Archive for the 'cheese' Category

XLV choices

personally, I’m going for the Pack Attack.  NFC.

I really should get a Giants jersey.


if all the world were a stage

i’d be totally frenched.  see, i hate theatre.  well, not theatre, musicals.  and not just in theatres.  in the movies, too.  although i know that the venues in which movies are played are called theatres as well.  and the soundtracks.  everything.  EVERYTHING about it. 

even my generational imperative for love of nostalgia, real, manufactured and otherwise, has begun to fail the wizard of oz, grease and the sound of music.  those are the musicals i grew up on and so loved as part of my childhood.  at some point in the last ten years, i realized i may love them for what they meant to me at 6, 4, 8, i don’t actually like them.  i don’t want to see them. ever.  again. 

i was chuffed to play jan in PS 21s magnificent stage production of grease.  i LOVED, LOVED LOVED the Sound of Music Tour i went on during my first european backpacking tour.  it was spectacular.  you get to see all of salzburg- an astoundingly beautiful and friendly city, but you also go into the alps, have lunch in the village of st. gilgen, which contains the church from the movie, motzart’s familial roots and a mountain lake of the most incredible blue I have ever seen.  on the way back, you can even give an alpine slide a shot.  you sing the songs on the bus- ineveitably filled with australian, american, canadian and japanese tourists.  everyone knows how absurd the experience is-

oh, to experience the sublime while being completely aware of it…

Continue reading ‘if all the world were a stage’

they just keep tumbling along

maybe it’s because i’m from new york city, but this story tickles me pink.  also, i kind of secretly love tumbleweed.  seriously.  the name is awesomely literal, it’s random and it conjures up such specific iconography.

also, once, when i was driving across spain with friends, we saw tumbleweed all day.  the landscape kept changing- prarie, mountain, desert, forest, but the tumbleweed were constant. probably because the rain in spain does NOT fall on the plain.  and all five of us new yorkers were amused.  to cork it all off, we pulled to a stoplight in zaragoza and a tumbleweed as big as fiat tumbled in between our car and the equally sized compact full of spaniards and stopped at the light with us.  and when the light turned green?  it rolled right on.

buy some today!

Linda started her online business, the Prairie Tumbleweed Farm, as a joke. It was 1994 and she wanted to teach herself how to design a website. Since she lived on the prairie in southwest Kansas, where rolling tumbleweeds are sometimes the only dynamic feature of an endless flat horizon, she invented a farm that sold tumbleweeds, listing prices at $15 for a small one, $20 for a medium and $25 for large.

Lucky for her, some people didn’t get the joke. People emailed the site wanting to buy them. But even then Linda doubted she would be able to spin this straw into gold. “When I got an order I was just amazed,” she says, sitting on the porch of her home in Garden City, Kansas. “And each order I got, I thought it would probably be the last order. I remember thinking they would probably get them and send them back immediately as soon as they find out what they are.”

But that didn’t happen. In fact, the orders just kept coming — an average of 15 per week. Though she’s coy about her annual income from tumbleweed wrangling, she says it is over $40,000 a year. Not bad for a bunch of dead, dried-up weeds. Who buys them? Well, says Katz, rocket scientists, for one. NASA purchased tumbleweeds when they were designing their Mars Tumbleweed rover. “And if you go to their site on the NASA site to the tumbleweed rover, and you go to their links, they say that they only buy their tumbleweeds from Prairie Tumbleweed Farm,” Katz says proudly.

Hollywood has also come calling. Katz’s tumbleweeds have appeared in films like Johnny Depp’s “Neverland.” And she has supplied tumbleweeds to the big purple dinosaur kid’s show, “Barney.”

Katz says people usually use her tumbleweeds to recreate the look and feel of the old west for theme parties. But some customers tell her they buy tumbleweeds to remind them of the home on the prairie they left long ago.

does this make the gap cool now?


or is this what happens when actors have no lines to read?

pay the writers, dammit!

a woman’s heart is a deep ocean

that’s what i learned tonight, kids.  

i finally sucked it up and watched titanic with sunny d, settling our bet from the march madness brackets at long last.  i have to say, while it’s not the worst movie i’ve ever seen (i fully expect battlefield earth to hold that honor forever), it pretty much lived up to my expectations of cheesy dialogue and extremely predictable scenes.  in fact, the only thing i didn’t entirely expect was learning that guggenheim died on the boat. 

now, you might be saying to yourself, “Self, of course isosceles knew what would happen.  the overall story is well known and the movie was a mega blockbuster that everyone was talking about.”  fair enough on the first point.  but on the second, i really didn’t hear it.  mostly because i would stick my fingers in my ears and go “la alalala alal ala la la a la la la” until people stopped. 

what?  i never claimed to be the model of maturity.

anyway, mostly i was bored and irked at the fact that nobody seemed all that bothered by the cripplingly cold waters, until jack freezes to death at the end.  oops.  did i give that away?  isn’t it unbelievable? 

ok.  i have to admit that i did come close to tears at the end, but mostly because after looking at bill paxton’s earring, the superbad acting of the “old lady,” and the moment she throws the diamond away, i was saddened that kate winslet was a part of such a piece of, uh, mediocrity.

and then it happened.  i truly emotionally connected with the film.  rose dies an old, old lady in her bed, like she promised jack.  and that emotion was outrage.  i was as irate at this moment as when all the professors put their pens on russel crowe’s table at the end of a beautiful mind.  i keep hearing brian cox’s speech in adaptation that charlie kaufman attends, which he ends with “And God help you if you use voice-over in your work, my friends. God help you. That’s flaccid, sloppy writing. Any idiot can write a voice-over narration to explain the thoughts of a character.”

my final review: even if this movie was really, truly good, it would not be worth the eternal hell it has unleashed on the world via celine dion and her heart going on.

greenpoint, thy fate is sealed

edward scissorhands lives on and from the evidence i´ve seen in the past week, he´s located somewhere in the english midlands, perhaps pumping some water out of his personal salon at this very moment.

i will write more about the vortex of insanity that is the isla de tenerife, but i just wanted to let you all know that edward is alive, well, and apparently doing a bustling trade in england. 

that is the only logical and possible explanation for the haircuts we see daily.

there is much more to tell you, things that are sure to make all anglophiles throw up in their mouths just a little bit, but it will have to wait.  the kids disco starts in thirty minutes and i fully intend to get a good seat.

no.  i´m not kidding.


edward is actually a man named luis llongueras, a catalan hair cause celebre, and this is his baby. it was all over barca, too. i suspect it’s sweeping europe, though i need cs lewis to confirm. it may have made it’s way to the hipster set over here, but i haven’t been to brooklyn in over a month. in all seriousness, it wasn’t just one or two people, it was lots and lots of young girls in their teens and twenties.



and now for something completely different…

i am leaving tomorrow for a well earned and much needed ten day sojourn to the canary islands and the fine city of barcelona.  i’m so freaking out trying to get things done that i have yet to pack or even realize that i’m actually, really, truly going on vacation.  it’s been forever.

all that being said, i thought it might be an appropriate time to weigh in on the mid-season slum fest that is summer tv.  some highlights:

  • age of love (mondays, 9 pm, nbc).  the premise of this show is that mark phillipoussis, bachelor aussie tennis pro, is looking for love.  the diminutive husband of everyone’s favorite perky skeletal morning show hostess, mark consuelos has cooked up an interesting “experiment” for our love-lorn man from oz.  a bunch of hotter than they have any right to be “40 somethings” vie for his attentions against a group of generically implanted brain dead “20 somethings.”  ok.  this show is awful.  horrible.  train-wreck appointment television.  and yes, it’s on my dvr.  because every week i say i’m not going to watch it and then joel mchale serves me an incredible montage of nonsense that forces me to tune in.  BEST PART: the fact that the premise is drilled into your head every five to thirty seconds with voice overs, visual cues, symbols and text.  also, there’s a digerydoo nailed to the wall of mark’s bachelor pad.
  • rock of love with bret michaels (sunday, 9 pm, vh1).  don’t let the lack of flavor flav or new york get you down, kiddies!  vh1 goes back to the bottom of the cultural barrel to bring you a rock and roll version of flav’s quest for a “lady.”  tattoos, implants, drinking, cursing, cat fights and eyeliner abound.  despite my junior high love for ricky rockett and my new-found surreal life inspired love for cc deville, i have nothing for bret.  about all i can say for him is that he seems to make sense.  within his frame of logic of course.  HIGHLIGHT: the abuse of alcohol that precipitates subtitles, which are as filled with nonsense and ambiguity as the speech that inspires it.
  • scott baio is 45.. and single!  (sunday, 10 pm, vh1).  no, it’s not chachi in a house full of sluts vying for his attention.  it’s the documentation of scott’s journey to explore his fear of commitment including his hiring of a life coach, cutting off his girlfriend, guy time with his trio of buddies in LA (think entourage fast-forwarded twenty years), including wayne, the older brother from “the wonder years.”  he’s charming, fucked up, and the premise is interesting.  his coach makes him visit all his exes to figure out what went wrong (including his first.  none other than…. joanie!!!).  BEST PART: previews of him having to cut off his ‘turtle,’ the guy that can’t get laid without him, so sabotages scott’s attempts to better himself.  OR when he “bumps into” cliff howard at his agent’s office.  OR when turtle II tries to get said agent to book him a job.  OR when he calls henry winkler who answers the phone “scott baio, as i live and breathe…”  and all this on the first episode.  i have high hopes for this one.
  • World Series of Pop Culture (Tuesday, 9 pm, vh1).  simultaneously allows you the opportunity to frustrate yourself with how much you can’t remember and horrify yourself with how much you know about this shit.  i mourn that sunny d can’t participate because she works for viacom and that we were both turned down for who wants to be a millionaire pop culture edition, despite passing the written test (damn you, abc!).  BEST PART: an entire category dedicated to my boyfriend, alec baldwin.
  • the spelling bee/ don’t forget the lyrics (i don’t know and i don’t care).  another one of those pop cultural two-fers.  i’m not sure which is the chicken or which is the egg, but i do know that it matters not a bit.  one has joey fatone from n’ sync and the other one has wayne brady.  no, i’m not kidding.  satan’s come a-collecting, i guess.  BEST PART: the “final countdown” sequence that the soup has used to wonderful effect.
  • the closer (Monday, 9 pm, TNT).  the best show on summer tv, hands down.  for reals.  it’s interesting, well written, well acted and fun.  kyra sedgwick rocks wither her ridiculous outfits, clever ruses and pathological sweet tooth.  her character is probably the most fully realized female character ever to grace the small screen.  she’s not perfect and there are no apologies.  also, she has the HOTTEST boyfriend- an fbi agent named fritz (played by jon tenney).  he’s sexy, smart, and just puts up with her shit without being a lapdog.  also, it has j.jonah jameson (j.k. simmons) as her perturbed former lover/ boss, the security guard from mannequin and detective daniels- a black, not crazy version of angelina jolie.  BEST PART: did i mention fritz?

sidebar: for those of you who wonder what kind of tv floats bubba’s boat, it seems that the once and future president(s) tivo 24 and grey’s anatomy.  sunny d got to see the mrs. speak at viacom yesterday.  she said she was amazing.  and i said, finally, i’m investing in the right thing.  that’s right: hillary ’08.

blast from the past

do you guys remember this?  i think it only aired in the ny, nj, ct tri-state area, so the local yokels’ ears may perk up a bit.  for the rest of you, the beat may seem familiar as it is the basis for the busta rhymes song “dangerous,” from which he also took many of the lyrics.  apparently, he only realized it after the song had been released and hit the top of the charts.  he tried to do the right thing by the psa council, but they didn’t mind.  some accountant or something wrote it and i don’t think it was ever copyrighted.  

 lorla, this one’s for you:

ah, the power of cheese

i don’t mean the literal foodstuff, cheese, though that clearly has it’s wonders and its merits.  no, kids, i refer to the sociological type of cheese.  and the creme de la creme of this cultural curd is, of course, B horror movies.

i have been traveling to and from cleveland almost non stop for the past three weeks, following a two week sojourn abroad for successive, long trade shows.  i have had almost no time to eat well, exercise or even relax.  i have been working my tail off (lo, only figuratively.  the midwest spread is apparently contagious).  i have been in back to back meetings whether in new york or the cleve.  spend most of my meal times in meetings or airports.  putting out fires, struggling with the inconsistencies and holes in communication flow that a new company has in spades.

the upshot is:  i’m exhausted.  drained.  knackered.  fried.  broke down. jacked up. sleepy, add your synonym here.

quick examples:

last week i excused myself to go to the restroom at a local , well-patronized bar and opened the door to the bathroom.  for a good twenty seconds i stood staring at the urinal, knowing it signaled that something was off, but unable to process what, exactly, the issue was.  as i slowly backed up, i noticed the ubiquitous stick figure representing the male of the species next to (oddly enough) the word “Mens.”  this prompted an epiphany to which the only response was to sidle five feet to the left and enter the more accomodating “Ladies” room.

i wrote a poll on my fantasy baseball team website in which i spelled the word “threw” as “t-h-r-o-u-g-h.”  for those you who know my fastidiousness when it comes to spelling and proper usage of english (including being seriously uptight about their, there and they’re as well as to, too, and two, you’re and your. it’s and its), you know this is not a favorable indicator of my personal mental health.

finally, i was offered the opportunity to be part of two things that would normally bring me untold joy: a subway series baseball game with best friends and a ricky gervais show with other close and wonderful friends.  i have bailed on both to lay in my bed, exhausted, in physical pain strong enough to make me cry, feeling quite sorry for myself.

there is only one thing that can take my mind off this pathetic personal failing:  a well spent $3.95 for a grisly,sufficiently acted, clever death scenes B horror movie.  My nirvana, my escape, my personal Calgon.

to which, friends, i must return as the peace it gives me is quickly fading. 

so please, don’t mock, but embrace the so-bad-it’s-good gen x philosophy; it is a salve to soothe the shattered soul.**

ok, that’s somewhat melodramatic, but i was going for alliteration and my options were limited


“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”


Upon common theatres, indeed, the applause of the audience is of more importance to the actors than their own approbation. But upon the stage of life, while conscience claps, let the world hiss! On the contrary if conscience disapproves, the loudest applauses of the world are of little value - john adams
May 2018
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from the man who taught me everything:

“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”