My Top 10 Has To Be The Most Awesome Job In The World List
The tugboat captain is one of the few remaining romantic jobs that still exist. Sure, there are still pirates, but none of them look like Johnny Depp. And I say romantic because I had a crush on the Old Spice Guy from the 1970s. He was tall, dark-haired, handsome, and wore the longshoreman’s coat and cap with a big cable knit sweater. And so that’s how I picture all tugboat captains. Continue reading
Tolly’s post on Hyde Park (and if you don’t follow Austin Eavesdropper, you really should) made me pause a bit today and consider the places that are, well, my places.
I have a habit of falling in love with places. Everywhere I visit, there’s always some reason to stay, to figure out its story, or what my story would be if I did stay. Who would I be, what would I be doing if I were in San Francisco, Monterey, Chicago, Charleston, London or Paris? What would things be like if I were still on my street, the street I still haunt in Portland, O-R: Hawthorne Boulevard.
Hawthorne has Imelda’s, my shoe place, The Bagdad, my theater, and JaCiva’s, my bakery. My favorite bakery/deli, Bowers, has since closed. I wept when I found out. They had the best cinnamon swirl bread on the face of this green earth.
But what would have happened if I had missed out on Austin? Would I have ever tried to act or perform in improv shows? Would I be writing comedy sketches? Would I have ever had a truly exceptional margarita?
It’s true; I’m still looking for my “Hawthorne” in Austin. Maybe I’m already there, tucked away in my little neighborhood. Maybe I can turn my condo into a corner of Hawthorne…
An apartment in France…
A studio in London…
A townhouse in Charleston…
Jimmy Fallon: I owe you an apology.
The smug-seeming snickers at your own gags used to really annoy the bejeebus out of me — that is, until I caught myself doing it. I have both a greater understanding and a greater appreciation for you, Jimmy. So, my bad.
(And I apologize, also, for using the very 90s lingo My Bad. Went out with Salt-n-Pepa. Not that they were bad or anything, or were actually ever out.)
As part of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo — which sounds like a Robin Williams’ bit to me), I wrote the first draft of my second, ever, comedy sketch. I liked it. I liked it so much and had so much fun writing it that I laughed mid-keystroke. I laughed at my own joke, Jimmy Fallon. Out loud.
I totally Falloned, right there in front of three other writers.
So I get it. And I’m sorry. And props to you for having The Roots as your studio band. You can’t be all bad if Questlove wants to hang out with you.
Laugh it up.
And do more Neil Young.