Crazytown

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL

Never Say Never? How about Never Say Anything?
By Alisha Giampola (Actor) 

You guys. Since the news broke that Justin Bieber was getting his WWII history on in Amsterdam and wrote a slightly awkward entry in the guestbook at the Anne Frank House, I'm sure you've all been wondering sleeplessly if Anne Frank would, in fact, have been a 'belieber' as Justin hoped. If you have somehow missed this amazing moment in American pop culture, and have not yet become alarmed that possibly no one under the age of 20 knows anything about Anne Frank, or you know, World War II, please take a moment to catch yourself up.

(And I really cannot even discuss right now that Justin Bieber was born in 1994, because that just makes me feel HORRIFYINGLY OLD. I need to procure a lawn, so I can start yelling at people to stay off of it.)  

To the credit of pretty much everyone on the planet, most people reacted on a spectrum between outrage and irritated disbelief at Bieber's comment, although 50 Cent had the Beib's back. In all fairness, if we ever hoped to discover what was on the mind of a teenage Jewish girl during the Holocaust, 50 Cent's guess is probably as good as anyone's. Also, it's pretty clear that Bieber's comments were made in fairly profound ignorance, as he doesn't even know who the Germans are, let alone the Nazis.

And then, Anne's own posthumous stepsister, Eva Schloss, steps forward and makes the ultimate defense for Bieber's comment. Eva constructs this very scientific logical syllogism for us: all 15 year old girls love Justin Bieber, Anne Frank was (and will eternally be) a 15 year old girl, therefore Anne Frank would have loved Justin Bieber. 

“Tell me what you like girl, tell me what you don’t.
I could be your Buzz Lightyear, fly across the globe.”

WHAT'S IN A NAME (OR TITLE, FOR THAT MATTER)?

The answer to that question? Everything.
By Annissa Omran (Writer/College Student)

Today I have been having one of those days. You know the kind - when you can't seem to focus and every single thing that is NOT what you are supposed to be focusing on all of a sudden becomes the most interesting thing on the planet.

During one such flight of fancy, I found myself somehow on the Wikepedia page dedicated to Elizabeth I. A very natural progression led me to click on multiple links that led me to a variety of different pages. Eventually I happened upon the definition page for "Queen Consort", something totally cool.

(Unless you're Carol Burnett in Once Upon a Mattress, in which case it's an uphill battle^[source])

In a nutshell it simply refers to the wife of the reigning king/emperor/grand duke/head-honcho. The consort is not queen by birth right and does not have the same pull as a Queen Regnant (i.e. Queen Elizabeth II has got the power)

(I'm not going to try and pretend that I didn't absolutely obssess over the Unimpressed Queen meme^[source] )

Now, as a history buff, I was already aware of all of this information. In middle school I created a badass presentation covering all aspects of the life of Henry VIII (adorably cliche diorama and fact-plastered posterboard included). "Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived" was definitely my 8th grade mantra, although I'm not sure what that says about my mental well being. In literary terms, I have read books and books and books detailing and dramatizing the lives of queens long gone.

But what I wasn't aware of was the fact that there are actually quite a few royal families left in the world.

EXCUSE ME, YOUR PARTICIPLE IS DANGLING.

That's what she said.
By Alisha Giampola (Actor) 

Good grammar is sexy, you guys. Proper usage of punctuation marks, excellent spelling, and knowing when to use "whom" instead of "who" will all get me hot under the collar; you get bonus points for using a semicolon correctly. 

Here's the problem: somewhere between AOL chat rooms and Twitter, we seem to have collectively lost our ability as humans to write without degenerating into abbreviations and totally phonetic spelling. I admit, I find an abbrev here and there to be both useful and funny. But this is a case where I feel like it is only okay to break the rules if you know what the rules are in the first place. AND NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THE RULES ARE ANYMORE YOU GUYS IT IS SO AWFUL IT MAKES ME WRITE ANGRY RUN-ON SENTENCES AHHHHHHH!!!!!!

BEING ALONE

Enjoying a little 'me' time.
By Kimberly Lew (Playwright/Writer)

One evening a few years ago, I ducked into one of my favorite Thai restaurants between shifts at my two jobs. I got my own table and ordered my usual-- but the waiter, before departing, had a question for me. "You're by yourself?" he asked. "You don't have any friends?"

 

I laughed, but the question put me off. Long after the fact, I wondered what the most appropriate response would have been. I wondered how the waiter would have reacted had I burst out crying, had he hit a nerve where I, in fact, had no friends. I also wondered if there was any way of answering the question directly without sounding like someone who is trying too hard to justify why she's alone. I wondered why it mattered to him, and why he felt it necessary to point it out to me.

I like doing things by myself. Growing up, I was much more of an introvert than I am now, and choosing an evening at home doing my own thing over going out with friends was a common way of spending a Friday night. Now living in a city where I often never feel alone-- strangers pressed up against me on the train, lots of busy friends who you try to keep up with as much as possible, unexpected run-ins on the street-- I relish the few times when I can breathe, reevaluate, and reassure myself that I still enjoy spending time with me.

THE BEST OF THE WORST PART 2

They're better/worse than ever before... bad TV ads. Brace yourselves.
By Ali Gordon 

They're baaaaaaack... terrible TV ads delivered right to you via CRAZYTOWN! After posting the previous installment of "The Best of the Worst", people contacted me to share some of their favorite local TV ads and "WTF"-inspiring national commercials. So here she is boys, here she is world, heeeeeere's more!

This ad was delivered to me by three separate friends, all natives or school-attendees of Cleveland, which only goes to show that it has pizazz and undeniable mass appeal. It features animals (sort of), a very distinctive speaking voice (kind of), a shocking reveal (okay, this point is actually true... it is shocking), and is the only ad I know that simultaneously advertises furniture, someone's web show, and  could essentially be an ad for D.A.R.E in that no one will be messing with meth after seeing this bad-trip-disaster.

IT MIGHT AS WELL BE SPRING

But it looks like someone forgot to tell Mother Nature.
By Rachel James (Treasurer/Writer) 

Is anyone else totally over winter?

I don’t mean to be so dreadfully dull as to talk about the weather, but honestly people!  This past week, daylight savings time began and the vernal equinox occurred.  Both of these events make me happy for two reasons:

1. More daylight! I might actually see the sun when I leave work!
2. On the vernal equinox, you can stand an egg on its end.  Because everything on The West Wing is true.

 

However, with all of these milestones, spring has not arrived on the east coast.  It has been cold and snowy, which is not irregular for March.  But after the few balmy days we got in February, you look forward to more afternoons at Blockheads.

To the uninitiated, Blockheads is an NYC chain with mediocre (but cheap!) margaritas and even more mediocre (not so cheap) Mexican food.  However, they have lovely outdoor seating behind New World Stages, so they are the ideal Hell’s Kitchen location for the post-work/pre-show drink fest.

The worst part about this change of seasons in this melancholic feeling I can’t seem to shake.  Honestly, I have no push to do pretty much anything.  I want to write more, but I have nothing that allures me.  I’m trying to experience new things, but money and time are holding me back.  I’m hoping that a bit more sunlight can illuminate my sense of wonder.

 

THE SLUMP

AKA the worst feeling ever.
By Michael Kras (Actor/Director/Playwright)

I'm slowly dying, Crazytown. Well, maybe not dying, but going through a phase.

 

It's called The Slump, and we've all been there. Hell, some of you may even be there right now. It's that time where you're just tired and nothing feels right. It literally feels like you're doing everything wrong, like you're headed in a totally wrong direction. And it sucks. Stuff piles up on you because you truly don't feel like doing pretty much anything. Hell, I barely have the energy to write this article. You push, you get through your day, but it's tougher than it should be (At least I get to wear comfy sweats all day in theatre schoo). All because of The Slump.

Symptoms include...

WALK WALK FASHION BABY

If you've ever seen someone walking down the street wearing something "cool" and when you tried to emulate that style yourself you looked like an idiot, this post is for you.
By Ali Gordon 

Firstly, I'd like to preface this post by stating that I think fashion is awesome. I think it's a brilliant way to express yourself that is impermanent, allowing you to be and feel whatever the hell you want, whenever the hell you want. You look good when you spend oodles of money on it, and you can look just as good when you spend $8.95 on three vintage items from Good Will. My assumption is that most people would be surprised to know I feel this strongly about the virtues of high fashion because I wear the same four items of clothing every day and wear my sneakers until I wear holes in the bottom.

Sorry, Burberry. But this isn't gonna happen for me.

Therefore, today's post is dedicated to three fashion trends I have absolutely no idea how people pull off. Do I think they're cool? Yes. Do I wish I had the ability to try them out myself? Absolutely. Will it ever happen for me? Probably not.

WEEPLESS IN SEATTLE

Ali reflects on inappropriate times she's shed tears in the past, and makes a case for a few more inappropriate times in the future.
By Ali Gordon

Recently, I was sitting in the Actor's Equity building waiting to be seen for an audition, and I thought I should fill my waiting time by reading (read: tearing through) the recent comedy issue of Vanity Fair. I was thrilled, as many were, to discover a lengthy article dedicated to the one and only Martin Short, the only man in the world who seems funnier, kinder, and more sincere the more you know about him. As the topic turned, inevitably, to the passing of his wife Nancy, I found myself getting deeply emotional.

I don't just mean "sympathetic" emotional.

I mean tears emotional.

 

You feel me on this one, Emma?

 

"The miracle of Nan and I is that it never stopped,” Short describes in the article, "There was never a time of ‘I’m packing my bag.’ The party and the laughs and the immediacy never stopped."

And then I had to go to the bathroom because I was 100%, fully crying in the waiting room of the Actor's Equity building, and I knew that I had to hide because if anyone asked what was upsetting me, "I'm just really emotional about Marty Short's wife passing away in 2010" wasn't an acceptable answer.

But in retrospect I'm thinking: what if we lived in a world where that were an acceptable response to the question "why are you crying?" What the hell is our problem with crying, anyway?

5 THINGS I WOULD DO IF I HAD ONE MORE DAY IN THE WEEK

So much to do... so little time.
By Kimberly Lew (Playwright/Blogger)