Oscar Surprises!

Let's count all of them, shall we?





















It was shorter this year, and...umm...



















...

Request for Joshie

I about peed my pants at the party last night. I would love to capture Joshie's words for all posterity.

So, Joshie?

The cue line was, "Seriously, the ONLY thing I'm scared of in the entire world is cockroaches!"

And...action!

He posted it!

"And now, we present: Chad Is Only Afraid Of Cockroaches.

Chad: (repeated for the last ten minutes): Cockroaches are the only thing I'm scared of.

Josh: (he knows it's like kicking a puppy but he just has to) What about sharks, Chad?

Chad: (he's been ready for this and is just glad someone is talking to him) No, cause I swam with sharks at Sea World.

Josh: (knows that those sharks at Sea World are a bunch of pussies that don't deserve the name) No, what about great white sharks off the coast of South Africa, jumping outta the water like helicopters...would that scare you?

Chad: (I wonder if Josh is annoyed with me?) No.

Josh: (can feel the savage Lord of the Flies vibe in the dressing room and is now on a roll) No? Giant fucking sharks flying through the air? Not scary? How about cobras, Chad? How about you're taking a shower and someone throws a bunch of cobras in there with you? Maybe, huh? Maybe a little scary. Just a bit? How about drowning, Chad. Is drowning scary, are you scared of that? Or maybe of being burned alive, scary yet? Or how about this, you jump into a pool and someone spreads oil on the surface of the water and sets it on fire and every time you try to come up for air they punch you in the face -- GET BACK IN THE FIERY WATER CHAD!!!!! GET BACK IN THE FIERY WATER CHAD!!!! -- Would that maybe be a little scary?"

I Was a Totally Different Person Back in 1910

Dearest friends back in the relative civility of the city,

I have survived the long trip through the Panama Canal during the height of malaria season.

Several people in our party succumbed including a Mrs. Humpert Vulvane-Clitford. She in fact died as we sailed through the locks. Most unfortunate because she had a lovely basso profundo voice, and we are so short of men to sing four-part harmony on our trip.

Our captain, the most impressive Admiral Abel Pex, decided the entire ship had wasted too much time soaking in the sun in the Gulf of Mexico beforehand. So Mrs. Vulvane-Clitford – even though it was said she was very wealthy and a widow no less – was given a burial at sea. Admiral Pex didn’t really know the lady, so it was a short eulogy - he gave her a shove off the side of the boat with a quick, “There the old broad goes.” The rest of us covered our mouths (from the malaria) and hummed “Nearer My God to Thee” as loud as we could through our linen hankies, and that was the sum entire of the service.

Our own reverend back home could learn something from the brevity, if I do say so myself, and I plan to tell him the whole tale directly when I get back from the Galapagos and my mission of turning the dirty, smelly natives into God-fearing Christians.

Anyway, a “burial at sea” may be in fact a bit of romance, as we were actually in one of the center locks of the Panama Canal itself when we dumped poor old dead Mrs. V.-Clitford’s corpse. Some of the locals on the shore hauling our boat through the locks yelled something at us and pointed to the body most severely and emphatically. Well, thank the Lord in Heaven I don’t understand a lick of Spanish or Portuguese or Wop or whatever those oily dark people were speaking, for I’m sure it was not proper for a lady to hear. As it was most definitely coarse, Admiral Pecks chose the reasonable reaction of ignoring their yells and rude gestures and continuing on.

As I believe I told you in my postcard from the Cayman Island (you did get it, didn’t you? – No matter, it was rather cheap anyway) I bought some lovely inexpensive trinkets from the locals who were all to dumb to know that I was underpaying them. Of course, you’re expected to be sharp and Jewish with these people or they will simply walk all over you.

I found some small native statues of some heathen gods. They are made out of a nasty tar-like substance and smell worse than I imagine old Mrs. Clitford does about now. Also, I was told these naked statues are terribly bad luck, but thank God I don’t believe in any of that voodoo nonsense. I plan to tie bright ribbons around them and give them to my friends as Christmas ornaments this next year.

Only I do believe that each of these god statues are distinctly male as they all have a rather prodigious protrusion from their lower stomach. Oh, and they have the longest tongues. How very intriguing things can be when you finally take a close look at them instead of merely slipping them in your purse while no one is looking.

Also, I found some lovely strange pipes and some very odd smelling green tobacco. I, in fact, bought five pounds of the tobacco, which I was going to present to Father. However, the admiral has shown me how the smoke the pipe (he is terribly handsome and roguish) and now he and I have taken to a couple pipe-fulls before every meal. I know, it is so manly and unattractive, but since I will not be around civilized people, I shall do uncivilized things while I can enjoy it.

The tobacco has the strange effect of making you hungry, so we’ve been fairly gorging ourselves at the ship’s modest banquet. The Admiral takes the helm after lunch and another pipe-full, and he has admitted to me that his new habit helps him to relax at the stressful helm of our ship.

Well, since it so strongly affects one’s appetite such, I certainly cannot now give any to Daddy, who is already as the English say “a few hundred stones to the heavy side.” I have committed myself to smoking the rest in the three remaining weeks of my trip. As there are four pounds left, and the Admiral and I do go through it quickly, this should not be hard. (Perhaps, I should cut the Admiral off and save it for myself. But certainly then, he will completely quit playing “kiss the little clam” with me - oh, it's a charming little game the Admiral has invented that I do love so much. I’ll have to show you how to play it when I get back to civilization. And I'll even volunteer to be "the clam.")

Well, there is not much else to report. I simply can’t wait to start converting the unwashed masses to our more decent, genteel ways of life. By blunt force, if I have to! As you’ll most readily agree, more and more of these dirty half-apes would be much better off if they were more like me. Or at least if they acted as if they were more like me. For who on this earth, dear friends, can ever quite live up to my distinct classiness and civility?

Signed,
Ms. Stephanie Jerome, in all her finest

Mutual Admiration Society

I saw a fantastic, confusing and lovely film last night. Kids, ya know I ain’t one to gush, but Pedro Almodovar’s Bad Education was a wonderful, creepy, delight to experience! And it’s even kind of touching, too.

I don’t want to spoil it for you, so I won’t tell you a lot. But I will say it’s Almodovar at his finest; mashing together his characteristic kitschy visual style with equal parts soft gay porn and classic Hitchcock. As an added bonus, the script possesses a bit of a Charlie Kaufman’s Adaptation.

I don’t want to glom this subject too much, or ruin the movie for anyone. GO SEE IT! The only other clue I will give you – notice when the film switches to cinema-scope and back.

One disclaimer though – it is very very very very very gay. Local actor and registered hottie (except he smokes) Michael Marinaccio asked us what we thought, and of course I was raving. Michael replied, quite simply, “Too much man-ass in it for me.” (...Michael's straight...if ya couldn't tell...)

“Man-ass.” What a lovely, charming term. Oh, yoo hoo, Webster’s! We think we have a new…ahem…cof cof…entry for your 2006 dictionary! A gift. From Michael Marinacchio to you!

Also, I want to thank Matty and Jeff for their lovely words on our play Sons of the Revolution, which has been (finally) chosen by Playwrights' Roundtable for a full production! I adore both Matty and Jeff (whom I want to call "Jeffie"), and would love to work with them both again. If they think as strongly of our play as I do of Almodovar’s film, then those are high compliments indeed. Especially from two people whose standards are so admirably high.

Also, if ya wanna read more about the saga of getting it chosen and produced, read my co-author’s blog. He’s being obsessive enough for both of us. (luvU, meenIt!).

http://mediocrityatitsbest.blogspot.com/

AND. I’ve been thinking of starting a production blog four public release. Sort of an online journal for advertising and other positive stuff with the production. Ideas? David?

Hain't Published in a While

Life largely seems dull after last weekend. Hehe


But I did have a lovely time at Joshie's birthday party. I forgot to give him one small gift. It's in my car, so Joshie, the next time you see me, remind me that I have another gift for you.

Oh, and here's a report of what happened at the party, via David Almeida's web blog:

I also got a chance to interact with the hyper-entertaining Ashland Thomas, who was there to witness Steve Miller spitting out an entire mouthful of alcohol all over Cathy Thompson. The trigger thought: we were talking about an actress with an unusual walking posture, kind of slouched with pelvis lazily thrust forward. Steve flashed back to a director in college, correcting a similar actress with the phrase, "If you walk that way, your uterus will fall out." PPHHHBBLLLTTTT! A spit-take for the new milennium.

Back…Part Three of this Ragged Tale

So, when Duran Duran first showed up, some girl screamed at the top of her lungs – it was like 1984 all over again.

I remember when my foster parents took me to a concert, and we heard the same screaming. I’d already seen the band twice by then, and I turned to my foster dad, who was laughing.

“Sorry,” I said sheepishly, apologizing for the screaming girls.

“No, it’s great.” My foster dad John had said. He later told me he was only 7 when The Beatles were first popular, and he thought he’d never get to hear that sort of obsession ever again. Which was sweet of him.

Okay, so we were all told to stand against the wall in this press room, and then the band members would come along and sign our stuff. They had their own black Sharpies. Why didn’t I think they would??? Why did I rush out to get silver Sharpies??? Like thy’re going to take a Sharpie from the germy hand of a fan. Even if the Sharpie is a cool, silver one.

Simon, the lead singer was first. Now, about four months ago, on the web site, I had asked Katy his press relations person, whatever happened to the jacket he wore in the “New Moon on Monday” video. Katy passed the question onto Simon WHO ACTUALLY ANSWERED IT! He said he thought his maid had cut it up for dust rags. Pretty kinky maid, because the jacket was obviously leather, and I sent Katy a note back on this. She laughed and promised to pass that onto Simon, also.

So I said, “I’m the one who asked Katy (Kay-tee) about the 'New Moon on Monday' jacket.”

“It’s Katt-ee,” he replied, sort of smug!

OH GOD! I’m meeting the lead singer of my favorite band and mispronouncing their press relations lady’s name!!! “Oh, God, sorry. Thanks!” I said.

I wanted to say, “Damn, the ONE TIME ‘Hooked on Phonics’ DIDN’T work for me!!!” I should have… I was nervous.

I said to Andy, the guitarist, “It so cool you’re back with the band.” He just smiled and went on.

Nick, the keyboardist came up, and said, “Ooo, an old tour program” about what I had for them to sign. And I replied, “Oh, yes, I saw you then, also. Seriously, I am a HUGE fan. I am all over the board at Duran Duran dot com all the time.”

“Oh,” he says, and he’s really being charming, “what’s your user name?”

“Schmacko,” I say.

“I don’t get to the user board a lot.”

I said, “Really? What have you been doing?” (I made a joke! Of course he’s been touring, recording the new album, and promoting it.) He smiled and put this little symbol next to his name on the program. AND I MADE A JOKE! Thank GOD my humor hasn’t left me entirely!!!

Roger, the drummer, was listening in. I said, “Really, this is so huge for me.” He’s been rumored to be kinda shy, and he just smiled at me like I was crazy, signed the program and slipped over to Cathy…

Now, John…the bassist…

Well, Angry Girl (see earlier post) turned into Obsessed Girl and kept Nick in front of her FOR AS LONG AS SHE COULD! So, I had John in front of me.

“Seriously, I’m one of the rabid fans.” He laughed and asked, “Rabid, as in…” and then he did this crazy face with his hands up and tongue out...it was very funny. And I said, “Oh, you don’t even know. But I’ve had my shots recently, so we should be good.” He laughed again, patted me as he FINALLY got to pass by.

And four of the five band members were really impressed that Cathy had the vinyl of Astronaut. So, Cathy just beamed. And she was so sweet, saying thank you and smiling. And I just thought she was great.

And then we got grouped for pictures. Cathy said, “Can I squeeze in here?" And squeezed herself in between John and Roger. John… I stood on the other side of John and he put his arm on my back and pulled me into the group. Cuz he probably knows these group shots look better nice and close (cuz he’s had hundreds and thousands of them), but it was a really charming thing to do for a fan.

And he’s the one Cathy was impressed with also. And now I can see why the girls go crazy over him. It was only a few seconds, but he was really funny and thoughtful and that means the world to me as a fan for 23 years. Both he and Nick convinced me I picked the right band and music to obsess over.

And…deep breaths!

I’ll tell about the concerts later.

Back to Life, Back to Reality – Part D2

Waiting for the Night Boat. So, we finally got to Will Call with 4 minutes to spare. And then…it didn’t take me long to figure out that the women from the radio station were both stuck in the same shitty-fucking-suckass traffic we had to slog through.

And the EFFING PARADE!

Well, I started meeting other fans, mostly people I had recognized from the…oh, God, this is embarrassing….let’s just say an online site where they have posted their pictures for the purpose of…show us…because…

OK, IT’S THE DD FAN WEB SITE! I BELONG TO THE FAN CLUB...

How embarrassing...

“Do You Believe in Shame?”

I met Late Bar and Khanada and Bunny Fett and ElfyDuranFan and…

Ya know…if you’re going to embarrass yourself, you might as well go the whole way.

And I’m a pretty social animal, and this is a Meet & Greet, right? So pretty soon, Cathy and I were meeting and greeting like fools. Most of the people were really cool, and we comforted more than a few husbands dragged along for the ride of their wives teen-aged obsession. The only problem we had was with two people I call Angry Girl and Drunk Guy. (I remember a lot of names, but NEVER of the people I hate. She will be Angry Girl and he will be Drunk Guy.) Angry Girl forgot she WON the tickets and started talking about suing the radio station for its employees getting stuck in traffic. Her husband kept taking nips from some well-hidden drunk tank. Cuz tanked he was!

The thing is – we ended up not being late at all…

Finally the Radio Ladies got there, and we got arranged and rearranged and rearranged several times – all wrong. We stood around. And then we stood around some more. As a prank, I called one of the Radio Ladies and talked to her from the line. It was like:

“Hi, this is Stephen Miller, a contest winner.”

“Oh, God, are you late? Where are you!?!?”

“No, I’m not late; I’m in line a few feet behind you.”

“WHAT?!?!?”

“I see you, your back is facing me, and you’re walking away from me to the door.”

She spun around and glared at me…and laughed.

And then the magic moment had arrived. We were led through the maze that was the backstage. Our magical wristbands were our tickets! We got repeated reminded that our magical wristbands were our tickets! I felt like Charley at the Chocolate Factory. These security people checked our wristbands ever 20 steps. It was very funny.

And then we went backstage and waited some more…

Is the anticipation killing you?

More later.

;-)

Back to Life with the Commoners – Part 1 of my meeting Duran Duran

Back to the commoners? Just joking, because I absolutely adore my friends. And like I said to Cathy as we were getting ready, “Meeting famous people is A LOT of work!”

She agreed.

And God love her, she really was superb at the concert and makes me aware of why she is one of my two best friends (Now, if I can remember why I love the other one, David Almeida, I’ll be good…)

Two to Get Ready: OK, so what I decided to get signed… The 1984 Tour Program. I had one that burned up in my 1985 house fire, and Michael Slaymaker found another in mint condition and gave it to me a couple of holidays ago. Secondly, since I didn’t want to open my original RIO album still in the shrink-wrap, I went to Rock and Roll Heaven and bought the double-vinyl (LP) of their new release Astronaut. Which turned out to be a very good move.

Oh, and we had to go out the night before and get silver Sharpies. More on why that was both foolish and not foolish later.

We got pretty like Rio. We forgot to eat anything, so were were like Duran Duran’s proverbial wolf. And we jumped in Cathy’s Rav 4 for our now-“Notorious” ride from Hell.

Getting there. We started out about 40 minutes after I had wanted to at 3:40. I hate I-4!!!!! There was construction for miles and miles and miles, tons of semi-trucks, and two…count ‘em TWO…overturned vehicles within a 12-mile stretch of each other slowing us down and making us another 40 minutes late. Now we’re an hour and 20 minutes behind… The second accident we saw a baby in a car seat with its mom by the side of the road, which just about broke our hearts.

Then there was the gah-dammed mutha-f*ing son-of-a-biotch parade downtown. I HATE TAMPA!!! We HAD to park six blocks away and run. We had to figure out a way through the d@mn parade!!! We had to pee. We had to eat. We had a half an hour.

So Cathy and I stopped to use the restrooms at this dive bar across from the Forum. I’m naming my first child after the bathroom attendant lady, because she asked us what she could do to help us and I said we needed two large drinks and hamburgers. She asked what we wanted on the burgers.

I replied, “Quick! What we want on the burgers is quick!”

And God bless her and her few remaining teeth – because less than five minute later there were two very very tasty and perfectly prepared burgers sitting in front of us. I tipped her $7, and Cathy and I ran out the door just as the bar started playing “Is there Something I Should Know?” I love that bar…sniff.

And coincidentally, there WAS something I should know. More later!

Young No More, Immature Forever!

Another one from Marcie!!!!

Name your favorite ______ when you were a kid.

1. Muppet
On Sesame Street it was definitely Oscar
On The Muppet Show, JANICE the whole way!!! "Like so totally..."
In fact, I'm kinda a cross between Oscar and Janice, their love child, so to speak...

2. Dukes of Hazzard character
Hated all of them!!!!!!!! I try to stay as far away from rednecks as possible - the damn thing is I'm related to several.

3. Disney character
I was a HUGE Mickey fan as a little kid, even had a Marching Mickey. Later it was Lumiere

4. book
No question. To Kill a Mockingbird

5. movie
I watched the original Superman over and over, I had such a crush on Mr. Reeves... (sigh - it's the black hair and pale skin and the great body...) And I was HUGE into Blade Runner and Big Trouble in Little China

Quiz Encore Courtesy of David

David had two questions he wanted to add to the THR3E quiz.

THREE THINGS THAT ARE PISSING ME OFF RIGHT NOW
1) There are about 12 people I just want to scream at “QUIT YER BITCHIN’ AND JUST FIX THE FUCKING PROBLEM!!!”
2) My insomnia
3) The fact that because of a combination of our job schedules and our cat’s habits, we always have to argue about letting the cat out and who is going to rescue her furry ass before dark so she doesn’t get torn up in a fight with the feral cats. Our cat picks fights and always loses. We love that she’s an outdoor cat mostly. We love that we normally don’t have to touch the litter box. We hate she picks fights and runs up hundred dollar vet bills. When Cathy and I are busy like this, Schweetie is running across our sleeping legs or yowling outside our bedroom doors at 5 in the morning, which adds to my insomnia. Right now, Cathy is on travel, so the cat stays indoors. Mostly, I just hate the constant daily negotiating on who is going to come home before dark to rescue the little fucker (whom I love more than life.)

THREE THINGS I LOVE RIGHT NOW (pretend it's for Valentine's Day - or "VD" as I like to call it)
1) Did you know I get to meet Duran Duran on Saturday in Tampa? And see them in concert? And then see them in concert agian on Sunday in Jacksonville? (I'm like a maniac screaming teen-aged girl with bigs bangs, a rat tail, and Camp Beverly Hills clothes!!)
2) My MP3 player
3) That in a few days, I’ll get to see my friends in an Anne Hering-directed Into the Woods (by my favorite composer, Stephen Sondheim).

And a REALLY BIG FINISH

Now that I'm in a better place...I'll finish Marcie's quiz.

Cuz, like, in the last day I won tickets to meet Duran Duran and I got a huge contract with KIDS HOUSE to write a child abuse prevention script for them to perform throughout Central Florida!

So, here it is:

Three things you dislike about yourself:
My sensitivity about my playwrighting
My weight
That I cannot keep my mouth shut when silence would work miracles

Three parts of your heritage:
Irish White Trash
Welsh White Trash
Midwestern White Trash
Notice a pattern...LOL - it ain't matterin' where y'all started, it's just matterin' where ya dun finished

Three things that scare you:
Decorative item made out of animal skins or animal parts
Monkey toys
Ummm, quizzes?

Three of your everyday essentials:
Shower
Music
Something to laugh at

Three things you are wearing right now:
My neato Einstein watch
My neato black Nunn Bush shoes that look like expensive Italian footwear
The ring – you see it, you die. No, it’s the ring I’ve worn every day for the last three years. It’s neato!

Three of your favorite bands/artists (of all time):
DURAN DURAN!
Stephen Sondheim
Anything Neil Finn is involved in (solo, Split Enz, Crowded House, The Finn Brothers)

Three of your favorite songs at present:
The new Mark Tinley mix of Duran Duran’s “What Happens Tomorrow”
“They” by Jem
I just recently regained an addiction for Bernstein’s overture to “Candide” – makes me hyper

Three things you want to try in the next 12 months:
Getting into a Fringe play as an actor
Producing something
Lasik

Three things you want in a relationship (love is a given):
Sex
Witty, charming, intelligent conversation before sex
Witty, charming, intelligent conversation after sex

Two truths and a lie: (Guess which one is the lie.)
There is a well-known local writer who thinks I’m straight even though I have refused to answer his queries about my orientation and have instead told him to check the archives of his own damn paper for the answer – which he hasn’t done yet…
I have this one recipe for Italian soup that is absolutely fantastic because I follow the directions to the letter.
I didn’t know who was playing in this year’s Super Bowl until Sunday a few hours before the game.

Three physical things about the opposite or same sex that appeal to you:
The look like they’d be fun in bed without a lot of emotional baggage (see Justin Sergeant)
Dark hair with pale skin (refer to Joshie)
Kinda this charming “knuckle-dragger” look, but handsome (see John Hill)

On the opposite front:
Sarah French's hips
Kimberly Grey's lips
Nikki Darden's huge but perky bazooms!

Three things you just can't do:
Go without working – it’d drive me fucking nuts
Model Speedos (I could, but no one would want me to, including me)
Stand by and watch someone abuse someone else – especially if the victim is a child or an animal

Three of your favorite hobbies:
Writing
Listening to music
Reading

Three things you want to do really badly right now:
Go home and nap
See my cat – I know, it’s fey
And nothing else, I’m pretty happy right now

Three careers you're considering:
Playwright who teaches at a small college also
More of this – consulting and class design
Superstar International Glove Model

Three places you want to go on vacation:
Venice
Ireland
BOSTON, David, Boston!!!

Three kids' names you like:
Yard Ape
Brat
Oops!

Three things you want to do before you die:
Lose some weight permanently
Get Lasik
Disappear for several weeks - not to have people worry about me, I’d just love to go missing for a long while and come back with a strange scar on my neck, a confusing tattoo on my ass, and a female hooker I rescued from some horrible fate.

Three ways you're like a stereotypical guy:
I really think that sex can JUST be a really good way to “blow” a couple hours
I am sort of a slob
I think burping and farting (sorry Jeff Lindberg) are things that everyone does

Three ways you're like a stereotypical chick:
I like men
I painted my toenails at least every other day for a few months
I am infatuated with my pussy….my cat Cleo (a.k.a. Schweetie!)

Nobody Knows What's Gonna Happen Tomorrow

How to change schmacko's mood with one phone call.


Guess who's meeting Duran Duran on Saturday in Tampa?!?!?!?!?!



I really think I peed a little when the girl from Mix 105.1 called me!!!!!

Quiz Say Rah, Say Rah!

Thank God Marcie dug up this quiz so I'd have somethign to write....

Three names you go by:
Steve
Stephan
Schmacko

Three screen names you have (or have had):
Just schmacko
no others
that’s it

Three things you like about yourself: Ummm
I mostly maintain a sense of humor
I am a survivor
I think I personally have excellent taste in music
(I’m in my dark place right now, but I’m trying to be positive.)

Three things you dislike about yourself:
My inability to just laugh it off when I feel like my playwrighting ability is dismissed and I have no reputation whatsoever. I don't care if a single play is dismissed, but when I have the feeling that people either don't know me or see me as a ...oh, let me stop here...

I'll do the rest later...

Hmm, is this still bothering me?

Hmmm.

Just say NO to Negativity!

And that's all I have to say...

Save a Prayer...

Wednesday night was so lovely, taking Scott Hodges and his friend Kyle out to dinner at Wildsides and talking and talking for 2 hours. I was dead tired, but I didn’t want it to end, it was such a charming lovely night… What a lovely evening.

Save a prayer until the morning after, right?

First of all, no one has jumped at the chance to go to Duran Duran in Tampa. So I have to give up the tickets someone was offering me free. I fear the reason is me…

Why is it me? Read on...

I went last night and saw Trapezium, which was a lovely charming farce. But… (You knew this was coming, didn’t you? Why? Because apparently I cannot stop being an asshole, which is maybe why nobody is seeing the Wild Boys in Tampon with me…) The script for Trapezium was so clever and so fun, I wish the author had spent a little bit of meat exploring different perspectives and the illusive search for “truth” just a smidge more. Make the audience question themselves more, raise some issues that affect us all. That’s it. The play pretty much well stayed a farce. A clever, erudite and charming farce written entirely in iambic pentameter, which is quite a wonderful achievement. I still wish was just a smidge deeper. (I keep thinking the king could’ve addressed that to the audience, for those of you who saw it…)

Then…

I saw David Lee before the show. I really admire him, and he’s fun and talented and charming and good-looking. But he asked if David Almeida was doing something for this year’s Orlando International Fringe Festival. Both David and I want to do something. We just don’t want to write or produce.

I told David Lee that Almeida and I both were looking to act. And then I opened my mouth nice and wide and inserted my foot. I said, I kinda feel like I’m not in that vein to write what Fringe requires to be successful (ooops, there’s my inner ass showing again…) The thing is, Fringe shows succeed in pulling in audiences and money because they are shallow, funny shows that have nudity and pandering humor. I appreciate that as much as the next person, I just don’t feel the need to write and produce something like that for that sort of audience at this point in my life. I wouldn’t mind acting in a show like that – I just want to limit my emotional involvement (A) Does this make sense? (B) Am I being an opinionated Jerk? (C)- all of the above?

C

Anyway, David Lee seems more likely to want to work with Almeida because Almeida’s a better actor than me and I’m a blowhard purveyor of shit-filled, unsolicited judgment.

Then…

Jim Hellsinger (the artistic director of The Orlando UCF Shakespeare conglomeration) came up to me in the lobby after the show and said, “Well, hello, Michael Wanzie.”

Which, I love Wanzie as much as the next person but… But I wanted to go on a starvation diet and dye my hair green so I would never again be mistaken for him ever again. Wanzie does a great job being Wanzie, and everyone loves him for it. Yes, we’re all just full of it for who Wanzie is…love, I mean. I guess I just want to be a great Steve Miller. And Jim’s mistake kinda made me feel like I personally had no reputation whatsoever.

Mr. Helsinger apologizes furiously, but... Asked me to forgive his gaffe, but… Damage done.

By far the worst thing of the evening was Eric Hissom. I told him about the few other contracts I got for my play Intermission. Eric wrinkled his nose a bit and asked, “Oh, have you rewritten it some, then?”

Ass.

I mean, this is the man who likely didn’t read it, and then Maupin’s sore review of it on opening night when one of the actors missed four pages and then tried to loop back and self-correct, much to the horror and confusion of the other actors. Why in God's name would an actor and a sponsor of new works take a critic's word on something over seeing or reading it himself?!?!?! Hissom didn’t read the play. He also apparently didn’t read the three other glowing reviews I got. He didn’t take into account that brilliant people like Anne Hering and Chris Jorie wouldn’t be involved in something that’s a piece of shit.

He just wrinkled his nose and asked, “Oh, have you rewritten it some, then?”

The only problem is that he is the Grand High Poobah of new play works at Shakespeare and here he is wrinkling his nose at me. Well, if I needed a boost to my esteem after Jim Helsinger thought I was three feet shorter and preternaturally drunk...i.e. Michael Wanzie...and no one wants to go to a concert with me, I sure as flying fuck didn't need Eric Hissom demonstrating facially what fecal matter my scripts smell like and asking a rude question about it's shoddy, bastard existence.

Two significant people in the theatre community peeing all over the shriveled, little thing I thought was a growing reputation.

And, there, people, is a living example of all my crude opinions thrown back at me to show how much it hurts.

And to think of the sort of damage mere opinion can do…that’s what I wrote about in Intermission with the Critic. I thought I’d worked through that issue. Right?

So, based on that, here is Joshie’s newest quiz. I admit I am in my dark place.

Bad to the Bone or Rotten to The Core?
I am not aggressive but am very very evil for my own amusement. Sort of a slimy, fat Iago-like character. I feel it’s now time to accept that I am rotten to the core.

Hell Bent or Heaven Bound?
See above – bringing the marshmallows for S’Mores and hopping in that damn hand basket as we speak…

Night Owl or Early Bird?
Both if I can get a nap in the afternoon. I miss them all the way back from kindergarten, I do.

Matte or Glossy?
Mossy

Open Book or Putting Up Walls?
I’m like the Book of Mormon. First of all, it may be a mostly open book, but how it came into existence smacks of charlatanism. So, it’s mostly open but full of stupid stories and bald-faced lies, and there is also a section at the back that’s sealed off by a thick, unbreakable, golden band. I assume it’s the disclaimer…

Tomorrow Is Another Day or No Day But Today?
Today, I’m kinda depressed so I’m kinda wanting to curl up in a ball under the covers and pity myself until I don’t want to any more. No telling how long that could be. So “None of the Above…”

Tragedy Tragedy

I am seeing Duran Duran (my favorite cheesy junkie addiction) with Cathy in Jacksonville on the 13th of February. Whoo hoo!!!

The tragedy is - someone just offered me 2 FREE tickets to see them the night before (Saturday the 12th) in Tampa also!!! Cathy can't because she's traveling on Saturday. I want someone else to go with me (preferably someone who would agree to drive for the free ticket - I'll even foot for gas! Or I'll drive if I absolutely have to.)

I would love to do this as it would make me sooo gay to see Simon, Nick, John, Andy and Roger (the original line-up, people!!!) two nights in a row!!

I have to give an answer soon. Any takers!

HELP!!!

Gotta Love That Joshie

WOULD YOU RATHER...

1) WYR....lose your teeth or your testicles (or, for the ladies in the house, let's say, clitoris)?
Ugh – If I could just lose one testicle in a non-painful way, that would be my first choice – but BOTH!?!?! I’ll grudgingly go with the teeth, though David and I have common nightmares of our teeth all falling out… This question makes my mouth and my nuggets hurt! (Who’s been digging in their Zobmondo game for questions?!?!?!)


2) WYR....lose your non-writing hand or an eye (either one)?
The left eye – I could wear a cool patch.


3) WYR....travel to the future or to the past?
Future, baby, yeah! (Plus I'd be less concerned about that dreaded Butterfly Effect - not the terrible Ashton Kucher film people,! It's called a theory, look it up!)

4) WYR....kill a neighbor or kill a neighbor's pet?
Ooo, I’m going to cheat. Our neighbors have this decrepit, hairless schnauzer that’s several hundreds of years old and dribbles pee wherever it walks. It’s like a half-petrified Methuselah dog! It’s time for that poor old man to go peacefully into that dark night. So if I could put it to sleep gently, I would.


5) WYR....burn an American flag or turn a fire hose on that pinko burning an American flag?
Burn that damn flag – why people get so touchy about a piece of cloth. (Though I’d rather burn an image of Dumbya in effigy…)

6) WYR....peer into the mouth of a volcano or peer into the abyss of an underwater trench (proper gear provided for both ventures, of course, not just in your skivvies)
I’m just claustrophobic enough that I’ll go with the volcano, my dear sweet Mauna Lau.

7) WYR....be a hero or a villian?
I’d love to be an angry, menacing hero. Instead I’m a silly, menacing villain. I accept this. LONG LIVE SARDONIC!!!

8) WYR....be abducted by aliens or kidnapped by Bigfoot (or you can say The Loch Ness Monster instead of Big Foot if you're more comfortable with Nessie)?
Aliens – I’ll take the intelligent life form any day.

9) WYR....fight a bear with a knife or fight a gorilla with a slightly larger knife (no knife more than, say, ten inches long - but as to tactics - you're the Homo Sapien - use that brain)?
The bear. God knows why – if I could choose something besides fighting though, I read in a survival guide how to escape a bear. I seem aggressive, but I’m just not.

10) WYR....be a spy or an assassin?
Assassin. I’d feel clumsy and awkward as a spy. All assassins are happy people, right?? “Everybody has the right to be happy, even if at times they go to extremes.” Plus someday I’ll play the part of Sam Byck with a director… You touched a sore subject, Joshie…