Operation: Sarah Palin, Final Phase

Here’s a little something you all should know about Sarah Palin fans: they do not come to play.

These guys are hard core. I waltzed over to the Books A Million at 12 pm on Sunday to get my wristband to see Sarah, and what did I find but 3000 people snaking through the Brookwood parking lot waiting their turn. I hopped in the back of the line, waited 30 minutes, and was informed by a cop that all wristbands had been given out.

What I also learned from said cop was that people had begun lining up the night before at 6 pm. They were camping out to get in a line to get a wristband so they could get in another line. As I said, hard core.

So, in conclusion, the next time I want to hug a celebrity, I’ll plan better. And camp out overnight.

[By the way, anyone want an unsigned copy of Going Rogue?]

Operation: Sarah Palin, Phase One

[or 'Things I shouldn't be comfortable admitting, part one.']

As I’m sure you know because of her Oprah interview [which I'm sure you watched], former governor of Alaska Sarah Palin is publishing her first ‘book,’ Going Rogue. Which she ‘wrote.’ By ‘herself.’ Anyway, the book goes on sale tomorrow. This news must be exciting to those who are politically parallel to Mrs Palin, which, if you’re wondering [and I'm sure you were], I’m not.

Flashback a week ago. I’m perusing the Amazon on my iPod when what do I find but Going Rogue high atop the bestselling books. It was priced at 9 bucks. 9. Over 60% lower than the publisher’s list price. If you know me at all, you know I’m ever so slightly impulsive. So I may or may not have pre-ordered the book then and there. It all happened so fast. Seriously. I don’t even remembering it happening. It was just so cheap and so… tempting.

Flashback [forward?] to 3 days ago: I discover on the interwebs that Sarah Palin is coming to Brookwood mall next week. To sign copies of her book. Line numbers are being given out starting at noon on the 22nd, and she’ll arrive at 7 pm on the 23rd. This was a sign. I was meant to buy that book. I was meant to go to Books A Million and have Mrs Palin sign this blessed miracle.

And not just that. Oh no. I’m not only going to have my book signed, I’m determined to give Sarah Palin a hug. It’s happening. She may have security, well I’m willing to cry on command if it means she’ll reciprocate aforementioned hug. I’ll report back in a week with results. Pray for me.

In which Noah chases after an ice cream truck.

The following story is pretty much guessable from the above title. But read it anyway if you so desire.

So there I was, minding my own business, cleaning my toilet bowl, when I hear a familiar tune. The Entertainer. Now, as everyone knows, the only practical use for that song is luring children to childcatchermobiles or ice cream trucks. In this case, the latter.

I wash my hands, run to the door, and realize that ice cream men most likely only take cash. Smart Noah. So I run to my room looking for coins of any kind. None. I see the ice cream man get in the driver’s seat.

Mom! Do you have any change?

She tells me to check her purse. I madly start throwing things about looking for quarters. 25 cents… 50 cents… The ice cream man puts his truck into gear. I frantically look for more coins. 35… 60… 85… 1.20… 1.30… I run out side to see the ice cream man driving away.

I wave my arms desperately. Surely he can’t get away with this. There must be something in the ice cream man code about not depriving the good people of the US of A of their ice cream. I run towards him, chasing him down the street. This is very dangerous, children, and should not be attempted at home. He begins to brake.

I order a fudge bar. Tears of joy appear in my eyes as my efforts are finally rewarded. I walk back in the house with a sense of pride and accomplishment. I glance out the window. The ice cream truck stopped next door, waiting for more customers. I chased him down, and he was stopping in front of every house on the street.

The things I do for ice cream.

In which Noah daydreams.

I want to be a tribal warrior when I grow up. I want to live in the jungles of the Amazon and eat green bananas and kill ocelots for food. And I want to have a pet bird. One of those birds that do the weird mating dance. Like on Planet Earth.

I want to go to Neptune. Because it is grossly underappreciated as a planet. I can’t imagine it being a very pleasant visit, but I’d like to give Neptune some well-deserved publicity.

I want to live in a loft and paint all day. I want to play loud music. And I want to go shopping at the foreign grocery and eat lots of hummus. I want to go on the roof of my loft and breathe in the glorious pollution of the city.

I want a racecar bed. Preferably red. I want people to be jealous when they see my racecar bed. I want to go to Chuck E. Cheese and win one of those huge stuffed animals. I want to go play laser tag and win. And I want to eat chicken nuggets and drink Sprite.

I want a big, wraparound porch. With hammocks and porch swings and rocking chairs and pitchers of lemonade and strawberries. I want to lie in aforementioned hammock on a sunny day with a ridiculous number of pillows.

I want some Oreos.

Mediocrity is unacceptable.

Yesterday I started rehearsals for my latest toe-dipping into the theatrical ocean [I don't know what that means.] Jekyll and Hyde [colon] The Musical. While technically not being done by any specific theatre group, the show is being rehearsed at and directed by faculty of the Shades Valley Theatre Academy. Performances are sometime in mid-April at the Virginia Samford Theatre. I’ll keep you posted.

Anyway, as I walked into the Shades Valley rehearsal space today, a large banner caught my eye. ‘Mediocrity is unacceptable.’ Crap, I thought, there goes my talent. And these kids seriously do know what they’re doing. Like they can read music. And write notes on said music. And follow harmonies. And they know all the lyrics. Meanwhile, I’m showing up five minutes late as the one kid from Homewood who hasn’t intentionally sung harmony in two years.

Self-deprecation aside, I’m confident that this will be a good show, and I encourage you all to see it. I’ll work on posting details at some point in the future.

‘Only the mediocre are always at their best.’
-Jean Giraudoux

Snowiness.

7:30 am – Dad wakes Noah. It’s snowing. Noah gets out of bed and walks outside for initial photoshoot.

9:00 am – Construction is complete on Eunice, an old snowwoman who enjoys mall walking and hitting kids with her purse.

10:00 am – Sledding ensues. Overton Park is an adequate place for sledding. Stranger’s yards are much better. No photo.

11:30 am – The search for soup ensues. Fail. Grilled cheese sounds good, too…

This and that.

- My acting class is learning stage combat. The first day, I failed the mind-numbingly easy written test so I couldn’t participate. Today, I finally passed. Stage combat entails such frivolities as fake pushing and fake slapping and fake hair pulling. Today, I turned the wrong way when my partner fake slapped me. Like he slapped me with his right hand and I fell down to the left. Fail.

- I’m trying Twitter again. For no other reason than I’m shamelessly vulnerable to peer pressure.

- No[pr]ah’s Favorite Things for February: This blog, this song, this video, and this cookie dough.

The Search for Kwanzaa.

Where’s Kwanzaa been? Am I right? Seriously. I’ve been searching for almost 36 hours to find someone in this world who celebrates Kwanzaa. This holiday has an official website, and I can’t find people who celebrate it. What?

I’ve started asking people if they’re celebrating a holiday anytime soon. I usually get a particularly blank stare followed by ‘…um, Christmas…’ Well, of course. You can’t celebrate Christmas and Kwanzaa. That would just be ridiculous. We always learned about Kwanzaa in public elementary school, so was it all a lie?

Somewhere, there is someone who observes this special holiday. And I’m determined to find him/her. The search continues.

Diary of a Mad Vegetarian 2: Cleanse Edition

The long awaited sequel to the most dynamic blog post ever! Confession: I’m not a vegetarian. But I haven’t eaten red meat since part one. [Well I've tried to not eat red meat.]

So for the past week I’ve been on a body cleanse [or purge as I like to call it] I got from Whole Foods. They sure are confirming stereotypes about their store. Basically the purge consists of me taking 13 [!] pills a day, drinking too much water, and feeling sick for two weeks. And supposedly I feel better. Yeah I know.

Being the health nut I am [cough], I’ve complimented the purge with a diet of chips, cookies, processed food, and raw cookie dough. The package warned to refrain from intense exercise while on the purge. This has definitely been a sacrifice [cough] but I’ve forced myself to take it easy and not do any rigorous activity.

Please keep your eye out for Diary…Vegetarian 3: Judgement Day arriving soon.

I just don’t feel like it.

I should probably write a detailed post about the beach and the stuff I did there and Savannah and the people I saw and the shows at the Children’s Theatre, but I’m too exhausted and that’s way too much for one blog post, so I shall speak in bullet points.

- The beach was fun. Nice weather. No crowds. Hard Rock Park was fun. Mini golf was fun. Sunburn was less than fun. I read a bad book.

- Savannah was nice. We stayed in a lovely beach house. There were dolphins in the water.

- ‘Twas good to see theatre type people. I met with people at Starbucks a lot. Starbucks sells cheap San Pellegrino. Score. The shows I saw were both excellent.

- Car trips are easier than I thought. And Oreos more addicting than I thought. And as we drove back to Birmingham, I was almost happy at the thought of returning. I’m not sure if I “missed” Birmingham, but it’s certainly encouraging to know that I’m glad to be back.

- The Tony’s are tomorrow. This makes me, and about 62 other people in the world happy. I’m craving cheesecake.