Jul 29 2009
By Jennifer Rizzi
When I first heard that "Warrior," an upcoming Lionsgate film starring Nick Nolte and Kurt Angle, would film in Oakland this summer, I quickly responded to the call for local extras. The "extra" -ordinary experience I got in return fulfilled two personal goals. Not only did it indulge my childhood dream of appearing in a movie, but it gave me a chance to earn some much-needed spending money during my summer break from college back in the ‘Burgh. To celebrate the experience, which one teary-eyed extra compared to "summer camp" on the last day of filming, I bring you a day in the life a movie extra below. Behold: "The ‘Warrior’ Diaries."
5:10 a.m. Wake up and wriggle into costume, pre-approved last week by the movie’s wardrobe personnel. We’ve been shooting scenes that span only one day in "movie time," so we’re supposed to look identical each day. That means my zebra-print tank top and dark skinny jeans have been getting their share of wear-and-tear lately.
6 a.m. No need to fight traffic during this eerily calm, pre-rush hour commute. Being the only car on the road makes me feel straight from the old "Twilight Zone" episode about the last person left on earth. Arrive at the Petersen Events Center a few minutes ahead of scheduled "call time." Still fall at the end of a lengthy check-in line that nearly runs out the door.
7 a.m. Help a group of first time extras navigate the area.I join them for breakfast, and we bond over fruit and cereal courtesy of Lionsgate studios.
9 a.m. Filming time. Stand in assigned place for three hours till toes throb in high heels. Distract myself from the pain by chatting with others in similar discomfort. Watch Kurt Angle stride through the door "in-character" with his fictional entourage. Play designated role of obsessed, screaming fan with other crowd members.
Take Two: Kurt Angle walks in, cheer again.Take Five: Repeat.Take Umpteen: Cheer for Kurt and wonder why the seemingly identical sequence had to be created yet again.
1-3 p.m. More takes. Cannot believe that I’m literally being paid to smile and clap when the camera is on and make small talk with nearby strangers when it’s not. Remind myself that money doesn’t usually come this easily in the real world.
5:45-10 p.m. Watch two film stars duke it out on-set in a staged fight. Tap into my acting roots and react to each punch. Become entertained by the mixed martial arts moves and make a mental note catch the real thing on TV sometime.
11 p.m. Wait in checkout line to validate pay voucher. Say good-bye to new friends. Exchange numbers but know that I probably won’t see them again. We simply made nice memories together in Movie Land, a place where time stands still and daylight may or may not exist. But like any other world removed from reality, it’s just so darn fun.
Jul 22 2009
By Jess Eagle
I went out for a friend's 21st birthday last night -- E. Carson Street, of course. When we were leaving the bar at 12:30, a big black blur ran by, followed by a small crowd of people.
The blur turned out to be a young German Shepherd with a collar and tags but no owner in sight.
The dog looked around frantically, ears down and tail between his legs. He ran from one spot on the sidewalk to another, stopping every few steps to raise his head and let out a sad, howling bark. Every once in a while, he ran toward the busy street, only to be stopped by the frantic shouts and whistles of the small crowd of people who didn't know him but desperately wanted him to live.
We could all tell he was lost and scared, and each wanted to rescue him. We crouched down, whistled and shouted, "here, boy!" But when the dog ran by, no one was brave enough to grab his collar. He was, afterall, scared, lost and confused -- not a very promising combo for anyone who put their hand near his neck.
For about 35 minutes, the dog darted back and forth E. Carson while about 4 police officers and a dozen concerned bar-hoppers tried to coax him into cars with bags of chips and reassuring calls. He sometimes stopped in the middle of intersections, and strangers ran after him to stop cars so he wouldn't get hit.
Eventually, he went up to a small, white car parked on the side of the street and tried to get in. No one was in the car, but the doors were unlocked. A police officer opened the back door, and the dog eaglerly jumped in. After closing him in the car, the officer opened the car's front door, took an iPhone from the seat, and began looking for a number to call.
A minute later, the owner innocently wandered up to the car, where his dog sat calmly in the back seat, just where he'd left him.
I reluctantly began to walk away as the officer shouted "Where the hell have you been? Do you have any idea what's been going on for the last half hour?"
I'm not sure how the dog got out, but word on the street that night was that he'd jumped through an open car window. Even if the windows were closed, the car doors were unlocked, and any drunk idiot could've opened the door to let the poor dog out to wander the street.
It's bad enough that the owner had left his dog in a car while he drank at a bar for at least half an hour, but leaving the doors unlocked and possibly a window down, too?
One girl, who had run out of her appartment with a leash to help, turned to me as the owner walked up to claim ownership of the dog he had carelessly neglected and that we had quickly grown attached to. She summed up my feelings perfectly: "Some people just shouldn't be allowed to own dogs," she said with a sigh.
Jul 15 2009
By Martine Powers/Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Anyone who's ever been to a midnight premiere of any movie — Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Twilight — is familiar with the particular brand of crazies that abound at these kinds of events. But the protesters at Tuesday night's premiere of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at AMC Loew's Theater in Homestead... well, in my book, they take the cake.
Jul 15 2009
Forty-four days after I arrived in Pittsburgh, I heard my first non-ironic use of the word "yinz" in conversation.
It was an exciting moment for me. I've been trying to fully immerse myself in Pittsburgh culture, so I've eaten at Primanti's, walked through the Strip District, watched the Penguins' victory from E. Carson Street and taken in a Pirates game.
I shop at Giant Eagle. I purchased a monthly bus pass. My house has a Pittsburgh john.
But up until yesterday, I had not heard "yinz" used in conversation. People told me I should listen for it, that true Pittsburghers used "yinz" in place of "you guys."
Really, you guys? Once I heard about this strange local tendency, I listened for it everytime I was involved in or overheard conversations, in the office, on the bus or in restaurants.
Forty-four days later, I finally heard it. I was interviewing a woman down near McKeesport, and she said it.
I stopped taking notes and looked up at her, probably smiling more than was appropriate. Hopefully, she didn't notice.
Yinz. Finally.
I thought yinz was the ultimate in Pittsburghese, until I turned to a Pittsburghese-focused Web site. Now there are a lot more phrases I want to hear.
So, for the next month, I'll be listening for:
Church key -- a bottle opener
Dahntahn - Downtown
Zapper -- TV remote control
Oh Mi-laundry -- Oh my gosh
And I'd still like to hear a few more "yinz" usages before I leave.
Jul 12 2009
By Jess Eagle
As a news intern, I'm not technically supposed to write about my stories. And I'm especially not allowed to reveal my bias.
But in the case of a story I spent the majority of last week reporting on, I'm going to break the rules because, quite frankly, I'm pretty sure no one could possible disagree with my opinion.
The volunteer firefighters of Allegheny County are one dedicated group of people.
Of the county's 215 fire departments, 205 are 100% volunteer. And even more are a combination of both volunteer and career.
These guys and ladies don't just respond to fire calls. In fact, that may soon be -- if it's not already -- one of the least time-consuming parts of their jobs. The majority spend countless hours each year fundraising so that their department can survive.
And the majority of calls they receive and respond to are not fires. They pry open car accident victims' cars, clean oil off the roads, rescue animals and even sometimes make the trip to your house to assure you that the gas you're smelling isn't going to blow you up.
That and much, much more. For no pay.
In a time when less and less people are volunteering -- not just at fire stations, but seemingly every other volunteer places as well -- the people who do take the time are volunteering longer hours and for more years.
The volunteer fire service is rapidly aging -- in the county and in across the country. Whether it's because more young people are working farther from home or are just less connected to their communities, much my generation just doesn't seem interested in helping anyone out for free.
Of course, there are many young people still volunteering -- in and outside the fire service. And the young firefighters I talked to this week seem just as dedicated to helping people out as the older volunteers did. And, with dwindling numbers and aging departments, they have to be more dedicated than ever.
So let's show them more appreciation than ever.
Jul 09 2009
Victor Zapana: We came. We watched. We reviewed. The opening performance of Pittsburgh CLO's "Les Miserables" occurred on Tuesday night, and we were invited by CLO to watch. Below are our thoughts on the three-decade-old piece on 19th century France.
P.S. Mine is on the bottom. Read it! Read it! I mean ... Read all of them. :)
It would've been easy for the Pittsburgh CLO cast of "Les Miserables" to fall under the sleepy spell of an overdone, well-known play. But they managed to do the exact opposite.
With an orchestra nearly double its normal size and a child taking on a role usually played by an adult, CLO rejuvenated the sometimes stale pop opera.
The orchestra put on an overwhelming performance that might have stolen the show if not for some equally outstanding acting and vocal performances.
Fred Inkley, playing the heroic but tortured thief-turned-Mayor Jean Valjean, set the bar for acting high, successfully holding the intricate, character-heavy plot together from scene to scene.
But Ashley Spencer as Eponine and Joseph Serafini as Gavroche collectively stole the show. Spencer stunned the audience with a commanding voice and drew an unusually hearty round of applause with her solo "On My Own." In her debut with CLO, she certainly made a lasting impression.
Although it wasn't his debut with CLO, Serafini surprised the audience for another reason: He's 11. In an exciting twist on the role of the young man Gavroche, Serafini leads the underdogs of Paris into their revolution with the promise that the "little people" will fight for their country, even though their country won't fight for them.
The mere notion of Serafini's singing about "little people" in his solo got the audience laughing, and when he's shot and killed in the revolution, his tiny wavering voice becomes nearly unbearable.
Although most of the company reiterated this passion, some fell just short.
Kate Loprest captured the timidity of Cosette but perhaps not always on purpose. In her vocal performances, Loprest obviously held back, revealing what seemed to be nerves.
Next to such energetic, loud co-stars, Loprest seemed out of place. Hopefully her nerves will dissipate as the show goes on.
Any negatives were outweighed many times over by the vigor of the cast, the dark, haunting beauty of the scenery and the near perfect music coming from the pit. CLO voters wanted "Les Miz," and they got an invigorated, gripping version.
-- Jess Eagle, jeagle@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1953.
I don't pretend to be a theater expert -- in fact, "Les Miserables" is the first non-high school, non-college play I've seen.
But despite my inexperience, when fugitive Jean Valjean (Fred Inkley) began singing his soliloquy beneath the haunting cerulean lights, asking, "He told me that I have a soul, how does he know?" I knew I was in for a musical gem.
The main characters' voices were powerful and compatible with their roles, from Eponine's (Ashley Spencer) plangent longing for Marius (Matthew Scott), to Javert's (Robert Cuccioli's) resonant conflict over what to do with the criminal-yet-merciful Valjean.
The characters, on the other hand, weren't always so well-matched. The romance between Marius and Cosette (Kate Loprest) unfolds so instantaneously that it seems implausible, even random. Love at first sight can be incredibly romantic and believable, but here, it is feeble and forced.
While the central romance of the tale is depicted unsuccessfully, the interaction between Eponine and Marius is much more complex and intriguing. Her unrequited love for him and his blindness toward her feelings is heartbreaking and authentically wrought, and makes each of her decisions -- from leading Marius to Cosette's house to delivering the letter -- doubly significant and wrenching.
Indeed, I found the highlights of the play to reside in the minor moments, plot twists and characters. Madame Phenardier (Sally Wilfert), for instance, was an absolute jewel, comically swindling her customers and stuffing silverware down her dress beneath the garish yellow light.
It was during moments like those, when the characters, music, set and lighting worked perfectly together, that an array of intertwining stories coalesced to form a stirring impression that lingers long after Cosette finds her castle on a cloud.
-- Liyun Jin, ljin@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1410.
On a downtrodden street in Paris, cast members of "Les Miserables" individually battle crime, love and redemption but come together to achieve a chest-thumping, and sometimes ear-splitting, journey through the city's poorest of poor.
The musical numbers in "Les Miz," directed by Barry Ivan, require strong voices, and the men and women in Pittsburgh CLO's cast deliver, bantering back and forth and hitting the high notes in songs such as "I Dreamed a Dream" and "A Heart Full of Love."
Like pinpricks, a few of the female voices get into the Alvin and the Chipmunks range, but it may only be the result of an effort to scream above the powerful orchestra, which was beefed up for the show.
Although the highlight of the show may have been the voices, the acting did not fall short.
Fred Inkley and Greggory Brandt, who both performed the show on Broadway, live up to their credentials. Joseph Serafini, the 11-year-old who plays Gavroche, looks to be about 6 but plays the role with booming confidence.
Scene transitions are flawless; a gigantic, slatted circular grate dangling above transforms the stage into a believable sewer. The only scenery issue may be the dinky bridge that comes out of the floor, wobbling as if someone is losing his balance beneath the stage during Javert's suicide -- a key scene.
Nonetheless, the good overrides the bad.
With but a few annoyances, the end of the show leaves you feeling floored -- in need of a few minutes to sit back and soak it all in before you walk out the door.
-- Danielle Kucera, dkucera@post-gazette.com or 412-263-3858.
Call me a drama-peasant or a theater know-nothing, but the extent of my life's encounters with "Les Miserables" can be summed by one thing: the viral YouTube video of Susan Boyle performing "I Dreamed a Dream" on "Britain's Got Talent" in April.
(That, and Katie Holmes' painful rendition of "On My Own" in season one of "Dawson's Creek." As could be imagined, the only-slightly-less-loony half of TomKat didn't do the song any justice.)
So it was with fresh eyes, to say the least, that I watched the Pittsburgh CLO's production of "Les Miserables" at the Benedum Center Tuesday night. And when it came to the music, I was dazzled. Each operatic solo and ensemble anthem soared; the voices were distinctive and powerful. Every actor brought out the best in Claude-Michel Schonberg's music.
But the CLO production of "Les Miz," as the show's been lovingly nicknamed, added little to the musical as originally written. Without the trademark revolving stage that I've heard is an integral component of most major "Les Miz" productions, the visual dimension of the production was dreadfully dull. Most every aspect of the set design was predictable and mundane; each barroom was indistinguishable from the others, and the gritty Paris streets looked like they belonged in a Disney theme park.
As for choreography, there was almost none. Actors performed beautiful songs while standing perfectly still in the middle of empty stages. And the march in the climactic "Do You Hear the People Sing?" was more the slow shuffle of a funeral dirge than the engulfing advance of student revolutionaries.
Only two dance scenes, the waltz of "Wedding Chorale" and the prostitutes' frolic in "Lovely Ladies," demonstrated some dynamic choreography. And no one gets bonus points for making a whorehouse exciting.
Still, the singing was transcendent, and more than enough to make me satisfied with the production. The dynamic, robust voices of Fred Inkley as Jean Valjean and Robert Cuccioli as Javert served as the foundation of the 31?2-hour production. Jacquelyn Piro Donovan's rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" nearly matched Susan Boyle's -- nearly -- and she was equally stunning in the finale song.
And while Kate Loprest and Ashley Spencer were both a bit shrill as Cosette and Eponine, they came together with Matthew Scott, playing Marius, to make a splendid harmony in "A Heart Full of Love."
So buy a ticket to Les Miz; walk in, sit down and close your eyes. While there might not be much to see, the soaring music could make you forget why you need to see anything at all.
-- Martine Powers, mpowers@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1308.
A successful production of "Les Miserables," the musical based on Victor Hugo's 1862 novel about revolutionaries in France, should make the audience want to join the people's crusade.
Pittsburgh CLO's opening-night performance of the play didn't make me stand up and join the people, but I could "hear the distant drums."
The show moved quickly, even without the aid of the stage floor turntable other "Les Miserables" productions famously employ. The orchestra, to my untrained musical ear, was a strong point of the show, as it led us on the journey of Jean Valjean, a man released on parole after 19 years on the chain gang. Valjean decides to become an honest man and rises to a position of respect as mayor. He takes responsibility for Cosette, the daughter of one of his workers, but his whole life, Valjean is pursued relentlessly by Inspector Javert, played brilliantly by Robert Cuccioli. If I was being chased for years, I'd want it to be by someone with a voice like Cuccioli's.
Matthew Scott, playing Marius, the student revolutionary and Cosette's love interest, put in another strong performance, especially in his solo "Empty Chairs at Empty Tables," following the defeat of his fellow revolutionaries.
Valjean, played by Fred Inkley, was persuasive as a strong, reformed man devoted to Cosette's happiness. He aged a little quickly for the plot, and during the main battle scenes, I wondered if his heart would survive the strain. My worries about Valjean turned to his mental health when, during a battle, he pointed his gun up toward the front of the stage, away from the enemy.
Maybe he saw one of Javert's cohorts sneaking around the back of the barricade.
Although some of the singers seemed off key and not invested at times, I was impressed by the strength and quality of all the cast members' voices. It's a beautiful story, and Pittsburgh CLO delivers an enjoyable, entrancing performance.
Go see it before "tomorrow comes."
-- Kaitlynn Riely, kriely@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1468.
Although I've never attended a "Les Miserables" production without contracting a cathartic case of the sniffles, the Pittsburgh CLO's new interpretation, which opened Tuesday night to a standing ovation at the Benedum Center, was the most genuinely touching live performance I've seen to date.
Its phenomenally talented crop of singers, whose soaring voices complement each other to acoustic perfection, know how to make the musical most effective -- they let it shine on its own merit. They explore Boublil and Schonberg's melodies to their full potential, and nail harmonic highs that define signature songs such as "Do You Hear the People Sing" and "One Day More."
Although it was the smallest professional "Les Miz" cast in my recent memory, the actors exhibited a collective sound quality and a committed energy that never flagged. The show's difficult score, littered with short solos from a variety of different voices, demands a high level of vocal competence from all cast members -- not just the leads. The rapid switches between singers seemed instinctual and seamless, however, and each voice matched its peers so well in timbre and volume that it was difficult to determine exactly when the changes occurred.
Unlike the disappointing and disjointed 2006 Broadway revival at the Broadhurst Theatre, the CLO voices seemed cohesive rather than competitive. Also, director Barry Ivan smartly stuck to traditional takes on the ballads instead of distracting us with unnecessary innovation (maybe he learned from the 2006 revival's dreadful, 1960s-style folksy rendition of "Drink With Me.")
Fred Inkley, who reprises his lead role from a previous Broadway run (like many of the other performers), is the most vocally capable Jean Valjean I've seen since Colm Wilkinson. He sustained phrases that lazier singers commonly clip to a dramatic whisper, and his meaty falsetto hit the impossible high notes in "Bring Him Home" head on with justified confidence -- instead of just breathily hovering around them.
I'd always been a bit jaded about Javert since watching Phillip Quast own the role in a recording of the 1998 London "Dream Cast" concert. Others who followed were usually impressive technical singers, but none could match the fierce dramatic depth that Quast brought to the part. The CLO's Robert Cuccioli, however, did that and one better. Without losing Javert's ferocity, he bested Quast's sometimes-nasal vocals with a rich and throaty baritone that reverberated threateningly against the Benedum walls.
Ashley Spencer, who was the runner-up two years ago on NBC's talent search "Grease: You're the One that I Want," is a crisp belter whose pleasant voice is a nice fit for Eponine, and Bethel Park's own Joseph Serafini, a fifth-grader at Neil Armstrong Middle School, seems right at home alongside the Broadway veterans with his endearing Gavroche.
The CLO's riveting rendition of "Les Miserables" reminds us why the show doesn't owe most of its fan base to stagecraft or spectacle. The simplicity of a good story set to beautiful music turned it into a theatrical classic -- which the CLO has turned into a touching tour-de-force. My only moment of discomfort in the whole three-hour show came when an eager viewer behind me couldn't restrain herself from singing along (a little too loudly) at the end of the first act. Which, I guess, is another indication of a job well done.
-- Jennifer Rizzi, 412-263-1985 or jrizzi@post-gazette.com.
The Susan Boyle phenomenon troubles me.
Boyle was thrust into the limelight three months ago after she performed the popular ballad "I Dreamed a Dream" from "Les Miserables" during the reality television series "Britain's Got Talent." At the time, only 10 million people viewed the audition, according to Playbill.com. But fans posted the recording to YouTube and other Web sites, and within weeks, tens of millions watched the one-hit sensation.
No doubt Boyle's portrayal has pushed "Les Miz" -- a play of the June Rebellion, a revolution that failed in Paris in the 1800s, a fight against the poverty and misery of old France -- back into the spotlight.
Online downloading of the original London cast recording of the song shot up in the weeks following the audition, broadcast April 11. And to date, the online recordings of Boyle's audition have amassed more than 100 million hits.
I have seen the audition on YouTube about half a dozen times. Boyle is very good; some of her personal angst shines through in her singing, an eclectic yet fitting complement to the emotional power of the song. Boyle sings as a toad croaks; both do it naturally. I thought of her as I watched Pittsburgh CLO's opening night performance of "Les Miz" at the Benedum Center.
It was Jacquelyn Piro Donovan's turn to perform the song, sung by Fantine, soon-to-be-deceased French mother of pure Cosette. She appeared rattled; her colleagues had just discovered she had an illegitimate child! Sacre bleu! The time of old France meets the modern age of Pittsburgh, a city that is relatively blossoming in the United States despite the economic recession. The stage was set for a spectacular piece of regret and hopelessness!
Her performance did not thrill me. She did not exude the forcefulness that Boyle did. Donovan was on-key, but added an awkward harshness to the delicate abandon of the song's words.
That same harshness worked well in "Lovely Ladies," a delightful debauchery of French prostitutes. Nonetheless, Boyle is no prostitute, and I like that. I esteem her performance more than Donovan's.
This is what troubles me.
Donovan is clearly the better actress and did an overall fine job as Fantine. Yet my heart still sides with Boyle's performance, as it does with Elaine Paige's, Lea Salonga's, Patti LuPone's.
It's the revolution of reality television, a movement that I fear may defeat theater.
-- Victor Zapana, vzapana@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1956.
Jul 08 2009
By Jess Eagle
The SummerBurgh interns were invited to the Pittsburgh CLO's opening night of "Les Miserables" tonight, which we of course accepted. After a grueling day at the office, we set out in search of food downtown -- something we could eat in less than an hour and a half, and something that would fit within our summer interns' budgets.
Who knew such a thing could be so difficult?
You would think (I sure did) that a city with an aging and shrinking population would want to attract young people to its center, its cultural district. But this doesn't seem to be the case.
We had planned on going to one particular restaurant before we left the office that day. We had already looked at the menu and knew it was not only within our price range but also within three blocks of the Benedum. Unfortunately, that restaurant was "technically a lounge," the hostess informed us, as she asked for our IDs. As some of the SummerBurghers are not yet 21, we turned around and set out to search for a new destination.
Next, we ducked into an Italian place. Ahhh, Italian, the good old, inexpensive staple. You can't go wrong with Italian. We grabbed a menu, just to check it out as we waited. Yikes! Apparently you can go wrong with Italian. The prices were higher than the hostess' nose when we turned to leave.
We wandered desperately across the street to a grill like 7 lost tourists. The grill's prices were even higher! When we asked the hostess, who looked to be exactly our age, where we could get a decent meal for a decent price, she directed us to Arby's and McDonalds. Thanks, friend.
Eventually, we struck gold. A Chinese/Japanese/Thai place with decent prices, no wait and the proper name of "restaurant" rather than "lounge." Thank god for the Lemongrass Cafe, is all I have to say. They saved our broke butts and sent us on our way to Les Miz just on time. They even fed us some delicious food in the process.
The moral of the story: if a group of young people has to wade so deeply through Pittsburgh's cultural district for a simple, decently priced meal, what sort of signal is the area sending to young people? It seems to me like restaurant owners either don't think young people could possibly take an interest in "culture" or simply don't want them around. Rather than looking to attract the next generation of theater-goers and symphony-enthusiasts, these restaurants are driving them away.
Jul 07 2009
By Danielle Kucera
I've been on a tour de theme parks lately (I went to Kennywood and Cedar Point), and although the 420-foot coasters and greasy food more than satisfied me, I still have one unresolved question: Where in the heck do all the strange people who visit those places congregate during the rest of the year?
It baffles me. Do the men wearing faded T-shirts with holes (and not natural holes -- more like three feet of material intentionally cut out of the neck area in a misshapen, jagged oval) have a bin of theme park attire they tuck away during the winter? Are they trying to show off their shoulders?
Goodwill sells better-looking T-shirts for $2, and if the people can pay the admission price, surely they can afford a T-shirt that is entirely intact.
I saw 50-year-old women wearing one-piece bathing suits with a thin line of cloth stretched across their stomachs, leaving the hips exposed and only just securing their chests.
I saw 20-year-old men showing skin under sleeveless T-shirts slit from the armpit to an inch above the bottom, so that, other than the shoulder seams, the sides of the shirt were wide-open. The next best thing to going shirtless, I guess?
Shutter shades, mullets, tattoos. One girl had two huge tattoos on the back of her thighs, which was a new one for me.
And probably more than anything else, I saw women wearing clothing so tight it made it difficult for me to breathe. Or in other words, I saw a lot of cellulite that easily could have been hidden by adding three inches to the length of the (always jean) shorts they were wearing.
It's like all of the people who ever appeared on TLC's "What Not to Wear" got together for a convention and decided to take a trip to an amusement park, except it reoccurs every day.
I get throwing on an old pair of shorts and a faded T-shirt; I had on an Argentina soccer jersey and jeans, so it's not like I would have won the best-dressed award. But these outfits actually took effort.
Scissors had to come into play. The woman with that bathing suit had to take the time to figure out what limb went in what hole in the midst of all that stringiness going on.
Honestly, though, these people have my respect. It is pretty impressive that such a massive group has both the creativity to construct these outfits and the gall to wear them in public with such confidence.
And who cares what people think anyway? You're at a theme park; you're there to get your hair blown out of place by 90 mph roller coasters and to get soaked on water rides.
Usually you're hanging out with family or close friends, and no one cares what they look like around their family.
The people who put thought into their outfits are the ones who end up looking like idiots.
Maybe I'm the one who missed the memo -- the one that says going to a theme park is a free ticket to be yourself, to let it all out without having to care if your co-workers or classmates smirk at you.
I'm thinking of seeing how my T-shirt-shearing skills hold up next time I go. I feel like I'm missing out on all the fun.
On second thought, forget it. The theme park fashionistas would huddle by the Jack Rabbit, laughing and pointing at my sad attempt to cut my shirt into strips and weave it back together like a basket.
I don't know who these people are, or if they have conventions or T-shirt-cutting classes, but I hope they keep hanging out at theme parks around the world. I love them; they make standing in line for two hours so much more entertaining.
Jul 02 2009
By Liyun Jin
Thank you, colleague Mark Belko, for saving me from a painful, wreckage-filled death.
Around noon on Thursday, July 2, I left the Post Gazette building to do some reporting in Homestead.
Pencil and notepad in hand, I eagerly climbed into the white Jeep I'd signed out (full tank!) and drove out of the back parking lot.
I was just getting the radio adjusted and heading southwest on Fort Pitt Boulevard when I spotted my business section colleague Mark Belko waving his arms with gusto near the Blattner Brunner sign.
Well, hello there!
Wait, I think he's trying to tell me something. I switched into the left lane, pulled up near him, and rolled down my window.
"YOU'RE DRIVING THE WRONG WAY!"
Oh. My. God.
Immediately, I drove into a random garage and backed out -- in the correct direction -- onto the street, turning the car around. But not without first blocking off the entire road with the clunky Jeep and inciting a lot beeps by drivers whom I nearly crushed with my non-rearview-mirror-using ways.
The point is, thank you, Mark Belko, for saving my life. Without you, I would have never realized that I was driving the wrong way on a one-way street and would probably be lying in a hospital bed right now, not to mention I would've completely missed my deadline. Wherever you are, kind sir -- God bless. I am forever grateful.
Jul 01 2009
By Liyun Jin
As I was cruising around on Twitter a few minutes ago, I noticed that the top trending topic was #moonfruit.
Moonfruit? As a self-proclaimed tropical fruit enthusiast, I was surprised to find myself befuddled. What in the world was moonfruit? Sounds yummy!
I conceived a vague image of a cross between a dragonfruit, a durian, and a lychee. That is, until I clicked on the hashtag and uncovered that moonfruit wasn't a fruit at all.
In fact, it seemed like no one knew what moonfruit was. Pages and pages of tweets went along the lines of:
"WTF is #moonfruit???"
"But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the #moonfruit."
"#moonfruit #moonfruit #moonfruit"
Naturally, I was intrigued by this mysterious moonfruit. And in the face of any unknown, I turned to Google.
However, there was no fruit in sight under the Images tab -- just photographs of kittens, maps, and women with "Come hither" expressions. Hm, that can't be right.
Under the Web tab, though, I finally found the answer!
It turns out that Moonfruit is a "free Website builder," and the #moonfruit hashtag is a promotion to celebrate the company's 10th birthday.
Every day for 10 days, Moonfruit is giving away a free MacBook Pro to a someone who includes "#moonfruit" in his/her tweet. Each tweet with the hashtag counts, and one winner is chosen at random.
Ahhh, that makes a lot more sense! Clever, clever! Judging from the top trends list on Twitter right now, as well as my own fascination, the marketing strategy is working. As someone interested in the use of Twitter for marketing purposes, I was thoroughly impressed.
But then I began to wonder, what does this sort of thing mean for the future of Twitter--as a social networking tool? Other marketers are bound to take note of the successful Moonfruit campaign and follow suit. But each business promotion, and the tweet spam it encourages, takes Twitter one step away from its original purpose: to keep users up-to-date on their friends' activities.
After all, the ubiquitous question above the tweet box is "What are you doing?" And unless you're an employee, the names of random companies or brands certainly don't answer that question.
With more viral hashtags like #moonfruit clogging up Twitter feeds, the site will probably become a swamp of irrelevant tweets. People annoyed with random messages filled with the names of brands and absent of real updates will probably stop using the site.
Then, Twitter will cease to be a tool for connecting users with friends. It'll be like a telephone pole plastered with signs and and posters and pockmarked with tacks: everyone uses it to advertise, but no one reads or cares about what's posted.
In the matter of minutes, I had at once seen the rise and fall of Twitter. All this, from interest piqued by moonfruit.
Curiosity did kill the cat, I suppose. Except in this case, it killed my passion for Twitter.
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