Room 590: Warner Brothers Poster Issue #3

Warner Brothers Executives are probably thanking the Harry Potter series in their Now-I-Lay-Me-Down-to-Sleeps every night. Well, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince opens this month. How do I know? Besides seeing the trailer on every channel and being a wee bit of a Potter nerd, Warner Brothers decided to help remind me by displaying a massive three storey poster at the intersection that I drive through everyday. Hermione and Ron are standing to the side with their Intense Look. Dumbledore is all wind-swept and leaning back like he was caught off guard. He has a “Whoa” look on his face. And Harry is pointing his wand at me, looking like he forgot something. (Side note: there is also a seven storey or so poster in Hollywood of the villains. The other night my friend and I drove by it and there was only one light on in the building: in Snape’s nostril. He has magical nares.) As I said before I am a Potter nerd in the light, recreational sense in that I’ve read the books (some maybe twice…or more) and I’ve seen the movies and have said “I can’t believe they cut out [insert subplot here]”. So I was excited to see the poster holding court over my hood.

On a related topic, today the same friend asked me out of nowhere if I was related to Daniel Radcliffe (AKA Harry Potter for those of you younger than a week old). Because of my affliction known as Say the First Smart Ass Thing That Comes To Your Mind, I said “Yes, we’re related. Ancestrally. Back around the time of William the Conqueror.” Which actually is not that smart-assy. It’s kind of true. My family were once Radcliffes. Apparently, when we came to America from England, we decided to drop some letters and change it up. You know, like the new girl at school who decides that now she can be who ever she wants to be and no one will know that she used to be on the math team! So it may be sad for Daniel to hear that we could never date because we have too many letters in common in our last names and our ancestors were cousins or something. It’s kind of like incest, isn’t? Or perhaps “Ancest”. (On my mother’s side is the Key family. Sorry, Francis Scott.)

Feel sad for me, too. I totally called it that Radcliffe would be cute when he got older. (I’m pretty sure I said this when the third movie came out. My brother insists I said it when the first one arrived at theatres. I answered this with five words: Natalie Portman In The Professional. OK? Don’t throw stones.) No need to be grossed out. I was just pointing out a fact. (Yes, it’s a double standard that women can recognize potential while men get an FBI file.) Need proof of Radcliffe’s potential? See Equus publicity photos. I saw them on the internet with an expression of intrigue and horror (“I can’t look away! But I should! And there’s a horse!”) OK, I’ll be honest: there was a moment when I thought jail was in my future. He wasn’t eighteen yet in those pics. And although apparently the legal age is sixteen in Britain, I’m American and so is my vagina and I must abide by eighteen.

Good night, Warner Brothers. Tease.

Amenities of Room 590: Family rate. Complimentary copy of Cougar Feed.

Room 1005: Rick Steves

Keep on Traveling...

That's Rick's catch phrase that he says at the end of most of his PBS travel shows. (I know, more PBS. I'm obsessed and a wee bit shamed because there was another Pledge Drive this weekend and I once again did not donate. And the PBS Lady called me out on it. She said something like "If you are one of the nine out of ten regular PBS viewers who do not donate, well now's the time!" It kind of pissed me off and ignited a sliver of rebellion in me. Hence, no donation.) Rick, if I can be so familiar and call him Rick, has had a European PBS travel show for as long as I can remember which means within the last decade. He also writes a hell of a lot of guidebooks. His Europe Through the Backdoor (snicker) is all about budget traveling, packing light, money belts, and shoulder seasons. Don't know what "shoulder season" means? Go read Rick! His city and/or country specific books are great for museum tours. (My friend Krista and I were perplexed by the lack of guides/maps in Italian museums. Insert Shout Out for Rick here. On the subject of Krista, Rick and Italy: Rick's newest disciple, Krista, decided to read to me from the Rick Steves Italy book every night of our trip. She also read aloud the Rick Steves Venice canal tour description while we were actually on the Venice canal tour. Nothing says tourist like cold reading a Rick Steves book. I'm sorry I meant nothing says American tourist. Because we were not the only ones with a Rick Steves book. In fact, it was like a secret handshake. But replace "secret" with "obvious" and "handshake" with "blue Rick Steves book".)

Rick has a new book out now called Travel As a Political Act. I have it. Signed. By Rick.

Explanation due, I know. I get an email from Krista (surprised?) that says that Rick is speaking on the 17th and do I want to go? Hell yes, I do. Contrary to what you may have gleaned from above, I'll admit to being a minor Rick fangirl (not in a he's so dreamy way because no. More than one person I know has likened him to the SNL character, Lyle the Effeminate Heterosexual. I like him because he loves traveling and teaching people about other cultures. That's the dreamy part). I've seen almost all of his shows and have been known to tape an ep or two. I have Europe Through the Back Door. And I pack light. So yes, I very willingly went. And was really inspired. Rick had a slide show of pictures he's taken over the years and tells stories about the things he's learned about other cultures and how that has shaped his perception of the world and America's place in it. He alluded to his political leanings (as in referring to the "last 8 years" a lot but not uttering the name Bush) as well as revealing his membership in NORML which is a group that promotes legalizing marijuana and responsible non-criminal drug policies. Rick, you old hippie!

Rick even had a mini Q&A session where an Iranian guy asked him why his Iran shows didn't show the whole story and if he was asked to do a show on Germany during Hitler's reign would it have been different. It was an "oooooooooooo" moment. Rick responded in a mildy testy, defensive way that he is a travel host and not a journalist. Yep, I almost witnessed Rick Steves lose his shit! But he recovered nicely and was friendly. And even took a picture with the guy. Did I mention Rick also posed for pictures? No comment.

Amenities of Room 1005: Room with a back door. Drawer space only fits contents of one carry-on. The Holy Bible, Rick Steves Version.

Room 896: Writer's Block

Instead of writing I've been watching more PBS pledge specials (Excuses Begone! with Dr. Wayne Dyer. I took a shitload of notes and briefly considered typing them up. Maybe just the affirmations. Or maybe I'll come up with some excuse not to.), listening to my iPod obsessively (I've been having brief bouts of insomnia, most likely stress-induced. So I've been listening to music at bed time. But what I want to listen to is Punk and that's not very serene. Needless to say I then had Antsy-ness on top of my Insomnia. And the next morning I had lovely pronounced dark circles under my eyes...you know, like when you take NyQuil.), and taking a lot of random/useless Facebook quizzes. Ah yes, the Facebook quiz. Here are some of my results:

Disney Quotes? Obsessed (I totally guessed on most of this...don't judge me!)
Jane Austen Character? Anne Elliott from Persuasion
Past Life Career? Jester
Past Life Person? Marilyn Monroe (So I was a Sexy Jester!)
Disneyland Ride? Roger Rabbit's Car Toon Spin (You know, the ride where you pull muscles in your shoulders?)
Type of Artist? Eccentric Artist
True Theatre Calling? Triple Threat (My acting is not as threatening as the singing and dancing...)
Black Books Character? Bernard (I'm a grumpy drunk Irishman)
Kind of Hipster? Supreme Being (what does that mean? I don't know but there's a pic of John Lennon so I'll take it.)
Bowie Identity? Folk/Hippie Bowie (and I would have been proud of any Bowie Identity because Bowie.)
Patronus? A Dog
Hogwarts House? Ravenclaw (Where are my fellow Ravies at?)
True Age? 18 (I'm legal!)
Soul Age? Very Old (Wait. What?)
Kind of Soul? A Raven (Where are my fellow Ravies at?)
Shakespeare Character? Viola from Twelfth Night (minus the drag)
Musical Theatre Leading Lady? Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd (aka the Meat Pie Lady)
Muppet? Kermit the Frog
Greek God? Apollo (Reminds me of a high school drama skit where I said "Apollo is like a total babe.")
Political Idealogy? Very Liberal (no surprise there)
Dog? Doberman (kind of butch but whatever.)
Joss Whedon character? Faith (this was surprising and yet kick-ass!)
Writer? Jack Kerouac
Disney Princess? Cinderella (Doesn't quite fit with Jack Kerouac, does it?)
Punk Rock star? Patti Smith (Hell Yeah!)
Where should I be living? Seattle
Secret Inner Nationality? German (I would have bet money that I was Inner British. What with all the Monty Python in my formative years and my mad love for Liverpool Football Club. And of course, my obsessive watching of BBC America. Hotel Inspector? Sure! I'll watch...with a stein of beer.)

I still don't feel completely self-actualized yet. Perhaps I can find a How Many More Years Will You Be Single Because You Don't Turn Off Your Computer? quiz...

Amenities of Room 896: I got nothing.

Room 555: Sex Pistols Babies

This popped into my head in the shower this morning. It's a theatre piece that I wrote a few years ago that was inspired by the Sex Pistols Wikipedia page and the Muppet Babies cartoon.

Sex Pistols Babies

Lights up on three men dressed as toddlers (training pants and all). Each are in possession of a toy musical instrument: Paul Cook has a drum, Steve Jones has a microphone and Wally Nightingale has a guitar. They are “jamming” to an old Rod Stewart tune. There is sign above their heads that reads: The Strand day care at the Let It Rock school.

A disembodied voice is heard…

Malcolm (v.o.): Hello, lads, welcome to “The Strand” day care. My name is Nanny McLaren. What’s yours?

Paul: Paul

Steve: Piss off.

Paul snickers.

Malcolm (v.o.): Steven.

Wally: And I’m—

Malcolm (v.o.): That’s nice.

Sign now reads The Swankers day care at the Let It Rock School.

Del Noone enters with a toy bass and sits down.

Steve: Who the hell are you?

Glen Matlock enters and takes the bass from Del and Del exits.

Wally Nightingale gives his guitar to Steve Jones and he exits.

Malcolm (v.o.): We have a new student. Johnny, come in…

Johnny Rotten enters wearing an “I Hate Pink Floyd” shirt and a big safety pin in his diapers. He grabs the mic from Steve and screams into it. Steve, Glen and Paul nod in agreement.

Malcolm (v.o.): You are going to be the next Bay City Rollers.

Sign changes to Sex Pistols day care at the EMI School.

Jam session of Anarchy in the UK.

Glen: Fuck.

Johnny: Shit!

Steve: Fucking rotters.

Giggles. Sign changes to Sex Pistols day care at (blank).

Jam session of God Save the Queen.

Johnny takes bass from Glen and pushes him. Glen leaves.

Sid Vicious enters. Johnny hands him the bass. They continue their jam. All look at Sid banging on the bass. Johnny shrugs. Continue the jam.

Nancy Spungen enters in a Communion-esque dress and sits by Sid.

Nancy: Sid!

She hands him some Pixie Sticks.

Nancy: Sid!

Sid eats the candy.

Sign changes to Sex Pistols day care at the A&M School.

Nancy hands Sid more candy. He eats them. Sid can barely play his bass. The others continue to play.

Sign changes to Sex Pistols day care at the Virgin school.

Nancy: Sid!

Johnny: Bollocks.

Paul: What?

Johnny: Never mind.

Jam becomes more intense. It then disintegrates into fighting.

Sign disappears. Silence.

Malcolm (v.o.): Steve. Paul. Come with me.

Steve and Paul exit. Nancy coaxes Sid off with more Pixie Sticks.

Nancy: Siiiiiiiiiiiddd.

Sid and Nancy exit.

Johnny is left alone.

Johnny: Ever get the feeling you’ve been cheated?


Lights out.

Amenities of Room 555: Play area for the kids. Inscrutable Emergency instructions.

Room 867: Morning Pages

Today was the first day of my The Artist's Way Morning Pages. I'm capitalizing Morning Pages because they are supposed to be so damn important. (Side note: did you hear that cynicism creep in? It's a constant competition between my new agey, spiritual side and my perpetually rolling eyes.) Anyway, I started the Morning Pages today and even though Julia Cameron tells me not to reread them, I thought I would reprint some of my gems from 8:15am this morning:

"Hands hurting. Need to use the bathroom. My mouth tastes nasty."
"Wonder if it's cheating to do Morning Pages after potty time."
"I love ellipses."
"Foot's falling asleep. At least my eyeballs are awake...kind of."
"Sorry, Universe, Morning Pages had to come with me to the toilet."

I fear a common theme will thread itself through each day if I don't give myself the permission to make the Morning Pages second on my daily To Do list.

Amenities of Room 867: En suite bathroom. Stream of consciousness TV Guide.

Room 1022: Random Earth Day Thoughts That Have Nothing To Do With The Earth

The current list of podcasts that I subscribe to:
This American Life – Ira Glass and his weirdly sexy Chicago staccato voice.
Real Time with Bill Maher – Salman Rushdie and Mos Def. And that’s just one episode!
Dr. Andrew Weill – New Age Holistic Santa Claus with a medical degree.
Rick Steves – A hero to all travel nerds. What would Rick do?
Coffee Break French – 15 minute French language tutorials taught by a Scotsman.

I hate the Multi Grain Cheerios cereal commercial: “What else does the box say?” “The box says shut up, Steve.” Yes, Cheerios. All women like to make men feel stupid. (But my all time most hated ugly-acting-woman commercial? The diamond ad: Woman tells man to shhhh after he yells “I love this woman!” But then he gives her a ring. Then she hugs him and whispers “I love this man.” Yes, ad, women only love men when they give us diamonds.)

I love nature movies but I always watch them with a sense of dread. See a beautiful gazelle lapping up steam water? Don’t get used to it. Hello, Leopard!

CG Chester Cheetah is kind of smarmy.

Oh, and please recycle!

Amenities of Room 1022: Menu with today’s special of fresh meat, cheese puffs and cereal. Human interest hotel directory. No HBO.

Room 647: Paranormal State

I love ghost stories but not enough to actually witness anything. You hear me, ghosts! I have read all about Resurrection Mary, the Bell Witch and the Brown Lady. I’ve even lived in a haunted house. Or so I’ve been told. I didn’t witness anything. (However, I would not use the hall that went by the attic door. Ghost related? Maybe. But I think it may have more to do with my friend Amy and I exploring the attic and pretending an axe murderer lived up there. Oh, kids and their childish games!) Really, only the series of community theatre actors that rented rooms in the house “witnessed” things. And by witness, I mean, heard footsteps in the upstairs hallway. One night when I was seventeen, I came home to find all the lights on in every room. I turned them all out and sat down to watch TV. Then Theresa, an actress/tenant, called and said “Mandy, are you home? I couldn’t stay there by myself.” She would also sleep with a knife under her pillow. Not that the knife would do much to a ghost. Or an attic-dwelling axe murderer for that matter. (Side note: Theresa was the first person I ever met who had fake breasts. In fact, she was so proud when she got them that she demanded that I feel them. That was my brief stint with lesbianism.)

And this brings us to Paranormal State on A&E. This is one of the few ghosty investigation shows (like the aptly named Ghost Hunters!). PS is centered around a guy named Ryan who, because of some childhood ghostiness, is obsessed with the paranormal. He formed the Paranormal Research Society at Penn State with some spooky-lovin’ friends. Ryan is earnest. His voice over introduction is so fabulously dramatic: “We are students. We are seekers. And sometimes, we are warriors.” Awesome.

So the PRS goes and interviews people who are having ghosty problems. They often bring in a medium named Chip (!) to give some insight. He’s also dramatic. His assessment usually ends with revealing that someone died there and they are not happy. The team then has “Dead Time” when they and all their electronic toys are monitoring the house. “Dead Time”, according to Ryan’s earnest voice over, is the time when paranormal activity is most prevalent. Say 3am to 4am. Usually the time when I have to get up and go to the bathroom. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one wandering around at that time.

So what happens during “Dead Time”? Well, there’s a lot of infrared camera work and a whole lot of “Oh my God! Did you see that?” (No, we didn’t. You were too busy shaking the camera.) But if you’re lucky, you might hear some demonic voices on a tape recorder or if you’re really lucky, a possession!

The house is then blessed. And then we get a postscript that the family members are now OK and haven’t had another encounter. And then Ryan has a closing earnest voice over where he earnestly unveils what he “learned” from this week’s case. Earnestly.

Boo!

Amenities of Room 647: Attic-less Suite. Special Dead Time wakeup call. Complimentary Room Cleansing.