Meet Me in My Hair

Seriously. It's HUGE. And adorned with giant Minnie Mouse hairbows. Freaking precious. And I think my ball gown was modeled after the Disney "Cinderella" dress. And to that I say....AWESOME. Thaaaaank you!

Additionally, there is much squealing, ad libbing things like "Gee Warren, the Smith party is swell!", a ghost costume that consists of a literal sheet with eyeholes cut out, men in wigs, lacy parasols, a real live moving trolley and a rousing rendition of "Skip to my Lou."

For reals, kids...can you pass it up?

Don't answer that.

The "Secret Garden" Inside All Of Us

Yaaaay! The wedding! It was a truly lovely day/evening that managed to be beautiful without being overdone, touching without being sappy, and incredibly fun without anyone throwing up on themselves. So well done, O'Connells!!!

The festivities began on Friday morning as Nate and I traveled via El and Metra to meet Nicole in Glenview, who had finished a whole day of teaching (poor thing). We loaded in for our Madison adventure, chatting gleefully as we got on the highway. After about 20 minutes of smooth sailing, Nicole suddenly shouted "Wait! Wait....oh SHIT! SHIT!!!!" Turns out we were headed South. Heh. Nobody had noticed, which is sort of hilarious. Luckily, we were able to turn around easily and headed up to the land of cows and Nascar fans (just kidding...kind of) until we hit an unexpected and EXTREMELY unwelcome traffic jam outside of Janesville. We were understandably pissed (we had a rehearsal and dinner to make!) and actually went through Elizabeth Kubler-Ross' five stages of grieving.

First, denial: "I see cars moving ahead! This will only take a second!" Second, anger: "What the fuck! What the fucking fuck! We have PLACES TO BE!!!!" Third, barganing: "If we can just get these cars moving, we will leave earlier next time!!! Please, GOD!" Fourth, depression: "......" (the three of us sitting in silence, staring out our respective windows). Fifth, acceptance: "Well, Megan will understand. It's really OK. We can't change road construction. We probably won't get killed."

Luckily, the madness ended right about the time we accepted it, and we were there in enough time to very quickly change and scurry over to St. Paul's on Library Mall. It was good to see everything, though pretty much everything looks different. The rehearsal went by without a hitch, and soon we were eating a delish Italian buffet at the hauntiest of our old haunts, the Wine Cellar. We chatted somewhat awkwardly with the East Coasters, and then Rachel, Jason and Debbie met up with us. The party ended, we headed over to a new Capital Bar where a newly bearded Pita Hunt was tendin'. It was nice to see him. After a few drinks, Rachel and I retired to her Dickensian boarding house, complete with community bathroom and kitchen. We collapsed on her huge and surprisingly comfortable air mattress. The next morn we enjoyed some pillow talk about her roommate's dirty previous-night sex (DO IT BABY!!! DO IT!!!! - see McPhee's blog) and then it was off to the salon.

Met the girls, ate some muffins, hair talk. It kept raining and then being all sunny and gorgeous and then raining again. Mother Nature is a teasing bitch. Our hair done, it was church and crying time. St. Paul's has a really sketchy grandma-like house attached to the church where we got dressed. There was another bridal party getting ready in the house next door, and I totally wanted to fight them West Side Story-style, but was overruled. So we got dressed and cried a little and literally attacked Steve's 2 year old nephew who was sent up to us wearing a tiny tux. A tiny tux!!!

So then the wedding happened, which was GORGE. Just lovely and perfect. My favorite funny part (cause I always have to make fun of something, if you haven't already noticed) was when the priest started randomly referencing The Secret Garden as "a story about two people who find each other- much like Megan and Stephen have found each other." One of the other bridesmaids, Lauren, and I totally muffled our laughter, as The Secret Garden is, of course, a story about a bitchy little girl growing flowers and bonding with her sickly and most likely gay young cousin. But whatevs.

So I helped the Daley's clear our stuff out of the church (they don't call it a Maid of honor for nothing - yuk yuk) and we headed over to the reception. I am, by the way, frantically trying to write my toast the whole time, to no avail. We got to the reception, greeted by N&N ("Sign the guestbook? Sign the guestbook???) and prepare for the grand entrance. There were also some dramatics, but it's all good. And that's pretty much par for the course for our friends.

The best man's toast was retardedly good. Like, I want a copy to read to my children some day. It had a thesis and like, footnotes. After that, I basically just stood up and blatherd on about The Jungle Book, and said something about being glad Steve was a heterosexual (the audience LOVED that) and probably something about The Secret Garden that brings people together. I don't really remember. All I know is I cried a little, and as Rachel said "It was a good toast - but when you cried - it became a great toast." Hooray for emotional manipulation. It was all real though. I swear.

Then a tasty salmon dinner and delish cake, and then it was dancin' time. The first dance was the cruelest thing I've ever witnessed - you've never seen people happier or more in love. I love them and all, but also kind of hate them for setting the bar at Everest-level. And then we shook it. Shook it like a Polaroid picture. There was a Soul Train line, and a really elaborate Thriller number, and Pita getting fetal on the dance floor for "Shout". Good freaking times. Simotes also forced me into a heart-to-heart which I totally loved. He also shook his face near my boobs when he thought I wasn't looking, but I saw. I saw.

Jason and I sexually harassed each other Steel-prom style, and Anna shook her moneymaker, and Debbie was loving as only Debbie can be. ; ) I forced Pita and Winks to slow-dance with me, and thus fulfilled the fantasies of both 19-year old and 21-year old Laura. She seemed sort of happy, but also "what was the big deal?"

So at the end of the dancing and the toasting and the sweatiness, we had to leave the magical ballroom and decided to drink beer out of boots. Essen Haus it was! And.....mmmm. Sleepy. I totally fell asleep at the bar. I bet that happens there a lot. And I think it was the Come Back Inn, actually. It's all kind of fuzzy now.

The next morning we ate a lot of bagels with the Fairfield crew, bid the new couple goodbye, ate some grease at Nick's, took a capital walk, drank a pint with Peter, and headed back to Illinois. (Deep sigh of satisfaction). Good times. Good times, my friends.

Remember Me?

Oh dear.

I am a bad little blogger. It has been about two months since my last substanative post, and for that I apologize. It's not that things haven't been happening...it's just that too much has been happening for me to wax philosophical about my life. And I'm at work and should be working, so this must be short as well. So, a summary...

1) London
Gorgeous, fabulous, surprisingly hot and muggy. Was so great to see McPhee and stomp around many historic grounds with her, defacing the beauty and history that is London. We met many ruffians (though most were American - go figure), drank some wine, saw some 'feter, and rode a double-decker bus for a total of like, 20 hours. We spoke in horrific faux accents and walked our shoes off. I also cried a lot, but in a good way. The Tower of London was particularly fascinating and phenomenal, and I stand guilty of literally putting my hands against the ancient walls and whispering "It's living history." Eeeeee. I also fell madly in love with the musical Sunday in the Park with George and consider it the "soundtrack" of my London trip. Better than Eurotrashy pop, I guess.

2) An Ideal Husband
Yeah, so I was in a play this summer. HA! Quite a departure from my lovely doomed "Dear World", every second of which was documented in this rag. Betcha didn't even know I was IN a show! Ha ha ha. Heh. Perhaps we should leave it that way. Seriously, though, it was pretty dreadful. A terrible adaptation combined with non-existant direction, stinky costumes and a set that literally broke into pieces nearly every night makes for a pretty ruff show. Plus the acting was pretty sucky. Oh well, looks good on that resume, I guess.

3) Relationship/Breakup
I'm not going into details. That is tacky and gross. Plus you've probably all heard the tale. But I know there are "holes" in my end-of-summer, a la "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind." I'll talk about it ad nauseum in person or via email if you are interested. But suffice to say, I am kind of sad. Eh, such is life.

4) Meet Me in St. Louis
Oh Jesus. Next show, playing at my beloved Circle Theatre, through the holidays. Come see me wear breathing-consticting clothing, dance "the Banjo", react on the Trolley and have some sort of ruff scene as a "New York Society Girl." I intend to milk the hell out of that shit. Perhaps an accent will be incorporated.

5) Wedding Stuff
Bridal shower. Check. Bachelorette party. Check. Megan riding a mechanical bull whilst wearing a sparkly tiara/veil combo and a shot glass necklace - CHECK. Photos to follow, I hope. Wedding in a week. EEEEEEE. Adulthood, here we come.

So that's my boring and unfunny recap. I don't know if anyone still checks these. We've all become delinquent. Jeremy has disappeared. But I felt the need to spread some blog-love. Peace out, mah babies.

I Know, I Know

I haven't posted on London yet. I'm sorry! But it's been some sort of a whirlwind since my return, with jet lag bleeding right into tech week for An Ideal Husband, something I don't even think I've discussed on this rag. Hmmm. Telling. Anways, to tide you over, I have attached a picture above Please feel free to write whatever caption you want on this one, or perhaps make up your own (short) story about what we were doing, and the consequences of our actions. Keep in mind, this is Roachie and me. And in the mean time, I will direct you to Ms. McPhee's lovely publication in which she has highlighted some of the...highlights. Back to you soon!

London Calling!

Well, my faithful readers, I must bid you "Cheerio" for a few days. I have FINALLY decided to FINALLY take a much-needed vacation. And where better to go than London, especially since I don't have to pay for a hotel room! ; ) (I think it's hilarious, by the way, that I seem to be writing this blog for a throng of strangers, when, in fact, it is written for about ten of you, who I divulge every tiny morsel of my life to anyway.)

But yes! Nine days off of work! Seven hour international flight! Projected tearful reunion with a one Rachel McPhee! (Must remember camera...) Ability to speak with faux accent in hopes that I "blend in" (will not happen). Chance to experience Bridget-Jones-style existance of eating a lot and hobbling down the streets of London in unsuitable clothing/shoes!

So much packing and planning to do. Considering that, as of Monday at 11:00 AM I still wasn't sure if I was even GOING on this trip, I think I'm doing ok. I wonder where my e-ticket is...

I'm sure that many hapless adventures will ensue from this trip. I intend to meet as many random Londoners and have as many humiliating experiences as humanly possible. It is my duty to you, my ten faithful readers.

Do not miss me too much. I love you all, and will talk to you later!

Adios!

It's De-Lovely

WOW. What a weekend THAT was. I really think that at least one four-day weekend a month is necessary for the modern working person. All of my coworkers returned yesterday as better and more interesting people, which was exciting for everyone. It was a truly beautiful four days, and as much as I want to steer this "publication" away from the "first I did this and then I did that" format, there are high-larious moments that must be chronicled.

Friday
Started the weekend with a bang with my good buddy Donny, for dinner at Big Bowl followed by a showing of The Devil Wears Prada. It was a pretty sweet movie. I hate the book like no other, though I've read it about four times, thinking that it will perhaps improve. It does not. But Meryl was in icy splendor and gave a performance that almost - ALMOST rivaled her performance in the fine She-Devil. (See previous post). Apparently she's all over this "Devil" concept. And, as Donny brilliantly stated in his beautiful blog "Everything in Moderation (Including Moderation)"...(http://donbaiocchi.blogspot.com/), "If she's the devil, hell must be fabulous." Truer words were ne'er spoke. Then it was Jessica's birthday party, and of course we had to go to the shiny, spangly, all-white bar the Gramercy. It was a great group of wasted people, including this popular guy from my high school who is now engaged to one of Jessica's good friends. We had an awkward moment where he pretended that he used to be nice to me. Ha. I brought Nicole with me, and she was a hit with the many gay men, as expected.

Saturday
Apparently, every year the U of I "gang" goes down to lovely Freeport, IL to Andy's parents' house. They kindly invited me down with them, and I was very happy to accept, though less thrilled that we were leaving at 8 a.m. After driving in a stunned, hungover silence for 2 hours, we arrived at our destination. Andy's parents' house (from now on, APH) is a magical place with a large pool and unlimited alcohol resources, including a homemade wine. I wouldn't recommend it. They also had an assortment of Hostess products though, which makes up for it. We all lounged and swam and, in fascination, watched my skin burn though it was repeatedly coated in SPF 30 and covered with clothing. I think I might be part albino. A fierce game of pool volleyball was played in which I pretty much stood in the back, arms flailing uselessly. Then things start to get a little fuzzy. At one point, piano in the walk-out basement was rolled out, and Danny did his best Cole-Porter-in-De-Lovely impression and played some tunes. I drunkenly slurred "I'm gonna sing you a song, everyone!" and then proceeded to get distracted and wander off. Yeah, alcohol and sunlight exposure can be a deadly combo. Night descended, and after a 30-minute "nap" (OK, blackout), I arose ready to embrace the night and the woodsy fire pit that Andy and his dad were building. As Andy scampered through the woods shrieking "I've found kindling!" Danny and I slapped at mosquitoes and hated on Mother Nature. Eventually, Andy full-on collapsed on the ground, and, after dragging him up the hill to the house, we decided it was time to call it a night. I slept on the couch soundly, until awoken by the cat standing on my head. My reaction was as calm and subtle as one might expect.

Sunday
Because Tim and Jessica are functional adults, they were up with the sun to make us all a breakfast feast. Mmmm. After stuffing our faces, we piled in the car to return to Chicago. Not much else happened that day except that I drank a head-sized margarita (in case you haven't noticed, the theme of this post is "Shit Laura does when she's drunk") and wandered around a Blockbuster with Matt and Dawn, full o' opinions.

Monday
No work! Isn't that all you really need to know? I met up with my boys at Sidetrack for a little pre-game musical theatre, which was fun. Then I went out for "Dizzle's" birthday (my birthday gift to you, Nate, is my temporary willingness to call you by that ruff nickname ;) ) which was really fun. Played some pool, did some drinking....good times. I also got a nice workout walking about 5 miles to a mysterious party. Tee hee. Love you, Natey! 25, you're alive! Great night.

Tuesday
I did a little 4th of July celebrating at a BBQ in Andersonville, which was really fun. I learned to play the mysterious game of "bags", which is basically like that game you would play at the end-of-the-year fourth grade picnic where you hurl a corn-filled bag at a hole in a large piece of wood. If you walk down the streets of my neighborhood on a dark summer night, you'll always see people huddled in alleys playing this game with the same secrecy and determination that others reserve for craps or cockfighting. I kind of get it now...bags is very addictive. And there was a lot of cursing as well, which is always fun. Some people in the neighborhood shot off a bunch of screaming firecrackers as well -I love how we Americans celebrate our country's birth by creating Sounds of Terror. Not that I have a problem with that. It did make me miss our Madison 4ths in which we would shoot Roman Candles out of old wine bottles. We would always go in with the most responsible of intentions, aiming away from things, and then after about 10 minutes we were all "How much will you give me if I can shoot this into the tailpipe of that Jetta?" Mmm. Good times. So that was fun, along with other stuff too, that I'm not going to mention in print. ; )

And now, we're left with the best news of all - Meg and Steve are moving to Chicago!! Oh, how I love to steal their thunder. I just like having the scoop early. I think it's going to be great for them, and am totally excited. So I am very happy, and you should all be too.

Happy Independence Day, y'all!!!

Top 3 List : Great Bad Movies

So I haven't updated in a while, because I don't really have much to say lately. The "What I Did on My Summer Vacation" format is wearing a bit thin - perhaps I've lost the abililty to find the beauty and humor in the boring and ordinary. Gasp! I was inspired after a food-court meal with Donny to discuss some of the finer points in American cinema. But then I decided to write about my favorite terrible movies instead. Here are three.

3) Center Stage, 2000

Ok, how does one describe the wonder and majesty that is Center Stage? Shall we start with Peter Gallagher's massive, incredulous eyebrows? The backstory that Peter Gallagher was once a celebrated...Ballerina? The puslating heat of Mandy Moore's "I Wanna Be With You" underscoring a magical motorcycle ride/ill-advised hook-up? The selling points of this remarkable coming-of-age, struggling-with-bulimia, and improving-your-shitty-turnout tale are numerous in the extreme.

Center Stage tells the story of a young woman named Jody who is kind of a bad dancer, but whose winsome face and plucky optimism lead her to the fictitious American Ballet Academy in New York. Jody comes to ABA by way of Naive, Ohio, and is thus unprepared to deal with the harsh realities of the ballet world. On the way, she meets the token sassy black girl, the token bulimic bitch and the token remarkably obviously gay man doing an unconvincing impression of a hotheaded ladies' man ballerina. (I'm SO SICK of that cinematic stereotype!) The film also features a one Mr. Peter Gallagher, slummin' it hardcore as the aforementioned former man-ellerina whose majestic eyebrows somewhat lift the stink of the terrible acting. For the acting stinks, my friends. Stinks like an old ballet shoe left out in the rain.

Along Jody's journey to self-discovery, friends are made, bitches are shot down, toes are bloodied and calloused, and many gorgeous shots of New York are featured. It must also be mentioned that the film features Debra Monk as a claws-out stage mother, which is reason enough to check it out. And if that won't get this VHS in your dusty VCR, let me tell you about the film's crowning moment, the Ballet of Suspended Disbelief in which Jody dances her badly turned-out shit off, all whilst making physically impossible costume and set changes. It must be seen to be believed.

2) Beverly Hills Madam, 1986

So technically, this is a made-for-TV movie. I think. I've never heard of it being released in a theatre or on DVD (curses!), and the production values are laughably low. I recall seeing a boom in one of the shots, I think. It's been a long time. I first saw this film on Lifetime Television for Women in like, 1993 with my best friend from grade school, Katie. Katie and I were graduating from Barbie dolls, and thought that watching smutty, soft-core, poorly acted faux-porn would mature us into women. It really only made us want to be LA hookers, and play a quiet game of "Madam" Barbie.

This movie was so insane and so good that I went though a brief period where I thought I had only dreamed it. But then I caught the last 20 minutes or so on TV about 3 years ago, and knew the dream was true. (And I'm not sure if this is exactly what happens in the movie. It's just what I remember.)

Faye Dunaway is a hard-headed businesswoman of influence and esteem in her Beverly Hills mansion. When she takes in a large-haired runaway named...Karen(?) she can spot talent. Talent for WHORING, that is! Karen lives with Faye in her mansion for some reason, and slowly and stupidly comes to realize that Faye is a trader in the Oldest Profession. Dazzled by all the stunning, permed hookers stuffing wads of cash into their designer wallets and wearing shoulder pads too big and beautiful to be true, Karen approaches Faye, saying in a halting voice, "I know what you do, and I've...been with men before." So Faye sends Karen off to some dude who "screens" the hookers to make sure that they're good at the sexing (nice job) and then buys her some outfits and makes her walk with a book on her head. Because the most important part of being good on your back is making sure that your upright posture is excellent (the hell?) Faye's "girls are ladies" and she instructs them on how to be cultured and classy.

There are some other stock prostitutes as well - Mary(?) the college student who gets knocked up by her yacht-owning john and then thrown on her stretch-mark covered ass by Faye; Claudia the party-girl druggie who, lacking the money to pay for her bottle of Southern Comfort, does the delivery boy in exchange; and Robin Givens as herself. Ha ha, just kidding. A lot of stuff happens that I can't remember, including Karen being purchased by some rich dude as a "present" for his 18-year old son (EEEEW). She falls in love with said virgin/chump and they start to date, to the understandable horror of Dad. When Karen's filthy, filthy secret is revealed, V/C dumps her, and the Newest Member leaves the Oldest Profession, after giving an impassioned monologue to Faye about how "(she's) a piece of meat!" Faye doesn't really seem to care though, and neither does the movie, as it immediately forgets about Karen and focuses on Druggie Claudia who sends Robin Givens in her place to hook at the place of a new guy. But whoops, Faye didn't "check him out" and Robin is killed in an assumedly gruesome way. Some other stuff happens, and Faye then decides to leave the OP. She leaves the Whorehouse and seemingly all her worldly possessions in the hands of Druggie Claudia. Some businesswoman. The last shot is Faye having a standoff with Claudia (who may or may not be her estranged daughter) as the phone rings. "Answer it, Claudia." Faye intones in her best Mommie Dearest-while-subdued voice. Claudia does, and the cycle of whoring and killing and shoulder-pad wearing continues.

1) She-Devil, 1989

Hold the phone, y'all. If you thought Roseanne was good in...Roseanne...you've seen nothing yet. NOTHING. She-Devil is without a doubt, one of my favorite movies of all time. It's totally campy and gross and filled with cliches and manages to be horrifying sexist and ass-kickingly feminist at the same time. I really need to buy it on DVD. If it doesn't exist on DVD, please excuse me while I begin my letter-writing campaign. You'd feel the same way if you saw it.

Ruth (Roseanne) is a lonely and bored housewife, not unlike you and me. She lives in a house of tack with really sick wallpaper, has two incredibly nasty and unwashed children, and is the possessor of a horrifying facial mole complete with a hair that she likes to look at in close-up mirrors. The mole is really another character in the film. The movie opens with Ruth at a department store, looking at women who in the 80's would have been considered pretty, but in our time just look like circus clows, what with the fluorescent makeup and frizzy hair. Whilst getting a pedicure, she watches an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous starring a romance novelist named Mary Fisher. Mary Fisher is of course played by the incomparable Meryl Streep. And yes, I've seen Sophie's Choice and The Bridges of Madison County and One True Thing and Angels in America. And hand's down, this is the greatest Meryl Steep performance of ALL TIME. So basically Mary is beautiful and perfect and lives in Barbie's dreamhouse. We luckily get to meet Mary soon after at a party that Ruth attends with her nerd husband, Ed Begley Jr. (LOVE!) "Bob" and Mary fall in love and embark on a affair that includes going sailing, running on a beach and having high-larious sex on her giant round bed. After Bob leaves Ruth for Mary after she accidentally serves his parents a casserole with a dead rat in it (oh, poor housewife!) she goes all crazy in the magnified mirror and decides to destroy all of Bob's assets, which he helpfully lists in the previous scene.

I can't and won't try to elaborate of the awesomeness of what follows. I will instead give a list of some of the highlights of this movie.

- House blown up by aerosol cans in a microwave
- Latino houseboy who floats in the pool on a giant inflatable raft
- Pink laptop
- That short awesome lady who played the principal in Kindergarten Cop
- Senior citizens on pep pills
- Meryl Streep having a Meda moment after breaking her nail on a washing machine
- Incontinence
- Elaborate gravestone for a deceased dog
- Ed Begley Jr. having sex on a Xerox machine
- Love in the Rinse Cycle
- Unexplained mole removal
- Sassy, life-affirming montage of Roseanne painting a warehouse

I can't believe you haven't rushed off to Blockbuster yet.