Public school failed us. Educate yourself about the true history of Thanksgiving, and consider including a land acknowledgement before digging in and pigging out.
Citric Acid Arts is scouting costume designers for a mushroom-themed event in February. Amanita muscaria, cordyceps, lion’s mane, reishi and turkey tail are likely to serve as inspiration for roaming character costumes. Interested individuals can email examples of relevant previous designs, a resume, rates and/or a portfolio to yello@orangepeelmoses.com with “Mushroom Costumes” in the subject field.
It's hard to overstate the impact Weird Al has had on my life. Even Worse, the album containing Al’s Michael Jackson sendup “Fat,” was the second full-length cassette I ever owned. Comedy music was obviously compelling from a young age, and I've somehow channeled that early enthusiasm into a full-time “adult” business: singing telegrams. “Cavity Search,” a U2 spoof about going to the dentist, was the first Weird parody funneled into my repertoire. My sister was in dental school at the time, so I learned it to entertain her and her classmates. Al's hilariously bipolar version of “Happy Birthday” was next, as birthday grams make up the bulk of our bookings. “Yoda” has become another useful Al spoof in my universe; I serenaded a vertically-appropriate performer who'd been transformed into the wrinkled green Jedi at a Star Wars-themed drive-thru baby shower in March. Feel free to re-read that last sentence, as it's a doozy;) I also patronized a Weird Al-themed burlesque show - The Clocktower Cabaret’s Dare to Be Sexy - in January. I could go on, but you get the gist. Weird is wonderfully immeshed in my world.
Imagine my elation upon discovering that a film was slated to tackle Al's life. And in true Weird fashion, the movie parodies other music biopics. Weird: The Al Yankovic Story is streaming for free on the Roku Channel beginning today.
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Megan is one of Custom Singing Telegrams' most prominent repeat customers. She has sent birthday grams to friends and family members for about seven years. When she got married in Golden, CO recently, her sister decided it was time for payback. So I donned a wedding dress and sauntered into the wedding reception. Realizing quickly what was in store, Megan started laughing from the moment she saw me crossing the room toward her and her new husband's table. The DJ handed me a wireless mic and I asked the bride if she wanted to tell the attendees who the wedding crasher was. She was still laughing too hard to answer the question. Her husband explained that Megan loved hiring me to surprise people on their birthdays.
Then something magic happened. I've been performing “Grow Old with You,” a tune sung by Adam Sandler's character in the movie The Wedding Singer, for over a decade now. It's a funny, endearing tune, but most people don't know the lyrics. On this occasion, it sounded like half the wedding guests were familiar with the words, and were raising their voices along with me. It was incredible.
Images: Thin Threads
With RUFUS DU SOL set to headline two nights at Colorado's legendary Red Rocks Amphitheater this weekend, interest is understandably high. I've been a casual fan for years and saw them once in Costa Rica, but it wasn't until recently - inspired by a new friend (you know who you are) - that I began learning several of their tunes on guitar and ukulele. Here's an acoustic rendition of "Innerbloom" that I recorded this morning at Archipelago Clubs:)
Scott Happel produces a variety show called Carnivale de Sensuale. Chelsea aka Claire Voyant is the cast's resident magician. In the spring of 2018, the big opening number was soundtracked by comedy music act Ylvis's novelty hit “What Does the Fox Say.” Scott asked Chelsea to dress up as the fox and perform all the crazy / weird hypothetical fox sounds in the song. Recently, Chelsea celebrated her birthday at a Denver speakeasy. In lieu of an easily accessible fox fit, Happel enlisted me to perform the Ylvis ditty - as the Grim Reaper - ridiculous noises and all. The musical callback had Chelsea on the verge of tears.
Carnivale de Sensuale is celebrating its tenth anniversary in mid-October at The Oriental Theater - RSVP here.
Citric Acid Arts is currently casting fit, well-endowed, female-bodied body paint models for a Midsummer Night’s Dream-themed private party on Friday, August 12 in the Golden area. Time commitment will likely be between 5 and 8 hours. Models will likely be responsible for their own hair and makeup. To submit, please email photos of previous body paint modeling work, rates and contact info to yello@orangepeelmoses.com with “Body Paint Model 8/12” in the subject field.
Model: Mariah Salazar
Makeup: Jen Murphy
Body Paint: The Artist Kelsie
Image: Ken Hamblin / Westword
The American Innovation & Online Choice Act is a bill that would place limits on big tech companies' power. Even though the bill has popular, bipartisan support, Colorado Senator Michael Bennet is reportedly resistant to it. Trans activist Ian Madrigal, known for photobombing big tech CEOs as The Monopoly Man, isn't impressed. In response to Senator Bennet's alleged stance on the issue, Madrigal enlisted Custom Singing Telegrams to Save the Monopolies and “thank” him for being a friend to big tech billionaires with a parody of The Golden Girls' theme. Rich Uncle Pennybags performed the song for Bennet's staffers, and again outside the Cesar E. Chavez Building that houses Bennet's office. You've heard of cosplay; Madrigal likes to call this “cause-play.” The stunt was accompanied by a 4-figure ad buy, naming Bennet a Big Tech MVP (Most Valuable Politician). Click through to check out the video, captured by Ryan Fila (and edited by Madrigal).
Image: Ryan FIla
Citric Acid Arts is casting holiday-themed entertainers for a December 4 holiday party in Littleton, Colorado. Performance hours would be between 5:30-7 pm. To submit, please email performance resume, rate(s), imagery and/or video links to yello@orangepeelmoses.com with “Casting Call: Littleton 12/4” in the subject field.
Pizza Hut was my first regular employer. That summer, I was living with my dad and then-stepmom in Buena Vista, Colorado. Anxious to get home from work and change for a party I’d been invited to one night, I rolled through a stop sign. A police officer who’d recently undergone some kind of drug enforcement training pulled me over. At that point, I’d never even seen cannabis in my life. Still, Johnny Lawman insisted that I was high, and that my dilated pupils and the green blisters on my tongue were evidence. I was understandably shocked that he would accuse me of something that was literally impossible at that juncture. I helpfully explained that what he thought were green blisters was actually plaque, and agreed to accompany him to the station for a drug test. Because we were a block from my father’s house (and I was a wee teenager), the officer first invited my old man to join us. Lawman performed a series of tests at the station. If what’s left of my memory serves me correctly, the tests took about 20-30 minutes in all. His eventual conclusion? “Well, you’re not high.” No shit, Sherlock. “Don’t ever scare me like that again,” said my dad on the awkward drive home. My curiosity was piqued, though. Several months later, across the street from my mom’s Ordway home (the one I‘d grown up in), I partoked cannabis for the first time with my longtime neighbor TJ before eventually boarding a school bus for a pep band trip. It wasn’t until my 4/20 birthday rolled around during my freshman year of college (a couple years later) that I realized I was born on a bona fide cannabis holiday. Cannabis was my birthright.
“Nipples in the Sand” - that's the name of the song I was hired to sing yesterday. It's a ditty that was concocted by the intended bday gram recipient and her sister (my customer) when they were kids. The intended recipient is the lead prosecutor at a Colorado courthouse. Her sister (the customer) hoped to surprise / embarrass / make her sibling laugh. She requested a risque costume, so I suggested a stripper cop look – a ballsy move (even for me) considering the venue. Courthouse security staff were unsurprisingly inquisitive when I arrived in cosplay cop garb with my guitar and music stand in hand. But they hesitantly let me in the lobby and called the target recipient down. I launched into the opening line of “Nipples in the Sand” when she appeared: “Walking down the beach one stormy day...” Probably anticipating the approaching, potentially mortifying hook, she shut me down with the quickness. “Thank you. You're great. I'm sure my sister put you up to this, but you can go now.” For the rest of you, here's how the song climaxes:)
“Nipples in the Sand”
Walking down the beach one stormy day
saw a little orange thing and had to say
Nipples in the sand
Nipples in the sand
In lieu of a full IRL delivery, I filmed a rendition of the tune for the customer. She apologized for her sister's rudeness, including this insightful gem: “Maybe she's still traumatized by the dildo I sent to her work.”
Citric Acid Arts is casting dark/weird roaming performance artists for a nightclub event in RiNo (Denver) on Saturday, October 30. To submit, please email photos and/or a video link, along with a rate quote to yello@orangepeelmoses.com ASAP. Please put “HalloWeekend submission” in the subject field.
Yesterday's “I'm Sorry” Cupid took awkwardness to a whole new level. I feel sorry for the man that resorts to an “I'm Sorry” singing telegram. It's most certainly a last resort of sorts—a hail Mary. Whether the goal is embarrassing someone, cherishing someone or facilitating laughs, my singing telegram success rate is normally fairly high. “I'm Sorry” telegrams are a different ballgame, though. They bring down my batting average a little. I rarely know what I'm getting myself into. Yesterday was no exception, but I was up for the challenge.
No “I'm sorry” song is a miracle Band-aid for magically curing all relationship woes. Still, I was determined to pick the most appropriate one for the occasion. Elton John's “Sorry Seems to be the Hardest Word,” Jackson 5's “I Want You Back” and Chicago's “Hard to Say I'm Sorry” were a few of the contenders. I settled on Sir Elton, rehearsing off and on for hours on end. My [power wheelchair-bound] customer kept calling over and over about one thing or the other. He was obviously nervous - understandably so.
I'd suggested the Cupid costume to tone down the gravity of the situation and inject a little comedy. Make the person you've wronged laugh and there just might be a window of forgiveness to shimmy through. The sender phoned again to say that the recipient wanted him present for the delivery, if I didn't mind postponing for an hour. I didn't, as it gave me even more time to finger my guitar strings and sing. He rang again once I was on the road to let me know he was running even further behind schedule. I wasn't about get irritated with a differently abled gent, so I thanked him for the update and continued on my way.
The recipient resided in a Denver neighborhood called Montbello. Montbello's population is primarily Hispanic and Black. Half naked white guy was on the verge of getting a lot of attention. I parked my car around the corner from the recipient's house and strapped on my feather wings. Not knowing whether the sender was there yet, I decided to walk up anyways. In the driveway, I met the recipient and her friend. Both were seated in power wheelchairs. Even though they likely despised being laughed at, they eagerly giggled at the scrawny man in the adult diaper and wings. Mission at least partially accomplished.
We waited. The initial awkwardness was soon diffused somewhat, as we initiated an entertaining conversation about my job, her relationship with the sender and more. Fifteen or twenty minutes later, a cop car crept up on the opposite side of the street. A 9 News anchorman had once joked on-air that he was “surprised Cupid didn't get arrested.” Still, in eight full years of playing cherub, I'd never once been hassled by police (though I'd been questioned one time in Boulder about impersonating an officer—guilty as charged). Johnny Lawman explained he'd received reports of a half naked man cavorting around the neighborhood. I decided against showing him I was wearing underwear underneath my diaper. He just wanted to make sure I was mentally stable. “That's debatable,” I thought to myself, but wisely kept my mouth shut. He jotted down my name and went on his way. Crisis number one averted.
The man in blue would not be the rudest of Orange's Montbello encounters that day. Yes, I'm referring to myself in the third person for comedic effect—moving right along. A brown SUV with a Hispanic at the wheel inched by next. “That Cupid?” he asked from the window. “Yes,” we both answered (the recipient's friend had been sent to fetch the sender from the bus stop). That answer apparently didn't satisfy his curiosity. He walked up, accompanied by two other men, a few minutes later. Was he worried that the anorexic-looking love messenger was going to overpower him in a fight? “Yous gotta get outta here, that's my brother's house,” he commanded. “This guy a friend of yours?” he asked the soon-to-be recipient (who apparently sublets from his sibling), almost as an afterthought. “Yes,” she said simply, probably realizing it wasn't worth going into great detail with the intimidating Mexican. He proceeded to park his vehicle just across the street and stare at us through the windows for the remainder of my visit.
The wait wasn't over yet. One of the two four-wheeling men called to report they were lost. The recipient would have to go find them. We both agreed it'd be best if I waited in my car until they all returned. More than two and a half hours after the originally scheduled delivery time, I finally walked back to the recipient's driveway. First, the sender paid me—always a plus in these situations. Next, we collectively decided the performance would be better inside the garage (as opposed to the driveway where we'd been waiting all that time). I thought it was a little weird that the recipient's friend was present, but maybe she wanted a wingman. Sir Elton served me well. I sang my heart out, presented the recipient with the dark chocolate I'd purchased at Whole Foods, and made my exit. The kicker? Sender called me the next day to thank me for a job well done.
Citric Acid Arts is currently casting Colorado-based brand ambassadors for a designer cacao straw company. Ambassadors will don fashionable black and gold costuming and select party patrons for intimate cacao bump ceremonies in bedouin-inspired tents. Ideal candidates are charismatic, fearless, fun, open-minded and outgoing women who enjoy meeting new people and party atmospheres. To submit, e-introduce yourself via unlisted YouTube link (video file attachments require significant inbox storage space) at yello@orangepeelmoses.com. Please put “SnoGo Casting” and your full name in the subject field and include relevant experience, dress size, desired hourly compensation and September 25 availability.
California’s Lightning in a Bottle Festival went digital for the first time last spring, inviting longtime talent show producers The Grand Artique to come along for the ride. I eagerly signed up for the first ever virtual version and, with production assistance from Denver video virtuoso Danny Fantastic, emerged victorious with my hydration PSA “Water is Your Friend.” On the eve of LIB’s second digital festival, remind yourself of the importance of adequate hydration via the studio version of my winning act.
Image: Mile High Sports Radio
Video: Danny Fantastic / @dannyfantastic
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(to the tune of “Pony” as recorded by Ginuwine)
Sam was just a bachelor
Swiping for a Tinder date
One who could dance on tables
Without even falling off
Lauren was compatible
They went to the Lakefront
Fast forward to Breckenridge
This was the proposition Sam popped:
You're single, let's do it, try it, matrimony
My finger is waiting, come put a ring on it
Nursing's Lauren's day job
Sam, he is an engineer
Super Smash Brothers, he plays
Meanwhile, Lauren's grooming Sage
Lor, she had a goth phase
Way back in the eighth grade
Sam programs irrigation times
Tomatoes growing on the vine
Soon they're gonna get sandy, baby
First they'll show and tell
Then he'll reach for his cocktail
Lurk all over and through her baby
Until they reach the beach
Playing Doctor, Lauren's 'Teach'
(to the tune of “We Are the Champions” as recorded by Queen)
The pandemic arrived
it changed our lives
Webex and masks
No more hugs goodbye
Thought it’d last just weeks
but dragged on for months
we monitored our trend lines for some hope
finally got some
It took four champions, Val’s one
Jo Ree, Melissa and Adam
(to create a) best practice vaccine
at Sky Ridge, you see
They begged and borrowed
from near and from far, oh
Raised the bar
A mere thank you
that wouldn’t do
enlisted a pro
to truly show you
We truly thank you
We know it was rough
But you shined bright like the stars that you are
And made us proud of…
You, you’re the champions, my friends
And you’ll vaccinate til Covid ends
You are the champions, you are the champions
At best practice vaccines,
yes, you are the champions
of Sky Ridge
Bill Gates may have seen it coming, but 2020 was a curveball for most. Sincere condolences to everyone who lost loved ones to Covid. Countless small businesses were impacted, including my own Denver singing telegram agency. In-person telegram deliveries were temporarily deemed non-essential during our spring stay-at-home order, even though I could technically perform zero-contact, socially distanced versions. I did quickly begin offering virtual deliveries via Zoom, but, for some customers, virtual serenades weren't an adequate substitute for the live action experience. When the initial order was relaxed, business began to pick up. While I empathize immensely with small businesses who weren't as fortunate, the month following stay-at-home was one of the busiest of my nearly seventeen year career. Customers utilized our services seventy times to celebrate quarantine birthdays, Mother's Day, graduations and other special occasions in unique ways. Singing telegram performers are apparently essential workers after all.
This year obviously wasn't all unicorns and butterflies – though, pre-pandemic, I did perform my stilt unicorn at Colorado winter resorts and visit a Mexican butterfly sanctuary – but there's a growing body of evidence that practicing gratitude improves general well-being, increases resilience, strengthens social relationships and reduces stress and depression. Giving thanks can also strengthen your immune system, which has rarely been more important. So while I'm certainly sensitive to everyone and everything we've lost, I'd like to accentuate the positives. Below are a few of the things I've been #blessed to experience this year.
Released Butterflies EP on Spotify & other digital music platforms
Learned how to surf in Costa Rica (pre-pandemic)
Played singing cupid on Valentine’s Day for the sixteenth consecutive year
Began conscious breathwork practice with Claudia Amarsi
Skydived out of my first airplane
Stewarded my singing telegram business through a pandemic
Successfully completed Deepak Chopra 30-day meditation challenge
Finished writing & started recording my Craigslist-inspired tune “Under the Eclipse” with a Denver music producer (working with a voice coach along the way)
Took the cold plunge - began hot and cold therapy practice, having long ago been inspired by Tom Robbins’ novel Jitterbug Perfume
Appeared on Colorado Springs TV program in conjunction with Valentine’s Day
Rang in New Year’s Eve at uber-magical Everland gala (pre-pandemic)
Won DGTL Lightning in a Bottle / Grand Artique talent show, with help from Danny Fantastic
Hiked Kenosha Pass amidst changing Aspen leaves
Piloted four-legged stilt zebra in Costa Rica for the third time
Practiced [socially distanced] yoga at Red Rocks & Everland
Sang at my Aunt Pansy’s celebration of life in Indiana
Was featured on VoyageDenver.com
Summited a 14er (14,000 foot peak) called Quandary with Archipelago Clubs
Sang on LA’s legendary KROQ radio station via video chat
Was transformed into the Grinch for a day by Melinda Wolfe
Danced on stilts at Circus Collective’s Black Lives Matter fundraiser
Began learning Argentinian tango
Wrote & performed a personalized bday gram - with accompaniment from Melissa Ivey - for the son of a prominent Colorado music industry exec
Studied racism, North American history, fascism, sleep, the Vagus nerve & more
Animated four-legged stilt unicorn at Colorado winter resorts with Smitten Kitten
Embodied the Headless Horseman at Denver Botanic Gardens
Sang at first ever virtual Burning Man
Attended a handful of Covid-safe events, including Acoma Street Project, Crush Walls, Marc Rebillet’s drive-in theater show & Rainbow Militia’s Gnome Away from Home
Was rendered speechless by a Monarch butterfly sanctuary in Michoacan, Mexico (pre-pandemic)
Image: Jonathan Shoup
Makeup: Miriam Andolini
With Covid cases spiking around the country, and the CDC discouraging holiday travel, Thanksgiving is going to be different for many people this year. But even if you're not heading home for the feast, you can still show your family or loved ones that you care with a virtual singing telegram. While Adam Sandler's “Thanksgiving Song” may be the closest the holiday has to a theme song, we've got a number of other suggestions, including Marvin Gaye's “How Sweet It Is,” Sister Sledge's “We Are Family” and a parody of Gloria Gaynor's “I Will Survive” that's sung from the perspective of the often doomed bird. And if the potential recipients happen to live in the Boulder or Denver area, a socially distanced performance is possible. Time is running out, though, so give us a call today at (303) 931-8466.
Estes Park played a pivotal role in my origin story. I was reminded of the Colorado mountain town's part in my unconventional career last week when a singing telegram customer enlisted me to play Grim Reaper for a fiftieth birthday there. Because I don't get booked there often, I couldn't resist telling her about my history with the place.
When I was fourteen, I attended a Methodist youth retreat in Estes called Up With Youth. An annual talent show was part of the event. One of that year's participants was a fellow fourteen year-old named Kent Lambert. Lambert sang an original song, accompanying himself on the piano. I had an epiphany of sorts during his performance. I’d been studying music since I was four or five. And I was an adept writer who’d dabbled in poetry. Songwriting was basically fusing the two arts. Growing up in a small town, I had never personally known a songwriter before. But I had just witnessed someone my own age perform a tune he'd concocted himself. If he could do it, I rationalized, then I could too. And two years later, I followed in his footsteps, accompanying my rudimentary original song with acoustic guitar. I probably wasn't very good yet, but the thrill was palpable. Plus, I played a Nirvana song in a cabin and one girl said, “If we weren’t at a church camp right now, I’d sleep with you.”
After relaying this anecdote to the customer (minus the Nirvana part), I suggested that writing personalized lyrics would be a phenomenal addition to the planned set list. She was all about it. I utilized the intel she compiled to pen a spoof of The Grateful Dead's “Ripple” for the Deadhead I was about to serenade. And it absolutely killed – pun intended. The dinner party, seated at a balcony table which overlooked the lake, enjoyed the show so much that they invited me to sit down for the remainder of the meal. Later, I popped over to the Stephen King-inspiring Stanley Hotel for some Reaper selfies and a spontaneous bannister slide in front of a ghost tour group.
Sample parody song lyrics:
What were you wearing the first time you met her?
She'll tell you, a memory like an elephant
If you are her pal, you might have a tchotchke
Phoebe from Friends is basically her twin
She's the best wing gal, if there's someone you're into
She will nudge you indiscreetly towards them
'Cause you might be shy, but she's got you covered
Matchmaking is one of her many gifts
If there is a cake that's missing its frosting
It's likely Kris just might be the culprit
nightly snack attacks, take the shirt off of her back
But there's no chance of sharing her ice cream
Reaper Image: Michael Hystead