Do This. Because I Said So.

Ah friends. These absences aren’t good for us. It’s not you, it’s me. And Vampire Wars. And car wrecks and illnesses and audits (oh my). Life keeps happening before I get a chance to check in…there’s so much I have to tell you…but today I’m here with a purpose (because I’d actually planned on being here two Fridays ago with a purpose but friends, I can’t drink like I used to. Well…I can, but the aftermath…and then the car wreck and the illness…but I digress). If you live in my region and you are looking for something to do this weekend, go see “Bug” at the Oakland.

“Why should I?” You might be asking. (Damn! You’ve gotten lippy haven’t you?…) Well friends, not only does “Bug” have blood and guts and craziness and violence? but there’s nudity! LIVE NUDITY! Plus, it’s really really good.
I don’t want to give too much away so I’m cutting and pasting the press release: “Set in a seedy hotel room, this thriller centers on the blossoming relationship between Agnes, a divorced waitress, and Peter, a soft spoken Gulf War drifter. Agnes stays at a hotel in hopes of avoiding her physically abusive ex-husband, Jerry, who was just released from prison. On top of that, there’s a hidden bug infestation problem that has both Agnes and Peter dealing with scathing welts and festering sores. Their fears soon escalate to paranoia, conspiracy theories, and twisted psychological motives.”

Now friends, there was a movie with Ashley Judd and Harry Connick Jr. but don’t hold that movie against the play because this play is brilliant. Allow me to elaborate. First, When you hear the name Agnes, it doesn’t generally bring a vision of porn star hot to your mind right? Well this Agnes is different. She is way hot and yeah you get to see her nudie parts but all hot nudiness aside? Aggie is the kind of character you can’t forget. The part is played by hot (sometimes naked) Terri Labedz and she is FREAKING STELLAR. She takes Ashley Judd’s cookie cutter performance and makes it so much more complex and fascinating. The whole time she is on stage, she makes this play her bitch.

Now the entire first scene is Terri by herself, so I was a bit dubious about Ron Aulet’s Peter being able to hold his own with her, but friends, he did. He first comes across as a timid puppy but as he and Aggie grow closer, he begins to communicate his studied but growing paranoia in a way that expresses a surprising inner fierceness. And let’s not forget Jerry (played by Oakland favorite Ric Panning), who captures every nuance of the abusive ex. He is deliciously creepy and sociopathic while almost unknowingly revealing an intensity of feeling towards Aggie that makes the audience understand why her non-verbals reflect her ambivalence even as she expresses such firm hatred towards him.

Did I mention my friend Dennick directed the play? I remember during one of our first conversations Dennick described good drama as building the audience tension slowly, while breaking it up with bits of comedy or even normalcy. He talked about how this process will make that big dramatic punch so much more powerful. And that’s what he did with this play friends. He toys with you until the very end. And it’s brilliant.

If you go? Make sure you ooh and ahhh over the set as a great deal of work went into achieving that special brand of cheapness we all come to expect in our low rent motel rooms. Also, keep your eyes open for my all-time favorite disturbing character actor. (who also happens to be my brother!) Jim Canacci offers an admirably unsettling portrayal of Peter’s doctor thus adding to the play’s ongoing mind-game with the audience. Finally, don’t be surprised if you have a bad case of the heebie jeebies soon after intermission. I pretty much found myself scratching for the entire second half of the play.

More press release details:

The show runs tonight (Thursday the 5th) tomorrow and Saturday at 8:00 pm. Tickets are $15 for adults, $12 for seniors 55 years and over, and $10 for students with valid ID. Group rates are also available for parties of 10 or more.

For reservations, please contact 330-746-0404. For additional information, cast photos, blogs and more, visit oaklandcenter.com. Also check myspace.com/oaklandcenter for special discounts.

Ok friends, I slept for exactly one hour last night so I’m going to try to sneak a nap in before alarms go off. I promise I will be more faithful. I’ve wanted to tell you about my disturbing dreams lately. Watching forensics shows and falling asleep to C-SPAN is starting to take its toll on my psyche (not to mention how alarming it is to wake up to a screaming Parliament. Who knew that Parliament was England’s answer to WWF?)

Spoiler Alert: I Still Have Both Feet.

It’s not that I don’t have stuff to tell you friends. I’m not even secretly addicted to a video game(for once). I just have not had the solid time to give you all the attention you deserve. It’s no excuse really…Just remember though, if you really need a crse fix, click the sidebar for my twitter link. Now, don’t get me wrong. I don’t think twitter is “better” than you or anything. It’s just quicker. Kind of like you are my betrothed and twitter is just a friend with benefits. I like to plan our time together, but I can just hook up with twitter when the bar closes. But today friends, I thought I’d post to tell you I’m turning over a new leaf.

I had a little health scare last week. My feet wouldn’t warm up one night and because I was in the throes of insomnia, I forgot that the problem could be related to tramping through snow in soggy shoes for ten hours (off and on of course) for the first time in ten days. (Because friends, much of my job involves cold sogginess in the winter). I decided I must have diabetes and that my feet were going to need cut off. Now loyal readers know my issue with having stumps (or as they are more delicately known, nubbins), and are probably aware of my fear of karmic retribution. Still, I don’t think I shared the shock of my most recent realization.

Let me preface the realization by making sure that we are all on the same page. Can we all agree that there are some people in the world that are fetchers and some that are fetchees? It’s best when the fetcher and the fetchee are together (like Gill and I). (Obviously, I am the fetchee.) I’ve always believed that karma would not allow me to be in a wheel chair because it always seems like folks who are in wheelchairs are fiercely independent and like to do everything for themselves. Since I’m only grudgingly independent, I figured that karma wouldn’t punish me in that way. Then, it happened. I met a person in a wheel-chair who was a textbook example of a fetchee. Just about the time I realized we couldn’t be friends because her fetchee status trumped mine and I was not about to become her fetcher (don’t judge me friends. We all have our character limitations, I just try to be more honest about mine on here), I realized that if a fetchee like her could end up in a wheelchair, well then so could I.

So back to last Tuesday night. I kept checking my feet in the bathroom and couldn’t decide if they were dark pink from squishing them to assess for numbness or because they were starting to turn black because of impending diabetes rot. (yes, that’s a little flash of my ignorance surrounding the disease) At one point, I noticed dark spots behind both my ankles. They almost looked like bruises but didn’t hurt. I was alarmed enough to want to wake up Gill to see if he had the same dark spots. I played that tape through and realized he would just yell at me and probably wouldn’t offer the extensive examination and reassurance that I was looking for. Instead, I got up and WebMDed the problem. Turns out there really is no such thing as diabetes rot, and after a brief thrombosis scare, I figured out it was probably just cold.

Yes indeed, the incident scared me friends. I’m changing my ways for real this time. Maybe that means I’ll blog more too!

Let Them Eat Paint

Of course I’m kidding. See…it’s a play on the myth of the Marie Antoinette quote. I feel compelled to explain my jokes now because (much to my dismay) it appears that I got blocked even from the unabridged SecretTweet site. Apparently, while it’s ok to tweet secrets about bearing children with your teen-age step-brother, stealing from your company, reveling in your drug addiction and cheating on your spouse without remorse, it’s not “appropriate” to share an extremely toned down wish to have Haitian house-servant kids. Even if you specify that you would treat them well. For the record, I’d like to state that if I’d had more than 140 characters at my disposal, I would have explained that I only mention the Haitians because of a recent Law & order episode depicting such a slavery ring as originating in Haiti. In reality, I am open to house-servant kids of all races, cultures and ethnicities. I like to think of myself as equal opportunity in this sense.

Yes, I know it’s “wrong” to want little house-servants to cater to my whims (hey let’s not be sick here, Im just talking about doing dishes and bringing me iced tea…maybe cooking and laundry once they get a little older…I would totally wait until they were adults before I introduced anything more …. personal) but is it seriously worse than bragging about knowingly giving random strangers herpes? Ahh but Ive digressed completely. I’ve also run out of time. Stay tuned for a complete report of our weekend home improvement adventures, courtesy of the Fabus. (Now is a good time to visit the cast of characters if you don’t know the Fabus. They will play prominently in my next installment).

Until then, I have two shout outs.
1. My RT friend and fellow twitter buddy Buff just started blogging so go visit her. She’s outspoken, funny and thoughtful. Check out her recent post about dog birthday parties.
2. Any twitter followers here? If so, it’s a little known fact that Madame Fabu twitters too. See her link on my sidebar.

Because it’s still Monday somewhere. I think.

Ah friends, it’s not you. It’s me. I think I have something chronic that sucks all my energy away. I mean besides the Turnip. Anyway, the gloriously revered Madame Fabu bestowed a tremendous favor upon me yesterday (saving me at least two hours and sizable grief and anxiety out of my day) so I promised I’d blog for her pleasure.

Speaking of the turnip. Project normal sleep pattern is a colossal FAIL. I was lying to myself and saying it was just the weekend that threw him off until he woke me up at 1am today by poking me with the laser tag gun saying “You took my teddy, Now me goings shoot you.” and laughing maniacally.

I confess I did not watch the Golden Globes. I don’t usually watch those shows (except for the Oscars which is more about socializing with my cousin litchick and our friends Sherman and Ray. Sherm, if you are reading this, I’m still committed to our Oscar musical number involving Winnie the Pooh characters on ice. I think we are onto something groundbreaking with it…). However, the post-Golden Globe buzz on twitter (ok pretty much since i only follow a handful of people, the buzz consisted of twitters from my cyber-stalkee Trelvix and my beloved Lucy) indicated that Mickey Rourke was not the hip happenin’ comeback kid that the IMDB has been implying as of late (I think Trelvix best captured the essence of what’s become of the man with “I took a crap and Mickey Rourke was in it. I wrote the part for Nicolas Cage but we could never agree on a believable toupée for the turd.” and “This probably won’t come up but – just in case – my safe word for today is “Mangina O’Rourke”)

Friends, I’m embarrassed to admit this but The Crseum is nothing if not about full disclosure (when I feel like disclosing that is). I had a horrible crush on Mickey Rourke back in the day. “But Crse! He’s hideous!” you are probably exclaiming right now. True dat, gentle readers, and for those of you younger folks, don’t bother google imaging him. He’s always been hideous. But by unfortunate chance, I happened to become sexually aware about the time the movie “9 1/2 weeks” came out. I won’t go into graphic details about how the movie played into my first disturbing forays into sexual experimentation (in the context of a relationship that should have probably ended with me pressing charges but that’s neither here nor there) but I will say this; I thought the movie was so hot at the time that the male lead could have been played by a plastic faced clownish looking man and it still would have been hot (oh wait, it was played by that guy…).

I could blame the crush entirely on 9.5 weeks, but then friends? Then came my next phase of sexual identity development. As summed up in the movie “Barfly”. Because where does a healthy red-blooded American girl go after being psycho-sexually manipulated? How the hell would I know where she goes? My particular brand of dysfunction, however, led me directly to the brilliant and witty, yet completely falling apart and emotionally unavailable alcoholic. In my defense friends, it was “what we did” in my social circle (Can I get a whoo-whoo on this Luckybuzz? Lainie? Roxie? ) My friends and I, we all had our Charles Bukowskis back in the day. Different ones for the most part. (Friends familiar with My Town know that there is no shortage of underachieving brilliance wrapped up in hot little packages of self-loathing here in my city and surrounding burbs.) Anyway, at the time, I saw absolutely no correlation between my romantic choices and the way Mickey Rourke still managed to look (in my opinion) sexy and piss-stained all at once. I went through an absolute “Barfly” phase friends. I could recite Faye Dunaway’s lines ad nauseum. (And “fortunately” for Luckybuzz, I did).

Mickey Rourke dropped off the radar about the time I met Gill. Ah friends, we did try to bring him into the relationship. We rented “Wild Orchids” and “Angel Heart” (and Lucy I agree, Lisa Bonet did indeed carry him in that film!) and Im sure we “enjoyed” them both. Still, he had no context in our world. We were getting married, he was being arrested for spousal abuse. We were pursuing educations, he was making direct to video films. We were raising our little family, he was being arrested for DUIs. Now, when I look at Mickey Rourke, all I see that turdish mangina as described by M. Trelvix.

I guess you could say that I was lucky he did fade lest I find another repugnant character of his to model my sexual ideals after, thus missing out on my chance at a (relatively) sane happily ever after with Gill. I don’t see it like that however. In fact, the megalomaniac in me can’t help but wonder if somehow my withdrawal of devotion ultimately did lead to the trainwreck he called a career (and let’s face it, personal life) in the 90s. You know, like the butterfly effect? Of course, we’ll never know but in any case? You are welcome for that America.

Anyway, it’s time to face the day. I still mean to blog about my CPR class last week. Because it’s not often I get to watch a large woman wearing far too much yellow feel herself up in front of a room full of people after snubbing me repeatedly only to realize that ultimately she had a girl-crush on me the whole time. Oh yes friends, I still haz it….

Keepin’ It Real Here At The Crseum

So I had the realization yesterday that my attempt to get away from random dashes has slowed my blogging way down. And after that, I had the realization that it’s my damn blog! What’s wrong with random dashes anyway? You people don’t need paragraphs to keep you happy right? I didn’t think so. All right then. Let’s just put this whole experiment behind us and move on. No blame no shame.

– I’m happy to report that we may have successfully retrained the Turnip to sleep through the night. I’m not offering details of our methods publicly but I will say that they are…..legal. Right now, I’m trying to keep him awake until at least 8pm. I feel kind of bad but also kind of tempted to engage in some brainwashing. Nothing evil of course, just a few repetitions of “I like to listen to my Mommy” or “I like to do what Mommy tells me to do.” Maybe flash some pictures of him getting buckled in his car seat smiling as opposed to throwing punches and requiring significant physical restraint. Of course, much like the Sasquatch or the Yedi, there have been few sitings of this particular phenomenon and none captured on film.

– I saw the short overweight obnoxious guy with the large man-boobs from last summer’s soccer clinic tonight at Norm’s dance class. Gentle readers will be happy to hear that I controlled my impulse to kick him in his soft fleshy parts. I would like to pretend I did so because I am a mature adult. In truth, I simply couldn’t bear the idea of an impotent tennis shoe kick when I was so close to so many kids in tap shoes. Had I been wearing tap shoes myself? Id have contused his ass. (Or some part of him anyway).

– I went to the doctor today. The good news is that I lost two pounds since April (I know it’s not much but considering my personal habits, it’s cause to marvel) The bad news is that I may be shrinking. I don’t know how such a thing could happen to a cheese-lover like myself but friends, I am alarmed. Still, Im probably ok with the possibility that the two pounds came off my height.

Ok I have to go “play guys” with the turnip. Long Live the Random Dash!

–

Dusting Out The Cobwebs

Ok friends. I can spend the next paragraph making lame excuses about where I’ve been but we are better than that, aren’t we? Truth be told, I didn’t have writer’s block, I haven’t been horribly busy and nothing is so bitterly wrong that I can’t bring myself to write. Well, at least since Christmas, anyway. I did get a new MP3 player and some books I really wanted…..chuzzle has been keeping me kind of busy….maybe I should stick with lame excuses…

New Year’s Resolutions? Why yes I do have them. For the record, I decided that I wasn’t going to work on them until today. Because realistically? Who starts working on themselves on a Thursday right? If ever there’s a day I stop trying friends? it is Thursday. Here they are:

1. Wear slippers more frequently. I got a pair from my friend Shakes in the work gift exchange and also ended up with a pair of pink furry mules over Christmas week. My feet get cold. It’s clearly a sign.
2. Stop being sucked into every “as seen on tv” ad. I didn’t come up with this one until yesterday. A commercial for blendy-pens came on and Norm snorted. “Remember what a rip-off those were mom?” Ouch. “Just like the snuggies” he added. I said ouch sir! Ah but he is right. So despite the fact that Gill is mesmerized by the Big City Slider Station and we both are convinced that the Shamwow* would change our lives forever,* I resolve to keep Gill’s credit card numbers in my pants. At least until February. Or until I see something I’m sure will better our family as a whole (you know, like those bags that keep your food fresh for a miraculously long time?)
3. Listen to reason. As I was sharing this last resolution with Gill, we discussed the relative merits of the snuggies. I told him that I’d really like an electric blanket. “Absolutely not,” he declared adamantly. “Someone who surrounds herself with as many beverages as you do cannot afford to be as clumsy as you are around an electric blanket.” But I’ll be really careful! “Or you’ll be dead within the week”. Touche Gill. Touche.

I’ve got other ones, including (but not limited to) using apostrophes more consistently, releasing myself from the bitch servitude of my three year old, and improving my television viewing options both by broadening my scope of preferred shows and by using the DVR more efficiently. You will note I am not resolving to blog more. I don’t want to pressure myself too much, but I do hope that happens anyway. How realistic are these goals? I guess we will have to wait and see. Happy New Year either way, gentle readers.

*Shamwow awkward moment of Christmas Our friend Dennick was relating a story to Gill and me about gift disappointment when he used this metaphor: “So I expected to get something really personal and ended up with a Shamwow”. Apparently, our faces must have registered our belief that the Shamwow would be the ultimate gift, because Dennick got a pained awkward look on his face, like we both farted at once. Or told him we were swingers with a penchant for elderly flabby people. He backed away from the simile tactfully. “Ok maybe not like a shamwow”. I immediately recognized our faux pas, and told him I knew exactly what he meant. Gill, however, being the socially astute people reader that he is, was not deterred and launched into a detailed defense of the shamwow. I tried to counter his tribute with a half-hearted “I’m sure it’s not as good as they say it is” but I didn’t even believe myself. I guess it showed because Dennick left soon afterward.

Things I’ve Learned This Week

– If I fall asleep with CSPAN on, I have hot politically charged sex dreams. If I fall asleep to the History Channel, I dream about being socially “stuck” spending time with a lunatic who is pressuring me into buying the “state” coins. The worst part of last night’s dream involved Gill offering to buy half the states and a storage box to shut the guy up while I frantically (but unsuccessfully) tried to signal him not to make the purchase.

– Apparently, our “village” has a leaf law. (Is anybody surprised that we were found in violation of said law?) I still don’t understand what bad choices I made in life that got me to the point where I live in a place that is pretentious enough both to call itself a “village” and to have a leaf law.

-Speaking of bad choices, may I mention that I just got schooled by my six year old? When I referred to his classmate as a pain in the ass he agreed but then added, “Maybe instead of that you could say bohookey or hindquarters”.

– Turns out fathead.com is not a gag after all. It is a genuine company that sells life size wall stickies. I’m a little pissed because it does seem to be gender biased. I did find a life sized Zac Efron however. No need to judge friends. Remember our talk about the difference between embarrassing and illegal? In real life he’s 21.

Well friends, that’s all I got this morning. Except a notice that I’m changing the format of the Crsees. From now on, in hopes of alleviating some of the brutal competition that’s been surrounding the event, I’m just adding random Crsees to the bottom of my posts. Today’s random Crsee?

The “If I Lived An Alternate Life” site: Jackassletters.com is living the crseum dream. Friends, he wrote a letter to toys r us requesting “Adults Only” night. Now that, gentle readers, is Pure Crsee.

What doesn’t kill us….

Bedtime games I never wanted to play:

– Extreme “guys” fight club. (For those not schooled in our newfound family past time, the only way I know to describe “guys” is to ask you to imagine playing “house” with any number of assorted creatures or animals the turnip can gather into his “family of friends”.) This particular version of the game involves standing over prone adult and screaming “fight” with the creature of choice in hand and then jumping into the air and diving onto said prone adult.

– Group family pile time. I especially hate waking up to hear the call for this game come from right above my head.

– Humpback Whale. This is similar to extreme “guys” fight club except the prone adult is supposed to pretend to be a humpback whale as the perp participant dives with a stuffed orca in hand. Sometime “go deggo go rescue da whale” is shouted during this game.

– Champion. This is a particularly unpleasant game in which the “champion” begins by bursting into the room (where the other player(s) may or may not be asleep) and hopping onto the bed screaming DANCE DANCE DANCE in a strangely horrified voice. The non-champs wake up to feel the “champion’ run across the bed repeatedly paying no heed to obstacles such as hair, faces and body parts. When the “champion” realizes he has achieved optimal disruption, he then chants “Me winned” over and over again while continuing to amass physical damage to the other players.

I know I should lock the bedroom door but then Id also miss out on the chance to play “scientist says”. That phrase alone was worth all the bruised tender fleshy parts….

Insomniacal Mind Wandering.

Well friends, I slept for 2.5 hours last night so you know what that means! Another exciting edition of crse’s insomnia thinking!

1. Staple removers are pretty darn amazing when you think about it. I could say more….but I don’t want to take anything from you gentle readers. Go ahead, just take a minute and think about the staple remover….pretty darn amazing eh?

2. Arrogant people piss me off. I mean really piss me off. This dwelling was based on an experience last night in which my integrity was questioned (ok perhaps that’s a bit dramatic, but the identified behavior was notably dickish) by an arrogant person. Who was drunk. Can I just add that as a rule? One’s position on the high horse is diminished notably when one use the c word to a professional regarding another professional. (No he did not mean “c is for crse”, but fortunately nor did he direct the word at me personally)

3. I really hate plot holes. And false set ups in my shows. Like when someone is foreshadowed to be a complete psycho (or at least really interesting) and they end up getting killed. Or worse, being a “good” person.

4. If Chinese restaurants didn’t have unappetizing seafood items located in alarming places throughout the buffets (e.g. some chewed up looking spew stuffed into clam shells between the strawberry bananas and the lime jello) I would not be so resistant to them. Oh and if they didn’t have a funky smell and if it wasn’t against the restaurant code to be polite to patrons. That might help too….

5. Did I chase away the guest(s) of honor from our party last week with my drunken rant about gimp awareness?

6. Im so thrilled that the Turnip finally proposed! (did I mention?) Ive waited a year for this. Just think, only a month ago he was calling hugs and kisses “mean and wude and nasty nasty nasty” and then out of the blue on Sunday, he tells the family he wants to marry me! Don’t you judge me people. He has a future therapy savings account.

7. Ben 10’s grandpa is kind of a passive-aggressive dick about food prep, I think. Seriously, he is at least 60 and these are his grandkids right? So why does he insist on acting like live squid is ok to serve? They are like 12 years old you selfish ass. Would it kill you to grab some tofudogs?

Yeah, I went with the numbered format this time. I like to shake it up for you folks every once in a while. You’re welcome….

Recovery

So we had the official ugly season kickoff on friday. Because readers have been mentioning how confusing my cast of characters can get and because Im fairly certain folks want to remain anonymous, I won’t name my co-conspirators in ugliness. I will say that furniture was broken, puking happened and confessions were abound. (Note to self: In the future, I will remember that “never have I ever” is simply a drinking game and not a legal proceeding with penalties of perjury on the line if I don’t admit every major felony or sexual peccadillo to the group). Still our hosts lived up to their reputation of throwing the best parties in the tri-state area. It was truly like a “hall of fame game” kick off to the season.

Why do you call it the “ugly season” crse? Friends sometimes ask. Well, that’s a lie. Most of my friends have been victimized by my ugly season enough not to have to ask. Unfortunately. While I am proud to say that I myself did not break furniture (I don’t think) or puke (although I wish I had), it did indeed get ugly. And remained ugly. To the point that Ive eaten little more than handfuls of nuts and candy all weekend long because I barely got out of bed until this morning. (In my defense, I spent most of saturday with my throat almost swollen shut and was convinced I had strep until it got better on its own) And now have a sore back. Which means i am struggling to wipe my ass when I poop. Which is of course…ugly. The bright side of this is that I didn’t poop all weekend long because of above mentioned diet. (Speaking of poop, did I mention my friend has a new blog? It’s called poodiaries and makes me laugh hysterically. You have to scroll down to see the newer stuff. She is struggling with the weebles site.) And since we are being positive, the bright side of the poop wipe struggle is that I got my first shower all weekend too. Ugly? I call this win-win friends!

Anyway, the season will continue this weekend although I hope to blog before then. (Im trying to be a better blogizen friends). But I do have an announcement. If you are in my town and were extremely crushed by the fact that you won’t get to see How The Drag Queen Stole Christmas, they’ve added an extra show!
In fact,to quote Dennick directly, you may want to attend “even if you’ve already seen this year’s show. You NEVER KNOW what’s going to come out of these queens mouths after midnight…or what will go in.” Of course, you need to make reservations so go here for more information.