No One Is Too Tall For High Heels

Exercise in measuring Ass-Kicking-ness
Monday, Nov. 27, 2006 at 12:34 p.m.

On this day in 1969, court appointed attorney Ronald Hughes, handling the Charles Manson case, disappears on a camping trip to Sespe Hot Springs in Southern California, accompanied by two Manson followers. His decomposed body is identified by dental x-rays five months later.

So not only was Ronald not a good attorney, but he was also kind of stupid. What about the Manson family makes you think, ï¿½Hey, letï¿½s go camping together in the middle of nowhere when cell phones and GPSs havenï¿½t been invented yetï¿½? Seriously, I donï¿½t even trust my Hubster enough to accompany him out to the middle of nowhere without full knowledge of where civilization is. I was skittish enough staying in an official campground at the Chiricuhua National Park, where the ranger was staying in an Airstream 2 sites down.

Anyhoo, kiddywinks, I am thrilled to announce that I have finished my NaNoWriMo with just over 53K words. Woot! I will soon be posting the novel, chapter by chapter, on my fanfiction page. A link will be provided when I get it together.

Now, Iï¿½m not sure what Iï¿½ll do with myself at work, where I wrote the novel ï¿½ as Iï¿½ve said before, this job offers me a lot of free time ï¿½ so I might just have to go back to knitting. The problem is that knitting looks even less like work than novel-writing does. Of course, there is no shortage of goofy assed pictures and snarky comments that I could make, no? And I havenï¿½t been providing them of late. Would you like to see snarky pictures? Would you? Wouldnï¿½t that be fun?

But not yet, my chickybabies.

Mwa-Ha-Ha-Ha!

So the Hubster and I drove all the way over to Glendale ï¿½ probably about 35 miles, one way -- to the Jobing.com Arena (yes, that is the name of the arena. Christ in a sidecar, ne?) to see the Trans-Siberian Orchestra and their plethora of lasers and lights. If youï¿½ve never heard the TSO, think of ï¿½Classical Gasï¿½ on crystal meth. With 1980ï¿½s hair.

Damn that was a good show. If only Freddie Mercury were still alive, heï¿½d be so all over these guys. And God bless Freddie, heï¿½s been dead now for 15 years. When in the hell did so much time pass?

Going back to the TSO show . . . wow. I donï¿½t know how to describe it to do it justice, although it did take me a while to get caught up into the whole thing and I did briefly wonder if the show would be even half as good without all the lights and lasers and all, but Iï¿½ll tell you, they had me when the snow started. Letï¿½s face it, Iï¿½m a sucker for snow on stage (or indoors in general). I always get a little caught up during the snow scenes in the Nutcracker and the big flying scene at the end of act one of Peter Pan, when all the furniture rolls away on its own, chokes me up. Why? Why, when I know exactly how all this magic is accomplished?

Because itï¿½s still magic? I donï¿½t know.

I do know this: I say a big WOOT to the TSO roadcrew, because they struck in El Paso, drove 450 miles to Phoenix that night, and got their shit set up for a 3:00 p.m. show. I donï¿½t know if they sub-rent equipment or not, hell, it doesnï¿½t matter, but those men (and women) kick some serious stage crew ass.

You know what else kicks ass? A flying matador: