RENT: Hey, I know that guy!

[Editorial Note: This one's a twofer, folks: not only will it double the size of my worldOttocracry-renowned "theater review" catalog, but I also get to give a shout-out to one of my first friends from elementary school.]

So, just in time for my wedding, my good friend from back home moved down here (though I don't think that was the primary impetus for the move). Before he even had all of his boxes unpacked, he had his acting career back up and running. This had the unfortunate, though not unexpected, consequence of us not seeing him for the last month or so. It was all well worthwhile when he invited my wife and me to the premier of his California debut: RENT at City Lights in San Jose.

It's worth noting that I haven't seen RENT before, so I didn't really know much about the story (other than it had something to do with AIDS and possibly the LGBTQ community). So I'll admit that I didn't catch all of the details of the story, but I followed enough of it. What I can tell you for sure is that my friend's performance triggered in me an almost overpowering urge to stand up and "boo" him.

Oh, wait, did I mention that he played sort of the "villain" role? Well whoops, sorry about that. You may want to reread that last bit again, then.

Anyways, I think what I was most unexpectedly impressed by was the stunt work. Yes, the stunt work. I don't know if this is typical of other RENT performances, but it was a veritable stage-full of Jackie Chans up there. And I don't recall him ever doing any of his work in the heels I saw these brave women AND men sporting as they leapt to and from the sturdy but unsecured metal tables, risking their lives (or at least their ankles!) in the name of art. And I think Angel deserves special recognition in this category. Even in that outfit (or especially in that outfit?), he's clearly a braver man than I.

So if you live in the bay area, or if you just really love RENT, then make sure to check out my friend (and, I suppose, the rest of the cast) at City Lights Theater!

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Sabbatical Catch-up: Movie Reviews #1

Date Night:
Amidst all of the wedding planning turmoil, my now-wife/then-fiancée and I managed to make a rare date night out of Date Night. Maybe we were just desperate for a break, but whatever the cause, we had a blast at this movie. Please note that if you don't care for Carell and/or Fey, then this may not be the movie for you (especially if you went with "and"). We, however, felt their combo was just what we needed.

Oh, and the shirtless Wahlberg didn't exactly hurt her opinion of the movie, either...

A-Team:
I don't know what unstable slurry of arrogance, bravery and stupidity was being piped into the movie executives' feeding trough the week this concept came across their desks (even the consideration of which should, in and of itself, have made them deserving of some sort of recognition from Colbert), but I must admit that the end result wasn't anywhere near the Ghost Rider-like travesty that I was assuming it could only be. Sure, BA was painful at times, but success there was nigh-impossible. And then there was the tricky issue of the anthrophobic nature of bullets in the source material; thankfully the movie seemed to remain true to the spirit of the series while nimbly sidestepping this particular point with some liberal use of artistic license. To give you an idea of my surprised enjoyment of this movie, I left the theater not only pondering but excitedly pondering what they might do with sequels. That alone is pretty friggin' impressive.

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[Update] An Open Apology to Halle Berry

Oh, Halle. I really did try: I reached out. I communicated. I did my best to give you fair warning. You have to admit, I was nothing if not patient.

I mean, if you had any intention to make an effort, my personalized engagement announcement should have been impetus enough for you. Oh sure, I'll admit that your competition hardly left you any hope at success, but that's no reason to throw in the towel before even setting foot in the ring. And yes, I've heard the "bait-and-switch" accusations, though it's a bit narcissistic to think that we decided to have a court marriage in advance of our wedding out of some twisted desire to hurt you. It just pains me to see you so bitter. So disrespectful of our long friendship. And, most of all, so dishonest to yourself.

However, just in case your heart hasn't been completely permeated by venom from your unfulfilled desires for us, I felt that you deserved to hear the whole story:

On the 30th of July of last year, we got married at San Francisco City Hall surrounded by our parents and my new sister. Oh, and Harvey Milk, of course. The ceremony was quite short, yes, but our families and even our marriage deputy still made the event incredibly warm, heart-felt and special. It was more than we had ever hoped it could be. And just like that, my life as a married man had begun.

And then, on the 15th of this May, we were married before 200 family and friends on the lawn of Oceano Hotel in Half Moon Bay. We celebrated with a Hindu ceremony - the perfect combination of beautiful culture, loving family, centuries of tradition, vibrant colors and a pinch of light-hearted humor to keep it all human. And oh would you have loved to see me all dressed up in my dhoti kurta! Such an occasion naturally warranted plenty of wonderful pre-wedding events with the family. Speaking of which...seriously, how many opportunities do you need for some grand romantic gesture??? I only hope that on some level you can be happy for us.

At this point I feel like I've done all I could for us. The future of our relationship is now solidly in your hands. So if our friendship still means anything at all to you...have your people RSVP with my sister-in-law for our anniversary party.

Best wishes,
Otto

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I Confess, I'm Juicin'

And not the "I can swim well-known landmarks while towing various nautical vessels" kind of juicin'. I'm talking about the "Watch out, Baseball Hall of Fame and inevitable tell-all book deal, here I come" variety. Well, sort of... It's actually for my nose. Maybe I should back up a bit?

So it turns out that I've got a moderate case of "the apneas". More specifically, obstructive sleep apnea or OSA¹. To save you a WebMD search, it's basically a condition where, as I sleep, my airway becomes blocked (or obstructed, I suppose you could say), causing me to stop breathing. Luckily our brains are programmed to, in such cases, force our bodies to wake up to restore normal breathing. So apparently these episodes, or apneas, occur about 15 times per hour for me. And this rate - which is also called my apnea-hypopnea index or AHI - is only considered to be moderate! Scary shit, huh?

Short term this means I'm never getting a proper night's sleep. Long term this could lead to a whole host of medical issues, such as high blood pressure, stroke, diabetes, cardiovascular disease...the list goes on.

Thankfully some friends and family had voiced their concerns (apparently it's quite freaky hearing someone stop breathing while they sleep...go figure!). Eventually I had a sleep study done², got diagnosed and am now doing nightly impressions of an aquaphobic scuba diver, courtesy of my very own continuous positive airway pressure (or CPAP!) machine. For those of you not up to date on your medical technology jargon, this device (not much more than a breathing mask attached to a small air pump) helps prevent my airway from getting obstructed while I sleep by pressurizing the air as I breathe. Oh, but don't worry, it also let's me exhale. Yup, they even thought of that!

I'm not gonna lie, though. It's not terribly fun or comfortable to wear and I doubt it shows up on many Top 10 Favorite Medical Treatment lists³. Other treatment options include a wide variety of surgical procedures, but they are highly dependent on what's causing the obstruction and they all have limited success rates, especially when you look long-term. There's also a list of recommended life-style changes, but those are more for treating mild cases. In the end if you want the sure-fire treatment, you gotta go CPAP. I'm still getting used to mine and while I don't suddenly feel like Nuclear Man (was that really his name??) after escaping from the moon/elevator trap in Superman IV, I am noticing a decrease in the frequency and intensity of daytime drowsiness.

Ah yes, and this finally brings me back to the 'roids. Along with the Vader starter kit, I've also been prescribed Flonase, an "intranasal corticosteroid" that is used to reduce irritation and inflammation of the nasal passages. Not only have I stopped waking up congested on a regular basis, but I also sneeze a whole lot less during the day. Roids rock! That's right, kids, just remember that steroids are your friend.

I do have one concern, however: just before I started my roid regimen, I apparently sneezed so hard that I managed to rupture a blood vessel in my eye. So now I'm thinking, what freakish House-eligible medical side effects have I set myself up for? Will I potentially share the fate of so many shih tzus and pekingese? Or should I play host to a potential steroids-based arms race as my eyes begin experimenting with synthetic stimulants just to compete with my eyes' performance enhancing drugs? Or I suppose I could realize that they're not THOSE kind of steroids and, even if they were, they would have to target the abdomen and diaphragm instead of the nasal passage. But that's sounding like a pretty damn elitist theory to me, so screw it, I'm replacing my tonsils with a fall-out shelter.

Anyways, before you go, I just wanted take a moment for a quick PSA: If you or a loved one snores heavily, seems to stop breathing for short periods at night and/or is often tired during the day, then get that person tested for sleep apnea! It could truly be a matter of life and death.

Duhn-duhn-duuuuhn!


¹This condition is also, like most things in the medical field, an acronymophiles playground.
²If you have the option, do the take-home version. The lab study provides them with more information, but the simple take-home device provides a surprising amount of critical data for them to make the diagnosis.
³Has Lettermen done this one yet?

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Damn the radio gods!

Let's ignore for a second the fact that The Eagles appear to have the same marketing team as the pomegranate industry. For how else could their atrocious, sub-Gipsy rendition of Hotel California be the most-played "classic" song on the radio? Or is that accusation a bit too wild(ly unsubstantiated) for ya? Fine. Case in point: while scanning the dial the last two days I've caught snippets of this paguan-damn song no less than three times. Case closed, yaar. Nonono, stop arguing...I said "case closed". The only (only!) other plausible explanation for this nigh-Homeric tragedy is that Carlos Helú is a life-long member of our Ottocratic nation while also being a silent cofounder of GlennFreyOnline.com. But back to ignoring this fact...

The only greater curse of the radio gods was their recent smiting of Energy 92.7. This was my bay area station. It was like Seattle's C89.5 (one of my Seattle-area stations, if you hadn't guessed), just replace the monotone teenage DJs with two hilarious guys, Fernando and Greg, that are also gay (unlike the intolerable token gay guy on another local station). This was the very first station I programmed into my very first car's presets. For almost three years it cheered me up each morning before arriving at my own personal Initech¹ - a place where, for those of you who do not know, my MBA-accredited boss, in some twisted form of encouragement, compared my rapid processing of clients to the strong work ethic of a good prostitute. I. Shit. You. Not.

So yes, this station meant a lot to me. And just as suddenly as it appeared on my dial between NPR and some mediocre Top 40 station, so was it suddenly perverted by some homophobic gorgon into yet another generic, Billboard-spewing siren. Since then, I've resisted the urge to reprogram my second preset (second to NPR numerically, not necessarily by preference). Instead, I've decided to keep it as a sort of dashboard memorial. A preset pyre, if you will.

The only possible silver lining is that I have since found Fernando and Greg exiled to another, but unfortunately more hip-hop friendly, station. And within the first quarter of my commute they are swallowed by static. Damn you, Charybdis of the radiowaves! Better yet, twenty minutes later my fierce friends' frequency is morphed into their own worst enemy: a bigoted Christian conservative oracle.

Apparently these radio gods are as malicious as Zeus, as vindictive as Poseidon. And all because I had the audacity to speak The Truth.

Bitches.


¹ No, I'm not providing a hyperlink on that one. If you didn't catch my reference, then your walk of shame is being forced to Google it on your own. LOSER!

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