ROBBLOG #850- In the Limelight

In this apocalyptic world of covid and face masks, I want you to know I have made it safely to my 70th year.

Now as I trudge the days through my 70th year, I have started to think about how short this lifetime of ours can be- after you put decades of living behind you.

I mean, it can make a girl think.

I have added a new photo up above.

The "Official" Birthday Portrait.

I mean if Liz can issue an "official" portrait, why can't I?

It's recent.

By recent I mean 2017.

It was one of the last professional shots I had taken as I continued to perform in theatre. That has hit a brick wall these days. 

First, I should say here that my friend Seanna took that shot and a few others that I had stored away for a rainy day. Seanna is an Ottawa gal these days living in our National Capital with her family.

We talk and text from time to time.

We are both Orillia born and raised until we got out.

Her east.

Me west.

There are lots of theatre companies here on Vancouver Island but I haven't reached out and resumed a time I loved.

Being on stage.

I get a little verklempt when I think about it.

There were some great friendships there and when I think of certain shows they still me me smile and laugh.

Yesterday I was going through files of documents online and I came upon a script I had written a few years ago called "That's My Son".

I had written it for Janet-Lynne and myself.

I loved working with Janet-Lynne. We played husband and wife once in Brighton Beach Memoirs.

Now- there's another stretch, as well as Nuns in All For Nun- The 2nd Coming.

Sister Mary Margaret is one of my all-time favourite characters.

I wrote that show too and it's predecessor All for Nun.

Brighton Beach Memoirs. Janet Lynn as "Kate" on the left,
then me and Patti Scott playing Kate's sister.

Anyhoo, Janet-Lynne and I are no way even close to being Mother and Son in real life- me being older. 

Much older.

I thought the script would work a few years ago.

Theatre is make believe after all.

Makeup, lights and distance can work wonders!

These days I am not sure there is enough makeup to make me look like I could be JL's son!

I remember we even read the script aloud one summer afternoon on our veranda back in Orillia, Ontario. I think we laughed out loud.

Anyhoo, I have the script here in front of me and I intend to read it through.

I will either laugh again or cringe at the thought that I had some sort of nerve thinking of performing the piece on stage.

It takes a lot of nerve being in theatre and I have that.

Part of that love I have to blame squarely on being a Leo.

We like the limelight.

We are always picked out in a crowd.

We love to lead.

Maybe once covid is history, I'll think about theatre again.

Maybe I'll have a lead part on stage once again.

As I always say- I'll lead anything. Got a band?

ROBBLOG #849-Aging Gracefully?

See that "professional" theatre shot of me above?

That was taken about- give or take, eight years ago.
Time flies.
Now, I guess I still look "something" like that.
More chins maybe.
More "chins" than a Chinese phone book!
A Joan Rivers line. Not mine.

Let me be clear about the topic of this current Blog, Dear Reader.
I am about to enter my 70th year.
I wanted to write this Blog this week because next week- where my birthday actually falls, I may be blubbering or I may have locked myself away.
Let me be clear again.
I will be turning 69.
I hear you- "You said 70- liar, liar, pants on fire."
Again, to be clear, I said 70th year.
If I should go to be with "The Jesus" and the Baptists and Catholics the days after turning 69, my announcement in the paper would say:
The death occurred in his 70th year.
Right?

One has to actually live that 70th year before receiving well-meaning birthday cards from "friends"  that gaily point out the fact one is 70!
Anyhoo, I have 12 months to prepare myself for that event.

It seems like only a blink of an eye has passed since I had my 50th Birthday Party. It was a Hawaiian Party and thanks to my friend "Vodka" at one point I sat high atop a bar stool with legs crossed belting out a ballad. I have no recollection what the ballad was but from photographs it was a doozie!

These past 19- almost 20, years have gone by in a snap.
Highlights?
Seeing Paris multiple times and London.
Having some terrific parts in theatrical shows.
Doing a one-man show all about me- of course.
There are many more highlight but perhaps the biggest and most written about was our move- The Mister and I, to Vancouver Island almost three years ago.
That move is still in flux.

Me and The Mister these days on the Island

It's not easy getting used to being three time zones away from the province where one spent one's entire life but I'm working on it.
In case you're wondering, I do not miss the snow and -30c temperatures.
I do not miss Mr. Ford or that political family in Simcoe North that is a good example of nepotism
at its very bests.
Buh-Bye.
I miss the people.

What do I miss about the years before coming up to 69 years of age?
I miss not having to touch up the hair and moustache on a regular basis.
Honey, grey has never been my colour and white is definitely a Xmiss colour along with red and green. Pink too, in places where they have Fags!

I miss looking younger and not having back pain.
I miss being able to suntan with my top off. Well I do still- it's just behind a bush.
I miss not falling asleep in front of the television.

I hate losing friends and family in these past 19 years.
It's sad to remember and add up how many have gone before.
Oh Fuck! ~sniff~
Well, at least I'm crying about memories and not my wrinkles or liver spots!

So, Dear Readers and Friends who are about to post Birthday Cards to arrive in time for the "big day" next week, I will try to be strong and look ahead to what the future will bring.

I consider 69 as a training ground for the big seven oh next year.
Fuck...

ROBBLOG #848-Miss Titsie LaRue

Today Mesdames et Messieurs, a Tale of Miss Titsie LaRue.

Have I spoken of Miss LaRue before?
Peut-etre.
Miss Titsie LaRue was known for frequenting such famous places as the  Moulin Rouge, Theatre Bleue de Paris and the Wild Horse.
It was at these places where she performed her "act".

You see Miss Titsie LaRue was a Star of the stage in Paris- mostly in run down strip clubs in her later years, where she was a "professional" pole dancer.
A "professional" pole dancer you say?
Yes.
Oui. Un danse avec un baton. Un grande baton.

Did you know there are even professional teachers of pole dancing?
There are.
One being Esther Jane Tiddlescum- a Brit, who lived in Paris for several decades. After suitable instruction, Miss Tiddlescum would present the "dancer" with a very legitimate looking certificate stating that one had passed a rigorous pole dancing exam. This is why Titsie liked to think of herself as a "professional" and said so at every opportunity.

There were rumours that Miss LaRue also ran a popular "house of ill repute"- une maison de mauvaise reputation. This fact was common knowledge among the locals in the neighbourhood of St. Michel where she lived most of her professional life.

St. Michel is in Paris- if you didn't know.
Of course if you've never been there- why would you know?
St. Michel is not on the wrong side of the tracks especially but how would one know, for in Paris most of the tracks lay underneath the Parisienne soil.
I digress...
Je fais une petite digression.

This house of "mauvaise reputation" as I said, was common knowledge to locals and very much a destination for local Catholic Priests. At least those that slanted towards ladies. A priest preferring lady's bosoms (les tits) being few and far between in Paris. At least that's what the locals said.
"Few and far between."
Only they said it in French, sort of-
 "sont extremement rares"

It was also said that Miss LaRue herself was a favourite of many men within the French Government- although this could be the stuff from which rumours are born. Apparently, Titsie mesmerized the government officials with her prowess on the pole. Both on stage and dare I say "in bed".
Same dance. Different pole.

Miss La Rue did not only rely on her athletic abilities on poles and her satisfaction guaranteed under a duvet, she was also a highly sought after interior designer who's work ethic was built around this mantra-
"If I can't embellish it and it has two legs and is breathing without the aid of a machine of any kind- fuck it!"

It was said that it was a good thing Miss LaRue had her pole- un baton, to fall back on since her taste and talents in the world of decor leaved much to be desired. Many people- both manly and female, used her services. She was loved and adored by one and all who met her- "apparement", whether they be watching her dance or decorate- usually not at the same time.

She always said- "Life should be lived and those who don't live life are fucking, lifeless (les) cretins!"
Titsie was not one to mince words. She spoke it like it was and the people of Paris expected and believed what she believed.

Although Titsie led an exciting life, not quite everyone was playing in her band, for Titsie had an older sister- Miss Edith Jean. Miss Edith was a sad, less-than-colourful kind of girl with an impish smile- un sourire malicieu, who although carried the same genes, was far less popular and sought after than her famous soeur. She would find fault with her younger sister's activities and speak harshly to her whenever she felt that Titsie had crossed a line- which was often. Even so Titsie loved her sister (je t'aime) and they had a standing appointment for tea every Thursday afternoon at three- right after Titsie's afternoon pole dance at the popular Paris theatre known as "Theatre Bleue".

Miss Edith Jean would always make sure Titsie washed her hands well- for twenty seconds, before she picked up even one cucumber sandwich. Miss Edith may have been "less-than-colourful" but she was clean.

Some in Paris say a plaque should be erected- on a pole of course, in Miss LaRue's honour near the Fountaine St. Michel where Miss LaRue could been found feeding pigeons, displaying the latest Parisienne curtain fabric or just working the crowd- a travailler avec le meme group! (loosely translated)

ROBBLOG #847- From a Distance Someone is Watching

Honestly, how can anyone even look at news, watch news or listen to news these days.

Especially when it's news about an orangutan who one day will pay for being a disgusting human being. Say no more!

That gal "running" Hong Kong- the puppet that she is, is not far being in the "World of Wonders" herself. Look at her dressed in her little 1970's two-piece knitted suits, with a brooch on the left, pretending she has Hong Kong's interests at heart.
So, that's why people from Hong Kong are feeling to Canada and England is it?
This one needs to be in a carnival tent along the midway with her puppeteers. Even so, the Chinese people wouldn't get it. She's a menace and she's really just "China" in the flesh throwing those who oppose "the rules" in jail.
I believe things have just begun to get worse for Hong Kong or those in Mainland China who believe better days are ahead.
They aren't...

Then, lucky ole Russia. They could have Putin in power for a couple of decades.
That is, if he wants to run.
It would kind of be like having Scheer, Harper and MacKay all in power at once- only marginally better.
Putin has choices.
His choices.
Must be nice to run a government that way. He could say-
"Look can I let you know in a Russian Morning if I want to run again Comrades? ~he laughs~ Of course it will be all right. I am bigger and better than a Czar. I am practically an Emperor and I sit upon the right hand of the Orthodox God and his Orthodox son- The Jesuz. I only ask to make it seem like I care about the little Russian folk- except for those Gays and Lesbians who can never be Mums and Dads.
Of course I don't care."
If he does run in the decade after this, I sure hope he keeps his shirt on.

A week or two ago I knew it was going to be a problem when I started reading headlines about Justin- our PM, having a charitable organization his family supports dole out 900 million dollars to students. I didn't even know the entire story but the headlines looked bad.
Turns out they were bad and just as The Prime Minister was riding high in the polls with his "covid caring", he had to step back. Why did he think letting that organization handle all that cash would be just jolly okay in the opposition ranks or even in the minds of the most "Liberal" of Canadians.
Did anyone say- "Hey, that's a great idea Justin!"
I don't think so.

Gawd is watching from a distance (If there was a Gawd)

The news is bad these days.
I browse headlines every morning on CTV and CBC.
Most of the stuff I can't read.
I have no interest or no room in my brain to take it all in.

Even CTV a national "Canadian" Network let me down when the top "banner" story on their website was about the biggest, self-sucking, self-indulging holiday of the year in the States.
We all know that it's their "special" day.

It's their special day every day of the Gawd-Damned year and ya wanna know what pisses me off the most?
No, not Texans who slip over the border possibly carrying Covis 19 claiming to be driving to Alaska and ending up in Port Renfrew on the south western tip of Vancouver Island.
No, it's bigger than that.

What pisses me off is the American movies that come here to Canada and turn our small towns- like Ladysmith, into a Fucking Yankee Doodle Playland by placing a flag on every corner, streetlamp, store window and old lady's ass they can find just so we will understand while watching that movie that although it looks like Canada- it is really America.
Good Grief.
You know, that's the first sign of an American movie being filmed here. The profusion of American flags followed closely behind American bullshit which the actors step in throughout the 120 minutes of the film.

That being said I am glad our technicians and movie folk are getting work and our actors after decades and decades still win the "bit" background roles.
Thanks for that at least.

Finally and this is not news, I apologize for using so many " " marks in today's blog.
I dunno why I did...