Fighting insomnia last night, I decided to watch TV. I pulled up Netflix, and chose a classic favorite of mine, "South Park." Being that I was trying to fall asleep, I chose an episode that I haven't seen in awhile, but one I knew wasn't my favorite: "Eat, Pray, Queef." It is an episode about feminism: basically, Cartman farts on a little girl's head to get the boys to laugh; the girls get another girl to "queef" on Butters' head in retaliation; and the boys- and their fathers- in town are so disgusted they get queefing banned in South Park. The men are completely oblivious to the fact that the women in town are disgusted by the men's fart-jokes, and don't care at all that finally the women were able to join in the fun.It's really a rather juvenile episode- and with an odd-secondary storyline of Terrance and Phillip taking their female counterparts on a "Sideways"-esque drive through Canadian Wine Country ("3 Wineries To Visit!")- I thought I was going to fall asleep easily. And I might have, if it weren't for the closing minutes of the episode. After the men officially get the courts to ban queefing, Randy and his son, Stan, are celebrating their "victory" in front of Stan's mom- Sharon- and her daughter, Shelley.

(I've provided the link down below so you can watch it. Seriously, go and watch it.

http://www.southparkstudios.com/clips/223358/i-think-we-might-have-screwed-up-royal

Something about the response, the emotion, and my own lack of sleep struck me from Sharon's response and ensuing speech. I'm sure none of you went and watched that clip... so here is what she says after Randy jumps around, shoving the newspaper headline in her face. Sharon - "Well, ...congratulations, guys. Looks like you got us. Good job...

Randy - "Aw come on. [tries to lighten the mood] Just because you can't queef anymore..."
Sharon - "You really think women cared that much about queefing? Is that really what you think this has all been about? This has been about women having a little bit of fun for once at your expense. For just this one time we could be the immature ones to make you feel uncomfortable. But no, you just couldn't let us have that one little thing, could you? Because even though things are getting better for women, you still think of us as lesser people sometimes, and we always have to prove ourselves twice as hard. Congratulations, guys. [begins to sob] For getting your way... again."
Now... ignoring the fact that this is about queefing, this speech seems to me what a gay man or woman might be saying to a Conservative Christian friend/family member of theirs after being told they voted "No" against gay marriage.

Again, maybe I was tired. And of course last night (at the time of this writing) was both the day after North Carolina voted to ban gay marriage, and was also the night President Barack Obama declared that he believes gays should have the right to marry... so a lot of this was on my head anyway. Now, will you please go back and watch the clip?

http://www.southparkstudios.com/clips/223358/i-think-we-might-have-screwed-up-royal (Yep, I pasted it again.)

Randy's jubilation at banning something that doesn't really effect him- he still gets to fart, but his counterpart no longer gets to do what she was doing for fun- is how a straight man, excited that his gay neighbors don't get to get married, looks. Sharon's quote: "Because even though things are getting better for women, you still think of us as lesser people sometimes" couldn't be closer to how homosexuals feel about this basic human right being denied to them. "I think we screwed up royaly" is how a lot of people are going to feel ... maybe not the day after, but years later.

I'm not going to go deep into my personal beliefs on this subject. (Yes, I'm Christian, but I don't live in a Christian country- I live in the USA, a country that is not exclusive- but inclusive- of all religions (and non-religions), and I don't believe in taking away the rights of any adult that another adult has. Also, I believe anyone who uses The Bible as their only argument against gay marriage while at the same time ignoring and flat-out breaking dozens of other rules in the Bible in their own life is a hypocrite.) If you're planning on voting "Yes" this November in Minnesota to ban gay marriage, I dare you- if it passes- to go to every homosexual you know and dance in front of them like Randy does to his wife. How hollow that must be, to celebrate a "victory" that gains yourself nothing, but strips away human rights from friends, family members, neighbors, co-workers, and complete strangers. Picture a couple who has been living together for decades, waiting for their opportunity to wed, only to be crushed November 7th because you voted "Yes" on banning their marriage, because you wanted to "sanctify" an institution that, unfortunately, has been dragged through the mud throughout human history: an institution that use to ban interracial couples from participating in; an institution that around the world still forces girls as young as 8 into to meet business deals between heads of households; an institution that straight people can cancel and restart with a new partner a dozen times if they get bored...

Again, this was suppose to be a meaningless, border-line offensive cartoon about women pushing trapped air out of their vaginas... it was only supposed to help me fall asleep... instead, it sparked something in me that I had to share.

Also, hopefully, I made a lot of you trip-up your IT at your jobs for pulling up a webpage with the words "queef," "fart," and "vagina."

Also, I really hope at least a couple of you had to Google the word "queef" at the beginning of this note, too.

Adam Woolhouse

Highs in the upper-20s today; chance to hit 30 by Friday.

It's here. In less than 17-hours I will be 30. I wish I could say I feel different in some way about reaching another decade-milestone. But it would be a damn-dirty lie, and I am trying very, very hard to break myself of my damn-dirty-lying habit. It's not easy.


I've been mulling over doing a Top 10 list of my best 20-something-year-old moments. I had a hard time thinking of that many. (Not that it's been a horrible decade; I just didn't want to have nothing but cliche-like entries about weddings and childbirth and whatnot.) So then I thought it might be fun to share my Top 10 worst moments of my previous decade on Earth: working on that list made me depressed. For one, I was able to come up with more than 10 relatively fast. For two, there's a lot I didn't want to share. And for three, I had to pull the knife away from my wrist several times. So I won't be doing that.



Instead, I'll go back to my original idea, doing a Top 10 moments from my last 10 years here with you all. They will be more-or-less in order, so take that for what you will. Not all are great, however. At least one would have been in my Top 3 worst moments, but I wanted to share it anyway, as I felt if nothing else it changed my life considerably.

Counting down...

10. The Final Regular-Season Game of the 2006 Minnesota Twins season:
The game itself was typical-Twins for 2006: solid defense; solid pitching; throw in a homerun (Torii Hunter). It even had the added effect of Joe Mauer winning the Batting Title with a 2-4 effort. But when the game was done- the Twins in a virtual tie for First Place with the Detroit Tigers in the American League Central- all we could do is wait for the Tigers/Royals game to finish. And we did wait. For about an hour. Over 30,000 of us. Together. In the Metrodome. And when the Royals won, and the Twins became the American League Central Division Champions, the place went into pandemonium. High-fiving complete strangers, my in-laws, and knowing I was skipping work to be there... it was great. This moment made #6 on the Twins Top 100 Metrodome Memories list, and it made my list, too.

9. Mr. Waldorf/Ten-Minute Play Weekend:
I don't ever want to be one of those guys that rests on high school and college accolades. But this weekend was great. It was the first time I felt 100% confident performing in front of people, both my written-work and me as an actor. As for Mr. Waldorf, I won the crown over about a dozen other guys that were better looking, more talented, and more popular at the school. I won it by being silly, being genuine, and being myself. Cliche, cliche, cliche. Whatever. Knowing that all of my fellow contestants thought I deserved to win- save for one dick who complained that the audience loved my "Giving Birth" talent over his "solo-drumming-for-10-minutes" talent- made it all worth while. And I took that momentum into that weekend's 10-Minute Play festival. The play I wrote- "The Putting Green"- was second. I received a great compliment from the theater professor in the weeks before, when he accused me of lifting the idea from somewhere else, because he thought it was "too creative and unique" to be an original idea of mine. And then the play was performed beautifully by Stephanie (Jennings) Jones, Luke Something, and Kris Kenison. And then it got a standing-ovation. And it was one of the best feelings I've ever received.


8. Nick Anderson, 5/30/78 - 2/17/04:
For those of you keeping score, this is the moment that would be in my Bottom 10 as well. But it was such a huge moment for me and my new-family of Andersons that I had to put it here. This is also the only one full of regrets. Looking back, there are so many moments I could have and should have reached out to get to know him better. So many times I should have pushed my wife to reconcile with her brother over issues stemming from their childhood. I do remember fondly him enjoying himself at our wedding, and talking movies with him at our New Year's Eve party just a month-and-a-half before his untimely passing... but there are so many more moments I know we could have shared, moments I've since taken advantage of with his parents, brothers and sister. And very little brings me as much comfort and joy knowing that my three-year-old daughter knows her Uncle Nick, where he is, and that she can talk to him anytime she wants. He would have made a great uncle, and that is probably the biggest regret of all.

7. My Pro-Wrestling Debut:
Yeah, the O.W.F. wrestled in a barn in Keester, MN. Yeah, none of the guys had great bodies, fantastic gimmicks, or much of a chance of making it to the big-leagues. But it was a goal of mine to wrestle at least one match infront of a crowd in my lifetime. And I did it before I hit 21. The match itself was fun- OWF Security exploding because the evil-owner was upset that we didn't help him retain his title. It was one of the only matches to gain both sympathy and excitement from the crowd of maybe 50. And I lost. But man, it was a dream come true, and one I wish I could get back again and again and again...


6. "Damn You Banana" Gets Recognized:
I wrote about this on an earlier blog. But it was during a time of mounting depression on my part, due to losing a job and mounting debt after just having a child. I drew "Damn You Banana" as a way to share a bit of myself with the world... of course, that doesn't mean much if it's never seen, right? One day, however, I somehow stumbled upon a medical blog. Really? A medical blog? The only way that would happen is if I truly did stumble across it. But right there, on the top page, was this:

The blogger stated she received it in a forward from her son, and she loved it. So not only did she like it enough to post it in her blog... but someone else out there loved it enough to forward it on! I wish this motivated me enough to do more, but I need a better computer to edit and upload them. Which I need to do. I have about a hundred more ready to go...



5. The Outtakes/Stage II Players/Hobo Chili:
I hadn't really performed in front of people since college, with the random "Live Appearance" at KG-95.3 thrown in here or there. But I was bored. And I told my wife I wanted to take an improv class. And I did. And I met one of the best friends I've ever had. And her and I made it into The Outtakes, which at the time was advertised as the "up-and-coming" performers for the Stevie Ray's Comedy Cabaret. Regardless of what I think of that advertising-slogan, every other Saturday night for the past two years I've been on stage performing my own brand of improvised humor. As a member of The Stage II Players, I've not only become a leader of my group, I've been given the opportunity to perform with the main-stage, taking part in what was described by some in the audience as "the best show we've seen here ever." And- when the fates align- I get to perform with that friend of mine- Emily Barrett- as Hobo Chili, a creation of ours that has improved, entertained, and given us the creative outlet we cannot get on a Stevie Ray's stage. I truly enjoy any opportunity I get to perform, and- seeing as how this may be my last round performing at Stevie Ray's- I can honestly look back and say I've enjoyed every minute of it.

4. "Detour" Gets Third Place In Audience-Favorite Voting For The 2009 24-Hour Film Festival:
It was our second year in the 24-Hour Film Festival. Kris Kenison, Lance Morgan, my brother Zach, and myself: Damn You Banana Flims. I'm very, very proud of this film, and can honestly say it has made me look forward to the 2010 entry more than I've looked forward to anything in a long, long time.
http://www.youtube.com/kriskenison

3. The World's First In-Utero High-Five:
I was originally only going to put one Minnesota Twins moment on here, but this one still gives me joy. I wish I was better with dates, as I wish I could go back and see which game this event happened during. I know it was in the midst of the Twins 20-1 run in mid-2006. I know Gina was pregnant with our first child. And I know it was hot, and Gina was grumpy. But I also know the Twins were on an absolute tear, and I was going to enjoy every bit of it. So when the Twins came back to win in their typical come-from-behind fashion, I wanted to celebrate. I wanted my wife to celebrate with me. So I layed it all out, and stuck my hand high in the air for a celebretory High-Five! And I was denied. Gina just did not want any part, and left me hanging. Instead of sulking off, or pouting, or letting her ruin my moment, I turned my attention to her stomach. I placed my right hand on her stomach and said to the growing child inside her, "High Five!" And I got it. I don't remember if I'd felt kicks before that moment- I'm sure I did- but the timing of that one moment was beyond perfect. I knew I was going to love my daughter regardless... but at that moment I also knew that I'd like her.

2. May 31, 2003:
Yeah, yeah. It's my wedding day. I know I didn't want to go "cliche" when listing my Top Moments, but still... it was a great day. I love my wife, and this wedding proves why. Our wedding cake? A dozen-dozen Krispy Kreme donuts. Our cake topper? Homer and Marge. Our recessional music? "Linus and Lucy." Our wedding party dance? Roxette's "It Must Have Been Love." (Yes, a break-up song. It's my favorite.) I'm still told by relatives of mine that it was the most fun they've ever had at a wedding. And for that I'll give all the credit to my wife. Even if some ideas were mine, or our parents, or whomever: everyone knows the wedding is for the wife, and what she wants she ultimately gets, so for her to let anything fun or unique in shows how much fun she is. And how perfect for me she is.

And number one...

1. And Aurelia Makes 3...:
What kind of dad would I be if this wasn't here? A piss-poor one, that's what kind. I could go on and on here, but you know what? I think I'm going to save this for another blog. My daughter- Aurelia Noelle Woolhouse- deserves her own entry. So she's going to get it.

As for me? I'm quickly-approaching 30, and only a comet crashing into the Earth is going to stop it from getting here. Because I like this planet and all of you too much, I'm not going to wish for that. Besides, I've been going to the gym more frequently these last few weeks, and I actually feel better now than I did 2 years ago... I think I can make this 30 thing work.

Should be a piece-of-cake next 10 years.

God-willing.

Adam R.W. Woolhouse

I haven't forgotten about you...

I just stopped caring for a bit. Now- like a long-lost father trying to reconnect with his children on his deathbed, years of gambling and alcohol abuse leaving him penniless on Death's porch- I want to return to you, oh blog-of-blogs.

Will it last? Will I sneak out in a few nights' time under the cover of darkness, never to be seen again? Can our already-fragile relationship recover? Can I quit using analogies involving addictions? We'll see.

We'll all see.

I'm back...

Wooly

My first time making Jell-O

I am nearly 30 years old. You'd think I would have made Jell-O at sometime in my life. But no; I haven't. I've made Jell-O cake, but that is different. But I would think that- given the simplicity of Jell-O- that it would go smoothly. I- of course- added an extra level to it, and managed to screw it up.

A little backstory: as a member of the improv troupe "The Outtakes," we have a Goonies' lunch box that we use as our M.V.P. award after every show. Historically, the winner then fills it with goodies- candy, Happy Meal toys, a box of penis-shaped pasta, etc.- and then chooses the winner of the next show. The entire process then begins anew.

I was the (up-until-last-weekend's-show) most-recent recipient, so it was up to me to fill the lunch-box and present it at our final show of this run. But- me being me- I wasn't just going to fill it up with toys. Or candy. Or a lot of little things. I wanted to fill it up with something special.

Someone was going to get a lunch-box full of Jell-O.

And here is where the two stories collide, causing a small disaster. For you see, I made the Jell-O just fine. Poured the boiling water into the two packages of powder- 4 cups- and then poured 4 more cups of cold water, for a total of 8 cups of liquid Jell-O. It was ready to be poured into the metal lunch box that is our Goonies MVP award.

Unfortuantely, it isn't completely sealed all the way around. And even more unfortunate, I didn't notice until I attempted to pour a quarter of my mix into it. And even then, I only noticed because bright-blue liquid was dripping off of my counter onto my white sock.

That is how a joke MVP award turned into an hour of clean-up on my part, plus weeknights of sharing 6 cups of Blue Berry Jell-O with my daughter to look forward to. I think I'm getting som Reddi-Whip to put on it for tonight.

In the end, I filled it with cheese balls, and everyone- except for L.J.- enjoyed sharing the cheesy goodness that was- potentially- my last show (for the near future) as an Outtake.

Woolhouse

Today's Twins Game...

... is for you, Joe. It's the only connection I have to you other than my sister. She misses you, and I hope you can watch over her throughout her life. Keep her strong. I'll do what I can here, but with you above, I trust you will help, too.

Rest in Peace, man.

Wooly

My wife...

My daughter and wife were singing a song from the day care last night as we walked home from having ice cream. The base of the song goes like this:

"Down by the bay- down by the bay- where the watermelons grow. Back to my home. I dare not go. For if I do, my mother will say..."

And then it goes into a chorus, which goes something like: "Did you ever see a bear, sitting on a chair?" See that rhyming in there? That's the important part. So it could be: "Did you ever see a monkey getting real funky?"; "Did you ever see a goat, driving a boat?" Whatever.

So my wife goes. She sings, "Did you ever see a moose, hanging from a noose?"

I have never laughed harder at her. Not that it was incredibly funny or anything. Just that this was MY WIFE singing a song to my not-quite-three-year-old-daughter, and SHE is so shocked by what she just sang her hands are covering her mouth, eyes bulging, trying to hold it in...

Gosh, I never knew she was so violent. And racist against antlered-mammals.

The 'House

Hobo Chili - My thoughts...

Along with Emily Barrett, I am in an Improv Duo known as Hobo Chili. (Brief history lesson.) Emily and I trained together at the Stevie Ray's School of Improv in Minneapolis. Upon "graduation," another student in the class asked if we wanted to do a non-sexual, performance threesome with him, that we originally called "Righty Tighty Lefty Lucy." I think that trio lasted a couple of weeks before the other student stopped returning our phone calls. Best of luck, Zach.

For all I know, he may have planned this all along, because once it came down to Emily and me we were determined to make it work, and immediately planned on doing something different, something that had not been seen before in Minneapolis Improv, particularly at Improv-A-Go-Go or Brave New Workshop in general. But, at the time, neither of us had any idea what that thing was.

With time running out, Emily entered us into the Improv-A-Go-Go blind lottery. We were accepted. Great! We now had six weeks to come up with a "structure" for this team name of Hobo Chili.

(Quick fun fact: the name Hobo Chili comes from a line in a joke by Dave Attell that for some reason stuck with me. "Get me an onion, a shoelace, and a Mr. Coffee and I'll make you some Hobo Chili." -Skanks For The Memories.)

We had played around with the idea of doing a debate structure, fielding questions from the audience, but didn't feel like that could hold it's own. Getting frustrated, I began to brainstorm what I knew about Hobos in the world of comedy, and something hit me: something I read once in my 20th Anniversary book of Saturday Night Live.

Dan Akyroyd was talking about a sketch he always wanted to do, which was him and Bill Murray standing around a burning trashcan, just BS-ing and remembering "the good old days." I had always thought that would make a great sketch... and then thought, "Screw that! That would make a great improv format!"

And that's where it came from. I know Emily and I both had our own goals going into it, but I think I can safely say that the three things we both wanted Hobo Chili to be were:

1.) A chance to do multiple characters without doing a typical "montage" format.

2.) An opportunity to add "Hats" to our stage show (we use a multitude of hats to play different characters.)

3.) Constant characters throughout that the audience can actually invest emotionally into. We play Hobos that flashback to "better" times in their lives, and throughout there is always one Hobo on stage (sometimes 2) that the audience I believe is legitimatelly rooting for. Why do I believe that? In the five shows we have done at A-Go-Go, we are the only group to get multiple "awwww"s from the crowd; both happy "awws" and concerned "awws."

I have decided to write this blog at this time for one genuine reason: last night's show- after having over 12 hours to look back on- may have been our best. It was short, fun, and simple: we drove home the unique relationship between the two hobos; we established history, location, attitudes, etc. in the first three minutes; and it was a blast. We didn't have huge set-ups for our "flashbacks." They were three simple flashbacks:

-Woolhouse was trained by the city championship karate master after finishing 17th of 20 in a competition.

-Woolhouse was once declared legally dead for 3 hours.

-Emily once ate a buffalo whole.

Simple. Sophisticated. Relateable. And enough to make three great scenes out of. It may not have received the uproarious laughter we received while playing the twins in the womb that absorbed the other; nor did we receive the legitimate applause of joy and happiness after the Hobos reunited and got engaged following a carnival (literal) romance; nor did she hit me in the head with a club practicing for the seals later: it was constant and solid throughout. And I enjoyed every second of it.

If you read this, I implore you to check us out for the final show for three months or so. We will be back in November, but we have one more show, August 23rd at 8pm at the Brave New Workshop in Minneapolis. 8pm. $1. Come see a completely different and unique improv experience to what you will normally receive. As one fellow improviser put it following a performance: "[Hobo Chili] doesn't go for simple jokes and laughs every few seconds; you two take the audience on a ride, grab them emotionally, and when the laughs come, they're loud and mean something. You have a great build to your scenes, and it's different from every other group that performs here."

I'll take that compliment any day of the freakin' week.

Woolhouse

PS: Emily, I'm afraid I may not have echoed the statement appropriately last night, so here it is: I, too, trust you 100% when we're onstage. Even when you're about to hit me square in the head with a solid wooden cane.

Ignore Previous Post

I would like that previous post to be ignored. Oh sure, I could just delete it. That's easy. But no. I want to test the lot of you- that is, any of you that actually read this-to just trust me and ignore it. Think of this as a virtual "you closing your eyes and falling back into my arms" test. I will catch you IF you ignore the previous post. (By "previous" I mean the one directly below this one. It's marked "Friend (Something)". I don't remember the actual title I gave it, and to go back and read it I'd have to close this window- thereby either losing everything I've already written, or posting this incompletely and then forcing me to go back in and edit- and if I were going to do that, I'd just delete that post and not even have to write this blog.

I was in a bad mood when I wrote it. But it wasn't funny. It wasn't suppose to be. Cheating on a spouse/partner is wrong. And I will not stand for it.

Never.

Ever.

Especially at Candyland.

Wooooooooolhouse

Friends

I need a friend that will stick to his committments and not wait until the last minute to cancel them. Oh, and one that also isn't cheating on his fiance via Craigslist.

Anyone got one I can borrow?

Woolhouse

How Rude...

How rude of Michael Jackson to steal Farrah Fawcett's thunder. That's just inconsiderate.

Wooly

Highs and Lows of a 48-hour period...

This weekend was a rollercoaster of emotion. A thrillride of feelings. A something of something-else (comedy Rule-of-3s.) There were no real moments this weekend of "OKness." Even the 5-year-olds birthday party I went to- that I knew no one at- had either its bad moments- getting picked on by a 7-year-old girl, Aurelia getting hurt on the playground, and finding out there was no lunch provided- or it's great moment- seeing my daughter behave like the polite lady we are raising her to be when all the other kids were yelling and screaming and ignoring their parents' wishes and commands and threats.

So, join me for this rollercoaster of life I had over the weekend. I'm sure- as I finish- to some, it will seem as if this "rollercoaster" I call it is more suited for the "kiddie-rides" section of the amusement-park that is my life . . . but this is how I felt. OK?

Low: Friday night, uploading footage of a film I'm helping my wife make, and realizing: the footage isn't great; the children's acting is below-sub-par (they are 4 and 5, so what should I expect?); and facing the fact that I'm going to have to devote more time and effort than I have available to it, compounded by the fact that I have to use my brother's editing equipment to do it (he lives an hour away, and the only times I can come over to do it he works, and vice-versa.)

High: Taking a wonderful nap with my daughter after morning practice on Saturday. She's getting to the age where she doesn't like naps, or cuddling, but on this day we did both, and I was woken up by her giving me a tight squeeze around the neck and a kiss on the nose.

Low: Money issues. Can't go to some improv classes I'd like to take this weekend, and trying to find something to cut out of our budget. Feeling like the president, except if HE goes a trillion dollars in the red, we basically just shrug our shoulders. If I go $10 in the red, eventually I'll lose my house.

High: Driving to the show Saturday night, and listening to the Twins game, I was thrilled that Brendan Harris hit a lead-off home run. I pumped my fist and then continued driving. That, in and of itself would have been only ok- barely worth remembering- but then the van behind me pulled up to be even with me, honked it's horn, and that's when I got to share in the moment with the guy next to me: he pointed to the radio, gave me a big thumbs up, and I could tell he shouted, "Whooo!" to me. I did the same back, and he drove off. Sports moments are always greater if they can be shared with another man, even one I've never met, and will never see again.

Low: Although I didn't find out until later, but apparently we almost lost our six-year-old Pug around this time on Saturday. While outside, Penny was apparently bit or stung by something that she had an allergic reaction to. She swelled up and couldn't breathe, and Gina had to take her with my daughter to the vet. That alone would be bad enough, but I felt so much worse when my wife told me she tried to call and couldn't get through to me (stupid Sheraton Hotel being a blackhole for cell-service.) I listened to the voicemails she left later that night and got very sad and upset at myself; it kills me to know she had to handle it by herself, and there was nothing I could do to help.

High: I had a good show on Saturday. I got some great reactions for my "Love is Like" character, and everyone seemed to enjoy "T-Bones," the shackled-waiter at the "Parole-style" themed restaurant.

Low: Migraine Sunday morning. Couldn't sleep as I thought about my dog, wife, and daughter.

High: Ignoring the migraine to celebrate Father's Day with my wife and daughter in the morning. Nothing could have made me happier than hearing my daughter tell me over and over, "Happy Father's Day, Da-da!" and hugging my legs. Not even the new toaster I got as a present. And the talking Hallmark Card ("There's no crying in baseball!")

Low: I had what should have been my second Park Show of the summer. My mom, dad, and sister (from Duluth) were planning on coming. We're suppose to have two shows; we had one, and that one we barely made it through as we struggled through the rain. This is the second park show I had that was rained-out. Now, I know I perform at the cabaret every other weekend, and the Park Shows are just suppose to be fun: and that's it exactly. They're fun. I like the kid-friendly shows with the little kids watching; I like that my wife can bring my daughter; and I always feel very rewarded afterwards because it is such a great time. But instead of having four performances to look back on this summer, I have one. Hopefully Sven Sunsgaard can keep the rain away August 30th...

And that's it. I hate to end on a low note, but there was nothing great about how my Father's Day ended. Although, once we got back home, I had supper with my daughter, we played with some toys, wrestled around, and then I went to bed early. So I guess- while not "high" and great- it was OK. My one point of OKness all weekend...

I'll take it.

Wooooooooooooooolhouse

Vote and help a brother out!

http://www.filmracing.com/Films/competitions/minneapolis2009.htm

Damn You Banana Flims has done it! Top 10 finish in the Minneapolis Film Racing 2009 Championships! Now it's in YOUR hands . . . VOTE FOR "Detour" now! It's there for you to click, laugh, and vote!

And if you do, I'll let you sleep over one night in my "The Simpsons" room.

It's a dream come true.

Wooooooooooooooooooooooolhouse

Super Heroes In Training

Tonight is the first game of co-ed softball for 2009. And I'm both excited and scared.

Excited because it is the first game of the year. My arms feel strong, and any practice swings I've taken have felt good. Even though my batting practice consisted of a lot of pop-ups to shallow left and center field, I had more than enough line-drives to the gaps that I should be able to deliver in the game tonight.

Scared because my lower back has been absolutely killing me for a week, and it has now spread down to my knees. For the last 48 hours, my left leg has felt and looked shorter than my right because of the pain in my knee. I can't bend it right away after sitting. In fact, I am only pain-free after walking or standing/moving for 20 minutes or so.

That kind of sucks, given I have to ride a bus for 30 minutes to and from work, and my entire day's work consists of sitting in front of a computer for 8 hours.

But we'll see. Regardless, the game will be fun tonight. I've been working with my wife and her bat, and I won't be surprised if she gets some strong base hits tonight. My arms feel good, so I'm not afraid of my throws at shortstop. And I put together a mix-CD of songs of everyone's super heroes. Me? I am "Spider-Pig" from "The Simpsons Movie." Hells yeah.

But the shirts aren't done yet. They were suppose to be done yesterday. If they're not done by 5pm tonight, I will be badmouthing the company on every website I can find.

Woooooooooooooolhouse

I'm funny

Jill Benard said so.

Woooooooooooooooooooolhouse

Why I don't leave early...

Some date in 1991: The Twins fell behind early against the Oakland Athletics. My dad, cousin, and I were getting antsy, when my cousin proposed we leave early to stop at one of the Twins memorabilia shops around the Metrodome to pick up some cheaper merchandise. Literally one minute after leaving the Metrodome and walking across the street the fans still inside erupt in cheers. Chili Davis had homered in the go-ahead run in the bottom of the eighth inning.

Some other game in 2008: My wife received a pair of free third-base line tickets (second row!) to a Twins/Red Sox games. Because she was so cute at the previous season's games (when she was less than one) we brought my daughter with. If she wasn't chewing on a pretzel she was jumping on us, running into the people on either side of us, screaming, or pulling the hair of the people in front of us. When the Twins fell behind in the fifth, we decided to cut our losses. (The tickets were free, so what?) But I told my daughter that if the Twins came back and won in extra-innings, she was grounded from going to a game for the rest of the season. Mike Lamb hit a two-out, two-run bloop single down the left-field line in the tenth, and Aurelia has not been to a game since.

Last night: Twins are down by two. Bottom of the ninth. No one on. Two out. Probably half of the crowd has left at this point; but not me, nor my posse (a friend, sister-in-law, father-in-law.) Carlos Gomez up. Walk. Jason Kubel pinch-hits for Jose Morales. Walk, with Brendan Harris pinch-running for Kubel. Brian Buscher pinch-hits for Nick Punto. Walk. Pitching change. Denard Span hits his second high-bounce infield-single of the game to bring the Twins up by one. Alexia Casilla- in a scene eerily-similar to the best game of 2008- hits a soft single up the middle to score Harris and Buscher for the win.

Today: My throat hurts and I sound like I spent the previous evening drinking over-priced, watered-down beer and screaming. It's because I did.

If you ever go to a Twins' game with me, don't plan on leaving early. It ain't happening.

Wooooooooooooolhouse

Sunshine and Lollipops.

So this last weekend up to Wednesday was suppose to be wall-to-wall busy greatness. This Fri-Sat, Damn You Banana Flims took part in its second "24-Hour Film Race," and it was awesome. It was far less-stressfull than last time, we got our film in on time, and I think the final product is funnier.

Sunday night was Wrestlemania (25th anniversary of such.) And while I enjoyed tremendously the company I got to spend it with, the show it self (save for flashes of brilliance here or there and a tremendous Undertaker vs. Shawn Michaels effort) was lackluster and dull. But the hot dogs were awesome.

Monday night was the Season Opener for Major League Baseball, and- more importantly- the Minnesota Twins. And they got spanked in a boring game (yes, boring even for baseball.) Which stunk.

So now I'm scared. I'm only 1 for 3 in my supposed "great" events over this week. Tonight I've got tickets to the Twins game, and Wednesday is the WORLD PREMIER of our 24-Hour Film entry, "Detour." Will they be great? Will I turn it around, so to speak? I dunno. I'm scared.

Hold me . . .

Wooooooooolhouse

Me- 1, Sleeping Disorders- 0!

So I've always had this "problem." It's a problem that only my wife knows about. It's a problem she's laughed at me about, teased me about, and called me a stupid dumb baby about. But it's a problem I've had for literally as long as I can remember.

I can't sleep with socks on.

And while the comfort thing may play a small part in this . . . it's not all of it. No. For you see, this problem is all in my head. It's pyschosomatic. I don't know if that is the correct spelling; and I don't care. A man is pouring his heart out to you, and you're worried about spelling? Who are you, my 10th-grade English teacher, Mrs. Prody? (If so, how you been? Remember how much you hated me?) If not, get your head back into the game.

My reason for not being able to sleep in bed while wearing socks is simple; you see, it will make me gay.

That's right. According to my neighbor that lived across the street from me when I was five, only gay people sleep with their socks on. And- with her expertise the only thing backing up this medical claim- it is a fact I have lived with for my entire life.

Now stop looking at me like I am stupid right this minute, Chuckles. I KNOW NOW that sleeping in socks does not make you gay. I learned that when I was 17. Sheesh. But for some reason, I have NEVER been able to make it through an entire night with my socks on. I'll fall asleep, my feet will be toasty warm, and suddenly I'll spring from my slumber, subconsiously removing my stockings in a fit of haste, fling them to the floor, and hit the pillow, falling back to sleep. It all happens in about 3 seconds.

I don't understand why this has been a big deal. I have plenty of gay friends. A gay uncle, and a gay uncle-in-law. No lesbians (outed) in the family, but a couple I'm pretty sure have at least entertained the thought. I'm not against it, and would love to see same-sex marriage legalized (because I have a great present picked out already for the first gay couple I know to tie the knot!)

But a few nights ago, I did it! I slept an entire night with my socks on! Maybe it was a particularly cold night. Maybe I've matured. Maybe I was given prescription cough syrup that would knock out Goliath without the slingshot, and fell asleep as soon as I got into bed, which has not happened since I last wore diapers ('82 or so.)

So I did it. I wore socks throughout the night in bed. And I still love the boobies, and don't care for cock.

I win. And I'm here to tell the rest of you that you can all be winners, too. Just face your fears, and defeat them! And if it takes an assload of cough syrup to do it, then so be it!

Woooooooooooooooolhouse

Monday, Monday

I've never been one to get "a case of the Mondays" before. Today, though, I didn't just pick up a case of them; I went to the Costco and got the entire pallet of them. (Buying in bulk saves money in the long run.) I wish I knew why. I wish I could look back at the last 24-48 hours and say, "This is why I don't feel like riding the bus to work on Monday. This is why I don't feel like working with any clients on Monday. And this is why I hope no one walks past my cube and asks how my weekend was on Monday."

But I can't.

For all intents and purposes, I had a good weekend. I did some great pre-work on next weekend's 24-Hour Film Festival entry (nothing against the rules; just some wardrobe and location decisions.) I had a fairly-o.k. show with The Outtakes, even if others thought it wasn't solid. I got to watch my daughter interact with both sets of her grandparents, which is something that always makes me proud of my own parenting skills. And there was a full hour of The Simpsons on Sunday night, which is always a plus.

So wherein lies the problem? I keep poking and poking, but I can't put my finger on it. I did not sleep well last night- daughter and dog both had problems sleeping last night- but I went through college an insomniac: I'm use to that. It is suppose to snow another 4-6 inches tonight, but I'm a Minnesotan: I'm use to that, too. There is political and economic strife at home and abroad, but I don't read the newspaper; I'm use to being oblivious.

I think I'm going to break my 4-week strike against caffenie and grb an early-morning Mountain Dew. We'll see if that helps. And if it doesn't . . . I don't know. My plans rarely have a "Step 2." If it can't get done in one or less steps, I usually hire a minority to do it. That's not true: it's just inappropriate. But the fact that I'm immediately jumping to "racial humor" is a sign that my "case of the Mondays" could be leaving.

Fly away, Mondays. Fly, fly, fly.

The 'House

Garfield Minus Garfield

Garfield Minus Garfield is a site dedicated to removing Garfield from the Garfield comic strips in order to reveal the existential angst of a certain young Mr. Jon Arbuckle. It is a journey deep into the mind of an isolated young everyman as he fights a losing battle against loneliness and depression in a quiet American suburb.

http://garfieldminusgarfield.net

Mimes

So I was trying to explain to my father last night why it would be funny to see a group of mimes get shot by another mime "mimeing" a gun. Then I stopped. I guess if you don't immediately see the humor, maybe you never will.