A Silly Christmas Tale

by zonistonate


Once upon a Christmas fair
a certain Scot crept down the stairs
The mantel clock showed a quarter to four
as he stealthily strode towards the kitchen door.

Remembering with fright the words mum had spake,
"Now Gerrrardd dinna ye touch that cake!"
But determined he was and quite mad with the craving,
he knew there was little now left that could save him.

His feet were bare and his nose was running
but the plan he had was one of cunning
Anyone who took Ambien...knew the score
and he'd had enough bouts of sleepwalking before.

The ruse was simple once he'd had his fill...
He'd tell his Mum he'd taken his pill
and dead to the world, put his life at stake
and swear he'd not touched the bluidy cake!

But the best laid plans of mice and men
are no match for a mother who knows ye, ken?
When he lifted the fancy cake platter cover
instead of the cake, he found a note from his mother.

"My darlin' son, now that ye're awake
would ye please put the turkey in the oven to bake?
I know you were probably sleepwalking again 
But that story is old and I don't buy it, ye ken?

I love you to death and ye know that to be true
So blow ye're runny nose and put on your bloody shoes!
Famous ye may be...and even worshiped by some
But my job is to remind you who ye are when come home!"

He smiled at himself as he turned on the oven
Cunning he might be, but no match for the women
who'd given him birth and knew him like the clock
so nothing she did should ever come as a shock.

Today was Christmas and he'd eventually get his cake
but he'd help her with the turkey now that he was wide awake.
He rummaged through the cupboard and found a loaf of bread 
he might not have cake, but second best was what he'd have instead.

The moral of the story is that everything tastes good when one is home for Christmas....and you can't fool mom!
A merry one to all!  

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.


Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

Playing the Field Through Rose Colored Glasses

If IMDb is to be believed, Playing the Field, the Gerard Butler project formerly known as Slide has finally got a start date of March 2011.   It had been rumored that the baseball themed, Robbie Fox comedy was being shopped around by Butler and Italian director Gabrielle Muccino for a while now and was finally picked up by Nu Image/Millenium.  It is to be co-produced by Butler's own Evil Twins production company.

In the meantime the story has undergone a metamorphosis and the protagonist, as played by Butler, will no longer be a former baseball player,  but more in keeping with Butler's Euro-centric style,  will feature a retired futball (soccer) star who tries to reconcile with his estranged wife and son by coaching his son's soccer team.

From the little I have heard of the plot,  the comedy element will come in the form of the soccer moms who all want a piece of the new,  sexy coach (yes we all know what piece it is they want) and Mr. Studly will spend some time trying to deflect the advances of the oversexed and obviously under-serviced soccer moms so as not to imperil his plan to reconcile with his family.

Sound a little familiar?

With two movies in post production that Butler fans are hoping will redeem their idol's promising acting credentials after the tepid reviews of his last three movies (okay, I am being kind here), another predictable comedy that will do nothing to add luster to his resume makes one wonder who the heck picks his projects!

To be fair, this is bit unfair of me, especially considering the state of movie making today and the kind of movies that are making money for their investors.  With actors such as Russell Crowe and others of his calibre striking out at the box office in favor of superhero, kiddie movies....one can see that perhaps he is taking what is being offered or can be made these days, the critics aside.   One can't do Shakespeare everyday, can one?

Let me look at this another way.   Rather than thinking this is going to be another dud like The Bounty Hunter with a predictable, cliched script and a lackluster pairing of the leads, let's dream a little here.....  Let's put on our rose colored wishing glasses and think about how this movie could be different....

What if.....?    What if this was a well written,  stylish comedy with an interesting central pairing and lush setting?   We're talking an Italian director here.   What if Butler finally allows himself to actually play a retired Scottish futball star, a little rough around the edges, but smart and his ex-wife a fiery, but sophisticated Spaniard (or other nationality) English professor?   How about letting  the supporting characters have some level of smarts and not be Jersey Shore or Hollywood housewives types?  How about a college town setting? A great child actor that really bonds with Butler?   How about the comedy coming out of the clever writing and  natural situations that we've  not seen a thousand times before?   How about a little drama and some interspersed pathos and maybe....yes not maybe....please...some passion (whether suppressed or expressed) between the leads?   How about a little more Philadelphia Story or Love Actually and a little less Ugly Truth?   Wouldn't that be grand?

I think I will keep on the rose colored glasses  for a while and wait and see what comes out of the mix.  The eventual casting will tell us a little....and oh how I wish I had a peek at the story!   The title is not very promising, but let's hope the "Field" is a little more full and rich then the title implies.

As always, I am keeping my fingers crossed.  I have hopes for this director.  I have seen a few of his movies and perhaps will put a few more on my Netflix over the next month.

I am hoping Playing the Field is a symbolic title and not indicative of what Butler will spend his time doing in this movie.   I want to see some sparks and the tinkling of some sparkling dialogue and lots of spontaneous laughter with no laugh track necessary.

I know....I'm a foolish optimist.   But one can always hope.


Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate



 

Frolicking In Miami Beach

Gerard Butler looks like he was "frolicking" on the beach with several friends before popping into some of the  Art Basel  exhibitions in Miami Beach.  Frolicking, I say, because he is the type to actually frolic (check out the last photo).

Just Gerry here.

GB  is looking good these days!   He's slimmer than he's been in a long time and it works for him.  Contrary to what some think,  his youthful look is due to that weight loss and,  in these photos,  perhaps the windswept hair and the sunscreen moisturizing his face.

For those that think he should look picture perfect all the time,  he is not going to go the mousse and mirror route while kicking back near the beach. Would you?  I mean we ALL look perfect at the beach, don't we?

I think there is sometimes great naivete and very unreal expectations of this person (and actors in general) by their fans.  Where you see him dressed the way you would like to see him, it's most likely a photo shoot or other publicity shot.  When he is on his own, he is "just Gerry" and he dresses the way he pleases.  By now we all  know what that means.   His sartorial splendor leaves one breathless at times.

However, here, he looks fine and the blue shirt fits well and does make his eyes pop, as does the ever present  paparazzi.

The colt in action.

He's not your 300 hero-hunk in these photos.  The  person  here is enjoying some personal time with friends and, as is often the case, being funny without trying.   Personally, I think he is really 15 years old in his head and for all his athletic build, he is also sometimes an ungainly colt!  

That this colt also has a head (and body) for business and does very well for himself is incongruous at times.  For me therein lies some of his charm.   All men are little boys underneath the armour and those that aren't wish they could be.



Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate


*Photos courtesy of Just Jared and Gerard Butler Gals

Happy Thanksgiving from Hollywood, California

Gerard Butler riding on a cool, clear Southern California day.

With all the things that are not right in the world at the moment, a fine looking fellow is one of the many things to be thankful for.  



Photo courtesy of  www.justjared.com

The Outlandisher - Chap. 13 - Travel by Boot

17th Century Scotland - The Red Bull Inn

Sitting on the rough wooden bench in the room upstairs, Jamie McFraser and Gerremy McButler's conversation was momentarily drowned out by the loud claps of thunder and the torrential rain that peppered the  roof of the Red Bull Inn.   Presently both men sat facing the object of their consternation and discussing how to approach the search for the key that would allow McBuler passage through the mirror to 21st century New York.

After doing a thorough reconnaissance,  featuring tactile compression of every inch of the surface, they came to the conclusion that it had to be a matter of some kind of spell or group of words that had to be said in the right order that would open the portal.   They had spent the last half hour discussing a little Scottish history and the events that might link the past and the present in hopes of coming up with some clue on how to proceed.

McFraser had also recounted to McButler everything he was doing on the ill fated night that had brought McButler through the portal with a roaring thump.  In turn McButler explained to McFraser what Dressed to Kilt was and how he was  trying on the outfit he was to wear to the occasion when he had turned and momentarily seen the image of Jamie McFraser staring back at him from the mirror.   As a matter of fact, it had been Noly's growling and the ensuing fright that had caused him to trip on the little dog and plummet through the vortex that had suddenly appeared in the mirror.

McFraser had questioned McButler on the circumstances the evening the Captain disappeared, only Gerremy had been unable to shed much light, since he had been fast asleep, under the influence of an Ambien laced shot of Scottish whiskey, which had put him out like a light.   He skipped lightly over his adventures with the English dragoon in an unaccustomed fit of embarrassment.  He noticed McFrasers stern silence and unwillingness to prod further on the matter and wondered what it was all about.

He was not about to go in that direction again though, as he and McFraser had been getting along and he didn't particularly relish seeing the menacing look on the big Scots face ever again.  He was no coward and had survived a fair share of bar brawls in his day, but he knew damned well that if push came to shove, this fiery headed Highlander was capable of killing him without too much trouble.

He decided to take a different approach.

GMcB:   Since yer wife traveled here from another century, dae ye think she might have some clues to offer on this situation?

JMcF:  Perhaps.  My wife is ne'er one tae be scarce wi' the words.  We'll wait til the storm passes, though.    One o' the young lads in the actin'  troop  was struck by a bolt o' lightning an' the poor bastard was left deaf an' dumb.  If it's just the same wi' ye I'm going tae stretch out in the bed and catch up on some sleep while I can.   Ye can wake me when the rain stops.  We should save the candles for later.   Ye can stretch out on the table if ye're tired!

GMcB:  (frowning)  The table?  Unh unh.  I had enough o' that table already.  If ye dinna mind,  that bed is big enough fer two an' I promise tae stay on my side of it.

JMcF:  Ye don't snore, dae ye?

GMcB:   (innocently)  Me?  No' a bit!



Gerremy McButler found himself lying on the table, uncomfortable but thankful for the blanket and pillow that Jamie had ceded to him when he pushed him off the bed  earlier.  He had been sorely tempted to punch him in the head while he was down, but he needed him to find his way back to civilization and he was unwilling to risk alienating him.

Damn, how was a man expected not tae snore when the peat and wood fires clogged up the sinuses.  It was his bad luck McFraser was a light sleeper.   He had found out just how light when he had accidently jostled  Jamie while trying to pull the captain's very snug  trousers out of his arse, only to find a sharp point pierce the skin behind  his right ear.

Yes, Jamie McFraser was one very tautly strung  highlander and thank goodness his protestations of chaffing had the ring of truth to it, or he might have lost the ear altogether.   After the commotion, they had settled down again, with Gerremy determined not to move so much as a hair.   That determination had been skewered completely and certainly no match for Morpheus, who had warmly embraced him and apparently squeezed enough snores out of him to cause him to be quietly, but very unceremoniously,  dumped on the wood plank floor with a blanket carelessly tossed at his head.

Picking himself up, he'd had to beg for the pillow,  which caused McFraser  to lob some strong profanities at him in Gaelic.  McButler had gotten enough of a whiff of their meaning to realize that McFraser knew some curses not even he had ever heard of.    He'd made a mental note to ask him the meaning of a few to add to his own well stocked repertoire before going in search of the pillow McFraser had hurled across the room.



As usual, he was destined to get little sleep.   What seemed like only an hour later he was roughly awakened by the highlander, who had changed his mind and decided to return to Claire and see what light she could shed on this "time traveling" business.  Besides, McFraser had said he was as hungry as he was broke,  and it could rain for days, so they might as well tackle the elements and make their way before it got dark.

Still aching from the hard, inhospitable table, McButler made a show of easily sliding to the ground, as he tried to shake the drowsiness of sleep from his brain.  He noticed Jamie was doing the same, stretching in front of the mirror.

His stockinged feet had barely touched the floor, when a very loud peal of thunder,  immediately followed by a bolt of lightening,  lit up the room.   Covering his ears to shield them from the sound,  Gerremy McButler, in a show of grace seldom witnessed by mortal man (or woman),  tripped over the tight fitting boots he had slipped off  previous to climbing up on the table little more than an hour before,  and careened into one Jamie Lee McFraser with the equally loud, but well worn verbal explosion otherwise known as FUCK!

The next thing either of them knew, they were grabbing thin air and being sucked in,  hand over foot,  by the black vortex that opened up to receive them.
 

Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.



Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

Living in the Moment: Why Gerard Butler Loves Sex!

Always a sensualist and  advocate of "living in the moment,"  I can't tell you how many times I come back to the premise that being in a moment with all your senses (and even your sixth) is so important to personal happiness.   I have written about it since I was in in school...."happiness is a function of recognizing the wonderful little moments in life and being there with all your senses, soaking it all up."   I am that way about plays, musical performances, the people I am with, communing with nature, being with myself.  The bottom line is  "When I am scattered I am not content."

So it was that my own feelings were validated while reading through the NY Times this morning and finding an article on a  recent study that correlates "unhappiness"with the tendency of letting one's mind wander.

*Gerard Butler happy?

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/16/science/16tier.html?_r=1&nl=todaysheadlines&emc=a210&pagewanted=print

In one paragraph, the study cites the unsurprising:

'The least surprising finding, based on a quarter-million responses from more than 2,200 people, was that the happiest people in the world were the ones in the midst of enjoying sex. Or at least they were enjoying it until the iPhone interrupted.'

After reading that paragraph my mind went immediately to Gerard Butler, whose photo of his arrival at LAX had caught my attention earlier.

You know Gerard Butler ...he of the "manwhore, " "can't sit still"  ADD,  cell phone as another appendage, reputation?

It was "in the moment" I read this that I felt the man should clearly be vindicated of the smears of so many disgruntled fans who consider him the antichrist and a threat to the institution of marriage or even monogamy?  All the vitriol can't be because they HATE his acting!

I had to ask myself the question.   "Could all the purported sex he has just be that Gerry just likes to be happy?"

It is a rare bird that knows themselves well enough to know where their weaknesses lay.   Gerard Butler, by his own admission in countless interviews, has said that he has a problem concentrating.  He has made an issue of it in going to Oneness University,  in his travels to India, flirtations with light therapy, even in reading books on how to bring all the disparate parts of him together in cohesiveness.    He is honest about it.  He has dealt with his demons, worked hard on ridding himself of addictions that have plagued him....always searching and trying to find the things that bring him contentment.  

Well, there are many things people know about Gerard Butler because he so often puts them out there and, while I'm sure there are many others that make him happy,  these three have to be at the top of his list:  1) Performing (be it acting or singing) to entertain others,  2) socializing (not to include talking to rocks) and,   3) if the tabloids and his fans are to be believed, LOTS of SEX.   Now, according to this article,  we perhaps get a glimpse of why the latter is so important to him!   Could engaging in sex be one of the times when his mind is not wandering to the next thing he has to do, going in a million directions, his electrical system sparking furiously?

He certainly looks happy in that LAX photograph  and we've  heard he has been engaging in all three of the above listed loves in NYC just recently.   If giving someone a smile is a contagious thing, the smile in that photograph is working.  It made me smile. 

Now I have one question for Gerry:

"Does he turn off his sexy red cell  phone while engaging in sexual acrobatics with the bevy of beauties he's so often photographed with?"  

I would hope so, but inquiring minds want to know. 

Be happy Gerry!   "Living" is important.


Zoni

Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate

*Original Link for Photograph:

http://justjared.buzznet.com/photo-gallery/2495980/gerard-butler-lax-01/

The Outlandisher - Chap. 12 - Clash of the Scottish Egos

9-22-10

Clash of the Scottish Egos

It was inevitable.  Gerremy McButler was totally convinced of that.  His life, right from the beginning, had been an example of the old adage one step forward and two steps back so this didn't come as any great surprise.   Why should this nightmare trip through time be any different.   If he had thought meeting up with one crazed English dragoon had been wicked, meeting up again with one hard headed, titian haired Scottish laird, was absolutely mind altering.

After leaving Claire McFraser's cottage,  he had decided to give the mirror one more try.  Claire had been occupied with patients and he hadn't been able to recount his disastrous meeting with one F. Neil McRandall and get her take on it.  It was obvious the crazy Captain was enamored of her husband, but he wasn't sure that she was aware of it and didn't know how to recount it without bringing him into it.   Did McFraser reciprocate some of the Captain's affections?  From the little he had mentioned him, he thought not, but one never knew how these things played out and he would have to wait and ask McFraser himself, in any case, since Claire had been too busy to see him.

He had returned to the Red Bull Inn and run smack into the person he was seeking,  namely, Jamie McFraser.    As he was going up the stairs to the room, he spotted McFraser having a tankard of ale with the proprietor.   Tired and angry,  he had approached McFraser from behind and put his hand on his shoulder.

GMcB:  Just the pairson I was lookin' for!     Tell me how ye brought me here to be pairt o' yer  Machiavellian plan.   I want tae go home.   Right now!

Without so much as twitching a muscle, McFraser had practically broken his hand by squeezing it so hard, it forced him to sit down.

JMcF:   Ye should know better than to sneak up on a body like that!  Ye're lucky I didna break yer arm.

Slamming a glass down in front of McButler, he poured him  some ale from his own tankard.

JMcF:  Ye look horrible.  I think ye need this more than I do!  Drink!

Rubbing his hand and still angry, McButler scowls at McFraser before  thirstily taking a few gulps.  He did not dare drink water again and resigned himself to a few lapses until this mess was cleared up.

JMcF:   Now what the hell is wrong wi ye that ye need tae shout it tae the world?

GMcF:  (lowering his voice)  Why the de'il did ye no' warn me about yer friend the fucking sadist McRandall?

JMcF:  Ran into him already, did ye?

GMcF:  Ye knew he would come after me?

JMcF:  If ye'll clear that muddled heid o' yers, ye'll  mind I did warn ye about the Captain.

GMcF: (still angry) Well, when ye said he wis after yer arse, I didn't  figure ye were speakin' in the literal sense!

JMcF:   (looking McButler over carefully)  Ye're a big fella an' ye dinna appear tae have suffered any lastin' damage!

GMcF:  Only tae ma psyche!  The man is madder than a hatter!

JMcF:   And what exactly is a "hatter."

GMcF:   It's someone who is mentally unstable, which said Captain appears tae be.  He almost killed me!

JMcF:  Yet here ye are.  Besides, the Captain isna daft.  He's nasty an'  he's sick.  I've run across arse bandits before, but na'er one that got his kicks from hurtin' people.

GMcF:   Seems like ye're more o' a babe in the woods than me.  Where I come from, people like him can advertise their preferences an' hook up wi' like minded types.

JMcF:  Ye're jokin'?

GMcB:  Not a bit.  An' to add tae it, I think the Captain might be there now.  He wis gone when I woke up, but his trousers an' the rest o' his clothes were still there.  I think he managed tae find a way tae take a trip through the bluidy mirror.

JMcF:   Well that's good news tae me.  One less thing I've got tae worry about.  I am goin' tae kill him some day, but for now, I'm relieved not tae have him on ma tail all the time.

GMcB:   When ye say  "on yer tail" are ye talkin' in the literal sense?

JMcF:  (frostily)  Mr. McButler, dae ye enjoy breathin'?

The look in Jamie McFraser's eyes chill him to the bone.

GMcB:  O' course, I dae.  What kinda question is that?

JMcF:  Then ye will never imply what ye just did again.

GMcB:  I'm not implyin' anythin'.   I wis  merely askin' a simple question.  It's no sin, ye know?  Some o' ma best friends are gay.

JMcF:   Gay?

GMcB:   That's what they call men who like men in ma time.  They openly live together and have good lives most of the time, except for the bigots.

JMcF:   Interestin'.    I've got tae remember an' ask Claire about it....  Say,  speakin' o' Claire...  How'd ye two get along?

GMcB:  Like a house on fire.  She's a fiesty one, isn't she?

JMcF:  (smiling to himself)  That she is.  (narrowing his eyes)  Just what dae ye mean by "a house on fire?"

GMcB:  (unawares of the change in tone)  Just like ye said, we got along, cep fer her puttin' a pillow o'er my head one night, though I dinna think she was really tryin' tae smother me in bed.

JMcF:   In bed?  An' just what were ye doin' in bed wi' my wife?

GMcB:  (becoming aware of the menace in the voice)  Sleepin'?

JMcF:   She let ye sleep in the bed?

GMcB:  Well, yeah, after she made me bathe tae get rid o' the lice, she practically cooked me alive wi' the boiling water she poured o'er ma heid!   I thought she wis tryin' tae cook ma balls!  That wife o' yers is dangerous, come tae think o' it.  She could give the mad captain a run fer his money!

JMcF:   (incredulous)  Ye got hot water?  She actually heated up water fer ye?

GMcB:   Ye expected me tae freeze ma balls off?  Are ye crazy?

JMcF:  What else did she do for ye?  Think verra carefully afore ye answer McButler.

GMcB:   If ye're asking did I sleep wi' her, the answer is no.  Well, technically I did sleep "with" her, but we didna  do more than sleep.....which was kinda strange tae me.  I never slept in a bed wi' a woman and not.... Well, ye know....?

JMcF::   I see.  Sae ye say ye ha' carnal knowledge o' every woman ye sleep wi'?

GMcB:  Well, not every wumman!  But aye, normally I dae!  But ah got tae say yer Claire knows how tae defend herself.  She took a knee tae ma stones when ah tried tae kiss her after she ripped off ma shirt.

JMcF:  (coldly)  Mr. McButler.  I think ye ought tae stop talkin' before ye find yerself wi' ma dirk embedded between your 2nd and third intercostal space.   Ye ken?

GMcB:   Wha....?   Listen, wasn't me doing the rippin' .   She said she wis leukin' fer my smallpox vaccination.   (shrugging)  But pairsonally, ah think she just wanted to see ma abs.

JMcF:  (suddenly understanding)  I see.  She was looking for the round little mark on  yer arm an' you misunderstood her intentions.  Aye, I see it now.

GMcB:   Well that's guid tae hear, kis I don't relish bein' gutted like a fish fer somethin' that wis clearly not ma fault.   An' besides that, ah DID save yer guid name by winnin' the pissin' contest ....wi' a little help from Claire, o' course, but....

Seeing the mine field in the direction this conversation was headed, McButler stops.

GMcB:   ...it's a long story.  I'll let Claire tell ye aboot it, aye?   Could ye PLEASE see yer way tae helpin' me figure out how tae get back tae ma own time an' tell me the trick tae the fuckin' mirror?

Jamie Lee McFraser looks dumbfounded.

JMcF:  Ye think I ken how it's done?  I havena a clue.



Disclaimer: This is a work of pure fiction that exists only in the twilight zone of the writer's mind. Any and all resemblance to any person living or dead is purely coincidental.


Songs out of tune, the words always a little wrong...Canzoni Stonate