Wednesday, December 10, 2008

I’m Behind

I know… I know…. but there hasn’t really been anything to blog about. Well except that Hydra is going bonkers. They have buried me in a pile of minutia; I kinda liked being bored out of my gourd better…ughhhh. But things are looking up for my blogging future. I’m going down to DC for the weekend to visit MAC Daddy so hopefully I will return with a chock a block of fun stories.

Last weekend I turned back the clock and spent a day half frozen in the ol’ prop warehouse with Scooter. It’s odd how your mind filters out all the crap you used to hate and only focuses on the fun good stuff that leaves you nostalgic for the past.

Over ten years ago Scooter and I spent months on end bundled up in our arctic tin roofed oasis of theatrical splendor creating some very bizarre stage properties while riding around on a tandem bicycle and a fork lift. It was in this arena that Scooter first witnessed my amazing skill of removing a latex glove from my hand by simply wiggling my fingers around (try this feat at home….while it is difficult to master it comes in very handy when both gloves are covered with epoxy and you don’t want to get your ungloved hand stuck to the sticky gloved hand). Another highlight of the G & S show (props edition) was the long days journey into night that we spent spraying a dozen fake custom made luscious green bushes (Podar Karpas) a death mask gray. I still to this day cannot say for sure that this task was desperately funny because of the sheer premise of spraying fake trees with gray floral spray or because we were marginalized due to the influx of toxic fumes.

Unlike the active participant roll I played in our distant past, this Saturday I occupied the position of dutiful “hander of things” while Scooter built. And although we did refrain from passively huffing harmful chemicals I did find myself falling into hysterics whenever Scooter, in response to the rock classics of 92.3 K-Rock, felt the spirit within and broke into his signature hip and buttocks swiveling. There is something very entertaining about the incongruity of a grown man covered in sawdust wielding a pneumatic stapler while singing and dancing.

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