Cirque du SohMiFuckinGod!!!

I honestly do not think I can gush enough about this show.  Truly amazing.  Breathtaking.  Nervewracking.  Beautiful.  And thoroughly exceeding all expectations.

Better than Drum Corps even… (Gasp!  I KNOW!)

I’ve never been to a Cirque show before, and it was just… beyond.  And I love the whole tent aspect.  This was happening under the Grand Chapiteau… constructed in a parking lot… IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD!  Honestly, the experience has spoiled me; I never want to see one of their shows in a permanent venue now.  I love the travelling circus ‘temporary’ feel- it lends a certain amount of exoticness that I just don’t think could be reproduced in, say, the Xcel Center.

We had spectacular seats, too– front of the second tier of seats, right on the main aisle.  Perfect view of the stage, no people obstructing our views, and tons of legroom.  And its not like its a huge space.  We could see faces and sweat.  And we saw the bit acts in profile… like the high wire and the wheel of death.

(Kyle and Matt, preparing to enjoy Kooza)

First, people who know me know that I hate clowns.  I’m not terrified of them, I just find them to be creepy.  All the baggy clothes and painted on expressions make me wonder what they are hiding.  Like having knives for fingers or something.

But these clowns are more like drag clowns.  Just some exaggerated features painted on for a performance aspect.  So it wasn’t terrible at all.

Except for the beginning of the show when they were wandering about through the audience and came very close to us.  And the short, squeeky one felt up Kyle’s head (they shared a shaved head moment), and this was right next to me!

And then the show began…

Overall, I was absolutely floored by the staging and set and the music and the costumes and… everything!  It was quite overwhelming.

Naturally it has a “theme”– albeit a loose one.  Kooza is taken from the sanskrit word Koza, meaning treasure box.  And as usual, it started with a lost child/clown with a kite taking some sort of magical journey.  And then the “leader” person danced and used a “magic wand” to illuminate everything and then called forth the bandstand/gazebo structure.

As the music cranks, the multi-tier bandstand unwraps from a shroud and unfolds like sails on a ship and moves majestically forward and reveals the band and artists (which emerge from a tunnel through the bandstand) and it was purely magical.  Seriously, I think I welled up a bit.

I honestly thought the music was going to be all prerecorded.  I don’t know why, but I did.  The band was phenomenal and so was the music!  And the trombone player… my god!  So good!  I was instantly in love with the music, and bought the CD at intermission. 

And now for the acts:

These contortionists were amazing.  We only had two… which I think I liked better.  It was like some crazy pas de deux.  What they could do and how they could bend was not to be believed.

This was one of my favorite things of the night– a gorgeous pas de deux involving a guy on a unicycle and a dancer.  He lifted her and swooped her all around his body while continually wheeling about and spinning.  It was incredible.  And at one point, he got off the unicycle briefly to dance with her.  And then to get back on the bike (which was laying fully on the ground) he lept at it, and pop!  Miraculously he was back on the thing… not a hand used.

The “wheel of death” was probably THE biggest showstopper of the evening.  These guys– I think I held my breath the entire time.  Naturally they start by being in the inner diameter of the little cages.  Doing flips and tricks while it’s spinning madly around.  But then one… and then the other, move to the OUTSIDE of the fucking things.  And they’re jumping rope and leaping and falling and being all kinds of crazy on it.  At one point I was shouting that they needed to stop, because I didn’t think my heart could take anymore.  Seriously!  I was cringing with each jump.

Another showstopper was this guy and his chair stacking/balancing gymnastics.  He probably stacked up 12 or more chairs and did crazy moves like this.  And at the top he had one of the chairs tipped at an angle and was doing this move and he had to be 30 feet in the air.  It was insane.  (Behind him you can see the bandstand/gazebo thing).

Also featured in the evening (and truly one of my favorite moments) was the best damn juggler I have ever seen in my life!  He juggled so many rings, clubs, balls, mixtures of clubs and balls… it was the definition of awesome.  The clubs were brilliant… he spun and flipped them between his legs, off his feet, around his forehead… it was unfathomable.  And then he balanced tall metal stands on his forehead and caught his juggling balls in pockets on it.  He also managed to bounce a ball on his forehead while juggling other balls.  Pure insanity.

There was also a highwire act that had me clawing my seat.  For part of it, they had no net.  And one guy did this trick where he jumped over another guy and landed on the wire… well he missed the first time and ended up dangling from the topmost wire.  But they repeated the trick and he nailed it the second time.  I think my heart was in my throat the entire time.

And of course there were the acrobats who use the boards to flip people in the air and catch them on their shoulders, etc.  They even did tricks where they flipped people wearing STILTS through the air… and they managed to land WHILE WEARING FUCKING STILTS!!!  One girl just had ONE stilt on even… both legs strapped and tied to ONE FUCKING STILT.  The timing.  The balance.  The ohmigod factor.  Oh, and one dude did like a million somersaults in the air during one of the insanely high flip sequences.

(Here’s one of the techs climbing up the tent at intermission… with the moon in the background.  It was just a little added show to the show).

Le sigh.

Cirque du Soleil was pure magic and I think I would classify THIS circus as “the greatest show on earth”.    I am SOOOOO glad that Kyle managed to get tickets and dragged my ass to it.  I will now seek them out whenever they come to town.

Fuckin’ British Bastard…

I knew you sick fuckers would use a lot of Michael and Farrah comments on the caption contest last week.

There were so many good ones too!  But this week, I went with a simple, yet poignant one… from BearpupUK:

Brilliant, no?  Or is that no-se??

P.S.  Due to the holiday, Li’l Bastard Comix is taking a break this week.  Sorry for the inconvenience!

VolleyDick… SQUARED!

Perhaps writing this post will be cathartic in a way.

You see, I opted to play volleyball again last night. And once again I ended up on a team with a real jerk.

So jerky, that he qualified for double dick status.

(Not in the good way, either)

Granted I should have been expecting this. I have never played on a Wednesday before, as it is reserved for the “good” players.

Since summer has sort of thinned the ranks a bit, I figured I might be okay playing.

And for the most part I was.

Out of 10 people there, I probably ranked 7th in ability. Maybe 8th.

The first couple games were fun, even though the sides were obviously stacked. All the “A” players glommed together.

I was on the not “A” side, obviously.

Despite our lack of great players, we played them tough and the 5 on 5 games were fun.

And I played pretty well.

But then we lost a guy and mixed things up. And that’s when the trouble began.

I ended on the 4 side with VolleyDick and his partner in crime.

VD is a setter. A really good setter. And his friend is a really good hitter. They were even pulling off quicksets and shit.

Really beautiful stuff.

Unfortunately VD decided to start dictating to us on how we were to play.

Which frequently meant yelling at me. Literally yelling at me to get the ball. Hustle more.

And to give him better passes.

Now I wasn’t passing horribly, but I was making him move a lot. Which he didn’t like. And the more he yelled, the more tense I got.

And the shittier the passes got.

And the more the other team tried to serve to me, to force a shitty pass. And they were serving me HARD.

At one point VD’s friend threw the ball hard at the other team and yelled at them to stop picking on me.

Even better.

I quickly said, “Dude, I don’t care that their serving me. They’re playing smart.”

But the damage was done and the rest of the night quickly disintegrated.

VD decided to show his disdain for me by never setting me. Not once in two games.

Mmmm. Good times.

At one point I passed a really hard serve beautifully, and VD and friend teamed up for an awesome quickset/kill.

After it everyone was like “Great set!” and “Awesome hit!” Nothing about the pass.

So I said really loudly, “Great pass, cb! Oh thanks, don’t mention it.”

This drew a look from VD.

We won the last game- thanks in part to my serving, thank you. And we ended the night there.

VD instantly grabbed his dick bag, and minced his dick ass out of the gym. He didn’t even help take down the net.

Fucking dick.

I know all you readers are more than tired of heating me bitch about this stuff, but last night really upset me.

I wish I could just divorce myself from that kind of behavior and just smile and have fun.

But I can’t.

Shit like this really gets to me. Even more so when I examine my playing– I really wasn’t that dreadful last night.

And VD wasn’t perfect by any means.

He just made me feel… Pathetic. And I don’t appreciate that.

Any tips on how to handle people like this? Because I know I’ll run into him again.

Things That Get My Goat for $200 Please, Alex

Oh gosh, there are so many things really. Things that piss me off to varying degrees. Here’s just a short list:

- check writers at grocery stores
- shoppers who don’t return their carts
- people who take more than 1 goddamn minute at an ATM
- drivers who ignore lane merge signs
- the whole “credit score” scam
- Obama bashing
- cold weather in July
- PDA (unless it involves fucking)
- shitty Hollywood films that make $$$
- uber Christians
- uber Republicans
- uber Christian Republicans
- political hypocracy
- politicians in general
- mouthy hip hop artists who just need to shut the fuck up
- perez Hilton
- bad smell face gays
- trucks with rear window murals
- Toby Keith music with fireworks
- garrison Keillor
- mimes
- clowns
- people who talk or text during movies
- Bluetooth headset loudtalkers
- bathroom cellphone chatters
- excessively loud motorcycles

Oh, I’m sure I could go on and on. But what about you guys?

Anything to add??

Lookin’ for Love…

… I mean “Condos”. In all the wrong places.

So, I did the mortgage preapproval thing through my bank. The good news is that I am approved for more than enough to cover what I am looking for.

The bad news is that it has to be an FHA loan, and not a conventional mortgage.

Damn my lousy credit score!

Anyway, this just means I appear a bit more like a deadbeat. And can only look for condos in Buildings that have FHA approval.

Unfortunately the one condo I have liked best so far is in a NON FHA approved building.

Devil!

Another other wrinkle in the search is that the bank is a bit hinky about loaning money for condo purchases. Evidently the lions share of foreclosures involve condos.

So the bank also has to research the condo building/group for viability and sustainability. And then approve it before any loans can be made.

Joy!

Add to this the fact that one of the realtors I’ve contacted really didn’t listen to what I am looking for and sent me listings for a lot of… well… shitholes.

I ended up doing all the condo research for her and giving her a list of what I liked.

This is really almost more work than it’s worth.

Allergic to Gayness

Boy are my allergies going nuts today! They started in earnest that night, and I think it was an allergic reaction to all “the gay”.

It was Pride weekend here, so I had loads of gay exposure. Too much, really.

By the end, as always, I was completely gayed out.

The weekend began with those two BBQ’s that I wrote about in the last post.

Then on Saturday I had two “dates” and another BBQ.

And yes, by “dates” I mean bouts of randy poopstabbing. Two different dates as well. One in the early afternoon, one in the evening.

I know– poor planning. But it was Pride weekend after all, and that’s just the way everything worked out.

Between shagfests, I replenished my energy at my third BBQ of the weekend. Great food, as always, plus a huge missed opportunity.

Let’s just say there was a cute guy at said BBQ who waited to say goodbye to me. But I failed to get his digits because I had an audience of five friends totally staring at us and eavesdropping like 3 feet away.

I should have just asked, but the whole scene was just too damn awkward.

And as it turns out, he was the guest of a guest, so nobody has any of his contact info.

Damnit!

Anyway… after the BBQ, it was time for Bachelor #2’s “date”. A very nice guy, who’s assets are quite…erm, sizeable.

We finished up a couple hours later, and then he suggested capping off the evening by going out.

To the Eagle.

Now the Eagle is about the last place I want to be on Pride. It is crazy busy and you can’t get a drink to save your life.

But after #2’s “administrations”, I sort of felt obligated to go.

The Eagle was everything I feared it to be. Oh, and I got kissed and hit on by an insanely drunk guy.

Good times.

I got home at 1 am, only because Bachelor #2 had an hour plus drive home ahead of him.

Thank the baby cheeses for small favours.

Then it was up early on Sunday for brunch with the fellahs. Or so I thought.

As far as I knew, the Sunday plan involved avoiding all things Pride by sitting on a rooftop deck, brunching and drinking for a couple hours.

Which we did.

As the Pride parade finished below us.

After which we went to the park with all the Pride booths and festivities and seething mass of gay folks and we walked around for a couple hours.

And then we walked to a gay bar to have more drinks and gayness.

Which was about two hours past my gay threshhold, I think.

It was while sitting in the final bar (wedged between happy couples) that I had my epiphany about Pride.

The whole Pride thing is really for three groups of people: New gays, oddballs, and couples.

For the new gays, I think it’s good. They get to see a ton of gayness in one place and feel “normal” for a change.

The “oddballs” get to use Pride as a safe haven to display their freak wares to the public.

And the couples get to walk around kissing, holding hands, pushing their adopted Chinese babies in strollers and generally rubbing all our collective noses in their coupley-ness.

The rest of us are Pride outsiders, relegated to the sidelines to watch it all- simultaneously horrified and fascinated.

With a fair bit of jealousy tossed in the mix.

Yet as horricinating as it all is, we outsiders are also desperately trying to avoid being raped in the face by gayness at every turn.

Sign this gay marriage petition! Join HRC or die!! Look at our his-and-his matching dachsund puppies!! Can I spank you with my glitter wand? Lesbians with a stroller– comin’ through!!

No wonder my nose is running and my eyes are itchy today.

P.S. In two weeks time, I’m invited to another BBQ– at Date #1 and his partners house.

Oy vey.

Pride BBQs

Wow, look who’s a social butterfly!

I am invited to no less than THREE Pride BBQ’s this weekend!  And I did two of them last night (and miraculously am none the worse for wear today).

BBQ #1 was with “the Beav” and his friends.  I met the Beav through mutual friends of ours.  I actually went to school (grade school through high school) with this couple.  He met them for the college years.  Anyway, when I moved to Minneapolis I was given a letter of introduction by them, and have known the Beav ever since.

Anyway, the BBQ was in the tony warehouse district in Minneapolis.  Many gays were present, and we had slider burgers, and gin-n-tonix and tons of other food.  The company was great fun and the food excellent and quite filling.  I almost didn’t want to leave early, but I had my second BBQ obligation…

BBQ#2 was at a fellow Blogger’s house (Alex)!  His blog is “I Drive a Dodge Stratus” which is tenuously in my blogroll.  But don’t visit, because he’s a naughty blogger who never updates (hint, hint).

Technically the BBQ was at another guys place, but he was helping to throw the bash.  This was my blog-stalker (not really) whom I met randomly at the Eagle one evening when, as I was passing, he shouted out “Mangina Monologues!” Or something.

Anyway, I showed up and felt a bit out of place.  I knew approximately half of one person before going (Alex) and upon walking in I felt like I had suddenly entered a frat party.  It had that vibe… plus everyone was younger than me.

But as the night wore on, and as I sucked down a few of Alex’s brews, I actually found myself having a good time!  Generally I don’t do well at large parties where I don’t know a soul and everyone is thinner and prettier than I am.  I’m much more proficient at the small, ugly, cocktail party.

However, I got a chance to become better acquainted with Alex and his partner.  AND all of their female friends who were really a ton of fun to be around!

But the later it got, the more ‘frat’ it got.  Things that made this a frat party included:

• a fire pit where all manner of things were burned
• a daring alcohol-fueled liberation of some lantern lights from the foreclosed neighbor’ balcony
• pretty, skinny, built boys
• lots of beer and jello shots
• people urinating outdoors
• no soap in the bathroom
• people pooping in the bathroom (right before me!  uggh!  Who defecates at a party??)

It really was like being back ‘in’ college for a few hours… but not ‘of’ it.

Unfortunately I had things to do and a busy Saturday ahead, so I bid my adieu sometime after 10pm and drove my sorry ass home.

Good times, though.

Li’l Bastard Comix (celebrity death edition)

Here are the comix this week. Hope I get a few “too soons” from ya!

And remember to bastardize that last one– what’s little Billy asking his mum?

Enjoy.

That Little Bastard!

Great captions as always my peeps!  But props this week go out to the following:

Dead Robot for the screwdriver “sounding”… ewww!

Mathias in Oz for ‘nearly’ winning with his fresh from the Matrix comment.

But the winner is Evilganome with his little retro gem:

Tramsformers 2…

… Electric Bugaloo.

Well, I saw the new Transformers movie last night. In IMAX no less.

My one sentence review?

Meh.

(And now to expand on that review with only one teeny spoiler which I will warn you about ahead of time)

It was ok. 2 or maybe 2.5 stars out of 5. It’s very bombastic and loud. Both visually and aurally.

The movie sort of screams at your eyes for like 3 hours.

There is lots of robot-on-robot violence which is difficult to follow, mainly because of the sheer scale of it all.

The CGI is good. Really good.

But the plot and the writing? Bad. Really bad.

When it comes to sequels, I subscribe to the “Misery” principle. You can’t just wildly invent crap that wasn’t in the story before and be all stupidcrazy with it and expect it to fly.

“Misery was buried in the ground at the end, Paul, so you’ll just have to start there.”

I’m also a fan of the KISS principle. Keep it simple, stupid.

Without going into details, the plot of this movie simply has too much random shit in it.

And when you think they’re done adding shit, they throw in MORE shit.

It’s a bit ridiculous really.

And then there’s the plot holes and discontinuities.

****SPOILER ALERT****

At one point Shia and company need to reanimate a robot to help them read this old robot language. They find the robot–

– at the air and space museum in DC. He’s the old SR-71 spy plane.

Well, after magically reanimating him, he goes on a wee rampage and exits the building–

– and starts tearing up that old airplane graveyard in the desert.

In California or Nevada somewhere.

How the FUCK did everything go from the Air and Space museum in DC to fucking NEVADA by exiting a building?

Or are we simply supposed to think there have always been mountains and a desert in the nations Capitol?

****SPOILER COMPLETE****

And this was just one of MANY plot points that bothered me and completely disrupted my suspension of disbelief.

Then there were the racist Jar Jar bots. Seriously. Michael Bay should have hired at least ONE black person to vet this shit.

Lastly there was Megan Fox. She goes through hell and STILL somehow maintains perfectly glossed and colored lips.

Which she uses on Shia. Why???

That just took more suspension of disbelief than I was capable of.

My recommendations? See it, but at a matinee. And I’m not sure the IMAX cost was worth it.