I knew I was missing someone.

I can't believe I missed my buddy Jackie:
http://www.livejournal.com/users/wigletwones
That's her blog.
She's crazy. And she's somebody's mother.
I never meant to leave you out Jackie. Please forgive me.

Oh well, that being said, I've got a stand-up set tonight at the Lincoln Lodge so I've got to go. Hopefully the next blog entry will be about how well it went.

Two new projects. Five friendsites.

There's a special secret new show that we at Chemically Imbalanced Comedy are working on. Something that I can't discuss openly until it's finally advertised and performed for the first time. Because I am always unnecessarily paranoid about everything creative.
Anyway, it occured to me tonight that half the people in this show has their own blog. www.lindsaymuscato.com There's http://beccaclaire.blogspot.com And then if you go to www.chicagoimprov.org and go to their blogs section you can find Angie's blog. Ever since I've gotten this blog I've found more and more friends who are coming out of the blog closet. People from high school. There are people I'm already friends with that I already knew had a blog. www.webmistressjulia.com for instance. So many shameless links. I'm shaking my own head at my own self.
Anyway, this show we're working on had it's first run-through tonight. And for a first time through, I think it went pretty well. We're still working out the kinks. Actually Ray Davies needs to work out, he's old and has lived a long rock and roll lifestyle. He could probably use some Human Growth Hormone to slow down the aging process. Consider this entry the first official journal regarding this new show. Later, when we name the show, retroactively plug it's name in to this entry.
The people involved in this show are a fun group to play with. That's the thing about good improvising. It's got to be with people you enjoy playing with or else it becomes selfish and/or stagnant. I like these people.
I wonder if my family's been reading the blog. I should re-e-mail them and remind them.
I've been contacting my friend brettbecker@mac.com for the last couple days too. That's his real name. His parents were way ahead of the curve putting the dot com on the birth certificate. Or the BC as we in the state government paper work sector call it. Brettbecker (as I call him for short) are talking about possibly getting together soon and recording a crazy thing. He records and edits sound and music for a living. I play music for not a living. We used to work together a lot (when it wasn't work). Looking forward to this potential new project as well.
I wonder if Tech N9ne is watching us. I should call my little brother.

Lincoln Lodge this friday.

Since the Mexico entries were so long, I'll make this one short. I'm excited because I'll be playing "The Lincoln Lodge" this friday (tomorrow). It's a great, really unique stand-up club that carved out of a restaurant every friday night from October to May. The have consistently entertaining comedians and really cool "variety acts" (mostly music). I do both but this friday it'll be stand-up.
After this friday, I'll finally have enough video that I can splice together a demo to send out to many clubs and start doing some short tours hopefully. I really just want to hit some colleges and get back home to Kansas City to begin with. We'll see where it goes from there.
Over and out!

Here's a picture of me after I heard that noise that led me to walk into that dark place where the strange thing killed me in an odd way. 

Four days, three nights. last day.

I woke up, without an alarm or wake up call, right at 6AM. We got ready and we were out by 6:55AM. Check out. And, sadly, the last free breakfast. I solemnly scanned the selection. Chillaquilles, my good friend. I will spend some final moments with you here in Mexico. Pancakes, I am sorry that I had avoided you during this vacation. You see, we can be together anytime. But in Mexico I must be with the others--Oh...okay, my old friend. I will eat you here, now, on the last free meal. No no, sausage, if that is your real name. I spent the first morning with you and I became suspicious if you were really sausage at all. Perhaps, senior, you are not sausage, rather... weiners! Oh, hello there mystery cauldron. We meet again.The first two days, you were filled with a hot rice oatmeal which was exciting and wonderful. Today, you appear to be the same thing but you are being called hot cocoanut beverage. Whatever. Yesterday I eat you with a spoon. Today, I suck you directly from a cup like some sort of long lost lover returning from the war! Oh, I'm sorry fruit juice, I thought you were somebody else. Well, watermelon juice is okay but it's not what I was looking for...but I can't turn you down, not knowing that today is our last day together.
Breakfast was good. Quick.
On the bus. Over to the airport. Waited in line.
A bug flew into my mouth and climbed up the backside of my nose and just started walking around. I became uncomfortable. I blew my nose. There he was. As interesting as my vacation was for me, his little vacation had to be quite an experience too. "Have you guys ever been in a nose?...No not the front part. All the way back there by the spine. It's crazy back there. The footing's really slippery. You're right there by the uvula. Yeah, that's right, the uvula. It's as beautiful as the myths have indicated."
The plane ride back was relatively uneventful.
No boot on my van.
It was 34 degrees and snowing when we returned. And I like that just fine. Make believe is a fun but only in contrast to real life. It's like a great game. Eventually, you want to get back home and keep it as a memory. I was glad to hear that Chicago was still Chicago when we got there.
By the way, as beautiful as Ixtapa was, I'm sure there's more to do in Chicago.
Like work tomorrow and the rest of the week, stand-up this friday, rehearsal for "God" on Monday, stand-up next friday, more work and....

Four days, three nights. Day three.

After a day of toying with jokes about the guy in the orange hat, "Derrick", we luckily found that he was not a part of our day three activities. We had been a little concerned that he would be on the boat with us, but he wasn't.
Early breakfast.
Wait for the bus to take us away.
We went to ixtapa island. On the way, we passed more beautiful countryside, trees on the mountains, not a cloud in the sky. We passed Vicente Fox's home or one of his homes. Awesome mountainside place.
We get to the place where the boat will take us to the island and we (in three trips) get shuttled over on a tiny boat to Ixtapa island. Everything was beautiful. We walked along the beach to our "base". Which was a long picnic table in a sea of long picnic tables in front of a bar/restaurant in a sea of bar/restaurants. Our tourguide Erika gave us the rundown of our day. We all ordered our lunches. Drank some coronas. Rented our snorkle gear and headed over to the snorkle beach.
We had underwater cameras and emptied the 27 shot chambers quickly underwater. We all debated whether or not to use the life jackets but we all ultimately decided for the life jackets which was a good call. Had we been without, my wife would have drowned and possibly so would've the rest of us. The ocean floor drops off quick. Coral, coral, coral, fish, fish, dropoff! It goes from from being about six feet deep to being about 30 feet deep instantly. It was so beautiful. I will now make a point of going to the Shedd Aquarium here in Chicago just to tell people, "They're better in person...in their natural homes. These fish here? They're all jerks. Ixtapa clownfish are PIMPS!"
After snorkling, we rested and talked to a couple from Belmont and Broadway and a group from Winona, Minnesota. As we rested, drinking more Coronas, we became initiated into the selling of jewelry and handcrafts by the locals on the beaches. It's a unique sales technique. Everything is layed out in front of you without you requesting the show. Everything becomes "special price" for you. Can't pay now? Pay me later. And at the moment when you say your ultimate, definitive, final "no, gracias." They stare at you. Softly. Sadly. A soft pressure of air departs from between their lips and through their vocal chords with creates the most pitiful, and seemingly unintentional, "oh...". Then again with the sad eyes. Then they lower their sad eyes and back away, submissively. Were we her last shot at selling seashells on strings before they took away her "Vendor of Seashells on Strings" liscense?
Excursion over. Boat back to shore. Made friends with Minnesotans, Chicagoans, Oreganians and a Mexican couple from the north of Mexico who were the only ones on the excursion who did not speak English.
Got back. Napped. Avoided the Oscars. Met with Abrahamsens for dinner.
We went back across the street to the market area and found a great seafood place. Our waiter said the first round of drinks was on him. This restaurant had a Canadian family of various sizes playing various sized marimbas. This father must've been a defective. "Hey, honey. I have an idea. Let's pull the kids out of school and play traditional Mexican music to Mexicans. I'll bet that'd be a great life. We'll sleep on the beach. Never shower. We'll sell CD's and eventually, if all else fails, the ten year old is getting pretty sexy. We could whore her out. What do you say, honey?" "Anything for my marimaba man!"
It was uncomfortable.
Then we watched a guy at a bar across the way, pass out. Everyone gathered around him. He woke up. Then he sat right back at the bar and continued drinking.
Food was good. Spectacles seen.
Good night.

Four days, three nights. Day two.

Woke up early. Met for free breakfast. Went for free swimming. Went to a market across the street. Looked at 20 stores with exactly the same merchandise. I bought a bongo and a marionette that looked like my mechanic friend Jose' Tovar with a sombrero and a pistol. I look forward to working on trolleys with my marionette. We returned. More jumping into waves and riding them back to shore. I hurt my toes.I was talking to John and Julie and the wave came out of nowhere and sacked me for a loss of about fifteen yards. I felt my toes bent unnaturally and dragging across the ocean floor as I was spit back onto the beach. It made me limp for the rest of the trip.
"Never turn your back on the sea.
For the sea, she made a fool of me.
So I tried to pay her back
But she don't take no flack
So you'd better never turn yer back on the sea."
That's what I made up and what was running through my mind as I jumped waves with John and Julie. Cathy didn't enjoy the salt water. She stayed at the pool.
Then John started getting a headache. Cathy gave him pills. We separated until dinner. Nice dinner. French restaurant in Mexico.
I'm allergic to nuts. If I eat nuts, (like superman and kryptonite) the effects are never the same (although always based in the swelling of something). There were nuts on half of the menu items.Apparently the difference between good food and gourmet food is nuts. I was not aware of this. And the language barrier was such that I could ask them if there were nuts and tell them I was allergic but here comes the salad with nuts and the escargot in the pesto with walnuts. No warning on the walnuts. I ate it. I loved it. I even ate up all the sauce that was left over. Then I started with the nut reaction. It wasn't too bad. And, like having the knowledge that my car might be booted when I return, I pushed the negative down and enjoyed the rest of the meal without throwing up.
Cancelled reservations for the next night.
Then we drank. Went down to the ocean and talked about how dark it was and how scary it was to be near the ocean when you can't see the ocean.
Good night.

Four days, three nights. Day one. Pt. two.

So, thankfully, after not being able to read all flight (even though the magazine was in my hand, CurbJob Brimley kept pointing out the obvious) the flight landed. As we were taxiing there were beautiful tree-covered mountains all around us and "Look, a hawk!" and "That was a parakeet! Just flying around down here!"
Stepped off the flight directly onto the runway and it smelled beautiful. Smelled like the last week of school when the P.E. teacher says she's got nothing in particular planned to do so "Go crazy!" or maybe it was Field Day. That's the smell. It was field day and I was just about to do the gunny sack race. And I was gonna get a blue ribbon. That's what Ixtapa-Zihuatenejo airport smells like.
We go through customs and head to the bus. Little Mexican boys scurrying for a couple bucks to get our bags. They were so what I expected to be helping me with my bags that I was happy to tip these little guys. Then we get on the bus. I'm a tour guide so I was very attentive to our tour guide. His name was Jorge De La Vega (the only full name I'll remember). He spoke in a really cool broken english. He was doing his tour guide thing kind of like a struggling stand-up. He would tell you something informative and deliver a punchline and then if the punchline didn't get a big laugh he would quickly find a way to incorporate the word "party" into a sentence so we would all laugh and cheer. Tourists are supposed to be stupid. I gladly fell in line.
We passed all sorts of neighborhood stores and one strip club called kisses. Jorge said it was where all the ugly girls were. This made all the old women, travelling with their husbands, laugh. There were amazing old houses all over the mountain sides. The hills that we had to wind our tour bus through to get to the driveways of the hotels were really tight. Good driver.
Finally we arrive at the hotel and the tipping begins again. Two bucks for this guy. Abuck for this one. If this hadn't been a free trip for me, I might have been a loser jerk and complained (as I do when I get nervous). But instead it was pretty comical. At one point I tipped a stray cat. Seemed appreciative.
We waited in line for check-in and there was free beer handed out. Ah yes, all-inclusive. We could see the waves crashing on the beach which was just about 200 yards past the swimming pool. A lot of swim suits. Not as many attactive people as you'd hope but still there were some.
So check into the room. Go get free lunch. Go drink for free. Swim. Fight the waves. Come back to the pool. Swim. Drink. Swim. Drink. Drink.
Meeting at 3:30PM. where Angel will tell us about the different activities.
Now you're not going to believe this but there was another, entirely different, annoying guy in the meeting with us. T-shirt with sleeves cut-off. Bushy moustache (what is it with bushy moustaches and being a jerk? Is there a scientifically traceable correlation?). Bright orange baseball cap. Some kind of fish on front, I think. At first he was quiet but then he revved up. You see, this city in Mexico and I'm sure a lot of tourist destinations are very kind and accomodating to take American money. No real need to have many pesos. So Angel kept mentioning when it was good to have pesos or American dollars. Moustache holds up his hand. "Why don't you guys just switch to American money?" Uncomfortable laugh from Angel. The audience squirms.
Later, after a long list of very exciting and interesting tour options, "Show us something fun."
So, we hated him. We named him Derrick (I was picturing it spelled, "Derek") and avoided him all vacation. Which was easy because he was the one who never removed his bright orange baseball cap. For any reason. It may have been his hair, I don't know.
Day one goes on, swimming, drinking, laying out. Julie Abrahamsen develops big headache. We all nap. In the evening a fiesta at the resort. Music and traditional dancing from all the different states of Mexico. Free food. Crafts to buy. Julie couldn't come out so John joined us. We hung out until we were tired and ended day one.
(Later Julie woke up and John and her walked the beach at night)

Four days, three nights. Day one. Pt. one.

So my wife earned herself a vacation for two to Ixtapa, Mexico for working hard all year selling trolley and double decker tours. John Abrahamsen also worked very hard and won the same thing...as well as being voted "Employee of the Year" (I'm sure he narrowly defeated my wife) so he got a second trip. So that means he could waste one on us. We vacationed with John and Julie. We vacationed with another married couple. That is the beginning of the end, isn't it? Now we're middle-aged, right? Oh well, it was a really sweet beginning of the end.
First, we plan to get up at 3AM to make it to the airport by 4AM to be on the 6AM flight. Cathy was kind enough to let me sleep for an hour and a half as she packed, under the condition that I drove us to the airport. We actually got up around 3:15AM, stopped at Walgreens. There was a line at 3:25 AM. We get out to the airport area around 4AM but we had been led to believe that there was valet parking as part of the package we were participating in. There was if you made reservations but, of course, that was printed nowhere on the literature we had. So then we desperately speed away looking for remote parking. We find it at 4:40AM or so but as we're pulling in we see a sign indicating that the city monitors this lot and if you have three or more unpaid parking tickets you may be booted. I have three. Do I get nervous? Usually I would but I'm not ruining a vacation over something that might happen.
We get over there, meet with the Abrahamsens and then eventually board. We are all very tired. They are seated at the rear of the plane, us toward the front. We all want to sleep. However, the Churchills get seated next to a toothless, half-deaf ( and therefore extremely loud), annoying, racist, self-proclaimed comedian who insisted on talking to me the whole time.
He said things like, "It looks like we're not going very fast but we're movin'! That's really incredible!" and "The roads look real straight from up here." and "One time the pilot said, 'If you look down, you'll see Indianapolis', then it was maybe fifteen minutes later and we were landing in Chicago! It's really incredible!" oh and "My wife died last year." Now do you all feel bad? Don't. She might be lucky to have moved on.
This guy looked like if Wilford Brimley had been given a curb job. Smelled like a fart when he talked. And talked like John Candy in "Planes, Trains and Automobiles" but without any of the pathos that you'd want in a movie loser.
At one point he complained about a form we had to fill out, "Why don't they do it month, day, year like we do it?" And then my wife woke up and told him that the US is one of the only places that does it like we do. That was after two hours plus of her rolling her eyes the moment she was awakened by this guy. She didn't like him and she thanked me for taking one for the team and sitting next to him and absorbing all his conversation. 'T'weren't nothin', ma'am. Crazy people give you something to type about.