2009: Let's Yes!

Let's Japan!

2011-01-01T23:50:00.002-05:00

Dusting off the cobwebs of this ol' blog to let you know of a slight change in my life.

On Wednesday I leave for Tokyo to perform in Steve Martin's Picasso at the Lapin Agile. I'll be gone for about 2.5 months, living the life in Japan.

And you can follow my exploits on this tumblr: http://talkingbreakfast.tumblr.com

Arigato!

PS:

2010-01-02T10:40:00.004-05:00

And the beat goes on...

http://yearofyes.tumblr.com/

I don't know this person, but I know someone who does, and her first Year of Yes moment was something I always wanted to do, but never did. I love it!

Also, on January 1st, I did a nice li'l diversion: Sarah and I, leading Squad 7 of the Gallian militia, were able to drive the Empire out of our country. In other words, we beat Valkyria Chronicles.

And today, January 2nd, is the first day of a new futuristic RPG campaign, in which I'll be playing an intelligent three-foot-tall gerbil.

2010: Year of Diversions and Projects?

Let's Fin!

2010-01-01T16:26:00.006-05:00

I started to write a Year in Review for 2009, but upon looking over the 134 entries that made up the past 365 days, I found I didn't really have that much to recap.

It was a good year and it certainly had its funs and wows, but I dunno... I said Yes to a lot of stuff, but I ultimately feel a bit unsatisfied.

You see, there's something in me that really enjoys doing Projects. Big projects, ones that ultimately define my year: making My Wife, the Ghost and Cakey, for example, or writing and producing a Halloween jukebox musical.

And I feel that 2009 was bereft of a Project. Sure, I did a couple of puzzles and took some classes and ate a life-changing Chicago hot dog, but these are things I'd call Diversions (for lack of a better word). And while it's important to have Diversions, they don't give me the same sense of accomplishment.

"Ah," some would say, "but you DID do Projects in 2009! You wrote Disney Zombies, which is no small feat, and then you directed/produced The Hogwarts Improvisation Society, which was one of the greatest events ever," and those are completely true statements, but... I want more (more hot dogs, too).

Maybe part of it involves focusing too much on other people's Projects - directing two shows, for example, or working undercover for the Man - but then at the end of the day, I'm not making any progress on my own stuff.

Imagine the irony, then, of not saying Yes to myself.

Perhaps, during the two years of this blog (which in itself is kind of a Diversion), I took the idea of Yes too far and spread myself too thin, going off in all sorts of little directions instead of focusing on what I really want to do.

And that's part of my problem. I can get all wrapped up in some idea and follow that for a bit, and then leave my Project (whatever it might be) on the back-burner. A good example: while at home, I looked through my childhood drawings and letters and wanted to make a tumblr for them, because it'd be really funny to scan a notebook page with "DO YOU BELIEVE IN ALIENS?" in big bubble letters.

But that's just a Diversion, to me. A fun one, but also a time-eating one, and so I asked myself, "Is this worth it?" and... well, the jury's still out, I kind of want to do it, even though it's a big commitment, but we'll see.

Anyhow, having learned that it's worthwhile to say Yes, and that you can say Yes too much, I've decide to conclude this ol' blog. I think we've hit a good stopping point, since 2010 probably won't involve saying Yes to so many things, just a few big ones.

I feel I should come up with some poignant parting words, but these two are always what I say, so I'll present them here in their originality...

This blog has been fun, but then again, it's about my life, and that's always fun.

Thank you for reading, I truly do appreciate it, and I hope that you'll say Yes in your life... but not to excess.

I remain, humbly, your obedient servant and faithful friend,

Kirk Damato
January 1, 2010

Let's Puzzles! (IV)

2009-12-30T08:43:00.002-05:00

Finished "Cinderella's Grand Arrival" last week (so fast!), and took care of the (rather large) Marvel one in a day or two, because I've now got mad puzzle skillz.

My next puzzle project is to make a mash-up of Cinderella and Winnie the Pooh. Since they have the exact same cut, you can switch pieces between each one. I'm hoping it'll look somewhat odd and beautiful, but the color combination of blue and green really doesn't go together so far.

This might actually be harder than doing the puzzles from scratch, because you have to punch out each piece and they're sturdy little buggers.

2010: The year I revolutionized puzzles?

Let's Musical Improv! (IV)

2009-12-28T20:24:00.002-05:00

I did it! (Again!)

Last Sunday was the free Intro to Musical Improv class offered by the Magnet Theater, and it was... pretty easy! And all because of teacher Tara Copeland and accompanist extraordinaire Frank Spitznagel, as well as the incredibly supportive class.

To be honest, I was nervous going in. It's not often that I take classes anymore, and I always feel like I've gotta prove my "veteran" status to the other students. Maybe everyone feels that way, I dunno. But it was a heck of a lot easier to have a handful of friends and teammates in there (plus it's always exciting to see Ari and Betsy rap), and the environment was blessedly free from any critical eyes.

Luckily, there wasn't much actual improvising, so I felt better - and yes, I'm aware it seems weird for an improviser to be relieved he wouldn't have to do any actual improvising in a Musical Improv class.

Since it was an introductory class, Tara ran a lot of warm-ups and simple musical exercises. To analogize this to my katana class from January, we were just learning how to hold the sword and swing it properly, not how to kill in one slice. You know, the basics. And since I've run a number of these exercises before, it was even less stressful. Also, it's hard to be nervous with Tara around, as she is one of the most incredibly supportive teachers I've ever had (also in that category: Ari).

Throw in the fact that Frank underscored all of the exercises with his epic level piano playing and it threw everything into a whole new dimension. Seriously, with him on the keys, even a simple game like Hot Spot felt performance-worthy.

About halfway through, I became delightedly aware that we were being trained somehow. And this sounds like a redundantly thing to realize while in a classroom, but it was pretty exciting to me. Tara explicitly taught us to not be ashamed of our singing or our lyrics, to never apologize, to love what we sing and to have fun. And those are all lessons I never tire of hearing. It's like walking past those guardians in The NeverEnding Story - you won't fail unless you let yourself fail. But if you live it, love it, sing it... you'll get whatever it is beyond those guardians.

And implicitly, we were learning to trust the piano, to realize the accompanist had our back and would only make things better, not make them harder. Maybe this li'l lesson delighted me so because that's something I've always worried about. As stated before, chord progression and crap like that is alien to me, and God knows I never want to be the performer who's singing off-key. Now I know that such a thing won't happen, the accompanist can handle it. Whew!

Our final exercise was, actually, improvising a song. Four people to a group, one person would come up with the chorus, two would each do a verse, and one would make up the bridge. I would've been happy doing any of those, but I got the bridge, which was probably the best choice, because I wasn't sure what one was until Tara explained it for us. And we sang a silly song about air pollution, and it was pretty great, and I loved it.

Let's Christmas!

2009-12-26T19:41:00.003-05:00

Christmas 2009 was a hit! And, for perhaps the first time in my life, I've felt like, "This was a good Christmas, and I'm glad it's come to a satisfying end," instead of the usual, "What?! That's it? I feel... so empty."

So what changed?

This season didn't have the outlook of being jolly - it came off of a pretty depressing Thanksgiving (where my 91-year-old grandfather, already recuperating from a recently broken hip, broke his wrist the morning of Thanksgiving), plane tickets that were mucho expensive (aren't they always?) and they edited out my favorite line from A Charlie Brown Christmas ("All I want is what I've got coming to me. All I want is my fair share."). Plus, my dog's still dead, and I don't think she's coming back.

But because of my grandpa's Thanksgiving trip to the hospital, there was no name-drawing for the family gift exchange, and I thought that made things nicer: everyone's gift was that he'd recuperated and most of us were together. Getting rid of gifts? G'04 it!

Actually, I did get a few gifts from my brother: a Sonic Screwdriver, but also a nice surprise - this Orange Bird pin that he picked up in Disney World...

And I love Orange Bird! I miss the li'l guy.

And getting that Christmas tree? I loved our tree and really enjoyed decorating it throughout the course of the month, either with real decorations or with stuff we've had forever. Having it for a month definitely made me feel like I got my fill of the season, and next year I might wait another week or so (just so it isn't pretty dead by the 26th, as it is now). And I loved making the Kinder Egg Nativity Scene and can't wait for the next one.

I was a bit disappointed to see that most of the old Christmas decorations from my youth (a walrus from Alice in Wonderland, an old lady - probably Mother Goose - riding a duck, one of those vintage Dwarfs I'm always talking about, this Oscar the Grouch head) are no longer with us, but I took it in stride. I wanted to plunder my favorites, but I can let the past stay with the past, and bring on the future with some new decorative traditions, like monkey head coin purses.

Maybe it's the realization that Christmas really is for kids, and rather than thinking that I'm a kid and I deserve Christmas joy for myself, I should try to give it to others. I learned this while watching Elf (for the first time!) last night. It's like, rather than trying to keep returning to Narnia, I have to accept that my time there might be over, and I now have to help others reach that magical Christian land. And maybe that's how I can get back, but it certainly isn't by helping myself.

Since my brother is having a kid soon, next Christmas will be the baby's first Christmas, and that's kind of exciting... even though he'll be too young to appreciate or understand anything.

Things I look forward to: pretending to be Mickey Mouse or Santa Claus on the telephone, which is what my uncle used to do to me. And I never stopped believing. Even now, knowing it was fake, I don't forget the wonder I experienced when talking to the two most important men in the world.

I guess that's why I became a bit jaded - I still want my phone call from Mickey Mouse, but of course that's not gonna happen, and so I stand around going, "That's it?" But what better way than to become Mickey Mouse? And to eventually become Santa? That's my plan.

So, like wisely deciding against thirds on that lasagna and ham we had last night, I feel good that Christmas is just about done. I don't wanna push it or anything. There's still Sarah's return home in a few hours and we'll exchange gifts, but all in all, what a hit! I feel like Ebenezer Scrooge felt after he got that World's Greatest Boss mug.

Let's Distant Worlds! (II)

2009-12-17T11:12:00.006-05:00

Last weekend Sarah and I went to Chicago, mostly to see the Distant Worlds concert, and let me tell you, I can understand why people fly in from around the world to attend these shows.

It was a harrowing journey from downtown Chicago to the Rosemont Theater, and I was pretty scared that we'd be late, because of course the first song is probably one of the most vital: the prelude. Luckily, we made it just as the lights were dimming. This was as close a shave as when you're waiting for Shadow at the edge of that flying island. (If you don't understand or appreciate this reference, you might as well stop reading this entry right now.)

The prelude means nothing if you aren't familiar with Final Fantasy, but if you are, oh, man, it conjures up so much! Mostly I remember the excitement of first playing Final Fantasy II and the III, not knowing what exactly the adventure would be like, but knowing it'd be epic... and being right.

Man, oh, man. Those were some good times. Those are some great games.

The concert was a little FF8-heavy for me (I never played Final Fantasy VIII) and a lot of the vocal songs weren't my cup of tea. I was mostly hoping for a lot of VI, since that's probably the best video game ever made, but sadly, they did not play the Opera. As a consolation, we got the world premiere of Dancing Mad...

...and they concluded with the much beloved Terra's Theme, so I was pretty satisfied. The ending, especially, with the credits showing and the character sketches, that got to me. Just remembering poor Cyan, beautiful, suicidal Celes and Gau, the worst boy in the world. I could (and would) fly anywhere to see a fully orchestrated version of Final Fantasy VI, that's how much I love those songs.

But the highlight of the show was the attendance of the man himself, Nobuo Uematsu, who composed this great music. And during the encore (One-Winged Angel, of course), he played a kick-ass solo on the Hammond organ... while dressed in a ninja costume. Then, as a second encore, they played it again. The audience roared.

It was a very inspiring night. It's pretty amazing to think that this humble little ninja could create such amazing music, music that'll stick with millions of people for their entire lives, and it made me think of creating art as opposed to just creating a product, and there's something to be said for that. (I was in a pretty weird head space last week, but that's another story.)

Out of everything I got out of that concert, I'm probably most grateful for that li'l lesson. So much emotion was poured into this music (man, I even got misty-eyed during To Zanarkand and Aerith's Theme), and, I dunno, life's just too short to make some bullshit project for the sake of throwing something out there.

I feel that way about movies and television and books and everything, and we're overwhelmed with choices, most of which are empty and subpar (Four Christmases, our in-flight movie, comes to mind)... and is it worth it? Couldn't we just focus on what we love and what means something to us?

I know it seems ridiculous to think such thoughts while attending a video game concert, but eff that, it's good music, it stays with you, you care about the characters, they have a soul, and that's the sort of thing I want to make.

So I thank you, Nobuo Uematsu. I thank you very much.

Let's Musical Improv! (III)

2009-12-15T13:33:00.002-05:00

I did it!

It was... not easy. But not hard, I guess. I dunno. It's hard to remember.

My favorite part was warming up vocally with everyone, since that's something I haven't done in almost ten years. Yeowch! And I thought, "Oh, right, we're also supposed to actually sing well."

And beforehand I'd asked some folks for simple advice, like, "What's the one thing you should know if you're going to do a musical improv set?" And the best answer I got was that your character should have a strong want - that's what you're probably gonna end up singing about.

And it was fun! A little nutso, but what improv isn't, and I actually sang two songs.

I've never been smart when it comes to musical machinations (I dunno the proper term for this, but things like fifths and eighths mean nothing to me), so I think I was paying too much attention to what the piano player (who did an incredible job all night) was up to, like if the chords were going to change or if we were moving into a different direction.

Then on top of that, there's the lyrics, which I'm responsible for. Yeowch! For some reason, despite being told to the contrary, I kept thinking the song should rhyme, and so that was a hard habit to break. I think that tripped me up the most. But I love rhyming so much, I don't know if I WANT to break that habit.

So we'll see how things go on Sunday. I hope it is a fun day. Four people are going - will my love of musical improv be growing?

See? Rhymes.

Let's Musical Improv! (II)

2009-12-14T09:24:00.003-05:00

Before Tara's introductory class, I'm gonna just try performing it. Tonight. Whoa Mama!

Musical Kaleidoscope
Monday, Dec. 14th, 7:30 p.m.
The Creek, 10-93 Jackson Ave.
Free, but the experience is priceless
Very appreciative to Jeremy for inviting me on his team, and, yeah, I'm kind of nervous! More nervous than I normally get before a show because I don't really know how to properly improvise a song. And by "don't really know" I mean "don't know at all."

There's a chorus in there somewhere, probably, and that's a big part, and there are also verses, and it should rhyme, but other than that, I just don't know. I kind of hope we don't go first so I can watch a group and try to figure this stuff out.

It'd be cool if I end up being this savant about musical improv (much like Charlie Sanders's legendary first Harold, where he came to class late, jumped in at the opening, did a hilarious and awesome set, and then after the teacher said, "So what'd you think of that Harold?" asked, "What the heck is a Harold?"), but I'll settle for not ruining the show.

Let's Chicago!

2009-12-11T13:28:00.000-05:00

I'm leaving for Chicago in a bit.

IT'S VERY COLD THERE.

Let's Winter Wishes! (II)

2009-12-09T15:14:00.002-05:00

My letter read:

Dear Santa

Lucas has been a good boy and enjoy Elmo anything that makes noise. He also likes cars.

Lucas is 2.5 years old. Stuff like this always breaks my heart, this little kid who loves Elmo and Cars, and I wanted to get him something nice.

But the thing is, I HATE a lot of those talking Elmo toys. I actually think they're detrimental to the development of one's imagination. Am I crazy? I don't think so. They're like robots that you just watch and the interaction isn't real. Where's the pretend?

Also, there's this amazing review video. Honestly, the extent of my research on a toy like this only included Amazon reviews, and they're always a mixed bag - "Love it!" "Hate it!" and it's all just anecdotal evidence.

But I had to go with my gut and eschew all those talking Elmo toys (crazily enough, there's one that goes for over $90 - WHAT THE HELL?), and I got an Elmo puppet, because either he or his parent can play with it and it's real interaction that requires imagination, not being talked to in a mechanical voice.

Some day, robots will be able to love us back, but until then, I think they're not proper toys. Also, they break too easily, eat up batteries, and steal old people's medicine.

(I couldn't figure out if he loved toy cars or the movie Cars - which every kid on earth seems to love - so I also got a stuffed Lightning McQueen.)

[Edited to add: after watching this video, I feel better about my choice. A toy is something you play with, not something you watch. And if it breaks as easily as they say, then screw that.]

Let's Musical Improv!

2009-12-09T11:42:00.004-05:00

I signed up for a free Intro to Musical Improv class over at the Magnet Theater. It's Sunday the 20th from 3:30-5:30, and you can register for it, too - just click that link! Do it. Do it now.

I'm pretty psyched, actually. Musical Improv is something I've always wanted to do, since I like singing and making up songs and I really ought to have piano accompaniment in my life, but I never seem to have the free time/cash when classes come rolling around.

So this time I'm gonna do it... and I'm a bit excited/nervous about trying some skill that I have absolutely zero experience in (if you don't count the countless hours I've spent making up annoying songs around the house). It's like when I took rollerskating lessons - my body just had no idea what muscles to use, how to balance, anything, it was an entirely alien thing. Actually, that was worse, since it was physical. This should be easier.

As adults, I don't think we have many opportunities to be exposed to such newness, and in fact we probably avoid it a little - it's weird being uncomfortable and unsure and like, "I just don't know what's going on!" Hence my excitement/nervousness.

Maybe that's why I keep telling my friends (including you) about this intro class - so that I'm not stepping onto that stage with a bunch of strangers. To misquote Calvin and Hobbes, the unknown is never quite so scary when you're with a friend. So sign up!

That's what this blog's been about all along, I suppose. I don't mind doing it alone - sometimes it's fun to face weirdness alone - but shared experiences have their own power, too.

[Edited to add: Pam just signed up for it, so now the entire class is ruined.]

[Edited further to add: Ari and Betsy and Katey signed up, so now it sort of evens out.]

Let's Craftacular!

2009-12-07T16:54:00.003-05:00

Yesterday was the Bust Holiday Craftacular. I try to attend every year, and 2009 is no exception.

Surprisingly, there usually aren't many things at the Craftacular for ol' Kirk, but at one booth I spied a fancy silver monocle. And I thought, "Now, obviously I don't need a monocle, but I'm sort of surprised I don't already own one, and some day it'll definitely come in handy as an awesome costume accessory. Also, this is perhaps the finest monocles I've ever seen, and I've seen many."

I of course decided to buy it, but first decided to do a circuit about the entire craft fair - see everything for sale, make sure there isn't anything more pressing to buy (like, say, a gift for someone who isn't me, or, more likely, a better gift for me), and also make sure a monocle is a responsible purchase.

But, as I said, the Craftacular doesn't have me as its target demographic. This would seem surprising, since I like things, all sorts of things, but the majority of items for sale include handmade soap, women's clothing or jewelry, and other things I only use on very special occasions.

So two hours later, it was back to the monocle to get it, when lo and behold, it was gone. Sold to some lucky asshole (my nemesis). I kept wanting to circle the table over and over again, as if I missed it, and I did... but not in the good "Oh, there it is!" kind of way, but in the "It's gone forever" fashion.

Suxor.

I think I learned an important lesson: When it's in limited quantities, if you tell yourself to wait and if it's still there, it was meant to be, then you gotta be OK with it not being there when you return, because it probably wasn't meant to be.

Or maybe I should've just bought it then and there. I dunno. Maybe I didn't learn anything. Whatever. I like monocles is all.

Let's Nativity! (II)

2009-12-04T13:31:00.004-05:00

I'm pretty proud of my Nativity set. The walls are made up of Jenga blocks, and most of the pieces come from Kinder Surprise toys. There's a few exceptions: Cakey guest stars as the Angel of the Lord, and that monster from a Monsters Inc. Happy Meal represents either a) the serpent/dragon/monster that was slain by the Christ-child immediately upon his birth or b) just monsters in general.

This was a lot of fun to make, and it was surprisingly an exercise in editing. I didn't want to go overboard, and since I have over 100 Kinder toys, it would've been very easy for this to get out of hand. Note there's no Squidward/Patrick/Mr. Krabs trio popping up or playing the Three Wise Men, and I kept the number of identical ragged Shepherds to one (not pictured are the two goats and a donkey with him... and you can't really see the horses in the stables. Also, there's a tiny booger-looking creature known as an Ick sitting on one of the off-camera Jenga blocks. He represents a Nisse. And the Three Wise Men have three off-camera squires bearing gifts, which are a crown, a shield, and an empty pillow. I would've liked to have included everything but then the picture would have been zoomed out. Maybe I'll do some close-ups later.)

Maybe next year I'll go all out and display the whole of the Kinder Universe worshipping the Christ-child, but I'm pretty content with what we have this year.

And then there's the tree! A real, honest-to-goodness tree! I love it! I love the tree! I say good night to it every night. The picture doesn't do it justice, and I'll have to take some more later.

Seriously, getting a tree really upped the Christmas cheer around this place, and it makes me feel less weird for constantly playing that "Sounds of the Season" music channel up in the 600s. I love that channel! I love the tree!

For ornaments, we just own a set of six pine-cone rodent ones I bought in Florida, and I'm opposed to buying shitty ones (although I'm really into looking at weird vintage Dwarf ornaments and Disney ornaments on eBay), so we decorated it with a lot of little things around the house.

Examples: My graduation cord! Three very cute change purses shaped like monkey's heads. A tag thing or whatever it is from Tokyo Disneyland. Grimace. Two stuffed toadstools. A tiny stuffed elephant Sarah found in Times Square. A holiday card from 2002 (why do I have that? I didn't even live in NYC in 2002, so I brought it up with me when I moved here?). SMRT-1. A few buttons, and atop the tree is old X the Owl from Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.

Bringing back all these old, somewhat forgotten things makes me feel that this tree is more special than one filled with shitty ornaments bought at Target. And it's nice to be actually psyched about Christmas instead of that vague feeling of anxiety and disappointment, so hooray! Christmas!

Let's Nativity!

2009-11-28T18:19:00.004-05:00

I have to give props to Heather for alerting me to this Playmobil Nativity Set, and I was immediately like, "Let's get one!" because the best way to avoid getting depressed during Xmas is to actually celebrate it in style.

And Sarah was reluctant, supposedly because she doesn't want to get a lot of stuff this holiday season (but I think it's because she hates Jesus). Then we fell into this idea of making a Nativity set with stuff we've already got: Grimace, that bald soy sauce man/baby, Nibbler from Futurama, etc.

And holy crap is that a great idea.

I'm blogging about it now because that'll force me to actually build it, so within a week expect a picture of a very awesome (if not historically/Biblically accurate) Nativity set.

Let's Get Awkward!

2009-11-28T14:06:00.003-05:00

So here was a nice Let’s Yes moment.

Last Monday I’m at La Guardia airport, heading home to Florida for the Thanksgiving holiday. And as I walk down Terminal D (D stands for Delta!) I see a semi-familiar face. Like, semi-familiar, as in, I probably met this person before, but for the life of me, I can’t quite tell where. And I have no idea their name or anything like that, but I AM sure that they’re someone I’ve met face-to-face, and it isn’t, say, Lisa Loeb.

This isn’t all that unusual, because with the fancy lifestyle I lead, I’m always meeting tens - if not dozens - of people on a weekly basis, but I’m terrible with names and not much better with faces (unless it’s Lisa Loeb). And I like to say, “It’s not who you know, but who knows you” as a way of assuaging my guilt about this, because I don’t know them - they just know me. So that makes it OK, right?

We half-notice each other, and we're on the cusp of greetings and official recognition, but I keep walking. And I literally take two steps, stop mid-stride, think for a moment, shake my head and go, “Nah,” and keep walking to my gate, which is always at the very end of the terminal. Always.

But that was a very cinematic moment, I tell you. It might not translate so well to blogspeak, but it was one of those crucial points in the movie where the main character almost, almost, ALMOST could’ve solved everything, but then he kept walking because there’s still another hour of wacky highjinks to deal with.

So then I sit down at Gate 6, eat my sandwich, and think I might not have actually ever met that stranger at Gate 3, I might have dreamed about them. Stranger things have happened. And if they WERE some companion from a long-forgotten dream, then I really ought to reconnect with them, right? And, damn it, what’s the point of having this blog if I’m not gonna go up and talk to some semi-stranger and then blog about it later?

I finish my sandwich and walk back to Gate 3. I walk by, we half-notice each other again, but this time I make the greetings and the sign of recognition, and proceed to have a bizarre and pleasant conversation.

How are you doing? Where are you headed? For how long? Where do you live, again? How do I know you? What’s your name? What was it that we talked about the last time we met that I thought was interesting? Are you real or someone from the Dreamworld? Am I crazy? Do you actually know me, or just recognize me?

That sort of thing, minus the ridiculous questions. But I tried (and failed) to find out how I knew this person, and then when some very specific statements were said (“Did you go to the bar after French Stewart's show?" - thusly, we both know French Stewart, and more importantly, this stranger knows that I know him), I still couldn’t figure out how we knew each other.

Luckily, I called ____ afterward and was able to get the scoop, but hearing those details (“You met last month. We were sitting talking about old-fashioned card games.”), it was all news to me. Worse, Sarah remembered meeting this person, and yet I didn’t. That makes me a lame-o, right? Wrong! It makes me an awesome-o for even being recognized at the airport... and by Lisa Loeb, no less.

Let's Winter Wishes!

2009-11-16T00:14:00.003-05:00

Please do this: New York Cares' Winter Wishes

I am, and I'm excited about it, even though I know it won't help the inevitable holiday depression that seems to be the bane of my existence.

Let's Bellairs?

2009-11-12T00:24:00.005-05:00

Over the past month I re-read all of the books by John Bellairs, an excellent-yet-sadly-underappreciated author of children's gothic horror.

I first encountered these books when I was a kid, when my grandparents would take me to the library every week and man, oh man, did I devour these. They're not at all like Goosebumps or the usual crap that passes for children's horror. They're creepy and scary. Also, the illustrations are by Edward Gorey, and that ups the eeriness tenfold.

It was pretty awesome to discover Sarah had the same Bellairs appreciation, and she still had her old collection up in Maine, so we brought them down after our last visit. Huzzah!

And I'm not saying the books are perfect or live up to my memories as a youngster - there's a lot of talk about gobbling hot fudge sundaes and all the characters really love chocolate cake, and a lot of the time I'm like, "OK, really, they would've died in this book," but Uncle Jonathan (a real live wizard) and Professor Childermass (which is probably where I got my interest in the title "professor") are still terrific characters and often the mysteries are just so... Bellairs.

Weird, wicked, dark black magic against the powers of Catholicism. I love it.

Also, I think horror, the best horror, is done with a PG rating. We don't need extreme gore or violence to be horrific. R-ratings and axes and chainsaws are amateur. A dream about a dead aunt? That's skill.

But I blog about Bellairs now because I've gotta think about something. See, many years ago I was given a gift of The House With a Clock In Its Walls, my first and favorite book. It was a cast-off from the library, so it had that plastic cover and the little pocket for the library card with all the dates stamped on it, and I loved it very much. But somewhere along the line, I lost it.

How does someone like me lose a book, though, especially in my parents' house, which is basically a storage space for everything that ever existed? Where the hell did it go? I'm pretty sure it's somewhere, but I've never been able to find it, much like Uncle Jonathan could never find that goddamn clock that was hidden somewhere within the walls of his mansion.

Anyway, I found a rare first edition of the book. It's quite a find, I should think, because old Bellairs books are usually scarce because of the Gorey illustrations. And even though I have no need for a first edition book, and I'm trying to keep unnecessary things out of my life, there's that Dwarven covetousness in me that would very much enjoy a treasure like this. Just because I would appreciate it.

So I've been thinking of making this purchase, which isn't that cheap, but it isn't a bank breaker, but I'm also trying to purchase other things, and I can't buy everything in the world, and then I wonder is this desire to find treasures from my past something to do with getting older (see that awesome Marvel puzzle I got for my birthday), or are all people in my generation like this?

So it's something to think about.

I mean, come on, a hand of glory with some milk and cookies? Genius.

Let's Puzzles! (III)

2009-11-08T22:24:00.004-05:00

So it took about five months, but I finally finished that damn Winnie the Pooh puzzle.

Lemme tell you something, 1000-piece puzzles are HARD. I worked on this thing forever - mostly when Sarah was cooking or baking in the kitchen, so I could keep her company - and at the end there was a very satisfying moment of "Finally!"

And then after basking in my own glory for a few days, I started on the Cinderella puzzle (you can see the beginnings at the bottom of the photo). Fun fact: Its pieces are cut in the exact same way as the Winnie the Pooh puzzle. So I could set down the completed one as a placemat, and focus just on the shapes instead of the colors and stuff to put together "Cinderella's Grand Arrival." Fun, right? RIGHT?

I did that at first, but then it felt like cheating, so I took "Fishing with Friends" and turned it over - a nice thing about this brand is that they're sturdy and don't come apart very easily - so that I woudn't follow the cuts of the jigsaw.

And now I'm about 3/4 done with the border on this new one, so in about... March or so, I'll have something very pretty and worth framing.

You might be wondering why I didn't start on the Marvel Super Heroes puzzle I got for my birthday. Main reason: I have to do them in order. Otherwise there'll be a curse. And I feel like the Marvel one will be easy and might only take a day. Or a week, who the hell knows. And when that's done, it has to remain done and no puzzles can fit on the table until that one gets framed (and it will be framed, to make up for my tragic childhood).

At least with Cinderella, I can do it entirely over the Winnie the Pooh (saving space), and then I'll be ready for the Marvel Super Heroes. Unless, of course, I find that Seven Dwarfs one. Then I'll have to do that, too.

Let's Glasses!

2009-11-06T09:46:00.008-05:00

As mentioned earlier, my glasses were killed in combat last Friday. It's some consolation that they died a warrior's death, and some day we'll meet again in Valhalla, where we'll enjoy an eternity of battle and feasting. Vikings, now that I think about it, had a very odd view of the afterlife. But, then again, don't we all?

So I had some decisions to make... I could go glassless until Thanksgiving, when I could buy a new pair pretty cheap down in Florida, or I could just suck it up and pay more for them right now.

After a night or two of wandering blind at night and not enjoying life (and realizing that borrowing a pair from someone with similar-but-not-exact prescription would cause headaches and eventual death), I bit the bullet and went shopping.

Which, actually, is a lot of fun for me. I love trying on different pairs, I know what I like and want (I want to look like Doctor Who)...

...I know what I hate (looking ugly), and there are a number of nice/cheap places, including my favorite, Fabulous Fanny's, where I've gotten two pairs of glasses in the past and they always remember me, which makes me feel kind of famous.

I found this pair of glasses in Chinatown. Note, though, that I don't think they're really the color shown in this picture. They're way more black instead of green, but the serial number is the same, so what do I know?

And I like 'em! They're a bit more narrower than the Doctor's, but what're you gonna do? The green background is a nice tint, and a change from my old pair, which were more brownish on the inside. Two-tone, is that the word?

And though I dislike the idea of wearing "designer" glasses, everything else just looks stupid and terrible. Part of my reluctance to shop in Florida is that their choices might all be awful, and then I'd be obligated, especially with my parents looking on, to make a horrible and regrettable purchase.

So life goes on, and now I can see. Whee!

RIP, Other Glasses
December 2008 - October 30, 2009
Non Omnis Moriar

Let's October?

2009-11-01T10:41:00.010-05:00

October was basically one neverending 80-hour workweek, and so I disappeared from the ol' blogosphere for a while. My sincerest apologies. If the first 30 days of my 30s are any indication of what the rest of this decade is going to be like, I'm not gonna make it out of here alive.

In November we'll hopefully return to our regularly scheduled programming, but for now, let's look back at the month that was October, quickly and in brief, and in reverse order.

Halloween.
I didn't go out last night, instead I stayed in and finally watched Twilight. But the night before was Buffyprov, and I got to play Giles, and had more fun than I thought I would. The episode ended with all of the Scoobies being murdered inside a Baskin-Robbins by puppet Angel, Spike and Drusilla, which I find acceptable. Also, my death was, as Sarah put it: "really funny."

After that, I went to a pre-Halloween party in Brooklyn, and it being Mischief Night, eventually some inconsiderate people crashed the party and lit some bottle rockets inside. Then they were asked to leave, and as that happened, the drunken fellow attempted to light one last bottle rocket.

I snatched it from his hand - because people who can't play nicely get their toys taken away - and in the struggle ended up smashing his head against the wall. In consequence, I got punched in the face, a regrettable hit that broke my glasses, so now I need new ones. There were more shouts and more punches thrown and a lot of shouting, and though there was almost a bit of a scuffle, it luckily didn't escalate that much further.

I feel bad for some of my comrades, one of whom got punched in the ballz - which is such a low-blow it makes me wish I smashed that guy's head harder - and one unlucky lady who got bruised up by a garbage can.

Funny to think that about 10 years ago on Halloween I also got punched in the face, so now I know what to look forward to when I turn 40.

Oh, and getting home was such a nightmare. We were ejected from a cab who took us in the wrong direction, and I ended up calling the Taxi and Limo Commission on him. Now I can look forward to a day in Taxi Court some time in the near future.

Mischief Night sucks.

ZombieCon.
ZombieCon was mostly a bust because the wet weather fogged up my gas mask almost immediately. I was effectively blind and had to abandon the best part of my costume. Lesson learned: in the event of a zombie invasion, DON'T WEAR A GAS MASK. It'll hamper you more than anything else, and you will get killed.

This is not me, but a similarly attired zombie.

Oh, and I saw one zombie peeing on the street in Times Square, which I find insane. Even more insane - no cop stopped him. Madness!

My Birthday Party.
Thirtyoke Kirkaoke, a hell of a lot of fun! And getting dinosaur party hats were definitely the spark to evolve this from just a normal Charmander-sized party to one of Charizard-sized proportions.

I look forward to having a Christmas Karaoke Gathering of Champions, since this one went so well. Get ready for it!

My birthday.
My actual birthday was mostly a bust, just because of a long day at work and then directing a show and then a not-the-best restaurant and then a Cookie Puss cake that was 1) almost dropped on the floor and 2) didn't have the all-important cookie bits in the center, but then I got the best birthday present ever:

which, seriously, is the best present ever. I mean, I blogged about it, for cripe's sake. It's like my Rosebud.

They Might Be Giants on Jimmy Fallon.
So I'd won this contest where I got to see TMBG on Jimmy Fallon, and we got to stand on the stage. Unfortunately, we were up in a catwalk and off-camera (except for my legs), but it was a really good time, and "Meet the Elements" is a pretty great song (I can't figure out how to link it).

But they also played "Dead"!

Medieval Fest.
I dressed as a gnome. The crowds got me down, but Jen Mac and I had some fun taking pictures.

I'm pretty pissed about my glasses.

Let's Giles!

2009-10-29T18:49:00.004-04:00

Tomorrow night at the Creek, I'll be playing Rupert Giles in Buffyprov tomorrow at 10 at the Creek. I'm pretty honored!

Link to the Facebook event (might not work).

Now I gotta figure out what suit/vest/tie combination to wear.

We'll be back shortly...

2009-10-18T22:27:00.004-04:00

Let's Birthday!

2009-10-06T06:58:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was my birthday, but since I'm working crazy hours this week, I don't have the time to go into all the crazy antics just yet.

But I WILL say this: watch tonight's Late Night with Jimmy Fallon (specifically when the band is playing) to witness the best birthday surprise ever... and it's not just a Cookie Puss (although I got one of those, too).

Let's ZombieCon!

2009-10-04T09:35:00.002-04:00

Mostly to remind myself, but to remind you, too, ZombieCon is happening on Saturday, October 24th (the week before Halloween).

So if you see this guy, stick with him, 'cause he's a survivor (and it's me!).

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get into my gnome outfit.

Let's Medieval Festival!

2009-10-02T10:11:00.003-04:00

Sunday is the 2009 Medieval Festival at Fort Tryon Park.

I've had to miss it for the past two years, either because I'd forget or because I was busy, but this year, I'm going (with Jen Mac!). Probably in costume.

If I blog about wearing a costume, it makes it more likely to happen, so yeah, I might (finally) wear my Gnome outfit.

Let's Gnome?

Let's Maine! (The Recap)

2009-09-30T16:37:00.008-04:00

Back from Maine, but I've already posted the best part: that puking episode we experienced on the ride up from NYC. But then again, nothing could ever top that story.

Other highlights!

- Walking the breakwater in Rockland! It's a 7/8-mile walk out into the water, which equals 959 slightly uneven stones (I counted on the way back). I did this all by myself while Sarah was at her uncle's wedding, and it was pretty fun. Like, I got this sense of accomplishment for having done it, and when I reached the end of the breakwater (where there's that lighthouse), I pumped my arms, victory-style, for a whole minute.

- Eating at a combination KFC/Taco Bell, because I'm just like you, America.

- Shopping at Renys, "your favorite Maine department store." I came very close to buying this 30 Rock 2009 calendar for fifty cents, but decided against it.

- Since the Sunday rains ruined the Common Ground Country Fair (which was my Maine reason for visiting... also, please see what I did there), we just drove up and down US 1, which made me want to drive up or down the entire US 1 from Maine to Florida, and see all the sights there are to see. Points of interest included Heavenly Bean Bags.com and Perry's Nut House, which naturally has a mummy on display.

- Eating at Moody's Diner. Split a seafood platter (still 0-3 for getting a lobster roll while in Maine) and a very good piece of four-berry pie. "When I get hungry, I get Moody" said a sign in the diner, and I could appreciate that little bit o' wordplay.

- On the ride home, this baby in front of us kept saying the word "fuuuck" whenever she saw a truck. She also 1) threw broccoli on Sarah's shoe and 2) pulled the hair of the girl sitting in front of her. Still, this was no puke-tastrophe. Also, this old lady sitting next to us hummed offkey the entire trip from Maine to Boston, culminating in "Amazing Grace."

- Sitting in the front seats of the upper level of the Boston-NYC MegaBus. It was pretty cool! I alternately felt like I was in some motion-simulator ride or Granny from The Beverly Hillbillies, because we were up so high.

It's actually only that interesting while in Boston and NYC. The big stretch of highway in-between, while offering several sights worth seeing (mostly into other people's cars), gets rather redundant after a while.

And that was Mainely all that we did.

Let's Maine!

2009-09-26T00:02:00.002-04:00

Oh, yeah, we're in Maine for the weekend. Wheee!

Quick story, the girl sitting in front of us on the bus threw up on this guy. It was pretty nuts. It wasn't a lot of puke, mostly water-puke, and if the guy hadn't stood up so quickly, I would've thought she just spilled some water or opened a bubbly soda, judging from the sound.

What is funny is that this guy was a very nice-but-weird kid who was overly personal and friendly and so I knew he'd had a rough week and had his heart recently broken and lost his bus ticket and he borrowed a pen from me and then he went to sit next to this girl after a while and they were talking for a bit until she threw up on him.

What is funnier is that he'd also just lent her his phone and the person picked up right after she started puking and so she had to deal with that while trying to deal with the puke.

I think she was expecting that she'd puke, because she was like "I warned you that would happen!" and she happened to have 1) a garbage bag and 2) an entire roll of paper towels with her, so she was sort of ready for the puke.

But she was very apologetic and embarrassed and the guy was very nice and made a joke about it, and all the while I had to sit silently behind them and not laugh and point and do a dance like I wanted to. Instead, I just mimed puking every now and then.

Oh, Maine!

Let's Sucker's Game?

2009-09-23T14:56:00.005-04:00

Where has the month gone? Where are the snows of yesteryear? Have I really done nothing all month?

In a word, yes and no.

Basically, what I've been up to is this: making moneyz. And not in the fun way, just in working for The Man. And that's not very much fun to blog about, because you can't get too specific lest The Man be reading.

Still, though, my unemployment is winding down. We've had a good, long run, but I have to start thinking ahead. Some day, my savings will deplete, and one cannot live on Disney stock alone. In these troubled times it's probably wise to take in some additional sources of income, right?

So after getting two part-time offers for work, I said Let's Yes to both.

The first is teaching improv at a certain college that I've probably mentioned elsewhere on this blog, and the second is closed captioning at a certain company I've definitely not mentioned before. Nothing big, just helping out once or twice a week.

But... I got to caption this performance, which I loved!

Lady Gaga - New Music - More Music Videos

(I like this version much more than the official video, just because it sounds a bit more crazy - although in reality, it's probably just due to Lady Gaga being out of breath - and so desperate. Mmm, crazy and desperate and crippled. Also, I really like the word "Gaga.")

So while working minimal hours, I've come to the conclusion that working for The Man is a sucker's game. 'Cause you ain't never gonna win. And I've gotten some flack about that opinion (mostly from people who probably feel trapped in the same game), but I can't help but feel it's true.

Like, unless you're taking steps toward whatever your true goal/desire is, you're just spinning wheels and punching clocks and then it's three years later and you're still working for the Man. Sure, you've got some more money in the bank, but you also lost three precious years.

I think of the folks who eschewed the traditional 9-5, lived a life less luxurious and stable (and it sucks to lose insurance), but were able to focus full-time on their art or craft or schooling or whatever it was. It's a sacrifice.

And I'm lazy, I've barely done anything with my free time (remember these goals for 2009? The only one I accomplished was going to DragonCon again. That one about doing something TV-related? Oh, the shame of it all.), imagine how much less I'd get accomplished if I had to sacrifice most of my day for The Man?

It's baffling and self-indulgent, but at the same time, I spent the first few years in NYC working a lot (for a while on the midnight shift), building up some cash, buying some Disney stock, and learning some skillz, so one day I could be like this.

Now instead of "struggling," I'm... "middling," I guess, and can spend my days getting sent out on auditions, writing, or (more likely) being lazy, and then I can supplement my income by coaching improv at night, which is work that I really enjoy and care about. So that's a nice step forward. Not the biggest step forward (which would be instant fame and fortune... or just fortune), but it's at least a step in a direction.

There's probably some middle ground, too, somewhere. Maybe working for the Man but also following your dreams. Would that be wise? Or just wishy-washy? Both? Neither?

Beh, I don't have the answers. I just wanna repost this ol' gem:

...except maybe I'd add an asterisk that reads: "But do as little of it as possible while you take steps toward doing what you really wanna do."

That works, right? God, I hope so.

Let's Fantasticks!

2009-09-18T10:56:00.005-04:00

I've been lazy about this, but tonight I'm finally gonna take advantage of the 20 at 20 Off-Broadway ticket thing and go see The Fantasticks.

Odd to think that almost exactly 11 years ago, I was in this show. That's really weird.

Over a decade? Where does the time go? Where are the snows of yesteryear? How is September almost over?

On a whim, I pulled out some old production photos, and criminy! As Julie said, "Everyone's so young!"

And you know what they say: You're only young once... and that was it.

Here's me, halfway through putting on my makeup. So skinny! Still wearing white undershirts! And whatever happened to that camera?

In retrospect, I find it very funny that, Cesar Romero-style, I kept my facial hair beneath the whiteface. And no one had any problem with it or told me, "Sorry, you have to shave."

I played The Mute, which is an interesting role... Odd to think that it's one of the most satisfying parts I've ever played.

The whole musical is very satisfying, actually: it's simple and pretty and graceful and is just a harp and a piano and (maybe) some drums, and it's just about a Boy and a Girl who fall in love, which is kind of the essence of all musicals, right?

Also, it was used in the series finale of Cakey!, as shown here (and that's me playing the piano at the end):

Seriously, it's a beautiful song, and a beautiful show.

"Try to Remember"? I always do.

Reflections of Dragon*Con (III)

2009-09-15T10:25:00.007-04:00

It's hard to believe DragonCon ended over a week ago. My head's still in Atlanta, I haven't caught up on all the post-con stuff I gotta do, and my back still hurts from that fat-ass Cakey. Then last night I used some of the hotel shampoo/conditioner I liberated and the smell instantly brought me back. Madness.

Oh, hotels. A good hotel is vital, since it's your base of operation. Also, if you do several costume changes throughout the day, you don't wanna have to walk very far in the Hotlanta sun. Especially while dressed as a Smurf (these two were the first costumes I encountered in Atlanta).

The following map was given by our concierge, and its usefulness cannot be overstated. Like, if DragonCon was an RPG of some kind, you'd be totally screwed without the map and would have to cheat and find one online or something. Or, if it was a real-life adventure, you'd just get lost and die forever.

2008, my first year, we were at the Westin (the con hotels are, like, the Hyatt, the Marriott, and the Sheraton - basically everything in the top-right quadrant), so it was nice and near. Also, next door to a McDonald's and a Hooters. Whoo hoo!

This year we were faaar away at the Omni Hotel in the CNN Center (all the way on the bottom left). Bad planning on our part, and a mistake that won't be repeated. At the time, we thought the 15-minute walk or so would be nothing, but we didn't realize it'd somehow be uphill both ways (I don't know how this is possible) or that we'd have to pass by the Centennial Olympic Park, which on Saturday would be absolutely packed with a different sort of conventioners - folks in town for the Chick-fil-A Kickoff game.

Imagine this place (as seen from our window on the eighth floor) just a veritable sea of crimson and orange, full of Virginia Tech and Alabama fans. So many people! SO MANY PEOPLE.

I heard the "Roll... tide!" cheer way too often that weekend. And although I have no objection to the enjoyment of sport, I think it's kind of weird/impolite to shout that in hotel corridors. Especially at 9 a.m.

Oh, college football fans. Save it for the game, why don't you?

At least the Omni had a food court with its own Arby's and a Chick-Fil-A. Sadly, this is a HUGE plus in my book, since Arby's is the one thing you cannot find in New York City, and I want it all the time. Right now? Yes. I want Arby's right now, but sadly, that's not gonna happen.

But still, too far away, and despite the occasional free games on the Family Guy pinball machine in the CNN gift shop, I couldn't recommend the Omni to any con-goer.

Lynn informed me this morning that she's made our hotel reservation for 2010 - WHAT?! - at the Hyatt, which is right in the thick of things. Madness, I know, but even crazier because we're not intending on staying there. This is a "safety" reservation, since we can cancel it at any time, in case we can't find something better.

You're probably thinking, "What could be better than the Hyatt? It's right in the middle of the con!" which is exactly why we don't want to stay there. It'll be loud, crazy, and extra crowded all the time.

I'd rather avoid all that, at least in my place of rest. When I'm at the con, I'm at the con, but when I'm back at the hotel, I want to be able to relax. The Hyatt has a much higher chance of hearing crazy chants into the late night/early morning, though it'd be something more akin to "So say we all!" And although this does sound sort of fun, I'm a bit too old for that frakkin' nonsense.

Reflections of Dragon*Con (II)

2009-09-10T12:31:00.003-04:00

People ask me what Dragon*Con is like.

Basically, it's waiting in lines.

In a way, I'm grateful for the failed Little Mermaid debacle because it provided me with valuable line-waiting experience. Nothing at the con was anywhere near as bad as those five hours of futility.

If you want to attend a panel, you're gonna have to show up early (my rule of thumb: one hour) and wait in line. Such is life at Dragon*Con.

And, actually, I didn't mind them very much. Waiting in line is a solitary, Zen-like experience, and a welcome opportunity to sit down, relax, read the program guide, eat some Yan Yan, play SimCity on my phone, and look at the people walk by.

Also, it was very, very satisfying to watch the line grow and grow behind me.

The only line that really pissed me off was the very first one, the line for registration. We pre-registered (just like everyone else), arrived on Thursday night (a whole day early!) and still had to wait 2.5 hours to get our badges.

To misquote Terry's talking pizza, hey ya, that is bullshit!

The TicketMaster line was zooming by, no more than a 20-minute wait. And yeah, getting my badge through them would have meant paying an evil surcharge to a evil company, but it'd be worth it to save myself two hours of fun. So next year, maybe.

Seriously, that line sucked. Twice we were incorrectly told that registration was closed. Official-looking men on Segways said that the organizers ran out of badges. Insert another image of Terry's talking pizza, because that is super bullshit! They should know how many badges they need, because they were pre-registered. That's the whole point!

Madness.

People got upset. If they had actually shut down the line, there would've been the con equivalent of a mutiny, especially because William Shatner was speaking at 10 a.m. the next morning. And if you didn't get your badge on Thursday, you wouldn't see Bill. Imagine flying out early for Shatner's first-time ever appearance at Dragon*Con, only to get screwed because they ran out of badges.

Seriously, people got upset.

I still feel bad for the piratey couple in front of us who gave up (after the first rumor of the line being closed) and went back to their hotel room. They'd have to deal with an even worse line on Friday morning, THEN have a full day of the con. At least by sticking it through on Thursday, we could rest up overnight.

It was a 2.5 hour battle, snaking through an intestine-like line of sweaty people, but we emerged victorious. And after that, I felt I could handle anything the con could throw at me... except for the Shatner panel. Those fans are too rabid for the likes of me.

Reflections of Dragon*Con (I)

2009-09-10T10:06:00.008-04:00

This year, instead of giving a chronological account of the convention, I'd like to reflect on it thematically. (Also, for those who aren't Disney fans, the title of these entries are a tip o' the hat to EPCOT's excellent "IllumiNations: Reflections of Earth" fireworks show. Fun fact?)

Anyway, let's reflections about costumes! The costumes at Dragon*Con are amazing! Just do a search on flickr and you'll find so much good stuff. So much!

And I don't just mean this Cobra Commander:

I'm also talking about fun, simple stuff like this very obscure Red Dwarf costume that literally made me jump for joy:

And I found myself wishing I had an awesome costume, too. I do love a good costume. But, realistically, I'm hampered by the fact that whatever I'd make would have to be portable via airplane, so something like this would be out of the question:

Also, I'd want it to be appropriate to my body-type, because it really jars me when people don't look right in their costumes. This is a huge hindrance for ol' Kirky, since not many characters are olive-skinned with glasses (so I'll never play the Doctor or Arnold Rimmer, sadly). Not to say there's anything wrong with looking a bit out of place, I'd just rather be seen as the awesomest _____ instead of as just another guy dressed as _____. Here, for example, is a guy who picked a costume that is just about perfect for him:

Furthermore, and I thought about this a lot, but if I was going to work really hard and construct a kick-ass outfit, what would it be? Sure, Cobra Commander is awesome, but I'm not a die-hard GI Joe fan. I'd want the outfit to be representative of me, and not just something portable-yet-cool (like Wesley Dodds's Sandman, which, while fine, isn't something that I'm nutz about).

Even though I love some shows and games (Doctor Who, Red Dwarf, Final Fantasy III, etc.), what is the one true thing that embodies what I believe in, fandom-wise? What is right for my body? And what do I love most of all? I don't know. Nothing seems to fit the bill 100%, to be honest.

Rather than focus my energy on someone else's creation, I'd rather make my own show, create my own characters, write something that I do love that is absolute Kirk and is truer to my sensibilities than the awesomest Transformers costume ever made.

And I looked down and Cakey smiled at me with his loving, uncomprehending face, and I realized I had the answer right there, all along.

Let's DragonCon '09!

2009-09-03T09:21:00.003-04:00

This is a rambly and quick and might not make sense to the uninitiated.

Leaving rather soon... and wishing I had a bigger suitcase. I should be packing, not blogging, but this'll be the last time I'm on the Internet until Monday night.

My carry-on is stuffed with clothes: Cakey daywear, priestly vespers, my Rushmore outfit, tuxedo shirt, and black suit (which doubles as priestly outerwear). Sarah is better at packing than I am and she made it all fit. Still to add, though: shoes. Having a brown outfit and black outfit means needing two pairs of shoes. Yikes. There might not be much room for souvenirs.

BUT, on a whim I just ran to the cleaners to see if my olive suit was ready, and it was, so now I have the pastability of bringing that along. So... bye-bye, Max Fischer. Your jacket was a bit too warm for Atlanta, anyway. This was a hard decision.

There will still be little room for souvenirs, I fear.

My "personal item" is a backpack jammed with Cakey as a stowaway and thousands of stickers. It's pretty bulky, but I've done it before without a problem.

I'd also like to carry a bag of food. They can't stop me from bringing that along, right? None of it is dangerous-looking liquid.

Anyway, onward to Atlanta!

Let's (Not) See The Little Mermaid! (II)

2009-09-01T10:13:00.002-04:00

Sunday was the final performance of The Little Mermaid on Broadway, and eff it, I decided I was gonna buy those Standing Room Only tickets and see off Ariel nice and proper.

This is a chronicle of that fateful day.

6:00 a.m. I wake, confused and frightened, as to why my alarm would tell me to get up at such a god-awful hour. Then I remember why and say, "Eff it, I'm going back to bed." Sarah then says something like, "Time to go," and I come to my senses. It's time to go.

6:15-6:45 a.m. It's interesting seeing the few people riding the subway so early on a Sunday morning. A few of them are wearing hospital scrubs. One guy is asleep. We're all tired, and no one seems to have any idea about what's going on.

6:40 a.m. I arrive in Times Square, so empty and peaceful before the tourists wake up. Some deli man is scrubbing down the sidewalk in front of his store, a futile practice I've always found quaint.

6:45 a.m. I arrive at the Lunt-Fontanne Theatre. I'm curious about the number of people that'll be waiting. This IS the final performance after all. Jeff had said he'd gotten there at 7:45, A FULL HOUR LATER, and was third in line. I wonder if I'll be so lucky.

There's just one woman there. I'm second in line.

Over three hours to go.

6:45 - 8:00 a.m. I sit on a very uncomfortable standing pipe (I don't want to sit on the damp concrete). I've brought several library books to pass the time, and read Disappearance Diary, an autobiographical manga of the time Hideo Azuma willingly went homeless/left his life as an artist and became a blue-collar worker/checked into a hotel for alcoholism.

It begins with, "This manga has a positive outlook on life, and so it has been made with as much realism removed as possible," which I find amusing.

8:10 a.m. I begin to text Sarah as a way of chronicling my experience. First text: Now they're saying the box office opens at noon... I'm cold and hungry.

Shit. Noon?

Also, I'm just wearing a t-shirt and shorts and haven't eaten in almost 12 hours.

8:52 a.m. I begin to question why i am doing this. There are six people here. Used to be seven.

9:05 a.m. Someone confirmed that the box office opens at noon.

9:28 a.m. Getting colder. Nine people are here now.

9:41 a.m. Right now i want to march around and sing 'Mammal' by they might be giants.

I can't help it. I'm cold and sitting on the pipe is very uncomfortable. I find doing these weird knee-lifts helps, despite making me look crazy.

9:51 a.m. I am cold!

10:00 a.m. And then, finally, the sun burst forth. Daylight. Such a wondrous thing. Hail Apollo!

The street turned into a beautiful, almost movie-like set, glistening with the morning sun. It was really something.

During this time I read A Few Perfect Hours... and Other Stories From Southeast Asia & Central Europe, and enjoy the final story, about the different attitudes toward death between the Balinese and New Yorkers.

It makes me think of Swiper. I'm glad his spirit has been set free. He had a big spirit - big enough to ride on.

I've been sitting here for over three hours and am losing my grip on reality a little.

10:02 a.m. The theatre speakers begin playing a 30-minute spiel about The Little Mermaid. Mostly song selections. This is a good idea for passing tourists, but a bad idea for people trapped in a non-moving line. Rather than getting me psyched, hearing "Part of Your World" several times makes me not want to see the show. It's just too much. And I usually LOVE "Part of Your World."

10:08 a.m. to 10:18 a.m. I text Bethany and tell her (because I'm a liar) that Sarah plays one of Ariel's sisters. She believes me, and I text her that she also understudies as Sebastian. I think she believes this, too, and when I admit that I'm making this up, she says, "Yeah, I was wondering how she could pull that off..." since Sebastian is traditionally played by a black man.

10:29 a.m. Ten of us. The speaker has repeated its spiel once.

During this time I read some of From Hell. The juxtaposition of this book and my mission amuses me.

10:38 a.m. Thirteen people.

10:40 a.m. Fourteen people.

10:54 a.m. Sixteen... Almost at the limit of twenty or so.

I get a grim delight in thinking of the people who show up for tickets but won't be able to get them because they arrived too late. Sucks to be you, suckers!

10:54 a.m. Starting third time the speakers have played.

Apparently I've lost my mastery of the English language.

11:00 a.m. Sarah shows up with a sandwich and a sweater. I had a feeling she'd do this (since she asked me where I was. I just replied "In front of the theater"), and it's good to have company in the last leg of the journey.

12:00 p.m. The box office opens, and we are told there are no Standing Room Only tickets.

Everyone stands, jaw agape, at the unfairness of this situation. We were told there would be SRO tickets, so we did our part. We waited in line (FOR OVER FIVE HOURS). We braved the cold and the damp and the never-ending speakers. We have our money. We did our duty. We deserve tickets.

They disagree. The only alternative is to pay $121 for regular tickets, but I'd barely be willing to pay $25 to see this (in the words of Jeff) "terdfest of a show." I'm not blowing away a lot of funny money that I could spend at Dragon*Con on a 2.5-hour trainwreck.

Angry and confused, I leave Times Square.

RIP, Ariel.

Let's ETV 8!

2009-08-28T11:10:00.003-04:00

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!

2009-08-28T10:49:00.003-04:00

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...

2009-08-27T10:14:00.004-04:00

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?

2009-08-26T09:41:00.006-04:00

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!

2009-08-25T10:26:00.003-04:00

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)

2009-08-22T20:16:00.012-04:00

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?

2009-08-19T10:04:00.004-04:00

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!

2009-08-18T12:06:00.005-04:00

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!

2009-08-17T09:44:00.003-04:00

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!

2009-08-11T10:30:00.006-04:00

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!

2009-08-10T11:15:00.004-04:00

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!

2009-08-05T09:58:00.004-04:00

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.

Let's Ruin Dreams!

2009-07-31T12:38:00.004-04:00

From John Robert Wilson Won't Let Me Live My Dreams

Me: A friend of mine would really like for you to ruin his dream. That's his dream! I don't want his dream to be ruined but I want him to have what he wants. I hope you can help.

JR: The problem with his dream is that it's self-referential in a way which removes it from the realm of properly falsifiable truth-claims. This doesn't make the statement true or false, but what you might call "linearly re-expressible," in the sense that the evaluation of the claim actually changes its value, at least in the mind of the evaluator, and eventually the process repeats in an endless loop! The truth-claim is therefore not any claim at all, but an empty set of words. So really your friend has no dream to ruin, and that is the saddest thing of all. UMMMMMMMMMMMM, CHUF CHUF CHUF CHICKA CHA CHA CHOO CHICKA DURRRRRRRRRRRR.

This was Kirk's dream. Sorry/welcome, Kirk.

So... did I win?

Let's Go Mets?

2009-07-29T15:01:00.003-04:00

Sarah: Do you want to go to the Mets game tomorrow?

(Everyone at her job is going to see the Mets play tomorrow as some sort of team-building/bonding experience.)

Kirk: Hmm... I dunno. (After several hours of hemming and hawing) OK.

Why the hesitation?
- I don't know anyone at her work, so that'd be odd.
- I'm not that into baseball. The first and last time I went to see a game was probably in the early '90s, some Florida Marlins exhibition game.
- There's a good chance it'll rain in the afternoon (it's raining RIGHT NOW), and as we all know, I'm made of sugar and will die if I get caught in the rain.
- Fear of the unknown.

Why say yes?
- So I can blog about it later.
- I've been told the new stadium is really nice and awesome.
- They have Shake Shack there.
- I want to meet Mr. Met. I really, genuinely do. Like, for serious, I really, really, really want to meet him and shake his hand.

Let's Stickers!

2009-07-29T11:12:00.007-04:00

In gearing up for Dragon*Con (next month!), I ordered some updated Cakey stickers from the fine folks at stickerobot.com.

This year I shan't run out!

Oh, man, Dragon*Con, Dragon*Con. It's like my Xmas.

It's too soon to get psyched, but I AM PSYCHED.

Let's Distant Worlds!

2009-07-27T16:57:00.002-04:00

Sarah: Do you wanna go to a Final Fantasy concert in December?

Kirk: Yeah.

Sarah: It's in Chicago.

Kirk: OK.

Easy as that.

I'd go just to hear them play the opera song, possibly the greatest moment in Final Fantasy history.

Let's (Totally) Hell's Kitchen!

2009-07-23T12:05:00.002-04:00

I take back what I said in May - I am TOTALLY watching this season of Hell's Kitchen.

The two-hour premiere was this week, and holy crap is it insane!

The clips on the site don't do the show justice, but see this guy above? At the end of the second episode, this former Marine just flipped out and was about to attack Gordon Ramsay. What a cliffhanger!

I was so shocked by the bizarro of it all (not to mention the near fight between Van the Texan Chef and Jean-Phillippe the Maitre'd, whom I always thought was a fictional character) that I had to ask my friend, a producer of the show, how much of this was fake and how much was real.

Her response: it's all real. Regarding the Marine's outburst, she said, "It was like everyone was shocked and silent in the control room because we had no idea what was happening. It was a crazy day."

I can only imagine.

HOLY CRAP, I AM HOOKED.

Let's Capture the Flag!

2009-07-21T12:11:00.008-04:00

Saturday was the annual Capture the Flag game sponsored by the Company.

Have I ever mentioned how much I love games? I really do! I'm not very competitive, but I like to think about games and rules and strategies and plans. If we lived in some sort of comic book universe, I'd probably be a (mostly) harmless villain similar to the Prankster or Trickster or Riddler or even Arcade (who is pretty dangerous, actually), because I'm so obsessed with games. What this says about my personality, I don't wanna know.

On the other hand, another thing I'm obsessed with is fairness (I probably belong in, yes, HUFFLEPUFF). Games require rules, and the rules must be followed for the game to work. If you break the rules, you're destroying the game, and that's killing fun.

So boy did my dander get up when I started to perceive some unfairness in the setting up of Capture the Flag, in that the two organizers were also the heads of the Blue team. It's like running a race in Murderworld against Arcade, when he already knows the complete map, where the traps are hidden, what the goal is and the best way to get there. One of the sacrifices of planning a game is that you can't really then play it, you know? Or at least, in my unasked-for opinion, each organizer should head a different team.

With the Red Team's collective underdog hackles raised, I cooked up some strategies (a few of which got thrown out the window immediately, while a few were, I like to believe, somewhat effective), bought some supplies at the Bargain Stop (whistles: great idea; clothesline: not so much), and somehow ended up captain of the Red Team.

The pre-game talk hyped up splitting teams fairly in terms of athletic abilities and a li'l factor called "crazy." I never thought I'd be considered one of THOSE types, but I realize now showing up wearing work gloves, a Japanese kerchief on my head, shouldering a backpack full of tripwire, and inexplicably carrying a broom (which bothered more people than I ever would've expected), maybe I am a li'l crazy.

In a game that primarily consists of running around on a hot day, tempers will naturally flare, as both sides accused the other of cheating. I don't like to think of it as cheating so much as twisting the confines of the rules, and when there's a rule that says, "Unless specifically stated otherwise, if we didn't mention it, it's legal," that gives a lot of leeway. Like the Rebellion, I was prepared to take whatever advantage I could to defeat the Empire. Yeah, maybe a li'l crazy... when it comes to games.

What I learned during the course of the day is that everyone has a different idea of what crosses the line between fair and unfair. Duct tape with suntan lotion on it? I don't see a problem. It's more a mental barrier than a physical barrier, but others think differently. The use of water guns I thought would be expected and widespread, but only one person brought one and it seemed to upset everybody. Some folks on the Blue team had discussed bringing water balloons but nixed it because people weren't signing up to get wet, while I think it'd be a lot of fun to have a water balloon fight on a hot July afternoon. On the other hand, I think a squadron of bikes goes against the spirit of what is traditionally a game on foot.

But all bickering aside, the day ended on a 1-1 draw, which is an honorable way to finish with everyone on mostly good terms. And even when I got drawn into a post-game sniping match about the rules, Shannon wisely interrupted us with, "Yeah, but did you have fun?"

We had to admit we did.

Let's Birch 'n' Bear!

2009-07-19T11:14:00.005-04:00

I got asked sort of last minute by good ol' Ruby Sneakers if I could do two-person improv set at her show tonight. And since my improm date/Hogwarts student was in a bind, I said yes. Also, her terrific suggestion of who I should ask to be my partner certainly helped, because it's this guy...

...the always wonderful Birch Harms!

However, I also added a stipulation. I didn't want to do a normal set, and requested that I could perform as this guy...

...my bear puppet!

So come check out Birch and a Bear (along with the stand-up stylings of Lee Rubenstein, Matt Little, Rob Stern, Beth Appel, and the host Katey Healy-Wurzburg), tonight at The Lorelei!

The Lorelei - Sunday, July 19th at 8 p.m.
Parkside Lounge, Houston Street b/w Ave. B and C
Free!

PS: Be warned, sometimes this bear is incredibly foul-mouthed.

Great Moments in Year of Yes #1: Let's Moving!

2009-07-17T14:43:00.007-04:00

Yesterday I helped move some garbage out of what will eventually become the UCB Theatre's second stage. As I was carrying one of many heavy trash bags out to the dumpster, it reminded me of an incident from my past, and a particular Great Moment in Year of Yes...

January, 2003. I had just moved to New York City and was working nights as a financial proofreader. Thus, I had my days free to explore the city, and explore I did, since I had practically no friends and was half-mad with loneliness and lunacy.

One particular day I passed by a building where a group of people were carrying out odd things, including a podium adorned with skulls.

I stood and gawped for a moment, since they had a number of interesting and unusual theatrical props, and then someone asked me to hold a door for them, so I did, and then I ended up being given a box of something or other to put in the moving truck, and so I did, and before I knew it, I was helping these strangers move out.

(This has happened to me more than once, but I'll save those stories for later.)

This might seem odd, I know, but look, I had nothing to do with my day except walk around in the winter getting used to the city. This was... interesting and probably not dangerous, and as mentioned before, I take a mild pleasure in moving boxes back and forth, so this was no big deal to me.

For several hours I worked alongside these people, until finally someone asked me what I was doing there. I explained I was just some guy who got sucked in from the street. And, naturally, no one believed me. They thought it was a joke. As well it should be - this being a comedy theatre, wouldn't it be ABSOLUTELY HILARIOUS to pretend to be some random guy?

Except I really was.

Everyone took this very well, surprisingly. They offered me soda and pizza, I remember now. And one person was really impressed, and he insisted that I take a free round of "classes" from this school. My memory is very hazy by this point, and it's hard to separate truth from fantasy from idealized remembrance, but I remember being like, "Uh, no thanks. What is this, a cult or a scam? I don't need no free classes."

And they laughed and said it was kind of like a cult or a scam, but I should sign up, what harm could it do? And since I didn't have to give a credit card number or anything, I figured, "Yeah... I've dealt with riskier situations before." (Again, a story for another time.)

So I signed up. The person recommended I take a Level One class with a Betsy or Ari, and Ari's Saturday afternoon class complemented my graveyard shift lifestyle, so I signed up.

And five years later, I'm still here... and performing regularly with Ari and Betsy.

It was a weird and exciting day, my first little adventure in the city, but one which definitely changed my life quite a bit. If I hadn't held that door, who knows where I'd be now? I'm glad I said yes.

There are a precious handful of moments in my life where I realized later there was a choice to be made and that the result would really, really, really affect my future. When the mood takes me, I'll blog about them. But carrying those garbage bags yesterday, it really brought me back to that cold January afternoon not so long ago.

Let's Pancake Battle: Batter Blaster!

2009-07-14T14:43:00.005-04:00

So I bought a thing of BatterBlaster and blasted up a batch of pancakes.

It's mildly interesting to make them, since it's like shooting out ReddiWip, only it's batter and you then cook it up on the griddle! Sad that I can't summon up more enthusiasm about such a novelty, but I have to be honest: it's only mildly amusing. And that's me being generous.

Maybe I was doing it wrong because the batter seemed to be a bit foamy, and the pancakes would sometimes have a skin similar to the flakiness of a croissant. I probably was doing it wrong, actually - Batter Blaster doesn't seemed to be made for silver dollar pancakes, just the big kind. So I made a few big pancakes, too, and they seemed to be a bit better.

The others reviews I'd read seemed to be in line with my batch: these pancakes lacked the fluffiness and airiness I've grown accustomed to. They were like a carpenter's dream: flat as a board and dying for a screw. What? I just mean they were flat.

"But how does it taste?"

In a word: Soulless.

Seriously. I was like, "What's missing here?"

And the answer is soul. These tasted like those frozen pancakes you can buy and eat and they're fine, but they lack that spark of life that is so great in homecooked food or anything bought from a fast food restaurant.

I ate them, but for the first time in a long time, I was not psyched about the pancakes.

Batter Blaster? More like Badder Blaster.

Let's Weekend Recap!

2009-07-13T11:04:00.006-04:00

A big three days! So much to do, so little time, here's everything in bolded form.

Moustache!
Friday = shave and a haircut for the Hogwarts show. I brought the barbers this picture...

...and walked away looking a bit like Freddie Mercury. I'd forgotten how uncomforable it is to get a professional shave. It feels like they're just scraping off my bristles, and since I'm not the type of man who can shave up against the grain, it gets almost painful at times.

The reviews are mixed. Two people called it "cute," but others have advised I get rid of it. But for the time being [meaning until I'm in a situation where it would be inappropriate to look like Freddie Mercury], the moustache stays. This could be for a very long time, since I never do anything where such a look would be inappropriate.

Yoga!
The hilarious and kind-hearted Kate Spencer spent her birthday teaching her first ever yoga class, and I was lucky enough to be a part of it.

Faithful readers might remember my strained relationship with yoga, but this class was a delight. Difficult, sure, especially since I was probably the only beginner in the class, but I got through it and felt better afterward. I'm still a little sore, which makes me want to do more yoga.

Hogwarts!
As the song goes, it was the best time of my life. If I ever needed to conjure up a Patronus, I'd only have to think of this show.

Immediately after making this statement, Royal realized it was true.

(Here's the flickr set, for those who are curious.)

Street Fair!
On Sunday I was delighted to find a street fair right outside the apartment, so I spent some funny money on a 10-minute massage (not bad!), some corn (not bad!), lemonade (not bad!) and funnel cake (not great).

Even though they're all the same, I always walk through street fairs. But this one was different because it was right outside my apartment! So I could run around going "Street fair!" and buy a lot of weird and crazy food because I could wash my hands afterward.

Swimming!
I went swimming this morning. Swimming! With a moustache!

Let's Publicity!

2009-07-08T11:05:00.005-04:00

I'm a producer!

From TimeOut New York's Wizard Lovers' Guide to NYC

...Or put your prophecies on hold and cheer for your favorite Hogwarts house–Gryffindor or Slytherin–on Saturday 11, when members of the Hogwarts Improvisation Society battle it out at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre (307 W 26th St between Eighth and Ninth Aves, 212-366-9176; midnight–1am, $5). “My one requirement [for performers] was being a superfan—like, big enough to already own a costume,” says producer Kirk Damato. As for Potter-themed suggestions, Damato says “the best would be ‘hormones.’” And the worst? “‘Equus.’”

Let's Release Party!

2009-07-07T16:43:00.004-04:00

After that refreshing swim, I headed down to the Scholastic Store to enjoy their Deathly Hallows paperback release "party."

Unlike the gigantic, block-long bash held during the hardcover release, this was a smaller, casual affair. Just a few parents and their kids, with free crossword puzzles, word searches, a chance to build your own wand and potion, and the main event: the hourly trivia contest.

To be honest, I didn't want to play. OK, to be honest, I did. But I didn't want to play against kids. OK, I did want to play against kids, but I didn't want to be judged by the others in the store while doing so. It's embarrassing being the oldest person there who isn't a parent, but I witnessed a mom tie a six-year-old in the first contest, so it wouldn't be that awful, right?

I hung out in the back of the group (there were, say, a dozen people total, most of them kids, three or four of them teenagers, and me, the guy whose nine-year-old daughter was too sick to come but she asked him to enter and win the trivia contest for her), which turned out to be a strategic advantage, because I got asked last. By the time I was given my first question, we'd already lost about two or three kids, the young ones who didn't really know they were in a contest.

And the questions continued... and continued... I couldn't believe my luck - being asked Mad Eye Moody's first name? Easy! While the hard questions that I'd forgotten (the exact address of the Order of the Phoenix HQ) were thrust upon other, bewildered children.

In the end, there were three of us left - one was a pre-teen girl with her friend, and the other a young boy who had lost the earlier contest. I started to breathe easy, because I thought as finalists all three of us would get prizes.

This boy, to put it bluntly, was a nerd. If you were to talk in a stereotypical "nerd" voice, you would sound cooler than this kid. But he knew his Harry Potter... though he did get lucky twice, and would jump up and down and shout that it was just a wild guess, and if he met 10-year-old Kirk, they probably would've been friends. The girl didn't belong in the final three.

I thought, "OK, let's knock out this girl and then I'll concede to the nerd," and had my chance to succeed, too. You would have to name a character, and then the next player would have to say a character whose name begins with the first letter of their last name. Rubeus Hagrid -> Harry Potter -> Petunia Dursley -> Draco Malfoy, etc.

Given the letter P, I said, "Percy Weasley," and no one could think of a character whose name began with a W. I thought I had won, as both the girl and the nerd couldn't think of anyone, but then I had to come up with a suitable character... and I couldn't, either. D'oh! I forgot about Winky the House Elf or Wilhelmnina Grubbly-Plank, and so the contest continued to the very difficult three-star questions.

And that was the end of me. I'd only read Deathly Hallows a single time, during a feverish three-day period, and my retention was weak, at best. I could only recall one item left to Harry in Dumbledore's will, the girl got the next question wrong, and the contest went to the nerd.

Which is good, he wanted to win. First prize was a bag, and I thought, "Eff that, I have a much better bag, it's from the Gotham Girls Roller Derby. I don't need a new one," but second prize was a pin. And though I normally loathe pins, it would've been cool to wear at the Hogwarts Improvisation Society.

But there was no third prize! Bullshit! I got what every participant got - a poster featuring a mash-up of all seven covers. And... that's fine, but what good is it? I wanted a pin!

(Update: This is the pin. Seeing it now, I don't love it so much.)

I had to refrain myself from waiting for the next contest to try and win that pin. I thought of the memorable words of Dr. Henry Jones Sr., "Let it go, Indiana," and so I left, head held high, with a suitable parting gift for my imaginary daughter.

Let's Swimming! (The Recap)

2009-07-07T09:11:00.002-04:00

We did it!

Waking up was surprisingly easy... I got six hours of sleep, so maybe Sarah's on to something with this theory of sleeping in time-multiples of three. There was none of the usual "Tired, Nanny" nonsense that I experience every day. (When I'm tired, I talk like a Muppet Baby.)

So what was it like at Astoria Pool? Kind of weird!

There didn't appear to be any changing stations, and I'm still a bit shocked by moments of male nudity. In Florida, we just don't do that. In New York, everyone's naked all the time. The locker room was mostly empty, so the views of penii were few and far between, but there was still the moment of, "Oh, is this the way it works? ...OK, then."

I was glad to find Lauren once I got outside, since the layout is confusing to a n00b. They roped off half the pool, then had signs designating "Slow," "Medium," and "Fast." Actually, that's not confusing at all, but there was also a sign-in table and I didn't know what that was about, and is there any etiquette to entering the pool and starting to do laps?

Turns out not really. Lauren put on her bathing cap and opted for the Medium lanes, while I stuck to the safety of the Slow lanes. I felt more comfortable competing with the old guy walking in a brace. Not that this is about competition, but it was nice being speedy in the Slow lane as opposed to the idiot who doesn't belong in the Medium lane.

The water was colder than I'd have liked, but now that I think about it, it was perfectly fine. It's a shame the prime afternoon hours are wasted on the youth and everyone else, as that's my favorite time to swim.

And swim I did! Or didn't... to be honest. I got tired so fast! And then I just started walking the width of the pool (apparently 165 feet), but pushing really hard with my arms. There's no shame in it, I tell myself. I just have to get my strength back.

I "swam" about six laps before calling it quits. If my calculations are correct (and they probably aren't), that's 1980 feet.

Lauren was wiped out by that time, too, so we dried off and looked at the sign-in table. Everyone has a card, and if you swim X amount (it might be 25 miles, which is the length of Manhattan or something... or I could be 100% wrong on all this, I should've read more about it), you get a free t-shirt proving you are a dedicated swimmer.

I like t-shirts, and I'd like to win this one! But I don't think I can. 25 miles? That's, literally a billion feet! At my current rate, I'd have to swim for 66 days, which is too many days before the pool closes at the end of summer.

Also, no way I can do this every day. Maybe every other day. I'd like to, at least. I know my arms will be all noodle-like and dead by the middle of this afternoon, so I'll need a day to recuperate.

So no free t-shirt, but yes free swimming! Take that, Negatory M. Chopbuster!

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to be the oldest person at the Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows paperback release.

Let's Swimming?

2009-07-06T10:39:00.003-04:00

I love swimming, but don't have a swimming pool! What do I do?

Answer: The Astoria Pool, the oldest and largest public pool in NYC. And it's (relatively) close to my house!

Lauren, my friend and fellow Astorian, has talked about starting a swimming regiment, and I've expressed interest. My current exercise routine of weighing myself on the Wii Fit and then eating Cheese Puffs certainly isn't enough, so I gotta add something else.

But she wants to do early morning swims. Like, leave the house at 7 a.m. And that is hard. I'm allergic to waking up early. And anything different scares me. Like, I'll have to walk to the pool (I walked there this weekend, it isn't bad), but then I have to figure out where to put my clothes and how to work the locker and then swim amongst strangers.

And I dunno if I'll want to do laps, because that pool is damn big, or if I'd rather just jump up and down in the water. Or if it'll be too cold and I'll want to go home. And do I have to interact with Lauren? Are we swimming buddies? Or are we just there to make sure the other person shows up and doesn't laze out? Can I just jump up and down?

Also, despite years of living in a pool, I'm not that great of a swimmer. I never learned to hold my breath underwater and I don't swim properly, I just dope around and scream. Oh, and is it inappropriate to scream? Not too loudly, not enough to bother people in their houses, but just loud enough to be like, "Whoa, I'm in the water!"? Eh, I already know the answer to that one.

So... tomorrow. I'll do it. I'll do it at least once. Year of Yes. But this one does scare me.

Let's Gerbilz! (II)

2009-07-06T09:34:00.005-04:00

Integrating the gerbils hasn't been easy. A week-long process never is - you just want it to be over! But it's like hatching a dragon egg or making 40 pancakes, you gotta have patience.

But seriously, the prospect has been a bit daunting. They've settled into their sectioned tank pretty easily, and are content to live out their normal gerbil lives, but whenever we put Swiper with one of the boys, it never works out.

Things might be OK for a little bit, but then they'll keep following Swiper, smelling his butt and/or balls, and that obviously annoys the older gerbil, and pretty soon, they're scuffling.

If you've never seen gerbils fight (and I hope you never do), it's very cartoon-like in appearance, because they roll around in a quick ball, and you can practically see the dust flying and the little asterisks and curse marks. Also, though, it can get very bloody and deadly.

Very depressing. Maybe Swiper is too set in his bachelor ways, or the young'uns are too aggressive, but after a week, we didn't know what to do. Try for another seven days? Give up, send them back to their old houses? Kill Swiper (no)?

They say once they start sleeping next to each other, it's OK to remove the wire divider, but they always sleep on opposite ends of the cage. When we switch them over, they'll sleep in each other's nests, but that doesn't say much.

Also, leaving the apartment has always been a bit dangerous, because they spend most of their waking hours trying to escape - scratching at the glass, chewing at the divider, digging at the wire, trying to jump over the divider, digging under the divider - and it'd really suck to come home to find they'd broken through the border and someone got killed.

And, yesterday, that's exactly what happened... for the most part. Throughout the week they'd scratched a hole through the wire, which seems impossible, but never underestimate the power of a gerbil. And we'd tape it up, but they'd work on the tape, leading to constant re-taping. Once Swiper got stuck on the tape and that was weird and scary.

So we come home yesterday after an outing and the tape is down, the hole is bigger than ever... and everything is cool. They're still on their separate sides, all is fine in the gerbil world, but they now have access to each other.

So we're wondering, "What happened?" (A question we asked when we came back from Florida and found Swiper had escaped and was living underneath the refrigerator.) Did one poke through and did they fight and learn to respect each other? Or was it totally calm? After some discussion, we decided to lift the divider. And there was some hesitant sniffing of the balls, but then everyone settled down.

And it was a lot like a new roommate moving in. They gave Swiper his space, he gave them theirs, they'd check in every now and then, but then go back to eating/chewing/scratching at the glass. We watched them for a good five hours with no fights. A few tense moments, but all was resolved with the usual peeping and boxing/grooming.

The true sign, though, would be if they slept in a pile, and it didn't look like that would happen. As we sighed and went to sleep, each went to their separate corner. A little sad and a little funny, 'cause we could tell they were all very sleepy, but wouldn't go to bed. They were just too excited. And one would fall asleep but then the others would wake him up. It's like a little gerbil sleepover!

And in the morning we awoke to find a single sleeping pile of gerbils. They'd all slept together. They're family!

Who knew gerbils lead such interesting lives?

Let's Batter Blaster?

2009-07-05T20:01:00.003-04:00

Anyone ever heard of this stuff?

I came across Batter Blaster at the Whole Foods, and almost got one, because it's good to buy things that you want. But then I thought I ought to see what the Internet has to say about it first.

A quick Moogle search showed that a lot of people like Batter Blaster, but then there was a complaint that the pancakes are crepe-y, not fluffy enough, and might have an aerosol aftertaste.

Most troubling, because I'm on a quest to enjoy all the pancakes of the world, and I prefer mine without the hint of chemical.

Nevertheless, I think I'm gonna buy a can the next time I go to Whole Foods. In fact, now I really regret not getting one, I was right there, it was in my hands, and I could be eating pancakes right this very minute.

Let's Aruba!

2009-06-30T11:29:00.002-04:00

One of the secret things I did last May was help make this video, written by my wonderfully talented friend Crystal.

"Help" originally meant being an extra (you can see me glancing worriedly over my shoulder for a moment), but it ended up being a little bit more.

You see, shooting stuff outdoors in NYC is never easy. I believe technically you can shoot on the street without a permit as long as you aren't using a tripod, but if a cop wants to hassle you, you're gonna have to shut down. Sucks, but such is life.

Anyway, we were shooting in a private residence community which has even stricter standards. Some security guards came by and we were quickly stopped. Crystal went off to the building manager to try and get a permit (which I doubted would happen), and I was the phone liason between her and the crew.

During that time, we got a lot of rehearsing done so the commercial could be shot in a single take (and it was! Well done, everyone!), but if it were up to me, I'd wait until there were no guards in sight and just start shooting. Rehearsing doesn't look that different from the real thing, you know?

It takes me back to my own days of "guerilla" filmmaking, filming at 8 a.m. before the crowds arrived, everyone dressed up in medieval gear and battling one another, hoping that no tourists or cops would chance upon that particular part of Central Park. Good times.

The day ended without a permit (yikes!) and the crew deciding to risk it anyway. We got in three takes before the rain started pouring, and I'd kind of like to see the final take with Joe screaming amidst the thunder.

This is the sort of stuff I love doing.

Let's Gerbilz!

2009-06-29T15:00:00.005-04:00

So this weekend we moved the gerbilz into a new tank. Now instead of living separately (Chewie and Rowdy in their duplex next door to Swiper's lonely mansion), they'll be together in one big happy family!

As you can see, Rowdy loves it (and the camera). He's waving hi!

Nah, he's just scratching at the glass. That's one of their new favorite hobbies, the other being chewing/scratching at some tape that's in there. They're also partial to sleep.

It's a tricky thing, gerbilz. You have to acclimate them over the course of a week. So right now there's a screen splitting the tank down the middle, we keep 'em separated, and every few hours, we switch the side they're on so they get used to each others' scents. Then in seven days, they should be comfortable and won't fight. At which point they'll be ohana. Ohana means family. Family means no one gets left behind... or forgotten.

Anyway, you can receive updates about their very exciting lives on Rowdy's twitter.

Let's Half-Blood Prince!

2009-06-26T12:43:00.002-04:00

So while talking to Jen365 about plans for the Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince premiere, I said to her, "Agreed, I don't need to see this at midnight."

But then I immediately thought, "...Or do I?"

PROS
- Haven't been to a midnight release in, well... maybe ever.
- I'm highly suggestible, so if an idea pops into my head, I usually want to act on it.
- People might be dressed in costume.
- The audience will be full of people who appreciate the film properly. Not a lot of talking or asshattery.
- I don't have to wake up early the next morning, so the late night thing is no big deal.

CONS
- I don't really like the Harry Potter movie franchise, so what do I care?
- If I went and saw it by myself at midnight, I'd be honor-bound to go the next day with Jen and company, and I highly doubt I'll want to see this movie again.
- Crowds make me nervous.
- As I said to another group of HP movie-goers, "I don't have to see this movie, Dottie. I lived it."

Let's Hogwarts!

2009-06-25T13:55:00.003-04:00

This is happening!

The Hogwarts Improvisation Society

Very excited!

Signed,
Professor Londonderry Kirkus
Charms Professor
Head of Slytherin House

Let's Yes & Know!

2009-06-24T20:09:00.002-04:00

So I spent most of last week in Florida for my brother's wedding, and despite all the hours spent at the pool, my favorite part was reuniting with an old, old pal: Mr. Mystery.

Do people remember this guy? Did people get these books when they were kids? Are there any horse socks? Is anyone listening to me?

For the uninitiated, these are amusements you can buy at the airport or at a rest stop to keep the kids occupied while traveling. At least, that's where I've only ever seen them sold. And they come with an "invisible ink" pen that lets you do all the puzzles and stuff inside.

Whenever we'd go to Disney World (a four-hour drive that always began at, like, 5 a.m.), my brother would always get one. I assume I didn't partake because a) I was too young to do the puzzles, b) Reading in the car would get me sick, or c) I couldn't read, but it was fun to vicariously enjoy them.

The cover was so mysterious! Mr. Mystery, what a name! What excitement! And since I couldn't read, the games of Hangman and "Find the Twins" were ever so much more intriguing.

So while waiting for the flight back to the Big Apple (which, of course, was delayed), I picked up one of these to enjoy with Sarah.

And let me tell you, these are definitely puzzles for kids. Too easy! And there's not enough variety. Eleven types of puzzles are too few for a superior mind such as mine (and Sarah's).

"Fleet" is just another name for Battleship. "Hangman" is weird and dumb when you have SIXTEEN tries to get a word like "TESTIMONY" or "WARRANT." "Maze" is a maze, and "Find the Twins" is kind of fun, but disappointing that if you get it right your reward is just learning their names. And their names are things like "Charles" and "Akers," instead of something punny related to their profession (in this case, a Sherlock Holmes lookalike).

I will say this, though, I DID enjoy the riddles...

Mr. Mystery likes mystery, but not intrigue.
Mr. Mystery likes deduction, but not logic.
Mr. Mystery likes exploring, but not discovery.
Mr. Mystery likes solutions, but not problems.
Mr. Mystery likes detectives, but not investigations.
Mr. Mystery likes policemen, but not stations.
Mr. Mystery likes underdogs, but not dogfights.
Mr. Mystery likes hideaways, but not retreats.
Mr. Mystery likes patrolmen, but not beats.
Do you know what Mr. Mystery likes?

Too easy! But this one did give me pause.

Mr. Mystery likes suitcases, but not suits.
Mr. Mystery likes refrigerators, but not ice.
Mr. Mystery likes saws, but not wood.
Mr. Mystery likes briefcases, but not paperwork.
Mr. Mystery likes ovens, but not baking.
Mr. Mystery likes hammers, but not nails.
Mr. Mystery likes screwdrivers, but not screws.
Mr. Mystery likes skillets, but not frying.
Mr. Mystery likes paddles, but not canoeing.
Do you know what Mr. Mystery likes?

Well, I couldn't possibly solve this mystery. CAN YOU?

Let's Spaced!

2009-06-17T16:32:00.002-04:00

As part of my never-ending quest to watch good TV, I just finished Spaced, that British TV show with Simon Pegg (of Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, a movie so good I saw it in the movie theater... twice!).

For obvious reasons, I always thought this show was set in outer space (I had it confused with Hyperdrive, which stars Nick Frost), so it was a little weird getting adjusted to a sitcom about two roommates.

Anyway, what a nice show! As Daisy says toward the end of the series, "They say the family of the 21st century is made up of friends, not relatives. Then again, maybe that's bollocks." Well, I don't think it's bollocks. These characters were a surprisingly sweet little family of friends, and during the 14 episodes of the series, I really grew attached to them.

One thing I'll say about the British, though, they do like to make a short series. And sometimes that's for the best. I'd rather end it short and sweet and go away with a happy memory of Tim and Daisy, go out on a high note, rather than see it played out past its welcome.

Also, it looks like they had a fun time creating this, and that's something I always find inspiring. There's nothing better than making stuff with people that make you laugh, you know, and if I can one day do something like this, then my time here on your planet will not have been in vain.

So now I'm looking for something else to occasionally watch, especially since summer turns network TV into a dead zone. I'm thinking of re-doing The Singing Detective, since I think about it all the time, or maybe exposing Sarah to Red Dwarf, since that's such a near and dear part of my youth (up through Series V. After that, it lost a little bit of its luster.).

In other news, my brother is getting married this weekend.

Let's Take a Bite Out of Crime!

2009-06-15T11:35:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was a beautiful, sunny Sunday and I'm walking along the very busy streets of Manhattan when I witness a crime.

Since it's so nice out, the sidewalks are crowded. And there are the usual many vendors hawking purses and bootleg DVDs and pictures of, like, Looney Tunes characters and President Obama, but then I notice one guy running a three-card monte table.

And I am shocked and appalled like grandma at a burlesque show. Believe it or not, I've never come across this in my six years of living in New York City. And I'm like, "Are you serious? In broad daylight? On 34th Street? Have you no decency? Are you crazy? Is this 1988? Did Giuliani never exist?"

What gets my goat is that three-card monte is CHEATING. It's a con. It's always a con. And that's not right.

Also, it worries me to witness this crime is done so blatantly. It makes me think of The Tipping Point and how this is yet another sign that the city is slipping down the slope to trouble (the main sign that worries me is the growing number of vacant shops in Manhattan).

Something must be done to stop this. For the good of the city.

My first thought is to fuck with the guy and expose him as a cheating, lying con (it's not too hard if you know the tricks of the game). Harry Anderson of Night Court fame used to do this in New Orleans, and as a result would get the shit kicked out of him.

But, unlike Harry Anderson, I have a strong streak of cowardice in me (also, no health insurance and I've got my brother's wedding next weekend so I can't show up with a busted face), and unlike the crazy boombox guy, this card dealer looks big enough, strong enough, and sane enough to give me a pounding... even on a crowded 34th Street.

So I do the next best thing: I call 311. This is one of two times I've had to do this since moving here (the first was when a crazy man took up residence at a bus stop), and, surprisingly, they quickly transfer me to 911 - who whoulda thunk illegal gambling constitutes an emergency?

I describe the guy and the location, can't ID any of his confederates (the table just got too crowded too quickly, so I couldn't pinpoint who was winning the games and who might be picking any pockets), and then wait.

Hand protectively clamped over my wallet, I pass by the table again. It's still going strong, HUGE crowd of people, and seriously, do any of them really believe this game is on the up and up? I cross the street to watch the cops bust this guy.

But they never show. 20 minutes later, the guy hustles off. He pats someone on the shoulder and disappears. I briefly think about tailing the guy, but what's the point? Also, I'm not Batman.

Very disappointing ending, and I head to the subway, paranoid that his confederates are gonna follow me and beat me up. Now I'm just paranoid that he's gonna read this blog and get me.

I hate everything.

Let's (Seriously) Never Burger King

2009-06-12T13:57:00.003-04:00

A couple of things happened recently that had me burning with rage, all at the Burger King. And I thought, "If those bastards want a war, they messed with the wrong person. I'll show them! I'll show them all!" and almost considered going on an all-out Internet crusade against the frame-broiled effers before realizing that's what a crazy person does. So instead I took a deep breath and I got real high and I screamed from the top of my lungs, "What's goin' on?!?!", all in the metaphorical sense of this blog.

1) A few weeks after my first complaint, BK sent me a "Have It Your Way" card, along with a very contrite and nice message about quality standard and how they're concerned and etc., etc., etc.

However, the card was a farce. $3 is not enough to have it my way, or indeed, any way. All I wanted was an acceptable and edible fish sandwich - a reasonable request which they have chosen to ignore - and then they gave me this slap in the face, as if to say, "Hey, asshole, we totally want your business but we'll send you a gift certificate that won't let you even buy the frakkin' sandwich. So give us 49 more cents!"

Seriously, it's not even a refund, it's a partial refund, for food that tastes like garbage can.

2) So I called them back. Yes, I did. And the lady seemed disinterested and explained, "Well, you never requested a refund. We just sent that card as a courtesy." Some courtesy! So I said I'd like a full refund and they have yet to send it to me.

3) Speaking of which, I am gonna call them RIGHT NOW to ask about it. So for the rest of this blog, I'll be on hold with pre-recorded pieces of Burger King trivia. (Nine minuters later...) OK, actually, that person who took my call was very nice and said she'd send in a special request to get that taken care of right away.

"How much of a refund were you expecting?" she asked.

"At LEAST seven dollars," I said.

4) So last night I pulled an all-nighter doing some crazy freelance captioning work (whoa, mama, I'm in the money because graveyard shift plus double time plus day-of bonus equals new Vespa, only not really). Now I used to do the graveyard shift when I first moved to NYC, and when I worked for the paparazzi company we would do a 24-hour shift, basically, for the Academy Awards and other big events, so it's a dance I've done before.

It's never easy. Your body goes through the change. And I felt all the old feelings, the loss of body temperature, the urge to cry in the restroom, the feeling that tomorrow we'll go swimming in some swank LA pool and this'll all be over, even the belief that "Geez, mom and dad are gonna wake up soon and go to work - how did I stay up all night playing Doomtown?" But it wasn't the worst thing I've ever had to do.

But when I went home, the one thing I wanted (since I hadn't eaten in 12 hours... nor used the bathroom) was a decent breakfast. And I love fast food breakfasts! I do, I admit it. They get me psyched. Mm, boy.

But all the local bagel places were still closed at 6:45 a.m. for some reason and McDonald's is too far away and this stupid Burger King is RIGHT BY MY HOUSE and I'm like, "Well, they can't screw up breakfast, can they?"

Yes, they can.

I should've ordered the pancakes or the French toast sticks, but I decided to try the chicken biscuit and the Croissan'wich, because why not, I am brave and need protein. I keep losing weight, no matter how hard I try, each week I weigh less and less, and maybe this will put some meat on my bones.

Chicken biscuit, while not actively bad, had the fun side effect of making orange juice taste like radioactive juice. And sometimes that's a part of breakfast, right? Actually, no. On its own, to be honest, I was fine with the chicken biscuit, but if it ruins the taste of liquids, SOMETHING IS WRONG. Right? I don't know, and should immediately go to KFC to see if it's a chicken thing.

As for the Croissan'wich... In theory, this should be delicious. I love a good bacon or sausage egg and cheese on a croissant. Croissants are good. Croissants plus breakfast stuffs should go together like peanut butter and jelly, but instead this was like some horrible mutation, the Tokka or Rahzar of breakfast sandwiches, if you will. Maybe the cheese was spoiled. It tasted wrong. Cursed. If there were an evil twin to cheese, this would be it. And I don't understand why, they are using processed cheese-flavored material so it shouldn't be all effed up, but it totally ruined the rest of the sandwich.

In a word: inedible.

And that's it, jerks. Seriously, never again.

Let's End of the World!

2009-06-09T14:22:00.003-04:00

I'm in this show! It's tonight! It's gonna be a lot of fun!

I don't take a lot of classes these days, but when I saw Mr. Will Hines was doing a class on the End of the World, I had to sign up, unemployment be damned.

And seriously, this class has been a lot of fun. I'm sorry that it's over, but glad that we're about to start a four-week run showing the apocalypse in all its glory. Plus, I get to wear my yellow pants.

Let's LOLCakey!

2009-06-08T11:14:00.005-04:00

Somehow Cakey got on ICanHasCheezburger.

I feel like we've finally hit the big time.

Fun Fact: The second most popular caption for this pic is "In Soviet Russia, cake eats you!" Somewhere up in Heaven [meaning Branson, Missouri], Yakov Smirnoff is smiling.

Let's Sightseeing!

2009-06-08T10:35:00.007-04:00

As a gentleman of leisure, I realized I ought to start really enjoying this wonderful city that I live in, and not in the manner of stealing boomboxes from crazy people. What I mean is seeing all the unique sights that New York has to offer, so this weekend I did two such things.

The New York Aquarium
Friday! Coney Island! Birthday celebrations! Sounds like a sure-fire recipe for success, but our outdoor antics were thwarted by the rain. However, retreat was not an option (Coney Island is an hour-plus ride on the subway, and it's not a journey one takes lightly), and after enjoying several drinks, we weren't going to let a little rain spoil Ari's birthday.

What to do? Why, the New York Aquarium. Though I've been to Coney Island several times, I'd never been there, and I do love anything with animals. Doesn't everybody? It instantly turns me into a much younger version of myself, which isn't saying a lot.

The rain kept the crowds away, which made for prime viewing, and I had to remind myself that I was in mixed company, so I couldn't run around screaming constantly.

Though I love the Bronx Zoo, it can be overwhelming, and so I do appreciate the smaller New York animal things (like the Central Park Zoo or the Prospect Park Zoo). Here we got to see penguins eating (including one unwelcome visitor - see if you can spot him)...

Otters, jellyfish, seahorses, an octopus, seals (or "water dogs," as they are known in Korea), and a surprisingly big walrus (sadly, no masturbating walrus, which I was very much hoping to see).

I should elaborate on that last part. Betsy had told me there's a teenage male walrus who likes to do that deed constantly, while staring through the window at the human guests. It's some sort of weird dominance thing, and also he's going through that phase. So the kids find it funny because they don't know what he's doing, just moving his big flippers in some unusual way, but then all of a sudden there's a milky explosion, and that really disturbs the parents. I really wanted to see this, more for the people's reactions than for the actual sight, but that particular walrus wasn't out and about. Such is life.

The Cloisters
The perfect complement to wet animals is, of course, medieval art, and so the next day I visited the Cloisters. According to wiki, the Cloisters is a "branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art dedicated to the art and architecture of the European Middle Ages." Whatever, it looks like the Scarlet Monastery from World of Warcraft, and that's enough for me.

Now I've been around the Cloisters a lot, because they hold the annual Medieval Festival in the same park, but I'd never gone inside. Just one of those many things you never get around to doing until you realize your time is short and you'd better get around to doing it before you're in another world, another life. So this weekend, we made it happen.

Why did I not go before?! It's full of amazing medieval stuff - unicorn tapestries (which I did not photograph, even without a flash, out of respect for the faded fabrics), crazy tomb effigies, reliquaries, statues of monsters and dogs, something that I am convinced was a magic wand, all sorts of stuff that comes straight out of an RPG and is right up my alley.

Usually art museums get me antsy (I don't really know how to appreciate art), but here I was in hog heaven, just taking close-up photos of all the creepy faces. It must've gotten annoying for my companions. But at least I kept my voice down.

Look at this face! Creepy, right? Imagine if it suddenly came to life. That's what I like to think about. I also like to imagine the history behind everything - some person made this, I believe it housed the skull of a saint (can you believe that?!) and now in another world, another life, it's freaking me out. I love it.

I took literally a million pictures at the Cloisters, and I can't publish them all (although here is a link to my flickr set), but there's one particular thing that bears sharing:

This is a stained glass window (there's probably a more accurate term) of three apes building a table. One of my favorite mysteries from history, we'll never know what compelled the artist to design such a scene - is it a folktale or an allegory that we've forgotten about in this modern world, or was he like me, simply a man who thought it would be funny to draw three apes building a table?

Let's Surprise Wedding Reception!

2009-06-02T12:12:00.002-04:00

This is one of those secret things I didn't want to mention last month, because it wasn't my surprise to spoil: Improv Everywhere's Surprise Wedding Reception.

A really good time and a really great mission! Even though I've been a longtime supporter of Improv Everywhere, this was the first time I've ever been able to do a mission (life just always hands me conflicting schedules). So when I got the email from Charlie about being a guest at this reception, I had to do it.

And it was so nice! Tons of Let's Yes moments everywhere, from Charlie inventing IE and creating all these missions to the happy couple's response when offered an impromptu wedding reception. This sort of thing is right up my alley. Everyone was psyched.

I like how the groom said, "We're cynical New Yorkers so this is hard to believe," because in my experience, and maybe this is just the world I choose to live in, stuff like this happens all the time. There's so many wonderful people who want to add a little wonder and excitement and just want to increase the psyched-ness of the world... Even the biker Vikings who threaten to beat up yuppies are great. I really love New York. For every example I see of sucky crapitude, there's always three amazing things to make up for it.

My favorite moment: An onlooker who had nothing to do with the mission or the marriage remarked (and she meant this as a compliment), "Those are some fat-ass presents." And they were!

Many happy returns, Frank and Raff. And many more amazing missions, Improv Everywhere! And many more moments of wonder, world!

Let's Pancake Battle!

2009-05-28T13:41:00.002-04:00

Today we have the recipe from the New York Times, as presented by Terry Jinn, versus the recipe in Vegan with a Vengeance.

Since I view myself as a journalist above all else, I tried to go into this competition as unbiased as possible. I have no inclination toward Vegan or meaty food. I'll eat anything, as long as it's delicious and doesn't make me feel gross afterward. The competition winner will gain my pledge to their pancake services forever.

I cooked from both recipes, so the matter of the chef's skill remained the same. Even though it was my first time using the NYT recipe, it was only my second using the VwaV recipe, so I don't feel they got too big of an advantage.

VwaV
The recipe was fine, but I always hate getting two different options for the amount of milk to use. It involves maple syrup and vanilla extract, so sweetness was guaranteed. Mixing the batter was fine, although I had to go against my natural inclination to over-mix. And ladling them out was simple. Using this, I cooked about 15 Kirk-sized pancakes (a little bigger than a silver dollar), and they were fluffy and sweet and moist and wonderful. Thumbs up! It's like dessert, right, but it's good for you, 'cause it's pancakes!

NYT Pancakes
Again, two different milk amounts. Why does God do this to me? I got a bit worried about the batter; it was yellower than I'd have expected, but it smelled nice and pancake batter-y. Ladling was a problem. I usually pride myself on ladling out pancakes or sizing balls of cookie dough, but these just weren't falling off right. Too little milk? Too much milk? I could never get them the size I wanted, so I ended up with 22 Big Boy pancakes. This recipe makes a ton!

But it's in cooking that it fell far behind. These guys didn't want to brown, and we all know pancakes should be a nice, golden brown [although, in my opinion, the pancakes in the below video are TOO BURNED. It disgusts me.]. I always fear overburning my food, so my usual method is to turn them too soon. For the first pancakes I'd force myself to wait patiently until there were about five popping bubbles (pancake bubbles look like alien eyes to me). With this recipe, hoo, boy! I'd sit there forever and be like "OK, they are DEFINITELY burned" and there'd be just a bit of brown on them, but they were definitely cooked and ready to turn. What gives?

I wonder if the other ones cooked easier because they had a lot of oil in them already (two tablespoons! Plus two tablespoons of maple syrup), so they'd be a bit oilier than the NYT pancakes, which just had two tablespoons of butter. But I suppose the egg should offshoot that, right? I dunno, this is just a theory.

I can usually get the hang of cooking a pancake by the fourth one, but I made 22 DAMN PANCAKES and not one turned out "perfect" by my standards. Or even "good." I almost want to make them over again, because I feel I must have screwed up somewhere with the batter, but I'm hesitant to waste my time and energy and risk ending up with nearly two dozen subpar pancakes.

And then there's the taste. Sorry, Terry, and what were you thinking, New York Times? These taste awful. Very eggy, like an egg bagel, maybe? Just very eggy. And I like eggs... but I don't like them in my pancakes. They looked like arepas, which are fine, but I'm not cooking arepas, I'm cooking pancakes.

They reminded me of buttermilk pancakes, which I don't like. They're a bit sour. Not my thing. It took me years to realize this, and I just thought every diner served shitty pancakes. They don't, it's the buttermilk. I think.

I managed to eat eight of these big, yellow, eggy things (they looked like pancakes that had never seen the light of the sun - Morlock pancakes, maybe) before calling it quits, whereas I could eat all 15 of the other ones because I'm a big fat pig but also they were smaller.

Looking at the remaining 14, it's like, "I never want to eat you again. EVER."

So again, my apologies for coming across as harsh, but those were the worst pancakes ever, and the winner, hands-down, goes to the Vegan pancakes.

Let's Puzzles! (II)

2009-05-28T10:03:00.007-04:00

So I bought two more puzzles last night, but it's OK. They're FINE ART. And Disney.

(I have buyer's remorse on the first, since I don't like Winnie the Pooh. But I felt bad that they didn't have the one of the Seven Dwarfs' cottage, which I really wanted, so I overcompensated. Maybe I'll return it. MAYBE.)

Also, looking at the thousands of puzzles on Amazon, I am shocked and appalled by how ugly the art is on most of them. Am I usually this picky in real life? I like to think not, but looking at the puzzles, most of the time I'm like, "Ugh, why would I want to spend my time putting together THAT?"

It's like, photographs? No, thanks. I think photos make bad puzzles. Don't ask me why. Yet one of the few puzzles from my childhood was a photo. Of a panda. I enjoyed that one.

And yet most art/illustration looks so ugly. It's like a horrible nightmare and makes me want to punch myself in the face until I die. I'd put up more pics, but seriously, just do a search for jigsaw puzzles, and you'll see what I'm talking about.

I miss my old puzzle, with all the Marvel superheroes. It was great, but then my dog ate one of the pieces. This was one of the most heartbreaking (non-violent) moments of my childhood. I should have framed it.

I love this illustration. It's so weird. The races stick together, and the Hulk looks uncomfortable to be standing so close to Power Man. What gives, Hulk?

Meanwhile, Mephisto and the Silver Surfer are duking it out, Man-Thing is just inexplicably chilling in the DEAD CENTER OF THE PUZZLE BECAUSE HE'S THE MOST IMPORTANT CHARACTER EVER (why did they put him there?!), the Beast is checking out Howard the Duck, and Nightcrawler is like, "Eff that, I'm not gonna stand by Skunk Girl. I'm just gonna sit on Galactus's shoulder," and then Captain America goes, "All right! Puzzle time!"

And that's what puzzles are all about, Charlie Brown.

Let's Puzzles!

2009-05-27T09:46:00.003-04:00

During ToyFair '09 I got to meet a guy who paints pictures for puzzles, which is a very interesting and unique job. And then I found out that Oscarbait (a group I direct) likes to get together and do them while watching movies.

So because I am highly impressionable, I totally went out and bought a 1,000-piece puzzle, set it up on the kitchen table, and got to work. This was maybe two weeks ago, and last night Sarah and I finished.

Whee! Here's what I learned:

- Puzzles are boring. I feel like they're an exercise in obsessive-compulsive behavior. Seriously, sitting alone in the kitchen sorting out the ground from the sky, I felt like a vampire or ghost (or whatever the legend is) that has to pick up all the spilled salt/pieces of straw on the floor before I can go out and kill someone.
- My kitchen table is too high or something. It's uncomfortable to sit there for a long period of time.
- This is another time-wasting device, when I need more time-saving devices in my life. Life is unfair.
- I'd also work on this while Sarah was cooking or washing dishes, which makes me feel like a lazy ass, but truthfully, our kitchen isn't big enough for two people, even though we are small. It's just easier for one person to do the dishes. And she's a better cook than me. And at least I'm in there hanging out with her rather than spending time with the gerbils or Toon Link, right?
- It's interesting to note that when I'd suggest we switch (I clean/cook and she work on the puzzle), she'd treat it like a grueling exercise in unfun.
- Charles Wysocki (who designed this puzzle) is a bastard! All those pieces of blue sky, the big cluster of trees, and let's not even think about the dirt ground, it's all really hard! Each of those sections I had to solve by trial and error, you couldn't figure it out from the colors. It was all muddy and stupid.
- Even though it makes it easier, looking at the box is dumb. It's like cheating. Just look at it once when you buy it, and then figure it out as you go along. I'm glad I didn't look at it, though for ages I wasn't sure where that gigantic dog was supposed to go.
- This puzzle has a KID RIDING A GIANT DOG. That's probably the main reason I bought it.
- I'd still rather do one of those Simpsons or Disney mosaic ones.
- Where do you buy puzzles? When I made up my mind to get one, it was like that junkie itch where I had to buy one RIGHT THIS SECOND, but where? Toys R Us in Times Square? That weird model shop down the road? And then I realized the simple answer: drug stores. All drug stores carry puzzles (though their selection might be shoddy). This is good to know.
- What do you do when you finish? I kind of wanted to frame it, since it's Pappy's First Puzzle, but as Sarah pointed out, neither of us are particularly fond of the design. And frames cost money. So what next? We destroy it and put it back in the box? Feed it to the gerbils?
- I'm going to exchange this puzzle with Oscarbait, and work on another, hopefully better, one.

Let's Potato Chips!

2009-05-26T11:47:00.004-04:00

This is pretty old, but the blog got a tip o' the hat on a recent episode of Dollhouse, as shown in this screencap. (And thanks to Eliza for letting me know about this!)

I now have several bags of Let's Potato Chips.

Let's (Never) Burger King.

2009-05-21T14:26:00.003-04:00

I never thought I'd say this, but you know what? Fuck Burger King.

I had just one big blog-about-able plan for today, and that was to buy some Star Trek glasses. I need them to drink things from. And though it's weak that there are just four with Kirk, Spock, Uhura and Nero (Really? NERO?), whatever, I'll get two and that'll be fine.

So I get there and they're sold out. Who the hell bought them all at this particular Burger King? And then because I feel obligated to buy something, I get a fish sandwich.

This thing tastes like a garbage can. It's a combination of rot and metal and nothing in it even hints at good, crispy fish. It's literally the worst fish sandwich I've ever eaten. It doesn't count as food, it's more like an edible punishment.

Also, it's really expensive.

What the hell?! So I call their survey number on the receipt, and they don't ever let me talk to a human, just a computer with the unlikely name of Jennifer. And then they never even let me speak, I can only punch in numbers, the most commonly used one being 1 for "Poor." And as a reward, I get "one free Whopper sandwich or Original Chicken sandwich with purchase of any size drink and fries."

I rarely curse on this blog, but fuck that noize. I demand satisfaction.

So I call up their corporate. Yes, I'm one of those people. They keep me on hold for 12 minutes, and frequently tell me that I can leave a voicemail for them, but I'm not gonna fall for that trick. That voicemail's gonna go right in the garbage can, which they will then process to make more fish sndwiches. I need to speak to someone real.

After many minutes of bad music and Burger King trivia (seriously, BK Trivia), someone finally picks up. In a very nice and polite tone, since I live by How to Win Friends and Influence People, I tell them that it's really unfortunate that they are out of Star Trek glasses, especially because I'm mostly confined to the house and it's difficult for me to wheel to the nearby Burger King. She tells me that when the promotion is done, I can call and they will send some to me if there are any left over. But I don't believe her. That'd be too good to be true.

And then I get into the sandwich, and say that even my dog wouldn't eat it, and dogs'll eat anything. So I suspect something is wrong with the fish sandwich. And they should do something about it. She says she'll let the district manager know or something, and I'm gracious, and point out that it tasted spoiled AND was overpriced.

Since she took down my name and address (but not my phone number), I expect they'll send me some coupons or something. In the words of Dave Thunder "What a rip-off!" Why would I want to eat there again? I hate that place!

I intend on calling them every day for the rest of the month.

Only in New York! (II)

2009-05-20T18:21:00.008-04:00

So I'm coming home from an afternoon screening of Star Trek, and on the subway I'm thinking how wonderful it is to tell nice stories and to inspire people and have hope for the future and how if there was an actual Starfleet I might sign up, but how is that different from the US Army? And there are a number of reasons why, because Starfleet is about exploration and not about combat and it'd be nice to have mad skillz and then there's civic duty and also it's good to have a noble cause and then wouldn't you know it, some jerk comes on the train and ruins everything.

As I've said before, it's sometimes hard to tell if a person is homeless or crazy, and in my several years in the city, I've learned it's just best to keep your head down, turn your music up, feign sleep, and in worst case scenarios, switch cars.

But this guy didn't seem too crazy, he was just playing a beatbox very loudly. This is against subway rules, and it's clearly marked on the walls somewhere.

The rush hour commute is mostly accepting it, albeit grudgingly, until the lady next to me decides to take a stand. "Excuse me," she says, politely but firmly. "Can you please turn down your music? It's playing so hard I can't hear my own." [She was listening to an iPod, which is allowed under the rules because of the headphones.]

And everyone in the subway car leans forward imperceptibly, eager to find out if he'll turn off the boombox, or if he's crazy or an asshole.

Turns out he's a little bit of both. Eventually he does turn off the music, but then he confronts the lady. He asks questions that are irrational and don't make sense, but I think his point was, "Hey, I paid my fare. I got the right to listen to my music. I don't bother you about your music."

Except he's wrong, as the lady points out. Her music is inaudible to the rest of the car; his makes it impossible to think about Star Trek.

Now if I was heroic and strong and bulletproof or an undercover cop, I would have leaped to her defense and pointed out how he's terrible at debate, but sadly I'm an unemployed coward with scoliosis. And anyway, the lady was right and in no apparent physical danger.

"But you're the only one complaining!" says the guy. And that causes the tide to turn. The tipping point is reached, as Malcolm Gladwell might say, and other members on the train begin to argue with the guy. A foreign old lady, bald businessman, they all chime in, and I start to regret that my stop is next. In retrospect, I should've stayed on to find out how it all turns out.

Having been in similar situations, I'd imagine this to be the ending: The crazy guy refuses to listen to reason because he is, after all, a crazy, and then some guy who looks like a Dwarf/biker/Viking growls a threat and the perpetrator is cowed into silence. That happened on a bus once when a jerkass yuppie wouldn't give up his seat to a pregnant lady and it was pretty awesome.

So they're futilely arguing (you can never get a crazy person to listen to reason! When will people learn?!) and we're at my stop and I'm thinking how I wish I was Spiderman or something and the guy's boombox is right there on the floor AND his back is to it and I'm right by the door so as I walk out I take it (just like Swiper the Fox!) because when children are bad they get their toys taken away.

Now I'm not gonna steal a crazy guy's boombox, primarily because I'm afraid it would have bedbugs, but also because I don't need one. No, I'm just engaging in a tiny bit of civic disobedience since I can't arrest people for being jerks. And also, it'll really piss that guy off.

So in one fluid motion I pick it up, step off the subway and set it down on the floor. Now ideally, he won't notice until the train doors have closed and it's too late, but I hear someone say something (maybe the lady, who was being too nice for her own good) and I as melt into the throng [thinking strategically that the guy would have to be REALLY crazy to chase after me, lest he lose the train and maybe the boombox], he steps out and grabs the boombox. I descend the stairs to safety, and hear him threaten to break my punk-ass jaw. I don't make eye contact, and refrain from smiling until I'm out of his sight.

On the way home, I keep looking behind me to see if a Hawaiian-shirt clad crazy is coming for me. But mostly, I wonder how the guy and the rest of the subway car are reacting to my unexpected swipe. I'm still really curious if they continued arguing or if he just muttered to himself for the rest of the ride.

In hindsight, this was a pretty stupid thing to do. It's quite a bit more dangerous than making fun of a bunch of kids or smelling a subway car, but I had to do something. Sometimes I get impulsive and want to save the world, and since I'm Kirk the frail and meek, I have to be sneaky and passive-aggressive instead of direct and brave. What would you have done?

Yes, the guy could've had a knife or a gun. Or even just broken my punk-ass jaw. But sometimes we have to take the law into our own hands... Right?

Let's (Less) TV?

2009-05-19T10:34:00.004-04:00

I realize I've been literally watching a ton of TV lately, and that's no good, since I have enough places to go and people to see without idling away the hours in front of the TV.

Jiminy Christmas, I went through our series manager on the DVR and there's all this junk on it. So I've decided to let go of a number of series starting this fall. But who stays? Who goes? It's like my own little reality show right here.

- American Idol. While I love the audition episodes, I never get so into the actual competition. It'll play in the background, I usually don't care one way or the other, and then I fast-forward through the results show. So clearly I don't wanna watch this very much.

- Make Me a Supermodel vs. America's Next Top Model. There's only room in my life for one modeling reality competition, and I'll reluctantly choose Tyra over Tyson. Every effing season Tyra Banks breaks my heart, because the one model I'm really rooting for (be it the girl with autism, the punky girl with a mouth full of marbles, or, in this season, Allison the Hobbit) never wins. This season hurt especially because Allison made it to second place, totally deserved to win, and did not.

Like any abusive relationship, I should just walk away, but it's hard because the good times are really good. And next season is all about short models, so I'm willing to give it one last chance.

- Hell's Kitchen vs. Top Chef: Masters. Thoreau said "Simplify, simplify" (I only know this because he was quoted in Calvin & Hobbes), and he's right - I should only watch one cooking reality show, too. Actually, it's kind of stupid because unlike Project Runway or Top Design, you can't really appreciate the finished product - you can't smell or taste anything because scientists are lazy and haven't built food-o-vision yet.

This is a tough call, because I really do like Gordon Ramsay and I know someone who works on the show, but it DOES seem similar every season, and... Thoreau told me to simplify. So while I might tune in to Top Chef: Masters, just because it's about actual talented chefs, I don't think I should return to Hell's Kitchen.

- The Fashion Show vs. Project Runway. I'm not hating on The Fashion Show so far, and I'll want to see Project Runway on its new channel, so this is the one indulgence I'll allow myself - I get to watch both fashion-based reality programs.

- The Celebrity Apprentice. Eff it. Two hours long. I don't know how or why I got started on this in the first place. I just happened across it one night and then look where it got me.

- The Amazing Race vs. Survivor. This was my first season of TAR and it was pretty good. Redheaded cheerleaders and a deaf guy? Sure! And I've been with Survivor since year one (true, we took a short break, but that's what happens in life). And next season they're going to Samoa! I wanna go to Samoa! I know they probably don't make those cookies there, but they might. These are the types of show where if I watch the first episode, I'll want to stick with it. And I'm probably gonna watch the first episodes.

Then there's the scripted stuff, of which there is surprisingly not much. But that'll all stay.

So looking at the above, I'm saving about six hours a week. That's not too bad.

I just wish Kid Nation was still on the air.

Let's Lost (Season Six)!

2009-05-14T08:52:00.006-04:00

Last night I dreamed about LOST. Specifically, stuff that's gonna happen in the final season. There are a shit-ton of spoilers in this, so read carefully, but also be aware that everything in here is a dream, so you should take it with a grain of salt. However, I believe that these are dreams visited through the gate of truth as opposed to the gate of lies, so don't be surprised if next year I point to this and go, "I told you so! I win! I have psychic powers!"

It starts in Europe, maybe the Ukraine or Poland. Someplace cold and snowy. I'm on a fact-finding mission regarding LOST. I pass by this restaurant that has these delicious-looking pancakes, or their Eastern European equivalent.

So I go in and who do I meet but JJ Abrams. He's talking about LOST with some people, and since there are so few folks around who can speak English, I horn in on the conversation. We talk about John Locke, and I have choice things to say about him which I won't repeat here because I don't want to spoil the season finale, in case you haven't seen it yet. John Locke is a mystery, both in the dream and in the real world.

And there's something else... I witness a radio transmission between two places, it seems like Korea and the Ukraine, maybe it's Penny's weather station. The words are garbled, and it's subtitled, but the words go by super-fast. Fortunately, I use my mad skillz to read the subtitles, and I can interpret their language barrier.

This was supposed to be a teaser for people, the sort of thing that can only be seen once so there are no screen-grabs or anything. But I'm brilliant and I comprehend much more of the message than they intended. Like, they wanted us to focus on some words and not the others, like a magician's misdirection, but I got to the secret. And this was dangerous information.

The message, which I doubt will appear in Season Six, was about, like, an earthquake or weather control or natural disaster (that might have been caused by man) or something. It ties in to the Season Two finale and what happened at the end of Season Five. There IS a connection (you should have realized this if you are observant and have mad skillz like me).

The dream changes. I'm in a comfy bus or a limo with Damon Lindelof. We're talking and he's letting me watch the entire season premiere of Season Six. It begins in New York City, a POV shot of a certain street. I notice what others would miss - this is the real NYC, and it's someone watching from a certain area, a specific street corner, off of 55th or 57th Street. If I can find the location from which it was filmed, I'll discover a secret.

Then I know. I know this street. It ties in to an episode of Mission Hill that I love, and I chant over and over, "It's Weirdo Beardo! Weirdo Beardo, Weirdo Beardo, Weirdo Beardo!" Weirdo Beardo being a very minor character/place on that short-lived animated series, basically a video store that specializes in obscure and weird films [and yes, I know Mission Hill doesn't take place in NYC].

Damon laughs and is psyched that I figured it out so easily. He says that Weirdo Beardo (the name of the store and also the name of the weird, bearded guy who runs it) is a tip o' the hat to why there are so many obscure movie references throughout LOST. His example, which Sarah says is not true, is the Easter egg of Soylent Green in Season One (in a life raft? A boat?).

I'm not sure about the Weirdo Beardo connection, but I suspect it's something like the Manhattan Restaurant of the Mind (a bookstore) in Stephen King's Dark Tower series. But it's some sort of nexus between the real world and the fantasy world of LOST, or the real LOST and the dream LOST. It links into knowing there's a man named John Locke out there, and also an actor named Terry O'Quinn who plays John Locke.

Damon takes a liking to me, since I figured out one of his puzzles but I don't know the full answer. So he asks me, "What do you know about JJ Abrams?" I think about it, and have to admit, "Nothing, really." And he advises me to do some research on JJ, he's a "very interesting guy."

Talking this over with Sarah the next morning, she asks me to describe the JJ Abrams from my dream, and I finally realize what Damon was trying to tell me.

This is the real JJ Abrams. And this is not the man I met in the Ukraine. That man was bald, slightly older, and an impostor. [Note: In my dream, Damon Lindelof was the real Damon Lindelof.]

So WTF? This is what Damon wants me to research. Who was this faker? Why was he sent to throw me off? What misinformation did he feed me? What about the transmission? Does the real JJ Abrams have anything to do with anything (highly doubtful, since he's busy with other projects)? Was the whole John Locke thing a red herring? Or a trap? And should I still pursue it with the knowledge that it's a trap? And what REALLY stands on 55th or 57th Street?

Destiny calls.

Let's (Not) Burgers?

2009-05-12T01:24:00.005-04:00

[First off, forgiveness please being all quiet on the bloggy front. I've been up to stuff, but it's stuff that can't be blogged about... yet. But don't get excited, none of it is that exciting. Except for the super-secret exciting parts, those are pretty good. Ooh, if you only knew! Mmm, boy!]

So I had two burgers in the past week, after a hiatus since before January (!!!), and as I said on my Facebook status, I think my burger-eating days might be over.

"What?!" said the omnivores on Planet Kirk.

"You go, girl!" said the vegetarians/vegans, since they use outdated slang that I find hilarious. I could say "You go, girl!" for, like, an hour straight. I probably have. All alone, rocking back and forth, saying "You go, girl!" over and over and over.

I must explain the burger thing. Yeah, I think I'm done with 'em. I'm just not digging on them anymore. Back in the day, I loved them so hard, but these two in the past week - one from Better Burger and then today from Petey's Burger down the street - just left me feeling gross and greasy and unfulfilled, and that's not how I want to feel after eating food. I want to feel good and greaseless and fulfilled.

So maybe I've just moved on. Or at least, that's what I thought as I started to write this blog, but then I got a suggestion for a place in Park Slope, and I remembered how Petey's seems to be based off In-N-Out (back when I'd fly out to LaLa Land for work, I'd eat In-N-Out every day, mmm, boy!), and then the Message from Petey over on his website really inspired me, so maybe I'm not done yet.

Usually, if a restaurant or food fails me once, they're dead to me, just like that Thai place down the street. Fuck those guys! But sometimes I'm the type of person who will go "I didn't dig this meal. Better get it again tomorrow." (see: waffle sandwiches). So I dunno. As it stands right now, I'll probably get Petey's tomorrow. Except without the fries and milkshake. Just too much. Maybe just the milkshake.

But then, I dunno. Maybe I don't care. People suggest vegetarian burgers and I've had them and they're fine. It's like with bacon. I've had a lot of that fake bacon over these past few months. It's fine. I don't miss real bacon (maybe because I get it on my Papa John's pizzas all the time), when I eat the fake kind I'm not like, "Boy, I wish this was real." It doesn't taste the same but I don't care much one way or the other.

Also, it's interesting to note that I don't have this ambivalence toward hot dogs. I was talking with Julie about hot dogs today, and how good they are. God, they taste good! Especially if the skin is crispy. Mmm, boy!

Maybe I just don't love hamburgers because they rarely sock it to me (TerryBurgers being one exception). I'm picky about the bun, mostly. Few places have the proper buns. You could say the same thing about people. You go, girl! So if I don't like the bun or the lettuce or the tomato, I'm like, "Meh."

Hot dogs are easy. All their buns are the same. But a good burger is truly hard to find (and I don't think GoodBurger has good burgers).

If only Bachelor Chow would be invented, then all this food angst could end forever.

Cakes on a Plane!

2009-05-05T10:34:00.004-04:00

Cakey's back, bitches!

The very funny Raspberry Brothers will be doing a MST3K-style screening of Snakes on a Plane this weekend, and they asked us if we'd like to screen two Cakey shorts before the feature. So of course we said yes.

This'll be the first time in, like, a year that we've had a Cakey episode up on the big screen, and as an added bonus, there will be a Q&A session featuring me, Dyna, AND Cakey (and maybe Duncan?). Even bigger bonus, as Dyna blogged, you can touch Cakey if you come, or get your picture taken with him. That's a pretty rare opportunity outside of Dragon*Con or my apartment.

The Raspberry Brothers: Snakes on a Plane
(b/w 2 episodes of Cakey! The Cake from Outer Space)

Two shows:
Friday, May 8, 2009 at 12:00am
Saturday, May 9, 2009 at 12:00am

Clearview’s Chelsea Cinema
260 West 23rd St (east of 8th Ave.)
New York, NY
Tickets: $15

Let's Puppet!

2009-04-30T13:52:00.004-04:00

In addition to changing the worLd, last night there was some puppet stuff going on.

I haven't blogged about it yet, because I hate saying "Here's something that might happen" and then it never happens, and also, I just didn't feel like writing about it until there was a finished product to display. Sometimes I'm like that.

So there's a pic of the puppet I built.

My friend Marcus and I have been talking about doing some puppet-related improv stuff for a while now, and since this is another year of yes, it actually happened. Good for us! He's actually a wunderkind at puppet-building. His puppet has hair and kickass eyeballs and rods and hands with fingers. Check it out!

Seriously, he has mad skillz.

I haven't built a puppet out of felt 'n' foam in many, many, many years (Cakey was built by Erika Kern), so my own skillz were pretty rusty.

Although I had a pattern, I quickly eschewed it and took a more intuitive approach. As a learning experience, pretty good! But as a finished product, meh. I don't like the felt eyes, but haven't had a chance to go to a thrift store, buy a cheap stuffed animal, and remove its eyes a la the Corinthian (Sarah has requested I don't leave the corpses lying around the apartment, as that would freak her out). I should've done the insides of the mouth before I did the skin, gotta remember to sew things and then turn them inside out, and one day I'll have to make a proper nose. Also, he wears a hat because shaping the head is hard.

But we had our first performance as The Puppet Regime last night, and it was pretty fun, and there'll be more. I have to build another puppet, I'm sure, since I'm not terribly satisfied with this one.

And it's really more of getting over my fear of making them than anything else. Like, I built this in the space of an afternoon or two. It's just a few simple steps, really, but I dragged them out over the course of months (months!) because I hate sucking and was afraid to fail. Each step was full of "Crap, I don't know what I'm doing. I hate my life!" when I should've just shut up and enjoyed the cement fumes.

Beh. So next time I might take pictures of the process. Not that I want people to learn from me, it'll mostly be a document of How to Blunder Along While Building a Puppet, but it'll be something for the ages.

Let's Change the WorLd! (The Recap)

2009-04-30T01:31:00.003-04:00

Funny story: I was supposed to see this with Lynn, but we somehow bought tickets for different movie theaters. So she's texting me "WHERE R U?" and I'm like "IN DA LOBBY! WHERE R U?" and she's like "IN DA LOBBY!" and we're both right! We're just in different theaters! Haw haw haw and ha ha!

So I ended up seeing it by myself.

[I'm totally gonna spoil the movie, so stop reading if you ever intend to see it. But this entry has no effect on the manga series.]

Here's what I got: L wore that funny mask again. Score! And he ate more weird desserts (a skewer containing fruits, marshmallow-looking things that are probably mochi, and a FRENCH CRULLER. A donut. On a skewer. Oh, Japan.). No silly dance, but I wasn't really expecting that, I just wrote that to be a jackass.

And they totally said "change the world," but it was in a way that I found sort of touching. The inexact quote is "Not even a genius can change the world alone. And that is a wonderful thing about this world."

As for the story... it was pretty meh. This film had different, non-Death Note writers, and it really showed, both in plot and tone. It's about germ warfare, which I thought was pretty weird for L to solve, and also it was so close to home what with all this swine flu I try to not pay attention to. Also, this happens when the world is still in the midst of Kira mania, yet that never gets referenced. Wouldn't those ecological terrorists be afraid of Kira's judgment? Gagagooey? Are we supposed to believe this is some kind of magical xylophone or something?

And also, it was very... somber? Serious? I dunno, lacking in the fun department (the first laugh from the audience came 33 minutes into the film). Not that Death Note is a happy-go-lucky romp, but the whole thing seemed kind of joyless. Maybe that's to be expected from [SPOILER ALERT] a protagonist who only has 23 days left to live, but whatever, I just didn't dig it. And even if that's gonna suck all the fun out of his last mystery, they didn't expand on, like, how L must feel about his impending death. Eh, maybe something was just lost in translation.

Afterward, they showed interviews/behind the scenes footage, and the actor talked about how it was a challenge to recreate L and he had to compromise with the director some thoughts he had about the character, and it sort of showed. This L was a lot less quirky, a bit blander. However, he also said how touched he was to get to play L, which I thought was nice.

Still, I didn't hate it. I like L a lot, and it was sad to see him walk off toward his death at the end. I kept thinking they'd reuse his death scene footage from Death Note II, and that'd be kind of a buzzkill, but they didn't, and I appreciated that.

And it made me totally want to dress up like L at Dragon*Con.

This is what L looks like in that silly mask.

Let's Change the WorLd!

2009-04-29T09:57:00.003-04:00

Not in the sense of actually doing anything helpful for humanity, but in seeing the movie L: Change the WorLd. Already I'm a bit turned off by the eccentric capitalization, but what can you do? It's Japanese.

This is a spin-off/sequel to the Death Note franchise (I reviewed Death Note II here), only now the focus is on L, the world's greatest detective. Hence the caps-lock hijinks.

I'm a little wary (Sarah opted out of the viewing, which shows how little she thought of the last movie), since I didn't love the last one, either. But this time it'll be subtitled, so that's a plus. And L is a fun character, so... how bad can it be? It's just a movie.

Things I am hoping for: A hilarious scene where L wears a silly mask or does a funny dance. Don't think I'm being a jackass by writing that; he had this great comic scene with a mask in the last film. Plenty of scenes where L eats an insane Japanese dessert (he only eats sugar). Music. A decent mystery. Insight into what it's like being the world's greatest detective. Even more eyeliner. Someone saying "change the world," preferably several times. A surprise cameo by me as an American in the background.

Things I am dreading: Ridiculously dressed teenagers shouting comments at the screen. Babies crying. Having to sit too close to the screen. Getting beaten up. These are my standard movie angsts, actually. Forgetting my puppet, either at home or at the theater (I have to leave right after to do this puppetry set). Being late for my puppetry set. A plot that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Suckiness in general. I hate when a movie is very bad, and then you look at your watch, and realize you still have 90 more minutes.

This will be the first thing I've seen in the theaters since Watchmen.

PS: Looking back over my Dragon*Con posts (I'm already psyched for this year), I realize I never mentioned the first person Cakey and I met, a girl dressed up as L.

To give you an idea of L's character, yes, a waifish, (probably) 14-year-old girl looks a LOT like him. That was really exciting, probably one of my favorite costumes at the con.

OK, another thing to hope for: Stick-like girls dressed up as L. Or incredibly fat people dressed up as L. Or me dressed as L, I don't care.

Only in New York!

2009-04-24T09:44:00.004-04:00

So yesterday I'm about to enter a subway car, and as this guy flees the same car, he says something like, "Trust me, you do NOT want to go in there."

And usually when someone warns you like that, you listen. You never know if there's a homeless guy, crazy person, troubled youth or whatever lurking within, and it's just wiser to pick a different car.

So I did that, along with some other passengers and this man. One lady asked him, "What's going on in there?"

His response: "There's some lady in there, smells like she hasn't washed her [I can't type the word] in weeks!" Then, seeing that he was talking to a woman, he apologized.

So there I stood in the normal-smelling car (and, despite what the liberal media says about New York subways, most of them are fine. Just every now and then one is pretty awful), and the guy points out the offender to me. Because by this point we are buddies.

"See that lady with the walker? That's the one. Damn, I can't believe people are going in there! Look at them! Damn!" Although, truth be told, no one was really reacting much to her awful-smelling [again, I refuse to type that word].

I didn't want to talk to this guy anymore, since I had nothing to say (and what is there to say, really, other than, "Yep."?), and THEN the guy announced to everyone that he's homeless, just looking to get some food, could use a little help, one of the standard panhandling spiels you hear so frequently.

And that's when I'm like, "You bounder! There's probably NOTHING wrong with that other car! You just wanted to get more people in here so you'd have a better chance of getting some spare change. And now you think because you warned me specifically, I owe you. Well, sorry, buddy, that ain't happening, I just spent all my singles on these puppet skins. And maligning a poor old lady with a walker. For shame, for shame."

At this point I should also mention that, despite what the liberal media portrays, not all homeless people are grizzled and in rags and wearing garbage bags for feet. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of those, but sometimes they're people who pretend to work for fake organizations and are dressed nicer than me. So you can't always tell if someone is homeless. Heck, people have mistaken me for a subway weirdo, but only because I was saying "Hoppy Easter!" to myself over and over again.

None of this is a particular Year of Yes moment, but then when I reached my destination, I passed by the offending car. And I thought to myself, "Was that homeless guy lying, or was he telling the truth about the lady in the walker?"

And sometimes I just gotta do something stupid, like calling a bunch of kids retarded or yelling out to John Goodman "Hey, Mr. Monsters Inc.!", which I did last night after seeing him in Waiting for Godot (which was surprisingly disappointing), so I decided to take one step into the forbidden subway car and smell it.

That's really stupid, I know, it's like taking a swig of milk that someone says is spoiled, but I had to know if that homeless guy was lying. It would haunt me forever. It really would.

So I took one step in, right near the lady with the walker, sniffed, and walked out.

So Slayed We All

2009-04-20T10:59:00.004-04:00

I played Battlestar Galactica: The Board Game for the first time this weekend, and it's a humdinger! Any game where you might cheer at a dice roll is pretty good, in my book.

So that the rest of this entry makes sense, I'll describe it briefly: Everyone plays a character from the show (I was Helo), and you work together to jump the fleet to Kobol. If you get there, you win! But some of the players are secretly Cylons, and they'll try to screw over the human race. Almost every time, the Cylons win, because this game is HARD.

It has a lot of the tension of the first season of BSG, which I like. Right off the bat, we were ambushed with a heavy assault, and it was like, "Crap! This ain't gonna be easy." But we were playing smart and rolling high and doing pretty well... until the halfway point, when my favorite thing happened ("What was your favorite part?" asks Dora at the end of every episode, so that's stuck in my head.)

Halfway through the game, you get another chance to discover if you're a Cylon. And it sucks to be me, because that's what happened to Helo. In retrospect, that's kind of cool, but at the time, it was very disappointing.

Like, my face fell, and I felt exactly how the Final Four did when they realized they were frakkin' toasters. We'd worked so hard to get this far, and we were doing so well, and all of a sudden, the people I'd been working with, my group of friends... we weren't on the same team anymore.

It's cool that the game made me experience what it's like to be a conflicted Cylon. I didn't want them all to lose, but I had a job to do, a game to play. Even if I didn't exactly enjoy it, I couldn't just go easy on them, because that's not respectful to the players.

Oh, it sucked massive in a most delicious way. Since the other Cylons were still undercover, I was operating alone, raining down my crises on the old ship and hating myself for it. But I could see, especially when my Cylon brethren joined me (Starbuck and the Chief, leaving the crew without any pilots or their engineer) that the human race was doomed. They'd never make it to Kobol, so why prolong their misery? Why force them to play hopelessly? It was a mercy killing, really. As Riff-Raff once said, "A decision had to be made."

So slayed we all.

Let's Folk! (The Recap)

2009-04-16T12:28:00.003-04:00

Boy, I must sound like a Johnny Come Lately, but Flight of the Conchords was an incredible show! What a great time! So inspiring!

I thought I wasn't gonna like it that much since I didn't know any of their songs, but that just made it better. Each song told a story, so I was always engaged (lyrics are usually my weak point in music... I never listen to them), and since it was my first time hearing the funny bits, I laughed a lot. Also, most of the ha-ha had to do with rhyming, and rhyming is one of my three favorite things.

Another realization that everyone else who's ever heard them has already realized: they're very good songwriters! Even if I didn't understand English, I'd still be like "What a great song!" Some of them were just so damn pretty, it made me wanna weep. In particular, that song about Jemaine's ex-girlfriends, which people know, and the one about a tour guide giving a tour of his town, which I don't think people do (a friend of a friend remarked that he'd only heard it on a rare mp3... but who knows, maybe everyone knows that one. I am ignorant of everything.).

Also, music is fun. Seeing two guys (well, three including Nigel, who played one of my three favorite instruments ever, the cello... He also played the steel drum and the shakers, which aren't so high up on my list) play guitar and a toy piano and a keyboard and an OmniChord, that's pretty good.

And their banter is pretty spectacular. Just low-key and nice. If that's what the New Zealand sense of humor is, then I'm a fan.

Let's Folk!

2009-04-15T16:10:00.004-04:00

Last night I had a dream about LOST. I had moved in with Sawyer and Kate in their New Otherton house because I was sick of Jack and his ways. Pam visited me and thought I was crazy for leaving the safety of the beach, and then commented on how much grapefruit soda I was drinking. I explained to her that I was an adult, I could drink as much soda as I wanted. I believe in Jack's camp, we were limited to one soda per day.

Then John Locke appeared, and Pam warned me that he was gonna take me back to the beach by force. I didn't believe her; he's not like that. Plus, he had a big can of paint, and I think he was going to come help us paint some rooms. "John Locke is my friend," I told Pam defiantly, and when I woke up, those words still in my mouth.

Typical Wednesday anticipation. I dream about LOST pretty frequently nowadays; the last one involved me trying desperately to remember the original British version, which I remembered as being superior, but I couldn't remember any of the differences.

Anyway, eff all that, because I just got two free tickets to see Flight of the Conchords (before you ask, I can't tell you how I got them, but let's just say I'm very good friends with someone named Jermaine) this evening, so LOST will have to wait.

Don't think this blog post is just me flaunting my free tickets and my famous friends in your face (though, of course, I am). I actually had to force myself to say Yes to this one, since I am lazy and unfamiliar with their show and Wednesday nights are my double-date with Ben Linus and Allison the Big-Eyed Model Who Won't Win America's Next Top Model.

But Sarah is a really big fan of Flight of the Conchords, and I can only say no so many times before it sounds a bit insulting.

"Hey, Kirk, you wanna see us do a show on Tuesday?"

"Ooh, sorry, man, I wish I could, but I have a show that night." (This is true.)

"No worries, mate. We've got another one on Wednesday."

"Oh. Hmm, I dunno, I've got..." But then the slight shimmer of tears in his eye makes me reconsider. "Sure, thanks!"

So... let's folk! I'm pretty psyched.

(To be honest, parts of this entry are real, parts are a dream, and parts are fan fiction, but I can't differentiate between the three anymore.)

Let's Florida!

2009-04-14T09:45:00.003-04:00

The lack of an Internet presence these past few days can be explained by my Easter vacation in sunny south Florida, where, yes, there is no Internet.

Most of my days were spent reading on the patio. Then, when it got too hot and I'd feel my skin start to burn, I'd jump in the pool, dope around underwater and laugh and scream at the sudden change in temperature, then get out and dry in the sun. I'd repeat this about 40 times.

And it was strange, since I've spent the first 2/3 of my life trying to escape America's wang (Simpsons reference), that this weekend was the first time I could appreciate how nice everything was.

It was very quiet. No car horns or nothing, just some people laughing as they rowed a boat on the lake. And birds singing, tons of birds. I don't know what almost any of them were. Some were crows or blackbirds, if there's a difference. Some were these tiny white birds that would dive into the lake and catch a fish. Those were new. The ducks were familiar, but those other water birds that splash so loudly, no idea about those guys. And off in the distance was a flock of green parrots that aren't natural to Florida's ecosystem (those guys are EVERYWHERE nowadays).

And the sky was ridiculously blue and the air was creepily fresh and the sun (which my body hasn't seen in six years) was bright and full of Vitamin D or K, and since the weather hasn't yet hit hellish summer levels, it all mixed very well with the pool.

I've never really been on a vacation where I could sit around all day lazing around (though that sounds a lot like my normal life, actually). I've usually got a ton of dumb things to do, so it was a pretty nice change of pace.

When I first got in the pool, I was gabbing and bitching on the phone with Pam about all the usual sort of NYC crap, and later my parents were like, "Is everything all right? You were shouting on the phone."

At first I was like, "Huh? Everything's fine. That's just normal conversation," but then it struck me, like, is that what my life is like (other than the lazing around)? Because it all seemed so loud and shrill compared to the serene peacefulness that is my parents' backyard.

It made me never want to talk again. I'd be fine just listening and reading, and occasionally screaming.

Beauty! Love! Truth!

2009-04-06T09:45:00.002-04:00

So this Friday I took part in an interesting experiment involving film and improvisation, run by my friend Shannon Manning, for something called Beauty Love Truth. In Shannon's own words...

The name came about after Sept 11 when I was in Chicago with my sister and wondering/defending/on the verge of a very emotional fight about why I was staying in NY, what I was working on, what I cared about. I shouted out, "I dunno! Beauty! Love! Truth!"

...and I always thought that was a pretty noble and worthwhile sentiment.

BLT has been performed as a stage show off and on for a few years, and recently Shannon decided to try taping one. But instead of performing on a stage, it was like a house party, with people improvising conversations, a musician providing interludes, food and drink and a dog.

I took part as an actor in the inaugural party/show, and I got to wear my priest's uniform (I wanted to play a priest). It was pretty fun and interesting, but that's what one would expect in a living room full of fun and interesting people and a dog.

My favorite part ("What was YOUR favorite part?" Dora always asks at the end of the episode - I should mention I watch a lot of Dora the Explorer these days) was actually when we weren't taping. The two cameras had left the party to follow a scene that was taking place out on the street, and the musician Greg Peterson just started riffing on his guitar. It was very nice, very cinematic, to have music underscoring our conversations.

Anyway, the real challenge lies in Shannon working her movie magic and editing the entire evening so that it's coherent and good and magical. So ultimately the Let's Yes moment belongs to her. G'04 it, Shannon! And I hope the next BLT party is just as wonderful.

Let's (Not) Stab... Yet.

2009-04-06T09:40:00.002-04:00

The rapier and dagger workshop was postponed due to lack of sign-ups.

Suxor!

For Mr. Arranciata...

2009-04-03T09:48:00.003-04:00

I don't blog about everything Yes-related in my life. The stuff I keep quiet about is usually either too personal or stories that ended tragically. I want this blog to be a happy place, so I try to excise the bad.

One such example, unearthed for the first time, is my entry into the Disney Chief Magic Officer contest, made in early 2008 (thanks again, Bill and Heather and Cakey):

I didn't win. I'm still a bit disappointed about it. And I'm embarrassed how wooden I appear onscreen. I didn't wanna write about the contest beforehand and get everyone psyched, and I never wrote about it after I lost because that was teh suck.

Sure, there's a nugget of wisdom to be learned from this experience, so maybe it was blog-worthy, but what was the lesson? You win some, you lose some? Life sometimes sucks? That sometimes, no matter how much you want something, you'll lose? Fail? Bleh. Eff that ess, I say.

Another case in point: the waffle sandwich incident. The wounds are still too fresh. It just came to such a sad, bad end, with the dream of a lifetime supply of waffle sandwiches crumbling into the harsh reality of an unreasonable three-per-day limit and expiration date of 12/31/09 (apparently their definition of "lifetime" is nine months), that I'd rather put it all behind me and move on.

As Nico sings, "Please don't confront me with my failures, I had not forgotten them."

Seriously, Let's Stab!

2009-03-31T16:05:00.003-04:00

BTW, if anyone is interested in taking that rapier and dagger class with me, please let me know.

The usual suspects who might have said yes (DeCoster, the people I role-play with, my long-suffering girlfriend, Dick Cavett, etc.) have all declined, and I'd much rather stab someone I know than a stranger.

Note: It's about $75 and although they provide a helmet, you should wear a thick, protective sweatshirt or the equivalent, since I assume you don't own a proper fencing jacket.

Let's Grandma!

2009-03-31T14:28:00.002-04:00

One of the things about living in a world full of entertainers and would-be entertainers is that there's a lot of talkin' the talk but not so much walkin' the walk. Like, I hear this phrase a lot: "I'm gonna do a show about ______?" And then, 99% of the time, it never comes to pass.

That's life, though, and I'm guilty of this as well. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do everything we want. But when it DOES happen... well, I've got a special place in my heart for when people put a plan together and make their idea a reality.

Case in point: Grandma and the F*ck Yous: Last Show Ever!, the Riot Grrl show written by my friends Lynn and Betsy. We had our second test performance last night, and I have to say it went pretty well.

They'd been working on it (mostly IMing in character) for about thirty years, but it's one thing to just joke around, then another to write an entire show. And that alone is commendable! But people forget that there's a lot more work involved: casting nine people (which is pretty big for a comedy show), organizing rehearsal schedules, gathering 30+ props and transporting them to the theater, and finally making sure there's an audience. And most important, keeping it fun for everyone involved. This is comedy, after all, and if you're not having fun doing it, then there's no point.

So good on ya, Grandma and the F*ck Yous. In the words of Dora the Explorer, "We did it!"

Let's Stab Each Other!

2009-03-30T15:29:00.002-04:00

I was very excited to learn about this event happening on Saturday...

This workshop will offer students a chance to explore the Rapier & Dagger play of Swetnam as a martial art rather than be in the format of a traditional stage combat class. The play will be brisk and sudden, contact WILL happen.

Swordplay that isn't staged? Yes, please! It's been literally hundreds of years since I got to use a sword for fighting, so you better believe I signed up for this mammajamma. March has been a dull month, blog-wise, so I figure it'll be nice to kick off April with the noble and worthy science of defense (read: violence).

Let's Twilight?

2009-03-23T11:12:00.003-04:00

I'm getting a lot of conflicting advice regarding the last two books in the Twilight series.

On the CON side, Omaha Jesse says, "PLEASE don't cave like I did, and waste your time finishing the series. The last book is such a joke. If you were frustrated by the lack of plot, and her deciding to throw in a few plot elements 2/3 of the way through the first book, then you will most definitely be pissed and want to burn the 4th book after reading it.

"Also, Stephanie Meyer treats the audience like they are functionally retarded."

Whereas Heather leads the PRO side with: "Kirk, please read the rest, if only so I can see you go face-meltingly apoplectic at the last one like I did. Really, I could not shut up about those books by the end because they made me so fuuuuuurious. But
it was a delicious fury."

So I'm torn. I enjoy hating these books, and they've given me more pleasure than The Elegant Universe, which I'm currently trying to read so I won't appear functionally retarded in front of my scientist friends.

Life is too short for bad things, but I've always been kind of keen on crappy experiences as long as they're interesting (case in point: one unforgettable visit to The Holy Land Experience). Twilight, for all its flaws (of which there are many), is at least interesting BECAUSE it's so shitty.

Eh, who am I kidding? I know how this is gonna end. I'll read them, eventually. Probably when someone lends them to me or when I see them at the library.

Don't cry for me, I'm already dead.