Monday, January 31, 2005

recharging

This was a wonderful weekend. Sam and I were able to escape to LA. We saw Mary and Aaron, Adriana and David, a few other old friends at Amoeba, and met a few new friends who we will see more of soon. I cannot begin to say how healing and inspiring it is to connect with these stellar people, all creating these original works of art, and pursuing what makes them happy in the brief windows of time they can snatch from the ether.

I don't know why people get so down on Los Angeles. Other than the traffic, I really like it there. It has this wackiness to it, and this lightness that I find refreshing. Sam and I went to a new theatre space that I may do some work for in North Hollywood, and found that area somehow comforting and familiar. Oddly beckoning.

Sam's company is opening a 2nd office near UCLA in about a month, and I wouldn't be terribly surprised if we moved down there eventually. Not for a while, seeing as we just moved here and have this fascinating little backyard we need to enjoy for at least a few more seasons, and more to explore in our immediate surroundings. But yeah, I could see it being possible someday.

If we keep moving south at this rate we will be in South America pretty soon.

And I did not have to work today, so I had time to recover from all of the fun we had this weekend. Lucky lady that I am.

Today I decided that I am finally going to try to write the screenplay that's been rattling around my brain for about 5 years. This should be interesting...

Wednesday, January 26, 2005

Herx

Ok kids, a brief pause from the cool new words to ask for some clarification. E. Worthington (check out her blog, you fools!) has discovered a new language which she has expoused upon in her blog lately, and last night, doing a little searching of my own, I found another blogged example of this particular kind of language. It is as follows:
______________________________

SuAY AHx..
Todae ish mi suayest dae... I lost mi whole homework file lohx... mati liaox lahx... sure one... all mi hw all inside lohx... sum more i go bac oso cant find liaox... tml sure kena scolding fm all e chers one... die le... die le... tats e end of mi... attend mi funeral... haix... die le... die le... dun feel lyk going to sch anymore... haix... scared teacher scold... i m really scared lohx... i die liaox....................................

Posted at 03:21 am by dreamkeeper

_______________________________

So, um, what the hell do things like lohx, haix, liaox (and lerx, though not cited here) MEAN? What do they mean?

We have supposed that lolx could stand for "lough out loud-exclamation point" but just don't get the rest of this shit. Seems to be occur mostly with 15 year olds from China?

Help!

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

futlick

You heard me. This term truly was created by my friend Toast, aka Kevin. The way his friends, Itchyballs and the Brain, told it was that they were playing a normal game of b-ball after going the rounds with a few big dudes.* Eating a bucket of chicken.*
(*both codes for smoking the evil weed) and well, Toastie just had just about enough from the two of them out there on the court. It's hard to imagine Itchy and the Brain besting him, considering he is nearly 7 feet tall, but apparently, they were getting to him out there. They say the taller the person, the slower the responses. I don't know if that's true. All I know is that in a moment of sweaty, chicken-inspired frustruation, Toaster called one of them, or perhaps both of them, a "futlick."

We still aren't sure what two words he was trying to combine. We know what one of the words was, but the "lick" part, we still aren't sure. So the next time you need to call someone something really really bad, and there are perhaps children or old ladies in the room, and you happen to give a shit about those losers, you should definitely call tham a "futlick."

At the very least, they'll be surprised.

Saturday, January 22, 2005

enough rope

Just found out that SolArts in Albuquerque loves the script and is giving us a three week production in August. I am really overwhelmed by it, and grateful, and just- happy. That's it. So Sam and I will go to the boiling Burque for opening night- anybody care to meet up there? Albuquerque in August? Come on, those summer nights, people...green chile and cold beers and homey backyards of friends...I'm already there in my mind.

As promised, the next phrase to help put into the rotation- (but first, how many of you, besides Missy and Worthy have embraced "chappy" to its proper level of embraceability? I'm tellin' ya, it's really good.)- is "rope pusher."

Brandy reminded me of the term the other day, as her husband wants my permission to use it in a movie- probably a zombie movie, which is really funny, once you know what it means. The term comes 2nd hand to me, as I first heard it from an ex-flame of my friend Gabe. She is a totally saucy and irreverent punk goddess type who used to throw spam from the roof of her Mission apartment in Frisco onto unsuspecting yuppies trying to capitalize on the Mission's special brand of colorful and diverse nightlife. Slummin' it but gentrifying it at the same time.

Again, I digress.

Now, "rope pusher" is a bit beyond what some people consider to be in the realm of polite conversation. Its meaning should not be relayed directly, but is better demonstrated by example. So, ladies, you've probably been there. You've gotten all the way home with your hot date, or at least a member of the male tribe who seems to have a pulse, and things of a steamy nature are progressing. Perhaps all night he has been intimating that there are certain things he wants to do with you and to you once he gets you alone. Now you're alone. Fumbling ensues. Yes, he's been drinking, and you probably have as well. Suddenly, you are faced with something limp trying to be inserted into a place where limpness is unacceptable.

Hence, the term "rope pusher" was born.

Wednesday, January 19, 2005

chappy

"Chappy" is a word that my good friend Toast (or was it Gabe?) came up with years ago while we worked at a horrendously mismanaged media store in the Burque. Of course, we were part of management, so yeah, there you go. We had a pretty good time, all in all. But when something went wrong, there was only one thing to say. "Chappy." Incidentally, it was at this store that I "managed" Steve-O of Jackass fame. Steve-O probably learned the word "chappy" too, but he had his own sort of lexicon of amusing terms like "crucial", "I claimed it" and "I totally dominated it." But I digress.

"Chappy" can be said with as many inflections as the word "dude", but it has none of the positve connotations.
I've been thinking about this word lately, and that it should reach a wider audience. So, you three or four people who read this, please help me take "chappy" to the next level.
Here are some examples:
1)You witness your boss dump a load of work off on a co-worker. Your proper response is the statement: "Chappy." In this case, you should tinge the word with just a hint of a "better you than me" vibe.
2)You drop your milkshake on the floor you just got done mopping five minutes ago. "Chappy!" should be exclaimed, in a sort of "why me, god, why?" tenor.
3)Your friend tells you a tale of how they were wronged, or bad-talked by another: "Chaaaapy." is all you can possibly say.

The worse the situation is, the longer you can draw out the "a" in the word.
The reason I've been thinking about it so much? It's my damn job again.
"Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappy."

Next time: "rope-pusher"
That one has to get more play, too.

Other usage examples for "chappy" are most welcome.

Friday, January 14, 2005

I've already nearly forgotten how I had a migraine so bad at work on Tuesday that I had a throw-down with my bosses and came home and threw up!

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...
Yesterday I became Dorothy in the Emerald City. Cut, polished, rubbed, scrubbed, wrapped, toasted, and detailed. You name it, I had it. See, my husband Sam is the smartest and most wonderful man, and got me a day at the spa for my holiday gift. I left work at 1:30, strolled to the most lovely place to collect on my good fortune, and had an experience I will not soon forget.

Firstly, I had an awesome haircut and then a nourishing mask was placed on my hair and a little cap, which I wore for the next 5, yes, 5 hours of spa treatments. It began with me donning a fluffy white robe and some nubbly spa slippers that make one's feet feel just wonderful when walking around- like a mini-massage. I met my pedicurist in the sort of zen garden lounge and got a mug of exotic tea before an aromatherapy pedicure- minty and soothing. Nice. Back to the lounge to be collected by the lovely woman who gave me a hot stone massage that had me recollecting memories I had stored in unlikely places, forgetting who, what, and where I was, and sometimes falling asleep, and often drooling. Oh yeah, and strange visions of countless smiling Buddhist monks for some reason. I could barely walk when I got out of there.

Back to the lounge for some of the most refreshing lemony orangety water ever. Then another wonderful lady gathered me up and took me to a shower where I exfoliated with the most crazily good smelling concotion. Then I lay down on a soft, heated table where she slathereed my body in a tingling detoxifying mud, buttoned me up in a thermal cocoon, and I sweated and melted happily while she game me a facial massage and entertained me (not like that!)with advice, stories, and restaurant recommendations. Then she helped me to shower off all of the mud, then get back to the warm table to be covered with more ridiculously good smelling things. I eventually found my way to another esthetician who gave me a lovely lovely facial, with steam and little whirring sandpapery things and more fun stories.

Then out to dinner with my honey. How happy, happy, happy I am, and relaxed as all get out.

Did I mention this spa has a yoga studio attached? And they do all sorts of cool Eastern treatments like pouring a stream of warm oil over your third eye? And Reiki?
And, and, and?

Sam said he was scared to get me the gift because then I'd become an addict. But I figure that occassional spa therapy might be a very good alternative to actual therapy for me, and probably much more fun.

Plus it makes me feel like a pretty princess and all.

I hope each and every one of you gets to do something relaxing or decadent very very soon...

Monday, January 10, 2005

Right on, right on...

The play is getting a public reading in New Mexico in February, at SolArts, and a possible production there later this year! It's nice when things happen quickly. Thanks to everyone for thier support and feedback. Now comes the sending of many scripts to many theatres and contests and (oh please oh please oh please) maybe even a retreat to develop the series. I'm thinkin' upstate New York, Fallish...There's a place up there called Yadoo that takes playwriting teams, and another place that happens to be where Edna Millay lived for many years, and is named after her, so, yeah- I'll be doing some heavy mailings for a while. And I'm already itching to get started with the Dorothy Parker play. Hope is my favoritest thing.

Friday, January 07, 2005

bueller?

You've had the play for a week.
You know who you are, people...
Gimme some comments.
Any comments.
Really.

Tuesday, January 04, 2005

misheard

This morning on the way to work I was feeling rather effusive. Is that the right word? I was feeling like starting out on a new year, reinventing the disgruntled theatre employee into emerging playwright and creative hopefull. In the nick of time, as music often does, a song came on that didn't send me into the pits of despair-,not at all. It was a Depeche Mode song I rather like in a vague and nostalgic way (nostalgia not from me having actually been into DM, just having heard it rattling around in my mind somewhere in the random recollections of youth file)and I started to sing along. And it went a little somethin' like this-

"I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumours
But I think that god’s got a-"

and that's when it hit me. The lyric that I always silently sang as
"sixth sense of you"

is in all actuality-

"sick sense of humor"

The rest remains the same-

"And when I die I expect to find him laughing"

It really set the mood for the rest of my day, even though I'm pretty much an athiest/Discordian.

All I can say is "Hail Eris."

Welcome, 2005. I expect you to keep me much more amused that 2004.
Unless I heard you wrong.