"Fuck You", NPR

So, NPR is awesome.  And by NPR, I mean public radio in general, or I guess ACTUALLY I mean 89.3 KPCC, no rant, no slant as they seem to announce every five minutes.  And I don’t really think that is exactly true, EXACTLY, but its a helluva lot better than Fox news in the ranting and slanting department.  Plus everyone loves a catchy catchphrase that catches. CATCH!  Got it? Good.

Writing is made difficult by an adorable kitty trying to make cookies on my belly as I slide my laptop further and further down my legs and crane my head around the purring furball.  Louie. Stop. Oh, wow, thanks. Thank god you can read.  Talented cat.

ANYWAY.  The radio about which I am speaking, which shall heretofore be referred to solely as “NPR”, is awesome, some might even say awesometastic.  I would, for instance, and for a number of reasons.  One reason is that NPR introduced me to Cee Lo Green.  Yeah.  Public Radio made me aware of the awesome(tastic?) song, and 2010 summer hit, “Fuck You”.

NPR also taught me the back story of “99 Problems” by Jay Z.

If you're havin' girl problems I feel bad for you son

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one

That bitch, is a literal bitch.  A K9 unit.  Cop stopped him, threatened K9 search of car, but that bitch was tied up at another job.  Like, on a leash, even.  I didn’t learn about the actual 99 problems.  Cavity?  Boxers or Briefs? Mom bugging him for grandchildren?  The possibilities are endless.

And who couldn’t love Garrison Keillor and A Praire Home Companion?  That man is serio my hero.  Or like, so much not that it goes in a circle, a heroic circle, and he comes up on top and I can’t not listen.  Recently, he had Paula Poundstone on and they totally had a passive aggressive radio fight.  Totes hilario due to cold stares, which just register on the radio as extended periods of silence and them then having to describe their tiff, making it all the more awkward.  Just like this picture of Garrison:

I just love that I can get in my car, turn on NPR, start driving, probably to LA for the 10 millionth time in a week, and learn much much much.  Usually things I wouldn’t have had the opportunity for exposure to....hahahah like Car Talk, and obvs. other stuff toooo.  From politics to “Fuck You” by the fabulous Cee Lo Green, I learn much, my attention is held, and I know whats up in my community.   NPR is a treasure.

Oh, and I wish I had a little puppy to cuddle with also. That would be rad.

Planet Kelly and the Tea Factor: Guilty!

There is one thing that I know for a fact I can blame on my mother.   At least one thing that I can think of right now; give me an hour, a cocktail, and a tape recorder and who knows what will come out...real or imagined.

Guilt.  Oh guilt, guilt, guilt!  This is big with my Mims, as I fondly call her.  I was taught to be a good hostess, and to put other's needs ahead of my own whenever appropriate, particularly when that person is a guest.   But the thing is, you see, sometimes I forget to offer people tea when I make it for myself.  There I said it.  This does not sit well with the Mim.

Honestly, I think it is because it was made to be such a big deal that the stress of it was too much for my brain to handle.  So my brain was all like, “Hell no, girl, don’t even worry yo’self, we don’t need no stress up in here!  I’m taking you on a stress vacay bitch.”  Obviously, I couldn’t argue.  Hello!  This is my brain we’re talking about, it controls like everything on Planet Kelly.

Also, it must be said, I drink a ton of tea.  The “tea act” as I just decided to call it is not so much a special event for me.   It is life-blood.  The act just must BE, regardless of others, I must drink it.  It is only special in that without it I am not myself.  Who has time to stop their compulsion and ask others if they’d like to partake? 

Like, ya know?

I drink a lot of tea everyday, I loves it!  A slow day is about 3 cups.  When I was at UCSB I discovered the best invention of all time, the electric kettle, and my tea habit settled in at 12 cups of green tea per day. And we’re not talking “about 12” either.  I had 12 EVERYDAY on top of the one or two cups of Earl Grey or English Breakfast I’d have in the dining commons with Aimee in the morning.  I fully do not understand how I managed 12, because if I have one cup now on an empty stomach I get nauseous and start dry heaving.  I’m so pretty!  I think it is a vitamin K overload or something.

Now, come on peeps, does this make me deserving of guilt?  Obviously tea and I are really special friends and I can’t always make room in that relationship for others.  Or at least the rulers of Planet Kelly aren’t too keen on the idea at present.

And so I blame this guilt on my mother.  She’s a strong lady, she can handle it.  Now for some tea.

Honeycrap Conspiracy: An Apple a Day Keeps Your Mind at Bay

Hello folks.  I’ve decided to write about something today that has been bothering me for the last few years.  I’ve noticed a problem lurking in our grocery stores that needs to be addressed.  We all know that fruits and vegetables are a delicious and healthy way to meet our daily nutritional needs.  I personally love fresh berries and dairy-free yogurt in the morning.  What can be better than a large salad at dinner with avocado, olives, corn...the creative possibilities are endless. There is one food item, however, that threatens the very survival of the others.  I am talking about Honeycrisp apples.

Honeycrisp apples are the destructive and evil child of the Macoun and Honeygold apples.  The apple industry has created this uncommonly delicious foodstuff in an effort to control our eating habits and thusly control our minds.  When Honeycrisp season comes around in September, who can eat anything else?  Inevitably, the season ends, the apples are no longer available, and we then spend the rest of the year in withdrawl, unable to stomach any other apple.  Granny Smith? No ma’am!  Red Delicious? No, no, not delicious!  Fuji?  It doesn’t even have a clever descriptive phrase as a name!

If you are like me then you want to defend your freedom to eat and enjoy the food that nourishes your body without fear of mind control and slavery to the apple industry.  The first step to this freedom is awareness of the savage authoritarians behind the Honeycrisp movement: The University of Minnesota.  At a particularly vulnerable period in our nation’s history, the 1960’s, this supposed “institute of higher learning” (what does that even MEAN?) began a breeding program to develop new and more delicious apples.  The very thought of such an endeavor brings to mind Hitlerian ideals of perfection.  The unfortunate end result was the Honeycrisp.

It is with a heavy heart that I must inform the reader that the Honeycrisp only grows in popularity and deliciousness every year.  Please do what you can to stop this movement.  Contact your congress person.  Inform the media about the evil inner workings of the University of Minnesota.  Boycott markets that sell this forbidden fruit.  As disgusting as it may sound, try other apples! You can do it!  There are support systems out there for you when all you can think about is your next Honeycrisp fix.  As a Honeycrisp survivor I am here to tell you that you can get through the cravings, through the tears, through the anguish, and come out the other end a better person for it.  Together we are strong and can make a difference.  Our voices will be heard.

University of Minnesota: You say Honeycrisp, I say HONEYCRAP.  I will not be controlled!

The Kid To Throw Dirt At

It is times like these, with my nose running down my face, that I contemplate the many special dysfunctions of being me.  I am an allergy sufferer.  The allergies are bad. Quite, quite bad.  Sometimes I get a fever and an unstoppable stream of snot and tears run down my face for a few days.  I also get man voice. During this time it is inadvisable to leave the house.  Allergies cannot be mentioned without bringing special attention to another one of my special dysfunctions: partially collapsed Eustachian tubes in my ears, with particular dysfunction resting in my left ear.  Ears cannot drain properly=worse allergies.  Also bad hearing, ringing and crackling in my ears.  I’m like my own little sound check at all times.  It’s as awesome as it sounds.

Ok, so you know what else is cool about me?  My left leg is shorter than my right!  Pain.  Weird limpy walk when I forget to wear my lift.  My spine is all out of alignment making me achy and cracky and poppy.  Sounds like a new cereal.  Don’t try it!  This one gives you the gimps!   Its kind of funny when my back is especially hurty from this extra special dysfunction cause I get tired and a bit goofy, like I’m buzzed and I can’t think properly.  I am prone to idiocy, I guess you could say.  But it’s not my fault, it’s the leg’s.

Then there is the gluten and dairy allergies or intolerances or whatever we call them these days.  No ice cream?  Oh, not a problem.  No pie?  Fine. That’s fine.  Actually, its not fine, I was being sarcastic.  But you can’t hear my inflection.  So.  I just thought I’d point it out.  The really bad part about this situation is that I stopped eating meat in 8^th grade.  I have been a vegetarian for over 11 years, and the thought of eating meat has disgusted me since then, and honestly quite a bit longer.  I never could stomach a steak or pork or chicken.  I did love bacon, pepperoni, and barbecue ribs, don’t ask me why.  So, finding something to eat can be an issue.  Food and I are in a fight right now, but potato, beans,  and rice, are my lovelies.  I kick it with veg and fruit too.  Almonds be my homies.  Ok, so its not really a fight, but more of a tiff. 

Thank god my eyesight is good or I’d be the walking definition of “kid to throw dirt at in the playground”.  I’ve got eczema too.  Not bad.  Not bad at all, just a few patches. 

So there you have it.  I have proven I am especially awesome.  You’re welcome.

Rehearsal Day One aka. HELL

I got cast in a play.  I was excited because #1 I had previously been cast in a play that I decided to quit when I found out how illegit it was (ie we had to pay to be in it....um, shouldn't it be the other way around?) and #2 I love/miss/live for acting and haven't been in a play since graduating acting school and I'm beginning to feel like a lame-o.

The following is my experience of the first rehearsal.  Oh, it was a special two hours.

Rehearsal: Day 1

Drove to the ghetto. Parked in the ghetto.  Was scared in the ghetto.  Felt bad for being scared in the ghetto. Worried about my car getting broken into in the ghetto.  Felt bad for worrying about my car getting broken into in the ghetto.  Got out of my car in the ghetto, and quickly, swiftly, walked around my car and like a diving gull snatched my computer bag up from the passenger side floor so as not to leave it alone in the ghetto. Began my walk through the ghetto. All the while maintaining a general sense of guilty fear and high levels of self-consciousness.  I didn’t see a single white person.  I felt bad for noticing.

I arrived at the theatre, breathing a mental sight of relief that I made it, and was greeted by a staircase.  It is up! Ok! I climbed up the stairs in the definitely not handicapable accessible theatre to find a surprisingly nice little black box housing an equally surprising menagerie of folk.  Less nice, more surprise.  And as time passed: annoyance, coupled with regret, realization of future embarrassment, and general feelings of dissatisfaction with my station in life at present.  Although, these feelings do come up often being that I am a newly graduated professionally trained actor unemployed and living with my dad. WITH NO PROSPECTS.

The folk included a mild mannered and soft-spoken know-it-all not afraid to correct others even if he is not sure himself and might be wrong gay man playing the strong and handsome manipulative male romantic lead.   His pacing while reading, turning of his full back to the audience, and the monotony of his voice WORE on me. 

An assistant director who acted like a just plain old director although it was his first day.  He was replacing someone else due to drama I didn’t understand.  He had no research or plan, not a single note in his script.  Kept smoothing back his Hollywood hair, and sayings things like “most people just say the lines but you guys are actually like really saying them like they mean something and that is good because they do”.  His voice is halfway between Kelsey Grammar and Zach Morris. 

Sincere Leigh.  Sincerely. I’m not lying. She plays the stripper girlfriend of the romantic male.  She has a new white mustang, a purple mark jacobs purse, scuffed as hell pilgrim boots, a skull belt on her acid wash skinny jeans and black button up shirt outfit and scraggly greasy bleach blonde with roots short Cameron Diaz length hair, make-uped over acne, and the smell of wet cigarettes. Did I mention her name is Sincere Leigh? Sincerely.

Other notable mentions include the director/writer.  The woman is frightening because she seems to be one of those people that are on a different brain wave and you just can’t really get ahold of them.  Like how crazy people are scary because of their unpredictability.  There is a lot of little girl, broken dreams, and revenge mixed into her personality.  Add into this pot a 58 yr old (I know because she told us) frizzy short-haired big 70’s glassesed pants-suit wearing lady playing a 26 yr old single mom giving every emotion and American dialect in the book except the appropriate one.  An older down-trodden looking man playing the coked out caricature of a boss taking every line so seriously that he could only seem to do two in a row before being hopelessly lost.  As in, he lost his place in the script. CONS-TANT-LY. And then the cute 18 yr old looking stage manager who actually seems kinda cool and really excited about theatre.  It can't all be bad. Right?  I mean, I hope.  The liklihood of him being a serial killer or something is quite low I'd imagine.

Rehearsal was two hours.  Wretched, unexplainable, non-sensical horror.  It did not go well, but only I seemed to notice.  Favorite quote: "There is no reason this play can't end up on Broadway".  YES there is. YES THERE IS.  I can't even get into how bad the script is, but, BUT maybe you can guess at how bad the acting was based on the aforementioned characters.  The play will last two hours.  We will have 12 rehearsals of two hours each.  NOT ENOUGH TIME.  LAUGHABLE. LAUGHABLE!!!!!!!!!

*****

I quit

My second play in less than a month

Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us ev'ry day, it will brighten all the way
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life

OR WHATEVER.

***I have to say that I applaud the effort of the people organizing the play to take the leap and do theatre, get themselves out there. However, my horror for this production was based in the general lack of effort to find anything out about theatre before beginning the process of putting on a play people were going to (supposedly) pay money and come see.  It felt like an LA fame drive.  People hoping to be famous and putting as little effort into it as possible.***

Steve and Louie

My cats are adorable.  They make no sense.  I am amazed and perturbed by them on a daily basis.

I’ve got Steve, a too-cool-for-school slinky Russian Blue who loves to do somersaults on human feet and rub himself on legs.  Sometimes late at night he’ll deign to sit on my lap.

Then there is Louie. Louie is a contsa-purring Japanese Bobtail. He is square-like and compact.  He looks smaller than Steve, but weighs more. He needs attention, like, ALWAYS, and sits/stands on my chest whenever possible.

Steve likes to crawl quietly into small spaces.  Or jump delicately up high.

There is nothing delicate about Louie, and he makes a big *HUFF* whenever he lands on anything.

They talk to each other.  They talk to me.  Sometimes they sing along to music. (And I don’t literally mean, “TALK”, I’m not that nuts.  They do that guttural half chirp, half purr thing.) Sometimes, their inflection makes it sound like they’re asking a question. Obvio, I find this adorable. :)

Often, Steve will grab a toy upstairs, start squawking, squawk all the way down the stairs, make a final squawk upon entering the living room and then drop the toy.  He looks real proud of himself.

Louie likes to wake me up in the morning.  First he’ll hop on my bed with the requisite *HUFF* and then he’ll come up to my face purring REAL loud.  He’ll plop down on my chest and try to sniff out my fingers.  He’ll nibble on them a bit, and if that doesn’t wake me up, he’ll get under the covers and sniff out my toes, bite them, first gently, then with a mighty force.  He’s trained me well; this gets me right out of bed.

Yesterday I was in the shower and I heard a really strange repetitive thumping sound, which I dismissed as I knew my cats were in the bathroom.  I just assumed that they were playing, or swatting at the cord on the blinds or something.  The sound kept up so I peeked out of the shower.  There was Steve, perched on the toilet on his hind legs, like a little prairie dog.  His front legs were extended.  He was bouncing up and down with his front paws spinning, hitting, and tearing at the toilet roll.  I laughed so hard.  He was SO INTO IT!!! Louie was sitting on the window perch intently following the little snowflakes of toilet tissue make the descent to the floor.  When Steve noticed me, he just turned around, squawked, and went back to his business.

The thing that gets me about this little escapade is that I was right there in the shower and they still got into some big mischief.  Destruction is their MO.  Oh, and how dare I interrupt them! 

Cats are weird.

Steve likes small spaces.

Louie likes attention.

Where Do Queens Hide?

There are ant mother fuckers climbing on me! I hate finding them. I love to smooosh them.  I can feel them and I don’t know where they are and alls I want to do is smoosh smoosh them.

It is unseasonably warm outside.  Ants want to come inside and be cool.  I say no!  Go find another home!  You are unwelcome here.  And you can only be cool to get in this house to get cool, and you’re not COOL cause you’re an ant mother fucker, so tough luck bud, get outta town!

I got chocolate on my comforter last night.  I bought chocolate covered almonds at See’s Candies at Crystal Court in South Coast Plaza.  I was mad so I bought yummies.  Mad because Borders, where I wanted to go to buy my dad’s birthday gift, was closed due to a book signing or some THING and I couldn’t get what I wanted to get.  Yummies were needed to assuage said anger.  But the yummies just made me anxious/hyper...maybe due to combo with caffeine and alcohol also consumed this day?  So then I got soup and felt better, and then chips and felt even betterer.  Also, I bought some for my dad.  Some chocolate covered almonds, that is.

I think maybe the ants are after the choco.  Must do laundry.  Don’t want to move is so hot.  Those ant mother fuckers are moving all over the place.  I don’t even get the satisfaction of kicking their asses for invading my housey, but must smoosh smoosh smoosh them and get guts on me.  I like smooshy, but not gutsy.

I know!  I will find the queen, I will threaten her with a dangerously too close finger in her face (I will do finger exercises first!), she will get the message, she will be scared of smooshy, she will call the troops out and I will not feel little tickles on my legs.

Where do queens hide?

Like a Hobo in Detox

Oh, hi November! I'm sorry I didn't recognize you! I thought you were July 'cause its 100 degrees outside, but now I see that Thanksgiving is right around the corner. Oh, no no, my mistake!

Today I woke up feeling extra crappy.  So I decided to get coffee.  I gave up coffee, with the intention of having it occasionally, and this was the occasion, as I felt like fossilized dino shit.  It was wonderful and lifted my mood right out of the gutter like a hobo in detox.

I was all high on caffeine and driving around Irvine, and realized I needed gas.  Stopped at a Chevron in some shopping center I’d never been to before, which is weird, cause it’s Irvine. If you don’t know what I mean then just know that Irvine is studied in architecture school for being one of the most planned communities in the world and has been number one several years in a row on the FBI’s safest mid-sized cities list for the whole US of A.  So, its one of those places you get to know if you spend any extended period of time there.

When you are all buzzed on caffeine and you’re me, as I am, sometimes you make bad decisions.  I glanced over the pump as I was getting gas and noticed a BevMo.  So, I finished up with the gas, drove over and bought me some rum.  Can’t really tell you why.  I never buy alcohol for home use.  I would just drink it.  Think about what caffeine does to me, and transfer that to a more addictive depressant that completely inhibits your ability to function in any sort of normal and generally safe way.

So now I have a bottle of rum, and like NOTHING to mix it with.  Or, really, even a desire to drink it.  I don’t know man.

It’s hot outside.