So, here's my costume for Rocky Horror in a couple of weeks. I've tried to make this picture look like me to really entice people to come and see the show.
Except I won't wear my glasses.
And the alto sax in this picture isn't to scale, it's smaller.
And the boobs in this picture aren't to scale, they're smaller too.
It's time to get your tickets and now you can do that online by clicking here or pasting this url into your browser: http://www.rockyhorrorinconcert.com/index.html
Where else will you see this much skin in one place? I mean, besides the ward picnic!
Yesterday marked the one-year anniversary of my greatest personal loss, and it was extremely anti-climactic. In fact, the build-up throughout the week was probably more traumatic than yesterday. Yesterday was... just another day. I don't know what I expected, really, if I would get haunted or if my dad would walk in and say he was just kidding, but nothing.
I watched the latest episode of Moonlight.
I went to the gym.
I washed my hair.
Part of me feels extremely guilty that I've gotten on with my life, a feat I didn't think I'd be able to do last year at this time. And for that, part of me feels a giant sense of accomplishment.
The only thing I’m liking about this time of year is all the new television shows I’m finding. As a self-proclaimed reality show junkie, I’m pleasantly surprised at the new dramas I’m finding this season. First, the premiere of Grey’s Anatomy last week rocked. After a crappy season finale, I feared for the future of Grey’s, however this year’s first show left me hopeful; and made up for the fact that Kate Walsh’s spin-off show “Private Practice” sucked.
I’m giving “Grey’s” another chance this season. After Meredith was thrown into the water in a slightly pithy three-parter last year (sorry for the spoiler, but if you haven’t seen it by now, give it up. Just start fresh with season 4), I still tuned in even though I was just about over it. This year’s new characters are familiar, the old characters have new problems, and Meredith and McDreamy are still just plain hot together.
Hats off to the CW who is finally channeling their inner WB. I knew it was in there! Just because you became the CW doesn’t mean you didn’t have a good drama in you. I had a hate affair with the WB after “Dawson’s Creek” ended, and have to admit the CW’s “Gossip Girl” is my new guilty pleasure. This is a show from the creators of “The O.C.” and has all the elements of when “The O.C.” was great, before Marissa died, before it sucked. “Gossip Girl” is the classic “Pretty in Pink” dichotomy of rich vs. poor where all the rich kids drink, do drugs and have threesomes and the poor kids are the moralistic salt of the earth. But it’s updated; the guys are beautiful, the clothes are amazing and it’s just something you hate to love. The show is tied all up by a narrator calling herself Gossip Girl who airs the secrets of the characters in her personal blog (kind of like a voyeuristic “Wonder Years”).
What I’m most surprised about this season is the CBS network. When did CBS become almost hip? I’m used to the CBS of oldendays which programmed for “Touched by an Angel”-loving grannies, but CBS has made watching TV on Fridays nearly acceptable by running what I’d like to coin “Freaky Fridays” by showing paranormal delight “Ghost Whisperer” and my new favorite vampire drama, “Moonlight.”
“Moonlight” is about a freaking hot vampire private investigator who uses his powers for good while trying to keep the identities of the “vampires who walk among us” a secret. Sure it’s hokey ("As darkness falls, a hero is born?" who writes that stuff?), but I am who I am, and I am a sucker for a good vampire show. Remember “Kindred: the Embraced” that short-lived Fox show in the mid-90s? It was good, but didn’t catch on, and I’m afraid “Moonlight” will have that same fate. Until it goes away, I will enjoy my Freaky Fridays on CBS, even if I have to tape it. (Yes, “tape.” I’m taking donations for a TiVo, though.)
Two things I didn’t particularly like about my new favorite show “Moonlight.”
1.) The use of an Evanescence song during a particularly “sentimental” scene. I feel the usage of popular (term used loosely because I detest Evanescence) music in an already trendy television show is a very delicate balance. From day one, Grey’s Anatomy found this balance, as did The O.C., however not every show can do it well. Music has to be part of the script, and not just make a cameo appearance just because the director thinks it will “make the show cool.” The best usage of music as part of a TV show script is throughout the series “La Femme Nikita,” God rest its soul. I’m reminded of season 4, before Michael became a total pussy, when Madeline and that chick from Red Cell were trading posses in an empty football field. The whole scene was set in slow-motion to an Enigma song-- and it was beautiful.
2.) Number two isn’t so much something I didn’t like about the show, but more a tip of what not to do during a new television show you’re enjoying. Do not, I repeat, NOT, consume an entire can of fat-free Pringles because you’re so drawn to what you’re watching. The Olean they use to make the things so damn tasty is like colon silicone come 2:34 in the morning.
See what happens when I feel sick and stay home to get better and watch television? I am glad I'm getting over the sickness and my reality tv obsession at the same time.
Fat-free "cheese" does not melt.
After two weeks of no exercise and a wicked lot of East Coast draught beer, I went to the gym yesterday to sweat it all out. After 45 minutes of killing myself on the elliptical trainer, I opted to hit the grocery store for nacho fixins. But guilt got the best of me, and while I did get nacho fixins, I got fat free shredded cheddar "cheese" and fat free chips.
Excited to make my snack for lunch, and thrilled that I would still be somewhat healthy, I hurried home from the store. Chips onto the plate, shredded "cheese" onto the chips, one-minute in the microwave...
Fat-free "cheese" does not melt. The shreds were still every bit as defined as when I took them out of the bag. Maybe another 30 seconds would do the trick.
Three minutes later, fat-free "cheese" does not melt.
Instead, the whole mess of cheese and chips had actually become part of the plate. The whole phenomenon reminded me of Sweet Home Alabama when the one cute guy turns sand to glass and then professes his love to Reese Witherspoon. Except there was no love triangle. Or Southern rock music. Or cute guy. (Yeah, that analogy was a stretch.)
Instead of throwing away the whole mess, plate and all, I decided to try and break apart the upper part of the chip-wad and eat it. After a couple of bites, I realized that not only does fat-free "cheese" turn into titanium when put on chips and microwaved, but it also tastes like shit. One hour later, I had pried enough of the mess off the plate where I hope a dishwasher will help at some point.
My snack was defeated, and I moved on. For dinner I thought I'd be safer and ate dry Stove Top stuffing out of the container.
I haven't had a chance to upload ALL of my pictures I took in Philadelphia, but here are some if you want to check them out on Flickr: http://flickr.com/photos/princessgolightly/
Now you know my Flickr address, so you have no excuse not to regularly check out my pictures-- and I have no excuse not to be more regular in taking them. Gotta' use that fancy camera!
Keep watching for one of the strangest pictures I've ever taken, when we decided to go on a ghost tour through the "City of Brotherly Love."
After spending last week in Philadelphia for work, I decided heading to sunny Massachusetts to visit my brother and sister-in-law (well, they're nearly married... I'm in the wedding next summer) would be a nice, relaxing bit of a vacation.
Turns out, I like this state.
I like drinking draught Sam Adams while watching Red Sox games.
I like East Coast men with accents.
Ultimately, I like the fact that everywhere I go does not remind me of the emotional rollercoaster I've ridden for the past few years. When I'm in Salt Lake, it is hard to get through the day when just driving past a grocery store reminds me of my dad. It started to get to me so much, the thought of returning at the beginning of the week rather than the end seemed like the only way to continue to center myself.
Sure, it was tough to call my mom and tell her not to find me at the airport tomorrow, but I'm trying to find my mojo. My mojo's been gone for awhile now, and quite frankly, I'd like it back. I'm tired of being mojo-less.
And if I happen to find a cute smile to make me smile along the way while hanging out with the best brother and sister-in-law anybody could hope to have, so much the bettah.
I don't know what I did, but karma is sticking its tongue out at me. I was on the freeway after work last night, during rush hour, behind a mini-van and sandwiched between two semi-trucks. When the mini-van spit an eight-inch piece of tire shred right out into the air.
I thought to myself, "Hmmm... rubber is squishy and bouncy! This is noooo prob..." SMACK!
Right into the corner of the hood of my car, my baby. No biggie when I saw the hood flapping in the breeze, I figured the little tire chunk just unlatched the hood on one side. After pulling over, there is a damn dent in the hood along with a broken latch. Not a big dent, not a hugely disgusting dent, just a dent large enough to look ugly and piss me off.
After getting estimates all day, estimates that range between five- and six-hundred dollars, I am wondering what I did to piss off karma so much this week:
Is it because I jokingly referred to an old lady as "The Cryptkeeper?" This is not an untruth; she does look like the Cryptkeeper, I'm not saying it to be mean, it's just... true.
Is it because I didn't really jump to save my mother as she fell down the mezzanine stairs at the Capitol Theatre during the intermission of Spamalot Sunday night? I didn't want her to pull me down too, not to mention I did finaly help her off the ground after she slammed her head into a pole. (I was also in a slight daze from the hotness of Sir Gallahad or "Dennis.")
Is it because I borrowed someone else's wine, the wine about which I wrote last week?
I got the hood latch fixed this evening by the fine folks at TeraFlex, who even used a ratchet thing and helped with installation. Still doesn't fix the dent in the hood, but at least I'm saved from said hood catching air and slamming up into the windshield.
My perfect car that has always been perfect isn't quite so perfect anymore. Like so many things in life, it's just an annoyance that adds a little color the the monotony of the day. I'm reminded of a saying I like to tell myself whenever I'm feeling sad and blue:
"If you light a man a fire, he'll be warm for a day but if you light a man on fire, he'll be warm for the rest of his life."
Just some random thoughts for your Wednesday night pleasure... take them how you will.
1. No matter how sweaty you get at the gym, do not blot your disgusting face with cheapo toilet paper from the bathroom stall. You'll only end up looking like you've had a horrible shaving accident, and you will not realize this until after you've walked back out through the gym and are sitting in the car.
2. If you are dating someone and that someone happens to die, do not keep their old bras out on your shed workbench. It will make the person you might later date question your affection for them, and that will be the start of a slow spiral down the proverbial relationship toilet. Until it flushes and it's gone.
3. Thank goodness for fast-thinking friends who come up with the idea to use a towel to slide and carry a television. That's right! If you feel that number two pertains to you, then you're the same person from whom I stole said tv-moving towel! Bwahahahahahaaa! I also borrowed a bottle of wine from you, and it was the best wine I've ever had.
4. Is Ouija necessarily bad? Is it only bad if the walls begin to bleed? What if I use Ouija and my dad tells me from the "other side" that he saw me borrow wine and take a towel?
5. Power outages and elliptical trainers do not mix well. If the power goes out while you are climbing at a 10 and the machine stops, you will get suddenly launched over the front. Red wine and someone else's Xanax prescription do not mix well either.
Only one more week until I leave for Philly. I'm excited to room with the life-saving towel-stealing accomplice. It will also be a much-needed diversion right now as I get into Fall and the one-year anniversary of some ultimate sadness.
I got new glasses.
Methinks the day-long vertigo is worth it. Apparently you're not supposed to go five years in between eye exams and now I feel like I have X-ray vision.
There are few joys in life greater than getting something in the mail from Victoria's Secret, other than their monthly credit card bill. If you're a card-holder, occasionally they'll send you free stuff. Free panty here, $10-off a purchase there, all with the assumption you'll visit their store and spend five-times what you'd normally spend.
Today, I got home from yet another nerve-wracking day at work and saw a little glimmer of salvation: the Victoria's Secret mailer announcing "Free Panty." The Free Panty is a good one, and having acquired several of the little gems over the years, I was excited to redeem the coupon and perhaps spend actual money on a few well-deserved items for myself. Upon opening the poorly glued mailer, I discovered something so horrific, so mortifying, so heinous I was forced to check the mailbox several times out of desperation.
No Free Panty. None, no card-like coupon stuck to the inside of the card. The words echoed inside my head: No. Free. Panty. For. You. Holly.
The postman stole my Free Panty. That's the only logical explaination for it's disappearance. Isn't it just my luck today that I would look so forward to Free Panty and then have my hopes dashed?
Apparently you don't get something for nothing.
I could hardly believe what I heard on the radio on the way to work this morning: Owen Wilson was in the hospital after having allegedly attempted suicide by slitting his wrists and taking pills (not necessarily in that order).
It made me wonder why someone so funny cute and together would try to off himself. It seems it's always the funny ones who are so inwardly tragic. It's that cognitive dissonance of a crying clown, except Owen is less creepy than a real clown.
Or even a mime.
With the news of the day, I'd like to reflect on my top five creepiest suicide scenes in movies:
5.) Heat (1995). Val Kilmer's daughter tries offing herself in the bathtub. It was creepy.
4.) Leaving Las Vegas (1995). Pretty much the whole thing. Nic Cage epitomizes the typical suicidal character, the antithesis of Owen Wilson.
3.) Wizard of Oz (1937). Okay, not a real suicide, however there is an urban legend that one of the munchkin actors allegedly hung himself in a tree... and they left it in the final print. Turns out it's a big bird. This also ranks up there with the "ghost boy" in 3 Men and a Baby, which turns out is a cardboard cutout. But I digress...
2.) Royal Tenenbaums (2001). This is extremely strange given Owen Wilson's latest display. I hate watching people cut themselves with things in movies, I hate it worse than watching people shoot up with needles in movies. I hate pain.
1.) Balls of Fury (2007). Christopher Walken's career suicide. Makes me wonder, does he really need money or is he to the point where he doesn't really need money?
When Miss Teen South Carolina grows up, she wants to be a veterinarian because she loves children.
I could see the next line of question going something like this:
Guy with Microphone: "Tell us your thoughts on euthanasia."
Miss Teen South Carolina: "I think youth in Asia have small feet 'cuz they bind them when they're little."
I know how it goes. I was in the Miss Dixie College pagent.
*Update: August 27, 2007*
From people.com
"The beauty contestant's video on YouTube has received more than 2 million hits thanks to her amazingly off-the-mark answer at Friday night's pageant, when she was queried about why Americans are so bad at geography.
Specifically, she was asked why one-fifth of Americans can't find the United States on a map.
"I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because some people out there in our nation don't have maps," she ventured.
During her meandering response, she also tossed in out-of-the-blue references to "the Iraq" and "Asian countries" and their need for the support of the American educational system in identifying the United States on the map.
Upton is described as a varsity athlete and student leader at Lexington High School, where she graduated in June with a 3.5 GPA.
Despite the on-camera gaffe, Upton finished as third runner-up."
Tonight, just now, I discovered that Pepsi Jazz Carmel and Creme flavor tastes exactly like diet creme soda. Diet creme soda is extremely difficult to find, for whatever reason, and so right now I'm giddy with excitement. Zero calories of yummy.
I've also had over a bottle of Argentenian red wine prior to discovering said caramel creme soda.
I am blogging on red wine. Alone. In my thoughts.
For those of you who don't know me, or even for those who do, I'm a dancer. I have been a dancer for my entire life, starting at the age of two-and-a-half because my mom lied and said I was three to get me into classes. I danced through high school and when I attended the University of Utah was a modern dance major who defected and became a competitive ballroom dancer. I won't lie, it was the glitter and feathers that got me. (Unfortunately meeting men was tough, it was the glitter and feathers that got them too.)
Why is this relevant, you ask? I am currently in a hip hop, jazz, contemporary dance company here in good ol' SLC, and as a "senior member," am going to teach a new audition piece this Saturday. Which is why I found Pepsi Jazz caramel and creme. I've had creative block tonight, and rather than going to the gym, rather than making up the dance, I went to the store to wander. Creative block is a bitch.
I'm pleased to announce that after over a half a bottle of red wine, I have come up with not only a song I like, but also the first sixteen counts of choreography with which I'm pleased. This isn't particularly relevant to the world around us; this isn't going to cure cancer or save the rainforests or find the trapped Utah miners, but it brought a smile to my face.
Dancing is a story, and mine lately is a pretty twisted one. If finding a pretty song and making some gorgeous movement to it can bring a few minutes of thought this weekend to strangers, then I guess tonight wasn't a total loss.
In the morning, we'll see if my head actually agrees with my typing fingers...
and my tastebuds.
After feeling extremely stressed out and not sleeping for the past week, I had an early work-morning and then am taking the rest of the day off. Sure, I have to work tomorrow, but for today, it's bad reality television and Boo Berry Cereal.
I have had a love/hate relationship with Boo Berry. I used to love it, obsess over it, eat it whenever I could find it, but it was tricky to find from time to time in the late-90s. Until one heavenly Halloween (my favorite holiday of the year) when my mom and dad showed up at my apartment with a case of Boo Berry-- 24 boxes all to myself. I lined my pantry shelf with rows of boxes, and would sometimes just open the cabinet and stare lovingly.
Every morning I ate Boo Berry for breakfast. Every night I ate Boo Berry for dinner. Snacks? Boo Berry. And it was good.
My boyfriend at the time was very into making cheesecake, and had unbeknownst to me swiped a box to create a Boo Berry cheesecake for my birthday a month later. He showed up with this oddly blue-purple mush encased in a graham cracker crust, sprinkled with half-squishy Boo Berry. Apparently when you try to mix Boo Berry into a cheesecake recipe, it turns to shit.
It turned me off, and he and I are no longer dating. He left the country. I like to think it was cheesecake shame rather than my issues.
Now, nearly a decade later, I have found Boo Berry again. I even bought milk for it so I wouldn't have to eat it dry, though I will probably do that too. The box illustration has gotten a bit of an update, ol' Boo Berry is hipper, happer, less freakishly Casper-ish, but still a familiar friend. He still has that familiar stoned look/lazy eye. Sure the look has slightly changed, but the sugary crunch has remained the same.
Old habits die hard.
I thought the idea was to make a cover model look even better than they would in real life, thus facilitating sales of more magazines? Gwyneth Paltrow looks positively horrid on this recent cover of W Magazine. I didn't even know it was her, I peed a little.
Because I'm so disturbed by this cover, I have but a few random thoughts to share. These thoughts are totally unrelated to said cover, but just some things I've been kicking around in my head:
1) My lip is still numb from Rocky Horror rehearsal last night. I expect the feeling will return by tomorrow, but by Saturday will suffice. (Sidebar: even if you don't like Rocky Horror, plan to come. We're boasting the tallest Dr. Frank N. Furter ever. He tried on his 5-inch red patent leather platform shoes yesterday and he's nearly seven-feet tall. With fishnets. And garters.)
2) The Discount Tire Company commercial where the old lady throws her old tire through the front window of the building is still airing on various television stations. Why this? Why not the old "Where's the Beef?" lady from the Wendy's commercials? She at least has some personality.
3) Random Kitty has told his friends I'm apparently the cool lady. A new random kitty has been stopping by my apartment for the last two nights. This one is all black-- omen?
4) I'm sorry for the miners and their families in Huntington, Utah. I really do hope they are okay.
5) Brad Pitt showed up for jury duty today. Why is it the rest of us are subjected to sit through jury duty and/or subpoena with people who are missing teeth and open beer bottles with their toes? This also applies to emergency room doctors who seldom resemble McDreamy.
6.) Three words: Rob. Zombie's. Halloween. I'm giddy with anticipation.
Despite being exhausted when I came home from work today and falling asleep on the couch until about 8 tonight, I still went to the gym. I'm proud of this.
But I digress.
Being a Mac geek I admit I was excited to come home and read all about Steve Jobs' revelations at today's Apple media event, but now I'm not that thrilled. I do love the latest iMac's shiny aluminum casing and pretty glass screen (a' la iPhone... can we expect a touch-screen iMac in the future?) however, I will officially go on the record stating I can not support Apple's decision to remove the "open apple" from the "command" key on their new keyboards. I'm a purist. Still, the new iMacs are really swell and I wouldn't put up a fight if some nice person were to send me one. Beyond that, nothing else from today really flipped my bunny. The new iLife '08 seems nice; the new version of iPhoto is great and the redesigned iMovie looks a bit more professional than iMovie from iLife '06. Ultimately, I think Apple pretty much blew their hype-wad when they released the iPhone earlier this summer.
After spending time at the gym this evening, I came up with some workout iDeas (get it? ideas?) in honor of today's Apple event:
1.) iSpandex- This is for the woman who filled up her water bottle ahead of me. She very much needed the stretch feature in her biker shorts, so much that she had both front and back camel toes that actually made me feel her pain. This camel toe feature is also interchangeable with the iMooseknuckle and the i'Msmugglingayoyo.
2.) iGrunt- This is for the guys who load up their weight on a Nautilus machine far too much. Yes, I know you're manly, but must you broadcast this by slamming down the stack of weights in such a prehistoric way?
3.) iFreshener- The best part of my gym experience tonight. I won't go into detail, but for the man who was next to me on the elliptical... Just because you're wearing headphones doesn't mean we can't hear it when you rip one.
Go forth and conquer, Apple.
...of the tunnel?
This day started out like shit. I forgot to wash the conditioner out of my hair, and after running around all day like a crazy girl, my whole head is threatening to turn into a giant dread lock.
My very expensive, eight-dollar Clinical Secret deodorant for extremely high-strung, sweaty girls doesn't seem to work. How anything you put on at night and then expect to last through the next morning's shower is supposed to work is beyond me. Eight-dollar deodorant?
The light seems to be the prospect of wearing a dog collar on stage and playing my saxophone in Rocky Horror 2007. Click on my name, see my picture, drool over it-- even with smelly deodorant and a head dread lock.
When I was in eighth grade, I had an uncanny love for Balthazar Getty. I remembered seeing the picture above in an issue of Seventeen magazine, and I hated Milla Jovovich with every fiber of my being just because she was touching my Balthazar. Sure I had glasses, headgear and played in the school band, but I was so much better than Milla! How dare she pose with Balthazar, how dare she get her breast buds so close to him!
I saw Young Guns 2 twenty-five times in the theatres, each time spending my hard-earned allowance to feed my Balthazar obsession. It's bad enough to see any movie twenty-five times in the theatres, much less the fact that it was Young Guns 2. I purchased every Teen Beat, Tiger Beat, and Bop I could find if it contained Balthazar (and Jonathan Knight from the New Kids was an added bonus and another obsession. His birthday is the same day as mine almost!) My bedroom wall was literally wrapped floor to ceiling with glossy Balthazar pictures I had ripped out of my various mags, and every time his Young Guns 2 character died, a little part of me died as well.
Here's the icky thing: I actually came home from work this afternoon to find Lord of the Flies on the 24/7 Chiller channel. I actually thought, "OOOOOh! Balthazar! I love him!" Then they showed him, and he's like twelve-years-old and then I felt really creeped out. Sure, Balthazar has aged just like I've aged, he's even aged on TV, but for the first time in a very long time, I felt really old.
Here's the other thing: Kids have it so easy these days! Not only did I spend thousands of dollars on teen tabloids, but now all kids have to do is jump online, click their keyboards and print out free pictures of their crushes! It's so unfair. Kids these days will never fully appreciate the act of riding one's bike to the 7-11 to grab a Slurpee while pouring over the magazine rack.
While I appreciate all my childhood activities, I also realize my old habits die hard. My Balthazar is married and I'm still wearing glasses and playing in the band.
