Thou Shalt Converse with the Other Generation

HOROSCOPE: Remember to keep in touch with your grandparents. After all, time is precious.

After reading this, I decided to give each of my grandparents a phone call. This is a little tricky since both sets of my grandparents are divorced and remarried.

PHONE CALL #1: Dad's Stepmother

ME: Hi Grandma Elaine.
ELAINE: Kevin!
ME: How are you?
ELAINE: Oh, I miss your grandfather like a madwoman.
ME: Really? Even after ten years?
ELAINE: Every day I mourn for him.
ME: Well, I'm glad I called you then.
ELAINE: I'd love to talk, honey, but I'm heading out.
ME: Where to?
ELAINE: Oh, just out with a friend.
ME: To bingo or something?
ELAINE: No, a gentleman friend.
ME: A date? You're going on a date?
ELAINE: Just an outing.
ME: Where are you going?
ELAINE: Dinner and a movie, then maybe stop by the beach.
ME: That's a date!
ELAINE: I'm a grown woman. I can go where I want.
ME: Of course you can. I just thought you were mourning grandpa.
ELAINE: We all grieve in our own way. Don't judge me.
ME: Grandma, God rest his soul, but Grandpa was a miserable old man. Live it up.
ELAINE: That's my boy.

Sound of motorcycle.

ELAINE: Gotta run.

PHONE CALL #2: Mom's Dad and Stepmother

ME: Hi Grandma Sarah, how's Florida?
SARAH: Bruce! Kevin's on the phone!
BRUCE: Who?
SARAH: YOUR GRANDSON! HE'S ON THE PHONE!
ME: Did I call at a bad time?
BRUCE: WHO?
SARAH: Of course not! How are you, honey? You sound thin.
ME: Same weight as always.
SARAH: Thin, right. BRUCE!

The other line picks up.

BRUCE: Hello?
ME: Hi Grandpa.
SARAH: Are you doing any more shows?
BRUCE: Is this Kevin?
ME: Yup.
BRUCE: You son-of-a-bitch!
SARAH: Bruce!
BRUCE: When are you coming down here?
ME: You know I hate flying.
BRUCE: You little chickenshit! Hahaha...

My grandfather treats me like I'm one of his old buddies from the pub.

SARAH: You have to send me pictures from your last show!
ME: I'm working on it.
SARAH: I tell all my friends you do theater.
ME: What do they say?
SARAH: Well, usually they tell me about their grandsons who are doctors or lawyers.
ME: Oh...sorry.
SARAH: Oh, don't worry about it. I tell them you like boys and that shuts them up.
BRUCE: Old bitches.
SARAH: Everybody wants a gay grandson now. You should hear them down here. My grandson is marrying this shiksa, which I think is Latvian for whore.
ME: It's Yiddish.
BRUCE: Who?
ME: Never mind.
SARAH: So I say, Well I don't have to worry about that, because my grandson Kevin likes boys. The jealously that fills their eyes--
BRUCE: Priceless.
SARAH: Priceless.
BRUCE: Shuts those old bitches right up.

Now you know where I get my swearing from--

SARAH: You know whose a handsome man? What's-his-name from the gay cowboy movie. Not the dead one.
ME: Jake Gyllenhaal?
SARAH: Him!

Why does everyone in my family want to set me up with Jake Gyllenhaal?

ME: He likes girls, or so they say. He's with Reese Witherspoon.
SARAH: That shiksa?
BRUCE: She's stiffer than a corpse.
ME: You know shiksa--never mind.
BRUCE: You little asshole! We got to get you down here.
ME: Not a chance, geezer.
BRUCE: Hahaha! I love you, you little prick.

Sentiment like that they don't make at Hallmark.

PHONE CALL #3: Dad's Mom

NANCY: How's school, darlin?
ME: I'm out of school, Grandma.
NANCY: Is this Steve?
ME: No, this is Kevin.
NANCY: The one who married Igor?
ME: No, that's Steve, and I thought we all agreed we were going to stop calling Maria that?
NANCY: Are you the one with the weird eye?
ME: No, that's Mark.
NANCY: The bad teeth?
ME: That's my Dad.
NANCY: The one on the third marriage?
ME: That could be a few people.
NANCY: The one who got arrested for kiddie porn?
ME: I'm not even sure who that would be, but you just convinced me not to attend the Family Reunion.
NANCY: Well if you're not any of those wackos, then that's good.
ME: Have you quit smoking yet?
NANCY: Just like Bad Teeth. Always on me about the smoking.
ME: Dad's been telling you to quit smoking?
NANCY: Yeah.
ME: What did you say?
NANCY: I told him to quit marrying twelve-year olds.
ME: Well, there's really no arguing with that now is there?

Grandma Nancy isn't what I'd call...maternal.

PHONE CALL #4: Mom's Mom

I know I shouldn't play favorites but--

BIANCA: You were so good in your play!

--Grandma Bianca kind of kicks everyone else's ass.

BIANCA: But you should have had that other boy's part.
ME: Grandma, that 'boy' is forty-five.
BIANCA: He was so boring. It was like listening to paint dry.
ME: I'm not sure that makes a sound.
BIANCA: They could have put gray make-up on you, and you would have been fine.
ME: Eh, I liked my role.
BIANCA: You know who you should play? One of those cats.
ME: I'd rather kill myself.
BIANCA: What's wrong with being a cat?
ME: It's not really...Well, for one thing, I can't dance.
BIANCA: Since when can't you dance?
ME: Have you ever seen me dance?
BIANCA: You danced that one time at the wedding where you had that seizure.
ME: The dancing was the seizure.
BIANCA: Oh my...Well, I'm glad you don't seize.
ME: Thank you.
BIANCA: You know, you're my favorite, but don't tell your brothers.

She tells us all that.

All four phone calls took a total of three hours.

(My Thanksgivings usually last a total of three weeks.)

Next week I'm starting on the aunts and uncles...

Heaven help me.

Thout Shalt Bond with Family, James Bond

HOROSCOPE: Let a common bond unite you when it comes to family matters.

A well-known fact to everyone who knows me.

My family owns the Bond franchise.

Let me clarify.

My grandfather's cousin was Albert "Cubby" Broccoli, and his children own pretty much anything Ian Fleming ever wrote.

When I was kid this impressed me, because Ian Fleming also wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

As I got older, I liked...bigger men.

ME: You know who was a hot Bond? Timothy Dalton.
ADAM: Oh my God, shut up. You are the only person on the face of the earth that liked Timothy Dalton.
ME: Hey! He was in The Rocketeer! Show a little respect.

My father's side of the family has always resented the fact that a mere limb away on the family tree sits a pile of money and prestige that we will never get to.

DAD: Unless they were all to die in some horrible accident.
ME: Dad!
DAD: I'm just saying!
ME: That's my line. Don't use that.

Over dinner at my Dad's house, we often discuss what we would do if that avalanche ever takes out all of the wealthy citizens of Long Island where the Rich Broccolis reside.

DAD: You know who'd make a good Bond girl? Heather Locklear.
ME: Dad, she's too old.
DAD: She's my age.
ME: You're old.
DAD: Hey!
STACEY: I think Jake Gyllenhaal would be a good James Bond.
ME: Yeah, if he ever manages to look something other than befuddled.
HARRY: Okay, I guess we all forgot you're the creative genius. Who would you cast?
ME: Me, duh!

Riotous laughter.

ME: Um, what's so funny? At least I'm a brunette, unlike that poser Daniel Craig.
DEANNA: If there was a gay James Bond, it should be--
STACEY: Jake Gyllenhaal.
DEANNA: Rupert Everett.
DAD: Liberace.

Silence.

DAD: What? Is he old, too?
ME: No, he's dead.

I could be such a kickass James Bond.

And my Bond boy?

HARRY: Are you kidding?
ME: Justin Chatwin would be such a choice Bond boy.
DEANNA: Whose he?
ME: Go watch The Invisible.
STACEY: I saw that. It wasn't every good.
ME: You have to watch it with the sound off to really enjoy his performance.
DAD: Okay, enough talk of desecrating the family cash cow.
ME: Were you not the one who wanted to cast the playmates from The Girls Next Door as the first ever Bond Blonde triplets?
DAD: That was a choice based on autistic merit.
HARRY: Dad, you mean artistic--
ME: No, he had it right the first time.

I guess you could say we all have...creative differences.

Thou Shalt Bang the Drum Slowly

Okay, so I've returned from a mini-hiatus.

www.thiscantbetheater.blogspot.com is still going.

But in the meantime, I still need to work on some things.

For one, I've always thought I should be able to play a musical instrument.

ADAM: Do you know how?
ME: No.
ADAM: Do you have the patience to learn?
ME: Sure. I can take a week or so.
ADAM: Why the sudden interest?
ME: It would be nice to have an actual skill.
ADAM: You mean besides being able to recite all of 'Modern Major General.'
ME: That's not a...yeah, I need to get on this.

I went through the list of potential musical instruments I could learn in a day or two.

The tambourine--a little too flaming.
The triangle--rock bands don't usually required them.
The xylophone--getting closer...

Drums.

I need to play the drums.

CARLY: Oooh drummers are hot.
ME: I know. I think I might have a shot at being legendary, like Pam's ex.
CARLY: Tommy Lee?
ME: Yeah, him.
CARLY: You'd be better off replicating some of his other...talents.
ME: Obvi, but for now let's talk about rhythm.
CARLY: Forget it. Use a condom.
ME: What?
CARLY: Oh, I thought you meant the method.
ME: Ah.
CARLY: Do you have any rhythm.
ME: Good question.

I decided to give my brother's set a try. I sat down and tried to play Wipeout.

I wiped out.

RORY: To be a drummer you have to lose all inhibition.
ME: Like Animal from the Muppets?
RORY: Who are the Muppets?
ME: Never mind, I'm old.
RORY: Just let yourself go.

I have major problems with that.

Anything that involves me letting loose makes me nervous.

Swing sets.
Twirling in a circle.
Letting people kiss the left side of my body.

It just makes me nervous.

BETH: I'm the same way with my right elbow. You kiss it; I scream and punch you.
ME: Why would anyone kiss your right elbow?
BETH: I dated a guy who was into elbows.
ME: Let's get off that topic as quick as possible.
BETH: Are you going to try the drums again?
ME: Yeah, tonight.
BETH: Just do it Animal.
ME: LADY! LADY!
BETH: Okay, that's just scary.

I sat down at the drum set, and tried to let go. After a few minutes, I was jamming away, but it didn't sound good at all.

My stepfather Roger heard me and came downstairs.

ROGER: I thought it was Rory, but I didn't hear any obscenities.
ME: It didn't sound good, did it?
ROGER: It sounded fun.
ME: Is that good or bad?
ROGER: Kevin, your problem starts with you even asking that question.
ME: Huh?
ROGER: Who cares if it's bad? Music is supposed to be fun. For you.
ME: Thanks Mr. Holland.
ROGER: Any time.

He went upstairs and I started to drum again.

Somewhere along the way, the music stopped being anything but a riot.

And I mean that in the best sense of the word.

I'm even thinking of starting my own band--

The Kevin Broccoli Tambourine Music Project But With No Tambourine Cause We're Better Than That

It could be kind of a big deal.