Monthly Archives: August 2010

In which … I gush.

Three things to say before I launch into this post:

1. If you don’t like Broadway musicals or the Phantom of the Opera, bloop bloop bloop.

2. I don’t cry easily. For serious.

3. Being as hard of hearing as I am is a very frustrating existence. It moves me to tears how frustrating an existence it can be. It’s why I avoid extraneous human interaction more often than not; like, you’ll never see me chatting up a cashier or making casual conversation with a person in an elevator. It’s why I am NEVER the one to call and order Chinese. Too stressful. It’s why I don’t go to the movies. It is the exact same thing as seeing a foreign language film without subtitles when you don’t speak a word of the language and also, someone shoved cotton in your ears. Frustrating to tears.

The same held true when I saw a Musical Christmas Carol this winter at the Byham. Remember? I heard the word “chicken” and that was it. I left at intermission.

When I saw Bryan Adams at the Byham from nine rows back, I obviously understood every word he sang, but I understood maybe five words he spoke. Grr.

I did much better when I saw Young Frankenstein a few months ago, because I was only five or seven rows back or so and I was able to read the lips a bit. I caught probably 30% of that show. Still frustrating.

All of this to say to you that last night I saw the Phantom of the Opera from the front row and I CAUGHT ALMOST EVERYTHING.

I went with my mother, Pens Fan and Princess Aurora and it was one of my favorite nights ever.

First, the thing about the Phantom of the Opera as he is written in this musical is that Andrew Lloyd Webber somehow makes what is essentially a deformed nutjob sexual predator into a pretty hot sexy guy who I’d let have his way with me. And this is the point where I realize I can probably no longer make fun of Twilight. But whatever.

Eff Twilight.

Sitting in the front row, we were obviously treated to some very nice close-ups with the actor playing Raoul. You guys, he is hot. I’m not just saying that. He stood on the edge of the stage, so close I could have spit in his eye if I had good aim — certainly, I could have hit him with my bra even with bad aim — and my sisters and I exchanged looks and then Princess Aurora began fanning herself and batting her eyelashes like Scarlett putting the moves on Rhett.

I do declare.

The first time I heard the voice of the Phantom, I got chills. The first time I caught a glimpse of him in the mirror, it was a bit breathtaking. That’s the kind of spell the music puts me in. Wherein I’m clamoring to lay my eyes on a deranged acid-washed kidnapper just so I can squee and swoon when he starts singing.

EFF TWILIGHT.

Even when the Phantom sang Music of the Night, by far my most favorite Phantom song, I found myself on Raoul’s side. That’s your girl. That’s yours. Who is this penguin-suited, mask-wearing, Opera-house squatting criminal WITH THE VOICE OF THE ARCHANGEL GABRIEL, to steal what’s yours?! EFF THE PHANTOM, RAOUL.

My sisters agreed. We were all on Team Raoul.

But then, near the end, there was the Phantom, desperate, no mask, scarred, a few random hairs poking out of his bald head, grotesque, singing his heart out, surrounding me with music, and I fell back in love with the psycho murderous freak of nature and switched teams. EFF RAOUL. RAOUL DOESN’T SURROUND ME WITH MUSIC.

Coming, my love.

As we left the theater, I told my sisters I was now Team Phantom and they were all, “No way. We are Team Raoul. Our guy is a handsome man who saved the day and your guy is a deformed penguin.” They then MIMED A DEFORMED PENGUIN.

Bitches.

So, the points of this post:

1. EFF RAOUL.

2. EFF TWILIGHT.

3. EFF MY EARS.

4. EFF ANY SEAT IN ROWS B AND BACK.

I’m a front-row girl now. Wish me luck affording this lifestyle.

Oh, and for good measure … EFF TWILIGHT.





Hitchcock’s muse.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, this picture is worth the word EFF! written one thousand times.

(photo by Jonathan Wander, in between fits of hysterical laughter)

That bird is totally all up in my face. I wonder if it had a problem with my shirt maybe?

Go see the behind the scenes pictures of my visit to the Aviary and then go read all about my visit.

The point is, ‘Burghers, as a general rule, I hate birds. So when the National Aviary, located right here in Pittsburgh, e-mailed me about touring its facility, my immediate gut reaction was, “Voluntarily enter an enclosed space with a whole bunch of birds? LOL. Delete.”

But I’m always looking for things to write about and figured hanging out with birds was sure to be entertaining in a “Mom, I think that screaming lady peed her pants” kind of way.

Good news! I didn’t pee my pants. Much.





My fake YouTube boyfriend strikes again

My fake YouTube boyfriend, Burgher Colin Sander, has another awesome video up on YouTube.

First, be reminded of his incredible Urban Skiing video from Snowmaggedon. You remember Snowmaggedon, don’t you? That 400-year period when it never stopped snowing and then the End of Days were upon us and the horsemen of the Apocalypse came riding down Grant Street slaying all the firstborn? Your recollection may vary.

While we were all whining about the snow, Colin and his friends went out and skied that shit.

His latest video was filmed in Mt. Lebanon and is set to the tune Handed Down by Recollect, a Pittsburgh musician whose music was also the background track for the Somehow video, which also kicks a lot of ass.

This video is completely different from the other two and here’s what I love about it —  the players look like tiny elves playing with normal-sized rackets and balls! Awesome.

You gotta watch to the end and see who wins and in what fashion they win because it is, well, full of win.

Spoiler alert!: Donkey omelets.

Enjoy!

YouTube Preview Image

Just added to my bucket list:

Play tennis using a giant ball and racket and win via an overhead rocket to the crotch of my opponent.

Any takers?





Heartaches by the Numbers

Wow. I’ve done a lot of sports posts in a row, haven’t I?

Sorry about that.

But this one must be written.  You must watch this video put together by the P-G with Dennis Roddy serenading us Buccos fans about the heartaches we have experienced cheering on The Suckitude over the years.

It is hilarious and excellent and my favorite line is “when someone learns to play this game, we trade him out the doooor.”

YouTube Preview Image

“We had Barry Bonds when he was skinny …”





Requiem for Dad

Veteran free agent winger Bill Guerin said by text message today that Penguins general manager Ray Shero has informed him the club has decided not to attempt to re-sign him for the 2010-11 season.

I haz a sad.

I understand the decision, but still, sad.

I can pretty much guarantee you that after his playing days are over, Billy Guerin is going to be a world-class NHL coach. As I wrote:

Player most likely to become an NHL coach? That’s easily Billy Guerin who spent more time instructing players on when to enter the ice than Bylsma did.  He’s the one player that looked like both a player and a coach at all times — watching the ice like he was memorizing everything.  Love him.

And I always will.

Unless he becomes a Flyer, then may God have mercy on his soul.