Former Hot, Hunky Jock Becomes An Actor. Surprise!

He was a jock.

He was hot.

And he knew it.

And all through high school he’d hang with his posse. They’d sit on the floor of a well traveled hallway and rate the girls with flashcards. When a 9 or 10 would walk by, the lucky girl would giggle and blush. When a 6 would walk by (me), she’d hang her head in shame and wish she could disappear. I have no idea how the ones or twos got to class. Luckily, the teachers got wind of what was going on and ended the game.

He and his friends made fun of the choir geeks. No slushies in the face (it would have been Slurpees) but they wouldn’t be caught dead at one of our concerts. And the plays? Even when we needed hunky, athletic types for Grease they were too cool to try out.

I remember him making a disparaging comment about one of my friends. One of my gay friends.

“I’m in that play, too,” I said.

“No you’re not,” he shook his head. “You’re a swimmer.” (Our school often won State Championships in swimming so it was a cool sport back then.)

“Yes, and I’m in the play and the choir and the select ensemble,” I waited for his response.

There was none. He brushed it off. In his cool, dismissive way.

“Sorry about the other day,” he said, barely audible, and he walked away.

I suppose he was referencing the day I was rated a six.

We never really spoke again. He was an upper classman. Friends with my upper class friends on the swim team. I ran into him a few times before he graduated at hockey games or football parties (he played) but we barely said hello. And that was OK with me. After his comment about my friend, I no longer thought he was hot.

He had been popping up on my sidebar in facebook. For over a year.  Fifteen friends in common. I’ve ignored it. But I wondered if he even remembered me. I sent a friend request. Just to see what would happen.  And now I’m part of his other 1,886 posse members.

Guess what? He’s in Hollywood. And he’s a hot, hunky actor. Making a fairly good living at it. I’d heard this but didn’t believe it. I’d seen him, thought I’d recognized him in a few television shows, but dismissed it. I thought he went to Cornell University. Majoring in business or some other predictable pursuit. It couldn’t be him. He made fun of us acting geeks, the songbirds singing with the queers.

Guess what? He did attend Cornell. Majored in business. Then, I guess he figured out acting would be a more lucrative career for him than business.

And there he is. On the small screen. Making a living as an acting geek. A hot, hunky acting geek. With fans. An L.A. home. A rock ‘n roll lifestyle.

Well. I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything less.

Canon in D

Just for fun. And because I have a house full of guests – so besides the fact that I have little time to post now my brain is also fried with all of this chaos. But this really is a fun little clip. Clever, too. Enjoy!

Highly Marketable Yet Audibly Marginal

Driving in the car with my kids this morning a Miley Cyrus song came on the radio. I started to change the channel and I was verbally attacked. “STOP!” they cried, “We LIKE that song!” I turned to my daughter, age 17, surely a voice of reason. “Seriously?” I asked her. I mean, I get #1son and #2son liking it. It’s pop music and they’re 5 and 6. “Yeah,” she said to me with a look that said she was more than ready to defend her position.

I don’t get it. And quite frankly, I’ve never gotten it. Even way back in the day of Fleetwood Mac. I loved Fleetwood Mac. But Stevie Nicks? Her voice sounds like a cigar smoking chipmunk to me. (Uh-oh. I just lost a few readers I fear. 😦  Thanks for stopping by!) When I hear her version of Silent Night on the album “A Very Special Christmas” it’s like nails on a chalkboard to me. How dare she massacre such a sacred song?

But then, I liked Rush. And Geddy Lee’s vocal quality isn’t exactly pure. Or Janis Joplin. Or Kim Carnes. Or Bon Scott of AC/DC. Even Susanna Hoffs of The Bangles had a touch of that chipmunk quality. But I could listen to her without cringing. What was it about Stevie Nicks that bothered me so? And what was the secret to her mass appeal?

And then along came Britney Spears. My daughter was in early grade school when Britney first hit the pop charts. I predicted her a teeny bopper flash in the pan. Whoops! I did it again.  I couldn’t have been more wrong. Another nasal voiced chipmunk dressed (or not dressed as the case may be) up as a credible pop singer. I just don’t get it.

I began formulating this post in my mind in the car. When I sat down to the computer to type I saw this article on msn.com. Evidently the Aussie’s are in an uproar because Britney Spears dared to lip sync her concert. I’m sorry. But ever since you could lip sync and get away with it pop stars have been doing it. Now the article I’m referring to actually brings up the Milli Vanilli debacle – but I’m not talking about lip syncing to someone else’s voice. I’m talking about lip syncing to your best recording or the one of your voice that been washed, scrubbed and tweaked in every way digitally possible to bring forth a version that is palpable to the ear. To some.

Music through the decades is a very interesting subject to me. I could spin 100 posts on the subject. But what interests me today is the highly marketable yet audibly marginal voices you hear on the radio. On American Idol last season (yes, I watch, unashamed) there are episodes when highly established pop singers perform. They sing live – as the contestants do. If you follow the program I’m remembering when Lady Ga Ga appeared. (I still giggle every time I hear that ridiculous stage name) She was horrible. Every AI finalist left at that point in the show had a better voice than she did. What is her appeal?

I’m not saying you need a PhD like Brian May of Queen or be an esteemed alum of the Juilliard School. Let’s try this. Let’s celebrate singers that can actually sing. Let’s honor people who have honed their craft and not simply covered themselves in glitter and called themselves a star. I could do that. We all could. When I turn on the radio I want to hear good music. Not the manufactured tones of a souped up studio mimed by a made up kewpie doll.

Smilin’ Into The Weekend

It’s been a long week. It’s been a tiring week. I am so ready for the weekend. And judging from some of your posts out there? You are, too!

Take the few minutes to enjoy this video. If you aren’t grinning like a fool by the end there is something seriously wrong. I know this was first introduced about 6 months ago – but watch it again. Really. It truly sends me to a happy place every time I see it.

If you’re in the mood for more fun check out Shauna’s latest post on her blog Is It 5 o’clock yet? I almost posted this one but she beat me to it!

Tunes for Tuesday

(Ok, so I’m not quite sure of the title for this kind of post yet but music is a huge part of my life and I know I’m going to want to share from time to time. Let’s just say this is a work in progress.) 

My first words were sung. Herman’s Hermits. “Can’t You Hear My Heartbeat” I was a delayed “talker.” Just waiting for the right song, I guess. And no, I wasn’t singing the full lyrics. I’m not a savant. Just the “baby, baby” part. But still. Kinda cute, dontcha think?

Anyway, so I like to sing. Sang in plays, choirs, small movie part, a symphony chorale. But my taste of fame, Hollywood…not great. Dry, artificially sweetened with too much saturated fat. So I sing to my kids. I sing in the shower. And I listen to lots and lots and lots of music. All kinds, too. Pop, rock, classical, opera, hip hop, gospel, country, jazz, alternative, reggae, standards, oldies, ska, world, blues – I’m leaving a lot out, but you get the picture. I can find something in any genre that I’ll want to put on my ipod.

Well, I just discovered Kate Earl and her song Melody. I LOVE the words.

“No matter what has ever come to me
I got my own brand of company
I got da da da inside my head”   – I didn’t have the happiest of childhoods. I continue to struggle through the dysfunction in my life. Music has saved me from the depression that many in my biological family have faced. We have suicide, bi-polar, alcoholism, BPD, etc. I swear I’ve been able to avoid many valleys my other family members have sunk into because of my connection to my music.

“& i find that i’m never alone
& i find that my heart is my home
& the music within makes me whole
A world that i built on my own” –  Hours spent in my bedroom listening to music, singing into my hairbrush, avoiding the drama outside my bedroom door. My alarm clock radio woke me to music, stayed on until I left the house, then the radio in the car and sneaking my walkman (yes, I’m that old) into school. I slept with a transistor radio underneath my pillow. Music was my best friend. It was my only constant in an unpredictable childhood.

“Every missing piece of me
I can find in a melody” – Let me say it again, “Every missing piece of me I can find in melody.” She is singing about my life. Hours spent as a child and teen copying down lyrics. Taping a song off the radio or off an album. Then notebook and pencil and finger on the pause button of my tape recorder so I could write down every word. I have so many “theme songs” for my life I started a When I’m Gone playlist on my ipod that I want played at my funeral. (Which my daughter thinks is incredibly morbid but I think it’s kinda neat. I want everyone dancing, crying, laughing and remembering  me through the music that makes/made me who I am. Of course, I have about 3 days worth of songs on there already so it’s going to be a loooooooonnnnggg party.)

And from time to time (maybe on Tuesdays if the name sticks)  I’m going to share with you songs that mean something to me. Light, dark, happy, sad, thought provoking. All kinds. So, without further ado…..enjoy!

Kate Earl – Melody