Yinz Gonna Make Me Lose My Mind

Since attending the AFC Championship game in Pittsburgh approximately ten days ago, I have been living in a noxious state of excitement and sheer terror, all the while presumably looking forward to Super Bowl XLV this Sunday. This is the conundrum on the edge of the universe: wait in anxious anticipation all year, on every snap of every quarter of every game, to get to the playoffs to get to the championship game to get to the Super Bowl, so that the stress of that Super Bowl game can drive you mad in the interim. So simple and succinct.

Every die-hard fan lives like this. Entire days, weeks, and months are hinged upon the outcome of any one Steelers' game. If you think things are tense in the middle of the season for some divisional round showdown, rachet it up tenfold for playoff games. And as for the Super Bowl? All you might need to know is there was a guy who burned down his house during Super Bowl XLIII, a game in which the Steelers were victorious.

So pardon me if I could not put down in words just how I felt after being moved to tears by 66,000 freezing-cold Steeler fans singing in unison that Pittsburgh was, indeed, "going to the Super Bowl." Forgive me if I can't fully explain the joy I felt when the defense held on four downs of a goal-line stand. (If I ever procreate and that kid ends up walking the length of a stage to receive a diploma, I can say the pride will be equalled...probably.) Excuse my lack of eloquence as I describe how it was to watch Franco and Rocky wave their towels from the makeshift stage when awarding an eighth Lamar Hunt trophy to the Rooneys.

That Sunday night in Pittsburgh, with a wind chill below zero and an anxiety level through the roof, was maybe one of the best nights of my life. To see it in person, thanks to the generosity of my parents, allowed me access to a dream come true.

Yes, I have wanted this all year long, to know that my team is in the Super Bowl, one of the last two standing. Now that it is here, so is that familiar anxious pit in my stomach, the eager and cautious anticipation of the big game. I want the Steelers to win a seventh Lombardi, even though I know as I write the words it might be tempting the Gods of Greed and Fate. I know they might not win the game, allowing for morbid disappointment.

But I do know that, having been there, in that moment at Heinz Field, Steeler Nation will love those fellows just the same, for allowing us to witness greatness, participate in two more weeks of football-inspired madness, and revel in being champions in the AFC.

Even if we all did lose our minds just a bit in the process.

That Would Be Weird, Huh?

You know what would be weird? Watching "The Social Network" (i.e. the "Facebook movie") while actually being on Facebook.

I did not do this. I just watched the movie to watch the movie. It made me appreciate the line uttered by the Stanford girl about Facebook being "freakishly addictive." I wish sometimes I had never even heard of Facebook, never created a profile, never uploaded a photo, never become "freakishly addicted" to this ridiculous idea.

Why? Because, to paraphrase another line in the film, "it's exhausting." Mentally and physically and emotionally. I can't pinpoint exactly why I feel like this, but I do. I would be happy to know if other people feel like this, too. They'll probably post it on Facebook if they have opinions on the matter. Then other people will just comment on those posts and there you go. Exhausting.

But, that's how it is now in the world, and I could just turn off the computer and disable the Blackberry alert tied to Facebook and be done with it. Except we all know I'm not going to do that anymore than you are going to do that. And damn Mark Zuckerburg for all that, too.

Because what would that leave, then? I would miss out on the good links and the sports trash-talking and the voyeurism and the love/hate relationship with the whole deal. I'd just have to wonder about how old acquaintances and people I don't really know are doing, where they live, what their kids look like, whether they went to lunch already, how many smileys they will put at the end of specific status updates, yadda, yadda, yadda.

Yeah, that would be...weird.

Things I Learned in 2010 (Some For the Very First Time!)

I learned the following lessons in 2010, though some of them are better categorized as things I re-learned:

**Ricky Martin is gay. Okay, I'll admit, when I first "learned" this in the holy bible of all things pop culture (i.e. People magazine) I thought to myself, "Hey, didn't I learn this in, like, 1996?" But, after reading the insightful article, I realized that I could only have suspected this in 1996, since ol' Ricky is just coming out now. So, technically, I learned something I already knew! Maybe I'm smart! Or, maybe, I'm just not stupid! (These things do not mean the same thing. They don't.)

For 2011, I hope to "learn" the same thing about Ryan Seacrest. I know he went to Paris with his, um, "girlfriend" Julianne Hough, but come on. They went with his mom and sister and they all went shoe shopping. In Paris. Wow. That is pretty much the straightest, non-gay thing I know I've ever heard. Right?

**There are really not as many murders as the true-crime lineup on TV would have you believe. I should have learned this before because I've been watching these lineups for years, but I have put it together now: they are pretty much the same murders, given different treatments on various programs. The same wife shooting her husband can be told in different ways on Snapped, Notorious, Dateline ID, 48 Hours Mystery - you get the picture. And then, if you are really special, you might get your own "inspired by real events" episode on one of the flavors of Law and Order. It's reassuring to know, really, when you consider how many less murders are being sensationalized on television.

**People in general, whether famous, infamous, or otherwise, are not so much interested in "the truth" as they are interested in saying they are "interested in the truth." Get it? This is why I basically don't believe anyone about anything, unless I find uncontroverted, neutral evidence to support it. This might sound cynical - and I know Conan told us all to not be cynical - but I believe this works for me and my defense mechanisms. Plus, I might just have been born this way. Like Ricky. And Ryan.

**It really all is about perspective. Like, a year and a half ago I really wanted to lose about 10 pounds. And now, I would almost give up a non-vital limb to be back at that weight I was about a year and a half ago. So, this has taught me a valuable lesson in my old(er) age: be happy about where you are, since you seriously do not know how good you have it when you have it good. You don't know when it might get better or worse, so you had better laugh it up and enjoy. Everyday. Take all the opportunities to make your life the fullest it can be. No matter what.

Do you hear me Ryan?

Heaps and Heaps of Crappin' Snow

We're snowed in again. I don't know how this happened. One reason we moved to NC was to (allegedly) get away from this kind of weather. That plan simply did not work out.

At least we can take solace in the fact that no one cares how lazy or unproductive you are here once the first snowflake falls...or even threatens to fall. (I've heard school cancelled because the forecast called for snow. I know. That's nuts...unless you are a kid in school, in which case, that's flippin' awesome!) Up north, if the snow didn't completely cover the top of your house, you had better get out there and go for it.

Now, all four of us in this family are holed up inside and left to our own devices. Those devices include a Chessie and Beagle curled up on the bed with me snoozing away while I watch ESPN First Take, and ol' Scotty P. downstairs catching up on a BBC television series. At least we are all safe and warm and happy, even if we will be broke by the end of winter, since we never work anymore. (Not that I'll complain about that loudly, in public, on the internet...)

So, I guess the crappin' snow can fall all day and into the night and we'll just continue our little experiment in family time together. It's fun, unless you ever want to leave your house for any reason, in which case it's depressing. But, the weather is that one constant about which we can do nothing except be left to its peril. And so I'll just sleep, watch movies, eat, drink, and be merry.

And someday, maybe, it will be spring. But I wouldn't bet on it.

New Year, New Energy

It's a new year, in case you were too drunk to remember Snooki falling down in that ball last Saturday morning about 12:00 midnight. That means that, though I refuse to resolve or vow any vague, pointless notions, I will put more energy into this blog.

I also will put more energy into various activities in my life, like my brand new business. Because, I have come to realize, if you happen to work for yourself and you don't, in fact, do any work, you will not, in fact, get a paycheck. This is a huge bummer and a blow to my normal work ethic, which has, to this point, been succinctly summed up as : "Just show up, keep your head down, get the work done as quickly as possible so you can goof off the rest of the time, collect those dollars, and go home."

This new idea for getting money is not fun. It is not refreshing. I guess there are good things about it, like the boss won't get on you for being late or waiting an extra five minutes because you wanted to hear the "Stone Cold Lead Pipe Locks" on Mike and Mike in the Morning, or not coming in at all. Of course, the boss also won't be able to pay you anything, either, so it's pretty much a lose-lose. On the bright side, I do get as many unpaid vacation days as I want and if I choose to sleep at my desk in a pool of my own slobber, no one will say a gosh-darn thing. (Not that I've tried that or anything. Honestly, I haven't...at least, not yet...)

There are some other changes on the horizon, like I plan to play less Bejeweled Blitz this year, I no longer plan to take the anti-anxiety drugs, and I have more activities to add to my repertoire. There might be more things, too, but if I show my hand now, then what would I write about in future blog posts? For now, we'll leave it at that.

I'll probably write my next blog post from my new office, just like I used to in the good old days. Of course, I won't be getting paid for it anymore. Depressing.

What is it "they" say about change? Oh yeah, it SUCKS!!

Things to Consider if You are Pregnant (Which I am NOT...)

Nothing more random to bring me back to blogging than this!

If you happen to find yourself pregnant and are in any way as infatuated with movies as I am, here are some helpful hints for you to consider:

**Be careful if you are married to an astronaut, especially if he lost two minutes while on a space mission and you are suddenly carrying twins. While I watched "The Astronaut's Wife" I realized you must consider all the possiblities, even those which involve a husband replaced by a space transmission hell-bent on taking over the planet by placing said transmission into two fetuses. This could be the fate of your child/children. So, consider yourself warned.

**Also, on that same line of thinking, be wary of men like Husband-of-the-Year Guy Woodhouse, ala "Rosemary's Baby." If, by chance, you move into a sweet new apartment and the neighbors next door are eccentric old people who host strange parties, give you odd charms filled with smelly substances, and take the pictures off the wall when you visit, you could be in for the same fate as poor old Rosemary. You should never, under any circumstances, accept any chocolatey food from these old people, no matter if they call it "the chocolate mouse" or not. You might find yourself in an unwanted sexual tryst with Lucifer himself and consequently knocked up. Nobody wants this.

**On a happier note, if you are pregnant and like to bake pies, it's a good idea (and therapeutic as well) as long as you aren't married to the creeper of the century, like Keri Russell in "Waitress." Even given that minor setback - which she was able to fix in the end - she managed to create one scrum-diliumptious baked good after the other, all while singing that darling "Gonna bake a pie with a heart in the middle..." song to her unborn daughter. I don't even know how to begin to bake a thing, but it made pies and pregnancy look like an absolutely heavenly duo.

And that, folks, is how I am headed back to the blog! Don't let your guard down, ladies. Seriously.

Red Sangria and Planters'

Yep, it's 12:30 in the morning/night, I am drinking my second glass of Red Sangria and eating Planters' Peanuts and so you know what that means - or you don't. I'll tell you. It means it is Tech Week at Parkway!

Last year, it became a bit of a ritual when I got home late, late at night after our Tech Week rehearsals: I'd sneak around in the kitchen, put my bags down ever so silently, and tippy-toe into my bedroom (to get my nighties and remove my contacts) and then I'd get yelled at by a sleeping/snoring Scotty P. who vehemently explained, "I WAS NOT SLEEPING BECAUSE YOUR LOUD ASS WOKE ME UP AND WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? WHAT TIME IS IT? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" to which I'd respond, "Where do you think I've been? We live in Burnsville you know. I was at Parkway," to which he'd sleepily crone, "It's awfully damn late to be out. But good night sweet pea." And then he'd gently creep back into slumber, from whence he had come - despite his claims to the contrary.

Okay, that isn't the point of the story, but he is a light sleeper and just tonight claims that my car door woke him and so my quietness was lost. After all that other jazz would come the true ritual: I'd retire to the dark living room, get my obligatory glass of Red Sangria and can of Planters' Peanuts (with sea salt) and put on some true crime late-night television to settle in with Facebook or the memories of a long, hilarious evening at the Parkway Playhouse. And I would think to myself, "I am so happy right now."

This might all sound completely corny because it truly is. It also happens to be the honest truth. Late nights before the opening of a show at the Parkway Playhoues with my castmates/friends/second family are my favorite summertime treat. I know it's only my second summer and I am relatively green in terms of the long storied history of Parkway, but I don't care. You might be hard-pressed to find someone who loves it quite so much as I do or who feels so passionately it changed their lives so dramatically.

Or, there might be a million of us out there and so be it. Parkway has been around generations and lifetimes before me and I hope it lasts hundreds of years after I'm gone. But before my departure, I hope to enjoy plenty more summers full of new stories and giggles.For now, it's four days until we open "Annie" and I"ve got my Sangria and nuts all lined up. Yippee for me and Summer 2010! I already know it's going to be a good one.

It already is.