CrazyJohn: On Writing III
Stephan King, at one point, talks about a principle he had who confronted him one day about the content of a story he had been selling to kids in his school. She said to him, about the story in question "Why would you want to waste your abilities?" He then said something that astonished me. He said he was ashamed... and feels he spent far too much time feeling ashamed of his writing in his life. I mean, here's Stephan KING talking about being ashamed of his writing. I was FLOORED.
Then he said something about lots of fiction writers being made to feel ashamed about "wasting their talents." So I thought about it for a second... had anyone ever made me feel ashamed? For the most part, no... I've had a pretty supportive net surrounding me. And then *FLASH* I'm in college in my creative writing class. I've just turned in a story which carried a lot of meaning to me personally about a boy locked in a bathroom who has conversations with his mother and older brother and who eventually breaks the bathroom mirror because he can't stand looking at himself. He hates the reflection. This story was personal. When we talked about it in class, everyone seemed to really enjoy the dialogue... saying it seemed very natural and honest, etc. Then the professor chimed in. The dialogue was trite, he argued, and the characters completely unbelievable. I had based the mother, in particular, on my own mother... even stealing some phrases that she has said or would say. He argued that the mother (in particular) was unreal, uninteresting, a stock/trite character. Instead of sticking up for myself or saying "She's my mother and that's the way she really is"... I sat there and felt ashamed. My dialogue... the golden ticket of my writing... had failed me, and produced something unoriginal and unbelievable (that's unbelievable in a bad way).

CrazyJohn: On Writing II
Coincidentally, my second attempt at writing was in middle school (hint: this is not a coincidence. I don't know why I started that way). For an assignment, I wrote an entire medieval jousting tournament, chalk full of (what I thought was) suspense. Okay, the tournament itself was lame (but I did have some pretty sweet names for the combatants), but I also included commercials. Yes, commercials. I spoofed lawyer commercials, and infomercials, and car commercials... some of my best, young stuff was done in those commercials. And I remember Mrs. McCullough (of all people) just absolutely loved the commercials. That's just how awesome I am... I guess.
Later on in the first chapter, King talks about how his brother started a newspaper called "Dave's Rag" which King describes as a combination of family newsletter and small-town bi-weekly. *FLASH* I'm in high school... and I got a program on my very first computer that could make little newsletters. So I started one: Pimpin' Daily, it was called (PD for short). This was during my heavy rap phase (which some youngsters at Coldstone thought was SOOO funny that I had in high school), so Pimpin' Daily seemed like a fun name for it. I would write little fake stories about teachers or my friends (think 'The Onion' but with less humor and more swearing... high schoolers love to swear), and then I would print it off and bring it in to school to show my friends at lunch. I only made about a dozen total and, by the end, I had renamed it because it wasn't as frequent as a "Daily" (it was then called "Pimpin' Monthly Sentinel", or PMS for short). I remember how happy it made me when my friends would read it at lunch and laugh. King later describes a satrical paper he wrote in high school called The Village Vomit. And, good Lord if the similarites aren't striking.

CrazyJohn: On Writing
I spent much of the afternoon reading "On Writing" by Stephan King. King has a fabulous literary voice, one that is funny and honest and, as I read it, it seemed he was writing that book just to me.
In the opening chapter, he describes his earliest childhood memories. The fact that he thought "dratty" and "drafty" were the same word made me laugh out loud. I think all kids get words wrong for a period of their life... and then grow up and pretend that they don't get words wrong anymore. Regardless, he recounts his first attempt at writing fiction: four magical animals who helped little kids. They were lead by a character named "Mr. Rabbit Trick," which I think is insanely clever. And, as I was reading it *FLASH* I was magically whisked back to forth grade. I remembered my first attempt at writing fiction: The Killer Doughnuts. Maybe Nate will remember this, maybe he won't... but in fourth grade we were given free time to write whatever we wanted (*FLASH* again! I'll get to the second one in a second). The first thing I wrote was about Killer Doughnuts from outer space... and it was basically just a role call of different kinds of doughnuts (I must have been a fat kid). After that initial role call, something inside of me must have said that, to be interesting, the Killer Doughnuts needed an adversary: Captain Carrot and the Bean Brigade was born. It became a story about the epic struggle between junk food and healthy food. In a way, this story symbolizes what I feel most comfortable writing: adversarial struggles between good and evil which are lightly garnished with clever puns and what some would mistakenly call humor.
I don't remember much about the stories I wrote... only what I've just recounted to you about the basic plot of the stories. And I remember loving, and looking forward to, those free writing times.
The second flash that just occurred was that I just remembered my first time improvising in front of an audience. It was fourth grade, and we were picking--as a class--who was going to represent our class in the talent show. I remember that day as being "hat day"... a special treat for me, since I loved wearing hats so much and we weren't allowed during the regular school year. And, for some reason, we were in the Art Room as a class that day. Regardless, I got up in front of the entire class and did "stand-up." I remember saying something extremely clever about rich people having fish and poor people having dogs... which made no sense to me because dogs eat SO MUCH FOOD and cost so much money and fish are, well, not very interactive. I think I pantomimed petting a fish (complete with giving it a stupid fish name) and it got a big laugh. I didn't win the competition, but my teacher Mrs. Halstead, decided she was going to give me five whole minutes the next day in class just to be in front of the class and do it again. I remember how nervous I was that whole night... now their were expectations, what was I going to say? The next day I brought with me a little microphone that I borrowed from my dad (which I wrapped around the leg of a table up front) and did my "routine." The crowd's reaction wasn't as good as the day before. And I remember Mrs. Halstead left the room at one point... leaving the entire class just watching me. For what seemed like forever.
What ever happened to Mrs. Halstead? Well, for those of you who went on choir tour with me (the smut novel reading choir tour), Mrs. Halstead was the teacher we came across at one of the churches in Florida. Remember? I pointed her out and made her stand up in front of everyone. And then Alex sang to her during our Six Single Singer song and she played along and Alex blushed and didn't know what to do. Remember that? That was her. I love Mrs. Halstead.

The link to my new kicks sucked (sorry), so I took a picture. Pretty sweet, huh? Yeah... I've been on a huge Green kick lately. *shrug* What can I say? I love Green!
Posted by Hello

Dreamcatcher and Writing
I just finished watching Dreamcatcher, taken from Stephan King's novel. If you haven't watched Dreamcatcher, it's (what I feel is) typical Stephan King movie: You're watching the movie, you are completely entrenched in the world he has created; it's intense and curious about knowing everything that's going on; you're nervous when he wants you to be nervous and laughing when he wants you to laugh... you're completely enjoying the world according to King and then... the ending. And you go "What the FUCK was I just watching?" Because the endings to most (okay, I can probably only say "a few" in good conscious) Stephan King based movies just kinda go pppbblltt... which is defined as the sound of a deflated Stephan King based movie ending. You watch the whole movie thinking "How interesting this all is," and then it ends and you're left thinking "well... I feel somehow unfulfilled."
And it made me think about my class tonight. My instructor, Ms. Scruggs, was talking about how most people, when they start writing a screenplay, get to about page 30 and then stop. And I know exactly why that is: Everyone is afraid to ruin the story with the ending. Good endings are so few and far between, whereas everyone has a few "good" ideas for a movie kicking around in their heads. Starting the movie and setting up the conflict (and even the characters) is not difficult... following through to the end is. Furthermore, my personal problem is that I don't want to ruin what is perfection in my head. I'm afraid to put words on paper, as whatever I'm writing cannot possibly be as perfect as it is in my head. My fear is that the actually story on paper won't be as good as the idea of the story is in my head. And I think a lot of people have similar fears. Sometimes I wish I was a good story-teller, so I could just know I'll have a good story and worry about other things later. I'm not good at telling stories. I am, however, good at writing dialogue. I feel I've always been good at dialogue... it seems to simply flow from me, and it comes out sounding very natural, intelligent, and humorous. I got comments about my good dialogue in college, and even here at Second City I've had a couple writers say that they wished they could write dialogue as well as I write it. That makes me feel pretty good... and I never shared that with you and thought I would to make myself feel better tonight.
That was a tangent for no reason. Where was I? Oh yes! I was basically done with what I was talking about. Maybe someday I'll post how I go about writing such great dialogue... but I fear it's going to make me seem creepy or crazy, even more so than usual. I just find it odd how close writers (and certain other professions) can get to certain things that are considered "insane"... but are 'par for the course,' if you catch my meaning. And, if you don't catch my meaning, I mean that the only way to function in certain jobs is to do things that are contrary to common sense (firefighters come to mind) or things that are just plain out-of-the-ordinary. I think writing--great writing--is one of those things. And I think it's very late. Goodnight.

As I was walking back from class tonight, feeling pretty good about myself, I came upon a man with a grocery cart full of belongings. I approached him with a heavy anxiousness: I didn't want him to ask me for money... I didn't want him to talk to me... I didn't want to make eye contact. So, as I quickly closed the distance between him and I (I walk fast), I became annoyed (yes, annoyed!) when he stopped to scratch his ankle. I figured it was just a ploy to stop so that he could hit me up for money as I walked past. Because he had stopped, I quickly closed the entire distance and he was soon, in fact, talking to me. Do you know what he said? Do you know what this black, homeless man said to me as his grocery cart, all the belongings he had in the world in one tiny package, blocked my way--my important way--as I walked on the sidewalk? He said... "Sorry." He apologized. I smiled, nodded, and had to concentrate hard not to cry as I walked passed. He's got nothing going for him, but he's still thoughtful enough to apologize for what wasn't even a mild inconvenience. I can't imagine. Sometimes this city is just too damn hard for me.

Happy Easter!
Well, here's Easter. The day that signifies Jesus’ rise from the dead, which is lucky for Jesus that it happened so long ago and not in modern day because, now-a-days, we've all seen zombie movies. And, thanks to the hard work of the Bush administration, we've also all got shotguns.
Regardless, because of some recent phone conversations, I've been thinking about what this day used to mean. When I was growing up, this was a day of family. I remember a few Easters that were spent in Midland with my mother's parents. It seems like, if I remember correctly, we spent Thanksgiving with my dad's parents and Easter with my mom's. I remember my grandma would make these sour cream twists... they didn't taste like sour cream, as they were light and fluffy and tasted of cinnamon and sugar, but I am assured that sour cream was a basic ingredient. And there would be colorful pastels and large, hearty meals… and, of course, church meant dressing in our “Easter best.” Then the mid-90s came… and both my grandparents died. Ironically enough, both in the first week of April, one year apart… making Easter now something different than Easter then. As we all know, sometimes Easter falls in March… but sometimes it falls in April. I think those Easters are particularly hard on my mother. Regardless, and like most things that once sparkled, Easter now seems tarnished. The luster is gone. Easter for my family now-a-days consists of a nice brunch; church in dressy, but not our best clothes; and finally eating the chocolate that we no doubt gave up for Lent. This year I didn’t give up anything for Lent… and I didn’t spend Easter with my family, either. I fear this is the beginning of years of Easters like this… the holiday has lost all importance to me, and I’ve lost all connection to it. Part of me thinks that all I’ll have to do is wait until I have (or my sister has) kids… as kids seem to bring new excitement to all holidays. But I’m selfish, and I don’t want to have to wait that long. I guess what I’m really saying is that I miss my grandparents. And I miss the magic and love that Easter used to bring… and I hope to God that it’s not going to be replaced by the complete nothingness that was my Easter this year. It was just another day. Just another day.
Yesterday was honestly the first sunny/nice day I've been able to enjoy since I moved here. I thought about it, I moved here in the fall of 2003. And, by the spring/summer months of 2004, I was working at Coldstone. And a sunny/nice day while working at an ice cream store is hellish. I dreaded days like that all last year... while I loved rainy/cold days. Hopefully this year, I'll continue to enjoy rainy days... but I forgot how much I missed enjoying nice days until today. Yesterday was a nice day (today is shaping up to be a nice day, too)... and everyone I talked to yesterday was in a good mood because of it. I didn't go out and get pictures like I wanted to... but I have a feeling that there will be other beautiful days this year that I'll be able to enjoy. Yesterday was just the first.
By the way, my life is now complete. Because of three magical words: Chocolate Lucky Charms. Can you believe it?! Chocolate Lucky Charms! I’ve died and gone to Irish chocolate Heaven.
I find myself sitting watching “Big Fish” on HBO again. This movie is the very definition of McKee’s ‘good story, well told.’ It is a movie about a story-teller… so the movie itself is well told and all the sub-plots and mini-stories are well told as well. This is just a fabulous story full of fabulous stories… and it’s a real treat to watch (BTW There is something inherently creepy about twins. Particularly if they’re dressed alike… or conjoined… unless they’re hot. Then they’re just two times the hot) (Also, Jessica Lange is a beautiful woman… and, the woman they got to play the young version of her, Alison Lohman, is perfect). It makes me wish I was better at telling stories. I’ve never been much of a story-teller… I always feel like the audience is bored half-way through (probably part projecting my own insecurities and part remembering what it was like to grow up listening to boring and long stories). A good story-teller is like magic… and only recently am I beginning to believe in magic again.
What the Breakfast Club teaches us about being a dork: Yes, at the end of the Breakfast Club, all the different groups are all happy together. We know the poignant ending that the jock, the princess, the basket case, and the criminal are all happy and now have new significant others. Everybody’s happy! Well, except for the “brain.” While everyone else is busy making out with their new significant other, the dork is stuck writing the essay. The dork is stuck with weed in his underwear. The dork sounds as though he’s got no friends. Basically, it seems like the dork is still not understood by everyone else, even at the end of the movie. Perhaps I need to see it again before making broad and sweeping generalizations about the true nature of that movie. But, basically, my point is that it doesn’t pay to be the dork… even if everyone else is making earth-shattering realizations about the true nature of teenage social interactions: you’re still going to be left by yourself, pencil in hand.
From the "Thanks for policing us even more" file, here's a story from Queensland, Australia. I would think something like the "lunchbox police" would be something that would appeal to Americans... if not for the complete infringement on the freedom to eat as one chooses. It would be a battle of two epic “American” ideals: a universal fanatical health fixation versus the freedom to do (and eat) as one chooses. I have a feeling that freedom would win.
I’m very upset at blogger right now. It is becoming increasingly difficult just to log on to post something, no doubt due to the popularity of blogging and free blog sites. They must have a lot of trouble keeping up with the amount of traffic they’re getting… I can’t blame them, I just really want to be able to write. And so here I am, writing in Word and hoping to be able to actually get online and post this later. And, little did I start complaining that blogger is back to its normal, awesome self.
Update/Tangent:
I think a person’s wardrobe can say a lot about who that person is, and who that person used to be. Today I found myself pulling out an old Hawaiian shirt to put on. In Albion, it was a staple of my fashion diet… and I would wear a Hawaiian shirt seemingly at least once or twice a week, regardless of season. Hawaiian shirts WERE who I was in Albion: loud, obnoxious, in-your-face, slightly irritating, but light-hearted, bright, and fun. And, ever since I graduated, I’ve had trouble wearing them. I’m not in the same place: physically or emotionally. Some part of me—that iteration of me, and who I was—died or was lost when I graduated (or shortly thereafter). And, as I stood today looking in the mirror at myself wearing a bright blue Hawaiian shirt (complete with huge white flowers), it wasn’t me I was looking at. It didn’t feel right anymore. I ended up putting on a short-sleeved polo shirt (which is far more “me” now). Something inside of me tells me that I needed to be that loud Hawaiian shirt wearing guy while in Albion… that it balanced the seeming verisimilitude of everyone there. And I don’t mean that everyone there was fake… but everyone seemed to fall into their own little categories—having friends that fell into the same (or similar) categories. Even the “radicals” seemed to fit neatly into nice little categories. And, for as radical as they claimed to be, they never really had anything new or interesting to say. A lot of people in college were contrary just to be contrary, probably because they thought it would make them look smarter. I have to admit, it worked on me in college… but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t sick of hearing it. I remember something about getting the ACLU on campus when I was there and, basically, instead of doing something good (which I think the ACLU is more than capable of doing), they were just trying to piss people off because they wanted to prove how smart they were as individuals. I’m not saying anything about that particular group nationally, but locally at Albion, when I was there, it was just a bunch of assholes trying to prove something. How did I get here? Oh yes! Wardrobes! Yeah… Hawaiian shirt!John was there to say “I’m gonna get in your face, and make you have a good time!” And part of it was, I’m sure, me trying to prove to someone that I really was different than everyone else. Whether or not my wardrobe did that successfully, I’ll probably never know. But I don’t need to draw that kind of attention to myself here in Chicago. As a matter of fact, I don’t want that kind of attention. At all. I want to blend in here… I want to disappear. It’s safer that way. So I’ll wear something nice and plain… like a polo shirt. How irritatingly bland I’ve become.
(Another reason I mention this is that I just got a new pair of shoes for the summer. They are the White/Fairway/Ivy shoes here. The shoes have absolutely no traction… and are the first pair of shoes I’ve ever bought that are purely for ‘show.’ I feel like a newborn peacock)

PICTURE OF THE WEEK: Here's a picture from the trip I took last year to see Ken. When Ken was here a couple weeks ago, I showed him this pic and he wanted me to post it sometime. Here I am, standing on the Hoover Dam. The clock shows Nevada (Pacific) time, but my phone shows Arizona (Mountain) time. That look on my face is confusion. I don't know who to trust: My personal cell phone or the Hoover Dam. Why would you lie to me, Hoover Dam?
Posted by Hello

Andrew David and the Sweetness of Pumpkin Pie
Last night, Mr. Andrew David Groggel came to see the writing five show, SPP and Other Niceties. I wanted this performance to be extra good... as the last time I saw Andy, he was dazzling the audience in Cabaret. I wanted to be good because he was so good. I may have started to put a little extra pressure on myself for this performance... but that faded after my warm-up with the director filling in for Joe, Spike. Spike is a very very serious man... so one is almost immediately intimidated. But the two weeks he's filled in for Joe, I've had two of the best acting warm-ups ever. The first week started the "It's your birthday today"... which the whole cast now says before every performance. There is so much love that we share, as a cast, right before we go on stage. I guess that's why last week hit me so hard... when no one wanted to come with me. It feels like we're so close right before we go on stage... and then, after the show is over, we're just actors who act together. Regardless, Spike put me in such a good mood--a good state of mind--that I couldn't help putting my expectations aside. Then the opening scene started... and I love that scene. I play a third grader who is playing a father in a play: and I love that character. And the laughs started right away... the audience seemed bigger than it was because of the loud, hearty laughs coming from the audience. And, by the time we finished "Totally Not Gay," the audience was going to come with us no matter where we went. That's an incredible feeling... and this show went faster than most. It was over before I knew it... but I did specifically take some time to "smell the Rose," as it were, making sure that I recognized where I was and what I was doing during this particular show.
After the show, I went out to see Andy. He seemed to have enjoyed the show... and, at one point while I was thanking people who said that I did a good job and that they really enjoyed the show, I looked at Andy and he gave me a very knowing smile, as he put his arm around my shoulder. We then headed across the street to Corcoran's and shared a couple brews. It was great to see Andy again. He said, during our conversation, that he and I have a very good give-and-take... and I completely agree. I don't think I fully appreciated how good it was until last night (after having taken improv classes and struggling to give-and-take with some pretty talented people). He even said we should have a radio show! Imagine how great an Andy and John show would be! Imagine *shakes fist*!
And I would be remiss if I didn't mention a lengthy conversation SS Kenny Hoots and I had yesterday morning. *In a sing-songy voice* Kenny is in love. Kenny is in love. La la la la laaa la. Heehee.
For you: "There's a time when a man needs to fight, and a time when he needs to accept that his destiny is lost... the ship has sailed and only a fool would continue. Truth is... I've always been a fool." Truth is... I've always been a fool, too. We will do what we have to do, Kenny... even from 1,940 miles away.

Further Proving I'm An A$$hole... (as if you needed more proof)
To me, there is something fundamentally hypocritical about the Religious Right and their views on euthanasia and abortion. Let's break it down for a second, shall we? Let's say a woman in, oh I don't know, Florida is severely brain-damaged and unable to do very rudimentary tasks like feeding herself. If the Religious Right truly believe in a soul and an afterlife, I find it very difficult to understand why they wouldn't want her to be free of her "broken carnal shell" so that her soul can ascend to the afterlife. I can't say that I understand a lot of the Religious Right's view on the Shiavo case in particular, but her parents are Catholic (and they claim Terri was a practicing Catholic) so I think I know a little bit about what they are thinking. Yes, I know that the Catholic Church is opposed to euthanasia in all forms... but I don't necessarily get why. I mean, from their perspective, isn't Terri Schiavo's soul trapped in her body? With little to no way of communicating with the outside world? Isn't that a worse fate than death? For, in death, we are reunited with our Lord Jesus Christ in Heaven (from a Catholic POV). Isn't that what we WANT to happen? You mean to sit there and tell me that you would prefer all life to continue... even if it means horrific suffering just because, what? you believe that only God can give and take life? I can actually understand that viewpoint... but I feel, like most Catholic viewpoints, it's antiquated. Doctors make life and death decisions every day... who gets organs and who doesn't; how long should we continue to fight to save someone's life before it's "too late"; do I perform an expensive but potentially life-saving procedure if the patient can't afford it; etc. The Catholic Church, on this and other issues, has been left in the last millennium; choosing not to keep up with things like medical ethics issues and the Women's liberation movement.
I'm getting off my point. My point is that I don't understand how they can justify allowing a person to suffer in the physical realm when it seems more humane to let them die and free their soul. The Church has to concede that medicine has advanced to the point where doctors ARE in fact making life-and-death decisions, playing God as it were, and the Church needs to update its viewpoint. Maybe the Church will still argue that it's wrong to euthanize someone... and that would be fine with me, but it seems like they're trying to make arguments that are no longer relevant to intellectual discourse.
On a similar note, I saw something on the news about this IMAX Volcano movie that a few theatres in the South are refusing to play. Have you seen this debate? The IMAX movie makes a few claims about evolution as if they were factual and the Religious Right has a HUGE problem with this. The guy MSNBC (was I watching MSNBC?) got to speak for the Religious Right was very good and intelligent and I wish I could remember his name, but I can't. Regardless, this guy said that the Right has a big problem with evolution being taught as fact because of all the loop-holes and inconsistencies and anomalies in evolution. It was very eloquently put... and I found myself agreeing with his point... but not the end result. To clarify, the Religious Right says "Stop teaching evolution as if it was fact" and I say "Okay, done. But what do we do with all the facts we've collected scientifically? What do we do with all that evidence?" and it's as if the Right is saying "It's all irrelevant." I'm sorry, but fossil records and carbon dating and all the science we have at our disposal is not irrelevant. What are we supposed to do? not teach anything until there is one right, true, and perfect explanation for EVERYTHING? No! That does us as human beings no good what-so-ever. Lest we forget, some of the greatest scientific discoveries of all time were discovered by men (and women) who sat down and said to themselves "I really want to know how God created this universe so I can have a better understanding of God". I mean... all the big names: Aristotle, Newton, Steeno*; they were all doing that VERY thing and somewhat stumbled across some kind of scientific breakthrough. To completely ignore science is pure idiocy and I, for one, will not have my children fall behind the rest of the WORLD because people in this country don't think we should teach evolution because it doesn't explain everything. Don't get me wrong... Bravo to the Right for standing up and saying "You're teaching this as fact, and it's got a lot of problems"... that will only strengthen evolution (or eventually completely debunk it) in the long run. But this, at the very least, is progress... something that I accuse the Catholic Church of not doing in a very long time.

* Not really. He just kind of sat around.

PS Mr. Erik Love makes an excellent point about a Bill of Attainders on his blog here.

A Private Showing Of The Work And The Glory
I'm going to go good news/bad news/good news/bad news with this post. Let's start off with something good, shall we? Yesterday, I went to South Barrington, Illinois, to see The Work And The Glory. And, yes, I got a private showing of the movie. I was the only one in the theatre. If you haven't experienced this before in your life... add it to your list of things to do. It was amazing! I stretched out... I talked to the screen... I laughed loud... I felt like I was at home, but with an awesome screen and sound system.
Now, about the movie... I think they did a pretty good job at not completely forcing Mormon beliefs on the audience. At one point in the movie, Joseph Smith is talking about how he saw God and Jesus when he was 14 and I thought they were going to try to personify those two beings with some cheesy white dudes in white robes surrounded by white... but they didn't. To believe Joseph Smith in the movie you have to have faith... just like in real life! Seriously though, as a non-Mormon, I appreciated that the writer/director kept the movie from being ridiculous and uber religious. Additionally, the "gold Bible" that Joseph Smith is said to have translated into the Book Of Mormon is mentioned but never shown. Again, to believe Joseph Smith you have to have faith. Don't get me wrong, there is definitely some propaganda in this movie. Near the end, Tiffany Dupont's character says of the Book of Mormon "This book is not evil" and you find yourself going "Whaaa?" Also, the Christians who aren't into Mormonism are constantly painted in a negative, bigoted light. I'm sure there's some truth to the representation of what Joseph Smith encountered when he started the Mormon religion. And there are some EXCELLENT points made about how certain Christians claim to be living a loving Christian life, but they end up being as closed minded and hateful as those they speak out against.
And I would be remiss if I didn't mention how beautifully shot this movie is. The scenery is breathtaking and, during a quick cut-scene that shows Alex getting baptized, I actually said "wow" out loud.
But I'm just wasting time until I get to the good part: Alex in a movie. Alex. In. A. Movie. I found myself, in the beginning of the movie (which moves extremely slowly) wanting the other characters to shut up so I could hear Alex. Alex doesn't speak for what seemed like forever (even though it was probably only five minutes). But, when he did... it was Alex. I smiled every time he was on screen for about the first hour of the movie (by then I was too into it to notice). And, yes, he did an excellent job as Nathan Steed. It wasn't as if he was so "Alex" that I couldn't get into his character... so don't think that. When the true plot surrounding Alex and the love triangle finally unfolded, I said "This other dude doesn't have a chance. It's Alex f--king Carroll." Heehee.
He did really well and I really enjoyed his performance... and I was so proud of him. I looked through my phone after the movie was over and I found a number that claimed to be Alex's number. I thought "what the hell? why not give it a try?"... so I did. It was Alex's number all right... and he and I had almost a twenty minute conversation about what he has been up to (this movie is part of a trilogy and they're filming in Tennessee soon), what I've been up to (SC classes and writing), and possibilities for getting together while he's in Tennessee shooting. It was a great conversation and, despite what you might hear from the OTHER JPS, Alex is really humble about this whole movie thing. And I am very proud of him. I asked him for an autographed headshot... and, if I get it, I'm framing it. Heehee... I think that's funny.
Now for the first bad news. I got a letter from RCN yesterday. RCN is my cable company that somehow feels the ability to charge me around $100 per month for my cable and my internet. I would switch cable providers, but I think RCN has a monopoly on this particular apartment building. I think it's RCN or nothing... until I move (which should happen later this summer). Anyway... the letter... right. So, I got this letter from RCN saying that some of my channels were going to change and they were adding some channels! You would think that was good news, but check out what they're doing. They're adding the Fox Movie Channel and some other bullpoop channels like RCN/Plus Games (which I don't even know what that means), and they are taking away G4 Tech TV and FUSE. For those of you who don't know, those two channels are my two favorite that don't start with ESPN. G4 Tech TV is basically an entire channel devoted to video games and losers who play video games like yours truly. FUSE is the only music channel that actually plays music anymore (and they play the kind of music I like, too). Because of the changes, I would love to tell RCN to go shove it and just get the Basic channels, but that doesn't include ESPN... and a TV without ESPN is just a box. My guess is that I'll go back to watching a lot of Cartoon Network and Comedy Central... but I'm really going to miss FUSE because I won't be able to just put the TV on and have it play good music. Remember when MTV did that? That was when we were kids and didn't care about the married life of musicians whose music we don't listen to anyway.
Let's go to something that makes me happy now. Okay? Okay. So as I was checking previous comments left on my blog, I came across a comment from the woman who reviewed Basically Awesome. I think I might just include it here, as it will save me some time. Here you go: "Hey. I just read your comment about my review--and you seem like a really, really nice guy. I know what I wrote sucks and I'm really really sorry. But your friends are right--you can only go up. I think, honestly, that you guys were just not ready to be reviewed yet. When you're just starting, you deserve to have your failures (and of course everyone fails! I have seen an amazing number of companies go from awful to awesome!) out of the public eye. Please please please don't let what I write--or what anyone writes--keep you from performing. Your ensemble will get better. I promise." She's totally right about us not being ready to be reviewed... we weren't necessarily ready for the stage. And I didn't let what she wrote keep me from performing... because I'm too damn good not to (*John gets full of himself*). But before I get too full of myself, she was right: BA was, in a lot of ways, a failure. Although, show me Einstein's first postulate... show me Mozart's first attempt at writing... show me Martha Stewart's first souffle... and I'm not feeling too bad about our first attempt as a group. It was important for most of that cast to get the experience of that show. Yeah, so, I feel a little less craptacular about the review. Plus, I'm a really, really nice guy. Which some people would debate... but you're all wrong. A professional critic says I'm a nice guy, so it must be true.
I think it's about time that I weigh in on the Terri Schiavo case. Normally, I am all for the "right-to-die" person in a "right-to-die" case. This would put me on the side of the husband, Michael. But there's something about this guy that I'm not totally buying... the way it seems he's going about this, and his story that he and Terri had a talk and this is what she wanted just in case this ever happened. I don't really believe him, and I'm not buying his story. Plus I feel terrible for the parents, fighting so hard to keep her alive. Having said that, the courts have made their decision... multiple courts, multiple times have ruled in favor of the husband. The fact that Congress is trying to circumvent the power of the courts is detrimental to the entire checks-and-balances system. We cannot allow Congress and the President to be able to eradicate the power of the courts... we have the checks and balances in place for a reason. If Congress can do whatever it damn well pleases, who's to stop them from, say, starting an unjustified war? Wait... I think that already happened.
Even though I cannot stress the importance of upholding the court's decision enough, I am brought to another point: there has got to be a more humane way to allow someone to die than just taking out their feeding tube. I mean, that just seems totally cruel to me. And I understand the passive/active debate surrounding any case of euthanasia (that passively allowing someone to die is much more civilized than actively ending their life)... but, let's face it, pulling someone's feeding tube and starving them to death is a pretty active way of ending someone's life. Think about it; we kill our prisoners in a more humane and civilized way than a forced starvation. On MSNBC, there is a doctor (Sue Bailey) who says that starvation isn't painful because of a build-up of toxins which leads to a "stupor" wherein the body does not really feel pain. I am, obviously, not a doctor... but I can't imagine that this is, still, the most humane way of ending someone's life. And I say that because of how long it takes from the time the decision is made to take out the tube to the time death actually occurs. Even if I concede that there's no pain involved, isn't there something that takes less time? Yes, is the answer. So why have we decided that this is the "best" way to go about euthanizing someone?

Woke Up From A Bad Dream And Decided To Post Something Positive
Here's a fun fact: I'm no longer technically banned from any dining establishments in Chicago (or anywhere else for that matter). The Coldstone's at which I work have been sold by the Johnsons to someone who is not incompetent. Ha! I don't know if that's true or not. But I do know that I don't have to worry about going into Coldstone anymore. In fact, I got an efax from the company who does the hardware tech support for Coldstone. It's from someone who claims to be new to their company who wanted to say "hello" and "oh, by the way, you owe us around $900." Perhaps that's how rich people stay so rich: they run a company until the debt is too great then sell that company to someone who they don't tell is in a huge amount of debt. Isn't that what this country was founded on, though, really? What's our national debt? Eighty seven quadrillion dollars? Regardless, I'm now in kind of a quandary as to what I should do with this fax. Should I do nothing, letting Coldstone and Emerald Business Solutions settle their differences? or should I print the efax out and go to Coldstone and try to find someone in charge to let them know that they owe a pretty hefty fee? I mean, it's not like they'll NEVER know: I'm sure the next time something goes wrong with the computers, EBS won't do a damn thing until they're compensated. What should I do?

Finally Giving Triplette The Props They Deserve
I was going through some old comments today and I came upon a comment from one of the members of Triplette. She told me how hurt she was by something I had posted which was tactless and generally in bad taste. She gave me a good, intelligent verbal beat-down, and I felt terrible... but I figured "Hey, I bet when she saw how much I liked her show, she wasn't as hurt." Then I looked through the rest of the posts during the run of that show, and... nothing. Nothing. I didn't write a single good thing about their show (which I LOVED). I was trying to figure out why I didn't praise them on this blog... why I didn't say a single nice thing about that show... and this is the only thing I could come up with: I'm jealous. Their show was so good, it was tight, it was funny, they did their own music (which sounded awesome) and I was jealous that they were getting more stage time than we were. I think it's hard to allow yourself to believe that there can be people out there who are better than you are at "this" (this being whatever it is that you're doing. Which, in my case, is this 'comedy show thing'). Maybe it's just hard to allow myself to believe it because I'm so egotistical and self-centered. It doesn't matter why it's tough for me, I just need to stop and recognize how good they are.
Having said that, Triplette got more time on stage than my show and they deserved that time. Their show was phenomenal... it included brilliant political pieces and social commentaries. The two that stick out are a scene about a skin-head doing his laundry (which was brilliant), and a scene where they used puppets to make a point about women's self-image on TV and to take a hilarious stab at the "pop" music industry. The show also included the best/funniest character I've ever seen: an elementary school-aged poet who fancies herself a tragic artist but who is actually just a normal kid. That scene is hysterical and I mentioned it to Adam (but didn't post it because I'm an idiotic asshole) that I could watch that scene all day, every day... and it would have taken me a good long while to stop absolutely loving it.
Unfortunately for me, this praise falls under the "too little, too late" category. Which is a shame, as the women of Triplette are insanely talented... and I would have liked to work with them again when I was with a group good enough to be on the same bill as they are. I don't know how else to rectify the situation besides saying that, To Rebecca and the fantastically talented women of Triplette... I'm sorry. I'm deeply sorry for letting my personal insecurities and lack of tact get in the way of giving you the praise you deserve... and I'm very sorry if my stupid comments hurt or offended you in any way. I'm sorry.

"Here I am expecting just a little bit too much from the wounded"
This past Sunday night, I did a fifteen minute "showcase" show for Greg, one of the writers of "Sweet Pumpkin Pie...". He basically just wanted me to do a scene I'm already doing for SPP, so it was no big deal. I guess what was a big deal was that he got the rest of the SPP cast to be involved with this project as well... a total of three scenes in fifteen minutes. One scene was the "Sorg" scene I was in... and the other two scenes were new. But, here's the thing (and maybe I'm making too much out of this), the other two scenes he used Chris as the male lead... and didn't even ask me if I wanted to do either scene. It makes me think that I'm not really his first choice. Particularly since one of the scenes I would have been PERFECT for (a dad who yells... that's ME!). So, instead of being happy that I was asked by one of the writers to do something above and beyond (which should have made me feel good about myself), I ended up feeling kind of like crap. I guess that's life in the theatre... ? or I guess I'm just too sensitive. *sniffle*
Monday I got to drive back to BR AGAIN. This trip was fun as, during a stretch of the trip I went 2.5 miles (from the sign that said "Left Lane closed 2.5 miles ahead") in about 40 minutes. For those of you who don't want to do the math on that, that means, in one hour, I would have gone... fuckin' nowhere! I was going completely insane. And, of course, I didn't allow myself enough spare time just in case of this inevitability (yeah, it's inevitable. I stop [on my way into Chicago] and get something I can eat in the car... because I know I'm going to be stuck for a while with no place to go). Well, this certainly made the rest of my trip up to BR fun... as I sped. I sped a lot. I went faster than humanly possible. That last sentence was a lie... but I did go faster than I should have for the entire rest of the trip... making it from near the Indiana/Illinois border to BR in "record time". I was only twenty minutes late for the dentist (I called ahead because I'm thoughtful).
Ah, the dentist. I know this is going to be hard for anyone to appreciate or understand, but this appointment was more painful than the actual root canal. My dentist said that pretty much everything that can be done to a tooth needed to be done to this one. And, after keeping my mouth open for over an hour (and, at one point, having the dental assistant pulling my entire face to the left), I just hurt all over. Also, the dentist didn't use as much novocaine as last week... since this was a "simple procedure." *starts to smile* Okay... the dental assistant likes to hum while she works. I think that's awesome... because she's in a good mood. She really likes what she does. I can't think of anything worse than having a dentist who hates his/her job. You want your dentist to enjoy their work... even if they're hurting you while they do it (which they were this week). Can I also mention the use of a "wire" to keep my gum down so that an impression of my tooth could be taken? The wire also has the magical ability to make gums bleed... did you know that? Yeah... when I left the dentist, my whole face hurt, and I taste blood and metal. It was horrible. And when people make fun of me for complaining I want to punch them in the mouth until their teeth come out... so be careful what you say here.
Tuesday morning I got my oil changed... and my dad and I hung out for a bit while we were waiting. I showed him the "Music: The Band" page on MySpace and told him the story behind it. It was one of those things I thought he would enjoy and laugh at and my mom wouldn't get. So I just told him. But then he had to go teach a class and I was soon left to wait for my car alone. After getting my car, I had lunch with my mom. We were going to go out to eat, but the oil change took longer than I thought it would (they wanted to wash my car. No complaints here... it's been months), so we didn't have time to go out. My mom and I ate a nice quiet lunch at home... I got her to talk about how she feels about work (it's really starting to wear on her), and how she feels about retirement (my dad's ready for it... and I'm not so sure my mom is, but she's warming up to it). It was fun to talk to both my folks separately for once... I'm normally talking to both of them at once and they have things that they don't necessarily feel comfortable saying in front of each other (my dad's trying to get my mom to warm up to buying a new car/SUV: "I got lots of trips to Chicago and Green Bay in my future" he said).
And, soon enough, it was time for me to leave again. My dad said, as we said good-bye before his class "This doesn't count. This doesn't count as a visit. It was too quick." I agree. I had another fun drive through the traffic. Like I mentioned before, I know that right at the Indiana/Illinois border there is always traffic, so I bought some Reese's Pieces about twelve miles away and waited to be stuck in traffic. I was not disappointed... the trip to Chicago took me five hours instead of the usual 4:15/4:30. My dad actually called me after the fifth hour because he was worried. I was stuck in the far left lane needing to get over to the far right, so I was probably a little short with him. What followed that phone call was the greatest display of lane-changing in the history of man-kind. I'm totally awesome. And I hate traffic. But I love Reese's Pieces.

Bill Nye To Make Science Guy-Sized Comeback
In an article I found on Fark that directed me to Slashdot, I found a posting about Bill Nye's new project, entitled "The Eyes of Nye." Apparently Bill will be looking at more 'mature' scientific subjects like addictions, sex, and cloning... but I'm sure it will be done in the typical 'informative/fun Bill Nye' way. Unfortunately, when I clicked on the "show times" link on the Eyes of Nye page, I found that there isn't going to be a chance for me to see a show yet. However, if you're someone interested in science in the Atlanta area... you could catch the show and tape it for me. Or I'll just sit here and cry, just like every other day. *sniffle* If you'll excuse me...

PICTURE OF THE WEEK: Here's Adam and Keith (from left to right) on the stage Keith built in his basement which we affectionately call "The Basement." Saturday night we christened it with two Harolds and a couple short improv games. In the picture, Keith is playing a woman... he doesn't normally stand like that. I promise.
Posted by Hello

The Basement
I've been trying to post a picture from my trip to Keith's last night, but 'hello' is being stupid so I don't know when it's going to get posted. It ended up just being Keith, Adam, and I... but we still had a really good time. We started the night by going to Portillo's for food. And, after getting TOTALLY full, it was time to tear it up. We started off simply... a short scene based on the suggestion of a roll of paper towels (we just looked around the room). Then we did my first ever Harold--based on my suggestion of a show centered around sanity. What came out really didn't help my writing process of the show I want to write, but it was probably the best "first Harold" ever... particularly by three people. The Harold is normally done by an improv team... which is rarely less than four. I've actually never seen it done by less than six; but I rarely see the Harold done (it's not a Second City thing). That particular Harold ended magnificently... and I feel like it really turned out to be an interesting piece of theatre. I don't know if it was funny; but theatre doesn't have to be funny, does it? Then we did another Harold based on pizza box that had some pretty funny parts to it... and we finished by doing "three characters/three scenes" based on 'Allergies'. Even the three character/three scenes turned out better than we thought it would... as we started with a scene making Adam the spokeman for a new drug; moved to a scene where the celebrity had changed him for the worst, making him wonder how all this happened; and finished with the "middle" scene chronologically where we see that Keith and I made him change by feeding into his ego. It was so cool... because none of us knew how we were going to end it (or even where it was going) until we were done. And, like Adam mentioned, with only the three of us there and no audience, we could take as much time as we wanted to. We didn't have to worry about it being good... we just did it, and it ended up being good. Very organic... and the reason why we wanted to do this in the first place.

"It's not like you killed someone" OR Killing me softly from the inside out
Here's the rest of last week... hopefully finally catching up.
Monday: I drove up to BR. I had a lot of time to think about what was about to happen. I also drove up to the B Rizzle without stopping, which is something I don't think I've done since I moved here. I was going to be late.
"But late for what John?" you ask. Oh, dear reader, the greatest thing that ever happened to me: a Root Canal. Yeah. I needed a root canal, and I was gonna get it. It was on molar #13 if you're keeping score at home (that's the upper left side). To be honest, this was a long time coming, and I was kind of excited for it to happen. Am I psychotic? Partially. But here's my story. Right before I graduated, I had some dental work done on the upper left side of my mouth. It was just a filling, but it made that side of my mouth feel weird. So weird, in fact, that I stopped chewing on that side of my mouth. I had thought it was just that the filling was done "wrong," making that weird feeling. Turns out, that dentist probably accidentally cracked another filling, allowing decay to get into an already weak tooth. The OTHER tooth was what was causing that weird feeling, and it's the one on which I needed the root canal. Make sense? So I was excited to be able to eat on the left side of my mouth again. Plus, I kind of wanted it to hurt. I'm not gonna lie. Something inside of me wanted to prove to myself that I could put up with that amount of pain. The most terrifying story my dad has ever told me involves his first (yes, I said "first") root canal. It happened in the 70s and it sounded like that dentist used the most archaic tools available to a dentist. And my dad made it sound like he sat in that chair longing for his own swift death. I was prepared for a lot of pain. Little did my father tell me that a lot of innovations have happened since the 70s... and a root canal now hurts very little. The only part that hurt was after he had "opened" the tooth up, but before he gave novocaine to the inside of the tooth... That's when I felt it (briefly... for less than a minute). I can't imagine how horrible that would have been without novocaine. I got just a taste of it... and it was shockingly painful.
Fear not, dear reader... for I wasn't in that pain for long. The doctor gave me novocaine inside my tooth and I wasn't feeling anything after about a minute. And in the "too cute for real life, this shit should only be in movies" category, both my parents took some time off work to be in the waiting room for me when I came out. They just wanted to be there, I guess. Yeah... too cute for real life. We all then headed home... and my mom went and got some stuff from Taco Bell (soft enough for me to chew). Then, after dinner, both my parents went back to work, and I took a nap. I must have been stressed out that whole day because my eyes were KILLING me. I've never felt an eye strain like that. My mouth was still numb, so that was fine, but my eyes hurt so bad that I had to sleep it off. Weird, huh?
Tuesday: Morning I woke up with my folks before they went to work (we're talking like 6:45 my time) and ate breakfast with them. Not to say I was disappointed, but this was the first time I've been home when my folks didn't at least give me twenty bucks just for making the trip. I guess they figured they paid for my damn root canal, or something. But I was counting on some money to go treat myself for enduring the oral procedure. Yeah, I was going to go to Best Buy. I didn't get any money from them, but I still went to spend it. I stopped at a Best Buy just West of the 196/94 interchange. I actually don't know what the town was called. But I do know I went in there for one thing, but ended up getting three (I'm such an American). I wanted one certain CD: Mar De Noms by A Perfect Circle. But I ended up seeing another CD I've wanted for a long time, Songs for the Deaf by Queens Of The Stone Age, that was on sale. Then, after stupidly checking the XBox section, I saw that Red Dead Revolver (a game I LOVE) was also on sale for $20. Most XBox games that I like, I'll purchase for $20... that's pretty much as cheap as a new copy will get. Isn't that just like me? Going into a store to buy one thing and coming out with three?
The drive back to Chicago seemed pretty long, even though I had a fun stop for Best Buy craziness. I started thinking about something the dental assistant said to me about what a root canal really does. It is, effectively, a surgery to kill a tooth that would otherwise be too painful to bear. You are killing a part of yourself because it's too painful. And I thought to myself, "Wow... what doesn't kill me doesn't necessarily make me stronger." My tooth will no longer receive blood and the nerve will die... all in an effort to make my dental health progress possible. I think this is a very human response to pain. There are thoughts, memories, even people perhaps that we simply cut off from ourselves, just to move forward. It's the "easy" way out... and I'm always one to take the hard way if I can (something about thinking it makes me stronger in the end), but sometimes that's not just an option: the hard way is too hard. There was a time, recently, when I was prepared to cut someone and all the memories attached to that person from my mind, because I was unable to move forward. Fortunately for myself (and her, I hope), that wasn't necessary... and I'm better for it. But I finally allowed myself to understand that amputating a part of yourself is possible if it's necessary for progress... and all this from a root canal. Who says proper dental hygiene doesn't pay off?
Class Tuesday night went by quickly. I had to pitch an idea for an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" to my entire class. Afterward, my instructor (Mary Scruggs) said "Good story... good story" as she was collecting her thoughts to give me feedback. She said I really captured the domesticity of the show... and the fact that Debra is an outsider to the rest of the family... AND I was able to take something small and blow it out of proportion (like they do in that show quite often). She did give me some criticism about it, but nothing too devastating. All-in-all a pretty good class.
Wednesday: I went over to Adam's. We were going to write some sketches but, like we always do, we got more interested in doing something else. This time, we started off talking about how annoying it is to get friend invites from bands on MySpace. We were both so annoyed by it, that we decided to do something about it. We were going to create a band with shitty music and try to add all the bands that tried to add us (and piss off a whole bunch of other bands too). We went about "composing" some music using a program he has on his Mac called "GarageBand." I have already linked our shit to this blog, so go check out two of our songs. We're actually going along so quickly that we hope to have a full album of this shit by April. We're awesome. My favorite songs are "Gargling Arugala," an unnamed track that I pretty much wrote while Adam was doing other things, and a track called "Karen." The "Karen" track is, basically a guitar lick that Adam laid down for two minutes and a half minutes, and he handed me a mic and said "Sing something magic." So I improvised the lyrics to the song in two takes. It's called Karen because she was the first one to hear it after we finished it (she called me and just happened to be the first one besides us to hear it. "What are you going to call it?" she asked. "I don't know, what do you think?" I responded. "Name it after me," she said laughing. "Done." And done).
While we were lying down some phat tracks (but before "Karen" was written) I got a phone call from Mr. Mike Bohne. Long story short, The Euphonics are short one vocal percussionist for the recording of their new album... so guess who they called? This is a very easy game, because I basically already told you. But what a thrill to be able to record with the Euphonics again. It's going to mean missing one of my Conservatory classes... but poop happens. And, if I say "I'm not going to be in class because I'll be recording an album" I think people will understand. If not, fornicate them. I'm really excited... but hesitant to not make a complete ass of myself. It's going to take some extra work on my part, as I'm probably a little rusty (even though I warm up for shows by doing a little vocal perc [it loosens up the mouth, what?]). Exciting!
Oh... also on Wednesday night I had my first forty. I drank it all by myself... and it tasted like poo water. And then I went wee wee wee all the way home.
Thursday: Saint Patrick's Day started with a trip to Hooters. Yeah, I went there to meet Adam, his roommate Chip, and their friend Dave. I know all those guys pretty well... so it was really fun. It was my first taste of green beer; which Chip said looked like green Kool Aid. It was Miller Lite... and I probably would have preferred it to be green Kool Aid, because that stuff is delicious and Miller Lite is not. We then consumed a heaping mound of "three mile island" wings. It was the second time I've had the huge fifty wing thing from Hooters. The first time was when I was still working out (remember when I looked good for a month? That was that)... and it was hard to eat the wings because they were all fattening and I was used to eating stuff that's good for you. This time... much easier to stomach the mound of fattening lard-covered "chicken" wings. Mmmm... lardy chicken.
Thursday night I had class. It wasn't as exciting and awesome as the first class... but I got my Fernando back, so that was happy. It's odd that, after only a few weeks with someone who makes you laugh, you can get some kind of chemical reaction to seeing them... like it releases happy endorphins because you know you're about to laugh. I described that terribly... but you get the point. It's like how I felt after a few weeks with Keith... whenever I see him, I know I'm going to have a good time and laugh. So it was good to see Fernando again. And I was able to hit on his roommate through him (she's just this girl I met once... she seemed nice). Regardless, I did something in class I've wanted to try for a long time, but didn't feel comfortable enough doing until this class: I did a scene with an Irish accent. I figured, "St. Patty's Day... what the hell?" right? I actually think I did a pretty good job. I watched Boondock Saints earlier in the day... and I was ready for the accent. The scene sucked... but that wasn't the accent's fault. And I might have even impressed a couple people in the class. Fair play to me!

Two Things. No, Wait, Three Things. No... ahh Hell. I'll Count When I'm Done
1. I stayed up until the sunrise today. Being unemployed has its advantages. One of the reasons I was up so late (I still haven't slept... the post time will be my bedtime), was to do some thinking about some things.
2. The other reason I'm up so late is that I was over at Adam's making some more 'music' for our band Music: The Band. It's a long story I don't want to tell now, but you can listen to two of our songs on MySpace here. Please don't think that we're taking our music making seriously... because then you'll be disappointed and you won't laugh at our songs like we do.
3. I didn't end up going to see Competitive Awesome tonight like I was going to (like I told them I was going to) because no one from my stupid writing five show would go with me. Can you believe that? I sent them two emails earlier... one two weeks ago and the other earlier this week... and no one wanted to go up to see the show with me. Talk about feeling unpopular. I mean, I let everyone know way in advance... it's just no one wanted to go with me. I thought these people were going to be my friends... but they're just co-workers, I guess.
4. I was right. It was just three things. Wait...

Ken's Visit Part III: Revenge of the Sith Lords Who Are Cloned and Really Pissed at The Jedi's Return
One thing I forgot to mention from my Improv class last week: we played ass tag. Ass tag is just like normal tag, except you have to use your ass to tag someone. This is very interesting with a class of a dozen in a very small space. But, the coolest part of ass tag was that Tim O'Malley said of me, after I 'fought off' three guys who were trying to team up to tag me, "This guy. This guy's crazy." And I thought to myself "Sweet! I'm crazy, even here!" I just thought that was awesome.
Saturday: Apparently the Saint Patrick's Day Parade is the Saturday before March 17, making it this past Saturday. Neither Ken nor I knew about it until we reached Michigan Avenue and were bombarded by people wearing ugly green hats, people wearing items with the Irish flag on it, and a general wave of green. Don't ask me how one can be bombarded by a wave... perhaps it only occurs on the very rare occasion that your narrator completely f--ks up his metaphor. What an idiot. Anyway, we were kind of upset (we = I)("I were"?)(Shut up) that we didn't know about the Parade going on. It would have been cool to just go down there and hang out at the parade. Maybe find me a nice Irish lass. That's not a typo... I was not trying to write "ass". I actually meant lass.
Right, so, when we realized that there was something very Irish going on, I wondered out loud if they had colored the river green yet. As we got closer, Ken responded in the affirmative and I looked up. I was astonished. Never before have I seen such a large area so GREEN... it was a brilliant green. I want to say I was blinded by it... but it was almost the opposite. I felt like I had finally seen something that I should have seen a long time ago. I made a couple calls to try to share it... but no luck. So Ken and I stood and shared it... and told ourselves that we'd bring cameras Sunday and take some pictures of it; and I silently cursed myself for not having the foresight to just bring my camera anyway.
After crossing the river, I spotted a Chipotle. Ken had never been... and I LOVE that place, so we went. When we got there, it was so packed that there were only two seats available, and they were the window seats. Ken and I quickly got over the fact that everyone walking from the parade was watching us eat... and we started playing around with it. We tried to become the unofficial spokesmen for Chipotle... and we made faces while eating to try to show everyone passing by that it was the greatest place ever. We even had one guy who specifically responded to us from outside, as if to say "Hey, are those good?" and we made the "Yeppers" face. We're clever. While we were sitting in the window, I spotted two ALBION people: Kat and Josh James. Kat had tried to get a hold of me on MySpace and I was kind of like "um... who?" But I was so surprised to see them walking around Chicago's downtown that I did the totally shocked "OMG!" face, and they came in to say hello. The conversation was brief and pleasant. Josh was in town to play at a bar up North and Kat was there for support. I remember Josh as being a little anal retentive about his music, but in the conversation, he was relaxed and groovy... which made me really happy to be able to see him and change my POV. And he seemed very supportive of me being in Chicago trying to do my acting thing here; so that's awesome. It was great to see them. And it was a great burrito. And it's time to move on.
After Chipotle, we moved to the real reason he dragged me into the downtown: The Art Institute Museum. We were trying to get as cultured as bacteria (stay with me, the jokes get worse). Ken and I started with a photography exhibit. It was incredible: beautiful, innovative, and interesting. It was by a Japanese photographer who uses hour-long exposures and flashlights/mirrors to create white spots on the film. So what you end up seeing is a beautiful landscape with white spots on it... but no photographer. He's moving fast enough to not be picked up by the camera. Fascinating. Then we moved to the impressionist paintings... enjoying them but feeling something not quite right. We were less in awe than we were supposed to be, I think. It's like, we were cultured, but not like yogurt. Heehee. Anyway, when we were looking at a Monet fruit painting I turned to Ken and spoke pretty loudly saying "This was from Monet's senior art class. His teacher gave him a still-life fruit assignment and this is what he painted. He received an A minus for this one." Turning back to the painting, contemplative; "A minus." And that seemed to open the flood gates. We got comfortable and tried making each other laugh while looking at some pretty famous paintings. There's something horrifically inappropriate about what we were doing... but it was so much fun! One of my favorites was the Van Gogh (?) haystacks. There are four paintings of basically the same haystack but in different times of the day and two of them have two haystacks. So I said that he was just trying to paint one haystack and, by the time he finished, it was night and the lighting had changed... so he had to paint it again (and so on). That made me laugh and laugh... and you had to be there. OH YEAH! Even though we were being inappropriate, there were people taking pictures of the paintings with their fucking picture phones. I had to stop myself from punching them in the head! That's just disrespectful! Ugh! It makes me sick to see technology used to bastardize great works of art. Yeah, Ken and I were mocking them... but only the content, not the artistry. You're now going to say there's no difference between what we were doing and what they were doing... and I'm going to let you know how wrong you continue to be. It must get tiring to be so wrong so often.
After being cultured like... (I'm stopping, I swear!) we went to the Virgin Megastore. Nothing juxtaposes fine art quite like the disgusting stench of capitalist commerce. We spent a very long time looking around at stuff and I finally settled on buying myself the Starsky and Hutch DVD, The Hudsucker Proxy (two DVDs for $25! It was a sale!!!) and Dane Cook's Harmful if Swallowed. A Traum got me into Dane Cook... Dane's young and he's pretty good: Raised Catholic, he's got a couple funny bits about going church when he was younger. He's good... and young enough to get better (which I think he has in the past few years).
After spending way too much money, we went back to my place and ordered some food from Garlic and Chili Healthy Thai cuisine. That's the thai place a block away from me... that doesn't look like it would be good from the outside, but it is really awesome food. Ken and I both got some chicken curry... and we ate it while watching old plays that we were in. Ken kept saying "I had hair! Look at my hair!" I commented that I was the only one in a suit in The Last Fisherman... I'm such a tight-ass.
And, the last thing we did Saturday night was play Brute Force. For those of you who have lives and don't know everything about video games like this dork *points to self*, Brute Force was supposed to help Microsoft build off the success of Halo. Brute Force is a squad-based, third-person shooter that was basically developed with the Halo fan in mind (and it even uses the exact same controls). Unfortunately, there are problems with BF... first of which being the atrocious writing and voice acting. Ken and I actually had a pretty good time making fun of it... but the acting is terrible which doesn't matter because the writing is so bad that even a good actor would have a tough time making it sound anything but ridiculous. Additionally, the rest of your team is useless. Ken and I seemed to figure the best strategy is to tell your teammates to stay put and then go ahead and kill some stuff. Regardless of the shortcomings of this game, we started playing through it two years ago, and finally sat down to finish it Saturday night. Ken seemed pretty pissed when we realized that we were only two levels from the end of the game. Not that I blame him... to have this unfinished game when you're so close to being done is irritating. *sigh* Our long journey finally came to a bloody and frustrating end Saturday night. Good for us.
Sunday: The first thing we did was head over to the Cheesecake Factory on Michigan Avenue. When we got there, we had to wait about half an hour for a table... telling each other that we think there's nothing immoral or unethical about stealing a table from someone... so long as you make sure to beat the crap out of that person first. That's a fair trade, I feel. But we did, eventually, get a table. Right up front by a window! Again! Two meals in two days. It wasn't as awesome as the last time, because there aren't a lot of people who walk past the Cheesecake Factory. You have to walk down some stairs to get there from the street. Regardless, our waiter sucked and our food was great.
After lunch, we headed to the Apple store on Michigan Avenue. Ken wanted to get an ipod to be even more trendy than he already is (I love ya, Kenny!). And, while we were there, I kept thinking about how awesome it would be to have an ipod for my trip to England. As such, while he was buying his ipod mini, I was coveting my own... thinking about how little I'd actually have to talk to people if I got an ipod. Although I just heard that I'm going to be with Bohne and Sadler for most of the trip... so I probably won't need to avoid talking to people. Although, have to really talked to Bohne? I mean REALLY? Heehee... I'm fun.
Then, as always happens, it was time to say good-bye. Ken and I are the masters of the anti-climatic good-bye, and this time was no different. I went with him to check in his bags... then we headed to the part of the airport where you have to have a ticket to get passed, and we were both like "Well. It was fun. See you again. Bye." And that's pretty much it. This good-bye was a lot easier for me to swallow than the last time he was here because I actually have friends and a life this time.
When taking the Orange-line back, I got a call from Miss Karen Green. We talked for a while until the voices were too much for her and she had to go. I refer to the voice of the dude who tells you which stop you're at... and not the voices in my head. If MY voices were what made her have to leave, that'd be really weird. I thought only I could hear those. All the time.

Happy St. Patrick's Day! (Ken's Visit part II)
Before I get too much into Ken's visit again, I feel I HAVE to link a story from MSNBC. They were, apparently, trying to find a better beer than Guinness for St. Patty's Day (or they were trying to find a Guinness substitute, or something). Basically the guy said that Guinness is as good as it gets for Irish-ness on March 17th. The real reason I linked to this story is that it shows a picture of the Chicago River as it was on Saturday... when I didn't get a picture. It is, honestly, a super-bright green... which almost blinds you when you first see it. It's amazing. At least click on the link and check out the picture.
Sidenote: I think if someone says "Eat my nutsack" it's okay to call their bluff. They are, basically, asking for it.
Also, before I get too much into Ken's visit again, I feel that I have to say something else about Saint Patrick's Day. I am annually quite upset by people who are NOT Irish in any way, shape, or form who say "Everyone's Irish on St. Patty's Day!" This is not true literally or figuratively... this is your excuse to get drunk and stay drunk for an entire day. Where were you when my ancestors built the roads, buildings, and subway tunnels of New York? Where were you when they were treated as less than dirt, not quite slaves but not quite citizens either? Where were you when I had to listen to my grandfather's Irish stories (Irish storytellers are long-winded [read: stories that are boring and very LONG])? You were none of those places... happy to say on that day that you were British or German or Swedish. So pardon me if I'm a little upset if you're going to claim to be Irish just so you can get drunk. And that's another thing... what other heritage has a holiday that has been bastardized to the point of being a day of drunkenness? You could claim Mardi Gras is no longer about being the day before Lent, and I would agree. Other than that, you'd be hard pressed to find a heritage that has the entire nation getting drunk and blaming you. *sigh* Silver lining... okay. Um... well, not many other ethnicities have holidays that are "just for them." In that respect, St. Patrick's Day is special... and I should stop focusing on the negative, and go out to Hooters with Adam and his roommates to eat wings and stare at attractive women in disgustingly small uniforms (when I say disgusting, I refer to the "bottoms" which would be hotter if they were volleyball shorts. I've already mentioned this... but I'm still right. The Hooters' "pants" show FAR TOO MUCH in an area that's difficult to keep looking good if you have a large chest [which is a pre-req for working there]). Besides, it seems like everyone wants to be Irish on St. Patrick's Day... so people are jealous of me and my hideous sideburns, right? Even though Patrick was a Brit. Makes no sense. Bastardized another holiday. Okay, time to move on.
Hey! Do you have any Irish in you? *pause* Do you want some more?
Back to Ken's Visit...
Thursday: We slept in late pretty late. It was past noon, if I remember correctly. And, when we woke up, it was just to play more Battlefront. Thursday flew by, it seems, and I can't even remember us getting food... we may have just eaten loot I had around the apartment.
Then, before I knew it, I had my first Conservatory level 1A class with Tim O'Malley. Let me say this: BEST.CLASS.EVER. Whereas Gellman looked at me as if I was an idiot, O'Malley used my improv TWICE in the night to demonstrate what I had done right. He also asked my opinion of something during a game, and agreed with me. And Gellman would do roll call and not really look up to notice the person who was responding; O'Malley, on the other hand, would stop in between people and say "Hi. I'm Tim. Nice to meet you John." I just felt really comfortable right away... and I think I did some pretty good stuff in class this week, too. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that Gellman wanted perfection--so I was constantly on guard, worried I'd do it "wrong"; but O'Malley said it's okay to "fuck up" and has such a laid back attitude that I feel comfortable trying new, different, and exciting things in class. I was in such a good mood after class... this semester is going to rock! (I hope)
After class, I came back to my apartment to find that Ken had showered and wanted to go out. "Okay", I thought, "why not?" We then headed to the Old Town Pub for a few pints. I'm not sure how many we had... maybe three each of Bass. Just enough to realize that the waitress wasn't attractive before but she was 'now' and that means it's time to go. Bass, by the way, tastes like beer... it does not mess around. Almost every light beer I've ever had tastes like someone pissed in some water and handed it to me. I think that's why beer is served cold... if it was room temperature, everyone would know that light beer is actually just piss.
Regardless, after three Bass, we headed back to my apartment to play more Battlefront. I'll call this portion of the trip 'Drunken' Battlefront, because we had some Jaeger and red bulls as well. And, for some reason, we were a lot better at the game when we were 'drunk'. Before we were getting 20 frags each... but, after alcohol, we were getting around 40 each. Our 'headshot' count went up too... it was like we had to concentrate so much just to make sure we didn't mess up that we were mowing people down. As we sobered up, our playing worsened... until we lost a couple matches to the computer and figured we should call it a night.
Friday: Afternoon (which was morning for us) we headed to the world famous Billy Goat Tavern on Lower Michigan Ave. I love that place because the burgers are great... but you have to come humble. Here's how my conversation went with the guy cooking the burgers: "Triple or Double?" he said, "Double." I replied, "Triple." he said back, "Triple." I decided. Yeah... you really can't choose what size you want there. It's seriously better to just go with the flow. Ken recalled that the same thing happened to him the last time we went... and then I remembered that I made him go first, saw what happened and that he looked like an ass, and made sure that I ordered a triple right away. That was last time... this time I looked like the ass. But it doesn't matter, the cook isn't going to remember us. And the burgers WERE very good. Quite good, indeed.
Before I knew it, it was time for my six o'clock call for Sweet Pumpkin Pie. *Deep sigh* Ahh... Opening night of the show. What could be more exciting? Oh, I don't know, perhaps if the theatre which claims to be capacity at 65 (it's hidden above a door, but it's there) had to pack in over 100 people. YES, my 7:30 PM Writing Five show, on opening night was PACKED! Absolutely PACKED! It was a pretty good opening night show, too. I broke during one of the scenes... so I should now be angry enough at myself to never break during this run again. I was so mad at myself for breaking. I haven't done it on stage here in Chicago (at least not during a sketch show... I'm still kind of crap during improv)(I'm not giving myself credit... I've maybe broken three times tops in all the improv shows I've done here... I'm just pissed at myself because it's so amateur).
After the show, I came out to find Ken and see what he thought. He seemed to have had a pretty good time. I then proceeded to introduce and forget to introduce him to almost everyone I knew there. I would introduce him to a few people... start talking to someone else, and forget that I hadn't introduced him to the new person yet. It happened more than I'd care to mention. After repeatedly making myself feel like a bad person and friend, we headed up to Bar Louie. This was Ken's first taste of my interaction with the people I'm working with... and I think he was interested to see how "funny people" interact with each other. Or maybe I was interested to see what he thought of what he was seeing. Or something like that. It was also an opportunity for Ken to see Kim and I interact. Yes, Kim. I think that Ken's reaction to the situation, afterwards, was something along the lines of "What the hell is she doing?" When she was "sober," she talked with me and flirted with me just like she did with everyone else. She's a flirt... but so am I. No big deal, right? But, after a few drinks, she was not really flirting with anyone else... and there was a lot of touching of the John going on. Ken doesn't get it either... and I certainly don't get it. I can't get the time of day from Sober!Kim, but Drunk!Kim thinks I'm hot to the max... and doesn't even try flirting with anyone else. I'm now convinced that she's not interested because I can't get her to say she's interested in doing anything with me while she's sober, while Ken thinks I should go for it because she IS in fact interested. Men ARE dumb... but y'all women are confusing.

Beware the Ides of March (and all that other loot that happened before it)!
I may actually have to post this in parts, as I haven't truly updated in a while. I've got some stuff from two weekends ago when I went to BR (which I might just skip), and I've got all this loot from Ken visiting and opening night of my show! I guess I'll just start typing and see how long it takes me.
First of all, let me say that, while I was preoccupied, my blog hit counter turned one year old! So, in one year, I've gotten over 8,000 hits... and I'm truly humbled whenever I think about how many people that is; and how often they come here just to read what I'm thinking.
Wednesday--In the morning, I went out to Midway on the Orange line to pick up Ken. The trip seemed to take a lot longer than I thought it would, but I was just worried about getting there to meet Ken on time. Turns out, I was early because Ken's flight was late. So I gave Mr. John Sellers the world's shortest "what's up with you?" call. I'm not joking... we talked for only maybe ten minutes. Then Ken's plane landed and it was time for me to find him. I called Ken (who had called me while I was on the phone with Sellers to tell me he had landed) and he said "I see you"... which instantly made me spin around in a paranoid circle, trying to cover all angles. He was behind me, headed to baggage claim. We exchange pleasantries (and man-hugs) and easily found his monstrosity of a green military travel bag. Then it was a hop, skip, and a jump to... about two feet away and we then had to walk back to the El stop.
Back into the city, we hit up Lou Malnati's pretty early in the evening and were treated to an almost completely empty dining area. No offense to everyone else on the planet, but I would just asoon have an entire dining room to myself and a guest than have to share it with other people. I guess I don't really share well with others. Or I hate having to listen to other people talk about mundane and meaningless poopy. People love the poopy. That should be a bumper sticker. Anyway, we had an amazing pizza and a great little talk about everything that's ever happened (freeing up the rest of his visit for video games).
But, before the video gaming could commence, I had Tech Rehearsal for Sweet Pumpkin Pie. It's going to be another show that feels like I'm on stage for the whole thing, even though I'm not in three or four scenes. It's just the way the scenes are spaced out, it seems like I don't get a break in the show until the show's almost over. I would now give you a Kim update... but there's nothing to tell. It was just a whole lotta business tonight. I did, however, get a pretty sweet trench coat for free. Joe Janes bought it for me because I needed an "over-sized" coat for one of the scenes. But, when I tried it on, it was not oversized for me. It was the right size for me. Joe said "It fits you!" all surprised when I put it on. I would have felt bad about being "big"... but I got a free trench coat, so fuck it! I hear the English wear trench coats, so I might even bring it over to England with me. I'm awesome.
So awesome, in fact, that I left rehearsal and headed back to my apartment to play Star Wars:Battlefront. Like I had previously figured, it became a game of who could get more "frags" (that's gamer talk for "kills"). Ken and I frequently got over 20 each... and often one of us would be over 40. I think Ken got the highest with like 68 or so after he hopped into an AT-AT and started blowing the Rebels back to Yavin 4. (*John goes into a horrifically dorky fit of laughter and then pushes up not one, but two pairs of glasses*) I'm such a nerd.

Something I Stole From Jean
A - AGE: 24
B - BAND LISTENED TO MOST RECENTLY: G. Love and Special Sauce
C- CRUSH: Currently? Kim, Lindsey Lohan, and I have an unhealthy man-crush on Brad Pitt.
D - DOG's NAME: I don't have a dog. But, if I did have a dog, I think I'd name him "Dog". I think that's hilarious.
E - EASIEST PERSON TO TALK TO: J. Dub
F - FAVORITE BAND: 311
G - GUMMY: I LOVE those cinnamon gummy bears. I could seriously eat like million of those.
H - HOMETOWN: I say "Big Rapids" when asked.
I - INSTRUMENT: The following are instruments I've playing in front of people (and I'm not just trying to add a whole bunch of things that are easy to play)--Trombone, guitar, vocal percussion, triangle, and cowbell
J - JUICE: Grape or Orange
K - KIDS: I'm going to treat this like the "Dog" question and give you a "what if." If I were to have a child (or children), I would name them like I was named--by the names of their grandparents on both sides. Classy.
L - LONGEST CAR RIDE: Las Vegas.
M - MOM'S NAME: Mary Joanne
N - NUMBER OF SIBLINGS: One
O - ONE WISH: That I could fly. Wait... is this supposed to be a nice, global wish to show that I'm a "good guy" and worth shagging? Um... then I wish that my flying could cure cancer.
P - PHOBIA(S): Honestly... I'm not sure what phobias I have anymore. I'm not really afraid of much, because I don't really feel like I have a lot to lose. *Idea* Oh yeah... I'm afraid of women. I forgot. So intimidating.
Q - QUOTE: "Women are like lottery tickets... some times you rub them the right way and get lucky, other times you waste money on them and feel stupid"
R - REASON TO SMILE: I can make someone's day two states away!
S - SEXIEST FEATURE: My eyes, and my unbelievably irresistible charm (humor me)
T - TIME YOU WAKE UP: Some time after the sun comes up, but BEFORE it goes back down.
U - UNKNOWN FACT ABOUT ME: As a teenager, I was so wrapped up in singing a song I made up while in the shower, that the shower lasted about 45 minutes. No, I was not doing anything gross... seriously, I was only singing that song over and over again.
V - VEGETABLE YOU HATE: um... ?
W - WORST HABIT(S): Destroying touching moments with inappropriate humor; Belittling the intelligence of intelligent people I really care about just to make myself feel better; Brutal honesty; Not flossing
X - X-RAYS YOU'VE HAD: Teeth (obviously), and my stomach when the hospital thought I might be internally bleeding after getting into a car accident in fifth grade.
Y - YUCKY FOOD: *shrug* I'm a single guy... I'll eat pretty much anything. Although, I do have trouble eating something that has a real strong rosemary flavor. I'm not a big rosemary fan.
Z - ZODIAC SIGN: Capricorn

"It's not a school a kid would bring a gun to"
I got an article off Fark about a boy who shot his hand when the GUN in his backpack, oops!, went off at school! Oh Columbus, Ohio... what a fun and liberal school system! The above is a quote from the article itself, and it reminded me (big time) of The Laramie Project. I'm sorry, Ms. Kim Bell, this IS the type of school someone would bring a gun to. It's time to start paying attention to the truth: any school is a school someone would bring a gun to. Let's figure out how to stop it.

PICTURE OF THE WEEK: I've been spending some time recently trying to figure out how I can take pictures and post them in one day. Thanks to Ken, I finally figured it out. This is the first picture of the week: Ken in front of the Chicago River which has been colored for St. Patrick's Day. He is saying, as I'm taking the picture, "This river is GREEN. It's GREEN!"
Posted by Hello

I Stole This From Feder (Where I Get Most Of My Ideas)
If you woke up and I was in bed with you, what would be your first thought?
(Now post this in your LJ/Blog and find out what mine would be.)

The Work And The Glory OPENS!... Oh yeah, and I've got a show that opens tonight, too... but whatever!
Am I allowed to be jealous yet? I think, the worst part is that I would be jealous, if I wasn't so damned excited to go see it. I guess I don't have to be jealous... I mean, it's not like he has a building named after himself.

About To Pick Up Ken...
I'm leaving to pick Ken up from Midway in less than an hour. And I know I just posted two things today because I was "behind," but expect a little more of my behind in the next few days. I doubt I'll actually get to posting anything while Ken is here... unless he wants to post something himself (which is likely... guest stars are ALWAYS welcome on this site). I'm totally excited! Five days of vegging out, doing nothing, playing video games, laughing, and inappropriately hitting on women. I'm not sure how this will be any different than what I normally do... but I guess Ken will be here too, thereby making it different.
And, before I go, I should say something about my Intro to TV and Film class last night. It sounds like I won't be writing much in that class. The whole class, get this, is a class on how to pitch. We're pitching show ideas, series ideas, and movie ideas... as if we were in a meeting, trying to pitch our ideas to the "big wigs." Last night, we watched an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond... broke it down scripturally (heehee... get it?), took a break, and then pitched an idea for a show. Mine was a poker game between Ray and Debra (after Debra learns that she is a expert poker player). Mary Scruggs, the instructor, thought we all did well... but she had a couple tips for me when I'm pitching. It was an interesting class... and I'm not sure if I'm into it or not. It was certainly interesting... but we'll see how useful it is in a few weeks. (I have to pitch an idea for Desperate Housewives in a couple weeks. I'm actually going to need to call my peeps for a rundown of the show before I pitch it. Stupid ABC!)

Wow... At Least I'm Not a Duck
Check out this article. It is creepy... and I'm not sure what I think about it. Perhaps there is some biological/evolutionary evidence for homosexuality being as natural as heterosexually? And, along the same lines, perhaps it's okay that I'm a necrophilic.
And, while I'm on that topic, let's talk about Sweet Pumpkin Pie rehearsal Monday night. Wait... um... nevermind, let's just keep moving ahead, away from whatever led me to divulge that secret. Monday night we had our rehearsal at the ComedySportz Theatre up on Halsted. I had never been up there, so I was (as I usually am) nervous and anxious about making sure I was there on time. When I got there, I almost ran into Kim and Chris who were heading out to get some water and snacks for rehearsal. We all walked to the Walgreens that was conveniently a block away, and then came back in time for rehearsal. Rehearsal was held on the third floor of ComedySportz... in what looked like a large office space with a small stage in the middle of it. It was very surreal... but who am I to judge? I'm just an actor.
During rehearsal, there's a scene where Rachel and I are husband and wife, but we don't go on stage until the end of the scene. So, historically, we stand out in the hallway and I bite her shoulder. You know, like I do. Well, also historically, Rachel gets me back. The first time I did it, she headbutted me, saying "I have brothers, I know how to headbutt." And the headbutting is awesome... she totally does it right and I get the wobbly knee thing going on. One time she headbutted me in the temple and I had a headache for about an hour. It's awesome! So now our thing is for me to bite her shoulder and her to headbutt me back... makes me laugh every time.
Gratuitous Kim Update: I think I might have missed the window. I think there was about a week when Kim was like "I like that John guy"... and I think that week was years ago. It was back in nineteen ninety never. Right. But, regardless, I think I've moved, in her mind, from "might want to date" to "creepy guy." I'm such a douche.
The Soy Milk experiment! Yeah, that's right. There was no transition (the rest of rehearsal was boring and rehearsal-like) AND I bought some soy milk because I was interested in trying it. As Lewis Black would say, "it's not milk... it's soy juice. Because there's no soy tittie, is there? But they call it soy milk because they couldn't sell soy juice. And that's because when you say soy juice, you actually start to gag." Regardless, soy juice is not that bad. It has a different consistency than milk but, once you get over that, it's pretty good. Soy milk... check it out! (also has tons of protein... good for growing bones like mine! *looks down* Oh shit, it's true! Sorry)
Yesterday morning, when I went out to deposit a check, I came back to find that I had a package waiting for me. My dad had ordered the third season of SCTV for me! I know have the first season and the third season. I wonder if the second season just hasn't arrived yet or if he forgot to order the second season or if he said to himself "the second season of every show ever is terrible!" My money is on the second option. At any rate, the third season includes a CD of audio from The Second City in Chicago and Toronto... it's just a collection of awesome scenes and, for the most part, you don't need to see them to think they're funny. Nice.
I also got an email from the woman from Cartoon Network Europe yesterday morning. I need to submit a writing sample and send my resume. I don't know what I'm going to send... but I'm thinking that I'll probably send my "SuperHeroMan" scene because it's full of absurdity and horrible puns. That's a cartoon, right? Yeah, that's what I thought.
The rest of yesterday afternoon was spent cleaning for Ken. I am constantly surprised how long cleaning takes. And, keep in mind, I'm half-assing it and cutting corners wherever I can. I'm a guy... I don't REALLY care if it's "clean," so long as it looks clean. So it could take a lot longer if I was actually doing it "right." Perhaps this is just another example of my perfectionism getting in the way of progress. Let me tell you, being a lazy perfectionist is the most hellish existence I could imagine. "Well... that looks good enough." *starts to leave* "Wait... no it's not." *fixes it a little more, but not enough that it's perfect* "Okay! That's good enough. Except for that little part on the side there." *spends the next three hours doing this* Perhaps one day I'll realize it takes a lot less time and effort to just do it the way I want it done in the first place. That day, however, is not today. And I'll just stick with my terrible habits of just doing enough that I can move on to something else I should have done better the first time I did it. Hey! I could be put in charge of highway construction. Flamingo! *shakes head* Nothing will ever be as good as zing. *sniffle* Oh zing! How I miss you... especially with my sights off and this strong headwind. *rimshot*