May 30, 2011

The Basilisk

I'm sad to say that this weekend I had to give into the fact that my one and only living plant (and not actually a plant, but a DEADLY CACTUS), the Basilisk Henry V, had really not been living for a long time.  I had been watering the Basilisk, but he was not responding and sort of made his way out of his soil as if to indicate that he was done being a cactus.  The Basilisk had originated from a plant of my old roommates', named Professor Snape, or Snape, of course.  Snape was a creature and was ferocious.  Many a time did he hit me with his cactus fangs, even when I thought I had cleared him when walking by.  When my roommate told me that Snape's arms could be used to put aloe on a sunburn or could be turned into baby cactus, I was amazed.  We placed one of Snape's cactus arms that had broken off into a tiny pot with soil and watched it grow.  So the Basilisk Henry V was born.  We were really proud when we made up his name because it embodied our two loves: Harry Potter and The Tudors.  Which is a whole other story indeed.  So instead of throwing the Basilisk away when I knew he was rejecting his potted plant home, I snuck him into our old apartment complex and buried him there, where he might one day again bloom, full of Basilisk-like fury, descendant of Snape.  I raise my goblet to you, Basilisk! 

May 26, 2011


My big brother left me a message today.  In the message he said "I'm just calling to reaffirm that I've been reading your BEAN blog and most of it is quite awkward so thank you for that."  He said this in a way that only a big brother can, full of dry humor and also exasperation for my endless weirdness.  To my brother, I'm the weirdest, most awkward person ever.  (He would note at this point that to MOST people I'm the weirdest person ever.)  But I have proof in voicemail and in blog format that my BIG BROTHER READ MY BLOG.  YES!  VICTORY!!!  This whole blog post will annoy him even more, which is the essence of our relationship.  As kids I followed my brother around and wanted to be just like him.  He usually wouldn't let me play games with him and I would just sit and watch and I was happy with that.  But one day I got mad that he wouldn't let me play so I hit him over the head with a toy truck and then sat on the log cabin that he built.  And I've been paying for it ever since.  So today I say I'm sorry big brother for hitting you in the face with a toy.  I'm also sorry that my friend Danielle and I followed you around with a tape recorder "spying" on you in plain view, thinking we were STEALTH and narrating your every move.  But I'm not sorry you are my brother because you were a great person to look up to and aspire to be when we were kids and I will look up to you still, even if it annoys you, cause that's what little sisters are for. 

May 25, 2011

A Possum

I was going to a movie on Monday and the MOST ADORABLE THING IN THE WORLD shuffled towards me on my way down the stairs in the parking structure.  It was the tiniest, sweetest possum and it was ALL ALONE.  It just huddled in a corner and stared at me as I stared at it, while I took this picture.  I wanted to give it a hug and let it know that it will be okay.  I wanted to ask if it wanted some food from the trash can that was too tall for it to climb in.  Possums like to dig in trash cans right? I wanted to cuddle it and have it ride on my shoulder for the rest of the evening but I was also slightly afraid and didn't want to walk by it for fear it would bite my ankle or something.  So I just stared at it as it stared at me.  I needed to get down the stairs but I also didn't want it to feel the need to defend itself, or worse, jump off the stairs to avoid me and the hideous outfit I had on that day.  I felt akin to the little animal and wanted it to know that in my world, I am small as well and I also bite people's ankles.  But in the end I figured I better find another way out of the parking garage and leave the possum to its lonely, adorable journey.  Once I got to the ground floor I could see he was still watching and I made a point not to walk directly under him so he wouldn't jump on my head, which I think was what he was gauging as he watched me walk.  I hope the Possum, who I have named Fred in my head, found his way down the stairs and had a very nice evening.  I hope he knows if I could have I would have brought him to the movie with me and shared my popcorn with him.  I didn't eat all of my popcorn though and I left it in a trash can in the parking lot after the movie, so hopefully he found it.  Fred the Possum.

May 22, 2011

A Squirrel Companion.

Yesterday was the day of the big gala fundraiser for my theater company.  I got to the venue at 8am to sit and wait for the rental equipment and accidentally fell asleep on a step.  It was a beautiful morning and the birds were singing and I was lulled to sleep, sitting up.  Then a crazy rooster (this venue is so cool it has roosters and various other avian delights wandering its grounds) started cockadoodle-dooing and I was jolted awake only to find that a squirrel was standing nearby, staring at me.  So I started talking to him.  For five minutes.  It was a very good conversation and the squirrel never once interrupted me, but just listened to me comment about how cute it was and that I hoped it didn't have rabies and that I was hungry.  I think if it had known it would have offered me the nut it had in its hands but instead it just nibbled it and looked at me curiously.  But it was nice to have a little animal friend and I was kind of insulted it didn't proceed to follow me around for the rest of my life as my magical animal companion.

May 20, 2011

The Oprah Train

As Oprah's last few shows are coming up this week I decided I better jump back on the Oprah train and start recording her show in case something crazy happens.  Maybe she'll give away a small country to each person in her audience, or she'll reveal the meaning of life to us all, as only Oprah can do.  And I don't want to miss that.  If Oprah tells everyone the great truth of life, you better believe it, cause Oprah is ALWAYS right.  Even when she's wrong she's right, because she was probably purposely wrong in order to make a right, which she planned all along.  In short, Oprah rules the world.   I'm pretty sure she owns everything.

Today I started to watch her episode from Wednesday.  There are a lot of interviews and random celebrity goodbyes in the beginning that are heartfelt, and also kind of creepy - as if Oprah is going away with the Elves after having taken the one ring to Mordor.  (And yes, I realize this is the second time I've referenced Mordor in my blogs.) These celebrity people were acting like they would never see her again.  Celebrities, please.  Oprah is not going anywhere.  She may not be doing her show anymore but, mark my words, she will still be all up in our lives and I LOVE IT.  I don't care who knows it.  I will sing it to the rooftops.  I LOVE OPRAH!!

Seriously, 3 minutes into this episode, after scoffing a little at the dramatic overtures about Oprah leaving, I was sobbing.  As quick as lightening, Oprah said "I'd like to show you a favorite story of mine" and then she showed the most heart-wrenching story ever from a past episode, and then she showed another story that was equally devastating and also inspiring and then brought all of these inspiring people on stage and they all hugged and shared in each others' devastation turned inspiration and I WAS A MESS.  A MESS.  IT WAS BEAUTIFUL.

Oprah, you sorceress!


Anyone who knows me well knows that I love Elijah Wood.  If I could only have 3 things on a deserted island, it would be Sunflower Seeds, Guiness, and Elijah Wood.  My obsession with Elijah started around the time he played Frodo.  The noble journey of the determined hobbit really got to me. One time I saw him on the streets in Beverly Hills and was so shocked I collapsed on the sidewalk and all I could make out was "Frodo" in a raspy whisper.  He didn't hear me.  I was devastated.  A friend of mine, Kevin, of A Conversation With Kevin, for those 5 of you that read my blog, was once at a wedding with Elijah.  Our conversation went like this (and yes Kevin, I typed out our texts well over a year ago because I knew, one day, I would use this for material. Creepy):

Michelle.  I am at a wedding 
and Elijah Wood is here.  He's
wearing a tight english Indie 
rock suit with a skinny tie.
You would DIE.

Are you serious?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?
Are you serious?@?@?@??@?
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!! Steal
him!!!!!!!!!!!!! Tell me everything!!!


I'll ask.  NOT.

Where are you?  Give me the

Ha! Never.

Damn you Kevin .
Damn you!!!

He's taking pictures of the
bride and groom.  Very
sensitive and caring.

Kevin.  Take a picture
of Elijah Wood and I
will marry him.

He just loves the independent
theatre.  Also loves long distance
running and the
Westin Bonaventure.

He's perfect.  I could cry.

Tell him I'll marry him

Did you tell him.

No it would have been bad


So that's how that went.  Anyway, today I turned on the TV and there he was, after I'd almost forgotten about him , standing in the audience of American Idol.  They briefly flashed by him but I knew it was him even though I was standing in another room.  I yelled "ELIJAH!!" and paused the screen to take this picture:

But the greatest thing of all is a) Elijah was NEVER once mentioned on the show nor did the cameras ever go back to him, he was just there, enjoying him some Idol and b) there's a GIANT MAN DRESSED UP LIKE A DOG NEXT TO HIM.

May 19, 2011

More Confessions


I had a beta fish named Mr. Miyagi (after the character in my favorite movie of all time, The Karate Kid) and made up a special song that I sang to him every morning and night.  That song will probably be in BEAN.  Above is a glorious picture of Miyagi, rest his soul.  He was with me for five of the hardest years of my life and always puffed out his face at me when he saw me as if to say, "I WILL kill you."   Oh, Miyagi!

Now I have a fish named Captain Barbosa, or as I like to call him, the Captain.  He's a great, swashbuckling fish. One time I thought he died, and was very very sad.  The good Captain lay on the bottom of his pirate bowl for half a day, even after I sang pirate shantys to him (and they were the best pirate shantys you've ever heard in your LIFE).  Then, after I was already planning his little pirate funeral, he decided he was done being dead and came back to life after my boyfriend poked him with his pirate net.  He's been alive and well ever since.

So yes.  I sing to fish and sometimes I wear an eye patch when I'm cleaning the Captain's bowl.


I've decided to create a blog segment called "Confessions" as BEAN is pretty much one giant confession about how truly awkward and embarrassing I am.  It's also a way to write a lazy blog. 

One time I peed on myself in 1st grade.  Straight up peed on myself and sat there like nothing happened.  I had nothing to hide and no shame.  When someone asked me if I peed I said "No" and continued practicing the alphabet.  That's not my confession.  My confession is that when I peed I was wearing a lime green spandex body suit that I could probably still fit in to this day.

The Elevator Lady

On Monday, I moved to a new office location.  I was looking forward to a little change, even though I wouldn't be able to walk to work anymore.  Our last location was right around the corner from the place I live (which I call the Hobbit House because I wish I was a Hobbit, not because it actually looks like a Hobbit dwelling).  The new office has snacks and a Starbucks machine so that pretty much sold me.  It also has an awesome game room that I intend to have many epic ping pong battles in.  

Most importantly, the new office has something that the old office did not have.  It has a talking elevator.  Does that sound really cool and modern?  No.  Nope.  No.  It is TERRIFYING.  Every time you get into this elevator a woman speaks to you, telling you where you are going.  The voice is that of a passive aggressive alien who may or may not transport you across space and into a black hole at any given moment.  Not only does the elevator voice have the same tone at all times, but it tries its best to NEVER LET YOU LEAVE.  The first time I got into the elevator, I pushed Floor 2 and it said "Going up" as I looked around startled that it had just spoken.  Then it proceeded to go to Floor 4.  Um.  Okay, elevator.  Then it said "Floor 4" in triumph as if that is exactly where everyone should want to be.  I thought I had pushed the button wrong so I pushed Floor 2 again.  "Going down" it said.  Then it proceeded to go back down to the Lobby.  ALRIGHT ELEVATOR.  Now I was sensing some amusement in its tone.  Not only was it making me look a FOOL but people were getting on and off the elevator all throughout this process and everyone looked at me like I was crazy when I stayed in the elevator every time everyone else got off.  

I continued to do this Floor 4, Lobby, Floor 4, Lobby ride of shame, slowly building anger for the elevator voice and wanting to find its source to crush it, but then someone told me that I had to swipe my badge to get to Floor 2. 

My bad.

Elevator Voice, consider this a formal apology for the harsh words I muttered to you on that first day in a new building.  But you're still creepy, and always will be.

May 18, 2011

Melted Cheese

It is widely known among my friends and family that the thing I fear and despise most in life is melted cheese.  Not liquid cheese, and not good ol' hard cheese, but the cheese that strings and is gooey and looks like poison.  That's the kind of cheese I don't like.  This aversion to melted cheese has gotten me some of the most incredulous looks l've ever gotten in my life when people find out about it, and that includes me telling people about the foot fungus I got in England.  Don't worry, it's gone now. (Although my brother insists on bringing it up every time I see him and thinks that I am, in fact, ACTUALLY a fungus myself.  Ah, big brother.)

As far back as I can remember, every time any melted cheese was on a plate of food, I had the instant reaction to throw the plate across the room and stomp on it.  Of course if I HAD thrown the plate, I wouldn't have stomped on it because the melted cheese would have then attached to my foot and tried to consume my body.  Obviously.  Melted cheese is evil and I stand by that statement.  

When we were kids, my best friend Danielle would make it a point to eat melted cheese and rootbeer (which I also hated) in front of me as often as possible.  This made me stronger as a person and also prepared me for our inevitable journey on the Amazing Race, which we will WIN.  Mark my words.  So thank you Nellie.

I remember as a small child my Grandpa had the same disgust for melted cheese, so I can conclude that either a) it was hereditary or b) I wanted to be just like him.  Which is entirely possible because he was the coolest.  And I'm proud to carry on the tradition and hope I can force my future children to do so as well.

And really, to be clear, I am not a picky eater by any means.  I'll eat almost anything if someone makes it for me, even if it doesn't look good, I will try it and I WILL pretend I like it.  Except for the time I ordered a lobster and the whole freaking lobster came out on a plate, including eyes and little hairy legs.  That was traumatizing but I brought it upon myself, being a hoity toity 10 year old ordering a LOBSTER.  

These reflections were in my mind on Sunday because when I ordered at dinner that night I said "no cheese on the pasta please" to the waitress and the waitress, for the first time EVER didn't look at me with judgement.  She looked at me like I was normal.  A normal paranoid Bean with a fear of melted cheese.  That's all.  I felt....understood. 

Most of the time I get conversations like the one I had at a Mexican restaurant a couple of weeks ago:

Waiter:  And what would you like?

Me:  A bean and cheese burrito, but with no cheese.

Waiter:  (silence)

Me: Sorry, just no cheese please.

Waiter: NO CHEESE?   (this was spoken REALLY loud)

Me:  No cheese.  

Waiter: NO  CHEESE?

Me: No cheese.  I'm not allergic, I just can't stand the stringiness, the consistency.  My grandpa was the same way (nervous laughter).  So just a bean burrito then , I guess i should have said just the bean burrito.

Waiter: NO CHEESE?

Me:  Nevermind.  It's okay, I can have the cheese.  I'll just scrape it off.

Waiter: I'll just bring you a plate with beans and rice. Okay?

Me:  Um.  Okay. 

This conversation was devastating and then I literally ate a plate of beans and rice as my punishment for not liking melted cheese.  I think the waiter was trying to show me how terrible life could be without melted cheese.  But life is glorious without melted cheese.  Oh yes.  Grandpa, where ever you are, I raise my fists in victory to us and to all melted cheese haters everywhere (which I'm pretty sure is actually still just us.  and that is awesome.)

Every Bean Has a Dream

When I was a kid I thought I could be everything.   I don't mean that I thought I could do anything I dreamed of (which I did in fact also think) but i mean in addition, I literally thought I could be EVERYTHING all at once.  I thought at some point in my life I would have the chance to be ALL of the following: an actor (SHOCKER), an astronaut (traveling in space and/or saving the world), a hip hop dancer (there's still hope), a doctor, the Pope, a farmer, President of the United States, Aunt Jamima (yes, the bottle of syrup), Queen of England (you win, Kate Middleton, you win), a mermaid, a pirate, a member of the Temptations (I don't know, i really loved the Temptations and didn't understand the concept of time), an Olympic athlete (for gymnastics of course, although the picture you see above is about the longest I've balanced, ever), and last but not least, Peter Pan.   I thought I would live in every city in the world, at least once.  I often worried how I would juggle all of these careers and places and probably didn't realize until way later than most that oh, I wouldn't be all of those things.  That was a sad moment.  Whichever A-hole told me I couldn't be a mermaid or the Pope has it coming.

But today, as I imagine up BEAN and am constantly referred back to my fearlessness and unwavering hope as a child, I say NAY to myself growing up and learning that I wouldn't be all of those things.  I say NAY, self.  Because it's time to bring it on back to a simpler time, when Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Ghostbusters and Polly Pockets and my JTT scrapbook (no shame) and four square on the playground were just stepping stones to what I knew to be something extraordinary just around the corner. 

So with 32 days to go and counting, here's to hoping BEAN will be a new extraordinary experience in my life and hopefully an exciting one for all of you that come see the show.  Or at least an above average one.

A Wedding and a Bin

The countdown continues after a brief weekend interlude in which I was honored to attend and be a bridesmaid in the glorious wedding of two glorious people.  And I mean GLORIOUS people.  So, I missed a few days of my countdown and will now proceed to SPAM everyone on my Facebook newsfeed with about a thousand blogs just to make up for it.  Hopefully in a couple of days I'll be back to one blog a day, just like my vitamins (haha yah right, I don't take VITAMINS, please, i live off from sunflower seeds and chips and salsa), but let's face it the countdown is totally off in numbers anyway and I'm pretty sure I'll have to start going in the negatives before the show even opens because I didn't count properly the first time.  If my parents read this they'll probably wonder why they spent so much on my education if I still can't count. Hi Paw!

In any case, I would like to dedicate Saturday's blog to my two newly united married friends who pretty much threw down the wedding gauntlet and said "What, you want a wedding?  Okay.  How about the most beautiful day you can imagine and how 'bout it BLOWS YOUR MIND?  BOOM! WHAT! etc. etc."  I picture both of them yelling that and believe me if they were both here, living in my blog, they would, and probably include a hilarious dance, because they are two of the funniest people ever, especially together.  They are also two of the kindest people ever and are truly, truly in love.   

Special shout out to the bride for being a good enough friend to a) talk to me when i had the giant curly mass of hair that is my face in the picture above and b) allow herself to be in a documented picture with said curly mass of hair that probably could be a lair for lizards or other small animals.

Which brings me to a favorite memory.  Recently the Bride and I were at a build for the next show at the our theatre company and we were looking for a job to do.  At builds one usually hammers or saws or hangs lights, or walks around pretending to move useless inanimate objects.  Whatever our job, we were excited to work together so that we could catch up.  We marched to our team leader with dignity and were prompty assigned to clean the giant garbage bins out back.

Now, I must preface this with the horror that is the garbage bins out back.  Picture a dark, scary corner that probably leads to Mordor in which you are certain to contract a disease or get bitten by a raccoon or alligator or other ferocious creature.  THAT is the garbage bins out back.  I once saw a rat run AWAY from the bins in obvious terror.

So, good sports that we were, we busted out the shovel and the broom and some buckets and went to work cleaning the trash out from underneath and behind the three giant bins.  I will never forget the things we saw there that day.  We were so disgusted we could NOT stop laughing. Which was problematic when trash was flying and our mouths were stuck in permanent laughter. We found so many unsightly treasures that were just so purely revolting that we could do nothing but cackle, so as not to cry.  We managed to move the bins so we could get behind them and that's when I decided I would burn the shoes I was wearing after this was over.  I didn't end up burning the shoes, but they have been sitting on my back porch for months now, and there they will stay.  I'm hoping a magical flower will start to grow in them and then I can write a childrens' book about it.  

Anyway, despite some mud (we'll call it mud) landing in my eye and on the future Bride's arm (in which we surely thought we had lost both of those body parts) the real kicker, the real moment that got me down, is that we had the most perfect, centered, beautiful, couldn't see it better, view of the Hollywood sign.  It was as if Hollywood said, FOOLS HAHA THIS IS WHAT I BROUGHT YOU HERE TO DO, NOT TO ACT OR WRITE OR DIRECT, NO, I BROUGHT YOU HERE TO RISK YOUR LIFE IN A GARBAGE BIN THAT SMELLS OF YOUR FAILURE! (I picture Hollywood's voice as the voice of the sand tiger from Aladdin who guards the Cave of Wonders).

I pondered this as we finished the job and managed to glare at everyone walking by who didn't have to do the job. The future Bride mentioned that her Groom (then fiancee) would have done it for us if he had been there and that I know to be true.  He's the kind of person that would do that for another person, even if it meant getting a new blend of mold and rotted food all up in his grill.  He would be right there beside us shoveling that crap, just like I know he'll be right there beside the Bride for the rest of their lives.  That is love!

But, I am glad the Bride and I had that experience together.  It was yet another hilarious debacle between the two of us that strengthened our friendship.  And it was one of those moments that led up to the very very special moment when I got to see my friend, with her hair just done on her wedding day, riding in my car back to the place where she would get married, yelling out the window "I'M MARRYING MY BEST FRIEND IN THE WORLD!", with her little veil flying in the wind.

To the couple, for throwing that wedding gauntlet down like nobody's business.

May 13, 2011


My friend Eddie posted this terrifying picture of me on facebook a couple of months ago.  I left it on my wall with pride.  It is a picture of when I played Van Helsing in Dracula in high school.  I need not say more than that in order to express the awkward and most likely horrendous performance that my friends and family had to sit through, watching an over zealous 5 foot tall Van Helsing read books and stab vampires.  But I love this picture as it reminds me that I am SERIOUS about vampires, and also that I look like Sinestro from the Green Lantern.  To be continued in later blogs: how I simultaneously hit myself in the face with a giant cross that was supposed shoot flame, fell through the stage, and still continued to speak my lines.  I can only hope that my performance of BEAN will be as determined as little Van Helsing.  

May 11, 2011

the BeanMobile

Today after work, on my way into a grocery store, I found something. A car with tires made specifically for Beans.

Yes friends, it must have been fate because this grocery cart/sweet ride of awesome stood right in my way as if asking me to squeeze into it and peddle around in front of perfect strangers and not care who was judging me.  Sadly, there was no squeezing needed and I fit perfectly in the car.  I also found an opened Jell-O pudding cup and thought briefly of Bill Cosby.

I must stop to note that part of BEAN's journey is the quest to become a superhero, which I absolutely believe is possible on all accounts.  This little Bean car would most certainly be my superhero car, except I'd have to pimp it out with a v6 engine and blades coming out of the tires.  Also possibly an added on tank full of sunflower seeds and Guinness.

I needed someone to document this moment of pride and complete insanity so I looked around wildly for someone to take my picture.  I was nervous to hand over my iPhone to just anyone to take the picture so I picked the nearest person, a small child who I could run faster than if he tried to take off with it.   His mom was next to him and had already been laughing at me hysterically for 5 minutes so I knew she was on my side.  The small child was also in a karate suit as there was a karate class next door so I feared and respected him.

I asked the bad ass karate child if he would take a picture of me in the BeanMobile.  His mom gave me a thumbs up.  I felt simultaneously thankful and embarrassed by her encouragement.  I gave my phone to the child and he proceeded to drop it then run away karate kicking.  Idiot.  His mom ran after him yelling and at this point I was getting uncomfortable in the BeanMobile and really confused by the two separate steering wheels. 

Thus I took the two pictures you see here just before an employee wheeled the BeanMobile away from me.  Then I went home and made a casserole.

One day, I will achieve my goal of becoming a super hero and one day sweet sweet BeanMobile, you will be mine.

May 10, 2011


It's 34 days to BEAN - my solo show world premiering at the Hollywood Fringe.

CLICK HERE for info and tickets.

CLICK HERE to like BEAN. on facebook.

Thus I will be blogging every day as I move toward what is likely to be the most terrifying, awkward (and hopefully entertaining) theatrical experience of my life.  Some of these blogs will make their way into BEAN, as it is never finished in my mind.  Which keeps things exciting.  And also, again, terrifying.

On that note.  I would like to talk about Ferrets. I normally wouldn't give them a thought but just a moment ago I was drawn to the television and saw a commercial that made me at first wonder if it was a joke, which confused me. Then I realized it was a serious commercial which delighted me, then I laughed hysterically as it got more ridiculous, and then I stared in horror and half laughter/half sobs at its conclusion.  All of 60 seconds, this commercial made me feel more emotion than I would have cared to for a ferret.

The commercial went as follows:

Shot of a cute little girl in pigtails with a ferret in her arms, happily petting it.  Stamp across the picture saying THIS CHILD IS A CRIMINAL.  

Announcer saying that many people and children love ferrets but as they are not legal to own in California it makes the happy children who love ferrets criminals.

Picture of a random legislator.  Announcer saying that said legislators do not care about the ferret issue.  Shot of bored legislator saying "we really can't spend that much time on this issue".

Announcer saying we need to take action or ferrets will remain illegal.

Shot of cute little girl holding her ferret as someone RIPS IT OUT OF HER HANDS and she starts to cry and scream for her ferret.

Loud gong noise.  End of commericial.

In the words of Liz Lemon: 




I mean listen.  I'm all for ferrets, they are adorable - slightly creepy, yes, and I wouldn't own one myself even if they were legal as I'm generally afraid of everything and would be scared it would lick my face in the middle of the night or something.  And yes, every child deserves a pet, even an imaginary one like I had named Kenny the Koala.  But the over intensity of the commercial made a mockery of the ferret, and everything it stands for.  Which is probably something awesome.  If I wanted to make a point on ferrets being made legal to own (which I don't know if I would be passionate enough about the issue to do so and also I am not educated in the pros and cons so I do not consider myself a reliable source regarding ferrets) I'd probably just show a video of one being awesome, not some scary maniacal video starting with "this child is a criminal".  But in a way I find it touching that someone was so passionate to make this video on behalf of the ferret, who doesn't get much credit.

So, with 34 days to BEAN I say, here's to the ferret and to ferret lovers everywhere.