An Evening with Sir Ian McKellen

McKellen in "King Lear", 2007 - Directed by Trevor Nunn

Sporting a shock of white hair and a generous white beard, he looked more like Gandalf than the smiling, clean-shaven man on the front cover of my program.

That is, if Gandalf was fond of wearing turquoise dress shirts with MacBeth tartan ties.

"King Lear" at the where? With WHO?

"Today at 10am on Minnesota Public Radio, an interview with Sir Ian McKellen."

The words cut through the grey, mind-fog of my morning drive. The Guthrie Theater was playing host to the RSC (Royal Shakespeare Company) for two productions, "King Lear" and "The Seagull" -- both starring Sir Ian McKellen. Also appearing in "King Lear" was Slyvester McCoy of "Doctor Who" fame. This was too good.

I called Avindair.

"We have to go," he said. "See if you can get tickets."

Ha!

Here There Be Scalpers

When I got to work, my first stop was the Guthrie Theater website. I was determined to get a ticket... ANY ticket... to see the show.

ANY ticket didn't seem to be within my budget. "King Lear"... according to the Guthrie... was sold out. However, "ticket agencies" aka "scalpers", had plenty. At the gut-wrenching rate of $400-$700 a seat.

Um. No.

Disappointment set in.

I went back to the Guthrie website, ready to drown my sorrows in a little theater-lover's web-based pity party, when I found the next best thing. Sir Ian would be speaking as part of the Global Voices forum. I called. I could still get two tickets -- in the second row.

Oh, yes. They would be MINE.

No, hon. It's just me and Dad.

Alex's face fell. I was a bad, bad Mom.

"Oh. I thought we were all going. But, that's okay. I understand."

Ouch.

He was still smiling, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

Our kids are almost as big theater and film buffs as Avindair and I are. And I would have loved to have taken them. How often does a chance like this roll around in the Twin Cities? Much less often than you would think.

For years we've had just-out-of-reach plans to visit England with the kids. We've told them tales of London, the theater, the history. Promised them the chance to meet their English relatives. But time, work or money has always stepped in the way. Seeing the RSC in Minneapolis would have been a taste of what-will-be-one-day, but it wouldn't be this time.

Worth Every Cent

The tickets for Global Voices weren't cheap, but they also didn't break the bank.

And it was worth it. Oh, was it worth it.

Avindair picked me up from work around 430pm. His eyes were dark and moody.

"Bad day?" I asked?

"Ugh," he grunted. "I don't even know if I want to go to this thing tonight. I just want to go home and relax. I'd like to see him, but I'm just feeling so damn grumpy now."

The only reason he didn't send MonkeyDude in his stead was for safety. Downtown Minneapolis streets aren't the safest at night. He didn't want MonkeyDude and I playing parking ramp Russian Roulette for the sake of some cool theater tickets.

The new Guthrie is... interesting. Parking is conveniently located across the street. (Getting out of there is NOT convenient.) I'm not a big fan of the overall architecture, but I'm a bit of a traditionalist. From my theater background, however, I could appreciate the design behind the Wurtele stage, where we'd see Sir Ian. The seats were a bit cramped, but there was great versatility for lighting, respectable accoustics, and a beautiful thrust stage.

Since we had to go early to grab our tickets, we decided to grab a quick bite at one of the Guthrie's three restaurants before the show. Trying to stay light, we each chose a soup and salad. A little pricey (what isn't, downtown?), but quite good -- and fast. By the time we'd finished our soup, Avindair was finally relaxing from his day, and glad that he'd come along.

Once we got into the theater, we found ourselves wedged between two interesting people. I sat next to an odd fellow, who I later discovered rode a fine line between theater afficianado and weird, crazy fan guy. The entire two hours, he sat scribbling in a notebook in a a script I could only assume was short hand. Previous pages contained what I thought at first might be scientific notation, but on repeated glances, seemed to be some kind of code. I won't go into his personal hygiene. Yeesh. Next to Avindair was a friendly older lady who regaled us with a few stories of her years as a freelance marketing writer. At least we had something in common!

ENOUGH with the Exposition!

So? What about Ian McKellen?

In short, he was a delight: charming, funny, modist and at times, self-effacing. Sir Tyrone Guthrie, founder of the Guthrie Theater, had been a prominent influence in the beginning of McKellen's career. He spoke of directors and actors he'd worked with, his thoughts on acting and Shakespeare, shared stories... it was fantastic. During the question period, he was gracious, patient, and throrough in his answers.


McKellen in "Coriolanus", 1963 - Directed by Tyrone Guthrie

Although the audience seemed almost embarrassed to touch on McKellen's more mainstream roles, like Gandalf and Magneto, there was one very memorable moment in the evening.

He mentioned that when preparing for a role, he likes to know where a character would keep his money. Does he have pockets? A wallet? Does he use cash?

Someone asked, "Where would Magneto keep his money?"

"I imagine with his powers he'd simply put it wherever he wanted to," McKellen replied, making the Magneto hand gesture as if levitating metal coins. "But what I would like to know," he continued, smiling, "is where Mystique keeps hers?"

I'm sure there were many in the audience, who, like ourselves, hadn't been able to get tickets to "King Lear" or "The Seagull". Sir Ian saved the best for last. He treated us to a soliloquy from "Sir Thomas More" by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood, Anthony Munday & William Shakespeare. This particular passage was known to have been written by Shakespeare himself, as the British Museum has the original text in his handwriting. The piece was as relevant today as it was in Shakespeare's time. Here's a bit of it that I could find online.

Grant them removed, and grant that this your noise
Hath chid down all the majesty of England.
Imagine that you see the wretched strangers,
Their babies at their backs and their poor luggage,
Plodding to the ports and coasts for transportation,
And that you sit as kings in your desires,
Authority quite silent by your brawl,
And you in ruff of your opinions clothed;
What had you got? I’ll tell you: you had taught
How insolence and strong hand should prevail.

Sir Thomas More, Act 2 Scene 4

And yes, there was a standing ovation.


*Images from www.mckellen.com.

RAWR!

You know why the tiger is snuggling the pig? Because she has a full tummy and she's keeping it as a snack for later. I mean, come on. Just LOOK at that pig's face!

Your Score: Wuzzy Fuzzy

You scored 54%Randomness, 81 % Fuzziness!

Your lovableness sickens me. It SICKENS me. You snuggle puppies, sniff babies, and have the world's dorkiest grin. People love you...and snicker behind your back.

But you don't care. After all...awww, lookit the cute tiger snuggling piggies!!! Awwwwwwwww.

Your attention span? WHAT attention span?

Link: The How Fuzzy Is Your Soul Test written by Chel-Hell on OkCupid, home of the The Dating Persona Test

Ganked from MagicMarmot.

Do you LIVE here?

This morning I plugged in to the Star Tribune online, as I do most days, to read all the news that unfit to print. (Plus, I think buying the paper paper is a waste of money, ink, and trees when I can get it online.) I came across an article, linked to from the front page Local section, "Wisconsin geek convention will draw hundreds to Madison".

Wow. No kidding.

The article goes on to describe that 600 self-described "geeks" will gather and do geeky things. How avant garde!

When in the Star Tribune's own back yard, one of the largest "geek" cons in the U.S., CONvergence will be celebrating ten years in 2008. Not only that, registrations for 2007 were 2,665 -- outweighing the Wisconsin con by more than 2000. I've never seen anything like THAT in the Star Tribune.

Nothing against the Wisconsin con. Good for them. When two or more geeks shall gather together, there is wondrous geeky fun. It just kills me that our crack local journalists couldn't write up and promote an event that's four times bigger RIGHT HERE!

Real Beauty

I'm not sure if this is new or not, but I love Dove's Real Beauty campaign. As a woman and the mother of a 10-year-old daughter, the imagery in this really hits home.



Ganked from Tony.

Sick at Heart

It's official. Bush has vetoed the child health care bill raising it by an additional $35 billion over 5 years. That bastard. It was getting too close to that phrase that strikes fear into the hearts of Republicans - socialized medicine.

Of course, it's perfectly okay to tell congress he needs an additional $150 billion in 2008 for the "War on Terror".

Over four times as much spent on killing people in other countries, rather than healing our own.

We have a fucking sick country... and I'm not talking about disease.

Speaking of sick. If you haven't seen Michael Moore's SICKO yet, please, PLEASE do.

One quote from the film continues to stick with me from the British... and I continually forget this gentleman's name and position in government. But he was explaining why the Brits moved to socialized medicine after World War II, when their country's economy was in shambles. To paraphrase, "If we had enough money to kill people, we had enough to heal them."

Amen to that. Come on, America. Put your money where your oh-so-Christian-ideals should be - helping people instead of harming them.

Don't Wait

My mother called this morning to let me know about the death of a friend of the family. We knew it was coming. He'd been ill for a long time. Hospice had been caring for him in his home. His family had been gathering.

Still, it hit me harder than I'd thought it would.

Dad knew Jerry through work. Our families had been very close when I was younger. They had two boys around my age. Our moms were on the same bowling team. We went tent camping, canoeing, and to the shooting range for target practice. We got together for dinners, birthday celebrations and holidays. Listened to Fleetwood Mac. Drank my first beer, Pabst Blue Ribbon, in their back yard. The boys and I used to go to movies and out roller skating. Jerry, himself, was friendly, cheerful, robust, and big-hearted. For awhile, at least, they were really like a second family to me.

Then we all drifted apart, as people sometimes do.

My parents and theirs didn't get together any more. The boys, like me, grew up, got married and had families of their own. I hadn't seen them in years, much less talked to them. Perhaps the occasional Christmas card, but that was all.

Then I heard that Jerry was ill. Dad started seeing Jerry again, when he was in town. I knew that he was getting worse. I kept thinking, "I should call. I should write. I should do... something." But I never did. I never told them that I was thinking of them. And now, all I can do, is send flowers and a card. Heartfelt, but too little, too late. And nothing can ever change that.

I'm not writing this to feel sorry for myself. Just a reminder that if someone in your life has meant something to you -- a friend, a mentor, a relative... even an acquaintance -- tell them. Don't let it wait.

Friday Silliness

So... did it get me right?

Your Personality is Very Rare (INTP)

Your personality type is goofy, imaginative, relaxed, and brilliant. Only about 4% of all people have your personality, including 2% of all women and 6% of all men You are Introverted, Intuitive, Thinking, and Perceiving.

How Rare Is Your Personality?

Go Bohemian for only $2,000

Women's fashion has problems.

Since I turned 40, I began subscribing to the online newsletter from MORE magazine. It has some valid information for the 40-something and MORE crowd. Today's included this headline: 30 Best Jeans for Women.

As part of this feature article, there were 30 styles of jeans, some shown as part of an ensemble. Each complete outfit was no less than $2000.

What. The. Hell?



Shay Peretz
By Lois Joy Johnson
Jeans for the Bohemian
"I'm all about vintage-look funky jeans. Finding a style that fits my waist and my derriere is always the challenge."
-- Beth Kristiansen, 43, aesthetician

Beat-up hippie flares with an artsy soul are reincarnated as brand-new fades with a curve-accommodating fit that true vintage lacks. They're great with this year's floaty tunics and wedges. Kristiansen is wearing True Religion "Joey" style ($253) with contour seaming that slims the legs. Max & Co. silk tunic ($198). Kate Spade shoes ($325). Henry Beguelin bag ($1,325).

********

Don't forget the $300 color and perm, the $150 manicure and pedicure, and the $100 make-up.

But WHATEVER you do, don't use that Henry Beguelin bag in the spring. It will be SO LAST YEAR!

I don't know what's worse. The people who make and price this stuff. The magazines that push the stuff. Or the women who think they have to have this stuff.

Cripes.

Beware of Aging

My cell phone buzzed against my desktop.

"Oh, no," I thought. It was probably a school nurse. Seasonal colds and flus were making the rounds.

I answered, expecting to have to make my excuses to my boss, grab my keys, and go.

It was my Mom. Mom calling my cell phone in the middle of the work day couldn't possibly be good.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, honey. Nothing's wrong. Everything is just fine. We're okay."

Her voice didn't sound like everything was okay.

Mom is a 24/7 live-in caretaker for my grandmother -- her elderly mother. For years she's done everything for her and her home with the tenderest of care and attention to every detail for years... often to the detriment of her own health, well-being, and general sanity. The woman hasn't had more than a handful of 8-hour sleep sessions in all that time. Waiting on my grandmother, attending her every need, night and day, day in and day out. A short time ago, to the relief of the rest of the family, she decided that she simply couldn't do it any more and put Grandma on the waiting list for a nursing home.

Monday they called and said they had a room open -- for Wednesday.

Mom's voice was a heart-breaking combination of relief, guilt, fear, loss, excitement...

My grandmother needs complete care. She needs help to eat, to stand up, to sit down, to go to the bathroom, to get dressed, to get in and out of bed, to walk from place to place... everything. The intelligent, strong-willed, opinionated, sometimes infuriating, but always supportive woman I knew is trapped inside this elderly shell of weakness, pain, and confusion. It's no longer safe for her to live in her home she loves so much. It's no longer possible for my mother to give her the care she needs.

Then there's the financial question. The home my grandmother will be going into, for the full care she needs, will cost almost $6000 per month. That's above and beyond the cost of all of the medication she needs on a monthly basis. The nursing home insurance she and my grandfather paid for most of their working lives, only shells out about $2500 per month. Medicare pays nothing. Leaving my grandmother's assets, investments, cashed in life insurance policies... and possibly even, her home... to take care of the balance. Eventually, if she stays in the nursing home, virtually any inheritance... any assets that would have gone to my mother, will have to be liquidated to pay the nursing home. Of course, if she had no assets, she'd pay far less and get the same care.

My mother is trying to think of alternatives. There are no other family members to help. Mom's brother died years ago. She's considering taking in renters at my grandmother's house. At 63, she'd like to finally start enjoying her life a little, travel, see her grandkids... but she may have to consider taking a job. But the kind of jobs open for women like my mom in the town she lives in will net her maybe $8 / hour after taxes... tops. I can't offer any help, with two kids and a mortgage, and living 300 miles away.

I just get angry at the lack of help for caretakers of the elderly. Little to non-existant breaks, compensation, support, information, legal help, finanacial advice... just a bunch of vultures waiting to rip of their piece of the carcass.

Sorry for the downer of a post. It's been on my mind all day.

AVAST, me hearties!

It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day! Pour a pint of grog and party like it's 1799!

You are The Quartermaster

You, me hearty, are a man or woman of action! And what action it is! Gruesome, awful, delightful action. You mete out punishment to friend and foe alike – well, mostly to foe, because your burning inner rage isn’t likely to draw you a whole lot of the former. Still, though you may be what today is called “high maintenance” and in the past was called “bat-shit crazy,” the crew likes to have you around because in a pinch your maniacal combat prowess may be the only thing that saves them from Jack Ketch. When not in a pinch, the rest of the crew will goad you into berserker mode because it’s just kind of fun to watch. So you provide a double service – doling out discipline AND entertainment.

What's Yer Inner Pirate?
brought to you by The Official Talk Like A Pirate Web Site. Arrrrr!

It Couldn't Have Happened to a Nicer Guy

When the Nerd Clan moved to the Twin Cities way back in October of 1998, things weren't looking so good for the home team.

Due to the Red River Valley flood of '97, I was going to be losing my great job as Computer Department Manager of the UND Bookstore. The university needed to find ways to save money to pay for the damages the flood wrought and a way to attract students back to the ravaged campus. They ended up leasing the bookstore business to Barnes & Noble... and B&N was not in the business of selling computers.

Avindair was working a crappy job for an insane boss (you should hear the stories), having to drive 150 miles round trip every day from Grand Forks to Fargo, traveling to other cities for a week at a time at the drop of a hat, and having paychecks that bounced.

With no career prospects in Grand Forks, we had to look elsewhere. Elsewhere had to be the nearest metro area... Minneapolis/St.Paul.

Marathon to the Twin Cities #1

I found a job all right. In one day I drove 5 hours to the cities, spent two hours interviewing, and drove 5 hours back. They offered me the job of regional inside sales rep at a company that made multiport serial cards. It was set up as a pay + commission structure. Not a dream job, I'll admit, but it was enough to help support our family in a new city. They knew I'd have to relocate and were all smiley-supporty.

Marathon to the Twin cities #2

In between job offer and moving, Avindair and I took an overnight trip to the cities to find an apartment. We took the first place we could find as close as possible to my work, since Tony didn't have a job yet, that wasn't a scary (is that a heroine dealer?) rat trap that we could also afford. Paid the *yowch* first month's rent, stayed one night with local relatives (the first of three times we'd see them in the 9 years we've lived here), and once again headed back to Grand Forks.

Marathon to the Twin Cities #3

Did you know that it's possible to break down an entire apartment for 4 people, pack it on a truck, drive to another city, unpack it, set up the new apartment, and drive back to the original city in 48 hours? With the help of two of our best friends, DaveGuy and Bella, we did... bless their hearts.

Halloween 1998

The night before we left for our new home. For good. Our son, who was only 6 at the time, was enjoying Halloween at Grandma's house. Due to our neverending search for good jobs, he was being uprooted once again. It broke our hearts. We were having to move just a few months into first grade. Avindair and I dreaded it for him. In his six short years we'd already moved five times - six if you count the two places in Denver. He would once again have a new home, a new school, a new daycare, new teachers, new friends, new places to play... with our little family and the contents of our apartment the only things that were a constant in his life.

Our daughter had it a little easier. She would be turning 2 in just two weeks and didn't have the level of adapting to go through that our son did.

"Hi, I'm the new rep."

The first week in November I started my new job. And to tell you the truth, it suck-diddly-ucked, Flanders.

First, my sales manager and I were the only females on the sales team. Good Old Boys Club in the extreme. It didn't matter if I'd been a sales manager in my own right, I was treated like "just a girl".

Second, nearly all of the sales reps had been FRIENDS SINCE GRADE SCHOOL. Yup. Even in a city this size, they had grown up together, gone to college together, and were now working at the same company -- and they acted like it. Not only was I not in the boys club, I also was a charter member of the "You're Not From Around Here" club.

Third, after several weeks, after uprooting my family, incurring the expense of moving, having rent and utilities and car payments and daycare to pay, and in the midst of holiday season with kids, I eagerly awaited my first paycheck. Payday came and went. And I had no paycheck. I confronted my boss. "Didn't we tell you? We pay a month behind, after you've completed your first month. So you don't get your first paycheck until January. But if you want, we can give you an advance."

WHAT THE HELL?

So, to stay out of bad debt with our monthly bills, I had to go into debt with my new employer. A debt that I then had to make payments on with every future paycheck for nearly a year.

Fourth. Every month we'd gather for an all employee meeting. The owner would usually fly up from Florida, where he lived part of the time, and address the troops. I'd already heard from other employees that he kept the Florida address to avoid Minnesota taxes and that he was a bit... eccentric. What I heard at my first employee meeting made my jaw drop. After everything my family and I had been through to be there, at that point in time, I was infuriated. Here's what the speech from the company's owner boiled down to:

1. God was to be thanked for everything we had and the all of the successes of our company.
2. The owner had the position he had in life, because God put him there. He was appointed to be sucessful by God.
3. We all, as workers, had the position we had below him in life, because God meant for us to be there... below him.
4. God had made it clear that he (the owner) was better than us.

Oh, yeah. THAT'S the way to motivate your employees.

My family and I had worked hard to be where we were. Life had thrown us a lot of curve balls and we did our damndest to keep our heads (literally) above water and persevere. I was supposed to believe that some white-bearded father-figure on a cloud had handpicked me to be the bitch-slapped worker bee for life and handpicked some narcissistic looney to reign supreme... just because?

Um... no.

Eventually, of course, I got out of there. I got away from the insane, zealot, tax-dodging owner and his nepotism-ridden company.

And My Point Is?

Just the other day, I saw this article in the Star Tribune.

"With founder a fugitive, Comtrol remakes itself"
http://www.startribune.com/535/story/1382004.html

Apparently, God doesn't want him paying taxes. This CEO-on-the-lam was also a republican, a former delegate the Repulican National Convention, AND the founder of the Minnesota Christian Coalition.

http://www.dailykos.com/story/2006/8/16/104246/586

Or read this goodie from the US Department of Justice:

http://www.usdoj.gov/usao/mn/press/econ/econ0140.pdf

The articles just get more and more fun:

http://blog.au.org/2006/08/18/taxing_situatio/

Finding this news just made me feel warm and fuzzy all day. This nepotistic businessman, leading republican supporter, right-wing Christian zealot, law breaking nutzoid was on the run from finally getting what was REALLY due him.

Huh. Maybe there IS a God?

Star Trek Meets Monty Python

Ducks and Bunnies

I can tell I've been in too many meetings today with management types. I'm over explaining to everyone I meet. You know how it is with management, all of the authority and none of the understanding of technology. Duck and bunnie charts.

Mgr: "I need a pencil and paper."
IT: "A pencil and paper are already in the requirements. You'll have the pencil and paper, just as you asked."
Mgr: "But the requirements don't say that I can write on the paper with the pencil. Will I be able to write on the paper?"
IT: "Of course, you will."
Mgr: "But how do I know that?"
IT: "Because that's the basic function of pencil and paper."
Mgr: "But I don't see anything that says I can write on the paper with the pencil. What if I get the pencil and paper and the pencil doesn't write on the paper?"
IT: "That won't happen."
Mgr: "Why?"
IT: "Because the basic function of pencil and paper is for the pencil to write on the paper. It's intrinsic to having pencil and paper."
Mgr: "But how can I be sure of that?"

Yup. This is the point when you just bonk said manager-type on the head, lock him / her in a closet, and only let him / her out when the application has launched. Then they can say:

Mgr: "Where's my pencil and paper?"
IT: "It's right there. On your desk."
Mgr: "But it doesn't LOOK like my old pencil and paper."
IT: "No, it doesn't. But it works the same way."
Mgr: "How do I know that it works that same?"
IT: "Because all pencils and papers have the same function."
Mgr: "But that pencil is blue. My pencil was yellow."
IT: "Yes, but it writes in exactly the same color as before."
Mgr: "No it can't. It's a different color."
IT: "But it writes the same way as before."
Mgr: "No it doesn't."
IT: "Yes it does. How do you know it doesn't? Have you tried it?"
Mgr: "No."
IT: "Then how do you know it doesn't do the same thing as before?"
Mgr: "It looks different."

Ah.... nothin' like the Peter Principle.

Phone Woes

Today started out pretty darn well. Last night I slept better than I had in days. I dreamt all night. Good dreams, too. The kind that leave you with a lingering warm fuzzy all morning. My commute to work met no delays or nasty drivers. Even my hair cooperated and looked good.

I drove up to my workplace. Got a nice parking spot. Remembered my access card to get in. Put my lunch in the fridge. Got my morning cup of coffee. Didn't spill any on my white pants. Booted up my computer. Plugged in my cell phone to charge.

And noticed that I'd missed a call. Only a few minutes earlier. From my dad?

How had I missed a call when I'd been holding the phone in my hand?

Instead of dialing up my messages, I called Dad direct. My grandmother had been recovering from illness and injury. There may have been a change in her condition that I needed to know about.

Nope. It turns out that my dad had been trying to call me since LAST NIGHT. My mother had been taken to the emergency room. She was home and recovering now, but he'd be trying to reach me for hours. He tried my home phone, but it went straight to voice mail. Never rang at the house. He tried my cell phone. No answer. Went to voice mail.

In addition, Avindair's dad is in surgery today. The phone (if it was working) could ring at any time for news of his progress. Our kids are at home, can't call them to check on them. This is ridiculous.

Ever since we switched to Comcrap VOIP we've had problems. And complained. And complained. This was the last straw. After Avindair bitched them out thoroughly, they finally agreed to give us 2 days credit on our bill. (My, how generous.) The phone service still isn't working right.

Bottom line. We're shutting off Comcrap phone service. We're shutting off Comcrap cable. And if we can find a comparable speed Internet service, we're going to shut off Comcrap cable modem, too. Not one more dime to these corporate vultures.

Unfortunately, the area where we live seems to be a black hole of phone service. The ONLY land line service we can get is Spront... and it's crap, too. Just less craptacular than Comcrap. Yes, we sometimes have to dial 5 or 6 times to get a line out, but at least we CAN EVENTUALLY get a line out... and in. I guess we have to choose between bad or worse service - AND get to pay a premium for it. WHEE!

Go cellular, you say? A few problems with that. First, 911 service. We have kids. I want to be able to pick up a phone on the wall and dial 911 if needed, not run around looking for my cell. Plus, the towers in our area are notoriously bad. Often my cell phone won't ring, or it goes straight to voice mail, OR... and I love this one... I won't get a notified of a message until HOURS or even DAYS after it's been left for me. Not so good if the school calls, or my son or daughter call needing a ride, or... any number of possible emergency scenarios. After all, THAT'S why I have the damn phones in the first place.

And to make matters worse, this phone service crap screwed up what was shaping up to be a really nice day. F**K!

Turn on the News

Our little Nerd clan had gathered in front of the TV for dinner. "The Simpsons" was cheerily chattering in front of us. We laughed together eating slightly charred, grilled hot dogs and chips. Life was good.

Then the phone rang.

"Turn on the news."

It was our good friend, Garrett.

"Hey! What's up?" I laughed. "What news channel?"

His voice came back dark and strained. "Any news channel."

There were no other words to describe what we saw.

Last night, just after 6:00pm CST, during rush hour traffic, the I-35W bridge over the Mississippi River in Minneapolis collapsed, spilling as many as 50 cars into the rushing waters. There was heart breaking tragedy. There were heart wrenching miracles. Heroes came from all walks of life and gave of themselves to save others, or comfort those in their last moments.

We were told to keep cell phone lines clear. Land lines were hit or miss with people calling in and out of the cities. When I finally reached my mother, she was nearly hysterical with fear. I could understand why. A few years ago she lost her father and her only brother, her mother was ailing, and the thought of losing her only child, son-in-law and grandkids was almost too much for her. I made the round of calls to the rest of our Twin Cities relatives and called her back to calm her.

As darkness fell last night, the rescue operation turned to one of recovery. Twisted and unstable wreckage along with a strong current made it too dangerous for rescuers to continue searching the submerged vehicles. Twenty to thirty families across the cities wait for word on their loved ones. My thoughts keep turning to them. I can't imagine your pain, but I pray for you. Right now, it's all I can do.

Hailing Frequencies Open, Captain

Snagged from Anomalous Data.

Your results:
You are Uhura

You are a good communicator with a pleasant soft-spoken voice. Also a talented singer.



Uhura - 65%
Will Riker - 60%
Mr. Sulu - 60%
Deanna Troi - 60%
Beverly Crusher - 55%
Worf - 50%
Jean-Luc Picard - 45%
Geordi LaForge - 40%
James T. Kirk (Captain) - 40%
An Expendable Character (Redshirt) - 40%
Spock - 32%
Chekov - 30%
Mr. Scott - 30%
Leonard McCoy (Bones) - 25%
Data - 15%


Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Test

Size Does NOT Make A Difference

Get your mind out of the gutter!

I'm talking about clothing size. Sheesh!

I was doing laundry last night. As I folded some old tshirts - 10-year old tshirts - I glanced at the size label. They were marked L (Large). No surprise. Being, um, *blessed* in womanly curves, even if I weighed less, I simply don't have the body type to wear a Small.

Here's the thing. Those particular old tshirts are huge on me... always have been. I haven't changed that much in 10 years. However, yesterday I went to the very same store, bought the very same brand tshirt, and had to buy an XXL in the Women's department -- not Misses.

The brand new XXL (Extra Extra Large) is form-fitting on me. The 10-year-old L (Large) is huge on me. I held them up together. The XXL is less than 3/4 the width of the L.

If there's any proof of the fashion industry sizing-down clothing, this would be it.

Next year, I'm looking forward to trying out the new Giganta-size baby tees.

In Honor of CONvergence 2007

This weekend, Science Fiction and Fantasy fans will gather for the geek Bacchanalia lovingly known as CONvergence. If you have one nerdly bone in your body, come and join in the fun. This is one of the best run conventions in the country.

• Great discussion panels run at all hours.
  
• Guests of Honor mingle with convention goers. (Ever had a drink with Gowron?)
  
• Two 24-hour movie rooms - 1 anime, 1 everthing else (with free snacks).
  
• BIG dealer room - everything from shiney, sharp steel to well, everything else fandom related.
  
• GAMING - all varieties
  
• Themed room parties
  
• If it's Science Fiction-y or Fantasy, you'll find it here.

There are kid-friendly things, and Avindair and I bring our kids for part of the day, but the evenings belong to drinking, partying geekdom. In honor of the fun to come, please enjoy "The Philosopher's Drinking Song" from Monty Python!

Immanuel Kant was a real pissant
Who was very rarely stable.

Heidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggar
Who could think you under the table.

David Hume could out-consume
Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel, [some versions have 'Schopenhauer and Hegel']

And Wittgenstein was a beery swine
Who was just as schloshed as Schlegel.

There's nothing Nietzsche couldn't teach ya
'Bout the raising of the wrist.
Socrates, himself, was permanently pissed.

John Stuart Mill, of his own free will,
On half a pint of shandy was particularly ill.

Plato, they say, could stick it away--
Half a crate of whisky every day.

Aristotle, Aristotle was a bugger for the bottle.
Hobbes was fond of his dram,

And René Descartes was a drunken fart.
'I drink, therefore I am.'

Yes, Socrates, himself, is particularly missed,
A lovely little thinker,
But a bugger when he's pissed.

TAGGED: 8 Things About Me...

CubeZoo has tagged me to reveal 8 random things about myself.

THE RULES

1. All right, here are the rules.
2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
4. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.

8 Things About Me:


1. I lived in Germany for three years.

2. I'd rather live in Europe than in the U.S.

3. I played viola for 10 years.

4. I've been married for 20 years. Half my life and loving every day of it!

5. I have a degree in English, but almost decided to get a degree in Vocal Performance.

6. I'd love to refresh my French language skills.

7. I'd love to spend my life traveling the world.

8. I'm maddeningly eclectic.


Taggy-taggy-tag... You're IT! Anomalous Data, Saveau, MagicMarmot, MadBlonde, Illiante, Conrad Zero, ForeignHotel, and Miss Molly Grue.

Color Me Wow

Trying to find the words. Mostly, when I think about last night, I just shake my head in stunned, wide-eyed silence... in a good way.

Last night was the big screen premiere of "Pray for Daylight" at the Riverview Theater in Minneapolis. Our first feature length movie, filmed in the fall of 2005, was finally getting a real debut. It was planned mostly as a big "thank you" to all of the cast and crew that graciously volunteered their time and talents, and the location owners who allowed us to invade their space for a few intense hours.

Then it grew. We decided to open up the free showing to the general public. We set ourselves up with a publicist. We duplicated DVDs, had a big movie poster made and alerted the media.

If you screen it, they will come.

After just 2 weeks of here and there promoting, 80 - 100 people were in attendance... and not just cast and crew. Family, friends, neighbors, co-workers -- and people who had no prior affiliation with our little vampire movie -- showed up.

And I think they had fun!

Before the show started, Tony got up and said a few words. One of the most important things he did was to give people permission to have an opinion and VOICE it. It sounds like a given, but it isn't. People have a tendency, when asked about someone else's creative efforts, to politely smile and nod -- even if they hated it. He asked them to be involved; express whether they liked something or not - in the moment - and I think that paid off.

As for the movie itself. Wow. Everyone who worked on it is painfully aware of all of the movie's problems. But I have to say this: it looked better, played better, sounded better and all-around *was* better than I had ever imagined it would. Sure, it has its warts. Sure there are things we would have like to have done differently or done better. But "Pray for Daylight" is now complete. If we entertained a few people for little while - brought them a few minutes of escape from day to day life - it's all worth it.

Thank you to everyone who came to the premiere and made it such a special event.
Thank you to the guys of Jagged Spiral: Conrad, Colin and Josh. "Pray for Daylight" is a melodrama - and your music brought new depth to each and every scene. (www.jaggedspiral.com)
Thank you to Sasha for Syiera's dangerous beauty and grace. With no training you made difficult martial arts moves look easy... and better than those of us *with* training. (Dammit!)
Thank you to Robin for vibrantly breathing life and vitality into our big, bad! (Oh, and thanks for getting shot, too!)
Thank you to Rob for making the movie look so "pretty" (MORE MAGENTA! MORE CHINA BALLS!) and sound so good (ADR RULES!)
Thank you to Rick for creating the vision of Eric Saveau and Cassie Banning that we've all come to love, and for bringing an earnest and believable Saveau to life.
Thank you to Teresa for fantastic fight sequences and putting the "kick" in Cassie's "ass".
Thank you to Trey for your skills as an actor, insights, humor and for sitting in a chair for three days with a nasty polyester gag in your mouth. (SPOILER ALERT)
Thank you to EVERYONE - cast, crew, generous location owners... and the families / friends who put up with our cast and crew being involved!

Most of all, thank you to Tony, our fearless leader, for being the driving force behind Stone Soup. Nothing would have happened without you.

What's next for Stone Soup? There are ideas in the works. Nothing to announce quite yet. But one thing's for certain. Stone Soup films will be back.

Angel and Wesley Dance

Needed a giggle this morning.

The Ghost That Typed

The Life of a Corporate Contract Writer

Every day we’re surrounded by words. Most of the time, people don’t even think about it. Not just books and newspapers. Who writes what you see on your cereal box in the morning? The information on your shampoo bottle? The message on your fast food drive-thru bag? Weekly sale ads in the Sunday paper? Product information at your favorite online stores?

Then go a step further. Who writes your company’s newsletters and Intranet? The instructions you go to for submitting your timecard? The information for your medical insurance? Behind everything is a writer…

…or at least there should be. Frankly, if you’ve ever been confused by what you’ve read, the company was probably too cheap to hire a professional. How a company presents itself through written communications makes an impression; the right words have impact. As with anything, you get what you pay for; and experienced, professional writers, are often far undervalued.

MARCH 2002

“Welcome to the team! We couldn’t do it without you!”

I set the insert card on the table next to a vase filled with 2-dozen spring tulips. The sudden shift from I-really-need-a-job data entry back to being a Web and marketing writer had been dizzying. Not only were my real skills finally being dusted off after one year post-layoff, but I was appreciated, too. Pretty heady stuff.

What followed was four intense years of being the sole writer for one of the largest, most successful and critically-lauded school fundraising programs in the nation, run by one of the world’s largest food companies. I was brought on to bring the communications for their program both consistency and style. Yes, I was a contractor, but I was part of the team. My opinion was valued. My ideas were used and were successful for both the program and the K-8 schools it served.

For four years, every month I wrote and edited eight to twelve articles, three emails, multiple ads, and much more. There were four quarterly newsletters, each with two versions. There were printed materials, flyers, letters, notifications, and special events. I created earning ideas, contests, and gave advice. I constantly monitored the forums where school volunteers voiced their problems and concerns so my writing could be relevant to their unique needs. I wrote all of the copy through four yearly website overhauls for two websites… plus two more. I worked days, nights and weekends to meet their needs. For four years I ate, drank and slept this program.

AUGUST 2006

“As of the October website updates, your services will no longer be needed. This is no reflection on your abilities as a writer. Due to budget constraints we will now be doing the writing in-house.”

The brief, impersonal Dear Jane email that ended my contract was a direct hit. Even today I feel it like a physical punch to the gut. Not a personal call. Not a meeting. Four years and I was summarily dismissed. The email didn’t even come from the head of the program, but from another contractor.

Four years of carefully crafting their entire message, branding and image through words – without so much as a goodbye lunch.

I could go into the evolution of the “team”, the corporate politics, lying and thoroughly unethical business behavior behind it all, but that’s not the point of my posting today.

I’ve moved on for the most part. I have a good regular job right now, with a good company, and a great boss. It’s steady, pays the bills, provides my family with medical insurance and keeps a roof over our heads. I still accept the occasional freelance writing job for other areas of the fundraising program when they ask. From what I’ve heard through the grapevine, the “in-house” writers provided by the other contractor haven’t worked out very well – they’ve been through several in just a few months – so much for consistency.

This wasn't my only client. Just the most startling example of just how disposable and invisible contractors -- in any profession -- have become. We're expected to show up, solve the company's problems with no tangible recognition or benefits other than a paycheck, and leave. A temporary employee that you don’t have to provide benefits for, that you don’t have to keep happy or give incentives to, who’s an expert in their field, that you can let go when the project is done AND get recognition for their work? For businesses, what’s not to like?

My point is that all the work I took such pride in… the effect it had on tens of thousands of schools across the nation and millions of kids… the fact that the words I crafted made an impression on millions of people and really did make a difference… no one… not one of those people… will ever know that it was me behind it. Corporate contract writers don’t get a by-line. My portfolio and resume will never fully demonstrate to a future employer the dedication I had for my work.

I’m just one of many nameless, faceless writers whose words and work are taken for granted.

I’m just the ghost that typed.

My Spidey Sense is Tingling

Don't ask why. The Spiderman theme song was running through my head this morning. I had to go find the lyrics to help with the sections I was singing "la, la, la" to instead of the real words.

I share them with you, gentle reader...

Spiderman, Spiderman,
Does whatever a spider can.
Spins a web, any size,
Catches thieves just like flies.
Look out! Here comes the Spiderman.

Is he strong? Listen bud—
He's got radioactive blood.
Can he swing from a thread?
Take a look overhead.
Hey there! There goes the Spiderman.

In the chill of the night,
At the scene of the crime,
Like a streak of light,
He arrives just in time!

Spiderman, Spiderman,
Friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
Wealth and fame, he's ignored—
Action is his reward.

To him,
Life is a great big bang-up—
Wherever there's a hang-up,
You'll find the Spiderman!

Peel the Grapes, Slave!

You are Cleopatra Beautiful and Charming. You are able to persuade anyone to do anything you would like, because of your hotness and charisma. You are an expert in gaining power over anyone you choose. Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com

D20 or Percentiles?

Your SaniTest(TM) Results

Your score is: 123

For easier understanding, the HPLHS SaniTest assessment algorithm converts your raw score to a scale of 1 to 10. This number is your INSANITY INDEX.

INSANITY INDEX 6.73 Thank you for taking the SaniTest(TM). Your score indicates that you are totally unhinged. It seems likely that the rational parts of your mind are completely separated both from your emotions, and from all practical views of reality. You should beware of overreacting to situations, and you might want to get a few opinions before investing in real estate. Others who scored at this level include mime sensations Shields & Yarnell and serial killer Ted Bundy.

How Insane Are You?

New 7 Wonders of the World

Yes. You read that right.

Want to help choose the new 7 wonders of the world? Log on to www.new7wonders.com, register and place your vote! The top picks will be announced 7/7/07 in Lisbon, Portugal.

What's that? No! I'm not telling you who I voted for! Go out and vote for yourself!

Ticketslaves

A couple of years ago we took the kids to a Weird Al Yankovic concert in Minneapolis. I've seen a lot of great performers in my time, but rarely someone with such talent and energy. Plus, it was kid-friendly. A great time was had by all.

This year Weird Al will be playing the Minnesota State Fair Grandstand, as he has several times in years past. Tickets to see him are $20 each and the seating is still fairly close to the stage. $80 for four people. Not bad, right? Just wait.

Problem #1: The tickets are through the great-grand daddy bastard of entertainment fleecing -- Ticketmaster. (Does that make us Ticketslaves?) Per ticket, add a $2.00 "Facilities Charge" and $5.25 "Convenience Charge" -- $27.25 per person. Ticketmaster raises it from $80 for all four of us to $109.

Problem #2: That doesn't cover the cost to get INTO the fairgrounds - $11 per adult plus $8 for Kate. That tacks on another $41 just to walk through the fairgrounds gate and into the Grandstand. The total now stands at $150.

Problem #3: Fairground parking - $9. That is if we didn't have to use one of the other outrageous parking methods.

Total for four people to attend a Weird Al concert at the Minnesota State Fair?

$159

For what would have been a relatively reasonable concert, the cost has been DOUBLED by fees, entrance charges and parking. Is that sick or what?

In Honor of the Buffy Musical

HEY! The live Buffy Musical (a la Rocky Horror) is coming to Minneapolis June 1 and 2. In its honor, I'm doing some blog silliness.


Which Buffy Girl Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty


Who's Your Inner Buffy Bad-Girl? Find out @ She's Crafty

And just to be fair to the gents...


Which Buffy Guy Are You? Find out @ She's Crafty


Who's Your Inner Buffy Bad-Boy? Find out @ She's Crafty

10k of Cold and Camaraderie

After a balmy and beautiful Saturday, we woke Sunday to a precipitous drop in temperature. I'd seen the weather reports, but it didn't sound that bad. In the mid-50's is what I'd read. Heck, dress in layers with a long-sleeved shirt and a sweatshirt. No problem.

Thus, the morning of the 2007 Minnesota AIDS Walk began.

Avindair, MonkeyDude, SportyGirl and I set out on our adventure. Being a prepared mom-type person, I carried a backpack filled with: granola bars, non-aspirin pain relievers, a small first aid kit, hand sanitizer (cause I knew we'd be in porta-potty land), one compact umbrella (just in case), and the more important contents of my purse. At the last moment, I added a cute little stuffed frog as our mascot. He'd been a gift from my uncle when I was a little girl. Since I was walking in his memory, I thought it only appropriate I bring Froggy along for the ride!

Not being familiar with Minnehaha Park, it took us a little time to negotiate the area and find parking, but since we were early it was blessedly close.

"It's cold," MonkeyBoy observed.

"Uh-huh. That's your Mom's fault," said Avindair.

Eh, I thought. It's early yet. It'll warm up. Right.

Our first stop was the registration building. After verifying the donation in my name I was handed a yellow ticket to pick up my official t-shirt.

"There's been a delay opening the Boutique," my friendly volunteer indicated, meaning the tent where we were to pick up our goodies. "They struck a water main with a tent spike."

No way. We had to see this.

Next to the "Boutique" was a rather lovely fountain, springing forth from the earth, sending rushing water across the walking path. Remember the Beverly Hillbillies? "And up from the ground came-a bubblin' crude." It was like that... but water.

The Starbucks booth had just opened across the sidewalk with free, bitter, hot goodness in a cup. On a day like yesterday, there couldn't have been a more pleasant sight at 9am! The kids wrinkled their noses.

"I don't like coffee," MonkeyDude said through chattering teeth. "I'll be okay."

SportyGirl agreed with her brother with her best "yuch" face.

"Nope. You're having coffee. Both of you. It'll help warm you up," said Avindair.

"Yeah," I offered. "Besides, you can fill it up with cream and sugar. It'll be good."

The girl behind the counter had been watching our exchange. "We have decaf, too, if you don't want the kids to have caffeine."

"Nah," Avindair countered, "give them the regular stuff. It'll be funnier that way."

We wandered a bit more. Nearly everyone we met was cold, determined... and smiling. People helping each other set up, answer questions, or just joining in a friendly, shivering chat.

As nice as that was, we had cold kids and the walk didn't start for another 2 hours. We hoofed a couple of blocks to a local Senior Citizen breakfast joint for coffee, hot chocolate and toast for a bit. After an hour or so, we decided to head back over.

The weather hadn't warmed up and the wind was still blowing, but the park was getting full of walkers. We were very glad we'd decided not to give up our parking spot to go get chow. To pass the time, we wandered some more, filled out an "In Memory Of" placard for Dale to carry with us, joined an impromptu game of frisbee, petted lots of cute dogs, and listened to the Twin Cities Gay Men's Chorus and the cast of "Menopause: The Musical".

The only other volunteer to join Team Stone Soup this year, Garret, showed up just in time to get his official walk t-shirt and hook up with us to start a-walkin'. THANK YOU, GARRET!

Without waiting for the opening ceremonies to end, we decided to start out, along with bunches of other folks. The brisk pace we set actually warmed us all up, almost as much as the laughter and great conversation along the way. About one mile into the 6.2 miles, the skies opened up on us. Great big drops of rain soaked us through - but my brave Stone Soupers and the rest of the walkers just kept on moving! Volunteers cheered us on from many points along the path... 7 rest stops offered water, bananas, other snacks and porta-pottys.

We hit the finish line back at Minnehaha Park cold, tired, soaking wet and sore... but strangely happy. I can't speak for everyone else, but I had a great time. The kids had far more endurance and good cheer than I thought them capable of under those conditions. Garret was a good sport and a great friend for joining in on our crazy quest. Avindair, my incredible husband, was his wonderful, supportive self.

THANK YOU, to our fantastic TEAM STONE SOUP walkers.

THANK YOU, to our friends and family who, by supporting us, raised $825! So we didn't hit our goal. That's okay. Every bit... every single cent is appreciated by the Minnesota AIDS Project.

We couldn't have done this without any of you. THANK YOU, all.

... and see you next year!

UPDATE - Minnesota AIDS Walk

We're almost there! Sunday, May 20 is only 2 days away and Team Stone Soup is only $300 short of our goal! A big thanks goes out to everyone who's been able to support the cause. No contribution is too small - every bit is appreciated.

If you'd still like to help out or, better yet, come along and join us on Sunday, just follow the links below in my last blog entry.

THANKS EVERYONE!

Minnesota AIDS Walk - May 20, 2007

This is Dale Christopher, my uncle. The world lost Dale on September 27, 1995, just minutes after finishing his 47th birthday. On May 20, 2007, I walk for him in the hopes that what money we raise will make a difference for those who live with AIDS now, and in the hopes that people in the future will never have to live with it again.

To learn more about the Minnesota AIDS Walk, you can visit their website at mnaidswalk.org. If you'd like to support me, please visit my personal page and click the "Make a Gift" link under my progress chart. If you'd like to join Team Stone Soup, just go to the team page, click on "Join a Team" and type in Stone Soup. We'd love to have you walk with us!

Whew!

What's that sticky stuff?

It had been a long day at work. A weary commute home. I looked down to see big white sticker under my shoe. The wind has a nasty habit of depositing leaves and every piece of blowing trash in a three block radius in front of our door.

I reached down, removed the offending sticker, and opened the door. I knew was waiting for me on the other side.

The 2-Day FedEx envelope sat on the floor of our entryway. It leaned casually against the wall in a black beret, smoking a thin, brown cigarette... mocking me. I think I would have rather encountered an axe murderer on the other side of that door.

I considered it carefully. Would it bite? I picked it up by the edge.

Phew. What stinks in here?

The heavy envelope made an audible thud as it hit the kitchen counter. I considered putting a match to it, but thought better of it. What horrors would it hold? Could my heart stand it?

I took a deep breath (yeesh - what is that smell?) ripped the envelope like a giant band-aid. The quicker, the better.

Our 2007 taxes.

Suddenly, I could breathe again.

Our tax guy is worth every, freaking cent.

Good news: we got a return.

Eh news: we're handing it all over to Uncle Sam to cover the taxes I will eventually have to pay on my extra business income next year.

Bad news: I tracked in dog shit on my shoe.

All we have to do are sign the forms, mail them on time, and pay the tax guy for his expertise.

My taxes in 2004 and 2005 were something that even Freddie Kruger couldn't have devised in his wildest ravings. I won't post the totals, but let's just say that April 2005 left me gasping for air to the tune of tens of thousands. I still blanche at the thought of it.

And the worst part, was that he was wrong.

For 2006, I got the tax guy of my dreams (let me know if you want a recommendation). He fixed the previous guy's mistakes to the tune of so much of a return, that it prepaid my quarterly taxes for almost half of the next year. Yowch.

It's funny. But even though I know what the end number of the tax return reads, I still involuntarily shrink from it. It's like being bitten by a big dog. He may look friendly now, but you never trust him again.

Yeah. Like I ever trusted the IRS before.

Tonight I toast my tax guy and look forward to next year's simpler... much simpler... tax return.

Hotsy-Totsy

What Pin Up girl are you?

You are the smartie pants! You're very intellectual and love to read and write. It's all good. You'll be successful later on in life!
Take this quiz!








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Firefly, We Hardly Knew Ya...

Your results:
You are Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command)

Dependable and trustworthy.
You love your significant other and
you are a tough cookie when in a conflict.



Zoe Washburne (Second-in-command)

---

80%
Wash (Ship Pilot)

---

65%
Malcolm Reynolds (Captain)

---

60%
Dr. Simon Tam (Ship Medic)

---

55%
Kaylee Frye (Ship Mechanic)

---

50%
Jayne Cobb (Mercenary)

---

40%
Alliance

---

40%
Derrial Book (Shepherd)

---

35%
Inara Serra (Companion)

---

35%
River (Stowaway)

---

30%
A Reaver (Cannibal)

---

10%


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

Well, duh...

Drama, Musician and Gamer run pretty neck and neck and neck.

What Be Your Nerd Type? Your Result: Drama Nerd   You sure do love the spotlight and probably have a very out-going and loud personality. Or not. That's just a stereotype, of course. Participation in the theatre is something to be very proud of. Whether you have a great voice for musicals, or astounding skills for dramas/comedies; keep up the good work. We need more entertainment these days that isn't television and video games (not that these things are bad, necessarily.)
Literature Nerd
Musician
Gamer/Computer Nerd
Social Nerd
Artistic Nerd
Science/Math Nerd
Anime Nerd
What Be Your Nerd Type? Quizzes for MySpace

Kate, Kate, Bo-bate! Banana-fanna, Fo-fate!

Anyone who can identify the quote in my blog post title gets brownie points.

I am very happy to be identified as Kate, since I've always LOVED this character and Elizabeth Taylor's performance (as pictured) with Richard Burton.

I'm also very happy that I haven't completely forgotten all of my HTML knowledge and was able to troubleshoot and fix the code. There was a problem with the text not showing up. Oh, yeah. I'm good!

Which Shakespearian Leading Lady are You? Katherine: The Taming Of The Shrew You are a woman to be reckoned with. You are not only strong willed but are extremely emotionally involved as well. This combination is volatile and could lead to violence. Nothing standing between you and your wants is acceptable. Therefore, it is important to remember the difference between wants and needs. As Kate inevitably does, channel your energies into a healthy relationship. Play with your partner; you’re the master at it anyway!

Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests.

The Cat's Out of the Bag

I've been waiting to post this for a couple of weeks. It had taken so long to get what I wanted and needed that I was afraid I'd jinx it with a premature announcement. So without further ado...

I got a job. A good one. A real, honest-to-goodness, regular full-time employee type job with decent pay, good commute, great co-workers, casual atmosphere, and nice benefits. A job where people say please and thank you. A job where my boss doesn't track me with a stop watch and asks for my opinion. A company that's been around for 33 years and grown exponentially in the last 10. A company that has employees celebrating 25-year anniversaries.

And I even like the work.

I'm a Technical Writer / Trainer in Product Development for a Twin Cities-based incentives company. In a nut shell, my company helps other companies keep employees feeling happy and appreciated through incentives and loyalty programs.

More later. I'm still writing freelance on the side occasionally and I'm up late tonight to meet a deadline.

'night, all...

One Brief, Shining Moment... It Ain't

The most recent revival of Camelot at the Ordway in Saint Paul was the victim of a school yard bully: pushed in the mud, nose bloodied, snicker-snagged on... and had its lunch money taken away.

One look at the the masterminds behind this desecration of classic American musical theater and we can see why. The book for this production has been "reimagined" by Michael Lerner, son of the original lyricist Alan Jay Lerner, for a contemporary audience. Gone are musical numbers "The Jousts", "Fie on Goodness", and "I Loved You Once in Silence". "Guenevere", that tells the tale of Lancelot's escape, Guenevere's trial and sentence, Arthur's heartbreak, and the destruction of the Round Table has been virtually reduced to a chorus of 6 voices and 60 seconds of everyone running about.

Scenes have been swapped around. Songs moved or removed. Lines added or changed. New one-liners dropped in to lighten the tone of the second act. Old jokes, that may be offensive to our more enlightened modern tastes (read: whiney-ass cry-babies without a sense of humor) have been cut and replaced with awkward, apologetic comments.

Does Michael Lerner actually have a background in daddy's grand profession? Oh, no! This is his FIRST theatrical attempt. Prior to this he was a foreign correspondent for Newsweek magazine. No joke.

Michael's sister, Liza Lerner, is the Producer. And - who'd have guessed it - this is the FIRST show she's ever produced! What's the daughter of an American theater icon been doing for a living? She's the president of her own interior design firm. That explains the just-passable sets and the what-were-they-thinking costume choices.

From the moment the curtain rose, I knew we were in trouble as a young lad in silhouette rushed onto the stage and pulls a sword from a stone. I guess they had to remind us what show we came to see.

Then there's Michael York. Yup. There he is. An accomplished actor whose career spans over 40 years of stage and screen. And he was awful. I mean, really awful. Instead of a powerful but thoughtful and tragic king, we get an amiable, oafish Wart. York takes the man who never intended to be king, and runs with that interp through the entire show. Flat, one-note, and lifelessly mellow, Arthur bumbles bemusedly through most of the darkest moments of the play like a Zoloft-addicted koala bear.

Poor acting choices aside, York's physicality was completely distracting. We've all seen amateur actors who pose or have no clue as to what do with their hands to make their movement look natural. All night, York's elbows seemed to be tied to his waist in some sort of constant rock'em-sock'em-robot pattern of gestures. What's almost worse, is that he was the only actor on stage doing it. If I hadn't known better, I'd have said that this was opening night or his first stage show after years of film, but that's not the case. It was just sadly disappointing.

Rachel York, however, was surprisingly stunning. Her Guenevere had a vitality and intelligence often missing from this ingenue role from the moment she set foot on stage. James Barbour, in the role of Lancelot, lended his sonorous voice and musical theater acting chops to a role too often portrayed as a simple, self-centered, religious fanatic. Add in Time Winter's endearing Pellinore and Eric Anderson's pagan Merlyn, and you have several talented performers hog-tied into a frighteningly-disastrous train wreck aimed right at the terrified and unsuspecting audience.

We won't even get into the silliest dance move for knights a-may-ing -- ever, Lancelot's silver lame' go-go boots, nuance-nullifying amplified sound, the joust cut to a 2/3 version sword fight, a faster tempo for every tune, turning a classic tragedy into an upbeat romp for the the text-messaging generation, or the thoroughly uninspired blocking and stage pictures.

I mean, wow. This was a stinker. Ever seen audience members walk out of the middle of performances at the Ordway?

I did.

Yes. It was that bad.

We listened to one of the Richard Harris versions on CD in the car. Popped in the DVD of the 1967 film version when we got home. Ordered the 1982 Showtime version from Amazon before we went to bed. Had to get the bad taste out of our mouths.

I love Camelot and I have for years. I've read "The Once and Future King" by T.S. White many times and even Malory's "Le Morte d'Arthur". I don't want my children's only exposure to this timeless tale to be this butchered travesty. Time to right the wrongs before they end up in therapy.

* out of * * * * *

Whiskey or Beer?

You scored as Irish. Irish 88% British 75% Belgian 63% Italian 63% German 50% French 50% Russian 38% Turkish 38% Polish 38% Dutch 25% Molvanian 25% Swiss 25% Spanish 25% Danish 13% Which European nationality should you have been? created with QuizFarm.com

Skiing and a Show

Yesterday was a good day.

Made a tremendous dent in the laundry pile and got a respectable amount of sorting and putting away of stuff in the bedrooms.

When the kids came home, we'd planned to hit cheap night at the movies to see "The Astronaut Farmer". Since the next showing was still three hours away, Avindair and I went over to Pioneer Midwest in Osseo to finally get me my very own cross country ski set! I'd been renting for 1-1/2 seasons, and it was time to make the leap. We got in on their fantastic seasonal clearance sale - most items 40% off or more - and the staff was friendly and knowledgeable.

After the purchase, we had just enough time to grab a quick dinner, change into all of the new gear and hit the trails at Elm Creek Park Reserve. What a difference! Let it be known that I am not a talented cross country skier, but I am determined. With the rental skis I essentially trudged all 2.5 k. With the new, light, waxed skis, the trail was half the work with twice the fun. So worth it!

Since I didn't have to take the time for ski rental pick up and drop off, we got home with half an hour to spare before the movie. We had plenty of time to get changed, load the NerdPod into the NerdVan, and make it to the theater.

"The Astronaut Farmer", starring Billy Bob Thornton and Virginia Madsen, is one of those feel-good films you can take everyone to see. Charles Farmer, an aeronautical engineer, Air Force pilot, and space program candidate, is forced to give up his dreams of going into space to due to a tragic family event. He spends the next decade building his own rocket, and enlists the help of his wife and kids to make his dreams come true. A great, warm-hearted family film, "The Astronaut Farmer" is one of determination, inspiration, and love. The science is iffy, but it's the story that will draw you in. Want a movie that you can walk away from with a smile? "The Astronaut Farmer" is the one to see.

Not a bad day. Not a bad day, at all...

Anita Blake, Vampire Boinker

Our friend Saveau introduced us to the world of Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter back in 2002. Until then, with the exception of Buffy, most vampire hunters in popular media were old men who carried leather satchels filled with wooden stakes. Laurell K. Hamilton's heroine was a natural-born necromancer with flowing, raven hair, a penchant for penguins, and the kind of acerbic wit that could strip the paint from a Sherman tank.

After only a few pages into "Guilty Pleasures" (1994), I was hooked. Anita Blake was tough, funny, and real. Well, as real as a necromancer / vampire hunter could be.

Book by book, I devoured the prose... but with each one I became a little more disturbed. The books I had admired for their unique take on the genre had turned into not much more than ultra-violent porn with a paper-thin plot. After "Narcissus in Chains" I just couldn't take it any more. Even though I continued to recommend the first few books to friends and co-workers, in 2004 I stopped reading the Anita Blake series altogether.

Until the fall of 2006.

By chance I learned that Laurell K. Hamilton was doing a book signing at The Source, our favorite nerd store in the Twin Cities. I wasn't sure I was that interested in going. Yes, I had loved her early books. Yes, Anita had even been an inspiration for my own character of Cassie Banning in our own low-budget movies with Stone Soup Films. After a little back-and-forth, we decided that Avindair could personally hand over a copy of our latest effort, Pray for Daylight to Laurell K. herself. What the hell.

I brought my very first copy of "Guilty Pleasures" for Laurell to sign. Thought we would be in and out of there. "Hey, Laurell! I liked Anita before she became Anita Blake, Monster Fucker. Thanks for signing the book. Here's out movie. Bye!" Nice and straight forward.

I just didn't expect that she and her husband, Gary, would be so... well.. nice!

So... I bought another book. For the record, I made a mistake. I thought I owned "Cerulean Sins", but hadn't yet read it, so I purchased "Incubus Dreams". As it turned out, I was wrong, but buoyed by listening to Laurell K. speak, I decided to give it a go.

Bad call, Ripley. Bad call.

I really wanted to like this book. I really, really wanted to like it. I liked Laurell K. -- very nice lady, very entertaining to listen to. I liked her husband. He and I chatted about Spiderman and Venom and being geeks.

Sadly, it was not meant to be, Cheri.

It isn't just that Anita's life has become a tangled metaphysical web, though that's ridiculously bad all by itself. The original novels gave us an Anita who was kick-ass and no-nonsense with a dash of humor thrown in. The story was the focus and the romance was secondary to the main plot. "Incubus Dreams", by contrast, was 20 pages of plot, followed by 600 pages of heavy breathing. When I finally made it back to the original plot, I'd forgotten what the freaking story was about. All I knew is that Anita had sex approximately 5000 times in 3 days, had spilled 1/2 of the blood in her veins, and could still walk upright enough to execute a few vampires.

Okay. Maybe she didn't have sex 5000 times, but if I read the word ardeur again I was going to be metaphysically ill. And remember, Anita only had sex with all of these vampires and wereanimals because she had to. If she didn't, the world (or at least St Louis) would be overrun with EVIL.

That's right, folks, Anita was, in fact, boinking to save lives.

How do I know she was saving lives? Because we were reminded each and every time with exchanges that usually went something like this:

Jean-Claude
Ma petite, you must feed the ardeur or all is lost.

Anita
No, Jean-Claude. I'm not going to have sex with any of these incredibly hot male-stripper vampires and wereleopards, and werewolves, and werebunnies with ripped muscles, enormous schlongs, and luxuriously long hair that they all grow down to their ankles. It's just wrong!

Jean-Claude
I understand, ma petite, but if you do not, Damien will die. And Nathaniel will die. And Micah will die. And Richard will die. And I will die. And no one will be here to protect people, or the good vampires, or the wereanimals, and... and... there will be chocolate in the peanut butter and peanut butter in the chocolate... and...

Anita
No.

Jean-Claude
Please?

Anita
I said no.

Jean-Claude
Pretty please?

Anita
Oh, okay.

I think what this book lacked was a really good round of editing. There are many, many... ugh... many passages in "Incubus Dreams" that could have been cut altogether. Characters have conversations in which they go over the same point with only slightly different wording, several times. Anita's exposition needlessly over-explains many scenes, new characters are laboriously introduced but never actually used or developed, other critical characters pop up out of the blue. The Anita Blake series, as a whole, is suffering from its success. It's the best-selling, 800-lb gorilla of the vampire action / romance sub-genre. "Incubus Dreams" is so over-written,I wouldn't be surprised if it only went through spellchecker before it went out to the printer.

Why, oh why, did I finish "Incubus Dreams" if I disliked it so much? Why did I spend precious hours of my life reading this thinly veiled romance novel? To paraphrase Khan, "It tasks me. It tasks me and I shall have it!"

Only pick up "Incubus Dreams" if you're a fan of vampire / wereanimal porn. For those who are still interested I won't ruin the ending for you. Not that you have much to worry about there. Believe me, there's not much of an ending to ruin.

Okay, If you'd like a clue as to how it all resolves, three words should do it:

"Wheel of Time".

Everyone else? Avoid it completely and go back to read the first three or four books of the series.

Incubus Dreams

* out of *****

Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter Novels:

Guilty Pleasures 1994
Laughing Corpse 1994
Circus of the Damned 1995
The Lunatic Cafe 1995
Bloody Bones 1996
Killing Dance 1997
Burnt Offerings 1998
Blue Moon 1998
Obsidian Butterfly 2000
Narcissus in Chains 2001
Cerulean Sins 2003
Incubus Dreams 2004
Micah 2006
Danse Macabre 2006
The Harlequin 2007

WARNING: "GHOST RIDER" SPOILERS AHEAD

"This looks like fun."

I sat back at my desk, browsing the latest movie reviews in the Star Tribune.

"Okay, definitely cheesy fun, but what the hell?"

Today was a good day. Avindair had arrived home before lunch. He'd just finished his final hours at his current, now former, writing gig. I'd been lounging and browsing the Web most of the morning, enjoying a few days off before the start of my new job.

"Wanna see a movie?"

Over the years, Avindair and I have made an occasional habit out of Friday afternoon hooky movies. Spirits were high with our recent good fortune, and we were in the mood for one of those silly, unpretentious rides through the magic of cinema -- and the kids would be at school for at least another four hours. I'd read Colin Covert's review of Ghost Rider: "... a fun little jaunt", "... sly sense of camp". Ghost Rider certainly looked as though it fit the bill.

A few minutes later, there we sat. Tickets, overpriced hot dogs, and sodas that would fill a well in a third world nation in hand. At first, we were the only ones in the theater.

"Wow! Our own private screening of a Nicholas Cage movie!"

Yes. That was sarcasm. It's true, we didn't expect much from seeing the trailers:

1. Flamey motorcycle riding
2. CGI effects
3. Gratuitous Nick Cage eyebrow raising
4. Gratuitous Sam Elliot cowboy squinting
5. Gratuitous Peter Fonda forehead gleaming

We settled in, eager to create our own Joel and the 'bots experience. Unfortunately, a few stragglers eventually filled a total of five more seats. Damn. We'd have to be content with whispered and silent giggles.

Oh, man. Did we underestimate this fetid pile of celluloid.

Johnny Blaze (Nicolas Cage) is a carnival stunt rider who, at a tender age, unintentionally sells his soul to save the life of his dying father. As usual, that bad old Mephistopheles has a few tricks up his sleeve. Johnny wakes the next morning to find Dad in perfect health, happier than he's been in years, and on his way to do his first stunt performance of the day. At this point, Avindair and I simultaneously waved bye-bye to Daddy Blaze. Might as well have painted a target on his forehead and renamed the character "Dead Meat".

Years later, after the tragic demise of Dea... uh... I mean, Daddy Blaze, Johnny is a famous stunt rider (a la Evel Knievel). After much lip-pursing and eyebrow raising, Johnny meets up with his long-lost love, Roxanne, woodenly portrayed by the ballon-breasted Eva Mendes.

Wooden, I guess, except for her breasts... which, I believe, had their own listing in the credits. Every time Eva had a costume change, you'd see more of her heaving bosom and the delicate little cross that said, "I'm a nice girl. Really!" Either Nick Cage or the editors get brownie points for never catching Johnny's eyes trained squarely on her cleavage.

Scene 1 Eva - the plucky former-girlfriend turned TV journalist: Unbelievably tight grey dress
Scene 2 Eva - the ditched, drunken, and disappointed former-girlfriend: Low cut, black spaghetti strap dress, push-up bra
Scene 3 Eva - the concerned, curious former-girlfriend: Unbelievably tight white blouse with load-bearing top button at nipple-height, and artfully displayed peek at bra
Scene 4 Eva - the blandly determined and satanically endangered former-girlfriend: Laughably low-cut blouse and boobs pushed together... just below the afore-mentioned gold cross... cause she's really an innocent, good girl

Back to the plot.

Oh, who's kidding? There WAS no plot. Things just... sorta happened.

Eventually, Mephi gets around to making good (or bad) on Johnny's contract. Johnny is tasked with finding Mephi's juvenile deliquent son, Blackheart, and sending he and his elemental demon gang back to hell. So in truth, Ghost Rider is more like Satan's truant officer than the Devil's bounty hunter.

Through lingering CGI that is far too impressed with itself ("We paid for these effects and we're going to show them, dammit!"), uninspired cinematography, and poorly edited scenes, Johnny eventually finds his mentor, the Caretaker (Sam Elliot). Although Johnny doesn't realize it, the Caretaker is actually the former Rider, who escaped Mephi's grasp 150 years before with a contract for 1000 uncollected souls of unimaginable eeeeevil and lives on the hallowed ground of the cemetery for his protection.

Never mind the little plot gaffe of how Blackheart was able to go into a church, light candles, and threaten a priest, but couldn't step foot in a cemetery to take a piece of paper from an old cowboy.

Things happen. Elemental demon gang gets sent home. Former little wooden girlfriend gets mildly threatened by Satan's petulant goth spawn. The Caretaker has his last pyrotechnic ride. Ghost Rider saves the world and pisses off Mephi. The end.

I knew this would be a cheese-fest walking in the door. I just didn't expect it to be this bad. After all, writer / director / producer Mark Steven Johnson made Daredevil. Not an Academy Award winner, but a fun, superhero flick in the guity-pleasure genre. Then again, he also made Elektra.

Good Points:

- Sam Elliot. True, he's pretty much the same character in everything he does and this was yet another case of cookie-cutter typecasting, I couldn't imagine anyone else in the role. One of the few believable performances.
- Donal Logue. The other believable performance. I was genuinely pissed off when his character died.
- Seed of plot premise. The Ghost Rider comics didn't exactly have an established, cohesive origin story. Kid selling his soul to save dad was believable.
- I liked the plot's use of the "Penance Stare" power, even though the effect itself went on too long.
- Great scene with Johnny in jail. Actually elicited a few enthusiastic YEAH's from Avindair and me.
- Scenes between Nick and Sam were some of the best in the film; even the purely CGI "Riders" sequence near the end.

Bad Points:

- There were only two reasons for Eva Mendez to be in this film, and I think we all know what they were. I haven't seen a performance this bad since Thora Birch as the Empress Savina in "Dungeons and Dragons". PLEASE! Someone tell me this woman will never make another talkie again!
- I'm all for cleavage, but Eva's plunging neckline became ridiculous. I actually laughed out loud.
- Plot holes! Why could Blackheart be in a church but not in the cemetery? Why could the Caretaker only ride one more time and how did he know that? What happened to him at the end of the film? When Daddy Devil has millions of souls at his disposal, what would it matter if his son picked up 1000? That's a threat? What the hell made THESE particular souls so especially eeeeevil?
- Bad, bad writing. Really bad dialogue.
- Poor acting. At least most of the cast had an excuse, but Nick Cage, shame on you. The CGI Ghost Rider had more expression.

My recommendation: Only watch this film to get the bad taste of Cat Woman or The Hulk out of your mouth. Rent the DVD, get boozed up, and put away all solid objects that can be thrown. Your television will thank you.

*****

I give it a 2 out of 5.