Monday, April 05, 2004

Today is fiercely beautiful.

The kind of day that makes me wish there was something about myself I could call fiercely beautiful. Or even just fierce. Rarr.

The kind of day that makes me wish I hadn't broken off the little handle that rolls down the car window that still exists. I'd like to think it was my brute strength that ripped the handle from its moorings. More likely it was because it got snagged on the hammer loop of my carpenter as I tried to exit my vehicle a while back.

It's never been the same since.

Poor car. I worry about my little Toyota. As I told Donovan and Matt the other night as we were trying to run a limousine off the road: the only thing holding my car together is its good name. There is nothing to do at this point except enjoy whatever time we have left together.

Or I could always make crazy modifications to it. Jake and I have always yearned to modify the Tercel into a rally car, complete with racing stripe. The only thing stopping us was our utter lack of mechanical skill. That and we could never agree where to put the racing stripe.

I also considered welding the doors shut. For a few days I tried only entering and exiting through the window.

It worked out pretty well as long as I was wearing the right pants. Got some more odd looks from people.

Jealousy is such a petty thing.

Whoa Meat!

Ebony has asked an interesting question about "Whoa Meat!" She would like to know what the hell it means.

By the way, Ebony, I normally ask people before I link them. I would have asked you, but I can't seem to bring up your commenting service. Nor did you provide an e-mail address. I apologize if I have over-stepped my bounds in linking you.

If you would like me to remove the link just send me a 4-page essay, double spaced, explaining why.

But yes, "Whoa Meat."

During my freshman year at Mountain Pointe I was heavily involved in the Theatre Company. It rocked.

Actors are an interesting bunch. In the frenzied world of performances, every show is unique. To increase morale in the possibility of pending chaos, certain rituals are adopted.

Two particular rituals stand out in my mind.

Before each performance, all the male actors and crew would cram into the bathroom in the make-up room, let their pants drop around their ankles, shuffle from side to side and sing "The old, gray mare she ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be, ain't what she used to be..."

This was, of course, an homage to The Simpsons.

That particular ritual was known to completely unnerve first-time performers. When one un-initiated actor saw everyone starting to drop their pants he just fled without a word. A wise decision, given the circumstances.

And then there is the time-tested pre-show ritual of gathering and shouting "Whoa Meat." Male and female cast and crew were involved in this one. Before the start of the show, with everyone in their costumes and make-up (as crew we would always have crazy, The Crow-esque designs,) everyone would gather around in a circle, the director would give their final pep-talk that would culminate in putting a hand in the center, throwing them up in the air and simultaneously shouting, "Whoaaaaa MEAT!"

That started my freshman year, way back in 96. Beth Froehlich was also a freshman then and a vegetarian. Not by choice really, eating meat made her sick.

To tease her, whenever she was sitting on the floor of the drama room a handful of us would encircle her, put our hands out, and shout "Whoaaa Meat!"

From those humble beginnings, it was only a step away from becoming a pre-mainstage ritual, and apparently, legend.

I hope that explains everything.

Come to think of it, that still doesn't make much sense, does it?

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