Bill and I are very different people sound-wise. He spent his early 20’s going to indy punk concerts, standing way too close to the speakers, rocking out to electric guitars and chain saws. I spent much of my early 20’s listening to classical music, opera, and going to folk concerts.

This is why Bill has to have the volume up to 80 gagillion and sleeps with a fan on. And why I can hear things like the refrigerator running and the tiny little buzz of the lights.

Side note- you guys remember that ring tone that the teens were passing around like 6 years ago? It was supposed to be a ring that only teens could hear. It’s based on hearing ability that we lose as we age. Anyway, one day at work, this site was being passed around by everyone, testing their hearing. People kept talking about how they couldn’t hear them, turning the sound up to try to hear it…. So I had all these incredibly annoying high pitched noises all around me that only I could hear. It was awful.

Anyway, evil noises are evil. But soothing noises… I love games with soothing sounds behind them. I picked games to today’s Fuck Off Friday that could be played without the noise because some places of employment are like that. But really? Find time to play them when you can listen to the sound.

The first one is Music Catch. You have to collect falling notes. Some are good, some are bad. It’s enough engagement to where you’re not just clicking things, but the sound element is very soothing.

While looking for a specific game (I still haven’t found it) I stumbled across this fantastic piece of marketing. It’s a “music video game”… a video game made for a song, kind of like if MTV did video games. The game itself is not super exciting, but I love the concept. They’re a little too… trying to make a point. Not much, but just enough for me to be all “oh, I see what you did there.” Still, what do you expect from a song called Inside a Dead Skyscraper ? This one might just be a matter of taste.

And then there’s anything done by Ferry Halim. Seriously. I have a mad artist crush on this person. Every game is visually soft and pleasing, the sound often incorporated. My personal favorite is starry night.

What’s frustrating is there is a great game I wanted to share with you all that I just can’t find. It’s got kind of these sketch graphics, and as you move forward, the music plays forward, and you have to jump to hit the notes to keep the music playing.

If you stumble across it, could you let me know? Also, please share your favorite music based games in the comments below. I need more ways to fuck off this Friday.

Last week kicked off our Fuck Off Fridays, where we post internet time wasters for your Friday needs.

Today’s is about secrets.

First off, if you haven’t heard of Post Secret, gather several of your friends together to help you move out from under that giant rock. Offer them pizza and beer to lift the couch. Or bake them cookies.

Mmmmm… cookies….

Post Secret is an art project where people send in postcards with secrets on them, and the “secret currator” selects the best ones and puts them on the internet. Like the above secret.

Does that sound like too much work? Secret Tweet might be a better option for you… you post a secret on their website… HEY! Looks like they’ve been down since December. Huh. Guess some people are a little too lazy.

That’s okay- I’ve found some alternatives. Secret Talk looks like it wants to be a secrets website, but about half of it is spammy stuff or… well, kinda like an anonymous message board. But there are some good ones in there, so it might be worth a look.

Another alternative is Six Billion Secrets. It has a voting system so you can upvote your favorite secrets. It’s like an anonymous popularity contest.

Too hipster for secrets? Try Post Rejects, a satire site of Post Secret. It’s no longer updated, but what they have there is pretty clever, and we like clever.

So there you go. Plenty of ways for you to fuck off this Friday!

When you think crime family, You think of the Corleones, the Sopranos, or if you’re a history nerd, maybe the Borgias. What you don’t think of is people taking their small children with them when committing crimes.

For instance, last November, a mother/daughter team of shoplifters had three small children in tow while attempting to take less that $200 worth in items from Walmart. That doesn’t seem like a lot, but remember- this is Walmart. $170 of Walmart is about the same as $500 Target.

And thousands of dollars in child labor.

But okay. Maybe you don’t expect the best decision-making to come out of people who shop at Walmart. There’s an entire site dedicated to the class and refinement of Walmart shoppers. Bringing your kids along on a shoplifting spree doesn’t seem so far fetched. Especially if you think you can blame it on them. I mean children are just so grabby at that age.

It’s a little different when you bring your kids along on a bank heist. Michelle Parker goes into the bank, comes out with the money, and gets in the get-away car, driven by her husband with their two small children in the back.

And why wouldn’t you? It was a sunny spring day in Utah, and the Parkers decided on a little outing. Run a few errands, rob a bank… maybe go to the park after. Who knows? Bring the kids- we’ll make a day of it.

Or maybe they just couldn’t afford a sitter.

When I worked computer support, I was the only female technician in either the helpdesk or desktop support group, roughly about 20 people. Sometimes one of the guys would borrow a tool of mine and forget to return it. I was constantly missing tools when I needed them. So I bought a set of pink tools. This did 2 things- prevented guys less secure in their masculinity from borrowing my things, and made it easy for me to locate my forgotten tools… surprisingly, I was the only person on the team to have pink tools.

I have a very ironic love of pink. I own a pink mouse, a pink mousepad, and a pink webcam that I got in the little kid section of a store… computer things made for little girls. Because girls will have no interest in computer things if they’re not covered in pink.

For ME?!?!?!?

And it’s not just for little girls. A European company has developed a computer just for women, with the very unfortunate name ePad Femme. Usually when I go to the store for Feminine pads, I’m not thinking computers.

The ePad comes with several feminine applications (again, other associations) such as yoga, grocery lists, and a clothing conversion app. Because math is hard and lets go shopping!

And yes, it comes in pink. And yes, I want one. Ironically.

This whole feminine pink thing is a surprisingly recent development. Before WWI, blue was actually the feminine color of choice, after the Virgin Mary. And men favored red, putting boys in the “child’s version” of the color- pink. But the WWI uniforms were blue, and so blue became the new masculine color, and women defaulted to pink by the 1940’s.

A while back, I purchased an old 1980’s embroidery sewing machine from my rugged yet dapper brother-in-law. He mentioned he was getting rid of this one, and I had always wanted something to do simple embroidery stitches. But it wasn’t that which sold me on the machine.

No, the machine was marketed as “the ladies computer.” Finally- a computer just for me! It even has a sewing app!

At least it wasn’t covered in pink.

I love The Princess Bride. It’s my all time favorite movie ever. It’s the movie I watch when I’m sick. The one I turn to when I need a distraction. The movie I can quote up and down, and sideways. I remember when my dad brought us kids out to see it at the MIA theater. I still own the VHS.

And OOOOOOOOOH Cary Elwes. He is my favorite actor. He was my first guy crush that was a real person (my first actual crush was Shaggy from Scooby Do. Don’t judge me.) He’s funny, witty, and a fighter. I have loved him in every movie he’s been in, but this. The Princess Bride. It’s my favorite.

I love it for the patter, the story line, the characters. I love the Grandfather/Grandson relationship. I love the out-witting, the cunning, the feistiness. And I absolutely love the best sword fight of all time. To me, it’s practically perfect in every way. There’s only one thing I hate about the movie.

Princess Buttercup is a needy whiny bitch.

What about MY needs?

Seriously. She an absolutely atrocious person. She falls in love with the boy that does everything for her, doing nothing in return. When she thinks her true love is dead, she mopes around, unable to do anything for herself. She lets herself get carted around, here to there, not fighting for herself at all. When she is reunited with her love, she contributes nothing to their escape. She allows him to be taken from her, she sits back and lets herself get rescued again, and doesn’t even try to run away.

The best example of her neediness is in the fire swamp. She needs Wesley to save her from the sand pit. She needs him to put out her dress. The only moment she tries to fight for herself is when attacked by an R.O.U.S. (Rodent Of Unusual Size), after calling out for Wesley to save her from the bumbling rodent, when he doesn’t get there fast enough. And she still can’t do it and still needs saving.

It’s a good thing for her R.O.U.S.es don’t exist. Oh wait- they do.

Well, kinda.

Iran has always had a rat problem. Recently, it’s grown, both in number and size. The rats are up to 11 pounds and thought to be getting bigger. They are larger than some cats. And there are thousands of them.

The problem has gotten so large, army snipers are being set out to take care of them.

Hey, it’s no Wesley with a sword, wrestling midgets in rat costumes, but it’s better than a Buttercup with a stick.

I hate auditions. I absolutely hate them. Anytime I do one, I’m just this anxious ball of oogly fear. For several years, I have been able to find or get theater work without auditioning for it. I have only had one formal audition in the past 5 years, and I had an honest to God panic attack right before going up. I remembered my monologue, though it was rather flat. In fact, I usually have to just kind of robot myself through an audition… just kind of void myself of any emotion so I don’t remember that I’m an anxious ball of everything and vomit on the auditioners.

It doesn’t leave a very good impression.

Acting is different. I love acting. It’s a sharing of an alternate reality, an offering, a gift to your audience, to take them away from their frustration and sadness for an hour or so. It’s giving them a mini-vacation.

Auditioning is judgement. You are specifically there to be judged. Maybe not right or wrong, but judged “appropriate” for a character or show. Not judged on previous doings or accomplishments. You get 5 minutes to be judged appropriate, even though you have no idea what that means to the director’s vision or whatever.

We find you guilt of a horrible performance.

In the past 3 formal auditions I’ve been to, I was found lacking. Gross.

So there’s a show I really want to be a part of, and it has auditions. Which means I’ll be auditioning. It’s a little like cheating since I’ve worked with the company a couple times already. I mean, they at least have background in who I am, so it’s not JUST the 5 minutes of judgement. From these people, I think I can handle that.

They have 3 open auditions, and so far, I’ve missed 2 of them. But I swear it wasn’t my fault.

Last Saturday was the first open audition. I was sick for the better part of the day. Not because of the audition, but because I have so many allergies and intolerances it’s impossible to eat today’s heavily loaded foods without once in a while accidentally ingesting something you shouldn’t. So I decided to skip Saturday and make the Tuesday open audition. It’s just as well. I couldn’t find my purple hoodie and really wanted to wear it.

Last night, I was prepared. I was fucking ready. I was so ready, I got cocky and posted this to my facebook:

I took a nap, a shower, and vitamins. I’ve had a good meal (not too filling, but definitely enough for a while) , and I’m about to make myself pretty before stretching and yoga. I’ve even gone over a couple of exercises and updated my combat resume with my latest weapons specialist credit (Zastrozzi with Six Elements Theatre- this weekend is the last weekend to see it. GO!). I’ve never been more prepared for a stage combat audition.

I’m totally going to stab myself in the foot.

I was fucking ready! I even found my purple hoodie! The only thing I had left was to stop by FedEx and print off my acting resume on the way to the audition. The only thing that could go wrong would be Bill not getting home in time.

Three hours later, I posted this:

…ready to go as soon as Bill got back. Usually gets home about 7ish, probably get to auditions 8ish. Bill had to work late, but auditions go to 10, so even if I got there at 9ish, no big deal.

I just found out that Bill left his car keys in his coat at a customer’s house. Had I known earlier, I could have gotten a ride. But it went undiscovered until the last possible minute. I could technically get a ride, get my resume printed, and get there by 10, but no one likes the kid that shows up at the restaurant just before closing. Also, now I’m just a bundle of nerves and anxious frustration. No one wants that.

So I didn’t audition last night. Tonight is the last night of open auditions. I have a ride with someone else who’s auditioning, and a back up ride lined up incase that somehow falls through. I washed all my audition clothes, including my purple hoodie. I plan to go through the same process as yesterday with the nap and shower. I AM DETERMINED!

On a related note, YoungNotions is co-producing a sketch and comedy series with Fearless Comedy Productions called “Young and Fearless.” Our first production is “A Day in the Park,” and will feature some fantastic sketches that take place in a park. Hence the name.

I think we have all the ladies cast, but I desperately need a man. Or two. Not like that.

If interested, please read up by clicking on the appropriate links, and send an email to YoungFearless@fearlesscomedyproductions.com. Send a resume, clip, write up, picture of your cat… whatever you think is going to show me what you can do. If I know you, it’s easy, as I already probably have a good idea.

I’d hold auditions, but I don’t think my stomach could handle it.

I was picked on a lot in elementary school. I mean, I get it. I was weird and poor and wore hand-me-down gym suits. I had no hygiene, and being raised in a nerd environment, going to Mn-Stf (MN Science Fiction and Fantasy) meetings every other week and working a RenFair… I was very defensive. I mean, it doesn’t make it okay that Lisa pulled a chunk of my hair out of my head, or that Stacey pretended to be my friend and then turned around and told my secrets to all the other girls, or that the other kids invited me to a party just so they could un-invite me.

Most of those kids have apologized to me. Because when we grow up, we stop being horrid little elementary school kids.

I remember one confrontation, where we were sharing our favorite animals. Mine was the snake. They feel awesome, have pretty patterns, and they slither. Slithering is the best-looking mode of transportation. It is absolutely impossible to look uncool when slithering. And I very desperately wanted to be cool.

What’s cooler than a snake in sunglasses? NOTHING

Anyway, I said snake, and one of the girls piped up with “The snake tricked Eve in the garden. Only Evil people like snakes. You’re EVIL!”

I said something about how God made all creatures, even snakes, but of course no one listened. It was just another way in which I was a bad person that deserved to be picked on. It’s all in the justification. Just ask Mitt Romney about his 47%.

Years later, when I read Harry Potter and the title character could talk to snakes, I felt vindicated. SEE? Harry Potter’s not evil. Talking to snakes is fine! Great heroes talk to snakes!

You can only imagine the betrayal I felt when we found out it was because part of Voldemort’s soul was in Harry. Fuck you, J.K Rowling! You broke my heart!

Anyway, when I asked my mom for a snake, she said no. I begged and pleaded, and finally, she brought me to a truth I hadn’t yet faced about owning snakes. I would have to feed them mice.

I’m okay with snakes eating mice. Mice are horrid skittering creatures that deserve to die. Mice are stupid scary fast, and could crawl up your pants in half a second and bite you or something.

Look, I don’t know why mice are so scary to me while snakes aren’t. All I know is that HOLY FUCKING SHIT THERE IT WENT! You never know where it is, but you know it’s there, lurking around the corner, just waiting to skitter up to you and scare the hell out of you.

We had a mouse once, and I flipped my shit. I spent several hours on a chair while Bill set out poison and traps and those electronic noise things that are supposed to keep mice out.

It was probably a mouse from down the street where the church was being worked on. Church mouse. Not evil. Just looking for a place to crash.

Pious my ass!

BEFORE IT SKITTERS UP YOUR LEG AND- …well, it’s just too horrifying to say, really.

All of this came up for me because of the invasive brown tree snake population in Guam. They don’t belong there but they snuck in “aboard boats or in the wheel wells of airplanes.”

Mother fucking snakes on a mother fucking plane.

They’ve been eating up all the other animals, so scientists are trying to control the snake population by dropping mice bombs on them.

From the NPR article:

In April or May they’re going to lace dead mice with painkillers, attach them to little parachutes, drop them from helicopters and hope that they get snagged in the jungle foliage. Then, if all goes well, the snakes — which as their name implies hang out in trees — will eat the mice and die from ingesting the painkillers’ active ingredients.

Mice. Falling from the sky. And killing snakes. THIS is what’s wrong with the world.