#137 Design Projections For A Show

In case you haven't caught on, I'm a lighting designer. I freelance mostly, going from one show to another, working to pay my bills. In theatre, lighting design allows you to pack more shows in over a certain amount of time than you could doing scenic or costume design because the work leading up to tech week in lighting is a lighter load. The majority of my work on a show takes place in the week before tech and during tech week(s). Therefore, I can bounce seamlessly from one show to the next. However, because my contracts are for such short time spans, my pay check per show tends to be smaller than a scene designer or a costume designer. So I have to hustle and do twice as many shows to make as much as my design peers. One way to be able to bring in more moola is to wear multiple hats for a production: design both lights and scenery or, as is in vogue as of late, design both lights and projections. I've now designed both lights and scenery for two shows. I enjoy scene design, but it's not my bread and butter. I have to work harder at it to make the design successful because I don't have as much natural talent for it. When it comes to the idea of projections design, I've been pretty interested in the concept. I think that in the right production or show, projections can add a lot and make the overall picture beautiful. In grad school, I never really look for the chance to branch out into projections. Since then, however, I've been looking for an opportunity to do so.

My opportunity came in the form of a small liberal arts college asking me to design Defying Gravity for them. Since on paper the show seems like a cut and dry simple show, they wanted me to wear not one, not two, but three hats for the production: lighting designer, scene designer, and projections designer. A great spreading my wings sort of experience.

I won't go into the lighting or scenic stories for this show, as that's not the point. I'll keep my recollection to my process when it comes to the projections design. But let me just say, when dealing with all three, Courtney gets a little stressed.

Basically, Jane Anderson wrote Defying Gravity with projections in mind. The stage directions in the script tell you where projections should go and what the image should basically be (a Monet painting, a view of Earth from space, etc...). A cursory glance made me think this would be the easiest projections design ever. Just pull a few images together off the internet and call it a day. The process wasn't quite like that. First, after going through the script and making note of every image I needed, I went in research mode. I pulled together several options for each image needed (you have no idea how many different variations there are out there of the Horsehead Nebula), and I shared them with my director (dropbox is a marvelous thing). Through a dialogue with the director, I narrowed down my initial crop to my elite 40 or so images. Then, I took them into photoshop, cropped them and re-sized them as needed and saved them according to cue number. I even had to create an image from the ground up because there was suppose to be a picture of one of the characters floating in space (really put my photoshop skills to the test). The smartest thing I did in this process was to upload the images according to cue number to the dropbox because this allowed the director to see them while still in rehearsals and incorporate them before we ever got into tech. That saved so much time in the long run.

While all of this was going on, I also had to think about the specs of the space and how we were going to physically make the projections happen. I had to figure out where my projection surface was going to live on stage (and what that surface would be). I had to chose what projector to use and what lens should go in that projector, and I had to decide where to place that projector (front project or rear project...rear, all the way) for maximum throw while taking into account actor traffic backstage. This meant using math and doing a little drafting. Projections isn't just all glamour you know.

A week out from tech, I set up my powerpoint presentation. Now, you may ask yourself, with all the fancy technological advances out there, isn't there a better way of running projections than boring old powerpoint? Oh there absolutely is, but when working at a small liberal arts college, you use what you can. In this case, that turned out to be powerpoint. I had to build my powerpoint presentation with my images that I had chosen as well as blackout slides. I had to take into account my transition times and animations. After that process, I had to go into the space and boot up the projector and the computer and make sure my powerpoint slideshow looked good on "the big screen". I did have to go back and make some adjustments based on that experiment so that we could be at the best place possible for the first day of tech.

During the tech process I had to make sure to watch the projections and see how they looked on stage with the lighting and whether or not they set the right tone for the scenes in which they were the backdrop. I also had to adjust transition timings based on the pace of the show. There were a few images that I had to go back and replace or re-think the direction I had taken based on seeing everything together in real life. I also had to several times remind my projections board operator to pay attention and push the space bar when the stage manager said go. The perils of working with college freshmen.

By opening night, I felt quite happy about the overall projections design. In a few cases, they really just made the entire scene. In others, they simply provided a support system for the actors. I really enjoyed working with projections because, when done well, there can be such a depth and vivid quality to the images that can't be produced any other way. But you can judge for yourself how I did.

#79 Attend A Roller Derby Bout

As a fair warning, I accomplished this goal several months ago now. I apologize for the delay in blogging about the experience, but I have been insanely busy. Blame the fact that I am getting design offers left and right. And let's be fair, I care more about my design jobs than this blog. Harsh, but true. Suffice it to say though that my memories are not as crisp and clear as they should be, so my descriptions may lack a bit in the detail area. Nigh on three months ago (approximately), I had the random opportunity to go to a roller derby match in Minneapolis. I was pumped. I've had quite the fixation on roller derby for a while. I've watched documentaries on derby, I've seen Whip It, and I've always said that if I could actually commit enough time to the sport, I would join a team in a minute. A quick minute. So being able to go watch a match sounded thrilling. What I knew about the match before hand was that the match was to be between a team from a newly formed league in Minneapolis and a team from one of the more established leagues: an inter-league bout if you will. I also knew it was flat track. Walking into the auditorium, I had little to go on as far as what I should be expecting. Though to be honest, I really wanted the match to be like Whip It. I figured all of roller derby was like that. I was only partially right. First. I am not going to spend the majority of this post describing the rules of roller derby. If you don't know what it's all about, go here: WFTDA. Second. Ambiance. The whole night of roller derby is a bit like a party. There was a dj on a stage who brought up music for each bout, and usually the music was kick ass. After all, these ladies were seriously kicking each other's asses. There was actual lighting that came in and out to set the mood. There were silly mascots. Insane fans. Commentators. Face paint. Good stuff. The first match of the night was....well....not exactly what I thought it would be. They were two new, green teams, and the pace was quite slow. All of the girls seemed a little timid, and the scoring wasn't as high as I thought it would get. Don't get me wrong, it was fun to watch. The crazy names and the ripped outfits and the skates made for wonderful entertainment. It was just missing a certain oomph that I wanted. There was an intermission between bouts that featured a polka band, and everyone in the stands were invited to come down onto the track and dance. I did not participate in this. I spent the entire intermission in the line for the ladies restroom. When you cram about 3,000 people into an auditorium, there's going to be a huge bathroom line. It's inevitable. The second match more than made up for the lackluster quality of the first match. Unbeknownst to me, the second match was between the Minnesota All-Stars and the Old Capital City Roller Girls from Iowa City of all places. Iowa City is my second home. I'm pretty sure I was the only person in the place cheering for the OCC, but I was all about it. Even though the OCC was a new team, they held their own against the All Stars. Granted, the All Stars ended up kicking ass, but man, was that match far faster and edgier and more physical than the earlier match. I found myself having favorite skaters, making comments on the different styles of various skaters, and cheering and jeering like my life depended on it. I had the time of my life. I have to tell you. Being able to actually go to a roller derby night only flared my desire to participate myself. I even started tossing around ideas for my own derby name. How does Mississippi Queen strike you?

New Purpose

So. Reader. All one and a half of you. You may have noticed that there is no real purpose to this blog. Other than being there for me in those moments in which I am utterly, beyond bored. Well. This just won't do anymore. Today, my blog gets a shiny new purpose. You see, I had a conversation a while back with a close friend about how awesome it would be to make a 365 list. What am I talking about? This would be a list of 365 things you have never done. You then do one thing off that list per day for a year. You blog (or vlog) about your progress. Of course, there would have to be some rules and contingencies. Like, what if you got sick and couldn't do a day? Ok, so you get 10 free get out of jail cards; 10 days you don't have to perform. Etc. While I still absolutely love this idea, I came to one large realization while compiling my own list: this could get expensive, fast. Yes, there are things I've never done that would cost nothing to do. But 365 of them? I guarantee that at least half of my list would cost some amount of money. And over a year, that could really add up. So. I am simply going to spread my experiences out. It might be dangerous to not put a cap or end day on this project. After all, what will keep me going? In all honesty, I'm not too worried about motivation. The list itself is motivation enough. And if I start slacking, I'll give myself a due date.

For clarity, here's the deal. I will keep track of my 365 list here on my blog. This first post of the list only has 50 items (you try thinking of 365 new things to do...it's challenging). I will add to my list once a week until it is complete, starting now. As I accomplish each goal, I will post about the experience here, as soon as possible, and I will mark the item off the list. Pretty simple. The way I figure it, once I've accomplished all 365 goals, I will have had a year's worth of experiences.

Here goes. My 365 list.

1. Smoke a cigarette. (I pride myself on having never smoked anything, ever. But can I judge something without trying it? That is the question.)

2. Attend a pro football game.

3. Attend a pro baseball game.

4. Attend a pro basketball game.

5. Attend a UF football game.

6. Attend a pro ice hockey game.

7. Ride/drive a motorcycle. (At this point, I'll take either option.)

8. Participate in a snowball fight.

9. Get a bikini wax. (I know. This will hurt. A lot.)

10. Own a pair of cowboy boots.

11. Join a gym.

12. Run a marathon. (This may be the hardest thing for me to accomplish.)

13. Climb a rock wall.

14. Climb a real rock/mountain.

15. Bake a pie.

16. Get a piercing (other than the normal ear piercings).

17. Sky dive.

18. Bungee jump.

19. Shoot a gun. (Preferably at a range/gun club.)

20. Go on a swamp boat ride.

21. Sing karaoke. (In front of people even.)

22. Get truly drunk. (At this point, I have been what could be qualified as "drunk lite". I am talking about wasted here. Balls to the wall wasted).

23. Take a shot of tequila. (Perhaps this will piggy back onto number 22.)

24. Go to a rodeo.

25. Paint that damn lamp. (That lamp has it coming.)

26. Eat alligator.

27. Go to a medieval/renaissance festival.

28. Do Mardi Gras in New Orleans.

29. Go skinny dipping. ('Nough said.)

30. Change a dirty diaper. (Hey, I've never done it.)

31. Go ice skating.

32. Plant a tree.

33. Volunteer at habitat for humanity.

34. Be a vegetarian for a week.

35. Dress up as a superhero/comic book character.

36. Get hit by a paintball gun.

37. Burn a book. (I know, I know, how rude. But somehow freeing I think.)

38. Burn a bra.

39. Do a photoshoot.

40. Punch someone. For real. (I have a list. Of two whole people.)

41. Gamble in Las Vegas.

42. Go to a horse race.

43. Attend a race, of the Nascar version.

44. Watch the entire 7up series. (You know, the doc series that follows a group of people from baby to adult.)

45. Volunteer abroad (ie i-to-i) for at least 2 weeks.

46. Give up everything on-line for a full 24 hours. (I might get the shakes.)

47. Go to Disney World, as an adult. (Went when I was 5. I barely remember the experience.)

48. Own a Camaro again.

49. Go to Universal Studios.

50. Spend a weekend in Miami.

51. Talk to a celebrity.

52. Go white water rafting.

53. Go tubing down a river.

54. Watch Blade Runner. (I've been told every lighting designer should do this.)

55. Go to Japan. (Somehow.)

56. Take at least one surfing lesson.

57. Dress up my dog in a really stupid cute costume.

58. Tour a vineyard.

59. Go to the Circus Museum in Sarasota.

60. See the Blue Man Group perform.

61. See a cirque show.

62. Ride in a hot air balloon.

63. Go to Niagra Falls.

64. Give blood. (I've tried a few times, but my veins are exceptionally small, which makes it hard for the nurses/technicians to successfully poke me.)

65. Fly first class.

66. Try the pineapple topping on a pizza.

67. Take a bubble bath.

68. Attempt to water ski.

69. Go whale watching. (Or at least see a whale in the wild. I mean, I don't HAVE to pay for the experience, right?)

70. Paint pottery. (You know the kind of store I'm talking about.)

71. Take a class in Native American history or literature.

72. Go on a cruise.

73. Wear fake eyelashes out one night.

74. Try caviar.

75. Submit a postcard to postsecret.

76. Contribute to a Wikipedia article.

77. Own silk sheets.

78. Take a riverboat ride.

79. Attend a roller derby bout.

80. Eat at a 5 star restaurant.

81. Ride a mechanical bull.

82. Bike the entire Gainesville-Hawthorne Trail (all 16.2 miles).

83. Build a house of cards. (Or at least a "structure" of cards...)

84. Read a banned book, http://www.abffe.com/bbw-booklist.htm. (I've read more than a few of them in the past, but without knowing the significance of having read them. I have a feeling it will be a slightly different experience knowing that the book I am reading has been banned or censored by certain schools or libraries across the nation.)

85. Do an at home facial treatment.

86. Do something with all the greeting cards that are stacking up.

87. Participate in some sort of a walk for a cure; more than likely, this one: Epilepsy Walk-a-thon

88. Attend a monster truck rally.

89. Attend a live taping of a tv show.

#21 Sing Karaoke

I am a terrible singer. I have never been a fan of my own voice. I heard myself on a voicemail recording when I was very young, and the experience scarred me for life. At the age of 5 while in Sunday school, a little boy told me that it sounded like I was singing through my nose. Talk about embarrassing. Needless to say, I have a bit of a complex when it comes to the quality of my voice.

Also, I can never spell karaoke correctly on the first try.

Does it surprise you then that I had never braved getting up in front of people to sing karaoke? Don't get me wrong. I enjoy a good karaoke night, watching other people get up there and entertain me. I just have never taken the mic into my own hands, as it were.

A few weeks back, I wound up at a small motel bar that boasts weekly karaoke every Friday night. Now, this is the kind of place where the real townies crawl out of the woodwork. People from all strokes of life come together for the love of karaoke. You got the cowboy, the tone deaf old lady, the 30-something professionals, the guy who's not completely right in the head, the African American woman with the power house voice, the Asians (always the Asians), the drunk 40-something divorcees who insist on dancing provocatively to every song...you name it, that person was there. Suffice it to say that this scene is unlike anything I had ever come across before. And I had a blast.

I knew there would be trouble when the locals accepted me into their group rather quickly. It was only a matter of time before I started getting pressured to sing. I managed to avoid the topic for most of the night. In the mean time, I was making nice progress on getting drunk. Which was my first mistake. As the night wound down, I found myself in the middle of a circle as everyone, including the karaoke DJ, pressured me. I finally realized that I would come across as an uptight jerk if I said no. I had no real options. I agreed to karaoke. My second mistake.

Thankfully, I managed to convince a friend to share in my pain in the form of a duet to the Wild Nights cover by John Cougar Melloncamp and Me'Shell Ndegeocello (to refresh your memory). I was already nervous as hell about getting up in front of people, and there was no way I was going to do it by myself. I might have literally passed out in that scenario.

As luck would have it, I was literally last in the line up, so if nothing else, I could make a real quick exit if I sucked too bad. When the DJ called me up, I took the mic, giggled nervously a lot, and then I don't remember much after that. I seem to recall getting more confident (or more drunk) as the song went on, and I know I was surprised how much harder it was singing along when I couldn't actually hear the lyrics. I own that song in my car, but in a loud bar, it was a bit of a different story.

In all seriousness, my three minutes of karaoke fame went by incredibly fast, and it was over before I realized what was going on. I made it through the experience without dying or causing anyone to go deaf with my terrible voice. No one came up to me afterwards to complain about my lack in karaoke skills. Of course, no one came up to compliment me either. All in all, I'd call it a wash.

I will say that now that I have actually gotten over the butterflies and the straight up fear, I have entertained the thought of doing the karaoke again. Granted, I'd still have to be pretty drunk in order to be talked into it again, but next time, it probably won't take as much coaxing to get me up there. Now to figure out the perfect song...

#242 Eat A Chicago Deep Dish Pizza. In Chicago.

Let me start by saying that I have been to Chicago many times at this point in my life. Let me also say that I have eaten pizza in Chicago. At a deep dish establishment in fact. However, I never actually ordered a deep dish pizza for myself. The concept may have frightened me. I can't say why exactly. After all, it's just a pizza with an extraordinary amount of sauce. What's so scary about that? Whatever it was, I could never bring myself to eat one. I have a vague memory of trying a bite of someone's deep dish while in Chicago on a previous trip, but never have I tackled one all on my own. Until this past weekend.

You see, I had some friends who had the great fortune of scoring a paid for trip over to the great land of Japan (jealous). The hitch was, they had to fly out of Chicago, and therefore, needed a ride. I happened to be in Iowa City at this point, and after much discussion and conversation, we decided to make a mini-event out of it. Drive to Chicago, have drunken misadventures, then send them off on their merry ways. And good luck getting a ride back to Iowa City.

Giordanos. Synonymous with Chicago deep dish pizza. When I mentioned casually that I had never actually eaten an entire slice of deep dish pizza, the decision was made to dine at Giordanos. Fine with me. I had managed to get over my deep trepidation, and I was ready to tackle the pizza beast.

Let me start by saying that every Giordanos location is insanely popular, and there is always a wait. However, they've gotten clever somewhere along the way. While waiting for your table, you can go ahead and place your order at what I can only explain as a pizza bar. After looking the menu over, a description caught my eye. Tropic Delight. Cheese, canadian bacon, and pineapple. That's right, you may remember I had pineapple on my pizza for the first time not so long ago, and I've been a bit hooked ever since. I ordered it. It would be mine.

After having been seated for about 20 minutes, during which there were appetizers and alcohol, the pizza arrived. Smelled delicious. I can't even describe to you the amazing smell of it all. I'm not a huge pizza fan, if I were to be honest with you. But at that moment, if you had asked, the smell of that pizza would have been my favorite smell in the entire world.

The first step of this rather messy process was getting a slice of pizza on to my plate. I'm not ashamed to say that I needed help doing so, and that some cheese may have ended up in my glass of water. These things happen. The second step was getting use to the idea of using a fork and a knife to eat my pizza. I have always been one to look sideways at people who use eating utensils to consume their pizza. I mean, if you are going to eat a pizza, just eat the damn pizza. Don't sit there like a prissy little princess and cut tiny bites off, one at a time. Get over yourself. However, in the world of deep dish pizza, there is just no way to get around the inevitable need of your fork and knife.

My first bite was everything I had promised myself it would be. And more. Simply divine. The canadian bacon was cooked just right, a little smoky. The pineapple was in tiny chunks, giving me just the right pineapple to meat ratio in my mouth. And while I typically am not a huge fan of pizza sauce, this sauce was just sweet enough without being too sweet (hello Papa Johns). The crust was supple and soft, melt in your mouth good. And the cheese! Oh the cheese. Everything about that pizza was on point. I devoured my slice with a fervor that only comes from knowing that the food you are eating is a once in a lifetime experience. I even managed to throw down my fork and knife with abandon towards the end and use only my bare hands to finish things off.

Satisfied. After one slice of the heavenly deep dish pizza, I was hugely satisfied and hugely stuffed. I seriously could not even think about having a second slice. But man was it good. Never have I been more happy about being able to walk out of a restaurant with a to go box. I enjoyed my Tropic Delight the next day, and it was just as good a day old, warmed up in the microwave.

What have I been missing out on my entire life? Why do I have irrational food fears? At least I have the rest of my life to enjoy a good Chicago deep dish pizza.

#241 Shoot A Bow and Arrow

*First off, I would like to apologize reader. When I wrote two posts ago about going to the medieval fair and accomplishing an additional two items off of my list, I was accidentally lying to you. Turns out, shooting a bow and arrow wasn't actually on my list at the time. This isn't to say that it wasn't true that I had never shot a bow and arrow. I just apparently never put it on my list. If the life of my pet turtle had depended on it, I would have sworn up and down that it was there along with everything else. Poor Speedy would have lost his life.

*Disclaimer: I don't own a pet turtle.

*Secondly, I will tell you that this will be the last retelling of the day at the medieval fair. I accomplished nothing else on that day, so the next post will be free of hot and sweaty nerd smell. Moving on now...

As I wandered about the fair, one of the things that I had secretly been looking forward to doing was to shoot a bow and arrow. I had never even attempted to pick up a bow, let alone shoot an arrow at something. I don't know why, but the thought of doing so had me in a bit of an internal tizzy. My desire may have been rooted in the years of being a dork and playing bow wielding rangers in many a D&D campaign. But you won't hear me ever admitting to that out loud.

As I walked up to the booth with my mead in hand (that's right, tipsy with a weapon in my hand), I was actually a little timid. I didn't know the protocol of asking someone if I could fire a weapon. Would they insist on showing me how to do it first? Would they really put me fully in charge of a bow, or would it be something akin to the pony rides at the state fair, where the five year old may think she's riding a horse, but boy do I have news for her on how legitimate her experience really was...

I overcame my initial impulse to just keep walking past the booth, and I approached the woman taking money and handing over the bow and arrows to us commoners. It was $5 for a round of shooting. A little steep, but I was still willing. This "lady" was wearing a dark purple corset that was about 5 times too small for her mid portion and her rather large honkers, and she had her hair in an updo that was a nod to Princess Leia's cinnamon bun look in Star Wars. When I saw this appear before me, all feelings of intimidation went out the window. I slapped down my money, she looked me up and down, and handed over the appropriate sized brightly colored bow with 10 arrows.

The shooting range was set up as a row of 5 stalls facing a few bales of hay stacked up with red targets painted on them. I walked into the remaining free stall, handed my drink to a friend (because you shouldn't mix alcohol and fire power together kids), and I went about figuring out how to do the damn thing. All I had to do really was watch the person next to me once, and I saw how to notch the arrow and how to pull the arrow and bowstring back. The hardest part of the hand eye coordination for me was trusting myself to let go with my right hand while still holding on to the bow with my left.

My first shot was not very successful, but the arrow did in fact fly from my bow towards the hay stacks. It may have fallen to the ground before it got there, but we were heading in the right direction folks. The next two arrows were far better, though I have to admit that it was after arrow three that I noticed (duh) that I should be aiming for the red circle targets. Not just decoration. By the time I got to my last two or three arrows, I was marginally accurate. I was letting the arrows fly with some speed, and I was getting insanely close to the target zone. One time, I even managed to hit a target. Let's be honest, if there were enemies in front of me instead of bales of hay, I would have been killed faster that you can say Legolas. However, in a controlled environment, I fared pretty well. The hay never stood a chance.

The experience was strangely exhilarating, and I would be lying if I said I didn't want to do it again. In fact, I may become a medieval fair junky just so that I can get my bow shooting fix. Next thing you know, I'll own my own bow. Because that's just how I roll.

#156 Eat A Fried Oreo

Originally, this item on the list was less specific in its junk food requirements. As long as it was fried and at least a million calories, the item would be fulfilled. If you read my last entry, you know that I went to a medieval fair a while back, and that I mentioned this was one of the items off of my list that I had taken care of during that outing. I have finally found the time (coupled with extreme boredom) to write this entry. As a warning before we dive into the retelling of the fried oreo journey, it has now been almost two months since the event in question, so my memory may be a little fuzzy, causing me to be a bit lacking in the detail department.

So. As I recall, I was walking around the medieval fair checking out all of the booths that was set up on the fair grounds. The majority of the booths were people trying to sell merchandise: clothes, weapons, toys, jewelry, etc. Hidden behind all of the merch booths was the cluster of food booths. I could smell them a mile away, but it took me a good amount of time to physically sniff out their location. Now, I wasn't exactly hungry, but I felt that in coming to a medieval fair, I would be missing out on something important if I didn't at least try some of the food being offered. There was no way I was going to eat one of those huge ass turkey legs, but I thought there might be something a little smaller.

That was when I noticed a sign above one of the booths that advertised having fried oreos. Are you kidding me? I was already in the middle of knocking an item off of the list just by being at a medieval fair (not to mention the other item I accomplished earlier in the day that I will write about in the future), and now I would have the chance to knock #156 out of the ballpark too? It was fate, and I couldn't say no. I walked right up to the window/ordering area, and I proudly proclaimed that I would like the fried oreos please. Even if they were going to cost me $5, which I can get a whole meal at Taco Bell for that price. But that might be beside the point. I did have to wait for my fried heart attack, because they made them right when I ordered them, fresh. If you can call that sort of thing fresh. I can't specifically remember, as I feel I may have mentally blocked this part of the process out on purpose because it was so disgusting, but the vat in which they made the fried oreos was covered in what appeared to be only lard and butter. Nothing else. I couldn't watch the whole process for fear that I would chicken out and not eat my proudly made purchase.

Finally, finally, my fried oreos were done. They called me to pick them up, and I found a small round table to stand at while I indulged myself. There were five golden brown circles of fried goodness in my paper tray. I picked one up and could see the steam coming off it, as it was still so fresh it was smoking. I tried to be patient and let it cool down a bit, which involved a lot of blowing on it and a small wait time. When I couldn't take it anymore, I just dove in and took my first bite. I was not prepared for what happened in my mouth...

Of course it tasted like an oreo, but it was so warm and melted, it had the texture almost of ice cream. Throw on top of that the well known taste of fried fat (I mean, that's basically what it is, right?), and I can honestly say I've never had anything quite like it. What a weird combo. Sweetness with that bit of salty. It was unreal to me. And boy, was it insanely rich. So rich in fact that I could only make it through two of the five, with one bite in a third. I couldn't take anymore of it. I loved every minute of the fried oreos, but by the time I took that last bite, I knew I had to stop or else I would have to find a place to lay down in the fetal position. I felt terrible wasting the last two, but it just had to be done. I had been defeated.

I can't say that I will ever again want to order fried oroes, simply because I am a person that likes to eat pretty healthy. However, this was not an experience that I regret, and I rather enjoyed the extra thousand calories I must have taken in from that blissful junk food moment. Whatever will they think of next?

#27 Go To A Medieval/Renaissance Festival

I am a bit of a nerd. I will admit that. However. The world of the renaissance fair (medieval fair, fest, whatever your flavor) scares me a little. Not in the way that angry werewolves are scary. More in the way that perhaps such an experience might be just a little too nerdy for me. It might push me past my nerd threshold. And let's be honest, I had one regrettable LARP experience that was way, way past my nerd threshold, and since these fairs are incredibly similar, perhaps I was biased against the experience already. But, I am the kind of person that I will give pretty much anything at least one chance. So I created number 27 and added it to the list.

A few weekends ago, I went down to Sarasota for a few days to visit a friend. Well, mostly, it was to lay around on the beach, soaking up the sun on probably the last opportunity I would get of the summer. Which is what I spent the majority of the weekend doing. It was awesome. However, while picking up some bbq at a local restaurant, I saw an advertisement for the Sarasota Medieval Fair. Do you believe in fate?

Ok. When first walking into the medieval fair, I have to admit, I thought it was pretty cheesy, and I figured I would be ready to leave in under an hour. Apparently putting the silly magic show stage right in front of the entrance elicits this response in most people. Once I got into the heart of the fair (I'm sorry, "faire", got to use ye olde english after all), I was completely hooked. Plus, this experience gave me the opportunity to accomplish two other goals off of my list, which I will point out a little later on.

Before I got too lost in the festivities, I had to get myself some good ole fashioned mead. Blend in with the locals. Because I'm a bit of a girly drinker, I settled on a cherry flavored honey wine. They were not messing around with that stuff. The bar was pretty great though, because it was definitely built to look like the interior of an inn, and the serving "wenches" were not scared to hike their boobs up to their chins in tight fitting corsets. Alcohol in hand, I was ready to tackle the rest of the afternoon.

Speaking of corsets, that was just one of the many things you could buy at the 50 plus booths scattered throughout the fair. There were booths selling medieval clothes, weapons, jewelry, leather goods, wood carving, henna tattoos, and yes, LARP equipment. Usually I find booths fun to window shop at (open air shop?). However, I have to admit to giving in and buying something. You see, there was a booth there selling little miniature catapults and crossbows and such that shot marshmallows. Talk about the perfect Christmas gift for my dad.

The part that turned me into a bit of a giddy girl? All the interactive type of booths. I'm talking knife throwing, axe throwing, horse rides, bow and arrow shooting... Anyone who knows me knows that I should not be trusted around weapons. Someone is going to end up getting hurt. I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to flex my archery skills though. Unfortunately for this blog entry, this fulfills one of my goals, so if you want to know more about my time spent with the bow, you'll just have to hold your breath and wait for a near-future blog post. Teaser though, I may have kicked a little ass.

Another big part of any medieval fair is the food. There is nothing quite like watching a skinny nerd girl in a weird green fairy costume complete with fairy wings chowing down on a turkey leg. There were food stands all over the place, and I'm pretty sure they all offered some version of the turkey leg. People carried them around like some sort of meat cotton candy thing. And of course, being in Florida, most of them offered some form of alligator as well. I have to admit, the fair smelled amazing, and my mouth was watering pretty much the entire time. This is where the second item on my list comes into play, because I happened to notice that one of the food stands offered fried oreos. I had already eaten lunch, so I was looking for some sort of dessert options, because you can't just go to a medieval fair and not eat, and fried oreos definitely fulfills one of my goals. Again, look forward to a future blog post to hear more about this tummy filling experience.

And what medieval fair is complete without a little jousting? I made sure to stick around long enough to see a jousting tournament. I had to. Waiting in the stands beforehand was a little obnoxious because the paid performers at the fair were a little too much into character. Nothing worse than seeing a nerd being able to live out the dream, while being able to pretend they are more important than they really are (yes, yes, long live the king, who on a typical week day works at the neighborhood McDonalds). I may be a nerd who likes to play elven rangers in my video games, but I don't make a habit of putting on fake elf ears and threatening people with the pointy end of my daggers. ANYWAY. Sitting through all the "lords" and "ladies" proved to be well worth it. The knights rode out on their magnificent horses, and I was hooked. I was more than willing to accept them pretending to be knights, because let's be honest, they were bad ass. Here's how it worked. There were three knights who were "competing to see who would lead the troops against the pheasant rebellion". There were three sections of bleachers, so each section got their very own knight to root for. Lucky for me, my section got the knight I liked the best from the beginning, mainly because his horse was gorgeous. Hey, I like pretty things. There were two sporting events, where they had to knock a target on a dummy, and then they had to gather rings on their lances. Fun, but the exciting part was the actual jousting they did in the final round of competition. Watching the knights ride baring down on each other was quite exciting. The horses seemed to know they were performing, and they looked incredibly proud of themselves, so elegant really. In the end, was there ever any question? My knight kicked butt and won the tournament. Oh yeah.



All in all, I really enjoyed myself at the medieval fair. I didn't expect to have as much fun as I did, and now, in retrospect, I have no idea why I felt like that. I'll never be that fanatic that you see all dressed up for the occasion, but I look forward to my next trip down medieval lane.

#145 Go To A Dave & Busters

This update is long over due. I now have a long list of entries to add to this blog (I've been a busy beaver), so I had better get to work, am I right?

Who hasn't seen the Dave & Busters commercials in which grown adults are frolicking about an arcade, having the time of their life with a beer in hand? How amazing does that look? Somehow, until recently, I had not been blessed with the opportunity to enjoy myself at skee ball with an adult beverage to keep me company. This just could not stand.

A few weeks ago, I was down in Orlando for LDI, a lighting convention. It's a pretty big thing in the industry, so there were several people that I knew in Orlando at the same time for the exact same reason. After spending a long day on the exhibit hall floor, we decided that Friday night was going to be our night out. The eight of us in my group went on a hunt for a good seafood restaurant in Orlando (seeing as how the vast majority of the group was from Iowa, and who ever heard of fresh shrimp in the Midwest). While on our way to our destination, we passed the Dave & Busters on International Drive, and a light bulb went off in my mind. What a perfect night to get my game face on. I pretty much rammed my idea down everyone's throats until they agreed with the plan. It didn't take much convincing really.

After a belly stuffing good meal, we piled into the cars and headed off to Dave & Busters. The party train was on the move.

Walking up the front steps alone was pretty exciting, I have to say. The place was packed, but it wasn't an uncomfortable amount of people. The first thing we had to do was buy credits in order to play the arcade games. Basically I paid $10, and I got a certain amount of credits loaded on to a card that could then be swiped at any game. The second thing we had to do before hitting the game floor was head over to the bar. I got myself a very large and very pink strawberry daiquiri with an extra shot of rum. With alcohol in hand, we were ready to go.

That I was in the right place was confirmed by the fact that the first game I came across was this hurricane game that we use to play all the time at my hometown skating rink. One of the people there with me happened to also be from my hometown, and we exclaimed over the game at the exact same time. A very promising start.

Let's see. What games did I play? I played some basketball, a football throwing game, some skee ball (spent the most amount of time here), a few reflex testing games, whack a mole, a first person shooter, and capped the night off with a little DDR. While there were a lot of people there, I never had to wait very long for the games I wanted to free up. Everyone else there seemed to be of a similar mind set as me: play a game and move on because the next game must be equally thrilling. I have to say, I had a blast. Of course arcade games coupled with alcohol would be off the chain. Plus, it was a bit like recapturing childhood, with that innocent excitement over a long stream of tickets shooting out at you.

As a group, we all pooled our tickets together once we were out of credits. We managed to collect a little over 800 tickets, which was not bad for a night's work. While perusing the ticket redemption store, we figured out that we could get eight different shot glasses, one for each of us, with a little left over to get the best prize ever...Chinese finger traps. The shot glasses really were the perfect choice though, because that way we each had a token of our night spent together, whacking moles and dancing to Korean songs despite being a little tipsy. When I take my next tequila shot, I'll remember Dave & Busters, 2011.

Party on Wayne.

#240 Participate in a Moderate Drinking Research Group

What? You don't wake up every day hoping that you can participate in a moderate drinking research group? I know, it's completely random. I also realize that it is not something that was on my list before I had the experience. However, as I was going through this process, I couldn't help but think exactly how many things I was going through that I have never experienced before in my life. Perfect fodder for my blog. I've said it before on here, if I do something that I've never done before, but it wasn't on my list, I'll add it to the list and write about it. And you'll just have to read about it.

So. For the last two months, I've been the definition of hustlin'. Between August and January, I had no lighting designs lined up, so I had a ridiculous amount of down time. That translated to a ridiculous amount of time during which I wouldn't be bringing in any money, at all. That concept made me nervous on several levels, so I decided to try to pick up a part-time job or two. At the beginning of my job search process, I took to Craigslist. In addition to job postings, I found that there are often really odd opportunities for earning money, such as working promotions or participating in paid research groups. I came across an ad for a Moderate Drinking Research Group that promised to pay $200. Who doesn't want to get paid to drink? Are you kidding me? Of course I called the number on the ad.

I talked to a guy named Jeff. He told me about the study, about how I had to be fit and a moderate drinker. Check and check. The point of the group was to actually study the effect of moderate drinking on people between the ages of 55 and 70, so they needed people in their 20's and early 30's to be the control group. Even better. I'd be saving the lives of old people. Jeff hooked me up with an appointment for a little over a week later. Apparently I had to go through an initial appointment to make sure I still qualified with further tests. Even if I failed at that point, I would get paid for the first meeting, so what was there to lose?

I showed up to the research center, which is through the neurological studies department. A very nice woman, Leila, brought me to a conference room and walked me through what was basically a permission form allowing them to use the information they got from me in their study. After signing, she took my blood pressure ("is it always this low?"), and started me on the barrage of information forms I had to make it through. Basically, the first half was intelligence tests, the kind of thing you would find on a standardized test (finish this pattern, which word in the list is the closest to the definition of word A, etc). The second half was designed to make sure I wasn't bat shit insane. Literally. Am I sad? Have I ever thought of hurting myself? Have I ever done drugs? Have I ever thought someone was following me? Do I believe that someone is controlling my mind with lasers? Have I ever been abducted by aliens? Do I have a phobia of clowns? I'm not making up a single one of those questions. Though I have to say, I had an interesting moment when she asked me if I had ever been shot. I replied with, well, does being shot at count? My answer completely threw her off. She wasn't sure if it did count, so I had to explain my two (count them two) separate experiences of being shot at. She then looked at the next question, "have you ever been threatened with a lethal weapon", and I suggested that maybe that's where my answer should go. It was hilarious.

After answering an hour's worth of questions, it was determined that I was sane enough to proceed to the next round, which happened to be driving in a car simulation. Basically, you have a fake steering wheel, pedals, and you sit in a chair in front of a bunch of computer screens. It's much like a surround sound Need for Speed sort of situation. I have to admit, I did crash once into a van, but I swear, that jerk came out of nowhere.

Leila told me at the end of three hours that if I was approved for the second round, they would call me and set up an appointment for me to come in and get drunk.

Three days later, they came a-calling. They set me up for a time the next week at 9:30 in the morning. I was told that actually, there were three different possibilities for me. I would either get no alcohol, a mid-does of alcohol, or a high-dose of alcohol. A roll of the dice if you will. Also, I had to fast for four hours before my appointment, I would take a drug/pregnancy test, I could not drink alcohol for 12 hours before, I shouldn't wear a bunch of make-up because they would be putting electrodes on my face, and I might want to bring a book because there would be a decent amount of down time. Oh, and legally, they had to drive me home because I would be intoxicated. I took my instructions to heart.

I woke up super early on my special drinking day. I was ready for my adventure. When I got to the office, I had to sign another waiver first thing. After that, I had my blood pressure taken and, joy of joys, I got to pee in a cup (for the drug and pregnancy tests). While they ran the tests I had to finish off two cereal bars for breakfast before going any further. Five minutes later, the results were in. I was not on drugs, nor was I pregnant. Exactly the results I expected. Once I was cleared to continue, I was taken back to the room with the driving simulator. This is where the fun really started.

I was fitted with a nice red cap with electrodes attached to it. Visualize a swimming cap with a bunch of jelly fish like tentacles hanging off it. That was on my head. In order to get the electrodes to maintain actual contact with my scalp, they had to squirt salt gel into each electrode. A lot of gel. All up in my hair. It took three assistants to get me gooped up enough. They also attached an electrode to the middle of my forehead, my left cheekbone under my eye, and each ear lobe. After they got me good and gelled, I had to do a few control tests. I stared straight ahead at a computer screen with my eyes open and then with them closed in order for the researchers to get a read on my brain waves (I'm sure there's a more technical term for it than that). At this point, I was ready for my liquids. I was brought two tumblers full of the most rancid citrus club soda I have ever tasted, and I had to drink the concoction in two minutes each with a minute break in between. I swear to you, this was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. If it had been a vodka cranberry, I would have had no difficulties. Instead, I had to chug the worst tasting drink in the world. Once I forced the two drinks down my throat with a minimal amount of gagging, I got a ten minute break. Five minutes into the break, I knew I definitely got one of the actual alcohol doses. I could feel it. At the end of the break, I got one more tumbler of what I now knew to be alcohol. And I was given another two minutes to get it down. Pure torture.

Throughout this part of the process, I was given short little surveys to fill out every ten minutes about how drunk or intoxicated I felt. I also had to take a breathalyzer every ten minutes. Just keep this in mind, because I'm not going to remind you that these two things are taking place during my drunk driving simulation. That's right. I got behind the simulator wheel quite buzzed. I tried my best to prove that I could drive drunk. I managed to only run down one pedestrian. He had it coming, not using a pedestrian crosswalk like a jackass. Once I finished driving, the brain testing swim cap was removed from my head, leaving me with quite the horrifying hair do. Salt gel was literally caked in my hair. I was given a bottle of V05 shampoo and a towel and was sent to the sink in the bathroom. While washing the goo out of my hair in a public sink, a woman definitely came in and asked me if I was having a bad hair day. Hardy har. I did have an interesting moment while in the bathroom stall. I was quite tipsy and having a hard time standing on my own two feet. I had a bit of flashback in which I felt like I was back at IC Uglys, stumbling around after a full day of drinking.

I made it back to the conference room, where I was fed a microwavable lunch. While chowing down on my tortellini, one of the researchers came in and confirmed my suspicions. I had received the high dose of alcohol. They could not actually take me home until my blood alcohol level was under a .1. Excellent. It took my body another two hours to achieve that goal. My tormentors were amazed at how slowly my body metabolized alcohol. Welcome to my life I said. The ultimate kicker was that as I walked outside to be driven home, almost six hours after I arrived that morning, the rental car that would be my chariot just happened to be a Camaro. How silly is that? I will end my story by saying that the drive home was awkward and silent except for the moment that my driver/research assistant and I found ourselves singing along together to Run Around by the Blues Traveler.

Well. The gist of the story? I got paid to get drunk.