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Showing posts from 2009

Movies I have watched so many times I may now be embarassing myself

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Wow, it's been almost six weeks since I've posted here - but I have a good reason, and I'll write about that another time. Right now, I'm thinking about (as I put one of them into the DVD player) 10 movies I have watched so many times I begin to think I am demented. What is it about certain movies that makes you want to watch them over and over - when there are surely plenty of other movies you've never seen once that are worth seeing? Why would I invest yet another 2 hours in watching one I've already seen when there are both well-known and undiscovered masterpieces unviewed? I will ponder these questions as I make this list of ten (representative but not comprehensive) and maybe an answer will define itself. 1. O Brother Where Art Thou? Coen Brothers. George Clooney's funniest role ever. Kickass soundtrack. Who wouldn't want to watch it 17 times? Or 117 times? Enough said. 2. The Wizard of Oz OK so sure, I watched it a dozen times before I was 18 but

New pandemic: Inanity. Way worse than that hog fever

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AVOID SWINE FLU! DO NOT LICK PIGS!! Being the kind of guy who needs to feel plugged in all the time, I use Google Alerts to send me news stories about Napa. Back when I was on the radio every day, it seemed essential to have a fairly good idea of what the heck was going on around town, and ever since I started trying to know what's going on, people started expecting me to know what's going on, so now I actually need to know what's going on, or else I will let everyone down and I can't have that on my conscience. Expectation created, expectation pending, expectation must be fulfilled, or else I lose face. Tools like Google Alerts make it a lot easier to stay informed than it used to be (and a lot cheaper than using a clip service.) In my job with the City of Napa, then, I continue to try and have a clue most days. So my Google Alerts generate these emails that have headlines and a few sentences from online news stories. All of these stories have the word "Napa"

How I Survived a Chilling Three-Day Ordeal!

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Throughout the annals of history (and it is in the annals where all the best history happens) there have been many well-known stories of survival against the odds. The Israelites and their forty days in the wilderness - that soccer team whose plane crashed in the Andes and went cannibal - Dick Cheney toughing it out in his undisclosed-location bunker - all inspiring in their courage, fortitude and sheer will to live on! Nothing, however, can compare with the horrendous crisis from which I have just escaped... THREE DAYS WITHOUT FACEBOOK!!! That's right, my friends - three long, anxiety-wracked days and sleepless nights deprived of my social media of choice. A 72-hour soul-searching test of resolve. A gut-wrenching off-line stress-a-lapooza! How did I do it, you ask? Draw nigh and hear my tale of woe. It all started with an email. An email that looked fully bogus, in fact, telling me my account was disabled due to my violation of the FB terms of service. I'm sure you, like me,

Men are scum but Nick Hornby's ok and so is Glee

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This just in: TLC drops Jon and keeps Kate: TLC says the new show, which debuts November 2, will be "Kate Plus 8." Let me be frank here - I have never grasped the pleasure of watching these people try to manage their lives with 8 freaking kids running around. And the few times I accidentally glimpsed some of this "reality" show, it always seemed like mom and dad were barely tolerating each other. So it came as no surprise that this guy was getting some side action. I mean, even the most devout husband would be looking for any excuse to get out of the house that had 8 freaking kids running around with poopy diapers and snotty noses. Granted, he should have joined a fantasy football league or taken some night classes or something rather than go on the make, but there you go. Men are scum, we all know that. So now TLC can spin the whole thing into much more of a soap opera that it was before. I bet the ratings go through the roof if we have scenes of them yelling at ea

Because you never know

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"'In this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes." -Benjamin Franklin, 1789 Death and taxes. Inevitable. (How about death BY taxes? Some would say that's about to happen, too, but that sounds like the start of a political rant and I've lost all enthusiasm for those.) Funny that these two things we all know are so certain are the things we are so poorly prepared for most of the time. I mean, after all, you know you have to file by April 15 every year, and yet we still file extensions and fuss over it another six months. Human nature, I guess. And no surprise that so many of us shuffle off the mortal coil and leave it to others to pick up the pieces. When the eternal footman holds your coat, by the way, no extensions can be filed. Unless you have a really, really good CPA. I had my little glance at mortality a few months ago when I joined the melanoma club. Made me take notice of things left undone. And lately it seems like people are just g

A bunch of things I like

I haven't had any dog bites or bee stings, but for some random reason I feel like making a list of a few of my favorite things , in no particular order, and here she goes: 1. Almonds 2. When people laugh so out of control they snort 3. That first morning it smells like fall, or spring, or summer, or winter 4. Email 5. Manhattan (New York, not Kansas) 6. A long, heavy overcoat 7. When somebody drives one deep and everyone rises to their feet all at once 8. Sleeping with the fan on. And the TV. And hitting the snooze button a lot. 9. Reaching a par 5 in 2 (setting up a 4 putt) 10. Frank Capra movies 11. The sound of a cello 12. The memory of sneaking a look at a Playboy magazine as a kid 13. Fighter jets in formation 14. When little kids laugh so hard they lose all bodily control 15. Manzanita 16. Good pinot noir 17. Sondheim 18. The vegetarian burrito at Soda Canyon Store 19. Making people laugh 20. Buying a gift for someone I love 21. The first pass with a new razor blade 22. High

Because you really don't want to take your laptop into the john

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It was random but today I got an email (by mistake, I think) and someone sent me this news story with the headline: Newsstand sales of US magazines drop 12 percent NEW YORK (AP) -- Consumers are buying fewer magazines at newsstands given the deep recession and the availability of plenty of free reading material online. An industry group said Monday that single-copy sales tumbled 12 percent in the first half of this year compared with the same period in 2008. That followed a year-over-year decline of 11 percent during the second half of last year. Some group called the Audit Bureau of Circulations (and don't you wish you had THAT job!) gave out these numbers ...Cosmopolitan is still the most popular magazine at newsstands, though sales fell nearly 8 percent to 1.6 million. In overall circulation figures, Playboy and TV Guide Magazine fared the worst, down 9 percent and 10 percent, respectively. People magazine's circulation fell nearly 5 percent and Reader's Digest saw a

The Mindless, the Witless, and Jean-Paul Sartre

When I was a senior in college majoring in theatre, my directing class project was a play called "No Exit" by Jean-Paul Sartre . This was a precious choice, a choice fraught with meaning, because I needed so much to do something outrageous and avant garde and non-Midwestern. This was the choice of a pretentious young guy who wore 1940s suit coats from the Goodwill and smoked Gitanes and Russian cigs with gold tips and came within a hair's breadth of donning a beret on several occasions. So for making a statement, "No Exit" filled the bill. The play is about three people who find themselves in this - place - and gradually discover they are dead. (Kind of seems like a plot you've seen before, right? Like on "Twilight Zone" or something? But I think Sartre may have been first out of the gate with this setup.) There's a man and two women, and the man is tormented by the fact that one woman rejects him heterosexually and one rejects him homosexually

How the snooze button brings joy into my life and other thoughts on sleeping alone

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One of the most profound changes that occurs when you end a long term relationship is the sudden discovery that you are alone in the bed. This is assuming, naturally, that you slept in the same bed in the first place, and didn't have separate rooms, Rob and Laura Petrie twin beds, bunk beds, hammocks, or some other crazy arrangement (because married or otherwise partnered people who don't sleep together is just really weird to me.) And it assumes that you or your partner wasn't always on the road, passed out on the couch downstairs, or in jail most of the time. In other words, that you are used to having your SO (male, female, canine, feline, amphibian, whatever) in the bed with you a lot. And then suddenly you don't. Early in a relationship there's nothing better than slipping between the sheets with that wonderful person of apparently questionable judgement who wants to share the bed with you. Nothing better than whispering under the covers, a little tickling, thr

My two cents on the topic of online dating

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There's something really "special" about putting yourself out there for scrutiny in a public way. I do it in my job, I do it in this blog, I do it on Facebook, I do it as a performer - and in all those formats I am completely comfortable. Online dating, on the other hand, is different. You present yourself - not a character, not the "you" of your job, but your very own real self - and implicitly ask "Do you like me?" It is appallingly direct. When you pursue dates in more traditional ways, like hanging out in bars or clubs, you can always pretend you're not there for that reason, if you need to. "I'm just here with my friends, and I am not interested in dancing with you, thanks" - that's plausible in a bar. But once you show your face on a dating website, you're undeniably in the game, and you are undeniably seeking approval. I hate it. But crap, how the hell do you meet people otherwise? It seems like the thing to do these da

Our appalling progeny

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Taking note lately of how mortified young parents are of their children's behavior, and feeling compelled to say "it's ok, young parents." We've all had the opportunity to witness the fits thats little kids throw. In the line at Target, at a restaurant, parking lot, nursery school, or just in the living room when friends are visiting - there is no physical place that is off limits to the toddler. It's one of the blessings - and curses - of being that age. There are no limits, no dissembling, no "acceptable behaviors" - you might say the only time in our lives when we are truly, completely real and honest and expressive of our true self? The id in charge? "Looks like a good place and time for a tantrum!" they say to themselves, and the next thing you know it's a full-blown case of the crazies. I guess there are some people who continue to get all id as adults, but hell, you're supposed to have some self control when you're all gr

I hope I annoy you as much as you annoy me

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Many people are recipients of transient hateful juju from me in the course of daily life. There's the twit in the grocery line who waits until the clerk announces a total before they even begin to look for their wallet, surprised (again!) by the need to pay for the stuff. There are the hosers who can't figure out how a 4-way stop is supposed to work. And dimwits who talk in a movie theater like they're sitting in their living room. All these primitive forms of life get just a fleeting moment of being despicable to me. But there is a special category of annoyer for whom I generate hour upon hour of fresh brewed hatefulness - the person sitting next to me in an airplane. There must be no common life situation that creates more consistent dissatisfaction than air travel. Let's face it, every aspect of it sucks hard. Having to ride shuttle buses or return rental cars, schlepping bags around, worrying about your 3 ounce fluids, standing in the ticket line, standing in the se

The King is dead, long live the King

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OK, I just turned on the TV and Larry King is getting reactions to Michael Jackson's death by interviewing Jesse Jackson and Donna Summer. I mean, that puts it all in context, you know? I can't wait to hear who's next. Can I? OK, take two. This week, three celebs have passed on - Ed MacMahon, Farrah Fawcett and now Jacko. It's snarky to be rude to the dead, but if we're honest here, we're talking about three iconic pop culture figures who were sharing about 1.3 person's worth of talent. Ed McMahon was a lovable guy who's only real talent was being in the right place at the right time - that is, connected to Johnny Carson when Johnny hit the big time. And Farrah's biggest talent was the ability to grow a nice head of hair. Ok, she was a hottie in her time, and I had her poster on my wall like 92% of the rest of male America at that time, but she couldn't act, or sing, or dance her way out of the proverbial paper bag. She may have been, the least

How my vanity may have saved my life, or at least made it a lot better

Resolved: I am vain. I readily admit to being "excessively concerned of (my) own appearance." I have, for as long as I can remember, wanted to look good. Maybe being a kid who got called "fatty" when I was little contributes to placing an importance on looking good. Or maybe it's my general and ongoing need for approval. In any case, I am vain and I try to make myself look as good as I can. Resolved: I have a lot of moles. The brown spots on your skin, not the little varmints under the lawn. You can't choose the distribution of your pigment, so what are you going to do? But moles are more than just blips on the radar, they can be annoying to shave around, and as time passes they can get bigger or hairier or just sort of more noticeable in a negative way. All that said, a few weeks back I started noticing a small mole up near my left eye. It seemed to look different than it once did, and maybe a little inflamed. So being vain, I called up the dermatologist a

A-hole of the year nominee right here in Napa

This story by Mike Treleven appeared in the May 28, 2009 edition of the Napa Valley Regster... "Napa County jail is a far cry from the honeymoon suite at a tony wine country inn and spa. On Tuesday around  5 p.m., Napa County Sheriff’s deputies responded to a call of a fight behind the Villagio Inn & Spa in Yountville. A woman told deputies that she suffered a cut lip and bruising on her face in a fight with Sean Morris, 27, of Sarasota, Fla. Morris was booked into the Napa jail on suspicion of felony domestic battery. The couple was visiting the Napa Valley o n their honeymoon and had gotten married here on Saturday, according to the sheriff’s department." OK. Let's first clarify that there's nothing humorous about male on female violence. Or female on male violence. Or violence, period. That said... WTF? Dude, you have JUST been married. You have spent a fair piece of coin to have your honeymoon in Napa Valley. You have probably been enjoying some of the best s

How I have neglected my blog and the sadness that results

So jeez, I am feeling a little contrite because I have neglected this blog. Feeling a little like I have let an old friend fall by the wayside while I have been spending all my time with someone new.I even got needled by one of my (few) readers today - "Wow, no blog post since April 2!"  Feeling a little frivolous and superficial because my good old reliable Blogger blog here has fallen victim to my other time sucks - namely, Facebook, and of course, what I like to call "real life." Maintaining a blog is no simple task, my friend. Just mouse up there to the top of the screen, left of center, and start clicking on "Next blog." You will soon soon discover there are lots and lots people who start a blog, make two or three posts, and discover it's kind of demanding. (You'll also discover that about two-thirds of all the random blogs you'll see in the "next blog" mode are in Spanish, which I find strangely fascinating. ) Maybe those whose

The Straight Dope should get a Nobel or a Pulitzer or whatnot

I know it's kind of a cop out to make a blog entry that is just entirely referential like this, but it just struck me that "The Straight Dope" deserves some props. I get an email once in awhile with some SD teasers, and I almost always take a look. I mean, he/they have been at it for decades, answering the dumbest and cleverest of questions, and never losing the wit. Example: Dear Cecil: You may not think the following question is too cosmic, but let's face it, the topics you address in your column seldom are. How come some belly-buttons are "innies" and some are "outies"? — M.E.L., Los Angeles Now tell me honestly you aren't itching to know the answer? Okay, it's here.  SD originated in the Chicago Reader, one of those great free metro weeklies that are mostly ads and always have a nice snarky tone in their editorial content. (One of many things that make big cities more fun that small towns.) Over the years, "Cecil Adams" has de

What's the deal with hair, anyway?...

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Ever consider how much of your time and/or money you spend on hair? Hardly a day goes by you're not doing something to it, for it, about it, or with it - except on those days you can't do a thing with it. You got to trim it, comb it, brush it, shave it, shape it, smear something into it, wash something out of it, cover up the gray in it, curl it, straighten it, apply a chemical to make it grow, apply a chemical to make it fall out, or pluck it out by the roots. Ever stop to consider why we even have the stuff all over us in the first place? Most of your basic animals that have hair have it all over. If hair is there to keep your body warm enough, it makes sense to have it all over the place. Take a look at your dog. Unless he's got the mange, or he's neurotic and chewing himself raw, he's got hair all over the place. Wouldn't Rover look silly if all he had was a patch of hair on the top of his head and some tufts between his legs? And maybe a little strip of ha

Acting gay

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If someone told you to act like a gay man, what would you do? Chances are your first thought - if you are not, in fact, a gay man - has something to do with a limp wrist. Maybe you conjur up an image from a movie - Nathan Lane or Hank Azaria in Birdcage , perhaps, or some cabana boy character. Pretty easy to act like a gay man, right? I am cast as a gay man in a Neil Simon play called The Gingerbread Lady . (Start shameless self promotion)  Opens April 3, 2009 at Dreamweavers Theatre, Napa CA. Call 255-LIVE for tickets. (End shameless self promotion.)  This play was written in the early 1970s, almost 10 years before Harvey Milk started making history in San Francisco. There were not a lot of openly gay people portrayed in theater and films then, so I imagine it was a little bit outrageous at the time. The character even calls himself "a flaming queen" in one scene, and the dialogue certainly confirms that description.  So an easy part, right? Just "gay it up" real g

The Capitol of the World

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In about 24 hours I will get on a plane and shoot through the night and when morning comes I will be in the most exciting city in the world for me - New York, New York. A trip to New York means theater to me. My first two visits in the late 70s gave me the unquenchable memories of seeing an unknown young actor named Kevin Kline on stage with a Broadway legend John Cullum and an understudy, Judy Kaye, who would become a substantial presence in her own right. The show was "On the 20th Century," and I still remember the chill that ran through me when the orchestra kicked off the overture. I said to myself "I am seeing a Broadway musical!" Not bad for a hick kid from the sticks with a bad case of the theater bug. My mental scrapbook from that far-removed time includes recollections of being in the audience for Frank Langella's star turn as "Dracula," Blythe Danner (when she was known for more than being Gwyneth Paltrow's mom) in Pinter's "Betr

"Foul language" makes me laugh

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Note: The "dirty" words used in this post are only suitable for an "adult" audience. This, of course, is really silly, because anyone who was actually an adult wouldn't get nearly as many laughs out of the subject matter, so I don't know who this post is suitable for. Maybe you? Maybe no one. Most of my most crisp foul language just comes blurting out without any thought at all. In fact, if I ever stopped to think I probably would choose other, non-"dirty" words. But there is that moment where someone is just driving so stupidly, meandering all over their lane, or going 55 when every else is going 80 (ok, maybe it's just me that's going 80) and suddenly the word "dickwad" just comes flying out of my mouth. That happened the other day, and I got to thinking about the word "dickwad." An odd concoction, when you consider it. What exactly is a wad of dick? Likewise, "fuckwad." Hmmm. Urban Dictionary provides 3 defi

Money can't buy me love

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Somehow, somewhere in my ramblings on this blog, or maybe on some Facebook note, I gave someone the wrong impression. I hate it when I mis-communicate. I mean, that's what I do - I communicate for a living. So when I get it wrong, I feel bad. Or badly. A person who communicates for a living should know the grammar. Oh well. The problem, I am told by a friend, is that I wrote something about money. I think I may have said that I "needed more money." Unfortunately, someone has interpreted that as meaning that I don't think my job pays me enough money. Truth is, my job with the City of Napa is a very good job and I am lucky to have it. Truth is, my living situation has changed recently because I am now a separated person and because of choices I have made it now costs more money to continue living and cover all my obligations. Truth is, I need to find a way to make a little more money to cover all those obligations. That's all. So I am hoping to find some kind of wee