11-01-2002 01:13 PM
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Kick Her Legs, Kick Her Down

Halloween was largely uneventful for me, but I did get the chance to drink a few beers with Michael McFee and gang at Linda’s. I was there long enough to see the first vestiges of the Franklin St. celebration… people beginning to wander in as pirates, clowns, vampires, and unnamed accident victims.

Franklin St. is the main drag in Chapel Hill, and every year at Halloween, the police shut it off and the entire town comes out in costume. It’s really quite amazing– it’s this amazing, drunken spectacle that’s about as close as you get to Mardi Gras in North Carolina. There’s a tremendous amount of goodwill, though occasionally, you’ll see spats between people who had the same costume idea and apparently thought no one else should be allowed to be dressed as the Men in Black. For the most part, however, it’s the one night of the year that everyone really wants to check everyone else out. Lots of videocameras. Loads of great group costumes, some of which took oodles of planning.

My fondest Halloween memory was my sophomore year in college. Patrick O’Shaughnessey came by the dorm uncostumed, and I had not really prepared much of anything, but an 11th hour stroke of inspiration led to the 20-minute creation of my finest costume ever– a paper towel dispenser. That was assloads of fun, because everyone on Franklin St. wanted to play with the costume until I finally ran out of paper towels. At that point, I felt lonely and used, knowing that I had been nothing more than an opportune passerby able to assist in the cleanup of spilled beer.

It was freaking great.

Bryan and I met for dinner, then went by Circuit City, where I managed to find a $70 Ultimate TV system (god bless the open box), so I will have UTV real damn soon. As soon as I get up on the roof to mount the dish. Kickass. I’ll never miss As the World Turns again!

11-03-2002 12:12 AM
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It’s Not My Fault That You Lost Your Way

More dollar theater action:

City By the Sea was a complete surprise. I made the point to Heidi that Robert DeNiro doesn’t do sucky movies, as a rule. (She pointed out that I hadn’t seen Showtime, and then I made a point of remembering Meet the Parents, so maybe it’s a general rule with some glaring exceptions.) I never saw any sort of press on City By the Sea, so I just kind of assumed that it had tanked for a reason, but I couldn’t quite figure out what that reason would be. A little sloppily sentimental, but so was Traffic, and that got the Hollywood blowjob.

Men in Black II was 94 minutes of really enjoyable, disposable entertainment that will sell a lot of DVDs.

I am currently enjoying a completely responsibility-free day.

11-03-2002 09:59 PM
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If I Need a Superhero, I Think I Know Just Who I’d Turn To

Bryan and I have been adventuring around the house to try to get DirectTV and UltimateTV set up. The savings incurred on the $70 open-box receiver were offset soemwhat by the $120 worth of new tools required to do the job. Among the tools: a nice fishing line, a set of butterfly drill bits, a mat knife, and some screws. In all fairness, I guess the whole $120 also covered some putty, a rake, some grass seed, and a putty knife.

We’ve been on the roof, where we discovered the cause and perhaps fixed the leak and cleaned the nieghbor’s gutters before mounting the dish. We’ve been in the attic, which I had never before visited despite living here over a year. It’s pretty attic-like– lots of insulation everywhere. We’ve cut two holes in the walls– one in each of our closets. We discovered that the first hole was a mistake.

So, we’ve been at it for seven hours and no DirectTV yet, but I suppose we’ll get it and I will have more mechanical know-how than I had before. To be frank, Bryan is doing 9/10 of the work, since he’s good at it and has little patience for my hesitance and slow speed as I learn. So I’m doing a lot of watching as he tears through my house. Which is cool. I buy the tools, he does the labor. Seems fair.

11-04-2002 03:34 PM
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I’m Feeling Turbulence No One Else Sees

Today is one of those days that you dream about in the dead of winter. The trees are orange and red and brown and seem to be falling asleep peacefully. The sun is flirting behind several clouds. There are squirrels everywhere; it’s as if they were born today and will be gone tomorrow, so they’re out enjoying each other and everything they find in their paths.

Beans sent an e-mail to the group, quitting Destroy All Monsters because her family situation has just been too hectic. I’m guessing it’s partially that Eric is working so hard with the seminary and they are still in the process of moving into a new house, but the e-mail felt like it was leaving something out. I need to talk to her before moving forward on D.A.M. I suspect that the group is done at this point, which is OK. We’ve had a really good time in our short existence and I’m really proud of the direction longform is taking in Raleigh. It definitely feels like another tie being severed, and I am finding myself without mooring.

I’m strangely OK with that, too. Journaling has been difficult the past few days, because I don’t know enough of how I feel to be very contemplative. I suppose I should find out– I keep thinking that I’ll discover it, that I’ll get really upset or really determined or really something, but I don’t.

It’s almost like how I imagine flying should feel. It’s like I’m easing my way through cracks between difficult, upsetting masses, passing through woe like I might through the space where the sun shines between two clouds. Just barely escaping affect. It’s pleasant enough in the moment; I just don’t know if it’s a sign that I am on the right path or the wrong one.

11-05-2002 12:33 PM
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Days Go By and Still I Think of You

After Heidi and I had been dating for a very short while, I appeared in the Hall of Ex-Boyfriends, and it was alarming. I don’t know what triggered this thought as I was zipping through a cluttered day, trying to get my ducks in a row to go to Kansas City with Ben Moser.

The Hall of Ex-Boyfriends was something Rebecca would not have countenanced. She believed, when we were dating, that all traces of any previous relationship should be obliterated. She would rifle though my shit and then be very upset when she found old letters from Meg or old pictures of Caroline in my top drawer, where they have been probably since I received them. That I still spoke to ex-girlfriends like Claire or Caroline was unimaginable and cause for the utmost jealousy, despite the fact that several weeks after we began dating, she was staying at John Shadle’s house, pet-sitting.

I actually discovered the Hall of Ex-Boyfriends before I was a current boyfriend, so it’s not like I have ever had any real reason to be threatened by it. I think it’s nice to keep some mementoes of the people who have shaped us and really touched us deeply. And I don’t particularly get jealous of anyone in the Hall. I never have, even when I was time-sharing with Brian. I’ll admit that this is an odd phenomenon for me, because I have always been jealous and suspicious and untrusting. It’s been beaten into me by a couple of shitty cheating experiences since puberty and probably by a horde of other factors in my childhood that I can’t even identify. So it’s been pleasant that I’ve had such a non-adversarial relationship with the Hall of Ex-Boyfriends.

But I was distressed the day I found myself in it.

Let me clarify: Heidi has never referred to the Hall as such, and I am not so sure that I have even used that name with her. Maybe once. But the Hall is just one of those pictureframes where you can cram in a bunch of photos of different sizes, and Heidi has set up little sections for each ex-boyfriend. The ones that she’s still pissed at have smaller sections, the ones that she has really made her peace with have larger corners and larger photos. And she’s usually smiling in those photos.

When we’d been dating a few weeks and it was looking like we were going to be together a while– you know, that point at which you’re certain that you’re crazy about someone so you try to start doing some of the little things that imply togetherness: leaving toothbrushes and deodorant in each others’ houses, programming each other on speed dial in the cell phone, saving the silly notes that you’ve left each other– when we got to that point, I entered the Hall. I got the top-left-hand corner, which had previously belonged to Brian, the guy who was current when I entered the picture. And Brian was gone.

I told Heidi that I wasn’t yet ready to enter that distinguished company, and Brian assumed his rightful place in the top left-hand corner again in a day or two. I told her why, too– I wasn’t yet ready to be one of the Ex-Boyfriends. I was too busy enjoying being one of the current boyfriends.

There aren’t too many pictures of me with Heidi. I guess we don’t scream, “Photograph us!” I have two, taken at the same time, framed in my house… one in the bedroom, one in the foyer. And while I had long since cleaned out all the old photographs of everyone that came before Heidi (and I did the cleaning before Heidi and I rediscovered each other), I find myself displaying them as I stumble across them. Caroline is on my mantelpiece, Meg is in one of the wall-frames.

I may re-enter the Hall when Heidi retires my jersey. I’m not really scared about that; we’ll break up when we move apart, or when it stops being fun, or whenever it’s time to break up. But I am, for now, certain that I deserve my own frame.

11-07-2002 07:32 PM
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Hardly Be Aware That You Were Breaking

So, I’m hanging out in Linda Williams’ living room in Kansas City right now. World Series of Comedy = kick ass so far.

We rolled in mid-day yesterday and vegged out here, then headed over to ComedyCity. Linda had thought that she was going to have to cancel her workshops because of a remote show, so Ben and I taught them for her.

We missed the KC alumni show while teaching the class, but we caught the “Best of KC Improv” show, which was two of ComedyCity’s competitors. I think the name of the first one was Improvabilities… they did all shortform games, very formulaic and directly out of the ComedySportz playbook. Full Frontal Improv did Asaf’s Hyperlinks format, which they had just learned seven weeks before at the Memphis Comedy Festival. For a team that’s just started working on longform, they were really tight.

Much drinking at Caddyshack afterwards. Most excellent.

I played a remote with KC this morning for a boatload of seventh graders. Had much fun on a team with JaredBru from the IRC, who is supercool. Nothing noteworthy about the show, though we did a question and answer session with the kids after the show, which was not something I had ever done before. It was like this lame version of Inside the Actor’s Studio.

I think my hangover started to go away at about 3:30. I took a nap at about 4:00.

Now we’re watching Saving Silverman and preparing to head back to the club.

Eeeeeeeeee! Fun!

11-11-2002 02:49 PM
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This is a Song Without Words

Well, so much for the grandiose thought that I would be able to journal more at the World Series of Comedy. After I wrote that last entry, Ben and I did six hours of workshops, saw three or four shows, and played in like six shows. I got to play all-star-type shows with Pat Quigley, Mike Eserkaln, and Ken Goltz from Green Bay, Gary Kramer from San Diego, and my great pal Beth Melewski, who has burned the phrase “ridonkulous” into my poor brain. And we got to play with Zachie!

The trip was a real ego boost on a number of levels, mainly because I re-discovered how much I enjoy shortform when I let myself play for nothing but the fun of playing. The shows where I was representing Raleigh weren’t as much fun as the ones where I was just hanging out on a team of players that I don’t play with often and felt like I could just fuck around with. As the weekend went on, I found myself more able to enjoy watching the shortform shows, too.

Arthur Bryant’s is definitely better than Gates. That’s some amazing barbeque.

The Negro Leagues Baseball Museum is an amazing facility and any baseball fan should go there. It’s an unreal story. You can walk around all day and forget that our country was once segregated… it’s so easy to forget the recent history of our country. Your jaw sort of drops when you realize just how fucked-up America was just recently.

It was nice to get home, though, since I slept only sparingly and started to feel sick again. I was coughing up huge pieces of phlegm this morning and I feel hot all the time, but I am guessing that I’m just doing a slight relapse into last week’s sickness rather than cultivating a new one. So much for taking care of myself.

11-12-2002 03:50 PM
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My Big Drum On Your Big Face

It’s dark outside right now, and it’s only 3:40. It’s been a drizzly day, the kind of day that makes you wonder if the sun is even out there. Hard not to be a little depressed on days like this– even in the summer, when it’s pouring down, you have this sense that just outside the atmosphere, everything is bright. No such luck in wintertime. You start thinking that the surface world is all there is, and that if there’s a God out there, he or she has taken off for a smoke break.

I am listening to the 2-CD mix that Erik Tanouye made for Dan Kois and then copied for me. It’s making the day bearable. The songs I already knew, I love. The songs I didn’t know are, by and large, wonderful. I hope Erik listens to the Connells. I think he’d be a fan.

I drove to Greenville yesterday afternoon so that I could coach Corey Brown’s team at ECU. It is super to see Corey pouring all of his energy into bringing improv to Greenville, where it has not previously had a foothold. I’m amazed that not every college campus has an improv team floating around. Of course, I’m also amazed that everyone in the world hasn’t ventured out to see an improv show, and then I remember that my dad has never been despite the fact that I’ve spent the better part of 12 years inviting him to improv shows. Of course, I like to think that 99% of the world is less socially retarded than my dad. But the truth is probably somewhere in the 60% range for a variety of sad reasons.

11-13-2002 11:18 PM
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Beads of Sweat Dripping Down on the Rent Check

I went to the doctor this morning, hoping to better understand why I have recently coughed up several things that resemble red beans in both color and consistency. I’d not been to family practice in over a year, which I don’t think is a testament to my health but rather a stunning endorsement for my own sloth. My records were out of date, so I was asked to fill out the typical stuff—address, occupation, family history of diabetes, heart disease, and gout.

It’s difficult to know exactly what to put in a small blank for “Occupation.” I no longer know how to succinctly say what it is that I do when people ask. I’m uncomfortable giving my title, which I think is stuffy and overbearing, because I sound like a choad walking around trumpeting the word “director” of anything outside the theater. Much of what I actually do has boiled down to sales in the past few months, but I know that I’m not really in sales, I’m in education. It’s a fiendish mix of media specialist, salesman, programmer, consultant, and systems analysis, so I mostly end up going back to my roots and saying something like “I’m in computers.” For this particular form, I just entered “TECH GEEK” and didn’t think much about it.

When the resident (crap, I don’t know exactly what you call the folks who are stuck doing the crapwork like taking blood pressure and height and weight in a family practice. I’m reasonably certain that they’re in some stage of med school and they’re doing some sort of rounds, and that’s why they’re stuck taking temperatures and pulses when they’d most certainly rather be doing something more interesting.) came in, she got a chuckle out of “TECH GEEK.” Then I told her about the fact that I was coughing up red beans, and the chuckles were done.

After she left, as I stood leafing through the only magazine in the exam room (it was “Parenting,” so I looked at the hot toys that build motor skills for like 20 minutes and thought, “I wonder if my life would be different had I had more motor-skills-building bath toys”), another resident poked her head in the room. At least, I assume she too was a resident; she was too young to be a doctor, I surmised, and was wearing the scrubs. No one wears the scrubs at family practice except the residents. Or whatever they’re called.

“Tech geek,” she said. “I love it.” She was Indian, and had a thick gold nose ring, not something I’d seen on medical staff before.

“Thanks,” I said. “It beats trying to tell people what I really do.”

“It’s funny,” she said.

“You should try it,” I said.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Don’t you ever want to tell people you’re a medical diva when they ask what you do?” I tried to think of some other funny way to describe being a doctor in just a few words, but every other option sounded like something out of D & D.

She laughed. “No, I hadn’t thought of that. I just say ‘med student.’ But the only people who ever ask that kind of thing are doctors.”

I started to cough and could feel myself working up another mysterious red bean. It was at that point that it dawned on me how little fun it must be to spend the whole day talking to people who don’t feel very good.

I’m now in a hotel room in Concord, NC, watching the Kings play the Warriors. I just watched Adonal Foyle take at least 13 steps and jump up and down twice without dribbling the ball, and he was not called for traveling. I have nothing against Foyle, but I think the NBA sucks hard.

11-20-2002 11:20 PM
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I Will Come Back, I Will Come Back

I am finally spending some time at home after another one of those long-ass weeks. I have chosen to spend this delicious time alone watching Gilmore Girls episodes that I have saved on Ultimate TV. I love technology. Magnificent!

Recounting a dream, and you’re getting the short version:

[dream] Ben Moser and I are trapped in a large mansion, bunking out and talking about leaving town. We venture into the jungle to find the train station, only to find that we have missed the last train back home. I tell Ben I’m going to go running. I begin running through the jungle. After a while, I feel the need to take off my orange button-down workshirt and khaki shorts, though apparently I have other clothes on because at no point in the dream am I naked. I continue to run, and get to the beach.

So I start thinking that it’s time to get the clothes and head back to the mansion, but cannot find them in the jungle. At either end of the jungle is beach, but I can’t find the clothes anywhere in the jungle. I get to the beach on the other end, and two kids ask me why I’m so bewildered. They tell me that the clothes are in a tree, and help me get them down.

They invite me into their beachside house, which has a patio that hangs directly over the ocean where a bunch of kids are swimming. Sweet Tom from the office is the kids’ father, and while I’m there, Ben and our pal Marian come in. Marian is yelling that we should know that her father is “the president of the fucking United States.”

Good ole William Jefferson Clinton rolls in with a buzz cut to meet everyone and tell offhanded jokes while drinking coffee. Tom goes to the porch and begins to yell to the young swimmers that they should come meet the president. I quickly run out, usher him back inside, and tell him that Clinton won’t waste his time talking to a bunch of kids.

“Maybe if it was a historically black college, but not a bunch of kids,” Clinton says. [/dream]

11-21-2002 12:06 AM
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Kinda Always Knew I’d End Up Your Ex-Girlfriend

I spent Monday night listing CDs on half.com. Already sold four of them, including a $15 pre-order for a disc I got for free and never opened. I made the jump and listed one of my Body Count CDs with “Cop Killer.” (Only $50, cheap!)

Heidi and I talked on the phone, and she was all worked up about this survery that her friend had sent her. It was a quiz, one of those “See how well you know me things.” A friend of hers had missed some questions that she thought would be easy. So I said, “Well, I could take this quiz.”

So, she sent me a link, with the warning that she made it with friends from Europe and college in mind, and that it didn’t really reflect everything she has going on now. I missed two questions… one about countries she had NOT been to, and one about which continents her ex-boyfriends were from.

No biggie, until I look at the only person who scored better than I did. Brian. 9 out of 10. The most recent member of the Hall of Ex-Boyfriends.

And then there it was, for every other one of her friends to see: Current boyfriend doesn’t know girl as well as ex-boyfriend. Well, fuck. Fuckity McFuckfuck.

You know, I don’t begrudge Heidi her ex-boyfriends and I don’t feel intimidated or threatened that she still keeps up with most of them. I don’t want her to forget them, and while I don’t want to share a pictureframe with them just yet, I am glad that she keeps her past close to her present. I think that’s healthy.

But I felt like shit when I saw my name in rankings for “who knows Heidi the best.” And Brian’s the #1 slot. And I don’t. That’s a fucking terrible feeling.

I’m over it now. Like 99% over it, at least.

A few facts from the first episode of Golden Girls:
• Rose, Dorothy, and Coco the Gay Housekeeper originally lived with Blanche in her house.
• Sophia supposedly had a stroke that crippled her ability to censor herself. This was how they explained that she was a crabby old lady.
• Rose reveals that she correctly predicted the death of Indira Ghandi.
• Estelle Getty’s makeup hadn’t quite been finalized. Her appearance changes pretty dramatically between the pilot and the end of the first season.
• Coco’s departure is never explained… the network had him written out.
• Sophia leaves Shady Acres because it burns down. In later episodes, Dorothy threatens to take her back to Shady Pines (where she goes in “Empty Nest”).

11-21-2002 10:08 AM
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Tomorrow Is Close But Will It Ever Come?

So, how awesome is it that Charlie Todd is on a Harold team? Proof positive that hard work and being a nice guy will pay off for you. I think it fucking rocks.

I’m really jealous of Charlie and Anthony and everyone in NYC right this moment. I coached On the Spot yesterday, and they’re getting a lot better. We’ve almost ramped up to full Harolds– I expect that we will get there during the next practice. But I do wish I could take them all to a Harold night at UCB. Crap, even if I couldn’t take them, I wish I could be going to Harold nights.

I slept on the couch again last night, this time without provocation. (I did it two nights ago because I was fidgety and Heidi was over; didn’t want to keep her up.) I know a lot of people for whom this is pretty regular behavior. But it wasn’t like I fell asleep in front of the TV, I actually went upstairs around 12:20 and got an alarm clock to bring downstairs so I could sleep on the couch.

We got a call this morning from a facilitator who wants access to her students’ e-mail… she thinks the student has been up to the naughties in there! Juicy!

11-21-2002 05:11 PM
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I’m Gonna Figure Out What’s Mine

Yesterday, I received this:

To: ross@unc.edu
From: “Cupid”
Subject: Someone has a crush on you!

Believe it! You have a secret admirer!

Just click to http://www.SomeoneLikesYou.com to find out who!

How flattering. I suspect Bill Cochran.

I’m not going to e-mail your address in so that we can make a match and be sweethearts. Do you hear me, Cochran?

11-22-2002 12:17 PM
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Hello, I’ve Waited Here for You Everlong

Another review in Salon.com– Foo Fighters this time. I’m about as happy with the final edit as I am going to get… at least I am not embarassed that my name is on this one.

I’m listening to the mix Erik Tanouye made for Dan, and I get stumped by hearing someone covering “Cactus” by the Pixies. Somehow, I failed to realize on previous listens that it was indeed David Bowie doing the cover. How cool is David Bowie?

11-23-2002 05:38 PM
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Ecstasy and Alcohol

Played a real loose show at THE ZYGOTE last night with a group that consisted of Zach Ward, Jin Kim, Bill Cochran, Ben Piner, me, and one guy that I’ve met like nine times and I still can’t remember his name. It was a really loose, fun time, with some moments of absolute perfection and some moments of slovenly inattention to detail.

Of note was that Andrew Dunkle was there and he’s really keen to get going on a Harold team. He, Larry Larr and I discussed putting something together in the not-too-distant future if we can find an area coach that knows the Harold reasonably well. I want to be coached really badly. Greg Hohn’s name came up, so that would be fantastic if it happened.

On the Spot did their first full Harold today, and it went pretty well. Sort of out of the blue, they busted into a blues jam for one of their group games, a game that we had practiced, but not one I ever thought they would pull out at that moment. It’s cool to watch some of the lightbulbs coming on; they’re taking the risks and really looking for ways to surprise and push themselves. It was perhaps the best practice they’ve had yet.

11-25-2002 09:11 PM
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Of All of My Mistakes, I Think I Lent You Late

An unfortunate side-effect of my resumed TV-watching is that I wonder why anyone should care that Harley Earle has come back to build me a perfect car. F- Harley Earle in the eye.

I’m in Asheville tonight, finished with day one of a two-day workshop. Once again, I’m the only male in the room, but in a pleasant shocker, I’m not the youngest in the room by ten years! Whoo-hah!

I got a speeding ticket last night near Kernersville– 80 in a 65. So that’s a big stinkerpuff. Maybe I would not have been pulled if I’d let Harley Earle build me a sweet-ass car.

11-27-2002 10:35 AM
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It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue

Someone has hacked our e-mail server at work. Telltale signs:

1. All of the women in the office got e-mail from Chris Andrews saying he would like to take them to dinner. While odd, this isn’t exactly something I would have considered implausible. But the spelling was so messed up that I can’t suspect Chris.

2. Everyone’s Notes client is popping up messages in German.

3. General sysadmin panic.

I recognize the horror of a compromised password, but I have to say that I find it funny. I’m sure that there are more sinister things waiting to happen to us, that the mysterious German hacker who targeted an innocuous NC website has laid virtual landmines that may include things like adding our names to porn spamlists (guess what… they’re already there!) or German edits to the NC-specific content on our website!

On my Laffy Taffy today, the joke was “Which garden has the most vegetables?” The answer: “Flash Garden.” I don’t even come close to getting it. I’m assuming it’s a Flash Gordon joke instead of a Flesh Garden joke. If anyone would care to PM me and enlighten me, I would be much obliged.

Driving home last night, I began thinking that if I could chew the same piece of Bubble Yum throughout the entire Furslide CD, it would be my greatest accomplishment of the day. I was doing great, despite the fact that the gum had gotten old and my jaw hurt a little, until in a fugue-like state, I rolled down the window and toosed the gum during the bonus track. Totally unconscious. During the bonus track! I was so close! How lame was that, ?

So, I can safely say that I accomplished jack shit.

11-28-2002 10:05 PM
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Kick Start My Rock and Roll Heart

I just got a little more than half of my Christmas shopping done using online shopping. God bless not having to go to stores, which I find loathsome and detestable.

Thanksgiving is quiet. I spent most of the day focused on keeping the fire rocking, since it was more fun to do that than to listen to my sister complain about my mother. We deep-fried the turkey this year, which was supposed to produce a much tastier bird, but in fact produced a turkey that tasted like every other turkey. We did the ceremonial posing for pictures, none of which came out well since we were backlit, and played a little Cranium. Heidi and I were around the board twice before Mom and Mary had managed to get near finishing for the first time; we all agreed to a ten-minute break and they never came back. Ho hum.

Having Heidi with my family makes things seem a little more… family-like, I guess. I warned her beforehand that I would just attempt to sleep, watch football, and read my book (The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay), all of which I did. I warned her beforehand that I would be very little company, as Thanksgiving is a day that I prefer to spend half-comatose, and I was true to that word as well. And she took it all in stride, though right now she is watching The Divine Secrets of Ya-Ya Sisterhood with the rest of the family, which has me worried about her mental fortitude.