le git a mit

good news.
we sent out a sales team devised of the most skilled salesmen among the five of us cupholders to peddle our dvd in local independent record stores. it went amazingly well and we're now sold by the following lovely merchants. Reckless Records, Lauries Planet of Sound, Graham Crackers Comics, Dr. Wax, and Hard Boiled Records all in Chicago. I'm really happy about this cuz it makes us look extremely legitimate. now we can tell people which sweet record stores carry our product.
we're going to be going around to places in austin as well, so the list should be updated soon, but check out their web sites and their stores if you're in the area.

occ: fg

b

Choose Bud's Ambulance

The next time you've got a sucking chest wound, insist on only the best.
BUD'S
I didn't know you had options when choosing an ambulatory care specialist.
And why would you want a guy named Bud looking after your sucking chest?
I prefer a David or a Martin. Someone who sounds like they went to school for something other than driving a big ole truck.

b

finals, baby

made it to the finals. we had a good match with a father-son dup who might have had a chance to squash us pretty bad had they been in practice a little more.
finals are sunday. weatherman says it will be 100 degrees and humid with a high wind advisory. great tennis weather if you're a lizard with a sail for a neck.
[he looks like he's about to fall and doing everything in his power to stay up.]
so keep your eyes on that draw. oh, and by the way, sports illustrated is going to be there taking pictures sunday. i could end up in Sports Illustrated. Wouldn't that be the weirdest thing all month?

keep it clean,
b

caution: very little comedy herein

tuesday i worked my temp promo job which consists of me basically handing out flyers in character for six hours a day for far too much compensation. kind of like all the years i've handed out flyers for an improv show except for the compensation part. the kicker is, the six hours are split because we're trying to focus on people who drive in the city. so, we do three hours in the morning rush hour and three in the late afternoon rush.
tuesday i did the early shift which means i had to be at work downtown at 6:30 am. i got about four hours of sleep because as you may be able to tell by the time most of these posts happen, i'm a bit of a night owl. came home after the early shift and went to bed for a super siesta. well, i must have not dreamt that much the night before because my brain was chock full of dreams. it was the most intense four hour period of dreaming i may have ever experienced. i woke briefly after each one and remember thinking, "wow, that was cool, i wonder what'll happen if i go back to sleep."
the first dream had me living in a new apartment with my real-life roommate and doubles partner (see below.) we were told the apartment was a two bedroom but once we got the keys and the landlord left we went to take a look at the apartment, which apparently we hadn't done yet. so i find this secret passage that leads to more rooms and eventually to a huge bedroom decorated all fancy and a glowing fireplace. i look across an atrium to the kitchen and then panning over i see a kid's bedroom full of stuffed animals. now, i was never that fond of stuffed animals as a youngin but for some reason this really interested me. so i went back into the hall to find the room and from the hallway i could see all kinds of different fur and plastic eyeballs looking into the kid's room. as i got closer one of them came alive and growled, standing to full scary safari cat hieght. then an older man screamed at me to get out of his house so i ran back to the apartment. then i woke up and went back to sleep for dream two.

this one was not as long but involved me carrying a stop sign still on the pole upstream through some kind of river. i was having a real tough time and i kept accidently spinning the pole under water so that the sign would catch the current and pull me back down stream. someone was off in a little side pool by the river yelling at me that it wasn't that hard and that i should just get there. i kept trying but i couldn't make it. then i woke up.

dream three took place over a longer period of time. like i think maybe several months. it was me living in a tightly packed diverse neighborhood with lots of different people and cultures. i think i was living with bill again and maybe one other person. there is an hispanic family living upstairs and off to the left of us in our apartment complex. occasionally i would see their small son running around in the grass just outside our apartment. i feel like he was around five years old maybe. i spent a lot of time on the steps with friends. lots of time passes and i guess i convince myself in the dream of a lot of backstory cuz it felt like i had all of this knowledge reaching back pretty far. everything felt familiar and real. real genuine and comfortable. like i had spent lots of nights out on the steps drinking beers with buddies and watching him run around the yard, which is weird because i hate beer. just a general feel of home. it's hard to describe i guess. anyway, one day the family comes out all dressed in black and we learn from the mother who doesn't speak any english that the boy has died. she's crying like crazy and the family is too. they file into a bunch of black cars and the mother lingers. she comes up to me sitting on the steps in the usual spot and shows me a book. it's black and small like an address book. she's crying and spitting out spanish phrases about something. she flips it past a few pages and i realize there are pictures of everyone the boy knew in the book. she stops at a page with a picture of me sitting on the steps and she points at it. there is some typewritten english in a paragraph next to my picture and as i read it i burst into tears. i can't for the life of me remember what it said and it's been driving me crazy for two days but it was something about how he loved to see me and felt safe when i was outside watching him play. i just cried and cried. it was at this point that i realized i was dreaming and about to wake up. as i was waking i wondered if i would be crying when i woke up. eventually i realized that i wasn't and it amazed me that i could be crying so ridiculously hard in the dream and then wake up to be totally fine.

i don't know if i believe that you dream about things that are metaphors for your current life situation. what i do know is that the brain is highly mysterious and unpredictable. however, it would make sense that things you're thinking about while going to sleep would inform your dreams. it is all the same stream of thought after all. if that's true, then i'd like to play along and analyze my dreams a bit.
i think the first one is about me coming through some kind of crappy passage (Chicago or breaking into the business in general) into a cushy, wealthy living situation (success as a performer) but still having problems (psychotic stuffed animals.)
the second one may be a bit more obvious. i think that one is about how i feel like i'm banging my head against a wall or, to put it career-wise, a ceiling here in Chicago. i can't get anywhere with anything i do. i'm just always slipping downstream slowly carrying this burden that is, quite ironically, a sign telling me to stop.
the third one is more of a mystery to me. i don't know of any situation in the real world that might trigger that narrative and those intense feelings. actually, it just occured to me that i had a childhood friend and neighbor die when we were both very young (7 years old.) i remember his parents and sister going to the hospital one morning as i got in the car with my mom. my mom talked to them and when she came back to the car, she said he wasn't doing well and was probably going to die today. we were on our way to church and i remember saying that i would pray for him. those who know me well know how that turned out. i think that might be the link although i haven't thought about dennis in a really long time.

but who's to say that dreams mean anything, right?

b

fixed

they have fixed the draw. stern-lamb shall train today with giant hampster balls.
those poor hampsters.

[SALUTATION TRUNCATED]

NO, it can't be true, we won, see.You can't do this to us. see.

we won our first doubles match. The combo of stern-lamb was too much to handle for our opponents, lost in a whirlwind of lucky shots and fortunate net court play. yes, we took our opening match in straight sets (6-4, 6-4) catapulting us into the semi-finals where we appear to face some sort of Dennehy combo team. Now, whether they rock a father-son gimmick or come at us with the time-worn twin brother combo, they better be ready. you'll notice from the web site that it appears we were ousted. INCORRECT. I demand reparations.
sans hype, we played pretty well. we're definitely better than we played and they gave us a bit of a tough time with big spinning serves and powerful yet, to be fair, inconsistent groundstrokes. after the match one of our opponents informed us that we'll probably win the tournament and they were probably our toughest obstacle. pressures on, eh?

good news from hotitemz, the cupholder's new online store which just opened yesterday. sales are up a gajillion percent from where they were just last week and we're really moving some product. check it out. mike's futon is still available.

tomorrow, i train for the most intense doubles match of my life.
oh, improv is still sweet. more on that later. moron is right....

b

up and running

it's up and running. the cupholder online store. where you can buy things. things like the new DVD, a fantastic t-shirt. things like mike's futon. i hope this brings in a bit of super low overhead income. it's a beautiful world where you can do a bunch of work for three days to get the site up and make money randomly as long as people are still going there and buying stuff.

in another world, there's the issue of our van safari improv show that will be happening during the week of improv in weird places. an idea i admittedly am stealing from myself, something well hung jury has done before, it should be pretty spectacular and this time with the added bonus of being a driving tour through the improviser's natural habitat; Chicago. We'll pick up ten audience members into our touring van, which will have the seats removed for maximum roomage. a video will play from the flip down monitor we have in the van describing the tour, and giving words of caution about the wild improviser in both english and spanish. we'll then embark on a prearranged path to find improvisers in the wilds of the city of Chicago. As the tour guide, it will be my job to spot them through whatever disguise they might be projecting, rouse them into a respectable improviser state and force them to do improv in their natural habitat. we're planning on enlisting the help of some other improv people in chicago, making our cast larger and helping to spread the sord about the whole week in general. if we can get some sweet big names (you know regionally speaking,) we could really do some damage with this one.
the show is by reservation only because of the size constraints in the van and we're planning on doing however many 45 shows we need to to get through the whole audience.
we're also doing the only publicity we've ever and probably will ever do in chicago for the cupholders. i just ordered 2500 postcards which will be distributed widely and we're going to put some calls into the reader who may be looking for something a little more interesting than just another show in between four walls.

let's cross them fingers.
go to the store and buy something.

the b goes on

going to AIN

i'm going to the AIN (Applied Improv Network) Conference in September although I'll admit I don't know exactly what's going to happen at it. I know it's a bunch of improv nerds hanging out talking about improv and that it's geared toward corporate training. should be a fun and EXPENSIVE three days.

so, in my search to find a sweet site for the next run of cupholder press photos (soon a foursome) i came across something that was buried deep in the recesses of my brain. CADILLAC RANCH. I was vaguely familiar with it, the concept, the imagery. but i checked it out and it looks like a great place to do the next run of photos. it's in stupid amarillo, TX so it's a bit of a pilgrimmage but totally worth it if we can do some sweet graffiti on the cars for our pictures.

also looking for info about the ranch i discovered TJ CASEY
all i can say is AWESOME.
okay, i can also say RADICAL.
and, YES, THANK GOD THIS EXISTS!!!!!!

ok, that's enough. tennis practice tomorrow at 1pm sharp.
b

That bein said, he has more tour dates than the cupholders . . . hmmmm.

i am a tennis star

Doubles Competitors

I am an official USTA competitor in TennisFest 2005. I'm playing doubles with Bill (Mr. Footspeed) Stern. Once we play on Monday??? You'll be able to follow our progress, if that kind of thing interests you. I'm looking at you, parents.
I'll update with the pertinent info when the time is right. I even might have a couple practice and match photos once this is all over.
I bought a new racquet today for Christmas. It has Roger Federer on the cover. That's how I knew it was the one for me. Who can resist those sweet, Swiss, Wimbledon Three-peat eyes?
And it was the cheapest racquet in the store.

improv link of the day

tonight i dream of a european man named roger.
b

Many people were very angry...

anybody can write history:
from a web site.

"Bastille Day is a National holiday in France. It is very much like Independence Day in the United States because it is a celebration of the beginning of a new form of government.

At one time in France, kings and queens ruled. Many people were very angry with the decisions made by the kings and queens.

The Bastille was a prison in France that the kings and queens often used to lock up the people that did not agree with their decisions. To many, it was a symbol of all the bad things done by the kings and queens. So, on July 14, 1789, a large number of French citizens gathered together and stormed the Bastille.

Just as the people in the United States celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence as the beginning of the American Revolution, so the people in France celebrate the storming of the Bastille as the beginning of the French Revolution. Both Revolutions brought great changes. Kings and queens no longer rule. The people rule themselves and make their own decisions."


HA.
b

suck

luther vandross is dead.

knowing this, anyone who can make it through their next listen of this song without crying is a cold, unfeeling alien.
ok, if it doesn't make you cry, it should at least make you shake your head.

Dance With My Father

Back when I was a child,
before life removed all the innocence,
My father would lift me high,
and dance with my mother and me and then,
Spin me around 'til I fell asleep.
Then up the stairs he would carry me,
And I knew for sure I was loved.

If I could get another chance,
another walk, another dance with him,
I'd play a song that would never, ever end,
How I'd love, love, love,
To dance with my father again.

When I and my mother would disagree,
To get my way, I would run from her to him,
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me,
Then finally make me do just what my mama said.
Later that night when I was asleep,
He left a dollar under my sheet.
Never dreamed that he would be gone from me.

If I could steal one final glance,
one final step, one final dance with him,
I'd play a song that would never, ever end.
'Cause I'd love, love, love,
To dance with my father again.

Sometimes I'd listen outside her door,
And I'd hear how my mother cried for him.
I pray for her even more than me.
I pray for her even more than me.

I know I'm praying for much too much,
But could you send back the only man she loved?
I know you don't do it usually,
But dear Lord she's dying,
To dance with my father again.

Every night I fall asleep and this is all I ever dream.


damn,
b
listen to it here: luthervandross

one more dayton class tid bit

here is one of the sentence at a time stories that a group of three students wrote in my teenage class in dayton. to clarify, they each wrote one sentence at a time passing the paper in a circle between them.

here she is:
Once upon a time, Mr. String Cheese wanted to be an egg. So Mr. String Cheese went to an egg farm. There he did nothing. And then he decided that was boring, and did something. That something was take over Eggland. He took out a cheese string and used it as a sword. The eggs attacked and ate Mr. String Cheese's brain even though it didn't work because he doesn't have a brain. . . because he's cheese. Bubbles rose from his eyes and turned to cheddar. Then Darth Vader came and killed him.

Would it be unethical to adapt this to a screenplay and shop it around in Hollywood?

keep your brain open,
b

some stupid things stick with you

so i went to a training session today for a promotional gig in downtown chicago and who should be there to train but the girl i asked to marry me over email. i've mentioned it a couple of times on this here blog but the stupidity and comedy rife within it bears repeating. i saw this girl perform a couple improv shows and was toying around with the notion of skipping the slow courting process with someone and going strait for the big marriage having never even spoken to her and knowing almost nothing about her. she was obviously blindsided by the whole thing and we exchanged a few awkward semi-flirty emails. eventually it faded away and i would see her around town in social improv situations. i never talked to her and i was pretty sure she wanted to have nothing to do with me, for obvious reasons.
so the group is seated in the conference room while the trainer goes over the specifics of the training. He tells us we'll be in groups of two out on the street promoting the product. I'm thinking how emabarassed i would be if we were paired up to work six hours a day. he announces her and then announces me as the substitute for their pairing. oh, boy. what are the odds, right? so it comes to the point in the meeting when we're supposed to exchange contact info with the people in our groups. i told her i owe her an apology. the whole thing was ironed out and i feel much better about the situation. it just reminded me that some of the stupid things you've done in your past follow you around for a while, continuing to show you how stupid you've been.

that is all,
b

i was tagged

my friend, shannon at empty collection, has tagged me with this book survey. here are my answers.

Number of Books That You Own: somewhere around 30. actually, i'm going to go count for comedy's sake. 46. 41 if you don't count yearbooks. i'm not much of a reader.

Last Book Bought: Lost in the Funhouse by Bill Zehme. A choppy, poorly written biography about Andy Kaufman that I'm having trouble sticking to.

Five Books that mean a lot to me: How to Talk Dirty and Influence People by Lenny Bruce, 1984 by George Orwell, Andy Kaufman Revealed by Bob Zmuda, America by The Daily Show, and Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein.

I guess it's kind of obvious what I'm interested in. I almost never read and most of these books have been completed while on the john or in the van on a long road trip. i never choose to read. i only read when there's nothing else i could be doing besides crapping or sitting. or both.

i should do this for music instead.

Number of Albums You Own: Somewhere around 400. when i was in high school i had a booklet of 100 cds stolen out of my car. that was a tragic, tragic day for me. i've repurchased a lot of those but some were pretty much irreplacable.

Last Album Bought: I hadn't purchased anything in a long time due to low fundage. so, with my shiny tax return i went to my favorite record store in austin and splurged. i got Here Come the Choppers by Loudon Wainwright III, Tougher Than Leather by Willie Nelson, To Record Only Water for Ten Days by John Frusciante, Chicago Country Legends by The Sundowners, The Very Best of Kris Kristofferson by Tool, and The Soft Bulletin by The Flaming Lips. Most of which were used so it wasn't too expensive.

Five Albums that mean a lot to me: History by Loudon Wainwright III, Jammin' in New York by George Carlin (my first comedy album,) Blood Sugar Sex Magik by Red Hot Chili Peppers (the first album I fell in love with,) The Chronic by Dr. Dre (my introduction to rap,) At Folsom Prison by Johnny Cash (How I learned to be a badass.)

That list of five was dern hard to pare down. i guess that's the five I would take on to the island with me. there are many runner-ups, but gregory abbott and dave matthews are guilty pleasures that cannot hold up against multiple repetitions any more.

florida pictures on the way soon.
b

a quote

Here's a quote from one of my all-time favorite performers, Loudon Wainwright III.

"About ten years ago I wrote a song called "Hitting You." It was about hauling off and smacking one of my kids too hard. On the butt, I hasten to add. Nevertheless she was five and I shouldn’t have hit her. People were shocked when they heard the song and they said I was very brave to sing it on stage. That was nice to hear but actually incorrect. I wasn’t being brave. A stage, whether in a club, a concert hall, or a cow pasture, is an extremely safe place, at least for a performer. You appear to be exposed but really you’re protected. There are lights, microphones, and usually a fourth invisible wall, all separating you from the mob, a mob that often happens to be quite partial toward you. If you know what you’re doing you can get away with murder. And that, figuratively speaking, can be your intention. I’ve always held that provocation, unless totally gratuitous, is a good thing. Sometimes, like Barry Manilow, "I write the songs that make the whole world cry," but often the response I’m going for is a shiver or a cringe. Making an audience uncomfortable for limited amounts of time ratchets up the dramatic tension. You then have the option to release that tension when and how you deem appropriate. Sounds like a bit of a cat and mouse game, doesn’t it? I’m sure you’ve seen show biz movies where the performer states his desire and need to "go out there and kill ‘em." Doing a show, or your "act," as they used to call it, is a bit like cooking or sex. It’s best not to hurry. Or so I’ve been told. Repeatedly. Occasionally you get a reaction to a song that’s not the one you expected. I assumed that people who heard "Hitting You" would be affected by their recollections of being whacked in the back seat by their own dads. Indeed some did, but many, if not most, identified with not the hittee but with the hitter. People came up after shows and talked to me about how they’d lost it and hit their kids and how awful and guilty they still felt about it. Now, that’s entertainment!"

b