i hope this makes sense.

this is something i have been thinking about a lot over the past few months, and then i stopped worrying about, and then i remembered something i had forgotten. relearned something i had managed to unlearn. anyway.

 

emotional reaction and connection. long form improvisation requires this to a degree that's fairly astonishing. some acting techniques do teach that the only correct method in scripted acting is the calling up of genuine emotion in yourself.

 

improv is SO HARD because you do need to be able to react 'naturally' to everything that your scene partner is doing. and some people's natural reaction is to avoid, or argue or be passive aggressive... while that is REAL and NATURAL, such reactions are even more poisonous onstage than they are in regular life. i had (have) such a hard time with emotionally reacting because i don't do it very often; however exuberant and outgoing i am at times, i rarely have a geniune emotional interaction to someone. i might be touched by a story, or feel annoyed by some asshole thing they've said or done; but the actual interaction of emotions doesn't happen. or if it does, i do it really quickly and then distract them with a bunch of words afterwards.

 

i found myself struggling with this problem so consistently in improv that i hardly noticed it. it was EVERY problem, really. and while i have not overcome the problem (certainly not in my um... real life), i think it has become much LESS of a problem for me onstage. and only because i faked it. fake it till you make it. there is a great part of dustin hoffman's inside the actor's studio where he talks about how he worked himself up to flip out over the hot water in 'rain man'; and the emotion in that scene all came from his frustration and anger and rage at himself for not being able to feel those emotions authentically. so he took the emotion from somewhere else.

 

what does this mean in improv? i think it means that faking it works.  that you should fake it.  if you are a terrible or mediocre actor, you should absolutely still try to have an emotional reaction and let it show on your face and in your voice and body. 

 

i think it comes down to that decision to commit.

 

very recently, i think i have finally understood what i need to do in order to improve my improvising.  the vaguely frustrating thing is that it is something i have thought about in the abstract, and even given as a mental note to shows i tech or watch, and one which i KNOW intellectually is important, but which i, myself, have somehow managed to avoid applying to myself.  i don't want to get distracted by this, but what the fuck?  why do all lessons in my life seem to hover around my consciousness for a year before i actually pick up on them and apply them to myself?  i hope this means i am noticing a pattern and that i will get better at noticing lessons i should be learning sooner, in the future.

ANYWAY; i refuse to be distracted!

the lesson is commitment.  what i need to do, what i need to focus on forcing myself to do in every scene is COMMIT to whatever the scene or character is.  commitment and emotional integrity.  i had a scene in class a week or so ago where i made someone dr. mengele, i set us in holocaust-era germany; i mentioned lamps made from human skin and piles of gassed children's shoes.  NONE of those things are funny, and there is really no reason that scene should have worked.  physically, i did very little, except act a little distressed.  but i committed to my perspective, and i respected that stage and that premise.  the reason i harp on about this is that DURING that scene i felt myself desperately trying to distance from the terrible things i was setting up, but then another, wiser improv-trained part was like 'NO, if you back off now, it will suck.  if you 'pretend' or act sarcastically, it will suck.  STICK TO YOUR PERSPECTIVE AND COMMIT TO IT.'

i call my good reaction to that mengele scene 'improv wisdom', but i think that is dressing it up in fancier clothes than it deserves.  i straight up finally drilled this lesson into my thick skull because of a show i did where i was just an asshole, the whole time.  it was a castlemania! show, which i mention because it's a three person team.  it's way harder to be a snarky dick when there are only 3 people onstage.  the show was a frustrating one for me, since the only audience member was a drunk, back-talking barber from the place next door, and i just felt supremely uncommitted.  and then wondered why all my moves were stupid and unfunny.

 

in conclusion... KATEY.  QUIT BEING AN ASSHOLE AND COMMIT TO YOUR SCENES AND SCENE PARTNERS.  maybe that will work this time.

i should not be at work today

i feel physically terrible, it's disgusting outside, i accidentally overslept because i shut my alarm off while asleep (my alarm clock is across the room), i keep freaking out over nothing and now i am basically sobbing at my desk for no good reason.  i haven't even been watching one of the many, many internet videos that make me cry on a regular basis.  there are like tears built up like a damn behind my eyes.  

feelings are retarded.

um.  chilled out a little.  i think it might help if i were to actually.... you know... eat some lunch.

pheme

if i was still 'doing' sociology and pursuing it professionally, or at least seriously, i would write a paper on the sociology of fame.  must see if old roommate can get me access to potential papers on the subject.  

thanks again, stephen fry.

jk totally sick now

right now THE ILLNESS is staying confined to my throat area, which is good because it means i am at least mildly functional, and bad because it means i am on a soup/other hot liquids diet for the next few days.  good thing i stayed up making all the buffalo chicken dip for the week, right?!  grumble.  

the only sore throat stuff i have expired last may, which apparently means it's not as strong as it was.  bummer.  that's what i get for living alone and not in a household with lots of other people getting sick all the time.  i'll take it!

other stuff:

just read on neil gaiman's blog that there is an attempt brewing to essentially ban children from libraries in order to test all books everywhere for lead containment... which is crazy for a bunch of reasons, but primarily because publishers have tested all the components of books published and found them to contain miniscule amounts of lead, well below the allowable amounts.  also crazy because it's just another way to 'protect' our children from the dangers of books.  vomit.  here is a link to the original letter from a woman in the national library association.  i'll see what i can do to help this afternoon.

'stuff' implies plurality, but that is all i have.

NEARLY sick? how can you be NEARLY sick?

okay, i forced that one.

i am close to a cold. i haven't been sick in months and months; not since the summer at least (yay, leaving the cubicle farm!). however, tonight sitting at my new favorite starbucks (yay bond street! go eff yourself, 2nd ave and 9th st!), i started feeling achy and chesty, but tried to ignore such weakness by sitting next to the cold window so i could look at people walking by and admire the cobbley-ness of bond street. which was honestly fucking retarded since i take my glasses off to read, and sans glasses, the outside, at night, is a wash of indistinct, bundled forms and neon lights. oh well. regardless, it was stupid and i had to leave my jacket on. sidebar: i am getting really sick of feeling puffy and round for down-jacket-based reasons. self: please invest in a thinsulate-lined wool coat. anyway, as i plowed my way through the first sarah vowell book i've ever read (WHAT? how did i miss that memo?), i felt myself getting sicker and sicker.

then i went to trader joes and bought a preposterously heavy amount of food. i love bread!

oh no. it's a couple hours later. feel so much worse.

i had a crazy weekend. it was mostly crazy awesome though. <3 ny.

look up more

i have been gripped this week by another bout of deep numb depression (?); i was flying pretty high for a couple weeks, but attempting stridently to ignore it and not give in to the wildness my thoughts seemed capable of did not work, in the end, to avoid the inevitable (?) crash.  besides, if you ignore something, it's not happening, right psychology?

today i decided to walk over to my old, favorite, high quality but also cheap, chinese buffet.  the place, ho yip, is around the corner from my first job in new york, and i've been there off and on for almost three years now.  it was lovely out, and i was finally startled out of my reverie of dark thoughts (god i'm such an ASSHOLE... why do i suck so much... my legs hurt... why can't i feel anything?!? vast chasms of formless greyness are not what life is supposed to feel like... why are all my thoughts moving at 1/4 speed?  i am such and asshole) by the utter beauty of the interplay between new york buildings.  i wasn't even in a pretty part of town, but the stunning composition of the skyline; one turn of the century building's details paired against the strict background of an 80's glass monster set off by the art deco facade of a grand former bank... it was kind of breath-taking.  combined with the first day where the hope of spring was tangible in the air... i was feeling much better by the time i made my way back towards the soaring met life building that my office borders.

normally when i walk in the city, i look down and forward, like a good 'native'.  unless it's late and there's no one around, i rarely stop to admire the scenery.  or play games of 'take my glasses off and see how close i need to be to that sign before i can actually read it and not just guess what it says'* variety.  i don't pause and wonder, unless it is really late at night and i won't feel like people are assuming i am a tourist when staring open mouthed at the wonder all around us.  although most natives would probably assume only an out-of-towner would gape idiotically on 20th street at 3 am, so i'm probably not being any wiser.

so look up more, new york.  it is wondrous.

however, upon arriving at the chinese place, i found that they raised the price of the buffet by an additional $2 per pound.  ugh.  i loaded up regardless, i was there after all, and then got to the cashier only to find out that they ACTUAL cost of the buffet was an additional $1.50 above what was posted on the signs, so my supposedly economic splurge of the friediest foods i could imagine was a total bust in the money department.  

they put the plastic buffet containers in a plastic shopping bag, which i am always so worried about bursting open inside the bag and spilling all my chinese everywhere.  i wish their packaging was sturdy, like a subway sandwich.  if only subway didn't taste like white trash sadness and sugared, cheap bread, my concern for utility and practicality of design would be married to my desire for a delicious lunch.

i worry all the time.

*last night some lady almost started kicking my ass as i played that game in the union square station.  she started making a bee-line towards me (presumably to go to the downtown 4/5/6 track), so i changed my angle to miss her, she READJUSTED her trajectory so that she would still be intersecting with me, with the possible intention of getting me up against the wall (union square station), i yelled 'get the fuck out of my way, asshole!, right as she almost body checked me, and then kind of bolted past her before she could touch me, and she started screaming obscenities and inviting me to fight her.  it was an invitation i stridently ignored. once i got to the platform, i turned and looked so i could watch the stairs in case she decided to follow and put her case more forcefully.  she might've been attempting to mug me, which is the only reason i can think of that you would basically run a person against a wall like that.  not scary, but adrenaline-y.  my first instinct is to yell swearwords.  good to know.

well, that should work

if my worldview is, in any way, accurate, my glasses should be waiting for me when i get home.  i just tried to call www.zennioptical.com to see if they could 1) tell me when my glasses shipped and 2) what address i used to ship them to - i normally don't send packages to my apartment; it's not a doorman building and my mail slot is tiny - however, i ordered them at 10 pm on 1/2 so i might not have been thinking clearly and just shipped them to my house.

HOWEVER, no one was available to take my call.  and then i tried to leave a message and was informed that the mailbox was full.  grumble.

so...  what i am saying is, i want my damn glasses already.

WORST BLOG POST.

two thoughts, almost entirely unrelated to one another

1) hate the new starbucks cups.  the bottoms is all weird and crenallated and it seems less stable.  the new covers are SUPER stiff; which means they cut into your hand, cut the straw way more easily and worst of all, don't seal well so leaks seem impossible to avoid.  not a fan.

2)  i am sure at some point it was accurate, but the versions i played (including the super old set my mom had from the early 70s), the revolver in clue was never a revolver.  why did i just notice that now?  why did it occur to me while i was walking up lexington?  the world may never know.

AND THEN YOU WILL BLOG ABOUT IT.

what famous comedians do our friends remind us of?

we did this last night after class for a little while.

andrew yurman-glaser: vocal match with chris from family guy.

benjamin apple: gene wilder, but specifically as leo bloom from the producers.

adam bozarth: harold ramis

the kicker:

miles klee: michael palin

i think miles looks so much like sir palin that i was half convinced they were related when i took my first class with him.

others you all can think of?  i know there's a bunch.

also, when you eat a croissant out of a starbucks bag

when wearing a v-neck t-shirt under a wrap sweatshirt... you will get croissant down in what would be cleavage if you had cleavage.  and then you will have to awkwardly fish it out and then decide if you want to eat the crumbs or not.  you rationalize; it's not like it's dirty down there, it's clean skin.

and you're at work.

and you eat the crumbs anyway. 

AND THEN YOU WILL BLOG ABOUT IT.

whenever you email to complain about not receiving an item

an item that was supposedly shipped on 12/30, and it's now 1/21 and you suspect you will never ever get your fancy headphones back from the warranty returns... you will go home to see that they have arrived, and you will feel like an asshole.  but also you will suspect that there is a schroedinger's law of packages, which states that all packages shipped by USPS exist in an indeterminate, undeliverable state that is only resolved when someone sends a bitchy email about it, and the package either appears spontaneously in your mailbox, or lonely and alone, way behind the steps of the main delivery bay of the tennessee / east coast mail hub, never to be grasped by human hands again.

AND THEN YOU WILL BLOG ABOUT IT.

crashed again

i am trying so hard to be rational about this. and think of things to be thankful for; the one i thought of on the slow, tortuous walk to the train tonight was: 'at least i am not a repairman for giant clocks on buildings'.

.

just totally numb?

it will be better tomorrow.

this sucks.

it's uh... music time.

ah sneeze.

been doing stand up more often lately. which is great. i am finally feeling energized by it again. not that i have felt particularly off or weird about it, but it's been a long time since i have felt really enthused about pursuing it personally. i've inferred that i now feel enthused based on the fact that i thought that it would be nice to do some more shows tonight, as opposed to what i normally think about stand up, which is 1) basically not a lot or 2) 'gah, a fleeting jealousy at people who are funnier / better than me!'. stand up is a craft that i am interested in, and it's fun. that's all i have to say about it, i guess. gonna keep werkin at it.

here is a portion from an old blogpost i never finished and posted. since my brain can't be bothered to think of something new tonight:

STORIES
i think i have maybe told a really good story maybe once in my life. ever. this is mostly because i tend to ramble and get distracted by something that WILL become a relevant point later in the story if everyone would just keep listening and paying attention... oh hey were are you going? oh wendy's, sweet i want to try their new $1 spicy chicken sandwich it looks great. oh man have you had one of those quizno's sammies yet? they look PERFECT but my friend said they were pathetically small.

see? i would totally do that in real life. a pretty good story that might be awesome if i were to tell it well, ruined by the fact that i am a distractable social moth. also, and slightly more important, is my lack of good stories. i am generally a huge coward, and have never done that CRAZY thing that makes great stand up stories work, because instead of pushing the guy in the restaurant for being a sexist dick, i sit and fume about it and vent later to my sister. and instead of attempting a series of hilarious hi-jinks in order to get the last tampon from the dispenser in my office bathroom, i carefully fold a bunch of toilet paper over and go to duane reade as soon as i can manage it. i tend to pick the boring route. most of my good stories result in being in the right place at the right time, and that's it.


shit i am exhausted. i don't even have enough energy to think of an ending to this story. good night, internet. time for massive and thorough asleepness!

the lorelei

i have a show tonight at 8 pm at the parkside lounge, and if i do say so myself, it's an awesome line up. KROMPF, oscarbait, will hines and ari voukydis doing stand up sets, and um... me doing stand up / hosting stuff! this show is going to be great, i am super excited for it.

i am frustrated with my hair. i don't know why it's so different this time around, it's basically the same cut i got in june. but somehow exactly wrong. plan on seeing me futz with it constantly for the next 2 months.

it sounds like the people upstairs have turned into elephants. they keep stomping around and dropping stuff. i hope it's a 'fun' stomping and not a 'fight' stomping. i seriously cannot tell.

no bites on craigslist yet. this sucks.

going to do my hair. and figure out what to wear.

day off tomorrow. i am... so glad.

my cat seems to find the scent of the back of my hand intruiging. weirdo.

well don't look at me.

we live in strange, rariefied times.  i just wrote a sentence to a person across town, asserting that the elevator told me that it was 16 degrees outside, and i believed it.

i am so ready for this week to be over.

i have started and subsequently not finished two big improv posts this week, i promise to try to complete them coherently and post them up already.

i've been listening to a bunch of albums lately.  like songs in their intended order and format.  LPs; why did i ever abandon you for the playlist?  oh because you are a reasonable length and i like listening obsessively to the same songs over and over again.

jesse falcon and tara copeland are back on harold night.  my head is bursting from all the awesomeness.

thank you, robot show tonight at 10:30, featuring KROMPF and WILDER.  it's going to be so fucking awesome.

the lorelei is sunday; a totally bad ass line up as well: KROMPF, OSCARBAIT, WILL HINES, ARI VOUKYDIS and me, katey healy-wurzburg.  three of us will be telling jokes.  can't wait.  8 pm, parkside lounge, 1/18 FREE.

i have monday off.  i was warned in a corporate email that i could have monday off, but only if i promised to think about MLK Jr. while i was not at work.  that will happen, i promise, corporate email system.  monday night, instead of class, the time capsule is getting together for a night of trivia and snacks and probably drinking.  and hopefully werewolf.  the class is... SUPER fun.  i am so thrilled about our form.  i think it's going to be really successful and fun.

i need a roommate still.  i don't want to spam craigslist, but i am not getting any nibbles from there yet.  ugh.

i have 3 different things i am waiting for from the post office and they haven't come in yet.  i am annoyed by this, federal government!

clarity and crystalization (and octopi and parrots, later)

so many times we have thoughts about the behavior or intentions of others. they can be passing or excessive thoughts, but i find that mine never become real until i speak them aloud or type them to share on the internets. there are even, occasionally, thoughts i didn't know i had until sitting at a computer screen or being pressed on some subject at a dinner table. the act of sharing somehow crystalizes that thought; makes it clear even as it flattens it out and scrapes off the extra bits and tangential sub-thoughts and prepares clever snippet for delivery to someone else via communication.

there are a few conversations that i replay over and over in my head until i forget the other player in the conversation, and i can only guess that it was probably whit or sean or whoever, because they would be the kind of person to have that opinion. they are never life-changing or even particularly passionate arguments. just exchanges that i remember the echos of, presumably forever. reminds me of a passage from something i read once, where the main character was afraid that some terrible curse word or phrase she had thought was burrowing into her neural pathways, never to be de-entrenched, and that when she was left an aged,  wobbling head propped between two wobbling tent poles of brittle arms, that all she would be know to repeat was 'FUCKING ASS-CUNTS!' over and over and over until oblivion, left only with that one repeating phrase.

i am fairly obsessed with language. not in learning new ones, which i find generally to be tiresome rote memorization, which i am terrible at, but rather languages themselves; HOW what we use to communicate influences what we do end up communicating. english is a language with a dizzying array of words and synonyms. english also lacks a formal royal society of language (present in both spanish and french and probably a ton more), which means we can invent as many words as we want and no one can tell us that we are wrong for doing so. it's a language that has reached every corner of the map, and a language that's been assailed by several others over its longish history; an adaptive, rich, relatively simple language, but strangely free from the confines of arbitrary, bureaucratic rules of use; a pint, not a decaliter of language.  i am sort of obsessed with it, in an amateur butterfly specialist kind of way.  

one of the important differences between human language and the way that most animals communicate is explained by categorizing the kinds of communication systems they use.  human language is an open system; certain combinations of sound stand for certain things and ideas, but they can be combined in any number of different ways to explain NEW ideas, on the fly.  in a closed system of communication, a sounds stands for one thing.  ideas are exchanged (LION! FLEE!) but they cannot be combined to explain greater or more complex ideas.  that is, as far as researchers can tell.  there is some evidence that certain cephalopods are capable of understanding and using language, and that the large parrots can use true language as well as a 2 or 3 year old human child.  this might mean we should stop teaching them, unless we want to be attacked by a coordinated uprising of beaked, 8-tentacled flying tropical monsters.  it's also possible that other creatures use true language in the wild and we just haven't noticed yet.  i leave you with this:

"What songs I want to play at my funeral"

i dunno, chris, what songs do you want to play at your funeral? we've never discussed it. HA!  aren't i clever, misinterpreting your question that way!  ha ha ha i am GRAND!  personally, i am a fan of really intensely emotional songs OR solid pop singles with a good hook. so i would suggest 'halloween' by the dave matthews band from the recently EP. your family would especially love the 'TELL ME ARE YOU SATISFIED WITH FUCKING?! / DON'T WALK AWAY! DON'T WALK AWAY I'M TALKING TO YOU, LOVEY-DOVE!!' refrain.  

hmmm, i wrote that back in july. totally dumb.  however, halloween is an awesome song though. whoa, it just came up on my itunes. fuck yeah, well played itunes.  2 points to you, apple.  here is my real response, added sometime in october i think.  not sure why i never actually posted it, but here you are now, internets!  i have kind of a lot of stuff in my drafts that i never finished writing for this place.  i probably should.  most of it i hate though.  

to address your question seriously, i think i would have green gloves by the national, #34 by the dave matthews band, and then... something that everyone needs to get up and dance and sing to... i think under pressure by bowie and queen fits the requirements of being fucking badass, grandiose enough to sing to really hard, and well known enough that everyone should know at least the choruses. chori?

otherwise, i'd like to funeral to be somewhat upbeat, but people need closure and time to grieve. i think many people in the 'upbeat funeral' cultures tend to not actually deal with the death of a loved one. it's often true in the irish tradition, anyway. so it should be a party, but not a very FUN party.

not in a church or a religious ceremony, obviously. my mom might be hurt by that, but i dunno. she can have her own funeral and run it ANY WAY SHE WANTS.

drunken goat cheese

yes! it's really good. try it. it's an aged, firm goat cheese that comes waxed. and it is delicious. not quite as sharp as cheddar, but it has a really nice flavor nonetheless.

it's fairly expensive though. i bought a wedge for like 5 dollars last night. however, i was at the houston whole-y-fuck-more-like-'expensive'-foods.

sorry. try the cheese though.

a post a post look it's a post

sorry, internet, i've been elsewhere in my thoughts recently.

fear. i need to write about fear. it's holding me back a great deal. i don't think it is a lack of confidence, which is a kind of fear, but rather a true, profound fear that is holding me back and causing me to react negatively and pull asshole shit onstage and off. that is improv specific. the thing i need to work on with stand up is mostly just slowing down and saying things more deliberately. i have conversational down, a little more polish wouldn't hurt. and i am not eddie izzard, i don't get an hour and half to ramble on. and i wouldn't wear heels do it, either.

okay switching to strictly british comedian updates, away from any thoughts about my insecurities or short-comings, i am watching youtube clips of QI, the british quiz show hosted by stephen fry. i absolutely adore it, and was going to post about it anyway because it has the ability to almost instantly lift and improve my mood, which has been inching steadily towards the dangerously black for the last few days - however, stephen just directly quoted 'the restaurant at the end of the universe' in a question and i teared up a little. that NEVER happens on american television. i think this means i must move to london.

also, they swear a lot. <3

wikipedia!

it's nice to feel justified in wikipedia article hopping. i am reading about marie curie. fascinating!

a friend's status message reminded me about the dismemberment plan, which means i am now listening to emergency & i and it's great!

long post coming up whenever i can finish it.

i feel like i am having an allergy attack, but it's been for like 2 days straight, which is weird. i definitely don't feel like i have a cold. and my eyes are itchy, which is usually straight allergies. i got some chlortrimeton (the best allergy medicine) so i should stop pussy-footing around and just use it. or at least put it in my bag so i have it if i want to use it.

i want to go up to the sacred paper goods closet and steal some lotiony tissues, but i have a stack of brown paper napkins at my desk that i should use up.

worst update ever? polls say yes.

nearly maximum exhaustion levels, captain

i have a busy month coming in january. i've already had the first of my two installments of the lorelei (!); booking them is often a struggle for me, and then the actual shows themselves are usually pretty stressful. this last one was less so though; i tried to relax about the jokes i was writing (aka planning on writing... okay wrote while walking from the train to the venue) and did one riff entirely off the cuff, which was nice. and the show on the 18th is almost totally booked, possibly. so less stress, right? hopefully.

in january, i have class two nights a week this whole month. monday and wednesday. i was exhausted by the thought of it ON monday. and the necessary hanging-out-afterwards time. and harold night (8-12:30ish). and i intern on thursdays from 6 until nearly 11. and then there's cagematch after that.... oh no.

wait! friday! free, lovely friday! no. i am going to a historical society. and then probably seeing a show and going out to celebrate a night when i CAN go out. well i can do my laundry and regain my sanity on saturday then, right? oh wait, no, i have to ride the train sans pants on saturday. well saturday night then! no, i am doing stand up at a show besides my own... okay fine... sunday. sunday works.

living for sunday.

oh shit i need a roommate still. fuck. and a place to live come may. and my tub is leaking and my fire alarm was found by me in two pieces on the floor when i came home from my winter holidays break. and i dropped my ipod nearly onto the train tracks the other night when it fell out of my pocket. i nearly lost it. thank goodness for my crazy-protective ipod case.

and i haven't been to sleep before 3 am once this week.

enough manufactured stress for one post. i leave you with this, fans of 'the office': http://princessunicorndoll.com/legend.shtml
thanks, neil.

um UGH

one of my favorite things about my job is the bathrooms. the regular bathrooms are really nice; great soap, good size, good light, actually kept clean (at my old job, none of those things were true). however, there is also a private, handicapped accessible, genderless bathroom on every floor for available for private pooping, dancing, just making weird noises for no reason and/or just moaning. anyway, it's awesome. however, today as i lifted my pants up after partaking in the private bathroom awesomeness, i felt something WET... there had been some it-better-have-been-water on the floor and somehow a fold of my pants had been... dipped into it. FUCK. THAT. ewwwww yuck yuck yuck. i have class tonight, and no time to change, and these are my default 'nice' jeans. damn it. and i don't have time to do laundry until FRIDAY night so it looks like i will be operating on a minus 1 jeans default until then. bummer.

a thing i hate myself for: having the same thought as everyone else about something. does that not make sense? i dunno. here's an example: we have a giant glass bottle of listerine in the bathroom. it's not really a bottle, it's a tank. a 3 gallon tank of listerine. sometime in early october, it ran out and wasn't replaced. i silently took it as a sign of the economic downturn. however, right before our holiday party, the giant listerine tank returned. i thought to myself 'ha! looks like the depression is over!' in a tongue-in-cheek, sardonic manner. while at the holiday party, talking to some of my co-workers, someone mentioned the listerine tank, and immediately two people went 'omg looks like the depression is over! omglollol!11'... and i felt like an asshole. i'm presenting my thoughts onstage as a comedian, and yet i had the same damn, stupid quip as two random people? unacceptable, right? what the fuck gives me the right to go on a stage and hold a microphone and dispense my thoughts like some kind of expert when two assholes off the street had the same exact thought as me? and said it quicker in the conversation? i am being both overdramatic and an 'i'm so smart'- elist, but my skin does crawl when this happens. i kind of hate all my stupid jokes for that reason. i still tell some of them, generally because they get a good reaction, but a little more of my soul dies every time i do. sigh. i am out of my mind.

regardless, i had a fun show last night! yay! three GREAT duos, dc pierson rocked the jokes and a hobbled together team of nearly veteran improvisers closed the show and brought the house down. i like that 'my' generation of people in the improv community are getting to the point where they can play with anyone and still have a ton of fun onstage. we aren't clinging to our established teams, stuck firmly to whatever identity or 'character' we play with that team. i mean, to be fair, any group that has as many spontaneous improv jams as we do will rapidly get over issues with playing with new people, but i felt the need to make the point anyway. the point being is that we are pretty fucking awesome.

the lorelei can be super fucking fun. last month, when it wasn't fun, i was in a funk for a week. and i call it a funk, but that's being fairly blase about it. it's fucking awful when it's bad. but when it's great... it's the greatest feeling. everyone in the performing arts should see 'the wrestler'. anyway, the show is moving to twice a month, so on january 18th, anyone in the area can come see me do it again! and ideally have written more jokes for it!

okay. new class starts tonight. i am fucking PSYCHED. we managed to figure out like 70% of the people in the class in roughly 2 days, so i am partially just excited to see the ones we didn't figure out. but like 90% of my excitement is in having joe wengert as a teacher again. i haven't had him since i was in 301, which feels like it was roughly 20 years ago, and i am thrilled to have the experience again. he's my favorite teacher!

yay comedy!

excessive blogging will recommence tomorrow at 9 am

but i need to post this really quickly before i veg out for a bit: 12 ounces of muenster cheese is 6.99 at whole foods. SEVEN DOLLARS. PRE-POST-ER-OUS.

fun show tonight! but now i need to go eat some hugely expensive cheese sandwiches, CHECKYALATER.

allergies suck

my immune system seems to be rebelling on behalf of my 'secret' anxiety to never leave my home or comfort zone. i had some allergy symptoms while in maine, which is kind of ridiculous, because it's fucking the middle of winter and there can't be that much difference in the indoor allergens in my grandparent's house and a rental home and the allergens in my big, east harlem, not all that clean, OLD townhouse in new york. not to mention a disgusting, definitely mildewy basement in chelsea. and now i am in new jersey, and it's the same damn thing. my eyes are itchy as hell, and i've taken benadryl, which i hope explains my near-catatonic stupor right now. sure, it's 3:30 in the morning, but that is barely late for me. i've had the equivalent of like one drink. this is miserable.

i can't tell if it is getting colder in here, or if i just am not moving enough to generate a base level of reasonable body temperature.

also someone took my ipod off, which i fucking HATE. oh SHIT you gotta be KIDDING me, nick drake is on THIS playlist and it's fine, but on MY playlist, it's like the WORST music you've ever heard? suck my cock. fuck. that.

party was pretty fun last night. i had too much champagne and cookies. i was also 'informed' by someone: "you are very pretty and you seem nice, but you are [such a mean person], you'd be so great (drunken incoherence) [why do you have to make my dick sad because if you were a nice, good girl i would want to get my dick wet in your holes]. to which i reply: because i fucking want to. i will be 'me' on my terms, all the time. also, if you think saying things like that is 'charmingly frank' and not 'totally fucking rude', i will continue to verbally eviscerate you at every SLIGHTEST provacation. that is a general, all-inclusive 'you'.

i think my hip is arthritic. that's overdramatic, but it hurts like hell and has for like 4 days.

happy new year, internet.