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The circus has finally started rehearsals. They're set to open February 2.
I am thinking: this is not enough time to hone those high production values I chatter on about in all those press releases. (In which, I might add, I sound exactly like a tweaker who's had to hawk that prescription Ritalin gold-dust for rent money.)
I mention this to JDK. He snaps, "This is a mud show, not a Broadway play with run-throughs and a million dollar budget."
O-kay.
They're set up in a place called Brownsville, Texas. I take it Brownsville is one of those bipolar towns along the Mexican border, the ones with the big bridges that at least once a week – payday at the sweat shop! – are clogged with endless streams of Mexicans on their way to Wal-Mart. I am imagining picturesque adobe walls, ancient pepper trees overlooking dry riverbeds. Though I know the reality is more likely a parking lot next to an all-night liquor store.
The Rolla Bolla guy has a girlfriend, Valerie, who once upon a time was a newspaper reporter. She's French, has a one-month-old baby. JDK has given her to me as my on-scene slave. We're gonna set her up with a blog which I will write.
(What's a Rolla Bolla, you're wondering? Well, it sounds simple enough. Lay a board across a rolling cylinder and balance on it. Easy, you say? How about stacking the rolling cylinders five-high? Kids, don't try this one at home!)
"I need good photographs!" I tell Valerie thereby setting her up for Nervous Breakdown #1 since she doesn't have a very good camera and JDK refuses to spring for a better one.
After putzing around with circus stuff, I check in on the Project Runway site. (Tim Gunn is my spiritual advisor.) Not a whole lot to say about the most recent Project Runway episode. Figure skating is an abomination that will rightfully bring down Allah's wrath on the western world one of these days. The garment engineering aspect to the challenge was vaguely interesting and I wondered how Wacky Science Girl would have handled that one. The aerodynamics of Chloe's design were intriguing: all those aquamarine scallops! Do they float?
But on the Project Runway website I ran across a Flash ad banner for a hideous-sounding movie called Nanny McPhee - that happened to have the exact color scheme and timeline I wanted for the Cirque de Méprise flash banner. Monkey see, monkey learn. (Monkey never plagiarize!) This banner turned out not to be an easy grab from my browser cache but rather shielded by invisible force fields on an ad server in a distant galaxy far, far away. Thus I spent the hours until Obligatory Dog Beach Walk and Robin School Pick Up hunting it down. Success! I ran it through my flash decompiler and gulp! it has 204 layers. But a very clever, elegant solution to the animation which I never would have thought of myself.
My kind of fun.
At ISM I was waylaid by Mrs. El Estero Carwash who once again is chairwomaning the annual ISM Gala, Auction and Every Rich Person We Know Extortion Racket.
I had hoped to avoid being volunteered for it this year, but hélas! no such luck.
I have so much spare time! Of course, I can volunteer with the other Junior Leaguers!
In the late afternoon, I met up with best pal Marybeth for a long sunset walk along Asilomar Beach and prime rib at the Mission Ranch. Let's say there is such a thing as reincarnation. Clearly I was an Auschwitz kapo and Marybeth was Schindler in our respective, most recent past lives. That's the only explanation for the disparities in our present tense – she lives a charmed life; faithful readers are well aware of the life I live. I love her to death but it is hard, hard, hard not to be completely eaten up with envy.
I am thinking: this is not enough time to hone those high production values I chatter on about in all those press releases. (In which, I might add, I sound exactly like a tweaker who's had to hawk that prescription Ritalin gold-dust for rent money.)
I mention this to JDK. He snaps, "This is a mud show, not a Broadway play with run-throughs and a million dollar budget."
O-kay.
They're set up in a place called Brownsville, Texas. I take it Brownsville is one of those bipolar towns along the Mexican border, the ones with the big bridges that at least once a week – payday at the sweat shop! – are clogged with endless streams of Mexicans on their way to Wal-Mart. I am imagining picturesque adobe walls, ancient pepper trees overlooking dry riverbeds. Though I know the reality is more likely a parking lot next to an all-night liquor store.
The Rolla Bolla guy has a girlfriend, Valerie, who once upon a time was a newspaper reporter. She's French, has a one-month-old baby. JDK has given her to me as my on-scene slave. We're gonna set her up with a blog which I will write.
(What's a Rolla Bolla, you're wondering? Well, it sounds simple enough. Lay a board across a rolling cylinder and balance on it. Easy, you say? How about stacking the rolling cylinders five-high? Kids, don't try this one at home!)
"I need good photographs!" I tell Valerie thereby setting her up for Nervous Breakdown #1 since she doesn't have a very good camera and JDK refuses to spring for a better one.After putzing around with circus stuff, I check in on the Project Runway site. (Tim Gunn is my spiritual advisor.) Not a whole lot to say about the most recent Project Runway episode. Figure skating is an abomination that will rightfully bring down Allah's wrath on the western world one of these days. The garment engineering aspect to the challenge was vaguely interesting and I wondered how Wacky Science Girl would have handled that one. The aerodynamics of Chloe's design were intriguing: all those aquamarine scallops! Do they float?
But on the Project Runway website I ran across a Flash ad banner for a hideous-sounding movie called Nanny McPhee - that happened to have the exact color scheme and timeline I wanted for the Cirque de Méprise flash banner. Monkey see, monkey learn. (Monkey never plagiarize!) This banner turned out not to be an easy grab from my browser cache but rather shielded by invisible force fields on an ad server in a distant galaxy far, far away. Thus I spent the hours until Obligatory Dog Beach Walk and Robin School Pick Up hunting it down. Success! I ran it through my flash decompiler and gulp! it has 204 layers. But a very clever, elegant solution to the animation which I never would have thought of myself.
My kind of fun.
At ISM I was waylaid by Mrs. El Estero Carwash who once again is chairwomaning the annual ISM Gala, Auction and Every Rich Person We Know Extortion Racket.
I had hoped to avoid being volunteered for it this year, but hélas! no such luck.
I have so much spare time! Of course, I can volunteer with the other Junior Leaguers!
In the late afternoon, I met up with best pal Marybeth for a long sunset walk along Asilomar Beach and prime rib at the Mission Ranch. Let's say there is such a thing as reincarnation. Clearly I was an Auschwitz kapo and Marybeth was Schindler in our respective, most recent past lives. That's the only explanation for the disparities in our present tense – she lives a charmed life; faithful readers are well aware of the life I live. I love her to death but it is hard, hard, hard not to be completely eaten up with envy.
