Rehearsal Hell and Broccoli Pizza

...and thus it begins.  My two month descent into show hell kicked off with this weekend's tech and opening of Into the Woods (pit keyboardist) at the Union County Academy for Performing Arts.  In two weeks, I will be deep into tech and opening weekend of The Music Man (appearing as "Marcellus") at CDC Theatre.  Once that closes, I have two weeks before tech and opening of Pineda Lyric's The Magic Flute (Val's bitch/pit keyboardist).  Throw in a weekend wedding in Minneapolis, my 9-to-5, assorted rehearsals and a daily soul-crushing double commute (Queens to NYC to Jersey and back to Queens) and you can all but confirm the reservations for my extended stay at the Crazy Town Hilton in June (though I'll only have a few weeks recovery time before the Summer Conservatory begins).

Of course, no Pineda production would be complete without a little opening night drama.  For Into the Woods, that would be our Witch losing her voice halfway through the first performance.  The lilting melody of "Children Will Listen" somehow loses it's poignancy when the actor is forced to speak the lyrics in a raspy whisper.  Of course, you can't blame the student.  Sh*t happens.

Thankfully, most of the lead roles were double cast (a nightmare for rehearsal purposes, but a welcome relief in just such an emergency).  So we gave Witch #2 a scant three-hour notice that she'd be making her debut a week earlier than scheduled.  Her shocked look was priceless.  Talk about some bulging cartoon eyes.

Given that teenagers possess a resiliency that adults seem to lose once they hit the legal drinking age, the evening show went off without any major glitches.  Brava, Witch #2!  Sure, there were the usual skipped lines and jumped measures, but heck, it's Sondheim, so certain allowances need to be made.  Or as one of the young performers brazenly explained to me after I scolded him for ignoring the notated rhythms in the score, "I'm really more of an actor so I go with how I feel."  To which I replied, "If you're really that good an actor, you would be able to make it work as written."  Looks like someone ought to start brushing up on their cater waiter skills.

Hopefully we'll get through closing weekend without any major snafus.  Fingers crossed.

How lucky am I that my birthday falls smack dab in the middle of all this chaos?  Not very, says I.  A large chunk of my special day was spent sitting through a painfully slow Music Man rehearsal.  Insomniac?  Stop by the CDC theatre during a Sunday afternoon rehearsal.  I dare you to stay awake.

Three hours later, rubbing my glazed-over eyes and wiping the drool from my open mouth, I somehow managed to crawl out of the theatre and back into the blessed sunlight.  With most of my day already consumed by the rehearsal, I decided to just stay in Jersey for an impromptu birthday dinner with Juan, Val, Trish and family friend, Susan Cook. 

Unlike the the Pinedas, Susan has her finger on the social pulse of NJ.  She's like a Real Housewife, only sane and without fake lashes or hair extensions - so actually nothing at all like a Real Housewife.  Per her suggestion, we headed to Anthony's Coal Fired pizza in Edison for a sloppy night of pizza and drinks.

These tasty birthday morsels came courtesy of Susan.  And no, I did not share.

This comely drag queen was my birthday present from Trish (obviously on a very tight budget).  Turned out it was just Susan in her finest Newark crack ho drag.  That's not her real hair, in case you were wondering.

Trish enjoys her pizza while Val, bored with us all, checks email.  

I give Susan a "thank you" smooch for the fantastic restaurant recommendation.  Though it doesn't sound very appealing, the roasted broccoli pizza was the surprise hit of the evening.  Shocked carnivore, Val, admitted she preferred it to the (also delish) sausage pie.  And the chicken wings (fire-roasted and smothered in caramelized onions)?  Better than sex (unless it's sex with Gerard Butler).  Or better yet, sex with Gerard Butler followed by wings.  Or even better, sex with Gerard Butler smothered in caramelized onion-covered wings.  Mmmm.  Bring on the wet naps!

More smooching, but this time with a pink whale at Yapple Yogurt where we stopped for dessert.  Incidentally, the 16-year-old straight boy working the register was the only person all day to comment or acknowledge my bright pink "Birthday Princess" sash (scroll down for better view).  Weird, huh?  Even weirder,  he had the nerve to try and one-up me by bragging that he wore the same sash on his birthday except that he also had...  wait for it...  a tiara.  I was about ready to cut a bitch.

The siblings did good in the present department.  Here's my new Kindle Paperwhite, courtesy of Trish, and fancy new Kindle case, courtesy of Juan and Val.

Since you can never have too many cupcakes, Trish, courtesy of black Billy, presented me with more delightful treats from Billy's bakery - that would be Billy's Bakery in Chelsea.  Black Billy does not have a bakery.  Not that I know of.

Poor, sick black Billy (again, not to be confused with the Billy's Bakery Billy), after delivering my birthday treats through a fever-induced fog.  He's resting up for the arduous 2-block walk back to his apartment. 

And thus endeth year 42 of my life on earth.  Here's hoping the 43rd is filled with more friends and cupcakes.

Magnolia wilts but the south rises again on our living room table

I hate to speak ill of the Queen (Queen Latifah, that is), but last night’s African-American remake of Steel Magnolias was sort of a hot mess.  To quote my friend, Jenn Love, this remake translates “about as well as a white Soul Train.”

Like most woman and gay men (yes, a stereotype, but oh, so true) across the country, I tuned in to Lifetime last night for some sassy southern charm and a good cry.  It turns out my southern-themed dinner was way more satisfying and than this tepid, made-for-TV version.  But let’s start with the highlight of the evening, my dinner. 

After an intense afternoon at the theatre yesterday afternoon, Trish and I decided to lighten our spirits with some retail therapy in Union Square, stopping at Burlington Coat Factory for some completely un-necessary purchases before heading to Whole Foods. 

A southern spread that would make Paula Deen proud.

Using the movie as inspiration, I decided to try my hand at some slow-roasted pulled pork.  Since Trish’s friend, Billy (a tried and true southerner), was planning to join us, I opted for a Carolina-style, vinegar-based roast.  I created my own spicy dry rub and marinated our two-and-a-half pound slab of pork butt overnight.  The next morning, I got up early to throw that mother in the oven where I let it slow roast for eight hours.  By the time I pulled the slab from the oven, it had developed a thick, smoky crust and juicy pink center.  Yum. 

For sides, we went full out Paul Dean mode - fresh squeezed mint lemonade, biscuits with maple butter spread, green beans sautéed in butter and brown sugar and three-cheese mac n’ cheese with a salt and pepper potato chip crust.  Billy supplied a sweet “happy ending” to our food orgy with red velvet cupcakes from Billy’s Bakery.  (Sigh) If only the movie was as equally satisfying.    

Of course, you can’t serve up a southern supper without the proper table setting.  I mean, WWMD (What would Martha do)?  So Trish and I made sure to round out our new mason jar mugs (purchased on our Burlington trip the other day) with appropriately gaudy flowered tablecloth, fresh flowers, windowpane glass pitcher with water glasses and white dinnerware (all purchased that same afternoon from the amazing Bargain Stop).  Can I get an “Amen, girl” from the congregation please?

As for the movie, well, I'm giving these wonderful women a pass this time and just content myself with re-watching The Help and Last Holiday.

A Ukulele Christmas with the Bridesmaids

Too much sugar on Christmas morning!!

This year we finally got to sleep in late, thanks to no Christmas morning church jobs - well, except for Juan and Trish.  In deference to them, we decided to wait until they got home to celebrate the true meaning of Christmas, rampant consumer excess! 

It was the year of the ukulele in the Pineda household.  After Juan and Val purchased one for me, Val snuck out of the house to buy one for Juan after she was nearly driven to insanity by the hours and hours Juan spent "tuning" my uke prior to wrapping it up. 

Ukes are the new black.

With a revolving door of guests stopping by throughout the day, the wine flowed freely, strewn wrapping paper created a delightfully colorful fire hazard and crumbs covered bulging stomachs. 

After we ushered the final guests out the door, the family settled down together for what I'm sure will become an annual Christmas tradition, a viewing of the heartwarming classic, "Bridesmaids."  Is there any more appropriate way to end a lovely holiday weekend than with diarrhea jokes?  Methinks not.

Here are the Christmas highlights in pictures.  Happy Holidays! 



Everyone gets a stocking in the Pineda household.

Tiny Tim, watch out.

Val - when you're ears are bleeding and you hear Kamakawiwo'ole's version of "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" on an endless loop in your sleep, remember, you bought the Ukes!

Mom and dad with mom and dad.  How meta.

Stogies in the backyard...stinky.

The Love's strike a pose.  One of these things is not like the other...



The Shores.  Looks like there was a sale on red sweaters at Kohl's.



Trish entertains us with her spot-on impersonation of the Virgin Mary.

The Pinedas with favorite student (shhh, don't tell the other kids), Zach.

After a hard day of drinking and eating, Val finally relaxes in front of her new faux fire, courtesy of Juan.

Debauchery and delinquency

Oh, to be a teenager again! The acne, prom dates, band geeks, popular kids...
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Memorial Day = meat

Well, I’m back to the grind today after a successful weekend of holiday partying. And by successful, I mean ingesting the equivalent of my body weight in grilled pig and cow products. My one disappointment? - being unable to show a lonely fleet week sailor my special brand of NYC hospitality. Oh well, there’s always next year. Actually, I think the fleet’s still in town until tomorrow morning so that leaves me a couple of hours. I do enjoy a challenge.

Anyway, thanks to Peter & Ray and Damienne & Steve for inviting me to their respective rooftop barbecues and to my homeboy, God, for supplying such lovely weather. I can’t even believe I actually know people who have rooftop apartments, let alone who like me enough to invite me to their parties and let me meet their friends. Hello newly found self-esteem!

P&R’s party Saturday night was such a delight because there was nary an actor or performer in sight (ooh, that rhymes). It was such a relief not to have to answer the dreaded and annoying, “Are you doing anything right now?” I was actually able to hold full conversations without once mentioning an audition or callback or having to explain why Bernie Telsey hates me or why Audra is so fierce. And the food! Leave it to the gays to convert the lowly barbecue into a culinary extravaganza. Although I’m still not quite convinced about the watermelon and mint sprinkled with English salt.

The usual suspects were spotted at D&S’s rooftop on Monday. A party there is always welcome because you know the regulars will show up and you can just be your stupid self. I’ve known these characters since I moved into the city over a decade ago hanging out at the now defunct Le Beaujolais Restaurant - which is, coincidentally, the location of one of my worst alcoholic binges. I will always be indebted to Chris Johnson for cleaning up the puddles of puke on the restaurant floor where I laid clutching a silver champagne bucket, while Damienne (who owned the restaurant at the time) and the gang sat at the bar laughing at my misfortune. Ah, the memories. Anyway, the party actually did get more interesting, since the cast of The Lion King showed up because Steve happens to work at the Minskoff. How many people can say they got to taste Mochi’s lumpia? Alas, we weren’t able to get her to give us the skinny on the final episode of Step It Up and Dance. So I guess we’ll just have to watch the episode like everyone else this week. FYI - 30 years old? Really? If you say so, sweetie.

Chris and Betsy have promised to send me pics from the weekend’s festivities to post here, so you’ll see ‘em when I get ‘em.

Hmmm, what else? Oh, Trish and I caught the new Indiana Jones. It was thoroughly entertaining, if not extraordinary, and Shia was actually not as annoying as I thought he would be. Great special effects and interesting storyline, but Harrison sure is getting old. Aren’t we all? You’ll always be Han Solo to me.

LOC’s Young Artist production of Pirates of Penzance goes into tech week tomorrow. Should be extremely, extremely scary considering we’ve had maybe half a dozen rehearsals and we haven’t really run anything more than once. Pray for us.