Dear Match.Com Mental Midget Men... Hire Me To Write Your Profile.

So Sal's buddy "A" spent the day with us yesterday and with very little coaxing we got her to log onto her brand spanky new Match.com profile and let us poke around in her venture into online "looking" with her.

We. Were. In. Tears.

Now before you go wagging an accusatory finger at me because I don't understand how it is these days, here's a little tidbit of Cowguy gossip that's juicy as an over ripe kumquat. Sal and I met online.

Albeit a zillion years ago (about 12 or so), but we did. There wasn't as much to sort around in as far as lovelorn and love torn carnage and bile, but still. And we didn't start out looking for love... we just ended up in the same place on Yahoo Chat (does that date things or what? lol) and que sera sera.


Okay so back to A's Match.Com stuff. After spending most of the afternoon rooting around in profiles with her, Sal I came to the conclusion... These poor bastards need to hire me to write their profiles cause 99.9% really suck at it. I mean horribly. So just to give you an idea, I've got a short list of Do Not Do's for internet dating.


1. Use the spellchecker. Seriously. It's an atrocity to pitch yourself to the WWW and you can't spell WWW. Fix it. You're an idiot, leave some mystique for that first encounter. Let her find out the old fashioned way.


2. UNLOCK YOUR FRIGGIN' CAPLOCK! Good Lord guys, it's one freakin' keystroke.


3. Quit mIxInG UPper aNd LoweR CasE leTTerS. If you're trying to come off all hip and gangsta... it ain't working. We all laughed at you. Hard.


4. For the love of God man, put your damned shirt on. You look like someone named Jeffro. While we're on this topic, if your brand new tat of a brightly colored rooster is still red and puffy... don't show it off. Oh and yes, we "got" the cock innuendo. We laughed again.


5. If your profile reads something like "I'm 42 and never been married" DO NOT have half of your profile pics taken with your mom. I hate to ask this but, do you know why? It's because we now know you live in your mom's basement and you're gonna hate the girl that sits on that one special afghan that your mom crocheted just for you for your HS graduation gift.


6. We know you hit midlife. We know you love your Harley. Mentioning that you ride in your profile is cool. 14 pictures of you sitting on a ratty old AMF Harley Sportster... is not. Oh and again, put your shirt on.


7. Quit sucking in your gut. The look on your face looks like you just stepped in dogshit and you're about to throw up. If you're "husky"... that's just the way it goes. She's gonna find out you're tubby on that first date unless you're wearing a man girdle.


8. Link for Man Girdle.


9. Starting your brand new profile with... "YES! MY DIVORCE WAS FINAL YESTERDAY! MATCH.COM LADIES, HERE I AM!" is bad. It's not the worst, but it's bad and the wimmen folk ain't gonna take a hankering to you, Cletus. *yes we saw one profile just like this*


10. Do NOT drone on and on and on about your ex. No one cares but you. It's scary.


11. Please, please, please get someone besides your 4 year old to take your picture... and smile man, smile. Try and look a little happy. If you ain't got teeth, go get some and smile.


12. I like hunting. Evidently you do too. Quit putting pictures of dead animals in your profile. It's just a little disconcerting. Oh and ditch the camo. It's for hunting animals, not for hunting ladies. The Bass Pro line of clothing isn't the best choice of "dating pic wear."


13. Finally, you're trying too hard at being funny. If it takes 3 paragraphs to get your little joke out and then another 4 paragraphs to explain it, it's not humor... it's pain.


Contact me, we'll negotiate a price. I'll make you look smrt smart, AND funny.







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It's Just A Cold

Awakened at first with itchy eyes,
in the corners, a crusty granola surprise.
Afternoon comes, a burny taste in my throat,
at the mirror I stick out my tongue... "ahhh" like a goat.

At dinner my steak tastes like roasted wombat,
or maybe possum, maybe cat.
I don't know, I don't care,
I breathe through my mouth...drool everywhere.

Daylight comes... I want to go home,
Day Oh, Daaay Oh, leave me alone.
I roll to sit my feet on the floor,
Nevermore. Nevermore. Nevermore....

Then snot, and more snot,
a veritable tub of snot.
Snot from my sinus' snot from my head,
Snot flows heavily... soon I'll be dead.

I rub and I blow my nose is so raw,
Discount store Kleenex should be against the law.
My voice is all raspy, I squawk when I talk,
Oh great more snot, before I blow, I balk.

And then a chorus of angels sing,
All hail, all hail, glory to the snot king.
It starts to dry up, not a little but a lot,
French fried crap on a pogo stick... here comes the cough.

I cough and I cough and I cough,
and I cough and I cough and I cough,
and I cough and I cough...
and I cough, AND I COUGH!

My lungs fall out onto the floor,
screw 'em, I don't need 'em no more.
And then the mysterious yellow substance that starts to expectorate,
Expectorate is an awful word, but I've used it... too late.

I eat pills, drink water, eat crackers, drink juice,
I've taken in so much fluid I crap like a goose.
And then *snap* just like that, it suddenly abates,
Colds. I'm done rhyming. I think I've got a fever now.






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Just One Thing For Y'all To Caption

A magazine cover from 1939. What in the name of Uncle Toady's half cousin's sister's grandma is going on here?










Make me proud!




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Wow

Well we did the last performance of Grease last Saturday night and I believe all 6 performances were sold out... plus. Incredible amount of talent in this little community theater, actors, actress', coordinators, musicians... it goes on and on. But you wanna know what we do best of all?


PAAAARRRRRTTTTTTYYYYYY.


The unofficial party took place immediately after the last show and was in full swing when folks started noticing cops everywhere and the street filled with flashing lights. Not only the city cops, but the county sheriff's department AND the State Highway Patrol. That was a first for me, drawing in all the various cops to one single party in one fell swoop.

Impressive to say the least eh?

No one went to jail, the cops left when they were satisfied that there wasn't any underage drinking going on and got the buzzillion cars that were abandoned up and down the street, parked in some semblance of order so that traffic could actually move down the street.

Go figure.


Barney and Andy sneaking around the yard flashlights blazing. lol Oh and the band never stopped playing... adding even more humor to the whole scenario.









Wigs are a highly downplayed party accessory...










...for everyone. There aren't many good explanations for pictures like this, other than "alchohol".











Scenes like this were normal early on in the evening. Click it for bigness.










Any party with a saxophone is a first rate party.










Sally and I finally stumbled home about 4:00 or 4:30 in the morning, woke up to death in our heads (ow) and headed out for yet more partying. The set was torn down at the theater and cleaned up all spic and span and then....




We lit up the band... MB broke into Gimmee One Reason...











We absolutely wore out "Wagon Wheel" over the course of 3 days. 2 of my most favorite ladies in the whole wide world, Hannah and Martina here singing harmony. We had Satan's Joke Mic Stand. It was permanently hung at 3/4 mast so everyone squatted to sing at it, enhancing our natural good looks.











The GREEN DRESS (a story in itself) made an appearance on John B., the drummer. That just ain't right...









The afternoon before our last show, Sally helped me whoop up Ronnie Masks for everyone in the band... except Ronnie. We whooped 'em out just before the show started and almost ruined him. :-) They made appearances all weekend long.... but this shot is classic.




"The Ronnies"













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What's In The Basement?

Sal and I have decided that we're gettin' old... the past week and a half has just 'bout took us down to a frazzle.... and we've got 1 more show and 2 more parties before we can yell "Uncle!". We're having fun but good God almighty, it's taking a toll, we both kinda stumble through our day until about 5 pm and then fire up for the night.

As such my blogging has quelled to a dull hum. I'll do better... I promise. Heh heh.



I got to roaming around in the basement of the theater we're in, The Royal in Macon Missouri, built in 1889, and I gotta tell you it's one cool old building. From the 12" X 12" rafter beams in the attic to the dark secret corners of the basement and the curving and dipping balcony, it's just an incredible old building. I snapped some pics the other night down in the basement, just some curious and cool things.


*Click any of the pics to see 'em bigger!*




An obviously overloaded toolbox in the shop area...







...loaded with "Hammers and powerful crap"







No one knew old Benny was such an awesome sign maker....








I'm sure there's a good reason, but I can't figure out why there's this set of heavy iron bars on this wall, separating two inside areas of the basement. What the hell did they keep down there??? The no pest strip is added ambiance.











A dark corner. Probably spooks back there.











Dueling radial arm saws *enter banjo music*











The place where they store all the door prizes. WINNER!











Okay this unlit corner under the stage.... a coffin? WTF? I've seen scary movies. I got the hell outta there before the sorority girls showed up in nighties and something grabbed my foot and dragged me down to hell.












The modified "boot camp" sign made me LOL.










Finally I turned the corner and went down the hallway towards the makeup room and lookie who was standing down there holding her stuff... and wondering what the hell I'm doing covered in cobwebs.










Later taters!







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Why Yes... Yes It Was A Good Party.

After a rehearsal at the theater Tuesday night, Sal got a surprise birthday party from the cast, crew and directors... complete with 2 cakes. That's our dear friend Michelle there with Sally. She was the "getter of the cakes".







After everyone was all roly poly with cake, the party moved to The Nickel, one of the local watering holes.... and proceeded to move into a slightly higher gear. David appears to be drinking phantom liquor in this pic.












And probably THE picture of the night... Sally. 2 Snakebites. Straws. God loves a woman that can party.









Sally's buddy Amanda, here in a lovely blinging ensemble of a smokin' hot red dress AND Chuck Taylor high tops....









....sent this 7:35 AM, slightly misspelled text message to Sally, the next morning. This totally sums up the birthday party from the night before.








Freakin A is right. Wow.







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Because It's Her Birthday... That's Why.

I'm a blessed man. There's no mistaking it, I'm 100 percent sure of it. Know why? 'Cause I've got Sally. I can't think of anyone on earth I'd wanna spend the rest of my days with than her, we go together like "peas and carrots". It's a helluva love story and maybe someday I'll blog that up, but for now... it's something else.

Sal got hung with a for crap birthday day. Her birthday's have always been filled with green and shamrocks and evil faced leprechauns and all things surrounding St. Patricks day. She loves having a birthday but dreads all the cross pollinated birthday stuff that goes with being born on the 17th of March. She's got one aunt that is allowed to send her the St. Patricks birthday card... but none of us would dare do it.

We know better.

So because I just wanna show her off 'cause I'm stupid in love with her, her true heart, her bizarre sense of humor, her smile and her love for me... here's today's and tomorrow's post.


Because she openly loves surprises...







Because I've never known a woman that looked so totally bitchin hot in hats...








Because she loves to dance, even when I can't... (awesome blurry picture alert)








Because she'll do almost anything for a great picture...








... even if it means posing with a wooden leg in her pj's and looking sad. (LOL)











Because she looks cute in her car....










... and is more than willing to stop that car for an entertaining shot of a roadkill possum with it's leg permanently stuck into the air.








Because we look like we belong together whether we're dressed up...









...or we're dressed down.









...and because she's mine.










That's a few of the reasons why I love her.



Happy Birthday Sal.
XOXO






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What Weekend?

What a whirlwind of a week! Business has been a wee bit off for us here at the shop (read "shivver")but hopefully that's taking a turn for the better. I snagged a pretty nice commissioned job and have a real promising "hopeful" coming 'round next weekend.

Grease started and we're getting ready to do the 3rd show today, a matinee. I'm not an old hand at this, nor do I wanna be, but it seems to be coming off pretty smooth. A couple of glitches here and there, but the kids, actors and actresses are just awesome. They're doing one hell of a job and I'm proud of 'em.

I'm in the band and we've got every stupid Grease song stuck in our heads forever and ever. The band went as a group out to eat the other evening and at some point at least one of us was doing the bass line from You're The One That I Want (dum da dum dum dum da dum dum dum da dum dum dum) and getting yelled at to STOP IT by one of the other band members. It's starting to affect me.

Zibbs has a post about an upcoming college reunion of some sort. Reminded of an incident this summer.

I quit attending HS reunions a long time ago... I dunno why, just 'cause. I attended a pretty small school, I think there were 45 in our graduating class or so. Anyhow Sally and our friends Martina and Randy went to a Labor Day parade in the little town where I went to school and after the parade we decided to go over to the only bar in town and have a couple of beers and shoot some pool or something. When we walked in the bar there were maybe... 15 people in there, counting the 3 gals working the bar. Of those 15 people, counting myself... were 5 people that were in my graduating class. 1/3 of the people in that little bar.

I don't have a clever witticism for what that means. It probably doesn't need one.


Also this post and this part 2 of it, is kinda making the rounds to a couple of interesting corners of the internets. One place in particular that is VERY interesting. I'll post it up when they get through chewing me up and spitting me out.

Gotta love the internets. It's a weird old world.





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Surgery Without Anethesia---- Part 2

Alrighty, this is part 2 of this post.

So Sal and I got to the hospital the day of the surgery, I signed off a buttload of paperwork, got nekid and slipped into a designer hospital gown, the designer being Soupy Sales, and waited in pre-op for the deed. Various techs and nurses came and did the usual monitoring stuff, drawing blood, taking my blood pressure,temperature etc... then the surgeon came in to talk to me one last time before I went to the O.R.

He asked me if I was ready and was still wanting to do it with out being put under and I said "yup". Sally asked how "comfortable" I would be... repeating a word that he'd used. I don't really know what happened right then but he sorta flipped a little bit and said "I'm your surgeon, I'm not your anesthesiologist... I can't be both. You're going to be wide awake. I'll give you a local at the incision site, this will be like what you get when you go to the dentist, that's as comfortable as I can make you. You WILL feel it, A LOT. If you don't think you can go through with this, lets just get the anesthesiologist in here right now."

So I'm a little stunned. I wasn't quite prepared mentally for this little turn of events. Sally was kinda white looking.

I'm pretty hard core. I'm not gloating or boasting... I can endure quite a bit if I've got my mind set. I looked at Sal then to the surgeon and said "Let's get to it."

Then the anesthetist walks in with a clipboard full of papers to have me sign and I told him he wasn't in this show. He was the one with the stunned look now, evidently no one had told him up til now about this. Incredible eh? He asked if I was sure and I said "yup". He said "How about you go ahead and sign my release papers and I'll wait outside the O.R. and if it get's real hairy for you all they have to do is wave me in and I'll put you out." I agreed, signed.. and he left.... evidently to tell everyone in the hospital what was getting ready to go down up in the O.R.

They wheel me in to the O.R., slide me over onto the operating table. The doc comes in with an entourage and asks me if it's okay if the operation is "observed" and I said "it's cool with me". They 5 point restrain me down to the table. This is where it starts getting real weird.

Sitting behind me is an OR nurse that is like my best friend in the world right now. She's talking to me, reassuring me and telling me that she's going to be monitoring my vitals. On one side of the table is the surgeon and his OR nurse, on the other side is another doc. Before the put they drape up below my chin that blocks my view of the whole mess, I saw about 5 student docs standing at the foot of the operating table. Over to my left is a quite young student nurse, observing also.

He tells me he's going to start and how it's going to play out in stages of the operation. He says that he's going to tell me what he's doing as he does it. To keep the flinch factor down he said he was going to say when he was cutting and when he was poking and when he was pulling stitches etc... so I could prepare myself mentally at each step.

He says that after he get's so deep in me, I'm probably going to be feeling quite a bit of it because the local only goes so far.

Hoo boy.

The local burns pretty good, like it always does and then he get's going. I actually don't feel the first cut... I have the sensation of something being drug across my belly and that's it. He's talking to me, the nurse behind me is talking to me and asking me to take some slow deep breaths.

Then... then it I started to feel it. I told him that I was feeling it pretty good, and he said he was hurrying but he had about 20 minutes left. Did I want the anesthetist? "No." The OR was dead quiet except for the 3 of us talking.

It started getting real REAL intense. As intense as anything that I've done. I was feeling everything. 150 percent of everything. I could feel every cut, I could feel the sensation of him poking into my guts. Everything.

The student nurse to my left started crying.

Yeah... that's comforting.

He did the repair and started sewing me up in layers. I felt every single stitch... there was no local left and absolutely none that deep into my stomach. He told me that he had about 3 minutes left and he'd be done.

And then it was over. They took off the restraints, cleaned me up around my stomach, covered me up with fresh sheets and just like that it was over. 2 of the student docs that were observing walked up beside me and one said "You are the toughest sonofabitch I've ever seen in my entire life." while the other one stood there nodding.

Because there's no anesthesia to wear off I don't make a stop at post op, I go right back to the pre-op room.

Sally comes in the room and asks me how it was... and I lost it for a few minutes. The shock and horror of the whole thing was overwhelming, I held it as long as humanly possible. When my wife looked at me and asked me that... it was like my emotional trigger. She held me while I got over that episode.

A doc and a student doc that had nothing to do with my surgery stepped into the room and said "Can we ask you a couple of questions?" and I nodded. The doc said "You're pretty much the talk of the hospital today, my student here wants to know what it was like."

I looked at the kid and said "Pure fucking hell." "As bad as you can imagine. That was what it was like. I felt everything, was aware of everything." And they left.


After awhile Sally helped me get my clothes on, they wheeled me out to the car and we went home. Another emotional period or two getting there. Sal just listened.

Then. Then the nightmares started. Everytime I went to sleep I had complete and vivid flashbacks of it. As real as it gets. After about a week of it I got a script for sleeping pills but they kept coming for several weeks and then.... just stopped. Just like that.




In retrospect, I would never do it again. I felt that I had to do it at the time because of the whole money thing. I could save my family the additional debt just by toughing it out. Well, I did... but I would never ever do it again. It's just too much physically and emotionally.


On the bright side, when anyone starts telling their "horrible surgery" story... I can always top it on the horror scale.


That's all folks.





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Surgery Without Anethesia --- or --- Ow! Part 1.

Okay before I start here, a couple of things. Firstly, this might not be the blog post you wanna read if you're squeamish, it's a little harsh in a few spots. Secondly this ain't a pity post. Everything (mostly) was of my own doings through decisions that I made and my wife, Sally backed me up. I did it through choosing to play it this way.

I've regretted it for a long time, but... que sera sera.

As you know if you're a regular reader, I'm self employed. I am the sole income gatherer in this house. That's also of our choosing obviously. Being self employed we don't have the option of having a health insurance policy provided for us, or offered to us at a discount. A few years ago, after we had raised our deductible to ridiculously high levels ($2,500)and we were still working to pay for it and taxes for several months out of the year, we made the decision to drop it and wing it. We just couldn't afford it any longer. That's the way she goes.

Looking at this you'd think that Sally and I are great proponents of socialized health care. We're not. We try to pay our own way, and why should YOU be forced to pay for our health care? It speaks volumes about what is wrong with what health care costs in this country, from an overtly litigious society, to greedy hospitals, to greedy lawyers, to... on and on and on.

About 2 years ago I had an umbilical hernia that had become a pretty bad problem. This is a fairly common thing for people that have done a lot of manual labor in life. Basically, in layman's terms, your guts try to come out through your belly button. It hurts, it's frightening at times and worst of all it can block your intestine and then you're a short time away from getting dirt thrown on you. I had put it off for a couple of years and it had gotten serious enough I had to have it fixed.

I called a couple of teaching hospitals to see if there was a "guinea pig" program, where I could get it repaired at a reduced cost if I let student docs do the cutting. Nada. They don't do that much anymore. They just let 'em do the cutting and then charge you like an experienced doctor has done it.

I knew of a surgeon that worked out of a local hospital here, matter of fact the guy had saved my Dad's life. He had a very good reputation and when the thing happened with my Dad... he impressed me. I went to his office and had him examine me. He checked me out, said "THAT needs to be fixed NOW!" I told him about my insurance situation and asked him if we could make a "deal".

He told me that if I paid cash he'd knock his surgeon fees down by 40%. Surprise you? It should. He told me what it'd be, within about $300 bucks or so, I told him to line me up a slot and I went to the hospital to play Let's Make A Deal.

I walked in to the billing department and spoke with them for awhile. I found out that the hospital's fees for this outpatient surgery (I wouldn't have to spend the night if there weren't complications)were about triple what the surgeon's fees were. I asked them if we could "deal". She told me if I paid cash that the hospital would knock 20% off the total charge.

Amazing eh?

She then asked if the surgeon was providing his own anesthetist and I said "no". She wheeled out some more papers and gave me a price on what the hospital supplied anesthetist would be.

I choked.

The anesthetist's charges doubled the hospital's total. Going from about $6000 to $12,000 in one sentence. I got up and said "gotta go" and left. We went back to the surgeon's office and I asked him what it would be if he did the anesthesia, he said he relies on the hospital's anesthesiology department to do it for him, but if I wanted to wing it on NO anesthesiologist he would "make me comfortable" for the surgery.

I said "I'll be wide awake?" He said "You'll be awake". I said "You'll make me comfortable?" He said "As much as I can."


The deal was done, I had him finish the scheduling and waited for the day of surgery, a little apprehensive, but semi-comfortable with my decision.

Understand that this is a pretty invasive surgery. It's not arthroscopic, you get your stomach cut open, you get your guts shoved back where they're supposed to be, and you get sewn up in layers. Mesh is put in if it's needed.


To keep the reading to a comfortable Blog Like level, I'll have the rest of the story in my next blog post.






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Gin and Juice

I started THE post 3 times this morning and it ain't happening. I'm actually gonna be home tonite for a change, so maybe then. Meanwhile I've got a video of a south Texas band called The Gourds. These old boys know how to throw a party in a big way. I've been watching some of their videos for awhile, posted at different corners of the internetions and this one is kinda their signature tune. Some sorta party somewhere's that is just 'bout to kick in high gear, and I believe it just got there. When a band can whip their audience into a fun fervor like this, they're doin' their job right.



The Gourds cover of (of all things) Snoop Dogg's "Gin and Juice". Throw a fiddle and a mandolin in that lil' ol' cover too while you're at it.








That makes me smile everytime I watch it. :-)





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I'm Schwonkelizing Today's Post

I'm kinda short on time this week, I haven't even had as much time as I'd like to read all the blogs that I like to peruse every day... let alone throw down some good blogging on my part, and I truly do look forward to that time. So, I'm schwonkelizing out on today's post. I invented that word, it's all mine, it can mean anything I want. You're more than welcome to use it just give me credit. Toss it out at today's board meeting, drop it into a couple of random phone conversations. Get stopped for speeding? Just tell the cop you were headed to your weekly schwonkel meeting and were anxious to get started schwonkelizing. It'll be great. Just do it.



And I'm gonna do the posts referred to in this posting just as soon as I get the time to do it justice.



Meanwhile, could y'all caption this for me? Purty Please? Ok. Thanks!










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Sunday Video Happiness And.... You Decide.

As if my life wasn't already hurtling towards the grave faster than a fat girl heads to the General's Chicken on the Chinese buffet... I get to lose another whole hour of my life to Daylight Savings Time. Don't be telling me I'm getting it back this fall. It's just gone. I know it, you know it. Gone, for crap's sake.

Anyway, because not only I have lost an hour of my life this morning, every single one of you have metaphorically smoked a pack of Camel straights today as well, and I don't wanna tie up too much of your life... or mine, with unnecessary wasted time on my blog. So, it's gonna be short and sweet.


First things first. I've tossed around in my punkin for quite awhile, writing about an experience of mine about 2 years ago. Now it's not humor, but it's a helluva good story. 100 percent true and factual and not for the faint of heart... and it'll probably take up 2 blog posts to get all done up right.

I had some pretty major surgery without anesthesia, on purpose. Let me know in the comments if you're up for it. I promise it'll be a doozy if you opt in for it.




And lastly, a video. A video of the Allman Brothers (Kinda... a 2003 version of the band anyhow) doing a classic that will leave you humming this in your head the rest of the day. Southern blues rock at it's very VERY finest. Soulshine.







You guys from The Wood Works reading this... you're gonna LOVE the new feature on the forum when it get's lit up today!

Lemme know AND have a great Sunday!






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Here's A Great Big Woody, Part 2

Before I start... I've had to block anonymous comments because of a few asshats. Asshats that are oblivious to humor and were mothered by whores, fathered by either Hitler or Stalin and got stuck sucking the hind tit on a leprous nanny goat for the remainder of their lives lying on their backs in goat feces and urine while doing so and evidently married to a woman as whorish as their mother or as putridly repulsive as their father and sprung forth from their loins, children as hateful as Satan's spawn...... continue to post childish and decidedly retarded comments, anonymously... that you know I'm just gonna delete. If you're gonna post crap... grow some balls and get an ID so it makes it a little easier for me to track you down and make your life misery. Not that it's not that tough to do that right now... I just want to put out less effort doing it.




I'm sorry for having to do this, 1 percent ruin it for all of my anonymous commentators, by all means jump into this link and create a blogger ID for yourself. I love your comments and really wanna see 'em.




Man I've been in a spin the past few days... can't really get a good solid fix on the direction I should be trekking into. Grease rehearsal 3 nights every week from about 5:30 to 10 or 11 PM, working in the shop, calving has started for us, and today we got the cows in and weaned off 31 head of calves. Anyhow I wanted to get the finished pics of Greased Lightning up and a few shots of the play rehearsal.

Some of the actors and actresses are in full costume, some not at all and some are kinda 50 50 in costume. The set continues to evolve and I believe the first performance is next Friday. If you're a blog reader in my area here, you NEED to see this... incredible cast of 100 percent local talent. Lots of great acting, singing, music, color and fun.

So here we go... it's a nice glowing Turquoise! Got the tires and wheels on it, and the whole thing is on hidden casters so it's easily moved. The working headlites are controlled from the lighting panel at the theater.


















I get to play in the pit band and we're having some fun with that. That's Beth there on the keyboards, the music director and some handsome cuss on guitar. There's a whole slew of us jammed into that little closet of an orchestra pit. It's beyond friendly.






And because I read the National Enquirer and therefore know the importance of schmoozing up with the Directors during one of these things... I'm here schmoozing and posing with Jeanne, one of the co-directors and a dear friend of ours.








Alrighty! Have a great weekend friends!

J.








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