Leary of You

(See this blog with photos at www.joeleary.net)

Guess where I am.

I am sitting at a Drury Inn in Houston, Texas. It’s an appropriate name, reminiscent of "Dreary Inn". Although they are doing something about that. The renovation team starts with a "wake up call" jackhammer promptly at 8:01am each morning.

Houston is such a shitty town. I hate it here. This is my second visit. I was here between Thanksgiving and Christmas for 8 days. I actually saw a dead pig on the side of the highway. I was shocked and appalled. But it explained the sign I saw for "hog traps" earlier in the week.

I have to come down here periodically to help the Nielsen office recruit and sign homes. Last visit I was signing a home in a ghetto-ish sort of area. When I was done interviewing the household and saying my good-byes, the Man-of-the-House asked me, in all seriousness: "So…do you carry a gun?"

"Uh. No."

"You don’t carry a gun? Why not?"

"Would you let a gun weilding stranger into your house and let him interview you?"

He had no answer for that. Instead, he paused and asked:

"Do you know where you ARE?"

–

No road kill yet on this visit. Although I did have to pull over on Saturday to let the escaped cow run past me on the street. There were 5 Chevy pick up trucks all driving after the poor beast. I just kept going, and strangely forgot the whole incident until just now.

I went to the Alley Theater’s production of "Moon for the Misbegotten." A play I SHOULD have read in college. Instead, I think I skimmed it once for a class discussion. I forget home much I love Eugene O’Neill. As an actor. As an Irishman. As an alcoholic. He really speaks to me on all three levels. And does it with such ease and heartache, beauty and utter filth. What an amazing writer.

On Friday I took a "Level 9" tour of NASA and the Houston Space Center. It was AWESOME. (I went to Space Camp when I was 13. I am a total astronaut wannabe.) The tour was a special clearance VIP thing…we got to go places the general public doesnt get to see:

The 80ft deep "zero buoyancy" pool. 2 astronauts were actually training in the pool while we observed. Mission Specialists Danny Olivas and James Reilly are going up on the next shuttle mission (Atlantis STS-117).

We observed "misison control". They were in simulation mode preparing for the upcoming Atlantis mission in 2 months. We also saw the "old" mission control of Apollo 13 fame. We were told the the entire processing power of the computers for that mission at mission control were 400kbs. That means my cell phone is smarter the the computers at NASA in the 1960’s. Isn’t that crazy? The engineers were simply THAT smart…math and a slide rule got men to the moon.

We observed "space station" mission control, which was active. There are people living in orbit in the space right now. For 6 months at a time.

I was taking the "tour guide" Georgine for granted. And our driver, "Irwin". And then I realized that they weren’t just here for hospitality and tours…they were actualy NASA engineers that also do the Level 9 tours.

These are people who have "Number of US Patents: 5" on their resume.

I was in awe of the brain power amongst us. Until the cell phone on one of the other tour-goers rang and she started blathering extra-loud about changing her state room on the Carnival cruise she was taking that week.

Okay, what are the odds of this?

I am currently sitting at a Starbucks in Milwaukee, WI. (They’re not easy to find over here in blue collarsville.)

I have some time to kill, so I’m just sitting here, re-charging my laptop and I notice this guy outside. Total Milwaukee workin’ man sort of guy. Not my demographic at all. He’s walking back and forth and looking at me like he’s not sure its me. Whoever I am.

He comes into Starbucks. And he walks around the store. And then he comes over to me and gestures for me to take off my headphones.

Oh, Jesus. What the hell is he going to ask me? Am I parked in his spot? Am I in his seat? Is he going to beat me up?

“Are you the Kiss FM fugitive?”

“What?”

“Are you the Kiss 95 fugitive? He’s supposed to be here, you know…and I’m supposed to ask it like that…right?”

“No. I’m sorry. I am not the Kiss 95 fugitive.”

The irony is, I have been asked this before. In a different state altogether. For a different radio station with totally different clues. Seriously…what are the odds of that?

2 years ago, when we were planning our remodel, I was at the “kitchen” place working with our new designer…picking out appliances and finishes and stuff. Our relationship was still “new”. The designer and me. Not Scott and me.

Her name is Serena. And she is a totally hot lipstick lesbian. I was visiting her to “sign off” on the cabinetry design…”sign here, initial here..” and she stops…tilts her head, and looks at me kinda funny.

“Are you the KDWB fugitive?”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you the KDWB fugitive? You are supposed to have $10,000 cash in your trunk.”

“I am? No. I don’t think so. Would I know if I am the fugitive?”

“Shoot! Yes, you’d know. Never mind.”

Apparently the fugitive was supposed to be an actor in town in a convertible (at the time I had an orange convertible Beetle)…blah blah blah, he was supposed to friends with Josh Hartnett (which I am not)… And now here I am in a coffee shop in my least favorite town in the upper midwest, and I am still NOT the guy with $10,000 in my trunk.

Seriously….what are the odds? I am going go buy a lottery ticket.

www.joeleary.net

The Blog at www.joeleary.net has been updated.

Okay, the ads on the church marquees have got to go.

GOOD - GOD = Zero

No it doesn’t, it equals the letter “o”. And there is no good reason to be making a math problem out of the word “Good’. This is something I actually saw on a church marquee.

JESUS + SMARMY ADVERTISING = Bad Idea

Here are some others:

EXERCISE DAILY - Walk with the Lord!

Will the Lord also spot me if I want to do some bench presses? Can Jesus help me determine my body fat ratio? How about spinning? I’d like to get on a stationary bike and have Jesus scream at me for 40 minutes to get me motivated.

GET DA FACTS ON DA VINCI

This was on a Methodist Church. What do they care? The DaVinci Code was a FICTIONAL BOOK that riffed on themes from Catholicism. Let me say it again: FICTION. The book is FICTION. Have we all lost our minds? There is no Robert Langdon, either! It’s ALL FICTION. These evangelicals need to just RELAX.

And now they are all sweatin’ in their boots about tomorrow’s date: 6/6/06. The rapture index is on high alert! (I’m serious.) “The evangelical Raptureready.com Web site puts its “rapture index” at 156, calling that “fasten your seatbelts” time.”

Yes…at raptureready.com you can get a score card to see how close the rapture might be. Sort of like a weather-report for the 2nd coming of Jesus.

I read this in the Star Tribune on Sunday:

“The possibilities of bad things happening on this day are endless,” said Linda Bickford, an evangelical Christian in Berthoud, Colo. “The day doesn’t have any special power, but I think people who are involved in witchcraft … may use the day to perpetuate all kinds of mischief. They may seek supernatural help to do it.”
Mischief? Witchcraft? What the bleeding hell is she talking about?

I spend a lot of time in my car. I drive all around the state to recruit new Nielsen TV Rating homes.

I am exposed to an inordinate amount of roadkill and it’s starting to really upset me. Butcher bill from Wed, 5/31:

Racoons - 5
Deer - 3
Cats - 2
Unknown - 1

Butcher bill from Thursday, 6/1:

Racoons - 2
Squirrels - 4
Beaver - 1
Deer - 1
Turkey - 1
Unknown - 6

That’s a lot of death for a car ride. Earlier in the month I was driving home and I went past a turtle trying to get across the road. I stopped, got out of the car, and helped him complete the journey.

Later in the day I passed another turtle doing the same thing. I stopped, got out of the car, and watched as a truck ran over the turtle. It popped and exploded. It was awful.

Is it just me, or does the Walgreen’s logo remind you of the infamous “coke moon” at Studio 54?

(Please go to my blog at www.joeleary.net for pictures)

They don’t show you, but those sparking drugs are being lifted out of the mortar and pestle by a big disco nose.

I was waiting for my ADHD prescription to be refilled at Target this morning…and eavesdropping on the woman in the next “drop off your drugs” divider. She was asking the pharmacist about her prescription for Ambien. She wanted to know if she could, on “good days”, supplement Simply Sleep instead of always taking her Ambien. Or would Tylenol PM be better?

The pharmacist said sure. “You need your rest.” Lady Macbeth was worried that she’d get addicted, but seemed relieved that the pharmacist said she was only risking a psychological addition…not a physical addiction. She might even just take a Benadryl, because it was pretty much the same thing as Simply Sleep. Although she cautioned taking her Ambien with her pain medication.

Yeah right, you can’t sleep. This chick is dancing with Dr. Smack. She probably likes to pop a few and listen to Rush Limbaugh backwards.

At Target, I like looking at the the contraband items that you have to ask for from behind the pharmacy counter. The needles, bag balm, the Fluoride rinses. Why is Bag Balm an “ask for” item? Is it used for making crystal meth? Why are they hidden with the pseudoephedrine products? They have a vaginal wash behind the counter, but not the douches. Is this one particularly dangerous? There are even a couple of bars of soap back there! Why? Why? Why?

To see the letter and a picture of Sugar go to: http://www.joeleary.net/site/Blog/Blog.html

I was scanning some pictures for a friend today and I came across this letter. It totally made me smile:

“Thank you SO much for making sure I got onstage, and didn’t have a breakdown.”

This little love note was written by Miss Megahan Markert. We were in “The Rink” together at Theater Latte Da…and during a performance one night…she was backstage being a chatty Cathy and suddenly I heard some familiar music. “Meaghan, aren’t you supposed be onstage in a second?” Miss M was not wearing her roller skates. (The girlie kind that lace halfway up the leg.) The color drained out of her face and she immediately started to cry. “What am I going to do? I can’t go out there like this!” I dragged her up to the stage all the while shoving her little feet into the skates. “Yes you can!” I said not tying the skates…just frantically stuffing the laces into her socks. “Now stop crying and get out there!” And away she went.
I’d like to think that I was in drag during this backstage drama. But, I wasn’t. The picture above is of Meaghan and I backstage. I played the role of “Sugar” in one of the flash back scenes. I must say that “Sugar” is one of my favorite costumes to date.

Where, oh where, were the Ivey Awards back then?

www.joeleary.net

I just finished my third weekend of “Farm Boys”. If you are reading this, and haven’t seen it yet…and you live in the Twin Cities area…you have 2 more weeks to come up with a decent enough lie.

So “The History Theatre” announced their season next year: Wellstone! (a musical), 100 Man’s Wife, some Minnesota Christmas patchwork of stories and polka songs, The Baron (a wrestling story) and Orphan Train (a musical). It just so-happened that “Orphan Train” was auditioning this past weekend. I felt kind of obligated to throw my hat into the ring because I was already performing at the theatre…and I’m in actor’s equity now…and I made a vow to audition more… So I do it. And I go. And it goes pretty well. We had to sing 16 bars, though. I have only done 16 bars TWICE in my career thus far. In college when we were learning how to do a 16 bars audition…and for the appalling auditions that John Command had for “How to Succeed…” for Actors Theatre, but I digress. So I sang “No Moon” from Titanic. It has an early American folksy lilt to it, that seemed appropriate. Everyone seemed receptive. I figured there was no good reason I wouldn’t at least get a callback.

Nothing. “We decided we aren’t calling you back.” Well, fine! If I said I didn’t want to get on the damn Orphan Train to begin with…it wouldn’t be far from the truth. (Singing in the early spring…with 10am performances about children, FOR children, WITH children in the cast is a hard sell to begin with) But the fact that the “Orphan Train” didn’t want me aboard suddenly made me depressed and pondering a career change. The Orphan Train had no intention of stopping at my station.

After our matinee yesterday, I had rehearsal for a workshop of the musical “How To Mow the Lawn” in the same room where we auditioned for “Murder on the Orphan Express”. And all of the headshots were still there. In a nice little pile. With notes on them saying who was going to be called back.

I was good. For about 30 minutes. Then I started thumbing through them. First, with the good intention of “possibly reformatting my resume…to get inspired…” and then blatantly looking to see who was called back in lieu of wonderful me. I got to one person, who I consider to be challenged in the performance department…and sure enough: CALLBACK! Why are they calling THAT person back? Am I that bad at auditioning? Has this person been taking classes and suddenly on the fast track to B’WAY? WHY, GOD WHY? And then it hit me….like a runaway train full of singing orphans…the TALL people. They called back all of the TALL people.

Who knows if that’s the plan or not. But it sure makes me feel better.

My mother’s long time friend Liz came into town this week on business. Liz is a riot. My mother and her were roommates in San Francisco in the late 60’s.

Liz came to see “Farm Boys” on Sunday night with another roommate from San Fran in the 60’s…they lived in a huge Victorian in the Haight - Ashbury area. They lived with 8 other people…and had a ridiculous amount of fun. Liz told me there was a dessert place called “Magnolia Thunderpussy” that would deliver naughty-themed sweets at all hours of the night to you. That was the name of the woman who ran the place: Magnolia Thunderpussy. There was a “Montana Banana” (a whole banana flanked by two scoops of ice cream and chocolate shavings) and “Pineapple Pussy” (a hollowed out half of pineapple with whipped cream and such…).

One night they called in for a delivery and a very sad man answered. He said he was sorry but they couldn’t deliver anymore. “Magnolia Thunderpussy took all the money and left.”

I went online to verify this hippie memory. And its all true. Magnolia Thunderpussy went on to start a restaurant in wine country. And she died in 1996, I believe.

How totally fabulous.

www.joeleary.net

I had a dream last night that I had to write and record a gender-bending rendition of "Summer nights" from Grease for Britney Spears. She was going to be Danny and I was Sandy.

I am supposed to write a joke for her near the end so she can segue right into a plug for her new album. So I wrote a clever little joke for her (so clever in fact that I never actually heard it in the dream, or remember it, for that matter).

So…we do the performance, and everyone just loves it. I mean, it’s Grease, for god’s sake…the audience goes wild…the whole number has been pre-recorded so all we have to do is lip sync in a convincing way. What can possibly go wrong? We get to the end…to the "joke" I’ve written for her…and the plug for her new CD…and she’s CHANGED IT WITHOUT CONSULTING ME. Instead, she says:

"Mommy Britney’s breasts are SO big and soft that I should work for Cottonnell! MMMMMMMM! So…are you gonna buy my new record ?!?!?!"

Silence. A few chuckles and a LOT of open mouth stares.

Britney contines the end of the number, like I had recorded it and we head offstage. In passing, she says to me, "You were a little flat on one of those last notes…" She was right. In the anguished moments following her toilet paper tits comment, I was stunned and extremely distracted. Forgetting altogether that the grease track has been PRE-RECORDED I started to sing live. Without a microphone, mind you…so only Britney heard my ONE FLAT NOTE. The entire STADIUM, however, heard her ridiculous "Mommy Britney has big boobs" statement. And her mixing of the 1st and the 3rd persons (Mommy Brtiney …..I….)

I was so UPSET! This was fool proof! Britney Spears + Grease medley = Slam Dunk Entertainment!