Ground up!

[Conklin]

So I'm a little rusty. That's to be expected. I wish we'd had another half hour or so to rehearse last night because I think i was just starting to hit my stride as we had to end and I would've liked another crack at a longform. Our edits weren't sharp and our initiations were a little vague during our first pass. I was particularly guilty. It's tough knowing a scene has gone on too long but not seeing any good edit point. At the show we did in April, I felt like every time I edited or was edited it was very clearly the right time, and nothing was so obvious last night. I don't know if that's because my improv eyes are out of focus or because the scenes were a little off. Hopefully, I'll have some opportunity to get some more scenework in with whoever happens to be around over the course of the weekend.

After the longform we did a character exercise that turned into a shortish longform. It would have been great in an actual longform interspersed with other stuff. As it was structured, it got a little plotty and confusing but stayed very funny at least. Again, I thought the editing could have been sharper, but I had never done the exercise before and was trying to pick it up on the fly. I think the crowd tends to speed things up anyway so maybe we're better off being a bit slow than a bit fast right now. RBS isn't used to someone else calling blackouts, so that will be a major difference at DCM. I think we're very used to ending our shows when we feel comfortable. I heard talk of sub-20 minute performances from the months I was away. Regardless of how good the moment is, I'd say it's unlikely a blackout will come that early. So it's better to be running slow and then pick it up a notch at showtime than sprinting at rehearsal and burning out onstage. My most distinct memory from last year's marathon performance is looking up and realizing we had done an opening and about a dozen scenes in 15 minutes. We kept going strong, but it was a little daunting for a split second.
- - - - -
Wedding stuff still sucks. Not much to say other than I don't know what's going on or why. It's just sort of happening. Maybe this is because I'm trying to pretend that bad motives aren't a possibility. Maybe if I just accepted the fact that some people don't care if they're hurtful it would all make more sense.
- - - - -
Edit: welcome to page 4. i hope you enjoy your stay.

 

[Conklin]

My god, the heightening.

I saw Asssscat on Sunday. it was remarkable. I don't know that I'd want always to play that fast, but being able to recognize and build games that quickly would be a remarkable skill.

PS: creepy UCB stalker teens who were in front of me on the line, stop being creepy. Seriously, it would be for the best.
- - - - -
Are you in a troupe because you want to improvise, or do you improvise because you want to be in a troupe? Something I'm mulling over.

While in Paris, I spent a great deal of time in the museums, and I came to realize that I could love paintings that didn't display a great deal of formal skill if to me they felt inspired. Conversely, paintings that were formally very adept that I fould cold I had a much harder time appreciating. Of course, if someone had both going on, technique and emotion, all the better. But I could forgive someone a lack of "talent" (whatever the hell that is) if the work seemed a labor of love.

I don't want to get on stage because I'm an improviser, instead of being there because I want to improvise. I want to be thought of as something because it's what I want to do with my time and energy; I don't want to devote my time and energy to earning certain labels. And I never want to sneak by based on "skill" (or whatever) when I don't have shit to say. I'm no longer just talking about improv.

Maybe I should have thought this out better before posting. I know what I mean at least.
- - - - -
I'm getting married Saturday, like it or not.

 

[Conklin]

In an alternate universe, my mom is an improv legend. She did anti-meat bits last night that not only cracked me up but included outstanding object work. And she's not even a vegetarian.

Don't tell her I said she was funny. She'd never let me live it down.

My mom entertained us with a rousing verse tonight. It went like this:
I believe I can fly.
I believe I can molest a child.

As LeMar might say, "Oh my damn."

 

[Conklin]

Wedding ceremony begins at 5pm. I have been running around and hiccupping all morning. Difficulties burning the CDs. Excited and scared and just about everything else.

More when I'm married.

 

[Conklin]

Ever wake up and say, "Huh, guess I'm married now"? I have. It's weird.

My mom told me months ago that her goal for the wedding was that everyone was still talking to everyone else after it was over and that Jas and I could say that we had an enjoyable day. Mission accomplished. Even exceeded somewhat.

The weather was perfect. Jasmine was gorgeous. None of the drunks got out of hand. Everyone was complimentary and pleasant. My parents boycotted the chicken and were wonderful in many other ways. My brother and best man Matthew was supportive and helpful all day. The cake was excellent. I even played a little ping pong, which I love despite sucking at and haven't gotten to do in a long, long time.

And now I'm married.

 

[Conklin]

tips for buying tickets

I'm selling admission tickets to a county fair right now. It is the third (non-consecutive) summer I've done this. I also spent several summers working at a movie theatre, primarily in the box office. I've sold tens, maybe hundreds, of thousands of poeple tickets to get into stuff. Here are some ways not to look like an asshole to the people that work behind the counter.

• Don't pretend to be something you're not. It's not funny to ask for senior/child tickets when you're not a senior/child. Believe me, even if you're just my second customer that day I've heard it already. Furthermore, while it might seem obvious to you that you're joking, I don't know who is parking the car, waiting around the corner or otherwise out of my field of vision. So by making a lame and oft-repeated joke you are increasing the likelihood of a mistake and slowing down the line.
• Don't shoot the messenger. I cannot control ticket prices. I cannot give discounts. I cannot make my cashbox in a small wooden shack somehow accept credit cards. I cannot change the policy that states you must buy a fair admission to get to the concert/demo derby/races/etc. where you must buy a second admission. If you honestly think something is unfair and should be changed, ask how to contact the management. If you feel like venting, get an online journal. Yelling at me does nothing but piss me off and slow the line down.
• Do have your paperwork in order. Have any coupons ready when you walk up to the counter. Present them before you order your tickets. Frequently these have to be treated differently that regularly purchased tockets for accounting purposes. I don't want to punch up or rip the wrong tickets. It increases the likelihood of making a mistake and, that's right, slows down the line. Also, don't tell me about the passes or coupons sitting on the kitchen counter. Without the paper there's nothing I can do. You're just slowing down the line, and everyone hates that.
• Do know your party. Asking for five tickets when you really mean three adults, one child, and one senior is a great way to get overcharged. If you don't know what ages qualify for discounted tickets, then ask. Just don't do it after the transaction is complete. I could explain why, but if you don't realize that it increases the likelihood of a mistake and slows down the line by now, there's no hope for you. Also don't throw a crumpled twenty through the hole and stand there silently while I try to guess whether you're paying for your friend or not. Ask for what you want. Unless what you want is a slow line.
• Do call ahead for information. If money is going to be a concern, call and find out how much things cost. I've seen more than one party wait on a long line (that has been unnecessarily slowed, natch) only to get up to the counter and have to leave with a crying child. Call first so you have the money or so you know you can't go. It sounds cold, but I hate to see kids cry. Better they cry at home than while people are waiting on my slow-ass line.
• Don't shove your arm as far as possible through that little hole. I consider it an act of aggression. I'm in a tiny little box. Don't crowd my space.
• All normal "Don't be an asshole" rules still apply. 'Nuff said.

This list is not comprehensive, but it is a good start. Try it today! It will make the world a better place. For me at least.

 

[Conklin]

I have officially left rare bird show. It feels crappy but needed to be done. More on DCM later.

 

[Conklin]

For the second year in a row, I had to pop in and out on DCM, rather than do it up right and stay all weekend and see everything. This year I brought my mom however.

My personal highlight was buying a bootleg marathon bracelet for my mom from a woman leaving the theatre, then realizing that Besser was standing 5 feet away. That was a potential tirade, but luckily I think he was distracted by his conversation.

The show was good but not great. Scoop, buddy that he is, started shouting "marriage" and "France" when we prompted for a suggestion. That didn't look like a plant or anything. Way to be totally high all the time, dude. An extended run on hobos was personally rather fulfilling for me. An open mouth kiss with Holmes was also fulfilling (I wonder if I'll ever kiss a woman in a scene).

As for my Marathon experience overall, it was short. I was in NYC for less than 5 hours. I saw two and a half shows. I probably could've gotten there earlier, stayed later, seen more and spent more time with my friends if I hadn't brought my mom. At this point in my life however, it's more important to me that my mother starts to get what this thing I love is and why than it is to see shows, even un-f'ing-believable shows that I won't get another chance to see for a full year. It hurt to leave without having seen Baby Wants Candy, WeirDass, Bassprov, or any of the other highly touted Chicago shows. And I wish I had gotten to see something by my soon-to-be colleagues from NC. And it sucked to have to basically "Hi/Bye" my friends. And leaving on the note of quitting a group i helped to found was a kick in the teeth. But it was great to sit on the train home with my mother and talk about what we had seen and what she liked and didn't like and I was able to talk to her about why people did certain things or why something didn't work. I think she's starting to see that it really is an artform, not messing around with friends. Or more accurately that it's both. So the day was bittersweet. Let's put it that way.

And to continue on the bittersweet theme, I do have an open invitation to sit in with RBS any time I can, and have already committed to performing with them on September 4th when they'll be shorthanded. So come on out to the Philly Fringe Festival this fall and see my not-so-long awaited return.

 

[Conklin]

If you're a long-time reader, this is going to feel like reruns. I'm packing up for a major move for the third time in 7 months. Because of the wedding and the fair and the Marathon, the packing kinda got lost in the shuffle and now we have just 13 days. I hate packing. Unless the toilet belches fire up my ass, we will be staying in this new apartment (in Odum Village on the Carolina campus) for a very long time. Or until we're no longer eligible to stay.

I started looking into DSI classes before I started investigating employment opportunities. I also looked into the cable tv options and internet possibilities. Then I started looking for a job. I found some decent looking jobs on campus using their nifty search thingy. Time will tell.

I have to fold the laundry now and go to bed.

 

[Conklin]

Still packing. Almost everything is out of my childhood bedroom. In boxes downstairs. It's not much better from my parents' perspective, but it's all part of a process.

I emailed DSI about signing up for classes in September. Pretty cool.

Leaving Monday. Send me housewarming gifts. PM for my address.

 

[Conklin]

Exactly 1500 views when I started this entry. About 1475 more than I ever expected.

Today I am going to be a part of the worst yard sale in history. We've got crappy stuff and no real publicity. So it's basically going to be a bunch of people sitting around in the midst of junk and wondering why no one is there. Awesome.

After that, probably a Goodwill/Salvation Army run to donate whatever couldn't be sold: here ya go poor people, some CRAP!!

 

[Conklin]

Yard sale went off better than could be expected. We're 99% done packing. This time tomorrow, Jasmine and I will be in a virtually empty apartment in Chapel Hill, NC!

My parents are driving done about half a week after we fly down. Jas and I loaded the van today. I would guess that we only have a bout a third as much stuff going down as was moved out of the Philly apartment, which makes me feel pretty good. Plus my room here in M-town is virtually empty and I've only got a few things that wouldn't quite fit in the car stashed in the attic. I've gotten rid of so much junk. I'm proud of myself.

That said, I don't want to move for a very long time.

Ross White is picking us up from the airport. We've never met, although we've had a little bit of contact (I asked him for improv start-up advice before I graduated and he was very nice and complied and talked to me very patiently for like half an hour while I asked "How do you do it?" in about a dozen different ways). And we've each seen each other perform once (I saw him in the 2003 Del Close marathon, he saw me in the 2004 edition).

The NC folks have been extraordinarily kind to me and Jas, and we're not even there yet. This helps take the edge off of this move, despite neither of us stepping foot anywhere in the vicinity of our new home ever.

Since I'm punchy and my sentences/paragraphs are choppy, I'ma call it a night now.

 

[Conklin]

a letter from me to you

Dear North Carolina Improv,
Sorry if I've been a little distant and standoffish. This might be an old line, but in this case it's true: it's not you, it's me. You're great, and I'm excited to meet you and get to know you and learn all about you. I'm sure we could have something very special together in time. Right now though I'm in a place where I'm not ready to do bits yet. I just got out of a long term relationship with another improv community. The end was protracted and difficult, and it will take me some time to get over it. It was this on-again-off-again long distance thing for about six months before we were finally able to say "It's over." By the end, we were holding on more out a naive sense of loyatly and resistance to change and trying to ignore the reality of the situation. But even still, with everything seemingly said and done, it's not a clean break. We're feeling out what this new relationship is going to be like. In fact, we're seeing each other next weekend. Plus we have some quotidian matters to straighten out: our books and CDs got mixed up over the years, I've probably left some clothes over there, I know my sandals are there, that kinda stuff. But I'm straying from my point, and besides, I'm sure you've been through this stuff too and don't need me to describe it in order to understand. To get back on track, I'm excited for the future North Carolina. Our future. I just have to let the healing happen at its own pace and do things as I feel comfortable. I hope you understand.
Love,
Christopher.
- - - - -
Weird, borderline-creepy epistles aside, as I walking home from the Scoop tonight a large flushed-faced man leaned out of his car window and screamed at me, "You're a pussy motherfu--" and then he was a ways past me and the Doppler effect kind of distorted him, but my educated guess is that the last syllable was "cker" although I might be wrong. But if forced to take a stab at it, I would be pretty certain that the communiqué in its entirety was "You're a pussy motherfucker."

So anyway, it's good to know I've got that first impression thing going for me down here. I work hard at cultivating an image, and its nice when someone picks up on it, even if he's only catching a brief glimpse of me as he drives by at 50 miles an hour in the mostly-dark.

 

[Conklin]

Since my last post I've had conversations with LeMar and Ross (via IM) and Alexis (via telephone) and I feel a bit better about my place in the world. It helps that the improv part of my life is just about to start picking up again.

Class starts tomorrow. How terrifying and exhilarating! I've taken one class in my life, and it was several years ago. That time it was life-altering. And without being immodest it changed improv in Philly, at least in my extended circle. We wouldn't have workshopped with a half dozen UCBT improvisers, we wouldn't have had Harold teams down to Haverford/Philly for shows, we wouldn't have gone to DCM, and Rare Bird Show might not have formed. But in terms of what we did in class, I left almost every week feeling like I had done a crappy job. Like I wasn't rising to the occasion. I was learning from one of the giants of improv education and I never felt like I had my fastball. Thinking back, I remember almost nothing I did, while I remember a fair amount of stuff that other people did. It was disappointing, not because I wasn't blowing people away (which isn't the point of being in class) but because it sucks to get notes on shit you already know but just aren't doing for some reason. There isn't a note that sticks out in my mind as something that changed the way I looked at improv. It felt like a wasted opportunity. If I done my best, maybe I could've learned more. Instead I was treading water. Maybe I wanted too much from this one class.

There are parallels between then and now. I'm coming off a long period of relative inactivity as far as improv goes. My only real improv lately has been sitting in a few times spread out over several months (this time with RBS, last time with the Throng). My confidence is shook. My nonimprov life has been turned upside down by a move (last time to New Brunswick, this time to Chapel Hill) and a change in my relationship with Jasmine (last time we were living together for the first time, this time we're recently married). I hadn't realized how many similarities there were until I started typing this. Nor did I realize that I can so overuse parentheses.

My major hope going into this class is that I do good work, or at least mess up in ways such that I get new notes. Either way, I think I'll leave with my head up if I can do that.

Also on the horizon, a Philly Fringe Festival performance. I'm looking forward to going to Philadelphia this weekend (I'll be touching down at PHL in approximately 49 hours). It'll be good to play again. Part of me feels like its a retreat to my comfort zone. But that's silly. I planned this weeks ago, before Del Close even. RBS will be shorthanded. It's not like I'm running away. And it's not like I've been avoiding the improv scene here. I've been to 5 shows in 2 weeks. Still, it's easy to be critical of myself right now.

Coming up later in September are the DSI auditions. I don't know much about this, other than that I'm welcome to attend and that the last couple times they've put together an incubator team of people who aren't ready to be on a house team for whatever reason. Still it's something to look forward to, even if not a word has been posted about it on the DSI boards in over a month and a half. Actually, maybe that means I shouldn't look forward to it. I'll hold off until something more is said.

Now to go turn in my Tar Heel Temps application.

 

[Conklin]

born again.

I've begun the new, more-awesomer plog. Those of you who have worked closely with me might remember the original plog. When I was a senior in college and my work was flat-lining I started a "paper-log" of all the scenes I was doing in rehearsals and shows, along with other relevant infomation and general impressions on my work. It helped me identify my problems and crutches and improve my improv. I suggested a plog to everyone who asked for improv advice. Then something happened. I got over the initial problems that directly inspired the plog. I got lazy. The plog became a pile of bits, drunken self-loathing, shoddy analysis, and half ideas (in order of decreasing frequency). So with the beginning of my new class and my trip to the Philly Fringe, I decided it was time to start a new plog. There was paper enough in the old notebook to continue, but it felt right to begin fresh in an untainted book.
- - - - -
Class was a blast and a wake-up call. Fundamentals. Damn those fundamentals. I learned that I need to follow instructions, agree better, work harder, and stay with it no matter what. I've heard it said that one must know the rules in order to break them. I disagree. I posit: one must no longer feel the rules to be a constraint in order to break them. If you decide that you're too cool or the rules are keeping you down, you will break rules like a jerk, no matter how well you know them. If you exist comfortably within the rules you will know when to break them. "Break" isn't the right term. You will instinctively see the exceptions.

All of this is a long, meandering way of admitting that I am not yet comfortable enough in the rules because they chafed at me in class. Damn those damn fundamentals.
- - - - -
My Fringe weekend was the most coolest weekend of improv I've had in a long time. I realized last week that as of the beginning of September I had only done 2 shows and 2 rehearsals in all of calendar year 2004. Four days out of eight months (and I was GD surprised that my m-f'ing fundamentals were BS?!?!??). SO I got myself immersed in some improv this weekend. Everything started on Friday night with a jam-style open rehearsal. There was audience coming and going, and we did four or five hours of stuff. Mostly it was scenework and openings. We did a ton of cloverleafs (which came in handy later). I did a ton of scene painting, which is a move I usually dislike. And true to form I disliked most of the scene painting I did. But at least I tried it. At some point during the show I wormed my way into the Gramercy Riffs show. And I got dozens of scenes under my belt. We got back to Alexis's place and went to bed at ridiculous o'clock.

I got up when LeMar called, got ready to go out, and hung out with him before the show. Good talks about what we're up to in our post-Philly lives, in improv and in general. Then onto the show. Despite some first day glitches, nothing too bad happened organizationally and things will only get smoother. The space was hot. Really hot. Kitten-killingly hot. Prison asshole hot. I spent an hour on that stage in small ensembles. I was freaking spent afterward. I was working as hard as I ever had onstage, in part because I'm looking hard at my doodoo fundamentals and also partly because a lot of good things have happened for the Robot Factory since I left and I wanted (a) not to screw it up (b) to show I still belong. Sorry to get all outline-y and subset-y on y'all, but the web doesn't work on the web if you know what I mean.

Riffs show was good, could have used slightly better editing. The interview opening was cool. LeMar had great stage presence and personality during it, and I wouldn't be shocked if it helped get him in a good mindset to perform. We honored the hell out of the material our audience member provided and treated it like gold. We didn't do anything to make her (too) self-conscious, either in the interview itself or in the scenework inspired by it. I made on pretty bad move -- intiating a pointless splitscreen into a scene that didn't need it -- but it didn't tank the scene or the show. The Riffs have had kind of a tough existence from what I've gathered so I was glad they had a good show to start Fringe.

RBS did a three person Harold (strictly adhered to) with a cloverleaf opening (told you all that screwing around was useful). I'm bad at ranking shows in terms of how good they were, but this might be my favorite with RBS (out of four) because it reminded me how great Harold is and it was fun and high energy from start to finish. Seriously, not a weak scene the whole night. The group games in particular were awesome. Total commitment and involvement, everyone doing an equal share of the work. Like I said, I'm bad at ranking shows qualitatively from an audience perspective, but this was my favorite because it reminded me of everything good about improv.

Saturday and Sunday night were spent in a bar and a club respectively. I realized that hating is the only thing that prevents me from a full-fledged agoraphobic freak out sometimes. While I was gone my mom called Jas and spent hours diagnosing me with cyclothymia and hypomania. So the whole squad is back in the lab working on me and my problems. Still, the best prescription I've found yet is a huge serving of haterade and pointing out all the people who are bigger losers than me. BAM!

After returning from crappy club du jour sunday night, Alexis and I stayed up talking until it was time to catch my airport train. Good talk. Also, we potentially have a little project to work on together, but I don't want to go any further until the details are worked out. Let's just say it will involve a monkey and a robot.
- - - - -
Home again. I missed it. Glad to be back, but looking forward to my next trip north.
- - - - -
And let me end my longest entry in a very long time with the moral of my whole weekend:
Scotty needs to learn not to jerk off to images of despair and destruction.

 

[Conklin]

I took a typing and spelling test today in order to qualify for clerical work at Tar Heel Temps. My spelling was good, but my typing was probably a bit below average. Of course the whole thing sucked because it happened 10 minutes after a tornado warning and everyone in the office was crowded nearby talking loudly about the tornado. How am I supposed to transcribe a crappy paper about office crap with people talking loudly. I have a learning disability folks. Seriously.

I'm excited about working. As fun as my "Not Doin' Shit in 2004" campaign has been thus far, I'd like to rejoin society as a productive member in good standing. I'm starting to feel like a deviant when I tell people I'm between things right now. I haven't worked since December. Well, for 12 days at the Orange County Fair. As Alexis pointed out, I did get married and move thrice. Maybe I'm too American-Dreamy, defined-by-what-I-do-ish. Or, more likely, too cognizant of other people being that way and thus made to feel self conscious. Something to consider on my meandering way to actualization.

I have officially reserved a spot in next Monday's DSI auditions. It will be a nice opportunity to play an extra night. That's how I'm looking at it: as one night I get to play. Expectations are a killer. I like to play and this is an opportunity.

Speaking of which, I wish I knew how to find opportunities to play here. The last two 9/11 anniversaries, I got together with a group of people who I cared about and did improv. It was a way of being normal in the face of terribleness. It was a way of sharing a thing I love with the people I love. It was an act of defiance against those who want to use the day for political or financial gain. While I recognize that not everyone would make that same choice it was right for me, and it will sadden me for this mini-tradition to end.

 

[Conklin]

it went

The audition is over. How did it go? It went. That's my Haverfordian answer. We had self-scheduled examines, and since you never knew who had or hadn't taken them yet, so we were forbidden from discussing form, content or degree of difficulty under penalty of an honor council trial. The standard responses the question "How did your test go?" were "It's over" or "It went." So that's my answer about the audition. It's over. It went.

I'm a big believer that what happens in an audition should stay there. So to wrap it up while discussing it entirely in abstract, I will say that I felt well prepared, that I am happy, and no matter what the outcome is I will be comfortable with: myself, my work, the decision, and the process.
- - - - -
I might have said this somewhere in this journal before, but I love toolbars. One of the first things I do when I sit down at a machine with which I am allowed to take liberties is adjust the toolbars so all my frequently done stuff is easily achievable. So imagine my surprise when Ross White suggested that I put some news websites in my drop-down link lists and I realized that I have never used my drop-down links list. I was shocked that I have not been goofing off on the computer as efficiently as possible. So I've spent the last several days rectifying the situation with increasingly complex sets of links nested in folders inside folders. The system will cease to be useful and collapse under its own weight sometime in a week or two, but for now it's eating up a good chunk of my day.
- - - - -
I have two more applications ready to submit tomorrow. I need a job. For reasons why, please refer to the previous paragraph.

 

[Conklin]

Must... not... get... caught... up... in... politics... sub-forum.
This is how I will lose weeks of my life and see my blood pressure skyrocket. I successfully avoided it for a long time. Now I am getting sucked in. Bah! Mustn't let it happen. It's trouble.
- - - - -
I went to see improv last night. I have an itch to perform again. Soon.

 

[Conklin]

I was cast on the newest DSI Incubator team. I am very psyched. The roster looks very cool. I'm not going to post a link though. Go look it up on the DSI boards. I'm tired.

Class tonight was informative but I felt out of it. It was a really long day. I was woken up by a call from Jasmine asking if I had completed the tasks on the list she left for me because she was coming home in 10 minutes. Since I had been sleeping, the answer was no. So then I started to do some crap, but still didn't finish it before she got home.

Then we bought a car. It is older than some licensed drivers. We figure we need it to last a year, and anything beyond that is gravy. It is a 1987 Honda Civic hatchback. The back hatch of the hatchback is a different color than the rest of the car. You know this thing is badass. It is a stick shift. I still don't know how to drive.

So we had crazy car related tasks all day. Like purchasing the car, going to the DMV and getting it registered and getting tags, and paying for a parking spot on campus (holy shit is that expensive).

Then I go to class. We utilize the sweet ass wheels, Jasmine drops me off. But the energy wasn't there tonight. I felt sluggish. Once we started doing actual scenes I was a little bit better. I channeled Bruce McCulloch again, but not a specific character (for those keeping track at home, I frequently unintentionally rip off Bruce McCulloch, you might call it a trademark). If I had to pinpoint what was McCullochesque about it, I would say the cadence and tone of voice were reminiscent of the "this is a pill that gives worms to ex-girlfriends" guy from Brain Candy, although in a less exaggerated version that I'm sure I've heard in some sketch but can't quite remember. It was a scene where we compared our relationship to a bike. I also did a smarmy waiter three person scene. It was fun.

bah. This is poor writing. Goodnight.

 

[Conklin]

I dreamt that I boarded a bus, sat down in the front row, and began to await departure. Then it started rolling. I jumped into the driver seat, pressed the break all the way down, pulled back on the parking break, but could not stop the bus. So I turned the wheel, crashing it into a low ledge. I figured it was better to bang up the bus so long as the forward momentum was halted. The driver jumped on board and started yelling at me for driving the bus, but I explained that it had started rolling and only then in an effort to stop it did I climb behind the wheel. Others on the bus vouched for me. The man then thanked me and asked for my insurance info. I told him I didn't have insurance. He replied, "Then I have nothing more to say to you," and he left me by the side of the road.

I woke up then and have been awake since.