Cruisin' for a Bruisin'

Ok, folks, I'm back, and I've got a sweet tan (sunburn that has stopped hurting). Why you ask? Because I was in Florida for half of a week and then I went on a cruise to the Caribbean. I'll explain both in a minute. I was gone for about a week and a half, and it was the busiest relaxing that I've ever done. I selected 'scheduled vacation' for time off at work, but I never thought I'd actually be doing that?!?! Ok, now I'll say a sentence that no one should ever have to utter; Let's talk about Florida.

For the most part, it was just hot and muggy. Oh, those dog days of August are tough ones, but don't worry, we prepared for it (squeezed sunscreen into as many 3-ounce bottles as we could). We went to Florida to catch the cruise, but first we stopped at the infamous and ever popular Walt Disney World and Universal Studios. Because that's what you should do in hot,  steamy Florida: wait it line for hours in order to ride a two minute ride. I mean, we used Fastpass+ on some stuff, but others, we just spent time waiting in 3 of the 4 Walt Disney World theme parks. Doing 3 Disney parks in one day is kind of like trying to find a Disney film that doesn't have some twinge of racism in it: you can do it but it's tough and you won't be able to see everything. At the end of the day, Disney does a light show on the castle with animated sequences that are very pretty. It's a good selfie/video moment, just ask EVERYBODY who was there.

I've been to Disney before (both Land and World) and I recommend going if you haven't been. It's a bit overwhelming, but if you just try to have fun and take in what you can, it becomes that magical place where dreams come true (with screaming children). I think Disney is a place where adults can go to feel like children. I mean, they feel like adults because they have to pay for everything, but they feel like children because it's clean, wholesome fun. When you take children there, they seem even more like children. I don't think young children should go to Disney. They should be like 9 and up and have a strong appreciation for Disney films with a memory that'll support the experience. If we wait even later, we might be able to lift some of the height restrictions on rides too!

Universal Studios was great because that's where Harry Potter World is! Those books helped raise me (along with the babysitter who introduced me to them), so it was nice to experience an immersive world made up of my childhood reading and movie watching experiences. It really looks like the world of Harry Potter. The rides are quick and the Butterbeer is expensive, but I wouldn't expect anything less from a hot, sauna like amusement park in the middle of Florida. I recommend going if you like Harry Potter. If you don't, the rest of Universal is great too. Absolutely nothing to do with Harry Potter and everything to do with Despicable Me and food and shopping. It's great.

But the real fun started when I went cruisin'... (to be continued)

Total Eclipse of the Fun!

Yesterday, we witnessed one of the greatest things in the history of America; Melania standing next to Donald Trump for longer than 10 seconds. Actually, I'm referring to the solar eclipse, which had the reddest parts of America on the edge of their seats viewing the reddest part of the sun. If you were lucky enough to get glasses or some piece of welder's glass, you could watch the entire thing happen very slowly over 2 hours. If you could get glasses, you had to stare directly at the sun or use an empty box of cereal. If you couldn't see the eclipse, you had to eat your feelings with a full box of cereal.

Normally, our parents say "don't stare at the sun, you'll go blind." They also say don't masturbate, you'll go blind." I killed two birds with one stone and jerked off into the sun. I went double blind, like I was playing Texas Hold 'em. So, as I write this, I don't. It's all being dictated to my ghost writer (Siri).

I don't miss my eyesight, or mysight, for short. I was tired of looking at all of the horrible stuff in this world, anyway. Now I can see the world for what it truly is: a bunch of sounds. Don't send me Warby Parker gift cards or coupons to Lens Crafters; I'll be fine. My sight is but a memory, which coincidentally, if one of my favorite Elvis Costello songs.

My sense of taste and touch has doubled. I'm now licking the floor and feeling my food. Lots of good tastes and touches there. I'm picking up hints of mud, subway grease, and lavender. Lot more lavender on the floor of the city than you would think. I know; it surprised me too. I said to myself "Self? What's all this lavender? Are people bathing in the streets without me?" I don't know.

Right before I went blind, I saw something spectacular. The world was quiet, as everyone observed what was happening above. People were sharing. People were excited. People were generous. If you didn't have glasses, you could ask someone near you, and they would just hand them over. It was really powerful. It showed me that if we all just buckle up, focus in, and work together, we can accomplish anything. That if we all are not so focused on ourselves and acting like assholes, then the world truly can be a wonderful place. So take that with you. Share something with someone. Be kind and remember: the sun is the center of the universe. We are so far from it that the moon can get between us and block out light for a few seconds. Think about that.

For the next two weeks, I'm on vacation. There will be no post next week. Not that anyone is looking for one. I'll detail what I'm doing when I get back. See you all in September. Love each other.

Messing Around

I've had an epiphany. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, but I've now realized that I'm a messy person. "No, Charlie, you're handwriting is so neat and you never spill anything but water on yourself." My friends, you're all wrong, I hate to say. I'm among the messiest of people; I'm as messy as the day is long. I'm like the Lionel Messi of being messy. (A soccer ball falls off of my shelf and hits the floor, which isn't really floor, but a bunch of toppled over magazines.) See? I'm a mess.

How did I get to this point? Let me make like good Nickelodeon and try to Figure It Out. In New York City, the apartments are so small that there isn't really a good place to put mess. It starts to creep from the bedroom to the kitchen and then invades the sink, couch, table, and foyer (for reference, in NYC, that's all one room). It consumes you like a good book and stacks up like a pile of good books. What I don't like is that I can't get rid of it. I recently tried cleaning and actually managed to make things messier. The gravitational pull of stuff to stuff is mind boggling. And god forbid you track mess outside of the house. Then the mess is loose!

You'll sometimes hear others call themselves and their friends 'hot messes.' This is not what I am. I'm a loose mess. I tend to carry stuff with me everyday, a certain mishmash of things that one could give you the impression that I'm homeless.  Like at any one time, I have about two to three bottles on me to return to the market for money. And I have everything that I need to survive a night not at home. Now, you could call this prepared, but I've lived with it, and it's definitely homeless adjacent. There is always a one in four chance that I will be homeless, so maybe that's it, but geez, I need to get my ducks in a row. (I look back and seven ducks have been following me eating the loose bread falling from a hole in backpack.) Ah! My dinner!!!!

And if that's not enough, I pay for small purchases with coins. You wouldn't immediately suspect it, but the poorer you are, the easier it is to make a mess. When coins roll all over a grocery store floor as you buy a tomato and one piece of bread, that's when you know, "Hey, things aren't going so great." That hasn't happened yet, but one wrong tip of my coin purse could literally change my life. So if you ever see a trail of pennies or dimes, you have to assume I'm close by.

I'll get it under control, I think. I'm going away on vacation next week, so hopefully the mess won't follow me. I'm going to Florida, which I guess you could call the mess of the U.S. So, that should be quite therapeutic. I'll become neat, and I'll try to to shape Florida into a law abiding state. Shouldn't be too hard. Seems doable. I'm gonna attempt it. Don't try to stop me. And hey, if I mess things up, you'll never even notice, because it's Florida.

A Starveling is Born

If you were looking to see A Midsummer Night's Dream this past weekend, you did not need to go to Central Park to watch the Public's Production. You could've stayed right in Times Square and watched hungry, young actors take a stab at Pyramus and Thisbe. Because at any one time, Shakespeare is happening all over New York City. And if you decided to see the show in Times Square, well, then, you'd have seen me, playing the role of Starveling/Moonshine, as there's a play within the play. It's a bit role, but bit roles were meant for me, as I hate memorizing lines and get nervous each and every time I go on stage, just like Moonshine. I could do Broadway, but only if I played "Guy #8 with the fedora."

I came into the rehearsal process late, and learned everything the week of the show. It's a hard thing to do, to come into a play mid-rehearsal. I've done that before (see Acting the Fool) and it didn't turn out well, but that was 9th grade and this was adulthood. Children are so cruel. Adults just don't care. It was easy to acclimate into, and I fit the role well. I just worried that I was playing the character, hogging a valuable acting role from some other starveling New York actor. (👀) But alas, I was not.

I went thrift store shopping at H&M for pants for my costume. I say thrift store shopping, not because I was thrifty with money, but because I was thrifty with pants material. I don't see the need to go back into H&M, unless I want to buy another pair of turnicates, I mean khakis. Everything is sold at a standard pants length of 32. Good, cause I'm a 30. I looked silly taking one item into the dressing room, when every girl around me was carrying whole clothing racks from the the second floor. I just had to remind myself that this was all for the love of my craft and hatred of my wallet.

All in all, the shows went well. Except for a couple of runs where my girlfriend tripped on stairs in the dark, I'd say the play went up great. There were only three performances, all which were at semi-off peak hours. The only problem was that the bathrooms on the floor that we were performing on were broken. You had to go up a floor or down two floors. So, needless to say, we all took turns peeing in each other's backpacks backstage. It was fun. We even invited the audience back to tinkle a bit too. Talk about immersive theater.

It was a lot of fun. 10/10, would do again. I actually would have liked more than three performances, if for no other reason than to really nail my eight lines. The last show's audience was tough to crack, and I was ready to attempt to make them laugh. But, it's over. And that's ok. We did it for us and we did it for the people who saw it. I felt good about it and it broke me out of my shell a little bite more. This stuff terrifies me, but sometimes, if you grab onto that fear and shake it's hand, it really does make things easier.

We clap politely at bad improv. Here's why we shouldn't

Reinforcements can be both positive and negative. Like turning shark week on in a crowded bar, while a few people may clap, you don't know whether their reaction is positive or negative. What I can tell you is that many people clap at the sight of bad improv, thereby reinforcing bad habits. And much like nuns who've played in the rain too long, we don't want to reinforce bad habits. Now, sad rabbits? That I would like to explore, but maybe at a later date.

We take each laugh in the crowd for granted, as a "Oh ho ho, I've done good kid. Kick a nickel in a top hat and scram! Ya hear?" But what if we were doing bad improv, and they were clapping to get us out of the scene, like an audience edit. While as organic as a scene could be, I've been both in the audience and on stage for air sucking silence that zip zop zaps me to my core. We all have (where my improvisers at??) Anyway, all I'm saying is we need to fine tune the audience.

Tuning the audience is a great way to get on board with whatever the entertainers want you to be on board with. Like a boat captain who has to make a tight schedule, we really need you on board here, ok? It'll help for ease of understanding, ease of laughter, and trust. Trust between the audience and improviser, saying "Hey buddy, it's ok. I've got you. I'm here for you. Also send me money for this because I'm not getting paid." I mean, that's what I hear at least.

Like a long waged debate between men's undergarment preferences, I'll be brief here. What we need to do is see more positive reinforcement (the hooting and hollering and guffawing) for the good stuff and only the good stuff. That way I'd know if what I'm doing is worth it. Of course, we could perform for absolutely no one. We don't technically need an audience, except for that delusion that most improvisers have: we think that because we are improvising, people want to see it. So I guess that's it. I can shut up. We've solved it. I'll keep doing what I do. Sorry for the weird post, but it's been a weird Francis Ford Coppola days.

I'm playing Starveling in a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream this weekend. Come to the show and explain to me what each person is saying. I haven't the slightest clue, and we are almost done rehearsals. Halp!!!

Do AC

Well, it's been a while, but over the weekend I got to go back to Atlantic City, which John Mulaney accurately described as "Las Vegas but with more belligerent Philadelphia fans." My girlfriend and I went specifically to see him at the Borgata, and I snorted once during his act. That should tell you everything that you need to know about that. We got to enjoy some long overdue casino time, as well as some beach hours that were really nice. The water was warm in a way that AC sometimes gets at the end of the summer. Plus, I saved a ton of money on Uber rides using Ibotta (use this code to start using Ibotta today: yyppvcf). Also, if Ibotta wants to start sponsoring this blog, all they have to do is ask! *wink*)

Let's start with the rough part of the trip. I guess I'm a masochist because for some reason I booked Greyhound tickets to/from Atlantic City. A few years ago I wrote a piece of satire on here skewering Greyhound for their "way of conducting bus rides," or lack thereof. It was called Tweets from a Greyhound and it was as accurate then as it is now. Because if the bus is an hour late out of New York, Greyhound feels no need to let you know that. Also, if you buy a ticket from Atlantic City to New York, they don't feel the need to let you know that the bus might "fill up" and that your ticket is "for the day, not the time on the ticket." Needless to say, that bus that they carjacked and loaded us onto on the way back was Greyhound equivalent. And by Greyhound equivalent, I mean it had wheels and an engine. The buses also promise wifi, but Comcast promises wifi too, and look how well that turned out! (By the way, someone let Greyhound know that I'm not accepting their sponsorship. They can stop sending me letters. Comcast, eh, let's see how I feel.)

We stayed in an Airbnb, which ended up being delightful. It was only five walkable day blocks and one uber ride night block away from everything. The Missing Persons song should've been "Nobody Walks in AC" because at night it's gets pretty sketchy and you could become a missing person. The lady was super accommodating and we had one room upstairs to ourselves. There was another couple next door in a second room, but we didn't talk to them because we are antisocial. We had access to her house and stuff but didn't really use any of it. Airbnb is one of those things that sounds nice in theory but can really go either way. "Have I invited monsters into my house? Let's wait and see when they show up in the middle of the night." See what I mean? If Airbnb wants to sponsor the blog, however, I'd gladly sell their brand.

The casinos. Oh the casinos. An adult arcade. I'm a sucker for a good casino. It's been a long time, I think since 2015, that I'd even been to a casino. So when I sat down and immediately turned $20 into $60 at the slots, I said let's press our luck and turned the $60 back into $20. The hardest part of gambling is knowing when to stop. From then on, I went around the casino screaming "I have a system," as only a true gambling addict knows how to do. I did have a system, though. You put in $20, play it until it's above $20, cash out, then put the original $20 back in and repeat. It couldn't be more foolproof. Anyway we broke even the first two days. Foolproof! Last day, I tried to sit down at tables that I had no business playing. "If you don't know the rules, you don't have the tools," that's my motto. So I lost $120. Its fine. I budgeted $200 and stuck to it, with money to spare. Look at that. Foolproof!

And finally, the food was great. I love dining out at fancy restaurants with good food. It's one habit that my parents taught me that stuck. I can't do it everyday, unless anyone of these sponsors wants to kick in (*cough* Ibotta *cough*). But still the Borgata has a ton of nice eating establishments. We ate at the modern Japanese food place but I'm sure the others are great too. It was so dimly lit in there that I couldn't see what we ordered, but I know it turned out ok because the food was good. Our Sunday brunch was even better, and we took home a bunch of food that we ate yesterday. The leftovers were a pain to carry through the casino after brunch, but that's the price you pay for doing some last minute gambling. Well, that, and $120.

It was fun and we are ready to do it again next weekend? Oh, we can't? Why not? Ugh fine. Not next weekend, but soon. Soonish. Next year.

Area Woman Outraged That All Episodes of This Season's Game of Thrones Aren't Available to Binge Watch

Moontown, IA - A local woman, Beth Doone, could be heard screaming at HBO on the phone last night. "I pay good money for internet. Where's the rest of them?" Beth, 27, told reporters that she's "never had to wait for TV before," sighting "everything is on Netflix." Sources confirmed that she was indeed wrong; not everything is on Netflix. 

Game of Thrones airs on HBO on Sunday nights at 9:00 pm, a time when everything is supposed to be nice and quiet. Neighbors were questioned in accordance with the incident and said "It sounded like a very angry woman was being insulted." "I thought someone was in trouble." Witnesses stated that around 9:30, the woman tried to lift the TV out of the window, but couldn't get it to fit.

The police brought her in for questioning and tried to make her understand that this is a live show, which airs every week. She was eventually sedated and thrown in jail, both bail set at $10,000 dollars. The town of Moontown is once again peaceful and quiet. Beth's boyfriend, Erik, could not be reached for comment.

Help! iPhone and I Can't Get Up!

Let me tell you a little story. Monday started out like any other. I woke up on time, left the house on time, and was actually slated to make it to work earlier than I've been getting there. That's weird for me because I don't like going to work. Anyway, the thing that was a little off was that my podcasts wouldn't download to my iPhone. My p-casts, my casties, my on-the-go convos. This had me worried. "Daddy's gotta have his podcasts," I said aloud to a train full of people. Some people turned and looked. One lady shielded her child's eyes and ears from me. But I was worried.

I was using the wifi that the subway provides, which, lets be honest, is good wifi. Fun fact: the wifi is actually faster than the trains. Learned that on a Snapple cap so it has to be true. Well, the other true thing was that my cell phone was started to glitch and lag in its responsiveness. "That's even odder," I said to a nearby rat chewing on some electrical cables. He shrugged. Now, I was worried.

I then watched helplessly as my phone ran the entire gamut of problems that one could have. You name it. Screen wouldn't turn on. Screen came on all white. Background image came up stretched and distorted, no icons. Phone would not unlock. I could receive emails but only here that I was getting one. It called my ex-wife. All of the problems.

After two hard resets and a little praying, I got the phone to turn on, still with lagged responsiveness. I checked to make sure everything was ok, and lo and behold, it was, save for the fact that I lost all of my text messages. All of them except for the most recent thing you texted me and maybe something from way back in 2015 for no reason. Also, my texts recipients are now frozen in the order in which they were when The Incident occurred. Pretty weird, right? I exclaimed "F$&@ me!" at work, loud enough that a couple people looked over and one person asked "Really?"

Texts shouldn't hold any valuable information. They are just for quick bursts of thoughts and ideas. I mean, it is my preferred method of conversation, second only to podcasts, which I was able to download by lunch time, using the nearby mall's wifi (not as good as the subway).

All in all, I guess things are ok. I will need to sync my phone to my computer and update the software to see if I can get this thing back to working the way it's was designed to. I guess it had a mini stroke. Good work, Steve Jobs. You built in the option for our phones to be really lifelike and actually have strokes. What will your teams think of next. Whatever it is, it'll be different. Think different.

That's my story. Share it with your friends. Especially iPhone users. Let them know that our phones can and will fail at some point. And to not take it for granted that the most recent text conversation goes to the top. I now have to scroll to find people. But, that's life. Scrolling through until we find someone. Damnit, Jobs, you've done it again. I've had it with your life lessons. They are annoying. Please stop.

Ulterior Motives and Where to Find Them

I always try to get something out of every situation that I'm in. I don't see how someone starting out in showbiz can get anywhere without doing that. I volunteer at an improv theater, not because I have nothing better to do for five hours on a weeknight, but because if I do, I get discounted classes. So it's me being helpful, but having what you call an incentive, which I call an ulterior motive.

Webster's dictionary defines ulterior as "kept hidden in order to get a particular result" and motive as "a reason for doing something." So I always keep my reasons for doing anything hidden. That way, I can get my particular result. (My reasons are like little ninjas that I've hired; they'll kill you in the dark. I'm just kidding; they'll kill you in broad daylight too.) It's important to fact check what you write as you write it with the method thrown in. The old "show your work" model. What I just did there is essentially the 'new math' of English.

Why do I bring this up? Because it's something that we never talk about. I feel like we never ask each other the real, underlying reasons why we do what we do. There do not have to be thirteen reasons why you're doing anything, either. That's misinformation spread by the lizard people at Netflix. (Just a joke, Netflix please hire me!) It doesn't matter if the reasons are sinister or not, we just don't don't tell each other what they are. And I think that's wrong. So, I'll start. My golf clubs are now safely with we in New York City.

Here's what happened. I had been wanting my golf clubs for a long time. I know I have no time to play, but I just thought it would be a good idea to have them with me. And then I saw an opportunity. If you invite your family up to play golf with you, in the process, they have to bring you your clubs. Because your clubs won't drive up here by themselves, despite one of the clubs being a driver. It's misleading, I know. Anyway, one way to get someone to bring you something is by inviting them to bring you the thing that you want and then using it when it's gets here. It was a bit convoluted from the start, but it ended up working and now I have my clubs. Kind of a long way to go for my clubs, but plans aren't always simple, especially when they involve ulterior motives.

56 Straight

This past weekend was the Del Close Marathon, wherein the Upright Citizens Brigade holds 10 different theater stages around New York City hostage and forces them to host 56 straight hours of improv comedy. Watching 56 hours of improv is a lot like watching 2 hours of improv; it's just a little to long to watch improv.

Improv comedy comes from the brain of Del Close, a guy similar to Glenn Close, but who has actually been in more scenes with dogs. He's the biological father of modern improv (he did a 23yesandme) and the deadbeat dad of whatever the hell happens in the Triple Crown basement. Many people admire his work and have learned from his tutelage, which I've heard can be pretty intimidating. To learn from him would be like constantly trying to get your dad's approval; nearly impossible.

Once a year, the UCB takes time to recognize teams from all over the country, as well as the teams (old and new) that have originated in that fateful Gristedes basement, on their quest to make up bullshit for 20 to 30 minutes. Normally, if I want to watch white people make up bullshit for a half hour, I'd turn on C-SPAN (ohhhhh!!! Snap!!!) But the theme this year was to be "Woke!" I stayed woke by not going to sleep. I was awake Friday through Saturday and started to crash Saturday night, when time would drop out and I wouldn't know what I just watched. "The stage was empty a minute ago. Where'd all of these performers come from?"

You can't see everything. Not just because the sight lines in the UCB are awful, but because when you're at or in line for one show, you are missing another 9 shows in 9 different places. It's pretty much impossible to plan out what you want to see. Things are constantly changing. It's almost as if you have to... improvise?!?!?

I'm a celebrifile, so I love the shows with people I've heard on podcasts or seen on tv. The UCB4 (Amy Poehler, Matt Besser, Matt Walsh, Ian Roberts) are always a delight. When Horatio Sanz and Tim Meadows join, it's even better. As long as I get to see some premium shows, I'm good.

Bit shows are the stupidest things in the world. Essentially, if you have an idea, you get to do it, usually midnight to 6 am. I'm not a fan of letting people defile the stage and each other for 10 to 15 minutes, but I guess that's what constitutes a fun time these days. I don't know. If I was ever in one, I'd probably tell you to come see it.

All in all, I'd say it was another successful weekend. This year was lit, and by that I mean there was a fire in one theater and we all had to move. No one could figure out why their mimed fire extinguishers weren't working, but hey, that's the mystery of object work for ya. Many teams brought the heat, but all fell just short of this fire that happened in FIT, the fashion institute of Technology. I've heard of a hot mess before, but never like this! Anyway, I'm gonna go catch up on sleep and eat food, and I'll be back next week with a sizzling expose on ulterior motives. Should be a fun one.

P.S. I'm doing improv at The PIT tonight. Swing through.