Alright, so a few weeks ago I am hanging out with Drea and Matt. Matt is learning how to play the piano and is taking piano lessons. At the moment he is playing the alphabet in minor to which Drea comments "this is depressing" and I say "That's a sad sad alphabet."
A few weeks go by and I see Matt. I ask him if he has learned to play any more alphabets. He says yes he has learned to play the German alphabet.
Today I am hanging out with Drea and Matt again. I have to leave to go to Widow Browns for open mic night. Drea asks how open mic night is. I say its ok and then suggest that Matt play piano at open mic night. "You could play a sad german alphabet!" I say. "An Alphacaust." says Drea.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
LOST in Cape Cod
Oh my god. So I go to this restaurant with my father and sister. A few tables away I notice this bald guy with a goatee. He looks EXACTLY like the guy from Lost, so much so that I convince myself he is and kind of make a scene about it. I keep going "That's the guy from Lost. No I mean it. That's really him. I don't care, I'm just saying that's really the guy from Lost." My dad keeps telling me that he doesn't watch Lost (neither do I) but he knows who I'm talking about and it's not him. But I am so sure that it is. So my Dad says "well look at a picture then, it's not him."
So I google it on my phone 'bald guy from Lost' and the name John Locke comes up and I realize that's the character's name on the show. And ok, it turns out it wasn't him. But my apology is not enough for my father who keeps yelling "John! John!! JOHN!!!! See?? He's not responding, it's not him. Why don't you go over to him and ask to see his license?" This suggestion does not surprise me as it reminds me of another embarrassing incident involving my father and in this case a real celebrity.**
So now he keeps looking at us because I keep looking at him and my father keeps screaming "John!" in his direction. I am mortified.
**We are in Cape May at a popular restaurant when I see none other than Joe and Sue Paterno. Now, my father is the biggest JoPa fan of all time; "I've been a fan since 1968!" he continually tells me. So I tell my Dad it's JoPa and he's so excited and we introduce ourselves and shake his hand and everything. Well, not everything. We didn't get a picture. A fact that has haunted me for going on four years and will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life. You see, we forgot to ask for his picture at the bar and my father realized this when both The Paternos and ourselves were already seated at our respective tables. So all during dinner my father keeps saying "Lets just go up to his table and get a picture. Lets follow him out of the restaurant after they are done eating, we can get a picture then." On and on. Well, will didn't get a picture and so as far as my father is concerned we never even met JoPa. "No one will believe me when I tell them! We shoulda gotten a picture!!" Every single time I bring up the fact that we met his life-long hero to him, he says "we should have gotten a picture, I'm so mad we didn't get a picture." But I wasn't willing to stalk JoPa and follow him out or a restaurant for a photo, though for all the nagging, I probably should have, it would have made life easier. I'm going to suffer the consequences forever.
So I google it on my phone 'bald guy from Lost' and the name John Locke comes up and I realize that's the character's name on the show. And ok, it turns out it wasn't him. But my apology is not enough for my father who keeps yelling "John! John!! JOHN!!!! See?? He's not responding, it's not him. Why don't you go over to him and ask to see his license?" This suggestion does not surprise me as it reminds me of another embarrassing incident involving my father and in this case a real celebrity.**
So now he keeps looking at us because I keep looking at him and my father keeps screaming "John!" in his direction. I am mortified.
**We are in Cape May at a popular restaurant when I see none other than Joe and Sue Paterno. Now, my father is the biggest JoPa fan of all time; "I've been a fan since 1968!" he continually tells me. So I tell my Dad it's JoPa and he's so excited and we introduce ourselves and shake his hand and everything. Well, not everything. We didn't get a picture. A fact that has haunted me for going on four years and will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life. You see, we forgot to ask for his picture at the bar and my father realized this when both The Paternos and ourselves were already seated at our respective tables. So all during dinner my father keeps saying "Lets just go up to his table and get a picture. Lets follow him out of the restaurant after they are done eating, we can get a picture then." On and on. Well, will didn't get a picture and so as far as my father is concerned we never even met JoPa. "No one will believe me when I tell them! We shoulda gotten a picture!!" Every single time I bring up the fact that we met his life-long hero to him, he says "we should have gotten a picture, I'm so mad we didn't get a picture." But I wasn't willing to stalk JoPa and follow him out or a restaurant for a photo, though for all the nagging, I probably should have, it would have made life easier. I'm going to suffer the consequences forever.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Shenanigans
Play Idea: "Shenanigans" starring Katie Carriero and Jen Stearns. Each scene ends in Jen and Katie discussing the events going on around them and how it was a failure. "Shenanigans" they say to each other. And it proceeds to the next scene where other events happen in a continuous stream. Last scene: Katie = trying to get with a guy at a party they are throwing. Jen = trying to get with a girl at a party they are throwing. At the end of the party the four are left and the guy and girl end up hooking up while Jen and Katie end up on the couch discussing the events: "Shenanigans" they say.
Click or Treat
Imagine the situation:
A seven-year-old girl walks to the bus stop everyday with another young girl in the neighborhood. As time progresses they develop a friendship. Naturally, seven-year-old girl hopes to go trick-or-treating with her bus stop friend. This seems fair enough.
Until the parents get involved.
Now before I give details, let me point out we are dealing with a parent who goes by the name of "Cricket." Yes. And this should be a sign of trouble. If your name is also the name of a brown-nosed, high-class, snobby game played in England, (though not spelled the same) you're bound for pretentiousness. And we are delivered with nothing less.
So Mom of seven-year-old girl is not "in" with the other moms in the neighborhood (including Cricket). She does not attend their supper club. Which, obviously, is a horrible thing. I mean, come on, you're a mom with a full-time job, a house, a husband, two kids, a dog, there is still plenty of time left for supper clubs and well, all Moms should be a part of them because they are just the be-all, end-all best thing ever.
So Cricket, the head of the supper club, after being informed of the desire of seven-year-old girl to go trick-or-treating with her daughter (bus stop friend) is absolutely appalled. I mean, who does seven-year-old girl think she is? Her daughter cannot be seen with seven-year-old girl when seven-year-old girl's Mom isn't part of the supper club! Unheard of! Absolutely absurd! What was going through that child's head?? Doesn't she know anything? (She might know how to play a piano, but that's besides the point).
So naturally, Cricket writes a hand-written letter to seven-year-old girl's Mom explaining in four pages of detail why seven-year-old girl cannot trick-or-treat with her daughter. (Honestly, the nerve of some people, thinking their kids can just be friends and trick-or-treat with each other without considering the social repercussions.)
Cricket. Her name is Cricket.
Now this is some Desperate Housewives meets The Stepford Wives (Bette Midler version of course) type stuff. You have GOT to be kidding me. A child can't trick-or-treat with her friend because their moms don't socialize in the same circle????? This really happens in real life? Unreal. And as flustered as I am to know that this is a true story, being angry about it isn't worth my time, because it is absolutely absurd and there are just NO words. And, though I do secretly want to be able to tell people that I smacked a woman named Cricket, I will just pretend.
A seven-year-old girl walks to the bus stop everyday with another young girl in the neighborhood. As time progresses they develop a friendship. Naturally, seven-year-old girl hopes to go trick-or-treating with her bus stop friend. This seems fair enough.
Until the parents get involved.
Now before I give details, let me point out we are dealing with a parent who goes by the name of "Cricket." Yes. And this should be a sign of trouble. If your name is also the name of a brown-nosed, high-class, snobby game played in England, (though not spelled the same) you're bound for pretentiousness. And we are delivered with nothing less.
So Mom of seven-year-old girl is not "in" with the other moms in the neighborhood (including Cricket). She does not attend their supper club. Which, obviously, is a horrible thing. I mean, come on, you're a mom with a full-time job, a house, a husband, two kids, a dog, there is still plenty of time left for supper clubs and well, all Moms should be a part of them because they are just the be-all, end-all best thing ever.
So Cricket, the head of the supper club, after being informed of the desire of seven-year-old girl to go trick-or-treating with her daughter (bus stop friend) is absolutely appalled. I mean, who does seven-year-old girl think she is? Her daughter cannot be seen with seven-year-old girl when seven-year-old girl's Mom isn't part of the supper club! Unheard of! Absolutely absurd! What was going through that child's head?? Doesn't she know anything? (She might know how to play a piano, but that's besides the point).
So naturally, Cricket writes a hand-written letter to seven-year-old girl's Mom explaining in four pages of detail why seven-year-old girl cannot trick-or-treat with her daughter. (Honestly, the nerve of some people, thinking their kids can just be friends and trick-or-treat with each other without considering the social repercussions.)
Cricket. Her name is Cricket.
Now this is some Desperate Housewives meets The Stepford Wives (Bette Midler version of course) type stuff. You have GOT to be kidding me. A child can't trick-or-treat with her friend because their moms don't socialize in the same circle????? This really happens in real life? Unreal. And as flustered as I am to know that this is a true story, being angry about it isn't worth my time, because it is absolutely absurd and there are just NO words. And, though I do secretly want to be able to tell people that I smacked a woman named Cricket, I will just pretend.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
The Car Purse
If last Monday's shenanigans didn't give me enough of a reason to never drink again, certainly I have learned my lesson after last night's shenanigans.
We went to a bar, after having downed a few alcoholic beverages. I desperately wanted to go to the beach and decided that a) the bartender could tell me how to get there and b) I needed to walk into his kitchen in order to get him to tell me where the beach was. Finally I got the answer I was looking for and in my excitement I left my purse, which then got stolen. However I didn't realize this until after I walked past Yale and pressed the police alarm sending police cars wailing down the street. Not until after we drove for an hour in my car, running red lights, trying to find the beach did I realize my purse was missing. No, it was only when we got back to the apartment that I realized it was gone. My car purse, the one I got in Notting Hill, England.
This misfortune which shortly followed the "got paid 15 dollars for participating in a study and then got a 15 dollar ticket for parking while participating in the study" just sums up my life. My unfortunate life. This kind of thing just doesn't stop happening to me.
We went to a bar, after having downed a few alcoholic beverages. I desperately wanted to go to the beach and decided that a) the bartender could tell me how to get there and b) I needed to walk into his kitchen in order to get him to tell me where the beach was. Finally I got the answer I was looking for and in my excitement I left my purse, which then got stolen. However I didn't realize this until after I walked past Yale and pressed the police alarm sending police cars wailing down the street. Not until after we drove for an hour in my car, running red lights, trying to find the beach did I realize my purse was missing. No, it was only when we got back to the apartment that I realized it was gone. My car purse, the one I got in Notting Hill, England.
This misfortune which shortly followed the "got paid 15 dollars for participating in a study and then got a 15 dollar ticket for parking while participating in the study" just sums up my life. My unfortunate life. This kind of thing just doesn't stop happening to me.
Hobos Are People Too
So I have been watching Harper's Island recently; I just finished watching episode three. In this episode a girl, who was found hanged in the previous episode, is being given an autopsy and they find her eyes blood red. This scene particularly freaked me out. I think it was the combination on the pale skin and red eyes that got to me. It reminded me of Regan from The Exorcist. As I believe I have mentioned before I am terrified of The Exorcist and Regan. That time she chased me in a haunted house....((shudder))..... Needless to say I left for rehearsal today a little shaky.
Funny that today at rehearsal I should play M.A.S.H. with a fellow comrade around the age of 9. My categories to her M.A.S.H. game were along the lines of: Honeymoon, Car, Pets, Color of Wedding Dress, etc...typical M.A.S.H. categories. She asks if she can do M.A.S.H. for me and I say yes of course. She asks what examples of categories are and I tell her ya know Honeymoon, # of kids, Husband's name, etc...and she comes up with the following categories for me: Material of gravestone, material of coffin (which turned out to be newspaper), age of death, and season of funeral. Oh and I will marry a hobo. I ask her why her categories were so morbid and she told me it was because I am older than her. 21 and one foot in the grave.
After rehearsal I go onto campus to write my rehearsal report because my computer is dead due to "lack of power cord" syndrome. Campus is dead in summer and especially at night. I have to go the creepy dark back way to get to the computer lab I am headed for because of construction. I finally get to the building. I go to the bathroom and I glance at myself in the mirror and almost scream out loud because my eye is all red and the first thing I think to myself is that John Wakefield from Harper's Island is after me. After a deep breath I realize my contact must just have been bothering me or something. But I am concerned about how freaked out I was, maybe I should find myself a Harper's Island buddy.
Funny that today at rehearsal I should play M.A.S.H. with a fellow comrade around the age of 9. My categories to her M.A.S.H. game were along the lines of: Honeymoon, Car, Pets, Color of Wedding Dress, etc...typical M.A.S.H. categories. She asks if she can do M.A.S.H. for me and I say yes of course. She asks what examples of categories are and I tell her ya know Honeymoon, # of kids, Husband's name, etc...and she comes up with the following categories for me: Material of gravestone, material of coffin (which turned out to be newspaper), age of death, and season of funeral. Oh and I will marry a hobo. I ask her why her categories were so morbid and she told me it was because I am older than her. 21 and one foot in the grave.
After rehearsal I go onto campus to write my rehearsal report because my computer is dead due to "lack of power cord" syndrome. Campus is dead in summer and especially at night. I have to go the creepy dark back way to get to the computer lab I am headed for because of construction. I finally get to the building. I go to the bathroom and I glance at myself in the mirror and almost scream out loud because my eye is all red and the first thing I think to myself is that John Wakefield from Harper's Island is after me. After a deep breath I realize my contact must just have been bothering me or something. But I am concerned about how freaked out I was, maybe I should find myself a Harper's Island buddy.
Mutant Squirrel
Alright so I go to put gas in my car and I only have cash so I go to prepay. I walk in and tell the cashier that I'm the red car on pump number 6 and I hand him 5 dollars...to which he responds: "uh....oh, wait, do you want to prepay?" No, no I don't want to prepay, I just came in here and I really wanted to tell someone that I have a red car that is parked by pump number 6 and I was SO grateful that you listened to me that I decided that you deserved 5 dollars.
On a lighter note, as I left work today, a squirrel ran past and on second glance I stopped dead in my tracks for the squirrel looked like a mutant. It had a huge, tumor-like jaw and a second tale. This had also captured the attention of a guy passing by. We just looked at each other and then I asked him if he thought the squirrel was a mutant. He said he thought the squirrel had a dead baby squirrel in its mouth. Either way, I'm disturbed. The squirrel scenario up in State College is freaky. I sometimes think Jess Scuito was onto something when she would tell everyone that squirrels were plotting our demise and were going to take over the world, that they were saving up pennies and all that. This was clearly the logical explanation as to why a squirrel once grabbed her quarter that was on a nearby table. They're saving up!
On a lighter note, as I left work today, a squirrel ran past and on second glance I stopped dead in my tracks for the squirrel looked like a mutant. It had a huge, tumor-like jaw and a second tale. This had also captured the attention of a guy passing by. We just looked at each other and then I asked him if he thought the squirrel was a mutant. He said he thought the squirrel had a dead baby squirrel in its mouth. Either way, I'm disturbed. The squirrel scenario up in State College is freaky. I sometimes think Jess Scuito was onto something when she would tell everyone that squirrels were plotting our demise and were going to take over the world, that they were saving up pennies and all that. This was clearly the logical explanation as to why a squirrel once grabbed her quarter that was on a nearby table. They're saving up!
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