omp!

So here we are.

Have you heard? Prom is coming! Lord & Taylor told me so! Their weekend sale email said it all: OH MY PROM!*

*Seriously. I didn’t make that up. I’m not that funny.

Disney knows it too! They’re bombarding me with promos and trailers for their new movie, Prom. And just to show you that it’s serious, the funnnews* arm of the Disney machine, Good Morning America, recently produced an “Extreme Proms” segment about outrageous - dare I say “extreme?” -  prom spending. 

*I did just coin “funnnews.” It’s not just news, it’s FUNnnews! The extra “n” is for “nutty!” 

...I told you, I’m not that funny.

Yes, Prom Fever is the very best kind of fever, not to be confused with Actual Prom Fever, wherein someone without a date for the prom pretends to be home sick with a fever. Or Real Actual Prom Fever, where someone really is home sick with a fever and misses prom. Or Unfortunate Real Actual Prom Fever, where someone is sick with a fever but goes to prom anyway. That one is the one that ends the least well. 

inevitability

So here we are.

No one needs to hear my two cents on the recent cancellations of All My Children and One Life To Live because the air is already so thick with opinion (or vocalized apathy) that you can slice up the atmosphere like an Easter ham.

Of course, if life in America has taught us anything, it’s that you may not need Pajama Jeans, but here they are nonetheless.

Seeing as I’m part of the problem in that I am classified as a “severely casual-to-non” soap watcher, I have no reason to comment on these goings-on, nor will I bemoan the future of series production in New York or the Daytime Emmys, and I certainly won’t discuss the replacement shows (a chat-fest/feast about cooking and eating, followed immediately by a program focused on weight loss that will no doubt tell me that I can’t eat the food I just saw... thanks, TV!).

Instead, I’m going to muse about my middle school summers.

wooden performance

So here we are.

In my long history in voiceovers and as a Muppet Performer on Sesame Street, I have brought many inanimate objects to life. I have played, to name a few: a shoe, a telephone, a tumbleweed, a jacket, and a teapot. I have also played various vegetables and foodstuffs; in fact, I have played both Bean #3 (for Sesame Street) and Bean #2 (for Cartoon Network’s Sheep in the Big City). It is my goal to someday get cast as Bean #1. Then I’ll know I’ve made it.

These objects were turned into characters with eyes and mouths, odd as that may seem to you normal people. It’s something we’re so used to in the puppetry world that saying sentences like Do I sound like a cheese? and Can we adjust the eyelids on that cake? are perfectly ordinary and sane.

That said, I had a new experience last week. I played a door and a shelf. Not a talking or singing door or shelf with eyes. Just a plain old door and a plain old shelf. 

In your face, Meryl.

ooh child

So here we are.

A couple of years ago, I was on the subway in that lazy afternoon hour of 3:30 PM, in between the crush and throngs, when the trains are somewhat emptier and friendlier and more chatty. A small boy, about 5 or 6 years old and sporting the requisite ball cap for added adorability, was traveling with his mom, and they were happily chatting with some random passenger across the aisle about this and that, and then a question was posed to the child:

If you could have three wishes, what would they be?

And the kid grinned this adorable grin and instantly said: I want to be rich, I want to be famous, and... uh...

...uh...

...uh...

...I don’t know.

Oooh. That hurt my soul to hear. And not just because kids today don’t seem to realize that they can wish for a million wishes.

time warp

So here we are.

If today was like the 1970s, Rebecca Black would have been given a variety show, to air as a summer replacement. It probably would have aired for 8 weeks and been pulled by the fall. Guest stars would have included Rich Little, Ruth Buzzi and Jim Nabors. Her attempts at sketch comedy would have fallen flat despite the best efforts of Bruce Vilanch, but her cover of Monday, Monday -- a duet with David Cassidy -- would have lifted the country’s spirits and taken people’s minds off of those high gas prices.

If there had been Twitter in the 1940s, you can bet that we’d still be typing RADD (“ring a ding ding”) and WAG (“what a gas”) today. But since that’s not the case, my guess is that if you were to put a RADD in your tweet, you’d place yourself in the 80s, not the 40s. Or someone would think you’re against drunk driving.