Glee Rocks the Horror Show (Spoiler Alert and Adult themes)




Chris Colfer as Riff Raff

Confession: Even though my mother forbade me from seeing Rocky Horror as a child, I did see it as an adult in Tulsa and I like it.

“Rocky Horror was never about artists pushing the envelope. It was about misfits trying to find a place to belong.” – Will Schuester from Glee. I didn’t write it down, but I think that is what he said. Maybe not those words exactly, but the meaning at least.  I’ll be honest, I turned on the TV last week expecting RH and when it wasn’t on, I thought Tulsa had banned it and boy was I mad. I have fallen in love with those kids — for reals, not the characters, but the people behind them. I wanted to see them try their best at Rocky Horror.

I know, I know, they are not kids, they are adults, but I am 45 years old and to me, they are kids.  I am in awe of their talent and I want them to succeed, and you know they pulled it off. I’m so stinkin’ proud, you’d think I really was their mother.

I knew Fox was going to have to clean it up a lot to make it on the 7:00 pm time slot and so they made some changes. They cast a female (Mercedes, played by Amber Riley ) as Dr. Frank-N-Furter, an alien transvestite from the planet  Transsexual, Transylvania instead of having a male play that role and I half expected that. Dang that girl can saaang, as we say down south.  They also cleaned up the Touch Me scene between Janet and the Creature and made it a practice scene between Will and Emma. The only thing that really ruined this for me was the insipid story between Will and Emma — he puts on Rocky Horror for no reason other than to impress her and perhaps win her heart. — I am beyond bored with that story line. The writers are turning him into a predatorial male skank. Sorry, but you know I’m right.

Now, who truly stole my heart tonight? — Chris Colfer as Kurt Hummel playing Riff Raff. I was disappointed that he only got to open Time Warp and not really sing. This young man stole my heart in season two. I LOVE Chris. His voice and his talent just make me cry.

Now, I’m going to address something I don’t normally address here — Chris is gay, and I don’t care. In a perfect world we’d be able to talk about artists without talking about their sexuality, but this isn’t a perfect world. I’m bringing it up because some of my friends are upset over Glee’s alleged agenda this year and I’m annoyed.  This isn’t an issue I normally take a stand on, but for one day, I’m going to. I believe homosexuality is biogenetic. It isnt’ a choice, it just is what it is. I know, I know, AND I’m a Christian, how can that be? Easy, I am friends with people who are gay. You know, I talk to them. Have meals with them. Send them Christmas cards. Friends in the truest sense of the word. And they aren’t my “gay friends” either. They’re just my friends. These are people I’ve known since 6th grade for some, my 20’s for others. They are some of my closest and most trusted of inner circle people in my life.  

Like everyone else that I am close to, I know their stories,   I know their hearts and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that for them, they didn’t ask for this and would not possibly CHOOSE this life. Especially not with all of the hatred and abuse they’ve suffered because of it. Unfortunately, most of that abuse has been at the hands of Christians. I am a Christian. Knowing that, breaks my heart.

I co-chaired a fundraiser years ago for an interfaith non-profit. My other co-chair hired a male singer for entertainment without my approval. I won’t list his name, but wow he was beautiful. He could sing like nothing I’ve ever heard. He had these blue eyes that could melt medusa. He was also gay.  I protested her choice, not because he was gay, but because there were going to be pastors at this event and I was afraid for his well-being. I lost the debate and sure enough, I watched grown men make asses out of themselves and pop out of their seats every time this young man sat down. My mother’s heart just broke and I wanted to wrap him in my arms and bring him home with me.  He handled it as well as I guess can be expected, but I cannot imagine having to put up with that kind of behavior my whole life. I’d be crushed.

A Facebook “friend” posted a comment that “Chris from Glee says people used to make fun of him when he was in school. Gee I wonder why.” and I wrote “Because people are idiots.” and then unfriended him. My youngest son is an artist and a bit on the flamboyant side. He’s straight, but he’s been abused and ridiculed and accused of many things simply because he doesn’t fit some predetermined mold of “masculinity” whatever that is. My other son is brilliant and was abused so badly at his first high school that we had to change schools because I was afraid he was becoming suicidal.

My oldest son is the one who turned our family on to Glee and we’ve been watching since season two. Fox upped the ante’ this season by focusing a little more on Kurt’s life as an openly homosexual male in high school. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what to make of it at first. As we’ve watched though, I find these episodes to be very educational to my boys. The writers for Glee are being compassionate in their portrayal of a young man finding his way. They are doing a great job covering both sides of the equation, and for that I am thankful.  My favorite episode to date (RH not withstanding) is the Grilled Jesus episode where each of these kids – and the adults — contemplate their faith. Kurt’s answers about why he doesn’t believe in God, broke my heart.

Kurt speaks of a God who made him, he’s gay, it isn’t a choice, and yet God also created his followers who hate him, so either God is masochist or he isn’t real. I have several gay friends who tell me the same thing and you know, I think there is something drastically wrong with Christianity if hatred is all they see. Just sayin.

Having said that, I appreciate  the honesty that these writers are bringing to the show. I hope they win an Emmy this year.

A comic friend of mine said that “Comics come from the land of Misfit Toys.” I agree. We do. Maybe, that’s why I like Rocky Horror so much. I’m a misfit too.

Until next time my dear friends, I leave you with The Time Warp, Ala the Glee Cast. Enjoy.

This post is written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. October 26, 2010. I reserve the right to delete all comments that are rude, abusive, off topic or just down right snarky. Please be courteous to others. Thank you.

Monday Menu: October 25, 2010

Stuffed Peppers
Image via Wikipedia

I didn’t post a menu last week, and you know what happened? I didn’t follow a plan and I didn’t lose weight. hmm. Coincidence? I doubt it. I learned something though. After two weeks of no sugar and not much flour, I had energy, my stomach didn’t hurt, and I just felt better all the way around. Last week, I ate sugar and flour and had stomach aches and head aches all week. That, and I also gained three pounds. Healthy eating does not happen by accident, therefore as annoying as menu planning is to me (I’d much rather wait and see what I feel like eating than plan it) planning works. We have worked the following things into our menu so far:

SUNDAY: We are not the big Sunday Dinner family type. Sunday is church and football and my day off. I provide a buffet of choices, sandwiches, snacks, fruit and whatever else the guys can grab and go during game day — once in a while I’ll throw in slow cooker chili made on Saturday night  or left over meat from Saturday, but that is really about all.

SATURDAY: Used to be our sports day and Jeff’s work day at the Mission Start. Now that D-man is no longer playing soccer and Jeff only works at the plant every other week, we’ve changed Saturdays to family night.  Saturdays are my red meat nights, whether it’s a roast, or stew or something else, I make sure to plan a good dinner on Saturdays.

MONDAY AND FRIDAY: Fish night. — I am not a big fish eater, I’m not even a  fish cooker, but with my now being on blood pressure medicine, my doctor has encouraged me to expand my horizons and learn how to cook fish so there you go.

TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY: Are Chicken and or Turkey and sometimes pork.

THURSDAY: Is my 100% vegetarian night. This is where I really get to be creative and work up dishes that taste wonderful and are nutritious.

We all lead very busy lives, and I won’t always follow this plan, but it’s a start. 

My Menu for this week is simple:

Mon – Salmon with fingerlings potatoes and green beans.

Tue – Red Wine Pork Chops 

Wed: Stuffed Peppers

Thurs: Ratatouili on spaghetti squash

Friday — I’m performing in Yukon on Friday, and so we’ll be eating out.

Saturday: Jeff is at Ablaze and Dillon is at a dance – I’ll be home alone (between playing chauffeur) and will simply make slowcooker chili to be enjoyed on Sunday.

And that’s my plan for this week. What’s yours?

Fall Break: Letting Go Again

“Mom, could you please take your hands off the ceiling of my car? You’re freaking me out.” — D-man yesterday as he drove home from school.

I rode with my youngest for the very first time yesterday. He did great. I looked like spider woman with my arms splayed in every direction and my feet pumping imaginary breaks at various points of our 10 mile drive home from school. Learning how to drive is a rite of passage that I wasn’t sure D-man would ever have. He’s had epilepsy since he was six and until we got it under control, driving was a non issue. He hit his two-year seizure free mark on October 5. One more year, and we can buy life insurance. I am happy for him and sad all at once.

DH taught our oldest to drive, and I didn’t ride with him until he had his license. Because of D-man’s busy daytime schedule of high school and Vo-Tech, we are in the car a lot. It only makes sense that I  let him drive as much as possible even if it means my learning how to not hang onto the ceiling. While, I’m happy for him there is a real part of me that knows my baby is spreading wings, and I have to let go a little more. He’s a junior this year, and he’s already told us that he plans on leaving for Nashville once he graduates. Oh boy.

To keep me on my toes, our oldest called on Sunday to let us know that fall break starts on Wed, BUT he wants to go to Texas with some buddies for a couple of days and he’ll be home for the weekend. It seems there is this girl that he met through a friend – via Skype – and they are planning on meeting in person. Telling me he wanted to go to Cancun with his buddies for Spring Break would have scared me less than this. I was in a funk for two days. He’s 19, and he crossed state lines to meet a girl! sigh.

This is  a wonderful season for my guys. They are testing their wings, and as a mom I have to let them, even when I want to strap myself to their sun visor like some Saint Christopher amulet. We’ve raised them well. All I can do is keep creating a home worth coming home to – and good memories for them to keep in their hearts and trust that God knows the plans he has for them, plans not to harm them but to give them a future and a hope. (Jer 29:11) God doesn’t have grandchildren.

We gave them wings, guess I should let them fly hunh?

Tulsa Oktoberfest Starts Tonight

Tulsa Oktoberfest was rated in top ten Oktoberfests in the country according to USA Today.  I wouldn’t go when the kids were little, but now that they are older, we try to go every few years or so during the day. It’s always a fun time for the family.  Many people from our church work in the beer tents (It’s a Lutheran Thing) and being German we do like to celebrate our heritage. Proceeds from Oktoberfest benefit Tulsa’s Parks and Recreation. Daytime activities, include rides, arts and crafts, fun music and great German Food. For more information, check out the Oktoberfest Web Page.

Wordless Wednesdays: 1989

It was 80’s week on Facebook last week and we were asked to post pictures of ourselves from that hilarious decade. Do any of you remember the Aqua-Net fog in the girls locker room? I still have hair big enough to have its own zip code. My scanner isn’t working, but I do have a picture of my sweetie and I at a wedding in Chicago, 1989.

We met in October of 1988 — he worked in Customer Service at Sprint-United and I worked in IT. He spilled coke on his keyboard and I replaced it with an apparently defective refurbished keyboard. He swears I did that on purpose. Poor man asked me out several times and one day I finally told him that “I don’t normally date men I work with.”

His response?  “That’s okay because I’m not normal.”

We went on our first date on December 3, 2008 — He took me to a really fun pizza place, off  Touhy and Dempster in Chicago and then to a comedy club. We’ve been together ever since and he is still my favorite man on the planet.

Of Mice and Meaning: Part Two

I’m in a mood. It’s not good or bad, it just is… ever been there? You’re female, I’m guessing you’ve been there what three times already today? laugh. Me too.

Our neighbors are fighting. I can hear him destroying her gardens with a weed eater and she’s yelling at him to go inside and cool off.  I scrub floors when I need to cool off — men build or deconstruct. That or they go find a man cave and veg.  He’s cooling off just fine, she just wants him to cool off — on his turf, not hers. They are newlyweds and the house they moved into was her house. The gardens he’s destroying have been the envy of the neighborhood for years. This might not end well. I predict tears soon.

Mine is a mood that comes when I know I’m stuck and need to get unstuck. It’s not a turf war unless you consider the new ground I’m trying to break. Somewhere along the last few years I decided that learning how to be fearless would be a good thing. Hiding in cave doesn’t get me there. Neither does scrubbing my floors.

I “get” the dream I had last week — being fearless doesn’t mean being a bitch. Nor can one be fearless by being a people pleasing doormat with no sense of self. And you can’t be fearless and full of self-pity at the same time..

I told you last week that Jim’s book kicked me in the gut — it did. Do you know how I know I was reading truth? I started feeling sorry for myself – a sure sign that I needed to keep reading. Turns out I left out a key ingredient in my new adventures. I forgot to define what kind of woman I want to be. I know, I know – My kids are grown and almost moved out, I’m doing stand up, my husband travels — I tell people all the time that I’m the ADHD Bouncy Ball of Tulsa that keeps my family moving. Who needs definition? Well, turns out it might be a good thing after all. Besides, I can already tell that my husband is at great risk of being mothered by me, and that as we all know is bad.

In chapter 2 of Real Men, Jim writes” and so he asked me, when the (deleted) are you going to grow up and become a man?…to do that he told me I had to define what kind of man I was…there is a big difference between knowing what you want to be and defining it…”

Are you following me here?. Growing up isn’t just about finding a man, settling down and raising a family. Sure that’s a great thing, and maybe for you a big part of it, but if you — or I — don’t define for ourselves WHO we are, we leave ourselves open to the waves of opinion and emotion, and have no home turf. There is nothing more draining on a man – or woman really – whose mate uses them as their only mirror of self-esteem and knowledge. Wanting to be fearless and going back onstage isn’t going to do me a darn bit of good if I don’t have clearly defined direction. My spine will be crushed under the weight of need.

He goes on to write: ” the kid has a goal in mind, but has yet to develop his definition of himself…he needs to identify a few things that define his goal…we as men (sic women too) need to take back our sense of self, define who we are and stand by it, instead of listening to what other people want us to be and then trying to stuff ourselves into that mold…once you figure out what is important to you, you have to stand by it..Most (people) have not defined who they are, and have not come up with their terms.”

 Part of learning how to be fearless — involves action. Willingness (to be fearless) without action is fantasy — I say that a lot. I thought I was the right track, and yes and no.  I missed a step or twelve. So that’s why I’m in a brood. (which my word for moodiness caused by brooding.) Instead of defining what I want that closet to be filled with, I’m coasting, hopeing someone else can define it for me — that way if it doesn’t work out? I have someone else to blame.

That’s really what coasting and people pleasing is you know — a passive form of blameshifting. The victim of this tactic is usually our parents or significant other.

This is actually really good advice. And it’s something I apparently needed to be reminded of.

To quote my friend Pam – also from Chicago I might add — this my friend is AFGO. Another Fantastic (not the word she used) Growth Opportunity. Yes, Pam it is..

It’s not all loss. I’m moving forward, I just need to go back and fill in some gaps even if I am ADHD and would rather wing it. What about you? Do you have your road map? Or are you just coasting along hoping someone else navigates thereby letting you off the hook? It’s okay if you are, recognizing that is a great start – – don’t stop there — do something about it. I am, starting today.

Book Review: Real Men Don’t Apologize by Jim Belushi

Real Men Don’t Apologize

James Belushi

  • Hardcover: 288 pages
  • Publisher: Hyperion; 1st ed/1st printing edition (May 9, 2006)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 1401301827
  • ISBN-13: 978-1401301828
  • WARNING: This is not my typical kind of post and I’m not sure it’s family friendly — but it is 100% me. Like it or leave it. Remember that dream I had about Jim last week? Well, I decided to dig into it and see if perhaps I might be able to learn something – so I bought his book. I never watched According to Jim because it was on Tuesdays and well, Fox rules Tuesday night. ;-D I have no idea what that show is about, but I do know about the book. I’m giving it 4 stars out of 5.

    Okay, I’ll admit it, I used to cry when Mr. Rogers came on TV. Why? Because he scared me.  My Grandfather owned a hardware store near Syracuse NY, and the rest of the men worked in construction.  My mother was a book-keeper for several construction companies. I had men around, they just didn’t wear cardigan sweaters and penny loafers. The men in my life came with blood, sweat, tears, mouths and beer. Mr Rogers looked like the creepy neighbor up the street all the kids were told to stay away from.

    Surrounded by construction, and raised by a single Mom, it’s really no surprise that I grew up to become the only female on an all male crew at Sprint Communications in Chicago back in 1987. These guys taught me everything I know about hard work, telecom and the essentials of smoking, drinking and swearing. (Something my husband has spent 22 years trying to unteach me) Even my Father-in-law was a Teamster and he taught me how to play poker and let me swear when his son wasn’t around. Dad is gone now, but oh I loved him.

     As frequently as I’d punch one of guys I worked with in the arm for “being a pig” I always knew I was the safest when I was with my crew. I could trust them — because they were men who behaved like real men when it counted. They protected me when I needed protection and they kicked me in the backside when I needed that as well. They were honest and they were real.

    The only exception to this rule is the married slime ball who tried to sleep with me when we were on a job together in Dallas. I turned him down and it wasn’t pretty. He was kinda mad. My shift manager found out and after verbally reaming me for being so stupid (I’d been flirting with the guy because I thought I could get away with it.) he sent me back to Chicago. The guys took me out, and filled me in on the facts of life, like I’ve never heard – the complete and unabridged version not fit for this blog.

    I was only 22, on my own for the first time and grateful to have men in my life who gave it to me straight, held me accountable, and protected me when needed. I owe a lot of who I am as a women today, to these men.  I never saw dipshit again. Rumor has it they sent him to work with the rats in the sewers. I’ve been to our warehouse on Wacker drive, I’ve seen those rats. (They are bigger than my dog) and I’m happy he found a home away from home.

    So what does all that have to do with Jim Belushi’s book, Real Men Don’t Apologize? A lot. I’m setting the scene. While this book is obviously written by a man for men — I enjoyed it. Yes, it’s sometimes rude, crude and vile and yes I did at times wish I could punch him in the arm for “being a pig,” however,  my past experience with men helps me sift through the BS. He has a lot of great truths in here that I believe women should know about. The problem is, most women I know wouldn’t be able to sift through or stomach the raw nature of his writing and that’s a shame some of it is actually laugh out loud funny. And some of it requires an interpreter — which is where my husband really came in handy. I’ll add — much to his dismay, there are some things that should just stay between the guys. He’s right. I didn’t need to really understand all of that.

    I read this book in two days. You don’t believe me, go look at my kitchen, it’s a mess. I’ll get it cleaned up. There were pieces in this book that kicked me in the gut – it reminded me of the good old days of Chicago and my crew, God how I miss those guys. There are things here I need to learn and do for myself and I’ll leave that for another day and another blog. 

    Real men don’t apologize for who they are – even in face of a woman who is trying to make them — That’s big ladies. If you are a harpie or someone bent on castrating a man, this book will really upset you. Jim’s advice to men – know who you are, live who you are, and know your boundaries, are great adages for women as well. (Things I’m not doing well right now)  It’s also good to know Belushi’s Five commandments — and Jim or Jim’s attorney, please forgive me — But I HAVE to share this – my husband has the same “rules.” This is what respect looks like to both my husband and apparently to Jim.

    1. Thou Shalt Not Shush Me – ever
    2.  Thou Shalt Not Steal 
    3.  Thou Shalt Not Banish Me to the Couch – this is a non-negotiable rule in our house, has been since I met my husband in 1987. Unless I’m snoring and then he banishes himself. (which of course I never do.)
    4. Thou Shalt not Compete with Me (Personal note: women don’t always know what competing looks like to you guys – really wish he’d expounded here.)
    5. Thou Shalt not expect an apology for something I am not sorrieth for

    This is an excellent book — language and crudeness aside — he speaks well of his wife Jenny and his children and the sweetest thing in it – the end. He tells what the ONE thing Jenny gave him that no other woman ever did — and to find that out, you have to read the book.

     If you’re brave, check it out – skim through the “yuckier” stuff if you have to, but I warn you don’t skim too far he’s buried some wonderful surprises in there.

    And for those who’d rather just judge the title of the book — don’t. Under no circumstances does he ever say, be a jerk, treat people badly and make no excuses. He sets the scene very early about that. Chapter One I believe in a “man quiz” — Real men own their mess — and I’m sorry is a manipulative word – if you did something wrong, own it and clean it up do not blame shift. And that — is respectful.

    To order his book check out the web page: Jim Belushi or to check out his newest show The Defenders on CBS

    This post written by Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. All rights reserved. No goods or services were received in exchange for this review.

    Friday Funny PG-13, Date Night

    I love date night. It’s an excuse to dress up and be adults and try to be interesting again. It also beats walking around in sweats with my hair pulled back in pony tail. Which, sadly very easily becomes my stay-home-wife costume most days. I get in slumps where I know I’m not going anywhere important and I get lazy. I’m very female, I love to be pursued by man – in every sense of the word. Even on the days when I am pushing his hands away and telling him “not now” I really love it. I need date nights.

    While spontaneous dates can be fun, I prefer the planned ahead kind. I like knowing it’s on the calendar, that he’s planned it out and all I have to do is get dolled up – for him – and be ready to go out when he gets home.  Jeff told me on Monday that he wanted to go out on Thursday and I had all week to plan and look ahead. I love the anticipation. We wound up going to one of my favorite restaurant in Utica Square and went to a new wine bar after that. The whole night was planned and I didn’t have to do a thing — PERFECT!

    Relationship books will tell you that it is important to schedule dates and even sex, otherwise things like that get left to the way side of marriage, kids, and jobs. I wholeheartedly agree, while spontaneity has its perks, planning can be a lot fun.

    Several years ago, I decided to be cute with my hubby’s blackberry. This little gem contains the life, the universe, and everything and has a nifty calendar feature. I started simply enough, posting important dates like birthdays, anniversaries, school plays and then I put things like “send your wife flowers today.” Then for fun, I added a little something extra — I picked a random date that was open and entered a lunch date in which he was to “go home and ravish wife.” In other words, I scheduled a sex date for the middle of the day just for fun.

    I overlooked one small item. Corporate issued cell phones sync to corporate view calendars. Every day my husband plugged his blackberry into his computer to upload his calendar. Imagine his surprise when his secretary called him to say that she was trying to schedule a meeting for him but he had a conflict. When he asked her what kind of conflict she hesitated and then giggled.

    “Uh, it says here that you have a lunch date to go home and ravish your wife. Should I move that out or do you want me to deny this other meeting?”

    I no longer have access to his cell phone.

    So tell me, what is the funniest thing you have done with your husband or significant other in trying to be romantic?

    Written by: Deana O’Hara for Redemption’s Heart: Confessions of a Spiritual Bulimic. All rights reserved. October 15, 2010

    Never Skip Church to Write Comedy: Just Sayin’

    (Added 1/3/11 – Not that I’m neurotic or anything – okay, I am, but that isn’t the point. – While I’m happy you are here – please note that this post is just an off-center offering regarding a glimpse at my strange mind — it’s not about Jim so if you are looking for him – check his web page at – really – you will be glad you did. That is the only official page for Jim Belushi – according to his webmaster, Jim is not on Facebook. Correction: Jim is now on Facebook according to his webmaster and you can find it HERE.) – 9/13 Oh and TY Google for screwing up your “tidbits” and making people think  I said THIS (as in my blog) is his page when I said the ws page was.  Okay back to our regularly scheduled post.

    I had a dream the other day that I was married to Jim Belushi and I am beside myself over the irony.

    It was your typical Sunday afternoon. The guys are watching football on the big screen and I am up in our room writing comedy on my lap top. I am on fire, writing great bits of wit and wisdom.  I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know, I am no longer in my room but on a sound stage. I look at my teenage son and notice he’s written the letters U and F on his front teeth — he had apparently looked in a mirror while writing his message to the world with a sharpie. Dad (Played by Jim Belushi) enters the kitchen scene and we argue over our son’s newest stunt. I point out that every time he smiles he’s really telling us something obscene, even if it is dyslexic. Dad scratches his head and acts oblivious, I call him a moron – enter canned laughter and I exit the scene.

    Off set I place my hand on my chest and proclaim to myself “Yes! I so totally rock as a comedic actress.” Looking back I see a look of shock on Jim’s face. A heaviness settles in my heart and before I can shake it, the scene goes black.


    I am in my real bedroom sorting and tossing monstrously huge broken bottles of  conditioner into a trash bag on my bed. My heart is heavy and I am feeling more insecure than I’ve felt in ages, which is saying a lot really. I’m speaking with a brunette mother figure and simply ask her to go get Jim for me, I want to speak to him.

    This scene is different, it’s not a set. My confidence is gone and each bottle of hair product I try to throw away is larger and more awkward than the last. I’m lost in that struggle when Jim enters behind me, clears his throat and waves a pillow in my direction to get my attention.

    I take a step toward him, only he crosses his arms and so  I stop. I”m a wreck and while he notices that, he does nothing to make me feel better. He simply stares at me for what feels like forever and finally speaks. We are apparently married or something in this dream and Jim definitely has the upper hand in this conversation.

    Jim: You wanted something?

    Me: yeah. About what I said. I shouldn’t have said that.

    Jim: You mean calling me a moron?

    Me: (Eyes on the floor) Yes, That. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have said it.

    Jim: Do you think I’m a moron?

    Me: (Looking up) NO!

    Jim: Then why did you say it?

    Me: I don’t know.

    Jim: (Arms still crossed raises right eye brow.)

    Me: (Shuffles feet, starts smoothing my bedspread) – I was trying to be confident and funny. Like you guys. (Personal comment here: Like I’d EVER say that out loud, you know? I’m such a dork in my dreams.)

    Jim: So, calling me a moron makes you confident and funny?

    Me: yes, I mean No. … sigh.. I was trying to fit in. I’m not like you guys – but I want to be.  (Sit down on bed and stares at floor.) – (Wouldn’t say that one either! Who writes this crud. Oh yeah, I’m dreaming that’s right. sigh)

    Jim: (Scratches his head and catches my eyes) — So you don’t think I’m a moron.

    Me: No, I don’t. Actually, I think you’re awesome.

    Jim: (Arms unfold and hands go in pockets) I see. …Comedy is a tough deal. First thing I’d tell you is to quit trying so hard to fit in. You are better than that and that won’t bring you confidence. People see right through that crap anyway.  Just be yourself. Oh and don’t call me a Moron, it hurts my feelings.

    Jim leaves the room and I lay down.

    Scene goes black. and I wake up.





    CRAP —

    I have to admit this dream kinda shook me up for the rest of the day as well as most of Monday. As a middle-aged woman stepping on stage, entering into yet again another male dominated field – having a dream about Jim Belushi calling me out, is a bit of a neurotic deal, you know? I mean he’s played all the venues I’ve ever dreamed of back when I performed all those years ago – Second City, SNL, Movies, Sitcoms. You name it he’s done it. He’s like the Godfather of comedy.  Okay, maybe that was a stretch, but you know what I mean right?  I used to see him at Cubs games when I lived in Chicago. No I don’t know him. Never met the guy.  Still, he’s fearless and funny and just a regular joe from Chicago and I felt like a five-year old in trouble with Dad in that last scene.

    And so I’m stuck with two thoughts:

    1. Jim Belushi is either some kind of father figure, my conscience, or God, and I’ve totally lost my mind


    2. I’ll never skip church to write comedy again. I’m pretty sure God is messing with me.

    I could ask a thousand questions about what does this all mean, why Jim? Why the neuroses? Why can’t I have a cricket for a conscience? Why the conditioner – okay if you’ve seen my hair you get that one.  Question’s won’t help. I still have my set for Yukon to finish editing. I have to look at Jim later — I’m sure there is something about him — that made him come to mind while writing on Sunday — Time will tell. I did delete everything I wrote on Sunday afternoon, — Dream Jim was right, it really wasn’t that good.

    For those interested, Mr Belushi is in a new television series called The Defenders which is actually really good. I like it. You cannot turn on a tv without seeing an advertisement for this show, which is probably why he was on my brain to begin with. At least I hope that is the reason and this isn’t going to turn into some Christmas Scrooge thing where I’m visited by comic ghosts of the past, present, and future. That would suck.

    (Side note: I did buy his book, Real Men According to Jim, and reviewed it HERE.)