Review: "Godzilla"

I saw a picture of one of those digital signs above a multiplex auditorium door that announces the title and show time: "GODZILLA - In IMAX" and under that, a very funny sign programmer added "Now with 100% Less Matthew Broderick." And thank goodness!

Fellow Kaiju fans, wipe the stench of Roland Emmerich's 1998 fiasco of a remake from your noses forever. Dry the disappointed tears of Guillermo del Toro's Pacific Rim from your eyes. Director Gareth Edwards (2010's indie fave, Monsters) and his team have crafted the modern Godzilla movie true Godzilla fans have been waiting for.

Writers Max Borenstein and David Callahan (The Expendables films) wisely don't try to give us an origin story and assume the events of 1954's Gojira did take place. 15 years after a catastrophic accident at a Japanese nuclear plant kills his wife n 1999 (not really a spoiler as that's part of the prologue), the plant's engineer Joe Brody (Bryan Cranston) is arrested for trespassing in the contaminated area, still looking for answers. When son Ford (Kick-Ass star Aaron Taylor-Johnson) arrives to bail him out, Joe convinces him the site is experiencing the same type of disturbances that preceded the last accident. Of course, his warnings come too late for Dr. Ichiro Serizowa (Ken Watanabe) to prevent the birth of an insectoid behemoth they soon dub a M.U.T.O. (Massive Unidentified Target Organism). Think of a cross between a praying mantis, a bat and steam shovel. When the MUTO's mate hatches in Nevada (it makes sense, trust me) their meeting place is apparently San Francisco, where Ford has just left his wife (Elizabeth Olsen) and young son. 

When the King of Monsters does show up, the Army drafts a plan to draw all three radiation-hungry monsters out to sea and blow them up, despite Serizowa's insistence that Godzilla has come to kill the MUTOs and restore nature's balance. There is, as in every great Kaiju movie, massive destruction (though this time it's Honolulu, Las Vegas and San Francisco that take the beatings) and an intense battle between three super-gigantic (Big G is at least 10 times his original size) monsters, two of whom should have known better. What little plot there is, mostly revolves around Ford trying to both save the world and get home to his family. Everyone seems to be having a grand time, despite the hyperbolic circumstances of the story. Cranston is as wonderful as always, while Juliette Binoche is wasted in a what amounts to a cameo as Joe's wife. But this is Taylor-Johnson's movie, and his beautiful green eyes (the same shade as my mother's) don't make up for the fact that he never takes his shirt off. Seriously though, it's nice to see an action hero outside of a Marvel movie who can actually act, despite not being given much more than genre tropes with which to work (not that those tropes don't serve the film - they are actually de rigeur.

The CGI is just terrific and the astonishing score by the prolific Alexandre Desplat really works to help Edwards paint moments of nearly silent terror in what could have been an ear-splittingly loud movie from start to finish (far from it). Expect Oscar noms for Sound, Sound Editing and Sound Effects on top of those for Special Visual Effects and Cinematography. My companion specifically requested that we not see it in 3D (his eyes are worse than mine) and I didn't miss it, per se, though I think I really need to see it again in 3D for the fullest effect.

For my first big Tent-Pole of the season, Godzilla  really had the potential to go either way. Thankfully it totally went the right way! Do yourselves a favor and see Godzilla on the big screen in a theater with a good sound system. **** (Four Out of Four Stars). Godzilla is rated PG-13 for "intense sequences of destruction, mayhem and creature violence."

I must admit, Godzilla was a very happy cap to Uncle P's most excellent weekend. It started with a completely painless purchase of a new washing machine (finally and thank His Noodly Appendages) at h.h.gregg. If you don't have them where you live, write them and ask them to open a store near you (that is a rare and completely unsolicited endorsement -- I have found that major appliance purchases are often painful, drawn-out affairs, but they were terrific). I then celebrated the last trip to the laundromat I ever want to take. That same evening, my dear K, who has been in a show for what seemed like forever, came over for cheese-steaks; "Will and Grace;" "Grimm;" "Face-Off" and Yahtzee! (I kicked her butt!) Today, after a thorough dusting, I made a very successful and yummy batch of mozzarella-stuffed meatballs and sauce for dinner and then met M for a terrifically fun movie! It's the little things... life finally seems to be getting back to (or gaining a new version of) some semblance of 'normal' in my life. That's a very good thing.

More, anon.

Prospero

Mothers' Day 2014

Mom

The first year's worth of holidays after losing a loved one is not fun. Mom's passing last October was so close to the winter holidays, they seemed very surreal (especially spending Christmas in Florida). I'll be staying home this Christmas, mostly because I'm going to Las Vegas for Thanksgiving. Just the three of us going: Me, myself and I. No schedule while there (except the ticketed shows I'll be seeing); no agenda. Just some insane people-watching and the sights and food of Sin City. I can't wait.

Still, today has been the most difficult holiday, so far. Most of my friends spent the day with their Moms. I can't begrudge them that. I would have done the same, if I could. Picking out just an "Aunt" card for my father's dear sister was certainly tough, given the lack of them at the store. And not looking for several new books for Mom to read was even tougher. She was midway through the last book I bought her (for her birthday) when she passed. 

I think I've mentioned before that all my mother wanted to be was a mother. She wanted seven children, but ended up with just two. When my parents split up after 27 years, she picked herself up and reinvented herself as a savvy working woman, dating but never re-marrying. She even briefly entertained a hot Russian who was five years younger than I was. She settled down when her health started to fail in her late 50's, but she was kept active by her job and the few friends she had. But once she was forced to retire (the Cadillac dealer she worked for went out of business), she sort of gave up and I watched her steady decline with a very sad heart. When she went into the hospital for the last time, I still had hope she would pull through. I thought we'd have a few more years with her, at least. But it was not to be.

Mom loved kids and animals. She's feeding a lorakeet at the Lowry Park Zoo in Tampa in that picture, the last time we went to visit my sister together (I'm guessing 2009). A voracious reader, she often went through two or three novels a week; mostly thrillers and mysteries. The last book she finished was "Under the Dome" because she like the series. She loved "The Walking Dead;" "Falling Skies;" "Grey's Anatomy;" "Scandal;" "Mike and Molly" (a show I find terribly unfunny); "Rizzoli and Isles;" "The Closer"/"Major Crimes;" and "Castle" and she'd be really pissed if she knew she was missing the "24" mini-series. She couldn't spell if you held a gun to her head; she mangled pronunciations and was the Queen of Spoonerisms. She was quick to laugh at herself about it, too. She often got celebrity names confused (Morgan Freeman was always Morgan Fairchild) and while she said she never had a favorite movie, if forced to pick one, it would have been Doctor Zhivago. 

She taught my sister and I to cook and do laundry when we were young so we would never have to depend on her. Her cooking when we were kids was awesome, though she often admitted my marinara (based on hers), was better than hers (even though she didn't really like either version). She raised us to be kind to everyone and to not have prejudices. When I finally came out to her, she cried - not because I was gay (she already knew that) but because she thought I was afraid to tell her. She came to almost every show I was in or directed until it became physically too difficult for her to do so and was always supportive of my artistic endeavors. She could out-swear most truckers and occasionally let her own mother's prejudices sneak out, but never with real malice and never without an admonition from me.

It's only been seven months since she left us and I know it will be a long time before I'm really used to the fact that she's gone, but today was just a little bit harder. I miss her - a lot -  and am not ashamed to admit it.

If your Mom is still with you, I hope you at least called her today. If you and your Mom are estranged or if your Mom is also gone, I hope you got through today as painlessly as possible. 

Happy Mothers' Day, Mom. And Happy Mothers' Day to you and your mother, as well.

Comedian John Roberts (of the terrible "Bob's Burgers") nails the suburban mom on the head with his video "Mother's Day."* And while Mom wasn't nearly as whiny as Roberts, I can hear her voice in plenty of the things he says.

*The placement of the apostrophe in Mothers' Day causes tons of anxiety. I must insist that since it is a day for all mothers, it should come after the final 'S,' while there are those who insist on making it singular by placing the apostrophe before the 'S.' IMHO, punctuating it the latter way makes it about one mother only.  Bad form, indeed.

More, anon.
Prospero

Let's Play "Foodie, A-hole, Racist or Jerk!"

Eat This, Y'all

Wow. The Food Network continues to prove that their talent bookers have issues with vetting their stars. Their first scandal involved British chef Robert Irvine and his claims that he cooked for the Queen. That turned out to be a lie and Irvine was fired (though hired back again after he proved to be a fan favorite). Then 'Barefoot Contessa' star Ina Garten refused to cook with a cancer-stricken child whose Make-A-Wish wish was to do just that. Soon after, douchebag extraordinaire, Guy Fieri, was outed as a sexist, anti-Semitic, homophobic creep who can't look a woman in the eyes. And last week, photos of sexy British chef Nigella Lawson hit the web, being choked in public by her husband.

Today it was revealed that the network's most beloved star, butter-loving diabetic Paula Deen (pictured above) is a racist. Yup! During testimony in a civil trial, Deen admitted that she not only regularly uses the "N" word, but had actually hoped to plan a wedding using African-American wait staff pretending to be slaves! 

Holy crap! What the hell is wrong with the talent bookers at Food Network? They certainly don't seem to be doing a good job making sure their stars are worthy of stardom. If I were a Food Network exec, I'd be loosing my mind right about now. 

Can you imagine Julia Child embroiled in such a scandal? I know I can't. 

I have always had an issue with many of the people Americans venerate as "stars," especially in the age of so-called 'Reality TV.'  When chefs like Child; Friedman 'Chef Tell' Erhardt and Grahame Kerr made their marks on TV in the 70's, the world was a different place and any scandals in which they may have been involved (though I doubt there were any), weren't fodder for the Internet and anyone with a PC to see. They were about the food, and their quirky and delightful presentations.

Wanna be famous? Want adoring fans and tons of money for hosting a show or making public appearances? Then you better make sure you have nothing to hide. In the Information Age, everything is public and you'd better be prepared to face the consequences of your unsavory past. Or at least make sure that either your past isn't unsavory or be willing to embrace your unsavory past with grace and aplomb. 

Here's to your heart attack, y'all!

Let's not get into Deen's son Bobby and all the rumors about his sexuality (I'm no Perez Hilton) for now. I'm just asking that you be aware that the 'celebrity' you love, may not be the perfect person you might like to think he or she is.

More, anon.

Prospero

Failure and Inspriration

Cinnamon Hazelnut Mochachino Rolls w/Cream Cheese Icing

It's been a while since I've blogged about food and/or the Day Job; and since we do have an 'any excuse for a party' policy, tomorrow is NOT a Valentine's Day Party in deference to those without Valentines of their own. Instead, it's a Red Food Party. I had no idea what I was going to make and had several ideas bouncing around and finally settled on a chocolate version of a cream-cheese iced cinnamon roll. But when I went to buy my ingredients, I went in a slightly different direction. The recipe called for a certain brand-name chocolate hazelnut spread, but I found a new brand-name chocolate hazelnut spread and a mocha cappuccino version. I debated... and decided to go with the flashier flavor and went off-recipe, even adding an ingredient. And I'm not sure it worked. In the end, I didn't care for the flavor of the spread (it had an odd after-taste), though I loved the cream-cheese frosting, even though I forgot to add the red food coloring -- and now that I know how easy it is to make, I may try my hand at a carrot cake.* The rolls look pretty good (yes, that's an actual picture of my finished product, taken with my Android). Of course, the ultimate judges will be my co-workers. If no one eats them, I'll know they're a fail. I'll try them again in a smaller batch, according to the original recipe.

So, I know I promised you something inspiring and here it is (via) comes the below video, part of The Campaign for Southern Equality's WE DO campaign, in which LGBT couples across the South apply for and are denied marriage licenses in an effort to raise awareness of the need for Marriage Equality. 

Matt and Raymie apply (and are rejected for) a marriage license in Morristown, TN. Of course,the best parts of this clip are Raymie's sweet, heartfelt speech; their families' support and the sweet, smiling clerks who are obviously supportive. Get your tissues out, (because you're gonna cry, pervs!):

How much have you fallen in love with Matt and Raymie? So I guess I'm officially making Matt and Raymie my Valentines, this year. T and I have yet to have a second date -- thanks to Nemo (ugh!), so I thought I'd celebrate another couple's love, instead. Thanks guys, for making your voices heard; for showing the faces of true love; for giving all of us hope. I hope the two of you have a wonderful and romantic Valentine's Day.

*Uncle P's favorite cake, which his cake baker sister never makes him...

OH NOES!!!  MASSIVE FAIL!!!!

I took a small break from writing to get a drink and finish cleaning up the kitchen when I found I had made a fatal flaw! What I thought was a bottle of ground cinnamon was actually a bottle of ground cumin! No wonder I hated them! Here's a cooking lesson well-learned. Double Check the Label! And now I must make a trip to the grocery store for something on my way in. Crap! Double Crap! ARRRRRRGGGGGGHHHH!

More, anon.

Prospero

Dinner, Gifts and Time with Dear Friends.

(Not Uncle P's Meatballs)

So... last Saturday's snow/rain/sleet storm prevented Uncle P from having a holiday dinner and gift exchange with some of my oldest and dearest friends, with whom I get together every few months for a culinary experiment. This time we weren't taking any chances, but planned a simple and traditional Italian meal of lasagna and meatballs. Luckily, both freeze well and we were able to reschedule for tonight.

Mary's lasagna was just delicious and 17 of Uncle P's 18 rustic meatballs marinara were consumed by the seven of us. Of course, Q's delightful salad with thick, sweet Black Walnut Balsamic and Deb's amazing red velvet cupcakes made it a rather amazing meal. 

After dinner, those of us who hadn't already done so, finally got to exchange our Holiday gifts (I loved everything I got). Of course, as always with this particular group of friends (most of whom I've known for well-over 30 years), the meal and gifts are a far distant second to spending time together. Spending time with these six very dear friends (and a few others) helps make the mendacity of everyday life less so. I hope you have some equally amazing people in your life who make it better just by being a part of it.

Tomorrow I will be having my last gift exchange of the season, when Dear D and I meet for a matinee showing of Skyfall (which I'll be reviewing tomorrow night), followed immediately by drinks and yet more gifts.

I hope your weekend is as good as mine has been (and promises to continue to be). I'll try and recreate my aborted "American Horror Story" post from last night on Monday, unless something else catches my attention between now and then.

More, anon.
Prospero

Cooking with Alcohol

Drunken Desserts

So regular readers know that Uncle P gets together with a group of dear friends from college every couple of months for a themed dinner party. We've had ethnic nights (our very first such dinner was 'Homemade Chinese,' if I remember correctly); chocolate and vanilla; all soups; vegetarian; 'Everything Garlic' and 'Cinqo de Mayo,' to name just a very few. Not all of them have been successful though lately, we've been batting 1000. The list of what we've done in past 25 years or so, is starting to outnumber the things left on the list to try. I know we still have 'Man Food' and 'Carnival Treats' (among several others) left to try.

Tonight's theme was 'Cooking with Alcohol.' We started with appetizers: Beer Bread with Guinness & cheese dip and Drunken Wienies in Rum Sauce. Delicious and decadent. Soup was a shrimp bisque (my least favorite part of the meal - I'm not big on seafood dishes, especially soups) followed by the main course: Coq au vin, meatballs in a red wine marinara, beer-battered asparagus with horseradish remoulade and spinach sauteed with bacon, onions and white wine (the veggies were my contribution). All of it delicious and filling, though we were hardly done.

The drunkest part of our drunken dinner was dessert. While the alcohol had basically been cooked out of most of the food we'd eaten so far, dessert proved to be a whole other beast. There was a Walnut Caramel Pie with Port-infused Cherries; Rum-soaked Fruit Salad; 'Shots O' Cupcakes' and Pecan Bourbon Balls (both of the latter pictured above). The pie was yummy and the cupcakes divine (they had Bailey's and Jameson in the icing) but the Bourbon Balls were both delicious and powerful. The first bite was good, but the second hit you like a double shot and warmed the esophagus all the way down. More than one of those bad boys and I don't think I'd have been able to drive home.

Of course, the food is secondary. The point is an evening spent with people I have known and loved for a very long time. Those evenings are always too few and too far between, making them all the more precious when we do get to have them.

I came home and logged onto Facebook, where my buddy Pax Romano had posted about his meatloaf dinner, which made me sort of sad that our dinner parties are never quite like this:

Oh, who am I kidding? They're all just like that!

More, anon.
Prospero

I'm Cooking for a Party Again?

Strawberries, Blackberries, Blueberries and Raspberries

So, this marks the second party this month at the Day Job. Why? Just because. Actually, it's a Leap Year party. Leap Year only happens once every four years, so why not celebrate? Of course, it's really just another excuse to eat and show off our culinary skills.

Since 2012 is a leap year, many folks took the challenge to heart. On the proposed menu are 4-bean salad; 4-cheese quiche; 4-toppings pizza... you get the idea. And while I threatened to make both frog's legs and kangaroo burgers, I settled on a simple 4-berry pie.

I love a good pie, and except for a really excellent cream-cheese icing carrot cake, prefer it to almost any dessert. Pies are also pretty forgiving when it comes to fillings, at least. I used a store-bought crust (real pie crust - especially a good one - is so hard to make*) and two, one-pound bags of frozen mixed berries. I thawed and mixed the berries with a half cup of sugar; a quarter cup of light brown sugar; a sprinkling of flour; two tablespoons of corn starch; a half teaspoon of fresh-ground nutmeg; a teaspoon of fresh-ground cinnamon and a teaspoon of lemon zest. I joined the two crusts with an egg wash, which was also brushed over the top crust, along with a sprinkling of sugar. I baked it at 350F degrees for an hour. The result (which you can see below**), may be ugly (I prefer the term 'rustic') but it smells delicious. I only hope it turns out to be at least half as good as the quiche I made for our Valentine's party, earlier this month.

My Angry-Looking 4-Berry Pie

I still seem to have problems with crimping the edges of my pie crusts so they look pretty, but at least they held together, unlike the apple pie I made last fall, which had more than few separations between the top and bottom crusts (and no, I'm NOT going to make an obvious joke here).

Of course, there will another work party in March, for St. Patrick's Day. I already know I'll be making that Asparagus and Vidalia quiche again - it's been requested by several people and has green ingredients. And it was incredibly simple to make.

I do so love to cook. Not everything I make is successful. I have, on more than one occasion, made some truly disastrous dishes. But I've had some surprising successes, too. My pear-stuffed pork chops a few years ago were rather amazing. And I would gladly enter my Meatballs Marinara in any contest. 

Just don't ask me to make or eat poutine (Yes, Jon, I'm talking to you). The very thought of the traditional Quebecois dish of French fries, cheese curds and brown gravy just turns my stomach. I can promise that will never be a dish I serve my coworkers (or anyone else), ever.

More, anon.
Prospero

*Someday, I'll convince my mother to teach me how to make her amazingly light and fluffy pie crust.

**A cell-phone isn't exactly a Leica.

Party at the Drop of a Hat

NOT My Quiche

Uncle P's day job is at a very well-known NPO. We administer (among other things) a very well-known academic test for a very specific field of post-graduate study (that's just about all I can say without violating the non-disclosure agreement I signed when I accepted my position at said NPO and I will neither deny nor confirm any speculation in your comments - even though all my friends know what that NPO is).

My co-workers are a pretty amazing group of people, most of whom I love dearly. We all tend to be rather liberal in our politics and make no bones about it. We also love to eat and party and I have often said that we will throw a party if someone sneezes. This is especially true of the first floor, where I work. 

Tomorrow is our annual "Red Food Party" for Valentine's Day. Not everything served is red, though many try to bring only red dishes. In my department particularly, we try to be as creative as possible with the food we bring to these events. I know I have blogged about food and cooking here on Caliban's Revenge before. And while I am far from a gourmet chef, I do like to consider myself a rather good Home Cook who tries to be creative (I made an amazing, if I say so myself, Blood Orange glaze for chicken a few weeks ago) while using the skills passed on by my grandmother and mother, as well as tips and recipes I have found on various TV cooking shows.

That being said, I made my first ever quiche for tomorrow's caloric orgy. It was inspired by a Martha Stewart recipe and called for asparagus and leeks. My local  market was out of leeks yesterday, though the very helpful produce manager suggested using Salad Vidalias instead.The resulting quiche looks rather delicious (though I still have issues with making my pie crust look as good as the ones on TV) and I, for one, can't wait to taste it. 

While I'm not quite ready to test my culinary skills on "Chopped," I do take comfort in knowing that I am a much better cook than any contestant on Food Network's "Worst Cooks in America."

If, like most of the food I make for these parties, my quiche is devoured before noon I will make a triumphant announcement about my glowing success. However, if, like a few of the dishes I've attempted it remains uneaten at the end of the day, I will never speak of this again.

UPDATE: The quiche was gone in less than 45 minutes. I was lucky to get a sliver (which was delicious, if I say so myself).

Also - does anyone else hate Valentine's Day as much as I do?

More, anon.
Prospero

Daytime TV: Worse Than Being Sick?

That may as well be a picture of me all of yesterday and most of today. Uncle P is at the end of  a minor ear infection. It hurt and it threw my equilibrium out of whack for a few days but I think the worst is behind me. The vertigo is pretty much gone (as long as I don't turn or stand too quickly) and the icepick in my ear has been reduced to an occasional dull ache at point where my mandible meets the malar bone (thus endeth today's biology lesson). 

Needless to say, driving and consequently the day job were no goes. Unlike last week, where I had lots of activities planned, I thought I would be working. Unable to do much else, I spent yesterday and today watching daytime TV. Some of it was amusing; some of entertaining; some of it informative and most of it pure drek. So here's my assessment of a day and half's worth of Daytime TV

First, some thing's I've always known and/or suspected.

I have re-discovered the fact that Rachael Ray's voice goes through me like you-know-whats-on-a-you-know-what. 

I am so happy I have learned to laugh at Elizabeth Hasselbeck, rather than wanting to rip out her throat with my evil gay fingers. 

I now know that it was Kelly Ripa who kept that show on the air, all along (You Go, Girl!).

Am I the only one who knew that Oprah didn't really retire? 

Someone should have put a stop to Kathy Lee and Hoda a long time ago.

Judge Judy is the only TV judge. Get over it, Judge Joe; Judge Marilyn; Judge Glenda; Judge Alex and all other pretenders to the throne.

Jerry Springer, Maury Povitch and their ilk have only gotten more exploitative and respulsive.

And now, a few positive notes.

I actually enjoy ABC's "The Chew." It's an eclectic group of folk, led by openly gay host Clinton Kelly ("What Not to Wear"). Most of the food they prepare on air looks yummy and the five co-hosts seem to have a genuine chemistry. The show strives to provide healthy recipes and is raising money for FeedingAmerica. Good stuff all around.

The LGBT Community's unofficial 'Queen,' Ellen Degeneres continues to be the funniest, nicest, most generous and sincerely happy-to-do-what-she-does talk-show host since Merv Griffin.

The rest of Daytime is pretty much a vast wasteland of bad behavior, children's programming, paid promotions (infomercials) and the few remaining soaps. Ugh. 

I admit to dozing through most of the really bad stuff, though I do remember waking up now and then and asking myself, "What the...?" And fear not... I am already feeling much better, despite the scary daytime landscape.In fact, the day-job will provide a much-needed respite from cheating boyfriends; negligent landlords; cross-dressing husbands; badly behaved pets; butter-laden recipes and rich people looking for vacation homes, abroad. 

I'm beginning to think there may actually be too many channels...

More, anon.
Prospero

Cooking Fail/Win + The Gayest Thing You'll See This Week

So, tonight was another theme dinner with friends from college. We'll talk about my pretty massive fail after I talk about the first two fabulous wins. of the evening. We started with cheese-puffs and mini-Reuben pastries (Yum and yum-yum!). Then we moved on to my soup, which I was quite proud of, with the exception of my Super-Ball matzoh balls. I don't understand what went wrong. After consulting three experts, I did everything they told me. I followed the directions on the matzoh meal to the letter. Instead of light and fluffy like every matzoh ball I've ever had (and hadn't made), they were dense and chewy. I didn't have to remake them, so I just went. I warned everyone about them and advised them not to eat them and not to feel bad spitting them out should they in fact, eat one. Everyone took one out of politeness. I declined, saying "Don't say you weren't warned." The soup, everyone agreed was excellent. I do make a mean pot of chicken soup, if I say so myself - though for the first time ever, I cut everything up into spoon-sized pieces, which actually improved the soup because you got a bite of everything with every spoonful.

Then they dug into the matzoh balls, which they had to cut into with a knife. Everyone agreed that they looked and tasted right, but were decidedly dense. Truth be told, my friends are too nice - those matzoh balls were the wrongest matzoh balls, ever. Dale, the only Jew among us for our 'Jewish Food' dinner, joked that they were like Nibbler's poo... At least I know the soup was good. Next came a delicious and tender brisket; tsimmis; kugle and string beans in garlic. For desert: apricot; triple-berry and prune/raisin hammentaschen and black and white cookies. By the time we finished, we were all stuffed with yummy goodness. So despite the Great Matzoh Ball Fail of 2011, everything went well and we all fed each other way too much.

I have no idea what our next theme will be, but if it's going to be as good as the last few have been, I can't wait. 

I know I'm long overdue for a movie review, but D and I will be seeing Insidiouis one night in the coming week. But for now, just enjoy the Gayest Thing You'll See This Week (via); the hilarious anti-stereotyping video called "Gay Dude in Wrestling Singlet Talks About Barbra Streisand" (language NSFW):

More, anon.
Prospero

Parties, Baking, Rehearsal and Drunken Actors

Quite a title, isn't it? So, tomorrow is the St. Patrick's Day party at my day job. You have to understand though, that where I work we have parties at the drop of a hat. "Oops! I sneezed! Let's have a party!" It wouldn't be so bad, but every department on the floor joins in. There is enough food for two weddings and the leftovers go on for days. Some people stop at a store or bakery and just buy something lame like chips and jarred salsa or a supermarket cake. Other people are up all night the night before, cooking and making special dishes. Now, not to blow my own horn (these days though, it seems I'm the only one who does... haha), but I happen to be a pretty darned good cook. The folks at work always look forward to whatever I show up with on party day, and my dish is always among the first to be gone. For my birthday last year, I received a "Monkey Bread" kit. For those unfamiliar, Monkey Bread is a lumpy, tear-apart sweet bread, usually made with a biscuit type-dough and a brown-sugar and cinnamon glaze and baked in a bundt-style pan. Sometimes it's stuffed with cream cheese. After the first time making it, I thought "You can make this a million ways" and I started experimenting. For the last work party, I made a Tropical Monkey Bread with pineapple cream-cheese stuffing and a crushed pecans in the topping. This time, I decided to try a savory version, with spinach, onions and sharp cheddar (I may do a spiced ham and cheese, next time). So what does this have to do with Rehearsal and Drunken Actors? Well...

I am currently rehearsing for a staged reading of a new play which goes up this Friday. Staged readings are nice - they require minimal rehearsal and no memorization. We had our first read-through last week and tonight we were adding the minimal blocking (movement) for the piece. It's an interesting work in which I am playing the psychiatrist who, in 1972, admitted to being gay at the APA convention in Philadelphia, paving the way for the removal of homosexuality from the APA's list of mental disorders in 1973. There are six actors, only one of whom I know well and have worked with before. Two are relatively young, and neither have played gay characters before. Tonight's rehearsal started at 8 (later than most). Five of us were there at 7:50. The sixth didn't make it until 8:45. When he did arrive, claiming he'd gotten caught up at work, he joined me on stage for our first scene together and nearly knocked me over with his whiskey breath, which I could've lit aflame with a match. I don't know who else noticed. I mentioned it to the actor I know, but not the director (didn't think it was my place, actually). But the point is, he delayed rehearsal and caused me to get home much later than I had hoped. Which then meant that I was starting my baking at 10:30 and literally finished just before I started this rant. I'm now tired, annoyed and though my bread smells delicious, I have no idea if it actually worked or not, because I was rushed in preparing it.

So, what's my point? I guess I'm just pissed that two things I had planned for tonight were delayed because some young pissant actor decided to get drunk before rehearsal. Really, is it too much to ask for a little professionalism and respect for your fellow cast mates? OK - maybe the poor fellow is nervous about playing gay. Maybe he has a problem. I don't know and don't care. Just don't waste my time with your issues. kid. There. I feel a little better now. And how was your evening?

More, anon.

Prospero