Skip to main content

Announcing....

I thought I'd take a moment to shamelessly plug the play I'm going to be in that opens this weekend. You absolutely must come to see it, not just because I'm in it (though that should be reason enough for most of you!) but because, for the first time in a while, I'm doing a play that I can be reasonably certain every single person on this planet can enjoy.

It's called “You Can't Take It With You” and its playing at the Hale Center Theater in Orem. You can go to their website and see the performance schedule and buy tickets. I play a young successful businessman named Tony Kirby, Jr. who has recently become Vice-President of his company (his father is the President, can you say nepotism?) but hates the stuffy corporate world and longs to break free (didn't take too much acting there.) I've fallen in love with my secretary, Ms. Alice Sycamore, a very nice and normal young lady who happens to come from a family of questionable sanity. I kind of like the family (despite the wackiness of the parents, grandfather, sister and brother-in-law, maid, maid's boyfriend, random man who lives with them, and very hairy Russian ballet teacher who is constantly at their house), so I propose to her despite all that. When my straight-laced and upper class parents meet the zany and carefree Sycamores, hilarity is certain to ensue!

There, now stop asking me what its about. I'm not going to explain it again. Just get your freaking tickets and come and enjoy yourselves. Maybe you'll remember that, no matter how fun movies are, nothing can quite replace the magic of live theater. Or maybe you can just admire how great my butt looks in the suits I wear (this is not my opinion, but that of many of the ladies associated with the production who decided to share this information with me.)

You have until August 9th to see me in the show, after which I will be heading to South Carolina and the part of Tony will be played by an as-yet un-named replacement. So you better hurry!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Only Thing We Have to Fear...

It's October, which means not only do I get to start dipping into my nifty fall wardrobe but also that Halloween is upon us. I think its great that we devote specific holidays to various basic emotions of the human psyche. Halloween = fear, Valentine's day = love, Thanksgiving = gratitude, St. Patrick's Day = envy, and Christmas = greed. We're just missing wrath, lust, pride, sloth, gluttony, and inadequecy. Clearly, more holidays are necessary. But that's a subject for another day. We don't want to give Halloween less than its due. Because seriously, how cool is Halloween? Its way off the scale on the cool-o-meter. When else can you see even the most pious and sensible people indulging in a little of the supernatural and occult by dressing up their children as vampires, witches, or ghosts? Well, that's how it was back in my day anyway (which was soooooo long ago), but today kids dress up as Jedi, princesses, Harry Potter, or Spiderman. They are totally miss

I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent...

I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent. Though, despite the elaborate disguise Consisting of a single pair of bent, Simple specs, they're not two different guys But only one, still I said what I meant: I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent. I like Superman, but I love Clark Kent I guess because one of them's more like me And does not always get what he wants And struggles with our vulnerability. And does not by his perfection command The adoration of every woman and man But sits in the back, with nothing to say Just hoping that Lois Lane looks his way. She doesn't - her eyes are glued to the sky. Wake up, Lois! Can't you see the guy Waiting to love you with all of his might? He may not leap buildings, he may not fly, He may not see through you with x-ray eyes, He might need YOUR help, if that's alright, From time to time, when his mortal heart cries. He combs his hair neatly and fights through the crowd, Decides what to say, and rehearses out loud, He summons his

God Bless Us, Every One

Call me a Scrooge, but I've found that the last couple of years Christmas just hasn't carried the same sense of wonder and excitement it once did. When I was a kid, I was ready to pee my pants every day in December just thinking about the twenty-fifth, which crept closer so slowly that the month was always filled with blissfully tortuous anticipation. The sense of suspense, the agony of not knowing what the fantastically wrapped boxes contained, was only heightened by the lights, the music, the snow, and everything you knew meant it was Christmas time. Back then, my heart's desires cost about twenty bucks and, tragically, seemed both completely unobtainable and the key to my whole life's happiness. This was the season, then, when miracles of a very practical kind could happen; objects only admired on the shelf, or at a friend's, or in some abstract sense of obsession could literally become my own and wind up, eventually, in pieces somewhere in my closet. I like to c