G's & Ho's

Blessings are few and far between yet in these times I am truly blessed with friends who love me and will take me to free Broadway shows. It's the first time being single is paying off big time!!! (wink-wink Vinnie's List)

I got to see Guys & Dolls last night with the aforementioned Vinnie "the muff" Costa. We dined at the Ruby Tuesday's on 41st street and as a bitter tourist hating New Yorker I have to say I would live at the Ruby Tuesday's on 41st street.

Seriously, the staff was crazy NICE and beautiful (shout out to Savannah, not only a lovely town but also quiet the Doll). Clearly, the entire wait staff were actors, everyone was head shot ready and freshly scrubbed. They served us with such kindness and hospitality that I couldn't believe I was even in Times Square. The salad bar was AWESOME and my Mini Burgers perfection. A dirty plate did not linger and my delicious coffee never went cold or empty!!In a pinch I'd go back in a second. Brava Ruby T!!!

Unfortunately what's happening at the Nederlander Theatre is NOT of the same ilk. Guys & Dolls is one of my favorite all time shows. Reason being, when I was getting my Equity card at the then Jupiter Theatre in Florida I ASM'd the show as deck chief. After the montage opening there was 6 counts of 8 of the entire cast bouncing on their heels before making a keystone cop right leg cocked exit stage left or right....I in my blacks, headset and glow tape I bounced every night behind the news stand right next to my good friend Randy Ronco, who giggled like a little girl at my secret participation in the opening number, it was thrilling to be the dancing invisible glue.

The best things about this 2009 incarnation is the set design and Mary Testa.Which is ironic because Mary is known for chewing scenery to the ground. Lauren Graham's Adelaide I thought had Down Syndrome in the first Act. The second act she had some nice moments but a singer/dancer she is not....quick get thee back to the WB.

Oliver Platt is miscast, and is about as far an actor can be from all the things that make Nathan Detroit a iconic theatre role. Plus he's bigger than Big Julie, so say good bye to all the sight gags you know and love.

The actress playing Sister Sarah is as forgettable as her name and frankly I think is a man. Her voice is uninspired and deeper than Bea Arthur's.

Craig Bierko who I love, is phoning it in, maybe he's tired from the load-in/tech rehearsals etc...but "Lucky Be A Lady" was a damp towel at best. That number should fly off the pipes and while the boys on the line were dancing their dicks off Craig stumbled lack luster into snake eyes.

It wasn't until "Sit Down You're Rockin the Boat" that the show finally took off....seriously better late than never. I was told this was an "reimagining" of the show and this was the only number whose arrangements brought new life to the old mare. Titus Burgess ROCKED! Finally, what was he doing all night??? What was the cast doing??? I don't know but the number blew the roof off the joint. Maybe because the orchestra wasn't in the pit but on stage behind the ever changing electric light parade backdrop.

To me the whole show is a roller coaster ride through Damon Runyon's Broadway Stories, the highs are high and the lows are low unfortunately this production barely breaks even.

Sickness

Over the past two and a half years I have been sick, operated on, physical theraptized, x-rayed, tested, had asthma attacks that would stop a rhino, coughing fits on the street and at my birthday party (suck!) and now can not seem to kick this head cold that I am now thinking is a sinus infection. I have also thought I have had lupus and polio at varying intervals.

The last time I felt healthy and strong, I was 80lbs lighter and on my way to my dream body and frankly my dream life. However, here I am on the 2 year anniversary of my surgery with a baby leg that still needs a band-aid cuz it's STILL bleeding.

Bitching and complaining about my health is now not only boring the crap out of me but I feel like I'm possessed by Woody Allen and that's NOT good. So as this milestone passes I am renewed to reactivate my life. To push and work what's left of me into what I want to be and not be held hostage by the baby leg any longer. It's going to hurt...my last PT session was so painful I finally feel remorse for every chicken bone I've popped from heavenly deep fried sockets.

This week, I make plans for the assault, if I learned anything from losing weight the first time is you have to plan and prepare or else you fail. I promised myself that I was going to get it all in 2009 and it's time to put things in motion so that next year I won't be marking this day with regret and frustration.

Viva la revolution! Viva la Brandy!

Michael A. LaCone 1956-2009

These are the things I remember about my Uncle Mike.

He was my mother’s baby brother, he wore horn rimmed glasses and was a stocky kid, and she called him Bubba. They were like two peas in a pod. In fact he spent a lot of time with her and my Dad after they got married. I have some home movies of their camping trips; Mom & Dad were sort of the cool parents since Gram and Granddad were older.

Michael wanted to play football but my grandmother wouldn’t let him, too dangerous. I always thought that decision was wrong Uncle Mike was the kind of man God wanted to play football. Big, tough, strong, I think he missed out on a life course because of Gram’s fear, but then again we’ll never know for sure. He served in the Air Force and my Dad used to tease him with the “junior birdman” song while inverting his hands to make a mask. It always made me laugh. While stationed in Turkey he sent my sister and me these beautiful gold & blue Moroccan shirts which we loved and pictures of him riding a camel.

When he got out of the service he stayed with us awhile and he had a dog named Blue, a big black and gold Sheppard who upon entering the house that night ran into my sisters’ room scared the crap out of her and then promptly jumped thru the sliding glass door. It was a miracle he wasn’t killed only having some minor cuts and scrapes. Blue was a sweet heart and occasionally slept in my closet (aka my fort) with me, the day Uncle Mike had to give up Blue I remember him standing outside next to my Dad’s old Ford Falcon crying.

He loved that dog but had to give him up for adoption because he was moving to Pittsburg, PA. Where he met his wife Linda, I was a bride’s maid in their wedding; my sister was the flower girl. It was the first and last time anyone would see me in mauve. They had two girls while living up there Sarah & Ashley, and then they decided to move back to Florida. I was a teenager by then and didn’t have a lot of friends. I remember spending summers hanging out with them, not unlike what my folks did for him when he was young. They helped me study for my driver’s exam and I remember making them laugh a lot. That time was definitely me cutting my teeth on being a comic, only I didn’t know it. His family grew by two more over the years Melissa & Mike Jr. and they ended up moving back to Pittsburg. I was in college and didn’t hear from them much but got updates through Mom. Sarah’s doing this, Melissa’s riding her bike etc….

When my Mom died Uncle Mike was as badly torn up as I was and I remember him hugging me so long and so tight I might just die. I wanted to, but he told me he loved Laura & me and would always be here if we needed anything.

Years later when Gram got sick she moved in with Michael and when the asbestos was close to snuffing her out I went to Pittsburgh to see them, it was really hard, Gram thought I was my Mom and Uncle Mike was beside himself. I did get to show them a tape of me performing at Stand-Up NY; they laughed so hard and couldn’t believe that it was me up there saying all those things. It was a nice respite from the looming passing of Gram.

The last time I saw him it was at my father’s memorial service. The tribe came down and we made the best of a horrible situation. We talked of staying in touch, maybe even going camping in the summer but that never manifested. Laura and I knew that with his big family he had enough to worry about, plus we could take care of ourselves and we were finding our own way in the world.

For me I stayed distant because he reminded me too much of my Mom. They had the same curly dark hair and kind eyes. It just hurt too much to look in his face and see her there. Unlike other members of our family Uncle Mike never had a problem with my sister and I being adopted. Sharing blood wasn’t a requirement to be family or for him to love us unconditionally. He was a good man and I am a better person because he influenced my life, I will miss him but I know that Mom was waiting for him at the gate and they haven’t stopped talking since…..

RIP – February 9, 2009

Living Kosher

Since becoming a faux Jew I've learned a lot about Kosher dining. Frankly when it comes to desserts and candy "oy vey" do they suck. Recently I have become attached to the Kosher version of Mike & Ike's.



However, I think since they are kosher they should be called Avi & Joel's, pass the word....

Hail Mary, "What a game!"

My cuticles hurt. Last nights game had me chewing my fingers down to nubs. I love football, because my Dad loved football. His high school won the state championship and he never lost that school boy love of the game attitude. Before the deals and the commercial endorsements, inflated salaries and “swagger”, Dad just loved to play, of course that was 1946. So who knew from the Super Bowl Shuffle and Bud Bowl 12.

It was practically destiny that found us all living in Pittsburgh, PA during the STEELER dynasty, so last night out of nostalgia I tuned into the Super Bowl. Alone in my apartment, wearing my Steelers hat which I got when I was 6, what? it still fits.

I yelled and prayed and screamed like I was on the 50 yard line. Kayla went to her room thinking that mommy had probably finally snapped and it was safer lying on the cool bathroom floor than being near the weirdo in the stocking hat.

Suddenly I started remembering a bunch of things I hadn’t thought about in years. I took my commemorative Steelers “Team of the Decade” Beer can down off the bookshelf to really look at it again.

Bradshaw, Green, Swan all smiling back at me from a time I sometimes think happened to someone else. The can has a pop top, for you kids out there it’s what Jimmy Buffet means by, “I blew out my flip-flop, stepped on a pop-top, cut my heel had to cruise on back home...”

Soda and beer cans had pop tops that pulled off and became curled blades of death that would slice you open if you stepped on them, ahhhh the ‘70s when danger lurk around us everywhere and we were all the better for it.

Picnics in St. Andrews Park on a Sunday, we’d go to church Saturday night so the family could spend all day enjoying the sun and Momma’s fried chicken and potato salad (that I still can’t manage to make). Daddy and I would play Bradshaw/Swan for hours. He’d throw me a pass and every time I caught it he’d yell and scream like it was the play of the century. I can’t believe I forgot about how that made me feel so special, that I could do anything, a father’s approval is an awesome force indeed.

Later I played Powder Puff in high school, another amazing experience to actually play on a field and have the boy’s varsity team coach us weeks before hand. I was the team manager of the Clearwater Central Catholic Marauders, I know nice mascot for a Catholic School, a small Mexican man with guns and a sombrero, and I still think I have my uniform shirt. It was a job which included standing by the coach and writing down the plays as he called them, running out onto the field with water bottles during time outs, and praying to god that that stadium full of people was not looking at my ass in polyester shorts that chaffed, but I knew they were.

Powder Puff was my revenge outlet, running around knocking the tiny girls down with ease, finally my size was an asset and it was as close as my Dad was going to get to seeing me in the “big” leagues!! My team won every year and though there was no trophy it’s still something I hold dear.

Dad went to FSU, and every weekend during the college season we’d pop popcorn hunker down and cheer for the Noles. It was my quality time with him; he taught me the fundamentals like what a down was and how to make one. I wouldn’t trade those hours for a size 6 jean, win or lose (mostly win, thank-you Bobby) we always had a great time. After I went away to school for birthdays, Christmas’s etc…there was always something FSU in the kitty for Daddy. He loved wearing his Garnet & Gold.

The Super Bowl is a yearly reminder of my parent’s anniversary. They got married the year of the first Super Bowl. So even though I am bad at math I can always remember how long they would have been married if they were still here, well I guess those years still count in heaven too so it’s a win/win.

Last night brought all that back. Funny how we lock away memories that only surface when stimulated by a random sporting event. It was good to wander down that lane, and yes I wore my hat to work and maybe I’ll wear it tomorrow too!!