Well, dear readers, the Labor Day weekend continues, but I shall be laboring this fine Monday. And frankly, I’d rather labor because I’m having so much fun. But, before I continue, might I just ask who is this person masquerading as Katie Couric? I keep seeing promos for some news piece and they keep saying it’s Katie Couric but this uncouth interloper looks nothing like Katie Couric. Something is rotten in the state of Katie Couric and I’d like to know what it is. I’m assuming that at some point Miss Couric decided to have some work done. Well, as happens with “work” it didn’t work. Katie Couric was always very cute. Now she looks weird and plastic and why? More importantly, why am I going on ad nauseum about Katie Couric? Well, if they weren’t running these promos every three seconds it probably wouldn’t be swirling around the windmills of my mind, but there she is, this mutant Katie Couric, this faux Katie Couric and I just want to say, “Katie, we hardly knew ye.” Speaking of a mutant Katie Couric, yesterday was a lovelier than lovely day. I managed to get almost seven hours of blessed sleep and I awoke to a magnificent New York, New York day – clear as a bell, with a wonderful breeze and a temperature of about seventy-three. Clear as a bell? What in tarnation does THAT mean? A bell isn’t clear. Is it clear as a whistle? No, it’s clean as a whistle, although I’ve seen many dirty whistles in my time. Maybe it is clear as a bell, meaning clear as the sound of a bell, although I’ve never thought of a bell sound as clear. I know there’s a saying – clear as a something. What is it, fish? Cleas as a fish? Clear as a window? Clear as apple pie? Clear as a smog-less day in LA? Clear as a gazelle in Saran Wrap? Clear as a dyspeptic entertainment attorney? What the HELL am I talking about? Oh, yes, the beautiful day. I puttered around the apartment until noon, then went down to the jogging path by the river where I decided to do something completely out of the ordinary – I jogged. I jogged from 52nd Street down to 30th Street then back up to 40th Street, at which point I decided the world did not need to see a fifty-nine-year-old Jew collapse and die on the pavement. I wheezed back home, walking quite briskly. Once home, I collapsed in my chair like so much fish and shvitzed all over my keyboard. I did some work on the computer, answered some e-mails, made some telephonic calls, then got a call from a friend about meeting up for dinner. I didn’t really want to meet up for dinner as I’ve had just about enough of up, but we made plans. I called dear readers Cason and BJ to see if they wanted to meet me my friend and I, but despite some seeming interest, they apparently supped elsewhere. My friend and I supped at John’s Pizza, which was very good, but not quite the be-all and end-all of pizzadom. Because of their practice of not seating people until the complete party is present, I shan’t be returning. Too many other terrific restaurants that don’t have such idiotic policies. Prior to dinner, I walked over to Sixth Avenue where there was a giant street fair going on – the food smelled yummilicious and I must say it took all my willpower not to have a sausage, onions, and peppers sandwich. I did look longingly at others whose willpower had gotten the better of them. After supping with my friend I stopped at a market and got some Diet Coke and some ice cream, some weird ice cream flavored like yellow birthday cake and sprinkles. Not many calories and few fat grams and it actually was somewhat tasty when I finally sampled some.
In three hours of trying, I could find nothing on TV worth watching, so I listened to music all night, dozed off for a little while, answered some more e-mails and got to listen to a rough version of what will be the opening number for the fundraiser. It was really good, actually, and I just have to fix the last twelve bars so it ends more smoothly.
Well, why don’t we all click on the Unseemly Button below as I ponder the question of Katie Couric and why she no longer looks like herself. Katie, we hardly knew ye.
Today, I have an all-day rehearsal, which is basically devoted to putting our new Fred (Rob Evan) into all his scenes and songs (save for the group numbers, which we do tomorrow). I suspect the blocking aspect will go quickly and that we’ll be able to run things a few times to get him really comfortable. The first part of the morning is devoted to just singing, then he’s joined by Amy Bodnar for the duets, then we spend the rest of the day blocking him in. I’m really looking forward to working with Mr. Evan and seeing the chemistry between he and Miss Bodnar, which I think will be wonderful.
I’m not sure what I’ll be doing for lunch and/or dinner tomorrow. We’re in a new rehearsal hall, so I have to explore the nearby jernts. I may meet some people for dinner if I’m in the mood. I did get a surprise invite to see the opening night of Penny Fuller’s nightclub act at the Metropolitan Room on Wednesday, said invite coming from my old pal Alex Rybeck, pianist to the stars. Just prior to the Fuller show, I’ll be attending Milla Ilieva’s Barnes and Noble mini-concert, which I’m very much looking forward to. Is all that clear as a bell? I tell you, I need to know what the saying is before the windmills of my mind implode, like a moldering beef dip sandwich.
Now wait just a darned minute – let’s all put on our pointy party hats and our colored tights and pantaloons, let’s all break out the cheese slices and the ham chunks, let’s all dance the Hora and the Hully-Gully, because today we have two count them two dear reader birthdays to celebrate. Birthday number one belongs to dear reader Joy. So, let’s give a big haineshisway.com birthday cheer to dear reader Joy. On the count of three: One, two, three – A BIG HAINESHISWAY.COM BIRTHDAY CHEER TO DEAR READER JOY!!!
Our second birthday belongs to Mr. Hi-Def himself, MattH. So, let’s give a big haineshisway.com birthday cheer to Mr. Hi-Def himself, MattH. On the count of three: One, two, three – A BIG HAINESHISWAY.COM BIRTHDAY CHEER TO MR. HI-DEF HIMSELF, MATTH!!!
Well, dear readers, I must take the day, I must do the things I do, I must, for example, rehearse all the livelong day, sup, do the usual e-mail and telephonic call responses, and then take a nice, long walk. Today’s topic of discussion: TV news has gone through many interesting phases through the years, and through many interesting and not-so-interesting TV newscasters and personalities, most of whom I loathe, at least the ones that have come to prominence in the last twenty-five years. But, in the golden age, there were TV news reporters who had integrity and worth and grit and style. Who are your all-time favorite TV newscasters – both then and now, and who are your least favorite and most loathed newscasters? Let’s have loads of lovely postings, shall we, whilst we all heave a sigh and say, “Katie, we hardly knew ye.”