Radical Diet

Today, I forced myself to eat something green. Funny looking things, like olive drab limp twist ties. "Green Beans" I think they're called, and it said "French Style". Loathe as I am to indulge in anything with the word "French" in it, I ate them, nonetheless.

We'll see how my body reacts.

No go on the Archives

Well, Marc's fabulous ideas on the html didn't work. I have NO idea why my archives are "java script", and so if anyone else wants to try, lemme know!

With it being Sam Hain and all, I'm going to do my best not to eat pounds of chocolate. Thanks God I'm not PMS today. What a bad timing situation for a woman that could be. Tonight, Nicola is playing a free show at Daily Perks and Kelly and I are going! Anyone else joining????

Okay, I give up.

If anyone wants to try and fix my frackin' archives, step forward. The archives on my other blogs work, so I compared HTML and I see no frickin' difference. I tried this. I tried that. Mercy.

Anyone game?

Those gusty winds...

...are my sighs of relief.

Today I finally sent off the CD to the manufacturer. I got both the artwork and the master today, and had filled out the forms last night. Proofed the artwork one last time, then put it with the form in one carefully marked, sealed, padded envelope. I listened to the master to be sure it was okay, then put that with the log form in another carefully marked, sealed, padded envelope. Then I wrote one of those credit card checks for 2 grand and attached it to all the other damn forms they require. Put the whole thing in a pile. Then wrapped the whole pile in bubble wrap.

Took it to the UPS store and put it in one of those indestructible, overnight envelopes and shipped it under my account number. Double checked the contents before I sealed it. Made the lady put tape over the already sealed flap. Stood there until I saw her attach the shipping label to the envelope. Then I pressed down on the label again to make sure it was really stuck to it. And did the same to the tape on the flap.

Then I asked her if their sprinklers worked, and was anyone smoking in the back, or were they harboring hazmat materials back there? And is their UPS guy a safe driver and a conscientious worker or is he disgruntled? Do they keep alot of money on site, making them a target for robberies? What time does the UPS guy pick up?

I feel like I've just sent my child off to finishing school. She better come back perfect.

Words of truth...


-"I don't know what to do. He's so unhappy."
-"Of course he is. He's a musician."

From the Arturo Sandoval Story

Did I say boring???

First it started with breakfast with a certainbeautifulwoman. Some garlicky scrambled eggs on flatbread smothered in chili that a certainbeautifulwoman had made the evening before, garnished with olives and jalapenos and a dollop of sour cream. Then it was all snuggled up on the couch with said certainbeautifulwoman and her cat watching a little TV. But how long can that last? How long can you lay in the arms of such a certainbeautifulwoman without eventually deciding to assist each other with your respective ICF's? Not very, that's how. Hardly boring, for sure.

Alas, I had to go home eventually, around 4:00 or so, which is when the boring part started. Printing out 200 flyers and paying bills and looking at this overdue tax bill that will be the death of me when the penalties and interest are added up, thinking it's probably cheaper to pay this on a high interest credit card compared to what the IRS will gouge me for.

Then it was the Bills game, which anguished me to no end. It was like I was watching Jim KELLY again with all those interceptions. And I didn't even drink any beer. In fact, I watched an hour of the game from the treadmill.

Boring, indeed!

It's a good day to do nothin'

Oy, it's raining like a muthafuckah here, and it's also 5:30 and dark now. I love getting the extra hour but I don't like the darkness that comes with it, especially since I sleep through most of the daylight, getting up at 10:00 a.m. as I do. I want to get one of those lights that people use for S.A.D. I don't have SAD, but I love sitting in front of those lights. It's always dark in this house and I usually have every light on. I just like alot of light. But those lights cost a small fortune.

Glad the Marlins won - not that I'm even a baseball fan but I'm sick and tired of the Yankees always winning. It takes the excitement out of everything.

Don't have too much to say. I'd rather be in bed. But ya know, stuff to do. I'll probably watch the Bills game tonight and drink a beer while I'm at it. A rather boring day. A rather boring post.

Basta, allora!*

Okay, *enough already about the bodily functions postings. What would Freud say? Well, the real question is what would I say back to Freud, the fucking misogynistic pervert that he was.

Saw Kill Bill today. Doesn't seem to have had much of a point but I will say I loved it. But that's because I love all that gory, slasher shit. I love B movies, the bloodier the better, so this movie appealed to that side of me. And we really won't know what the point of the movie is until VOL II because we don't even know why the bad guys wanted her dead in the first place. So, like....whatever.

But I must say, it was beautifully filmed. The camera shots, the unique elements in it (such as the anime section and the fight scene in the blue silouette). The fight choreography was amazing, the comic relief was so campy. Blah Blah Blah. If you aren't sqeamish, go see it. If you're looking for a redeeming message, stay home.

Leah's fave B Movies:

The Basket Case Trilogy
Frankenhooker
Bloodsucking Freaks
Night of the Living Dead
Dead or Alive
Vegas in Space
Chopper Chicks in Zombie Town

I enjoy being a girl

Didja ever forget you had your period, until your overburdened tampon slipped right out?

Me neither.

It's all about Marketing and Perception

Let's say one day I become seriously depressed. So depressed, in fact, that I decide to kill myself. That's right. Suicide. Say I'm suicidal. So I take a bunch of pills. Or I tie my shoelace around my neck and jump off a stool. Or I shoot myself with a pellet gun. But say also that I'm such a total loser that I can't even succeed at dying. And someone finds me and calls an ambulance and I go to the hospital. So what happens then? I'm branded as a nutcase and sent to the loonie bin for awhile and pumped up with medications.

So why does this DUMBASS MOTHERFUCKER who happened to survive his leap over Niagara Falls called a "DAREDEVIL" and is suddenly being paid gazillions of dollars to appear on Good Morning America and the like? MAYBE I SHOULD JUMP OVER THE GODDAMN FALLS TO PROMOTE MY NEW CD!!!

Quote of last night

"You don't poop, you can't sleep, and it takes forever for you to have an orgasm. No wonder you're bitter!"

Said completely tongue in cheek of course, by my dear Kelly. Gee, how did we get on the conversation of pooping? Well, if you MUST know, but you'll be sorry you asked. I was merely mentioning that, as I have a constipated personality (no comments, please...), I don't poop a whole lot as a rule, EXCEPT WHEN I HAVE A FRIGGIN' HEMORRHOID THEN I GOTTA POOP EVERYDAY ALL WEEK! motherfuckingouch.

And it only takes me 15-20 minutes, but it seems like a long time. (I'm referring to having the big O here, not pooping...)

Okay, let's all file this one under TMI!!!!

AAAHHHH! Home again.

Well, I was just a little edgy there yesterday, wasn't I?

We played the final WSS and we did the whole show stinkin' sober. And we sucked worse than all the other shows. And by "we" I mean the musical director, not the rest of us. He achieved a new record of the most wrong notes ever played in one show.

Alan and I were so punchy and silly that at the finale we were playing with his magna doodle and we made some silly pictures and comments that made us laugh so friggin' hard we were crying. But we had to stifle our laughter because it was the FINALE, with Tony dying (some would say he died on opening night...), and Maria crying and everyone all sad and shit. And here we are guffawing like it's The Producers or something. So I think that brings to THREE the number of theaters who WILL NEVER, EVER HIRE ME AGAIN BECAUSE OF MY BAD ATTITUDE!

After each show someone some band member knew would come back stage and talk to the band and say "What the fuck was that? That's not only the worst production of WSS I ever saw, it's the worst production of any show I ever saw!" Except for a friend of mine who's a director who said that as ghastly as WSS was, it was still a gazillion times better than the production of Evita this company did a few years back that I played for. That was the show where a little old lady sitting riiiiight in front of the orchestra leaned over to me while I was playing, and said "Honey, can you tell the orchestra to turn down a little?"

I think Tom, the good keyboard player, said it best when he said, "Well, guys. We did it. An orchestra show with a Godspell pit."

Oh, and to add insult to injury. The producer gives me my check and says "You can't cash it until Wednesday."

Two beers left to go...

Er...I mean, two acts left to go. Only one show left of WSS. Thank God for small favors. The audience reviews are in and it's two thumbs down, for sure.

At any rate, pit musician and friend of the band, Bridget, came to last night's show with a box of those liquer candies - you know the little chocolates that are filled with Jack or Kahlua or SoCo, etc. She called it the pit survival kit. So we eat those during the show. Last night at the bar I sat at a seat and there was right in front of me a bar chip - you know, good for a free drink. So I pocket it, because times are hard and getting harder, and I came to Buffalo with only 11 bucks in my pocket, and it has to last.

So I use it today during intermission, saving myself 3 friggin' bucks. Then Alan and I decide we want wings after the show, so we tell the barkeep at intermission to put in our order at 10:15. A double order of Garlic Parm, extra Garlic. Yeah, baby. So we play the second act, and at the finale, the "musical director" gives us our downbeat and leaves, because he has some fag fundraiser to go to. Lo and behold, the three of us play, and we are thrilled to finally have a GROOVE! Syncopation, a little bossa nova beat, and a steady tempo. I'm so excited, I get a little wet-on. We do a little snoopy dance when we are finished. Then we pack up.

But before we go to the bar for our wings, Alan says, Leah, follow me... hmmmm...I go to his car and he brings out Guinness, which I can't stand. Too rich for this girl. He pours a glass and says "Hold this"! Then he pours a mixture of Kahlua, Bailey's and Jack in a shot glass. He makes another one for himself. We drop the shot into the beer, let it sit, then guzzle the beer. It's called a Car Bomb. And the sweet liquer cuts the strong Guinness taste, and it's very yummy. Then we go to the bar for our wings and sit at an empty seat. And right there in front of me is a Cold, Full Labatts Blue. "Whose beer is this?" I ask the bimbo barkeep. And she looks at me like "Duh, someone who's sitting there". And I'm like, duh, well who the fuck is sitting here? So I decide that if that beer isn't claimed in 10 minutes it's mine, and if someone says where's my fucking beer, I'm saying I don't know. This one's mine and it ain't like this is the only blue left in the world so fuck off!

So Alan and I split the beer. Then our extra garlicky wings come, and we are loving life. I give Alan my last 8 bucks, some of which comes from underneath the seat of my car, and we pay the bill and go home. Fat, happy, and reeking of garlic. Yum!!!

One show left tomorrow. Probably no drinking. I think I need a 12-step program after this show. And a treadmill.

Quote of the Day

"It's such an effort being you."

- Kelly, to me.

The National Organization for Who?

The National Organization for Women has once again showed itself for what it really is: A party-line mouthpiece for the Democratic Party dedicated solely to its own agenda, and not as a supporter of women.

Here in Rochester, NY, N.O.W. has endorsed Bill Johnson for County Executive and Mike Green for District Attorney. Both men are Democrats. Both are running against women. Both women are Republicans.

It seems to me that an organization supposedly dedicated to the advancement of women in society would support women running for office. Or support women in general, regardless of their political affiliation.

Nearly 20 years ago, when Anita Hill was boo-hooing over the fact that Republican Clarence Thomas mentioned the words "pubic hair" in her presence, NOW was all over that issue hard. But where were they when Juanita Broderick claimed that Bill Clinton raped her? Or when any of the other gazillion women made sexual harrasment claims again him? In the oval office, blowing him with Monica, that's where.

I heard the news of these two endorsements on the radio. Just now I've just spent a half hour searching several area N.O.W sites and can't find any information on who else they've endorsed in local elections. The only endorsement I can find on Rochester NOW's site is of Bill Johnson, and that's it. I've sent an email requesting the info. We'll see what comes back.

In case you're wondering, Maggie Brooks (the current Monroe County Clerk) is running for County Executive, and Ann Marie Taddeo is running for D.A. Can't find websites for either one of them. In fact, in an upcoming rant, I'll probably bitch about what a crappy job the local parties do in providing candidate info on their websites. Been to both the Dem and GOP sites and their ain't much there.

Perhaps my friend Julia, political news maven, could help?

West Side Story #4

Tonight we didn't suck as bad. Which ain't saying much. We were less than mediocre. And the most obnoxious thing is that tonight we played "Cool" as best as we ever had, which was still only barely okay, i.e. there wasn't a train wreck. And when we finished, the musical director was huffing and puffing and beaming and smiling as though he himself had just finished a gold-medal figure-skating performance. Because for him, mediocre is excellent. But for the rest of us, it just means that we didn't suck as hard as we have been. And the reason it went as well as it did is because the three musicians in the pit have rehearsed the song without him, so we know what goes where and how to fit it all together. Meaning we keep it together and he finds us. Mediocre is definitely an improvement. But it's still bad. And that ain't acceptable to us. But what are ya gonna do? A chain is only as strong as its weakest link.

Another openin', another show!

Well, to say we sucked would be kind. I would have blogged so much more, except that out of the blue my sweetie called to say she was on her way to Buffalo! So she came to visit overnight and hung until the afternoon. What a nice surprise! Kind of makes all the WSS torture bearable. That, and the "band meetings" at the bar between acts.

West Side Story #3

Don't know if any of you were planning on coming to this show, but let me say this: Don't. Save your time and money.

Only come to this show if:

1) You're related to someone in the cast and they can do no wrong in your eyes.
2) You like watching bad theater in the same way you like watching bad "B" movies.

On a ligher note, the band has started a new tradition. Old tradition #1: Twizzlers. In every show. Old tradition #2: Junk food of all sorts, especially chocolate, that the rhythm section eats while playing, while at the same time making fun of the wind players who cannot eat while playing their instruments. New tradition: Drinking between acts!

There's a bar literally right outside of the stage left back door, and Alan and I don't play the last 40-50 measures of the final song of Act 1. So as soon as we're done playing, we sneak out the back door and run to the bar where we order drinks for ourselves and the rest of the pit. We have 10 minutes to slam them down. As Alan says, the only time you'll ever see musicians RUN is on their way to the bar! Alan has particularly good rants about this wretched show. Please visit his blog.

I don't know what else to say about this show that hasn't already been said in my previous post. Times 10. This ranks one step behind MacSuds, except that Suds was completely and totally cursed, while this show is just badly done from the top down. I just keep telling myself it's $300 bucks and it's better than serving papers.

Except I will say this. Today Alan, my boyfriend, made Muddy Buddies, and I love him for it.

West Side Story #2

Rules for putting together an excellent musical production of West Side Story

1) Be sure to cast a male lead character who isn't tone deaf and who can act.

2) Do not cast a boy who looks Puerto Rican to play Riff, the leader of the white gang.

3) The choreographer should not choreograph the show using the CD performed by the NY Philharmonic conducted by Leonard Bernstein himself, then expect the half-assed, four-piece pit band made up of part-time musicians to play to that level. If we could, we'd be playing with the NY Phil, not rotting in Buffalo.

4) The director should never, ever scream at the cast and band hysterically at the top of her lungs threatening to cancel the show because she can't hear the singers over the band when we're all miked through a sound system and the sound tech is sitting on his fat ass right behind her.

5) The producers should start putting the band in the orchestra pit in the front of the house instead of backstage, and not cater to the morons in the first row who complain that the music is too loud. Instead, warn patrons that the first row of seats is right on top of the pit and the music may be loud, and they may prefer a different seat. Also, take a moment to teach them that the closer they are to a sound source, the louder it is.

6) The music director should:

-accept his own limitations as a pianist and hire one who can play this infernally difficult score.
-be able to count.
-remember that he is a singer and dancer, not a musician, and take as much advice as he can from the musicians in the pit.
-not show up to rehearsal 4 days before opening night saying we don't have a bass player and think we can find one. Any bass player who can learn this score in 4 days is already gigging somewhere else.
-not try to make a four-piece band sound like an orchestra. He should rework the score to make it sound like a grooving small ensemble and highlight the important musical themes.
-not keep telling the band "that's the tempo on the CD" when the band keeps telling him the tempo is too fast and doesn't sound musical. Again, that CD is the NY Phil, and they know how to groove. This band cannot groove at that tempo.
-advocate for the music and not cater to the dancing or action. He should insist the action and dancing cater to the music.



A word on the word MUSICAL:

The first five letters of that word say it all. It's about the MUSIC. If you put together a musical and you don't have a band, well, that would just be silly, right? Similarly, if you put together a musical and you don't put the emphasis on the music, you may as well not have any music. The end result is the same -- suckass. The chorographer may decide that she wants a dance to go at breakneck speed, but if the music sounds stupid at that speed, then too bad for her. You don't play a shuffle blues prestissimo. You don't swing a funeral march. You don't play a Tarantella at Derge tempo. IT'S ABOUT THE MUSIC, PEOPLE! Start from the music and build your show from there.

West Side Story #1

Well, we had a band rehearsal Monday and then we got into the theater last night with the cast. Tech week is always a nightmare for many reasons, but of course my MAIN PEEVE OF LIFE continues to taunt me, and that is: THERE ISN'T A SOUND ENGINEER IN THE WORLD WHO 1) KNOWS WHAT THE FUCK HE'S DOING and 2) ISN'T DEAF!

These morons think that because they buy a sound system and learn how to plug it in and turn the knobs, that means they know how to shape sound. Have you ever studied music? Have you ever played an instrument that required nuance and dynamics (not one that came with Marshall stacks), have you learned about the EQ spectrum? Phasing? The proximity effect? The direction certain frequencies travel? Do you know a crossover from a hangover? A cardioid from a hemorrhoid?

So last night we're running through the show and we can't hear the singers because our backstage monitor isn't working. So I go out to the house to listen through the house speakers and you can't hear any of the band except the piano. And there's this horrible, loud hum in one of the speakers buzzing through the whole house. And I'm wondering why nobody is saying anything to the "sound guy". And all night we keep telling him we can't hear the singers, so we don't know where we are and can't follow them. And the producer says "Well, we're not worried about sound tonight". And the band is all like, well, WE ARE! And I'M thinking well, what the fuck else does the sound guy have to do tonight???? Is he painting sets, doing lights, sewing costumes? No. He's sitting up there in the sound booth staring into space. HE'S A SOUND GUY. He has one fucking job!!! It's tech week. That means the technical stuff gets done. Give us some good, clean sound, people!

Okay, having said that, let me end with this. I have one job to do and it's to play guitar. And right now I'm stinking up the joint. So I'm gonna go practice. See youse!

Today's silly quip

Jillina: Do you feel like you're losing it?
Me: No, I feel I never really had it.

On the road again...

Sort of. Going to Buffalo all week for West Side Story, which I suspect will be completely horrendous. There will be blogs-a-plenty on this, I'm sure. I'm already having anxiety dreams about it, and we haven't even started rehearsing! Last night I dreamt that I drove to Buffalo in time for rehearsal and realized that not only did I forget to pack any concert blacks, I forgot to bring/take my guitars!

But, Farris was with me! Go figure.

I'll keep y'all posted on this latest musical adventure. Perhaps even tonight after rehearsal. Let me just put it this way. Let's say you're a surgeon. You have the simplest of procedures, like burning a wart off a hand. Then you have, say, a heart/lung transplant. West Side Story is the heart/lung transplant of musicals. And let's just say that Frank Burns is doing the surgery.

Is is tacky to make myself the Quote of the Day?

While watching the Bills today some player from the Bengals got hurt and they took him off on a spine board. Looked pretty serious so the Bengals teammates got on their knees to say a prayer, which led to my quip:

"When they're not doing drugs and raping women, they're on the knees praying to Jesus."

And the point was?

I went to see The Swimming Pool last night, and I'm sorry, but what the fuck? I shouldn't have to work this hard to get it. Now, I'm not a dumbass and, in fact as a songwriter, can usually see right through the most heavily couched metaphor. But this was way over my head. The movie ended and I was all, "Wha'fuck?"

I had to have someone else explain it to me. It would have been okay I guess IF the director didn't do such a boring job, or IF he'd made more metaphor of the swimming pool itself, or IF there weren't so many flaws in the script, or IF the director didn't make it look like something else was going to happen, such as the authoress (lead character) being set up for a murder. And they alluded to some relationship between the authoress and her publisher, but let that drop like a lead zeppelin. No conflict, no awkward moment, no passion. It's too bad, too, because the authoress was a very intriguing character: Bitter, uptight, impatient, and unyielding, yet complex. Remind you of anyone you know?

Anyway, the best part of the night was the theater itself. It's a little Indie theater and there's a black tabby cat who lives there, and he slept on MY lap the whole movie! Awww. Bibo kitty loving me up! Poor Kelly, because I couldn't hold her hand much, since I had to hold the kitty securely on my lap. Couldn't "cough" while surreptitiously reaching my arm around her shoulder. None of that romantic movie stuff.

So there ya have it. Anyone else see the movie? Did you get it, did you like it?

Chocolate is the best medicine

So in addition to all that chocolate that Marty bought me on Tuesday....

I came home yesterday to find a little gift bag waiting here for me from Kelly. A little get-well cheer. Filled with those fancy-schmancy chocolate bars. We ain't talkin' Hershey's here, folks (not that there's anything wrong with that!)

1 Large Toblerone bar
1 Sarotti Truffle bar
1 Cote d'Or Sensations - Intense Belgian Milk & Dark Chocolate Bar
1 Ghirardelli Chocolate/Almond bar
AND
1 Ragusa chocolate bar with praline filling and hazelnuts.

And may I just say, if you've NEVER had one of these Ragusa bars, RUN OUT IMMEDIATELY AND GET ONE!!!!!! These are the most orgasmic things you'll ever taste.

Who knew Kelly was a chubby chaser? 'Cause that's what I'll be when I'm done eating all these things in the next 10 minutes. If you were all here, I'd share them with you. Really.

You guys crack me up!

Well, in answer to all your hysterical comments on the last post: No, they didn't let me keep the alien baby. I had to give it up for adoption to the pathologist. They didn't even give me a damn picture of it, even though I asked for one. Yes, pinky, you can make art out of it. I have the original sonogram here. Or did you mean "it" literally? The only reason I could still enjoy the X-Files after Scully and Mulder were mostly gone was because Annabeth Gish is a babe. I never had a sex dream about Krycek, but I did have one with Gillian, Annabeth AND Lucy Lawless, all in the same dream, I swear to GOD I am not making that up.

After my surgery my friend Charlene picked me up from the hospital, being all loopy as I was, and she babysat me. Made me soup, brought me water, let me sleep, chatted in general and kept me company. Then her wife Katie came. Then Marty got home and he and Char made dinner: Chicken Pesto Pasta...yuuummmm....They all drank beer in my presence, mocking me because I couldn't. But they made up for it when Marty said "We need chocolate". And out he went to Wegmans to buy a chocolate mousse cake with ganache frosting, as well as two bags of Hershey's Treasures! Then we played Euchre while eating candy, and all was well with the world. I was truly feeling the love.

Drove home today and I feel really good, thank the good lord jesus, because I was a little paranoid about hemorraging again. But I think I'm over it.

See youse soon!