Saturday, November 30, 2013

How Patrick Bristow Ruined My Life

Leonard loves Muppets!  Leonard loves Muppets a great deal.  NO, Leonard does not love Muppets in a way that is unhealthy, you perverts!

I am of a generation that was influenced a great deal by Muppets.  As my friend Karen put it, the most recent Muppet movie "is not for kids; it's for thirty-something geeks who love Muppets."  Amen, sister!  I am one of those (proud) geeks.

I've seen every Muppet movie in the theater since I was able to.  There's a reason Avenue Q is in my top 3 favorite musicals EVER.  I've only seen one Broadway show thus far in my life, and it was Avenue Q.  In fact, we even sat in Row Q.

I collected Muppet and Fraggle toys from McDonald's in the 80s.  When I was growing up, Fraggle Rock was only shown on HBO, which we did not have.  We had four channels, including PBS, so I watched countless episodes of Sesame Street.  Between it and The Brady Brunch, I spent much of my formative years believing that everyone else wore bell-bottom pants and spoke fluent Spanish.

This kid Wesley down the street did have HBO, though.  I didn't really care for Wesley; he was kind of a wimp.  But I made sure to play with him and then insist that we watch T.V. (read:  Fraggle Rock) and drink cherry Kool-Aid in his basement.

I cried in 1990 when I heard that Jim Henson died.  I absolutely hated seeing The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992) in the theater because it was the first feature film without Jim Henson as the voice of Kermit (and it's still one of my least favorites, despite the awesomeness that is Michael Caine).

My two favorite Christmas movies are White Christmas (1954) and A Muppet Family Christmas (1987).  I still have our version of A Muppet Family Christmas taped off the TV (on VHS with a handwritten label), complete with national and local commercials from 1987.  When I was in college the first time around, my mom got me a commercial version of the movie on VHS.  When I watched it the first and only time,  it had been edited; some of the songs were cut.  I was so angry, I threw it away.  Even today, you can only find the original version on YouTube or my 1987 VHS copy.

In A Muppet Family Christmas, Kermit and his nephew, Robin, discover a network of Fraggle tunnels in Ma Bear's basement.  Promptly after watching the show, I went downstairs to our basement to look for Fraggle holes.  I didn't find any.  That was the day the magic died for me, but that's a different story.

Well throughout college (at least undergrad #1), I used to tell people that I wanted to be a Muppet when I grew up.  And I did.  Rather, I wanted to work with the Muppets.  I had heard stories about them remaining in character, that working with Kermit the Frog was working with Kermit the Frog, not Henson or Steve Whitmire.  I wanted to witness that kind of magic first hand.

As I've gotten older, despite being an actor, that dream has become more and more of a fantasy and less than an achievable reality.  A couple of years ago, Dave Goelz (performer of Gonzo the Great and Boober Fraggle, among others) was scheduled to come to the public library for a talk.  I was prepared to show up at least three hours in advance in case there was a line so I could meet one of the greats.  Two days before the event, he had to cancel.

And then.

But then.

A friend who also writes reviews (same friend who told me about Dave Goelz's scheduled talk, actually) told me Stuffed and Unstrung was coming to town.  I immediately researched the show and promptly bought two tickets.  While it appears to now be called "Puppet Up:  Uncensored," Stuffed and Unstrung (as my program clearly calls it), is a Henson Alternative production.  It is a live, improvisational show with Henson puppets (but not familiar Muppet faces) that is intended for ADULTS ONLY.  Dirty, dirty-minded puppets!

While Avenue Q is an adults-only show which lampoons Sesame Street (in fact, all products for Avenue Q, such as the sheet music I own, have to have a disclaimer which states that they are not associated with Jim Henson Productions), it is still a scripted show.  Taken from the Puppet Up! website:
What happens when Henson puppeteers are unleashed? You get a new breed of intelligent nonsense that is “Puppet Up: Uncensored” – a live, outrageous, comedy, variety show for adults only. Enjoy an unpredictable evening when six talented, hilarious, expert puppeteers will improvise songs and sketches based on your suggestions! With a motley group of characters brought to life by the world renowned puppeteers of The Jim Henson Company, this is not your average night at the improv and it is definitely not for children. But all others are welcome to enjoy the uninhibited anarchy of live puppet performance as never seen before! ("About - Puppet Up!")
LIVE.

YOUR suggestions.

I could hardly believe it as I was buying tickets -- this was my chance to interact with the Muppets!  Well, it was as close as I was going to get.  I researched the crap out of the show during my ticket-buying frenzy.  Not only did they take audience suggestions, sometimes they took audience volunteers on stage, too!  Many of the clips on the website and on YouTube featured Brian Henson (Jim's son and the current head honcho for you Philistines) as a performer!  OhmyGod, I might be within arm's reach of Brian Henson!

I made sure to buy tickets on the floor, close to the stage, because when performers are picking volunteers, they're not going to walk all the way to the cheap seats.

That same friend later asked if I wanted to go with him; he had two free tickets since he was reviewing the show, but I already had my tickets in hand.  I was SO FREAKIN' EXCITED!!!!

My dear friend and fellow actor Pamela and I went to see the show.  I could hardly contain myself.  I nearly wet myself with excitement.  As soon as we had our programs, I perused mine.  It did not appear that Brian Henson was performing on this particular tour.  Who cares??  The puppets were all hanging on a wall on the stage, staring out with their dead eyes, waiting to be given life by the talented performers. 
Photo Credit:  Puppet Heap

The night began, and it was perfect.  As the video clip on the website explains, Stuffed and Unstrung is two shows for the price of one.  The first show is watching the puppets live and also on the video screens; it looks the way you think it might look if you've watched any other Henson production.  But the second show -- the SECOND SHOW -- is watching the performers as they also watch their own video monitors.

It may or may not interest you to know that Jim Henson revolutionized puppets on television.  Before him, puppets were still stuck in a box, a makeshift "stage" a la Punch and Judy sometimes with the performers visible; even Howdy Doody was limited by strings.  Muppet productions happen approximately seven feet in the air; the stages are built to accommodate performers with their hands over their heads.  Guest stars have to watch where they're walking, lest they fall into a hole.  And watching that is the second show.

Like any improv show, the performers asked for audience suggestions.  Normally, I'm a pretty loud person.  I saw both Second City and Paula Poundstone perform at this same theatre, and they both took many of my suggestions though I was in the cheap seats because I'm just that loud.  I don't know what it was this night, but my voice was high-pitched and strained, not loud.  Thank God for Pamela!  That woman can project like nobody's business (and with excellent diction, too!).  Several of her suggestions made it to the stage.

As intermission came, they had only asked for volunteers once.  I wasn't picked, but I wasn't too upset.  It was a silly sketch, and there was still the whole second act.  I bought a magnet and a hot dog puppet during intermission, and the night continued.

The second call for volunteers came, and I tried my damnedest to be loud again, but still no go.  Then the third call for a volunteer.  This person would actually get to -- I can hardly type it -- perform a puppet.

This was it.

I screamed, "Me!  Me!"  Pam said, "Stand up!" and shoved me to my feet.  I was practically jumping out of the row.  And then it happened.  Patrick Bristow, the host of the show, came to me.
Oh God.  I almost peed on myself again.

Maybe you've seen  him before, Patrick Bristow.  He has a very distinct look, with his glasses and ginger hair.  His bio says he
is best known for his numerous television appearances most notably as Peter on the groundbreaking ABC series Ellen. Other television credits include, Curb Your Enthusiasm, Seinfeld, Friends, Mad About You, Whose Line Is It Anyway?, and others. Film credits include Twilight Of The Golds, The Longest Yard, as well as the first Austin Powers, So I Married An Ax Murderer, and the accidental comedy Showgirls. ("Cast and Crew - Puppet Up!")
Patrick was a little taken aback by my desperation enthusiasm.  He even said something to the effect of, "Wow!  You're really excited, aren't you?"
Yes, yes I am.
"You're not a puppeteer, are you?" he asked warily.

Here's where things get tricky.  Performers (like me) being asked on stage with other performers (like them) can quickly become a mess.  Why?  Several reasons, such as the volunteer performer might be suspected of being a plant/ringer.  More importantly, the volunteer might try to "out perform" the original performer, usually at the original performer's expense.  Such behavior might be funny to the audience, but it's incredibly rude and comes at a cost.  Don't ever try to take over someone else's show; like I said, highly rude and unprofessional.  You're there as a guest and a participant, but not an actor/performer.

So with all of that in mind, I had promised myself that I would be on my best behavior.  I wouldn't "try" to be funny or snarky.  I just wanted to enjoy myself and be a Muppet for however briefly.
"No, I'm not a puppeteer."

"Wow, you're so excited.  I'm a little scared of people who are this excited.  Did you come with someone?"
"My friend, Pam."  I gestured down to Pam, sitting on my right while I was still standing, breathless.
"Okay, yeah, I'm gonna pick her instead."
I -- what??

I am not making that up.  In the face of my enthusiasm, Patrick Bristow, hateful human being that he is, picked my friend for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity instead of me.  To her credit, Pam tried to protest and insisted that I go instead.  But Patrick would have none of it.  Pam was on her feet and ushered to the stage while I sank back into my seat, stunned.  Even the people around me, who had witnessed my attempts to volunteer from the beginning of the show, were staring gape-mouthed.

Pam doesn't even know this, but as she walked onto the stage, I almost started to cry.  Coming so close to achieving a childhood dream and then losing it to my dear friend, especially in such a deliberate and mean-spirited fashion, was almost too much bear.  My whole body was shaking.  For the tiniest of instants, I sincerely hated Pam.  The realization of how ridiculous it would look to cry at such a show and not wanting my make-up to run were the only things that kept me from sobbing outright.  My eyes slowly sucked the moisture back in as I tried to be an adult even though my little kid heart was breaking.

Pam's puppet performance was, of course, awesome.  She was funny, but not too funny.  She was well-behaved and didn't upstage the original performers; the audience loved her (as they always do; she's very talented).  She told me as she was leaving, one of the puppet performers asked her (quietly, off-mic) if we were improv'ers.
"No," she said, "we're actors."

Overall, Stuffed and Unstrung (or whatever they're calling themselves now) is a fun and enjoyable evening of adult entertainment.  It is also how Patrick Bristow single-handedly let me come within seconds of achieving a dream I've had since I was seven years old, and with a sneer, snatched it away.  I will never forget that night, nor will I ever forgive him.

Fuck you, Patrick Bristow.  You're a horrible human being.

Sunday, November 17, 2013

Leonard Loves Muppets

It's true!  And just to prove how true it is, I read a book about Mupppets.  More than that, I reviewed said book.  Check it out:

Memoirs of a Muppets Writer: (You Mean Somebody Actually Writes That Stuff?)Memoirs of a Muppets Writer: by Joseph A. Bailey
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I absolutely adored this book. For anyone who loves the Muppets, this is a must-read. Bailey's stories are not only chock-full of insider Muppet information and behind-the-scenes stories, but he also gives some of the nitty gritty, like how Sesame Street writers were told which educational goals to use, that Muppets are built on a scale of three's (1/3 head, 2/3 body). The stories are funny, touching, sad, and incredibly useful as Bailey also includes very practical advice for writers of any genre.

So why did I give this only four stars instead of five? TYPOS. Seriously, whomever is the editor for Walnut Press should be fired. This had some of the strangest, most misguided use of punctuation I've seen in some time (and I teach college students!). Also the font size occasionally changes from one paragraph to the next, and the text uses both quotation marks and italics with no rhyme or reason (is it dialogue? Internal dialogue? Adding emphasis?). All in all, very distracting; I would expect more from a man who included a section on the importance of grammar in writing.

The only other detractor (besides the glaring, distracting typos) is the rather disjointed narrative. Bailey jumps back and forth in time, and it can occasionally be confusing to the reader where we are in his career timeline with Jim Henson Productions.

View all my reviews

Friday, November 8, 2013

Splish Splash

Recently, a friend posted on Facebook how unrealistic "bath scenes" are in television.  She made some great points, such as:
  • That many candles are a fire hazard
  • By the time "your man" gets home, you will be wrinkled and pruny, not sexy.
  • My favorite:  "You know you're just going to have to take a shower later, a 'business shower,' where upon you do all the things you needed to do in the first place (shave pits, legs, lady parts, and wash hair)" (Underground for Tea).
Like I said, she makes some very valid points.  And it got me thinking (dangerous, I know). I generally take baths to relax because I'm super stressed out, not for sexy time.

Step 1:  Is the bathtub clean?  Eh, I'll rinse it out and risk it.
Step 2:   Fill with (hopefully hot) water.  

 Maybe there are some lame bubbles, but more than likely, Epson salts because I'm fucking sore and incredibly neurotic.

So I get into the tub...crap.  I suppose I could light a candle, but --

Hi.

Hi.  Anyway, maybe a candle, and I was thinking of reading a few pages of that book I --

Whatcha doin'?

I am taking a bath.
Sometimes it's nice to read in the tub, assuming I don't get the pages all wet.  I could even grade papers or --

Is that water?

Yes.

Are you sure??
Can I lick it?

Yes it is, and no, you can't.

What's goin' on, guys?

Crap.

Apparently there's water in there.

I am trying to relax!


Really?  Where??  I like water.




I liiiiiike it.  I do.  What's this?  Can I touch it?  Can I bat at it? Can I knock it into the water?  This is fun!  Let's plunge my hairy hairy arms all the way into the water!  Splash splash splash!

Ohmygod, I love ALL of you!

Pet me.  Pet me.  PET ME NOW.




Bath time is so much fun!  Fun fun fun! Splash splash splash!


Are you sure I can't lick just a little bit of water off of you?

It won't be awkward.  I promise.

MAMA NEEDS SOME ALONE TIME!!!




Wow.

Geesh.

You don't have to be all defensive about it.

I AM NOT BEING DEFENSIVE!!!




...meanwhile outside...
I heard this is where the bath is happening?

Friday, October 11, 2013

Commuter Communication

I have a forty-minute commute to teach.  Forty minutes.  That's one way, against the flow of traffic, assuming there are no major sporting events happening downtown.  Needless to say, I have lots of time to think in the car.

Sure, sometimes I think about my lesson plans and what we're going to do in class that day.  Sometimes I might think of blog posts or other pieces of brilliance.  But most of the time, it's pretty random.  I've even startled myself with some of the randomness of it all.

For example, what started out as thinking of class discussions...
Lysistrata ==> wordplay, sexual puns ==> double entrendre ==> entendre is French for "listen," so a "double entendre" means to listen twice ==> J'entends, tu entends, il/elle/on entend, nous entendons, vous entendez, ils entendent.
Holy crap, I remember how to conjugate entendre!  I haven't had French since high school.

The rest of the time it's not nearly as interesting; more along the lines of
Traffic.
Traffic.
Traffic.
I'm hungry. Do I have snacks in the car? Fuck, are we stopping? What happens if my blood sugar drops on the highway. Does that count as a medical emergency? "Cause of crash: lack of snacks."
Traffic.
Traffic.
Traffic.
I have to pee. I have to pee really badly. Why didn't I pee before I left??
Fuck you, other car!
I REALLY have to pee. Maybe I should wear Depends in the car like that crazy NASA woman who went on the stalker road trip. I don't understand how people can do that. I REALLY have to pee, but I don't think I could just make myself pee in the car, even if I was wearing Depends.
Traffic.
Traffic.
Like that one time we were at the lake and -- FUCK YOU!
I really had to pee then, too, but it was hard to make myself pee in the lake while treading water so I didn't drown. How many times have I almost drowned? Two, I think. Maybe three.  Is it any wonder I don't go swimming?
Traffic.
Are we seriously stopping again? Why can't I just fly home? Like in a tiny --
DOUCHEBAG!
Douchebag. Douchebag. Douchebag.
-- airplane. 
I've also been lucky enough to see some strange and interesting sights on my daily commutes, including but not limited to:
  • A bright green Ford Mustang with the license plate G-LNTERN
  • An SUV with the license plate TA2D UP
  • A sobriety test happening at 2:30 in the afternoon -- well done, madam!
  • What I thought were two people having sex on a motorcycle (they weren't).
  •  The shadow of an airplane overhead during which time I had a Skyrim flashback, and I seriously thought it was a dragon (it wasn't).
And just think:  I get to do this approximately ninety more times before the end of the semester.  Yay me!
(Image courtesy of ICanHasCheezburger.com)

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Throwback Thursday: A History Lesson

From the blog annals comes one of my favorite pieces, "The True Story Behind the Pyramids."

(Tiny ugly baby kitty picture courtesy of Wikipedia)



From the people who brought you "Smutty Kitchen Talk" and "Suggestive Non-Sequitor Day*," we present "The True History of the Egyptian Pyramids."

The Unit and I were lying in bed one evening when she started "angry humping" my leg. "Angry humping" devolved out of a completely different conversation, but involves fast ("angry") pelvic thrusts against an object one would not normally "hump," such as my leg or a chair, unless one were a dog. She then put a very cold hand under my shirt on my bare skin, at which point I complained: "I don't recall ordering any angry humping, let alone cold angry humping."
Unit: "That's what my receipt says."
Me: "Really."
Unit: "Yes. 'Please deliver one angry humping. P.S. Please add cold.'"
Me: "And who signed this alleged receipt?"
Unit: "Jack-Jack and Poe."
Me: "And may I see this alleged receipt signed by the cats?"
Unit: "Well, you could, but you wouldn't be able to read it. They wrote it in their old language, a combination of pawprints and symbols."
Me: "Like hieroglyphics?"
Unit: "Well, cat-a-glyphics, yes. Because you know that the Egyptian pyramids weren't built by humans."
Me: "Of course not. They were built by aliens. Everyone knows that. Didn't you watch Stargate?"
Unit: "No, they were built by cats. Well, by slave-cats. The royal cats (from whom Jack-Jack is descended) ordered the slave-cats to build the pyramids. Slave-cats were the hairless cats; they were hairless because they were out in the sun in the desert all the time."
Me: "Slave-cats...?"
Unit: "And all the mice were slaves, too. Of course."
Me: "Of course. So there were some royal cats, and some slave-cats, and some slave-mice. And the slave-cats and slave-mice dragged the blocks out in the desert to build the pyramids. Were there any free mice?"
Unit: "No, but that does bring up the subject of the Micesons."
Me: "The (snicker) Free Micesons?"
Unit: "Exactly. But most cats don't believe in them."
Me: "It's just a cat-spiracy theory."

What you have to know is about the time we got to "the Free Micesons," we were both laughing so hard (in bed) that we were crying. After that we started coming up with definitions for words, along the lines of "cat-spiracy." I can't remember what the definitions were, but I believe we had "catapult," "catalogue," and "catastrophe."

So there you have it. The TRUE history of the Egyptian pyramids. The recent unrest in Egypt has, of course, been very upsetting for Jack-Jack since it's her country of origin, being descended from royal cats as she is. She's very grateful that Mubarak has stepped down. Poe-Poe, being the black cat of the family, does believe in the Free Micesons (did you know you can find evidence of them in the hundred dollar bill??), much to the shame of his mother. It's a very sore subject, so please don't bring it up.

*SN-S Day went something like this: "Dammit, a spice jar just broke! There's cumin all over the counter."
"That's what you get for putting on underwear!"

Follow up:  The original "History" was posted in February of 2011, and sadly, the facts about Egyptian unrest, riots, and political problems are still relevant over two years later.

Friday, September 27, 2013

Snap, Crackle, Pop

As I was lying there, my stomach started growling.  My stomach had been upset most of the day, due to eating junk food and soda on the road.  I didn't really want to eat, but I knew the growling and rumbling would keep me from falling asleep.  Earlier in the evening my step-dad had said, "I'm eating a Rice Krispie treat.  I pulled one out for you, too."  I politely took the wrapped treat, but had no intention of eating it at the time.  It was not homemade, but the actual Rice Krispie brand in the blue metallic wrapper.  Again,  I had eaten junk food all day, and didn't want anymore, so I set the treat on my bedside table, planning on ignoring it.

As my stomach growled in the thick darkness of rural Iowa, I contemplated the treat.  What the hell, I thought.  Just a bite.  Still in the dark, I unwrapped the Rice Krispie treat.  Each crinkle of the wrapper sounded like thunder.  There is NO sound in the house in rural Iowa.  No traffic, no neighbors, no helicopters overhead, no sirens, no gunshots, no dogs barking outside, no car alarms, no cats  running around, no fans, no icemaker, no dehumidifier, no house settling noises.  Nothing.  Except silence that fills my ears until I can hear my own blood pumping through my veins.

I was certain the screaming of the cellophane wrapper would bring my stepdad lumbering into the guest room wanting to know why I was eating in bed.

Despite the raging wrapper, I managed to open the treat.  I originally planned to just nibble off a corner and then put the half-wrapped treat back on the bedside.  But after that first bite, I couldn't stop.  Maybe I really was hungry?  Maybe it was because I haven't had a Rice Krispie treat in years?  Whatever the reason, that treat was the most delicious thing I had tasted in 48 hours.  Somewhere between bites two and three, I thought, Do they have a pest problem?  Maybe mice or something?  I probably shouldn't leave a half-eaten Rice Krispie treat out.  It didn't really matter as there was no turning back now.

Going entirely by my sense of touch in the pitch black, I laid flat in bed and slowly peeled back the wrapper with increasingly sticky fingers and took bite after bite of the crunchy, marshmallowy goodness.

And that is how I ate an entire Rice Krispie treat in bed in Iowa in the dark.

(Delicious picture provided by QuarryGirl.com)

Thursday, September 19, 2013

I Enjoy Being a Girl

Today I was pulled over on the Interstate for the first time in at least five years. I was speeding. Here's how it went down:
Officer: "Do you have your license and insurance?"
Me: "Yes, sir," handing them over.
Officer: "You were going [XX] in a 60 mph zone. Do you have a reason why you were going that fast?" 
Me: "No, sir, I'm just trying to get to school."
Officer:  "Just trying to get to school, eh?"
Me:  "Yes, I teach at X. University."
Officer:  "Oh, what do you teach?"
Me:  "I teach English."
Officer:  (He gets that rueful smile that 90% of people get when I tell them I'm an English teacher.)
Me:  "Lemme guess, not a fan of English?"
Officer:  "I went to X. University."
Me:  "Oh?  I just started teaching there this semester."
Officer: "Yeah, English was never my best subject."
Me:  "That's what most people say.  I promise, I'm not going to correct your grammar."
Officer:  *chuckling*  "Well, just drive safe, okay?"
Me:  "Yes, sir, thank you."
And I left before he could change his mind.  And never mind Leonard's bald-faced lie in there.  Of course, I'm correcting your grammar!  That is why I was twitching just now when I had to write "drive safe" instead of "drive safely."

I texted my Unit about this, and here's how that exchange went:
Me:  I got pulled over on the Interstate.
Her:  Why?
Me:  Speeding.
Her: Are you costing us money?
Me:  I didn't get a ticket.
Her:  Boobies?
I laughed out loud at that, and replied, "No, not exactly."  While I was wearing a very cute dress that day, it showed neither cleavage nor leg.  Maybe he let me go because I made him laugh (I'm very funny).  Maybe he let me go because I'm adorable (I'm very adorable).  Maybe he let me go because he was afraid of red-pen-teacher-marks on whatever citation he wrote.  Whatever the reason, I'll take it!

(Annoying animated GIF compliments of Adam Rifkin)