When Giant Bugs Attack

So tonight Quibbit and I were happily watching the first season of LOST on iTunes.  We're around 3 episodes from the season finale and yes, yes, I know, that's THREE SEASONS behind everyone else but I had some problems picking it up mid-season back then (What ... as if I'm the only one?) and then just decided it was too much trouble than it was worth.  Which of course is not true.  Thanks to iTunes I was able to catch up, albeit slowly.  I'm sure the traumas that occur during Season 1 pale in comparison to all the other stuff that happens later, but just try and remember how you felt way back in 2004.  Pretty nail biting stuff ... 

So there we are, engrossed, hardly able to focus on anything but the show ... Until .... 

All of a sudden out of the pitch black darkness I felt what seemed to be a wad of paper thrown at me.  I immediately flung it off, jumped up screaming, and scared Quibbit half to death.

We looked everywhere, but couldn't find a logical thing that it could have been.

Luvvie: You don't understand!  It was like a giant spitball thrown at me! 

Quibbit: Well, let's find it ...

Luvvie: Where did it come from?

Quibbit: I have no idea.

Luvvie: Do you think it was a ghost?

Quibbit: One can only hope ...

Well this went on for a bit ... we found a wadded up tissue across the room ... yeah, maybe that could have been it ... but who threw it at me?  (Cue scary music ...)  Could it have been that French Woman?  No, dammit!  Focus!  This isn't the Island!

Quibbit decided to go investigate in another part of the apartment.   Not that there are many "parts" to the apartment.  More like different angles to the apartment.  

Quibbit: Oh ... okay  ... I think I see what it was. 

Luvvie: A bug?

Quibbit:  Yes.  Quite a big one.  If you don't want to get upset, don't look over there ...

So I look (of course) "over there" and I see, on the wall,  the Biggest Damn Bug I've ever seen and I run to the other side of the room, but I can still see it.  Like, it was THAT BIG.

Due to my enormous fear of bugs, a few years ago for Christmas Quibbit got me (among other things) this bug zapper which I always likened to having a gun in the house.  As in: I felt much safer having it around but dreaded the time I'd have to actually use it.  

So of course, tonight was that night.  

Quibbit got the bug zapper and after a few failed attempts finally caught it in the trap, but it was SO huge that it wouldn't sink down to the zapper part and get itself fried.  So the device was, at this point, just a bug TRAPPER.  Which is fine, of course, unless you're me and living with an insane fear of bugs because then all you can imagine is that even though the trap door only goes one way and the bug has no way whatsoever of getting out, this bug will buck all odds, get loose, and (now mad at you) come and do what bugs do to human beings.  (I don't think we fully know the extent of what that is yet.  But I'm always fearful that one day we'll find out.  And boy will we regret it ...)

So since it was just trapped in the little tube, Quibbit had a chance to examine it.  "Do me a favor and Google Cicada" he told me  ... and I did, and described the picture to him and he said that's what it was that he had, trapped in the bug zapper.

Now, I have plenty of friends who live in Florida who will tell me they see these awful creatures all the time, and that's great, Friends In Florida, I'm happy for you.  And you've learned to live with them the way I've learned to watch, mildly amused, as subway rats scurry onto the subway platform (yes, folks, high above the tracks ...) as I wait for the #2 train.  I mean, I wouldn't want them any closer than the 5 meters I've put between us, but I'm not exactly sobbing with fear either.  However, Cicadas aren't (as far as I know) native to New York and I've never actually seen one in person before.  Let alone have one into my home.  They're like vampires!  You don't invite them in!

Anyway, while Quibbit was waiting patiently for the Cicada to make his way down the tube into the electric chamber I had some time to further research them.  So I scanned the Wikipedia entry which gave more information than I wanted to know ... as well as a little sound file which immediately gave me the creeps.  

But then delving further on the topic, I also find this little gem.  What? Are you kidding me? Seriously? Who in their right mind would name a restaurant after a Damn Giant Bug?  I mean, why don't you just name your place Roach Infested or Rat Droppings or Closed Because of Health Code Violations? Granted, the place looks absolutely fabulous, and I'm sure many people have eaten there and had a fantastic time, but I stand by my original thought.  And I would suggest that when there, no one order the Quail ... because traditionally Quail don't have the wingspan of a Beechcraft.  But I know a little something that does ...

Anyway, at some point the Cicada managed to accept the unavoidable (I'd like to think with a brave look on his face) and went toward the zapper part of the tube while I hummed Taps.  Quibbit waited a few more minutes before giving it a proper burial at sea. The rest of the night was spent a bit less frantic but no less nerve wracking ... I mean, there's an unopenable hatch in the middle of the jungle!  I just hope it's not filled with Giant Bugs. 

Not in Kansas Anymore ...

Years and years ago I got the Gregory McGuire book Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West and it immediately became one of my top favorites of all time. I'm a big fan of stories that tell the other side of the story (see: Rosencrantz and Gildenstern are Dead). Moral of Wicked: Don't always believe the first story you hear, even if that story is coming from a poor little Kansas farm girl who got picked up off her fence post by a tornado and was deposited, worlds away, into a strange place where 1) citizens are diminutive and members of something called the Lollipop Guild, 2) the welcome committee is comprised of one women who arrives onto the scene via Floating Giant Bubble, 3) there's only one road you can follow to get out of the place, and 4) everything that's gone wrong is the fault of some wicked green witch who likes to transform people into tin and straw for kicks when she's not commanding a fleet of flying monkeys.

Fast forward to around 2003 when Wicked made its way to Broadway. I was working just blocks away, and couldn't help but notice the throngs of people who congregated nightly to take in this new musical. Unfortunately, by the time I thought to buy tickets there was a 3 - 4 month wait. I figured I'd hold off till the hype died down.

Fast forward again, to 2005 (hype has done the opposite of "died down") and now find me dating a guy I like to call Rock (As in I am Rock! I can not love! I am not built to be with anyone else permanently! I have no heart! Talk about a Tin Man ...). Rock wasn't a bad guy, he just wasn't the guy for me. We'd been friends for around 6 years prior to our very brief affair, and I think both of us would have been happier had we just remained friends -- it would have saved us both a lot of bother. Still ... sometimes you just have to see what's behind Door Number Three, Alex. Some times it's A BRAND NEW CAR! and some times it's just a year's supply of Rice-A-Roni. Thanks for playing!

Rock broke up with me the day after my birthday (no, no ... this does not fulfill the Birthday Curse of Luvviepuffaroo because he left me the day after) and even though it probably was inevitable that we part I think the timing took even HIM by surprise, since just the night before, for my [July 3rd] birthday, he'd gotten us tickets to see Wicked ... for the end of August. So obviously he thought he'd be around for at least 6 weeks longer.

When the night of the show rolled around I'd toyed with the idea of taking Rock with me (after all ... he HAD paid ...) but it was really hard to see him after the breakup and I didn't want to sit there in the theatre, crying (and I KNEW I would be crying because I get really overwhelmed at Broadway shows ... heck, I cried during Run, Freedom, Run! while attending a performance of Urinetown) and have him think that I was bawling over him. So I took my mom instead. Who very sweetly held my hand during all the parts she knew were striking a particularly difficult chord.

Needless to say, the show was spectacular, breathtaking ... everything I didn't think a show NOT written by Stephen Sondheim could be. When I realized that the composer, Stephen Schwartz, was the same man who did Godspell and Pippin well, then it all made sense. Has there ever been a better song of existentialism (And don't you see I want my life to be something more than "long" ... I've got to be where my spirit can run free) than Corner of the Sky? Well ... yes. Defying Gravity. But more on that later.

Unfortunately, since I'd had that pretty painful breakup just a few weeks before, a lot of the show was tainted with shades of regret. I nearly gave myself a heart attack by trying to chock back the sobs that bubbled up during "I'm Not That Girl" (Every so often we long to steal / to the land of what-might-have-been / But that doesn't soften the ache we feel / When reality sets back in ..."). I loved the show, but I hated the connection it had to the Rock breakup. For a long time I couldn't listen to the soundtrack without having odd little feelings.

Fast forward (again!) and now it's 2008, I'm engaged to Quibbit, Rock (and any memory of him ) is long gone, and Quibbit has now heard me mention "Wicked" in the area of 4,193 times. So I went ahead and got tickets last March for ... August 21st. Almost exactly 3 years (to the day) that I saw it the first time.

I love Wicked. I will always love Wicked. I loved that I was finally able to share it with my Boo. I love that it's not about good vs. evil, but rather about degrees of good versus different degrees of good. I love that it's all about subtle (and some not-so-subtle) shades of interpretation. And specifically, I love how everything you thought was evil in the Wizard of Oz is turned on it's ear because you never got the full story the first time around. I love how two girls can start off on opposite ends of the spectrum, come together, and yet eventually part because neither is built to follow the other's path.

I love Stephen Schwartz's elegant internal rhymes throughout (Take Popular: When I see depressing creatures / with un-prepossessing features / I remind them on their own behalf / To think of celebrated heads of state / Or specially great communicators / Did they have brains or knowledge? / Don't make me laugh! / They were popular! Please / It's all about popular!) I love his humor in What Is This Feeling -- A love song about hate: What is this feeling / So sudden and new? / I felt the moment I laid eyes on you / My pulse is rushing / My head is reeling / My face is flushing / What is this feeling? / Fervid as a flame / Does it have a name? / Yes! / Loathing, unadulterated loathing.

I love how No Good Deed takes Elphaba's character so perfectly from someone who always strives to be better (and to help others) to someone who just can't take it anymore and just can't continue to be misunderstood: No good deed goes unpunished / No act of charity goes unresented / No good deed goes unpunished / That's my new creed / My road of good intentions / Led where such roads always lead / No good deed / Goes unpunished! / Sure I meant well --/ Well look at what well-meant did: / All right, enough - so be it / So be it, then: / Let all Oz be agreed / I'm wicked through and through / Since I can not succeed / Fiyero, saving you / I promise no good deed / Will I attempt to do ever again ...

I love Glinda's self-reflection in Thank Goodness - the message of happiness at all costs, even if you're not sure what that happiness is:

That's why I couldn't be happier / No I couldn't be happier / Though it is, I admit / The tiniest bit / Unlike I anticipated / But I couldn't be happier / Simply couldn't be happier / Well - not "simply" / Cause getting your dreams / Is strange, but it seems / A little - well - complicated. / There's a kind of a sort of ... cost / There's a couple of things get ... lost / There are bridges you cross / You didn't know you crossed / Until you've crossed / And if that joy, that thrill / Doesn't thrill like you think it will / Still ... / With this perfect finale / The cheers and the ballyhoo / Who ... / Wouldn't be happier / Because happy is what happens / When all your dreams come true. / ... Well, isn't it?

I'm also fascinated by how it's become this teen cult thing. While our seats were good (middle mezzanine) it was ruined by the fact that we were somehow smack in the middle of some bus load of teens from, I don't know, Idaho or something who couldn't refrain from calling over to each other and tossing cameras to each other (yes, before the show started, but still -- it's a little disconcerting to have things flying over your head when the show you're seeing is NOT Phantom of the Opera) and climbing all over each other during the show (I guess they couldn't see? And wanted to trade seats?) and then passing bottles of water to each other and doing that simultaneous translation thing that -- please listen to me -- DOESN'T PROVE HOW SMART YOU ARE!!! (Look! It's the wizard! He was that guy! ... Um, yeah ... we ALL got it! Now please be quiet!) I'm sure all these angsty teens can

identify with the whole "no one accepts me" thing, and have taken on Defying Gravity as their personal anthem but the whole second act only makes sense when life has knocked you around a bit and you've had to make choices a bit more difficult than whether or not to go to the college your boyfriend got accepted to just to make sure he's not cheating on you while he's away. But then again, you know, when I was 20 there was a lot going on that I figured was pretty important, and only hindsight tells me that it was ... well ... child's play. Still, it takes a more mature eye to understand the true feeling of casting off the shackles and jumping into your new life ...

Something has changed within me / Something is not the same / I'm through with playing by the rules / Of someone else's game / Too late for second-guessing / Too late to go back to sleep / It's time to trust my instincts / Close my eyes and leap ... / It's time to try Defying Gravity / I think I'll try Defying Gravity / And you can't pull me down!

All in all, the story is very satisfying, the show is spectacular, and the songs are dramatic, thoughtful, and emotional. Without a doubt, however, the watershed moment for me in the play is when Glinda and Elphaba decide that life has taken them in two different directions and they need to part in order to do the things they need to do in their own lives. The first time I heard it, in the wake of a breakup, it meant one thing, but over the years as I've listened to the soundtrack I've applied it to various people in my life who've come and gone, who's passing I regret but who's mark was deep and essential to who I am today. It's one of the most beautiful songs ever written about parting, and one I sing every time I lose someone in my life.

I've head it said that people come into our lives

For a reason bringing something we must learn

And we are lead to those who help us most to grow

If we let them, and we help them in return

Well I don't know if I believe that's true

But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you

Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun

Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?

But because I knew you I have been changed for good.

It well may be that we will never meet again

In this life time ... so let me say before we part

So much of me is made of what I learned from you

And you'll be with me, like a hand print on my heart

Now whatever way our stories end

I know you have rewritten mine by being my friend

Like a ship blown from it's mooring by a wind off the sea

Like a seed dropped by a sky bird in a distant wood

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?

But because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

And just to clear the air I ask forgiveness for the things I've done you blame me for

But then I guess we know there's blame to share

And none of it seems to matter anymore

Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun

Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the wood

Who can say if I've been changed for the better?

Because I knew you ... I have been changed.

For Good.

How Much For Just The Ribbon?

I find this very funny these days ...

Stop Calling Me!

Random Caller: .... Hello, May I please speak with Level Puffle Roo?

Luvvie: You mean Luvviepuffaroo?

Random Caller: Yes, ma'am. Level Puffle Roo. My name is Jill and I'm calling you on behalf of Some Random Company. Who is currently handling your Random Company Needs?

Luvvie: Click!

Oh, how rude! Of both of us. I'm not fond of hanging up on people ... unless we've had a dramatic blow up in which case I find it very satisfying. I've unfortunately had very little chance to fight on the phone these days, so you'd think I'd be excited about a telemarketer giving me the opportunity, yet somehow hanging up on Random Caller #4 doesn't quite carry the same punch.

S0 what to do? Listen? No ... Screen all your calls? Well, sure, but that's a bother.

Instead, keep the whole dang thing from happening altogether. Get yourself on the Do Not Call list ... by just Clicking Here.

Well, that's my PSA for today. You're welcome.

You Gotta Have Heart

When I was a little girl I was shocked to discover that you could check records out of the library just like you checked out books. It almost seemed like stealing ... stealing with your EARS.

Since my dad's collection of records was extensive but sadly lacking a few staples I immediately headed over to the Broadway section to see what they had. And there I found a treasure of shows I'd never even HEARD of before, all for the temporary taking. I was like a kid in a candy store. But more like just a kid. You know ... in a library.

The first record I ever checked out was Damn Yankees. I renewed it over and over again, sure that I was begrudging some other fan of their dose of Lola and Shoeless Joe but to hell with that! Of course, looking back, I bet I was probably the last person to check the record out, but if not, I can safely say I was probably the last 12 year old.

Oh, how fondly I can recall the afternoons spent in my basement pretending to be Lola -- the female lead, which was not how it always was for every show. Usually whenever I broke in a new record I chose a part for myself that reflected my strengths. So I was never the delicate ingenue but rather the funny side-kick friend. Even when I started getting real parts in school plays I was never the lead, but I did get a lot of applause for my turn as Mother Burnside in Mame and Mrs. Peterson in Bye Bye Birdie.

So back then, in the basement, it was a pretty big deal when my casting director (you know ... the one who lived in my head) actually chose me for the part of Lola and not for the part of the old lady who stays at home and waits for her husband to come back to her. (You know, the one referred to as "old gal" ... um ... yeah). Good times.

Fast forward to Spring of 2008 when I get an offer in the mail for significantly discounted tickets to a limited run of Damn Yankees starring Sean Hayes and Jane Krakowski. Three weeks only! the flyer shouted at me, and of course I was that 12 year old kid again, thinking that if I didn't call RIGHT AWAY the whole thing would be sold out in TWO MINUTES! I couldn't risk it.

I called immediately and got some really great seats for me, Quibbit, and Mom and Dad. When the day of the show finally came I was beside myself with excitement.

The show, to say the least, was outstanding. Having just seen The Wedding Singer a few weeks before with Quibbit in Atlantic City, it was nice to see the kind of show that made Broadway what it was (is? ... that's another debate). Not that the second string cast didn't perform their hearts out in Atlantic City ... but hey. It's Atlantic City. And it was ... The Wedding Singer.

I was pretty astonished at how many songs I remembered so well from all those years ago. I mean sure, I played that record till it almost wore through, but eventually I had to give it back to the library and never realized how sticky it was in my brain. With hummable songs like You've Gotta Have Heart, Who's Got the Pain when They Do the Mambo?, Whatever Lola Wants, Lola Gets and my favorite, Two Lost Souls, how could you go wrong? Yes, I admit it, a show like Damn Yankees reduced me down to that inner Broadway core, down in the very heart of me, where there's a tiny little man shaking his fist and proclaiming "Now THOSE were songs you could sing along to!" (However, that little man lives right next door to a Black-Eyed-Pea wannabe who spends her day dancing to Dum Diddly stopping only long enough to get Low Low Low Low Low Low Low Low to Flo Rida. So it all evens out, right?)

I've mentioned before the ridiculous amount of celebrities I've come across just by minding my own business and going about my day in NYC. But I omitted the entire category of celebrities I've been able to see perform on the Broadway Stage. Throughout the years I've seen (to name just a few ...) Chris Noth, Charles Durning, Spalding Gray, Elizabeth Ashley and Christine Ebersole in The Best Man, Kevin Bacon in An Almost Holy Picture, Jennifer Tilly, Kristen Johnson, Rue McClanahan, Cynthia Nixon, and Jennifer Coolidge in The Women, Nathan Lane and Mark Linn-Baker in Forum, Judith Light in Wit, Matthew Broderick (and Nathan Lane again) in The Producers, David Hyde Pierce, Hank Azaria and Tim Curry in Spamalot, John C. Reilly and Phillip Seymour Hoffman in True West. As a matter of fact I've seen Phillip Seymour Hoffman perform so often in person (True West, The Seagull, Defying Gravity and first row in a public appearance) that it's almost like we're best friends. So it's not like I was starstruck by the opportunity to see Sean Hayes and Jane Krakowski in person ... but rather I know how immeasurably talented they both are and just really couldn't pass up an opportunity to see them strut their stuff. Plus, did I mention ... Damn Yankees!

Of course the whole cast was fantastic and plenty of numbers were show stoppers in their own right, but never in my whole experience have I ever been to a performance where the entire show just completely grinds to a halt as someone's talent washes over hundreds of people at once and everyone simultaneously says "ahhhhh!" But that's exactly what happened when Sean Hayes did "Those Were the Good Old Days" and accompanied himself on the piano. The crowd was so swooney and giddy during his performance that I actually got a flash of what it might have been like to be in the Ed Sullivan audience when the Beatles performed. Here they both are, giving a pretty gracious interview to a pretty vapid interviewer.

Not since I went to see the live performance of A Mighty Wind (oh, so add to that list above: Christopher Guest, Harry Shearer, Michael McKean, Eugene Levy, Bob Balaban, Jane Lynch, Parker Posey, Jennifer Coolidge [again], and John Michael Higgins) was I so propelled to my feet for the true (read: not gratuitous) standing ovation. Woo hoo! There's nothing like those moments ... it's the closest I can come to understanding a sports fan who's team wins in the ... whatever game.

Mom, Dad, Quibbit and I had a perfectly wonderful random Saturday afternoon and then capped it off with a tremendous dinner at The Red Eye Grill which was better than I'd ever remembered it -- a little touristy but hey ... who says you can't be a tourist in your own city some times? All in all, pretty terrific. Even the part where Quibbit said "I think I liked The Wedding Singer better ..." Oh, that's okay. I guess it's true -- opposites do attract.

Science Fiction Double Feature

New York City in the summer can be brutal ... hotter than hot and crammed full of people. While a lot of people spend their time doing the "Yay! Summer" chant, I spend June through September finding ways to avoid the whole thing.

These last few weeks have been in the high 80s, the low 90s, I can't remember exactly -- the heat runs it all together for me. So what better way to forget your troubles than in a darkened movie theatre?

While I've always been okay with science fiction, fantasy, and graphic novels turned into movies, it was more of a take it or leave it thing before meeting Quibbit. Had it not been for him, I'd never have seen a movie like GhostRider or Fantastic 4 or X-Men. Some I've liked more than I expected to, some I've suffered through, but all have lead to good conversations afterwards since Quibbit is such a fan of the dark vs. light concept.

On Friday night after work we were able to catch Hellboy 2 which was a movie I was definitely looking forward to, having been such a fan of the first Hellboy.

I'm not sure I've every been more attracted to a guy in makeup and yet less attracted to him out of it, as I've been to Ron Perlman who, over the years, has thrilled me with his alter egos. I was glued to the TV for every episode that ever aired of Beauty and the Beast, and if I were a 16 year old girl and torn-out magazine pictures were still acceptable wall covering, I'd have Hellboy plastered all over my room.

Hellboy - Yum!        Ron - Oh Hell No!       Vincent - Swoon!

Oh wait ... now that I think of it, I DID have my 16 year old walls papered with guys in makeup -- Boy George, Dustin Hoffman as Tootsie, and pictures I'd drawn of George Hearn in full drag from La Cage Aux Folles.

Yes, it's all true! All of it!

So I guess I HAVE been more attracted to guys in makeup and less attracted to them out of it before. But that's another issue altogether ...

Anyway, Quibbit and I decided to go see Hellboy 2 and sure as God made little green apples, this movie did NOT disappoint. It was like the original Hellboy, dialed up to 11 ... it was everything Pan's Labyrinth should have been but wasn't. (Just sayin' ... all the trailers for Labyrinth would have you believe that the entire movie took place in "Hey, I've got eyes in the palms of my hands" land ... when really 95% of it took place in "Hey ... my new dad's really brutal and someone's gonna get his face slashed, Joker Style" land). So Hellboy 2 finally scratched that itch that started all those years ago. The only thing more exciting that the announcement that Guillermo del Toro will be teaming with Peter Jackson for The Hobbit would be an announcement that Guillermo del Toro would be teaming with Tarsem for some outrageous, can't-even-imagine-how-great-it-would-be film extravaganza. Well, I'll continue to hope.

On our way out of the theatre we did something that we don't do very often ... ducked into another movie to commit a misdemeanor. I mean, free second movie. Look, it's not my fault they scheduled Hancock to start 5 minutes after Hellboy got out! So, in we went and settled in for a sweet science fiction double feature.

Maybe I only saw the similarities because I saw them back to back, but besides both being eponymous titles that start with "H" these films were striking most of the same chords -- granted one had a few more characters with faces made out of finials and cathedrals and men made of odd shaped rocks or men with eyes in their wings and eyes in their shoes (I would assume), but other than that there was basically a lot of similar plot points. Misunderstood main guy is just trying to do some good but everyone gangs up on him and yells at him (usually right after he's saved someone). Both grapple with their identity, think of giving it all up, then rally in the face of the woman they love. Both have, like, LITERALLY the fate of the entire world in their own hands at one point ... and both have the love of their lives choose to save them over saving the world. Oh! Movie Love at it's best!

Quibbit read a review somewhere that Hancock was a cheap knock-off of an old movie The Return of Captain Invincible. WHICH IT WAS NOT. I happen to know this because Quibbit netflixed Captain Invincible and I suffered through the first 20 minutes of it before shouting "STOP!" and hitting eject. Okay, so Hancock and Captain Invincible are both bummy guys with great powers. I'm sure they both smell a bit. And I'm sure they both have a hard time applying for a bank loan. Past that, the similarity ends. Captain Invincible made (the otherwise talented) Alan Arkin look completely foolish, not just here and there but in every scene. And I, Luvviepuffaroo, the biggest fan of the Broadway Musical Movie in the history of Broadway Musical Movies was absolutely pushed to the point of nausea when Captain Invincible proved to be not only a badly made science fiction move but also a strangely choreographed musical. It was all very weird and creepy. Quibbit, who wasn't as bothered by it as I was (and tends to see things through to the end), watched the whole thing but said it never got any better.

Anyway, both Hellboy 2 and Hancock were very satisfying movies and ultimately made the perfect double feature on a hot summer night.