SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 14

Subject: regurgitating gershwin

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.colm

Date: 09:50 AM 2/12/99

sung to the tune of “let’s call the whole thing off”

you like dashes, and i like ellipses

you like all-caps, and i like no-caps

---, . . . , AAA, aaa

let’s call the whole thing off!

you economist, you.

The Headache

I know. I know. What the hell kinda post is this? About a HEADACHE? You're a WuSs-AsS, TiZandAsS.

I know.

But I don't get headaches. Maybe one a year. And when that happens I cock my head a la the RCA puppy and ask myself, "Self, what is this strange feeling in thy head? I wish it would stop, Self."

And stop it would.

BUT NOT YESTERDAY.

Yesterday was different.

I think I hit the trifecta and that caused the blasted fuckwad kopfschmerz.* What is this blasphemous trifecta so you DON'T hit it? Blood pressure drop, blood sugar drop and caffeine drop...ALLS AT THE SAME TIME.

And that will never happen again. Because I just don't believe in costume fittings anymore...

I knew something was wrong when I started to cry at the beginning of the run-through of "Crappy Person-The Ginger Musical." And then when I had to pull out my Merman, it was confirmed. Never EVER try to be Ethel Merman while harboring a fugitive headache. You will want to take a knitting needle to your temples.

Two hours later I made the titular character drive us both home, despite the fact she had just tapped her AsS off. I continue to believe that having her drive us home safely was wiser than my careening blindly into the Gulf of Mexico. Call me silly.

When neither food nor caffeine made me feel any better, I thought I might have a problem. When I lay on the couch sobbing "OW," it drove it home (rather like knitting needles through temples).

And yet there was a sitzprobe that evening. The first and only orchestra rehearsal. My favorite rehearsal of any process.

It didn't happen...at least not for me. I called the stage manager, I called the titular character to get the director's number. I called the director.

And I missed rehearsal.

I've NEVER missed rehearsal. Not in 18 years in this business. Not when I blew my knee out. Not when I broke a rib. Not when I tore my gastroc. Not when I tore my seratus and lats. Not when I tore my cornea. Not when I broke a bone in my foot. Not when I was headbutted by Sister Mary Truckdriver barrelling on through and got a concussion so severe they thought I had cracked my skull.

I just don't miss rehearsal.

Yet miss I did...which did not help the headache.

Earlier I had posted on the Book of Face, "TiZ has a headache that makes her want to vomit. she can't take advil or tylenol or ANY of that stuff. suggestions. please."

Now, I can't take any of that stuff and sing (for my now non-existent sitz) because I got mugged a decade ago. It wasn't one of those pleasant, "Excuse me, Miss, may I have that vintage handbag your mother gave you?" kinda muggings. It was the "Let's mace her and then beat the crap outta her" kind. Mace paralyzes your larynx. I screamed through it. Who knew?

I blew out a cord.

That's my blog-AsS way of explaining why I can't take a vasodilator and then project. Will just blow the cord right out again.

Oh, but the Book of Face responses were sooooooooo helpful. And lovely. I finally went with the acupressure, darkness (not easy in sunny South Florida), silence, caffeine, cold compress, tea tree oil, self-reiki, meditation route. Did wonders but not enough. Would have loved to have tried the freshly made ginger ale suggestion, but since I could barely see, that was out. I also enjoyed the momentary mary jane suggestion. Why did you fly from my page, momentary mary jane suggestion? So, since I didn't have to sing, I took two Ibuprofen PMs.

And hallucinate.

Which was good.

The phone ringing right next to my ear? Not so good. Can't imagine who was calling me on the landline but they are officially dead to moi.

Woke up 4 hours later, watched a little Eddie Iz (always the cure-all), AND was naughty and popped another Ibuprofen PM.

And hallucinate.

I feel pretty good today. I like the polka-dot elephants who are following me around. They're sweet. As are all of you for reading this and writing those suggestions.

*One of my most beloved colleagues has had a two week kopfzchmerz caused by some contagious bacterial thingy, and despite the fact I shared a drink with her a couple of nights ago, I'm in complete denial over the fact that this could be the cause.

That ain't it, kid. That ain't it.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 13

Subject: Re: Exploding dogs and other favorite party tricks

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 09:36 AM 2/12/99

my alleged alliteration ally -

grandma b called me nice? no one ever calls me nice. i should have her call my last boyfriend . . . he called me “mean.” i still can’t believe that someone beyond the fourth grade could make that call and “mean” it.

ballooning bran will suffer the same fate as missy t if you don’t feed him something other than microwave pizza pockets.

re: devon dilemma: you’re screwed.

i had to phone my 2 other brothers last night and inform them of missy t’s demise. extraordinarily un-fun. rod (the bro who taught me how to make the perfect o as a party trick . . . faking fellatio at twelve without knowing it . . . nice) and i drank scotch together via at&t. jim wept.

my father will now need a female to control. run away! run away!

xoxo

me.e.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 12

Subject: EXPLODING DOGS & OTHER PARTY GIMMICKS

To: CHRISTINAN@AOL.COM

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 02:45 PM 2/11/99

OH ME.E., OH MY,

DAMNABLY DANGEROUS DETONATING DOGGIES: DUCK!

ANSWERS TO BRAN’S QUESTIONS:

1) CHRIS IS A BABE—KNEW THAT

2) MACARONI AND CHEESE—WRONG—MICROWAVE PIZZA POCKETS (DO I NEED AN AU PAIR OR WHAT?).

RE: DEVON DILEMMA: MY FATHER HAS PROCLAIMED THAT AN APOLOGY WOULD ONLY MAKE THINGS WORSE. I FIND HIM INSANELY STUBBORN AND CLOSED-MINDED. DO WEIRD THINGS LIKE THIS GO ON IN YOUR FAMILY?

I REMEMBER MENTIONING TO MY MOM THAT WE TALKED, BUT I DON’T REMEMBER SAYING THAT YOU CALLED. IN ANY CASE, I KNOW I CONFESSED E-MAILING FIRST, SO YOU’RE COVERED.

FEAR AND LOATHING IN LAS VEGAS AND BEYOND: DEFENDED YOURSELF? MORE THAN FRIGHTENING? I RETRACT THE ABOVE QUESTION ABOUT WHETHER WEIRD THINGS GO ON IN YOUR FAMILY.

ACTING OUT (OF THE CLOSET?): THERE ARE STRAIGHT GUYS IN ACTING CLASS?

OXOX

BIDET GLOSS

P.S. YOUR LOWER CASE YELLING IS PASSIVE-AGGRESIVE, DONTCHA THINK?

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 11

Subject: despairing dead doggy

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 05:04 PM 2/11/99

dearest bidet gloss -

missy t was a brilliant actress. in this case, far too brilliant, and thus her new name “ash”ley.

to answer your beautiful little daughter jilly’s questions: missy t was named after me . . . my childhood nickname. she was 84 years old and a sweet, beautiful doberman. my misogynistic father had her spayed (she wouldn’t talk to him for days), so she never had any fun, and therefore never had any puppies. re: how she got sick: her intestines closed off at both ends and she almost exploded.

to answer bubbly bran’s questions: chris is a babe. macaroni and cheese.

devon dilemma: have your beautiful big step-daughter monica and soon-to-be step-son-in-law devon send your parents an armload of sunflowers to thank them for the anniversary weekend.

by the way, i lived with someone for two years, and my parents never knew. the fact that they know i called you (defended myself by telling them you e-mailed me first) is more than frightening. aaaah.

off to acting class to do a lesbian scene. i’m not excited, but all the males of the heterosexual persuasion in my class are terrifically so. think about that.

x o x o

me.e.

p.s. stop yelling at me!

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 10

Subject: LONELY DOG FAKING IT?

To: CHRISTINAN@AOL.COM

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 11:06 AM 2/11/99

DEAR ME.E.,

B’DOUGLAS WANTS TO KNOW: COULD THE DOG BE FAKING IT TO BRING YOUR PARENTS BACK? DO THEATRICS RUN DEEPLY THROUGHOUT THE FAMILY (AT LEAST IN THE ACTUAL AND SELF-DESCRIBED CANINE PORTIONS)?

MY BEAUTIFUL LITTLE DAUGHTER JILLY WANTS TO KNOW: WHAT WAS ITS NAME? (“MISSY T”?) HOW OLD? WHAT KIND? DID IT HAVE ANY PUPPIES? WHAT WERE THEIR NAMES? HOW DID IT GET SICK?? AH, LITTLE GIRLS—SO INQUISITIVE.

BRAN WANTS TO KNOW (YOU REMEMBER BRAN, MY NINE YEAR OLD—THE ONE YOU HAD SUCKING DOWN CHAMPAGNE THROUGH A STRAW): WHO’S CHRIS? WHAT’S FOR DINNER? AH, LITTLE BOYS—SO OBLIVIOUS (ESPECIALLY AFTER SUCKING DOWN CHAMPAGNE THROUGH A STRAW).

FALLOUT FROM GRANDMA AND GRANDPA’S 75^TH ANNIVERSARY PARTY CONTINUES. MY FATHER WAS SO OFFENDED BY MY SOON-TO-BE STEP-SON-IN-LAW DEVON’S ATTIRE (SO DISRESPECTFUL—ALTHOUGH YOU SEEMED TO LIKE PLAYING WITH THE NOSE RINGS) THAT HE REFUSES TO HAVE ANY CONTACT WITH THE GUY IN THE FUTURE. THIS, OF COURSE, PRESENTS PROBLEMS SINCE I’M COMING UP TO MY 280^TH BIRTHDAY (DOG YEARS, OF COURSE), AND WOULD LIKE TO HAVE BOTH MY FATHER AND BEAUTIFUL BIG STEP-DAUGHTER MONICA PRESENT. I, HOWEVER, DON’T THINK MONICA WILL COME IF DEVON ISN’T INVITED. GOTTA LOVE THIS FAMILY STUFF.

MY GRANDMOTHER WAXED ELOQUENT LAST NIGHT ABOUT “WHAT A NICE GIRL” YOU ARE. IF SHE ONLY KNEW ABOUT THE BEDPOSTS.

OXOX (JUST TO BE DIFFERENT)

B’DOUGLAS (NOT TO BE CONFUSED WITH “BIDET GLOSS”)

P.S. IT’S EASIER FOR ME TO TYPE IN CAPS.

HAPPY 6000

I don't know when it happened, but it did. I passed the 6,000 mark sur la blogue.

"Sur la blogue. Sur la blogue. Everyone looks the same."

I know to the fancy-pantsy tres-importantsy blogs this may not seem like much...but it is to me.

6,000.

And we've passed our first anniversary. It was April 12th. How did we miss it? Living life, perhaps? Let's look back to 12 days ago...

Ah...the new adventure of the epistolary email serialization. (And reading that, no WONDER peeps aren't really interested.)

But we've had fun, methinks. For me, the highlights have been (in no particular order because I wouldn't want to hurt my feelings)...

[cue schmaltzy 70s easy listening music and soft-focus cheesecloth cheesecake camera work.]

The 12 Days of Christ*&^%$

The Anal Game

My Ode to Terry

and

The Mensturbation Invitational

And the fact that you all let me urge and purge life events in my lite-brite diary of loathing fashion. And I'm always true to you in my lite-brite diary of loathing fashion. TiZ a relief and a release.

And I am grateful.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 9

Subject: dead dog

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 09:13 PM 2/10/99

dear bedpost b’douglas:

oh no! oh no! my parents just cut their trip short due to the dead dog in connecticut (now if we had lived in darien, it would have been amazing alliteration). all kidding aside, it is terribly sad . . . tremendously spoiled but sweet missy t. common knowledge that my father loves the dog more than his 4 children. i’ve already cried with mary jane (brother tim’s wife), and now it’s my job to call the 2 remaining brothers. i’m waiting until they arrive home from work, since our last doggy death caused jim to fail 3/4 of his mid-terms. of course, none of us react this strongly to relatives passing, only the dogs; canine love projects infinitely, like two mirrors facing one another . . . rarely happens with humans.

speaking of dogs, i am one, and thus age 7 years to every human year and will be 245 on july 30. that’s definitely over 30 years old . . . can you wait?

xoxo

me.e.

p.s. i was hoping you would learn from example, but here’s a not so subtle hint

. . . I FEEL LIKE I’M CORRESPONDING WITH OWEN MEANY! shall i say a prayer?

Yo, Bleaders...

aka, Blog Readers...

Way weigh in. Do you go for the serial book at the moment or would you rather hear the ins and outs of my stupid-AsS life.

Don't be shy. I'm listening. I do what I am told.

Tons,

TiZ

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 8

Subject: BARFING BART

To: CHRISTINAN@AOL.COM

From: Enhibrem@stepton.edu

Date: 02:15 PM 2/10/99

I’M GOING TO VOMIT.

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 7

Subject: adam, it’s eve

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu

From: Christinan@aol.com

Date: 05:04 PM 2/10/99

cousin,

family ties: perhaps to a bedpost in the backwoods somewhere?

xoxo

cousine

SEALED WITH A CLICK - Entry 6

Subject: MADAM I’M ADAM

To: CHRISTINAN@AOL.COM

From: B Douglas Enhibrem

Date: 01:55 PM 2/10/99

MADAM,

OH NO, YOU DON’T. YOU PROMISED ME (ALBEIT DRUNKENLY) THAT WE WERE DEFINITELY NOT RELATED. YOU SPELLED IT OUT FOR ME—REMEMBER? OUR DADS WERE BEST FRIENDS IN HIGH SCHOOL, AND THEN WHEN THE KIDS IN YOUR FAMILY MET MY GRANDPARENTS, YOU ALL ADOPTED THEM? REMEMBER? REMEMBER? OH GOD!

I’M ADAM

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 5

Subject: madam’s ribbing
To: enhibrem@stepton.edu
From: Christinan@aol.com
Date: 04:33 PM 2/10/99

the top three reasons i kissed you:

3. you said you’d wanted to kiss me since you heard me sing at the 75th, four hours earlier.

2. you looked so cute wearing that crown.

and the number one reason i kissed you:

1. you kissed me first.

i’ve decided i want to be a docent . . . for the caesar’s palace kissing caravan. did we find 10 or 15 secluded spots to suck face? oops . . . minus at least one . . . being requested by a state cop to take that someplace private . . . definitely not a secluded spot.

we’re not really related, are we?

xoxo
kissin’ cousin chrissy

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 4

Subject: Re: adam’s ribbing
To: CHRISTINAN@AOL.COM
From: B Douglas Enhibrem
Date: 12:43 PM 2/10/99

At 5:32 PM 2/9/99 -0500 you wrote:

>wrong e-mail address, buddy!<

MY HEART DROPPED TO MY TOES.

At 5:39 PM 2/9/99 -0500 you wrote:

>please be advised, i do not capitalize words via e-mail . . . ever.<

HENCEFORTH, I SHALL THINK OF YOUR MESSAGES AS E.E. MAIL.

>28 years old, according to your beautiful little daughter jilly.<

BUMMER, I DON’T DATE ANYONE UNDER 30. COMPANY POLICY. GIVE ME A CALL IN A COUPLE OF YEARS.

>thank you for one of the more spontaneous, silly, sexy (oooh . . . alliteration) evenings i’ve had in a very long time.<

I’M STILL SMILING, BOTH FROM THE PURE, ADULTERATED PLEASURE OF SPENDING THE EVENING WITH YOU, AND FROM THE TACKINESS AND ABSURDITY OF THE CONTEXT. (CLEOPATRA’S BOUNCING BARGE AT CAESAR’S PALACE???? BE SERIOUS. NEXT TIME WE WEAR TOGAS.) I HAVEN’T DANCED WITH (OR KISSED) ANYONE LIKE THAT IN MUCH, MUCH TOO LONG. THE WHOLE EXPERIENCE WAS TOTALLY UNEXPECTED AND TOTALLY WONDERFUL—OBVIOUSLY A GIFT FROM ZEUS & CO. GOOD THING WE DIDN’T HANG OUT AT THE PINK FLAMINGO.

I’M GLAD THE FACE-BURN DIDN’T REQUIRE HOSPITALIZATION. DID ANYONE NOTICE (OTHER THAN THE URGENT CARE PHYSICIAN)?

URGE, YOU’RE IT.

B’DOUGLAS

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 3

Subject: adam’s ribbing
To: enhibrem@stepton.edu
From: Christinan@aol.com
Date: 05:39 PM 2/9/99

please be advised, i do not capitalize words via e-mail . . . ever.

pardon the previous e, but i just had to toy with your emotions.

good-natured ribbing: i’d had about three hours of sleep, was probably still drunk, and looked like i had been through a war. i felt very naughty indeed, especially when your mom screamed across the restaurant a la mirage, “you dirty little stay-out-all-nighter!” is that a mirage barrage or what? and isn’t that what you’re supposed to do in las vegas?

my pertinent info:

i’m a leo, with aquarius . . . aah . . . never mind.

new address:
142 east 68th street, #5e, nyc, ny 10026 (212)534-4373 phone and fax.

28 years old, according to your beautiful little daughter jilly.

thank you for one of the more spontaneous, silly, sexy (oooh . . . alliteration) evenings i’ve had in a very long time.

urge.

xoxome

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 2

To: enhibrem@stepton.edu
From: Christinan@aol.com
Date: 05:32 PM 2/9/99

who are you and why would i be out with you at 3 in the morning?

wrong e-mail address, buddy!

SEALED WITH A CLICK - entry 1

To: CHRISTINAN@AOL.COM
From: B Douglas Enhibrem
Date: 01:34 PM 2/9/99

HI CHRISTINANE,

FROM WHAT I HEAR, YOU TOOK A BIT OF GOOD-NATURED RIBBING ON SUNDAY. MY MOM CALLED MY STEP-DAUGHTER AT 3 AM TO SEE IF SHE KNEW WHERE I WAS, SO IT SEEMS THE GROWN-UPS FIGURED OUT WE WERE ON OUR OWN. FROM WHAT MY MOM SAYS, EVERYONE WAS HAPPY THAT WE WERE OUT “HAVING FUN,” BUT I’M NOT SURE WHAT THAT MEANS TO THEM.

I REALLY ENJOYED SPENDING THE EVENING WITH YOU, AND HOPE THAT WE CAN STAY IN TOUCH. WHEN YOU HAVE A CHANCE, DROP ME A NOTE BY RETURN E-MAIL AND INCLUDE YOUR TELEPHONE NUMBER(S). IF YOU FEEL AN URGE TO CALL ME, MY NUMBERS ARE 818-543-6666 (HOME), OR 213-388-9249 (WORK).

I’M KEEPING THIS SHORT AS A SORT OF “TEST MESSAGE” TO MAKE SURE THAT I HAVE THE RIGHT E-MAIL ADDRESS. HOPE TO HEAR FROM YOU.

YOURS, DOUG

SEALED WITH A CLICK-A VIRTUAL LOVE STORY

or

what happens when two adopted cousins are reunited after twenty years at their grandparents’ 75th wedding anniversary
. . . in las vegas?

Meet Cathy who's lived most everywhere,
From Zanzibar to Berkeley Square,
But Patty's only seen the sights
A girl can see from Brooklyn Heights.
What a crazy pair!

But they're cousins,
Identical cousins all the way.
One pair of matching bookends,
Diff'rent as night and day.

Where Cathy adores a minuet,
The Ballets Russes and crepe suzette,
Our Patty loves her rock 'n' roll,
A hot dog makes her lose control,
What a wild duet!

Still they're cousins,
Identical cousins and you'll find
They laugh alike, they walk alike,
At times they even talk alike,
You can lose your mind,
When cousins are two of a kind.

ADVENTURE

the following (or proceeding depending on how you look at a blog) is a book I wrote around the turn of the century entitled...

SEALED WITH A CLICK-A VIRTUAL LOVE STORY

praised by friends (and a coupla agents) and feared by many, it just never spiked a foot-hold in the publishing world.

wankers.

perhaps it will here...

STARTING TUESDAY! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

Bad Blogger Be Me

I be! I be!

I know! I know!

I'm working on it. Got busy living that life again. And not living it particularly well. A little too busy. A little manipulative. A little too Judgina Navritilova. A little TAP-DANCING FOR MY LIFE!

Oh, I'm being hard on myself. I was a good girl. Except for forgetting to blog.

I got a little exhausted by communication. There are so many ways people can communicate with me. This blog. Facebook page and messaging, texting, telephoning and three different email addresses.

There's eight right there. EIGHT.

Wait...oh...we can talk face to face. That's nice. And there's the waning, dying, extinct form of letter-writing.

Okay...that's ten.

OH! SKYPE!

Eleven.

All of these I like. They work.

What doesn't work?

"Chatting" on Facebook.

For some reason it pisses me off. I'm in my own little glorious happy world, spying on myself and friends and all of a sudden it's like I have an unwanted guest in my living room.* It pisses me off to my pissy piss place.

And what's the pissiest is I've somehow become the dumping ground for people and their relationship and or work issues. Honest to Jesus, someone kept me on for an hour and a half telling me how a new friend of mine had broken her heart. I barely KNEW this woman. That's 90 minutes, or 5,400 seconds, I will NEVER get back. And then there's the person asking me for job advice and never READING what I wrote. Obviously just wanted to sound off.

GET A BLOG, ASSHOLE AND I'LL READ IT IF I CHOOSE.

Which I won't.

So lah de dah. I'm communicating again. Love the new show I'm rehearsing. Love the show I'm gonna be rehearsing in a month and a half.

And just love Love LOVE this life.

I'm thinking, since I actually have to LEARN this script, that perhaps I will let you lovely readers in on a book I wrote about a decade ago. Perhaps an entry a day?

Whattayathink?

*Except of course for Kieran. He's always welcome.

Quote of the Week

Men reading fashion magazines
Oh what a world
It seems we live in
Straight man
Oh what a world
We live in

Why am I always on a plane or a fast train
Oh what a world my parents gave me
Always
Travelin' but not in love

Still I think I'm doin' fine
Wouldn't it be a lovely headline
Life is
Beautiful on a New York Times

by Rufus Wainwright (MOMMY! LOOK AT THE HAT!)

New School

First day at a new school is hard, kids. You have new friends—or no friends. Who are you going to eat lunch with? Who will you hang with on the playground? Will you like the teacher? Will the teacher like you? What are we studying? Will I capisce? What are the rules and regulations? Do I have to raise my hand to go to the bathroom? Will I need a hall pass? Where are my crayons? Mommy!

And what if I have to ride the short bus?

And why doesn’t this get any easier EVER?

This is definitely a short bus kinda show.

But it's in the city so I can go home to my mountain aerie rabbit warren. And play with my REAL friends when school's not in session. Maybe even hang with them on the playground. But I AM studying a subject I've never TOUCHED before.

Daunting.

But the other kids are nice I've heard As are the teachers. And we're already playing dress up today. Maybe if I share my box of crayolas, everyone will like me…and not beat the crap out of me in the cloak room.

I hope so.