"Eat that turkey all night long, 50 million Elvis fans can't be wrong. Turkey lurkey doo and turkey lurkey dap, I eat that turkey then I take a nap."*

   Happy Thanksgiving!

   Oh wow. It’s been so long since I’ve blogged.

   I’m sorry.

   I wanted to write tonight because it’s my favorite holiday! But also because I’d like to ease back in to the blogosphere without drawing too much attention to the fact that I’ve been totally AWOL for a month. Only my loyal reader will know this (thanks, Mom), but I still feel like an apology’s an order. I’m sorry.

   I turns out graduate school is hard, which is funny, because I always thought graduate school was for people who didn’t feel quite ready for the real world. But, oddly, graduate school is much harder than the real world in many ways. One of the ways it’s harder is that you have to work in groups a lot (at least, with advertising projects you do) and I’ve never been great at playing well with others. So that’s hard. Also, you’re only in school for about 6-8 hours a week, but when you’re not in school you’re working on school for about 35-60 hours a week. So that’s a little bit hard, too.

   I’m in no position to tell you one particular story today but I will tell you what I’m thankful for and a few things that have been on my mind over the last month, and hopefully in the next couple of weeks I’ll be a better blogger (if not a better friend, student, or person).

1.  I think Stephen King based Misery on Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? I’ve been thinking about this since Halloween, when Momma and I watched it. I don’t think I have to spell this out for you but consider this: a once-famous person is now wheelchair bound and at the mercy of a crazed psychopath who tortures her but also really wants her love and approval. Also, she is fed weird things and often starved. Hmmm…

2.  Along those same lines, I recently picked up a copy of Jackie Collins’ Hollywood Wives at the local Goodwill. I didn’t know it was erotica, and I’m not entirely sure Jackie thinks of her “novels” that way, but good lord there was a lot of sex in that book. But I read it all, of course. But while I was reading it I started thinking that Claire’s mother in Troop Beverly Hills was supposed to be Jackie Collins. Remember that part when they’re sitting in her fancy sports car and her mom says into her tape recorder, “He saw her underthings and then…” she turns to Claire and says, “Then what?” And Claire says “Felt his manhood rising to a frenzy?” And then the mom says, “And felt his manhood rising to a pulsating frenzy.” And then she’s super proud of her daughter? I think she’s supposed to be based on Jackie Collins! Wow, that was a long story for no reason.

3.  I think the word “cute” is really condescending unless you happen to be a small child or a rabbit or other tiny animal. When I show someone a piece of art or something I wrote and they call it “cute” I feel like they’re telling me “That is so wonderful for someone under the age of 7. Good job, Lace!” It’s basically a slap in the face. On the other hand, it’s totally okay when used to describe an outfit. Hmmm…weird.

   Okay, well there’s lots more on my mind, but this seems like a good place to leave things off. I just took some of this:

   So hopefully my night will be turning back in my favor in the next couple of hours. I hope you all had a great November and a wonderful Thanksgiving and I will be back on board with this blog over the next couple of weeks.
   I'm thankful for Central Heating, turkey, gloves, heartburn meds, and friends and family. And a country that builds a whole day around eating and being thankful. And wine. 

*Adam Sandler's "The Thanksgiving Song."

"Tear down that bitch of a bearing wall and put a window where it OUGHT to be."*

            My family has had a few Christmas traditions over the years. We used to see The Nutcracker at the Orpheum every year until my folks decided it was too much of a bummer to have prerecorded music instead of live music. (I honestly wasn’t cultured enough to know the difference, and I’m pretty sure my dad fell asleep at every performance anyway so I wasn’t sure why he cared).

            We then hauled our butts all the way to Kansas City one year to listen to a legitimate orchestra play for the KC Ballet. That was fun, but when you live on the prairie, you run the risk of a last minute blizzard keeping you from getting back home after the show. Especially when home is two hours away.

             We may have also gone to the Omaha Community Playhouse to see A Christmas Carol a few times—I know I did, but I’m not positive I was with my family—but that only maintains it’s charm for so long before it gets old. It’s probably one of Dickens’ most preachy and self-righteous stories.

            But about six years ago my mom got the idea that we should check out a new show at the Shelterbelt Theatre—near 33^rd and California streets (right by California Taco). It was called Christmas with the Crawfords.

           (A quick aside: my dad always insists on driving us to and from the theatre being as it's in what he calls "the rape capital" of Omaha. I always find this funny because my sisters and I attended Duchesne Academy of the Sacred Heart for high school--a mere two blocks up the street. It's one thing if it's the "rape capital" when you're going to a play. Totally different if you're just trying to pass biology.)

Joan Crawford as Mildred Pierce.

            Here’s what it is: on Christmas Eve 1944 Joan Crawford—recently fired from MGM—gave an on-air interview from her Brentwood home to Hedda Hopper. Joan’s career was in the crapper but she didn’t know that she was on the cusp of a comeback like few actors have ever managed (she would soon star in Mildred Pierce at Warner Brothers and usher in what many consider Joan’s “Golden Era”—the late 1940’s).

            Christmas with the Crawfords takes place on the night of Joan’s radio interview. She prepares herself and her adopted children, Christina and Christopher, for the interview, but unfortunately Gary Cooper is having a party next door and movie stars keep arriving at Joan’s house by mistake. They drink her booze, steal her thunder, and insist on performing Christmas carols when they realize they have a live radio audience. But the best part about the play is that every character in it—Joan Crawford, Shirley Temple, the Andrews Sisters, Hattie McDaniel, Gloria Swanson—is played by a man. (Except Judy Garland, but that’s okay.)

Ron Osborne as Joan Crawford.

            If you’ve never seen Mommie Dearest, you may be a little lost, since Christmas With the Crawfords borrows liberally from the film. Mommie Dearest is the tell-all book Christina Crawford wrote in the 70’s about the hell it was growing up as the psychotic Joan Crawford’s adopted daughter. It was adapted into a movie starring Faye Dunaway in the 80’s and became a cult classic.

            It’s kind of sad that Mommie Dearest is all that many people know of Joan Crawford as, in many ways, the movie about her life overshadowed her actual life and her kick-ass career. She may have been a whack-job, but that’s part of the reason she was such a damn good actress. And hardly anyone remembers My Mother’s Keeper, for some reason, so it seems unfair that Mommie Dearest has such a following. 

            We didn’t really know what to expect that first year and had never seen anything at the Shelterbelt, but we were so completely blown away that we’ve been going every season for the past six years (excepting the years when the theatre opted not to do it). With each year, our group has grown to include more people--my Aunt Mel and our family friend, Steve always go; and this year my sister's boyfriend gave it a shot, though my Uncle Tom still would not. My dad won't go because drag just isn't his thing, though he'll acknowledge its place in the performance world (who can deny it?). But it's become my favorite holiday tradition, melding the rites and songs of Christmas with a more unconventional spirit and flavor.

            Along with the many awesome movie and musical references in the play, I just genuinely enjoy watching a bunch of men in drag playing famous actresses of the 1940’s. I love the gays and this is as gay as gay gets (add on the fact that it's an Omaha production and your whole world just flew over the rainbow in a totally unprecedented way). Additionally, it’s a SNAP! Production, meaning that some portion of the proceeds from the show go to benefit the Nebraska AIDS Project. It’s a nice way to feel like you’re doing something worthwhile as you sit on your butt drinking wine while men dance and sing in dresses. This show has everything!

Shelterbelt Theatre.

            Okay, so I’ve blabbered on about this long enough. Here’s the important info: it was created by Richard Winchester and written by Wayne Buidens and Mark Sargent. This year’s Shelterbelt production was directed by Michal Simpson (I think he directs every year). It ended its run early (Dec. 18th), so I apologize for bringing it up now, but keep your eyes peeled—it may be back next year! (And if it isn't, I will complain to the management.)

Happy Holidays.

*The quote is a famous line from Mommie Dearest, purportedly uttered by Joan in real life but for our purposes it's Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford. The line also appears in Christmas With the Crawfords.