who dat? contest.

(yo stee. i know
who dat?)

last game:

writer paul rudnick
in & out, "libby waxman gelmer"

first correct answer:


stee applies to yale

So I was looking through old documents the other day and I found an essay I wrote for Yale. Yeah, I tried to get into Yale. I really don't know what I was thinking. No, I do. Here's what I was thinking. "Dude, I'm going to be an actor? I guess I am. That's all I want to do. But I'm smart too. What the fuck did I work so hard to get a 4.0 during high school then? And aren't I cutting myself off from, like, a world of knowledge if I just go somewhere and study acting? And if I don't even try to get in somewhere else, I'm going to have this nagging little regret, this little voice saying, 'Hey, stupid-ass. Time for Tai-Chi class and then four hours of pretending to be a goat. Man, remember when you were smart? Yeah, not so much anymore, Olivier.' Fuck. I better apply to at least one real school. Um... but I don't want to go to real school. I dropped out of Calculus in favor of piano fifteen minutes into the very first class for a reason. Well... Oooh! I'll apply to Yale! I'll never get into Yale. But I'll try and if they take me I'll figure it was fate, but if not, at least I 'tried.'"

And while I don't remember writing it, I think the fact that I really didn't give a shit, and the fact that I probably wrote it as I wrote everything back then, at 2am the night before it was due, made it, um, not so good. This is embarrassing, but here we go:

"Man, I sure feel sorry for the guy who has to go last," I said timidly, turning to Ari Falikus. Hell, I had to make conversation. I was going to be spending my next five weeks with these strange people, so I had better start to meet them. "Wow. That would really suck big time to have to do your monologue last. I mean, after hearing 124 monologues, I'm sure the camp faculty could care less if the last guy is fucking Dustin Hoffman -- they'd still be squirming to get the hell outta here." This time my target was Michelle Fox. We were seated in alphabetical order.

...eight hours later...

..."and finally. We'll hear from Stee."

I had to laugh. It was funny -- in an apocalyptic kind of way. I had jinxed myself, just like that kid Oliver on The Brady Bunch. I just hoped the jinx didn't apply to anything more than the initial auditions. I was at college -- well, at a college. A high school summer program at Northwestern University. Five weeks of living in dorms; eating dorm food, and sleeping on dorm beds. Actually, it would be five weeks of living in theatre; eating theatre food, and sleeping on theatre beds. The place was supposed to decide for you whether or not you really wanted to be an actor -- and they tried everything they could to get you to become a lawyer or an accountant instead. By the end of that first week, yes, some of us had folded. It was hell. Some had already gone off to law school. One girl had even jumped out of the window (hats off to her!) -- but a great majority of us had ignored the teachers and were now standing tall; a little bit older, a little bit less innocent, even a little pissed-off, but we were still there dammit.

"Good," said head honcho Craig Bizler. "Now we can get to work".

What would follow would be kind of like a cross between Platoon, Terms of Endearment, and a Bugs Bunny cartoon. You learned to distrust everyone, then to trust everyone, and then you found yourself standing in mid-air -- to fall only when you realized that you were indeed standing in mid-air. [What?!--ed.] Removed from the whole scene it's very easy to trivialize it. I was at "college"; and I had a life in the theatre. Those two things are my basic goals, and I have already had a taste of both. The taste might not have been all that sweet, but what is? [um...candy--ed.]

I guess Yale represents both of my goals. A verification and validation of my dreams. Although it may be a warped sense of reality, what isn't? [um...reality--ed.] Maybe I better just shut up about Yale, I don't want to jinx myself. So, goodbye Ari and Michelle. Don't feel sorry for the poor guy who has to go last. He's doing just fine.

I know it's unfair to judge from ten years later, but ew, that's some stupid shit right there. The ending makes me sad. And I wrote about acting! About wanting to be an actor! They're smart enough to know I didn't even want to go to Yale. I mean, shit, they are Yale.

Ah, youth! Back when I was uncynical and still bringing up Bugs Bunny cartoons as my subversive pop-culture references.

Oh, and in case the suspense was killing you... I didn't get in.

The Forum

it'll be alright

The Anna Nicole Smith Happy Song Corner

It's been one week since you looked at me. Cocked your head to the side and said I'm angry. Five days since you laughed at me saying, get that together come back and see me. Three days since the living room, I realized it's all my fault, but couldn't tell you. Yesterday you'd forgiven me, but it'll still be two days till I say I'm sorry. Hold it now and watch the hoodwink. As I make you stop, think. You'll think you're looking at Aquaman. I summon fish to the dish, although I like the Chalet Swiss. And I like sushi cause it's never toughed a frying pan. Hot like wasabe when I bust rhymes. Big like Leanne Rimes. Because I'm all about value. Bert Kampfert's got the mad hits. You try to match wits. You try to hold me but I bust through. Gonna make a break and take a fake. I'd like a stinkin achin shake. I like vanilla, it's the finest of the flavours. Gotta see the show, cause then you'll know. The vertigo is gonna grow. Cause it's dangerous, you'll have to sign a waiver. How can I help it if I think you're funny when you're mad. Tryin not to smile though I feel bad. I'm the kinda guy who laughs at a funeral. Can't understand what I mean? Well, you soon will. I have a tendency to wear my mind on my sleeve I have a history of takin off my shirt. It's been one week since you looked at me. Threw your arms in the air and said you're crazy. Five days since you tackled me. I've still got the rug burns on both my knees. It's been three days since the afternoon. You realized it's not my fault not a moment too soon. Yesterday you'd forgiven me. And now I sit back and wait till you say you're sorry. Chickety China that Chinese chicken. You have a drumstick and your brain stops tickin'. Watchin X-files with no lights on, we're dans la maison. I hope the Smoking Man's in this one. Like Harrison Ford I'm gettin frantic. Like Sting I'm tantric. Like Snickers, guaranteed to satisfy. Like Kurasawa I make mad films. OK I don't make films. But if I did they'd have a samauri. Gonna get a better set of clubs. Gonna find the kind with tiny nubs. Just so my iron's aren't always flyin off the back-swing. Gotta get in tune with Sailor Moon. Cause the cartoon has got the boom anime babes, that make me think the wrong thing... speaking of which. Hoo, y'all. Tremember when Herrison Ford was in thje Indyana Johnes with Jams Boond and the Grooses won't flytand boond goes witht he unbrellsa and flapps his urms ahd the uhnbreolsa and they flys and makes thye plane of the Natzis crazayh in to that moontrain?> That wswa fuuny. Jessus Y'all, i'm fuckes up. I anm. i amm. I wasjn t goinghg to, but I wasn wawtching Everybodik loves Raymnd and i was all to my>frend, "Hey yall. I'm fumnniesr than thanb girl huh? I coulrdfdg play the fujck out of thatsr fucker ijf they just gaves me a changce but weveryone just thinkgs of me as a high-prixdfawe modle and so i don;t getrs offersd rooles like that abnd hs was alll "Honyh, peoplw think off you drunks and fgat, not a hgihrpocfed noodle anyomre." She sdad that ,d'yll? i tolds her twdo take it bafk buty she woulsdn't soio i cllaed my gardenser and hee broute ovetg a bottels and werr got durnk and I kilsssed him y'all. He toldd mer I'm ptretty ajnd very verry funbnhy. He didn. He did! Whats doesta that bitdhyn nkmonw anwyhayway Oooh, i'm goinna go hwatke up wthe lil' fukcer - jmake him ateach mee the Ganme Boy and hug mea ahnd make me som wwaffles buz I'm awfyul hunhngy.
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