Pull Out your GPS, This is Minnesota

I am appalled at the number of people I’ve had to endure complaining about the weather already. Was it colder than it’s been. Sure. But guess what, you live in Minnesota. You chose to live here. Maybe if you were a snotty sixteen year old who was born here you can try to make the “I didn’t ask to be born here, let alone., like, born” argument. Really you should just be grateful you have Uggs and puffy coat. In my day you got either a Dallas Cowboys or a Seattle Supersonics Starter jacket and you liked it. But ultimately, it was like 57-60℉. HArdly anything worth talking about. There are little African children who would kill fora 60˚ day. Shit gets cold in the desert. And we all know winter is coming in a few months save the complaining for then. Really, you shouldn’t complain about that at all unless it trumps last year. It won’t, but Minnesotans love to talk about our weather. Wh ynot engage in a conversation about the war(s), our sad sports teams (except WNBA, Growlout to my Lynx!), or the socioeconomic discrimination of University avenue by the new Lightrail (but don’t complain about its being built, have you even been listening to me?).  

Ok, I got a little more serious then I planned on there, but seriously. The heat doesn’t need to be turned on. Its going to be back in the 70s next week. Get a grip. Grown some (testicals or ovaries, for the ladies). You live in Minnesotas. Take pride in it.

"Isn’t it always cold there?"

"Nah, its not even as cold as a Coors Light/Ice Cube commercial"

Excuse me while I go open up another window. 

King Kong

Last week I was recapping an old conversation I had with my friend ChickLit about Denzel Washington and his depth of characters. In the original conversation, a burgeoning director fiend and movie buff stated that Denzel was incapable of playing a character of low stature. At the time, I couldn't quite agree with him. When recapping said convo with ChickLit, I realized I had come full circle on the idea. Everyone he plays is a strong willed, emotionally firm, fist pounding, top of his lungs yelling, badass. Even when he plays struggling characters, bad guys, or even “quiet” characters, they seem to have at least one moment where he stares someone in the face and says something along the lines of “King Kong ain’t got shit on me!” I believe that quote was directed at an HMO in John Q. 

Even Denzel playing mentally challenged would be the most strong willed person ever. “I will not ride on the SHORT BUS!!”

So I was not quite surprised to find him monopolizing my dreams last night. He had something to prove. It started with me hosting something of a Inside the Actors Studio episode. I asked him about his craft, his biggest iconic rolls. He told me about how he was starting to venture into improvised theater. This is probably the highlight of my dream, cut to a clip of him and Wayne Brady yelling. Denzel yelling in the scene and Brady yelling at him for yelling. It was classic. But then things got serious. We went to his home and met his wife. She walked us to the nursery where his very sick daughter was. It escapes me what was wrong with her health, but as Denzel started to cry at a level 8 or 9, I knew that if I didn’t wake up soon, I was destined to sit through John Q 2. Even my subconscious knows he cannot play a humble, chilled out character. Where is his Brad Pitt like disappearance into a small supporting role. Why not do a comedy. Don’t get me wrong, when Denzel is on, he is on. But I’m not a 45 year old black woman. Your smile and cackle works on Oprah, but not me. Just surprise me Denzel. I’m hoping King Kong still has nothing on you.

Fringe Festival

So I'm new to performance, at least on a large scale. I did the Stevie Ray's thing, but everyone that came to those shows I pay rent to or used to claim me as a dependent on their tax returns. Not a lot of unbiased praise. I have no doubt that my friends and family truly enjoyed what they saw, but you take their pride with a grain of salt.

Well snap to Sunday at the Fringe festival. I'm walking out of the show Flops, a musical revue of songs from failed Broadway plays. Good Stuff. One song had a verse about a sperm defeating a diaphragm, I kid you not. As I was enjoying the rice crispy treat the cast just handed out, a kid, maybe 11-15 years old (I have no age-dar, so yeah, that's a wide range of ages) stares at me and says “Whooooaaaaaaaa.” So, confused, I stare back.

“You were the chef from last night!”

Finally it clicks, he went to see my show The Quest where I had, in fact, played a dancing pizza chef with a love of romance languages. I say romance languages because quite frankly, my accent could have been French, Italian, or Irish dependent on the sentence.

“Oh, yeah, ah, thanks...” I say as I shuffle away like a four year dragging my feet. My mood lies in a purgatory between cool, ecstatic, embarrassed, and awkward. First legit Fringe experience. Unless you count the overwhelming waif of b.o. at an otherwise very cool (and soon to be extinct) Bedlam Theater aka Fringe Headquarters.

Also see Speech if you can, totally worth it for Tim Hellendrung’s closing speech about rolling rocks alone.

Gone Fringin’.

Heating Up

The heat of the weekend seemed to culminate into this exhibition of fire at the Bastille Day Block Party. Its always a welcoming feeling being able to weave in and out of the spirit of Uptown. Everyone just bumps and moves together to the sounds of accordions and tubas blasts, sprinkler showers, drunken exchanges and stolen kisses. Its why I love the feeling of Uptown more than other areas. Its not prevalent all the time, sometimes that energy seems missing all together. But despite getting to the party late, I feel like I stepped right in line with the night. Though it came to a close around ten, I can only imagine what adventures continued into the night. Vive la France. Vive la Uptown. 

Sweat Monster

That’s me.

The sweat monster.

No matter the day, no matter the season.

I will perspire.

Through wife beaters, through shirts, on shoes, in the bar or on the patio.

Without regard to situation, or embarrassment.

Regardless if I’m hydrated or bone dry.

I will sweat.

On you if you aren’t careful.

Is this something I have come to grips with?

Yes mostly.

Will I survive, yes.

I surround myself with good people who get this and mostly ignore it

(or make fun of it).

You know who usually doesn’t get this?

Women.

I could be the most confident man in the world.

A brilliant, scientist/magician/quarterback/Le Cordon Blue Chef.

If I’m dripping sweaty from a walk around the lakes in 97+ degree heat, you will most likely not be impressed.

Shouldn’t he have mind control over it?

Shouldn’t he have antiperspirized his face?

Sorry ladies, I bleed liquid awkwardness from my pours.

Pay no attention to what is coming out of my mouth.

All that matters is that I’m pitting out and have the glisten of a freshly baked Cornish Game Hen.

What benefit is there from such a walk?

Well I couldn’t possibly look any worse, so I guess I’ll just keep on doing my awkward comment/over the top antidote / offensive joke thing.

Get it or don’t.

If you’re on board, bring a poncho.

Welcome to the great Unsummer of 2011

Its like the weather knows exactly what I want to do and how to ruin that. If I want to go to an outdoor concert, make it rain. Go for a swim, 50 degrees out. If I want to walk for a block without sweating, how about 103 on the thermostat. The main thing the Unsummer has been good at doing is deterring me from working out. When it rains in the morning, I hardly want to go around the lakes let alone walk to LA Fitness and back. Is this sad, yes. True though, certainly. While I have enjoyed my summer thus far, as my upcoming school quarter approaches, I feel like I’m not taking advantage of my extra free time (with the exception of a nice trip up north with my long lost buddy). I need another adventure soon. I get to go to Mexico to see my sister get married, with intermittent binge drinking and hopefully some sort of sand or water volleyball. But that’s not until December. In the past I have managed to carve out trips to Europe and Belize, music festivals of camping and not showering, and stretching every one of my borrowed cents at the roulette table in Vegas. Since school started though, it has just been the occasional weekend excursion or the usual backyard drinking with the homies. And even the beanbag games have been lacking. Well as of today, I pledge to find some new exploits for the rest of the fleeting nice months. I will have to do this why attempting to work and go to school, but I’ve never been much for sleep anyway. I’m always game for something. But I’m not going to be afraid to just go and get it. Shit, I even enjoyed a round of Bingo the other day at the Vegas lounge (home of the Coldest beer on earth) that happened completely on accident. So if you ant to peep a movie in the park, bingo, free bacon nights, impromptu music shows, porch drinking, overnight camping, hikes, bar crawls, lawn games, art gallery openings, skinny dipping, good humored vandalism, photography sessions, or just  shit shooting while riding bikes, hit me up, I’ll make my schedule work. If I get the urge I’ll do the same.

Words some of my college friends used to live by and I try to keep in mind as I see some beautiful nights wasted.

You got to be ready to catch it.