Archive for the ‘Baby Picture Monday..On Tuesday’ Category

Remember Baby Picture Monday?

January 19, 2010

This was day two of being back out on the street for our four mile walk. Don’t worry, I won’t be reporting that every day, just a weekly progress report of how much weight we shed. I have a personal goal of 30 lbs by May, most likely by Memorial Day weekend, our first camping trip. I’d like to be able to navigate the hills without crying from the pain in my feet. I’d also like to work the zipper on my tent without getting short of breath. When I dropped those 35 pounds 2 years ago, I began in January with a waist measurement of busting out of 36. By April, I had space for two fingers in size 34. I’d be happy with 34. Any words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated.

Quote of this past weekend: “Do you think there could still be snow?” Let me explain. Saturday, while we were each busy with our own tasks (fighting with the computer, taking down Christmas), I saw that the mail had come and being that I had a piece of mail from the day before that belonged to my next door neighbor, I’d take it with me and walk it over to their box while I was out there. Since it was obvious they already brought in the mail, I ventured down the driveway to leave it on the car in the garage. Off to the side of the driveway, was a fairly large bank of snow. Now, that “blizzard” we had was before Christmas and we really didn’t get as much as other areas, so I thought it odd that this snowbank was there, and rather sizeable. I came back in the house, after picking up a fresh batch of garbage (a beer can, cardboard, newspaper, pizza parlor fliers, plastic bottles, an orange) off my lawn and then my own mail that fell onto the garage floor when I came in to get my garbage poker. I’m not touching that crap on the lawn. I said to Ariel, “There’s a huge snowbank on the side of Barbara’s driveway.” And, after describing how big it was and how stunned I was at seeing it, I immediately followed that up with “Do you think there could still be snow?” to which he replied, “You just saw it, there must be.”

So, look at this, I had a leftover baby picture I completely forgot about. I came across it the other day while looking for something else and since it’s Baby Picture Monday (on Tuesday) I thought I’d show it to you.

Tonight is that long awaited “How To Get Published” meeting and you can bet I’ll be reviewing that. Who knows, maybe there will be that one thing that gets talked about that will make all the difference. And, no, I haven’t begun working on the book again, even though I said I was going to after the holidays were over, but I haven’t been able to work out a schedule yet. But, on the positive side, we did say we were going to get back to walking and generally taking better care of ourselves and that finally got off the ground, so there’s hope for me yet.

I Don’t Have A Title For This Blog

December 29, 2009

Perfect timing. This is the last of my baby pictures and this is the last Baby Picture Monday of the year. I hadn’t planned it that way, it just happens that’s how it worked out. Actually, there is one, well, two more pictures in that stash I came across; one is my high school year book picture and one is my cap and gown picture, but they’re not really baby pictures in that sense, but they were taken when I was 17, during the summer before my senior year. Maybe one day next year I’ll put those up, if you beg me enough to see them. In the meantime, this is me at 7. I think I finally grew into those ears.  (What the hell? ) At least I’d like to think I did.

Yesterday I heard of an intriguing story that I learned was already about a year old only to find the story was first broadcast on the news in 2004. It concerns a young boy by the name of James Leininger whose parents were convinced was reincarnated from fallen WWII fighter pilot James Huston Jr. From a young age, James Leininger was consumed with airplanes until one night they began to give him nightmares. He would wake up screaming and would tell his mother, Andrea, “Airplane crash on fire, little man can’t get out.” Another time, Andrea bought her son a toy airplane and pointed out something on the underside that looked like a bomb, but the boy corrected her, telling her it was a drop tank. The family maintained the youngster’s television viewing habits were only children’s shows and that no conversations about military history took place in the house, nor were documentaries watched on television. On advisement from a therapist, as the boy shared his “memories” with his parents his worsened nightmares became less severe and less frequent yet he was becoming more articulate about his “past” and most of his recollections came at bedtime when he would be drowsy.

Among young James’ remembrances were that of his plane having been hit by the Japanese and he crashed, that he flew a Corsair and that it always had flat tires. He also noted the name of the boat he took off from, Natoma, and the name of someone he flew with, Jack Larson. After some research, Natoma and Larson turned out to be factual. Young James also said he was shot down at Iwo Jima and his crayon drawings would be signed “James 3”. Bruce Leininger, the boy’s father, learned there was only one pilot killed at Iwo Jima–James M Huston Jr.

The late pilot’s sister, Anne Barron, was contacted by the Leiningers and she, too, was convinced of the phenomenon, as there was no way the young boy could have otherwise known the things he spoke of. She gifted young James with a bust of George Washington and a model of a Corsair aircraft, effects of her late brother’s that was sent home after the war. Perhaps the pilot’s mission in the afterlife has been carried out; telling what happened, because the boys vivid recollections are beginning to fade as he gets older.

Upstart Miley Cyrus is now condemning Angelina Jolie and Madonna for allowing their children to be on camera all the time. Hmm, Miley “Hannah Montana” Cyrus’s television career began at the age of 9, had recently pole danced atop an ice cream cart (it was art) and gotten tattooed (in memory of her friend who died of cystic fibrosis). Oh, but wait, the worldly 17 year old hasn’t had any children of her own yet to be so judgmental, not that she has a right to be shooting off her mouth given she’s a child star purposely in the public eye.

How to store your baby walker: First remove baby.

Looks like rabbit ears are making a comeback and more than 13 million American households watch TV the old fashioned way, and for FREE. Apparently, dozens of channels are available. This new antenna, which can range in price from about $5 to nearly $200 (depending on the its complexity) also needs the help of a TV that can process a digital signal and if it’s an older set, a converter needs to be installed. So, it’s kind of like going “digital” in reverse. It’s a one time charge as opposed to a monthly one and if Turner Classic Movies would be available through an antenna, I’d almost consider it. Hmm, but maybe I’d be able to find a rerun of I Love Lucy, which is nowhere to be seen on any of the I don’t even know how many channels I have on my cable. But I’ve got all The Golden Girls I could ever want–8 hours a day on the Hallmark Channel alone!

Braille Dictionary.  Must see to appreciate.

As part of the new flying safety regulations since the recent (failed) terrorist bombing attempt, passengers cannot get out of their seats durinig the last hour of their flight. Nor can they hold anything in their laps. Nor reach for anything in the overhead compartments. Really? Will that help? Well, first of all, if everything was screened and assumingly correctly to ensure nothing of any consequence got on the plane (which is the bigger issue here) why can’t a passenger continue reading his book or magazine, or keep his chilled legs warmed with a blanket? Utterly ridiculous. If there’s going to be security checks, then check EVERYONE and EVERYTHING. The last time we flew, my carry on bag was rifled through and tossed aside, leaving me to have to repack it (not an easy task when you’re being pushed and shoved by others in a hurry), my pants nearly falling to the floor because I had to remove my belt. Then I would have been arrested for indecent exposure. My mother, who was being carted around in a wheelchair (for swifter mobility through the airport) had to be searched. Ariel, with his belt firmly around his waist, went through, without so much as anyone looking into his bag.

This will make us all feel better. It was announced yesterday that with or without Simon Cowell, post 2010, the show will go on. Fox TV is putting the finishing touches on a deal to keep American Idol on beyond the end of its contractual run in 2011.

Today the exterminator is coming to see what they can do about our stink bug problem. Ordinarily I would be squeamish in admitting I have a “bug” problem, but everyone I talk to is in the same situation and they’re not going away. The only thing is, I thought they were coming yesterday. I called them to see if they could come on Thursday, hopefully before we went to Newark but the time window they gave me would be cutting it too close and they had nothing on Saturday and I’m this certain I repeated out loud so Ariel could hear it when they told me it would be Monday. Four hours after they should have been here, I called and was assured it was set for today. Same time frame. Who’s right? Who’s wrong? Who cares, just get rid of my bugs.

It’s Planely Ridiculous

December 22, 2009

Here’s one for you. Last night, on a news brief between television shows, there was an item that rather put our backs up. The government, just yesterday, ordered airlines to let passengers off planes that are delayed on the ground for more than three hours. They can’t hold passengers hostage with no food, water or bathroom facilities. Yes, it took the government, not the company to whom you pay through the nose to fly, to check in a second bag even…to pay for a friggin’ pillow to rest your head,  to realize that’s a no-no. Of course the airlines are poo-pooing (no pun intended) that idea because they say having to return a plane to a gate to avoid a significant fine would only cause more delays and would be inconsistent of achieving their goal of completing as many flights as possible. Oh, and by the way, as a sort of call back to yesterday’s blog, the three major airports in the New York area; Newark, JFK and LaGuardia are the country’s worst offenders for late departures, hence one more piece of the puzzle in the low stature on the happiness scale.

Whoops, before I forget, it’s Baby Picture Monday on Tuesday and that’s me at 5. Look at that thin-lipped smirk. There’s something going on in that head of mine, I can see it in my eyes. I have a feeling I was up to no good.

It’s not your eyes, Donna, I did put snow on the blog. Cool, no? It’s hard to see against the white background, but you can see it real well after a few seconds on the picture I put up yesterday of the big bush by the corner of the house and it looks like it’s still snowing.

Here’s a bit of a sad story and one I think has no chance of a positive outcome.  17 families want to dig through a closed Staten Island landfill because the ashes of the remains of their loved ones might be in there. A lawyer for the city of New York, Jim Tyrrell, urged a federal appeals court to leave the landfill alone, even if it does contain the ashes of 9/11 victims stating that “These ashes are undifferentiated dirt,” echoing the words of Judge Alvin Hellerstein, who, a year ago, when he ruled that the families had no standing to sue the city, argued that nearly 1,100 victims perished without leaving a trace, that they had been incinerated in the intense raging fires or pulverized into dust by the massive tons of collapsing concrete and steel. Normal Siegel, the lawyer for the 17 families argues that it’s “disrespectful to call it dirt when it’s remains.” He also pointed out the 223,000 tons of the material was never sifted. While work continues to identify the nearly 20,000 human remains that were uncovered, the families’ attorney says they want the material in the landfill moved to a another site where it can be properly buried. Faced with a civil action against the city, Judge Barrington Parker asked the attorney how the city could be considered to have shown a deliberate indifference in this horrible unprecedented situation. His answer: “Your loved ones on top of garbage. That’s the deliberate indifference” and continued his argument that this dirt could be used to fill a pothole. 

Of course it’s hard to say if I would feel differently all these years later had I suffered a loss of such magnitude, and I count my blessings I didn’t, but I think it’s best to abandon this crusade. I realize, for some, it’s a last ditch desperate attempt at closure (I hate that word with a passion) to this nightmare, but the endless, and probably fruitless searching would be even more devestating.

Finally, there is more  news on the Eric Williamson case, the man who was seen making coffee in the nude. He’s been found guilty of indecent exposure but the judge did not fine him or put him in jail. He maintains he had no intention of “exposing” himself at 5 o’clock in the morning to those who crossed his yard at that hour. A seven-person jury will rule on the propriety of Williamson’s domestic nudity in February. So, stay tuned.

Here are a few more pictures from the snow we had the other night, all thumbs. Click on them and they’ll open.

The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

December 15, 2009

Yesterday, not that very far from here,  the Bridgewater-Raritan High School reopened after being closed since the arrest of a 16 year old junior  last Thursday who was targeting the school in a Columbine-like attack. An unidentified female student alerted a police officer permanently stationed at the school and that led to the arrest at the student’s home where police found an arsenal of explosives, bomb-making plans and ammunition. Another suspect, a senior from another area high school was also arrested for helping supply the 16 year old with ammunition and was also instrumental in helping his secure his supplies. The unidentified girl, described as shy, is being considered a hero for helping save the lives of the 2,900 students at the school.

If it’s Tuesday, it must be Baby Picture Monday. This is me at about 4 years old.

Let’s get back to that dream I hinted at yesterday.  Ariel and I were in some darkly lit pub-type place. Along the length of one wall was a heavilyand  ornately carved bar and moldings up on the wall behind it that separated sections of mirror reflecting the shiny bottles of liquor on the shelves. Opposite the bar, along the other wall were tables and chairs. At the far end of the bar was an opening in the wall that let out to a stagy area where a play was about to take place.

We had gotten there late and shared a table with family; mother, father and 3 sons, who all looked alike, as though they were 3 different aged versions of the same person, all in blue button down shirts and a crop of thick dark hair, parted on the side. The didn’t seem to mind that we were sharing their table, but except for the initial smile of acknowledgment when we first arrived, they acted as though we weren’t even there.

Who else was in the audience was my father, who had maneuvered his power chair into position at a table and somehow I knew he was thirsty. To get to the bar was nearly impossible because of the throng of people already bellied up to get drinks so I made my way to the cafeteria in another part of the bar. I stood in line while a bunch of indecisive clods tried to figure what to order while time was running out for the start of the show. Finally, when the group in front of me had placed their order, I shimmied my way up closer because I knew the guy behind the counter wouldn’t hear  my low speaking voice. While I waited for my drinks, I moved out of the way for other people and overheard the beginning of a nauseating exchange between a waitress and a customer.

The waitress was wearing a paper hat, kind of like the type they used to wear at McDonald’s and she had a straw resting behind her ear and the customer was a Paul Newman type of guy who got her all giddy and she was kind of cooing answers to questions he would ask her and he began to coo in that same way with her. I rolled my eyes in disgust, grabbed my drinks and left. The play had started already, but I took my place at the table near the end of the bar with the family of blue shirted young men. What was supposed to be a tree, above the bar, splintered outward with the voice of Bette Midler singing and that was the finale of act one. Next thing I know, I could swear that was her, sitting within arms length from me, taking off her jacket, her back to me. She wouldn’t turn around, but I knew it was her. Ariel told me to go to her, but I shied away.  (What’s up with that?)

Wow, I just realized this is gonna get long. There is a whole ‘nother half to the crazy dream, but let me get to a good spot to stop it. There seemed to be a long long delay in the start of the second act and suddenly the lights came up in the stage area glowing yellow and orange and my nieces, my step-brother’s daughters, Brittni and Jenna, not Melissa and Angela, became all giddy and flopped themselves onto a crushed velvet upholstered settee on the far end of the stage and a troupe of actors in togas and gold painted laurels of grape leaves, or whatever they used back then, soon appeared and began to act out some dramatic Grecian performance.

When the scene was over, the one who was tragically killed lay in billows of red fabric and as he was pulled off the stage by the “slaves” his toga rode up and try as he might to conceal himself, he was temporarily “exposed” and he seemed pretty proud of it.

And that’s enough for today. Did you hear me call number 52?

It Happened Last Night

December 8, 2009

We were watching our daily dose of DVR’d TV last night when in between recorded shows was Turner Classic Movies on live TV, the  channel it’s usually parked on and “It Happened One Night” with Clark Gable and Claudette Colbert was on and it just so happened it was during the famous scene where the two of them are in that hotel room getting ready for bed and off comes Clark Gables shirt and there he is, in all his celluloid manly glory, bare chested and that quickly brought to mind the question we had about the rumor of undershirt sales as a result of this scene. Well, we had it backwards, because we thought it was the presence of his undershirt that boosted sales, but apparently it the lack of one that caused sales to plummet. So, I looked it up.

Before I go on, as you can see, being Tuesday, it’s Baby Picture Monday. 2 years old. The lamb!

So, the T shirt. It has its dubious beginnings across the big pond, when Queen Victoria (or a member of her royal entourage) was due to inspect the fleet and the commanding officer ordered the sailors to sew short sleeves onto their undershirts to spare royal eyes from having to look at sweaty hairy underarms.

But the more likely inception of the T-shirt was on this side of the Atlantic when in 1913, the US Navy adopted the undergarment to be worn under the sailors’ jumpers to cover their chest hair. In the 1930’s a garment similar to today’s tank top, known then as an A-shirt (I’ve used that term on occasion) was becoming popular.

Then in 1934, it’s alleged that the King of Hollywood, Clark Gable brought the undershirt industry to its knees by appearing without one in the aforementioned scene in “It Happened One Night”. There is no real substantial evidence he was the sole cause of the sales decline, but if the movie viewing public was as fickle and easily  influenced then as it is now, I think it would be safe to assume that would have been the case.

World War II and future movie leading men are said to bring back the trend of wearing the T-shirt. During the war, the Navy once again ordered them for the sailors to work in and the men found them comfortable enough to wear off-duty as well and during the 40’s and 50’s the need for the working man to have a tee grew as rapidly as cities and suburbs. Marlon Brando who flexed his way through “A Streetcar Named Desire” in a skin tight tee brought the undershirt to a heightened stature and James Dean, a few years later in “Rebel Without A Cause” appealed to teens, and a new fad of jeans and T-shirts was born.

I’m not exactly sure why I’m posting this video, other than that it would spark some sort of emotion. It’s rather long and painfully repetitious.

What gets me though, after watching it a few times, is how the kicker does an almost exact mirror tuck and roll as the guy he kicked, like a synchronized dance of the wounded “area”. My guess is it’s sheer empathy and solidarity, even though he’s the one who inflicted the painful blow.  Even as I watch this video I find myself typing in a higher octave and remembering the time I fell off the seat of my bicycle when I failed at trying to pop a wheelie to get over a curb.

And with that, I’m off to work. Have a teriffic day.

The Old Gray Hair

December 1, 2009

You know what’s worse than having a nightmare about an attack deer with sewn on eyes, or eyes made out of machine screws and metal washers for that matter? The fact that it’s December 1st. I realize I said yesterday we were shopping for Christmas gifts over this past weekend, but to actually see the date in black and white is a little off putting. Twenty-four days remain to get ready for the holiday. Cripes.

It’s Tuesday, time for Baby Picture Monday. Today’s blog picture is me at three months.

I made myself a note a while ago to tell you about something and stuck it in the book I mark my down my work hours in so I wouldn’t forget and I forgot to tell you anyway. A week ago today, 31 years ago, I found my first gray hair. I was 18 and actually kind of psyched about it and naturally had to tell someone about it. So I called Grandma B (you know, this grandma) and she replied with an exasperated, “So?” with a hint of that Irish sarcasm she had and then went on to assure me it wouldn’t be the last and to talk to her again when I had a headful of gray hairs like she had. This was another of those curious journal entries I came across when I was writing the Florida Sunburn Story.

I mentioned bugs yesterday. As Sunday was winding down and the last of the laundry was being folded, we called out for Chinese and my attention was drawn to the curious conversation I was hearing on TV. The show was Bizarre Foods with Andrew Zimmern on The Travel Channel and he and his father were sampling indigenous dishes of Maine and they were having quite a spirited discussion over the cod dish they were eating whose sauce was made from…well, here, I just can’t do it, see it for yourself.

The most exotic food combinations I’ve ever discussed with my father is whether or not to put an egg on a pork roll and cheese sandwich. And I haven’t even gotten to the bugs story yet. Again, I’ll just let this video tell the story.


For the record, I’m not quite sure which dish creeps me out the most. But one thing I’m certain of, it’s not clear why I’ve never watched that show in spite of the rather “tantalizing” commercials I’ve seen for it. I’ll admit, I do enjoy a good caramelized garlic encrusted escargot broiled in butter every now and then, and no one really seems to appreciate my proclivity toward an occasional peanut butter and tuna fish sandwich, except my mother, but these just seem over the top. Enjoy your Cheerios.

Incidentally, I prefer my pork roll and cheese by itself, dripping with ketchup. To sully the sandwich with an egg is sacrilegious.

Give Me A Break

November 24, 2009

Okay, so I changed my mind and put up my usual ugly mug shot instead of the next of my baby pictures. I figured I’d prolong all that adorableness and show you one each week, on Tuesdays, kind of like Baby Picture Monday except it’ll be on Tuesdays.

So, I watched the American Music Awards the other night, as I mentioned and I really don’t want to spend a lot of time on it other than a few notable mentions. First of all, Janet Jackson lip-synched her much talked about seven minute show opener medley of hits, which was supposed to be 8 minutes “we’d never forget”. Alright, not all of it, she did happen to actually utter “Come on and sing with me” in between prerecorded songs.  Ariel and I both agreed that had she come out with her medley closer song “Together Again”  now (Everywhere I go/Every smile I see/I know you are there/Smiling back at me/Dancing in moonlight/I know you are free/Cuz I can see your star/Shining down on me), it would probably be her biggest best seller of all time. Kanye West looked spooked sitting in the audience; what he was doing there at all is perplexing (there’s that word again). J-Lo fell during her fancy choreography, stepping across someone’s back and then KERPLOP, right on her biggest ASSet, but she got herself right back up without missing a beat. Whitney Houston did an emotional self analytical recapping ditty of her rise from the ashes and the audience’s reception brought her to tears.

What else was there of note? Oh, yes, it was more like the Taylor Swift show. She won 5 awards and thanked everyone via satellite, far away from Kanye West in London where she was rehearsing her show there. I must be missing something, or maybe it’s the fact I’m not a sixteen year old girl that’s keeping my shrouded in mystery, but I don’t get the appeal. Another thing I didn’t get (and I know I’m gonna get my head handed to me by a certain someone) is how Michael Jackson managed to win quite a few awards himself, when, for a number of years he hasn’t done anything. Well, he died, so I guess his fans (since these awards are fan-based) decided a write in vote was appropriate. I don’t know. One thing though, in Taylor Swift’s favor, is she won the award for Artist Of The Year, over Michael Jackson.

And the moment I wished I had not seen, even a glimpse of,  was the Adam Lambert closing number. I only saw some of it because Ariel made me rewind it to see one part of his “choreography”. But I saw clips of it on the news yesterday and then of course there was a smattering of online articles. Besides the walking two of his male dancers on the end of a leash while they were on their hands and knees and trying to dislodge something from the throat of his male keyboard player with his tongue, and he shoved another male dancer’s face into his crotch. Maybe for some it was expected from the screech king from last year’s American Idol but for others, such as myself, it was just a ridiculous gimmicky cover for someone with nothing else to offer, kind of like movies with special effects in overdrive to mask the absence of plot.

What boggles my mind is, where were the censors? Event producers said they did not expect the impromptu moments of “freedom of expression and artistic freedom” (according to Lambert) which differed from rehearsals. It is still unclear whether the FCC, who is all up in arms with rules regarding profane or indecent material ever since the event that rocked the very moral foundation of the entire world, The Wardrobe Malfunction, will incite a fine to ABC because of the time slot in which Lambert performed his trashy routine. It was after 11pm past the 6-10 window during which the broadcasting of indecent material is banned. And of course, he succeeded in getting people to talk about him.

And one more thing, in regards to the censors, it just makes me nuts to read how the producers couldn’t “expect” something like this when for the past several years it has become tradition for the awards to be  filled with nothing but shocking controversial acts. But oddly, they weren’t asleep at the switch in 2007 when Sally Field’s rant on the “god-damned war” was silenced when she won for her role in Brothers and Sisters and all we saw of the end of her speech was the ceiling of the auditorium for several seconds until it was “safe” to return to the event.

Come on! Give me a break!

Now, darn it, there was something else I wanted to show you but those AMA’s took up all my time. I guess it’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

Hey! I’m Back

November 23, 2009

I’m back. I needed a rest. Well, part of the reason I’ve been away is because I was on vacation and the other part of the reason was because I just had to get all my ducks in a row afterwards and get myself back into the swing of things. And now I’m not sure if I got my blog game on, but I’ll give it my best shot.

Okay, well, my vacation was spent with my family in Illinois and spent most of the time just hanging out with my father, talking about family stuff, waxing sentimental and overall just enjoying each other’s company. We had a big family dinner on Saturday at The Ranch where in a moment of weakness from too much to eat, I divulged my famous apple pie recipe to my sister-in-law. And I also broke tradition and did not make plans to go Alexander’s Steakhouse. My trips in the recent past to the Midwest have been short and rushed and I just wanted to enjoy time with my family.

And in regards to the family stuff we talked about there was some unbelievably fantastic documentation which you’ll be seeing once the next chapters of McGinty Chronicles launch, most likely beginning after the first of the year. And I’m really looking forward to getting that back up and running. And I also was given John Logan’s (my great-grandfather) cane shaped walking stick which will get hung on the wall of my office as soon as I figure just where I want it and when I find an appropriate way to hang it. I want just the right holder for it and put it where it will be out of hand’s reach.

So, Brian, what’s up with that blog picture? I’m glad you asked. While we were going through stacks of pictures, I found a series of pictures that were taken of me through my first few years. This one happens to be my hospital picture. Cute…no?  Wait until you see tomorrow’s.

Okay, so I was home from my trip in time for work on Wednesday and by Friday, I needed a break so it was off to the theater. We had tickets to see A Steady Rain starring Hugh Jackman and Daniel Craig. It was a 2-man, no-intermission play about two cop partners who had been friends since kindergarten in a tough Chicago neighborhood and how their lives had intertwined since, including bachelor Craig being in love with married but cheating (with a hooker) Jackman’s wife. In every sense of the word it was a minimalist set, namely two chairs on a representative cement slab and an occasional dimly lit backdrop of either a ghetto apartment building or a densely wooded area. I heard gasps and groans as the story developed coming from the audience but it wasn’t really gripping me like that. For me it just sort of rolled along with no emotion. I gave it a 6 and Ariel gave it a 9.

At the end of the play, the two stars announced that it was time for a Broadway Cares: Equity Fights AIDS drive, which happens twice a year on Broadway for period of time and among the incentives to drop big dollars in the buckets by the exit doors were signed Playbills and posters. But the big ticket of the night was Jackman’s announcement that the wifebeater tanktop he was wearing on stage that night would be autographed and given to the highest bidder from the audience, beginning at one thousand dollars. Two people waged a bidding war and at 10 thousand, Jackman stopped the auction and announced that for that amount each, both he and Craig would sign their shirts for the two warring bidders backstage.

By contrast, I heard on Saturday that the sequined glove Michael Jackson wore when he did his moonwalk for the first time on television was among the items being auctioned off that night at the Julien’s Auction, and the estimated amount it was expected to bring in was in the neighborhood of $50,000. Not all that big a big price, for something of the “King Of Pop’s” I thought, by comparison to a tanktop for $10,000 the night before. Well, the glove, as it turns out, sold for $350,000. So, egg on my face.

Well, I’m really writing this on Sunday night and I’m watching the American Music Awards which I’ll probably moan and groan about tomorrow, if I deem any of it worthy of mention.

Have a great day.