Silence! the Musical

A few years ago I had my first musical theatre experience when my family took my little sister to see Disney’s Tarzan the musical for her birthday.  While I understand that the majority of the Broadway going audience is educated middle-aged Caucasian women and a handful of sharply dressed men; watching a guy swing across the stage in a loincloth for 2 hours is not my idea of money well spent.  Especially, since I still had the dry heaves from the previous night out with friends. I completely swore off theater.

My parents are fairly regular theatre goers and after my reaction to Tarzan they thought better then to invite me to future outings. I was done.  Finished. The fat lady sung.  But then I met a girl.  She worked it theatre so when she suggested I take my family to see Avenue Q, I had enough faith in her sense of humor and theatre background to give it a try.  Also, she’s really hot. 

Avenue Q is basically Sesame Street for adults. I didn’t know a musical could be so crude and hilarious. I highly recommend Avenue Q for anyone who has a sense of humor and doesn’t get offended easily. From then on I was going to shows with family and friends. In the past two years I’ve seen Avenue Q, Wintuk, Spiderman (the Julie Taymor actors-could-get-killed version), 39 Steps, Jersey Boys and a little show you might have heard about The Book of Mormon.

This past weekend I went to see Silence! the Musical, a musical parody of the Silence of the Lambs.  Almost as fun as actually seeing the show was telling people I was going.  Since the movie was so dark and gruesome I suppose I can understand their raised eyebrows at the thought of singing serial killers.  Um,  Singing Serial Killers = AWESOME!  The show had a Naked Gun tongue-in-cheek style where the lead character, FBI trainee Clarice Starling, is portrayed as a complete moron.  Keeping to the original story, Clarice has to pick the brain of one of the most notorious serial killers, Hannibal Lector, in order to catch the diabolical Buffalo Bill. However in the stage version Clarice’s quest is narrated by five delightfully low budget signing lambs. The musical has laugh- out- loud songs such as, “Put the Lotion in the Basket” and “If I Could Smell Her C**t”. Now those are songs you’ll catch me humming around the water cooler!

If you can’t get tickets to The Book of Mormon until 2012 – I suggest you check out Silence! The Musical.  But be careful, it might turn you into the giggling musical theatre geek that I have become. 

If I was 30 years older…

By: Mike Cupolo and Tom Hollywood

If I was 30 years older...

I can use phrases like, “Do you pay rent? My house my rules. Get a job. Money doesn’t grow on trees. If we get a dog are you going to take care of it? You aren’t leaving this table until you are done eating. Who wants ice cream?” I’d rather just put my parents in a home.

And working the same job I am now I will be very disappointed.

Hopefully I still won't need Viagra, but the doctor won't give me a weird look when I try to get it to abuse for sexual pleasure.

People would say "he's in great shape for 45" instead of people saying "he's kind of fat for 25”.  Then I can tell younger folks they are getting fat whenever they tacked on a few extra pounds regardless of the shape I’m currently in.

It would be an accomplishment if I still have all my hair instead of it just being expected of me.

Going to the bar with friends seems less likely. Although, Homer Simpson does it and he is an icon.  

A massage after playing basketball would be believable instead of everyone assuming I’m going for a happy ending.

I would wash plastic silverware because reusing it would seem reasonable. I would also eat off real plates.

My place on the Giant’s season ticket waiting list would be up and I could pay the 20 grand to sit in freezing weather. Then I can bitch about how they use to be good and not such pussies.

I would use out of date racial terminology. It wouldn’t be considered racist because people will think I’m just use to the old ways.

I wouldn’t claim to know my illegitimate children even though they are a 20 year old version of me.

I would describe my freighting behavior in my 20s as "youthful indiscretions". By now the statute of limitations should almost be up on that "youthful indiscretion" in October 2011.

I would tell my kids that their mom use to be hotter when I married her 20 years ago even though she wasn't.

I would pretend to not understand inflation or social propriety. I could say, “When I was young a dollar would get you a half and half from an Asian broad on

57th street

.”

I would start ruining the new liver with drugs and alcohol.

I would pretend not to understand computers, online dating and internet porn.

I lie to my kids and tell them I love their mom, even though she took half.  

I would tell my son all of my sexual conquests. Tell him to man up and find a "real" woman and stop whacking it to cartoons.

The milfs have evolved into rich lonely horny widows. Time to live the Gigolo lifestyle.    

I would walk into a Verizon store and repeatly poke a screen while saying in a voice much too loud "How do you work this infernal contraption"?

I’ll back out of the pact I made with that girl/guy that if we weren't married by 40 we would marry each other. Sounds mean, but they didn't age well. The fact that they remember this drunken pledge has me concerned about their mental state. Gigolo it is.

I’ll go snowboarding and bitch about how all these "snowbladers" are fucking up the mountain.

I’ll bitch how noisy these young whippersnappers are at the movies and how they shouldn't let in anyone under 40. Also keep out anyone who is different than I am. New things make me uncomfortable.

I’ll say borderline creepy compliments to teenager girls. They won't know if I’m hitting on them or just being nice.

I’d go around saying people 20 years younger are bums. They should get a job and stop spending all day smoking pot and playing video games even though that’s what I did 20 years ago.

I could tell ppl I still live at home because I am taking care of my parents not the other way around.

Do you ever wish you could be back in school instead of at work?

By: Mike Cupolo and Tom Hollywood

Do you ever wish you could be back in school instead of at work? Not me. I would rather be home watching TV and playing with Legos. Although there are times that I miss being a student. Tom and I thought of some reasons why school is better than work. We started with the good old preschool days and made our way through the party days of college.   

Nap time- Taking a nap was a requirement. Now you have to go to “meetings” and go on “calls” to catch some shuteye.

Recess- Do you play kickball at your job on a daily basis? I didn’t think so.  

Evil Teacher vs. Horrible Boss- You get stuck with a teacher who flips out when a student drops a pencil on the floor and makes you stay after school two minutes each time you drop a pencil. At least it is only for a year. You could be trapped with a boss for a lifetime.

Snack time- You get a tasty free treat everyday at school. At work you get to deal with a bastard of a vending machine that eats your money and toys with your emotions.

Subjects- One job, one subject. Think of all the classes you got to take over the years in school: Gym, Study Hall, Women Studies, etc. I couldn’t believe I got a ‘D’ in Women Studies. After a few years of bad dates and questionable relationships it makes a ton of sense.   

Hot substitute teacher- It didn’t happen often, but when it did it was the coolest. You got to stare at a pretty young lady all day. Now interns are the closest thing to an attractive alternate. It isn’t appropriate or professional to stare at the 18 year old intern in your office. Don’t be a creep. Glance, don’t stare.    

Absenteeism- While you are enrolled in college you are generally supposed to show up.  At work you have tightly regulated sick days and vacation days. If you exceed them it better be because your liver needed to be removed last night and not because you had a great time at the kegger.

Attire- The general rule in college is, “Regardless of how ridiculous it may seem, as long as it covers the naughty bits you can wear it out.” You can wear pajamas to class! The same does not go for work. At best you have casual Fridays when you get wear polos and khakis. You are so beaten down by “the man” you actually look forward to casual Fridays.

Sexual Relations- A complicated matter in any environment. You slept with Becky from biology class at whatever depraved party you attended. You were the man and Becky was probably cool with it. If you sleep with Rebecca from marketing at the office Christmas party you have a problem. You will have to see this woman on a daily basis, not just Tuesdays and Thursdays from 3-4:15. You’ll have to do serious work with someone you saw naked and did some messed up stuff with knowing you.

Potential Dating Pool- There is plenty of opportunities to meet the opposite sex. Whichever college you attend your undergraduate class is a balanced mix of males and females 18 to 23 years old. You may not appreciate it at the time, but that is a prime age range for the opposite sex. Everyone is in competition with other coeds to look the best. This encourages them to put down the fork and go for a run. They haven’t entered “time to look for a husband territory”.

The workplace is completely different. Alcohol and questionable decisions become less of a factor. The questionable decision was sleeping with you. You are lucky if there is a decent guy to girl ratio. There are some work fields that definitely are trending more towards one sex. Then even if you have an even mix the age range is now 25 to 65. The worry that your potential mate might be married or pregnant comes into play. Also there is the high chance she is looking to get married or pregnant. With this scarcity comes terms like “work hot”. Now this is a girl that wouldn’t compare to most coeds, but because she is the only reasonably attractive woman at work she now thinks she is filet mignon and deserves better then the likes of you.

  

Enjoy being in school and don’t rush the experiences. In the immortal words of Billy Madison, “Stay here. Stay as long as you can. For the love of God, cherish it. You have to cherish it.” 



Mets Game

A ticket to a Mets game in August is as useless as someone handing you a condom after your kid graduates from high school. Why would I need this now? What if the tickets were twelve rows behind home plate? Yes, it’s still the Mets and they would have trouble beating a Little League baseball team. Take a second now to get all of the Mets insults out.

Are you done? Feel better? Anyway, I went to the game with my family. Going to a sporting event with your family on a Wednesday night is…different. I can’t be a complete degenerate like I normally would with friends. I can’t consume the same amount of alcohol as I normally would. Nothing good will come from getting wasted in front of your parents in a public setting. The look of disappoint, shame and embarrassment from a parent is humiliating or so I’ve heard.

The price of the beer does play a factor too. Spending $8 for a small cup of beer is expensive for anyone. It becomes even more expensive for someone who lives with their parents. A person who has to debate what is more important, lunch for the week or a few beers at the game, should probably avoid making more bad decisions that involve alcohol.

I can’t heckle the same way. How do I share my disapproval for the opposing team sober? Think of all the horrible obscenities I could be shouting at the Marlins pitcher from a safe distance after he strikes out Jason Bay for the third time. I won’t be able to properly communicate my feelings of pure disgust towards the home plate umpire, also from a safe distance.

After the Mets scored their first run I jumped up and did this weird celebratory arm thrust. It was over the top. I immediately sat down and regretted doing it. How many people saw it? I got a dirty look from some little kids sitting to my left. Those kids don’t understand what it’s like being a Mets fan and how rare it is to see them score. I told them their parents didn’t love them. Nah, I didn’t. Totally wish I did though.  I know the attention wasn’t solely on me, but when someone leaps out of their seat to do a Street Fighter sort of uppercut people notice. I looked to my right and my family had a look of confusion mixed with embarrassment with a hint of, “What the hell are you doing?”

It isn’t easy being a Mets fan. Although, it is easier than I thought to get the look of shame from my parents.