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|Monday, March 29th, 2010|
|For to remember!
This past weekend you helped Court Square Theater host a quarto of trippy movies, performed an hour long show with four actors and about as many rehearsals, had brunch, came very close to finishing the newest murder mystery, helped Court Square Theater host the successful (though late running) Shenandoah Fringe Festival, attended the amazingly special benefit concert at ASC, and introduced the Ren Troupe to Belk's Batch 9000. A successful weekend! Now try to breathe.
Me Current Mood: sleepy happy
|Thursday, January 7th, 2010|
I have discovered today that there is still enough of my thirteen year old self in me to be astounded that women are volunteering their bra colors without coercion.
I also find it weird to be commenting about this on an entirely different social media site. But I didn't want to spoil the trend for any of my male friends who haven't figured it out. Current Mood: tickled
|Thursday, March 26th, 2009|
|Running a Company: Professionalism
It's coming up on a year of my being the owner/artistic director of LeetShakes/Golden Duck Productions, and we're doing pretty well. We're steadily expanding into other venues besides our weekly Massanutten gig.
In fact, tomorrow, we were supposed to do a Friday night performance at a newly revamped Italian restaurant in Harrisonburg. This was a special event, which the owner contacted me to do on March 8th. I called my group of performers and pieced together a cast. I've got several performers who are servers, several who work nights, and some who just like having their Fridays after a week of working.
Today, at 5:10pm, the owner calls me to tell me that he hasn't had enough bookings to justify having us. I express hope that we'd still be able to appear tomorrow, and he says that in order to not lose money on the event, he would have to pay us half of our already discounted introductory rate. I tell him that, unfortunately, we would not be able to work for that, as I would not be able to pay my actors and pay the royalties on the performance itself. At that point, he says that he's sorry but he thinks he'll have to cancel. I tell him that we'd very much like to work with him in the future, and that we'll be switching to our new show soon, and that hopefully the beginning of a run would draw a group that he felt would work for him. We then disconnect amicably.
As he called in the middle of my lunch/dinner, I finish my food, an hour goes by, and I then call my assembled cast and tell them that, unfortunately, our venue has had to cancel due to funding. Everyone is disappointed but understands, and I'm hoping that the people who might have given up shifts or rearranged their schedules, can reclaim something of their night. This concludes the amicable part of the evening.
Two hours after that (three hours after he canceled) the owner calls back to say that he's rethought the situation and that he's worried that it might look bad for him to have to cancel the evening. I explain to him that I've already contacted my cast, that we were
committed to the evening, but, upon his cancellation, I had to give the evening away so that people might be able to recapture their nights. At that point he asks me how that's already happened. I explain to him that my cast needs to be able to trust my booking calls and that I can't flip-flop on them. He changes tone to...well...charitably, since I'm not in his head, I'll just say that he definitely changed tone. I tried to tell him once again that I hope we'll get to work there, but he didn't seem that interested anymore.
LS/GDP is a professional company, and I take pride in that. I worry about not taking the new venue (as I'm always interested in building business), but when he'd called back, we were less than 24 hours from the start time, and he'd canceled.
Thoughts? Current Mood: anxiously disappointed
|Monday, February 23rd, 2009|
|Coraline: a brief thought
I'm going to go out on a limb within my circle of friends and say it...I didn't like the movie adaptation of Coraline
. The fact that I'm still worrying over that bit of information proves that this grain of sand isn't going to go away.
Yes, I think that Henry Selick did a beautiful job of rendering a 3D world. But I think he did a strong disservice to that world by adding Wybie and removing the mice's speech.
I've heard the argument that the book is much scarier if you're an adult because you have an adult's idea of the unnatural upon which to draw, and I'll buy there's validity in that. However, the book is certainly, certainly
not a "buddy" book. It's the story of a girl who travels solo through a bunch of weird events - like uniform reacting swarms of mice (which, unless you are Willard, are not groovy).
I actually more than "didn't like" it. I'm pretty pissed at how it came together.
There...now that I've put my two cents in, I feel better. Current Mood: glib
|Tuesday, January 20th, 2009|
I find it hard to be enthusiastic that Obama takes the oath of office in 10 minutes when I lose my job in 10 days. Nice that he has job security. Current Mood: pissed off
|Sunday, January 11th, 2009|
I'm certain I'm coming late to the party, but I'm throughly enjoying Planet Earth.
Much thanks to Discovery Channel for making my insomnia worthwhile. Current Mood: sleepy & sore
|Tuesday, December 30th, 2008|
I admit I might not be the most in the know with crunked
out language of teh hip-hops
. I also admit that I enjoy the beat in Beyonce's Single Ladies (Put A Ring On It)
. But I propose that what she's asking is implausible.
Her line is, "If you like it, then you should have put a ring on it." Is she admonishing her hapless beau that he should gave pierced her nipples? Her labia? Given her a crown? Because I assure you that her finger, the "it" that usually provides the real estate for a ring, is not
why the male was dating her.
Color me chauvinistic if you will, but I think she's asking for the wrong thing - not to mention, she doesn't score a lot of points for commoditizing herself.
Anywho, she can have another me in a minute if she wants.
Dance biscuits! Current Mood: flippant
|Wednesday, November 5th, 2008|
Holy crap! I just learned (by virtue of calling a potential model who uses Verizon) that pressing the * key skips the excruciatingly long Verizon robo-speech. This keystroke functions the same way as pressing 1 while calling a Sprint phone.
Most of the people I call are on Verizon's network.
This is awesome! It's the little things :).
Tell your friends. Current Mood: chipper
|Tuesday, November 4th, 2008|
|The vote gets out!
Shouldn't the phrase be: Put out the vote?
You know, as if the vote were a cat that's been trapped inside for two to four years?
Because I know I didn't put my vote away on mothballs.
What are in mothballs anyway? Camphor? Are moths just afraid of camphor?
Do you suppose vote is afraid of camphor as well? If you have an infestation of vote, could you fill up your house with camphor?
Where would you put your cats then?
...OBAMA! Current Mood: Votified
|Monday, October 6th, 2008|
|Happy Birthday, Eilonwy!
I'm a douche, and I totally missed my very good friend Eilonwy's birthday by a good 48 hours.
I hope it was extra rocking. Current Mood: chagrined
|Sunday, September 21st, 2008|
|My Goodness. I've been memed?
Current Mood: cheerful - Thanks, Gloamling.
Grab the nearest book. Find the 5th sentence on page 23. Append it to the paragraph below. Append your name to the list below of people who have contributed to the paragraph. Post the result to your LJ.
They also talk of our being guilty of injustice, and their being the victims of an unjustifiable war. Brandy, and Tom got increasingly close-mouthed and sour. Although a certain sense of tripartite society survived down to Christian times, the three classes described in the Eddic poem "Rigdthula" bear little resemblance to Dumezil's three. It is often argued, and still oftener thought, that none but bad men would desire to weaken these salutary beliefs; and there can be nothing wrong, it is thought, in restraining bad men, and prohibiting what only such men would wish to practice. At its nearest point the wall was little more than one league from the City, and that was south-eastward. When he saw Jack Hare jump towards the fire, and the Practical Man brandishing the toasting-fork, Sir Isaac grabbed the strings of gravitational force that bound Jack to his destiny and PULLED--- That's a seventy-four gun privateer, besides. To honour a group of British nobles, treacherously slain at a conference by Hengist's guards, Aurelius decides to erect a great monument near Amesbury. That being so, he did not chortle when he went upstairs. Let stand. This ensures that when the garbage collector runs, it has complete access to the memory in the heap and can perform its tasks safely without the threat of being preempted by another thread. And then you may begin to laugh. The data are stored in Column 1 and renamed "Age." Pull your hand back. I don't remember that any secrets were revealed to me, nor do I remember any avid curiosity on my part to learn something I wasn't supposed to--perhaps I was too young to know what to listen for. You don't remember how awful it is being normal. Highlight the desired state tax table and press Enter. Abraham had now reached a ripe old age, and the LORD had blessed him in every way. This doesn't alter either string, any more than 2+3 alters either 2 or 3. And I will say firmly that it is the author who says, "One does feel," who is really an egoist; and the author who says, "I believe," who is not an egoist. The police have agreed to let us show this video. She was particularly fond of Union Maj. Joseph Willard, some years her senior, who courted her amid the competitive field of Blue and Gray. Asmodeus is the evil god of the Nine Hells. Patrick was the latest in a line of gay roommates who'd rotated through Maria's tenement apartment ever since she'd moved in, knocked down the interior walls, and filled the place with books. "So this is England," she said, as she looked round with childlike curiosity at the great open hearth, the oak rafters, and the yokels with their elaborate smocks and jovial, rubicund British countenances. Inasmuch as "identity" is assured through the stabilizing concepts of sex, gender, and sexuality, the very notion of "the person" is called into question by the cultural emergence of those "incoherent" or "discontinuous" gendered beings who appear to be persons but who fail to conform to the gendered norms of cultural intelligibility by which persons are defined. Keep Material Safety Data Sheets on file. I could also hear the distant roar of a freight train, or so it seemed, along with the screams of terror--the good kind, the "don't stop" kind.
1) Ranger Rick 2) Rialian 3) Elenbarathi 4) Starsandfishes 5) Echthros 6) Doltaghey 7) Ebonhost 8) Tibicina 9) Browngirl 10) ceo 11) roozle 12) quietann 13) Dale (achinhibitor) 14) tigerbright 15) autographedcat 16) kitanzi xvii) annonyno חי)thnidu 19) smallship1 20) vashti 21) xydexx 22) Kensan_Oni )23 moonbunnychan (24) renyuki (25) eilonwy (26) lizabethanqueen (27) ArksTangent
I'm not a meme guy, but that sentence was too good to pass up.
|Wednesday, September 3rd, 2008|
|Time wounds all heals.
Yesterday, at 5:34pm, Jifader called me to tell me that Humphrey was dead.
Our neighbor found him in her yard and came to tell her.
He never chased cars. He hated them. But so many fuckers have got to get to their drug deals over the hill that they go speeding along a narrow road with cars parked along one side.
Humphrey had more love in him than I would have thought possible in his slender frame. It must be a trait of orange tabbys.
"Humphrey-bear, bouncing here and there and everywhere. He's a fluffy hat with bright orange hair. He is a Humphrey-bear."
He would have been five on Halloween.
Goodbye, Humphrey. I love you. Current Mood: devistated
|Thursday, July 24th, 2008|
|"My lyrics are obtuse...
...and, yo, I'm losing my hair."
About November of '06, I discovered that the irritating bit of bangs that always grew quickly down my forehead seemed thinner than I remembered it being. I'd only just started working at The Stone, but even in that brief time, I could look back through my test shots and detect a, shall we say, thinning of the crop on top my head. This was also about the time I went to V & Randy's wedding and, upon seeing my dear friend Brandi, had her exclaim immediately [as in the very first thing she said to me in three years] "Wow, you've lost your hair."
Yeah, thanks, Brandi. I hadn't yet really even noticed it myself, but golly, that confirmation sure was helpful. So I responded as a man in my position does...with pith. I cribbed Joshua Lyman and self deprecatingly responded, "Are you kidding? It's been routed."
This was almost immediately before I started simply shaving my head every two weeks. I also grew a full, oddly red, beard. This is the style I've now been sporting for almost two years, and I'm pleased to say that I feel it suits me. Friends and family seem to generally agree at odd times and, thankfully, without my prompting.
I point to MBC's graduate program as the catalyst for this change on my cranium. Look at photos of me before I entered. Then look at photos of me after I missed my first MFA. Then look at photos of me as I juggled The Roaring Girl
and full time employment. The progression is quantifiable. I traded my locks for the ability to recognize meter from passing sentences on the radio and a sound knowledge of how beer made a country. I'm not really that upset at the exchange. My hair always stayed "as close as it would go and still lay down" since my Freshman year at college. But I'd never expected to see quite such a thorough example of stress related symptoms in my own reflection. As a peculiar side benefit of the hirsute migration down my countenance, I now resemble some very dapper comic book villains. From Grigori Rasputin in Hell Boy
to Obadiah Shane in Iron Man
, I see my look staring back at me. There are worse comparisons, certainly.
What brings up this reflection is a comment from my uncle Steve at my Grandmother's 85th birthday party this last weekend. Steve, much like my aforementioned pal Brandi [who still possesses all of her gorgeous, amber, curly tresses, I might add], seemed cut from the same cloth. I hadn't seem him in years, probably an even longer span of time since seeing Brandi, and as I shook his hand and said, "Hi," he pointed and repeated the words of a 29 year-old theatre major whom he's never met.
Am I missing something here? Did society create a new greeting while I was slogging through higher education? Did "Smell you later" replace "Good-bye" and was I just asleep at the wheel? Such a greeting would never have even occurred to me to make. I'm not offended or anything like that. I'm simply surprised and a bit socially worried. Am I making a faux pas somewhere? Should I be welcoming old friends into my arms after years of separation with "My God, that heart attack did you fantastically. You've really shed those unhealthy pounds"? Or perhaps I could croon, "Awesome, the years that smoking put on, your over-enthusiastic plastic surgery came impressively close to removing." "You look so sad. Was I right? Did you get married too early?" I'm happy to hurl completely unveiled personal observations as salutations if that's the status-quo. I'm a clever guy, and I only need to be told twice. God forbid I should be left behind. Current Mood: perplexed
|Friday, July 18th, 2008|
|"Fired up corn in a bag?" Not any more.
Anyone every heard of PumpKorn
? I never tried them, but this "extreme!" snack has done worse than go the way of the dodo. It's become a health food. The marketing used to be a gonzo looking character going aggro over this tasty treat that he couldn't believe he'd laid his hands upon. "Fired up corn in a bag!" the tag line would announce from the bag's place next to the pickle in a sack on Blockbuster Video's counter. Now low-carb enthusiasts are extolling it's virtues as a power snack while they power walk. How tragic. I almost wish that for its sake it had simply met OK soda
in the big marketing pitch in the sky. Current Mood: Bummed
|Tuesday, July 8th, 2008|
|Monday, June 16th, 2008|
|Friday, April 11th, 2008|
My beloved betta, Caitiff, whom I rescued from abandonment in my last few weeks at the Daily Grind died today. He was a lovely pale cream with only a sprinkling of blue and pink around his tips. Never one to stand on ceremony, when he noticed me glancing around my laptop at him, he would wiggle to the front of his lily bowl and beg for food. He's kept me companionship on my desk at work for all but two of my seventeen months at Rosetta Stone, outliving all of the other office fish.
His tricks, his quiet onlooking, and the recognition I could see when I looked at him are now gone.
Fare thee well. Current Mood: heartbroken
|Friday, March 7th, 2008|
|Ask.com giving wrong answers?
Anybody have a clue why I'm being redirected from Ask.com searches to a totally different search engine?
I'm running Explorer on my home laptop. Ask.com will allow me to input my search criteria and gives me the results. However, when I click on a result URL, I'm redirected to another (seemingly random) search engine.
This smacks of virus, but I don't surf with administrator privileges and my Zone Labs suite doesn't find anything.
Thoughts? Current Mood: Pourquoi?
|Friday, January 18th, 2008|
|Falling off the wagon...
James (he probably has a LJ tag, but I can't think of it right now) and I played Magic: The Gathering for my first time in five years on Sunday. Since then, I have thought of little else about ways to increase my horde and grab mad lootz! This would not be an issue if, say, M:TG had faded into obscurity and the secondary card sales market had not become such a booming market. But as WOTC is a megalithic entity with really media savvy people at the helm, the world has continued to grow and prosper. This boils down to cards that were powerful then are every bit as powerful now and now command even larger price tags.
I now have a job. This job is a "career type" of job. This means that only just now, were I to desire, I could afford these ridiculously expensive pieces of cardboard. Outside of the reality that I'm not rolling in the dough even with the increase in income which results from my "career type" job, I'm absolutely certain that the phenomenally quick buyers remorse would set in as soon as I clicked "Buy It Now". I shouldn't want a Mox Emerald. I don't play in tournaments. I couldn't even play in tournaments (except for Vintage) with it. I haven't played this game/addiction in five years and I've happily achieved the ability to sigh in contentment as I pass pre-teens flipping Yu-Gi-Oh cards in the mall, knowing that while that once was me, it is no longer. Why, oh why, would I want to squander time and money again like that, especially since I ostensibly now have less of one and more of the other to waste?
I'm sitting here typing this mentally wondering what bargains there might be if I bought a giant unsorted cache from eBay. Three hours and it's like I never left. But this time, this time Gadget, I have a secret weapon. That secret weapon is shame. There are few things in my nerd upbringing that I'll apologize for, but this would have to be one of them. Like I said, I've cultivated a level of padding (like a warming protective smear of blubber) which allowed me to look at those who still devote their life blood to CCGs with a sense of detachment. Not judgment, but a relief. I got out, and I lead a "happier" life. I don't want to go back to caring when the next expansion comes out, especially since the part of my brain that recognizes marketing schemes registers the obvious ploys WOTC is spoon feeding the power-hungry masses. If I'd never left, that would be one thing. Pathetic, but endearing. But going back...That's just self-destructive. Conrad would relentlessly mock me, and, since I would deserve it, I would have no avenue for recourse.
So I closed the tabs that were keeping updated feeds of the eBay auctions. I'll go through the small collection that I have and pull out any that I think will fetch a price, and I'll buy...hell, I don't know...food? Beer, despite it's addictive properties, is still safer than this pulp-based heroin. Maybe I'll keep them and enjoy the knowledge that I have them and can play them in the friendly games I might have with James from time to time.
I'm not going back. No matter what the temptation. So, though I fell, I'll slowly claw myself back onto the wagon. Or, given that lingering thrill that comes from ticking your opponents counter from twenty to zero, maybe I'll be content to be dragged along behind the wagon by a rope. As long as the rope's long enough, it doesn't break and the horses don't run away from me, I should be able to keep pace. Current Mood: relieved
|Tuesday, December 4th, 2007|
Yesterday we found Yorick, a handsome long haired black and white stray cat (so named because of the skull pattern on his face) who had been living at our farmhouse for the last four months or so. About two months ago, I'd made him a shelter at our side door and, just last morning, passed him on my way to work, telling him to have a good day. He went from running at sight of us to begging for attention. He even spent some time in our mud room, carefully separated from the other cats of the household (with whom he'd not quite made friends). Apparently he'd been struck by a car at the end of our quarter mile driveway and had managed to make it back to the house. He made it back home. Current Mood: very sad