I may have stayed up way too late last night and, therefore, slept in kind of late this morning. Whoops. I only get to do that one day a week, so I sometimes take full advantage. And Will Ferrell was on Saturday Night Live! Which you would think would make it awesome! But, not true. There were some funny moments, the best being the Digital Short 100th Anniversary bit – I do so love me some Lonely Island digital shorts – but overall? Meh. Oh, my beloved Saturday Night Live. You make me sadface lately. Please make me laugh again one of these days. (OH, if you watch that Hulu clip, heads up, it’s a little naughty. Don’t come yelling at me because it’s naughty. But also? It has the return of my favorite character from a digital short ever! Michael Bolton as Captain Jack Sparrow! And he sang “tortuuuuuga!” Oh, also, the Biebs with his red, red lips, but they totally made fun of him! He was a good sport about it, though. And Shy Ronnie! And also – MY BOYFRIEND JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE!!!! I laughed so loud I’m pretty sure my neighbors were all “WE HATE HER SO MUCH WE WANT TO SET HER HAIR ON FIRE.”)
Today’s Mother’s Day. That’s nice, right? Happy Mother’s Day! I know many wonderful mothers, and they deserve a day. Also, happy Sunday to all of us who are NOT mothers. Because this day tends to be a little cranky-making. HAPPY DAY TO US ALL.
Also, I mentioned this on Twitter, but I went to the store to buy Mother’s Day cards, and for the love of PETE those things are sappy as hell. You get a choice of the following: either the WORST FLOWERY PROSE YOU HAVE EVER READ (example: “Mom, for all the times you’ve lifted me up when I’ve been down…for all the times you’ve given of yourself selflesslessly, so that I could have what I needed…for all the times you’ve been there for me, no matter the cost to yourself personally…here is a piece of folded cardstock with a rose on the front HAPPY MOTHER’S DAY”) or, there’s inevitably the one that means you’re fighting with your mom, but you know you have to give her a card. It’s the secret passive-aggressive card. It’s usually the one with the least words on it. It never says “I love you.” It’s usually all “Mom” on the front (or, worse, “Mother”) and then inside it usually says “Thank you” or “Enjoy your day.” It’s the telling-someone-thank-you-when-they-say-they-love-you of Mother’s Day cards. Have I purchased it before? Yep. Because I HATE SAPPY MOTHER’S DAY CARDS.
Listen, my mom is FINE. I am not feuding with my mom. She’s completely FINE. We get along FINE. We just don’t have a sappy-sap relationship. We talk about practical things because we have very, very little in common. It could be worse. Hallmark, make a card for that shit, why don’t you? No? Well, screw you then.
I told Twitter I was going to make a million bucks making my own line of Mother’s Day cards for those of us who were not into the sappy and Ken was all “It’s been done” so now my dreams are SMUSHED, thanks, KEN, I was totally going to give you some of my cardmaking millions, too, so you could maybe buy goats or something (see? YOU DIDN’T EXPECT THAT DID YOU KEN?!?!), but now you can’t even have any of that money because you SMUSHED MY DREAMS. Damn dream-smusher being all practical and level-headed and looking out for my best interests and shit.
So if I WERE to make a line of TOTALLY AWESOME CARDS, they would say things inside like “Thank you for not aborting me, because I know it crossed your mind. How do I know? You mention it daily.” and “Although you are emotionally distant, it could be worse; at least you didn’t beat me with a flyswatter as a child” and “I know it must have been so hard for you to abstain, so I want you to know it means the world to me that you didn’t drink and smoke while you were pregnant with me. Oh, well, I mean, to excess. To excess, of course. Let’s not be crazy, here.” Wouldn’t these be a total hit? I’d call my line of cards something like “Shit Just Got REAL” or “Yo Momma” or “The Jerry Springer Show” and I would be A MILLIONAIRE and I would totally get to travel to Europe, FINALLY. On the back of my cardmaking millions. This is a very good plan. (PLEASE NOTE that none of these things are things I would say to my actual mother. We really aren’t feuding. I promise.)
Don’t anyone dare steal my awesome idea. Either John or Patrick (I’ve forgotten, it’s been like three days) says if I mention it here I could sue you if you stole it while I was being inert and lazy and not developing it so BAM IN YOUR FACE MOFOS HANDS OFF. Oh, also, don’t steal my idea for a combo washer-dryer for lazy people who don’t want to go to the laundromat to switch the clothes to the dryer in-between the wash and the dry cycles. THAT ONE’S MINE TOO.
Anyway. Happy Mother’s Day. Some of my favorite people are mothers. And some of my favorite people are NOT mothers. So happy Sunday to everyone. And Mom, I love you, I hope you like your card, which was mid-range sappy and only made me throw up in my mouth a little bit. ALL FOR YOU DAMIEN.
Let’s see, what else. Well, yesterday, I saw C and C, my wonderful friends from out of town, and we saw The Farnsworth Invention at my theater, and it was AMAZING. This has been a great week for theater. I know only about four or five of you are local who read this, but if you’re reading this and haven’t seen it, please try to see it before it closes. Well, no. Today, go over to Schenectady Civic Players and see Patrick in The Real Thing, because today’s your last chance. Then, next weekend, go catch The Farnsworth Invention. You’ll be so happy you did. It’s about the invention of television, which sounds very boring, but it’s FASCINATING. Aaron Sorkin wrote it. You know. Sorkin? The Social Network? It plays like that, too. The quick dialogue. The realism. There’s a more going on in it than just the science, though. There’s the people behind the whole thing. It’s Philo Farnsworth, a Utah college dropout, racing to invent television on the West coast, versus David Sarnoff, the head of RCA, who had a whole team of people racing to invent television for him on the East coast. You’d think, just from that definition, you know who the hero is, and who the villain is. But as much as you love Farnsworth (and you do), you also feel for Sarnoff. It’s a wonderful play. It’s deftly written, it’s masterfully directed (he’s got seventeen people on that stage at some points, and listen, that’s not a large stage, I know, I work there!), and it’s acted beautifully all-around. And it thrills you. I don’t know how better to explain it than that. You’re hearing things like how NBC came to be, how Radio City Music Hall got its name, watching the stock market crash of 1929, and it’s grand. It’s thrilling. It makes your heart race. I teared up a few times, and big old fat tears fell once. And it’s not like it was a surprise. I knew what was going to happen. I’ve read the play. I helped select the season, remember. And I saw it in rehearsal a couple of weeks ago. It’s just that good. So go! $15. FIFTEEN BUCKS! Lunch money! You’ll love it. Also, if you go today, I’m ushering! Won’t that be fun? I can show you where the bathrooms are! (OH! Side note! Opening weekend? I wasn’t there, but one of the other board members told me? Someone went in the bathroom and PEED ON THE FLOOR IN FRONT OF THE SINK. Not even NEAR the toilet. What? Those bathrooms aren’t even that big, I can’t imagine a situation where you couldn’t swivel your hips in order to hit the toilet. Or the sink, I guess, if the toilet was for some reason offensive to you. WHAT THE HELL. Why is it total anarchy in the bathrooms? Also, gross, Incontinence McGoo, someone had to mop that up.)
Also, I’ve had so many surprises mailed to me this week that I can’t even list them all. Thank you, people who thought of me this week. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it until my face falls off: I have the best friends in the world.
OK, off I go. OH SHIT. OK, one more thing. Yesterday, other than having to work, was kind of the best. I had a great time at the theater, the weather was wonderful, I got a surprise in the mail, Michael Bolton was on Saturday Night Live, blah blah blah. But THEN THEN THEN: to cap it all off, Susie at Insatiable Booksluts made me this:
This is me riding a cheetah, because the other day when I was talking about not being a Cheetah Whisperer, sj mentioned in the comments she wanted to see a photo of me riding a cheetah. I HAVE THE BEST FRIENDS EVER. Because they make PHOTOS of me riding CHEETAHS. I’ve been giggling about this for over 24 hours now, and it might well be the best thing I’ve ever seen.
Happy Sunday to you all! I’m off to the theater to be an usher. Listen, if anyone pees on the bathroom floor I am SO not cleaning that up. I AM NOT YOUR MAID.