mona Lisa's lips.
Wrong and wrong. Although commonly ascribed to Leonardo da Vinci, scissors were likely invented in 1500 BC in ancient Egypt. These were likely shears with the joint at the far end. Modern cross-bladed scissors were invented by Romans around AD 100.

The entire painting that would later become known as the Mona Lisa was painted in less than four years (1503-1506).


23. A tiny amount of liquor on a scorpion will make it instantly go mad and sting itself to death.
Untrue, since the scorpion’s venom has no effect on the scorpion itself, nor on any member of the same species. So definitely do NOT try this one at home.

24. The mask used by Michael Myers in the original "Halloween" was a Captain Kirk mask painted white.
True, per the Internet Movie Database.

25. If you have three quarters, four dimes, and four pennies, you have $1.19. You also have the largest amount of money in coins without being able to make change for a dollar (good to know.)
True.

26. By raising your legs slowly and lying on your back, you can't sink in quicksand (and you thought this list was completely useless.)
True. Simply laying down and swimming is all that is needed to allow escape. The sand's higher density will gradually push a human body upward, eventually allowing the individual to easily paddle toward more solid footing.

27. The phrase "rule of thumb" is derived from an old English law, which stated that you couldn't beat your wife with anything wider than your thumb.
This is a long-standing myth. While we are not certain of its origin, the term "rule of thumb" or similar exists in many languages and cultures. Its likely origin is that the thumb is often used for rough measurement by carpenters, seamstresses, and many others. In fact, the measurement of an inch is believed to have been derived from the distance between the tip of the thumb and the first joint.

The wife-beating claim has been debunked, for instance by Christina Hoff Sommers in her book Who Stole Feminism?. In particular Sommers notes that there is no mention of this in the legal commentaries of William Blackstone.

28. The first product Motorola started to develop was a record player for automobiles. At that time, the most known player on the market was the Victrola, so they called themselves Motorola.
Not quite. Motorola started business manufacturing radios for cars, not record players. A number of early companies manufacturing audio and film equipment in the early 20th century used the suffix "-ola".

29. Celery has negative calories! It takes more calories to eat a piece of celery than the celery has in it to begin with. It's the same with apples!
True of celery. Not as true with apples. There are 15 calories in 110 grams of celery. There are 57 calories in the same amount of apple.

30. Chewing gum while peeling onions will keep you from crying!
No, but putting a piece of bread between your lips and gums may help, as will cutting onions under cold running water.

31. The glue on Israeli postage stamps is certified kosher.
True. However, American stamps are kosher, as well, since their glue is also composed of vegetable oil. But they’re not necessarily certified.

32. Guinness Book of Records holds the record for being the book most often stolen from public libraries.
False. A recent American Library Association survey indicated the most stolen books are about dreams, witchcraft, astrology and the occult.

33. Astronauts are not allowed to eat beans before they go into space because passing wind in a space suit damages it.
False. Three days before a flight, astronauts are put on a "low residue diet" so their diaper-style undies won't fill up so fast. If farts could damage a space suit there'd be a lot more astronaut fatalities.

Dammit, dammit, dammit!

I hate it when she makes me feel guilty. She doesn't do it on purpose, of course. But she's a much more regular blogger than I, and her writing is fucking awesome. And she's training to be a MASSAGE THERAPIST! Meanwhile, here I am, the professional writer, and I'm not producing jack!

I'm ugly.

I need chocolate.

Hold me.

On faith

I had a friend ask me today, “Why do you believe what you believe?” It's a tricky question.

The way I see it, you might as well ask someone why he or she loves someone else. Obviously, there are some facts that go into that decision: common interests, shared opinions, physical chemistry and the like. But when it comes time to make the commitment to loving someone, there's no "reason" to it. It's a gut-level instinct that says, "This is right."

The same can be said of faith. There are a number of facts that inform someone's choice of religion. For Christians, there is the logical principle that you cannot have creation without a creator. And there are the historical documents, both biblical and secular, supporting the existence of Jesus. But when it comes to choosing a faith, it is made based on that same type of gut instinct.

Look at it this way ... if you are certain of something, there's no belief to it. It's knowledge.

This and that on a rain-drenched Tuesday

In the Obscure Observance Department, today is the Irish celebration of the “Battle of the Boyne.” In the sake of unity, however, I would urge my Protestant brethren to avoid razzing their Catholic friends with a Nelsonian “HAH hah!”

***

Today's top Springfield State Journal-Register headline: Two accused of flipping
Today's top Chicago Tribune headline: Shrub poisoned zoo monkeys
The two headlines combined: Two accused of flipping shrub-poisoned zoo monkeys.

***

Mrs. Z and I watched our new DVD of the Cameron Crowe classic "Say Anything" last night. Twice. In a row. The second time, we watched the commentary from Crowe, John Cusack and Ione Skye.

"Say Anything" pretty much summed up our high school experience. Crowe's writing, which goes from honest and conversational to poetic without missing a beat, is only topped by Cusack's unforgettable character work as Lloyd Dobler. Of his character's mindset, Cusack said: "Optimism is a revolutionary act."

Indeed.

Company comin’!

I found out over the weekend that the lovely Mz. Ouiser is coming to Illinois this week for a visit. I was amused to hear that she really has a yen for some Karaoke.

The fact that Mrs. Z and I are Karaoke junkies is not a great secret, although we have been inactive for more than a month. It is curious to me, however, that the woman I hold up as Metropolitan Culture Girl — whom I’ve long regarded as a poster child for escaping the Midwest and Getting a Life — yearns for the relatively rustic pleasures of a Karaoke bar.

I won’t analyze it any further, however. It’s always a treat to see Ms. O, and Mrs. Z and I wouldn’t mind terribly if we were dynamite fishing off Lake Springfield, so long as we had a chance to socialize again.

Not that I'm cynical

... but what are we to make of this? Live 8 performers' record sales are booming. Maybe fans are rewarding these artists for their generous donation of face time for a worthy cause.

The one appeasing fact from this article: their was some actual fund-raising going on. The recording of the McCartney/U2 duet "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" is selling like hotcakes on the Internet, with proceeds going toward the poverty-stricken. So it's not like the epic concert's only purpose was to tweak the G8's leaders -- a goal which seemed decidedly unambitious to me.

Ok, so I am cynical.

By the way ... thanks for your patience in between posts. Mrs. Z are done with one show (Ragtime) and are a month away from starting another (Jekyll & Hyde).

Yes ... the audition which was causing me some anxiety went well.