Pirate Dog PDX

Silent Night

It's been a long, busy, merry holiday season.

Jesus 2007: Still hot, a little shorter than I thought.

Last night, I saw Ted Neeley play the role of Jesus Christ in the Andrew Lloyd Weber production of Jesus Christ Superstar at the Schnitzer Theater. Ted is the best known Jesus Christ in musical theater, first playing the son of god on stage in 1969, then in the 1973 film adaptation--and he's been questioning his faith and sleeping fitfully ever since.

For you history buffs and (yuck) theater people, Neeley has been Jesus for 38 years -- four years longer than the real Jesus did the gig. It's amazing that one guy could play god for virtually his entire career -- also, just like real Jesus. Okay, technically, real Jesus had two careers, having started out as a carpenter, but I'll bet Neeley had to wait tables for a while. In any case, both rocked their houses. I'm a fan of the real Jesus's message of peace and I do love his screaming celebrity impersonator.

I wonder if the real Jesus was short. Neeley is, like, Tom Cruise tiny, but it only makes his gentle shepherd-schtick that much more believable. And, as I said in the headline, he is one HOT diety. 38 years later. Yummy.

There are those fans of JCS who would suggest that Judas Iscariot has all the good lines. Last night, Corey Glover (as in Living Colour lead singer Corey Glover) played Judas . My dad and I saw Glover and his band open for the Rolling Stones in 1989. At the Stones' show, Glover rocked Cult of Personality before the second Stones opening act Guns-n-Roses played and Axl Rose fell off the stage during Mr. Brownstone (GNR's little ditty about drugs)... rendering both songs ironic. 

Back to Glover's current gig: What I love about this production is that it not only highlights Jesus's humanity, it also supports Judas as a flawed, but forgivable human. Too often, in renaissance paintings and liturgical pulpits, Judas is a one-dimensional, well, jerk. In JC Superstar, Judas struggles with Jesus's celebrity: "You've begun to matter more than the things that you say." Later, he resents/repents his unalterable role in helping Jesus become immortal. Plus, he gets the big closing number (in which he descends from heaven, which I think upset some Christians).

There's alot of sadness and suffering in Jesus's last days on earth, even with the dance numbers and sparkly costumes. In the movie and the play, Herod is a hilarious man of excess, without humanity. Haven't we all known this guy? If you're from LA, the answer is yes. Funny. Great parties. Humanity-free. Herod's best line: "Prove to me that you're no fool. Walk across my swimming pool." Fun fact: In the movie, slimy porn star Ron Jeremy is in Herod's posse. He's by the pianist. Naturally.

If I may wax theatrical for a moment, this play was FAB-u-lous. And, generally, I hate musical theater. It's too much with the jazz hands and over-expressive enthusiasm.Unless you are Macauly Culkin or Beyonce, over-the-top facial movements do not work on you. Don't try. You're making jazz hands with a big open-mouthed smile right now, aren't you? Stop that.

Bottom line: woof. This play. These guys. That music. It's religion, as God intended it.

Fat Camp Field Trip

Today at Weight Watchers, I'd lost more than 20 pounds. For the record, that brings me well within federal health guidelines for "healthy weight for my age." In other words, the government no longer considers me fat. Hooray!

To celebrate, I decided to take myself out to dinner, a manicure, and a show. I'm even wearing my "date" dress (shown here tonight, doing my best "Carol Merrill" in my lobby). Okay, I've never worn it on a date, per se, unless you count when my dad came to town with his wife Jill. And, that's not really what a date dress is for. I never wore it with David, since the dress is a little over the top, and David's personal style is decidedly not over the top. In any case, I bought the dress in May, and this is the second time it's been out of the closet. It's also the second time if fit me. So, hooray again!

I'm going to see Jesus Christ Superstar. It's one of my favorite movies. I can't wait to see the play. The ticket was more than I wanted to spend ($65), but skinny Shawna totally earned it. Besides, the manicure is paid for; it's the last hurrah for a huge gift certificate from my fellow banana slugs. Amortizing the evening, it works out.

Off we go! More tomorrow ...

Mr. "All-that-and-a-bag-of-chips"*

Call me shallow, if you must, but I have been spoiled rotten by a lifetime of hot boyfriends. Yup, it's true. Though they've all had other outstanding qualities (like bags of chips), there is no denying the man-pretty I've tapped.

That said, I'm here to remind you and (and myself) that we've all fallen in love with wonderful people in spite of red flags that would translate into a "pass" if we'd read ahead in the script to those moments. Here are a few of my more memorable experiences:

Bachelor 1: While watching my favorite gang violence movie, The Godfather, my soon-to-be years-together boyfriend asked me (during the opening wedding scene) "Are these people Jewish?"

Bachelor 2: My college love used to hide in the bushes next to my house, and later, in an especially amorous moment, slapped a big slice of bologna (not being metaphoric here, unfortunately) on my belly. Being blindfolded, I had only the undeniable essence of lunch meat to know to be horrified.

Bachelor 3: Kicking off a young relationship that would last several years, B3 brought a picture of his dog to our first date, but would only show me his dog's legs for weeks, lest I become overwhelmed by his dog's cuteness.

Bachelor 4: My most recent love is tough to let go in spite of his predisposition for leaving my dog taunting phone messages that he's feeding his squirrels meat (fortunately, still not being metaphoric).

If these guys had blogs, there would be plenty of material for a post (at least one) that chronicles my idiosyncracies. But, that's not what this is about. It's about the wonderful men that are out there in the world, who don't necessarily look totally normal when you detail their actions in blog format. But, dude, they are still all that and a bag of chips.

Y'all know they are.

*My new template's font size is so tiny that when I used that Texas gal-born phrase in a post several days ago, I didn't feel like it got the spotlight it deserved. "All that and a bag of chips" means that someone is, of course, "all that." But, they're that much more ...

Pendleton's Brush with Hipness

Let us dip our toes into a brief history lesson about Pendleton, a local company that provides jobs for gobs of Portlandians, both 'chuck-y and sophisticato.

Forty years ago, The Beach Boys, then called the "Pendletones," (yup, they were fans) made the Pendleton plaid shirt their wardrobe of choice and created a fashion trend among America's youth. Wearing the wool shirts as jackets over tee shirts and jeans became the band's signature look and appeared on many album covers throughout the 1960's. The Beach Boys most recent album of their old hits includes, once again, Pendleton shirts in 'chucky abundance.

Now, I'm a Beach Boys fan from way back. Endless Summer was my first album and the Beach Boys were my first concert. So, I'm happy to support my boys, even if Mike Love has gotten a little dark, himself, and you can't spit without hitting a dead/disturbed Wilson.

Pendleton still has a role to play in the fashion world. Pictured is Pendleton's downtown Portland location. Headless mannequins in a shiny, clean, well-lit store window off of Portland's uber-stylish Pioneer Square showcase Pendleton's haute couture ways.

But, honestly, am I the only one who hears banjo music?

It's a woodchuck world. Let us puke.

In a city filled with men sporting layers and layers of Pendleton, stringy hair, big ol' bellies, and earflap hats (a species we gals call woodchucks or "chucks"), I knew I could count on The Onion to provide just the right spin on my relationship ennui.

Last night, I went dancing with my best friends at the Rock Creek Tavern. I had a wonderful time with them and the other happy couple that joined us, in our celebration of Eddie's birthday.We went to hear Voodoo BBQ, which is one of Eddie's favorite zydeco bands. I can happily report, they were an awesome blend of New Orleans soul and funk. If you're in Portland and they're playing, it's a band worth seeking out.

That said, the crowd was a little disturbing. The dancefloor was populated entirely by  "all-that-and-a-bag-of-potato-chips" hot women (so deemed by our Texas-born pal) and their "what-is-he-wearing" (my call) 'chuck husbands.

Please, god. No. Don't make me go there.

As it happens, I have slightly unrealistic expectations. As my friends told me last night and the attached article will confirm,the man who would make all my romantic, marital dreams come true ... is gay.

Man Likes Woman So Much He Marries Her

WELLTON, AZ—After making a bunch of sappy vows he probably meant, Armani-clad groom Henry Leighty open-mouth kissed his bride in front of all the guests and nobody even tried to stop him. "She's just such a great girl."Leighty said, while everybody puked.

Immediately following the ceremony, the wedding party moved to the nearby Wellton Country Club, where the new Mr. and Mrs. Leighty—blech—joined their guests in a celebration of the couple's disgusting feelings for each other with food, dancing, and making-out. Witnesses say Leighty also hired a wedding photographer to take pictures that would last for all eternity so the groom could go home later and practice kissing with them.
Best man Derek Heidel said he "couldn't be happier" for the couple, whom he first met during his undergraduate studies at the University of Arizona and apparently likes so much he should probably just marry both of them in some stupid three-way lovefest.

If "Santa Claus goes straight to the ghetto," it will just depress him.

"Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa" Christmas

With the holidays upon us and the prospect of dating again looming in the future, my mind naturally wanders to fruitcakes. With thanks to Eric T. and Jimmy Buffett, here's some cheery fruitcake-related entertainment. Jimmy, music please ...

You have to know the song, I guess, for that post title to make sense. In case you don't have patience for YouTube, Jimmy's basic message is this: "There's a little bit of fruitcake left in everone of us. That's right! You too! Spread those crumbs around!"

Single. Again. It's a wallow-fest! Bring the kids!

As we careen uncontrolled into the triumvirate of couple-happy holidays (Christmas, New Year's Eve, and Valentine's Day), we find ourselves single. Again.

For the record, god invented the "royal we" so that single gals and gay men could avoid feeling lonely enough to descend into sad-love-songs-of-the-'70s evenings, consuming entire pumpkin cheesecakes and Schnapps straight from the bottle. Amen? Just me?  Damn.

Blech. We hate singleness. More than singleness, I hate the alternatives.

Dating? No. Too early. Though next time, seriously, I'm not going to date a guy who comes pre-equipped with a stalker. Whether it's ex-wives or crazy pen pals, I'd like to be someone's first crazy person for a change. 

How do you even check for that? Nearly everyone comes with an ex-wife anymore, and even if the ex-wives would have liked us (of course), they probably aren't friends with their ex-husbands, a.k.a. our future boyfriends. Oh, and crazy pen pals? Well, there ain't nobody sees that coming.

With my slightly chubby, persistent singleness, I could be Bridget Jones. Bridget Jones got two movies and two hot boyfriends out of the deal--though one of them was a jerk (in the movies and real life) and the other one had horrible taste in sweaters. I can't have that.

I could be a crazy cat lady...with some work. I'll need a starter cat, natch. I'll need an ugly, pink housecoat. Wait. I have an ugly, pink housecoat. Finally, I'll need a smell. I'll bet that comes with the cats.

Actually, my friend LB knows fo'real crazy cat ladies. Apparently, real crazy cat ladies don't leave their homes and sometimes, they pee in pails. Ew. I don't want that. For now, anyway.

On the other hand, I think I could be a pretty successful crazy dog lady. I'm one tiny dog, one extensive doggie wardrobe, and one blog on my way to building a solidly crazy dog lady future. Plus, Portland is filled with crazy dog ladies. And I think crazy dog ladies get to pee in the potty and sometimes, we get to go outside. Not to pee, we go with our dogs. Stay tuned.

PDX-mas (with Rico, the cranky reindeer)

That's right. I do stuff like this to my dog. I must be celebrating PDX-mas.

To kick off the holiday on Thanksgiving weekend, Rico, David and I visited Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood. Timberline Lodge, movie fans, is the haunted hotel from The Shining. Yeek. Christmas creeps.

When my mom and I got back from Aunt Mary's memorial service, we needed some lightness, so we visited Zoo Lights. Unfortunately, she had to leave before she saw Portland's Lighted Boat Parade and the "Cinnamon Bear" Boat Tour, complete with elf-clad teenage crew. I live across the street from both events, so I got some great photos. I'm also walking distance from the "Festival of the Last Minute" at Portland's Saturday Market and the lighted tree at Winterland Square.

Also, because I've made friends with the lovely Leslie, I was priviledged to partake of the Portland Garden Club's annual sale. I bought 25 feet of cedar garland and lots of plants from society ladies who served up their plants with hot cider and cookies. It reminded me of my garden clubs in Monterey--in a good way. The gals all wore reindeer antlers, and looked as adorable as Rico does. And, they were way less cranky about havng their pictures taken than Rico was. It was great fun.

That said, the best thing about PDX-mas is that it snowed today. Therefore, finally, it was cold enough to dress Rico in his new reindeer outfit. Which MAKES my holiday and pisses him off, as you can tell. He is never going to get into the Portland Garden Club with that attitude.

Know this. Portland clearly knows how get its Christmas on. Click here for a slide show of the aforementioned holiday fabulousness.