Sex and the Sh*tty

Here's the thing:

I own up to being obnoxious; uncompromising; stubborn as a mule.

It's amazing I still have friends, even ones on Facebook that I never met.

And I'm VERY SET in my ways about Saturday nights: 

 They CANNOT revolve just around a meal.  I think that started in my late teens, when guys would ask me out to dinner, and the activity ended at 8:00, and then..then..well, it's not what you think.  It was too boring to be what you think.

But ever since then, I insisted that dinner be followed by something fun. An ACTIVITY. An INACTIVE activity. 

There's ALWAYS a movie to see, unless it's the last week in February, and then there's not.

Now sometimes this works out.  Sometimes we get really lucky, like in 2012, when there was nothing at the movies, but  I found an obscure review about a play I never heard of at a theater I've never been to.  The play was "Esther's Moustache" at NJ Repertory Theater, which has been our go-to place for wonderful community theater ever since.

And sometimes..sometimes..it doesn't work out.

Like tonight, for example, as I scoured the newspaper that I still GET AND READ.. and social media..There was nothing at the movies, no theaters were showing anything as most are in between productions.

I saw something that caught my eye at the respectable Count Basie theater in Red Bank.  It was called "Sex 'n the City, a SUPER UNAUTHORIZED Musical Parody."

Before I proceed, let me tell you that I do not recognize red flags when they're waved in my face: I barely notice red lights.

There was not a single review of this production anywhere.  It wasn't even marked on Count Basie's calendar. There was zero word of mouth.

This should have been a red flag.  This should have been the time to just go to dinner, and maybe, GOD FORBID, rent something on Netflix.

But I twisted his arm. He feared he'd be the only guy in the audience, but he knew I was a huge fan of the HBO series, even 'though I should NOT have been.

Why would a feminist like me care about a bunch of horny bimbos in heels, dating heels?

But I got caught up in the whole phenom, trying to find signs of discord between Kim Catrall and Sarah Jessica Parker. 

I loved to answer the question every woman was asked and always had the same answer:

"Well..I'm a little bit Carrie, because I too think I can write things that amuse people, even 'though they usually DON'T. I'm a little Charlotte because slutty friends mortify me, even 'though I had my share of them.  And I always had Samantha's potty mouth."

I loved the series despite my misgivings, and positively HATED the movies. especially that god-awful sequel.

But I went, with an open mind, and a saintly husband.

The night was promising enough...I had a stall named "Miranda" in the bathroom, even 'though I told the hilarious attendant that I'd rather have an accident then be in a slut's stall.  (She's a fixture at this theater--she calls herself the "flusher usher" and encourages us to all to " pee and flee.")

We find our seats, but the Playbill was just an ad book for restaurants and shops in Red Bank. There was no mention of any cast members, and we soon discovered why. 

We also discovered why there was a weapons screening station before we entered the theater. 

Because if I had sneaked a gun in, I would have used it..on myself...around the time I heard some very untalented singers do their "I Lost My Orgasm" parody, or when I noticed that red-headed Miranda was played by a man, who, and I swear to you this is true, forgot to put the red wig back on in one of the blessedly final scenes. 

This revue was bad..it was Tom Hooper's "Cats" bad, which is why we had a great time making fun of is as we "couldn't help but wonder" if Count Basie was rolling over in his grave."

The sound system sucked as much as the Samantha Jones character did..which was a LOT.

The cougars and coots seems to be eating this garbage up, even when Samantha played an Orthodox rabbi in a terrible scene that reeked with anti-semitism . The opening emcee joked that the only men there were gay guys or husbands who owed their wives a favor. 

I can't see the former..the actors from the the series were hot, like Chris Noth and John Corbett and the guy that played Smith. 

 All the male roles in this were played by an overweight, middle-aged nerdy guy.  (Except for the rabbi)

It's funny, most of the people around us never removed their coats and/or left at intermission.

I was waiting for a nice tribute to cast member Lynn Cohen, who just died this week.  (She played Miranda's housekeeper, Magda)

(And she's joining Count Basie in that rolling in the grave thing)

No dead people were mentioned or honored.

There was one mildly amusing joke, when Miranda announced her BIG news..that she was running for governor!

Except that was not Miranda's story, but Cynthia Nixon's, the actress who touchingly portrayed her.

Sorry Jim..I owe you.

I owe you bigly.

I owe you MR. Bigly

The “sleep” o’ graph

Fellow insomniacs: 

 Put down that  chamomile tea and the Ambien.

 You don't have to adjust the thermostat or lower the music.

Tell the sheep in the room to take a hike, and there's no need to count them during their exile, they'll be fine. 

 (The score from "Out of Africa" is more music to make love by than it is a sleep inducer, but just the same,  it may work if you tinker with the volume)

 You're in your softest flannel pajamas, I get that. The comforter is warm and toasty, but I know you, fellow insomniac:  Your brain is going to race like it's preparing for a marathon, and you're mad at that stupid smart organ you've nurtured between your ears all these years..

Don't try to reason with your brain, it doesn't care that you crave sleep.  It just wants to taunt you about what not to forget on your Home Depot run tomorrow, or why you can't remember who won Best Supporting Actress during last year's Oscar telecast.

So tell your brain to go screw itself  and listen to me if you NEED sleep:

Go see "The Photograph."

Because, despite some beautiful shots of New Orleans and some pretty faces to look at, if you see one more glass of wine, hear one more strain of jazzy music,  see one(or make that TWO) more perfectly toned  bodies writhing in ecstasy, hear ONE more line of dialogue that you predicted would be said seconds before the actor said it,  this movie will put you to sleep faster than Michael Jackson's doctor and a syringe ever  could.

There's some decent acting, but someone needed to tell the director a thing or two about pacing.

And riveting dialogue.

Because she just doesn't care.  She was too preoccupied with...zzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Oh, by the way:  Light bulbs, a few drawer knobs, and  Regina King, for playing "Sharon" in "If Beale Street Could Talk"

(you're welcome)

The phone call

"Phone Call"  Act I-Scene I-Morning. Present Day. 

Mom:  (sing-song voice)  Hello?

Me:  It's me..there it is! That voice I haven't heard in six years

Mom:  What's wrong?

Me: Nothing's wrong.  Why do you always assume something's wrong?

Mom: I hear it in your voice.

Me:  From the afterlife?

Mom: Is everything OK with Jim? Evan?

Me:  They're FINE, Laurel..You might have given me life, but Jim has "given me life." We celebrated our thirtieth anniversary last fall with a trip to LA and Hawaii, and we're going on an island getaway soon.  Evan's moving into his own apartment next month..everyone's fine.

Mom: I miss these updates like you used to give me when I was alive, but I still hear something in your voice.

Me:  Post-nasal drip?  That's from all that &*%#)*%& second-hand smoke we were exposed to growing up.

Mom:  Oh. (BEAT) I thought we weren't going to bring that up

Me: I wasn't going to..but yeah, I'm still mad that I lost you AND Daddy to smoking. I made a New Year's Resolution to...

Mom: Give up sugar? Go to the gym?

Me: No Mom..I made one I can stick with. I promised myself to try to write something original on a regular basis.  Sure, I could have started with, "I can't believe it's been SIX years"..but everyone says that.  Everyone expresses disbelief about  the passage of time.I wanted to be different from everyone else who is marking a milestone and missing a love one.

Mom:  Oh..what's that beautiful music I hear in the background?

Me: That's the theme music from "Out of Africa"..I play it all day long for comfort. Remember we used it as the music for my wedding processional?

Mom:  I was too busy crying--and missing your father--and trying to get ring bearer Scott to hold the pillow the right way.

Me: It was gorgeous music then and it's gorgeous music now.  Remember the great job Jim D. did, coordinating everyone?

Mom:  Oh..Jim!  How is he?  He was such a loyal friend.

Me:  And still is.  He and Larry are still an amazing couple.  Jim just wrote a children's book!

Mom:  I do remember that music, now that you mention it. Aunt Ruby was kvelling..Wasn't Stephanie an adorable flower girl?

Me: She was! And she was determined to carry that last remaining leaf all the way to the chuppah.  She has three kids of her own now!

Mom:  Kenohurreh..pooh! Pooh! Pooh! Can you turn up the volume on your stereo?  I want to hear too

Me:  Mom..nobody listens to stereos anymore or talks on a wall phone.

Mom:  I do!

Me: I asked Alexa to play the music from "Out of Africa" and she did

Mom:  Who is Alexis?

Me:  Alexa..never mind..but if you learned how to use her, you would have loved her.  She would have been great company.  Much better than some of those biddies who lived in your building.

Mom: OK..so everything really is OK?

Me:  Well..not really..Donald Trump is still the President...

Mom: Now I KNOW this isn't a dream. Donald Trump would be the President of the United States over my dead body!

Me:  Hah! You'd never say that!

Mom: But you, my darling daughter, would. I miss your black humor. How is Luke? Is he still destroying your home?

Me:  We're not getting rid of him.

Mom:  I didn't tell you to.

Me:  Yes you did..in your own passive aggressive way. OK..I have to call a customer..

Mom:  Oh??  You still have the business? I was worried...

Me: ..and I want to watch Joe and Jill Biden on "The View" later. (BEAT) Hey..do you have any power up there?  Any influence at all? Is prayer real? If so, can you send some positive energy to Pete Buttigeig and Amy Klobuchar?

Mom:  Who are they?

Me:  Our next President and Vice President. Bye Mom! Say hello to Dad and Aunt Ruby.

Mom:  I love you

Me:  I don't say it back enough..but you know in my own way I do..Miss you all!

Mom:  So again..nothing's wrong?

Best in “show”

What a night for TV!

A great, live episode of "The Connors" that gave real time updates of the NH primary!

 It reminded me so much of the wonderful experience we had last fall seeing a sitcom filmed in LA.

 Actors scrambling to learn last minute lines, and most of them were delivered by  teen or tween thespians.. Anything could happen on live TV and nobody even  dropped an f-bomb.

(But could have)

Watching constant  updates that suggest that Pete and Amy are very much still in the race.  They're my dream ticket.

 (I'll vote for Bernie if he's the candidate.. he's not  part of my dream ticket..but he's not my nightmare ticket either.  That would be what currently occupies 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue)

Wonderfully written episodes of "Bless This Mess"..the thinking person's "Green Acres"- and the always terrific, topical,  and relevant "Mixed-ish" and "Blackish." All underrated shows that you should be bingeing.

An episode of "This is Us" that was almost impossible to watch. Mandy Moore did some Emmy-winning work, and kudos to her character, Rebecca Pearson,  for getting Kate to wear that bathing suit..because Kate deserved the pleasure of the pool as much as a size eight Kate  does.

OMG..I knew so many "Marks"..and put up with their shit for the same reason Kate did.   Kate did not have to tolerate abuse for being a little chubby.  Even if she were obese, she did not have to be subjected to that.

Kate needed a Lizzo role model, like the plus-sized Kates of the world have now.

Because a lot of Kates are HEALTHY and will stay HEALTHY.

And they're bathing-suit worthy just as they are!

The cherry on top of the perfect TV dessert??

A POODLE won Best in Show at MSG!

OK, Luke is apricot, male, a mini, and insane..

The winner was black, female, standard-sized, and normal..

"Siba" didn't try to hump anything or shred any bedding, at least not on camera.  She did not rip her trainer's thumb off to protect a toy.

But still!

A POODLE WON BEST IN SHOW!!

“You are Karen”

Just returned from another night of wonderful theatrical entertainment.

 "Bone on Bone"(I know..stop..yes, it SOUNDS pornographic..can we move on??) is a terrific, short and sweet dramedy that's wrapping up its current run at NJ Rep, my favorite local theater.

The show reminded me a lot of "Marriage Story" but with seniors.

"Marriage Story" is my second favorite of all the Oscar nominees(Quentin's movies will always remain on top) but it sadly isn't supposed to do too well tomorrow night. 

 Laura Dern SHOULD win with her portrayal of ruthless attorney Nora Fanshawe, and if there's even a glimmer of a chance there will be an upset, it'll  be in this category, where Scarlett might gain some sympathy votes for being nominated in two acting categories.  She may be too popular to go home(with Colin Jost) empty-handed..but..probably not.

  Laura's been sweeping and she's Hollywood royalty.

I have been living so much in the 80's in these days leading up to Oscar Sunday.  The Oscar parties I hosted and attended were always great fun.

We'd always dress up as a nominee from an acting category, and thank goodness, I am not now nor will I ever be running for public office, because I didn't see anything wrong with darkening my face makeup to be able to pull off a tribute to Oprah's Sofia in "The Color Purple."

This was the same year my BFF Jim  dressed up as Meg Tilley's nun character from "Agnes of God"..I don't know..would a cross-dresser take offense?

But those were the days, when ballots meant something, because nobody was following the Golden Globe and SAG awards so closely to see the winners were all locked up by Oscar night..

We dressed the part, we pooled our polls, we had a pot luck meal centered around the nominees.  We appreciated the wit of Billy Crystal and the whimsy  of Whoopi Goldberg.

I'd decorate the walls with (amateurishly drawn!) caricatures of nominees, although I'd often capture a likeness, or. if not that, a fitting caption.

We'd laugh, we'd fret about how late it was getting, we'd make fun of fashions, and we'd roll of the floor with gales of laughter as an octogenarian mispronounced the name of a foreign film.

We had to use our brains to recall last year's winners..there was no google.

The funniest memory came in 1981, where the favored "Reds" was upset by "Chariots of Fire."

Jim was so upset by the upset that he wanted to see it again, just so he could "walk out."  And he was sorry that..he actually liked the film.

I think my happiest memories of all those Oscar years came when the orchestra would play those first few notes of a moving score, and by the end of the night, depending on how many awards that film won, you'd know the score by heart.

I have favorites..lots of favorites, like "Terms of Endearment" and "Jurassic Park."

But nothing gets me in the gut quite like John Barry's magnificent score from "Out of Africa."

It is so gorgeous that it has a life of its own. I cannot hear even two notes without seeing beautiful waterfalls in Africa, or amazing greenery in this beautiful continent. 

 I can practically smell the coffee from the plantation.

I never knew this before my  wedding, when my friend Jim choreographed the processional like a pro, but the title song, where Streep and Reford are flying above this portrait from God,   is called "You Are Karen."

It is John Barry's gift to humanity, and I've been listening to it all week.

Technology was not that advanced in 1989, so Jim relied on a tape recorder and his own talented ears and eyes to tell the wedding party when to proceed down the aisle in  Temple Beth Ami.

My flower girl Stephanie (now a married wife with three kids of her own!) wasn't even two, but her parents coached her well, and even 'though she had only one leaf in her hand by the time she reached the altar, she was determined to complete the job.

Jim chose a light, sweet refrain for this, and everyone was wowed by Stephanie's sheer will, and there were giggles and cooing and general levity in the sanctuary.

And then it stopped.

It stopped to the haunting strains of John Barry's masterpiece, where I'm suddenly worried about my borrowed veil and my running mascara, and I cannot even type this without crying.

You hear me say, in a voice barely above a whisper,  to my wonderful big brother, Steven, "he's here, Steven, he's here....

There were tears in his eyes as well, as neither of us could understand why our Dad  couldn't last another six or seven months to fulfill this role.

"You Are Karen."

And I was.

And I understand how Oscars parties meant so much in the days when my father was alive and watched the telecast in his home.

I'm not even familiar with a lot of the nominees for "Best Original Score" but this I know:

There will never be a movie with a score as breath-taking as the one from "Out of Africa."

Punxsutawney goes Gaga

okay...remember..you asked for and/or encouraged  this the minute I made my New Year's resolution known to  you, that I was going to try to write something incredibly stupid(or did I say amusing?) to share with you every few days. 

 This is my salute to tomorrow's big day, and I don't mean the Super Bowl. 

 Get on your best Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga and add your own verses to the song that never ends: 

Tell me something, Phil/are we preppin' for more whippin' chill?/oh..we don't need more/of  iffy  weather..just consult Al Gore!!

I'm bawlin'

on all these cold nights, I feel myself longing, for

quilts

My dog destroys them.(.then shows some major guilt..)

                        (a few guitar strums)

Tell me something, Phil..

Is Punxutawney a good place to chill?

or are we outta luck?

How much wood would any woodchuck chuck?

I'm callin'

alert the media!

Oh Philip!!  What the..f*ck??!!

It's..like..ice!

Oh don't be chicken..we need your sage advice!

I'm at my wit's end!

What's your prediction??

Will you see your  shadow now?

Oh Phil..we're bummin'!

Is more winter comin'?

Consult Rachel Maddow now!

in his shadow..shadow, shadow..

In his shadow, shadow, shadow, shadow

In his shadow..shadow..shadow!

We're screwed as a country now..