#32: Man with titanium balls and the voice to back them up!

[Gibby]

I'm sorry, Couchie. *HUGS*

[annabear]

Aww, Couchie.

[ldyjocelyn]

{{{{{{couchie}}}}}}}

I'm confuzzled....did jmh's avatar change? Or do I just need to refresh my screen? 'Cause it still looks like Hawt!Professor!Clay! to me.

Gibby, I'm a musician too, but I couldn't put the kind of detail in my analysis that you did. That was fantastic, thanks! (Although, I would say -- as a flute player -- that I prefer the key for ALAWH to be D flat minor, not C sharp minor. *g*)

OTOH, KAndre's analysis was perfect too. I'm still grinning.

I'm also still dead from the pictures from today. Good God, the man is hawt. I even liked the mandals! Hee.

[claytonic]

OK, this is totally off-topic but if you love Michael Jackson, you gotta see this!

http://www.snotr.com/video/1178

p.s. please don't rip into MJ, let's just remember him the way he was when he was black...

[merrieeee]

{{{{{couchtomahto}}}}}

Wow gibby you took the words right out of my mouth. That is if I had any idea about music which I don't.*g*

I just know what I like and I like Clay's new CD....all of it! To me it is a work of art! God that man is so freaking talented! (oh and he is cute too)

[KAndre]

Michael has issues - but, man, he had talent too - Lord, it's been a generation since Thriller and something about it speaks to so many in so many places...

Now I gotta watch Clay do "The Way You Make Me Feel"....

[ldyjocelyn]

OK -- NOW I see jmh's new avi. It's really nice. Really nice.

*jealous that she stole a perfect smile picture*

*g*

[Carolina Clay]

Hello, FCA! :F_05BL17blowkiss:

Heap big rehearsal in my living room today for Sunday's spring recital. Nine string/wind players, two of whom had to sit on the couch until the younger set left. Wall to wall kids for two hours -- the teacher is dragging!

There's a blurb about the recital and the coming of Kai in my current blog. Mostly, the journal is about what's happening in Clay Land: Aiken Shines on Leno Show / OMWH Debuts with 94k! I think I've updated it constantly since it went up on the 14th.

Thnx to all who have hit Carolina On My Mind and the other Clay blogs. The traffic has been amazing when I have been able to watch the "Live Feed" (bottom of the sidebar). The hits help keep the positive Clay blogs at the top for Google/Internet searches. Many people land at the site via Google from a variety of countries.

Besides all the handsome CA graphics, here's one by Ashes to commemorate Kai's arrival next Wednesday:

Clickable by Ashes

I told my sophomore piano student (who is playing Mozart's Fantasy in D Minor in the recital) that I had included a blurb about Sunday in my blog, but which is still mostly about Clay. She piped up, "Oh, yes, he's got some really good songs on his new CD." And then she named 3-4 of them. This is the Evanescence fan whose birthday box of music got soaked a few months ago. I had not mentioned the CD until Wednesday, so she has listened on her own.

Gibby, I really enjoyed your post about the songs.

Couchie, sending you hugs.

Y'all take care, and have a great weekend! I need to type a program, LOL!

Caro

[ldyjocelyn]

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

OMWH is playing RIGHT NOW on Comcast Cable's Easy Listening Music Channel!!!!!! PhillyLovesClay at GCA alerted to me to that earlier today -- and it's being played right now!

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

[annabear]

The last of Spot's Spama-Monk adventure from CH:

On Broadway: The Final Chapter

The Aiken Tornado has whirled onto the stage for the guard scene. Sheri looks after him affectionately. “My 4-year-old son is going to miss Clay so much. He always plays with Clay,” she says. I remember meeting her son earlier in the office. “Yep, Clay loves kids,” I say. “But then he’s just a big kid himself.” “He is,” agrees Sheri, “very much so a big kid.” I imagine she sees her share of them in theater, especially in this kind of show. Heh.

I notice something that looks like a big burlap sack laid out in the wings, almost onstage. Sheri tells me it’s the costume for Tim the Enchanter (played by Rick). I'll just have time to see them put him into that get-up before my own entrance.

Jonathan Hadary comes by and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “Have fun,” he whispers. “Thanks!” I respond. “See you out there!”

Rick comes offstage into the wings after finishing “His Name is Lancelot”. “Getting close!”, he says to me. They all seem determined to make me nervous. Ha! They don’t know who they’re dealing with; I’ve gone onstage with waaaay less preparation than this.

Jerome comes past me and goes down the narrow staircase next to my now-abandoned chair. “What’s down there?” I ask Sheri. She say’s it just a room where they keep the Playbills. “And you keep Jerome there too?” She laughs. “Jerome, and it’s where my son and I eat dinner because it’s away from everybody else. There’s not a lot of extra room around here.” “And he (Jerome) takes up a bit of it.” “He’s big,” agrees Sheri. She says sometimes he takes a book and goes down there to read.

The backstage folks are getting Rick into a harness for his levitation act as Tim. If you’ve ever wondered what he’s wearing under there, he’s still in his rhinestone codpiece from the earlier number. A stocky guy with a long gray ponytail, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and shorts, comes over and suddenly sprays my hair from two cans held in both hands; I jump in surprise. His name is Randy, and the cans contain very cold compressed air. He’s been spraying Rick’s head with them to cool off his head-mic, so it doesn’t short out. I volunteer that I’d be happy to blow on him, just to help out. I’m caring and selfless that way.

I’m watching them put big furry caterpillar eyebrows on Rick; I never even realized he even HAD eyebrows in this scene. Who can see them up there in the rafters? I’ve sat in the second row several times and never noticed. Sheri points out Roy, the pyro man, in the wings; he’s there to check out the fiery broom. Roy comes over to ask the million-dollar question: are you having fun? He has with him the special gloves that Rick wears; he waggles the claw-like fingers at me.

Lee comes over; he’s getting ready to work the killer bunny behind the scenery. I must have gotten distracted, because I don’t remember seeing them hoist Rick up with the lines. Roy shows me where I can stand safely and I watch the broom fireworks go off as they fly him into the scene.

Vanessa comes into the wings in her casual clothes and Sheri gives her the headset. She explains that Vanessa’s going to call a couple of the cues, and that it’s very unusual for an actor to be allowed to do this, but that it’s the signature of the PSM (production stage manager) who originated the show to allow one actor in the show to do this. Sheri’s not sure how the actor is chosen; it was someone else before Vanessa joined the show.

We’re getting close now. Sir Robin soils his pants for the last time and goes offstage to change. A bevy of helpers descend to get me ready; they’re fussing with my robe and pulling up the hood. They pull it back a bit so my face shows a little (and a sprig of blonde hair, according to my friends in the audience). Vanessa must have finished her cues, because she magically appears beside me in a monk’s robe. “Ready?” she asks. Sure, why not. It’s only Broadway. Piece o’ cake. They hand me the prop box and make sure I’m comfortable carrying it. Then Sheri says “Break a leg!” and returns to her station.

The now-headless knight is being dragged offstage and I hear Jonathan saying the magic words “Of course! The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch! Brother Maynard!” Vanessa precedes me from in the extremely narrow downstage opening, then steps aside to let me catch up. We walk solemnly out into our places. I’m supposed to stop when she does, but I honestly can’t see her on my right due to the monk’s hood (and I’m not about to cheat out and check for the blue dot on the left), so I wing it and I’m probably a foot or so closer to center than I should be. With the holy book held over his face, Brother Maynard doesn’t seem to notice as he takes his place center stage.

My face is a leetle more exposed than I’d like, actually; I can see a fair-sized slice of the audience and I’m thinking I don’t look a whole helluva lot like a monk. So I keep my eyes downcast toward the floor most of the time. Shyeah. Like anyone’s going to notice ME out there.

Clay starts his schtick as Brother Maynard, who seems to have gotten older and quite a bit more nasal since my last attendance. I surreptitiously glance up a couple of times just to see what Clay’s up to. I remember noticing how dark and curly his sideburns are, and the dark pinpoints of his stubble underneath the pancake. (This is really the only time I see him in the light.) And listen – if you think Brother Maynard is hammy from out in the audience? You should be watching it from three feet away. When he skips a bit, I’m hoping he doesn’t knock the box out of my hands. That’s a fairly voluminous costume he’s wearing.

The knights launch into a rousing chorus of “Get Your Hand Off My Knee, You Dirty Old Bastard.” Jonathan comes toward me and I hold up the box as we’ve rehearsed; he gives me a glance, delivers his line, and opens the box and takes out the Velcro hand-grenade. I immediately turn upstage and exit with Vanessa. Mission accomplished; I didn’t trip on the robe or drop the box or burp audibly or anything. There’s a momentary pupil readjustment as I re-enter the dark wings; someone immediately takes the box out of my hands and I hear a whispered “good job”. As I regain my eyesight, I see that Sheri and the other people in the wings are giving me a silent round of applause. Awwwww-and-a-half. If I weren’t so stoked I’d probably cry. Instead I just grin insufferably.

Sheri searches for someone to take me down to wardrobe to shed the costume, but I say I’d rather stay and watch. “How was it,” Sheri asks. “It was great!” Naw, really it was awful. I’m just a good liar. “I kept my eyes averted like a good little monk,” I tell her. She laughs. She calls a couple of cues. “You weren’t nervous?” she asks. “Naw! I’ve been onstage many times.” This is actually the truth. “I’d have been nervous,” Sheri says. I say, “You know, going out there was just like a job I needed to do. THIS ---“ -- I indicate the wings and the backstage hubbub – “—this is where it’s at.” (Of course, let me put on one of Tom Deckman’s costumes and I’d soon change my tune. It’s a whole different ballgame when you have lines and get laughs. You think the nickname spotlightlover is just a coincidence?!?!)

Frank comes in and asks if it went well. He wants to take me downstairs to get out of costume. He has the Polaroid camera and wants to take a photo of me in costume. After that I persuade him to use my digital to take another one. Frank leaves, and I get a photo with Linda the wardrobe supervisor. (I’ve blurred out her face because I don’t think I should plaster it across the internet.) I whine to Linda about it being all over so quickly.

Clay’s finding his musical theater grail as I’m getting de-frocked. I hustle back upstairs just in time to see Lancelot brain Herbert’s father with his shovel. I get some high-fives and congratulations from a few cast members as they exit from the finale to rearrange themselves for the curtain call.

The bows have all been taken, and I’m boppin’ and singin’ along to Bright Side in the wings. I look out and see David Hibbard waving to me from onstage like Bob Barker on The Price is Right; come on down! Sheri looks over and says, “You wanna go out and sing?” I’m standing there in my just-this-side-of-underwear camisole top and my jeans (which I will later remember are still folded up about six inches at the bottoms). “I’m not really dressed,” I protest feebly. “Would it look funny if I go out there?” C’mon, Sheri, convince me. “We shoulda thought of that earlier,” she says. Well, doy. (Or D101).

By this time Tom Deckman and a couple of the ensemble in the back row have joined those waving me onstage. My feet have a mind of their own and suddenly I’ve popped out of the wings into the back line with the ensemble, where I get a big hug from one of the girls and I see Tom and David turning upstage and applauding ME while singing in the front line. Holy shit, as Patsy would say. toni7babe is smack dab in front of me, fist-pumping and grinning ear to ear. Various audience members in the close rows are looking puzzled; who the hell is SHE? Eatcherheartsout, peasants.

I get out barely in time to sing the last three “side of life” phrases after the confetti pop, and join in the company bow. I take my cue from the front line to rise up from the bow. The girl next to me grabs my hand and whispers, “One more,” and we take another bow. Then the orchestra starts playing, and I feel someone pulling me backwards to get me out of the way of the front line backing up to let the curtain come down.

My exit into the wings is a blur of hugs and hand squeezes and backslaps and congratulations. As usual, David Hibbard is leading the pack. Jonathan is right behind and seems to get more of a kick out of my stage time than his own; he’s almost giggling with glee. Rick walks up too, and I remark that he never even gets a chance to breathe in the second act; he calls it “an aerobic exercise”. I’m surrounded by beautiful talented men. What a bummer.

Jonathan takes the king’s crown off his own head and puts it on mine. “Perfect,” he says. “Beautiful,” says David. “What are we doing?” I ask. “Picture with Clay,” says one of them, pointing to Frank with the Polaroid camera. I protest, wanting them ALL along, but no, just with Clay they insist, waving me back onto the stage area. Clay seems to have materialized from somewhere behind me. He looks around, knits his brow and says, “See, the problem is…we gotta do it like this.” There’s a problem? Who knew. “Come on over here for me,” Clay says, taking me by the shoulder. He’s going to direct my Polaroid picture. Thank goodness I’m a quick study. Frank positions himself in front of us. Clay points to some lights at the corners of the stage. “See, we gotta get those lights without getting a reflection…” “That’s just great, that looks beautiful, guys,” Frank interrupts. Ya think he might have heard this routine before? We pose, he snaps. Clay and Queen spot are immortalized.

“Did you enjoy yourself? Didja have a good time?” says Clay. “He said you kept your eyes closed the whole time you were onstage.” David joins us and says, “I was looking at you –“ “I was IN CHARACTER!” I insist. David guffaws, big-time. “Hey!” I spread my open palms in mock indignation; it wasn’t THAT funny, actor-boy. You may be on Broadway, but I’ll have you know I didn’t just fall off the Stanislavski truck. Somehow the crown has disappeared off my head and Frank’s signaling for another Polaroid without it; he counts to three, and Clay and I pose again. Frank hands me the two precious bits of film and I guard my cloudy chicks while their feathers dry.

Sheri comes over and gives me a hug; she couldn’t leave her station until the orchestra finished playing. Finishing the conversation, I tell Clay that the onstage part was the work, but hanging backstage was the fun. “Oh good,” says Clay. “Well thank you very much for helpin’ us out.” Help? You want some help? Like maybe into your jammies?

“Where ya from?” “California.” “What part?” I tell him. “Ohh-kay.” He’s probably calculating the distance from LA and think’s he’s safe for his next visit. Fool. “Have you seen the show before?” Hmm. Tricky question. I decide to go with the awful truth. “Oh, yeah.” “A few times?” There’s a twinkle in his eye. “Um, a few times, yeah.” “Oh, well, good, thankyewverrymush” he grins. Gee, Clay, you know us so well. I confess, “I was telling Sheri the lines back here.” “She was,” Sheri agrees. “Oh, gosh,” he laughs, “couldja tell me mine?” “Yours are mostly the ones I know,” I admit. “‘Cuz I don’t know mine,” he says. Unh-huh. Are you sure that’s not song lyrics you’re talkin’ about?

“She’s seeing the show again this weekend,” Sheri offers. Hey! Don’t help. He’s already backing away. “You’re seeing it again this weekend?” Clay inquires. Yes, and stop looking at me like that. “Uh…yeah, I’m gonna see it the rest of the weekend…” “Oh good.” “…I mean, I was already here…I thought I’d see you off...” Did that come out wrong? I did say “see”, didn’t I?

“Do you have tickets to the last night?” Why are you asking? Is there one in your pocket? A ticket, that is? “Um, yeah…I have one…” “You do? Good, becoss I know they’re kinda hard to get, I’m barely able to get ‘em for myself.” Phew. I guess I won’t have to turn down front row now. Sheri interrupts this sophisticated exchange. “Did the pictures come out?” I haven’t looked. They have. Quite nicely, in fact. “They look good,” says Clay, and starts walking away. “I gotta do another one with somebody else,” he tells someone at the stage door. “Clay?” Sheri calls him back. “You wanna…you wanna…” She indicates that he should sign the photos. “Oh,” he says. He turns to me and commands, “Spell your name for me.” I obey. “Y-n,” he repeats and strides offstage on a mission. Sean comes into the wings with his protégé Pam and a married couple. “Hey, Sean!” I say, walking over to them. “Hiiii! Nice job!” he says. Awww, he even knows who I am. Pam asks if I had fun. No, I had a horrible time, I say, and I bet you did too.

“There ya go, you kin put ‘em both in there.” Clay returns and hands me two autographed folders for the Polaroids, the same ones they used for the charity photos. “Thank you so much,” I coo, but he’s already working again. Sean says, “Clay, this is Pam.” “Hello Pam, did you enjoy yourself? Everybody says that’s the best place to be durin’ the show.” Pam says it was great, Sean is great. I inch my way over toward this group to eavesdrop; they’re going to have to suck me out of here with a Hoover.

Sean introduces Clay to the couple, friends of his from New Jersey. Clay asks if they’ve seen the show before; and jokes that it’s better now than it’s ever been before. About that time, his eyes widen and he practically shrieks, “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” and envelops someone in a hug. As they break, I see it’s Martin Moran, who’s come up the steps out of the house. Clay chortles, “I just said, the show’s the best it’s ever been before, and he said why, and I said the people who played this before me were horrible.” Big laughs from me and Sheri and Sean. Clay starts to explain, “This is Martin Moran, who played Robin right before me.” Then he turns to me and says, “He was the first person I ever saw in theater in my life…” Right, Clay, tell me something I DON’T know – like your favorite color.

“Great JOB!” Martin says – to ME, grabbing my hand. Whee! He remembered me. Then, “Clay, that was fantastic. You were absolutely wonderful.” “Is this the first time you saw him?” I ask Martin. “Yes, I wanted to see him before he left, and Clay, you so made it your own…” Clay responds, “Ohhhh, well, thank you very much! I was markin’ tonight too!” Clay makes a face like “NOT!” in my direction, then cackles like a madman. “HE was great,” Clay says to me, referring to Martin. “I only got to see him once though, I saw it about four times and he was out the other times.” I’m in a Sir Robin sandwich. How perfect is this. But suddenly, it’s picture time with Pam so Clay leaves the group to do his duty. Damn. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

I ask Sheri who’s coming in as Sir Robin; she tells me Robert Petkoff, distractedly, as she’s starting to pack up for the night. Even though my every strand of DNA wants to wrap itself around the proscenium and merge with it, I realize sadly that it’s probably time to say my goodbyes and get out of their hair. I head back to the office to pick up my clothes and purse. Lee pops in and I get him to autograph my Playbill – I brought one from a previous trip that already has some signatures, hoping to complete the set. I get Frank to sign inside the Playbill where his name is. Sheri comes into the office and I grab her too. “You want ME to sign it?!?” she asks incredulously. “Of course!” I say. “After all, ANYBODY can go outside there and get Clay’s autograph!” Suck-up? You betcha.

We trade compliments about what a great evening it was; Sheri says she thinks she was more nervous for me than I was. Hey, I was the most nervous the first time I walked in that stage door. I figured alarm bells would go off. Or at the very least, my picture would be on a wall. Not the good wall, the bad wall.

In the hallway I run into David once again, and wheedle him to sign my Playbill. He writes, “Happy Broadway Debut, David Hibbard.” Jeez, what a wonderful man he is. Tom Deckman’s on his way up the stairs and I shanghai him for an autograph too.

I’m just realizing I have to go out the stage door where the crowd is waiting for Clay. Whoops. Jerome is leaning against a wall near the door; he won’t submit to a picture with me because of “a Broadway thing” (meaning some rule about photos in the theater – funny, the people down in wardrobe had no such rule). He won’t come outside for one either. But he does help me get into my jacket, which is fighting back. I tell him I had less trouble with the monk’s robe.

I say my final goodbyes, take one last look around, and breach the perimeter. It’s a bizarre feeling to walk out into the area BEHIND the barricades, facing that crowd. (OK, I won’t lie. I liked it. A lot. It was way kewl.) I scan the crowd quickly to see if I know anybody, and about ten people here and there let out a cheer for me while the rest are perplexed. Heh.

I walk down to the end of the crowd and show off my trophies to a few people, and then I start moving toward Junior’s across the alley. I run into some other familiar faces away from the mob, and much jumping up and down and EEEEEEEing ensues. I’m chattering like a chipmunk on speed when Tim from wardrobe and I’m-not-THE-Shannon come walking by and stop to talk. They’re both very nice, I didn’t have much chance to talk to them backstage. Tim’s a really cute, gregarious guy and seems to like me; he’s happy to hear how much fun I had. He remarks how everyone with the show really appreciated Clay using his celebrity to help them raise so much money for BC/EFA in such a short time. They both mention, with great facial expressions, how up-SEHT Clay was when Spamalot only got second place. Shannon says she reminded him that second place has worked pretty well for him so far. (I’m really sorry Clay’s run in Spamalot is over; I suspect these people were good for him to be around.)

Tim asks me where in California I’m from; it turns out he’s a native San Franciscan and has a lot of family in the area. I tell him to make sure and drop by to see me on his next visit.

I’m still chatting with fans when a giant cheer goes up from the barricades; guess who is out and about. It’s a surreal feeling to know that twenty minutes ago, I was talking to him in the wings. Whoa.

I spend some quality time with my roomie newland and a couple of other buddies at Junior’s after the show; it was fantastic that a few of my close friends were able to be there for the big event. Finally newlie and I make our way back to the hotel room, where we find Audrey waiting for us. Whoa again. Who could have sent me flowers? Must be my hubby, I surmise. Open the card and…oh my goodness, it’s from artquest and GBB.

Well, if I was ever gonna cry on this night, now’s the time. What a lovely, generous thing for them to do; I’m really, really touched. Since it’s pretty late, I call artquest back in California who’s probably still up. She shares the comedy of errors in trying to get the flowers to me at the theater, and how it was really all my own fault for waylaying toni7babe. Pfffft. I’m not buying it. If the flowers had been for Clay, they would have found a way.

Epilog

So that’s it, boys and girls – the tale of my great adventure. I spent the next three days celebrating Clay’s successful run in Spamalot and its ending. I snagged a couple more autographs and photos, one with the incomparable Sheri, and also this one.

Over the weekend, I got to visit with bunches of friends and re-tell my stories quite a few times -- although probably not as many times as Clay has told the card story. Or the cut-from-my-high-school-musical story. Or – well, you get the idea.

It’s been two weeks now since my trek into Spamaland. I’ve had enough time to rest, recover, and ruminate. I’ve even seen Clay again, in LA at The Tonight Show; it was nice to see his real hair for a change.

I still have this wonderful little movie playing over and over in my head. I can hear the lines from onstage in one ear and the lowered voices from backstage in the other. I can see Sheri at her station and hear her sexy voice calling the cues. I can visualize the wings and see the scenery moving in and out. I can hear Hannah’s delightful accent and feel David’s strong handshake and see Jonathan’s infectious grin. I know the memories will fade with time, but for the moment they’re still strong and sweet.

It’s difficult to put into words how special this experience was for me, and my eyes got misty more than once while retelling it all. I’m reminded of the way I feel about all the shows I’ve done in my life – how each one was a snapshot in time, a unique group of people creating a unique piece of art and a unique set of moments that can never be recaptured, which is what makes theater so precious.

It was, quite simply, a once-in-a-lifetime three hours of pure joy.

It was made that way by the people of Spamalot. Without exception, they treated me simultaneously like a VIP and a member of the family. The donation I made wasn’t nearly enough to buy what they offered me, which was sincerity and friendship.

It was made that way by getting to share it after the fact with all my many friends in Clay Nation, who have been so supportive and happy for me.

And I guess I have to give a little credit to Clay. Now, my personal interaction with him backstage was just the cherry on top of a gallon-sized theatrical banana split. But -- if it weren’t for Clay and his voice and my obsess-er fandom AND his run in Spamalot -- none of it would ever have happened at all.

So thanks, Clay -- I owe you a big one, buddy. Guess I better buy a few more copies of "On My Way Here" this week.

THE

END

[djs111]

Fox cuts back on 'Idol,'

Fox executives said they were disappointed with the ratings declines for "American Idol" this season, and will cut back the Wednesday results show to 30 minutes

The results show was too long, it was ridiculous. Just was an hour to sell more commercials. I would imagine that advertisers are starting to decline to pay such huge bucks when ratings are falling.

[ldyjocelyn]

Very nice high-res picture of Clay and Ray (via Clay Nation News)

I'm not surprised about the cut back on the AI results show. I fel that they should have done that back in season two even!

[Couch Tomato]

I think it's so nice of them to contact Clay fan sites with high res photos. We got an email as well. I'm not sure if another show has done that. Guess they have a marketing dept heee.

Thanks for the hugs. I'm actually kinda excited about things .... now that I've worked them out in my head a bit.

Damn it's hot. And Muski try getting through the day in an office WITHOUT air conditioning.

[Ansamcw]

Very nice high-res picture of Clay and Ray (via Clay Nation News)

I'm not surprised about the cut back on the AI results show. I fel that they should have done that back in season two even!

Oh Rachel Ray show contacted us too and sent us a high res photo...I guess they want to make sure Clay fans are paying attention.

[luckiest1]

I'm not sure why, but I can't get either the links in spot's recap or the high res Rachael Ray link to come up at all.

couchie, I'm glad to hear you are working things out.

[annabear]

Spot is having server issues & is trying to fix the pic links in her recap.

ETA: Pic links should now be working!

Glad you're feeling OK with the job situation, Couchie.

Ansa, your avi keeps cracking me up! Kung fu Klay!

The Rachael Ray promo is cute!

[merrieeee]

Since he got away from the slicked down look. His hair is looking mighty fine!

[Claygasm]

Please tell me how anyone can look at this picture and NOT see a very HOT male model type hunk of man?????

[ldyjocelyn]

CG -- that is the eternal question. I see it soooooo much. He looks so damn fine in that picture.

Good Lord -- we almost missed Solo's birthday! Why didn't the eHp make a bigger deal of it?!?!?!? Happy birthday Solo!

[Claygasm]

CG -- that is the eternal question. I see it soooooo much. He looks so damn fine in that picture.

Good Lord -- we almost missed Solo's birthday! Why didn't the eHp make a bigger deal of it?!?!?!? Happy birthday Solo!

Obviously the eHP is falling down on the job!!!!!!

:bday2: Dear SOLO!!!!

[merrieeee]

Ooops!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SOLO

:00003653: :bday2: :7252: :7254: :bday:

Yep that about covers it!!!!

[Ansamcw]

:00003653: SOLO!!!

YUP he looks damn fine. But one thing I learned from watching Americas Top Model...Models looking gorgeous is not accidental, they make sure they look good for photos.

Clay is not a model so is not concerned about his looks all the time...thats why when the camera captures a look that just makes me GAH...it is just so much sexier...

I didn't like the blond look before...but I am loving it now!!!

[jmh123]

:bday:

Happy birthday SOLO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11

[Ansamcw]

The high res photo sent to FCA...

[Claygasm]

WALLPAPER REQUEST!!!!!!

Ok, you know that picture I posted just above? You know, this one?

Could some talented person pleeeeeeaaaaaaassssssseeeee make me a nice widescreen wallpaper with it??? You can crop it a bit to work. I LOVE that picture!!!!

Thank you! :F_05BL17blowkiss:

One day I really have to learn to make wallpapers so I don't have to grovel!