Kitty in the City
So I get off the plane at Gatwick and instead of going straight to my friend’s house what do you think I did? I’ll give you a hint. I had to pass through London on the way there.
I got off the train and put my luggage in storage for the day and had myself a walk about. I got there early in the morning and called Liv to tell her not to worry about me for dinner. I got on one of those double decker buses and went upstairs to the very first seat and plonked down for about an hour of sightseeing. I meant to get off near Picadilly but got tempted by the Houses of Parliament and got off there. From there I wandered into the Westminster Abbey. Stayed in there for a couple of hours.
Then I just walked and walked and walked until it felt like my muscles were going to fall off the bones. About ten hours of it. I’ve noticed that boots are big this year. So are leggings and fedoras. All the guys have this windswept hair style that looks much like this chicken hairdo I’d shape on the kids when they were babies.
When it got dark I hopped the one hour train to Liv’s and dozed off while this guy with a Cockney accent chatted away. He sounded just like the Geico gekko. I dreamed that little lizard was sitting on my shoulder talking to me. It was quite amusing.
Pack Light
My best friend’s son is getting married so I’m going to a wedding in England and I should be packing right now. My plane leaves in less than twelve hours and there are still a million things to do. I even have a closing (I’m a Realtor) just before my plane leaves.
Normally I’d find someone else to go to that closing. We do things like that for each other in the business. This house is Blane Jr.’s house that he and his wife are buying, I can’t miss it. I want to be there when they hand over the keys to first time home ownership.
Since I usually pack light, really light, there isn’t much to do, right? Well, this time I am packing heavy. I have a few things to bring to England and I’d like to have a big suitcase with a lot of space to bring back a lot of stuff. I don’t usually do round trips to from the same European city. I do open jaw flights. England, if we go there is usually what we hit first, so we never get to bring things back from there. Since this is roundtrip in and out of Gatwick, it’s time to bring back some goods.
Here’s my dog Scrappy in my suitcase while I was trying to unpack from my last trip. The dogs get really low while I’m gone (so they say).
You would not believe what I want to bring back. It’s stupid, really. But there is this Palmolive Spa bath soap that I just love and they don’t sell here. Also, I collect Denby dishes and want to bring back some of that too. I’ll check my luggage for one of the first times. There and back. Not a problem, I am by myself and don’t have to worry about so many bags, whatever.
This is only the second time I leave my kids and go on a trip alone. The first time was a couple of years ago. Same place, went to England. Not to visit this friend, it was work related. I didn’t enjoy myself, either. Even though Blane stayed home with the kids and the youngest was 12, I still worried. And missed them. This go round, I miss them already. I’ll be packing a heavy heart. (whaaaa, blubber, pout, sniff…emo…)
The night before my trip I always stay up all night. That way I’m tired and sleep on the flight all the way there. It works like magic. Sort of.
This is a short trip. I’ll be gone about 6 days. The first two days of it, I will be completely stupid. That is how jet leg affects me, makes me dumb. I don’t have problems with sleeping there, but shit I have trouble answering simple questions. Especially if it deals with numbers. Fortunately I also laugh like a clown maniac while in this stupor. The long plane ride messes with my equilibrium and adds to the wildness.
So if you hear of some London cops picking up some stumbling drunken looking clown American woman… Put a file in the cupcake you send me.
Greece Is Burning (Guest Post)
Guest post by Sophia of Greece:
My entire country is in flames. There are no words to describe what I see and how they make me feel.
The sky is not blue anymore. The sun is not yellow. Grey and red accordingly is what you see. And I’m pretty sure that even the sea will lose its magnificent deep blue-green color any minute now.
Mayhem. Catastrophy. Agony. Panick. Desperation.
And a knot in the throat. For, what else are you supposed to feel when you watch thousands and thousands of acres burning uncontrollably? Vast areas of virgin woods, of endless green fields and all the beauty of nature disappearing in a snap of a finger. People are screaming. They are losing their houses. Houses they have been building all their lives. Houses they have inherited from their parents who had inherited them from their parents. And so on. And so on. People who are trapped in their villages, surrounded by massive flames which approach them violently, hungrily, ferociously, destroying everything that comes to their path. Gulping everything that stands in their way. And those people are congregated in the centre of their villages, inside their churches, inside their school buildings, hoping that someone will save them. Hoping that they will not be burnt alive. Hoping that they will not be next in the list of the 64 people who died without any hope. And of those who are still missing.
A mother with her four children was found burnt to ashes. She was trying to save their lives. She was trying to escape the monster. Their motionless bodies were found holding tightly each other. Only her oldest was a few steps away… trying to find a way out, trying to defeat the dragon. This is 2007, people. The century of technology, of flying to the moon and discovering new ways for cars to move faster. And we are still being offered as a sacrifice to the beast, like that would soothe its appepite down.
They said help is coming. From all over Europe. From Russia. From the USA. We are still waiting. And in the mean time Greece is burning. And people are dying. And animals are howling.
There are many theories regarding these fires. Theories we’ve heard of before. Theories that are all brand new to our ears. But we all know the truth. And the truth says that they have been trying to get us for years. They never succeeded. Many tried to conquer this fine land, they all returned home with their hands empty. Over the years, they tried to destroy our history, they tried to destroy our culture, they tried to destroy our language. But they had no luck. And they do not like it. They do not like it at all.
So, they decided that their only other choice was to burn us. Alive. It’s a war. No weapons and bombs involved. It’s another kind of war. A war of man forcing nature against man. Do they honestly think we do not know who they are? Do they honestly think that we cannot see them? But above all, do they honestly believe they stand any chance?
Well, I’ve got news for you. You, little tiny men. Yes, you. You can burn our woods, you can drain our sea, you can even bring the Acropolis down. But you will never get us. Ask those who have tried before you. Because our culture, our language, our history, our heart, our spirit, everything we have inherited from our ancestors… they are deep inside us. And they will never be yours. No matter how hard you try, they will always be ours. And those you can never destroy. Never. Ever. No matter how hard you hit us, as long as we know how to keep our heads up you will never defeat us. I would say this in our language, but you are too small to understand us. So, I’m going to say it in one that I’m sure you might understand:
Burn anything you wish. We will still be here, fuckers. And now you can kiss our ancient butts.
Crazy Pranks And Other Things Kids Do While Parents Are Away
My son Blane started a prank call website when he was a teenager. I didn’t know he was making and recording all these calls until he showed me the website. He started with the calls when he was about 13 years old. One of his calls was aired on a local radio station. He was that good.
He even sold CDs of his prank calls all over the world. Really, he did.
Then he started adding funny videos he shot and edited. In this one, he was working as a lifeguard and after the pool closed, well, here’s what they did. It still cracks me up. Here they got a bungee cord, tied one end to a diving board and the other to a little waveboard. Then they pulled the waveboard waaaaay back and took a ride, slingshot style. Watch real close, the bungee snaps and one guy gets popped on the ass pretty badly.
Once while we were out of town, Blane and all his friends used our house to party. In this video they have a backyard boxing competition. It’s edited with the best of his clips, so he calls this video “Greatest Hits.” (The one jiggling his butt is my boy)
If you want to see his old website, go to CrazyPranks.
Now if I could just get him to teach me how to edit videos…
Grillz!
Last week Sweetpea and her pack of friends came home sporting Grillz. I have to admit, it was flat out hilarious. I had to go get one for Blane Jr.
Look at him pimp it like a pro.
It’s not a real grill of course, it’s actually a candy called Grillz. Much like the old Ring Pop, it has a lollipop on one side and a plastic rack of silver or gold teeth on the other.
We found these at our local Blockbuster store, just look for this package if you must have one.
Birth Of A Movie Line
Over the last few days I’ve been transferring some home videos to DVD. Most of them haven’t been watched since I recorded them the first time.
The first one I did was a video of my grandfather’s home movies he used to make on 8mm film. Silent but in color films. The film to video cassette we did years ago. My brother Shane and I went to his house and found all the films with us in them, and played them on the projector with the video camera running. It is not the greatest copy, but it is better than having nothing. What I found amazing was that while video taping these films back then, my brother and I discussed what was going on, what other things we remember from that day. An awesome commentary.
Much of those films were shot while on my grandparent’s commercial trawling boat. They were shrimpers during summertime. In the winter, they were fur trappers. So there is a lot of that stuff in there. Things not many would understand if Shane had not explained these things for my video. I was only about three or four when the films were made so there wasn’t much that I remembered. He was older and he spent a lot more time on the boat shrimping and trapping.
I had forgotten my brother was with me when I converted that film to video. I had forgotten about the “narration.” It is strange because Shane died last year. Now I have a hell of a lot more of his voice than those two old messages from him that I was saving on my telephone answering machine. I won’t ever get rid of those either, because there were some really neat things he said in there. One of them something I lifted and put in a character’s dialogue at the end of my screenplay. A really beautiful line. To me. Maybe it is not anything that would move anyone else. But that is one line I would never change in that screeenplay no matter how much money anyone ever tried to pay me to change it.
Now I know why writers give publishers and directors so much hell during rewrites. Things like that, we can’t let go, won’t let go. The thing is, this one little line was the driving force for the last half of writing this script. I kept hearing his words over and over again, that line I lifted.
There are other videos, one of Candace fresh out of the hospital after being born. It was sad to watch that one because all I could think was I know how it all ends.
I’m sure one day someone will watch those goofy monologues of mine from those acting classes and think the same thing after I’m gone. Had I found those a few years ago, I might have destroyed them. Me, a Cajun doing a British stage accent, or the one where I’m doing a Southern accent. Oh my, makes me blush just thinking about them.
Here is the Pathé Baby movie projector. It belongs to my Parisian friend. Her dad invented it. Cool, huh?
Projekt Revolution 2007 Set Times
Here’s something I wish we’d been able to find online before the show, what times the bands are playing. One would think it’s printed on the ticket. It’s not.
This is from the booklet they gave out at the doors and not specific to the Dallas show. Keep in mind that show times could change. The shows did run about 15 minutes earlier than this schedule.
Also, if you are unable to get to Projekt Revolution, see it live online in August at myspace.com/nowwhat. Or you could paste this url into your media player and get a better stream:
http://myspacecom.edgeboss.net/wmedia-live/myspacecom/23091/750_myspacecom-projekt_revolution_070821.asx
If anyone knows the day of that MySpace show, speak up. [Edited note: The concert will air on August 22nd at 4:30 PM EST, 1:30 PST.]
Don’t miss Spanky’s Review of Projekt Revolution 2007.
If you are looking for 2008 set times, click here.
Spanky’s Projekt Revolution Review (Part 2)
This is my fourteen year-old daugter’s (Spanky’s) review of the last two bands that played at Project Revolution 2007 (Dallas):
It seems that every time I see My Chemical Romance they get better, and this was no exception. It was a flawless performance. Well, not entirely, but the flaws had nothing to do with the music and more to do with the… interesting behavior.
I’ll chalk it all up to the possibility that Gerard was simply feeling… rambunctious yesterday, and entirely ignore a possibility that he’s totally gay.
Because those dance movements made me bury my head and say softly to myself, “No, noo, nooooo.”
Ray, the lead guitarist, was, as always, almost stoic in that all he did was stand there and play. I like that about him, he’s a no-nonsense and no-pretending-to-be-gay sort of guy, he just straight up rocks out. I could see him smiling, though, and I also like it when I can see someone truly enjoying themselves performing.
In truth, Ray Toro does not get the attention he deserves.
This, of course, was ended when Gerard told him to take off his shirt.
Well, he also told Frank to take off his shirt, and he complied, so he then got Ray to take off his shirt, too. The fangirls were drooling, and anticipating the possibility of Gerard taking off his shirt as well. Luckily he didn’t, because if he had he probably would’ve gotten attacked by one of those aforementioned rabid fangirls.
Of course, I’m sure it was a relief to be taking off all of that hot, black clothing, because they must have been absolutely roasting under the pressure of the Texas heat, as well as the spotlights, not to mention the pyrotechnics.
Yes, pyrotechnics.
At first they scared me, then they fascinated me.
Because honestly, who can resist fire?
There were great columns of it shooting up from the machines whose purpose I now knew. Alternatively, they shot out firework-like things, and there was a point during “Welcome to the Black Parade” where another great machine rained sparks upon them.
And I, standing comfortably by my seat, hot and sweaty in a way but not as hot and sweaty as they were surely getting, could not help but think that this all seemed very dangerous.
I also felt a great wave of sheer pity for Bob, the drummer.
He was, after all, right next to the fire-machines, wearing a long-sleeved button-up black shirt, the sleeve of which he’d rolled up to his elbows. It must have been like an inferno, not to mention that he really, really pounds on those drums with all he’s got.
Also, Bob was the one who got a second-degree burn from some unruly pyrotechnics in one of their videos, so one could imagine that he was at least a little afraid of getting burned a second time.
It was when Gerard told the crowd to mosh and named a man in a Wrestlemania shirt the, “dance commander,” that I realized something about this crowd.
Simply put, they were not exactly overly enthusiastic.
This saddened me greatly.
I couldn’t even see Sir Dance Commander doing anything, much less the rest of the pit.
Sure, they would pump their fists in the air at times, but I didn’t really see any moshing or crowd-surfing.
Well, there went my entertainment for the night.
My Chemical Romance’s show was, I think, designed with the specific purpose of energizing the crowd. All of the songs they played were upbeat, with the exception of the song they played for closing, “Cancer.”
While I do very much love their fast-paced songs, I like seeing the maturity projected in their slower songs, the world-wariness and the wisdom.
There was one thing, though, that I missed dearly.
To make what would be a tedious, drawn-out paragraph full of adjectives commonly used whilst one is mourning, I missed Gerard acting all grown-up. I know we can’t act mature all the time, and maybe he just wanted to let loose and have fun, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Much.
Actually, there were two things I missed.
The second was Mikey, bassist and very cute brother of Gerard. Where are you, man? Your absence is being grieved right about now by about fifty thousand fangirls (myself included), you know. Well, I can’t blame you for needing time off to deal with stuff, but still. Poo.
I love watching “Cancer” live. I can feel the emotion in the air, heavy and heady, hanging around and building with each word and each chord struck on the piano until it’s nearly crushing. You can taste the sorrow, because a lot of the people there know what it’s like to lose someone. Every sadness is different, but they mix and mingle together, creating an atmosphere that’s been unrivaled at every single concert I’ve been to.
Gerard stands in the spotlight, singing along softly with the piano, the air vibrating with the emotion he’s able to convey through that amazing voice.
All too soon (and this time I really mean it), it’s over and the backdrop is gone and the instruments are being transported off by the roadies and people are starting to collect inside the auditorium-like thing, waiting.
Waiting for Linkin Park.
To be honest and not a kiss-up, I don’t really like Linkin Park. More like I really don’t like Linkin Park. They’ve got a few good songs, sure, but they’re not my type.
They set up, but I hadn’t really been paying attention.
In front of the stage were two very large expanses of thin, white material, veiling the stage.
And, of course, when the band got on stage we saw their silhouettes.
Leave it to musicians to have a thing for being melodramatic.
Instead of just having fun being silhouettes, they also had to have tons of colorful, flashing lights in the background.
There were enough strobe lights to make a horse epileptic.
Men around me were screaming like little girls and I was extremely disturbed.
Even if I don’t like Linkin Park too much and I wasn’t paying attention, really, I must admit that they played extraordinarily.
And, of course, the crowd actually got responsive. There were tons of crowd surfers, even if I couldn’t really see any mosh pits. Everyone was singing along and pumping their fists. People who had been lounging around outside of the auditorium-thing rushed in to watch and hear.
This influx of human life made for one very hot place.
And one smelly crowd.
I could feel the heat radiating off of all of the crazed fans, taste the sweat (which isn’t exactly delicious). All manifestations of the indescribable amount of heat were tangible at that time.
The band was also feeling this heat, which wasn’t surprising, seeing how many lights they had up. Originally, Bennington (because Chester is an awkward name) was wearing a black leather jacket, but he stripped down to a white tank top sort of shirt that ended up being totally drenched in sweat. You could see the sweat trickling off their faces on the big screens.
Personally, I think Bennington has a voice that is much more proper for something like opera. Don’t ask me why, I don’t really know. It’s a strange, strange thing.
We left before the actual end of the show, seeing as we didn’t really want to get stuck in post-concert traffic as we usually were and they’d played all of the songs we actually knew.
When I got home, all I really wanted to do was wash off all the sweat and go to sleep. I could feel its gritty presence on my skin, and that’s never pleasant.
Concerts are always so exhausting. -Spanky
If you missed Part One, check it out here.
For some shirtless shots of MCR, see MCR Unwrapped.
For Project Revolution Set times click here
Edited Note: If you are a Linkin Park fan headed to Projekt Revolution, make sure to check out the booths where you can buy a live recording of Linkin Park’s performance for that night. How? You buy the code to download the audio off the internet the next day. Take it as a promise the show is going to be stellar if they are preselling live recordings. Linkin Park is one of the best live performances we’ve ever been. Chester Bennington’s voice is as close to perfect as it gets. He doesn’t even need a mic. LP’s performance makes good on their promise in terms of music, vocals, performance, energy, crowd interaction…It’s got it all. -Kitty
Spanky’s Projekt Revolution Review (Part One)
As promised, Spanky did a review of a concert we just attended on Saturday, Projekt Revolution. It is a unique perspective because she is only fourteen. Don’t run off yet, the kid can write. Maybe one day you’ll see her work in The Rolling Stone. You never know.
Here she goes:
The drive to the Smirnoff Music Center was a long one. Well, sort of. When you’re fidgety it’s always a long drive, and I hadn’t brought any books with me, pity. So when we (we being my mother, father, and myself, as usual) got to the gates, they passed these weird detector things over us.
Long story short, they found my granola bar. They tried to make me throw it away, too. Over by another guard, they found my mom’s umbrella and apparently, you can’t take umbrellas in, either. So of course, while my dad was causing a ruckus about the umbrella, I slipped the granola-y goodness back into my pocket and kept on walking.
All of this commotion allowed us to sneak in some chicken nuggets for my sister, after all.
So we drifted about for a few minutes, sitting in the grass and talking with my sister and her friend and eating some of her chicken nuggets and a snowball. Then we figured since Taking Back Sunday was coming on soon we’d better hurry off to our seats.
So we lounged around in our seats while they set up for Taking Back Sunday, and here I’d like to take out the time to point out a rather infuriating concert phenomenon.
When the roadies (a.k.a. the people who cart the band’s stuff about) come onto the stage bearing an instrument or some other piece of equipment, the crowd will cheer loudly. It’s louder than loud. People often cheer louder for the roadies than the bands, which is just… puzzling.
I mean, yes, they do drag around the SAME GUITAR THAT YOUR HERO TOUCHED and they should get some credit for doing all the manpower-like work for your favorite effeminate rock stars, but they don’t really do anything other than the hauling and the tuning, so they don’t deserve more attention than the people who created the music that you bought your ticket to listen to live. (Sorry roadies. You are really cool. But not that cool.)
So first we saw, rising slowly, their signature marquee with the words, “TAKING BACK SUNDAY,” and under that, “LOUDER NOW.”
The decibel level of the screaming was slowly getting more and more frightening as the marquee-thing was rising higher and higher until it stopped in its final resting position. Of course, just because it stopped did not mean that the fangirls did.
Then, of course, TBS came on, amidst the high-pitched screaming of way too many girls packed into one space at one time.
I have to say, I did not have high expectations for this show.
Taking Back Sunday has sounded (sorry, you guys) just awful the past few times I’ve seen them, so I didn’t really think that we’d be getting a fantastic concert. I mean, I seriously thought Adam’s voice was ruined forever.
Way to prove me wrong.
They actually played very well. Everything was in tune, perfectly, and on tempo and everything.
And of course, Adam could sing again. I mean, yes, he couldn’t hit a few of the high notes and that made for some really awful moments, but it sounded infinitely better than before, and, of course, he had his faithful guitarist to back him up (I’ve always wondered how he’s able to do that, play guitar and sing at the same time).
And, as always, it was just pure fun to watch Adam. He was swinging about the microphone again, which is pretty much the coolest thing ever. I’d been afraid he wouldn’t, because he didn’t for the first song or so, but then he did and I almost cried tears of joy.
Also, he looks a little like a T-Rex when he’s just standing there because of the way he holds the hands that’s not grasping the microphone. It’s rather amusing, really, and sort of cute in an, “I’m nervous and don’t know what to do with my hand,” sort of way.
Another interesting thing was his little box with the knobs next to the drums. He’d be holding a note and go back there and just amuse himself (or maybe just us) by twisting the knobs and distorting his voice. He genuinely looked like he was having fun with that, but maybe that’s just me.
The drummer was absent due to a herniated disc (how did that happen, I wonder?), so they had a fill-in drummer from another band, and he did a very good job of it.
The, “TAKING BACK SUNDAY,” bit on the aforementioned marquee was made of a bunch of lights, which danced around whilst they played.
It was all over too soon (actually, it seemed to be about the right time for it to end for me, but I’m sure the rabid fangirls would disagree [they always do]) and the band members left the stage. The lights of the marquee flicked off as it slowly descended to the ground, and out rushed the roadies to grab it and wheel it backstage.
And then they began to set up for My Chemical Romance.
They wheeled a piano onto the stage (ah, an actual piano and not a keyboard! Although there was a keyboard, too) and a backdrop unfurled. The backdrop was new, covered in wolves in what I assume is a promotion of, “House of Wolves,” one of their songs. There was also some equipment that I didn’t really know the purpose of, but that I’d find out later.
I personally think My Chemical Romance has a serious thing about playing at sunset. They always do. Maybe it has something to do with dualities or a very serious philosophical matter, but I wouldn’t know anything about that. And then again, maybe they just think that they look better in the waning sunlight.
One would not have to have their eyes open to know when Gerard got on the stage. What I mean by this is that they would be alerted by the high-pitched screeching and the possible shaking of the floor they were standing on, which could be attributed to said screeching.
Gerard looked fantastic.
Well, who am I kidding, he always does. But he somehow managed to look about five years younger than usual. He’d gotten a haircut, and he’d lost some weight, too.
This was all accented by the very tight clothing he was wearing, a change from his usual marching-band style Black Parade uniform. I could hear the fangirls’ hearts stopping, then starting again only going much, much faster than a normal heart should go. (Let’s pretend I’m not one of those fangirls.)
Click here for Part Two of Spanky’s Review. More MCR! Linkin Park!
For set times click here.
My Chemical Romance Unwrapped
In the intense August heat, also fueled by pyrotechnics, band members of My Chemical Romance take off their shirts while at the Projekt Revolution concert in Texas. Only a backstage pass beats that.
Here’s shirtless Frank before he chickened out and put on a tank top.
Here is the entire band sans shirts (except Gerard). Look above Frank’s head for Bob (drummer). We weren’t that close and the fog effects were messing with my camera’s zoom.
This shot is missing the guy filling in for Mikey.
Go on girls, drool.
When Babies Got Pretty
I used to think babies were ugly. That was until I had my first on this very day, some number of years ago.
Not only was Blane Jr. born on this very day. A new type of love was born, a love I didn’t know existed. It was like entering a whole new world or dimension.
Happy birthday, Podnah!
Here’s a song (“Welcome to the House of Fun” by The Madness) that made us all think of Blane when we heard it. He likes maniac clowns and this sounds like a maniacal clown song if I ever heard one.. (The song follows a little story at the beginning.)
Sinking Cars
I was thinking about Candace alot today, my niece who drowned in her car. I think of her every day, some days more than usual. Maybe so much today because of the heavy rains here. I always think of her when it rains like this and the ditches and gulleys swell. Probably always will.
The newspapers and the news said it was an alcohol related death, which did not turn out to be true. She did not have any alcohol (or drugs) in her system. I saw her death certificate. That was ruled out. But it took months to find out the truth. As far as I know, there has never been a correction on the news or in the papers. If there was, how effective would that be anyway? The investigation of the accident, how effective was that, if they thought she was drinking?
Maybe since it was New Year’s Eve, the cops and media wanted to scare people about driving while drinking and used the accident as an example. I don’t know. There was an empty beer can in the car somewhere and they assumed it was hers, but it was from a passenger she’d had in the car the night before. Anyway, that is what was on my mind all day today.
Later this evening the news reported a bridge collapse which sent a lot of cars into a river. That could be why my post about a how to survive a car sinking underwater got loads of hits tonight. Problem with that post is the Mythbuster video I had on there is no longer available from YouTube. It’s terrible, something that could save lives was pulled by the Discovery Channel. I’m assuming it is them who had it pulled. I’ve tried to watch videos on Discovery.com but it won’t work on Safari or Netscape.
I just edited the post and put some British guy doing a similar experiment, getting out of a sinking car. It’s not as good, but it is better than nothing. Go check it out if you haven’t seen it already.
