had fun. tired. hurting. read review. is funny. ow. whee.

I'm coming down after daily doses of Rockstar after five performances of the play. Add to that, I had to get up at 7:30 this morning after four hours of sleep to sign up for the League of Washington Theatres Auditions. And add to all of that the fact that every waking moment I was not doing any of THAT these past four days, I'd dedicated to spending quality time with my girlfriend.

After napping from 4 to 11 o'clock today, I'm up and wide fucking awake, nursing a killer caffeine withdrawal headache. As such, I don't have the mind ability to write a real LJ account of these past few days as I had hoped. So in lieu of that, I present to you a review of THE DAVID DANCE, as written by my good friend and latest recruit to the Rude Mechanicals, the late, great fishymcb!*

***

THE HENFER PANTS

*cheap shill mode ON*

Hey, John and Jane Everyperson! How did you wind up with such stupid names? No, seriously! I went to high school with Joe Horney, Jeff Dumps, and Brian Yangsomcheep, and even they think your names suck! Hold on, drop the phone! Why does everyone immediately jump up to call the police when I force myself into their homes and start insulting them? No, I don't want your money. I'm just asking for a few minutes of your time so that I can tell you about an amazing new theatrical endeavor that will broaden your mind and tickle your heart with the feathers of loveliness! But as long as you've got your wallet out, I'll take that 1/2 off an appetizer coupon from Friday's off of your hands.

Look, I'll keep it simple. Are you sick and tired of plays that don't live up to the promises they make? Think about some of those stuffy plays you studied in school. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? I don't know! They never told us! A Streetcar Named Desire, huh? Well, I vaguely remember there being a streetcar, but it sure as hell didn't have a name! A Raisin in the Sun, will ya? That play had a beautiful message about racial inequality and the responsibilities of being a grown man, but it was ruined for me by the complete and utter lack of raisins! These so-called "classic" playwrights are nothing but a band of common, lying gypsies if you ask me! If you want truth in advertising, you have to look to the up-and-coming writers, like Don Scime. It just so happens that his play The David Dance features a character named David, and he does in fact dance! Choke on THAT, Rotting Corpse of Tennessee Williams!

But golly, you say, why would I mention this one play out of the hundreds - nay, millions - that are floating out there in the dramatic cosmos? Well, it just so happens that it is currently being performed right in your backyard! Okay, not at this moment. And not right behind your home. You're a gullible sort, aren't you? By "currently", I mean this coming Wednesday through Saturday, June 7-10 at 8:00 PM (6:00 PM if you live in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean on a giant clam. And if you do, you could probably use a night out). By "your backyard", I mean the mass-transit-accessible confines of Arlington, VA (it's a short bus ride from the Metro station at the Pentagon, the place where they keep your personal records from grade school...how's that bladder problem these days?). Oh, and by "being performed", I mean, "being performed by very hardworking actors who are probably starving due to their choice of vocation and you can't just expect to see such theatrical brilliance for free so dig deep and cough up the twenty bucks already because we have less pleasant ways of getting it from you if we have to, but we think this will be much easier for all of us in the long run, don't you?". I could give you all the minor details, like student rates (fine, it's eighteen dollars for students, but enjoy that gravy train while it lasts) and directions and such, but that's what the Internet is for: quick fixes. Go to this website: The Trumpet Vine Theatre Company and tell them Horatio the short-tempered marmoset sent you.

So now we got all of the boring details out of the way, and we can delve into the rich peanutty, caramel, nougat center of the play itself. Oops, I was thinking of a Snickers bar. I should've waited until after lunch to do this thing. The David Dance is a taut, futuristic thriller depicting a bleak world in which couples get married, and then change their minds and end those marriage. Sometimes one person terminates multiple marriages in a lifetime! Absurd, no? It gets worse. The world of talk radio has been populated with insipid callers who spout off ill-informed, poorly phrased opinions, gasp! In this world, parents sometimes lose their children on purpose, leaving them to be raised by religious zealots in bizarre, black and white costumes. Perhaps most shocking of all in this far-off wasteland, good and decent people are mocked, condemned, legislated against, and even assaulted, and all because they are attracted to persons of the same sex! Shocking, I know. It's worth seeing this play just for a bold reminder of how fortunate we are to live in such enlightened times as we do. But, as always, there's an even more compelling reason to take in a night at the theatre. It's a man...one man...

John "Iron Tongue" Hefner, the Beast of Bethesda, is at it again! Marvel in his versatility as he effectively portrays up to and including two, count 'em, TWO characters! Swoon as he brazenly displays his chest hair in a dazzling array of unbuttoned shirts with various geometric patterns! Wonder how he gets his sideburns to grow so very straight, when his character is so very gay! Oh, there's so much to tell, but I simply cannot spoil it, so I will leave you with a couple questions:

-Is playwright Don Scime, who portrays David, really the love child of Harry Shearer and Hank Azaria? (I call him Harank Shazaria.)

-How did they ever find a young actress to play the orphan child Margaret? I assumed all actresses under the age of 14 were enslaved by Dakota Fanning's agent and shipped off to toil in the many underground coal mines of Los Angeles.

-And of course, will Chris (portrayed by the Tenth Wonder of the World, John Hefner) save the day by kissing David, caring for Margaret, resurrecting Kate, and inventing an intolerance antidote for June Handley?

There's only one way to find out! Be there, or be given a severe wedgie by the gnomes that live in my linen closet!

***

Also, I know it's not exactly gratuitous, but GIP. For those that get the joke.

*What, he's still alive? After that chest hair jab, not for long! Ohh, who am I kidding? I'm such a fuzzy metrosexual.

eee.

Hey pallies! Been awhile! It's been a heck of a weekend and while I'm feeling brain-dead and exhausted, not at all looking forward to this final week of THE DAVID DANCE... regardless, I'm feeling pretty damn good.

Here's why:

First of all, my ladyfriend Bloo came down to DC to see my play! Sadly, she wasn't able to go back home for a few days, so she was stuck with me in my room, where I forced various films upon her, including A CLOCKWORK ORANGE, THE EVIL DEAD, ARMY OF DARKNESS, UNBREAKABLE, and BUBBA HO-TEP, none of which she had ever seen before. I refuse to ever admit that I actually got choked up at the end of BUBBA this time. Whoop, there I go. I also showed her a number of episodes from a certain DVD set over which I had been jumping up and down with excitement.

Venture Brothers. Season 1.



For the comic-knowledgeable out there, yes, that *is* a glorious, glorious painting by the glorious, glorious Bill Sienkiewicz (holy crap, I actually spelled his name from memory!). This show is one of those things that actually gets funnier and more brilliant with repeated viewings. Think Johnny Quest on crack, as written by the writers of THE TICK with heapin' splashes of classic Marvel comics.

Next, I have become addicted to Netflix. Within a week of signing up, my queue is up to 350. I imagine those others of you who have Netflix are scoffing. Don't worry, I'm working on it. One of the films high up on the queue is a little film called MY BEST FIEND, a documentary about the, um, "friendship" between the brilliant madman actor Klaus Kinski and living demigod Werner Herzog. (for those who want to know why Herzog is so fucking awesome that he could kick Chuck Norris' ass, here's the proof. The man is hardcore.)

Anyhoo, for those who don't know about Kinski, dig this- the man was perhaps one of the most brilliant actors of the 20th century, appearing in over 250 films... often for no more than a couple minutes, because that's all the directors could stand. This actor was a director's nightmare, and Werner Herzog directed him in no less than *five full movies.* They shared a deep bond, a trust, even though on the set of AGUIRRE, WRATH OF GOD they were quite literally plotting to kill one another. The documentary MY BEST FIEND sets out to explore this relationship, a topic which is deeply intriguing to begin with. But what really won me over was the cover image:



That picture has had me giggling for days. God, you can just feel the love, can't you? I so gotta OTP icon that bad boy.

Speaking of OTPs of doom, I'm been picking away at the Two-Face/Typhoid Mary fanfic some more. And damn if this isn't coming along. Hell, I haven't even introduced Typhoid yet, but already I have a rich, complex portrait of a man who so desperately wants to put his past behind him, and the rest of the world who won't let him because they'd rather have the monster instead.

But what's more, this story is shaping up to be a metaphor for Crazy Girls. You know the kinds of girls I'm talking about. I just heard someone on the radio say, "The only difference between the Crazy Girl and the 55-year-old guy with the Alan Moore beard muttering to himself at the bar... is that the girl is great in the sack." Of course, that's my particular spin on it, but still, truer words, man. And it's not so much that I'm condemning the Crazy Girls as much as I'm calling out guys like us who go for them, against all our better judgment. We are, as Steve Martin put it, "Big Dumb Males," and this story is shaping up to deal with these issues with the craziest Crazy Girl of them all. At least, in comics.



But thankfully, my days of Crazy Girls are over. At least, so I sincerely hope. Because... well, you see, there were times this weekend when Bloo and I just couldn't think of any other movies to watch. So forced with nothing else to do, we resigned ourseleves to cuddling. Or as she put it, "very enthusiastic" cuddling. And... well... I actually have a girlfriend now. Not just a ladyfriend, not a fuck buddy, not an affair or a tumultuous "thing" or a summer fling... but a real live girlfriend. AND the VENTURE BROTHERS on DVD!

But seriously, I am... well, I'm doin' good. I'd go into more details here, further espousing on the merry adventures of Heffie and Bloo, but I must be a gentleman. You'll just have to wait for the Hefner Monologues: Tangled up in Bloo.

So I am pleased. I collapse now. Last week of THE DAVID DANCE begins tomorrow!