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 …