Let's ETV 8!

Enormous Television 8
a rock and roll music revue

Your favorite NYC comedians sing rock songs accompanied by the ETV band.
They chose the songs, we rehearse it extensively and present it to you in a genuine rock music venue.

at Kenny's Castaways
157 Bleecker Street, NYC between Sullivan & Thompson Street.
Friday, August 28th, 2009
7pm
$5 cover

http://www.kennyscastaways.net/

Starring:
Jessica Allen
Tony Carnevale
Tara Copeland
Kirk Damato
James Eason
Brian Fountain
Kate Hess
Will Hines
Tabitha Lee
Maddy Mako
Shannon Manning
Robin Rothman
Alexis Saarela
Risa Sang-urai
Andrew Secunda
Ashley Ward

The ETV Band:
Dan Goodman - Bass
Ernie Privetera - Keyboards
Andrew Dickerson - Guitar
Mark Lee - Guitar
Lou Iacobelli - Drums
&
Terry Jinn - Guitar

Let's (Not) See The Little Mermaid!

The Little Mermaid closes on Broadway this Sunday. And yes, I admit, I wanted to see it. It's a nice story, I absolutely love the music, and Ariel's a honey. But even before the dark days of unemployment, this show scored very low on my theatrical priorities, because it's supposed to be sucktastic. But I still wanted to see it, you know?

Then just the other day my friend and fellow Hogwarts alumn Jeff asked if I wanted to go to the box office early one morning and stand in line for Standing Room Only tickets. Naturally, I said yes.

But... I didn't go. FAIL. I was too tired yesterday and overslept my 6 a.m. wake-up call (and, perhaps not coincidentally, had a very strange dream involving Mary Poppins), so screw it, no SRO tickets for me.

As a punishment, I scoured YouTube looking for clips of what I'd be missing.

Turns out, I wouldn't be missing much.

"Under the Sea"


"Poor Unfortunate Souls"


This is such unimaginative staging! And the costumes are like a joke - they're awful. Sebastian and Ursula are great characters (I sort of dream about one day playing Ursula), but you suckify them by making them look like... cheap imitations. Hell, even Shrek put a lot of creativity and fun in their costuming.

Jeff's texts as he watched the show helped confirm my suspicions.
- Holy crap, this is a trainwreck!
- [Ariel's] too skinny. I could see her ribs from the back of the house. She needs to eat some fishsticks.

I don't think it holds a candle to Disney's Hollywood Studio's The Voyage of the Little Mermaid, as you can see here (pardon the poor quality):



Still, though, I should've gotten my lazy ass out of bed and gone to the box office. I might try on Saturday or Sunday, but I fear the weekends might be more crowded and harder to get ahold of SRO tickets.

So there's still the slimmest of slim chances that I'll get to go and be... (sung) part of that world.

But you don't have to take my word for it...

Celebrities endorse my blog! Sort of. Not really.

Partial transcript of Stephen Colbert's commencement address at Knox College in Galesburg, Illinois (6/3/06).

Say “yes.” In fact, say “yes” as often as you can. When I was starting out in Chicago, doing improvisational theatre with Second City and other places, there was really only one rule I was taught about improv. That was, “yes-and.” In this case, “yes-and” is a verb. To “yes-and.” I yes-and, you yes-and, he, she or it yes-ands. And yes-anding means that when you go onstage to improvise a scene with no script, you have no idea what’s going to happen, maybe with someone you’ve never met before. To build a scene, you have to accept. To build anything onstage, you have to accept what the other improviser initiates on stage. They say you’re doctors — you’re doctors. And then, you add to that: We’re doctors and we’re trapped in an ice cave. That’s the “-and.” And then hopefully they “yes-and” you back. You have to keep your eyes open when you do this. You have to be aware of what the other performer is offering you, so that you can agree and add to it. And through these agreements, you can improvise a scene or a one-act play. And because, by following each other’s lead, neither of you are really in control. It’s more of a mutual discovery than a solo adventure. What happens in a scene is often as much a surprise to you as it is to the audience.

Well, you are about to start the greatest improvisation of all. With no script. No idea what’s going to happen, often with people and places you have never seen before. And you are not in control. So say “yes.” And if you’re lucky, you’ll find people who will say “yes” back. Now will saying “yes” get you in trouble at times? Will saying “yes” lead you to doing some foolish things? Yes it will. But don’t be afraid to be a fool. Remember, you cannot be both young and wise. Young people who pretend to be wise to the ways of the world are mostly just cynics. Cynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the farthest thing from it. Because cynics don’t learn anything. Because cynicism is a self-imposed blindness, a rejection of the world because we are afraid it will hurt us or disappoint us. Cynics always say no. But saying “yes” begins things. Saying “yes” is how things grow. Saying “yes” leads to knowledge. “Yes” is for young people. So for as long as you have the strength to, say “yes.”

And Tina Fey's "Aha!" Moment (from the June 2003 issue of O, The Oprah Magazine)...

Six years ago, I moved from Chicago to New York to work at Saturday Night Live. I packed up and was going through my things to see what I would take with me and what I'd leave behind. I found an orange folder—a regular school folder—in a bookshelf. As soon as I saw it, I knew what it was. There were quotes written all over the front of it. Some of them were: "Greet everything with 'Yes, and…'" "Make statements instead of putting the burden on others with questions." "Stay in the present, as opposed to focusing on the past or future." "The fun is always on the other side of a yes."

Years before, I was a student at Second City, an improvisational acting school in Chicago, and took a class with artistic director Martin de Maat. These quotes were some of the rules of "improv" he gave us. When I found the folder, I realized that taking that class had completely changed my life.

The things I learned in that class became part of the way I live my life. A couple of times I've been called on to do things—jobs or whatever—where I've felt, Maybe I'm not quite ready. Maybe it's a little early for this to happen to me. But the rules are so ingrained. "Say yes, and you'll figure it out afterward" has helped me to be more adventurous. It has definitely helped me be less afraid.

There are limits of reason to this idea of saying yes to everything, but when I meet someone whose first instinct is "No, how can we do that? That doesn't seem possible," I'm always kind of taken aback. Yeah, of course you can. There's no choice. And even if you abandon one idea for another one, saying yes allows you to move forward.

Sitting on the floor of my Chicago apartment, I realized that the words on the folder had a broader use than just for improvising comedy. Life is improvisation. All of those classes were like church to me. The training had seeped into me and changed who I am.

Let's Wesley Dodds?

Dragon*Con is fast approaching (NEXT WEEK?!?!?!), and I'm starting to stress about costumez. I know that's a silly reason to get stressed, but eff it, this is one of the few chances I get to escape from the normal boundaries of human fashion, so it leads to the age-old question, "What am I gonna wear?!?!"

For daytime antics, it's simple. Cakey's the star, I'm just the guy who carries him around and passes out stickers. I'll be in my nice li'l tie and vest ensemble, fine and dandy like sour candy.

But at night... when I'm out dancing with Ms. Marvel... what do I wear? What do I wear? What do I wear?! Last year I had a borrowed Ghostbuster uniform, my priestly vespers, and a gnome outfit (which went unworn), but should we change things up in 2009?

Maybe it's just that I've been reading Sandman Mystery Theatre (and a huge thanks to Will He Be Hines for giving me the series), but I'm really tempted to dress up as Wesley Dodds, AKA the Sandman.


It's not the hardest costume (I've already got the suit), but there are some things holding me back.

- The gas mask. I already own one (reused from ZombieCon), but I'd prefer to buy a new one that looks more accurate. But that's wasteful, isn't it? I need to be conserving my money, not throwing it away on a more authentic gas mask.

Additionally, do I even want to wear a gas mask during a hot sweaty Atlanta night? That thing pools up water and it can get pretty gross.

And then let's not forget that nighttime is for fun, not for posing for pictures (at least, that's my plan). A gas mask would seriously hinder my visibility and ability to just hang out with The Others.

- The Sandman's sleeping-gas gun. An important accessory, but I'm not gonna even try to build one, because I don't want airport security asking me why I have 1) a gas mask, 2) a weirdo gun, and 3) a cake puppet.

- No fedora or trench coat, although both of those can be easily obtained.

- This guy:


I'd hate to be the half-assed Sandman, compared to the more accurate Sandman (though, in my opinion, he ought to be wearing gloves).

Last year, I'd feel a sting of pity when I'd see a cool costume next to a lame one (and trust me, if there are two Sandmans in a room, everyone's gonna want to take a picture of them together). I don't want anyone to pity me.

But all in all, it comes down to what I want to do with my evenings. Do I want to continue dressing up in a cumbersome costume... or do I want my eyes and hands and body free so I can take pictures and dance and socialize?

Last year, I felt better being in something "easy" like the Ghostbusters uniform. The priest outfit got me more attention than I would've liked (but I might wear it anyway), and chances are I'll still feel that the Gnome costume is inappropriate for evening wear. It was a way of blending in without getting too much focus, leaving me free to roam about.

So... I dunno. Let's Wesley Dodds?

Let's Japan Fair!

So Sunday was the NYC Japan Fair, and because I do love a good cultural fair, I was there.

It's always fun to pretend I'm a different ethnicity (or, in the case of the Filipino Day fair, my actual ethnicity) and then be like, "Yeah! Whoo! Go Japan! Let's do it! I'm wearing a headband!" while speaking in Japanese gibberish, enjoying food and t-shirts and stuff to buy and samples and whatnot... but I have to say, this was a rather disappointing "fair."

In fact, I'd be hard pressed to call it that at all. It was a one-block segment of a multi-block street fair (the generic kind where you can buy watermelon and scarves and fried dough and junk). Just a single block! So... kind of a small fair.

We arrived at the exact moment it got crazy crowded (so in that way, it was reminiscent of Japan), and there wasn't much to do except snake up the booths on one side, snake down the booths on the other, and get the heck out.

There was a karate demonstration (and later music), but you couldn't see anything. There was a lot of food, but I wasn't hungry and the lines were insane. There were small boxes of chocolate soy milk, and I got one of those (though it tastes chalky when warm), and there was nothing worth buying... except this.


When I saw that one of the food booths was decorated with these little balloon dolls of a smiling bald guy, I didn't know what it was about (later learned he's the mascot for Marukome, maker of miso products), but I knew I wanted one.

And so I got it.

Dream fulfilled, and I can call this fair a success. Go Japan! You're number one!

RIP Swiper Willson (2006 - 2009)

Earlier today we had to put Swiper to sleep, and as you can probably figure, euthanizing a pet is a ridiculously sucky experience.

(Just zooming through the necessary details: he'd been sick and was getting worse, might have had a stroke. First he had trouble walking, then staying awake, then eating. The rodent specialist at the hospital was away for most of the week and he saw us as soon as he could, but I don't think there was anything he could've done. Swiper was an old gerbil, after all, and they don't live forever.)

We resolved to be with him at the end, since I didn't want him to have to die all alone. Gerbils get scared so easily. By this point he was mostly unconscious, but he'd still squirm and kick whenever you'd pet him, because he kind of hated to be touched. Good ol' Swiper! However, he was always OK with me touching his paw with my finger, which I'd often do and pretend we were shaking hands.

So we petted him for a bit before they gave him the anesthetic, and I like to think in his delirium we felt like other gerbils grooming him, and that was somehow soothing. And then we thought the anesthetic killed him, but he resumed breathing. Swiper was nothing if not a fighter. And they let me hold his paw as they gave him the last injection, right into his heart, Jesus Christ, but he didn't even flinch, and that was it, he was finally free from the pain. His paws and nose, usually a nice gerbil-pink, turned gray far, far too quickly. He was so little, the poison must have spread so fast.

It wasn't fun leaving him with the hospital, but it would be weird carrying his body home, then illegally burying him in the park or something for some animal to dig up and eat and then die from the poison. The hospital knows what to do with the bodies, and Sarah thought it'd be nice for him to be with other animals, so at least he won't be alone for long.

The doctor saw me kissing his head before we left. He still smelled good. Gerbils have a very nice smell, even in death. And I tucked him under a tissue just so he wouldn't be lying there all exposed and undignified, and I wrote his name on it so they'd know he wasn't just any dead gerbil but someone who was really cool.

And... that was it.

But I'd like to celebrate Swiper's life, not dwell on his death, so here are a few of his greatest hits and (mostly unrelated) funniest pictures.


Swiper was the only one of the gerbils who seemed to enjoy getting in The Ball. Here's a blog entry from Jen365 in which Swiper appeared, and also this weird (unrelated) video featuring Too Many Balls.


Another great moment happened when we integrated all the gerbils together. For one week, they all lived in a single tank but were separated by a mesh fence, and then they chewed through the mesh so they could be together. That was very cute - they decided on their own that it was time to tear down the wall and live as a family.


Swiper was a master groomer. I guess his year of living alone gave him a newfound love of grooming, because, yeah buddy, he'd totally go at it for the other two. You could hear them squeak (usually a sound of pleasure or annoyance - but since they let him do it, it had to be pleasure) from across the room when he'd groom them, so it must've felt very good. I likened him to an old Asian masseuse who really knew what he was doing.


My personal favorite moment in Swiper's history: when we came home from my brother's wedding, and he scampered out of the kitchen to greet us. What a surprise! He'd broken out of his cage somehow, somewhen, and set up a habitat in the kitchen. Who knows for how many days or for how long, but it was a very surprising sight, and I think he was psyched to see us, so we could put him back in his cage.


And finally, the time Swiper tried really hard to get to the pistachios.


He had a good life, and I'm grateful for having known him. We'll miss you, Swiper.

Let's Donut Ice Cream Sandwich?

So I read this bloggy-blog about Donut Ice Cream Sandwiches and I figured it'd be a larf to link it on my Facebook profile with the comment "I want to go to there."

And then I thought, "Wait, I really DO want to go to there!"

Because they have these...


And I love red velvet more than any other dessert. If I skated in roller derby, my name would be Red Velvet (also, I'd dye my hair red), that's how much I love it. In fact, it's my third favorite dessert, beaten only by Cookie Puss and Cakey, because I love all friendly talking cakes from outer space.

Anyway, I really want to get the red velvet version of this...


...because surely such a delicious dessert will fill the hole in my soul, right? This is what's missing from my life! It has to be.

The problem is the bakery is located in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, which is a pain in the ass to reach most days. But still, I blog about it here because that means I'll be obligated to make the journey, lest the Cow Who Laughs laughs at me.

And so now I vow A BLOOD OATH (and as friends know, I take Blood Oaths VERY seriously), that before the end of September (August being too effing hot to go outdoors... even for ice cream), I will trek to Greenpoint and attempt to eat one of these donut ice cream sandwiches.

This I swear.

Let's DCM XI!

Another thing I did from that list o' fun was attend and perform in the Del Close Marathon, held this past weekend.

Truth be told, I'm not a fan of the DCM. It's always on a super-duper hot weekend, and it's even hotter in an underground theater that's packed full of millions of sweaty people. Someone described it as a "beer sauna," and that's pretty much right.

Even on the best nights, after performing a show, I usually get so claustrophobic that I have difficulty breathing and have to leave, so if we up the temperature and the number of bodies exponentially, it's sort of a nightmare for me.

But I resolved myself to at least do the DeCoster show, since we're a house team at the hosting theater. But as I descended into the thick, steamy green wasteland, I thought, "What the heck am I doing to myself?"

The important thing, though, is that I performed, and then, as an added Year of Yes surprise, got asked to sit in with Oscarbait, a the improvised Movie show that I directed for several months.

It's weird that instantly I was like, "Hell, yeah, I'll stick around for another hour and do a show that'll make me sweat off a pound!" but the Movie has always been my favorite form of improv, it's my one true love, and doing it again after 2.5 years was pretty darn special. There's no way I would turn down that opportunity.

Before the show I was jumping and fidgeting around and someone asked if I was nervous. "No," I said, "just psyched." Doing a Movie! What fun!

And we had a terrific show. It's a lot of work doing a Movie, even more doing it under a tight 25-minute schedule, but damn, it was fun. There was a moment when I was helping to lift one of our biggest, tallest members off the ground (in order to show an overhead shot), and I just started smiling manically at the sheer joy of it all.

And that's what the Marathon is all about, Charlie Brown.

Here's a poster of the Movie, as designed by Jessica Stickles (and a synopsis can be read here). I played the Chinese kid.

Let's Book It!

Boy, August sure seems to be a bad month for blogging. Too hot, dreaming about Dragon*Con, not much going on... but then I had that "Let's Do Things!" list from a few days ago, how'd all that go?

Starting with the Greek naval battle re-enactment last Thursday, to put it simply, I didn't go.

But before the Laughing Cow can say "FAIL," let me explain! I booked something and had to shoot that instead. Whee, booking! And it was an... interesting experience, to put it nicely. Lot of Year of Yes moments in there, I guess.

It starts with a phone call from the casting director, always a source of excitement. Booked it, yes! Two-day shoot, hooray! Moneyz, that's the best part! But details of the shoot are non-existent - the production people will call me with all the info... but no one ever calls.

At around 8 p.m., I finally hear from someone in wardrobe. We talk about a few outfits I should bring (having to bring my own clothes = first warning sign that this ship might not sail so smoothly), but he doesn't know when or where the actual shoot will happen.

Slightly nervous, I talk with someone else who booked it and we share concerns that we haven't heard anything. We vow to tell each other that once we know what's going on, we'll share it with the other.

I never get a call or email from the production people, but luckily, my friend does, and he forwards everything to me.

However, I don't happen to see it until 7:30 a.m. on Wednesday, and find out I have to be there in an hour. Yikes!

Now I have two options: 1) Say, "Screw it, I'm in the right if I don't show up. No one told me anything!" But the trouble with this is that sure, I'm right, but I could end up losing the gig... and the moneyz. 2) Shag ass to get down there in time.

I choose the second option. Better safe than sorry. Finally, breathless, I arrive on the set, only to be told, "Nah, we don't need you til tomorrow. Go home." Suxor!

In the middle of the day I get a call from both the casting agency and the production company saying, you know, "Sorry for the mix-up. We only need you for tomorrow," but to quote Homer Simpson, "Sorry doesn't put thumbs on the hand."

DAY TWO. I show up on time. I hear from my friend that the previous day's shoot was, and I quote, "rough." 8:30 a.m. to 10:20 p.m.? Yeah, that's rough. So I know I might be in for a day of fun, fun, fun.

Shooting is a lot of "Hurry up and wait." I get my clothes pressed, my makeup on, and I sit down with the rest of the actors and watch Wayne's World. I do a bit of walking around in the background (at which point I wonder, "Wait, am I an extra?!"), then settle down to read my book.

About six hours later, I do my piece. It's assumed that I know what I'm doing and how I'm going to do it, but no one's told me what to do, they just started rolling film. Whoa! So in my soon-to-be-famous "caught looking at a guy's wiener" scene, I try several facial expressions: guilty, angry, shocked, psyched, scared, anything that I'd find amusing. The crew seemed to find them funny, and that's what's important, really.

Then a nice lunch, another few hours of waiting, and I get released.

And another crossroads comes up: We're told to invoice the company, (further evidence that this ship is in troubled waters). I have to face this chilling challenge: do I charge for one day or two?

I choose the second option, because 1) I was originally told it was a two-day shoot, so I kept my day clear (thus turning down any freelance work), did the detective work and shagged ass, and 2) If I don't stand up for myself, no one will, because I don't have an agent to handle this mess.

Advice from most people followed the "Book 'em for two days, but expect to get paid for one" route, so we'll see how it turns out.

Sucks that I missed that Greek naval battle, though.

Let's Keyboard Karaoke!

Like Druids drawn to a moonlit glade, a number of folks convened at a tiny tiki bar last night to worship one of the greatest forces in the universe: music.

"Who are these people?" I briefly wondered, only to realize that I'm one of these people.

Despite sending out invitations to fellow die-hard karaoke aficionados, none of them made it out. Understandable, since late-night outings on a Monday are tough, so I found myself alone in a roomful of strangers (except, of course, for the talented pianist and ringleader, Joe McGinty).

At first I wished that I had braver/less-responsible/unemployed friends, or at least a sidekick with whom I could converse. Heck, in those first desperate and awkward minutes, I'd gladly have been the sidekick, just so I wouldn't feel the weirdness of being by myself.

But it reminded me of my early days in the city when I'd go out on my own and do all sorts of interesting things all the time (seeing underground plays or burlesque shows or secret magician stuff). It was a strange, lonely time, but also an interesting one, and it might do me good to have more solo adventures.

(Who knows, maybe when the weather isn't so unbearably hot I'll lug my accordion down to the Irish pub and join one of those old-timey jam sessions. I do love old-timey anything.)

The night took on a surreal haze though, possibly fueled by booze, but I got the distinct feeling that everyone else was some (in)famous indie musician. Joe runs in some interesting circles, so this could very well be true. But, since I know nothing about music nowadays, I couldn't identify anyone for sure.

Who were all these Australians? Is some band on tour in NYC right now? And this Asian-looking guy with the bushy hair who introduced me to the song "Stop Your Sobbing"? What about this apple-cheeked gentleman who sang Roy Orbison's "Crying" so perfectly? His voice was so good, he's gotta be famous.

The lure of piano karaoke brought out such an unlikely and talented group, and I'm sure a hipster-in-the-know would have given their prized neckerchiefs to have been in their presence, but for me, I only had awe for the music.

And there was a moment of perfect comfort and ease as I stood there, the whole room was singing "Daydream Believer," and I realized, "This is what my personal Heaven is like. Just a bunch of people singing a song in a room and enjoying themselves. And if this isn't nice, what is?"

Let's Do Things!

Those About to Die Salute You
Thursday, August 13
Wow, this is awesome! And free! And requires togas!

Del Close Marathon XI
Friday, August 14 to Sunday, August 16
DeCoster - Saturday 12:15 a.m. at Urban Stages
UCBW: Kicking Ass and Taking Suggestions - Saturday 5:15 a.m. at UCBT
The Puppet Revolution - Saturday 10:30 a.m. at UCBT
Beauty Love Truth - Sunday 5:15 p.m. at Urban Stages

Japan Fair
Sunday, August 23
I feel like I miss this every year... but not this time!

Enormous Television 8
Friday, August 28
Holy shit this is gonna be an awesome one.

Dragon*Con 2009
Friday, September 4 to Monday, September 7
Whee!


(This blog entry is mostly so I don't forget about the Japan Fair.)

Let's Quisp!

I love breakfast cereals. I really do. Not that I eat them very much, but the idea of cereal gets me giddy, and I especially love to think about cereal mascots - where they've been, where they are, where they're going.

Now for the past several weeks/months, I've noticed Quisp for sale at my local supermarket. Oddly enough, it's in a special place, not in the cereal aisle, but in the final aisle, in its own little island, surrounded by a wall o' frozen food and organic stuff.

I've never eaten Quisp, it's before my time. But every time I'd eye the boxes and think, "Should I try it?" And even though it was on sale for $2.99, I wouldn't dare.

Thoughts would go to the uneaten cereals in my cupboard (Fruity Pebbles, Count Chocula and Franken Berry). "Do I really need to buy yet another shitty cereal?" I'd ask myself, and think that those boxes might be old or something (why else would they be isolated in such a way?).

And besides... I can count on one hand the number of times I've had a cereal that fully lived up to my hopes and dreams (Smurf Berry Crunch, Donkey Kong Jr. Cereal, original formula Count Chocula, Rocky Road Cereal, Urkel-Os and Addams Family Cereal). So NO. Or, as the Cow Who Laughs might say, FAIL.

Then a few weeks ago, the Quisp disappeared. I thought, "Shit! It was a summer promotion! It's gone! The box didn't say for a limited time! Damn it! No! Ugh!" And I resigned myself to a Quisp-less life.

And time passed, as it always does.

Yesterday I went to get some Fentimans Ginger Beer, and I saw it... Quisp, now placed at the front of an aisle in the spot of honor. We don't get many second chances in life, and almost no one gets a third, so of course I bought a box.

And I should say, it's a pretty box.


- I love the old-timey aspect of it, how it's a solid blue background and it bleeds to the edge.
- I like the quirky font, and then the plain arial font that reads "Crunchy Corn Cereal."
- The cartoon mascot is simple and stupid.
- The photo of the cereal juxtaposes perfectly with the rest of the design. This is solid cereal, not today's junk. I really love the box.

This morning, unable to sleep because I couldn't wait for breakfast, I got out the Quisp. Within a single bite, I was inspired and called to Sarah to take dictation (a la Max Fischer) as I slowly enjoyed my cereal (which, apparently, is the same recipe as Mr. T Cereal). Here, verbatim, is what Quisp inspired me to say:

- Similar to Cap'n Crunch in taste, without the unpleasant side effect of cutting the roof of your mouth.
- Mildly sweet.
- Fun to eat.
- Quisp is the perfect breakfast treat.
- It's "Quisp-y."
- It's a breakfast cereal that's [sung] out of this world.
- I'm going to kill myself tomorrow.