Thursday, September 29, 2011

Bein' Like Ani--Shouting and Laughter

Chelle--who made me update this blog right now--at rehearsal this very night.

Guess what!? I spend WAY TOO MUCH TIME SCREAMING. Which is weird--because I never actually scream and mean it within the context of my own life. I've written about this I probably just don't feel the need to be dramatic in reality because I get to explode like clockwork within the context of performance. But...lately the screaming has been a bit much.

I scream way too much these days. I wrote about this last week, but, seriously. Thursdays, muchachos. An improv show mid-day, then teaching my section of Screenwriting, then doing sketches a trillion times for dress rehearsal...Today I actually had to hide in the library for an hour and be silent because my whole existence felt like rumbling. Big stressful, crazed rumbling. I'm pretty convinced it's going to affect my mental health. I mean, how much can you scream before your body starts inherently thinking you live in crisis mode every day.

I am going to try to consciously scream less this upcoming week. My energy, body, and vocal chords just can't do it.

We woke up with the notion
that enough is not enough without more.
And then we pushed with one motion
like the ocean heaves a wave at the shore.

Not A Peep

Currently running on three hours of sleep. Yesterday I didn't even have that much to do, but I jumped from one social thing to another, landing me leaving karaoke at 1 AM. Then had to bike three miles home. Then, was so tired I was trying to convince myself to just stay up and finish my work. Decided to eat the Halloween Peep Clara left on my desk. Thought it would be a good idea to take real-time photos of me eating said candy. I just kept clicking my Photobooth button until the Peep was no mo'.

I honestly thought I was creating ground-braking art.

I got a bad idea again. I got a Halloween head.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Leave It Alone

Kyoto. 2008.

Studying Oedipus in Dramaturgy. Not regular Oedipus, you nerds. What do you think I am? A senior in AP English? No. Cool Oedipus--as in Gospel at Coloneus. I'm in grad school, yatches. Real deal here.

Anyway. Today we watched part of the Julie Taymor version that was done in Japan. Holy sushi rolls! There are a lot of parallels between Oedipus and Japanese culture! Like the whole Oedipus being obsessed with solving the mystery of his own murdering and being told, "Just let it go, trust me, dude." But him not, and then obvi, things don't go so hot for Oedi...

In Japan that's really important--that idea of "Maybe you should just let things go unknown and unsaid please." It was very powerful to see that ancient Greek idea come to life in the context of contemporary Nihon culture. A strong case for the positive parts of globalization of art.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Clara in AZ

This is when we were both slap happy sleepytown USA.

We climbed a mini mountain Saturday morning!

Clara's visit was SO MANY GREATS!

-Bringing her to my sketch show and improv rehearsal--getting to discuss comedy with her visually artistic brain
-So much good food: Ethiopian, pasties, award-winning macaroons, and more
-Going to a dramatic one-man show and decompressing decompressing
-Singing Celine Dion while running
-Poolside conversations about faith, friendship, trust
-Eating ice cream out of the carton while watching a documentary about eating disorders

Why I Love Clara (A Partial List):
-She is honest and forward about expectations/desires (important for visitors)
-We like junk food
-She disagrees in a compassionate and smart fashion
-She is an optimist big time
-Gratitude is the attitude
-Laughing, laughing, laughing
-Pick-up friends

Ideas Mulling:
-Does "it" matter? If it does, then is doing our best enough? If it doesn't, is doing our best futile?
-There are a lot of things that we expect others to do based on our own concepts of not being interested in the temptation they face
-Being frugal is something to celebrate
-Close your eyes and imagine what you really really want--then go after it

This is the big stuff for now.

We may not reach the ending,
but we can start--
slowly but truly mending,
brick by brick, heart by heart.
Now, even now
we'll start learning how.
We can build a beautiful city--
yes, we can. Yes, we can.

Friday, September 23, 2011


Storming Osaka Castle. Ant, Yatchface, Nac. 2008.

When do you finally let go of your bad habits? Is "letting go" the only way to truly do it because brute force never solves anything? If you know it's wrong, would you still do it if you were the only person on earth acting the way you shouldn't? Would you finally step into the sun? Or would you fight, tooth and claw, demanding your right to act abysmally?

1. I ate ice cream for breakfast!
2. Sketch show dos went pretty well today!
4. Pandora just started playing "Tracts Of My Tears"--you go, Pandora!

The closer I get to feeling the further I'm feeling from alright.
The more I step into the sun, the more I step out of the light.

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Halfway to Adulthood

Post-show last Friday. Some of the guys.

Thursdays we have a weekly improv show in the Student Union at lunch. Then, I have about two hours before I teach my Intro to Screenwriting section, and then there's the mondo sketch rehearsal.

From 4:30 to Question Mark we all work through the final edits of each sketch, get cast, block, memorize, and decide running order. It should be fun, but even the best sketch on its fifth run can become joyless for performers and castmates alike. And even people who are normally grateful (moi) end up hating the very thing I love more than anything.

As I biked home, it rang in my head: I hate comedy. I'm sick of it. I hate writing. I'm done with it. I don't want to laugh anymore. I just want to curl up in a ball, watch Boy Meets World, text like a 15 year old, eat junk food, and forget about all of my potential. So...that's what I did!

Being only halfway an adult is the best best best.

All those nights we stayed up talking, listening to 80s songs.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Three Sick Days

Pops making bird calls with a blade of grass in Germany. 2011.

Fell asleep waiting for the bus,
wasn't tired--just overworked--even in 4th Grade.
I carried around
some heavy weights.
I woke up at 11
to a loud Eagle Eye commercial
on the radio.
I had probably been called in sick, I thought.
There was snot on my face, dried.

I got extremely nauseous at the beauty parlor
the day my Poms team got to go for free.
Had to go home early. Dad was making a rotisserie chicken and Mom was watching The Wedding Planner.
So many reasons to throw up.

This one time,
I know I was sick,
but it didn't feel too bad.
Mid-morning my dad rented
a Ray Romano comedy
that I really liked.
(I was only 12 or so.)
And I laid on the couch, with the JC Penny tan blinds
stringing me with slivers of sun.
Dad typed away in the corner.
I snuggled into the cushions.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

This Just Happened One Minute Ago

My original comedy boyz eatin' donuts outside. 2008.

Burrito came into the TA office, looked at Boulder's desk, picked up a magazine and said, "I always knew he was gay."
I look over at Burrito inquisitively.
"Oh...because he has this magazine with guy on the front--I mean--he's not really gay. I'm just joking."
I blink.
"But I guess being gay's not a joke...Okay, fine. WELL, NOW I FEEL LIKE AN ASSHOLE! THANKS, ALICE!"

Success without words!

If you were gay!
I'd shout, "Hooray!"

Monday, September 19, 2011

Everyday Would Be A Holiday

Sitting in bed holding this computer, typing this blog post at 11:20 PM.
Biking home from Boulder's.
Grading screenplays on the floor--a cookie in one hand and grading pencil in the other--while Boulder does dishes in the kitchen.
Chatting it up with the acting MFAs over mashed 'taters, Hawaiian rolls, mac & cheese, and steamed veggies.
Running into JD on my way from class to Boulder's house. Being literally shocked out of speech since it is so rare to see anyone on campus you actually know.
Discussing globalization of theatre--especially China.
Finishing the play Wild Man on the cushy chairs outside the Theatre History classroom.
Writing Muff a long e-mail.
Pretty dec sketch meeting. I wrote one that will require singing and a giant cake puppet.
Getting a text from Boulder that says, "Monday night football party and food tonight!"
Proctoring tests to kids with ADD!
Running four miles to some A. McMahon.
Biking to school in the cool morning.
Reading some S & H.
Leftover pasta for breakfast.
Waking up to "Holiday From Real" at 5:45.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Leaves in the River (A Sunday Tribute to Fall)

Kyoto. September 2008.

Some Sunday things: Brown's Chicken, looking out the back window of Chevy Nova, Mentos, improv rehearsals, hymns
Some fall things: pumpkin pastries and hot drinks, Japan, Halloween, candy bars, nighttime, leaves, Speech season

I met a girl on Halloween
when she was lost, and I was drunk.
And it was dark and cold out when we left.

And as we walked the rain started.
The leaves softened with every step,
and all around us people slept alone with their dreams

The wind came down from up the planes,
and blew the leaves all through the streets.
I wondered how far leaves could really fly.

Would they rest in suburb yards
or make it to the city?
Or would they end up in the river just to float away?

She pointed to a small brick house
and said it was where she grew up.
The lights were out-- she asked if we could stop for awhile.

Her hair was still just getting wet.
The water running down her neck
collecting in the handprint in cement beneath her feet.

Apparently there'd been a death,
someone close and nothing left
because she hadn't left him in the end.

I saw her blush when I asked
if she always talked like that.
She said it only happened when she drank.

And later on I felt her hand
slipping into my cold fist.
She promised me a kiss as soon as we got home.

Her costume had begun to tear.
She ran ahead and turned to me.
Her laughter echoed through the empty streets.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Scooby Dooby Doo

After like five years of more attempts than I can count, I wore my seahorse boxers in public without judgement. Last night I went to a pajama party at two comedy boys' house. Pretty much everyone I knew from sketch/improv/standup was already drunk at like 4 PM or earlier. Welcome to my school.

Anyway, Chelle kept trying to get me drunk, being all devious and giggly as she would ask me to hold her shot and then just get another one. Bwah bwah. Sid was equally coercive. Some random dude with a mohawk kept finding me all night, no matter where I stowed away, to give me very poorly constructed speeches as to why blacking out is necessary. (Obvi, one of us was just a speech and debate coach, and one of us wasn't...) During one of these speeches, he mentioned to someone passing by, "Oh yeah, and Scooby Snacks are on the way."

"Oh!" I said. Immediately I was back in second grade, sitting at my childhood friend Hilg's kitchen table, her mom bringing us Eggos with ice cream on them. "I want a Scooby Snack!" Chelle looked incredulous, "You won't take a shot with the girls, but you'll have a Scooby Snack with this guy?!"

Uh oh. Abort. Abort. "Oh...I'm just kidding." I said. Had I actually believed someone brought a waffle iron to the shindig? Mohawk dude winked and said, "I'll make sure you get one." I tried to backpedal. I disappeared to the back porch. Somehow, he kept finding me and offering me a cup of this slime green substance. No, no, no, I'd say, but it was like he got hit in the head and lost all his memory after the moment I showed mistaken joy in eating a delicious ice cream novelty.

No moral to the story. I'm just twelve.

Friday, September 16, 2011

Sketchy Girls

Yesterday night as I was biking off campus, the parties were just getting started. Thursday night and the streets are flooded with packs of students hitting the bars. I waited at a light with two other young men. One tatted out with long gnarly hair holding a skateboard and one guy in a suit holding a briefcase.

A triplet of girls walked in front of us yapping loudly to one another--they all wore skin tight skirts that barely ended below their butts. The guys watched the ladies as they passed. The skater inched back to the business dude in an attempt to have a private conversation away from me. I braced myself to eavesdrop their offensive banter. But the skater said quietly to the other guy, "It's just like...where's your self-confidence?" The business dude nodded. "They're young. They have a lot to learn."

So, that was nice.

Girls with self-confidence! The ladies of my sketch group! Out for Ethiopian food to celebrate our first sketch show of the year! It was this afternoon! It went well!

Falling Into My Lap

Our kitchen--observe the evidence of Boy Roomie's homemade ale brewing on the stove and counter and sink. Notice the covered banana bread.

Today things fell into my lap. I think it's karma from a donation I made to a Save the Arizona National Parks campaign against my better judgement this morning. I was walking just off campus when I got stopped by a volunteer, and one thing led to another, and suddenly I was dishing out fifteen bucks to save beautiful places I may never visit.

I felt guilt tumbling in my stomach--silly donation or right choice? Then, as if on cue, a girl offered me a free chocolate cookie outside an ice cream sandwich shop. Free Thing #1! Then--

2. An advertising exec stopped me and asked if I would answer some questions about hockey for a short video. Apparently, a big name hockey star interviewed me, and I gave really stupid answers to all his questions (I think the ad was about how little people know about hockey in AZ). Anyway, they liked my footage so much, they gave me six free tickets to a game. Swanky lookin' seats too.
3. A beautiful, dark, and cool September night for bikin'.
4. Upon arriving home, I was completely enveloped in cinnamon. Girl roomie had her beuff over, and they had just pulled banana bread out of the oven. Who do you think got the first slice? Moi. We unwound to MTV, and I was just about to hit the hay when the other four ladies of my sketch comedy group called me up.
5. Cut to a certified girls night complete with Mean Girls playing in the background as we talked about boys.
6. Chelle baked those Pillsbury sugar cookies with pictures on them--back to school variety. Which I ate.
7. Kale works at Starbucks and, thus, had a huge bag of leftover scones, muffins, danish, oh my! Which I ate.
8. Arriving home in the wee hours of morning, I said, "Thanks, moon," because she was so big and so bright.

NOTE: I wrote this last night, but decided not to post it as I was falling asleep at the keyboard. Good call, Alice--it was littered with little sidebars like, "but idont needany" and "dad foam theeeeeee."

Everything's beautiful,
everything's a holiday,
the day you live without it.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Snapshots: September 14th, 2011

"You are one of the few people I know that would be like, "A person died, but at least it made a good musical number!"
and be totally serious."--Dusty on me explaining that "'Til We Reach That Day" in Ragtime justifies (SPOILER ALERT) Sarah's murder

The first play I wrote for my Playwrights Seminar was very...experimental, ambiguous, open, and everyone knew it. But so did I. During feedback, which was pretty cut cut what cut, I looked over at Blue Eyes, who gave me the sweetest smile and mouthed an apologetic, "I love you!" I went out to the hipster hangout bar with him post-class. He ordered a double vodka, and I kept my eye on the level of liquid left in his curvy glass as we discussed non-linear writing style. It's difficult enough to distinguish good ideas from bad ones in conversations of narrative structure. We made decent theoretical headway before I had to hop on my bike and get to the Thai Elephant for a dinner date with MAF and her hubby.

Good Stuff:
-leftover red curry in the fridge
-Clara visits in nine days
-Andrew Jackson Jihad lately
-quitting the sandwich gig honestly and the boss being supes understanding

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

To a Long and Healthy Life

It occurs to me that people in Shakespeare's time did not live half as long as we do today. Yet, while watching Romeo and Juliet, I am sure both audiences felt rustled by the wheat fields of tiny hatreds they harvested in their hearts, felt crestfallen seeing that last poisonous kiss.

It doesn't matter the girl only had another, what, fifteen years anyway? Tragedy, tragedy--it's arbitrary and universal, no? Every age seems just too young and just too old. Goldylocks to infinity.

MARRIED. MUFF & JAMBA. Love in October 2010.

I have just started The House of the Spirits by Isabelle Allende for my dramaturgy class. I like it okay so far. I read this today:

"I was about twenty-five then, but I felt as if I had only a little life ahead of me to build my future and attain the position that I wanted." how I felt starting school, but I've been since calmed 1. By my creative fix coming in through improv and comedy. And, 2. Because there is no perfect life, creation, success, or, even, attempt.

SIDE: I know my closing lyrics today are ultra-cheeseball, but the song is quite beautiful and featured in Baz Luhrmann's R + J.

Pride can stand a thousand trials.
The strong will never fall,
but watching stars without you--
my soul cries.
Heaving heart is full of pain--
oh, oh, the aching.
'Cause I'm kissing you, oh.
I am kissing you.

Monday, September 12, 2011

The Big Red Dot

Fishies at Hein Garden. 2008.

Today was mini-Japan day!

-This morning I read in the CS Monitor that Japan is still strugglin' even though the rest of the world has kind of moved on. I said a teeny prayer for my favorite country.
-Read a lot about Noh theatre in preparation for Theatre History today. Was whisked back to seeing Noh with Jamin and Mahji on a crisp fall evening in Kyoto. The show was so good that I did a cartwheel while I waited for the bus to take me home.
-Watched part of Throne of Blood--the Japanesed-up Macbeth directed by Kobayashi.* Instead of three witches, the Macbeth and Banquo characters come across an old man singing in the woods. He is singing about man being as inconsequential as insects. The two warriors stumble upon him and demand information about who he is at bow-point. Yo, weren't you guys listening? He's singing about the pointlessness of existence...How scared do you think he is to lose his life?
-For only one millisecond, when I heard the Japanese music and the Nihongo, did I think, "Oh...I could have been there." But then the millisecond was shot through with a billion samurai arrows as all the perfection of me coming to graduate school right here and right now swam up from the depths of the Pacific.

I'm the sea, and you're Japan.

*SERIOUSLY EMBARRASSING EDIT. THIS IS THE GUY WHO CAN EAT A BILLION HOT DOGS. The film was directed by Kurosawa. I am the worst Japanese lover of all time...

Sunday, September 11, 2011

Days, Weeks, Years

Illinois. March 2, 2011.

Everything we do is an opportunity to become better than we were. If we do not take that opportunity, what is the point of being alive in those moments, hours, days, weeks, years?

Saturday, September 10, 2011

Hiding at the Bottom of Your Swimming Pool Some September

Thanksgivin' Turkey Trot with Pookie. 2010.

LOOK AT US WEARING COATS LIKE SUCKERS! It's mid September, and it was over 100 today. I read about Shakespeare by the pool in my two piece. Word. Up.

I thank the heavens above for the things that remind me of the good parts of growing up in the Chicago suburbs. The feelings that I can only name by the images and sounds associated with them. Dark blue kitchen tablecloth, chirpchirpchirp, eating sliced strawberries with wet hair, spiders in glass jars, train whistles in the early morning, pine cones, fat comic anthologies, the railing of the public library.

And I thank the heavens for the flecks and flakes of it that have followed me here. And I thank the heavens in general.

And it's unclear.
This may be the last song.

Friday, September 9, 2011

How To Quit

Quitting my sandwich job is a must:

1. I had limited availability because, well, I'm a student. Then, I got cast in the improv thang and now have a weekly showlet during the one day I worked a solid shift.
2. I'm really glad I got up close and personal with the meat slicer to fuel my future veggie-capades. But, today a little chunk of roast beef flew into my face as I ground it. I also found myself wanting a pastrami sandwich yesterday. Last. Straws.
3. I will be starting a much better job on campus proctoring tests to students with disabilities next week.

The sandwich people are so nice! How am I going to quit? I feel so bad that about 25% of me is like, "Oh, I guess I'll just have to work there until I die. Too bad I can't do improv/ will convert to a bacon-lover." They keep working to train me. They are highly encouraging and have given me so many free 'wiches! I obviously should just be a normal part-time employee, grab my paycheck, and never come into work again. Or, just call in, say "I'm busy" and peace.


Alternate Options:

1. Get someone from my improv group to go in while I'm on shift, pretend to be my brother, and scream that I am breaking the family rules by touching animal flesh.
2. Tell the owners I lost my scholarship and am moving back to Chicago. Tomorrow.
3. Get into an offensive conversation about the Bible being stupid. (They are all Christian.)
4. Call in, faking a severe injury--like losing both my hands.
5. Throw macaroni salad everywhere. Laugh and say, "Oh, that happens sometimes!"

Why is it I'd rather completely lose face with these people than just offer pretty decent reasons for leaving? Maybe because I just want them to feel like the winners, instead feeling gypped.* Do we think this kind of attitude is unhealthy?

*WOW I just realized the word "gypped" probably originates from "gypsy." I hadn't thought of that before. Add it to the list of words I no longer say. SIGH.

Thursday, September 8, 2011

Work, Dudes

Taken in St. Louis. June 2011.

Run. Read. Write. Eat. Work. Teach. Eat. Comedy. Write. Read. Comedy. Eat. Write. Sleep.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Char and Henne

Tira misu and berry torte from a bakery in Germany. 2011.

"I am literally counting every dollar because if I spend more than fifteen dollars a day, which, as you know, is easy to do, my life will literally be ruined. I'm doing a really bad job because I look around my apartment and see I have, like, four kinds of cheese, and I'm like, that is not a meal."--Henne on living in New York

"I really enjoy reading your blog every day. I'm sorry the only advice I can offer you is to poison your jar of nuts though."--Dad on the previous blog post about nut theives

Tuesday, September 6, 2011




And I really just can't let it go. It's silly to be this mad, but really? Really?! It's a small office! Why would someone steal from someone they know in their very own office who is CLEARLY POOR BECAUSE WE ARE TAS!?

I guess what I am thinking about is how wrong theft really is. It's one of those things that we seem to think has shades of grey surrounding it. "No, I wouldn't steal a car, but just a handful of mixed nuts from a HUGE jar? It's such a big jar...She won't miss them..." Well, I do. I do miss them. Especially because nuts aren't cheap, y'all. The jar was fifteen bucks!

Sunday was my first improv rehearsal, and during our break I went to the bathroom to find a huge line. Weird. But, there was some giant sorority rush event happening in the building. Then, I saw a room where girls were streaming out with these delightful mozzarella and tomato sandwiches. I told the two girl improv understudies. We three, not dressed up in the slightest, walked into the room, took cookies and rice krispies, and I was about to go in for the sandwich kill when I overheard a girl saying, "Who are these random people just taking our food?!" and then I ran away.

I thought it was funny, and I didn't consider it stealing. There were hundreds of girls, and they all looked super dolled up in super richy clothes...but what I did was stealing. And that was wrong. Period.

Monday, September 5, 2011


Alice + Kath. Sunset on Lake Michigan. Summer 2011.

Today was Labor Day:

-Went running
-Read a lot about dramaturgy
-Met my best friend from Chicago's best friend from college (who happens to have just started a PhD program here) for lunch at a delightful breakfast/sandwich/bagel restaurant
-Wrote at my desk
-Wrote in the kitchen
-Wrote by the pool
-Talked to Jamin on the phone
-Talked to Henne on the phone
-Talked to Berger on the phone
-Baked cookies to celebrate a fellow playwright's new opening
-Gave my roommate and the dude who was studying biochem with him cookies because how horrible is it to be a in a house with fresh baked cookies and not get any?
-Went out to a lil bar to see new friend JD host a stand-up show
-Wrote in this blog

I'll keep working my way back to you, babe,
with a burning love inside.
I'm working my way back to you, babe,
with a happiness that died.

Sunday, September 4, 2011

Pizza Challenge

The big one.

Tuesday Boulder pulled up to my condo, radio blaring
Bad to the bone, bad to the bone.
We were on our way
to attempt a pizza eating challenge at a local pie joint.

A three-foot pizza for two people in one hour.
I had only eaten one bowl of oatmeal at 8 AM before
we entered the atmosphere of Italy on soda cups and parmesan in the air.
Boulder stretched. I wasn't nervous.

Boulder channels inner peace to help him complete the challenge.

Our opponent arrived--fresh-baked and glistening with grease.
I was so hungry I imagined grabbing two piping hot slices in each hand and swallowing the burn.
But, I was patient. I patted the first slice with a napkin.
I carefully lifted the oversized triangle into my mouth.
I bit in slow, and chewed.
It was delicious.
I can honestly say I enjoyed every single piece of pizza.
We obviously finished the challenge. Boulder was a groaner.
But, I celebrated each individual piece of crust. Every bit of sweet sauce.
We were given t-shirts and earned our photo on a hall of champions board.

Last piece!

Living in excess every once in a while isn't so bad--as long as it's legitimately improving your life.
I pythoned the calories away and can honestly say I wasn't really hungry again for almost a full day.

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Alice's Wasteless Space For Your Face

Work forced me to conquer one of my biggest fears ever: meat slicers. I have been afraid of meat slicers since the dawn of man. So shiny, so devious, so, purposefully sharp. So close to people's hands.

My fear was amped up about a million percent when Kay was working at a bakery and fell out of commission for a good two days because the slicer gashed his thumb open.

So, on my very very first day, very first hour of my sandwich job, I was trained to work the slicer. I didn't feel like on my first fifteen minutes of work I could stipulate I would rather clean toilets than stand near the death machine, so I swallowed the fear lump in my throat and learned.

Here's what the meat slicer has taught me: MEAT IS DISGUSTING. Obvi, I thought this before, but now, I KNOW. To slice a package of ham I take a "chub" of ham out of the fridge. It's a block of pinky flesh. I cut open the package and nasty juices spill out of it. It's pure rubber bits smashed together. (It makes you wonder how the meat got from pig, off the bone, and back into a neat lil package.) Nothing about the chunk reminds me that it was once an animal. Until it bleeds. Yes, on the slicer, blood oozes out and spills over the metal. Also, the meat is marbled with fat, which of course ends up in long strands in the slices. At the end of the entire process, there's a good inch that can't be processed by the slicer, so it just has to be thrown away.

So wasteful! Actually, inherently working food service exposes you to many wasteful practices. There's a lot of latex glove changing, a lot of "Oh this touched this, so throw it all away," a lot of storing things is disposable containers for freshness. Yesterday as I was putting a stack of provelone away, I dropped about half of it on the ground. The trouble with a family owned business, is that the owner directly pays for all of your stupid mistakes. My manager tried not to show her momentary hatred for me, but she could not bring herself to say, "It's okay" as I apologized profusely. I was thinking, I already feel horrible just for wasting the misshapen part of this cheese log. Believe me, I feel bad. You do not have to accentuate it.

I mean, I get it. Ultimately, I know about The Jungle, I'm grateful for the FDA and rules and stuff, but...if I walked into a restaurant and my waitress said, "Hey, in order to not use one hundred gloves a day, no one in the kitchen wears them anymore. Everyone still washes their hands." I'd be like, "Yes! I am coming here more often!"

If I got a sandwich with a misshapen piece of cheese on it because that's what happens when you get down to the end of the block on the slicer, and someone told me that, I'd be more than happy to eat it rather than see it tossed into a landfill.

So, my new plan is to have Alice's Wasteless Space For Your Face! A restaurant where we're clean and care about an extent. The floor will be mopped daily, and swept often, so if your sandwich falls on the floor as the mustard's going on, we're gonna serve it to you anyway! I will serve foods that have been made improperly for half price instead of tossing them! NO, YOU CANNOT HAVE ANY PLASTIC SILVERWARE. So, does anyone know how to hide a business form the federal government?

Friday, September 2, 2011

Apologies and Comedy Updates

You guys, I am seriously not meeting my goal of updating this dang blog every day. If it's any consolation, it's because this week has been phenomenal. I also have a BEVY of starred e-mails in my inbox, so if one of those stars belongs to you, even MORE apologies. If your name is Lazz, and you sent me the best snail mail letter ever this week, and I haven't even started to write back yet, then, well, look, I'm the worst.

There's a campus improv group as well as a sketch group here. I contacted the director this summer to ask how it works, if they audition, whatevs. I was hesitant about going to the auditions because, well, I'm a grad student, and they were probably bunch of goofy dudes. But, getting to do improv is getting to do improv, so I went.

Analysis was correct: a bunch of goofy and offensive dudes. But, like I said, improv is improv, and I had a blast just getting to jam with new people. Made some connections, laughed a ton, and stayed quiet while a bunch of horrible jokes were made. Abortion! Holocaust! Raunch! But really good people very serious about comedy.

Last night's auditions ended, I made a couple connections, and I headed to Boulder's house for fajitas. Most of the MFA cohort was there enjoying delightful black beans, salsa, and fresh baked lemon squares. I chatted with everyone. Theatre! The Feminine Image of Beauty! Male/Female Characters in Young Adult Literature!

I just found out I am cast on the improv and sketch groups. The director and AD just called me with the good news. They invited me to the casting party "later"--it's almost 10 PM now...apparently, these people don't share my bedtime? But, I'm really excited about inviting the crazy/bonkers/non-PC side of comedy into my life as I continue to forge remarkable connections with people in the MFA about big kid stuff.

I just want everyone to know that I had extremely high hopes for grad school last year when I turned down JET. And they have been a million times over exceeded. Life is good for too many reasons to write right now.