“a christmas story” — the musical

How did I miss this? How did I not know this was going on?

“A Christmas Story,” the musical, at the gorgeous 5th Avenue theater in my beloved Seattle.

(Years ago, I saw Katharine Hepburn and Dorothy Loudon in “West Side Waltz” in the 5th Avenue theater. Our seats were in the very back row of the balcony. You could not be farther away and still be in the building. I watched the entire show through binoculars and I thought my arms were going to fall off. Totally worth it, though. Totally worth it.)

But a musical version of Ralphie and Randy? Scott Farkas? The Bumpus hounds? Black Bart? A musical number featuring the “electric sex” lamp? Brilliant! Broadway bound, I’m sure.

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The “major award.” Fra-jeel-aay– must be Italian!

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The gift from Aunt Clara.

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And … the aftermath of the Bumpus hounds. This photo kills me. Defeat.

Can’t wait for it to make its way here!

snippets (one rated hard r, but it’s married hard r, so that’s like g, right?)

So I’ve put up a warning before my married hard R snippet. Seriously. I put the post up and some random new person I shall call Slappy emailed me about it, so I took the post down, but now it’s back up with a “warning.” (Happy, Slappy??)

Maybe Slappy — and Slappy’s husband — would be happier if Slappy engaged in said married hard R behavior.

Just a piece of advice from me to you, O Slappy dearest.

********

BABY BANSHEE: (shaking her little butt for me) Do the bootie dance, Tee Tee!
ME: (shaking my butt with her) Okay.
BABY BANSHEE: (bending over into the perfect number 7) No, Tee Tee! Like this!
ME: (bending over into the perfect number 7) Okay.

*******
I finish describing a really boring dream to MB. There is nothing I can say to make it more thrilling.

HE: (a yawning silence)
ME: I know. I’m literally embarrassed by my subconscious. I woke up and was like, “Seriously? That’s the best you can do??”
HE: It’s like dreaming you were writing a note reminding yourself to buy stamps.
ME: I know. What’s the point? Why bother dreaming?
HE: Really. At least awake there’s TV.
ME: Well, thanks, hon.
HE: Sure.

********
MARRIED HARD R!! ALERT!! DON’T READ!! WE’RE GODLESS ANIMALS!!

We are walking out to the car. I suddenly start making huge ridiculous “O’s” with my mouth. MB sees me. I smile and keep going.

HE: What are you doing?
ME: Exercising.
HE: What?
ME: For later. You know.
HE: Oh!
ME: Yeah. Happy birthday, baby.
HE: Better stretch it bigger.
ME: Hahahaha.
HE: I’m serious.
ME: Hahahaha. I know.
HE: I love you, baby.
ME: Oh, I know.

********
MB and I have strict regulations on whom the other is allowed to marry/not marry in the event one of us cacks it in an untimely fashion. We review these regularly just for, you know, a little bit of threatening fun. There are beyond-the-grave consequences for stupid choices here, you see. Sometimes, there are specific names involved; sometimes just a type.

This, after a long list of women from deep dark middle of nowhere (aka his hometown) who openly pine for MB:

ME: Basically, you have to find yourself a fresh hag. No rehashes.
HE: So no rehags?
ME: Hahaha. Right. No rehags. Get a new hag.

********
At the bookstore. A dad and little boy — about 5 — who was really exploring his testosterone.

BOY: Whey I grow up, I want my OWN family where I’M the dad!
DAD: Okay.

Later:

BOY: Daddy, do you think there are man ladybugs?
DAD: Well, calling them manbugs would sound funny. They’re ladybugs.
(Uh, Dad? You’re not listening.)
BOY: Well, there SHOULD be manbugs! I WANT there to be manbugs!

Me, too. You go, kid. Fight the power. Hooray for men!

********

ME: We’re gonna have our special date this month, Banshee.
ORIGINAL BANSHEE: Yay! What are we gonna do?
ME: Ohh, let’s see. I think we’ll sit on a wall and spit, how’s that?
OB: Tee Tee!
ME: It’ll be awesome.
OB: TEE TEE! I don’t wanna sit on a wall and spit!
ME: Really?
OB: REALLY!
ME: I’ll bring green beans.
OB: Well, I like green beans.
ME: I know. So do I.
OB: But I still don’t wanna sit on a wall and spit!
ME: I’ll bring broccoli.
OB: I like broccoli.
ME: I know. So do I.
OB: (torn) But …. but …… I STILL don’t wanna sit on a wall and spit!
ME: (heavy dramatic sigh) Okaaaaay.

the otter attack

I’ve been laughing about this for several days now. You know, the kid in Boca attacked by an otter while he was filming him on his cell phone. Look, what can I say? Pea brains are easily amused. Kids being attacked, in particular, seems to amuse me.

It’s the scream, the kid’s scream, that gest me. This is Jimmy Kimmel’s interview of the poor mauled child. A portion of the kid’s video is at the very beginning of the clip.

“finishing the hat”

By Stephen Sondheim.

I spent a good chunk of my Saturday morning reading this in the bookstore. We didn’t go all the way or anything but I still feel bad, like I led it on, got what I wanted, and then walked away. There must have been skintight jeans involved. Subliminal skintight jeans that made me do things.

So I need to go make an honest book of it. I need to commit. I miss it. I need it in my life.

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I love the subtitle:

“With attendant comment, principles, heresies, grudges, whines, and anecdotes.”

Hahaha. And what I was able to read of those was fantastic. Funny. Insightful. Self-deprecating.

Ah, Stephen Sondheim. My Broadway boyfriend.

“pentecostal fashion”

Well, God bless this girl. She’s so cute but she’s so painful to watch. Don’t ask me how I stumbled across this because I don’t even know, but, nevertheless, I’ve now discovered this girl’s entire series of YouTube tutorials on “Pentecostal Fashion.”

It’s good to know, I suppose, that whenever I have a hankerin’ to dress in some 65-year-old-woman-goin’-to-holy-roller-church clothes, I can consult this girl.

And she’s what? 14? 15? 16 tops?

She has that kind of question mark cadence to her voice. My favorite bit:

“I always wear a cardigan …. because I’m Pentecostal?”

Are you unsure why you wear a cardigan or unsure if you’re a Pentecostal? I need clarity.

Also, hon, without a flashy hat, that ain’t no Pentecostal fashion.

lotsa questions about books

I got this from Lisa.

1. Favorite childhood book?

From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler. I was obsessed with living in a museum for a very long time. Until I was like 23.

2. What are you reading right now?

A few things: A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Donald Miller; The Lost City of Z, David Grann; The Brothers Karamazov — which, yes, I’ve never read.

3. What books do you have on request at the library?

Uhm, none?

4. Bad book habit?

I don’t get it. Is there such a thing? Like, do I rip out pages and smoke them? Do I binge eat book covers? What are you getting at?

5. What do you currently have checked out at the library?

You make a lot of library assumptions, Mr. McMemey.

6. Do you have an e-reader?

Nope.

7. Do you prefer to read one book at a time or several at once?

See #2 above.

8. Have your reading habits changed since starting a blog?

No. Should they? Am I doing it wrong?

9. Least favorite book you read this year?

Drood, by someone whose name I don’t even remember.

10. Favorite book you’ve read this year?

I loved Goolrick’s A Reliable Wife. Oooh! Also The Passion by Winterson. I’ve gone back to both of those books repeatedly. So many passages just take my breath away.

11. How often do you read out of your comfort zone?

“Comfort zone” meaning what? Do I sometimes read wearing tight pants? Do I sometimes read while riding naked on the bus? You use terms but you don’t define them.

12. What is your reading comfort zone?

Loose clothing. Cushy chair. Yes, I know what you mean, but I’m just being a sassypants.

13. Can you read on the bus?

I’m sure it’s allowed.

14. Favorite place to read?

In my big chair at home. Sometimes in bed, but I always fall asleep.

15. What is your policy on book lending?

“Policy”? Please contact my HR department.

16. Do you ever dog-ear books?

Sometimes. I mean, look, I end up sleeping on top of them. I’m not proud of it, but things happen in bed. Things you don’t intend.

17. Do you ever write in the margins of your books?

Sometimes.

18. Not even with text books?

What?? Okay. No, then. Not even with textbooks. And you mean, of course, the textbooks I’m regularly reading? Like the Calculus textbook I slept with last night?

19. What is your favorite language to read in?

Again, what?? Damn, I really wish this meme was in Urdu. It’d be so much better.

20. What makes you love a book?

Goodness. The goodness of the book. And if it sends me chocolates. And tells me I’m pretty. The basics.

21. What will inspire you to recommend a book?

I’m rarely “inspired” to recommend a book. If I like a book, I’ll get excited about it and tell people. The word “inspired” is ooging me out here, but I guess “liking/loving it” will “inspire” me, if you insist. I don’t know. I’ve given up on recommending books to others, really. So that’s not too inspiring, is it?

What I’m saying is that I don’t tell people, “Oh, you need to read this book!” I say, “I really liked this book.” (And the person can do whatever the heck he wants with that information.) I don’t like being all enthusiastic about a book and having someone tell me they read it based on my enthusiasm and — oh, also — that they hated hated hated it so what the heck was up with my inexplicable enthusiasm??

This whole answer is uninspiring. Whatever. Go read a book. Of your own choosing.

22. Favorite genre?

I like lots of things. I’m an omnivore.

23. Genre you rarely read (but wish you did?)

Well, you know, I rarely read several of the genres mentioned here: the “on request at the library” genre, the e-reader genre, the comfort zone genre.

24. Favorite biography?

Most recent favorite was probably Marie Antoinette by Antonia Fraser.

25. Have you ever read a self-help book?

Yes. I think I’ll need one after this meme.

26. Favorite cookbook?

The Barefoot Contessa. The one that Jayne should write. If Pioneer Woman can do it, I see NO reason Jayne cannot.

27. Most inspirational book you’ve read this year (fiction or nonfiction)?

You’re really into this inspiration thing. I have not been overly “inspired” in my reading this year, but there’s still time for that Tuesdays-With-Morrie experience, I guess.

28. Favorite reading snack?

Snack? Sometimes I’m drinking coffee when I read. Is that a snack?

29. Name a case in which hype ruined your reading experience.

Hm. Well, I don’t usually jump on a hype bandwagon right away. I mean, I’m basically always late to the party on things and that’s okay with me. So why let hype “ruin” my experience? I either like the book or I don’t. “Hype” doesn’t affect my opinion.

And I shall name the case Guillermo.

30. How often do you agree with critics about a book?

Sometimes yes; sometimes no. And I’m sure the critics are biting their nails over it, too.

31. How do you feel about giving bad/negative reviews?

It must be me, I guess, because some of these questions just strike me as odd. Then again, I’ve had a couple of margaritas. Honestly, Memepants, does any author anywhere give a tiny rat’s bottom what I might say about his or her book? The way the question is phrased it presupposes that I’m perched on my lofty critic’s pedestal, doling out literary lollipops or lumps of coal. So, yeah, I’m fine about “giving bad reviews.” Hahaha. I mean, I don’t think that Waller wanker would slit his “last cowboy” wrists because he heard I hated The Bridges of Madison County with a white hot hate. Am I supposed to feel guilt about “giving” these “bad reviews”? Which of us has had too many margaritas, Memesy?

32. If you could read in a foreign language, which language would you chose?

Didn’t we cover this? No?

33. Most intimidating book you’ve ever read?

I can’t think of a book that intimidated me, really. I mean, if I’m picking up a book to read it, I’m doing so because I’m looking forward to it, because I WANT to read it. At least, it always starts out that way.

34. Most intimidating book you’re too nervous to begin?

I hate the way this question is phrased. Pass. “Most” intimidating? “Too” nervous? I’m not the Cowardly Lion, dude.

35. Favorite poet?

Auden. I’m really into William Carlos Williams right now.

36. How many books do you usually have checked out of the library at any given time?

I don’t usually check out books. And I really don’t check them out now because I have two books that have been overdue for a year. Shhhh.

37. How often have you returned books to the library unread?

Well, if I ever return the above-mentioned books to the library, they will be unread. Which is weird considering I’ve had them for the 3-week checkout period X 20.

38. Favorite fictional character?

Just one? Seriously? Well, I do so love Jane Eyre.

39. Favorite fictional villain?

The Thenardiers made me shiver.

40. Books I’m most likely to bring on vacation?

What is a vacation?

41. The longest I’ve gone without reading.

Well, I read every day. Something.

42. Name a book that you could/would not finish.

In high school I was supposed to read Giants in the Earth, but I just couldn’t finish it. I couldn’t get past all the Norwegian names. Argy Bargy Volstagaaaaard. Narwhal Parwhal Omerkring. Shmeleg Vrleleg Shmundebaaaarg. I was lost. Reading those names felt like having dry heaves. I think I read the Cliff Notes.

43. What distracts you easily when you’re reading?

Well, Norwegian names, clearly.

44. Favorite film adaptation of a novel?

I say this all the damn time, but it’s true: The Bridges of Madison County is a truly fine movie, thanks to Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep and the ruthless editing of the original piece of poo from whence it came.

45. Most disappointing film adaptation?

Well, I’m preparing myself to be disappointed by the film version of Life of Pi. It keeps switching directors. Last I heard it was Ang Lee, which actually gives me some small hope. I’m not sure this will actually ever get made. I don’t see how it can be done. Or, rather, done well.

46. The most money I’ve ever spent in the bookstore at one time?

100 bucks?

47. How often do you skim a book before reading it?

Always. Is that often?

48. What would cause you to stop reading a book half-way through?

Boredom. Bad writing. Norwegian names.

49. Do you like to keep your books organized?

I would like Sheila or Lisa to keep my books organized. I don’t wanna talk about it.

50. Do you prefer to keep books or give them away once you’ve read them?

I keep them. And I don’t have space for them. I will die in a book avalanche. I don’t wanna talk about it.

51. Are there any books you’ve been avoiding?

Another weird question. “Avoiding”? Like, we went out on an awkward first date? It has an unrequited crush on me? I owe it money? I mean, books just sit there. So far, I’ve found it pretty easy to “avoid” them. But if War and Peace starts to camp out in front of my house with binoculars and night vision goggles or jumps out of my closet wielding a Bowie knife, then we’ll have an avoidance problem, I guess.

52. Name a book that made you angry.

Well, they usually already HAVE names, but let’s name the book that made me angry That Piece of Crap Oprah Recommended.

53. A book you didn’t expect to like but did?

You know, I don’t generally pick up a book going, “Ooooh, I can’t wait to hate this!” I guess I can say that I didn’t “expect” to like Twilight as much as I did because liking it might make me ask myself deep probing questions I’d rather not ask, but I liked Twilight. It kept the toe tappin’.

54. A book that you expected to like but didn’t?

Well, That Piece of Crap Oprah Recommended comes to mind. Actually, there were several of those. I have never liked an Oprah recommendation and I gave up on being cool enough for her club long ago.

55. Favorite guilt-free, pleasure reading?

I don’t get it. You’re implying my pleasure reading is supposed to be guilt-ridden — which is weird. Are you in the FOC, Memehead? If everyone feels guilty about what they read for pleasure, there’s not much pleasure in it, is there? You know, I can’t answer this question. I’m not smart enough to keep up with your word-smithery.

“swim skirts”

Oh, for the love of Care Bears. This is insane. But it’s Halloween weekend, so it all seems appropriately skeery somehow.

Now in the name of modesty, some companies are offering “swim skirts” to hide a woman’s shame.

Here’s one, pippa:

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Uhm, how does anyone swim in that? How can you have any freedom of movement for, again, SWIMMING?? They do look very efficient, though, for that competent 9-to-5 look we all want at the beach. Oh, and please rest assured that this narrow skirt comes with attached pants for coverage. You know, in case those Great White sharks are lookin’ up your cool swim skirt like the relentless pervs of the deep they are.

But the holidays are coming and maybe you know someone who needs a new swim skirt to …. uhm, wear to work. Or maybe you just need a little chuckle. So don’t let me stand in your way. Here’s the website for all your swim skirt needs.

Seriously, if I’m going to cover myself up at the beach, I’d rather look like these girls:

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Don’t they look cute? And fun?

Do the Modesty Mongers remember FUN??

Bonus for these girls: The bloomers keep the pervy sharks away.

yee-haw

‘Member when I told you I was taking my big nasty 2-day exam 2 weeks ago? And how I was all a’quiver with fear and, let’s face it, nausea?

All my friends who’d taken the exam recently had failed. The news was getting bleaker and bleaker. I was going to slit my wrists from anxiety.

My results were due today at 5 p.m., but they came in yesterday at noon, which was nice, actually. Caught me off guard. Spared me another 30 hours of anxiety.

And, well, I passed.

With High Honors.

Pippa, I got that email with my results and burst into tears. Then I ran around my house screaming and clutching my head like a fat crazy black lady who’s just won the Showcase Showdown on The Price is Right. If Bob Barker had been in the room with me, I swear I would have mowed him down. I’m not kidding. I was crying so hard, so blind with tears, I’m surprised I didn’t plow myself into a wall and knock myself out.

I called MB sobbing and — with 2 family members with cancer right now — I had to preface the news, “These are good tears. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong, blah blah blah.”

The man had to pull his car over, he was laughing so hard, so happy for me.

“I knew it! I KNEW you’d do it!”

“I didn’t.”

“I did.

And on and on like that. I love that guy.

Frankly, thank God I passed. No WAY did I want to do THAT again. Shiver.

But is it wrong to say “Yay, me?”

Too bad.

Yay, me.

zombies, ninjas, and enron

Dear blog friend Cara, feeding our mutual weird obsession with zombies, et al:

With his ice cold hand, he lifted my chin so I had to meet his eyes. Gently he brushed my hair off my forehead, and then pulled the zombie finger from the mess of my hair, and tossed it into the trash with the burned money. I blushed, knowing a lady should not have extraneous zombie body parts in her hair. I did not look my best at all, with the zombie spatter and tentacle juice stinking upon my Edwardian-pale skin. But I felt that he looked beyond that, to the soul inside.

“Mr. Skilling, you’re making me quite dizzy,” I murmured.

I stood beside him, feeling warm inside. How could a man so dead make me feel so alive?

You HAVE to read the whole thing. Hysterical.