Life.
Sometimes it's good. Sometimes it's not.
And if you can't take a step back and take a good laugh at it every now and then, it can completely beat you down.
This is my blog, a play on my name complete with thoughts, observations, happenings, and other stupid crap from my crazily-normal life.
OK, this is it...I promise. My final "Final Project" from my video editing class. I chose to make a two minute music video to REM's It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) where I basically pulled a bunch of the craziest video clips from You Tube I could find (you know, people falling down, throwing up, getting hit in the nuts, dying in horror and disaster flicks, MASS HYSTERIA) and threw them together to make a video. Diane's response when I showed her my "masterpiece"?
"Oooo-kaaay?"
Some people just don't appreciate good art when they see it.
Alright, another installation of shameless self-promotion. This is my latest video editing project: producing a fake movie trailer. We were given a bunch of raw footage from the movie Saturday Night Fever and challenged to transform it into a trailer promoting a completely different film. My submission? I present to you Becoming Father Vinnie.
Concert posters were made, paraphernalia was purchased in mass quantities, hearing was lost, voices were screamed and sung hoarse, and a good time was had by all at the Jonas Brothers/Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus concert at Jobing.com arena in Glendale. I knew the girls would love it, but was genuinely surprised when Diane reported that it was a really good concert. Who knew? A pictorial review:
Hannah did indeed rock. Both of the girls made posters to display during the concert. I forgot to ask them if they were able to take them into the arena.
As official Hannah Montana fan club members, Kailey & Kyra had an opportunity to win raffle tickets for an official tour of Miley's party bus. They arrived too late to participate.
The Jonas Brothers were the opening act. I didn't hear too much about these guys...
...but this is a shot of Kailey during their set. Look at her eyes, all glossed over and dreamy-looking. I was surprised she didn't come home with a Jonas Brothers poster for the wall of her room. She did, however, choose the hot pink Jonas Brothers T-shirt over Hannah Montana.
The girls called me at work during the intermission, and they were hyped. It made me sad to miss that experience with them. Kailey kept going on about how loud it was in the arena. "The Jonas Brothers came out, and all the girls were screaming at the top of their lungs," she gushed. "I had to cover my ears!" OK, now I was less sad to miss the experience of ten thousand girls screaming at the top of their lungs.
"I could feel my heart beating in my chest!" Kyra reported, trying to explain the feeling of bass pulses reverberating inside her chest. I laughed, knowing exactly what she was talking about, and then felt sad again.
(Revision: I thought I'd better add a little more about The Jonas Brothers since I've been receiving about a million hits from a JB fan site. I polled the girls and they said that the Jonas Brothers were "awesome". Cool? Oh, and here's another JB pic for your enjoyment.)
Hannah/Miley's stage set up.
Miley did a couple of different sets, first as Hannah Montana followed by a set as herself. After all, she's going to need to establish her own identity as an artist. She can't be Hannah Montana when she's 30. Right?
She also had about 350 costume changes, because you just simply can't wear the same outfit for two hours.
Kyra singing along and having the time of her life. And who's freaky stalker-looking dude in the background? Mind yer own BEESwax, dude! I'll have to edit him out of the picture.
Here Miley's doing what I think is a solo acoustic set, if I remember the report correctly, which further impressed Diane. The concert wasn't a simply choreographed lip-synch show. Miley is a very talented young lady.
Here the girls are pulling Grammy away from the Beer, Wine & Spirits stand...again! Kidding. I just think this is a hilarious backdrop for a "family" photo.
They spent the night in Chandler and finished off their trip with, what else, a little shopping! They made it home safe and sound Saturday night, and I'm glad to have them back. By the way, I had the house to myself on Friday night and didn't do ONE load of laundry.
Well it looks like we've got ourselves a good, ol' fashioned dilemma brewing. Since missing a day of school on Monday due to a fever/cold combo, Kyra has developed a dry, course, nasty cough. She sounds like a hoarse dog. We should probably keep her home another day, which brings us to dilemma #2: my mother-in-law spent mucho dinero on four tickets to see Hannah Montana in concert in Phoenix. Tonight. She also signed the girls up for the Hannah Montana fan club, which entitles them to attend a pre-concert party on Hannah Montana's party bus. If we keep her home from the concert, Kyra will never, ever, ever, ever, ever forgive us. And she would remind us hourly of that transgression for the rest of our lives. What to do, what to do?
Well, we did what any responsible parent would do: we kept Kyra home from school so that she could rest up and enjoy the concert! What?! Oh, don't give me that crap! Like you wouldn't do the same thing! Did I mention the fact that these are HANNAH MONTANA tickets? They're more precious than gold, people! Kids can make up their school work. There's no "making up" Hannah Montana!
And still my guilt consumes me. Don't think for a moment that I didn't lobby like hell to try to sell those babies. People are paying a bazillion dollars for them after all. I tried to reason with them...we could buy a Ferrari, a vacation home in the Hamptons, a small tropical island! I even tried the humanitarian route by offering to use the proceeds to feed a small African nation...for a year! But they were steadfast in their decision. It was Hannah Montana or bust.
By now, Grammy, Diane, Kailey and hoarse-dog coughing Kyra have packed into the van and on their way to Phoenix for a girls night out with Hannah Montana. I hope they bring me back a T-shirt.
"What song do you want to hear?" Diane asked as she sat down on the bleachers. She just got off work and joined me to watch Kailey's softball practice. I gave her a puzzled look, so she clarified. "Debbie's going to the Police concert tonight and she wants to know what song you want to hear. She's going to call us when they play it." I immediately began to feel sorry for myself. Here I was watching a bunch of 8 year-olds trying in vain to catch a softball while my sister-in-law was on the verge of seeing one of the greatest bands of all time in concert. Sure, I could catch them in concert when they come to Phoenix a week from Monday, but I don't have $225 for a ticket, let alone $450 for two. Someone please pity me, or send cash.
My answer was immediate: King of Pain. I love that song. It could be my theme song because, as the Battered Ham, it may very well be my destiny to be the King of Pain. Is anyone coming to my pity party? If so, bring cash. Debbie called a little while later and I told her my song of choice. "I want to hear that one too!" she cried. She was way too excited, but who could blame her? She also offered to buy me a T-shirt, which was very cool of her. Life was getting better.
So we finished watching Kailey's practice, went home, fixed a little dinner, chucked the girls in the tub, and got them to bed. By the time we finished the nightly routine, it was already a quarter to ten. And all the while I waited for the phone to ring. Diane and I crashed in front of the TV and decompressed. At 10:30 the phone rang. The caller ID verified that this was the call I had been waiting for. I pressed the "Hands Free" button on the receiver and we were met with a wall of sound, mostly screaming people. The screaming eventually subsided and we could clearly hear Sting's vocals along with Andy's guitar riffs. But I never heard a drum beat or a bass line. It didn't matter. It was still awesome.
As we were listening, Debbie shouted into the phone, "This is their second encore!" They followed King of Pain with So Lonely, from their first album, then left the stage. Or so I heard. Several times during the second and third encore, Debbie and her friends would engage in a discussion on whether or not we were still listening. "Are they still there? I don't know. I think they're still there! Are you guys still there?" Like they could even hear us if we answered in the affirmative.
The arena went nuts when The Police began their third encore with Every Breath You Take and they ended the concert with Next to You, also from their first album. I think Diane was getting tired of listening to the garbled music through the speakerphone, but I didn't care. I know it's pathetic, but I just couldn't bring myself to hang up on The Police. They finished their song and Sting gave his last, "thanksforcominggodblessyougoodnight!" and Debbie confirmed the end of the concert with, "That's it". We talked for a couple of minutes and I thanked her for letting us listen in as well as for the T-shirt. Then we hung up and our vicarious Police experience through my sister-in-law's cell phone was over. The silence was deafening.
Tomorrow morning I'm dragging my guitar downtown, setting up shop on a street corner, and raising a little concert money. For now, enjoy The Police live from Vancouver.
One of the great things about being a parent is the opportunity to be an influence in the lives of your children. Notice I did not say "positive" influence. Whether I am a "positive" influence on the girls is open to interpretation. If you ask me if I think I'm a positive influence, then it's a big "hell, yeah!" My wife, on the other hand, may not be so quick to jump on that bandwagon.
One of the areas in which we are not so equally yoked is our taste in movies. I need to be diplomatic here because Diane reads my blog. Diane tends to be a little more selective in her cinematic tastes while I like to dine at the smorgasbord. If we're channel surfing and I see a black and white movie with a ridiculous-looking creature, or a dude in a cowboy hat, in uniform, or holding a samurai sword, or gunfire/explosions of any sort, I'll shout, "OOooh, what was that!" Diane just rolls her eyes, groans, and keeps on surfing. I'm particularly proud of my ability to identify a movie in the brief second or so it takes to surf by it: "That was Platoon...Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid...My Bloody Valentine...Meatballs II...Police Academy V..." More groaning and eye rolling.
Fortunately for us, we identified this difference relatively early in our relationship. I can remember one night we decided to have a movie night over at her place and she asked me what I'd like to see. "Have you ever seen Young Frankenstine? Oh it's hilarious...we have to get that one." Diane AND HER MOM went to about four different video stores to find the movie. They finally found it and we watched it together with Diane's parents and her sister. I busted a gut for an hour-and-a-half while they all sat there stone-faced wondering what the hell was wrong with me. Now that I think about it, it's a wonder they allowed me to marry their daughter.
Anyway, that was a long tangent simply to say that I'd like to have more of an influence on the girls by giving them a wider appreciation of the cinema. And I've had some success in this area. They are already big fans of The Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, and super hero movies, much to Diane's chagrin. This morning I pulled off a huge coup d'etat, although it may backfire and bite me in the butt. This morning I introduced the girls to a classic cinematic art form...the creature feature.
I was surfing through channels, and because Diane was at work, I stopped at all of those channels that looked promising because I was in control for a change. I came across AMC (that's American Movie Classics) and saw a black and white movie with two men sneaking around in the dark dressed in 50's style swimsuits. Who wouldn't stop channel-surfing for that! Then I saw it. The rubber, fakey-looking body suit; the fins; the gaping mouth...it was The Creature From the Black Lagoon! Score!! Of course, the girls came in at this time and wanted to watch it. I mean they REALLY wanted to watch it. I protested at first, but they BEGGED me to watch it. I was so proud. What else could I do? So I made cinnamon rolls and we snuggled up and watched one of the dumbest movies ever made. It was great!
What's also great is that I'm an incredibly sound sleeper. So I won't have to deal with the girls when they are awakened by nightmares in the middle of the night. Sorry, hon.
