For the Boys: Patrick Swayze and Joel McHale

I was agonizing over the subject of this week's post.  I mean, Kanye's a talented douchebag, everyone's up in arms over whether Megan Fox can actually act, and OMG, Pam on The Office is pregnant!  It's all been done, several times over, by better bloggers than I.

Then, like the dorky bespectacled boy BFF in a classic teencom, I realized what I really wanted was right in front of me all along: a recently-departed dancer-turned-actor who was not only lusted after but respected in 80's nostalgia AND cult circles, and a cable comedian coming into his own while remaining sheepishly humble about his well-earned success.

The former: Patrick Swayze.  The latter: Joel McHale.  The blog post: 5 reasons why I love them both.

1.  They won me over from a place of utter skepticism.  I didn't see Dirty Dancing when it first came out--I was in second grade, and my mom closely monitored what I watched.  Though she did concede to renting it and letting me watch the electrifying final number, she drew the line at the entire movie--and with good reason, looking back, as the abortion subplot is definitely not something I'd want my (hypothetical) seven-year-old to ask me questions about.  Then, when I was fifteen, I was at a lock-in, mourning the fact that my former best friend was hanging with his ditzy girl of the moment instead of me.  Someone popped in Dirty Dancing, and I was hooked.  Not just for the excellent daddy-daughter/good girl-bad boy drama, not just for the politically active teenage girl lead (far from a bland ingenue), not just for the sweet moves.  But Swayze.  DAMN.  Whether he was swiveling his hips, comforting his pal Penny, or yelling at Baby not to put her heel down, he made Johnny Castle pop off the screen as more than just a droolworthy rebel, but a hard-knock guy who also became a better person that fateful summer of '63.

My first reaction to Joel McHale was, "Ugh, who's this frat boy?"  Though I could appreciate Aisha Tyler and Greg Kinnear, I was first and foremost loyal to John "Skunkboy" Henson, host of The Show Formerly Known as Talk Soup.  I even attended a live taping of Talk Soup in Chicago ten years ago.  (In case you recall that historic airing: NO, that was not me making out with my boyfriend in the audience because we correctly assumed it would get us camera time.)  So I wasn't  immediately enamored of Joel's preppy appearance and dry delivery.  (It probably didn't help that TS was relaunched as The Soup when I was in law school, when I wasn't much enamored of anything.  It's an understatement to say that I wasn't the most pleasant lady to be around back then.)  Until one day when my sister was visiting and on TV, Joel introduced the Clip of the Week: a truly terrible boob-grabbing moment between Pamela Anderson and Carmen Electra on the abysmal Foxcom Stacked.  I turned to my sister, sighed and said, "And they canceled Arrested Development."  EXACTLY ONE MILLISECOND LATER, Joel looked at the camera, sighed and said, "And they canceled Arrested Development."  Color me a superfan.

2.  They stay(ed) classy.  Granted, I don't know what goes on behind closed doors.  That said, I don't ever remember hearing about Patrick Swayze getting a case of road rage, partying with 15-year-olds, or whaling on some unsuspecting fan for requesting an autograph.  (I have heard that he didn't like the line "Nobody puts Baby in a corner" and would only utter it once, but honestly, I can't really blame the guy.  Come on, it's far from the best moment in the movie but it's quoted all. the. time.)  But he just seemed . . . good.  He worked hard.  He stayed out of trouble.  He loved his dance teacher mom, and even teamed up with her for a dance video in the late eighties (which my mom ordered from the Avon catalog).  He stayed married to Lisa Niemi, a fellow dancer in his age range, his whole adult life.  I'm sure he wasn't 100% perfect, but who is? 

Regarding Mr. McHale, he eats stupid celebrities for breakfast, lunch and dinner on The Soup, and we adore him for saying what we're all thinking in funny, well-chosen words.  But he also knows that famous people are humans too, and there are occasions where skewering just isn't appropriate.  Like many others my age and otherwise, I was devastated by the sudden death of Heath Ledger, a genuine talent whose personal darkness got the best of him much too early.  A few days later, it was Friday and I wondered what, if anything, Joel would say to mark the occasion (especially since the tabloids were rearing their monstrous heads, threatening to release a video of Heath in an altered state and badgering poor Michelle Williams).  The episode passed without any mention, until the very end, when Joel's smirky countenance turned serious and a little angry.  He said something to this effect: "And one last thing.  Heath Ledger passed away this week, and in all the years we've been doing this show, we've never had cause to mention him.  So stop digging for dirt, weasels.  A talented, decent guy is gone, and our thoughts go to those who knew him."  He then smiled and said, "See you next week," amid cheers from the crew.  Now that's a good guy.

3.  Masculinity redefined. Don't get me wrong: I love the Seth Rogens and Jason Segels of the world.  Knocked Up and Forgetting Sarah Marshall are two of my favorite films of the past few years, skillfully combining gross-out humor, heart, and coming of age as the doofy slacker learns to be a man with the help of a cute, together chick.  The thing about Swayze and McHale, though?   When it comes to being a man, they're already there.  In a culture where pot-smoking job-shunning manboys are revered, it's reassuring to switch on the TV or pop in a DVD and watch a guy who needs no guidance from a pouty-lipped stunner who's way hotter than he deserves. 

No one could say dancing is sissy after watching the Swayze.  Watch one scene of Dirty Dancing and you can see the guy's life-long ballet training emanating from each beautiful muscle.  That choreography is much more than grinding, y'all--I mean, during the final dance, Swayze executes a friggin' double tour (two turns in midair) and in tight pants to boot.  Scrappy, graceful, and clearly adored the women in his life--that's a real man.  And Joel elevates snark to a place that's swift, quick and clever.  I'm not just talking about The Soup, but Community--how many half-hour sitcoms discuss moral relativism in the pilot?  I know he didn't write it, but the guy knows his shit when it comes to choosing scripts.  No Transformers for him, thank you very much!  Okay, he had a small part as a loan officer in Spider-Man 2, but everyone has to start somewhere.  (Besides, you know who else was in Spider-Man 2?  Alfred Molina.  And y'all KNOW how I love me some Molina.)

4.  Genuinely good at their jobs.  Neither Swayze or McHale have ever fallen victim to the one-trick pony-ism that infiltrates Hollywood these days.  From a young age, Swayze trained as a dancer under his single mother Patsy, and like another fave actor/lust object of mine, Rainn Wilson, Joel boasts an M.F.A. in Acting.  I'm perpetually in awe of beautifully trained dancers and actors, but neither dude stopped there.  Even though his career choices weren't always Oscar-caliber (yes, I know some people love Point Break; I, however, am not one of those people), you cannot deny that Patrick Swayze had some acting chops.  Johnny Castle wasn't just a kickass hoofer and bad boy Baby deflower-er--he was a street-smart survivor, a loyal friend, and an open admirer of Baby's courage and willingness to go the distance for the underdog.  A lesser actor couldn't have brought all those nuances to the screen in less than two hours.  Speaking of nuance, Patrick brought on the smarm fifteen years later as a sleazy motivational speaker in Donnie Darko--his character was delightfully despicable throughout the film, and yet I couldn't fight the lump in my throat when a single shot of Swayze blubbering as "Mad World" played in the background surfaced at the end of the film.  Plus, in a culture where straight dudes often BALK at going gay on screen, Patrick took it one step further and was utterly fabulous as Miss Vida Boheme in To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything, Julie Newmar.  You go, girl (boy).

On The Soup, Joel is a master of cadence and gesture.  He doesn't just spout witty remarks, he dissects them as only a true actor can.  With a quirked eyebrow, a dry tone, or a gleeful yelp, he voices the absurd zeitgeist that is reality TV--and he's right there with the bemused public.  He doesn't stand above us, smug and removed like Craig Kilborn in the pre-Jon Stewart Daily Show days.  No, Joel's right there with us in the D-list trenches--he watches this crap too!  And like the rest of us, he sort of hates himself for it, but realizes that the best thing to do is laugh at the ridiculosity.  And for that, I lurve him.

5.  *wolf whistle*  Oh, whatever.  I'm a red-blooded female, and I like my menz attractive.  Even in his fifties, Patrick brought the hotness--what is it about dancers that makes them age so damn well?  I can't really think of any exceptions.  I mean, have you seen Barishnikov?  Hell, even George Balanchine wasn't terrible looking till his very last days.  It's interesting--dancers strain their bodies to utter breaking points and many are known to flirt with toxic chemicals (nicotine, steroids, silicone).  Yet each and every one of them carries a youthful maturity into their twilight years.

Joel may not possess the Swayze features that transcended multiple bad hairdos, but his wide smile, pointy nose, and spiky hair, combined with sharp wit, translates to an adorable package.  Not to mention that he can wear the heck out of a sport coat and jeans.  Yum yum.

So Patrick, I wish you an eternity of boogie-ing in that Big Dance Hall in the Sky.  Save a turn for me, eh?  And Joel, may your snappy star continue to rise.  A bazillion pop culture vultures and TV junkies are pulling for you.

Greatest Hits, Vol. 1

Hey lovely readers,

So it's a busy week at work, plus I'm writing like a madwoman to complete the rough draft of my novel so my critique partner can read it on his way to Australia. 

Therefore, I thought I'd put up links to a few of my favorite blog entries that you may have missed.  Feel free to comment, 'cause I love comments.  Also, you can always, ALWAYS leave a comment or email me to suggest stuff you'd like me to review for the blog.  I love suggestions!

Regular posting will resume after Labor Day.  (Hint: initials FLB!)

In the meantime, happy reading and enjoy what's left of summer!

P.S.  I got some love from Northern Illinois University's Women's Studies Program.  Click here and scroll down to "Summer Accomplishments--Alumni."  Thanks, ladies!

My Top 5 Favorite Posts:
1.  (500) Days of Summer Review (referred to as "spectacular" by YA author and nice human being Susane Colasanti, boo-ya!)
2.  McDaniel, Pascal, and Braff present My Life Without Me
3.  I say goodbye to Michael Jackson
4.  All I ever really needed to know, I learned from Unsolved Mysteries
5.  From a feminist perspective, a film about a hooker that is NOT called Pretty Woman

When Angst Meets Analysis: A Conversation About Spring Awakening

In December 2006, I was working a night job at Borders for extra cash. I actually kind of enjoyed it: the clientele was fairly pleasant, and I got paid to see what everyone was buying for Christmas gifts, while also ogling my punk drummer coworker. One night, I rang up a CD soundtrack, taking a second look when I saw the cool old-timey-ish cover art and the name of the guy who did "Barely Breathing" when I was in high school. "What's this?" I asked the (cute) dude purchasing the CD. "You have to get it," he extolled. "It's like the next Rent."

Turns out, it was Spring Awakening, Duncan Sheik and Steven Sater's re-imagining of the nineteenth-century German play of the same name. The original text was not performed until 100 years after it was written, due to the controversial subject matter: suicide, homosexuality, abuse, and lots and lots of sex talk, all involving teenagers. In Sheik and Sater's version, the basic story remains the same (with a couple of major changes), but with a modern-rock soundtrack that amplifies the young characters' subconscious thoughts and desires. I may be a HUGE theatre geek (okay, I AM a huge theatre geek), but other than the "classical text with modern music," I don't see a striking resemblance to Rent. But whatever.

For the past two and a half years, I've been addicted to the soundtrack. In 2007, I seriously considered jetting to New York for the sole purpose of seeing it on Broadway (that, and Grey Gardens). Didn't happen for various reasons; however, the national tour is currently in my home city of Chicago. Last Thursday night, I sat on the edge of my nosebleed seat, fingers clutching the program as I awaited the fulfillment of a two-and-a-half-year wish.

Did Spring Awakening live up to my classical-yet-rockin' hopes? For the most part...yes. In fact, the entire production--performances, music, technical elements, and script--spurred an interesting dialogue between me and my lawyer/actor pal Dennis, who was also in the audience. I also gabbed on about it the morning after with my friend Gil of the hilarious theatre blog Broadway Abridged. Just for funsies, and to paraphrase the Old 97's, here's what we talked about.

WARNING: This is not a straight up review of the usual Unpro variety. It's more of an analysis. Familiarity with Spring Awakening is pretty much required, and there are MAJOR spoilers ahead. If you are a fan of musical theatre, I would strongly encourage you to check out the Spring Awakening soundtrack--it has its share of missteps, but the majority of the tunes are alternately heartwrenching and toe-tapping. The book of the musical is available, and if you're a huge dork like me, you can also find the original play and compare the two. For the latter, I highly recommend Jonathan Franzen's translation. If you want to cheat, here's a plot summary.

However, if you've got some familiarity with the show, or you really don't mind spoilers, read on! My comments are in bold.

Dennis: Excellent performances with need for some of the minor characters to further define themselves individually. Use of set and lighting integrated well with story—sense of what was outside world and what was “internal monologue” worked well. At times the hand mike conceit/concert format got a little sloppy or indistinct in its definition compared to when they were not used and when the merger of internal and external occurred. But this is minor intellectualizing.

Lauren: The hand mike device does get sloppy toward the end. I had been warned of this by a friend who saw it on Broadway, but I was hoping they improved upon it for the tour. I think an issue with this show is that it’s got a strong following, though probably not QUITE as fanatical as Rent in its heyday, so they probably have to be careful about what they change. Loved the set design and lighting—the juxtaposition of neon and Germanic worked nicely for the most part.

Ilse’s hair confused me a bit. I know this play is not super-concerned with historical accuracy, and that’s fine, and I know that Ilse is a rebel and a runaway. That said, I didn’t quite buy the short haircut with bangs. If nothing else, that’s a haircut that requires a lot of upkeep, and I’m not sure she’d have the energy/patience for that in her lifestyle. I know that in this tour, Ilse is played by a Canadian pop star, and I almost want to Google Image her to see if that is her signature look (like, maybe it’s in her contract that she has this haircut). In the original Broadway production, Ilse had very long, wild hair and I think that works better. If this chick had had long hair, she would have had kind of a Goth/Morticia Addams look, and I think that would have worked well for the character.

Wendla’s confusion on where babies come from was so well done and compelling and so repudiated any notion of abstinence-only and the repudiation of science in setting policy in favor of Bush Administration use of morality based philosophy.

I hadn’t thought it in terms of the Bush Administration, but that’s a good point. I personally related it to Catholic school sex ed—during my senior year, two girls at my high school were pregnant. When you are in a school of 150 students total, that’s a lot. I thought it served as an excellent cautionary tale: if you don’t tell your hormone-addled teen how it all works, they’re going to figure it out one way or the other. Besides pregnancy, there are other terrible consequences to misinformation as well, such as rape. Ignorance, particularly about sex, is quite dangerous.

Moritz’s suicide is obviously emblematic of the modern pressure put on kids to succeed getting the right high school/college/etc. etc. However, the modern approach is not necessarily as Germanic. The father’s breakdown at the grave is excellent in that in a quick moment it recognizes that parents, too, are often trying to play a role for others. This is hinted at throughout when the parents are talking about what will the neighbors think (Moritz) and what is the best thing to do (Melchior) and their own failed educations (Wendla’s Mother).

I thought it was interesting how Melchior basically blamed the father for Moritz’s suicide. Granted, the dad had a role in all of it, but someone’s reasons for killing themselves aren’t always so clear-cut. Moritz was a tormented guy, and that was shown from the beginning. He was dealing with a lot, but not all of it was outside pressure—it was the sexual awakening too, where he wanted something but couldn’t quite name it, and then got freaked out by the information overload. Add into the mix that he is hormone-addled and spontaneous, and there you have it. I was kind of mad that Melchior was blaming the father entirely, but then I remembered that the song was from Melchior’s perspective. Because he’s a teenager and Moritz’s best friend, of course he’s going to see it that way.

Now, my three critiques: Melchior, while his performance was just fine, physically was incongruent w/ the rest of the cast. He looked like the football quarterback. He was too tall and too mature looking compared to the other “kids”. For some reason that bothered me. While Melchior does need to be a stand out, he also needs to be one of the group, too.

I disagree here: I thought he was the strongest of the three principals. I didn’t have a problem with his physical appearance, because a) he is presented as a little more mature than his peers (due in large part to his intellect and liberal parents) and b) he’s sort of the “golden boy”—the teachers like him (up until they find the sex essay), the girls adore him, etc. Handsomeness and looking more mature than his gawky dude peers goes along with that. He struck me as the perfect person we all know, who you want to hate but you can’t because they’re just so damn nice.
I don’t disagree with you analysis of what Melchior’s character should be; I just didn’t think this guy pulled it off as well cuz his physicality was too much. If he had been just a little smaller and a little younger looking, I would have bought into him better. The “spanking” scene is a good example. With his size, he would have done more damage to her; someone more in my vision would have made the scene more believable, I think.

The actor playing Moritz, for me, did his best when the character was pissed off. I got a little annoyed when he was the bumbling, confused teen—I felt that he overacted and if he had gone a little more subtle, we still would have gotten the message.

I thought Wendla was fine, if a little vanilla. Then I thought about it: in my experience, fourteen-year-old girls are often one extreme or the other in the way they present themselves to the world (how they are inside is another story). They’re either the good girl who wants to please everyone (Wendla) or the sullen, pissed-off rebel. So I’m not sure if there was much more the actress could do with the material she had. In summary, I would have liked to see her a little more fiery at times, but I’m not sure if the character is really written that way.

I didn’t like the way Melchior discovered Wendla’s death. Simply tripping over the grave stone in the cemetery of a fresh dug grave is too simplistic and coincidental. First, gravestones are rarely ready and placed when the grave is still freshly dug. Second, the staging of that on the bare stage was just too minimalist/simplistic—especially since the spirits appear shortly thereafter to prevent the suicide.

Kind of random, I agree.

Further, I can’t believe none of the girls would have gone to meet him. I expected the girl being abused would have been the girl to meet him w/ the news. Then, she, combined w/ the spirits convinces him not to kill himself. He gives her the razor to defend herself. She goes on then he goes on w/ the spirits. Because I felt the staging of the ending was weak w/ just a black out and them walking off in the black out. I would have liked something else, though I’m not sure what, but as long as they had the dry ice, something simple rock concert-like or theatrical might have been cool.

You should read the original play. There is a big difference in the ending: Melchior still survives, but there’s a whole other character. It would NOT have translated well to musical theatre, but it’s an interesting ending nonetheless. That’s all I will say for now. Jonathan Franzen’s translation was one I really liked.
My biggest critique? The spanking scene. I thought it was terrible.

I really like the idea of the scene: teenagers want so much, but they often can’t articulate what they want. They’re a mess of hormones and curious as hell. And even if they are well-informed and okay with what happens when they’re alone (Melchior), it’s a whole new ballgame when you’re with another person. Particularly if the request involves violence, and then you kind of enjoy it and at the same time you’re hating yourself for it. And in the end, you’re completely freaked out by the whole ordeal.

In the original play, Melchior rapes Wendla—the sex is very much NOT consensual. So the beating serves as a foreshadowing that this otherwise gentle, sweet guy has a violent side. My friend and I agreed that this wouldn’t work for a contemporary audience: the mass appeal and marketability of Spring Awakening would have gone WAY down if Melchior were a rapist. I also like the change because Wendla is less of a victim (in this respect, anyway).

However, without the rape, the beating scene is in a weird place—it comes out of nowhere and goes right back there. What would work in this case is to have an earlier scene or a couple of lines which foreshadow Melchior’s darker side. Not a horrific, rapist side, just…darker. (Again, not unusual for a teenager!)

I blamed the director more than the actors. It seemed that the director was shying away from the magnitude of the scene—strange, considering the play covers suicide, abortion, and child abuse. As a result, it was exaggerated to the point of being comical. People around me actually laughed, and it wasn’t uncomfortable laughter.

Also, even from my nosebleed seat, I didn’t believe for a second that he was actually hitting her. There are ways to convincingly fake that. It’s called stage combat, director: look into it.

According to my friend who saw it on Broadway, this scene didn’t work there either. Maybe someday, someone will get it right.

I didn’t have the problem understanding that scene and didn’t find it out of context. I knew about the original script and the rape and am glad they changed it, too, as it would not have worked for the musical even though the scene as it was came close to rape since Wendla had no idea was she was doing. That ambiguity was the cornerstone of the play—he knew and she didn’t; which makes you whole, which makes you feel—innocence or knowledge? Melchior’s mother’s line about how he did that to her and knew what he was doing and therefore the reform school is justified is the other textual extreme—my God, we gave Eve the apple and look what she did with it.

(FYI: the picture is not of the touring cast, though they're a very attractive bunch. It's of Alexandra Socha and Hunter Parrish, playing two of the leads on Broadway. I have no idea why I find Hunter Parrish so yummy, as pretty boys are usually not my type and I don't like Weeds, but there ya go.)

High School Floozical: An Open Letter to Vanessa Hudgens

Dear Vanessa,

Oh, honey. Not again.

Two years after your nudie-pic scandal nearly cost you the lead in High School Musical 3: did you learn nothing?


Here's the thing. I know you don't want to be Gabriella Montez forever. I mean, who would? Sure, your dresses were supercute and your hair extensions enviable. You had some adorable duets with Zac Efron/Troy Bolton, from the karaoke surprise "Start of Something New" (okay, it was Drew Seeley's voice, but still) to the surprisingly genuine sweetness of "You Are the Music in Me" to the fun, nostalgic "I Just Wanna Be With You" (he smeared paint on you!). And you got to execute some kickass choreography, courtesy of Kenny Ortega. I wish my senior prom had been so chock-full of dancy goodness.

However, Gabriella had her share of gagworthy moments: come on, was the treehouse love song "Right Here, Right Now" necessary? I think not. Even twelve-year-olds know that two teenagers even semi-alone after the big game would be making out, not singing about how their heart loves the view. And believe me, we know you weren't presented with the biggest of acting challenges, even for a Disney movie. As my mom said after being introduced to the HSM franchise, "All she does is moon over Troy." After the first movie, we never got to see Gabriella the mathlete, which disappointed me because smart girls are cool. Let's face it: Sharpay with her braggadoccio overshadowing her self-esteem issues was more interesting. And she got way better songs.

Look, Jessica Biel went through this same thing in her 7th Heaven heyday. Her photos weren't leaked, but she posed for some gross dude-mag with her ta-tas hanging out after getting pissed that she lost the lead in American Beauty to Thora Birch. (Conveniently forgetting that Thora Birch could ACT.) I like you way better than Jessica Biel, Van. You don't have to stoop to that level.

And up until now, you were doing stuff right. The public had all but forgotten about photos leaked in 2007, which in pop culture years translates to an eon ago. I didn't tell anyone because I get enough crap for liking HSM, but your single "Sneakernight" has a proud place on my iPod. Your new movie Bandslam looks cute and fun, and you're branching out by playing an alternagirl (we know she's alterna because in the preview she's carrying The Perks of Being a Wallflower!). Granted, most alternagirls don't look like you, but it's mainstream Hollywood, so whatevs.

Dude, I made excuses for you back then. Teens do stupid stuff. I know I did. Plus, it's not like you were racking up DUI's, therefore running the risk of hurting innocent people. You weren't snorting coke off a hooker's unmentionables. Hell, you didn't even have a sex tape. You had a couple of pictures for your boyfriend that allegedly fell into the wrong hands. Sure, it was embarrassing and hopefully none of your little-girl fans saw them, but stuff happens. (I'm not going to get into the issue of you as a role model. First off, I don't have kids. Second, I survived Pee Wee Herman getting arrested for being a perv-o. What I'm concerned about is your career.)

Now you are two years older and one would hope you got wiser. As far as the public knows, you're no longer under contract for HSM and I don't think you're officially with Disney anymore, though I could be wrong. You are free as a bird to play a drug addicted prostitute in a gritty indie drama (and speaking of gritty indie dramas, you did a nice job with your blink-and-you'll-miss-it role as Evan Rachel Wood's nerdy pal in Thirteen) or try your hand at directing. I'll be honest with ya, sweetheart: you don't have the charisma of Zac Efron or even Ashley Tisdale. But you're cute and can play good-natured. You could do okay.

So what's with the new nudies? What exactly are you trying to prove? Do some homework: you need not go further than your home base of Los Angeles. I hate to keep bringing up Lindsay Lohan, but she's the poster child for growing pains gone horribly, horribly wrong. Miley Cyrus is slowly but surely catching up. Granted, I don't know your family situation, and I'm a strong believer that a child actor needs at least one grounded adult to flourish beyond their youth, career- or otherwise. That said, you're a grown-up now, so it's time to stop blaming your stage parents if that's the case. Do you really want to end up on an E! reality show? I mean, I inexplicably like Kim Kardashian, but unlike her, you have actual talent. Don't squander it. Also, two words: Labor Pains. Just . . . no. You're better than that.

And another thing: if this is a PR move, you need to fire your publicist IMMEDIATELY because he/she is terrible. If you want any career longevity whatsoever, do not go the fame-whore route. Meryl Streep didn't, and neither should you. (I'm not saying you're Meryl Streep, but you could surprise all of us.)

If you don't want a career anymore, that's cool. But make a graceful exit: fade away, don't crash and burn. If you're smart, you can probably live off your HSM dough and not have to do another thing for the rest of your life. If Zac's the one for you, hold on to him; if he's not (for whatever reason, and I think you know what I'm talking about), set him free. Whatever you choices from here on out, keep it classy. Don't court any further embarrassment or danger.

Again, I'm not going to touch the role model issue. But like it or not, you ARE a public figure. By doing your job (acting) well enough to become famous, you lost some of your privacy rights. Maybe it's not fair, but that's the way it works. And because you are a product of the Disney machine, people are going to be interested in you. And they will not hesitate to make you a sacrificial lamb due to one or two poor decisions.
Prove them wrong.

Yours,

Unpro

P.S. If you think I'm creepy, fear not. I'm a 29-year-old female musical theatre nerd. I'm the least of your worries.
P.P.S. I'd totally be your publicist, though.