Kenny ://

23 more days till a great day for Kenny

What's so great about 23 days from now, Kenny? I'm so glad you asked that question. 23 days from now actually marks a week, not just a huge significant day. Sure, 23 days from now is April 4th and I'm looking forward to that day more than most, but that week is significant for a few reasons.

One of those reasons is that a friend I haven't seen in far too long is visiting that weekend and I'll get to hang out with her for a bit.  Can't wait to see you, Johnna.

Another reason is that that will be the first week post-play that I'll have had to myself in a while.  3.5 months to be exact. I don't know what I'll do when I get home from classes that week. Oh, yes I do. I'll do homework. But the good thing about that is that I won't be doing homework starting at 11.00 PM when I get home from rehearsals.

Sunday was our first dress rehearsal and the first thing a fellow cast member said to me when I was getting into costume was "Damn, you are as red as a stoplight!" I should mention that my costume is a pair of shorts. Full stop. That's all it is. I've been to the tanning booth since I'm a pasty german/irish kid who, for this role, is supposed to look hispanic to be a cabana boy. It's the first time I've ever been to a tanning salon and if you've never been, which I expect is true of most of my southern friends, it's a weird experience.

I walk in the first day expecting someone behind the counter to be able to riff off about 80 things I need to know about a tanning salon but instead have someone saying, "What do you think your skin type is?"

"I dunno, sweety, you tell me. This is what you do, after all."

I mean, seriously, ask me about the marketing plan and pre-launch campaign for any sort of program or product launch including but not limited to any subset of technology vendors, interactive agencies, back-end reporting and fulfillment and response-boosting marketing vehicles and I can probably recite the marketing and execution bible but put me in a tanning salon and I fall to pieces. Shouldn't someone who works there be able to look me up and down and realize I'm a pasty white maux faux on the tail end of Winter and be able to recommend that I go for no more than 4-6 minutes for at least the first few weeks before cranking it up to "burn yo ass"???

I guess not.

As a result, let me ask you to join me on a little narrative. Close your eyes and picture a coca-cola can. Not put dark hair and green blue eyes on that coca-cola can. You have a picture of Kenny. Because I don't want to expose my you-know-what to those rays, I wear boxers and now look like that coca-cola can, red all over except for one swervy stripe cutting me in half.

Theater kills, people. Theater kills.

(the good pat? I'm getting into better shape than I've been for a few years in an effort to look like a fit cabana boy - does that sound gay?)

Nature vs. Nurture and inventions

I've had this conversation with a small, very distinguished set of friends over the past few days. Nurture vs. Nature. I was, read was again. a staunch believer in nurture. In other words, I am who I am because of the fact that the people who raised me and the place in which I was raised played a significant part in who I am today.

To give you an idea, I was raised catholic in a southern city by pseudo-liberals turned conservative in the 70's and 80's. Don't try to tell me I love the A-Team and the Dukes of Hazzard because I'm an aquarius, hippies.

I believe we're a result of our environment. Case in point, if I grew up in Seattle, would I really know what a moonpie was and have an almost tribal appreciation of them? No way. Ask a native Washingtonian "What's a moonpie?" and they'll probably answer, "cowshit on the moon?"

Nurture. I had a great, laid back dad, and I'm laid back. (dad's still around, I just don't talk to him). I don't think that's genetic because Mom is rat-shat crazy. Not laid back at all. Neither are my bro or sis. Not genetic.

Now the nature - how is it astrologers can pigeon-hole me into a box as an aquarius? There must be something in my nature about that but I don't believe there are only 12 kinds of people in the world.

In other news, I'm working on an invention that counter-acts that "It's on the tip of my tongue" feeling you get. Won't it be nice when you're thinking of something you can't quite remember or articulate ala "I know I know it, I just can't think of it . . ." or ". . . Its' on the tip of my tongue. . . " to just be there, not on the tip of your tongue but actually being spoken? Well, Tricia, my business partner, and I are working on that. Don't bogart it, haters.

In other news, don't you just fecking hate it when you buy a new bike and it rains for 2 weeks so you don't get to ride it? I didn't buy a new bike, but I hate that feeling.

I guess there's a point at which it stops for a while

I know the hair on my face is softer today than it was yesterday, but it sure doesn't look like it's getting any longer. I'll never have enough hair for a proper molestache this weekend, but I'm not that concerned. It's never been about having a full respectable mustache for me. It's more been about being as ridonculous looking as possible.  I'm pretty sure I can make that happen. 

In other news - I bought new music the other night. I do this about once every 2 or 3 months. I'll get the crazy idea that I can go to the record store and just pick up one cd.  Not the case. There's a song I've been really digging for a while now and my friend Speener found the track name and artist for me. 

Handbags and Gladrags by Mr. Cat Stevens as heard on the opening and closing credits of the BBC Office series. I've not really ever been a Cat Stevens fan, though. I mean, I like his songwriting but his Zappa/Dylan/Cocker mix of delivery hasn't really ever stuck with me. I like the 10,000 Maniacs cover of peace train, and I like the Stereophonics and Rod Stewart covers of this song. So I've been listening to the small 20 second clips iTunes lets you hear and decided feck it, I'll just buy the whole CD. I like the Stereophonics quite a bit, too, so that's a bonus that they covered it, too. 

My local shop didn't have them so I picked up the Rod Stewart unplugged CD.

I really like the unplugged concept, I just wish it were still "unplugged." It seems like there's 1000x more production value into these performances than there was when they first started. I remember watching in the 90's and it was just a guy or a small band and their acoustic guitars on rocking chairs or stools or pillows on a rug.  The Lenny Kravitz unplugged was fantastic. The Alice In Chains one was great. I think I remember R.E.M. being really good, too. But these days, there's a full backing orchestra, production personnel, sound men, etc., in on the act. At least, that's how the Rod Stewart CD sounds.  I also didn't realize I'd like my parents' music so much.  I think the cd doesn't really speak to me, but it sure brings back memories of hearing this music in the house when I was growing up - that was a happy thing. It gives me the feeling of a pleasant memory when there isn't really a memory to go with it. Kind of just the light dusting of a memory.

I also got the Smiths and Queen.  No comments from the peanut gallery on the Queen CD. Otherwise, I will get my Fat Bottomed Girls to Rock You and we will be The Champions.

I know it doesn't look like it

I know it doesn't look like it but the facial hair is growing; it hasn't hit a plateau just yet.  The best part is that it's so long that it's almost soft by now. Another best part is that one of my best friends in the world is going to shape it into an award winning stache before the stache contest.  She's an arteest and a beaut.  I'm hoping my mustache will be, too. I've kind of got my mind set on either a Lemmy from Motorhead or a mustache that looks like the stripe on Charlie Brown's shirt.  I don't want to give too much away to my competition, though, so that's all I'll say about that.  Here's your Sunday update (soundtrack for this picture by fugazi):

So it's Sunday night, my exams are done and this is day 3 that I haven't even thought about schoolwork or books or anything that has to do with preparing for a class. How'd I spend it?  So happy you asked. Miserably with demanding wimmenz.  As a southern bumper sticker once said, Nuff Said.

Sunday night haiku:

Vacation, a myth
Blackberry follows you with
Red blinking flasher

One difference defined between the sexes

My lovely wife and I were talking last night about someone we both know and she said something interesting to me - "If she were a guy I'd call her a tool." I laughed.

Then she said something else that to me seemed an easy comparison but to her was almost alien. She asked me why there wasn't a girl equivalent of "tool" as an insult. I've never thought there wasn't a female equivalent - it's the c- word. It's an insult that's taken at more than face-value. What I mean is, it's something you say about someone not just because of something they've done in a certain situation like using poor grammar or not liking dogs, it's something that speaks to that person as a whole.

Alicia didn't understand how the two were comparable because of the fact that people don't cringe when you call someone a tool, usually they laugh. I think that's JUST because tool has an alternate meaning and can be used completely innocuously whereas the c- word can't. That's all. It's something you wouldn't say to your grandmother even if there were a new product on the market that makes it easier to pick up a newspaper or something. "Oh, Meemaw, don't bend over to get that. Here, use this cunt I just bought you, it'll make your lowerback stop hurting so much since you won't have to bend over! I know, isn't it a pretty color and what a comfortable handle on it, too. I might have to get a cunt for myself!"

My argument is this: when someone stoops so low as to call someone a cunt, it really says something deeper about that person. They are loathesome not just because they wore something that clashes or they have a stupid haircut. It says so much more. So does "tool" when it's used to describe some cocky jerk of a guy. In my opinion, there aren't many lower insults you can use to describe some ass who's obviously not right in a number of ways. A tool is a tool and doesn't change - you can be friends with a tool but they're still a tool and you'd rather not be associated with them. A cunt is a cunt and odds are they'll always be that way. The clear difference between the c- word and a tool is that you DON'T want to be friends or associated with a c-word in any way.