Monthly Archives: December 2009

In the end…2009

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Now’s as good a time as any to contemplate the last 300+ days. You might wanna grab a snack for this one.

January
Seems like forever ago. We had friends Dave and Jason over for dinner. I cooked and cleaned, food was good, company was better. My brother JCS and I drove up to San Fransisco to see my sister and sister-in-law. We discovered that JCS has a fear of bridges, which he somewhat-conquered by willingly crossing over the Bay Bridge. Attended the bris of AJB’s cousin’s newborn son Jackson. It was interesting to witness this ceremony. Strange and interesting, but also very special.

February
In February, things were going well business-wise and I was quite busy. I wrote about learning to cook for the kids, learning that kids today have no Saturday Morning Cartoon rituals, and procuring the Wii Fit – which we used quite a lot at the time. AJB and I had a nice Valemtimes Day; Dinner and a movie. That month, we took my Mom to see the local production of the “The Wonderful Ice Cream Suit” in South Pasadena, finding out what happened to that kid from Herbie Goes Bananas. Todd moved to Morocco, re-homing his cat Eva with us. She is Matilda’s sister, but there would be many obstacles to overcome, integrating two head-strong cats. I shot stills for a webshow-pilot called Sonny McCleans that never saw the light of day. Several early mornings in a bar in Santa Monica shooting scenes. I loved it and learned I can also shoot stills pretty well. I ended up not going to the pilot viewing for some reason. I guess I didn’t feel like it.

March
Things started getting complicated in March. I turned 34 and had a lack-luster party, causing me to imagine that I might need to be a little more proactive with the people I call friends. I started to stress about the wedding and how we had little time to plan. AJB and I went to Washington DC, had a nice time touring our Nation’s capitol, visiting the Lincoln Memorial and others. I was tired most of the trip. In March, I did a parasite cleanse, which wasn’t fun, but turns out is probably necessary. We came upon the 2 year anniversary of my Dad’s passing. March is always a hard month. It’s hard to commemorate my Dad’s death and then get into birthday mode just a few weeks later. We saw The Watchmen and it sucked, leaving a bad taste in our mouths for months to come. I would be contacted by a graphic designer who wanted me to become his company’s new photographer and give him a cut of the profits. It was a strange deal which involved him re-designing my website to impress his boss, meeting the owner dressed like a professional, and up-selling myself in a way I’d never done before. My sister and sister-in-law were in town to help me buy a “professional” outfit. I didn’t get the job. Mostly because I think the owner was a cheapskate and never really had any interest in re-shooting the entire catalog and not for the price I was quoting – which was on the low end. I was still getting a decent amount of work.

April
Spring was here and I was feeling springy. I started planting in my garden and feeling homey. I made butter, but haven’t done it again since. I was thinking a lot about the wedding, trying to figure out what to do about my dress. Get it made or buy it? Swine Flu was big news, but I wasn’t worried. Business was slow and I was working hard to get more money in; with little success.

May
The wedding was starting to encompass my entire life. My Mom, JCS, AJB, and I were busting ass to get the Save the Dates out. They were legendary and so totally worth the time and effort. I started an internship with the famous photographer David LaChapelle. I was really excited. I would soon learn how cruel people are to their interns; and how the word “intern” really just means “free labor”. My sister came down from Vallejo. I really wish I’d blog more. AJB and I went to a performance of Leviathan 99. It was live radio performance. I was in the same room with Ray Bradbury, William Shatner, and Walter Koenig. I met Walter Koenig. Nerd heaven. *I’ve met Bradbury several times before this and didn’t feel the need to bother him at this occasion.

June
Lots of celebrities died: Ed McMahon, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, Billy Mays, and Sky Saxon. I was still fighting eczema flare-ups which were causing me a good deal of stress – to think, I’d have rash-face at my wedding? This only made the rashes worse. I started seeing a homeopathic doctor, which didn’t really help, despite the expense. He had me go on a allergy-elimination diet, giving up all the food I love for weeks. Coffee was the hardest. I was pretty happy when I got back on it. My future Mother-in-Law came into town. AJB’s aunt and uncle threw us a sweet, little, engagement party at Buca di Beppo. It was a lot of fun and the staff spelled my name wrong on the cake.

July
I did an amazing photoshoot. The theme was Sid and Nancy at home – what would happen if they got married and lived a normal life? It was epic. I still haven’t edited the photos. I needed something to get my mind off the wedding and it worked, briefly. I only posted twice in July. We met with our Eco-Friendly wedding planner for the first time. She would later prove frustrating. Took Oatmeal to the vet and discovered he has heartworms. Traveled to Chicago (missing Comic-Con) for our Mid-Western engagement party; thrown by AJB’s mom. We took my Mom and had a great time showing her the city. It was her first trip to Chicago and she had a blast. A few jobs were coming in, but nothing substantial. The kids left for their yearly trip to Ireland.

August
Wedding plans were in full swing. Almost the entire month is colored-coded Orange on our shared calendar. My sister came into town to help with wedding prep. Lots to do, stress was high, and I was still fighting eczema, even though it wasn’t nearly as bad as it had been in previous months. AJB and I went to Chicago again; I can’t remember why. The day we got back, AJB, JCS, and I attended a town hall meeting with Rep. Adam Schiff over health care. It was one of those crazy town halls with people screaming that Obama was organizing death panels. Got some great photos. Two weeks later, the San Gabriel mountains caught fire. The “Station Fire” took over the entire landscape, burning thousands of acres. We could see the inferno from our back porch. I got some amazing photos. The air quality was crap for weeks.

September
More wedding stuff. Busy, busy, busy and totally overwhelmed. I was stressed and tired. My sister and Mom put together an absolutely lovely wedding shower for us. Lots of people showed up, but we still had lots of left over food and Margarita mix. Our wedding planner, Amy, was out of town dealing with her father who had a stroke. We started to panic. We still had a million things to do and were floundering without her. I was attempting to work and plan the wedding at the same time, killing myself in the process. This is when we really got serious about planning the wedding. A bit, late, even.

October
Orange coloring coding floods our shared calendar. Wedding blitz mania!! It was the craziest month of the year, a non-stop cavalcade of wedding tasks, excursions to Downtown, meetings, walk-thrus, dress fittings, and choices. It’s a bit of an in-focus blur. Our Halloween wedding was one of the most beautiful days of my life; even if 40% of the attending guests didn’t even get us a card. It’s true. We get the whole recession part, but not even a card? Really? The wedding party looked gorgeous, it was like the end of a Frank Capra film. AJB’s kids were beyond amazing and I couldn’t help but feel thankful the entire day even though it went by in a flash. I have yet to send out thank you cards or rifle through the 1000′s of images taken on that day. My baby brother in Omaha married his girlfriend, the mother of his lovely son, in a secret City Hall wedding; no one was invited and we found out two days after the fact.

November
Our honeymoon in Paris got off to a weird start, but we more than made up for it by staying an extra 5 days; even if AJB missed IAAPA. Paris is a delightful city, but it’s labyrinth-like, a bit intimidating, and massive. I took a million photos, but (as usual) have not gone through them. I suppose I feel like I need to give them time to settle. When we got back, we were quickly off to Chicago for Thanksgiving. There we witnessed the disappointing pre-Broadway production of The Addam’s Family Musical. We also saw Young Frankenstein The Musical, which was a lot of fun. We stayed a week and as much as I love AJB’s old hometown, I was ready to come home. Naturally, when we did, we were slammed back into the realities of everyday life; including a dead rat in the wall and tales of a dead bird under our bed.

December
A hectic month, slow acclimation to my new life as Mrs. AJB. I was not ready for Christmas, though I suppose I never am. I told myself that I’d use December to organize the house, but I’ve done only minor tasks and one or two major ones – there is still a lot to do. I also told myself I’d get back to work in January, but I’m not really prepared. Add to the overall chaos of the holidays, we’ve made a decision which will be revealed in 2010. AJB doesn’t like me blabbing about these things and I suppose he’s right. In December, Pierre started hanging around the yard. I wonder if he’s staying. I hope so, I just bought him a $70 outdoor cat shelter. I made it through the year without anyone I love dying.

Resolutions
I don’t generally like making resolutions because I end up forgetting about them and not completing any of them. I know what I need to do.

2009 was a strange year, one I won’t forget anytime soon. It was the year I got married, after all. I’m looking forward to 2010, but I am filled with trepidation, excitement, anxiety, and hope. 2010, like 2009, will be a contradiction, good and bad. I feel good things coming, but can’t shake feelings that bad things will happen too. Well, that’s life, isn’t it. Good and bad. Seems a common theme, anyway.

Happy New Year.

See what happened in 2008.

The Cat in My Yard

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Pierre grubbing on kitty chow.

Several days ago, I heard meowing coming from my backyard. My first thought was that one of the cats had gotten out and was crying for it’s mama (me). I went and looked, but no, it was a beefy grey cat. Yay! I’ve been wanting a yard cat for a while now. Why, you might wonder? Yard cats serve one main purpose (besides being awesome) they chase mice, rats, and voles away. Funny, we have all of those things.

Living in the forest, as we do, our yard is the perfect breeding ground for pests of all kinds. Over the last year, we’ve had issues with mice in the walls and attic. Matilda was good enough to kill one that set foot inside. We’d called an exterminator over the Summer; they set traps for a month, caught one, and were gone. Ever since then, we still hear the faint scratching of tiny claws in the walls. We recently found mouse poop in the TV room – which subsequently caused me to go on a cleaning frenzy. It wasn’t until one DIED somewhere in the walls (causing a horrific smell which overcomes the North side of the house) that we’ve gotten serious. AJB has stepped into his manly role as man of the house, setting traps, and disposing of (so far) one jumbo sized sewer rat. I love him so hard for that. However, I want nothing to do with it. I don’t even want to see the traps. The whole things grosses me out. I hate killing them, even though I know it has to be done. You really can’t trap and release them into the wild. Turns out, it’s illegal. So die they must, as sad as that is. I’ve come to accept that the health of my family and I is more important than “live and let live”.

Which leads me into the yard cat; the most eco-friendly way to deter rats in our immediate surroundings. In particular, our beefy little fellow, who I have named Pierre. I mean, seriously, you have to see the muscles on this cat; very impressive. Pierre started coming by a few days ago. Meowing and grubbing on any food I’d give him. He’s very sweet and let’s me pet him profusely. He also has a pair of fairly large testicles to further validate his machismo. He’s tough, but he’s also an adorable pussycat.

So now I’ve got this buff male cat prowling around my yard. It didn’t really occur to me that the indoor cats would be affected very much. Sure, they might get annoyed, but they’d quickly realize he’s out there and they’re in here. After all, we have critters coming up to the house all the time. Turns out, I should have worried a bit more. Pierre has set off Eva in a way I’ve never seen – except in those “when animals attack” shows. Whenever he’s around she hisses, spits, and yowls this unholy siren which escalates to violence aimed at whatever (or whomever) is nearest. She’s attacked both Matilda and Oatmeal and even blitzed the window screen. I mean, she’s really upset.

Eva, new to our home, has had a hard time acclimating to her new surroundings. She feels abandoned by her previous owner, scared of the world, is attempting to gain dominance, and has a tendency to lash out; even though she’s also very pleasant. This is a whole new world for her and she’s doing what cats do; reacting the only way she knows how. Except, we can’t tolerate violence. We’re working with her to keep her calm, show her we love her, but also make her aware that her actions are not acceptable. It’s going to take a long time. Cats don’t like change. In fact, they fight it.

Eva’s bad mood causes the other cats, who are happy to ignore Pierre, to become tense. We end up spending a good deal of time reassuring everyone that everything is fine. As for Pierre, he wants in the house. He sits at the back door meowing this pathetic little orphan meow, hoping I’ll open the door. I admit, I’m tempted because it’s Winter. I know, however, that he just can’t come in. I made him a bed and shelter; although I believe he’s sleeping under my car. I’m putting food and water out for him. I hope he’ll figure out that my old Nightmare Before Christmas throw is warm and comfy; the plastic bin will provide a better shelter. If he sticks around, I might invest in cat igloo.

I like that he comes by. He’s very agreeable, isn’t at all bothered by the indoor cats, and rather mellow. He’s taken to me and I’ve taken to him. He’s come to me for help and I’m going to give it to him. It’s what I do. JCS suggests that Pierre is more like The Tramp from “Lady and The Tramp”. On Tuesdays he’s Pierre at my house. On Wednesdays he’s Tony at the neighbor’s house. On Thursday, he’s Mittens down the street. Who knows? He came here for a reason and I won’t turn him away. There is a way to get all the cats to live harmoniously. I just have to find it. Meanwhile, more research and lots of and lots of belly rubs.

Merry Christmas.

The Two Ryes

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Once upon a time…

…I didn’t care what people thought. I didn’t think anyone was reading this blog and I felt free to write whatever the hell I pleased. Mostly, I talked about the days, the things that filled them, and the people who swerved in an out of my life. And then it happened, I wrote about work and my boss read it, tipped off by my “superior” – I use that term loosely. I was frustrated and heartbroken at being passed up for a job I’d earned. I didn’t name names and I was very vague about the incidents that occurred. At work, it became a HUGE issue and I had a serious talk with human resources about it. I was forced to apologize, made up a story about something or other, and eventually got off the hook after being threatened with termination. Truth is, they overreacted and were building a case to fire me by knit-picking and picking on me. I wasn’t easy to work with, you see. I didn’t kowtow to them and I didn’t let them to get away with bullshit. It cost me my job. In the end, however, it wasn’t the job for me and I’m happier now as a freelancer. I also don’t ever regret standing up to assholes, not matter what the outcome.

Since then, I’ve bit my tongue. Now that my blog is connected to a bigger world through Twitter and Facebook, the people I know can now easily find this blog. If I didn’t want anyone to read it, I wouldn’t link the hell out of it, would I? This also means that people I want to read the blog can find it, but so can people I don’t.

I suppose I can’t really blame Mary Fisher and Jonathan Meiners for my own self inflicted censorship. At least they got me thinking about what I write and who it affects. I was no longer able to let it all hang out and became concerned with pissing people off. Who had I let myself become? Someone who cared what people think? That’s not me.

As kids came into my life, I censored myself a bit more, thinking they might stumble onto my blog and learn a few curse words; not that they didn’t already know curse words. I also didn’t want my now-husband’s family to think I was uncouth. Except, I am a bit uncouth. I curse like a sailor and I read Charles Bukowski. I write what’s on my mind as it comes into my mind. I don’t plan, I just write. I log in and whatever comes out, comes out. Or…that’s how it used to be, anyway.

I contradict myself. I am uncouth, but I am also gentile and fancy. I used to like the way I wrote. I took my lessons from Bukowski and Salinger; the two Ryes – “Ham on…” and “Catcher in the…”. I wanted to be eloquent, sweet, charming and a bit of artistic foul.

Jerky bosses and the clean minds of small children.

I used to date a guy who made me cry all the time. One night he said, “I’m not making you cry, you’re making yourself cry” I argued that no, indeed, he was making me cry. It wasn’t until years later that I understood what he meant. What he meant was that I controlled how things affected me. If someone called me an asshole, it was my choice to get upset. I could also call them an asshole right back. It was me choosing to react a certain way; not one person (besides me) controls how I feel. Now, not to say that mean boyfriends don’t have some effect on our emotions, but how we react is what matters. Let’s face it, I was probably crying to make him feel bad about the way he treated me.

On occasion, people say things that make me cry, but it’s always my choice to cry or not. I realized that life isn’t about what other people do to me, it’s how I react. If some fuckhead boss makes my life hell, I have options. Those options aren’t always clear, but in the end, what I do in relation to those heinous acts is my doing.

I chose to censor myself. Who I am and what I write is in direct correlation to who I decide to be and what I choose to write. It’s all on me. So, do I worry about pissing people off? Sure I do. Do I worry about hurting people’s feelings? You bet. Should I let that stop me from doing what I want to do? Well…let me get back to you on that one. This does not mean I give myself free license to say whatever I want despite who it hurts. I’m not that kind of person anyway. I don’t enjoy hurting people’s feelings.

This gets confusing when I stop to think about it. To be free and speak my mind, I must also censor myself to some extent. If my husband is acting like a jerk, it’s probably not a good idea to tear him a new one in front of the whole world. Those conversations are best left to private discussions – the way they’ve always been. I suppose it becomes an issue of respect. I respect my husband and his feelings. I care about him and saying he’s a jerk online probably wouldn’t make him feel good. Also, he’s not a jerk. If he was, I suppose I wouldn’t care either way. He is, in fact, a pretty sweet guy and I love him a lot.

So there…choices but on a case by case basis. Censorship and free will, with respect for my friends and loved ones. I guess it’s always been like that, but I can’t be afraid to cuss or complain about a hard day. Oh, and I also can’t complain about my clients. That would be bad.

With so many people to consider, whats the point, you may ask? Do the really bold writers worry about what their wives will say or do they just say it and take the consequences? It’s obvious that Bukowski didn’t give a shit what anyone said and he died a drunk. He was also a poet. There are always repercussions, I guess. Any writer must face the fact that not everyone will agree with them. My objective isn’t to alienate myself, but to get things off my chest…in a way that doesn’t hurt anyone? I can’t promise anything. Let’s just say I’ll try.

That horrible smell coming from the bathroom

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Friday, as I was walking passed the kid’s upstair’s bathroom, I caught a whiff of something rancid. I went in to inspect further, looking all around, I was unable to find anything. I began to suspect that maybe the kids had disregarded a bologna sandwich or worse, something had died in there.

stuartlittle2We’ve had issues with mice in the walls and attic. You may recall my heartfelt letter to the rat family we would be annihilating. Since then, we occasionally hear scratching in the walls, but haven’t gotten around to the second onslaught. In September, my littlest baby, Matilda, caught and killed one that dared enter our domain.

Then there was the random slaying of a small bird which was subsequently left under our bed as a gift. We were in Illinois for Thanksgiving and came home to tails of our cleaning lady’s discovery. We’re not sure how it got in the house and we’re unable to determine who the did the killing and presentation. My best guess is Matilda. She’s already got one live-kill under her belt and she’s the kind of crazy cat that would leave us dead animals, she seems the likely choice.

“Something dead”, you see, is not a far stretch. We live in a rather rural, tree-filled area of Pasadena and this sort of thing has become commonplace for us. I don’t like it very much, but this is where we live. There are rats and possum and stray cats and deer and coyote and squirrels and raccoons…oh my.

When the exterminators came the last time, they sealed up the walls pretty good. I realized this wouldn’t be enough to keep them out. If mice and rats want to come in, they will. Turns out, rats can squeeze through a hole no bigger than the size of a quarter. Awesome. Sealed out and caught never meant that the “smart” rats wouldn’t remain in the attic happily living off…whatever they find up there. Most likely practicing cannibalism and strange rituals. This also never meant they couldn’t figure out new and exciting ways to get into the house. I figure they’re getting in through the outside basement and climbing up the walls. This also means, you can’t ever totally get rid of them. Not fully. A constant battle for years on end.

At first I thought the horrible smell coming from the bathroom was a backed up toilet. Living in an old house, that kind of stuff seems to happen all the time. I filled the toilet with enzymes to clear any potential blockage. I closed the door. Later that night, I showed AJB the smell and was nearly knocked on my ass from the sheer potency of it; it had been closed off in a small room for hours. I couldn’t stand it! It was the most horrible smell I’d ever smelled. It was awful. I almost barfed! I also couldn’t get the smell out of my brain. Ick, ick, ick!!!!! Hands down, worst smell I’ve ever encountered…in my life.

AJB confirmed my worst fear that some mystery animal had died somewhere, most likely in the walls or attic. OK, now what? I called the Humane Society for advice. They referred me to the “under the house guy”, the guy that’s crazy enough to go into your attic or under your house to retrieve animal corpses. Turns out, the “under the house guy” is indeed a bit crazy. The next day, he talked my ears off about what he does, how he does it, how much it costs (although we never got a straight answer), and how he might have to use a *saw-zaw to cut through the walls – something he didn’t want to do. He repeated himself several times, never let me talk, and interrupted me when I tried. I told him I had to talk to my husband; a woman’s most helpful tactic when dealing with contractors and work people. When he called later, I let AJB handle it so he could understand my colorful description of the guy. This guy was nuts, but we hired him anyway.

He showed up, a little guy with a Tom Hattan beanie. He went up in the attic, looked around and determined it was in the walls. All he could do was spray high powered deodorizer. We would have to wait until the smell dissipated on it’s own. In Winter, that could take a month or so. The animal would turn to dust and bones, forever trapped in our walls. Which made me wonder: How many other corpses are lodged between the walls of our 100 year old home? Probably dozens.

Until the smell goes away, that bathroom is closed for business. We’ve left the window open hoping the rain doesn’t get in and mold the place up. As an added bonus, my allergies have been off the hook for days. I suspect it’s a dead animal allergy.

Sometimes owning a house isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

*He actually meant Sawzall, but pronounced it “Saw-Zaw”.

The Addams Family Musical SuckFest 2009

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Skipping over the real important aspects of my life like my wedding, my honeymoon, and how I spent my Thanksgiving vacation, I thought I’d concentrate on putting something up…anything. I came to the conclusion that I am often happiest when I write. Therefore, I shall write. I have also concluded that Twitter is, not the least bit, a heartfelt record of my life. And I need one.

I am by no means a theater critic. I do, in fact, hate a lot of theater. Since meeting my husband 5 years ago, he has dragged me (often kicking and screaming) to numerous theatrical productions of various types. These types range in quality from local theater to big productions starring famous people. Bless his heart, he does try to take me to shows he thinks I might enjoy; anything dark or weird.

Over time, my aversion to theater has lessened to the point where I am less inclined to kick and scream, but rather let out a few moans of “I guess so” when he asks if I’d like to see something. This has also geared me towards keeping a weather eye out for shows we can see together; as it’s something he thoroughly enjoys doing. It makes him happy and I enjoy seeing him happy. I’ve also seen enough shows now to have a firm grasp of what the good ones look like.

Vanity Fair Cast Photo

Vanity Fair Cast Photo

On our way back home from Paris, we stopped over in Chicago’s O’Hare airport. As we staggered through the terminal, I spotted a poster for the pre-Broadway production of The Addams Family Musical starring Nathan Lane and Bebe Neuwirth. I was a little more than excited. When we came home, we bought tickets. They were expensive.

A week later, we were back in Chicago for Thanksgiving. Tickets in hand, we ventured to the big city to see a show that couldn’t possibly disappoint. I mean, we’re talking Nathan Lane, Bebe Neuwirth, and the frickin’ Addams Family. How could we lose? OK, so it’s a musical, but Nathan Lane, Bebe Neuwirth, and the frickin’ Addams Family! As usual, I didn’t set out with the highest of hopes. We’d already heard that the show wasn’t very good, but that Nathan Lane brought it to the table and served it up right. I was looking forward to seeing Lane and Neuwirth do their thing. I mean, these are top quality actors we’re talking about!

To be fair, let’s start with what the show got right. The costumes for the Addams ancestors were gorgeous and rather well done.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way….

The Addams Family Musical was probably one of the worst shows I’ve ever seen. Nathan Lane was out sick and his stand-by, Merwin Foard, took his place. The sheer magnitude of dissatisfaction in this misfortune hovered over the audience like a thick fog. It was, needless to say, a severe let down and the audience never fully recovered.

The curtain opened to a whimsical tune about Wednesday Addams no longer being a little kid anymore and taking the fictional Addams oath to honor the family’s macabre way of life. Instantly, you could tell the girl playing Wednesday was going to get on your nerves (AJB’s 13 year old daughter hated her). Not only was she unable to evoke the spirit of Wednesday, she was, sadly, a stupid little brat which conjured thoughts of ripping one’s ears off.

The creators of this show thought it would be awesome to take our beloved Addams’ into a new direction. Wednesday was now 18, she was in love, rebelling against the strangeness of her family, and filled to the brim with teenage angst. While the creators attempted to keep some semblance of Wednesday in tact, despite her new found mutinous behavior, she wasn’t anything even remotely resembling the little girl clutching a decapitated doll we know and love. This girl they called “Wednesday” had somehow met a boy (a really normal dude) and fell in love. They made out all the time.

Despite claims in the Playbill that the creators would disinherit the TV show and films, the major plot of the story was “normal family meets Addams’ and freaks out”. So much for new ideas. Normal boy’s parents meet the family. All hell’s gonna break loose now! The stereotypical Ohio business man and his quirky, poetry-spouting wife come over for dinner. What could go wrong? Wednesday begs her not-normal family to act normal for one night. There was a song about it.

During the course of the evening, Morticia has a mid-life crisis, Pugsley accidentally poisons the normal mother (of which he is later apologetic), Grandmama flashes her crotch and discusses her sex-life, the family plays a made-up game called “Full Disclosure” in which the “adults” of the family drink wine and tell the truth. Not sure why. Wednesday throws numerous tantrums, Gomez whines about not understanding anyone, and Ohio Dad fucks a giant squid; after which I inadvertently spoke out, “what the hell?” Fester fades in and out of being a weirdo-pervert to a wise narrator who falls in love with the moon – eventually copulating with it. The subject of “sex” was a major topic – because, you know, Morticia and Gomez just bang all the time – it eventually became uncomfortable and creepy, but not in a good way.

Cousin “Itt” makes a brief appearance and so does Thing. Lurch is ever present, but because he doesn’t speak, he’s the least of our worries…that is, until his big number.

None of the above is actually half of the show’s overall problems. Problem was, the creators of the show just don’t get it. They have absolutely NO idea who the Addams Family are, what they’re about, or why we love them. Morticia would never, in a million years, have a mid-life crisis. Ten years in the future or not, she would not lament the appearance of crow’s feet. She would, in fact, rejoice that they were called “crow’s feet” and that like a fine wine, she only gets better with age. Gomez would continue his usual half-crazed antics, be cool, fence, crash trains, and smoke cigars. Pugsley and Wednesday would grow up, but continue to celebrate who they were. Grandmama would always be Grandmama and Lurch would always be Lurch. There is, you see, a great deal of pride in being an Addams. While I suppose it’s OK for characters to grow or change, they shouldn’t change into an entirely new family no one cares about. Because the TV show is an integral part of who the family is, you almost certainly can’t pretend it doesn’t exist.

They’re creepy and they’re kooky, mysterious and spooky, they’re altogether ooky, The Addam’s Family.

At their core, they are what a family should be. They’re not perfect and sometimes they embarrass you, but they love you for who you are…even if you’re dead, demented, or covered in hair. They are, above all, about tolerance, tradition, and love. The people who produced this musical totally missed the mark. They managed to turn the undying affection of Morticia and Gomez into a sleezy sex-fest. Yes, we know they bone all the time, but their implied love-making and copious amounts of arm kissing was always far more romantic. We don’t need it spelled out.

Aside from the horrifying diversion from the truest sense of the family, it was painfully obvious that the actors were aware of what they’d gotten themselves into. The missing Nathan Lane, replaced with the poor man’s version of “Raul Julia meets Robert Goulet” wasn’t able to pull off jokes Lane could have done in his sleep. Bebe Neuwirth, whom you’d assume would make the best Morticia ever, ended up looking like someone’s mom dressed as Morticia for Halloween – in one of those “Gothic Enchantress” costumes you see at Target. Frankly, Bebe just doesn’t have the cleavage to pull off the lowest of the low-cut Morticia costumes. And sadly, her big number “Second Banana” fell absolutely flat as it continued the theme of mid-life crisis comparing herself to an old plum. Morticia, insecure? Never. Ever.

Should I even talk about the cruddy set design? Talk about cheap. Just about everything looked borrowed from another show and none of it conveyed the grandeur of the Addams residence in all it’s Second Empire, deliciously dilapidated decor. Cobwebs? Not one. I also don’t have space/time to discuss the ugly choreography and the sad use of major-key songs versus minor (more spookier) songs.

The Addams Family Musical was disappointing on every level. We tried to think: Even if Nathan Lane had showed up, would it have made a difference? It might have…a bit. Nathan Lane is pretty awesome, but I’m not sure even the great Nathan Lane could carry a dead weight like this. Bebe couldn’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if this show ends up having one of the shortest runs on Broadway ever. They might even set a new record. Thing is, that’s sad. This show had the potential to be something truly amazing.

If it tells you anything, AJB’s kid’s have been making fun of “Second Banana” for days. If this wildebeest of a sham crosses your path, turn around and walk the other way. You’re better off renting the goofy Addams Family Reunion movie with Tim Curry and Darryl Hannah. That’s not saying much.