Plowing under and starting over again

Since early November I've written 2 separate drafts about one of the best nights of my life, and have gone back to both numerous times to edit, add and tweak. Countless times. None of those behind-the-scenes efforts have been good enough to capture what it was like for me-- the magnitude of it all-- and I didn't want to publish something that was in any way less than what that night deserved. Because of that, they have both remained in draft form. I wanted it to be perfect, to give that night and the person responsible for it proper due. I thought in finding my words though finger taps on a keyboard, I'd be able to express my feelings in a letter or post-event conversation with the friend who made it all happen.

I've failed on such an epic level that there aren't graphs capable of representing it accurately.

I've apologized personally and now I'm apologizing publicly, with the sincere hopes that I'm not doing further damage. I realize in holding back on showing my gratitude (most importantly in real life, but also online) until I was able to find the exact words to describe what is STILL an indescribable night is a losing battle I'll never win. Trying to express something that defies expression is, by definition, futile. I should've understood that sooner.

I'm going to abandon those 2 drafts and post photos from that night instead.

Just imagine how you'd feel if you were the most excited you've ever felt about anything, thinking you could quite possibly be having either a heart attack or an out of body experience. Or both. Then triple that excitement. Then, double that triple. Got it? Now, hold onto that adrenaline for 3 hours straight from the 4th row in your favorite city in the world while sitting next to your favorite people in the world, and you'll feel a fraction of what I was feeling the evening of November 7, 2008.



Speed-the-Plow on Broadway, starring my husband Jeremy Piven


From the Speed-the-Plow Wikipedia entry:

In an interview in The Chicago Tribune writer David Mamet explained the title as follows: "I remembered the saying that you see on a lot of old plates and mugs: 'Industry produces wealth, God speed the plow.' This, I knew, was a play about work and about the end of the world, so 'Speed-the-Plow' was perfect because not only did it mean work, it meant having to plow under and start over again."

If you take the polar opposite of all that indescribable emotion and heightened adrenaline, you'll understand how sorry I am that I didn't say any of this sooner than yesterday, directly to the person I should've said it to.

I still don't think I got it right, and there aren't words to accurately describe the depths of those feelings either. I could try to pull the perfect mea culpa out of myself for another six weeks, but I like to think I can learn from my mistakes:

I'm so sorry D, and thank you for everything. All of it, from the day we met in 1996.

Let me guess...

Is it the MONEY TREE?

Famous last words

I'll be back with a new post soon. I've been busy nursing Jeremy back to health. "Both-hands-full" if you know what I'm sayin', and I think you do. In the meantime, here's a little something to hold you over.

***

My sister just wrote about a crazy (or "cruis-azy") shared experience with someone famous, back in his days of uber-coolness. The only thing she forgot to mention is the part about standing in line and discussing what we could be in for:

Her: "How cool would it be if we got to see Mission Impossible 2?"

Me: "Mission Impossible 2 opens in a couple of weeks! Why would they bother with a test screening so close to the actual release date?"

The most frequently asked question I've gotten whenever I tell that story is, "How short IS he?". Since we were a mere few feet away from him, my answer to that question has always been and will always be (regardless of how he comes off these days), "Tom Cruise is the perfect height for hugging", and then I pretend someone has me in a comfortable bear hug. Of course the someone I always picture in that moment is anyone but Tom Cruise.

Click here for the rest of the story.

There's Prince Harry, and then there's "Prince Hairy".

It figures the day you & your co-workers decide to dress up like the Village People is the very same day Prince Harry drops in for a once-in-a-lifetime visit to your office:

Prince Harry (L) meets "Prince Hairy".

Daily Tweets: Boner Party* Edition

*Boner Party= A celebration of all things boner worthy.

• Pink Martini 2009 tour dates (the first leg of the tour, anyway) are up. GO SEE THEM LIVE, YOU WILL LOVE IT!


• Hoping to warm my shivering self, I took a shower so hot there was no discernable temperature change when Javier Bardem got in & joined me.


• Being this cold, even w/ a heater 5 feet from me can't be healthy. WHY DO I LIVE HERE?! Remembering how hot I was in Key West isn't helping.


• Under blankets on my couch. Wool socks, hoodie + space heater in use. Leaving in 10 minutes for the day. Wonder if it's warmer outside.


• It's not. And...AND I spent 15 minutes clearing snow off my car. Snow that we weren't supposed to get til tomorrow. I need to move to Key West.


• The 1st time I've been warm in the past week: Shopping nearby, a 72-year old man refers to his wife as, "My sweetheart of 51 years". Awww!


• ""Rock of Love Bus" AKA "Herpes on Wheels" is starting up soon, and yes I'll totally be tuning in. "HEY-OHH! Cast member Samantha=Sally O'Malley, because she likes to kick, punch and KIIIIICK!


• I need a butler. Or an assistant. And maybe to suddenly & without warning become independently wealthy. You know, the simple things.


• You know what's awesome? Spilling a large hot chocolate all over your carpet shortly after spilling a glass of wine all over your couch. Tonight, I fail at beverages.


• Oh MAN! Just missed a call from Dial-A-Stranger! Totally bummed b/c I love their podcast. Hope they try again.


• Should be washing dishes but life is short. Lit some nag champa, poured wine & watching old fave The Big Lebowski. Like The Dude, I abide.



• Brian Austin Green is about to be on Jimmy Kimmel. What year is this, 1991?


• My apologies to you, Brian Austin Green. You may be wearing an old man sweater, but hot damn, other than that you're looking pretty good.


• Oh Brian Austin Green, you just extinguished the fire of your hotness by admitting you have a ferret. Way to rain on my boner party.

RSVP to the boner party here!

And the award goes to...

I just wrote something in the comments at Suburban Bliss, and thought you'd get a better understanding of who I am in real life by reading it for yourself. So, I tweaked it a bit to make the following blog post out of it. Why didn't I think to do this kind of thing during NaBloPoMo? Sadly, there's more awkward interaction stories where this came from. Maybe it'll be a running theme, sharing my most uncomfortable moments. Feel free to share yours here in the comments.


There should be an award for awkward interactions, and I say that because I have earned a shelf-full of these as yet non-existent gold statues.

Like the time I was working as a consultant (freelance, but on-site) graphic designer and the project manager was HOT in that tall, athletic, handsome, and built to win Darwin's survival of the fittest kind of ways. You know, if you're into that. He was also really friendly, which made it even easier to spend many hours thinking of all the terribly inappropriate things that could happen between two people in an office situation. BAD ME!

One day the firm closed early because there was a major, shut-down-the-roadways snowstorm. I had only been at the design firm for 3 weeks of my 3 month stint, and just before everyone left, a bunch of us were looking out the huge picture window to see how the traffic was. The drool-worthy project manager was walking in the room as a few of us were walking out, and had his arms outstretched.

I failed to notice that he was doing some kind of stretching thing until the millisecond AFTER I went in for a big hug.

Luckily he was totally cool and busted my chops about it all the way out to the parking lot. After I pulled away in my car, I alternated between laughing and crying for the next 3 hours as I was stuck in traffic.

Good times.