My Heavy & Completely Justifiable Grudge

Jeanne Coyne. {Insert Louise Belcher laugh of insanity}

tumblr_miaplshi4c1qcf707o3_500

 

Ohhhhh, JeANNE.

You thought you could have it all, didn’t you? Didn’t you, JC?! You thought you could be Gene Kelly‘s fiancee AND a big Hollywood dancer, beside the likes of Tommy Rall, Ann Miller, Bob Fosse (DO YOU SEE WHERE I’M GOING WITH THIS?!) – and people have lied about you. LIED. Even on Gene Kelly’s IMDB page, some knucklehead wrote that you were a “major talent” in your own right.

And you know who *really* got hurt by your selfish shenanigans?! Bobby Van. Dear sweet Bobby. In what should have been his final chance to showcase his delightfully charming brand of breezy dance. Shoulda had his moment. Wedged between the break-out performance of Bob Fosse and the whimsy of Tommy Rall. But you know what happened? Jeanne Coyne.

Now, if you know me *at all*, I won’t have to point out which bent-leg-havin’, slow-coach-bein’ “DANCER” she is in this clip. But for those of you who don’t wanna be surprised and saddened, she’s the one in the yellow. And don’t be alarmed when the director just stops looking at her in the first bit of her “dance”. But seriously, can you find the one who does not belong??

TEN. SECONDS. He got ten seconds because of you, Jeanne.

no joke Ezzie

::collects self::

You guys, this has been weighing on me since I was like EZRA’s age. I just. I had to get it off my chest. ::sigh:: I feel so much better. I feel like this is gonna be a turning point. Now I can focus all of my attention on how the brothers are REALLY NOTICEABLY MISMATCHED during the barn raisin’ scene in 7 Brides for 7 Brothers. ::pulls tapes, prepares case::

*NOTE: This all came crashing down today when Dina pinned a picture of Gene Kelly. Jeanne is the first thing that comes to mind. Which is just…not fair. Because… Gene Kelly.

Speak, Petruchio, Speak

And so as my son settles into Kiss Me Kate (which he calls Kitty Kate) for like the seventyeleventh time, I shall try to remedy this whole blog-silence thing. First, I’d like to blame you, the reader. That’s just how I roll. It’s not me. It’s you. How many entries have I written? Mhm. And how many have you written here, you lazy lazy reader? Precisely.

Okay, so ever since returning from Niagara Falls, Ezra has been at Vacation Bible School every morning, I’ve working on “the book” (whelp, aside from not writing my blog posts, you also have neglected to name my novel wip). I’ve lost two full nonconsecutive writing days to evolution – which is to say, the outlined plot grows and evolves and yes, of course, tis beautiful – but I can’t just start back in writing, I have to let it settle with me. Anyway, it’s necessary things such as this that make daily word counts unrealistic (or at least counterproductive) to me. Of course there are more reasons than that.

Everyone gives writing advice. Says what one should and shouldn’t do. And they also titter over the successful story whose author did none of those things or all of the “don’t”s. Does this stop them from saying what not to do? Nope. Obnoxious. If it were only a business, perhaps this would make more sense. Because it is a business that relies on a personal creation, a personal art – this is just foolishness to me. It becomes business when someone other than the writer gets involved. Until then, this is mine, thank you.

UPDATED: Things That Make You Go “Dang!”

Wow. I, too, was like…. sometimes you gotta know when to leave something alone. Covers for the sake of covers or because people want to believe that every generation has an Etta James is ridiculous and infuriating. But, um, … I’m not sure how to feel about Etta’s tirade against Beyonce. I have often thought the girl overrated and irritating. And maybe it’s just because I remember the night she sang all of the selections at the Oscars beautifully or that I just fell in love with her after hearing her sing “America, The Beautiful” to close the We Are One Inaugural Concert thingy. Because when Cadillac Records came out, I probably rattled off some anger at her daring to play Etta James, let alone releasing a single covering “At Last”. There is only one “At Last”. There will only ever be one “At Last”. … So why did I first smirk and then feel weird about Etta’s words? I have no idea. I guess I thought I thought she’d be too classy to bother commenting on Beyonce Knowles. (shrug)

INSERTED AS EXHIBIT A)

And if you don’t know who James Whitmore is… you’re horrible. Or if you think he’s the old guy in Shawshank Redemption. If you said he’s the thug (named Slug) from Kiss Me Kate?! You’re fabulous. And right. He was wonderful, even though I routinely fastforward through “Brush Up Your Shakespeare”… only because, come on, with the songs you have to choose from in that movie (Howard Keel, Katherine Grayson, Anne Miller, Tommy Rall and Bob Fosse and Bobby Van), I’m not gonna watch two thugs purposely screw up the dance sequence. Le sigh. I know what I’m watching tonight.