tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-77813722272691625192024-03-13T05:15:33.500-07:00Jeff's Junk DrawerComic Actor and Life Coach, Jeff Sumner, blogs about life in Los Angeles.Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.comBlogger39125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-26585016843918450702011-06-28T07:54:00.000-07:002011-06-28T07:54:12.371-07:00POLITICS AT THE DOG PARK<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><b>MY CHILD IS SPECIAL</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Every parent thinks their child is the cutest, most adorable, and most talented baby on the planet. Time and again, I've seen parents fawn over their perfect little children when they actually look as attractive as ground beef. Dog owners are even worse. I can't tell you the number of times people have said to me, "Isn't my dog cute?" Ladies and Gentlemen...this is not cute:</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nREnZXC3qEs/Tgno_SaBuRI/AAAAAAAAATI/39-pEQqm7Oc/s1600/Trooper+teeth.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nREnZXC3qEs/Tgno_SaBuRI/AAAAAAAAATI/39-pEQqm7Oc/s320/Trooper+teeth.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Now granted, I've already had the talk with Trooper and said, "Sweetie, you will never become a model because of your bottom snaggle teeth." (As a father, I believe in being realistic with my children.) "Trooper--the road of expectation is paved with disappointment." She seemed to take this news well. But despite that she needs braces for her bottom teeth, she's still pretty f-ing cute. Which brings me to the dog park.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">DOG PARK DRAMA</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I have recently discovered that there is a hierarchy at the dog park that has been created by some snooty dog-freaks causing my poor Trooper to develop low self-esteem issues. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qGFvsCuHww4/TgniUPV9ZBI/AAAAAAAAAS0/OtYLzOMHNXA/s1600/l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qGFvsCuHww4/TgniUPV9ZBI/AAAAAAAAAS0/OtYLzOMHNXA/s320/l.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Every time we visit the dog park, there is a group of dog owners that socializes in the corner while their dogs run amuck all over the place. Now Trooper is not the most social of dogs, but she is certainly getting better. I keep encouraging her to make new friends and stop isolating. But since a dog's vocabulary is only about 150 words, I don't think "isolate" is something she understands. Nevertheless, she has made tremendous progress. She now goes up to other dogs and sniffs their butts and let's others do the same. And she's great with other dog owners. She walks right up to strangers, flashes her adorable smile and makes friends instantly.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0fYKXEeyMFw/TgnjPdZQTlI/AAAAAAAAAS4/3xW0w3jxZPY/s1600/Trooper1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-0fYKXEeyMFw/TgnjPdZQTlI/AAAAAAAAAS4/3xW0w3jxZPY/s320/Trooper1.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But not with the dog park "A-List". When she waddles over to say hello, they all look at her like she is some freak and don't even give her the time of day. Mind you, I always say hello to their dogs and comment on how cute they are (even though they look hideous). But these assholes sit and gossip about everybody at the dog park and pass judgement on everyone as if they are the dog-park American Idol judges. When I walk by, I over hear them dishing the dirt on some other dog owner with a barrage of "get hers" and "did you hear what she dids". They remind me of the "Pick-A-Little" ladies from the "Music Man". </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4MjN4Z5W2uY/Tgnj1pHcW1I/AAAAAAAAAS8/TNqqYNSZkn4/s1600/hqdefault.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4MjN4Z5W2uY/Tgnj1pHcW1I/AAAAAAAAAS8/TNqqYNSZkn4/s320/hqdefault.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Trooper couldn't give a shit about this. But it annoys me that this so-called dog park royalty is treating my baby like she is some common peasant! </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And when the dogs of the royal court start to run around and play, Trooper barks at them from the edge of the park drawing scowls from their owners as if to say, "That horrible mongrel's father ought to muzzle that hideous creature". </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I scoop Trooper up and give her a belly rub, making her the envy of all the others puppies in the park--royal or not.</span><br />
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</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So FUCK YOU dog park schmucks! My Trooper is a QUEEN! And so is her father! So get up off your fat asses and show your own dog's some love instead of passing judgement on others that are not part of your stupid club. I'm proud to be on the D-List. D for dog!</span></span></div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WRg1e-eIZxo/TgnmCROcDtI/AAAAAAAAATA/UbrGJxZdAbw/s1600/TrooperCar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WRg1e-eIZxo/TgnmCROcDtI/AAAAAAAAATA/UbrGJxZdAbw/s320/TrooperCar.jpg" width="218" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So now Trooper is going to do her affirmations in the mirror -- "I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And dog gawnnit, people like me!"</span></div>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-1622450505151567542011-06-26T08:15:00.000-07:002011-06-26T08:15:36.002-07:00WHEN EXTRAS STEAL THE MOVIE<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">GOING GREEN</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pvm7bwDNXoc/TgdHQSA9XJI/AAAAAAAAASo/OSi_HAFLI7o/s1600/Green_Lantern_Movie_Costume_002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pvm7bwDNXoc/TgdHQSA9XJI/AAAAAAAAASo/OSi_HAFLI7o/s1600/Green_Lantern_Movie_Costume_002.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last night I saw The Green Lantern in 3D. The reviews for this movie have been hideous, but I actually enjoyed myself for reasons I don't think the film makers intended.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">First of all, the dialogue in this movie is so bad, you have to laugh. If someone said "you have to face your fears" one more time, I was going to throw my popcorn at the screen. Luckily, I ran into my my friend John at the theatre, and we were able to laugh ourselves silly after the movie was over.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ki2nqm1KZNM/TgdHRNtbn3I/AAAAAAAAASs/iaMntTcC2jo/s1600/img_1684_green-lantern-parallax-hd-movie-clip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ki2nqm1KZNM/TgdHRNtbn3I/AAAAAAAAASs/iaMntTcC2jo/s320/img_1684_green-lantern-parallax-hd-movie-clip.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The villain in the movie is Paralax, a giant piece of space shmootz that kind of resembles a big dust bunny with a skeleton head. It feeds on the souls of the fearful and, of course, comes to a heavily populated city to enjoy an unlimited buffet. This is where my favorite part comes in.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3DNjZPfNyVY/TgdHP0ADrxI/AAAAAAAAASk/uqp1Kki9-E0/s1600/green-lantern-movie-parallax-city.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="136" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-3DNjZPfNyVY/TgdHP0ADrxI/AAAAAAAAASk/uqp1Kki9-E0/s320/green-lantern-movie-parallax-city.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As the dust bunny was attacking, I kept watching the extras. Having been an extra myself in movies, I know some of the shenanigans that people will pull to get onscreen to get noticed. Or even better, get that revered "bump" from extra to "featured". It means more money and sometimes, SAG insurance. So as this attack is happening, I can practically hear the Second A.D. on the movie screaming into a bullhorn, "Okay background! Now the creature is right behind you! Run away"! And then everybody runs flailing their arms in the air towards camera making their panicked faces.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">"AH! But wait! Now it's in front of you! Run the other way"! So the crowd turns around! More faces! More overacting! More work for Central Casting. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">It cracks me up when extras "act" and force me to notice them onscreen. In the Green Lantern, during the attack of the shmootz, an African American extra, literally looks right into camera and makes a hilarious "oh no she didn't" face that looks like Marla Gibbs on The Jeffersons. I kid you not.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And apparantly, Paralax has a penchant for the fearful souls of black female busdrivers. While indiscriminately, sucking souls of many of the extras (whom I'm sure got a bump), at one point he turns his attention to this woman who was able to rush kids off the school bus and then twist her ankle as Parlax savors the thought of eating this woman's fearful soul. Of course the Green Lantern saves her, because she was "featured" and not an extra. I'll bet the Marla Gibbs woman was pissed.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eVRUNDicrVQ/TgdHPhf-KZI/AAAAAAAAASg/oMdx626u1j8/s1600/going_green_article.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eVRUNDicrVQ/TgdHPhf-KZI/AAAAAAAAASg/oMdx626u1j8/s320/going_green_article.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So yes. The movie is filled with some of the stupidest dialogue. But the special effects are fun and the extras are HILARIOUS! So go see the movie and watch the extras.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And...BACKGROUND...ACTION! AHHHHHHHHH!!!</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-71287982008275716182011-06-23T08:04:00.000-07:002011-06-23T08:04:50.197-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>DEBBIE DOES DANCING!</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e1VJlQvwf_E/TgLdHpBVkGI/AAAAAAAAASQ/jeACYJHyOVA/s1600/debbie_reynolds3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e1VJlQvwf_E/TgLdHpBVkGI/AAAAAAAAASQ/jeACYJHyOVA/s320/debbie_reynolds3.jpg" width="250" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I love me some Debbie Reynolds. And last night on "So You Think You Can Dance", she did not disappoint. She sang every moment she could, told some great 'ole broad jokes and knew how to get in the spotlight no matter what. Atta girl Debbie!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><b>DEBBIE THE LEGEND</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm not sure all of the kids on SYTYCD really understood who Debbie Reynolds is (or was) but it was clear that some of them were blown away by her presence. Born Mary Frances Reynolds, Debbie learned to dance after being chosen by Gene Kelly in "Singin' In The Rain". At the Debbie Reynolds Rehearsal Studios on Lankershim in North Hollywood, I kept hoping I'd bump into her </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">whenever I would go there for auditions, but alas, never did. And a good part of Debbie's life was dedicated to the preservation of Hollywood memorabilia, some of which was finally just sold at auction.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>DEBBIE THE COUGAR</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My only problem with last night's appearance, was her constant "cougaring" over some of the male dancers. She kept saying how she wanted to take them home with her, which forced me to throw up in my mouth a little. There is just something disturbing about watching an innocent "Kathy Selden" in a clip of "Singin' In The Rain" followed by a shot of the current La Reynolds, licking her chops after a male dancer just finished shaking his booty. Remember, the show is called "So You Think You Can Dance" NOT "So You Think You Can **** Debbie Reynolds".</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b>MAGICAL MARKO</b></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lkKV8RSiWBc/TgLfmNA6NTI/AAAAAAAAASU/dDU2ujE60Wo/s1600/Aladdin+Gang+Cropped.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lkKV8RSiWBc/TgLfmNA6NTI/AAAAAAAAASU/dDU2ujE60Wo/s1600/Aladdin+Gang+Cropped.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And here is a shameless plug for my co-worker Marko! I believe voting may be closed at this point. But if he stays on the show (and I hope he does cause he's such a good performer) please vote for him next week.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mxjsvouu-0Y/TgLhmyEi_1I/AAAAAAAAASY/LVxu3gFTJIw/s1600/Dance_Wallpaper_Marko_1920x1080.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mxjsvouu-0Y/TgLhmyEi_1I/AAAAAAAAASY/LVxu3gFTJIw/s320/Dance_Wallpaper_Marko_1920x1080.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Now it's off to my own reality series--"So You Think You Can Get Out Of Bed". </span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-52767574595616549352011-06-22T09:33:00.000-07:002011-06-22T09:33:07.828-07:00TWITTER SHMITTER<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm back Junk Drawer fans. Sorry I have been absent. But finding funny shit to write about has been hard. BTW- Something is up with the photo editor, so I am unable to post pics. :-(</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>TWEET, TWEET, TWEET!</b></span></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So in the age of social media, I am embarrassed to say that I do not understand Twitter. I feel like my grandmother-- "Oh those damn kids and their rock-n-roll"! I actually have a Twitter account but don't really use it. I'm more of a Facebook kind of guy who updates his status every time he goes "big-girl-potty-sit-down". But I am intrigued by the immediacy of Twitter.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was watching "The Voice" last night. (Side note to Christina Aguilara's stylist: please do not dress Christina like she is going to the pool at a Miami hotel. Black stretch pants, over sized T-shirt,...and will someone please buy that girl a brush!)</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Anyhoo--on "The Voice" they have this backstage "Twitter Room" which is supposed to resemble a war-room of sorts simply buzzing with activity of viewers tweeting (or twatting...not good with the terminology yet) their responses to the singers. There is some girl who, with forced excitement, keeps saying to the host Carson Daly, "Ooh things are really trending in here, Carson!" Funny, but when I look at this flurry of activity in the trending room, I see a few bad, bored singers looking awkward like they are at a junior high school dance enjoying a glass of punch. My advice--scrap the "trending room" for season two--cause it's retarded.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So back to me tweeting. I think I used it once. I know that many people love twooting and twatting, but quite honestly, I haven't seen a twat in years. So I am thinking of enrolling in a class to learn about Twitter. I have to say that this lack of knowledge is really making me feel my age and I need to keep up. I guess I hate the idea that I these Twitter "followers" will be on my heels like I'm Jesus or something waiting for me to do something interesting and tweet the bible. Oh the pressure! </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And there is a whole new vocabulary. Now I am supposed to know that this "#" or "hash mark" is the magical key to "Twatland"and does something important. (There's something about the word twat that is so satisfying.) And what of this "trending"? Is this the new word for "popular". So to hide my ignorance of any of this new-fangled jargon, I am going to pretend like I know what I am talking about.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Or I suppose I could just go and read the directions on Twitter...but that would be too easy. Anyway--I may be recruiting followers soon so I can twat you.</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-48775468172527969392011-06-10T13:32:00.000-07:002011-06-10T13:32:51.894-07:00THE TRIPLETS OF TORMENT!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Well it's that time of year again--Gay Pride--that joyous, yearly celebration where gay men in their 40s watch gay men in their 20s and say to themselves, "what the hell happened". Sorry to sound like Shleprock from the Flintstones, but something happened this morning that set me off.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pidd9igeVbE/TfJ8rcyrdOI/AAAAAAAAARE/C9P0zqwfvoQ/s1600/pubic+hair+images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pidd9igeVbE/TfJ8rcyrdOI/AAAAAAAAARE/C9P0zqwfvoQ/s1600/pubic+hair+images.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">What follows may be T.M.I. for some, so feel free to stop reading. For those of you who are continuing...I am about to talk about manscaping. I'm usually pretty good about "mowing the lawn in the southland", but being pretty busy, I am embarrassed to say that my shrubs were a bit overgrown. This morning before showering I looked down and said, "I really ought to do something about this mess". Just as I was about to pull out my weed whacker, I noticed an unusual glimmer of light coming from my nether regions. The sunlight from the bathroom window was reflecting off three giant grey pubic hairs. Henceforth I shall refer to these hairs as "The Triplets".</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J9ZOKK0iSXE/TfJ9FSYSp-I/AAAAAAAAARI/4v9sjg9HACw/s1600/triplets%252C0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="192" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J9ZOKK0iSXE/TfJ9FSYSp-I/AAAAAAAAARI/4v9sjg9HACw/s320/triplets%252C0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The Triplets presence was shocking to me. I had never really seen them before and couldn't help but notice that they looked like accents in a floral display. I couldn't believe that it had come to this. I started losing the hair on my head at 30 so I buzzed it all off. What was left quickly started turning grey. The good thing about being bald is that it creates the illusion that I am not getting older. (Of course it helps if you perform in in a 2000 seat theatre.) But the foliage by my peeper? That is the final frontier. A reminder that time does march on and that the Triplets will prevail.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But how to deal with this torment. I needed to make a decision quickly. Not that I'm planning on getting lucky or anything this weekend, but knowing that these unwelcome visitors are living in my underpants is setting my self-esteem into a spiral. So with clippers in hand, I bid farewell to the Triplets until they reappear in a month with additional friends.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0csjeJXVxk/TfJ9eKN9CHI/AAAAAAAAARM/yeVG8S97Rc0/s1600/hair_clippers2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--0csjeJXVxk/TfJ9eKN9CHI/AAAAAAAAARM/yeVG8S97Rc0/s320/hair_clippers2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">However in my haste to rid these monsters from my tender loins, the clippers slipped causing me to now look like a pre-pubescent boy. So now I really look like a freak in his late-mid-forties trying to be a twink in his early twenties.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Well, the Triplets are gone, and so is everything else. A victory garden, if you will, encouraging young things to grow. But so help me...if those bitchy Triplets come back...I'm getting waxed!</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y_VYXvbdeaU/TfJ98SFi83I/AAAAAAAAARQ/qOqyavlkOHw/s1600/garden_2_june.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y_VYXvbdeaU/TfJ98SFi83I/AAAAAAAAARQ/qOqyavlkOHw/s320/garden_2_june.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In the meantime, I'm going to go to the festival knowing that I have a little secret. So if you see me this weekend and ask about the Triplets, I'm gonna open up a can 'o whoop-ass!</span><br />
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</span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-23297708667492216372011-06-09T09:41:00.000-07:002011-06-09T09:41:24.692-07:00BIRTHDAYS AND TRANNY-BABIES!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">PRINCE OR PRINCESS?</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y_ZiTDPmfy4/TfD0u5ThmMI/AAAAAAAAAQo/6l8boO_G8sI/s1600/Pat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y_ZiTDPmfy4/TfD0u5ThmMI/AAAAAAAAAQo/6l8boO_G8sI/s320/Pat.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Fairly recently, a Toronto couple made headlines about keeping their baby's gender a secret from the public. While this may produce a well-integrated and stable child according to some...it's a pain in the ass for entertainers like myself.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hDGOtxg6auE/TfD1GneeN_I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/ZtJFGAttynU/s1600/img_0500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hDGOtxg6auE/TfD1GneeN_I/AAAAAAAAAQ4/ZtJFGAttynU/s320/img_0500.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">While doing Pat E. Cake yesterday, I went up to an African American child who was sitting with its family during the cake decorating part of the party. The child was around 4 years old had the cutest pigtails and was wearing a birthday button that said "Jaydin". So I said, "Well happy birthday Princess Jaydin!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The mother immediately shot me daggers and said, "It's PRINCE Jaydin. PRINCE!!!" Embarrassed, I rebounded and made some sort of a lame joke about not being able to grow beautiful...uh...handsome pigtails myself except for on my back. They didn't think it was funny and poor Jaydin decided to forego the cake-judging and just started eating. I tried to make up for my faux-pas later by singing the Mickey Mouse closing song to the dad--"Why? Because we like you! M-O-U-S-E." He clearly didn't like me, and I'm sure wanted me to "F-U-C-K-O-F-F"!</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LmM65cEoUsw/TfD0vaC86zI/AAAAAAAAAQs/JpGsWwfN0rQ/s1600/T1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LmM65cEoUsw/TfD0vaC86zI/AAAAAAAAAQs/JpGsWwfN0rQ/s320/T1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ladies and Gentlemen, on behalf of audience participatory entertainers all over the world, would you please just give us a hint as to weather your child is a boy or a girl?! When a bald man with a cake on his head comes up to your child to wish him/her/it a happy birthday and he asks the child's name...please do not reply "Sanoosh". When I am looking at you with panic in my eyes trying to assign the title of Prince, Princess, or Transgendercess, don't tell me your child's name is "Ping"! And for God's sake, when I am trying to determine what the hell your child is wearing so I don't have to refer to your baby as "It", would you please just throw me a freakin' bone and not tell me your child's name is "Fire Walker"!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Now granted, many people think my nephew Barrett is a girl because he is so pretty and loves flowers. But he is no tranny-baby. He is most definitely a boy and his mother (or I) will be the first to correct you in a non-embarrassing way.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sW77K4zsWqg/TfD166zW2HI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/pqlfE-Jygpk/s1600/BarrettandUncleJeff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sW77K4zsWqg/TfD166zW2HI/AAAAAAAAAQ8/pqlfE-Jygpk/s320/BarrettandUncleJeff.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But to get mad at poor Pat E. Cake, because you took your little boy to the Bibbity-Bobbity-Boutique to get glitter in his hair so he looks like Snookie for Chrissake, is downright unfair!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Uvpi-2kGi00/TfD0wpQ2foI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/UEHc9HJeXa4/s1600/T3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Uvpi-2kGi00/TfD0wpQ2foI/AAAAAAAAAQ0/UEHc9HJeXa4/s320/T3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I will say that 99% of the children at the party can easily be determined to be a boy or a girl. But why is it always that damn 1% that has defiant parents who have an email complaint ready to go with one finger on the "send" button. Don't get me wrong here. If parents want to raise their child in a genderless environment, more power to them. And my heart goes out to those families who have children that are truly trapped in the body of the opposite sex. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But parents...if gender identity is an issue for your family, don't cause unnecessary embarrassment for your child by assuming silly entertainers like myself can instantly determine the sex of your child. Please don't crucify the birthday clown! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Holy shit! I just called myself a birthday clown. All these years of acting training and it's come to this. Oh what the hell! I'm working birthday clown who entertains non-gender specific children. Talk about a niche.</span><br />
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</span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-23696152789421291322011-06-08T12:03:00.000-07:002011-06-08T12:03:05.109-07:00BACK TO LIFE IN LOS ANGELES<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>WELCOME HOME!</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JwfYTDf_kek/Te-7IZ_tiAI/AAAAAAAAAQU/_5RxGhoBEEI/s1600/JeffandTrooperbackfrom+NYC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JwfYTDf_kek/Te-7IZ_tiAI/AAAAAAAAAQU/_5RxGhoBEEI/s320/JeffandTrooperbackfrom+NYC.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">As much as I enjoyed my trip, one of the best parts happened when I walked through my front door last night. There is NOTHING...and I mean NOTHING...like the greeting from two excited animals after you've been away for awhile. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lrhycRFjpsU/Te-79uTZp1I/AAAAAAAAAQY/aI9iif4R4dI/s1600/ChesterandJeff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lrhycRFjpsU/Te-79uTZp1I/AAAAAAAAAQY/aI9iif4R4dI/s320/ChesterandJeff.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Trooper came hopping down the stairs and immediately started jumping all over me. Chester followed, and being older and wiser, gave me a look that said, "It's about damn time" before leaping into my arms and slathering my bald head with his scratchy tongue. The whole trip home, I was looking forward to seeing my babies and they did not disappoint! </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The pet sitter, Rachel, did a FANTASTIC job!!! If you are going out of town, I highly recommend The Pet Staff. She left me detailed report cards on my kitchen table of each and every visit, and checked off all the things that she did. Incredible.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The only thing I wish I didn't come home to was discovered as I was giving Trooper her usual belly rub. I noticed her tummy was a bit red. When she rolled over...sure enough...FLEAS! Ahhhhhhhhhhh! And I take full responsibility. I was lazy in administering her Frontline flea treatment before I left. So I went into high velocity anti-flea mode, went over every inch with her flea comb, vacuumed and destroyed those suckers. Plus, she got her Frontline Plus which also destroys eggs. Chester seems to be fine, but I'm keeping a close watch on him too. Ugh. So disgusting. Especially after my friend (and host) George went on and on about his fear of bedbugs. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><b>THE HAPPIEST BIRTHDAYS ON EARTH</b></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oDHYQVcX0XI/Te-_nxdl_1I/AAAAAAAAAQc/xHE5j5l9VuI/s1600/IMG_0023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oDHYQVcX0XI/Te-_nxdl_1I/AAAAAAAAAQc/xHE5j5l9VuI/s320/IMG_0023.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So today, it's back to playing Patrick Edward Cake (Pat E. Cake) the whacky baker of Main Street. I love doing this role because I get to really work closely with the kids. If you don't know, the show is called "My Disneyland Birthday Party". Pat E. Cake has prepared individual birthday cakes for everyone, but didn't have time to decorate them. So he invites everyone to decorate their very own cake with the best one winning a prize. But of course since it's Disneyland, everyone is a winner and the special guests, Mickey and Minnie, crash the party for a photo session.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9rMeCmttTg4/Te_DDPIqptI/AAAAAAAAAQg/tlenBkmQCy0/s1600/disney_bday_cake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-9rMeCmttTg4/Te_DDPIqptI/AAAAAAAAAQg/tlenBkmQCy0/s1600/disney_bday_cake.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t4HEEV0zbds/Te_DDbj6eSI/AAAAAAAAAQk/sj5_Ogkuxro/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t4HEEV0zbds/Te_DDbj6eSI/AAAAAAAAAQk/sj5_Ogkuxro/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Doing Pat E. Cake taught me a very valuable lesson in working with children. When I was in grade school, we used to take school field trips to see children's theatre at various venues in Chicago. I remember once going to see a production of the "Wizard of Oz" and getting to meet the actors afterwards. I got to meet the witch and was so excited to find out that she was really nice. But more importantly, she took the time to hear what I had to say. That moment stuck with me. Of course, when I got on the bus and I told my teacher I got to meet the witch, she said, "Well you're lucky she didn't cook you in her cauldron and EAT you!!!" (That was years of therapy right there. Thank you public school system.) But I remembered how the actress playing the witch, got down so I could look her in the eye and how she let me express myself.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In doing this role, I've learned that children do not want to be talked down to or talked over. They want to be validated and heard. So that is why, when doing Pat E. Cake, I try to recreate the experience the "witch" had on me by connecting with every child in the birthday party. It's pretty magical when a child comes in, not knowing what to expect, and then showering you with hugs because you provided them with such joy. It makes me feel good that I can create a memorable experience for these kids. And perhaps one day, when someone is writing their blog entry, they'll say, "When I was a kid, this crazy bald guy with a birthday cake on his head made me feel so special." A bit corny I know. But sometimes we change the world with baby steps.</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-78980332027158290962011-06-07T06:44:00.000-07:002011-06-07T06:44:00.097-07:00NYC-6- A DAY WITH FRIENDS AND BACK TO TO L.A.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">LA VIE BOHEME</span></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The weather in New York has been spectacular! For my final full day, I strolled around the city and met several friends. The day started by traveling down to the East Village to join my friend George P. for a delicious breakfast at the Clinton Street Bakery. Incredible!</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VD6EJGQydh4/Te4qGRjo1QI/AAAAAAAAAQA/2inKBk3PisY/s1600/ClintonStBakery.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VD6EJGQydh4/Te4qGRjo1QI/AAAAAAAAAQA/2inKBk3PisY/s320/ClintonStBakery.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JDlfVOlYvY0/Te4qHj4JYtI/AAAAAAAAAQE/hVuj30Fgk4c/s1600/GeorgePandMe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JDlfVOlYvY0/Te4qHj4JYtI/AAAAAAAAAQE/hVuj30Fgk4c/s320/GeorgePandMe.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It was interesting to be back in the East Village and see how it has developed. When I used to go down there in 1985 during my internship from college, it was a dangerous neighborhood littered with needles and crack viles. More than a few times a found myself singing songs from rent.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UTFF1-8P_Ug/Te4qE994qbI/AAAAAAAAAP8/QBJiLAkQBFo/s1600/Astor.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UTFF1-8P_Ug/Te4qE994qbI/AAAAAAAAAP8/QBJiLAkQBFo/s320/Astor.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Being there took me back to my wild days from 1986-1989. The clubs were hopping back then and one of the best was The Saint. I only went there once and I'll never forget it. The inside housed a giant planetarium dome with projected images as the pulsing crowd would dance beneath. That's all I can write here because what happened at the Saint, stayed at the Saint. It's now a bank. See below.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x77BxB9AoUw/Te4qLg0IMkI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/X8a8ErfY1iM/s1600/The+Saint.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-x77BxB9AoUw/Te4qLg0IMkI/AAAAAAAAAQQ/X8a8ErfY1iM/s320/The+Saint.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">HAPPY DAYS ARE HERE AGAIN</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VQDiiCDWLcE/Te4qJLQkf2I/AAAAAAAAAQI/H7xjyaL4LS0/s1600/Jackie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VQDiiCDWLcE/Te4qJLQkf2I/AAAAAAAAAQI/H7xjyaL4LS0/s320/Jackie.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Met my old pal and fellow Happy Days swing, Jackie, for a little stroll in Columbus Circle and had a blast talking about the show.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">DINNER IN CHELSEA</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--8Rh64B4bFo/Te4qKP2clKI/AAAAAAAAAQM/yf7t1s4ITR4/s1600/Kenny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--8Rh64B4bFo/Te4qKP2clKI/AAAAAAAAAQM/yf7t1s4ITR4/s320/Kenny.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ate dinner with my buddy Kenny at Rafaella's in Chelsea.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">ALADDIN PEEPS IN NYC</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-stjX4-36f7U/Te4qDjlKSRI/AAAAAAAAAP4/YfDKTb6trxY/s1600/AnnFrazierThomas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-stjX4-36f7U/Te4qDjlKSRI/AAAAAAAAAP4/YfDKTb6trxY/s320/AnnFrazierThomas.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Finally went to the bar Industry on 52nd street where I met Aladdin folk - Lance (former Jafar), Paul (Maintenance Choreographer), Sandy (Stage Manager) and Anne (former Ensemble Member). Anne was singing with a few other folks and we had a great great time listening to some amazing singers.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #45818e;">BYE-BYE NEW YORK</span></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So now it's time to say so long New York. After 5 shows, incredible food and reminiscing about my old home, it's time to head back to my life in Los Angeles. I will not let so much time lapse again between visits. But before I go...I still need to hunt down those cold sesame noodles.</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-46440465349443259522011-06-06T06:02:00.000-07:002011-06-06T06:02:29.282-07:00NYC-5-BRUNCH, HIGHLINE, FLEA MARKET, THE NORMAL HEART!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Had brunch this morning at Elsewhere on 43rd street with my college friends.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SgPRIxEY6Qk/Tevmw07lx0I/AAAAAAAAAP0/BZxxhSu003w/s1600/IWU+Friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SgPRIxEY6Qk/Tevmw07lx0I/AAAAAAAAAP0/BZxxhSu003w/s320/IWU+Friends.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then it was off to more flea markets on 23rd Street where we encountered more hideous fur.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pTNYy1IRqOw/TevmkcSgJGI/AAAAAAAAAPY/EYcm6cfnNRI/s1600/And+More+Fur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pTNYy1IRqOw/TevmkcSgJGI/AAAAAAAAAPY/EYcm6cfnNRI/s320/And+More+Fur.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--VvSfJXUvhQ/Tevmpv8tbpI/AAAAAAAAAPo/XXP1YgetAM0/s1600/More+Fur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--VvSfJXUvhQ/Tevmpv8tbpI/AAAAAAAAAPo/XXP1YgetAM0/s320/More+Fur.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then it was off to the High Line Park for a stroll.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qGxwsE6fPTo/TevmoEL108I/AAAAAAAAAPk/XMdjFkoHKfo/s1600/hlfingersofgrass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qGxwsE6fPTo/TevmoEL108I/AAAAAAAAAPk/XMdjFkoHKfo/s320/hlfingersofgrass.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3pICmDjaNNg/TevmnMk1LHI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FTMGc6WFxnA/s1600/Highline.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3pICmDjaNNg/TevmnMk1LHI/AAAAAAAAAPg/FTMGc6WFxnA/s320/Highline.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then to Chelsea Market for some crepes with Nutella and banana.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vwWFciKJs1Y/Tevml2WAWZI/AAAAAAAAAPc/06LBqvIQTpM/s1600/Crepes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-vwWFciKJs1Y/Tevml2WAWZI/AAAAAAAAAPc/06LBqvIQTpM/s320/Crepes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Then off to see "The Normal Heart"</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"THE NORMAL HEART"</b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KV79LDdS-Ic/Tevmrm2hJ0I/AAAAAAAAAPw/Zj_p5l_dgC0/s1600/Normal+Heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KV79LDdS-Ic/Tevmrm2hJ0I/AAAAAAAAAPw/Zj_p5l_dgC0/s1600/Normal+Heart.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vVZGsTiaPgg/Tevmq4oczAI/AAAAAAAAAPs/dz92eBEkwDs/s1600/NHeart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vVZGsTiaPgg/Tevmq4oczAI/AAAAAAAAAPs/dz92eBEkwDs/s320/NHeart.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I first saw The Normal Heart in 1985 at the Public Theatre and felt shell-shocked after it was over. When I left the theatre it was like going back out into the war-zone. This powerful Broadway revival packed a huge punch and has interestingly become a period piece. It perfectly captured the period of uncertainty when AIDS first hit 30 years ago and made me appreciate how far we have come. And yet it still had the urgency of a call-to-arms for a new generation set in complacency. The performances and direction were incredible and I'm so grateful I saw what was a tremendously powerful event.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What sucked though was the "Talk Back" after the show when two Broadway actors-Gavin Creel and Rory O'Malley - neither of which are in the show-promoted their own Broadway activism agenda instead of focusing in on the show we had just witnessed. I couldn't give a shit about them telling us to "get involved". With WHAT?!! I raised my hand to refocus the conversation back to the play, but before I could speak, the talk-back wrapped up. AHHHHH! I was so pissed that these people completely missed the point. I almost felt like the character of Ned Weeks in the play and wanted to scream "What the hell is the matter with you people?"</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Anyway...I calmed down after I enjoyed some delicious sushi afterwards.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Two more days in New York!</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-10913275783743585682011-06-05T06:13:00.000-07:002011-06-05T06:13:33.365-07:00NYC-4-FLEA MARKETS, "THE SHAGGS" AND "BILLY ELLIOT"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><b>SHABBY CHIC</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Went to the 44th Street and 39th Street Flea Markets today. The gorgeous weather brought out many vendors selling their wares. But for some reason, there was an abundance of odd fur items. So of course I had to try them on.</span></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Fur Hat.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W1PMJdCUNUA/TesOqSiUDBI/AAAAAAAAAO0/XVRfzpxaZIk/s1600/Fur1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-W1PMJdCUNUA/TesOqSiUDBI/AAAAAAAAAO0/XVRfzpxaZIk/s320/Fur1.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Fur Coat.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R9bL1Ykwi84/TesOruQKiUI/AAAAAAAAAO4/0_PESH8Y3eQ/s1600/Fur2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R9bL1Ykwi84/TesOruQKiUI/AAAAAAAAAO4/0_PESH8Y3eQ/s320/Fur2.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Fur Purse.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xR6CntMSCHs/TesOtAu2x7I/AAAAAAAAAO8/wsxR9kKkjPY/s1600/Fur3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-xR6CntMSCHs/TesOtAu2x7I/AAAAAAAAAO8/wsxR9kKkjPY/s320/Fur3.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Fur Apron.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jthJEd5dsvQ/TesOuQ5X4YI/AAAAAAAAAPA/WzuHevnuNDE/s1600/Fur4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jthJEd5dsvQ/TesOuQ5X4YI/AAAAAAAAAPA/WzuHevnuNDE/s320/Fur4.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Yes. I know fur is terrible. I didn't buy any. Just tried it on so relax.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">George's Fabulous New Purchase</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YFs3oSQZ9KQ/TesRcuEnYzI/AAAAAAAAAPM/RImVb-svwE0/s1600/George+Flea.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YFs3oSQZ9KQ/TesRcuEnYzI/AAAAAAAAAPM/RImVb-svwE0/s320/George+Flea.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">George twirls</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNcCqr2ouJo/TesRbIhPa_I/AAAAAAAAAPI/ijSG088q2IE/s1600/George+Baton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pNcCqr2ouJo/TesRbIhPa_I/AAAAAAAAAPI/ijSG088q2IE/s320/George+Baton.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: yellow;">SPECIALTY FOOD SHOPS</span></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Among the many things I love about NYC are the specialty food shops. George and I got some halavah at the International Food Market on 9th Avenue.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">"THE SHAGGS"</span></b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Saw the Playwrights Horizons production "The Shaggs: Philosophy of the World". Not my cup of tea although the tickets were free. The second act was better than the first but I found it difficult to sit through this musical about a sister trio who recorded a bad album.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>"BILLY ELLIOT"</b></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jhbis3vdslE/TesST8ZawGI/AAAAAAAAAPU/Y1F6RZb68RE/s1600/Billy+Elliot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Jhbis3vdslE/TesST8ZawGI/AAAAAAAAAPU/Y1F6RZb68RE/s320/Billy+Elliot.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I had never seen this show before and boy am I glad I did. What a great show. And these kids are INSANELY talented. The boy who played Billy was an incredible dancer and a great actor. So enjoyable and once again...I wept. I'm such a sap.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Meeting college friends for brunch tomorrow.</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-16472510720270428732011-06-03T23:25:00.000-07:002011-06-03T23:25:09.270-07:00NYC-3- "SISTER ACT" AND MORE FRIENDS<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>OH HOW TIMES HAVE CHANGED!</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--33EeIJbpRw/TenHGRwGWPI/AAAAAAAAAOo/qtc1JQKwYcI/s1600/Times+Square.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--33EeIJbpRw/TenHGRwGWPI/AAAAAAAAAOo/qtc1JQKwYcI/s320/Times+Square.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Wandered around Midtown today and took in all of the huge changes that have happened to Times Square, since I lived here in the late 80s. Then had lunch with my former roommates Janet and George and laughed about old times. It's amazing to have history with people you've known for 25 years.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B9siu1HAj60/TenGGACu2yI/AAAAAAAAAOY/rx3Ltepoca8/s1600/JeffJanetGeorge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B9siu1HAj60/TenGGACu2yI/AAAAAAAAAOY/rx3Ltepoca8/s320/JeffJanetGeorge.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>SISTER ACT</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ysX0HAecvL4/TenGIWculRI/AAAAAAAAAOk/nRYUKqB6nno/s1600/sisteract_clean_600.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ysX0HAecvL4/TenGIWculRI/AAAAAAAAAOk/nRYUKqB6nno/s320/sisteract_clean_600.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So I was skeptical and didn't really want to see this show at first. I saw "Sister Act" in an early incarnation in Pasadena and thought it was just "eh". But since my friend Lance was swinging the show, and since I heard great things about it, I gave it another shot. And I am SOOOO glad I did!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pbyDMtGLlOM/TenGG_RbG7I/AAAAAAAAAOc/TY2UnDzkG_k/s1600/Sister-ActNY3-Miller_320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pbyDMtGLlOM/TenGG_RbG7I/AAAAAAAAAOc/TY2UnDzkG_k/s1600/Sister-ActNY3-Miller_320.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xpNz3XViNEU/TenGHBjaL0I/AAAAAAAAAOg/Dna6R2UmXeo/s1600/SisterAct3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xpNz3XViNEU/TenGHBjaL0I/AAAAAAAAAOg/Dna6R2UmXeo/s320/SisterAct3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Absolutely a great evening of entertainment, great music, hilarious jokes and impeccable performances. This was definitely another "crier" for me. But this time they were tears of joy because it reminded me what the power of musical theatre really can do. So life affirming!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>DRAG QUEENS IN THE THEATRE</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So during intermission, a very enthusiastic lady from Texas and her husband were having the time of their lives. I asked her what else she had seen and she told me in a heavy Texas accent, "Oh honey! We saw "Priscilla Queen of the Desert" and it was spectacular! Honestly, I think every show on Broadway should have at least one drag queen!"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">That was all I needed to hear. So right before the second act started, I got out my iPhone and showed her this:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mAS9JUUzB74/TenKKnT5coI/AAAAAAAAAOs/-Lei08G8fgI/s1600/Bindi+Poster.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-mAS9JUUzB74/TenKKnT5coI/AAAAAAAAAOs/-Lei08G8fgI/s320/Bindi+Poster.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The woman went to pieces. She turned to her husband, "Honey look! That's him! It's a real live drag queen!" And then the photo session began. She started posing with me as her husband snapped away. Others around us became curious and they all wanted to see the shot of Bindi. "Oh Baby! Here is my number! You MUST text that to me."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So I did. And now some random lady from Texas has Bindi as the wallpaper on her phone.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After the show, I got to meet Lance at the stage door and went onstage of the theatre. There is something spectacular about standing downstage center in a Broadway theatre, especially THE BROADWAY THEATRE! The history just envelops you. And I was amazed by the fact that there really is very little wing space for all the sets. So not like the Hyperion at Disneyland where you can practically land a small plane. Every inch of this theatre is filled with scenery.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BKbNJ4frQ5k/TenMGooDYYI/AAAAAAAAAOw/KMuf9XG0nPg/s1600/victoria.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BKbNJ4frQ5k/TenMGooDYYI/AAAAAAAAAOw/KMuf9XG0nPg/s320/victoria.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I got to meet Victoria Clark (Mother Superior), who in my opinion, will win the Tony! Such a great performance.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And oddly enough...John Stamos was there too. I had seen him periodically when I was on the road with "Happy Days" since he was friends with the director. But never actually met him. When I said to Victoria, "You did an amazing job", John Stamos jumped in and said, "Thank you. Thank you so much." It was a funny moment.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JksDL3ZZk78/TenF87JYAPI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/c7P5N0YUwGc/s1600/Jeff+and+Lance+with+Disco+Mary.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JksDL3ZZk78/TenF87JYAPI/AAAAAAAAAOQ/c7P5N0YUwGc/s320/Jeff+and+Lance+with+Disco+Mary.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Lance and I took a picture in front of the Disco Mary then I posed for one downstage center. I took a moment to drink it all in. Then I gazed into the empty seats, took a breath and said a quiet little prayer. As I exited the stage door, Victoria Clark was signing autographs...and so was John Stamos even though he wasn't in the show.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We walked down the street to meet George for drinks at "Therapy" a nearby bar. And all I could think about was the great show, how transcended I felt from my everyday life, and the feeling of breathing in the air while standing downstage center of the Broadway Theatre. Someday. Someday.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-he7QEZYSlIs/TenF9_8wHYI/AAAAAAAAAOU/WmrJk7t9N9A/s1600/Jeff+Broadway+Theatre.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-he7QEZYSlIs/TenF9_8wHYI/AAAAAAAAAOU/WmrJk7t9N9A/s640/Jeff+Broadway+Theatre.jpg" width="475" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-78068196132923285622011-06-03T05:55:00.000-07:002011-06-03T05:55:13.880-07:00NYC-2- "WAR HORSE" AND OLD FRIENDS<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">WOW! What an amazing day yesterday!!!</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BnBVLELv7wE/TejP5h2w6RI/AAAAAAAAAN8/Sk1YBDdRiuo/s1600/cashew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BnBVLELv7wE/TejP5h2w6RI/AAAAAAAAAN8/Sk1YBDdRiuo/s200/cashew.jpg" width="148" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">George and I walked his friend's dog Cashew through Central Park. Normally I'm not a great fan of Chihuahuas but she is pretty cute. The weather yesterday was glorious. They have been having a bad heat wave here, but yesterday it was mild and pretty amazing.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then George went off to work and I went to the theatre.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7EXQAstrP6k/TejPu9O2doI/AAAAAAAAAN4/hUXLivrcm0w/s1600/warhorseposter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7EXQAstrP6k/TejPu9O2doI/AAAAAAAAAN4/hUXLivrcm0w/s320/warhorseposter.jpg" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">To call this a play would be an understatement. This was one of the most exquisite theatrical events I have ever witnessed in my life! Period!!! Rarely have I seen such an epic, elegantly directed and beautiful show that moved me to tears in the first five minutes. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The show depicts the story of a boy who's horse Joey is sold to the army to fight in World War 1, and his journey to get him back. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The horse puppets used in the show are positively breathtaking and I often swore that I was looking at real horses. They breathe, trot and behave exactly like real horses. I thought they might even poop, but they didn't. Great acting, impeccable direction, a set that does incredible tricks and a great story. SEE THIS SHOW IF YOU COME TO NYC!!!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Thrs_Eh8pic/TejUKiVHojI/AAAAAAAAAOA/3xvHAlsTSyE/s1600/warhorse-415x324.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="249" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Thrs_Eh8pic/TejUKiVHojI/AAAAAAAAAOA/3xvHAlsTSyE/s320/warhorse-415x324.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PfzyNCkYJR8/TejULnhiP_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/0Ue42CGdLqc/s1600/WarHorse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PfzyNCkYJR8/TejULnhiP_I/AAAAAAAAAOE/0Ue42CGdLqc/s320/WarHorse.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d9lwu8qUgjI/TejUOjLiW3I/AAAAAAAAAOI/X52JaqvpSEc/s1600/WARHORSE12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-d9lwu8qUgjI/TejUOjLiW3I/AAAAAAAAAOI/X52JaqvpSEc/s320/WARHORSE12.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;">INK48 - PRESS LOUNGE</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DnweCbd8u-g/TejYAZ7yekI/AAAAAAAAAOM/nDDYDYmwsNc/s1600/Ink.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-DnweCbd8u-g/TejYAZ7yekI/AAAAAAAAAOM/nDDYDYmwsNc/s320/Ink.jpg" width="243" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FwEM5kAW03E/TejPm-LKNzI/AAAAAAAAANc/n_5PjgYPxJs/s1600/jeffgeorge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FwEM5kAW03E/TejPm-LKNzI/AAAAAAAAANc/n_5PjgYPxJs/s320/jeffgeorge.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2v4MeUThuMw/TejPl3Z1LVI/AAAAAAAAANY/cWu-ug62brw/s1600/carljefffrank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2v4MeUThuMw/TejPl3Z1LVI/AAAAAAAAANY/cWu-ug62brw/s320/carljefffrank.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3LP67CvPK6o/TejPsYFGAdI/AAAAAAAAANw/M6UYv4Ie0mU/s1600/pennyjeff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3LP67CvPK6o/TejPsYFGAdI/AAAAAAAAANw/M6UYv4Ie0mU/s320/pennyjeff.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lvV4qJZhJ_A/TejPo89JdtI/AAAAAAAAANk/1dcpQdic3Dk/s1600/jefflance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lvV4qJZhJ_A/TejPo89JdtI/AAAAAAAAANk/1dcpQdic3Dk/s320/jefflance.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Following the show, I met some dear friends at the new swanky hotel, INK 48. The Press Lounge is the rooftop bar that overlooks a gorgeous view in New York. Joining me were my Illinois Wesleyan classmates - George, Frank, Carl and Penny. And our Aladdin Broadway Baby - Lance Roberts - who is in "Sister Act". The space was incredible and I had a blast.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><br />
</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">GRILLED CHEESE AT 2AM</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Then it was off for a late night snack at the Galaxy Diner, where I started my day. It's been years since I've been up this late and my body was still catching up to New York time. Then off to bed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;"><b>WHAT'S NEXT?</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Today on my agenda--</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">1. Having lunch with my old roomie Janet.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">2. Going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to see the "Alexander McQueen" exhibit.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">3. Seeing "Sister Act" and going backstage to visit Lance.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And...I talked to Rachel my pet-sitter. Trooper and Chester are doing GREAT! Life is good!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><br />
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</b></span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-80508048299830716452011-06-02T09:08:00.000-07:002011-06-02T09:08:24.249-07:00NYC-1- "A NEW FRONTIER"<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>A RESPECTABLE 42ND STREET</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D-L_FCFSt-s/TeezfIvBvdI/AAAAAAAAANE/GIEuVCDCfQ0/s1600/42nd+street+old.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-D-L_FCFSt-s/TeezfIvBvdI/AAAAAAAAANE/GIEuVCDCfQ0/s1600/42nd+street+old.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I'm sprawled out on a guest futon in my own little corner of George's studio apartment on West 46th with a fan blowing hot air on me. I'd forgotten what the city feels like when it gets hot. The plane ride was a bit bumpy and a little uncomfortable thanks to the drunk woman sitting in the middle seat with her legs spread so far apart, you'd think she was at the gynecologist. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xQ7bM7-K0eU/TeezhSporDI/AAAAAAAAANM/tIVTvTxjKjQ/s1600/gynecology-stirrups.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="215" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-xQ7bM7-K0eU/TeezhSporDI/AAAAAAAAANM/tIVTvTxjKjQ/s320/gynecology-stirrups.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unpleasantries aside, I arrived at JFK in one piece and immediately became terrified when the crazy driver of our van nearly took me and her 3 other passengers off the 495. Welcome back to New York.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4_tbScKe6zA/Teezecvuy1I/AAAAAAAAANA/X91XptP4kCY/s1600/42nd+street+new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-4_tbScKe6zA/Teezecvuy1I/AAAAAAAAANA/X91XptP4kCY/s1600/42nd+street+new.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Emerging from the tunnel, floods of memories came washing across my mind's eye as my journey down 42nd Street towards Port Authority came to an end. The New Amsterdam Theatre, home to "Mary Poppins", erasing images of live sex shows, run down porn palaces, hookers, pimps, drug addicts and the like. The 42nd Street of old, when I first stepped off that bus in 1985 to begin my internship at Soble/ LaPadura Casting, now but a faded memory and replaced by what looks similar to Universal City Walk.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I walked up 8th Avenue and passed Show World - still open. Thank God there is still just a glimmer of sleaze to remind me of giggling at the Triple Treat Theatre and witnessing an enormous man of color doing unspeakable things to a naked 300 pound woman--who looked positively bored out her mind.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2pqUYCEWOvE/Teezgm4V06I/AAAAAAAAANI/xOhbkBXAUmw/s1600/Galaxy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2pqUYCEWOvE/Teezgm4V06I/AAAAAAAAANI/xOhbkBXAUmw/s320/Galaxy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">At last, some familiarity at 46th Street. George and I went to Galaxy Diner for breakfast. And then he told me the bad news--West Side Cottage II -- the place where I always got cold sesame noodles is gone. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oIIc7cU21Wo/TeezkiLlT4I/AAAAAAAAANQ/DIuI1K62Prc/s1600/WESTSIDE.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oIIc7cU21Wo/TeezkiLlT4I/AAAAAAAAANQ/DIuI1K62Prc/s320/WESTSIDE.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So the search is on for decent cold sesame noodles in Hell's Kitchen since most of the Chinese restaurants have been replaced with Thai. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qlBAP-ChQXg/Tee07NZEwZI/AAAAAAAAANU/gQ469wIfuLU/s1600/cold+sesame.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qlBAP-ChQXg/Tee07NZEwZI/AAAAAAAAANU/gQ469wIfuLU/s1600/cold+sesame.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Back on the futon in the corner, sleep is overtaking me. Simon, George's cat, has found a new best friend, and together we are going to recharge our batteries, drained from the flight (me) and the New York morning heat (both of us). </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Tonight - "War Horse" and drinks (non-alcoholic of course) at the swanky Ink 48 - Press Lounge.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Laters.</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-9321547627924843662011-06-01T07:49:00.000-07:002011-06-01T07:49:35.952-07:00NEW YORK - HERE I COME<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">START SPREADING THE NEWS, I'M LEAVING TODAY!</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0Mx3lrPgFM/TeZPBVfK_1I/AAAAAAAAAMw/gAGn18oji00/s1600/NY1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S0Mx3lrPgFM/TeZPBVfK_1I/AAAAAAAAAMw/gAGn18oji00/s320/NY1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I lived in New York City from 1986 to 1991. During those years, New York was a very different place. When I arrived in New York in 1986 and walked out of Port Authority, I was in the middle of the sleeziest, drug-infested, hooker-ridden place I had ever seen. And then Disney came in. It's changed drastically over the years. I've been back a handful of times since and am so excited to rekindle my love affair with that city. So that is why for the next six days, I will be blogging about my adventures in New York.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>GETTING READY</b></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w8G932CnJkU/TeZPRMxyclI/AAAAAAAAAM0/nk9uaGaGaFI/s1600/IMG_0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w8G932CnJkU/TeZPRMxyclI/AAAAAAAAAM0/nk9uaGaGaFI/s320/IMG_0001.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">All week I've been trying to get stuff done, so I wouldn't feel overwhelmed. My biggest worry is of course my pets Chester and Trooper. I hired a lovely woman named Rachel from the Pet Staff to come in twice a day to walk, feed and play with them. Hopefully twice will be enough, but if not I can increase the visits. I think it's amazing how my animals know that I am leaving. Chester has been extra lovey dovey this past several days. He hates it when I leave but I'm not so worried about him. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vh4ZiJNqgEg/TeZPkTWp-II/AAAAAAAAAM4/8iXOoYJoV24/s1600/SDC12173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Vh4ZiJNqgEg/TeZPkTWp-II/AAAAAAAAAM4/8iXOoYJoV24/s320/SDC12173.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Trooper is the one I'm anxious to leave. I know she'll be fine though. A nameless friend put the fear of God into me about leaving her alone at night. This friend has an uber-codependent relationship with his dog and practically breast feeds it. So I had to come down from the ledge.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><b>LEAVING ON A JET PLANE</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So before I leave I am going to clean. I hate coming home to a dirty house. Plus, if the pet-sitter decides to snoop, I don't want her finding any porn. This could affect how she treats my babies. Unless she likes porn. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Rachel has been briefed about Trooper's crazy leash behavior. So hopefully she won't encounter the Tasmanian Devil from the previous blog entry.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm taking a Jet-Blue, red-eye tonight and will arrive at JFK in the morning at 5:30 am. I'll arrive at my friend George's place at around 7:30ish. So my next entry will be from 46th and 9th.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Woo-Hoo!</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-58188945878028636052011-05-31T08:35:00.000-07:002011-05-31T08:35:36.468-07:00MAN MAGNET OR COCK BLOCKER!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The other day I was walking Trooper down the street. Between her heart-stopping good looks and cute little waddle, people inevitably stop to pet her and hug her. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dhGCuJbBP_M/TeUAAUAPOGI/AAAAAAAAAMc/IguvaHkJlJE/s1600/TROOPER+BONE.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dhGCuJbBP_M/TeUAAUAPOGI/AAAAAAAAAMc/IguvaHkJlJE/s320/TROOPER+BONE.jpg" width="238" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">She eats this stuff up and loves the attention. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But beware ladies and gentlemen, behind the cute little face with the crooked teeth, lurks a vicious beast. As this attractive man bent down to shower her with kisses, Trooper spotted a dog about 100 feet away. And then it was on.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">It starts with heavy breathing which quickly turns into a gurgle. And then it's full-on Tasmanian Devil.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6boRFFytVKs/TeUByAGAgxI/AAAAAAAAAMg/mD1HDmkHWTg/s1600/Trooper+Beauty+Shop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6boRFFytVKs/TeUByAGAgxI/AAAAAAAAAMg/mD1HDmkHWTg/s320/Trooper+Beauty+Shop.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Her growl is so frightening, people find it hard to believe that these horrible sounds are coming out of this little dog. When they see me carrying her in my arms to try to calm her down, the looks of adoration quickly turn to looks of "we better lock up our children".</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Trooper has leash aggression, meaning that when she is with other dogs off-leash at the dog park, she is great. But put her on a leash and approach with another dog...the fiery gates of hell are swung open. I've come to learn that this behavior is actually because I have become her property and she is protecting me. I've gotten to a point where I can read her pretty well and anticipate one of these tantrums. I wind up picking her up and hiding behind a parked car or tuck into a driveway until the approaching threat passes. To the average person walking down the street, Trooper and I look like a couple of growling assholes. But being the single man that I am, and being the "man-magnet" that she is...this can be a bit of a problem.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-noh4E9PoPGU/TeUD-wGeH2I/AAAAAAAAAMk/f-QMhoUotKc/s1600/Trooper+Tongue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-noh4E9PoPGU/TeUD-wGeH2I/AAAAAAAAAMk/f-QMhoUotKc/s320/Trooper+Tongue.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I'm not stupid. I know Trooper's cuteness can help me snag a man. But I can't tell you how many times a hot guy has bent down to pet Trooper only to have Trooper "cock-block" me because an approaching dog has turned her into Ms. Hyde.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-20IXQkaykWY/TeUFdRxuIYI/AAAAAAAAAMo/VKiYRiKb4ls/s1600/Jeff+Trooper+Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-20IXQkaykWY/TeUFdRxuIYI/AAAAAAAAAMo/VKiYRiKb4ls/s320/Jeff+Trooper+Beach.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">She has the same reaction with squirrels. And trucks. And bicycles. And skateboards. And often straight men. I'm not sure how she honed her gaydar skills...but she can sniff out an over abundance of testosterone a mile away. This actually comes in handy so I don't wind up sniffing the butt of some unavailable man. A great skill to have.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lv4W1HwIRSA/TeUHZtMI-KI/AAAAAAAAAMs/-eEwZBbfMSQ/s1600/Trooper+and+Daddy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Lv4W1HwIRSA/TeUHZtMI-KI/AAAAAAAAAMs/-eEwZBbfMSQ/s320/Trooper+and+Daddy.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So my darling daughter, Trooper...please just do your job of attracting potential dates for your Daddy and stop acting like a crazy nut-bag. Thank you.</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-72543644306929950062011-05-26T08:32:00.000-07:002011-05-26T08:32:41.435-07:00OUR FAMILY VACATION<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>CATTAILS</b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y5bQyR-XT3A/Td5iK1u8C0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/zobwvGonTgo/s1600/common-cattail-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-y5bQyR-XT3A/Td5iK1u8C0I/AAAAAAAAAMA/zobwvGonTgo/s320/common-cattail-1.jpg" width="320" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Growing up in harsh suburban Chicago weather, many families would vacation in mild destinations to escape the extreme cold or heat. In the 1970s, Skokie, Illinois was a predominantly middle-class, Jewish suburb. We were definitely middle-middle class and really couldn't afford extravagant vacations like many of my classmates. So when we would have to write a paper called "What I Did On Vacation",while most of my classmates wrote about going to Florida, Hawaii and in some cases Europe, I wrote about taking a drive up the Edens Expressway with my family, pulling off the side of the road and picking "cat-tails" in on-coming traffic. Once as a visual aid, I brought in some of the "cat-tails" and while reading my paper to the class, I rubbed them causing them to explode with pollen sending everyone into a raging allergy attack. My 4th grade teacher, Ms. Heckmeyer, got pissed at me and our relationship was never the same.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;">SURPRISE KIDS!</span></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The one place my sister and I really wanted to visit was Disneyworld in Orlando! Many of our classmates would come back from summer vacations wearing their Mickey Mouse T-shirts. But we knew that we just couldn't afford it. Until one day when I was in Jr. High School...our parents said YES!</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gadKml8b348/Td5lmDCnn7I/AAAAAAAAAME/ph7i-ENlKig/s1600/disney-world-vacation.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gadKml8b348/Td5lmDCnn7I/AAAAAAAAAME/ph7i-ENlKig/s320/disney-world-vacation.jpg" width="320" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Getting off the plane in Orlando was magical. I can still remember the way the mild Florida climate felt on my skin. We checked in at the Howard Johnson's Hotel at Lake Buena Vista and I couldn't believe how beautiful everything was. "Look at the view", I said as I opened the balcony door. But my euphoric state quickly came to an end when a giant flying cockroach kamikazed into our room landing on the floor. When it comes to bugs, I was (and still am) a screamer. Yelling for my father to get a piece of Kleenex to kill this hideous creature wasn't going to work this time. I think I may have thrown a piece of luggage at this monster, but seem to recall that it threw it back at me. Somehow, we got our flying welcome ambassador back out onto the balcony. (Normally I would put a picture of a cockroach here, but I am so grossed out, I can't even entertain the thought.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">MATCHING OUTFITS</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WQT8w3ytktw/Td5nVD38veI/AAAAAAAAAMI/vdNbRwNtxFU/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WQT8w3ytktw/Td5nVD38veI/AAAAAAAAAMI/vdNbRwNtxFU/s1600/images.jpeg" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">To make sure that everyone knew that the Sumner's were a family, we all got matching outfits. I'm sure it was probably my idea since that is what many of the kids in school did with their families. So we all got bright yellow, front and back, Mickey Mouse T-shirts (see sample below...but in yellow)</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hf09TkOh4xc/Td5n2EmmrwI/AAAAAAAAAMM/h3vathc1DZ8/s1600/DownloadedFile-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Hf09TkOh4xc/Td5n2EmmrwI/AAAAAAAAAMM/h3vathc1DZ8/s1600/DownloadedFile-1.jpeg" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">and stretch, patch jeans with leather stars on our butts. (I tried finding a picture of these, but they were so hideous, I think they were banned from the internet.)</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And then the fighting began. We all had very different ideas of what we wanted to do and, being the control freak that I tended to be, I had an agenda. So I decided to ditch my family and go to the parks by myself. Remember that this was before cell phones, so how my parents didn't have a nervous breakdown allowing their bratty son to go wherever the hell he pleased, is beyond me. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EWRvBFxI0f8/Td5rFy1HQOI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/M4RAjXv0ahk/s1600/living.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EWRvBFxI0f8/Td5rFy1HQOI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/M4RAjXv0ahk/s1600/living.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">That morning in Epcot Center by myself was incredible. There I was living out my fantasy, this little gay child in his patch jeans, dancing past Spaceship Earth and twirling through the Living Seas. I went on so many rides, got through every single country, and didn't have to go to the bathroom once! When I hooked up with my family later, I felt like I had six vacations while they stayed at the pool.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;">BIG AL</span></b></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-loQr3Bp5ouo/Td5soxImR8I/AAAAAAAAAMU/CIhFksTeoOs/s1600/big_al_st.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-loQr3Bp5ouo/Td5soxImR8I/AAAAAAAAAMU/CIhFksTeoOs/s320/big_al_st.jpg" width="263" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">One of the things I remember most about our Disneyworld trip was the way the stores smelled. There was a very distinct pleasant smell that many of the shops had on the grounds of Disneyworld. One of the stores featured thousands of stuffed Disney characters. My parents bought me a "Big Al" stuffed animal from the Country Bear Jamboree. Although I was really too old for stuffed animals, I loved Big Al for a very specific reason. His face was made of plastic and he had a permanent open mouth expression. This was how I learned to French kiss. For years I would stick my tongue down Big Al's throat and hump his big furry body. By the time I was ready to part with Big Al, his fur had been worn off from the frottage and his face was indistinguishable from me licking off all the paint. I think that is why I am sometimes attracted to "bears".</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: cyan;">BYE-BYE DISNEYWORLD</span></b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Disneyworld was one of two family vacations that we went on. (The other being Washington, D.C.) Although we fought like cats and dogs, we did manage to have some fun. Years later, I won a trip to Disneyworld for being the number one Tupperware sales person in the U.S. and I brought along 3 of my friends. Seeing Disneyworld through the eyes of 4 gay men as opposed to a family in stretch patch jeans is a very different thing. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And on this trip...I was determined to find my real "Big Al". But that's another story.</span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-77256359095566142842011-05-25T10:24:00.000-07:002011-05-25T10:24:30.760-07:00JEFF THE JOCK!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r_RIU8MB9VU/Td0xXWy9WGI/AAAAAAAAALs/PN0EhbQKkH8/s1600/r-GYM-CLASS-large570.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-r_RIU8MB9VU/Td0xXWy9WGI/AAAAAAAAALs/PN0EhbQKkH8/s320/r-GYM-CLASS-large570.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I was always bad at sports. I know this may come as a shock to those of you that know me, but I am not Sporty Spice. That's not to say that I don't enjoy playing some of them, I just hate most of the people that play them. I don't mean to sound like Rita Resentment. I just have a little bit of sports damage, that's all. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NUilRZzBvjg/Td0xUOgDD1I/AAAAAAAAALY/PkLplU0GgrA/s1600/dodgeball.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="252" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NUilRZzBvjg/Td0xUOgDD1I/AAAAAAAAALY/PkLplU0GgrA/s320/dodgeball.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In my stand-up act, I used to talk about how I thought </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">dodgeball</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> was a hate-crime. You haven't lived until you are the recipient of 10 hard rubber balls being hurled at you by an opposing team of hateful children while a grinning gym teacher looks on. Sure, now we have all these rules about bullying on the playground. But when I was growing up, the best protection from a flying ball with evil intentions was a fast pair of legs and a high-pitched, siren-like scream.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In gym class, I was the kid who was always picked last...as if it was some hideous burden to just put me in far-right field during a game of kickball. Had they taken the time to get to know me, they might have discovered that my extension in my legs was that of a budding dancer and that I would have kicked that damn ball like a </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Rockette</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">! </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But no, there I was stuck in right-field, arms flailing in the air, running in circles because a bee was chasing me.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GPwbJsnapfc/Td0xH2Usn6I/AAAAAAAAALQ/kQGXd6dH32A/s1600/Bee.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GPwbJsnapfc/Td0xH2Usn6I/AAAAAAAAALQ/kQGXd6dH32A/s1600/Bee.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Flag football was also a hideous failure. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The problem here is that no one bothered to actually explain the rules of this game to me. It was assumed that all little boys knew what a down was. I thought down was the stuff in my pillow. So on "hike", I would run around like a nut and rip off as many flags as possible. Many of them were from my own team mates. The good news in playing flag football is that while I was harvesting flags, the rest of those assholes were throwing the ball to each other leaving me alone. Until the quarterback (impressed I know that term?) would see that I was the only one in the clear, would spike the ball to me and would get me a first-class ticket to the nurses office.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uH04NKFreo8/Td0xX0kmKuI/AAAAAAAAAL0/Ca485wX1i6g/s1600/Tee2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uH04NKFreo8/Td0xX0kmKuI/AAAAAAAAAL0/Ca485wX1i6g/s1600/Tee2.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I actually played little league baseball for awhile. Two seasons exactly. My first year in the "Farm League", I was a member of the Cardinals. I loved my little red uniform and knew it would look awesome zooming around the bases. Unfortunately, it also looked great sitting on the bench. I played...you guessed it...right field. And when batting, I was terrified of getting hit by the ball...even though the ball was on a tee stand. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Step into it Sumner," coach Cochran would bellow at me. At which point I would close my eyes, swing at the tee, knock it over and leave the ball resting on home plate. My parents didn't express any disappointment, except for the numerous lamp posts I broke with my keen throwing abilities. Instead they were just happy I was participating in a team sport rather than lip-syncing to Liza </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Minnelli</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> on the Hi-</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Fi</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> by myself. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I did eventually get better during my second year in the Farm League. (I was so bad that first year, I was held back. ) But in year two when we disposed of the tee, I became a pitcher. Sure I injured hundreds of little boys with my wild, spastic pitches. But the fact that I had their parents screaming at me while on the pitcher's mound just made me feel validated. At last people were looking!</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-395Yfe_IoOg/Td06TyqZ_sI/AAAAAAAAAL8/BkrHLPTryL8/s1600/injured.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-395Yfe_IoOg/Td06TyqZ_sI/AAAAAAAAAL8/BkrHLPTryL8/s1600/injured.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My incredible sporting abilities followed me into college. At that point I had honed my dancing skills and was becoming a very different type of athlete. Since I went to a liberal arts college, it was required that students take 4 physical education units. I was thrilled because I was sure that with my vast dance experience, I wouldn't be required to complete these classes. WRONG! Imagine my horror when I was told second semester of my senior year that in order to graduate, I would need to take at least 3 of these units. MOTHER F-ER! More getting picked last. More harvesting flags!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But I was thrilled to find that I had choices. So here's what I took:</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QayNb0Seig4/Td0xTk_syqI/AAAAAAAAALU/pFotgcgp8xc/s1600/Archery.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QayNb0Seig4/Td0xTk_syqI/AAAAAAAAALU/pFotgcgp8xc/s1600/Archery.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ARCHERY- I went through the entire semester not being able to hit the giant target, until the P.E. teacher pointed out that when aiming, I had the wrong eye closed.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pkeNM1PiNNk/Td0xWry7ECI/AAAAAAAAALo/DpoUssqhtpU/s1600/Pool.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-pkeNM1PiNNk/Td0xWry7ECI/AAAAAAAAALo/DpoUssqhtpU/s1600/Pool.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BILLIARDS - In this class, I would go play pool and get my ass whipped by the on-campus lesbians.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P56h53hLgbg/Td0xXggbcWI/AAAAAAAAALw/HJU2AZjmaE0/s1600/sleeping_clipart-thumb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-P56h53hLgbg/Td0xXggbcWI/AAAAAAAAALw/HJU2AZjmaE0/s1600/sleeping_clipart-thumb.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">RELAXATION - Designed to help reduce stress, I would be at the gym at 7am and be asleep again by 7:06. Needless to say, I aced the final.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Years later I am proud to say that I discovered a sport that I actually enjoyed: long distance running. I am proud to say that I completed three marathons and one half-marathon. So all of you sons-a-bitches who used to bully me in gym class...you can suck it!</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Na-LHC9HEFc/Td0zB1jKXaI/AAAAAAAAAL4/0vIo4Q_3Rhk/s1600/Arms+up.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Na-LHC9HEFc/Td0zB1jKXaI/AAAAAAAAAL4/0vIo4Q_3Rhk/s320/Arms+up.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So I couldn't climb a rope, catch a ball, swing a racket, hit a target and was always the last one picked. But what I could do was get up in front of lots of people and express myself and I turned out okay! As I look back, going through the humiliation of being lousy at most sports really helped make me become a more resilient human being and, oddly enough, a better performer. Do I agree with the methods my teachers used? HELL to the NO! And I have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to bullying kids!!! But there needs to be a balance between insulating our children from failure and harassing them for not being good at something. Children should learn from things that they might not excel at and be encouraged to find their talents.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Okay enough of my soapbox. I'm gonna go shoot some hoopies. (Pause) Now we both know that's not gonna happen.</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-41942383571547824442011-05-24T07:17:00.000-07:002011-05-24T07:17:00.740-07:00OPRAHLAND!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JSRZ8hFmYVw/TdtA-zYdEMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/XZLhBXcSqaM/s1600/oprah+madonna+finale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-JSRZ8hFmYVw/TdtA-zYdEMI/AAAAAAAAAKY/XZLhBXcSqaM/s320/oprah+madonna+finale.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I love Oprah! I really do. What she has done for people around the world is just incredible. But that being said, having watched the first part of the 2 finale shows, you'd think that she was going to be shot up into the heavens for her OWN Rapture. (Get it? OWN!)</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">In my best Oprah voice, "Ladies and Gentlemen...Jeeeeeeesus Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiist!"</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rLa2jFUFASk/TdtA-F8zT6I/AAAAAAAAAKU/77ZXFvyaSrs/s1600/Oprah+and+Jesus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="181" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rLa2jFUFASk/TdtA-F8zT6I/AAAAAAAAAKU/77ZXFvyaSrs/s320/Oprah+and+Jesus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So what do you get for a woman who has spent the past 25 years literally changing the world and who has everything. Oh, I know. A FOREST. 25,000 oak trees to be exact. Diane Sawyer called them Oprah Trees. So now I suppose I have to say, "Get your damn feet of my Oprah coffee table!" or "Crap! I think I've got Poison Oprah!"</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The person I feel sorry for here is the poor schmuck P.A. who got Oprah a Starbucks gift card for $10. "Oh thank you baby. Just put it over there next to my forest." I mean...what pressure! How can one possibly shop for this woman, who has educated us and forced us to look at ourselves in the world with new eyes. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So that is why I am proposing a brand new shrine to the soon-to-be deceased Oprah Winfrey Show using my OWN special gifts. I call it Oprahland! A new theme park dedicated to everything Oprah. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Some of the attractions include:</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PRrUEhtNWSw/TdtCTLC_fSI/AAAAAAAAAKg/YE6wCPmSFLw/s1600/Steadman+and+o.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PRrUEhtNWSw/TdtCTLC_fSI/AAAAAAAAAKg/YE6wCPmSFLw/s1600/Steadman+and+o.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>STEADMAN'S WILD RIDE</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - You get to become Oprah's partner Steadman on this classic dark ride and shooting gallery. Riders will get to shoot annoying paparazzi that pop out and say, "Over here Mister Winfrey".</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EUCykGv-c0A/TdtCoM5MFOI/AAAAAAAAAKk/HTX6XcyRb2s/s1600/Oprah+Gail.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EUCykGv-c0A/TdtCoM5MFOI/AAAAAAAAAKk/HTX6XcyRb2s/s1600/Oprah+Gail.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>OPRAH AND GAIL'S TRIP ACROSS AMERICA</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - Sit in the back seat as Oprah and Gail bicker their way through scenic America. This interactive experience allows riders to vote from a one (strictly friends) to ten (full throttle lezzie). </span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UL5XbaRJ5q0/TdtC8Z81JwI/AAAAAAAAAKo/XbqhIVpids4/s1600/Oprah+screaming.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UL5XbaRJ5q0/TdtC8Z81JwI/AAAAAAAAAKo/XbqhIVpids4/s1600/Oprah+screaming.jpeg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>YOU BE OPRAH'S GUEST</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - You are the star of the show when you say your name into the computer and then magically Oprah introduces you as a guest. "Ladies and Gentlemen....Jeffrey SUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMNNNNEEEEEERRRRR!"</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e78DwVp8SQA/TdtDkRZ_DDI/AAAAAAAAAKw/t_PoikkZw8Q/s1600/oprah_marytylermoore.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e78DwVp8SQA/TdtDkRZ_DDI/AAAAAAAAAKw/t_PoikkZw8Q/s320/oprah_marytylermoore.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>OPRAH'S UGLY CRY</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - An audio-animitronic Oprah responds to your sad story. The sadder the story, the uglier the cry. Caution: this ride will get you wet.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nP1MtW22jdw/TdtD32Mno0I/AAAAAAAAAK0/daQ5gFxqWZA/s1600/oprah-behind-the-scenes_320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nP1MtW22jdw/TdtD32Mno0I/AAAAAAAAAK0/daQ5gFxqWZA/s1600/oprah-behind-the-scenes_320.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>THE PRODUCER COASTER</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - For all of you thrill-seekers who watch "Season 25: Behind the Scenes" you get to be a producer on the Oprah Winfrey Show. Pitch your idea to Oprah. If she likes it, you will experience a fast smooth ride. If not, get ready for drops, spins and mood swings.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-or6TetYMfJU/TdtEntmmDFI/AAAAAAAAAK4/fHt_khj86Nc/s1600/Hair+2.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="137" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-or6TetYMfJU/TdtEntmmDFI/AAAAAAAAAK4/fHt_khj86Nc/s200/Hair+2.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xSwgNu38YDY/TdtEoBppsmI/AAAAAAAAAK8/xXDFkF368kM/s1600/hair+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xSwgNu38YDY/TdtEoBppsmI/AAAAAAAAAK8/xXDFkF368kM/s200/hair+3.jpg" width="198" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMd21Tgi9H0/TdtEo0M54hI/AAAAAAAAALA/UlrbXNQXLmg/s1600/Hair1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="137" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HMd21Tgi9H0/TdtEo0M54hI/AAAAAAAAALA/UlrbXNQXLmg/s200/Hair1.jpeg" width="200" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>THE TOWER OF HAIRROR</b>- You never know what hair style Oprah is going to wear. But when you ride this free-fall style ride, your hair will transform into one of Oprah's many crazy hairstyles from year's past.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wZ1dwUoHq3c/TdtDjrQTFhI/AAAAAAAAAKs/kZWsLVj2cSQ/s1600/Oprah.-surprise.-seasons-premier.Tom-cruise.-Oprah-Winfrey-Show.-Aunstralia.-Quantas.-Travolta.-John-Travolta..jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wZ1dwUoHq3c/TdtDjrQTFhI/AAAAAAAAAKs/kZWsLVj2cSQ/s320/Oprah.-surprise.-seasons-premier.Tom-cruise.-Oprah-Winfrey-Show.-Aunstralia.-Quantas.-Travolta.-John-Travolta..jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>TOM CRUISE MOON BOUNCE</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - You get to play Tom cruise and jump on Oprah's furniture.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X4awQAGGLAQ/TdtFZftZ1HI/AAAAAAAAALE/bXSl8vlmOlk/s1600/7f001_oprah_frey_0513.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X4awQAGGLAQ/TdtFZftZ1HI/AAAAAAAAALE/bXSl8vlmOlk/s320/7f001_oprah_frey_0513.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>OPRAH'S BOOK CLUB: THE RIDE</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - This roller coaster type attraction shoots you out at 80 miles an hour and then sends you straight up into the air where you get to scream at an audio-animatronic James Frey, author of "A Million Little Pieces".</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Ymimcpeoa4/TdtFxEcEGJI/AAAAAAAAALI/QN6IMivxKtk/s1600/gal_oprah7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="173" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_Ymimcpeoa4/TdtFxEcEGJI/AAAAAAAAALI/QN6IMivxKtk/s320/gal_oprah7.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>YOU GET A CAR!</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> - Riders begin in a holding area, until Oprah screams "You get a car!", at which point they trample one another to get their car of choice before anyone else. Helmuts and knee-pads provided.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3LYZChuSfvw/TdtGQYTY7KI/AAAAAAAAALM/ywldgweiPi8/s1600/SwingChoir.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="221" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3LYZChuSfvw/TdtGQYTY7KI/AAAAAAAAALM/ywldgweiPi8/s320/SwingChoir.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And finally </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>AHA! THE MUSICAL!</b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> A cast of singers and dancers that sing songs of inspiration and in the end, discover that they are enough. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So suck it all of you girl's school-building, tree-planting, mother-f-ers. Once I build Oprahland, nothing will be able to stop my growing HARPO empire! Muah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So long Oprah! You will be missed!</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-34381602845319498342011-05-23T07:27:00.000-07:002011-05-23T07:27:23.129-07:00RAPTURE SHMAPTURE!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;"><b>GOOD TIMES AND BUM TIMES...I'VE SEEN THEM ALL AND MY DEAR...I'M STILL HERE!</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So we're still here. And apparently that yahoo Harold Camping, the putz who predicted the end of the world, is now saying that, "God delayed judgement so that more people can be saved".</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1lLkE5pSnmc/TdpmkUXbY0I/AAAAAAAAAKE/Hab8YJTh1Ds/s1600/campingx-inset-community.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1lLkE5pSnmc/TdpmkUXbY0I/AAAAAAAAAKE/Hab8YJTh1Ds/s1600/campingx-inset-community.jpg" /></span></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Where is this man getting his information? And did he really not have a back-up plan, just in case? I guess that would be a question to his faith if he had doubt. But somewhere in the back of your mind, Harold, wasn't their a teeny, tiny voice that said, "Don't cancel my subscription to the Hollywood Bowl"?</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I just went to his Family Radio website and clicked on "What's New". Nothing. Clearly someone is going to lose their job over that one. Cause...NEWSFLASH...you're still alive people. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Are we really that starved for spiritual leadership that we will follow some schmuck who applies some algebra to the Bible and comes up with a date for Armageddon? I think the lesson to be learned here is that...MATH IS HARD! Personally, when it comes to numbers, I freeze up. When I was in Jr. High School, my teacher somehow made a mistake, and placed me in the advanced "Algebra Group" (which she pronounced ALL-JE-BRAH making us all sound like we were from France)</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5TttkCycNVg/Tdpo-E5MAwI/AAAAAAAAAKI/KWeEOhWQeGE/s1600/frenchmen_beret_costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5TttkCycNVg/Tdpo-E5MAwI/AAAAAAAAAKI/KWeEOhWQeGE/s1600/frenchmen_beret_costume.jpg" /></span></span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I struggled and struggled. And I think the reason I didn't get bumped back down to Peasant Level Math was because she didn't want to admit that she made a mistake. By the time I got to high school, I was placed in Remedial Geometry.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Perhaps that is what happened with Mr. Camping. Maybe he bit off a few more fractions than he could chew or couldn't answer a basic story problem:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">QUESTION:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">If Jesus could save only part of the population, and 97% of the population would be doomed to hellfire considering the number of homos and Jews in the world, not to mention Jewish Homos, how many believers would it take to fly in the air and screw up air traffic control? And what date will all this occur?</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">ANSWER:</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">May 21, 2011</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ! WRONG Mr. Camping! You need to divide the number of damned souls by the square root of Jesus times lift plus wind speed divided by the lowest common denominator which is Leviticus plus Jews and the quotient of Homos. Sheez Louise, Mr. Camping! Even those of us in Remedial Geometry know that!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When the stakes are this high, and you have thousands of people donating money to your cause...I suggest to enroll in a basic math class at the Learning Annex, before you make your next prediction.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uRk6RIH4eyI/Tdptc3GikUI/AAAAAAAAAKM/0W2GPGaD0Kk/s1600/math+symbols.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uRk6RIH4eyI/Tdptc3GikUI/AAAAAAAAAKM/0W2GPGaD0Kk/s320/math+symbols.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And for the record...I still HATE math!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-23072002115481921692011-05-21T02:17:00.000-07:002011-05-21T02:17:21.138-07:00RAPTURE PREPAREDNESS KIT<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">LOOK MA...I'M FLYING!</span></b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SddIAh-Xm28/TddwutY0nrI/AAAAAAAAAJo/K-AsC9yKK84/s1600/the-rapture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SddIAh-Xm28/TddwutY0nrI/AAAAAAAAAJo/K-AsC9yKK84/s320/the-rapture.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So what is a rapture? According to the Bible, it is the event that will occur at the End of Days where Christians will assemble in the air to meet Christ. After the saved Christians are air-born, they will apparently be whisked off to Heaven while the rest of us poor schmucks deal with the end of the world for the next five months. According to Christian radio broadcaster Harold Camping, the time of the rapture is scheduled for today, May 21, 2011 at 6pm in every time zone. So kind of like what happens on the New Year, the East coast will experience it first while the West coast has to wait 3 hours where they can watch the time delayed broadcast of "Dick Clark's Rockin' Rapture."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #351c75;"><b>ROBBED AGAIN!</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So once again, the Goyim have all the fun! Not only do you get the cool holidays like Christmas and Easter...but now you get to FLY!!! WTF!!! So I guess I'll do what most Jews will do. While you Christians are whooping it up on your flight with Jesus, I'll be eating Chinese.</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zs1z8BqczkE/TddyJFRFFhI/AAAAAAAAAJs/YKaVD3z2wys/s1600/takeout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Zs1z8BqczkE/TddyJFRFFhI/AAAAAAAAAJs/YKaVD3z2wys/s320/takeout.jpg" width="217" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: magenta;"><b>WHAT TO PACK.</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Bible is not very specific about what to bring with you if you are chosen to (as Elphaba says) defy gravity. Most likely you won't need much since the plan is to rendezvous on a cloud somewhere and then head on up to Heaven, in which case you won't need any worldly possessions. So I would recommend a light sweater since it may be chilly. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Now because the Bible doesn't talk about how long you'll be up there or if you'll be taking a detour, you may want to pack an overnight bag or napsack. Eagle Creek makes wonderful canvas packing folders that will literally hold up to 12 garments and keep them nicely folded. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wLAC0s8zJ90/Tdd0csqUhjI/AAAAAAAAAJw/M1Gb_Vplucc/s1600/eagle%252520creek%252520pack%252520it%252520folder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wLAC0s8zJ90/Tdd0csqUhjI/AAAAAAAAAJw/M1Gb_Vplucc/s1600/eagle%252520creek%252520pack%252520it%252520folder.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wLAC0s8zJ90/Tdd0csqUhjI/AAAAAAAAAJw/M1Gb_Vplucc/s1600/eagle%252520creek%252520pack%252520it%252520folder.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">RAPTURE TIP: Place a Bounce fabric softener sheet in the envelope with your clothes so Jesus can smell how fresh you are. Surely this will help you become Heavenly-bound.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime;">FOOD</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I am not sure if there is an in-flight meal planned, so those of you rapturing may need to pack a lunch. Unlike most of the major airlines, this flight doesn't allow you to purchase any type of snack-pack other than loaves and fishes. So pack something light like a small Tupperware filled with granola or pick-up up a sandwich at Fresh N' Easy.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #a64d79;">WHAT ABOUT MY PETS?</span></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AX3Q7xytb7Q/Tdd50Z800LI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/t8jtVo6rGts/s1600/angel+trooper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AX3Q7xytb7Q/Tdd50Z800LI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/t8jtVo6rGts/s320/angel+trooper.jpg" width="296" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Well it turns out that pets who believe will be joining those selected. And the best part is that they don't have to fly in the luggage compartment or in a carrier. They will get to float alongside you.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #274e13;"><b>SCHEDULE OF RAPTURE EVENTS</b></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">According to Harold Camping, at 6pm a horrible global earthquake is supposed to start in Australia and make it around the world. This will set off a series of destructive events until the world ends on October 21st. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDDhD25h7HM/TddwuGVn5jI/AAAAAAAAAJk/Dveu7dGyU1A/s1600/Teachings_of_Jesus_38_of_40._the_rapture._one_in_the_field._Jan_Luyken_etching._Bowyer_Bible.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QDDhD25h7HM/TddwuGVn5jI/AAAAAAAAAJk/Dveu7dGyU1A/s320/Teachings_of_Jesus_38_of_40._the_rapture._one_in_the_field._Jan_Luyken_etching._Bowyer_Bible.gif" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Approximately 200 million people will be saved leaving the other 7 billion of us crushed in the quake, burned by sulfur or turned into pillar of salt. Hmm. Why salt and not pepper?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6AfPpeOEFnc/Tdd9_3Vv4PI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/PH_QPBHQiK0/s1600/lots_wife_pillar_of_salt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6AfPpeOEFnc/Tdd9_3Vv4PI/AAAAAAAAAJ4/PH_QPBHQiK0/s320/lots_wife_pillar_of_salt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Camping also goes on to explain that it is occurring at this time to punish those participating in Gay Pride and Same-Sex Marriage.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WbXpX5Cl0Lg/Tdd-m0c53iI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/ywjB7VZpICI/s1600/gay_pride_angel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WbXpX5Cl0Lg/Tdd-m0c53iI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/ywjB7VZpICI/s320/gay_pride_angel.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">October 21st. We are done.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8fnvvtbFOg/Tdd_SoDzKkI/AAAAAAAAAKA/L--OTKkTVDU/s1600/vasnetsov.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="167" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-g8fnvvtbFOg/Tdd_SoDzKkI/AAAAAAAAAKA/L--OTKkTVDU/s320/vasnetsov.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;"><b>FINAL THOUGHT</b></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I suppose the one good thing about this insanity is that it makes people aware that time is precious and that they should live every day as if it's their last. However, the God that I believe in doesn't instill fear and hate but rather brings joy and love. Just ask the thousands of vibrant people that were at the Kylie Minogue concert last night at the Hollywood Bowl. So I guess...today I feel like I've already been raptured here on earth. Mr. Camping, I am officially canceling your little rapture-fest!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But I have to admit...the flying thing is pretty cool!</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sCktKIEU54I/TddwsyzBqmI/AAAAAAAAAJg/oktmLVBGWFs/s1600/rapture2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-sCktKIEU54I/TddwsyzBqmI/AAAAAAAAAJg/oktmLVBGWFs/s320/rapture2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-31829842293340627882011-05-20T09:31:00.000-07:002011-05-20T09:31:36.440-07:00STAGE MOMS FROM HELL!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>I HAD A DREAM... </b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kvr4iGfcXFY/TdaSHGuus8I/AAAAAAAAAI0/Dj_h9KpEQWs/s1600/Gypsy450.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="301" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Kvr4iGfcXFY/TdaSHGuus8I/AAAAAAAAAI0/Dj_h9KpEQWs/s320/Gypsy450.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Stage mothers have existed since the beginning of time. Back in the stone age, while the men would hunt for food, these prehistoric beasts would remain in the cave, place their offspring on a rock and say, "Ugh, ugh, ugh!" Translation - "Sing out Louise!"</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S5yz7dcoEO8/TdaSIpQO71I/AAAAAAAAAJA/13sk_fxW3-U/s1600/prehistoric+woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-S5yz7dcoEO8/TdaSIpQO71I/AAAAAAAAAJA/13sk_fxW3-U/s1600/prehistoric+woman.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The Blessed Virgin Mary may have even said to Jesus, "Honey, when you do these public speaking gigs, you might want to hold you hands like this."</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n4nSJD5HLXA/TdaSHjC7lPI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Q9M2IEIPjlM/s1600/jesus-mary-hearts-30.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n4nSJD5HLXA/TdaSHjC7lPI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Q9M2IEIPjlM/s320/jesus-mary-hearts-30.jpg" width="245" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Some stage mothers, push too hard driving their children to insanity.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gs4MDBB4cxY/TdaSGTkDdAI/AAAAAAAAAIw/8lMUr1uyUQ8/s1600/black-swan-barbara-hershey-natalie-portman-photo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gs4MDBB4cxY/TdaSGTkDdAI/AAAAAAAAAIw/8lMUr1uyUQ8/s320/black-swan-barbara-hershey-natalie-portman-photo.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wY0R1g64Xic/TdaSJM-5oII/AAAAAAAAAJE/bg1TTsPUluY/s1600/the-manchurian-candidate.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wY0R1g64Xic/TdaSJM-5oII/AAAAAAAAAJE/bg1TTsPUluY/s320/the-manchurian-candidate.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And then there are those monsters that vicariously live their own dreams through their children, injecting them with poor values and in some cases...Botox. More on that in a bit.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yb_B4ANBMCA/TdaSK11r9cI/AAAAAAAAAJM/7OYfVkxnRRY/s1600/toddtiara1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Yb_B4ANBMCA/TdaSK11r9cI/AAAAAAAAAJM/7OYfVkxnRRY/s320/toddtiara1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><b>I DREAMED IT FOR YOU BABY...</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Okay, so my guilty pleasure is "Toddlers and Tiaras". I love a good beauty pageant train wreck and perhaps, just like these hideous stage moms, I am a monster too for watching this. I can't help it. I am fascinated by this twisted little world of parents trying to make their children into these living dolls. </span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M33iLA59nvc/TdaSKfDJ2BI/AAAAAAAAAJI/RqoiU7ZKMsw/s1600/toddler.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-M33iLA59nvc/TdaSKfDJ2BI/AAAAAAAAAJI/RqoiU7ZKMsw/s320/toddler.png" width="215" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I live for these crazy mothers doing the moves with their children when they are onstage and forcing them to do that nauseating little-girl sexy pose. I scream at the TV when these idiots spend their food money on a $4000 dress, just so their princess can go home with an Ultimate Grand Supreme trophy. (Yes. I know the lingo.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: lime; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>IT'S GONNA COME TRUE BABY...</b></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0DwXjLbox-k/TdaSTyfFaAI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/SXrXzn3rmoY/s1600/0513-botox-mom-video-credit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0DwXjLbox-k/TdaSTyfFaAI/AAAAAAAAAJQ/SXrXzn3rmoY/s320/0513-botox-mom-video-credit.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But it's all good fun until we jump into the "child abuse" pool. So this asshole of a mom, Kerry Campbell, was featured in this story on "Good Morning America" saying that she injects her daughter with Botox so she can win pageants. And now TMZ is reporting that she made the whole thing up.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">First of all...she didn't make it up. I really believe this woman is whack-a-doodle enough to do this to her daughter. How a parent can do this to a child is incomprehensible to me. However, perhaps it will shed some light and perspective on they way we groom our little girls to be just like us. Do we really want our kids growing up with body dismorphia and eating disorders not to mention low self-esteem?</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: purple;"><b>THEY THINK THAT WE'RE THROUGH, BUT BABY...</b></span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-__B1qqZGHvE/TdaSZcPWQSI/AAAAAAAAAJU/aUugQb-BxOw/s1600/Bindi+Swimsuit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-__B1qqZGHvE/TdaSZcPWQSI/AAAAAAAAAJU/aUugQb-BxOw/s320/Bindi+Swimsuit.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Being a beauty pageant winner myself (so to speak), I know first hand what it feels like to have thousands of people screaming for you. And just for the record...I did not use Botox. Foam rubber, yes. Botox, no. And my mother wasn't screaming, "Sing out Louise!" from offstage. But enough about my brief pageant royalty. Shouldn't these kids be celebrated for being kids and not miniature adults?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;"><b>YOU'LL BE SWELL, YOU'LL BE GREAT!</b></span></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Working where I work, it's pretty amazing to watch parents allow their children to just be themselves. There is something so magical about kids being able to express themselves in their innocence. Although I make jokes about "Toddlers and Tiaras" (and will continue to watch), it's pretty great when you see those one or two kids on the show who do the pageants simply because they love them. The kids who genuinely love to perform onstage and who embody a great sense of sportsmanship. The ones who are okay with a simple "Princess" trophy as opposed to having to be the Ultimate Grand Supreme.</span></span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">So Botox Mom--my advice to you--take your daughter out of pageants and let her be a little girl. Maybe enroll her in soccer or Girl Scouts. And then...only then...will she be able to truly "Sing out Louise"! </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After all...look how good I turned out.</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-30279150230491376132011-05-19T00:28:00.000-07:002011-05-19T00:28:59.796-07:00SOMEDAY MY PRINCE WILL COME<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Little girls dream of being a princess. Thanks Kate Middleton for replacing Snow White, Cinderella and all of the other royals as the latest source of false hope for little girls world-wide.</span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TriwN11Dg3c/TdS9fq9XjKI/AAAAAAAAAHg/myotFMPJg18/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TriwN11Dg3c/TdS9fq9XjKI/AAAAAAAAAHg/myotFMPJg18/s1600/images-1.jpeg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">One only needs to pay a visit to my place of employment to know how much this is true. The Bibbity-Bobbety Boutique is a cash cow that transforms plain little girls into glamorous princesses. Actually, they come out looking more like Snookie from Jersey Shore, with their hair all jacked up with so much glitter, you'd think it was the mirror-ball trophy from "Dancing With The Stars". But I digress.</span></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gKpGweEHpMQ/TdS9gPG6jvI/AAAAAAAAAHk/cF6rvfoFiHg/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gKpGweEHpMQ/TdS9gPG6jvI/AAAAAAAAAHk/cF6rvfoFiHg/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The princess fantasy, of being rescued by a handsome prince, permeates our culture. Girls around the world dream of finding the perfect man (or woman...if she's a lipstick lesbian princess). But what I've come to discover is that the princess fantasy also secretly lurks in the hearts of gay middle-aged men.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Yesterday I went to see the movie "Bridesmaids". Hilarious film with great comic performances. However there is a scene where a cop (played by Chris O'Dowd) stops Kristen Wiig's character and they begin a romance. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kzj3n5YcPl4/TdS-tNf4IaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/DiNdEkjCEW4/s1600/bridesmaids-photo-chris-odowd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kzj3n5YcPl4/TdS-tNf4IaI/AAAAAAAAAHo/DiNdEkjCEW4/s320/bridesmaids-photo-chris-odowd.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I have to tell you...that sent me over the edge. I realize that this is all smoke and mirrors...but where are these so-called princes for underdogs like...well...me? The thought of a nice, average, smart, funny guy is really appealing. Granted my prince fantasy used to look more like this...</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WVq0Nu2VavI/TdS9fTKH1BI/AAAAAAAAAHc/SvzaloBqRXs/s1600/gay_fantasy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WVq0Nu2VavI/TdS9fTKH1BI/AAAAAAAAAHc/SvzaloBqRXs/s320/gay_fantasy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">...but I've gotten more realistic.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After the movie (which I saw by myself, by the way), I was chuckling out loud like a crazy person until I hit the depression wall. I suddenly felt lonely as I tossed out my small popcorn for one. Do I actually have a princess fantasy too? </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v84ycE2SQvo/TdTBPMIgJMI/AAAAAAAAAH0/67Kxh5pxo8Q/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-v84ycE2SQvo/TdTBPMIgJMI/AAAAAAAAAH0/67Kxh5pxo8Q/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">How many times have I lurked around the produce section hoping some single, wealthy doctor would hold a couple of peaches in his hands and then cough twice? Oh how we would laugh at dinner parties telling our friends how we met at Ralph's.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0y6mqUoiBag/TdTBOFilc-I/AAAAAAAAAHs/kyj--aGyO-Y/s1600/DownloadedFile-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0y6mqUoiBag/TdTBOFilc-I/AAAAAAAAAHs/kyj--aGyO-Y/s1600/DownloadedFile-1.jpeg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Or going in the single rider line at a theme park and getting seated next to a handsome architect who also loves roller coasters. "Please hold my hand on that first drop!"</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XDZ1FIIec8k/TdTBPpel8VI/AAAAAAAAAH4/RnyaltSX0Fg/s1600/Smaller+OriginalWRaspberry_300dpi%255B1%255D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XDZ1FIIec8k/TdTBPpel8VI/AAAAAAAAAH4/RnyaltSX0Fg/s320/Smaller+OriginalWRaspberry_300dpi%255B1%255D.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Or telling our twin Korean babies how Daddy met Daddy at Pinkberry and shared a lychee-pomegranate mix with yogurt chips, strawberries and coconut. "Or was it almonds? Oh you tell it honey. You know how I tend to embellish."</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dzmu3ch7ons/TdTB9jP-qtI/AAAAAAAAAH8/8GaCQkBGRSE/s1600/hugh_jackman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dzmu3ch7ons/TdTB9jP-qtI/AAAAAAAAAH8/8GaCQkBGRSE/s1600/hugh_jackman.jpg" /></a></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Or meeting that famous actor who is trying to appear incognito while waiting for rush seats at the Ahmanson. "I really love your work." "I really love yours too." "Oh thank you. Want to grab dinner before the show?" Smash cut to my husband getting an Oscar--"I'd like to thank my beautiful, Tony Award winning soul-mate without whom I wouldn't be standing up here right now". Close-up on me beaming, while spinning my Tony for the camera--with a single tear trickling down my face. "It's all you baby! It's all you!"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And then it all comes to a screeching halt when I open the front door and discover my dog has taken a dump in the living room. After I clean it up, I look at the fuzzy faces of my dog and cat staring at me as if to say, "What's next?" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And I breathe and express gratitude for I may not have the prince, but the love in my life just happens to have a little more fur on it right now. </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">And for now that's fine with me. </span></div></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ktuGF15DWa0/TdTF-8bcfCI/AAAAAAAAAII/WXfd_S_ijMo/s1600/Jeff+and+Trooper.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ktuGF15DWa0/TdTF-8bcfCI/AAAAAAAAAII/WXfd_S_ijMo/s320/Jeff+and+Trooper.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But if a Prince comes along...he better not shit on my rug!</span></div>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-38160401164125199542011-05-18T00:54:00.000-07:002011-05-18T00:54:19.014-07:00THE BIRDS AND THE BEES<!--StartFragment--> <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3EcEySI4bHw/TdN3PCkBQFI/AAAAAAAAAHE/_1_fzzutcqA/s1600/birds-and-the-bees.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3EcEySI4bHw/TdN3PCkBQFI/AAAAAAAAAHE/_1_fzzutcqA/s320/birds-and-the-bees.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When I look back at my childhood, I can’t seem to recall the first time I learned about sex. My parents never actually sat me down and explained where babies came from. I learned the actual mechanics in 6</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> grade in sex education class. Thank God my parents signed the permission slip or I might still to this day think that the way a woman got pregnant was if a man peed in her.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nSynXZb7NPg/TdN3PWRrPzI/AAAAAAAAAHI/ubAkkgQVdwM/s1600/condoms.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nSynXZb7NPg/TdN3PWRrPzI/AAAAAAAAAHI/ubAkkgQVdwM/s320/condoms.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">There were certainly missed opportunities for my parents to explain to us about sex. For example, on Sunday mornings, my sister and I would occasionally jump into bed with my parents. One Sunday, I noticed a foil wrapper sitting on the bed spread with a slippery coating on the inside. I presented it to my father and said, “What’s this?”</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Being the brilliant improviser that he was, my father responded with, “Um…it’s nose medicine”. So instead of telling me about condoms, he lead me to believe that if you put the wrapper on your nose, any nasal ailment would be cured.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_2A7_BjD5l8/TdN3pscw5SI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/cKu4F7v4TQg/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_2A7_BjD5l8/TdN3pscw5SI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/cKu4F7v4TQg/s1600/DownloadedFile.jpeg" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And incidentally...the thought of my parents having sex just makes me want to puke. And if you ask either of them, I think they would each respond the same way. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I did finally learn about condoms in 4</span></span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">th</span></span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> Grade when Lewis Simon brought one to school and took me into the bushes to show it to me. He told me he stole it from his father and that he used it for sex. And then he unwrapped it, put it over his head and then proceeded to blow it up by exhaling through his nose. We played with it for awhile, and then he showed me his wiener and ran away. But I still didn’t understand what this giant, greasy balloon was for or what sex was. Although I was intrigued by Lewis’s wiener.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ry960UpgrF0/TdN3OvBOtUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/FCHy-DsVNtM/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ry960UpgrF0/TdN3OvBOtUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/FCHy-DsVNtM/s320/0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When it was time for Sex Education class, I was really excited to learn exactly what to do. By this point I understood most of the body parts, but still wasn’t sure what to do with them. I remember being in class and my teacher Mrs. Meyers would talk about various body parts and we would have to repeat them.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--FhYoySmamc/TdN3P-O6diI/AAAAAAAAAHM/Fd7D0yFdzQQ/s1600/m7_male_retrogradeejac.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--FhYoySmamc/TdN3P-O6diI/AAAAAAAAAHM/Fd7D0yFdzQQ/s320/m7_male_retrogradeejac.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">“Penish,” she would say with a slight impediment due to her buck-teeth. And then the whole class would repeat the word through uncomfortable titters and giggles.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">We had an anonymous question box that we could place a question in if we were too embarrassed to ask in class. I was always filling out slips of paper so that I could really get a handle on this sex thing. One time during indoor recess, this son of a bitch Michael Something-Or-Other, saw me put a paper into the box, grabbed it out and read it to the whole class. </span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">He read, “Why does it burn when I get soap in the hole of my penis?” Everyone laughed and I was mortified. Mrs. Meyers caught him reading my question. And instead of punishing him for torturing me, she simply said, “Jeffrey…just don’t put shoap in your penish hole!” </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J70eoIOycU8/TdN5EZ1REtI/AAAAAAAAAHU/DKbNsMWXfo0/s1600/00soap-on-a-rope.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-J70eoIOycU8/TdN5EZ1REtI/AAAAAAAAAHU/DKbNsMWXfo0/s320/00soap-on-a-rope.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Needless to say, I eventually understood what sex was about and turned into a sex maniac. To be continued.</span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Now you’ll have to excuse me. I have a sinus infection and have to put a condom on my nose.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VGgtZ5NdkQc/TdN6_g1VxUI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Oxjbm7EiYDg/s1600/image_270f071b45.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VGgtZ5NdkQc/TdN6_g1VxUI/AAAAAAAAAHY/Oxjbm7EiYDg/s320/image_270f071b45.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><br />
</span></div><!--EndFragment-->Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-49224685069583328422011-05-12T09:43:00.000-07:002011-05-13T13:27:08.641-07:00DAYS OF LEG WARMERS GONE BY!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lBdevPBEXwA/TcwZNyCEmxI/AAAAAAAAAGo/gjng01Shjlc/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lBdevPBEXwA/TcwZNyCEmxI/AAAAAAAAAGo/gjng01Shjlc/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">When I was growing up, there was no "American Idol" or "Glee". Instead we had the movie "Fame" and Original Broadway Cast albums. From the age of 4, I knew exactly what I wanted to do. Well, it was a toss-up between singing and dancing for a living, or becoming a nurse. My aunt used to be a candy-striper and I would frequently walk around my grandmother's house in her white nurse's shoes and stiff hat. But I digress.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My first memories of being onstage happened when I was in 4th Grade at Middleton School in Skokie, IL. I was the head singing troubadour in a ground-breaking production of "Snow White and the Seven Dwarves". It was ground-breaking by the fact that the leads were double cast with a kid doing the voice offstage, while another kid would lip sync onstage. Amateurs! I will have you know that I did ALL my own singing as the singing troubadour. But who the fuck are we kidding? Troubadour, shmoubadour...I was still in the chorus. I still remember the song we sang:</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"We are the singing Troubadours to introduce to you,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A story that we guarantee is absolutely true.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Except for what we added, except for what we changed,</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Except for parts we didn't like, and parts we re-arranged."</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">My first solo in a musical (if that's what you want to call it) happened in 6th grade in our production of "The Chicago World's Fair". I played General Balbo and wore a cute little army hat made from two pieces of green felt sewn together. I wont bore you with the lyrics to that one, but suffice it to say, it was a song about a Ferris wheel and brought the house to tears.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Jumping ahead...I used to play the shit out of those Original Broadway Cast albums. I practically wore out our Hi Fi playing "Magic To Do" from Pippin. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">The only exception I made with Broadway Albums was the movie soundtrack to "The Sound of Music". At a very young age I was a boy soprano and developed this crazy obsession with Julie Andrews. Since "Sound of Music" was one of the first movies I ever saw with my father (thanks for making me gay Dad!) I developed this crazy impression of Julie Andrews singing "My Favorite Things" that I took to the playground. And I got the cuts and bruises to prove it. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I got my first real taste of playing to a big audience at a summer fair at Oakton Park. I sang "The Impossible Dream" from Man of La Mancha, and wore a poofy shirt and a drawn on mustache. I was terrified, but muscled through it and gave the performance of my life for a sea of overweight moms and dads eating funnel cakes and corn.</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGHf5j6YVeA/TcwaqidMEsI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Zv6kWXpx3Jw/s1600/funnel+cake.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tGHf5j6YVeA/TcwaqidMEsI/AAAAAAAAAG4/Zv6kWXpx3Jw/s1600/funnel+cake.jpeg" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Jy8V2slCK8/TcwaqVxdFjI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_hOxo8wwNW8/s1600/Corn.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-3Jy8V2slCK8/TcwaqVxdFjI/AAAAAAAAAG0/_hOxo8wwNW8/s1600/Corn.jpeg" /></a></div><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Having accomplished high school stardom, I found myself at Illinois Wesleyan University in leg warmers and tights, dancing publicly wherever humanly possible. My dream was to do chainee turns around the fountain at Lincoln Center or dance on cars celebrating my hot lunch. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">But instead I did jeter leaps through Downtown Bloomington, IL praying that Miss Debbie Allen would somehow find me and say, "You want fame? Well this is where you pay!"</span></span><br />
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</span></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Last night as I was icing my back and dreaming of pain-free-leg-warmer-days, I watched the American Idols belt out their songs. Do kids these days even play Original Cast Albums anymore? Or do they just have aspirations to be on Glee? It made me sort of sad. So I went outside and did chainee turns through my neighborhood in Studio City while singing "Magic To Do". After I saw the police arrive, I ran back inside and quietly sang "I Have Confidence" doing my best Julie Andrews, which now sounds like Bea Arthur. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I miss my days of idealism and innocence. But luckily still living "The Impossible Dream". Now where are those leg warmers?</span></span><br />
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</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7781372227269162519.post-41892702459949188372011-05-03T01:05:00.000-07:002011-05-03T01:05:36.989-07:00MAKING SENSE OF THIS<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">HE'S DEAD!</span></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sunday night as I was on my was home from work, I received a text saying that Osama bin Laden had been killed. When I got home, I turned on my TV and watched with the rest of America as President Obama made the announcement confirming his death. I thought the speech was amazing and I teared up. The cameras then switched to people in a frenzy in the streets shouting U-S-A like we just won the Super Bowl.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">After processing this information for a bit, I must admit I felt a bit sick to my stomach and I wasn't sure why. I was alone with my dog and cat and had this incredible urge to be with other people. So I went to the gelato shop at the end of my street. TVs were on in the shop with images of people climbing trees and reveling in the death of Osama bin Laden. I didn't talk to anyone, got my gelato and went home.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Something felt very wrong and I couldn't put my finger on it. I felt like I should be jumping up and down and wearing patriotic colors like the people on TV. Some people posted a quote from Martin Luther King on Facebook saying "returning hate for hate multiplies hate". And then I read multiple comments that condemned people for putting up that quote and that Osama deserved to die. More expressions of hate and anger continued to flood Facebook targeting anyone who wasn't ready to run into the streets and start dancing.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">MARIANNE WILLIAMSON</span></b></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Last night I attended Marianne Williamson's lecture on "A Course In Miracles" and was delighted to here her address the same odd feeling I had about the events from the night before. She described her feeling as being similar to mine and I was surprised to see many other like-minded, confused people. She raised the question, "Were we out for JUSTICE or were we out for REVENGE"?</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Don't get me wrong! <u>Osama bin Laden was an evil, horrible human being whose damage on the human race and specifically the United States was incomprehensible</u>. And killing him, I do believe, was a necessary action to make sure justice had been served. Happy and worthy of a street party? No. Necessary--definitely.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Marianne told a story about Dan Rather interviewing 3 people who lost family members in 9/11. Rather asked each of them if they wanted revenge on Osama bin Laden. And the interesting thing was that they each said they wanted justice and not revenge. Rather continued and said, "Well I want revenge!" The fact was that the trauma that these people went through broke them wide open. They were in a space of healing.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">What happened Sunday night is that several lives were lost in this mission. Thank God no Americans died. And the courage and skill demonstrated by our Armed Forces was incredible. I am not able to be in a space where I am reveling over the fact that "we kicked Obama's ass". Quite honestly, the images of people carrying on outside the White House reminded me of the pictures from Iraq of women doing that crazy thing with their tongues, arms held triumphantly in the air, when the towers collapsed. Yet here are Americans giving a collective "Fuck You" to terrorists around the world. </span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Instead, I find myself in a space of reverence and sadness reflecting on what got us here in the first place--the enormous loss of human life because of terrorism. I don't want to celebrate the fact that we killed someone. Instead, I want to pay homage to the fact that we did what was necessary to protect the world from more evil. Is it un-American that I don't want to take to the streets? On the contrary...it is very American that I choose to express myself in a quieter, more solemn and more mature way.</span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">I am glad that the world is rid Osama bin Laden. And I look forward to a world and a country where we focus on healing rather than more hatred.</span></span>Jeff Sumnerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17533306425804323341noreply@blogger.com0