Filed under: Dr. Frank, Uncategorized | Tags: bank robber, dentist, Dr. Frank, fanfiction, Ghost Town, Norther Winslow, treasure
The sky had completely darkened when they reached the town Norther had set his sights on. Dimly flickering neon lights were all that kept them from swerving into one of the flimsy wooden buildings. “This is a ghost town,” Dr. Frank murmured, hugging himself tighter.
“Right. And we’re going to rob that bank there,” Norther slowed down as he drove by the bank, the tallest building in the small settlement. The town itself was only one street, just in a Spaghetti Western.
“Can I be frank with you, Mr. Winslow?”
“You are,” Norther grinned at the wordplay.
“That bank looks like nothing.”
“You underestimate, Frank. In that bank – ” Norther looked around suspiciously, ” – I’ll tell you once we get in a secured area.” He continued driving to the end of the street. Beyond that there was only the sparse camel-colored sand for miles, dotted with the occasional tumbleweed.
The very last building on the right looked like it was about to collapse on its side and die. To Dr. Frank’s horror, this was the one Norther pulled up to. He parked the car behind the building and they walked to the front, where a faded sign hung above their heads. Hotel, it read, and nothing more.
“Wha-how’d you find this place?” Dr. Frank asked incredulously, staring.
“Google,” Norther replied casually and continued up the steps. Dr. Frank looked back down the street. This seemed to be the only open establishment, and it didn’t look sanitary. In the end he had no choice but to follow Norther into the hotel.
“Hi, yes. I’d like a room please.” Norther leaned over the counter.
“Two rooms,” Dr. Frank hissed. Norther ignored him.
“Name?”
“Mr. uh, John Smith.” Norther turned and winked conspiratorially at Dr. Frank. His pseudonym was fool-proof. They would never be able to sort through the millions of John Smith’s in the United States.
Moments later they were opening the door to their room, Dr. Frank berating Norther for requesting a single room.
“It’s cheaper to share,” Norther said as he laid down his belongings on the bed. He sat down and patted the area beside him. “Sit down.”
“I’d rather stand, thank you,” Dr. Frank retorted, folding his arms.
“Suit yourself,” and Norther lay back on the bed, relaxed. “That bank is no ordinary bank. Its vaults hold one of the greatest lost treasures of the world.”
Dr. Frank couldn’t take it anymore. Here he was miles from home in a seedy hotel with a crazy treasure-hunting bank robber. He turned and left the room.
“Your funeral,” Norther muttered, picking up the television remote.
Filed under: Dr. Frank, Uncategorized | Tags: Alice in Wonderland, bank robbery, Big Fish, dentist, Dr. Frank, fanfiction, Johnny Depp, Mad Hatter, Norther Winslow
Norther lay his head back as he drove, laughing maniacally. Dr. Frank anxiously reached for the wheel, but his hand was slapped away. “I drive,” Norther warned possessively. The wind whipped their hair back, exposing their almost identical wrinkled foreheads as the red sports car raced East toward Texas. “We need to find us a place to sleep,” Norther said, looking around them for a rest stop. But the flatness of the desert stretched out uninterrupted for miles.
The sky slowly darkened above them until it was a deep champagne red. Accepting his fate, Dr. Frank let his guard down and rested his head back. The car swerved dangerously and he sat up, alarmed. Norther’s chin rested on his chest, and a loud snore erupted into the air. Dr. Frank slammed his hand down onto the steering wheel and maneuvred the car to the side of the road.
He was afraid to sleep, but could not resist the downward pull on his eyelids. Soon the two men were sleeping like babes, their snores scaring away the wildlife. It was enough to protect them through the night. Their jackets, however, were not enough to protect them from the desert’s harsh nights, and they eventually slept closer and closer until they were holding each other to keep warm.
The next morning, Norther awoke screaming. “What is this?”
Dr. Frank snorted awake, “What?”
“We’re in a ditch! More than that, what the hell were you doing hugging me in your sleep?”
Dr. Frank chose not to answer that, because he didn’t know. “We should probably push the car back onto the highway.”
“Damn right we should.” Norther scrambled out of the car and leaned on the back-end of it. Dr. Frank followed, albeit at his own much slower pace. “Hurry up! Is this how you’re going to be at the robbery, because if yes you’re gonna get us killed.”
Dr. Frank didn’t know what had gotten into Mr. Winslow making him so snappy, but he hurried nonetheless. The two men pushed against the car with all their might until it moved slowly upwards and onto the main road. Sweating, they rushed back into their seats and drove off.
“That was a good workout,” Norther said.
“Keep your eye on the road please,” Dr. Frank reminded him nervously.
“Don’t worry about it, Doc. I’m a bank robber. I can take anything.” Dr. Frank stayed quiet, although his mind was still racing with worries.
“How many times have you robbed a bank?”
“Once, last year. I told you, it’s how I got this shiny car.”
They drove on for several days, with nothing uneventful happening because Norther miraculously managed to find a rest stop each night, successfully eliminating awkward nights spent huddling in the sports car. It was as if that traumatic experience had made him determined never to spend the night in his car with Dr. Frank again.
At the end of three day’s drive, they reached Texas. Norther’s land of opportunity. It would be another three days until they reached their target.
Side note: I can’t think of the Mad Hatter as Johnny Depp. Is this the second Jack Sparrow?
Filed under: Dr. Frank, Uncategorized | Tags: bank robbery, Big Fish, dentist, Dr. Frank, fanfiction, Norther Winslow
“Is something wrong?” Dr. Frank’s wife asked him when he exited the bathroom. Caught defenseless, Dr. Frank hastily zipped up his fly and widened his eyes.
“What? Well that came out of nowhere. No. There’s nothing wrong. Why, is there something I don’t know about? He looked everywhere but at her. Dr. Frank’s wife folded her arms, then unfolded them again to take off her reading glasses. Her book started to close, and she rushed to save her page. It ruined the effect she was going for, to say the least.
“What did the white man have to say to you today?” she asked him, getting to the root of the problem. Ever since Mr. Winslow had visited their office earlier that day, Dr. Frank had been alternating between brooding and jumpy.
“He said that he needed a root canal done.”
“Well why did he go into your office, Dr. Frank?”
“He was ashamed that he needed the root canal. It is a shameful thing in white people’s culture.”
His wife looked at him. “Dr. Frank, we’ve both been living in the United States for over fifteen years. You and I both know that white people are not ashamed of root canals.” They both paused to remember Mr. Henderson, who had come in yelling that he had a root canal. He had enjoyed the consequent spectacle.
“It varies with each white person. Come on, Wife. You can’t generalize like that. Let’s go to sleep, hmm?” And with that Dr. Frank turned off the lights and slid into bed next to her. Dr. Frank’s wife sighed, then closed her book and placed it on the nightstand.
The next morning Dr. Frank awoke and found his wife to have left for the office earlier than usual. Sighing, he finished his morning routine and began the walk to the office.
He was just passing the hip new Asian restaurant next to the firehouse when he was tackled to the ground by a big blur. In the bushes, they wrestled. Finally the blur tired and gave up. Dr. Frank sat up. “Mr. Winslow?”
“Call me Norther. Are you ready to go?”
Dr. Frank, bewildered, shook his head. “No, of course not. You told me yesterday.”
“That’s plenty of time.” He looked down at Dr. Frank’s shiny black bag. “Ah, you’ve packed.”
“No, these are some dental -” but again he was yanked to Norther Winslow’s shiny red sports car. A sign of his mid-life crisis, to be sure, but also of his newfound wealth after robbing his first bank nearly a year before. The wealth was surely deteriorating as well, for the car had a few unrepaired scratches, and when Norther tried to start it, it rumbled furiously in response.
“Let’s go.” He smiled creepily at Dr. Frank, and the car raced off in a whirlwind of dust. Coughing and choking, Dr. Frank had no choice but to comply. Thus Dr. Frank, dressed in a forest green polo shirt, brown belt, and khakis, drove off with Norther Winslow into the sunset. His wife could only make the conclusion that he had turned gay and run off with his Caucasian lover. She cried for five minutes, and moved on. What strength and resilience did this woman portray.
Filed under: Dr. Frank, Uncategorized | Tags: bank robbery, Big Fish, crossover, dentist, Dr. Frank, fanfiction, Johnny Depp, Steve Buscemi
Umm, okay. After weeks of neglect, I decided to check my stats, because that’s always fun. And what did I see in the search terms but “dentist fanfiction”? Since I have nothing better to do than walking around in a Hugh Hefner-ish bathrobe that belonged to my mother, I’ll indulge this strange fantasy.
I know I’m crazy for wearing a bathrobe in this heat. But, how do I say this delicately? My uterus is expelling blood.
Wow I’ve never been so outright about it before. Must be a hormonal thing, and I’ll come to regret it in six days.
Okay, the dentist fanfiction. Naturally I must make the protagonist my beloved dentist, whose belly grumbles as he rewires my braces. It is important to note that Dr. Frank looks like everyone, most notably Steve Buscemi and that one picture of Johnny Depp in Rolling Stone magazine. I know, how does he do it?
Onward.
Dr. Frank picked up his sleek dental bag. It was shiny and black, and only added to his hipness that summer morning as he walked to his office. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand, beads of water falling to the cement in a graceful formation. How Dr. Frank was able to be this cool, no one knew. And he’d be damned before he shared his secrets. Dr. Frank stopped himself mentally. He never used those sort of words; Dr. Frank was a mild man. He lived in a a beige suburban house with his wife, who helped out at the dental office as his receptionist.
After stopping to admire the new red paint on the neighboring dairy store, Dr. Frank continued until he reached his office. The bell jingled as he pushed the door open, and his wife looked up from the counter. “Dr. Frank,” she greeted him. “Mr. Tse’s your first appointment. He’ll be coming in in a few minutes.”
Not even a good morning, Dr. Frank thought sadly. He nodded and walked deeper into the office. His assistant, Clara, stood at the counter, labeling plaster models of teeth. Hearing his footsteps, she glanced up. “Good morning Dr. Frank,” she smiled. Even if she was just getting on his good side for that recommendation letter she needed, Dr. Frank appreciated the gesture.
“Good morning Clara,” he returned. “How are the models coming along?”
“They’re great,” she said, turning one around in her hand. “This one’s got a bit of crookedness with the wisdom teeth, but there’s nothing we can’t pull out.”
Dr. Frank opened his mouth to reply when he heard the bell jingle in the lobby. “Excuse me Clara,” he said, rushing over to the doorway. “Mr. Tse?” he said, but it was not Mr. Tse.
“Uh no, I’m Norther Winslow,” the man smiled, his teeth making Dr. Frank’s fingers itch. How he wanted to straighten them all right now. And to scrape the evident plaque off of them.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Winslow. I’m Dr. Frank.” He stuck out his hand, and they shook.
“I’m Norther Winslow,” the man repeated.
“Yes.”
“Uh, may we speak in your office? Privately?”
Dr. Frank stared, taken aback. No one ever entered his office, except his wife to drop off files and dust the bookshelves. “Uh, sure. Yes, right this way.” Norther trailed behind him as they entered his office. Dr. Frank quickly flipped on the light switch and welcomed Mr. Winslow to sit in one of the plush chairs facing his desk.
He himself sat down in his own swiveling desk chair. Norther leaned in conspiratorially. “Dr. Frank, I am a wanted man.”
“What?” Dr. Frank, once again was taken aback. Here was a man who had managed to shock him twice within five minutes of acquaintance, a challenging feat in itself.
“I robbed a bank in Texas,” Norther continued to whisper, glancing occasionally at Dr. Frank’s wife, whose eyes darted toward the office every three seconds. She had no idea what business her mild-mannered, if not cool husband had with such a wild-eyed white man, but it didn’t look legal.
“Why are you coming to me? I’ve never seen you in my life!” Dr. Frank whispered furiously back at Norther. He didn’t want any trouble, he just wanted to run his dental clinic and live his quiet life. He had won awards, and deservedly so. Neighborhood housewives regularly invited him and his wife over all the time. In fact, they got by without cooking for themselves, so beloved were his services to the community in filling cavities and curing root canals.
“I need a decoy, Dr. Frank. I need a distraction.”
“You’re going to pull another one?”
“Very smart Dr. Frank. I heard you were a quick one. So,” Norther looked deep into his eyes. “Are you in or are you out?”
Dr. Frank’s moral compass spun around wildly. It was obvious the answer was no, so what was he hesitating for? He weighted the options. Dr. Frank the bank robber or Dr. Frank the dentist? It was obvious which he belonged to.
It was a great surprise to him then, when the word that slipped out of his mouth began with a Y and not a N.
Looks like this one’s going to be a serial. Unless I lose motivation, or am booed off the stage.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: blog, music, life, chinese, big girl, stop-motion, happiness, violin, LA, Dr. Frank, angry asian man, fun, ignorance, banquet, Lyle the Crocodile, prodigy, anger, mid-life crisis, girls, record, Ghost Town, Ricky Gervaise, languages, cultural differences, cuisine, old movie posters, King Kong, The Wizard of Oz, the Cowardly Lion, laptop, Final Cut Pro, PC, driving
I won’t hide the fact that as I read MUSIC’s comment my heart rate increased dramatically and I had to take a few deep breaths. I actually tried to find my happy place, an activity I believed only existed in mediocre romantic comedies. The good news is, I found it.
I will say that the point of sharing that part of my past wasn’t for telling the world I was a really good violin player. The heart of that post, in my opinion, is the part about how no one is willing to believe that great things are happening around them. And not just in my case.
I do realize how extreme the word “prodigy” is. I use it lightly, as I do fatteh, ugly, and poop. As I was typing, I paused before putting that down – but I get slightly emotional when I think about violin – as pathetic as that sounds, and decided to go through with it anyway.
It’s gotten better, though. Before I thought that I had pretty much wasted my life – bear with my former self here – because I had been given a talent and, well you know the story. I don’t pretend that I’m the only one in this situation, or the only one given musical ability. But the reason for my premature mid-life crisis was that I didn’t really have any other purpose in life – I was still looking for things. If you’ve been following for the past month or so, you’ll know I’ve found something, if not it.
That still didn’t give my friends the right to roll their eyes at my then mid-life crisis. When you’re watching from the outside everything is belittled. Knowing that, I try to see things from the bereaved person’s perspective – maintaining a balance, so to speak. And it doesn’t give them the right to crack jokes about my behavior then either. What someone did in the past is laced with ignorance – because hindsight and all that. They may know they were stupid, but – well, there’s just something very rude about making fun of it.
Back to the happy. We – HOLY GOD IS THAT “BIG GIRL” ON THE TV NO DONT CHANGE THE MUSIC DAMMIT
A human stop-motion is in the works for this summer, and it’s a lot more plausible than “Angry Asian Man” and other stop-motion ideas I’ve had. Once I talk to my buddy, we’ll see if “Angry Asian Man” is happening this summer. I’m pretty sure of the human stop-motion though. It’s for a teenage cast, and it doesn’t take itself as seriously as “Angry Asian Man”.
We’ll be asking people to be in it starting Monday.
EDIT: We left the house – another false start for the San Diego Zoo.
Anyway, it’s pretty much out in the open that I have a blog now. I hope Fatherman isn’t looking for it. He asked me what was on my blog and presented the story of a Taiwanese girl whose blog won awards for its photos of Taiwanese farmers.
My blog – doesn’t have a point. I don’t really want to have a point, but I’d like for it to be more than just my day-t0-day events. Which is why I try to share my thoughts rather than what happens to me that day. Would you rather it have a point or to go on like this…I don’t know, myself. I think I’d feel restricted if I could only talk about food, or furniture.
Although this is my only record of my life, and for posterity there are some mundane things I can’t leave out.
Last night was the Journalism internship banquet. Being with a group of girls and just letting go, having fun – that was really great. I sort of liked the relative anonymity. They know nothing of my old personality, so I could just start over and be a real girl. Sounds weird, but I’m rather reserved about letting my feminine side shine through. It’s a stigma, I think, that a lot of little girls have to deal with. Because every tells them not to be such a girly girl and suck it up.
Permit me to rant a little here – I just finished watching “Ghost Town”, and while overall an ordinary movie, meaning it wasn’t extraordinary, there was just one part that was a bit unbearable for me to watch. Don’t tell me it’s just a joke, or that I’m overreacting. The part where Ricky Gervais makes fun of the Chinese because we have funny names. He tries to justify it by saying it’s not about our faces, but it still reeks of ignorance. Everyone has different languages, and we should respect that by recognizing that things may sound funny – but it means something else, and to a large group of people it makes perfect sense. I’m not usually one to nitpick about racism or whatever. For the most part, I ignore racist jokes because it’s really not worth my time. And I don’t know why this time it mattered, it just really bothered me. I was squirming in my seat, disgusted.
DR. FRANK IS ON TV MIYA LOOK NOW LOOK NOW
I loathe Chinese buffets. And I am only slightly annoyed at the people who go there for the orange chicken and fortune cookies only. Like the couple who exchanged the following conversation today:
Girl: I saw people eating crab legs!
Boy: Ugh.
Thank you, American couple. Thank you for that enlightening insight. I really don’t know what to say to that. I can’t call it ignorance, because then I wouldn’t be any better than Ricky Gervais in “Ghost Town”. I wanted to pick up a crab leg and tear into before their faces, saying, “Mmmm. Yummy.” But sometimes I think that Western cuisine, while good to eat, really pales in comparison to Eastern cuisine. When I want something complicated and a mix of tastes in my mouth, I go for Asian food. When I want just plain good, I go for steak and mashed potatoes.
Today I realized I wouldn’t mind having an old movie poster in my room. A classic would be preferred, just for their aesthetic. I saw a couple today in K-Mart, but only King Kong, which was cool to look at but terrifying, and The Wizard of Oz, which I was terrified of as a child. The Cowardly Lion still strikes fear into my heart. I once made my family change hotel rooms at MGM because there was a “Wizard of Oz” theme going on.
I don’t really have much more to say at the moment. I haven’t been following my favorite blogs lately because I don’t want to risk letting another virus loose on my dad’s laptop. I really want a laptop of my own. Then again, I really want to learn Final Cut Pro – it’s the industry standard – but my dad insists on getting a PC first.
As my activities get more and more hectic, I realize the need for the ability to drive. I need it now – or my dad’s never going to get a moment of rest. But I’m going to miss driving an hour with him to LA every week – and falling asleep for half the drive.
Whell then. How many times have I ended a post awkwardly? Almost every time. Huzzah, goodbye. See you later, Alligator. I want to read Lyle the Crocodile.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: AP Human Geography, beautiful, Casablanca, Charlie Chaplin, Cherry Blossom Festival, Christina Aguilera, clark gable, Dr. Frank, fatteh, Gone With the Wind, Humphrey Bogart, Ingrid Bergman, Marlon Brando, Miya, Modern Times, Pirates of the Caribbean, Sao Feng, Sayonara, school, stealthy, The Godfather
Psst. Guess where I am?
Huzzah! I am at school 
and this is not my phone.
It’s cooler than it sounds. We hide in the corner under the watchful eye of “Il Padrino” and Charlie Chaplin. And Ingrid Bergman, looking over Humphrey Bogart’s shoulder. Can I please steal some of these movie posters? Ugh. On the far wall is “Gone With the Wind”.
Dr. Frank strikes again! Go away, fatteh. Good god, why are you everywhere?
Miya thinks she’s beautiful, but it’s okay because she’s looking through a funhouse mirror. Teehee. “I am beautiful!” Whatever. Christina Aguilera thought the same thing, and so did millions of fattehs sitting in the corner listening to her single, maybe even singing along.
I have nothing to talk about. Hence the moment of cruelty, but only because Miya is sitting next to me looking up Cherry Blossom Festival 09 for AP Human and she continues to insist she’s easy on the eyes.
“So. You admit. You have deceived me. Weapons!” I’m really bored. Sayonara, Japanese goodbye. Unfortunately “Sayonara” is not one of the movies on the wall in this media lab. Not that I’d want to have it up.
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: AA, Arrested Development, bald, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, decor, dentist, directing, Dr. Frank, facial hair, family, frolicking, hair, hiking, Johnny Depp, junk food, nature, Norther Winslow, Northern California, Oliver Twist, school, spring break, surfing, Taco Bell, teenagers, Tobias, trip, Utah, weight gain
I had a thought about bald men today, but thankfully I’ve displaced it from my noggin.
Actually I had different thoughts on the same topic two days ago at a Taco Bell when two teenage guys walked in and had that “closely shaven but not quite” haircut. And it was ugly.
What can I say, many have that hairstyle. None can pull it off. Unless, of course, you look like a hideous with a full head of hair. In some instances, hair should not be grown. More and more I realize this applies to Johnny Depp’s mustaches and beard. Excuse me, goatee.
Who wants a beard? Well, beatniks for one.
I’m not going to continue with that. One, because I’m lazy and should be writing an essay right now. Two, okay…I’ve slightly forgotten it. Shame on me. Shun.
Speaking of CatCF, Grandma Georgina appeared in “Oliver Twist”. Gah I’m so proud of her. And I know she loves me.
Maybe the bald men thing is coming from watching all of “Arrested Development” in a little over three days. Tobias is my favorite character.
Anyway, it was a really deep thought, but has since been replaced by a blue whale.
Randomly, I remember when I used to think surfing was cool. And wanted to buy every piece of furniture/art that reminded me of the ocean. Thankfully, those days are over. I don’t think anyone likes surfboard decor except for surfer dudes and young preteen girls.
I recently epiphanized (as I often do) how much I miss just being outside. Frolicking, no matter how gay it sounds, is the best activity in the world. If I could just frolic forever, I would be happy. If we all frolicked, we’d laugh more and stay fit.
So yes, I guess there is something I would love to do more than directing. I’d like to frolic and hang out in trees, but that is even more of an unreasonable career. “Hi, I’m Grapes and I’m a professional frolicker.” Sounds eerily similar to “Hi, I’m Grapes and I’m an alcoholic.”
Of course, just hiking or being in nature is boring. You have to play in it. Wow, this post is just getting frillier every second.
Besides all of this, school is getting really frustrating. I have three projects due the pointless week before spring break. And I know it’ll just be worse after break, because my brains will be gooey. I never remember anything after spring break. Although, who feels like going shopping with me?
My family is going somewhere…not sure where. We might wander over to NoCal (haha) or Utah, apparently. Might see Norther Winslow in Utah…I hope not, because through the transitive property I’d have seen my dentist.
And, I’ve been stuffing myself with junk food lately. It’s huzzah. I know I’m gaining weight by the second…
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: Claire Danes, college, Colm Wilkinson, Dr. Frank, Drew Barrymore Syndrome, Epiphany, Evita, Gerald Ford, High Flying Adored, high school, Hugh Dancy, Jean Valjean, Johnny Depp, les miserables, liam neeson, life, Michael Ball, middle-age, motivation, mullet, Natasha Richardson, Osbourne, pressure, purpose, sleeping in class, The Parent Trap, Vanessa Redgrave
I’m amazed at high school. It’s the one time in anyone’s life where they are driven by determination, where they have a real purpose in life.
True, that purpose may be not that awesome (read: going to college), but everyone’s so motivated. We stretch ourselves so much I’m surprised we don’t age fifty years in one school year. Or maybe this could just be my school, churner of America’s future Dr. Franks and [insert lawyer here]’s.
Actually, no. I’ve been pleasantly surprised by the fact that my high school is kind of sort of supportive of the arts. Maybe I’m not in the wrong place after all.
Today I was walking in the hallways to P.E. and I had this weird epiphany that every single person was working super super hard. No one is just cruising through high school, and if they are, they are screwed. Then a hunched over seventh grader swooped in between me and the door, and I changed my mind.
Everybody but those little children who do not know what is to come. Suckers.
By the time we get to middle-age, how many of us will still have goals beyond buying a purple Porsche (Oh goodness, what a wonderful idea.)? How many of us will just be dragging along until the end? Huzzah. What a happy idea.
This week was killer. I finally know how it feels to fall asleep in class. Well, no, I haven’t reached that accomplishment yet, but I’ve let myself doze off to half-asleepdom once or twice. The truth is, I’m afraid to have some sort of weird Freudian slipup.
When I was little I had a buddy named Osbourne. I wish I still had a buddy named Osbourne, come to think of it, but we moved and he was a guy and by the time we got to first grade things got a little weird. Not scandalous weird, just awkward. In the end our mothers conversed for us.
According to his mom, he would always fall asleep in class, so she had to give him vitamins to stay awake. Or caffeine, but we don’t know that. My mom would boast in typical Asian mother manner, “My daughter never falls asleep in class,” and for fifteen years it has been true.
There’s so much we have to do and I have no idea how I’m going to impress colleges. It’s a ruthless process.
Natasha Richardson’s death is pretty sad. Don’t look at me like I’m an idiot, death is always sad. Except in the case of Gerald Ford. I had no idea he had been living when he died. I was in a state of shock. “Gerald Ford was still alive?” Sorry, Mr. Former President. You had a nice haircut though.
Back to Natasha Richardson. When I was little my dad always talked about “The Parent Trap” lady. And even though he pointed her out to me so many times, I never really knew who she was. Until last year when I watched “Evening”, that odd movie with Claire Danes and Hugh Dancy, two actors who somewhat annoy me. Claire’s got a bit of the Drew Barrymore Syndrome going.
RESIST. RESIST.
Anyways, Natasha Richardson was in it as – surprise, surprise – Vanessa Redgrave’s daughter. Vanessa Redgrave always seems to be really frail in movies, but in random paparazzi shots she seems really strong for her age.
So. I finally understood. I think she was one of my dad’s favorite actresses, because he kept pointing her out. And when I told him he got kind of quiet, in a Little Bobby sort of way.
But I’m sadder for Liam Neeson, because I was more familiar with his work than hers. And at the moment when I opened MSN and saw the news, I had been thinking about Jean Valjean.
Speaking of which, Colm Wilkinson, who plays Valjean in the musical, is pretty odd.
I encourage you all to see his version of “High Flying Adored” from Evita. I trust it will blow your brains out until you have nothing left except that tune, and his “suave” smile staring into your eyes.
Also, Michael Ball needs to shave his mullet. At first I thought it was just some weird interpretation of Marius, but then I saw it in other performances. It’s the way his hair is: a curly mullet. Shave, Michael Ball, shave. You could visit Johnny Depp, if you like, and he’ll gladly do it for you.
In other news? Nothing.
