Insert Chorus Line Reference Here

They gave me a part.

The company that is putting on Fiddler gave me a part in their production.

One of the best regional theatre companies here in southern California gave me a stinking part.

Me. Your little old AC.

I'M THE KING OF THE WORLD!!!

Oh man, I'm going to be insufferable here for a while. You'll have to bear with me until I can fit my head through doorways again.

On Halloween

My roommate took this picture of the arachnid that haunts my dreams. Give it a click so that you can fully appreciate how awesomely terrible and terribly awesome it is.

My roommate also pointed out that the spider must be pretty clever if it got to be so big, and he pointed out that constructing a web right in front of the light outside of our apartment was a genius move on the spider's part, because it shows that the spider knows what the delicious bugs are attracted to.

So, great, now I've got a genius spider outside my door.

Although, come to think of it, I should have known when, as I was walking by, I heard a tiny voice say, "EUREKA! A squared plus B squared equals C squared! I'm a genius!"

In any case, here's wishing a very happy Halloween to you and yours.

The Audition

Friday's audition went well, and I was given a call back for later that same afternoon. They had me read for a couple of different parts, and I was then sent on my merry way with a "Thanks. That's all we need to see."

I anticipate that I will know by Friday whether or not they'd like to have me in their show.

If I were being judged purely versus those that were at the audition on Friday, I'd say that I had a pretty good shot. However, they are holding Equity (the actor's union) auditions up in Los Angeles today. From what I've heard, because the theatre is an Equity theatre, they must cast one more than half of the cast with union actors. Because the cast will likely be twenty people, that means that 11 must be union members. This leaves nine available spots for the likes of me.

I will continue to keep my fingers crossed because my type really is perfect for the show, but there's no way to really know my chances (as if there ever is). I will continue to hope for the best, and I will eagerly await Friday.

Big Audition Tomorrow

I have a big audition tomorrow for probably the biggest and most respected theatre in the area.

The show is Fiddler on the Roof.

Because of my body type, I think that this show is my best shot to get my foot in the door over there.

For those of you who don't know what I look like, I submit an artist's rendering.


If you'll notice, I even have a gimpy foot like the guitar player from Swing Kids.

I'll be a shoe-in! (No pun intended...all right, pun intended, who am I kidding?)

And, by a shoe-in, I mean of course that those of you who are pray-ers should pray, those of you who are wish-ers should wish, and those of you who are happy thought-ers should happy thought.

That's right; I made a noun a verb. Suck it.

It Is On

I came into work this morning with high hopes of working hard and not having to worry about the spider what lives outside of my house. However, somebody had a different idea for how I should spend my day. When I got to my desk, I found this sitting by my keyboard.

All I have to say is that this spider is intent upon terrorizing me. When you consider how far my apartment is from my place of work, this feat is even more amazing.

I believe that this explains why I didn't see the little guy the other day. He, like Vanessa Carlton, was making his way downtown.

Ah yes, but, spider, you have shown your hand too soon! I now know what you are capable of, whereas you know nothing about what I am capable of. To give you a hint, I submit, for your reading pleasure, a poem from that great poet of our times, Bullwinkle Moose.

Ahem.

"Little spider on the wall,
Ain't you got no brains at all?
Can't you see the wall's been plastered?
Oh, you stupid little...spider."

A Case of the Mondays...on a Tuesday

Normally, I come to work and I think to myself, "Well, while there are things that I could do that would make me happier and more fulfilled, I am thankful to have the job that I have that allows me to continue living in the manner to which I have become accustomed."

However, following nights where I, for whatever reason, don't get a good night's sleep, I think to myself, "Well, while there are things that I could do that would make me happier and more fulfilled, JUST SHOOT ME IN THE FACE RIGHT NOW! DO IT!"

It also doesn't help matters that my new cubicle has the odd distinction of being both very quiet and yet a very high traffic area in the office. This is due to the fact that I am pretty far away from all of my coworkers and right in front of the elevators. This becomes bothersome because, as we all know, tired + quiet = asleep, and asleep + work = fired.

I've only got a couple more hours, so let's hope for the best. If only there were a horrifyingly large spider in my cubicle that, through sheer terror of it, I would be forced to remain cognizant. That would be awesome, and by awesome I mean horrible.

This Weekend

The show that I am in opened this weekend, and, despite my complaints about it in an earlier post, something funny happened.

I started to like it, and I started to understand why other people like it.

Don't get me wrong, I think that there are a few places where the book of the show could be better, but the show itself is fascinating for many reasons, but one of the biggest is the character of Eliza Doolittle.

The act 1 Eliza is stupid, though not necessarily in a bad way. It would, perhaps, be better to refer to her as ignorant in act 1, except some of the mistakes that she makes cross the line of being not at all intelligent. However, once Eliza hits act 2, she seems like she has received a Masters degree in interpersonal relations over the course of the intermission. She has somehow gained a depth of understanding so rich, that she is transformed from the lovable Eliza of act 1, to the brooding, suddenly unhappy Eliza of act 2.

Depending on how you want to look at it, it's either like she's changed from caterpillar into a butterfly, or from a butterfly into a caterpillar.

While I obviously understand that the fact that she changes is at the crux and essential motive of the show, her change is so big, that it is almost unbelievable. Almost.

How many of us, after screwing up or going through some particularly rough circumstances, have thought to ourselves, "I wish that I were someone else." The character of Eliza is compelling because she gets that chance, and we, as the audience, get to vicariously experience how changing into a different person is not always what we expect it to be.

As a side note, I can't imagine anyone doing as well at the part of Eliza as the actress who is in this show. As an actor, I can only imagine how difficult it is to make this change believable, and our Eliza seems to do it effortlessly.

An Update to my Cubicle

Dear Cubicle,

We have to move today, so you have been cleaned, and by cleaned, I mean that all of my stuff was indiscriminately stuffed into boxes leaving bits of dirt and dust for the next occupant.

Because I'm a jerk like that.

You're welcome, Red. Also, welcome back to this place of employment.

heeheehee

AC

It Puts the Fear of God in Me

So, for the last couple of days, going to my domecile has been a harrowing experience for me. This is due to the fact that a spider, who is probably not as large as the one pictured but is nevertheless just as, if not more, scary, has decided to take up residence at the top of the stairwell that ends just before the door to my apartment.

You may be asking, how can any spider possibly be as, if not more, terrifying than the pictured one?

I'll tell you.

Upon a somewhat close analysis of the spider, I discovered that the creature was furry. Therefore, the creature is not only overflowing with deadly poison, it is also able to keep itself warm in the winter.

This haunts me; it is as if this creature is saying, "My luxurious winter coat will keep me quite warm and content during this cold season, and so, given the opportunity, I will be able to sneak into your apartment, lay eggs in your ear, and bite you repeatedly in the eye. Suck it."

So, if any of you enjoy both enjoy being petrified and helping old AC out, I would sincerely appreciate it if someone would take care of this mother before it grows anymore.

Or lays eggs in my ear.

Technology

I know that I don't normally post about things that you would call "technological," or even about things that you would call "worthwhile," but this is freaking sweet. The article says that scientists have managed to make a copper cylinder virtually disapper.

You hear that, Kyle? That's even better than telekenesis. Scientists are making things invisible.

That's awesome. I can't wait to see further advancements with this.

A List for Thursday

For lack of anything better to write about today, I thought that I would list some folks that I would like to punch in the back of the head.

Because that's how I roll.

1) Joe Francis: He is the creator of the popular Girls Gone Wild video series, and he has likely taken advantage of at least one girl.

2) Adam Corolla: He used to be on Love Line, but he has since gone on to the greener pastures of collecting unemployment.

3) Randy Moss: He has a lot of talent, but he's just a big sissy who jogs his patterns in an apparent honest effort to make the Raiders lose.

4) Eli Manning: Didn't want to play in San Diego, huh?

That's it. I understand that this wouldn't fall under the category of being especially creative, or constructive, or even healthy, but I just needed to make myself a list so, assuming I ever run into any of these people, I'll know just what to do.

Who would you like to punch in the back of the head?

An Open Letter to the Utilities

Disclaimer: In the interest of keeping my job, I have opted to not fully disclose the issue that irritates me about the utilities. Just rest assured that they are buttheads. Thank you.

Dear Sirs and/or Madams and/or Both:

It really irritates me when you refuse to work with me, and it especially irritates me when you refuse to work with when the company I work for owns your company.

Come on people, now; smile on your brother! Everybody get together, try to love one another right now!

The afore mentioned irritation just leaves me feeling sad and empty, because there is apparently nothing I can do about it, other than to cry, quietly into my napkin as I sit at a cafe eating lunch, and then, as I twirl my napkin, think back on how my dresses twirled in the wind when I was growing up in the Swiss Alps. Ah, how much simpler life was then! As I am daydreaming, you, Mr. Utility, would walk in, and you'd look at me and smile in a way that implies, "I'll only be bad for you," and I will smile, and avert my gaze, as if to say, "I know that it's wrong, but what choice do I have?" As the camera fades to black, but before the credits start to roll, the audience will see one final tear roll down my cheek, and they will be left to wonder whether it all worked out.

Maybe in a better world it would work out, but here on earth, we are left to quietly cry, and wish for words to express the unfathomable.

There, are you happy, utilities? You've made a late Bill Murray movie.

Also, I'm serious that you are buttheads.

Regards,
AC

Tech Week

Tonight officially marks the start of tech week for the show that I am in. This will mean long evenings of reading backstage and sometimes coming onstage to stand.

Good times.

I anticipate that the show will be pretty good, though, and by pretty good, I mean of course that people who are watching the show will likely enjoy it.

In other news, I came up with the basic melody line for Sub-Zero's song for my Mortal Kombat musical on Saturday. On Sunday, I proceeded to forget most of what I had worked on on Saturday. In any case, it's still pretty funny, or at least, I think it will be funny with how I am imagining the video will go.

Odd News of the Day

Here is an article copied from Yahoo! News:

MADRID (Reuters) - A Spanish woman staged fake kidnappings of her son four times and got his father to pay her more than a million euros ($1.26 million) in ransom money, newspaper El Mundo reported Friday.

Police in the southern Spanish city of Seville arrested the woman and five accomplices, including the 15-year-old son who cooperated in the deception by calling his father on the telephone and begging him to pay up.

The father paid ransoms after the first three fake abductions without realizing the involvement of his son's mother, from whom he had separated. He became suspicious the fourth time and hired a private detective, El Mundo reported.

First, this is as cold as a woman of the night is to an ugly man without money. To have the separated wife trying to get money from her husband is one thing, but to have your own son go in on it with her? That's horrible.

However, I kind of think that maybe the dad didn't have a whole lot going on upstairs, and I think that the most obvious evidence of his lack of understanding comes from the fact that the father didn't get suspicious until the fourth time. I don't know about you, but after two times of paying, what, nearly a third of a million bucks a pop, I'm gonna start getting curious. Further I would start asking myself questions like, "How much do I really like this kid?" and "What is the implied happiness that I would have with my son versus the definite lifestyle that I could afford with all this money?" The fact that he didn't call a private detective until the fourth time makes me think that maybe he shouldn't have that money anyway.

I also makes me think that I should go into the kidnapping teenagers in Spain business, because, if you'll notice, the article curiously leaves out any information of police involvement during the first three kidnappings. It wasn't until the group got greedy the fourth time that police came in to bust some heads.

Three out of four times a group of people in Spain can get away scot-free with kidnapping?

I like those odds.

An Open Letter to My Cubicle

Dear Cubie,

I give up; you have won. The frightening amount of paperwork that you have stacked all over you scares me.

I work to clean you, and yet, the next day, more paperwork appears on my desk.

I am flying the white flag. You win.

Love,
AC

AC's Money Making Idea of the Day

I've figured out how to make a million dollars.

First, you need to be in the skin care industry, and you need to spend particular time trying to come up with face creams that smooth skin. Second, you have to come up with an excellent product, although really, this idea is so genius that even a mediocre product probably couldn't fail.

Now, it is imperative that you make the product's tag line:

We pore our time into thinking about your skin.

I ask you, how could you not buy a face cream with that tag line? I know that if I were wandering the face cream aisle, and I came upon a face cream with that phrase written on it, I would be forced to say, "That's a ****ing clever line; I don't ****ing even ****ing use face ****ing cream, but I ****ing need some of this! ****."

What can I say, really clever advertising makes me swear.

Now, if any of you really do make a million bucks off of this idea, I only ask that you would give me $21,000. Why 21,000 you ask?

Why not?

Dieting

As I'm sure everybody knows, when you diet, you take out some of the foods that you would normally eat and replace them with foods that, although they are better for you, you wouldn't normally eat. However, by taking out foods that you normally eat, you start to miss those foods, and you start to crave them, as if you were some kind of junkie food addict.

Stupid being addicted to food.

For me, when I do miss food, I don't tend to miss the higher end stuff. I don't sit at work jonesing for a filet mignon covered in sauteed mushrooms. Nope, gutter-gut that I am, I miss the cheap easy; that is to say, I miss fast food.

The last time I was dieting, I did pretty well. I was eating lean meats, vegetable, and fruits for just about every meal. I felt better. I looked better. I smelled better. Overall, I was a better person.

However, one night, a friend's car had broken down in front of a Jack in the Box, and he called me to go pick him up. When I got there, he said, "Before we go, let me run in and get something to eat."

Oh vile tempter! Wherefore draw'st thou me thither to yon place of zero recommended daily value of important supplements, and gargantuan recommened daily value of heart stopping ingredients?

To make a long story short, I buckled. It's not like I fell off the wagon completely; I just opted to be dragged along for a while. I purchased a chicken sandwich, and let me tell you, it was one of the most delicious things that I had ever tasted. My abstinence from fast food had given my taste buds a greater appreciation for it. I took slow, conscious, deliberate bites. I simultaneously explored the greasy bun, the breaded chikcen, the wilted lettuce, and the special sauce. I appreciated that sandwich not only physically, but abstractly. The concept of the sandwich made me thank the heavens for it.

An orchestra of taste sensation was exploding in my mouth, and I was powerless to stop it.

I drove away a much more contented man, albeit one with about 600 more calories than absolutely necessary.

Which brings me to my philosophical quandary of the day. Scott Adams, the creator of Dilbert, has a theory about why people are overweight. Contrary to popular opinion by many who are in shape, he surmises that overweight people don't have less self control than skinny people. Rather, he believes that fat people simply receive more joy from eating than they do by exercising; conversely, he thinks that people who are in shape receive more joy from being in shape than they do by eating a hamburger.

I tend to agree with him, as is evidenced by my above story. What do you think?

Announcement

The elevators are out at my place of employment.

Over the lunch hour.

This equals at least five flights of walking for lunch.

Maybe I'll burn some of my calories from lunch.

Or maybe I'll just be kind of sweaty and sticky for the rest of the day.

We'll see.

Death to Infidels, or What Was That Again?

I work in a cubicle. I have adjacent cubicles to my left and behind me, and to my right, I have the hallway of the office, which is kind of awesome because I'm really close to free coffee, and it's kind of not awesome because I'm about as far away from the window as a person working in this office can be. I assume that they did this because they consider me the most likely to attempt to jump, and they think that the few extra strides will make me reconsider that choice.

Stride 1: I've had it.
Stride 2: I'm going to jump.
Stride 3: There's no turning back.
Stride 4: I wish I would have brought a sandwich.
Stride 5: I wonder what the cafeteria is having for lunch.
Stride 6: Well, I guess I'll just grab these papers I printed.
Stride 7: Oh Ziggy! The situations you find yourself in!

However, and back on topic, the man in the cubicle behind me is, I believe, in the process of training others, and, because of this, people frequently come to his desk to ask him questions.

I understand that we all have to learn, and normally I wouldn't have a problem with this, but one of the people that frequents his desk is a woman with a medium high voice who is incredibly soft spoken. So, when she comes over to ask a question, all that I can hear is a high pitched murmuring. This is because I am virtually unable to discern any of the individual words, let alones the ideas they are forming.

To give you an idea of what it sounds like, think of Beeker from the Muppet Show.

Imagine him gibbering along as he often does, without actually saying any words. Now imagine that his personal volume has been turned down to just a click or two away from inaudible. You now have an idea of what I'm dealing with over here.

While I appreciate her efforts not to be loud and annoying, because I am guilt-prone and suspicious by nature, I often wonder what it is that she is saying, and I wonder especially whether or not it has to do with me.

For example, while she is likely saying, "So, how is it again that you insert rows with accurate prices into this database," I suspect that she is saying, "Now is the moment to raise our scimitars and issue death to the apparent Apple-hating infidel behind you."

I'm just saying, that you never really know who leaves anonymous comments. If you never hear from me again, it's been a fun ride and I regret nothing.

An Open Letter to Apple

Dear Apple,

Your company is cool and hip; well, it's at least as cool and hip as a computer company can be, and you have done a good job of marketing this point. From your commercials that contrast your operating system as a trendy young man versus Windows being portrayed as a stuffy old man to Lieutenant Dan's revelation at the end of Forrest Gump that he had purchased stock in Apple and he has become rich, you do a good job marketing.

In that vein, what I'd like to talk to you today about is the ipod. I have one, and I enjoy it. I too was lured in by the heavy advertising that led me to believe that I needed one. This, again, was good marketing; who would have thought that dancing silhouettes could be so persuasive?

However, the ipod has a dirty little secret, which is, namely, that its battery gradually dies. The normal lifespan of an ipod battery is just about two years. When it dies, it either leaves the purchaser to just lose all the music on his portable hard drive, or he can order a replacement for a generous fee.

With the normal lifespan being two years, and the most heavily marketed period being just about two years ago, I fear that there may be an ipod holocaust soon. Here are the seven steps that I imagine this will take.

1) People will realize that they are going to have to sink more money into the device than their original couple hundred dollar investment, and they are going to be ticked off. They are going to be angry in a way that they are going to want to break things: Apple things.

2) Apple will say, "I'm sorry folks, you should have realized that the battery died. Don't you know that even a two to three hundred dollar device won't work forever, or in this case, no longer than two or three years?"

3) People will respond, "Hmm, though I appreciate their flashy ad campaigns, perhaps Apple, the apparent consumer voice of the anti-establishment by being the anti-Microsoft, isn't so great after all."

4) People will stop buying Apple goods, and your company stock will slowly fall.

5) People, desperate for a change, will flock to Zune, Microsoft's answer to the ipod, despite its unfortunately lame name.

6) Microsoft's stock will rise.

7) Steve Jobs will roll over in his grave.

Apple, I enjoy my ipod, and I think your products work reasonably well, but I think that it's just downright dastardly to pull this over on your customers.

I am ashamed of you.

Love,
AC

Some Notes for Lerner and Loewe

As this is meant to critique the composers and not anyone ever associated with a certain show that shall remain nameless, I feel that it is safe to issue the following notes to the writers and composers of this show that must not be named.

1) If you're going to spend most of act 1 talking about how you need to improve your main character's speaking so that you can show her off at a ball, you should show this ball on stage, and not just have it take place during intermission. By only talking about it afterwards, you weigh your drama down with tedious exposition. This is especially the case when, during the ball, your protagonist has a life-changing experience that incredibly alters and matures your main character.

2) If you start your show off with a solo that lends itself to being spoke-sung rather than actually sung, you will turn off just about anyone from your musical who was born after 1975. Why not start the show with a big group number? Something that gets the audience going? I'll give it to you that the song has its funny moments, but you have to remember that your audience can only laugh at funny moments if it is still awake.

3) If a secondary character spends the show talking about how it is good that he is not married because he is poor, and then he suddenly becomes rich, and now feels like it is his duty to get married, might I recommend a sentimental song, and not a rip-roaring good time song? While I appreciate that everything else in Act 2 is very serious and distressing, this song just seems like you said, "Hey, everything else in this act is heavy. Let's insert an inappropriate light number."

4) By writing all of your tertiary characters as caricatures, you confuse your audience as to whether or not one should believe that this show is a comedy when everything going on on stage is serious.

Having said all that, I believe that our production of this show has some real promise. Our lead, in particular, is an excellent actress that I enjoy watching on stage. Let us hope that we can overcome these intrinsic flaws of the show.

Does This Happen to Other People?

Did you know that spiders live in trees? Further, did you know that spiders apparently like to drop down on me at times when I don't expect it? I certainly knew neither of those things, as those things have never really happened to me before in my life.

I now know that this happens.

The first such instance occurred as I was walking to check my mail in the early evening. As I was walking along, singing a song, and peeing on all of the bushes, I suddenly felt something drop on my chest. Upon looking down, I saw a spider who, with its legs, was probably about the size of the wine glass at the top of this page.

I'm not going to lie: I was afraid. The fear touched me in a way that if the gf touched me in that way, I would say, "Don't touch me in that way; it scares me," to which she would respond, "Don't you want to be scared," to which I would respond, "Maybe, but the way you're scaring me scares me like a spider unexpectedly dropping on my chest." This would, of course, be a picture of infinity, much like a snake eating his own tail, and I don't think anybody wants either of those things to happen.

Nevertheless, and fortunately for my noble bloodline, my survival instinct kicked in, and I brushed the spider to the ground. As it lie there, I noticed that it wasn't moving, which leads me to believe that it had a miniature heart attack.

Did you know that spiders have heart attacks? Now you do.

In any case, this really shook me up for the rest of the evening, and by "shook me up," I mean that I was literally shaking for at least ten minutes afterwards. It was as if I had just successfully grappled with a bear, when in fact, I had just brushed off a spider that was already on its last legs.

Now, has something like this ever happened to you? If yes, why didn't you warn me that it could?

I Never Thought That I Would Be Excited By This...

I recently had to re-order checks. This was largely due to the fact that I was running out of the old ones, the address on the aforementioned old ones was very out of date, and the checks themselves were turning yellow.

I never would have figured that I would have spent money slowly enough to make my checks turn yellow, but I suppose that you learn something new every day.

Nevertheless, I needed new ones. Fortunately for me, a box of plain checks was just as expensive as a box of designed checks, and so I perused my options with care until I found the design that was perfect for me.

Superman checks. That's right, Superman. And they even came with a vinyl Superman check case.

And I'm very excited about this. Now, as my money flies away, and I can calmly think to myself, "It's how Supes would have wanted it."