Chris Conrad in CRIMINAL DESIRE
on the jukebox: “Baby It’s Cold Outside” by Lee Ann Womack and Harry Connick Jr.
So the picture above is a screencap (I’m having too much fun again doing screencaps!) of Chris Conrad from a cheesy movie called CRIMINAL DESIRE. Actually, I haven’t subjected myself to the whole movie yet. I don’t know if I can watch a movie with David Faustino as some kind of PI dude. The movie is definitely cheesy because it’s part of a ten movie set of other cheesy movies and the whole thing only cost twenty dollars. Ye gods! I only got the thing because of Chris Conrad. And I bet know one knows who he is. 😉
Quick facts on Chris:
1. He was on Young Hercules as Jason.
2. He taught at his alma mater, St. Thomas Aquinas High School.
3. He’s my age! Not very sure about his birthday, but we think it’s in January.
4. His brother Steve wrote Wrestling Ernest Hemingway, the movie starring Robert Duvall.
5. He’s got a nice, firm handshake.
I met Chris back in 1999, at the Santa Monica Xena Convention. A most wonderful time. During their stage time, Chris jumped off the stage to take a picture with a little girl who happened to be on the same side as me. A gal behind me wanted a hug and he obliged. I didn’t want to be greedy, so I asked for a handshake. He was very kind and shook my hand. Sweet guy. And cute to boot!
You can read more about my Santa Monica Convention adventures here.
CAMCORDER OR PHOTO PRINTER?
I love window shopping. I like wanting more. I don’t necessarily get more, but it’s okay to explore the possibilities, eh?
We were at Best Buy today buying a birthday present and we wandered to the printers section for some reason. The hubby led us to the photo printers and I began to see the appeal of the HP Photosmart 245 compact photo printer. Then we checked out the camcorders, which just frustrated me because I don’t exactly know what kind of camcorder I want. Alas! I need to do more research. 😛
INSPIRATION ELUDES ME…
The same old story: Why can’t I think of anything to write when I’m sitting here with the letters at my fingertips or when the pages of my blank book stare back at me without ink upon the paper? It’s as if I’m waiting, forever WAITING for something to unleash the creativity within. What stops it? What’s my trigger? It shouldn’t be such a struggle, should it?
