PurpleSquirrelGonnaGetcha

briannacherrygarcia: laughs-and-lace: briannacherrygarcia: vet...

Sun, 12 May 2013 18:22:42 -0600

laughs-and-lace:

briannacherrygarcia:

vethica:

disneymusictime:

briannacherrygarcia:

Hey guys, do me a big favor! See this little cutie? This is my best buddy Jenny’s daughter, Lizzie. Y’all know Jenny, she’s my partner in crime and co-author for WCMI.

So she entered her picture in this contest of cute baby photos and we would really appreciate votes for Lizzie! The unfortunate news is that Jenny may soon be a single mother due to an emotionally abusive relationship. =( The grand prize for this contest is a huge chunk of money, which would really REALLY help her out in supporting her two children while she gets back on her feet.

Please vote for Lizzie! It’s completely free and all you gotta do is enter the code on the ad. Also please reblog this so we can get more votes! Jenny is an awesome mother you guys and this would really help out her and her kids!

This is my goddaughter!! Help her win!

You guys should do this because it takes like 2 seconds. Also she is in second place right now so. :D

SHE’S IN SECOND PLACE. Please please keep up the voting and reblogging!! =D

go vote tumblr!

LAST DAY TO VOTE! (so last day I’ll be bugging everyone with this) And here’s the awesome part guys, anyone who voted before can vote AGAIN. Help Jenny out, pleeaaaase.

Voting ends tonight at midnight eastern USA time. One more big wave of votes should secure a win but we need to push now, and hard! You can vote once per day so vote again today!

Signal boost please!

Mon, 06 May 2013 23:00:51 -0600

Hi kids. So yeah, my 6 month old daughter Elizabeth Daisy has been entered in a photo contest. I snapped this shot of her just as a low-flying helicopter went whup-whupping overhead and startled her to pieces, giving me this candid shot of what can only be described as the baby version of WTF?!?! I lol’d over her reaction and I hope you do too. :)

I am in a bad situation that I won’t elaborate on here because it’s a little too personal. The prize money from this contest would nudge me closer to getting myself and my two children out of that situation and it’s no laughing matter. The grand prize money would allow me to get out of said situation right away…but the finalist contest won’t be happening for a while. This particular contest is to choose finalists and the winner here will recieve 250 plus consideration for entry into the grand prize contest. Even just the 250 would help a lot!

Please consider voting for my baby girl. :)

http://www.parents.com/photos/parents-cover-contest-2013/2013-05-06/xlql?esrc=nwphotofaves_ppcc2013

yep.

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 08:29:00 -0600

Brainfart?

Sat, 20 Apr 2013 08:28:59 -0600

Leave it to me to talk to Steve Martin for ten minutes at work before recognizing him.

That whole 'Andy's coming' thing about Disneyland is FALSE.

Sat, 06 Apr 2013 14:34:36 -0600

The ‘Andy’s Coming!’ thing about Toy Story characters at Disney parks has gone viral. This is a very bad thing because it IS NOT TRUE. They will NOT collapse/freeze whatever if someone says Andy is coming.

This is becoming a real problem at the parks because now someone yells ‘Andy’s coming’ around the TS characters an average of every 8-10 minutes, nonstop all day. They will not do what that stupid viral post states they will! Why? Not only can it damage the multi-thousand dollar costumes but it’s also unsafe for the performer and the guests around them. They likely wouldn’t even even be able to get back up due to the weight and limits of the costumes. The castmembers can be fired if they actually do this.

At Disneyland today a guest assaulted Buzz when he did not collapse/freeze when that damnable phrase was yelled yet again. I was informed of this by a friend in the character department. The department is sick of it and it’s quite possible that the TS characters may taken out of commission until the fad passes.

Please repost the ever-lasting shit out of this post so the stupidity can stop.

55mint: The giants by: Mathilde Guillemot

Wed, 03 Apr 2013 23:32:22 -0600

55mint:

The giants by: Mathilde Guillemot

Coyote pelt wall display for sale

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 16:16:00 -0600

This big coyote pelt wall display is for sale. It is enhanced with wild turkey and pheasant feathers, lots of shiny copper, a handknapped agate spearhead and a tiny willow dreamcatcher with a quartz chip. The beads are ochre dyed wood with two of the coyote’s own eye teeth. On his tail is a real American bison tooth. He comes with his own handmade Chippewa style arrow to hang him from on a wall and on his neck is a button made of deer antler by which the pelt can be fastened to the arrow. You can remove the pelt from the arrow and lay it over furniture or hang it as you please. The pelt has been garment tanned to softness without odor or hair slippage. Tanned without borax or harmful chemicals. :) Humanely harvested in a free range/fair chase spot-and-stalk bow hunt in California. Beautiful colors to this pelt, pics do no justice.

All wildlife laws apply. I cannot ship it outside the USA, sorry.

The pic above shows the handmade arrow (turkey feather fletching, birch shaft, agate point) that the pelt will come with. I will add some beads to the arrow if the buyer wants it decorated a bit to match the pelt.

Belly side shown above. This is the side that will rest against the wall when hanging from the arrow, aka the non-display side.

Native American style RARE hybrid fox tail for saaale

Tue, 05 Mar 2013 22:04:00 -0700

This fox was harvested in upstate Washington around Christmas of last year. It was taken in a special competitive hunt where the hunters used antique muzzleloader guns and could not use any scents or calls to lure their prey. AKA ‘the old fashioned way’ or if you prefer ‘the fair way.’ The fox as wild, not farmed, and the hunt was free range and fair chase. Nope, no hunting dogs used either.

That alone makes this tail special. What makes it *really* special is that it’s neither a grey fox or a red fox…it’s both! The two species usually compete for food and territory but in this case a red fox and a grey fox actually got along very well. A little too well, wink wink…well, for twenty minutes anyway.

Wild hybrids among foxes are very rare. Among farmed foxes where species are housed together? Not so much. Any port in a storm, as they say.

This tail has been deboned and tanned to fluffy softness using classic non-chemical tanning methods. I have accented it with wooden ochre-dyed beads, sterling silver beads, porcupine quills, guinea hen feathers, partridge feathers and a single hand-knapped red agate arrowhead. It is topped with a braided loop of sinew for hanging or wearing. The tail is odorless and the colors are stunning - the pics do no justice, believe me. No hair shedding, yay. All natural materials (heck even the bead dye is natural) and the feathers were collected in the field by me, myself and I. The thread for the beading/tying/loop is dried and waxed deer sinew, all of it.

You can put it on your purse, wear it on your ponytail, hang it on a wall, hang it from a rearview mirror in a car, attach it to a backpack or just hang it from a belt loop and pretend you have a tail. You may not want to wear it to a PETA rally though, just sayin.’

This tail is for sale (OMFG I JUST RHYMED ON ACCIDENT) and can be yours for the low low price of one firstborn child!

….if you haven’t procreated recently I’ll grudgingly accept $35 plus the cost of shipping. I only ship within the USA, sowwy.

travelthisworld: The Foggy Land ♦ Batur, Kintamani, Bali,...

Sat, 02 Mar 2013 21:14:15 -0700

travelthisworld:

The Foggy Land ♦ Batur, Kintamani, Bali, Indonesia | by ManBatur Photography

Decorated coyote tail for sale

Thu, 24 Jan 2013 12:48:21 -0700

This tail has been deboned and brain-tanned by me using classic taxidermy methods. It’s decorated with a small handmade vine dreamcatcher, wild amherst pheasant tail feathers and bead dangles. The dangles are made with porcupine quills, red burl seed beads, tiny silver beads, a coyote tooth and a single hand-cut agate arrowhead. The dreamcatcher has a chip of quartz in the web and sports copper beads, turqoise beads, a teeny tiny seashell and a wild grouse feather. All of the threading is dried and softened deer sinew. The coyote was humanely harvested in a free-range flintlock muzzleloader hunt in California and was absolutely not havested with one of those awful leg traps.

This item is for sale within USA only. The tail is odorless and thickly furred with no hair slippage and great color. It has a loop for hanging but I can attach a steel clip for 1.50 more; with the clip it can be put on a backback, belt, etc etc. Asking $35 plus shipping.

I am finishing the tanning process for a racoon tail and two fox tails (one red and one silver) which can be customized with a buyer’s choice of decorative accents including many kinds of semi-precious and/or seed/bone/antler beads, shells, wild bird feathers, bison/coyote teeth, dreamcatchers, claws, arrowheads, etc. Note: These items are not native american made, but in the early 2000’s I was taught the craft by an old friend of mine who is a fullblood Sioux. :)

Twenty eight.

Sat, 15 Dec 2012 12:44:22 -0700

“I didn’t think it would end this way.”
“End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass…and then you see it.”
“What, Gandalf? See what?”
“White shores. And beyond: a far green country, beneath a swift sunrise.”
“That’s not so bad.”
”No. No it isn’t.”

~ LOTR

This line of dialogue soothed me when my dad died, and it does the same for me now in the wake of the Sandy massacre. My heart rejoices for the many lives that were saved by the courage and quick thinking of others..and at the same time my heart breaks for the moms and dads who will have unopened toys and empty beds in their homes this Christmas.

Sleep well, precious babies.

Taxidermy crafts for sale to fund Christmas for my kids!

Wed, 05 Dec 2012 10:06:00 -0700

Hand-made raccoon tails in the native american style are for sale, made by moi! These are harvested only in free-range hunts where the animal has a sporting chance and is harvested humanely; no cruel leg or crush traps. Tanned nice and soft without the use of severe chemicals, clean and odor free.

I will finish each tail off with your choice of amherst pheasant or grouse feathers, two hand-flaked agate arrowheads and your choice of porcupine quills, silver ceremonial beads, green jade chips or red burl seed beads (choice of two.) No two completed tails are alike and you will assuredly recieve a unique item.

The beading work is done using dried deer sinew fibers, not synthetic string of any kind. I can put it on a metal keychain clip or snap clip or just top it with a simple, sturdy loop like the one in the photo - up to you. Can be worn on a purse, backback, belt, in your hair (looks rather neat with a long ponytail) or anything else you can think of. All animal materials are real, legal and humanely harvested. $25 each plus shipping - only within the USA pwease. :) Keychain or snap clip (both metal) is 1.50 extra.

There are some upgrade choices for added cost if you want to fancy it up with something like a bison tooth, coyote teeth, tiny carved animal stone (agate or quartz) or even a tiny handmade dreamcatcher made from sinew and tree/plant materials with semi-precious stones woven in, etc etc. (Yes, I can do the same with a lush fox tail - red or silver - or a coyote tail, lynx tail etc. Those vary in cost and require a little more tanning time.) Email me at Purplesquirrel27@aol.com if interested. All my tails are deboned, btw.

Just a mutt.

Wed, 17 Oct 2012 20:39:00 -0600

The Old Dog was ready to die
after long years full of love and honor.
The weight of time had grown heavy
and she was content to have it finished.
So the Old Dog and I went to see our friend.
Old Dog lay soft against me, eyes already closed, waiting.
Our friend’s hand was gentle on her tired body
So patient to find the frail vein where death could enter.
Old blood runs sluggish, weak veins slackly resisting.
But so patient, our friend, his knowing hands
- all I can see through blurring eyes.
Old Dog sighs very softly.
The weary heart slows, stops
and the joyous spirit leaps free.
and then…
I am alone.
We wait a quiet moment
my tears sinking into graying fur.
He asked me how many years she had
and I heard more than that in his voice.
I wish the Old Dog had made it easier for him,
for to bring even a kindly death brings sadness.
I could only thank him for keeping zest in her years,
for making a good end of them.
I took the Old Dog home
and wrapped her, as if sleeping
in her favorite worn blanket
and sheltered her deep
in the kindly

silent

earth.

I wrote that ditty after finding an old trapper keeper of mine in the garage last year. Trapped between two pages was a wisp of fur that had gone brittle with age. I gathered it with great care and tucked it safely into my jewelry box where it still rests today.

On my 9th birthday I was given a small sandy-colored dog that my mother had adopted at the pound. Mom found this particular dog near closing time, in a cage at the furthest end of a row. She was nothing special from looks alone, just a little yellowish mixed breed that most people wouldn’t spare a second glance for. She was about nine months old at the time, and the card on her cage stated that she had been at the pound for five days. Well, almost six since her fifth day was just about over, what with the pound set to close in ten minutes or so. At this pound (as it is at most pounds) adoptable dogs are given seven days to find a family before they are euthanized to make room for the new drop-offs that come in every day. Cutting it kind of close there, girl.

My mother paid the adoption fee and picked her up when the pound opened the next morning. I was still asleep when the little yellow dog shot into my room and dove into my bed, waking me by rudely cramming her nose in my ear. I was ecstatic (despite the wet willy greeting) and named her Taffy.

I went about the business of growing up, as children tend to do. This little heinz-57 mutt became my best friend along the way, my comfort blanket and my ever-enthusiastic plaything. We hid in blanket forts together, raided the kitchen for cookies and my mother frequently had to pull her out of the bathtub where she would hop in and join me among the bubbles on her own free will.

One day she escaped the house and found her way to my school on her own, about a mile and a quarter away. I was sitting in my class doing multiplication tables when Taffy trotted right in the door and settled herself under my desk. My mother had to drive up and fetch her back from a peeved teacher. We still laugh at the memory.

She was such a quirky little thing, too. If you gave her a lollipop she would lay down and carefully hold between her forepaws by the stick, eating it it much as a human would. (We have an old photo of her laying on her back with a candy cane held between her forepaws while she gnaws at it.) She untied shoelaces, stole straws out of drinks and brought me gifts of large green beetles. She loved fruit and would eat a ripe peach down to the stone. Bugs entranced her: if she found a line of ants she would sit and watch them for the better part of an hour with her ears pricked and brown eyes bright with interest. When I was sick in bed she had a funny little ritual where she brought her toys to me, one by one, and made a little pile of them atop my belly or back, depending on how I was laying. (Any socks I left on the floor were usually added to the pile, too.) She carried her leash to us in her teeth when she wanted to go for a walk, and if you didn’t get the hint she would hop up beside you and drop the leash right in your lap and paw at it…then stare at your face…paw the leash again…and again with the stare. If ignored she would do a little dance of frustration and huff at you. Do I have to spell it out for you, silly human?

Time ran on, and my eleventh year brought some very unhappy experiences that a girl my age shouldn’t have any part of. My childhood was lost early on and my innocence went with it. Years twelve, thirteen and fourteen brought more of the same, and it went rapidly downhill from there. I’ll not bore you with details.

Taffy had been a good friend for some time, but in my teens she became the only source of comfort and stability as my life began to go all wrong. No matter what transpired Taffy was the one thing that was always the same; always there to greet me with a favorite toy and sneak under the blankets to curl up against the small of my back. She sat in the closet with me in the dark while I cried, and if I cried hard enough she would throw her head back and howl beside me. Sometimes, during a quiet moment, she would just put a paw on me and wait expectantly until I lifted her into my lap where she would emit a tired little sigh and lean against my chest.

One night I found myself walking down the hall toward the bathroom at around 2 am. I was near the end of my fifteenth year. That night I was in a strange daze - I wasn’t thinking, wasn’t feeling, and I had stayed that way for more than 24 hours. I knew there were prescription sleeping pills in that bathroom, pills strong enough to make a person sleep forever if they chose. Sleeping forever sounded pretty reasonable to me right about then. I was about a dozen feet from the bathroom door when Taffy trotted past me from behind and turned in my path to plop her butt down on the carpet. She looked at me cheerfully from where she sat between me and those pills. There was a pilfered, balled-up sock in her mouth. She tried to give a little bark around said sock and when the bark failed I was given a sheepish tail wag instead.

My daze broke. I picked her up, returned to my bedroom and spent the rest of the night under the blankets with her tucked against my belly. Some hours later I walked into the kitchen where my mother sat at the table with her coffee and asked her to call a psychiatrist for me.

I received the care and treatment I needed. It took several years and some great effort, but my life straightened out. I changed in all the right ways; Taffy changed too but in a very different way. I had grown up while she grew old and gray, finding the start of my prime while she left her own prime behind. Ironically she was a ridiculously healthy dog until my depression was just a memory - her health didn’t begin to deteriorate until I was all right and off the medications. I didn’t need that stuff anymore…and maybe I didn’t need her anymore, either. Not as I once did, at least. Maybe she sensed that in some way, and maybe she knew on some level that it was okay for her to leave now.

I wouldn’t have any of that, no sir. I proceeded to spend a small fortune trying to cure old age, hellbent on saving her as she once saved me. I put her in special diapers and bathed her bottom daily when she could not hold her bladder anymore. When her joints grew stiff and painful I bought goose down pillows for her to sleep on while her pain medication alone took $175 from my account every month. I cooked fresh meat and pureed into baby-food consistency with a little olive oil to convince her to eat, tempting her with calf liver and even wild salmon. I tried, oh God how I tried! In the end she began to hurt terribly and I was too weak to make the decision that needed making. I held on too long and she suffered for it. Forgive me, baby girl. My love was a selfish love.

Finally, on November 11th, 2003 I awoke to find that Taffy could no longer use her hindquarters. She came to me anyway, pulling herself along with her forelegs. I wrapped her in a blanket and drove the two of us to the animal hospital, so blinded by tears that I had to pull over twice. She lay across my lap for the trip, utterly apathetic. When we arrived I carried her inside, blanket and all, and asked the doctor to help her die.

Many people say that animals do not have souls, that they don’t go on after death. I am inclined to disagree, given my experience that day. I felt her heart stop beneath my palm and in that moment I well and truly felt her leave. It very subtle and difficult to describe, exactly. The best I can offer is that it was like being in a crowded college lecture when a woman sitting near the back of the crowd quietly stands and walks out. I picked her up and held her like a baby until her body began to cool. It was like holding a dog suit that the dog had slipped out of. She simply wasn’t there anymore.

This little yellow dime-a-dozen mutt had walked life’s path with me for a long, long time. We had reached an enigmatic bend in that path, one that I couldn’t see past - well, not yet. But she could, and what she saw beyond that path delighted her. With a heavy heart I unclipped the leash that had bound us together for more than sixteen years and let her run on ahead without me, young and healthy once more.

It will be ten years this November and I still have yet to own another dog. Her toys and leash still sit boxed up in my closet and I don’t think I’ll ever have the heart to be rid of them. I miss her terribly at times, and the ache of it has a nasty habit of flaring up out of nowhere to jolt me like an unexpected bee sting.

I can’t help but wonder if my discovery of that fur wisp in an old trapper keeper was her way of saying I still exist. Traces of her do still exist in my life even now, almost a decade later. Once in a great while it seems like I just saw her out of the corner of my eye, especially when I rise in the middle of the night for a sip of water. Sometimes she flits through my dreams at night.

Taffy gave me one last gift before she left me, one with a certain sense of irony to it. The kindly veterinarian who helped her flee this world soon became a good friend of mine and in due time he became much more than a friend. We married in 2007 and have a four year old son and a daughter due to be born in just eight days. Both he and I still say that we owe that all to a dog.

Everything comes full circle in the end, doesn’t it? There will come a day when I’ll be ready to continue past the same bend in the path, and thanks to the 2 am intervention of an ordinary mongrel I will be facing that bend on my own terms. I wholeheartedly trust that she’ll be waiting there to guide me on that strange journey.

Sleep well, Old Dog.

Anyone up for some spider 101?

Sat, 13 Oct 2012 00:03:00 -0600

Even someone whose terrified of spiders must be able to admit that this creature has beautiful markings. It’s an Indian Ornamental tarantula, aka a species of rainforest ‘tree spider’ that is notorious for being shockingly fast and agile. They can zip up walls or slick glass and even run upside down across ceilings. Sometimes they move so fast that the human eye can register the movement, thus creating the visual illusion of having teleported. :p Oh, and there’s also the ability to leap rather impressively….

The latin name is Poecilotheria Regalis which translates to ‘spotted wild beast of royalty.’ They grow to seven inches (sometimes more) and are found in India. Males only live 3 years on average whereas the larger females can live to be fifteen. Their beauty is threefold when they rear up and flash the bright lemon-yellow bands on the underside of their front legs as a warning to anything they deem as a threat.

I am the proud owner of a half-grown captive bred female named Ripley. She will defend herself aggressively and does not react pleasantly to any intrusion in her territory, which in this case is a twenty gallon terrarium full of plants and branches. Every time I water her or tidy her home I have to use great caution; this spider is always ready to kick ass and chew crickets….and she’s all out of crickets.

beautiful.

Sun, 30 Sep 2012 22:24:59 -0600

beautiful.

Did my son switch places with another boy overnight?

Sun, 12 Aug 2012 10:59:54 -0600

My son threw me for a loop two days ago. Here he is piping up from the backseat of the car after ten minutes of silence: “Mommy, can you tell me all about the earth?” Right out of left field there, kiddo. That came from a kid who’s favorite method of play is to put a toy on the dining table and then knock it to the floor while roaring like Godzilla. I mean, I knew he recognized a picture of our planet when he saw it, but still…talk about a tough question for his age.

Well he was quite serious; when I didn’t give him a proper reply he pressed me, repeating the question. I asked him what he wanted to know and he literally shouted “EVERYTHING!” in a very happy, enthusiastic voice. So what was I to do? When we got home we tucked ourselves into the sofa and spent 2+ hours going over the huge ‘Atlas of Life on Earth’ book we have. It covers all known animals in the fossil records, geology, climates and habitats, evolution, geothermal stuff, prehistoric time eras to modern times, etc etc. Lots of detailed illustrations. I expected him to lose interest within 5 minutes…and he didn’t. I assume much of it was lost on him but he asked me so many questions I lost count. Tough questions too…you try explaining volcano formation to a four year old, LOL! One question led to another, of course. It took forever to go through the full color illustrations of prehistoric animals because he had to ask me the name of every animal pictured (and I do mean every) and what it ate, big or small, if it was still alive, did it have fur, did it have a butt, was it a mommy or a daddy, so forth. (Had to reassure him a few times that a particularly scary-looking critter was extinct and couldn’t ‘get’ him…then I had to explain extinction.) Most of the prehistoric animals were labeled only with their latin name, too. “Oh, that? That’s a Jaekelopterus, honey.”

I’m afraid of what he’ll ask next. “Mommy, can you tell me all about quantum physics?”

Work hijinks

Tue, 29 May 2012 10:13:57 -0600

Had an interesting downtime on Storybook Land last week. Alice (one of the boats) stalled on the canal and had to be towed soooo I was stuck on the canal with a boatload of young adult guests - no kids. It went something like this.

Me: “Well folks, it seems that even at Disneyland one can’t avoid traffic jams so we’ll have to spend a little time lost at sea out here. We’ll draw straws to see who we eat.”
Guests: “Did you break it?!” *teasing*
Me: “Nope. Chuck Norris got in line to ride and the attraction broke down out of sheer terror.”
Guests: “Oh that guy again. IMMA SUE HIM FOR THIS.”
Me: “…that may not end well for you. But knock yourself out - literally, I would expect.”
Guests: “Well, there are no churros here. That alone is worth a lawsuit.”
Me: “It’s Disneyland, use the magic and imagine that the boat is full of churros.”
Guests: “We’re bored! Entertain us!”
Me: *tells joke about giant ducks*
Guests: “Can’t we just eat the ducks?”
Me: “No. Giant ducks are neither delicious nor nutritious. Even when covered with cinnamon sugar.”
Guests: “No ducks, she says. No churros, she says. You are not being magical!”
Me: “We never should have gone ziplining!”
Guests: “LOOOOOLLLLL!!!”

…aaaaand it just went downhill from there.

to list or not to list?

Wed, 02 May 2012 20:19:39 -0600

I am a whole blood and platelet donar and I have been on the donar list for bone marrow and liver for almost ten years. I’ve never been called on for marrow or liver, but I might one day. When/if that happens it’s quite possible that they will need me in the hospital for the donation surgery as fast as possible with a life on the line - it could be as quick as ‘we need you in t…onight for surgery first thing in the morning.’ The hitch: Disney may refuse to let me take emergency medical leave without an attendance infraction and possible discipline. We’d all like to think that the fact that I am offering my own flesh to a stranger to save their life would make Disney gladly grant the medical leave and wish me luck…but sadly, that may not be the case. Should I take myself off the donar list if I intend to work at Disney for life? Or stay on the list and tell Disney to shove it if I am called on and they won’t grant me leave? I won’t be fired for it unless I have a really bad year for catching viruses and have to call out sick too many times before this happens, if it happens. We do tend to get a lot of colds and flu in winter at Disney since we are exposed to thousands of people a day, and of course if my son is really sick I have to call out to take care of him. Each illness (mine or my son’s) that puts me out of work results in three points; earning 24 points in a year for my status can mean job termination. A tardy is 1 and a 1/2 points but I am very rarely late, had only one late in the last seven months. Oh, and if I am obviously sick but come to work just the same they can force me to go home and take the points, as per policy. In these cases management sends the sick castmember to first aid for an evaluation by the nurses; a fever immediately results in said castmember being declared unfit for work and sent home whether or not they like it. Then he/she is not allowed to return to work for five days minimum - sooner with a doctor’s note stating that the person is well again.

(Note: I can schedule a preplanned major medical leave 2-3 weeks in advance without a problem. It’s the unplanned emergency leave that would cause an issue.)

Photo

Sat, 28 Apr 2012 09:29:20 -0600

Most entertaining FAIL I have ever witnessed.

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 10:20:00 -0600

I attended an opening-night play in LA last night thanks to a lucky win on a radio station a couple months ago. It’s a special engagement running just over the weekend. There I saw Eddie Izzard, Eric Idle, Tracy Ullman, Russell Brand, Bill Connolly and Tim Curry all perform on the same stage at the same time. It was a radio play (more or less) where they all provided voices for various characters.

The show’s producers should have thought this through a little better.

I don’t know if alcohol was involved, but the whole thing went hysterically off-script in the last 45 minutes of the show. It began gradually and went downhill very, very quickly. They turned into ill-behaved little kids up there: riling one another up, deliberately screwing up each other’s lines, etc. It continued to spiral out of control until they were all cursing each other’s grandmothers, saying dirty things in french and ad-libbing the ever-lasting crap out of everything. Then they decided to fight over a single microphone despite there being three more perfectly good microphones on the stage, Ullman was screeching “WHAT? WHAT?!?!” and repeatedly smacking Idle with her script while Curry kept using the wrong voice accent for his German character. Izzard finally just gave up at one point and sat red-faced on the floor, laughing like a hyena at his own material.

I’ve a hunch that the play’s producer needed a stiff drink after the curtain came down.