Monthly Archives: August 2005

Reason #438907 not to live in a trailer

Hurricanes. And other high-freakin-wind phenomena.

What did we do to piss off the sea gods? I mean they really hate us over here. Florida and the Gulf coast must’ve done something to really piss them off.

Katrina. What a bitch. Now you’re hearing Katrina being compared with Camille. I’m just glad I know what activated charcoal is. Uh huh.

When Dennis came through with much ado about nothing (here anyway), we scurried out of our trailer and got a room on campus. It was inconvenient but we thought it would be better to be safe than sorry. So now comes Katrina and I’m all Let’s just stay at home, ain’t nothing gonna happen. Ya know, typical man thinking. M. is all No way, we’re boarding the animals and getting a room. Looks like we’re getting a room for tomorrow night.

I do feel for New Orleans though. That city may never fully recover if it hits as bad as the talking heads think it will. My main worry about that is lack of new Girls Gone Wild Mardi Gras videos. If the French Quarter is wiped out, where will all the drunken cavorting and debauchery of girls who are willing to flash their boobs for cheap beads going to gather for the video camera? That will be truly sad.

If you are in the path of this thing, please be careful.

I wouldn’t want to lose any of my five or six readers.

Bombs Away!!11!

Our homework from Thursday’s class was to bring a joke to class today. We were to have the joke up to the funny part written on one side of the paper or index card and the punch line on the opposite side. I can handle homework like this, says I.

So I found a couple of jokes online and printed them out. I left plenty of white space before the punch line and folded the paper over.

When we got to class, we passed all the jokes to one end (we were sitting on the front row in the theater) and the person on the end passed them back out making sure that one didn’t get one’s own joke but someone else’s joke.

Then the instructor called out names at random and you had to go up on stage and read the joke. Pretty simple, right? You just had to read the joke. Whatever was on the paper.

Well anyway, he called my name out and I went up on stage to read the stellar joke that had been handed to me.

I walked purposefully up the stairs, walked to the center of the stage and smartly turned towards the audience. I cleared my throat and read.

How did disco die?

I raised my eyebrow questioningly at the class, flipped the paper over then turned it right side up.

Wait for it…

In the disco Inferno

Woohoo.

I casually walked off stage and mentioned that they had just witnessed Comedy Gold.

Back in my seat, I eagerly awaited when some poor unsuspecting fool would get on stage and read my joke. Oh little did they know how it would kill. I imagined heads tossed back as laughter floated up to the rafters and tears flowed down their happy shining faces, each person trying to catch their breath but they couldn’t because the joke was just too funny.

Here’s the joke:

A taxi passenger tapped the driver on the shoulder to ask him something. The driver screamed, lost control of the car, nearly hit a bus, went up on the footpath, and stopped inches from a shop window.

For a second everything went quiet in the cab, then the driver said “Look man, don’t ever do that again. You scared the daylights out of me!”

The passenger apologized and said he didn’t realize that a little tap could scare him so much.

The driver replied “Sorry, it’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver – I’ve been driving hearses for the last 25 years.”

See? Funnay. To the max.

Anyway, after several more people went, a guy went up on stage with my joke and when he got to the punch line after speeding through the first part with, albeit some enthusiasm, but too fast to be clearly understood in my opinion, he said this:

The driver replied “Sorry, it’s not really your fault. Today is my first day as a cab driver – I’ve been driving horses for the last 25 years

Cricket. Cricket.

Of course, it made no sense and was totally not funnay. I put my hand up to the side of my mouth and prompted Hearses. What? Oh, hearses. People are like What? What was the punch line? Oh, hearses, ha, that is funny.

Not quite the pandemonium of cackles and guffaws I had hoped for.

The guy says I thought it was a typo and was supposed to be horses so I said that instead. What?! Just Read The Joke. That makes absolutely no sense. I don’t think anyway, maybe there’s a joke in there somewhere but not the one I intended to have people Rolling On The Floor Laughing Their Asses Off. He’s like, Oh hearses, I get it. Huh huh.

Can I get a Duh? What about in the balcony, can I get a Duh? Amen, thank you.

Well the exercise was not about how funny or not the jokes were, it was about presentation. Some tried to make the joke funny even if it was not and others knew the joke was bad so they didn’t try.

The point is, when you are on stage, all eyes are on you, so you’ve got to make the audience believe in what you are saying or doing. Otherwise you break the suspension of disbelief.

And then you get beaten backstage with mackerel.

Yeah.

Tales From The Trailer Park

Well, it’s that time of year again. A time when little Timmy wanders around the trailer park with nothing on but his dirty little underwear. And you’re a bit surprised when you step out to go to work in the morning and see little Timmy squatting in your flower bed, digging down in the dirt with his little precious arm buried up to his sweet little elbow in your eight-dollar-a-bag soil looking for “fishinbait fore his paw.” Ain’t. that. cute.

Yes, it’s a time when the mullets venture out of doors baring their chest (and back) fur. They’re always doing something under that 1973 single wide Cavalier mobile home of theirs. Maybe a bit of a plumbing issue to correct? One can only hope.

Of course, you nod politely on your way to the car if they notice you and you hope to god that they don’t. It’s possible that they’d want your opinion as to what in the world is that funny looking fuzzy growth all up under their home. Well, one, you don’t like to look under your own home because it reminds you that yes, you made a poor decision years ago and you live in a home that was pulled, fully constructed, down the county road from a sales lot next to the Wal*Marts and then leveled and set up on bricks. And two, you sure as heck ain’t going to look under someone else’s home that may or may not have 3 and a quarter generations of the same family (which you suspect the family tree does not fork. much.) living in it.

Ah summer! The season of the very small plastic kiddie pools in yards all across the trailer parks of America. And maybe Earl will finally work on that junker car he towed into the park 8 years ago with hopes of restoring it and having him a sweet ride to take down to the river on weekends.

Southpaw, Natural Lite and other fine beers, once enjoyed on a sweltering summer night, their empty carcasses have now been discarded without care in yards and strewn into the road. Women, a banana clip, not seen in stores since 1986, in their hair and with a youngun on their hip, talk to friends on the phone about their eczema and the day’s episode of Ricky Lake. Honey, you better believe I’d know if my man was dressing up like a shellfish and meeting other crustacean-dresser-uppers for some weird hanky-panky. He couldn’t hide that from me. I keep my eye on him, I know everything he does, sister.

Oh glorious Mississippi humidity. Seeing the pit stains on your neighbor’s “You might be a Nascar-lovin-redneck if…” shirt (if he’s even wearing a shirt) is enough to make you stay inside all weekend with the AC set to 33. Just looking out the window coats your body in a lovely sheen of sweat.

Dogs, cats and other unidentified furry animals scurry under and around your car, being sure to leave their piss mark on your tires and their poop in your yard, preferably in the flower bed or the walk way to the porch where you just might step in it.

But it’s not without some good points. There’s always some entertaining drama going on and you can listen in on it because the trailers are so close together and you can hear everything going on next door just by sitting on your couch with the TV turned down low.

Well, like the time Jerry Dan found a full grown raccoon in the garbage dumpster and knocked it out with a shovel. He thought it would make a good pet so he brought it home to show Linda Sue. She was not thrilled with the idea of a pet raccoon and she told Jerry Dan so. He argued that it was a cute little critter and that he heard you could train them to fetch you a beer out of the refrigerator and stuff like that. They went round and round about it and we heard them stamping to and fro all the while yelling at each other.

But that noise didn’t hold a candle to the absolute ruckus that raccoon created when he came to. If you thought Linda Sue wasn’t happy about having a raccoon in the house, well ol’ Mr. ‘Coon was extremely upset at having his dinner interrupted and then waking up in a slightly-larger-than-average shoe box with a wicked-huge headache. The raccoon tore the ever-living hell out of Jerry Dan, Linda Sue and their impressive collection of Nascar nesting dolls before he escaped out the door and to freedom.

We could’ve heard that racket with the TV and radio all the way up to eleven.

Sigh.

That’s how it is ’round here in Tales From The Trailer Park.

17 minutes with Mr. KaryHead

And action.

The acting class looks to be totally cool. I’m looking forward to it this semester. We had a good class today, the instructor was fast-paced, entertaining and we even learned some stuff on the first day. I don’t think falling asleep in class will be an issue.

I volunteered to participate in an exercise and I think I sucked. I kept coming up with ways that I could’ve done it better all day. Oh well, there will be future opportunities.

Story.

Billy didn’t like Sally. In fact, he loathed her. So much that he felt slightly nauseous at the sight of her. It was fortunate though because Sally had very similar feelings about Billy. At least they tried to avoid each other. But it wasn’t so easy.

They had lived next door to one another for their entire lives. Their parents were always dropping one of them off at the other’s house for cheap babysitting. Those were terrible times. Sometimes one of the parents would plan activities for them to do together. Absolutely horrid and emotional scarring was a sure thing.

So one day Billy decided he’d had all he could take of Sally.

Wait, I didn’t tell you about why Billy and Sally hated each other. Well, this is a family show and I can’t go into it.

So one day Billy decided he’d had all he could take of Sally. Unbeknownst to Billy, Sally had been having thoughts along the same lines. Sally’s parents needed to run errands for a few hours and dropped her off so Billy’s parents could keep an eye on her. Also they assumed Billy and Sally enjoyed spending time together.

When Sally’s parents dropped her off, Billy had his plan all laid out. After his parents would turn on a video for the kids as they usually did, Billy would spring into action. Unfortunately for Billy, Sally had plans of her own.

Whoops, times up. I had no idea where that was going anyways. I was just writing as it came out.

Actually, it’s a pass along story. Yeah, that’s the ticket. I was planning this all along. So the first person in the comments write the next part of the story. As little or as much as you want and then the second person add on to the first person’s comment and so on and so forth. Or just write your own ending to the story of Billy and Sally and ignore what other people have posted. I don’t really care if you play pass along or not.

Maybe no one will post anything and that’s fine but maybe, just maybe whoever writes the best segment or story (the one that makes me laugh the most. Or maybe some other criteria that I come up with) will win a prize. Possibly a sweet prize. Something that has been featured here on IMKH before.

Yo sound the bells school is in sucker

can’t touch this. Haha. Best. song. evar.

Eh, not really. But that line is relevant. For I, Kary D. Rogers, am going back to school tomorrow.

For what purpose? you ask. What upper-level degree are you pursuing? you wonder. Pshaw. I ain’t doin’ none o’ that.

After 4 years of undergrad (yes, I finished in exactly 4 years) I decided then and there I wished to take it no further. Nossiree, no master’s degree for me.

The class that I have signed up for is CO 2503 – Acting. And since I am an employee of the university, it’s free. Gratis. Pretty sweet, huh?

I figured since I’m interested in acting slash performing, I might as well take the class. I’ve talked to plenty of people who know and they all agree it’d be a good thing to do since it’s free. I’ve gotten a pretty good feel for the professor after talking to these unnamed knowledgeable people. I have corresponded with said professor via email to let her know that I am interested in taking the class. And that due to the nature of my job, sometimes I would not be able to make it but that doesn’t mean that I’m slacking or not putting forth any effort.

Then, while I was waiting on my enrollment paperwork to go through the admissions office, which took for-freakin’-ever, the class filled up.

Drat. Yes, that was it. That was the word that went through my noggin at that moment. Drat.

But the ol’ prof said she could squeeze me in. I guess I’m special or something.

I checked a few weeks later and someone must’ve dropped the class ’cause there was one seat available. Yippee. Also the instructor had changed. The name next to the class was different. So I IMDB’ed him. I feel pretty sure that’s him. I also found this and this. Don’t know if those are him or not. Time will tell my fair readers.

So I finally got my paperwork all in order and was ready to register for the class. Of course, the registration web page was down.

What?! Nobody informed me and I work with the people responsible for the registration system. What we have here is a failure to communicate or something.

On Monday, I see that the registration page is back up. I go to register and the. class. is. full.

Drat. No, really. DRAT.

Anyway, I checked again last night and there were two spots available. Apparently some suckers decided to drop the class. They probably got my threatening voice mail.

So I’m all signed up and ready for class which begins tomorrow.

I’ll prolly be so excited tonight that I won’t be able to sleep. I’ll get up two hours before the alarm goes off, iron my shirt and pants (actually I’ll wake up M. to do it for me cause me and the iron do not get along), I’ll pack my lunch and then sit on the couch until it’s time to go.

Of course then I’ll revert back to my college ways and fall asleep in class.

The Rhubarb Tour

Garrison Keillor is tha man. Fo’ real yo. He gets +5 Awesome Points right off the bat because he came out in a suit, red tie and….red freakin’ sneakers. They looked like Sauconys but it was hard to tell from the second to last row of the coliseum. And, and he had red socks on. The man is 63 years old. He rocks.

Please tell me you know who I’m talking about. Garrison Keillor? A Prairie Home Companion? NPR? Hello?

Good.

Anyway, he’s an amazing story teller, singer and all around entertainer. He had you laughing one moment at the Catsup Advisory Board segment and crying the next with a song about Shep the family dog that died.

Fred Newman. And I thought my sound effects were good. I guess his job might be secure from me taking it. Garrison would adlib a story and Fred would have to make up sound efx for it on the spot. Totally awesome. Who else could do the duck version of Purple Haze? You had to be there.

I had just gotten back from vacation in Florida and went to see The Rhubarb Tour. I wasn’t sure what to expect and I was very tired but I’m glad I went. It was very enjoyable.

See it.

Two things: Vacation and Feet Coverings

shoesonbed-300Yes that picture scares me. But dang, it makes me laugh. I’m pretty sure it’s Safe For Work, there’s nothing naughty showing.

First, I’m going on vacation tomorr…wait..what time is it? I’m going on vacation today. To Florida to wrestle sharks and stuff. I’ll see you next week sometime.

Second, feet coverings. Er, I mean shoes. I’ve always liked shoes. See, they keep the cockleburs from sticking to and therefore in my feet when I walk around outside. Cockleburs hurt, I know from experience. I’m not saying that cockleburs are the sole reason that I like shoes. Of course not. That would be akin to saying I like tennis rackets because they make really good pretend guitars.

I can’t pinpoint the moment that I decided that I liked shoes; just always have. When I was a kid my mom would buy me new shoes right before the school year began. Of course as a kid you always wore the new shoes out of the store and put the old torn up stinky shoes in the new shoes’ box. And then you would see how fast you could run because new shoes automatically allow you to run faster than you could run in the old shoes. It’s just a fact of life. You’d be zooming around the store trying not to run into anybody with your mom calling out Don’t run in the store! But you didn’t listen and she couldn’t catch you. She didn’t have the new shoes. You did.

I always wanted the expensive shoes and my mom would buy them for me! She must love me a whole lot. I wanted the Air Jordans and she’d get them for me even though my feet were still growing and I’d only be able to wear them a short while.

I’ve always had good shoe taste and I’m very discriminating in my shoe selection. Comfort is important but not as important as the coolness factor. Combine those together and you have a shoe that could stop wars and bring about world peace. In fact, that’s what first attracted M. to me. Her first ever words to me were You always have the coolest shoes.

In high school I pretty much started the Converse One Star craze. And I wore mine everyday. Even when the uppers started separating from the sole and I’d have marching band rehearsal first thing in the morning and I’d get wet socks because the field was still soaked with dew so I’d go around with damp feet all day. It didn’t matter! My shoes were awesome.

When I was a wee lad, I wanted a certain Dexter shoe so bad I could taste it. This particular shoe was quite popular and so I won’t claim I started this fad. I think my mom actually made me save my allowance and buy them myself. When I finally had enough money, I couldn’t find them anywhere. I searched and searched but they were not to be found in stock. Then, when I was in Florida visiting my grandmother, I found a pair in Gayfer’s. There was ONE PAIR LEFT and they were MY SIZE. Well, they were technically women’s shoes, but they fit me and they looked the same as the men’s so nobody would know the difference. I stared lovingly at them them on the way back to grandma’s and maybe even smooched them once (or twice). I don’t mind admitting that because I’m secure enough in my manhood and my love of shoes. Plus, they were women’s shoes. It’s not like I was making out with a man’s shoe. Personally, I don’t butter my biscuit that way.

Later in life, I’d spend an entire summer searching for old school (think Bing Crosby) black and white wingtips. And I found plenty of them all over the south but I was looking for a certain style with a specific stitching (like I said, I’m very discriminating). I even drove as far as Birmingham (2.5 hours) to the big honking mall to look specifically for these shoes, but no such luck. I eventually found them; in a vintage clothing store in Memphis (3 hours away). They were exactly what I was looking for and they were my size! Sort of. The left one was a B width and the right one….AAA. Keep in mind I wear a D width shoe. Boy did that right shoe hurt but I didn’t care and I wore them anyway.

I wore them with a sweet pinstripe gray tuxedo to a Big Bad Voodoo Daddy concert and danced until my right foot literally bled. Then I went and had a beer with the band. Ok, not so much as with the band as much as we raided their dressing room after they left. Hey, they said we could!

Recently I took the shoes to a local shop and had them stretched. They feel much better now. I even danced in them in the musical revue without losing any blood.

Twice I’ve been suckered into buying expensive shoes when I had no intention of doing so. The first time I was looking for some tennis shoes. I had tried on several pairs of shoes and none seemed to feel just right. Then I found a box that looked different from the other boxes around it in the “on sale” section. I tried them on and the heavens broke open. I stood weeping in a shaft of light that shone down from the heavens, straight through the Shoe Carnival ceiling and illuminated my feet; I had never known such foot comfort.

I didn’t see a price on the box but they were in the sale section, How expensive could they really be? I bopped on up to the sales clerk and he said Oh ho ho, those are the New Balance blah blah blah’s and they are NOT on sale. They are the best shoe New Balance makes yada yada yada. Well they were in the “sale section” I muttered. It didn’t really matter cause I had tasted their comfort goodness on my feet and there was no going back. I’ve since bought another pair.

The second time I was suckered was, like, last week. I went into a local shoe proprietor looking for an all purpose black shoe. I wanted something that I could wear with a suit or with jeans. And I didn’t want to spend more than say $50 because I needed them right then and I told my wife that I would reserve the right to buy another pair later if I found some I liked better.

Anyway. I told the sales girl what I wanted and she lit up and said Oh I have the perfect shoe. And she held up the most casual looking BROWN shoe I had ever seen. These are brand new and look to be very popular and I love them she told me. I looked at her and thought Are you joking? First, I wanted BLACK. Second, I don’t see me wearing these with a suit. So I asked to try on a more traditional looking pair of black shoes. They were $25 more than I wanted to spend and they weren’t that comfy and I wasn’t in love with them. But I was willing to sacrifice just so I’d have some black shoes. And remember I had reserved the right to get some better ones later. The sales girl wouldn’t shut up about these other shoes though. We have them in black and they’re great. After a bit I agreed to try them on just so she’d stop going on about them.

Damn. That girl’s good. I’ve totally been owned.

They are the most comfortable casual leather shoe ever created. And I immediately decided that I could, in fact, wear them with slacks and most certainly jeans and maybe they would fill a hole in my shoe wardrobe that I didn’t even realize existed. Plus I really did like them. And of course, they cost twice as much as I had planned to spend.

The kicker is the next day I found a coupon in a coupon book that I had in my car for 20% off a purchase at this particular shoe shop. *sigh*

And now I’d like to show you some of my shoes. Some of the special ones.

blackandwhiteshoes-800
The sweet wingtips from Memphis.

jandm-800
The Johnston and Murphy shoes I was tricked into buying.

band-800
My band shoes. Ha. But they go sweet with this pimp suit I got.

hushpuppies-800
I had my eye on these Hush Puppies. Then a local store went out of business and I snatched them up fo’ cheap. Also have pimpish quality (so I have been told)

whoops-800
Wait. How did those get in there? Next picture!

roos-800
Kangaroos. Or just Roos for short. Kickin’ style and function in the form of a zippered pouch. What else does one need in a shoe?

humpingshoes-800
Uh, just some shoes doing the humpty dance. Nothing to see here, move along.

This is a just a sample of the shoes that I wear upon my feet. And yes, I need more closet space.

Everybody have a good weekend. Let’s do sushi.

Another secret skill revealed

IMG_1426.sized.jpgThat’s right, I’m going back into the vault to reveal another secret, well not really secret so much as I just haven’t talked about it, skill that some of you didn’t know I had.

I am a professional frisbee golf player.

What? Stop laughing, really, I am.

For the last four or so years I have played competitive Frisbee® golf. It’s usually referred to as disc golf cause Frisbee® is trademarked. Those Wham-O bastards. It just so happens that I have some proof of this one too, but we’ll get to that.

Do you know what I’m talking about? Well the object is to throw your disc from point A, the tee, to point B, the hole, in the fewest number of throws possible. And the hole isn’t really a hole in the ground, it’s an above ground basket that is designed to catch discs, like in the picture above. Sound silly? Well it is a little bit. But no more than regular golf. And it’s not nearly as expensive or frustrating.

There are different kinds of discs just like there are different kinds of golf clubs. There are drivers, midrange and putting discs. Some that go left, right and straight. Some are good for rolling on the ground or throwing overhand like a baseball.

My friend from work, J., and his wife got me and M. out to the local course to play a few years ago. I had played a few times in high school but not very much. For some reason this go around I was hooked instantly. We were going out there about three times a week and it’s about a 45 minute one way drive to the course. We played tons that summer and starting in the fall we found out about tournaments.

The international disc golf organization is the Professional Disc Golf Association. They sanction tournaments all over the world. But for various reasons, in the southeast the tournaments are sanctioned with the Southern Nationals tournament series. The SN is simpler to deal with and there’s a SN championship at the end of every season that pays out pretty well to amateur and professional players.

I started at the lowest level of competitive play, the Novice division. This division is meant for first-time tourny players and people who are new to the game in general. My first tourny I played Novice but I had been playing casually for a few months. Well I won that one. W00t!

I moved up to Intermediate Amateur. After a while I started winning some of those tournys too. Some of them had 30 or 40 people in my division. So next I moved up to Advanced Amateur. This is the last level before going pro.

Advanced Ams generally have most of the skills of a professional, they’re just not as developed or as consistent. And putting is probably the biggest dividing factor between ams and pros.

My first tourny that I played as an Advanced player, I won. That did not make some of the more “seasoned” Advanced players happy. I decided at the start of the year that no matter how good I got I was going to stick out the entire year in the Advanced division. I would travel around and play tournys all over the south and see how I stack up on different courses playing against different people.

To make a long story short, I did pretty well. I traveled all over and had a ton of fun. And spent a lot of money.

The Southern National Amateur Championships came around and I was listed as the favorite to win. Let me tell you, I have never known pressure like that before. I put some of it on myself but there were a lot of people picking me to win.

The format would be three full rounds and then only the top third (or half, I can’t remember) of the field would play a final nine holes. The horn sounded for the start of the first round and. I. choked. At the end of the first round I was six strokes off the leader and about 22 people were ahead of me. Not good, but not insurmountable.

I came back strong the second round and shot about the second best score for the round. Unfortunately for me the leader boy shot the same score so I was no closer to him but I did jump ahead of a lot of people.

I was about the third card down (four people to a card) for the third round on Sunday morning. Once again, I shot the second best score for the round. Leader boy didn’t fare as well and I cut his lead to three strokes. I was in third place going into the final nine.

At the end of the third round, when I saw the standings and that I was only three strokes out, I knew right then that I would win. It was the coolest feeling in the world. I knew that if I didn’t win it would be because the two people ahead of me would step up and play really well in the finals and I might not catch them. But. I knew I could do it. I had total confidence in my abilities at that moment and throughout the remainder of the tournament.

During the regular season play, I caught a lot of crap for staying in the Advanced Am division when I was doing so well. I got called a sandbagger more than once. But I knew that sticking it out was the right thing for me to do and I think because I stuck it out and learned how to win in all types of situations, it allowed me to have that feeling of total confidence when I needed it most. Had I moved up to the pro division earlier and started taking my licks from the pros, I would have learned a lot but I don’t think I would’ve learned what I needed for that moment in the championships.

Well it came down to the last hole of the finals, but I won. And it was a great feeling.

At the awards ceremony, after I accepted the first place trophy, Jim Orum, the father of Southern Nationals disc golf, announced that they were starting a new award that year call the Amateur Player of the Year. It’s tradition to name the award after the first recipient. So if you take up disc golf in the south, practice hard and play lots of tournys, you might win the Kary Rogers Amateur Player of the Year Award. How cool is that? I can imagine years from now some future recipient wondering why he’s winning a girl’s award.

Truly one of the best days of my life.

So I play pro now. Two weeks after the Am championship was the Pro championship. It’s also a tradition for the Advanced winner to get a paid entry to the Pro championship. I went and played and tied for last place cash, which isn’t too bad for my first outing in the pro ranks.

I’ve had a lot of fun the last four years and met a lot of great people. Luckily MSU just recently installed a disc golf course on campus so it doesn’t take three hours to drive and play in Columbus anymore. If you’re local to Starkville and you want to play sometime, let me know. We’re going to have regular outings at the course on Thursday’s at 5:45pm starting this week. I’ll be happy to show you around the course and I’ve got plenty of extra frisbees.

Oh yeah, the proof. Check out this highlight reel:

discstill.jpeg
(7.5 MB, Quicktime)

These are some clips from two tournaments I cut together from SouthernShots! courtesy of DiscAppear productions at DiscGolfDVD.com.

This is it. Probably. But I really doubt it.

If you read this site with any regularity then you know why I haven’t been updating much. And I think this will be the final word on the musical revue I have spent the last month rehearsing and performing and which was my introductory experience into the theater.

Warning. This will quite possibly be insanely long and boring.

I was bitten by the hey-you-lazy-slob-sitting-on-the-couch-why-don’t-you-get-up-and-go-do-something-fun bug some number of months ago. In my case it was the acting/performing species of bug. I called my doctor about the bite and he said there was no medication I could take; I could only heed the bug’s bite and do what it wanted. What a quack, he doesn’t know anything is what I thought.

I attempted to find my own cure and I tried everything but nothing really scratched the itch just right. I started this blog and that helped but it didn’t cure me. I went knocking screen door to screen door in my trailer park reading Shakespeare to whom ever would open their door to me, but all that got me was a ferret bite, two empty Jack bottles thrown at my head and me being blinded by seeing too many femullets with nothing on but a bra-less wife beater. *whimper*

I apologize for that last link.

Eventually I called up my friend B. to ask what was going on at the local community theater. I found out they were having auditions for a summer musical revue in like 4 days. Well that leaves me lots of time to find a song and prepare I thought (sarcastically). Especially since I’ve never sung a solo in front of people before and never had a singing audition before or been on stage for that matter. But I was determined to give it a go and find out if I could do it or not. I covered the audition here and here.

The last weekend of June we had a “bootcamp.” We ran through as many of the songs as we could to get a feel for what worked, what might work given more effort and time and what absolutely didn’t work at all. Rehearsals started in earnest on July 5th (I thinks). In general we met Sunday through Thursday evenings with a set construction work day on Saturday. That’s a lot of rehearsal time you might think but keep in mind our first performance would be July 28th. And there were piles of music to learn.

Well, anyway, I showed up to rehearsals like a good little soldier and sat quietly in my seat and sang my little heart out. I get the impression now that everyone was afraid I was really shy and was worried how I might do on stage since I never opened my mouth during rehearsals except to sing.

I’ll admit it takes me a little while to open up to new people. Some people just don’t get me and my brand of humor and personality so I’m usually a little shy and quiet at first. Actually I probably opened up a lot sooner to the theater people because of this blog. Somehow someone found out about it. I think I had it in my email signature for a very short period of time, like half a day. And I corresponded with someone in the theater via email. And let’s just say it made the rounds. And I was found out. Oh, apparently the new guy does have one of those personality things. After the Amazing and Totally Awesome Sound EFX post, there was really little point in me holding back any longer.

This also happened to correspond to the time we started actually getting on stage and working out the blocking. It suddenly became a whole lot more fun for me. See, sitting in a chair for hours on end working on music didn’t prepare me for the experience on being on the stage. I’ve sat in a chair for hours on end working on music before, that’s nothing new. But being on stage, oh baby, that was new.

Now I’ve performed in some way or another my whole life . Church choir, school concert and marching band and other singing groups, but this was completely different. I wasn’t another faceless kid with a horn to my face or stuck out of the way in an orchestra pit or part of the backup singers for the music leader. I was on a stage with really bright lights and I was in your face to either suck or stand out.

And I don’t like to suck.

Soon I started hearing things like “applause whore” associated with my name. Well I was offended. I was just trying to do a good job and show that I’m having a good time. Then I found out that being called an applause whore isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Well maybe we should come up with a new name. I nearly cried myself to sleep that night. Not really, but it was a bit alarming at first. I think it’s a compliment of some sort.

Meanwhile, I’m starting to get to know the people that I’m performing with and find that they really are a friendly, cool buncha folks to be around; they were just waiting on me to open up so that they didn’t seem pushy. They are all friendly, helpful, complimentary, encouraging, patient, cool, beautiful people that I am a better person for knowing. If you are an SCT person reading this, then I mean YOU. I am talking about you. Are all theater people this cool or did I just luck out on my first go at it?

My biggest regret in all of this is that I DIDN’T JOIN SCT SOONER. I’ve spent years sitting on the couch when I could have been helping to create a new and exciting show and hanging out with terribly cool friends. These people are everyone. Doctors, financial professionals, technology geeks, educators, home makers, media professionals, etc etc etc. Yet they all have a love of coming together to create something greater than themselves and they do it beautifully. I have been honored and privileged to be a part of it. And dang it, I want to do it again.

Like I said, I’ve never been on stage before but I found out something through this experience. I am completely comfortable there. I don’t get really nervous. Sometimes, I might be over-the-top but it’s because I want to do things that I think are funny or awesome and I hope the audience would think so too. Is doing a James Brown kick-slide-split over-the-top for a curtain call? Probably so, but dang it I would think it was cool if I saw somebody do it. I didn’t plan on it, if anything I was going to do it during Footloose but I chickened out. The spirit just moved me and it had to be done right then.

Ok, this could go on forever so I really should wrap it up. Just a couple more things before the summary.

You know, it’s not that hard to learn some music and where to stand when, but putting all the small details together to make an impressive show is something that I can’t fathom doing. And Pattye Archer, the Director, pulled it off with aplomb. How does she do it? I don’t know. She has help, but wowzer did she put on a great show. Thanks Pattye, the show was great and so are you!

To all the SCT cast and crew: Thank You. From the booth peeps (Ty, Chad, Dave, Michael) always hitting their lighting and sound cues, to the stage managers (Ellen and Alison) having us all straight back stage so we knew what the heck was going on, to the musicians (Becky, James, Boogie Daddy) for learning a jaw-dropping amount of music and making us sound good, to the box office and reception volunteers for all the work and cooking they did, to Jansen for everyone’s fab hair (especially mine) and to the cast:

M.J. – You are terribly cool and talented. Teach me everything you know!
Cherri – I love your voice, it’s so classic.
Maddy – I’ve so much enjoyed being your stalkee, I can’t wait to see you in the next show. Maybe you’ll be the stalkee this time!
Tess – You are very funny and interesting. Thanks for being my Cleopatra.
Brian – We’ve known each other a long time and have done a lot of things together, I’m glad to add this chapter to our friendship.
Casey – Fellow newbie and applause whore! You are so fun and talented, I hope to see you in future shows.
Thomas – My sister. Your skills range all over the theater, I have a lot to learn from you.
Michael – A man of serious talent. It was a blast, thanks for the tips and I’ll share my Gold Bond with you anytime.
Bonnie – I’m still amazed at how fast you can get all the way around the building and back on stage. You were great!
Cindy – You have a lovely voice. I had fun singin’ in the rain with you.
Paul – You played so many great roles in the show. It was fun watching you. It’s obvious you have many friends who love you at the theater and I can see why.
Lyle – Outstanding voice and character abilities. Terribly friendly and supportive. I hope to learn a lot at your side on stage in the future.
Kyle – My secret pal. You were fabulous and I hope to see you on the stage again.
Marianne – Beautiful, talented, a little crazy (in a totally good way). And so much more.
Andrew – Very entertaining on the stage and backstage. You never knew what he might do. And I’ll try not to kill you with the back door anymore.
Molly – My Elvis dancing partner. The Pretzel just can’t be beat. Thanks for including me and being so friendly.
Krista – The trophy girl. And I totally made out with her. Well not really but it was close. You were so enjoyable to watch on You Lost That Loving Feeling. Your expressions were priceless.
Marcus – The trophy girl’s man. I did not make out with him, at least not that I can remember. Dude you have serious acting skills. Your impressions and accents are sweet.

And last but not least:

My wife – Thanks for being patient with me as I was out playing with the other kids. I had a lot of fun but I came home late many nights. Next year you’ll have to join me! I love you!

Whew, if you made it this far, I’m sorry but don’t you have better things to do?

Executive Summary: I was bitten by a bug that required me to sing and dance in front of really bright lights. In doing so, I met scores of very cool and talented people that I hope to stand in front of really bright lights with again. I wish I would’ve done it sooner and if you didn’t come to the show you have no idea what you missed, which is good because if you knew what you missed you would cry for 40 days and 40 nights.

I will post some pictures when they are available to me.

That Oompa Loompa looks familiar

Probably cause they’re all the same person!

I saw Willy Wonka tonight. Yes, I know it’s not called Willy Wonka but Willy Wonka is more fun to say. Willy Wonka. See? Willy Wonka. Haha.

I was pleasantly surprised with this movie. I went straight to Wal*Mart to buy something afterwards. What does that mean? Read the archives! Dang!

Actually I went to buy the soundtrack. I’ve liked Danny Elfman for years and this soundtrack rocks. The Oompa Loompa songs are really great. Too bad Wal*Mart sucks and they didn’t have the CD. They did have the original Chocolate Factory soundtrack though, so I bought that instead. Pure Imagination is pure childhood memory goodness.

The basic storyline is the same as you’d remember from the first movie (I haven’t read the book so I can’t comment on that). It deviates at the end and at first I was disappointed in the way Charlie won the prize by default. He’s the only kid left so he wins. Yippee. I like the way he wins in the first movie better. But. There was a reason this was changed. The story takes a different yet interesting turn to focus on Willy Wonka’s (teehee) relationship (or lack thereof) with his father. A large part of the focus during the story was spent on Willy Wonka’s (haw) childhood. So it’s not all that surprising when the ending comes.

John Depp’s Willy Wonka (guffaw) at times is very funny and at times very disturbing. Sometimes I like him, sometimes I didn’t. Fair enough.

The movie is different from the original but if you have a special place in your heart for the Gene Wilder version, I think you will enjoy this movie too.

Go see it at your favorite movie viewing establishment and tell them I sent you. No, you won’t get a discount but hopefully I’ll get some free stuff or something.