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It seemed a little silly to go for “executive vice president” in a group with only four people.

I made a reservation today.

It’s about time, I suppose, but no one ever accused me of constantly getting things done too early. Which reminds me, I suppose I should start working on my financial aid forms for two weeks from now – or make sure I’m ready for the start of my new LSAT class, two days from now. Eh, whatever. Blog now, work some other time. So, I have requested a standing weekly room reservation from the fine folks at Cornell in my capacity as managing director of *Results May Vary improv.

Yeah, that’s right, I have a title and stuff now. No business cards, but who knows, that might happen sometime. In order to prevent any confusion, internecine squabbling, redundant and contradictory instructions, or narwhal attacks (you can never be too careful with those), we’ve split the tasks related to running *RMV. The FIBH is our creative director, in charge of running rehearsals, MCing at performances, casting – basically, everything in a rehearsal or on stage. I’m managing director, in charge of everything outside of rehearsal and getting a stage.  And business cards.

That’s all just fine and dandy, but this will be an interesting experience. On the one hand, things I’m interested in are always easier for me to do – yes, I know, this is probably true for everyone, but even a mostly-treated depression makes that a steep damn curve. So something like this, I have a fair amount of push to get behind, because I want to do it. On the other hand, I suck at up-and-at-em spirit. On the gripping hand, if there are several things I pride myself on, one of them is being able to take something I don’t know how to do and successfully faking it until I’m not faking it any more. I think I’ll survive this. Or at least get a few laughs out of it.

…because it’s an improv group. It’s a joke… thing… laughs… right.

And don’t get me started on local drivers.

I made the behavior of college students understandable today.

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The only thing eggs go under is hens, and I am not buying hens today.

I made my “I will make you my bitch” face today. Read More »

And not once did I look like a complete ass, either.

I made some decisions today.

Well, okay, they were joint decisions, but come on, I have a format here. Today was day one (of two, apparently) of auditions for the BRAND NEW IMPROV GROUP that the FIBH and I have just started. That’s right, we started an improv group.

Why? Because we can.

Today, we saw five people (out of eight who were supposed to come… whatever.), and auditioned them in sort of an interview format. It was more conversational than anything else, the point being to get a feel for how they thought and what they were like, rather than seeing if they could do X improv game. We can teach someone how to do a game, but you can’t teach the things they need to have going in, so why not find out if they have those? I know, we’re pretty damn smart. Anyway, we were happy to see the level of ability in this group, and there are at least a couple of very strong contenders. I can’t say more because we’re going to be meeting a few more people tomorrow. By tomorrow night, we should have a lineup, the original lineup of *drumroll* *RESULTS MAY VARY improv (the asterix is essential)!

WheeenowIsleep.

I wouldn’t have to work so hard if I could find her a decent cattle prod.

I made good use of my natural talent for awkwardness today.

So it’s a Wednesday (well, it was, anyway). That means karaoke night. In the last month or so, a couple of my friends from the acting class I finished in December have been coming regularly, which is awesomeness. One of these friends is – well, let’s not dance around the point. The girl is hot. Enough so that she attracts the attention of all the boys, the sketchier of whom like to try their luck. Tonight I spent a lot of time playing interference. Sometimes this means just wandering over while one is trying to drop a line and raising an eyebrow. Sometimes it means acting like there’s something exciting she needs to see over here. And sometimes it means having fun.

This was one of those times. The guy wasn’t that skeezy, but good gravy he was drunk, in that “blind to anything subtler than a meat tenderizer to the groin” way. Lucky him, he picked the cute girl who is too nice to tell him to fuck off (why do I never get that one?). The FIBH noticed this first and called my attention to it.

Me: “Should I go over there and help out?”

FIBH: “I think you should cockblock him to a degree hitherto unimagined.”

So I did. There are probably few things in life more awkward than some guy walking up to the girl you’re trying to chat up and giving her a shoulder rub while innocently leaning in to better hear what you’re saying. I give the man credit – he didn’t slink off, he managed to stay smooth (or at least, as smooth as passed for smooth in his slightly incapacitated state) and disengage with dignity intact (again, as much as possible under the circumstances). So, kudos to him, and I’ve met my “I don’t help” quota for the day.

Some exciting news coming in a few days…

I like to think that if I found myself in another world, I’d be able to get into it without huge blunders.

I made an awesome discovery today.

So some (many? all?) of you may already know, but Netflix lets you watch things online – I’m just learning this because we just got Netflix a couple of weeks ago and I hadn’t explored the extras. It’s a bit of a revelation, though the limited options mean that I may have to keep up with my normal mass-torrenting of TV series. Also, as nice as it is to have, on demand and in decent resolution, any of a very large number videos, it does demand reserving a serious chunk of my monitor for a Firefox window to play them in – not so bad if I just want to watch, but it’s rare for me to be doing fewer than two things at once on my computer, and three is more normal…

Anywho, I tested it out by watching the pilot of Sliders, a sci-fi show that premiered in 1995, when the unfortunate fashion effects of the 80s were just wearing off, curved cars were just coming in, America was still flush with victory from the Cold War, and “gritty” was something that happened when you didn’t vacuum enough. Oh, and I was 10. I didn’t realize I was that young when this stuff came out the first time. But I digress. Let’s talk about how television entertainment has changed in the last 14 years.

First, we have something minor, but strikingly obvious – in 1995, CGI was creeping in around the edges, and while we all oohed and aahed over it then, I now am reminded of the famous words “this looks shopped. I can tell from some of the pixels and from having seen quite a few shops in my time.” Also, please stop switching from lime green to blacklight purple to electric urine yellow in your wormhole sequence. My poor retinas…

On to some substance. Apparently in 1995, “acting” meant being really enthusiastic about your lines. Not that it was all hammed up and campy, but egads. Let’s be fair to the actors – the director might have been saying “hey guys, that was great, but can you act a little harder?”. Or maybe I’m just reacting to the lack of angst. We expect a certain degree of inner turmoil in our characters these days, as media types realize that a nation of severely fucked up individuals can’t connect to characters whose problems come and go between commercial breaks… 14 years ago, not so much.

I like it, though. Campy, perhaps, but pilots are always rough around the edges. Let’s see if the next few episodes clean up a bit and live up to my memories. Besides, it’s got Sabrina Lloyd, and she was quite a cutie back in the day.

It’s so weird to see someone in a city wearing flannel unironically…

I weigh between one and seven oofs, depending on the dog.

I made a better measurement system today. Read More »

If you are Asian and rapping about a computer game, it means you lose at life automatically.

I made conversation with some griefers last night.

So for those of you who are behind on the lingo (that is, over the age of 26,  female, or with functioning social skills), a little definitions party: a griefer is someone who, while playing a MMORPG, engages in PvP for the single purpose of making their victims sad or angry. This usually means attacking carebears or ganking lone travelers instead of getting involved in straight-up fights.

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My brain is fuzzier than a kitten holding a peach seen through someone else’s glasses.

I made history today.

That has to be the first time that any native of my town has wished out loud that the students would come back. Thing is, though, I’m getting a little tired of being “employed” in the sense that every so often an automated e-mail tells me to send in my timesheet, which has nothing on it. I wish for some impressionable minds to warp! I mean… students. To educate.

Probably too much to hope for that I can warp the minds of a bunch of college seniors. Maybe I should train to teach SAT.

In other news, the applications are sent and now I’m trying to negotiate the logistics of letters of recommendation.

In other other news, the FIBH and I need to stop saying the same thing at the same time, it’s kinda freaky when it happens. On the other hand, if it’s for a good cause like making fun of people we knew in high school at karaoke because they are hilariously bad, then it’s okay. Still weird, though. He probably thinks the same thing. The exact same thing.

Remember, kids, it’s not paranoia if everyone is plotting against you, not pretentiousness if you actually are better than everyone, not megalomania if in fact the world would be better off with you as supreme ruler, and not illegal if it’s not explicitly banned. And now you know.

Mmm… carpal tunnelicious.

I made it through the first two sets on Guitar Hero III on hard level today.

It’s sad to say I’m not eleven any more, and I just have to accept that. My reaction time and manual dexterity aren’t what they used to be. I mean, I’m going to be twenty-four soon. Damn. I’ve also learned now that it is a bad idea to play Guitar Hero for two hours straight in socks on a concrete floor  in front of a monitor that is set up to be used from a seat at my waist level – my feelings of old-mandom are not helped by aching feet, knees, lower back, wrists, and eyes…

In other news, work on letters of recommendation proceeds. Two professors have responded with promises to write letters, so that’s awesome. One more, and a few credit card charges, and I’ll be all set. I’m having a bit of a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that I’m actually going to do this. Actually going to apply, and get in somewhere, and go there… and then get ground fine by being a first-year law student, but that’s so far from now as to hardly be worth thinking about. Hooray for willful ignorance!

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