There Are Good Memories And Bad Memories

AND THEN THERE'S THIS.



I like to think that the copywriter who came up with that gem wrote it down, pushed back from his desk and then said, quietly to himself, "Nailed it!"

The Mel Gibson Paradox

SO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME that it's just a coincidence that Mel Gibson is on the cover with an article called "The Mel Gibson Nobody Knows" and in that same issue there's an article called "Civility Pays?"


No. This is not a coincidence. Obviously, someone has a time machine.

Travels With Boozy

SORRY FOR THE DELAY. I honestly meant to post something earlier, but, in my defense, I am lazy. Also, I have been traveling, which for me means, drinking heavily. Truth be told, I am not a comfortable flier. I'm not as relaxed and at ease as this guy, although I wish I could be.

Normally, before I get on a plane I have a little drinky-poo to ease the tension. Even if my flight is at 11:55 a.m., which means I'm at the airport at 10:40 a.m., I'll hit the sauce a little bit. The wife is no better, the only difference being our drink of choice. She's more of a vodka soda drinker, while I prefer a margarita or gin and tonic.

So, on Thursday, the wife and I found ourselves at LAX at 10:40 a.m., readying ourselves for an 11:55 flight to Kansas City (where my family lives and where we were to play in an improv festival). Of course, by "readying ourselves" I mean self-medicating, with a little friend we call booze. Below is an illustration showing the comparative size of me (on the left) vs. the gin and tonic (on the right) I had before taking my seat on the Southwest flight.



I'd like to think my head isn't that bulbous, but it probably is.

Long story short, I've been too drunk to post. But I promise I'll get back on it in the coming days.

Why Love "The Bachelor"?

TRUTH BE TOLD, I watch The Bachelor with my wife. Mostly I just love the first episode, where the Bachelor meets his 25 Lady Callers for the first time. It's an episode I like to call "The Drunk & Desperate Episode."

Oh, the drinking. Oh, the multiple acts of desperation.

You see, 25 Lady Callers show up, and, after spending an evening hanging out with the Bachelor (and drinking 500 bottles of wine), the Bachelor picks 15 of them. The other 10, must go home, drunk and weepy.

After that first episode, my interest wanes pretty consistently. But for that first episode, I am completely transfixed. What? My enthusiasm perplexes you? What if I offered some specific reasons?

REASON #1: Actual dialog from the Bachelor to his television audience: "Walking into that room, I was literally beside myself."

REASON #2: One of the Lady Callers said she "broke her face." Twice. Not only did she say it twice, but she also claimed she broke her face on two occasions. It was, like, the first thing she said to the Bachelor after she got out of the limo. "I broke my face!" My wife's reply? "It looks like it's still broken."

REASON #3: The singing! Yes! Singing! Last year, a woman sang "The Star-Spangled Banner" from a balcony to the Bachelor. This year, a woman sang a song that...um...she wrote? I guess? It was, in a word, magnificent. And here are the lyrics:

There's a yellow rose in Texas
And that's just what I'm going to do
Nobody's gonna miss her
Nearly as much as I do

REASON #4: One Lady Caller showed the Bachelor her webbed toes. One "read his tongue". While another showed him how flexible she was by putting both her feet behind her head and then saying to the Bachelor, "You can spin me." Sadly, he did not spin her.

REASON #5: As always, one of the ladies had way too much to drink. This season's drunk lady got so drunk one of her boobs fell onto the floor. Don't worry, it was a fake boob, an insert for her bra to make her look bustier. But one of them fell out and she walked around the party for a while without it. One of the other ladies found the boob and brought it to the drunk lady's attention -- not before she brought it to the attention of a bunch of the other ladies, of course. It is the Way of the Lady Callers to turn on the weak (or in this case shit-faced). When the drunk lady finally got her "one-on-one" time with the Bachelor, all she could really say over and over again was, "When I first saw you, I thought 'sweetness.' And I think that's great. Sweetness. Very sweet. Just sweetness." Or something like that.

At the end of the drunken, embarrassing night, the Bachelor gave roses to the Tongue Reader, Broken Face, The Girl Who Sang, and also (in the least surprising turn of events) The Girl Who Put On A Bikini & Got In The Pool. He chose not to give roses to Webtoes, Legs-Behind-Head and, naturally, The Drunk Girl Who Lost Her Boob.

As with almost every season, The Ethnic Girls did not find a place in the Bachelor's heart. Because, in the world of television, only white ladies deserve love.

Flight of the Goombahs

JUST GOT BACK FROM NEW JERSEY, where I played the part of a real estate agent who was skeptical that Cendant Mortage (the parent company of Century 21, Coldwell Banker and ERA) was REALLY the company for all my mortgage needs. I did this not on the stage, as you might imagine, but in the context of a corporate video.

It was all kinds of fun, mostly because two of my former improv friends from Kansas City, Trish Berrong and John Cox, were involved as well. Trish was co directing the shoot and John was the "wise agent" trying to show me, the "dumb agent," how great Cendant was.

For instance, John might say, "Cendant's mortgage counselors are like other companies' originators. And they have a computer system that can handle loan approvals quickly through an online transmission with a combined credit report."

And I would reply with either "Really?" or "What?" or "Huh?" Which made my job probably a little easier than John's.

And then, of course, there was the drinking. You can't have more than two improvisers in a room without drinking being involved. It's a rule.

The weirdest part of the whole thing, however, was the flight out. It was my first time on a plane since September 11 and I was a bit edgy. You could tell the other passengers were too, especially when two New York goombahs got on the Phoenix-to-Baltimore leg only minutes before take-off and took an immediate dislike to the passengers on the plane.

They seemed specifically put off by the lone Indian gentleman who happened to be wearing a blue turban-like hat. Adding to their discomfort, I am certain, was the group of 25 or 30 migrant workers who had boarded with me in Los Angeles and filled up the back third of the plane.

Despite being the last two passengers on a nearly fully booked flight, the two goombahs seemed surprised that there weren't two seats together. So they walked all the way to the back of the plane before trudging back to the front all put out because they had to sit in the seats against the bulkhead that faced backwards.

Being in the third row, I had a perfect view of their displeasure. "Why, this will certainly be more entertaining than an in-flight movie," I thought.

"I don't like the looks of this flight," one goombah said to the other.

"Me neither," said Goombah #2. "Did you see that guy?"

"Yeah, I saw him."

"I got a bad feeling."

"Me too."

The stewardess informed them that they should decide whether or not they were going to stay on the plane RIGHT NOW, as getting their bags off the plane could delay the flight.

After a brief discussion, the Goombah Brothers decided to get off the plane. Which was great for me, because they were a big drag. But their departure caused a minor ripple of panic to reverberate through the first half-dozen or so rows. As people began to openly question, "What's going on? Why did they get off the plane?" And on and on like that. As if these two geniuses had some insight into what was going on.

One woman, a few rows in back of me, kept saying to the guy next to her, "They went all the way back to the back of the plane. Does the stewardess know they went all the way to the back of the plane? Tell the stewardess they went all the way back to the back of the plane."

Of course, once they were off the plane and the stewardess informed the panicky woman that the men didn't cleverly stow some nefarious device in the (non-existent, at that point) overhead space, we took off.

I guess the Indian man in the turban, turned out NOT to be a terrorist after all. Go figure.