Monthly Archives: April 2012
Why Hello, Dolly.
This is Kenneth, Dolly.
It’s so nice to have you back to my ‘ole blog!
You’re looking swell Dolly, I can tell Dolly.
You’re still reading, you’re still needing…you’re still here.
There is a certain magic behind musicals. It captivates me so; distributing euphoric vessels throughout my being. The cavorting and singing that occur during these cinematic adventures is miraculous. And to think there was a time when I dreaded spending a night on Broadway.
I was fourteen. It was my first time to New York, and I was on a time budget. My family had all concurred that we would attend a show on Broadway. I was less than pleased with the option. To heighten my angst, it was a play I had never heard of. It is not that I did not care for plays, but I wanted to make better use of the night, than spending it in a theater. To no avail, I dressed in my Sunday’s-Best and went to attend a play. It was called Cabaret. I reached the theater and slumped into my seat. I mumbled adjectives, verbs, and nouns under my breath. All of it branching from profanity. The lights dimmed, the drum roll began, and a voice said, “Welcome to Cabaret!”. . .
When the lights rose, I was no longer in a slump. I was on my feet, proceeding to offer a standing ovation to the cast and crew of the production. I was mesmerized by the entire performance. The night was no longer considered a waste, but my favorite night in New York. It was this play that truly sparked my interest for musicals. As we drove back to our hotel for the night, I could not stop singing the songs. I would say I had a song stuck in my head, but that would imply that I did not want them there. That was not the case.
So yes, I watch musicals. What of it? I like wit, and many of them express that in their lyrics. I have since watched several musicals in theaters and on film. Here are some of my favorite (no particular order):
– Cabaret (theatre) – Sexy girls prancing around on stage in corsets. Nazi Germany storyline. Need I explain more? I will one day try out for the role of the emcee. I have no intention of actually landing the spot, but I would like to attempt it.
– Phantom of the Opera (2004 film) – There are those who hate on the new version. Not I. This was my introduction to the classic. A month or two ago I was watching it again and that is when I recognized the actor. Gerald Butler was the Phantom. It blew my mind! He does all of the singing too; which is quite impressive. It also stars Emmy Rossum, who is now on Shameless and is shamelessly hot.
– Reefer Madness (2005 film) – If you love this blog, you will love this movie. It is definitely my type of humor. If you decide to watch this film, do so with another individual. Some of you may even want to add a touch of influence. I hereby do not ENDOrse that substance, but it is a choice that you must choose.
– Camelot (1967 film) – I can understand why someone may not like this film. It is almost three hours long and has a distinct 60s feel to it. I was introduced to it by my mother when I was growing up. She used to watch it every year and so it grew on me. Great music and cast. You may recognize the main character, Arthur, as Professor Albus Dumbledore in the first two Harry Potter films.
– Rocky Horror Picture Show (1975 film, theatre) – If you have never dressed up like Frank-N-Furter and attended a play, you are missing out. (I’ve never done so either, but you would be surprised at how many do.) This is a weird cult musical. It is quite edgy for its era, but amazingly funny and catchy. So please, go do the Time Warp. It’s just a jump to the left…
– Across the Universe (2007 film) – The Beatles, in a musical format. I like some of the musicals versions better than the originals. This movie takes me to a certain time, place, and individual. It has no ties to her, but I purchased it during that era. Anyhow, a great film so check it out. Just tune in, turn on, drop out, drop in, switch off, switch on, and explode!
– Take Me Out to the Ball Game (1949 film) – A baseball film starring Frank Sinatra and Gene Kelly. I just like the storyline and easy vibe that is throughout the feature. A good representation of that 1940s-1950s musical lifestyle.
Other mentionable honors:
The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas – Who doesn’t like a little whore action?
White Christmas – Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye…Sisters.
Rent – Different, but unique and worth watching.
Bat Boy – I thought it was about baseball. I was pleasantly wrong.
Little Shop of Horrors – FEEEED ME!
The Producers – Mel Brooks. Genius.
Jesus Christ Superstar – Jesus as a rocker? I can dig it.
Grease – It’s the word.
Singing in the Rain – Great film.
And last but not least…
Disney films (Aladdin, Lion King, Hercules, etc…)
I know there are still dozens of classic musicals that I have yet to watch, but I’ll get to them. Perhaps you could assist me. What are some of your favorite musicals and why?
I mentioned in a previous blog about the space I had recently acquired in my living vicinity. I posed the question of what I could do with it. I did not disclose that more space equates to more rent. Due to the newly implemented demands, I have cast focus onto available apartments in my area. This required dusting off my abode-hunting skills and applying them to the wonderful world of Craigslist. The majority of us have acquainted ourselves with Craigslist in one way or another, I am sure. Yet, I never cease to be amused by the ads I find posted in the list that Craig supplies.
When I search Craigslist, I am not searching through the personal avenues for sexual favors. I am just looking in the housing section for rooms and apartments. Still, I find men posting ads inquiring about females who would would like to be a live-in girlfriend, housewife, and sexual deviant. These are not rare entries. These ads are daily occurrences in the housing section of Craigslist.
The real question is: Who answers these ads?
Recently I was conversing with a friend. We discussed my living situation and the various ways I was searching for a new place. I shared with her the ads I was finding on Craigslist. When I showed her the one on the left she responded in her British accent (the conversation was conceived through text, but I imagined it in a British accent), “What the F?! She is paying $160 and still has to have sex with the guy? If she is putting out, she should have free rent. His value of vagina is a bit skewed. I’d charge a 10000 dollars for one time!”
Then I remembered who I was arguing for. While the core of argument is worth debating, the person I chose to make the stand for is not. This is a man searching for vagina via the internet. He does not have game. Well, he may have game, and it may start with a “W”, but it is not women.(“W”orld of Warcraft, for those who missed the joke.)
Okay, this is outlandish at first, but I think I can explain it. Perhaps it is just a man named Otto, who is striving to live up to his name. Otto, short for ottoman. I see the connection. And it works too. He is short; nobody likes an elevated ottoman. He weighs in at one hundred and eighty pounds; heavy, yes, but provides decent cushion for the heels. I believe he has chosen the correct career. You may not see eye-to-eye with him, but that is because he is a foot stool. He’s does not make eye-contact.
In the end I was able to bypass the rent for sex and was able to find the normal establishments. You know, the ones where you provide monetary funds and in return you are given a place to live. It has led to some ongoing conversations, which may or may not work out. In the mean time, at least I know there is plenty of humorous material to read on Craigslist.
I am an inclement heartless robotic being. There are no means that I will not bypass, if proven beneficial to my personal cause. I am overly sarcastic; passing the threshold of being scurrilous. I take pleasure in deteriorating a person’s tenacity enamel and undermining their self-assurance. I lack a full house of empathy, but I have apathy in spades. I am an asshole.
At least that is the consensus that many have reached. The accuracy of the perceived assumption is mostly counterfactual. I will not deny all claims. I can be all of the aforementioned things, but to say that is who I am is inaccurate. I make jokes without a smile, but do not confuse my intentions; they are jokes.
In actuality, my comedic banter should be recognized as a badge of honor. I have analyzed your demeanor and have judged you applicable to receive my comments. This is not to insinuate that my comments embrace paramount value, but in
layman’s caveman’s terms it means: me think you strong.
The calamity of my judgment:
People fabricate different faces or facades. A thin sheet of frozen ice distorts their amour propre and the isotope dilution manifests an air of confidence. Once I denote a person as having the wherewithal to handle jokes, I am often unknowingly engaging in a scenario similar to Hasbro’s “Don’t Break the Ice.”
When the ice breaks, I am labeled an asshole. Unfairly so. I was merely going along with the image they presented. It is not my fault. People should not front a wall that they are unable to hold up. They can hate me for my brand of humor, but love me for pointing out the weakness in their shields. If I am an asshole, I’m a lovable one.
I still have research to do, so I inhabit the campus. I am a busy man. I have a lot of big deals cookin’. Actually, I do not have many big deals. I have been graduated for four months now. I have only been actively searching for better career prospects for the past two. The search has supplied me with some nibbles, but no solid bites. The job market is a treacherous one. There are just too many fish in the sea. If I am not the quickest and the largest fish to the hook, I am not getting the bait. I figure as long as I keep swimming and growing I will preserver.
In order to nab a career job one has to dress for success. As Barney Stinson would exclaim, “Suit up!” If one does not have a suit (I don’t), then dress in nice business apparel. This I can do. I have my dress shoes, black socks, black slacks, blue buttoned shirt, and a tie.
First off. About that tie…It just needs to be around my neck, right? It doesn’t need to look good? Cause let me tell you, for something called a tie, it does not do so easily. I was in the Boy Scouts for awhile when I was young. I learned how to tie a variety of knots, but they did not teach me how to tie a tie. I can tie 99 knots, but a half Windsor aint one. I equate tying a tie with doing a five-star magic trick. Only magicians are able to perform such feats. I found an app that would teach me how to tie a tie. It only taught me that I was capable of being further confused. I might go tie-less for my interview tomorrow. Judging by how my first attempt went (on your left, my left too) it might be beneficial to my cause. Of course, there are clip-ons, but I am a MAN. I should be able to tie a tie.
Secondly, I believe that we should be able to wear any type of shoe. Shoes add personality to the get-up. If I want to wear some clean Nikes to an interview and drop some swag on the meeting, I should be able to. At my current place of employment, we are restricted in our shoe choices. They have to be black. Personally, I think colored shoes make people appear more jubilant. Not that it matters now. I no longer have white shoes, so I no longer need an excuse. Still, let people choose their shoes without judgment. If someone is dressed in a suit with a pair of running shoes on, I say hire him. Not only is he business style-savvy, but he is all about multi-tasking and getting the job done in a speedy fashion.
What I am trying to say is that I am going to do things my way. When tomorrow comes, you better know that I will do what I want…::cough:: Which means I will be wearing a tie and black dress shoes.
(Ha. I bet you thought I caved to the societal business structure didn’t you? Wrong. What I forgot to mention is that is all I will be wearing. Birthday Suit Up!)
There is a certain tranquil sensation to driving. It is a soothing experience. It provides me with the chance to alleviate my woes and explore my thoughts. These thoughts may correlate into ideas for blogs, or they may just delve into my psyche. Lately, I have depended on these thoughts for post ideas. As I drove the long black roads back to my house, I forced my brain to churn butter thoughts (better thoughts).
Butter…When I was younger the word butterface was an accusation thrown at females. I remember asking what butter had to do with faces. Did she have a fat face? Was she one step away from being a cookie? Could I slather her face across my toast? Was she one step past milk? What was it that made her face butter? Then I was informed. It meant everything about her was alluring but her face (butterface). It made sense. I was able to follow their thought crumbs and come to a similar conclusion. I then wandered naively to butterfingers. Did that mean that these people will never have careers in hand modeling? I even questioned butter knives. After all, if you really look at a butter knife, they are fat and lack the cutting potential other knives have. They are unattractive knives. Then there are buttermilk pancakes. Whoa…Wait just a tick. Buttermilk pancakes are delicious. This theory is flawed!
There must have been a bump in the road and I must have struck it. I was jarred into song. For the next thirty minutes I sung. There was no music and it was not multiple songs. I drove thirty minutes singing the theme song from Married with Children. It was a song coma, but I was completely satisfied. I a cappella’d the crap out of it.
Then, a light came on and my attention pulled. It was not one of those exquisite animated moments where a lightbulb pops up overhead. This light came from the dashboard of my car and read “Low Fuel.” Gahh! I was too ingrained into my singing stupor that I forgot to get gas. To make matters worse I was entering a stretch of road that lacked any appeasement. Remember when I proclaimed that driving was a serene experience? It can quickly go from serene, serendipitous, to misfortune. I am happily driving (serene). The low fuel light turns on. I see the only gas station (serendipitous). There is road work being done on the off-ramp and it is closed (misfortune). While driving is a calming feeling; running out of gas is one of the worst. Fortunately I was able to chug another fifteen to twenty miles to a gas station. The tension that arose in me subdued and I was able to continue my brainstorming. Unfortunately, the forecast predicted no brain-rain. It was clear and dry brain-weather the rest of the way home.
It has not even been a complete week and I have already missed one day of posting. Furthermore I have no feature length post today either. I do have a little somethin’ somethin’ for you.
Here is my attempt at the song “A Kiss to Build a Dream On” by Louis Armstrong in the voices of Louis Armstrong and Kermit the Frog. It is an ATTEMPT. Have a laugh. Enjoy.
Writing a blog everyday is easy. Trying to fill it with worthwhile content is a daunting task. It is an unneeded stress in my life, but a wanted one. It challenges my mental capacity by encouraging me to make note of my daily activities and convert them into the written word. Unfortunately, I am not always in that constant mindset and I forgot to remember what is commonly forgotten. In other words, I have no material for today. I should correct that. I have no new material for today. Instead I have little phrases I have made up over the past year and a few old ideas that I have refurbished. Without further ado, I present my phrases and ideas.
1) Girls with large breasts always complain about back problems. Does this mean that people who have back boobs complain about chest problems? I’m just curious. They say curiosity killed the cat, but I am not sure how that relates to us homo sapiens. Is it my fault the cat could not live up the stature of Curious George? It is weird, because I feel like the saying is trying to prevent us from being curious. It is almost as if it Taoism is seeking to reestablish itself in a modern day form. I say kill a cat, kill a kitten. Do what you have to do. Be curious.
2) I have been craving ice cream as of late. Ice cream is a delectable dish, but that is also the precise reason why it bothers me so. I hate dishes and the act of doing them. To liberate myself from the washing of dishes, I now eat ice cream from my belly button. The serving size is small, but you have not lived until you have tried Lint and Chip. Delicious.
3) The animal kingdom is full of unique animals. I have always been fascinated with the cheetah. They are the fastest land mammal and can travel upwards to seventy-five miles per hour. That is fast. I draw comparisons between the cheetah and a car. Imagine going seventy-five miles per hour in a car and hitting a tree. Did your imagination blank out? It should have, because you would be dead. Now, lets examine a cheetah running at seventy-five miles per hour speeds and taking a dive. Ouchie. If I had the ability to run up to seventy-five miles per hour, I would not. That seems highly dangerous. I caution cheetahs to do the same. I get it, you’re hungry, but slow down cheetah. Here, have a Cheeto.
That is all. I approbate this message.
My living quarters have recently undergone a drastic change. Two roommates have vacated the premises. One left voluntarily; the other did not.
What this means is…
A house where common area was uncommon; where the kitchen was the only piece of unclaimed territory; and where the man behind the curtain was NOT the wizard, is no longer. It is like our house just gave birth to a 16×16 foot room. It is like I have taken over Asia in a game of Risk. It is like every time I open the front door I go zero gravity; that is how much space we have. Houston, we do have a problem though. With the living room vacant; the question now is: what to do with the space? Here are some thoughts.
1) Make it a fitness room. We have a stationary bike and dumbbells. If we could procure a weight-lifting bench we would have a nice mini-gym. I could even lay down a mat and work on my yoga positions. Instead of Half Lord of the Fishes, I could be the complete Lord of the Fishes! If the fish disobey me I will just go all Eagle pose and swoop down with my fierce talons…‘Cause I’m an eagle. (I have never actually done yoga. I gravitate more towards yoda. There is a lot less movement in that program. In fact, we just sit there and backwards sentences we say.)
Make it a game room. This is going to require someone who is willing to sacrifice their entertainment center for the betterment of the house. They would have to part with their gadgets and gizmos aplenty, there whosits and whatsits galore, and even their thingamabob, but that’s okay they have twenty…Since that someone would most likely be me, I think it is safe to scratch this idea from the list.
3) Make it a normal living room. This is always an option. We could make it a nice cozy living room. Place a couch there, a chair here, and a coffee table over there. We could all sit around like The View and discuss uninteresting topics in macaronic languages.
4) Make it a rave room. All we would have to do soundproof the house, paint the walls, install laser lighting, and wire a beat dropping stereo. The rest of the house would stay the same. The bathroom needs no work. Whoever previously lived in this house was already tripping and used some crazy shiny metallic and black wallpaper. I think this idea has potential. I could invite over some epileptic friends and we could have a spazz-off. Spazz-Off Thursday anyone?
Keep in mind we are not a well-to-do household. Any creation that does manifest is going to be a shotty version. Or maybe the desired look. Or at least that is what we will claim. In any case, it will be interesting to watch the progression from empty to not. What do you think we should do?
When I die, it will not be because I lacked calcium. In fact, it may be an overdose on calcium. What I am trying to say is that I am a milk fiend. In the past couple of years it has become an even bigger component of my diet. There was a steady year that I would drink two gallons of milk by myself within a week and a half. I bought fat free and loved it. I would pour enormous glasses and guzzle it down. I did things the milky way.
Not long after, I became fixated on chocolate milk. I had always had a weak spot for it, but it became increasingly so during this year. I was bagel biting chocolate milk. It was chocolate milk in the morning, chocolate milk in the evening, chocolate milk at supper time. When milk is with chocolate I can drink chocolate milk anytime. And I did.
I am very particular about my milk. I will not drink it if it is within a day of its expiration date. Milk has deceiving qualities. They say to smell milk to check if is still fine, but milk smells funky all the time. So I will stick with the Pasteurized Milk Ordinance (PMO) and adhere strictly to their expiration date. When it comes to milk, homey don’t play that.
I have only tried cow milk, but I would like to be a connoisseur of all milk. I want to try sheep, goat, yaks, water buffalo, horses, reindeer, and camel milk. I am most interested in camel milk. I watched an episode of Dirty Jobs that observed a camel farm. Apparently it is very sweet milk. Also, who would not want to travel the desert with your own natural beverage fountain of actual palatable milk? There would be no soda fountain mirage on that journey.
You are all probably wondering, what about human milk? I have tried that too. I’ll splurge every so often and buy myself a gallon of it. I like to make muffins with it. My favorite: Booberry muffins.
Candy is littered all around me. To my right is a bag full of sweet sugary jelly beans. To my left is an assortment of mini-size Snickers and Peanut M&M’s. Ahead of me is a tin can brimmed to the top with chocolate wafers. So why is it that I have chosen to try and reinstate my healthy eating and work-out regime now?
Hell if I know. It just felt right to start today. Easter is over. No more scrumptious holiday food for a couple more months. No allergies this season (so far) to prevent me from properly executing my plan. Today was the day to implement a nutritious diet and a physical fitness routine that would whip this bod into shape.
Okay, so the real reason was I needed groceries. My shelves were bare. My refrigerator was reminiscent of one from a foreclosure. Meaning only expired or unwanted food remained. It was time to go grocery shopping.
I do most of my grocery expenditures at a store called Trader Joe’s. It is a great store with a solid selection to look at. Furthermore the patrons who inhabit the vicinity also offer a solid selection to look at (if you get my drift). In case you are unaware of the store, it prides itself on offering healthier options than the common grocery franchises. Or that is what I have read on labels and reviews. In actuality, I have limited education in the field of nutrition. I actually rely on certain people to assist me in my quest for better health. The problem with this is it usually ends up in delayed responses and I end up purchasing the wrong item. I chose flax-seed oil. I should have bought grounded. Peanut butter or almond butter? I chose peanut butter. That one I am okay with. Kombucha or no kombucha? I am thinking I might try kombucha again. Pomegranate is the supposed go-to flavor.
I have found there are other stymieing issues that come with healthy living. They may not be problematic to others, but they are detrimental to my progressive healthy ways. The most significant issue is whether I am able to cook what I buy. If there is one thing I am not, it is a chef. Anything not a microwave or oven befuddles me. (On a side note, I can press buttons like no other. Give me a microwave or an oven or a microwave oven and I make magic happen. Magic that puts Cris Angel to shame. Mindfreak that.) (Also, if I were to get a tattoo, it would be on the side of my upper torso. That way I would actually have a side note.) (Back to back to back parentheses. That is some heavy stuff.) I did take a culinary class in high school, but I was the designated dish washer. At the time the job appeared to be a voluntary move, but thinking back on it, maybe I was just that bad at cooking. Hey now, I have only started a few fires in my life. That is not too bad. Right?
Hopefully I marry a woman who enjoys cooking and makes ambrosial dishes. Maybe she can teach me her ways, because I am in desperate need of it.
Now you’ll have to excuse me, I have to go prepare my lunch. Tuna sandwich with a whey protein smoothie and flax-seed OIL.