Hearts Stars and Horseshoes

I am fully aware of all the Lucky Charms marshmallow shapes. From childhood, we have their names drilled into our heads far better than the state capitols or the names of the planets (RIP Pluto). From the original shapes (such as the horseshoe) to the more recent (such as the rainbow, which is actually just a horseshoe painted differently) we can all pretty much recite them. What I want to know is what the "oat" parts of the cereal are supposed to be shaped like. Neglected and ignored over the years, the actual cereal in this cereal seems to be shaped as bells, clubs, and fish. Are we really so infatuated with the marshmallows that we are resolved to create the oats in shapes not even worthy of the Kellog's JV team? Do these shapes represent something that when put in the right order symbolize the key to our pasts? Someone call Nick Cage, I've got another movie for him.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Kristen! Here's your present. It's a card and some money. Because grown-ups like money."~Four year old twins.

I was lucky enough to be taught theatre etiquette at a very young age, however I have learned a great deal more from observing audience members throughout the years.

1. Live theatre is the same as the movies. If you need to use the restroom, just stand up and walk out in the middle of act I. As your five inch heels ring out like the tell tale heart as you clomp down the stairs, don't worry about the action you miss; the person next to you can whisper the plot once you've stomped back in the theatre just before the act ends.

2. Like the movies, you don't really need to be on time. All you're going to miss is the previews, or in your case, the beginning of Act I. And really, what could be so important at the beginning of the show? Hamlet's father appears as a ghost, the Jets and the Sharks rumble, Fredric is released from piracy, blah, blah, blah. You've seen it all before, right? So go ahead and park your car, finish your phone call, and have that extra drink. We'll wait for you.

3. Sure, cell phones have been existence for over a decade now, but no need to silence yours. Those curtain speeches are merely suggestions (and you probably missed it because you came in late, right?Right.) So go ahead! Let it ring, text your boyfriend to see where the party's at post show, or heck! Just go ahead and pick it up. The telesales person on the other line would LOVE to how Truffaldino's gonna get out of this scrape!

4. Not sure if you like the show? Leave during intermission! You can surely figure out what Beckett was talking about without Act II. I mean, you already got the program to prove to your Intro to Theatre 101: Big Faces and Silly Costumes professor that you went and saw and actual live drama play show. What else do you need?

5. Made it through Act II, did you? Well, don't feel like you have to stick around. As soon as those lights are fading to black, you hit the ground running. Curtain calls are mere formalities. That artist who just spent three hours wailing over the loss of his lover and the death of his children doesn't need your applause. He's surely happier knowing you got out of the parking garage first or that you got to the restroom before the lines got really long.

"I need your eyes and ears where?...on me!"~a first grader teaches me how to make collages. Hers turned out better.

It is a universal truth that some foods just taste better when it is shaped differently. You know what I'm talking about, like when you were five and your aunt made pancakes shaped like Snoopy?. Or when you first went to school and your mom cut the crusts off your bologna and lettuce sandwiches using a star shaped cookie cutter? I think we can all agree that Reese's peanut butter cups exceed their already stellar performance in the candy universe when they are shaped like pumpkins. And, I'm sorry, but why do zebra cakes only call to me once a year, when some holiday angel decided they should be shaped like Christmas trees? My "Taste of the Nation" cookies also fall into this grouping, but that's probably because you get your daily helping of Liberty in every funfetti-y, democratic bite.

"I think it's a broken strap off of a bag. And you can have it for free. Because it's a broken strap off of a bag."~The sales lady at AIDS thrift as I looked for my Halloween costume.

Every time you think you can predict the social reactions of Philadelphian's, they find a way to turn all the furniture in your mind apartment upside down. As devotees already know, I suffered a toddler-related injury on Monday and am currently relying on crutches to get around the city (are you crying for me yet? Please send flowers and "ankle strong" bracelets to the Lantern Theater). What has surprised me is the wide range of reactions from my fellow city dwellers. Old men with canes or walkers will often make jokes like "You'll be able to predict the weather for the rest of your life!" or "Hey! We should race!". One yelled as he passed by, "Whatsamatta? You get in a fight with your boyfriend?" To which I replied, "Yeah. You should see HIM." 

My boss prefers to steal them and hop around the theatre for twenty minutes while reviewing show reports, but perhaps the most interesting response came from two boys in wife-beaters driving an old army green pick-up truck. As the light turned green on Spruce, the driver yelled "CRUTCHES SUCK!" and sped off. Now, color me confused (crayola #62), but I can't figure out what his intentions were. Was he saying that he could relate to my plight? Was he saying that I in fact suck for being on crutches? Or was he simply saying that he's against crutches as a product of the medical industry? I guess I'll never know. I couldn't run after the truck fast enough. 

"It was like autumn exploded in my mouth"~JB on Dunkin Donuts pumkin muffins.

#33: Stories from the Box: Part 1

Saturday night shows bring out the crazy in Philadelphia theatre goers. After scrambling to get everyone in the theater after they all decided to show up at exactly 8:00 pm (not counting the couple who came in 20 minutes late), I thought selling concessions during intermission would be easier. A woman approached the counter with her daughter and her husband. 

Mom: "Whaddya want? You want to split a cookie with me?"
Daughter: "Not really."
Mom: "Well, whaddya want?"
Daughter: "Can I get a Reese's?"
Mom: "No, because you haven't had your dinner yet. Whaddya want? Ya wanna split a cookie with me?"
Daughter: "No...how about Combos?"
Me: "Combos? Two dollars."
Mom: "No, she doesn't need that, because she hasn't had her dinner. Ya wanna split a cookie?"
Daughter: "No."
Mom: "I'll take a cookie and a coffee."

Five minutes pass, during which I leave for thirty seconds to get change from the box office, and the patrons decided it was appropriate to help themselves to the concession stand and just throw dollar bills behind the counter as payment. Finally, act II is about to begin.

Mom: "Do I have to throw this (coffee) out?"
Me: "If you want to leave it, I'll take care of it."
Mom: (to the house manager) "Do I have to throw this coffee that I just bought away?"
HM: "You have about two minutes."
Mom: "So, there's no way I can take it into the theater with me"
HM: "No, I'm sorry"
Woman: "Can I leave it out here and get it later?"

Mind you, this is a half-full dixie cup of crappy coffee we're talking about.

Me: "...yeah. sure."

#32: Global Warming on the Broad Street Line

I've discovered that I hate CCP even more during the day than I did this summer at night. While pushing my way on to the Broad Street Line, finger-spelling in my nerdy way, I realized that we were in the presence of the patented Subway Crazy. A Subway Crazy is someone who rides the subway not to get from point A to point B, but so they can shout their opinions on poverty, Obama, and white oppression. This particular Crazy was not dressed in the standard mustard-stained wife beater, but a neatly pressed black suit. His diatribe was as follows:

"You all ruined it. You messed it up. It's all messed up. We were better off before. When things were fair. Nothing's fair anymore."

Now, who he was talking about, I'm not sure. I assume, this particular subway car. Although, I find it difficult to believe that one car full of people could ruin the economy for the rest of the nation. A man behind me was on his cell phone and said "I don't care." Mishearing, the Crazy shouted out:

"Polar Bears?! The polar bears don't know what to do! The ain't got no where to walk. They can't walk no more. It's all melted. We were better as cavemans. Cavemen knew what they were doing. They didn't have no problems like we do."

Except, of course, for those damn saber-tooth tigers, but why ruin his dreams? 

"Mike: I'm not gonna write you a love song.
MF: Why not?
Mike: Because you asked for one."

#31: Seeing Stars

My evening jog was interupted by a crowd of Philadelphians staring at the Union Trust building last night. Well aware that Paul Rudd, Reese Witherspoon, and Jack Nicholson are all shooting in our fair city right now, I decided to pause to rubberneck with the rest of the group. I waited for far longer than I would've cared to, listening to whispers of who was in there. One lady swore she saw Reese Witherspoon get out of the car. One was shouting "Hurry up! My dog's are hungry!". One was singing gospel hyms and preaching about the end of the world I'm not sure he was there for the movie. Let it be known that chanting "Move that bus!" when Septa blocks your view, is only slightly amusing the first time and loses all of it's novelty if you use it EVERY time a bus goes down Chestnut. My annoyance led me to move towards a new reporter from Fox 29 where the following interaction took place:

Peculiar young man: Is this part of the job description? I mean, waiting around and stuff?

Woman news reporter: We are working. 

Young Man: So it's the job. Do you get to meet the celebrities.

Reporter: Nope.

Young Man: Oh, that's cool. I mean, I'm in the Army. So you know, we're used to waiting around and stuff. I understand that.

Reporter: (Silence)

Young man: I'm not bothering you am I?

Reporter: No, it's just we're working and your hottie is getting picked up.

Young man: Oh! (Runs after the girl he was walking with who is now flirting with some random guy on the street)

That was enough for me, and I went home un-star struck. Luckily, I know where Paul Rudd buys his coffee ;)

"Must be the Bucket List"~Some foreign guy when the riggers dropped a bucket down for some water. Gotta admit, I chuckled.

#30: Cuz breakin up is hard to do-oo

Dear faded denim, hammer pants, and knee length jean skirts,

I don't even know where to start. I mean, I know we were close. I thought my spatter-paint faded jean shorts would last forever. After all, they matched my hot pink I'm-not-allowed-to-wear-spaghetti-strap tank so well! But gone are the days of paying $25 for the 1996 commemorative Olympic Games beanie baby bear. I no longer have to walk across the cafeteria with my hands over my head to prove that my skirt and shirt are long enough for our academic "school of choice"...No, no I'm not pushing you aside like the skort. The skort was never good to me. It was never good to any of us. But, I remind you that has been 14 years. You can try and sneak into the fall line all you want, but the truth is...it's over. It's been over for a long time now. I need you to be strong, keep your chin up...I mean, hey! Everyone needs hand-me-downs, right?...I'm sorry, that was harsh. I didn't mean to be insensitive. But faded knee length denim skirts and hammer-pants jump suits just don't look good on anyone...ok? Ok. I'm glad we talked and I hope we can still be friends in a very nostalgic kind of way. 

Sincerely,
Every young woman who survived the 90's and don't wish to see them repeated.

"This was when women were just damsels in distress. You know, before you went and got the vote"~JS on Kim Bassinger in Batman.

#29: Looking glass

As I was hurriedly zipping up my "classical musical theatre audition dress" and humming in that annoying way we actors do when we have a callback and are trying to keep our vocal chords warm, a young girl sat down in the chair across from me. She was impossibly small and was further dwarfed by the gigantic armchair. She slumped further in the chair, her glittered pink sneakers still not reaching the end of the seat cushion. I was shuffling my music around in my book and her pigtailed head was lowered as she stared at her feet.

"I have troubles too."

My head snapped up in surprise at the small voice. "Oh?" I said, "...What are they?" Still not meeting my gaze she replied, "I don't know why my mom missed my show today." 
Ah, yes, I thought. The classic "dad never came to my little league games" scenario, as illustrated in such movies as "Hook." 
"I bet she tried her best to make it," I said.
"She's stuck in traffic. She would've liked the pretty lights."
"Those are my favorite part, too" I smiled, "I bet you were great." I had been in a hurry to line-up for my callback, but I found myself charmed by her sincerity; by the fact that while my mind was juggling Philly Car Share reservations, dance combinations, 16 bar cuts, first grade curriculum, sign language, the fact that PECO still refuses to send me my bills, and trying to keep up with the constant inconsistency, this was indeed her biggest problem and clearly more important than mine.
"I live very far away from my mommy and daddy, and sometimes they can't come see my shows. Sometimes, it helps if I sing a song for them when I go home so they can see what they missed," I said coming down to her level. "I bet your mom would really like that." 
If it provided her with any comfort, I'm not sure. But, I hope she remembers a time when THIS was her biggest problem with this industry, and before it was an industry at all. 

"Ryan: They're baked with love!
KB: Oh! I've been baking mine with racism..."~Ryan on why his brownies are better than mine.

#28: Back to the Blog

A wise friend of mine once said, "Kids are much funnier if you just think of them as drunk adults." This is never as true as when you work in a kids gym. First, you have the clumsy drunk. It's easy to see the parallels between the kid who gets so excited he runs off the edge of the balance beam, and that girl in the bar who runs into the door post. Then, we have the daring drunk. The 13-month old who steps to the edge of the platform and dives face first into the matt below is not unlike the dude at the concert who tries to crowd surf into no one. My favorite, the loving drunk, makes friends with everyone. There are children who are prone to hugging other babies who aren't old enough to realize that the things around them are friends and not pets. This is not unlike the many girls at the bar who have sworn they are "Oh-my-gah-totally-gonna-be-best-friends".And of course, we are all familiar with the emotional drunk. Known to burst into tears when I take the parachute away or start slugging at the toddler who stole his sippy cup, this is the most dangerous of the children. One might liken him to the guy who got thrown out of Coco's the other night, or the girl sitting in a puddle of tears becuase she caught Candy making out with her guido boyfriend. Perhaps Ponce de Leon was looking for the fountain of youth in all the wrong places. He need only look to the bottom of his bottle. 

"I love that you call it a fire pit. It sounds like there should be dinosaurs"~English Andy on American traditions.

#27: I do NOT want to ask you again!

I've learned many things about childcare from the moms/nannies who come to my gym:

1. Discussing the new super stroller you bought your child is more important than stopping your child from falling on their head.

2. If you don't watch your child, and they fall off the trampoline, that is clearly the instructor's fault.

3. It is perfectly acceptable to bring your teenager with you so they can knock over babies while they tear through the gym.

4. Even if your child WANTS to participate in the activities, it is more important to sit in the ball pit with your ipod than help him/her.

5. Most moms know everything, including how the gym should be set up, how you should talk to the children, and what music should be playing in the gym. 

6. Even when your child is making progress in class, you need not pay attention to them. Your friends in the "gucci-brigade" are obviously far more important. 

RS: "It took me a half hour to get into it, but then I liked it"
ME: "I feel the same way about hot pants"~ on Something Intangible

#26: Why was John Smith Australian?

The other day I found myself in the pediatric waiting room of a New Jersey surgical center. I was in the pediatric waiting room, because Rachel Ray was on in the adult waiting room and Pocahontas was in the children's room, so the choice was pretty much made for me. 
After the movie, I was trying very hard to ignore the documentary on Hannah Montana's Best of Both World's tour, when a young girl toddled in and started playing with the toys on the table. Her mother followed her in after a few moments. Her jeans were a size too small, and her shirt was far too short for a woman of her girth. Her multiple gold necklaces announced her arrival before she entered the room, and her hair was gelled into a messy, curly bird's nest the top of her head. 
"Where is the Cinderella doll?", her daughter asked. "Somebody stoled it. Just like always," snapped the mother. She collapsed into a chair, and turned to me with what can only be described as a scowl. "You gettin an injection?" I started and then smiled politely, "No, no, I'm just waiting for someone." She fixed her face into a disgusted grimace, as I had offended her with my answer, and she turned back to watch her daughter. Apparently, somebody stoled her social skills.

"I promise I won't make you have sex with grapes"~LM on stage direction.

#25: Mother of Mine

My favorite part about my job is examining the types of "mom" that walk into the gym. Here is a field guide of what I've observed:

1. The New Mom (Novus Matris): Usually recognizable by wide eyes and a general sense of panic in everything they do. While they never say it, you can almost hear their minds pleading, "I have this baby. Please, tell me what to do with it." They have an amazing sense of trust, bordering on naivete for anyone who can tell them anything about the little creature attached to their $500 stroller.

2. The Main Line Mom (Pelagus Versus Matris): Ever seen a 14 month-old in skinny jeans? I have. And that's a clear signal that they're the child of a main line mom. Thin and beautiful, these women use their gym time as a social ritual, rather than a learning experience for their child. Their children are dressed just as well as their mothers, and are more like accessories than humans; much like the tiny dogs that girls used to carry around in college. 

3. The Stage Mom (Tempus Matris): Just because you're not in the theatre doesn't mean there can't be a mom in the wings. Known for sitting in on classes that parents aren't supposed to attend, they have a language pattern that involves repeating whatever the instructor has just said, only louder and directed specifically at their child. It's no doubt that their children will become superstar athletes in high school, probably harboring a secret yen to play the bassoon. 

4. The Mean Nanny and The Slacker (Vilis Matris et Ientesco): The Mean Nanny can be easily identified by the ipods adorning their ears for the entirety of their gym time. They are quick to anger, and can be agitated by even a glance in their child's direction. They spend their time lounging in one of the ball pits, encouraging their child not to participate in the daily activities. The Slacker exhibits these traits as well, but will also leave the bulk of the child-rearing responsibility to the child's older sister or brother, even if they're only five years old.

"Hope to hear from you 'Schooner' rather than later"~KS and AS in a brilliant headshot submission for The Seafarer

#24: Yogurt imposter

As I was eating my Amaretto Cheesecake yogurt (which, of course, tasted nothing like amaretto or cheesecake), I noticed the words non-fat yogurt on the front. Yet, upon examining the nutrition facts, one can plainly see that there are 0.5 grams of fat. For that matter, the first two ingredients on the list are Milk fat and nonfat milk! Further more, why would you add milk fat AND nonfat milk? Doesn't that just equal out to regular ol' milk? Oh, dairy. You never fail to leave me flummoxed. 

"I used to bite my sister. But I don't anymore. She doesn't taste as good"~Second grade confessions provided by MB.

#23: Surviving the Gucci Brigade

Friday I learned to survive the Main Line moms. Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that the hem of my Rollins slip peeks out from time to time. I've been known to wonder around BCBG touching every item. A touch of drool hits my lips when I see the new pink Coach bag being carried by a coworker, and I'm pretty sure I'd be able to buy a house with the money I spend at Starbucks in a year. Still, the Friday morning moms at my Gym manage to baffle me. After sitting in a circle on the floor for 45 minutes talking about germs while they let their infants jump on trampolines unsupervised, it was finally "stamp time". Every student in every class gets a stamp on their hand at the end of class for doing so well...or so I thought. As I bent down to give little Sophia a stamp, an eyeliner clad face popped in front of me. "SERIOUSLY. No stamps." She said giving me the stop sign with her manicured hand. "Oh, I'm sorry..." I stammered. "It gets ALL over their clothes and their face and I can't get it off for a week, so this class gets STICKERS." "I see," I replied rifling through the basket until I found the small tin of stickers. I just find it unfortunate that these children will have no practice for when they're older and getting their hands stamped for admittance to clubs in Manayunk, where they'll hang out with all the other Gucci and Prada tube tops and Ambercrombie button-ups.

"That's ok. You're just stupid"~KS on people who don't like The Godfather.

#22: A cookie shaped like America

Let me ask you muggles some questions (Muggles are non-theatre professionals, of course). When looking for jobs, do you find that you've become an expert at putting on liquid eyeliner on the subway? Do you get kicked so many times by the girl rehearsing the dance sequence in front of you that you develop a slight limp? Do you find yourself ordering ravioli soup at the thai restaurant across the street from the theatre because you haven't eaten all day and you've been waiting for hours for your call-back? Do you then find yourself using a rubbermaid cart as a makeshift table in the lobby of the theatre, but the cart is too high and the bench is too low so your really at eye level with the soup, trying not to spill shrimp on your audition dress, that is actually your baccalaureate dress from high school? Finally, do you find yourself roaming the streets of a deserted pennsylvania town looking for the last trolley so that you won't be stuck sleeping outside the Trader Joe's for the night? Yeah? Oh, good. I just wanted to make sure that was normal. 

Missing the Boat, or in my case the bus

Oh, how I ran! With each splash of a puddle and each shoulder I rammed into, I thought, "How did I come to this? Kristen 'Always a half hour early to the party' Burke is running across Manhattan to catch the Megabus home?" It all started with a soggy five dollar bill, drenched from walking around the persistent rain all day. I listened to subways flying by as I tried desperately to force the metrocard machine to take my money. Finally giving up and using my debit card for all of two dollars, I jumped on the four train. Unfortunately, the lady behind me was not as spritely and stuck her leg in as the doors were closing. Instead of removing her leg and waiting until the next train, she waited until tow of us pried the door open with our hands to let her in. "You can get hurt that way," one bystander said. "No kidding," the woman replied sinking her teeth into an apple and spitting the seeds unceremoniously into a plastic bag.

Besides a minor stress spasm, I figured I'd be ok. I'd stop at 33rd and 6th and run to 31st and 8th. I ran out of the subway, only to find I was not on 6th, but Park Avenue, a full 4 blocks farther than I thought I would be.  And so, I ran. I ran with an overstuffed Estee Lauder bag that my mom had received as a free gift slung over my back. I ran with a Ross umbrella that is so cheap, it's more like a lightning rod that anything else. I ran in Leopard print galoshes and a push-up bra. I ran until I saw Jimmy's Pulled Pork and the rounded side of Penn Station I'd come to know so well. I ran until the Megabus attendant told me I had missed the bus by all of one minute.

My punishment was walking around in the rain for an hour looking for a Tasti-D-Lite, to no avail. I then was shoved on a bus with no Wi-fi with some very unfriendly Philadelphians. No one would give up their seat for a couple with a baby, except me, of course. I moved from my two-seater to a spot next to a heavy man, who punished me by eating hard pretzels out of a lunch box he kept clutched to his stomach like a pirate's chest and then flatulating in his sleep so that I spent the entirety of the trip with my scarf wrapped around my face. Needless to say, I took the first cab I saw in Philadelphia home.

Unequal Opportunity Employers

Hi, I'm Kristen Burke. You know, we've had a lot of fun tonight laughing at Mario Lopez's Saved by the Bell haircut (mullet or jerry-curl? you decide). But you know what's not funny? Discrimination against vegetarians. While applying for waitressing jobs, vegetarians everywhere are being turned away at establishments like Zot in Old City. This restaurant claims it cannot hire servers who cannot taste their delicacies which include kangaroo, ostrich, and black bear. Now, most vegetarians would probably be against working at a place that serves entrees that could be from the endangered species list, but still it's the principal of the thing! Vegetarians should be able to serve Sea Turtle Omelets or Siberian Tiger Filets just like anyone else!

When a Stranger Calls

I was waiting for my ride at the Westmont PATCO station, when I discovered a cell phone sitting on the bench. Knowing the crippling effects of losing one's cell phone, I picked it up and scanned through the contacts until I landed on "Mom". A woman picked up, "Hello?"

Me: "Hello, my name is Kristen Burke, and I found this cell phone at the Westmont PATCO station. I dialed the number that said 'Mom'"

Mom: "Oh, I don't know whose that could be."

Me: "...Huh. Well...there's a picture of a woman and young boy on the phone."

Mom:  "Oh! Maybe it's my son's!"

Me: "...y-yes. That sounds right."

Mom: "Where are you? I'm in Long Island."

Me: "Well, I'm in New Jersey, and I'm going to leave the phone with an attendant here."

Mom: "Ok...hmmm"

Me: "Could you call your son at home and let him know where it is?"

Mom: "Oh, Ok! Yeah! I could do that."

Me: "Greeeaat."

On another topic, I believe cling wrap is one of the biggest lies in this country. 

Where Fun Goes to Die

Hey, you! Yes, YOU! Are you between the ages of 23 and 37? Do you feel no need to leave your college days behind you? Then come to scenic Manayunk! Here you can relive all the worst moments of your early 20's. Come stand in line for an overrated club with girls wearing tube tops and booty shorts in 40 degree weather. Enjoy being hit on by complete tools who think you care how they're going to climb the corporate ladder in the dry cleaning industry. Get stared down by girls with low self-esteem who are trying oh-so-very hard. If this sounds like the place you wanna be, take a 30 minute cab ride out of the city and come to a place where desperation is palpable and being pathetic never goes out of style. I guarantee you, you will never want to leave; and you probably won't be able to anyway since the train stops at midnight.