who dat? contest.
(yo stee. i know
peter, paul, and mary's
first correct answer:
Rock Week is over. It ended spectacularly, with tickets found at the last minute for Tenacious D Sunday night at the House of Blues.
Included in Rock Week was my comedy group's closing night on Saturday. Our six-week run, which I've been working on for the last six months, is now over. Saturday. Eleven PM. Another full house. The crowd wasn't as hyped as the week before, but again a lot of great friends showed up -- basically all my friends were incredibly supportive in coming to the shows this run, and for that I thank them hugely. I really enjoyed myself this weekend. It was part Rock Week that made me really say "fuck it" and have fun, and partially it was the mere fact that we were almost done, that this might be my last time performing in a bit. I'll miss it, but we're supposed to go back into production for the film soon, plus the group is planning on producing some shorts in decemeber and january, so I don't think I'll be away for long. And we just heard today that the HBO/Aspen lady came on Saturday and loved it. Now someone else is supposed to watch a couple of our tapes. Could be interesting. Afterwards we all drank, using the extra hour to keep drinking. There's something about partying at a theatre that I love. Theatres should be celebratory and places of fun and life, not staid, stodgy rooms to be treated like churches. Too bad we had no set to smash.
Most of the weekend found me in a mad dash to do a rewrite. The timing ended up being pretty terrible as I worked all Sunday to finish it. My printer is jacked though and so I had to run to work at 5, by which time it was storming and foggy and people in LA simply cannot drive in the rain, so it took me forever. I printed the script out, fucking up some function and printing it in backwards order by mistake. Then I ran home, changed in one minute, put the script in a plastic bag, and was picked up for the Tenacious D show. Someone met me at the HOB and I handed off the script and went to get tickets. We were really early so we headed over the Hyatt and drank until it was nearer show time. The show rocked. We ran into some friends on the floor and watched Naked Trucker sing and then Neil Hamburger, a parody of a comedian with coughing fits and a bad tux. He was like 5 levels of humor removed from actually "funny," so that it was funny again. He was a deconstruction of a deconstruction of a deconstruction. I couldn't stop laughing. One of his jokes was, "Why did Julia Roberts rub shit on her vagina?" I don't even remember the punchline, I think I'd fallen to the floor at that point. Eventually Tenacious D came on and kicked ass for nearly two hours. The evening was a benefit for Tim Robbins' theatre company (yes, why does Tim Robbins' theatre company need to hold a fundraiser?) and on the balcony above our heads, John Cusack was leaning over the railing, watching, all twitchy. It was just an amazing show, highlighted by a weird sketch that involved Sasquatch raping Ronald Reagan, coming on George Bush Jr. and Sr.'s faces, and then shitting on the three of them. I know... Afterwards we went to a friend's house and drank beers until far too late for a school night.
So Rock Week is over and I'm paying for it, in terms of fatigue and imminent poverty. But it was all worth it. I recommend it sometime.
Well, me and K.G. Yeah, we're going to sing, a little song about a few special things. Special things. Talkin' special things. Like when a friend gives a friend, a helping hand. Helps his little buddy to understand. That's a special thing. A very special thing. Yeah, take it J.B. I hate to interrupt the thing that Lee was saying about him and K.G. Special thing. What do you think this is? Tenacious D, 3-D, no, no, no, no. Like when K.G. hits a tin cup shot, on Genesis golf. Tin cup. That's a special thing. A special thing. Or when K.G. pops in Jenny Craig Mac and Chee, and hands it to me? That's a special thing. That's a special thing. Now one and one, and one is three. A rare occasion for life's Triple D. K.G., J.B., and me. K.G., J.B., and Lee. K.G., J.B., and me. Now that's one special thing... speaking of which. You know what's not a special thing, y'all. When fuckin' doctors are all testifying that you're not injured when you obviously are. I can't help if the narcotic drip they have me on makes me all woozy and slur my speech, y'all. That's not my fault. My hand really hurts. It does. It does. My right hand is all... I mean, my left hand. My left hand. Heh.
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