A week after the fact and much mulling over what to write about the shows I can easily say this:

It was what it was.

With as much publicity as I could do long distance and absolutely zero publicity done directly in Los Angeles? I was just happy we even got the houses that we did. A large majority from Goldstarevents. Some from the Noho Theatrical district. A few friends including the joyous Brian O'Connell from iOwest another improviser from there....an improviser transplanted from the Bay Area who took classes at BATS and former Oui Be Negroes company member Cordell Pace.

It was what it was.

I already came into the whole Los Angeles road trip not wishing to be in a car. Some ugly physical stuff going on made it pretty unbearable. Then more "Personal Lady crap" put a capper on a pretty miserable weekend. Personal crippling crap that made Hans run out and teach the class I promised to teach for Linda Fulton and her kids. Depressing.

But it was...what it was.

There was some shiny moments to the trip. Like, getting a brand new used car courtesy of Opus Moreschi who moved off to New York to possibly the most incredible job any writer could ask for. What an adorable well taken care of gem of vehicle. Replete with a ton of change, a do hickey for a cell phone an Ipod connector a full bag full of emergency car stuffs and a big blank canvas to draw on (that I immediately gave to Dave Dyson of Un-Scripted for him and Amber baby sitting the house)

Some moments. Like the moment standing in iO talking to Marcus and some very nice man stopped our conversation. I had just had a conversation with Marcus literally moments beforehand saying "This world is a lot different than my world in San Francisco. Somebody is going to ask me if I'm Shaun Landry" We were having a talk and sure enough:

Very Nice Guy: Excuse me?
Me: Yes?
VNG: Are you Shaun Landry?
Me: Yes I am.
VNG: You don't know me but....

(fast shot behind his right shoulder to Marcus with his eyes wide open and laughing...)

It is what it is. And I'm not a big fan of it. Trying to convince the closest people around me (outside of Hans) that it makes me feel strange and uncomfortable is almost impossible. This is including Kevin. I think he is convinced I love it.

I don't. I actually don't. I'm just some girl who improvises who in the long run of it all is just nobody in the big "Entertainment Picture"

It's so much about "image" in Los Angeles.

It should not make me queasy in this stage of the game. But when I see people who I consider close act completely different in an "Image" setting? It makes me taste lunch from two days ago in the back of my throat. Sure. I know everyone does not think like I do.

I just act the way I do no matter what. Because I figure it this way: This is who I am. I'm not pretending to be anything else. I'm not that hip. I'm not that aloof. I'm not that jaded. I'm actually this hopeful and I wear my heart precariously on my sleeve. I fall in love fast and can't help it. I'm prone to complete disappointment and disillusionment. But it goes away and my heart comes right back on my sleeve. I'm friggin Sweet Charity. I live "Hopefully Ever After" and you know what? The other alternatives seem even more fucked up. I'm a black woman who works my huge overweight 43 year old ass. Love it or don't. I don't care. I'm having fun over here. Who wants to join in? I might not work ever again once I move to Los Angeles? But hey I never really wanted that in the first place. If that was the case? I would have been here in 1986.

I don't need to look over my shoulder and act non affected, but still wonder who just walked into the room with my currently cool hipster drink.

The only person I care about looking for in a room at this point is (and probably always will be) Hans. The most important person in the room to me at this stage in the game. Because he is the one that actually "Gets me" and actually still really loves me.

But hey. It is what it is:
========================================================================
The Actual Mutts Shows.

A hot space does not make the Mutts happy campers. It was balls to the wall HOT during these shows at The Schreiber Theater. We found a lot of relief outside on the outdoor stage of the space before a show.

Everything was sort of a blur. No pictures were taken and we did not get any video. So if this is out of order? It is just my memory kicking in.

Thursday: The scenes went on forever. I mean, seriously forever. Our light guy forgot everything during tech and these scenes were ridiculously long. When Kevin and I realized he was not cutting scenes about 1/3 way through? We started doing that chore ourselves. It was like a battle on stage. A serious, hardcore sweaty battle. There was a super fun roll around scene at a wedding where we were playing a crap load of characters and McShane played a crack baby bride. In retrospect with the ridiculously long scenes? It was actually a fun show.

Too bad it was interrupted the moment I got offstage by two really creepy ass people who were real estate agents who pounced on me before I could even get offstage during intermission...because I made mention that I had been looking at foreclosed homes for the last two days. How nightmarish.

Friday: There are no happy endings life McShane was just not having the happy ending this show. Nope. Not having it at all. The closest we got was him making me a slacker guy and just being "That guy" The guy who breezes through life and gets away with blood murder while his character struggles at control and seems to fail at every turn. The control dude finally gets his joy when Slacker guy throws him a game boy and tells him to take his 15 minute breaks together...then goes to the boss who always gives him grief to cover...because he has been selling the guy weed since he has been working there. It was the first scene of The Irish Mutts where I actually walked out for a reason. Kevin is pretty good with just leaving a scene. And leaving me out there for extended periods of time until the light person realizes that he is not coming back. The last two shows I had gotten to sitting on the stage and letting out a big *sigh* to give a clue to take the lights out (this is with HANS in the booth).

The rest of the show? No happy endings. Matter of fact. Really tragically morose scenarios fit for dramatic theater that I'm sure no one was expecting with a name like Improv Juggernaut Comedy:

Light come up on me. Simple movement of having a tumbler glass and playing with the ice with a stir straw.
Enter McShane. I smile sweetly at him. He looks disgusted.
McShane: You have texted me twelve times that this was an emergency.

And here we go. The Crazy Former Girlfriend Scenario Scene. How do I make this version of the Crazy Former Girlfriend Scenario Scene different from the other Crazy Former Girlfriend Scenario Scenes of twenty years past? DON'T DENY BEING NUTS. But, make sure it is not Bunny Boiling nuts as that part of the scenario is always there. She is already set up as a lush. Let's just leave that bit of horror at that without the boiling bunny pot.

The call back scene was the height of complete realism and human relationship tragedy.

Lights come up on myself and McShane He closes the door of a bathroom

McShane: There was not a fire in here
Me: I think there was a small fire?
McShane: You called me here saying there was a fire...and there is no fire
Me: Oh (softly and desperately) so...how was your week?

It got a huge laugh. But you know what. This character is breaking MY OWN HEART. So lonely. So desperate. So in love with someone who is no longer in love with her. Comedy hilarity. McShane was calling that character out *all over the place* right down the sad puppy dog eyes I threw at him.

It was the last bit that I think the audience was feeling the same way. But hey. I'm going to play this out to its logical conclusion. And thankfully, so did McShane:

(Sitting down watching his favorite DVD of Casablanca with the Bogdonavich DVD special she got)

McShane: So I heard you went out on a date
Me: Yes. Yes I did.
McShane: (hopeful) are you going to see him again
Me: (blissful and desperate) I don't know. He looks a LOT like you. But its his *eyes* they don't twinkle the way yours do. I don't think I am. So how is your "Girl"
McShane: We are engaged.
Me: (horrified with a incredible long rant on how she is awful and how he better buy a big ring and other assorted desperate attempts)
McShane: I got the ring. I'm giving it to her on Tuesday.
Me: (sad and quietly) oh.
(a very very long pause as we sit in silence watching television)
Me: I love you.
McShane: I know.
(horrible long pause. You could not hear a sound in that theater)
McShane: I have to go. (leaves)
(I sit there with the glass of cranberry juice he made into a vodka cranberry...threw the glass up against the wall and mocked cried like a baby. Light out. Stunned silence)

It's COMEDY GOLD! :)

We head over to iOWest after the show and I watched Brian's group. They did a scene that had three people who were deaf at a bowling tourney. Brian was playing "Old School Deaf" replete with voice. Another guy used to be able to hear and lost his hearing. The other was just "pretending to be deaf" They all faced forward towards the audience because it was impossible for them to talk to each other...so they just used the bowling league MIRROR.

Every once in a while a voice over would say "Would deaf team bowling league please come and play or we will forfeit your game?" Of course they could not hear this announcement. I laughed harder than I have ever laughed.

I don't know why. I think I personally needed a good laugh that night on something incredibly silly and retarded.

Saturday: I'm putting your toys away. I want to play! Wee! I'm going to play silly tonight! It was what it was.

McShane is a camp counselor...I'm a spastic six year old child trying to hook up him and Camp Counselor Dan. First scene I started an awesome fire in the middle of the woods. McShane and I spent the majority of the scene "Putting out the fire" I informed McShane that I told Camp Counselor Dan that he really liked him. And McShane informed me that I should not have done that and that I did not know how to "Play the game"

Me: What game? I'm six years old!

The second scene I was just like any spastic six year old who wants to see their parents happy. It is actually a kid game. McShane? Calling a six year old character out like nobody's business. Just not even having it from a six year old girl.

Scene starts with me creating this awesome woodland area out of paper mache in the middle of the room. Kid is so super proud of it. McShane informs her that it has to be cleaned up. I watched Kevin's character methodically clean up the woodland paper mache forte.

Okay, this camp counselor is bent on making a kid deal with reality. Young.

So lets ask about Camper Dan. Turns out that Camper Dan and him have broken up. Shades of Martin DeMaat come into my head.

Okay. I gonna make this happy if it kills me. I become completely childlike and say "I CAN FIX THIS" and reach into McShane's pocket to get a mime cell phone to call Camper Dan.

I then start doing what kids do. Cry. Kevin is now playing Camper Dan. I tell them that it hurts me so bad that they are not together because they are just like my real parents...and to please meet with him.

Camper Dan (McShane) says to me: Tell hm we can meet at our favorite restaurant. So excited I get off the phone and give it back to Kevin (the other Counselor) and say: See, I fixed it! He told me to tell you to meet him at his favorite restaurant!

McShane: Honey. We don't HAVE a Favorite Restaurant.

McShane Hope is for Suckers: 5
Landry Happy Hope: 0

I dropped character and lost it. Just started laughing. Turned my back away from the audience and started laughing. Because the first reaction was indeed coming from the grave of Martin DeMaat, and it tickled me so much I just started laughing** I was praying for the lights to go out that never did. I don't know who I wanted to giggle at more: McShane or Hans in the light booth. Yank the lights! Scene over. Kids hopes and dreams dashed. Nothing more to see here. The End.

But oh no. Another minute or so in me just giggling in my own mind. So I asked this question:

Me: May I ask a question?
McShane: Sure.
Me: When I get older...will it be this unfun?

Lights out.
====================================================================
Saturday Night we head back to McShane's place with Negroes, Ronnie Ray, his girlfriend, Cordell Pace and Marcus' friend and have a few Jack Daniels and cokes. I hop into the shower (because I stunk like hell from the heat of the space) and put on a dress for an improv party Kevin was invited to...and we sort of crashed. We pile into McShane's car..pass up the UCB Theater (that I have never seen...that looks pretty cool passing by) and Kevin points out Vivid Videos.

Hans and I now officially sound like freaks in the car as I worked for a stint at Playboy...and we uh...sort of know useless trivia about porn.

We park the car across the street from the former mansion of Lucille Ball. A famously over the top mansion that apparently was in competition to Bob Hope's place up in the heat of the dessert.

I have no idea why I put on a dress for this party. They were very nice people? Very nice improvisers from around the city. But this time it was Kevin McShane's World. And good on him!

We get to the door and a very nice woman announces "LADY AND GENTLEMAN MR. KEVIN McSHANE! The house cheers. Then we walk in behind him and it gets all quiet like "Who are they?"

It cracked me up. I just went: Oh...and we are the black people he brought. Someone yelled HURRAY! I heard someone go "BOO" AWESOME!

Hans, Marcus an myself spent a large majority of the time on the front walkway of this apartment. We just did not know anybody and everyone was sort of entrenched in "Hollywood" type talk that I knew nothing about.

I did have a nice conversation with an incredibly beautiful woman who had just moved into town...not only with modeling representation but with a boyfriend in the same field. She was beautiful. She was not wearing a dress.

Why I just did not throw on a pair of jeans and my giants jersey was beyond me. I could have been comfortable just talking to Hans and Marucs...than completely uncomfortable talking to Hans and Marcus. I could have worn jeans and not been introduced to anybody. I could have worn a Giants shirt and not had the strenght to push myself into conversations and introduce myself.

At one point. Alone and watching people talk (and room enough in the place to pop a squat on an oversized chair) I pulled out my phone and texted Clay Robeson in San Francisco:

"At L.A. Party. I wish you were here to talk to"

It was a relief to see Craig show up. At least it was someone from Chicago past both Hans and I knew. Had a nice little chat before we headed out.

We get back home and Marcus and I stayed up late and talked for a very long time. Pretty much like each night there. It was like he needed to be debriefed on this whole weekend. And for good reason. I needed to be talked down to.

I realize that I will be moving here in March.

That Sunday morning we packed up stuff. The ongoing joke (both on and offstage) was my inability to keep track of things like keys and my wallet. (My wallet says: "I don't wanna be your wallet no mo!")

We pack up our stuff. We load up our brand new car. I head back upstairs and leave Kevin a thank you note for staying with him.

Then I unload my wallet of everything...leave it on his computer desk..draw a big arrow next to it and say "It don't wanna be my wallet no mo!"


I get home and write an email that says: Have you seen my wallet? The note just read: I can't seem to find it anywhere.

Kevin sends me an email back that asks who left a black coat behind. It must be Marcus'

He is not having the wallet joke.




**If anyone has ever taken a class with Martin DeMaat? I hope you are laughing too.

It was one of those kind of gigs for me that just feels like home:

I have performed there a lot at The Actors Theater in Santa Cruz.  With the festival and other shows, and now with McShane. (One of the regular audience members who attend the shows I do said "Who will be the next skinny white guy you bring up?" Hopefully Kevin McShane will be my last skinny white guy. I feel pretty confident about this. So far, he is just regular quirky.)

Thursday and Saturday Kevin was already here performing with the fantastically talented Trophy Wife Improv. I had the chance to perform with them on Thursday (as Zabeth Russell, the woman who introduced us in the first place could not make it to San Francisco, The warm and wonderful Jill Alexander had a callback for a national show and the surreal and sexy Opus Moreschi was doing DVD stuff for the animated series he writes for). For all purposes (at least for me) it was a nice warm up for the Santa Cruz show. It was a lot of fun playing with those boys. I call them "The Swingers" of Improvisational Comedy. One day I will catch them all walking in slow motion. McShane is Jon Faverau. Mike Coen is Vince Vaughn.







After a very late night BBQ Party on Saturday night at my place (a big thank you to some sold out houses for The Wife and Revolving Madness) We haul ass out of bed (SEPARATE BEDS! LETS NOT GET THAT RUMOR STARTED) and get into McShane's car to head to Santa Cruz. During all of this, I find out that I have a call back for a production of The Rocky Horror Show. It's at nine in the morning. We are packing to go to Santa Cruz. I'm sort of sad about the whole thing, but this is important.

McShane is more important than being Columbia.**

We get to Santa Cruz and have breakfast/Lunch respectively. It's a bacon thing that seems to be the theme for myself while traveling with The Irish Mutts, so I have French toast and apple bacon and the ten dollars worth of "Bottomless Mimosa". The place we eat is located in the Mall like location of the theater, so he heads off to teach a class full of chicken and some of my bacon. I opt to spend three hours in the office of The Actors Theater downloading pictures onto flickr of SFIF week Two.

Actors? They are pretty people in front of that SFIF Banner (that McShane also designed)

At one point I see actors flee the theater. Kevin has sent them out on the street to hunt for characters. He took my workshop exercise. Good on him! Pass that on dog!

=======================================================================

After class and tech with Joya Winwood, we head to my favorite restaurant and bar in the world in Santa Cruz: Reds. God I love this place. It is red. Very Red. It also has great goddamn food. Lee Ann (god love her) tells the waitress she is in a hurry...then proceeds to be what I call an impossible orderer. In the time she finally got her order out...she could have had the food. :)

I have the tiny Wimpy burgers. Kevin had food that looked tasty.

We get to the theater and Kevin sets up a camera. We are going to get a good tape of the Mutts if it kills us. We get dressed (IN SEPARATE PLACES! LETS NOT GET THAT RUMOR STARTED). I take blurry pictures with my new camera. It's the first time Kevin and I go "12 Rounds". This is what I call it. We are doing two acts: 45 minutes...intermission...30 minutes.

Lee Ann introduces us. IT was like she was ordering at the restaurant (god love her. she is an awesome lady. I really need to teach brevity in hosting. :) )

Our suggestion was "A Stich in Time Saves Nine" We then proceed to do some pretty good scene work. Kevin's roommate with no discernible interests. The friends all about shooting each other in the head if they do things they should not be doing. (long lists that would entail shooting someone in the head as a friend)

First act (along with a lot of the Mutts shows) I find ourselves very far from each other. I looked at some stuff that Joe Bill and Jill Bernard have been doing with SCRAM The closeness they bring to relationships. The fearlessness to be "with" each other.

I'm not asking Kevin McShane to make out with me on stage (LETS NOT GET THAT RUMOR STARTED). I just think our relationships should have a "Closeness" Holding hands. The fearlessness of brushing hair out of each other faces. The fearlessness of slapping each other about. Or holding each other for real. And yes, even kissing. I mention this during the second act.

The second act was really good. Just this lovely scene with him playing an eight year old exchange student in love with his teacher. Me trying to get him to pronounce bread correctly and what this eight year old sees in his mind.

The closeness of our lips repeating back and forth the word bread. McShane is a rockstar. He breaks out of that kiss and leaves me in a freeze and says to the audience (paraphrased) I did what any eight year old boy would do He comes back into the scene and sits down and kisses me fast on the lips

Me: Oh my!
Him: (childish Italian accent) I love you.
Me: (like a mom...but sweetly) Well...I love you too
Him: (childish) no. I LOVE YOU.
Me: (Pats his head still like an adult) aw. And I love you too... (I head back to the blackboard)
Him (To audience childish) This is when I knew I had to kill her.....If I could not have her....

IT was awesome sweet and beautiful. The closeness. Kevin McShane take notes well.

But with all Mutts shows, something silly must occur. Our second act we took the CD's of our light person out of her car and had the audience pick three CD's to mix up to inspire us into scenes. (with Kevin onstage keeping the audience occupied with his dead on facial imitation of Robert Deniro

One of those songs was from the Disco Collection. It was Diana Ross' Upside Down.

We pretty much danced to the entire song on stage. We had a dance competition. The whole thing was set in a Disco and really at one point I was saying something and dancing...

...and just stopped talking and started to sing my favorite part of this song.

As long as the sun continues to shine.
There's a place in my heart for you, that's the bottom line...

I heard the audience cheer. McShane can dance his ass off. I'm not bad myself. I actually got my fat ass in a squat and was dancing low. I'm in it to win it.

It was a great second act. We did it. We rule the day.

And we have literally no pictures of this show. And we have no video. All that set up and there was not enough juice in the camera.

But we have it for our memory. And I have this blog to read just in case.

We have drinks at Reds. McShane tells me I look cool coming to the table with a smoke hanging out of my mouth with a cold PBR for him and a gin and tonic in a pint for me still in my Mutts outfit. He looks pretty cool backlit in red in that suit. Some incredible throwback to Rat Pack days gone by.

He's my boy. A while ago he said to me -  You don't know what you would do without me.

Dude, I was just waiting for you to grow up. When I was 23 I was thinking I wish that 10 year old in Bethesda Maryland would hurry the fuck up and grow up!



Next show: Los Angeles in September at Schrieber's place. We might even make a Gobo

It was the most normal improv festival I have ever been to.  When someone would say that, you would think that is not a compliment.  From the years of finding myself hurling up purple...or unnecessary drama...or other "bad behavioral patterns" that I have fallen into on a festival tour?

This was wonderfully normal

And that means it was awesome!

I think the best move I could have ever done was taken McShane up on staying with his aunt Margy and his uncle Pat in the beautiful confines of Apple Valley Minnesota (about 30 minutes out of the theater and surrounded by albino squirrels and a family of rabbits.  At one point I was waiting for Edward Scissor hands to come walking down the street).  I can only imagine me staying in the hostel around the corner of The Brave New Workshop.  Just bad, bad behavioral patterns in the confines of a hostel.

Thank god for a beautiful comfortable room in a spectacular home with all plush white carpets a kitchen and two real bathrooms and a wooded porch with a professional electric grill and yards and yards of...well....yard.  We had the entire "Romp Room" of the basement.  When I squealed "Oh my god!  What a beautiful Romp Room!" I showed exactly how old I was to Margy.

Kevin's extended family (unlike the scariness of him meeting my sister) are possibly the nicest people to walk on the face of the earth.  They take the words Minnesota Nice and make it beyond a lifestyle.

It makes me weep a little "There are really people like this"

I get into town on Thursday early.  The plane literally arrived thirty minutes early.  We head back to the house and they feed me (something they do all weekend long sans the BBQ) and we all split a bottle of wine and beer.  It was almost midnight when I realized we were missing the TCIF Opening Night Party.  But, we an improviser at a festival:  I know they are still there.

The Brave New Workshop
We get to the theater without a hitch and sure as hell there is everyone standing outside.  Mark from Pimprov.  Dave from BNW.  Jay Star is there!  And there is Jilly and Joe Bill basking in the glory of a great show they just did with SCRAM.  (Sometimes you can never see an improv show.  You just see how hard it is to get to the people performing and can tell how well they have done).  I hug Jill long and hard.  She see McShane up the street.  She starts running towards him.  He stops, looks horrified and starts RUNNING AWAY.

Jill Bernard chasing after Kevin McShane screaming I LOVE YOU and him screaming HELP!  What an Ass.  It was hilarious.

We get a tour of The Brave New Workshop by Dave and Butch.  An actor/producers wet dream.  A real stage.  A real booth.  A real dressing room...A REAL TECH ROOM FULL OF TOOLS!  A full on coffee shop/bar to be open during the DAYS!

I think in my head as a San Francisco person renting space:  "Boy...they probably have a real theater license too.  I can almost be certain nobody is living here to pretend it is a residence instead of a theater.  Goddamn...it is on the first floor.  Shit...I bet the next door places don't bounce to mashes of Depeche Mode and Donna Summers"

We drink.  We laugh.  We meet new people and old friends. 
Mental Note:  I GOT TO REMEMBER NAMES OF THE PEOPLE I MET TEN YEARS AGO AT FESTIVALS.  I have come to the point with people (male or female) going "I'm sorry.  I was probably stoned or drunk.  Did we have sex?"

There are some people though you never forget.  Joe Bill is one.  Jill Bernard is one.  Butch and Dave are more...and I will never forget the Pimprov men and now Jay Star.  It's nice not being fucked up for a change so I can now remember these incredible people.


Friday Day: Tech and Enclosed America:
Kevin sleeps for extended periods of time. Good reason I assume as the space we are in is so comfortable you just want to rest the entire time.  I start feeling like his mom fully dressed and awake at seven in the morning.  I mean, the sun is up...so now I'm up...sipping coffee and working on the computer and watching golf with Pat (as he also gets up early too)

I do the unpacking to get my Irish Mutts outfit pressed.  I dig through my bag.  I have packed everything EXCEPT a pair of dress pants.  Great.  Excellent.  McShane's an ass....and I'm an idiot.

We end up heading off to tech rehearsal at BNW.  Butch is there and he is doing tech.

Here is the thing:

• There is nothing sexier to an actor/producer when you pass off a CD and it gets loaded into a computer!
• There is nothing sexier when the god mic is also connected to a system that can fuck around with your voice.
• There is nothing sexier when you are ON THE STAGE and the OVERHEAD MICS CAN DO THE SAME THING.
• There is nothing sexier than looking up in the ceiling and seeing real light patch work.

Butch Roy is one of the main tech people

Rehearsal equation: Butch Roy is SEXY.

Our tech was so short it was stupid.  We head out to find me a pair of pants.  We hit the unbelievably surreal Mall of America.

I start counting the Black People the moment I walk in.  This does not include the black people who work there.  Total head count of Black People (outside of myself and employees): Thirteen.  If Pimprov came with us?  The number would have been better for the Mall.

I find pants at the Gap.  We take pictures of a gaggle of baby strollers penned off in front of the Rainforest and that amusement park.

I want an Orange Julius. They still have it in this mall.  Very tiny and small.  Overtaken by the fake Orange Julius of our day serving Smoothies.  I get a brain freeze.  We try to find "Hot Dog on a Stick" and cannot seem to locate it where the map pointing us past the Bubba Gump's (The place where people working there end up wanting to machete Tom Hanks, they see him so often everyday)  So we head back to the mall and eat a place called American Food (I believe)  McShane has a chili dog smothered in yellow cheese.  I have this chicken sandwich that is actually a greasy chicken finger cooked good and hard...with some slimy bacon on a strange hamburger bun slathered in some fucked up sauce and one un melted piece of yellow cheese.  We sit across from Johnny Rockets where the loop of 50's music is all fucked up and sounds like a dying Merry Go Round.  The sounds of screaming children off in the distance on machines built to have them hurl this food to keep people working.

And that one kid with the giant Mohawk styling 1986.  This kid don't give a shit as the rest of the Mall Kids are styling the latest and greatest of whatever current pop/soul/rock singer is wearing.  A kid that just don't give a shit.

God.  I loved it.  This is America.  The part I barely ever see as some sort of whacked Urban Hipster.  I enjoy this horrible food with GLEE.  I'm GLAD I got my pants there.

Friday Night: The Show
We get back to the house to change.  We get all in our Irish Mutts outfits.  Margy is so tickled by how we look and says "I want to take a picture before you go!"

The inflection?  Just like she was Kevin's mom and we were going to prom.  So that is what we did.  We posed like it was a prom picture.  The horrified "Over smiling" because you want this picture to be good and the underlying of what most prom pictures are saying:

Me:  Oh my god!  I hope she doesn't know that I hope to lose my virginity to this guy in the back of the car!  We will get married. I know it.  If I only put out!
McShane: Come on MOM!  There is precious time here on me getting drunk and boinking this girl!  I'm looking forward to ditching her at the prom...getting so drunk with my buddies and then trying to boink this girl...but just too drunk to get it up.
Me:  Gee.  I cannot wait to try to get this fellow off for three hours to no avail and blame myself for not being able to do that and carry that with me for the rest of my life!

That is what this picture is for me.

We get back to the theater and actually throw a ball around downstairs.  I actually put on makeup.  Kevin takes pictures of that.  I now have two pictures of myself where someone has taken a picture of a mirror of me doing something with my hair or makeup.  We listen to Rampleseed KILL upstairs.  I mean KILL.  At one point there was such a wave a screaming laughter, I turn to Kevin and said:  Bet you ten dollars there are two men making out with each other onstage.  He did not bet me.  Because yeah.  I was sort of right.  :)

I'm nervous.  Bernard's ringing of "Destroy this stage" and Roy's "Don't fuck up" actually got me nervous (accidentally) for the first time in almost six years.

McShane and I kiss each other and say good show.  And we are introduced by Rampleseed:

Tom Reed: One is very talented and the other is black, you figure out which one it is!

YAY!  He used what we asked him to do and did not get lynched!



The show was solid.  The problem with both Myself and Kevin (because he is an ass...and I'm an idiot) is we have a tendency to overanalyze our stuff to the point of not feeling very good about a solid show.  There was some grand moments in that show in retrospect:  The Mars scene.  The second callback of the two friends (he is gay...and I'm enamored by him).  First scene I got dumped by someone he introduced me to.  Second scene he got dumped by his boyfriend right in the middle of The San Francisco Gay Pride Parade (topical because both Minneapolis and SF were having Gay Pride this weekend) and Kevin said something really powerful when I said we should just date each other:

McShane: (paraphrased) Us being together was just not meant to be.
Me: I'm sorry I keep hitting up on you.
McShane: I'm sorry I'm not that interested.
Me: Me too.  I'm sorry you got dumped at the parade.
McShane.  Yeah.  And I'm sorry that I had sex with your boyfriend in High School
Me: (long pause) WHAT?
(Black out)

Did I mention how sexy Butch Roy is on tech?  The plates. Oh the plates.

People seemed to enjoy it.  I'm never a good judge of my shit.  But the nice things people said afterwards was well...nice.  Kevin's entire extended family was there.  And they seemed really happy.  And my extended improv family (god love you Jill Bernard) said nice things as well.  That was worth the plane ride alone.

The Other shows were unbelievable.  Just the most amazing improv from the Minneapolis crew coming out of that town.  People better recognize Twin Cities.  They are blowing the rest of the National Improv Community out of the water.

It makes you wanna move to Minneapolis.

Saturday:  I'm an idiot and McShane and David are asses.
This is where I start paying back.  Margy and Pat are going to get my BBQ love on Sunday..so McShane and myself decide to go to the Cub Foods and buy stuff.  Get some booze and a gift too.  All on my flush dime.

We are both a little hungry and there is fast food there.  There is a KFC.  McShane says "Hey Shaun look a KFC!  I know how you people like...(grips his mouth) WHY CAN'T I STOP THIS??"  It becomes the running joke for the rest of the weekend.  He then passes the flame of  "Stupid quiet racism" to Dave from BNW.  They are both have the same body build and literally the same mannerisms.  So now there are TWO jackasses later on in the night doing the "WHY CAN'T I STOP TALKING" bit. McShane has brought bits to Minneapolis.  It's passing the torch bit of love.

He's an ass.  We sit at KFC and we create a zodiac for improvisers.  The archetypes of improvisers and how they are mixed (or for those into the zodiac...on a cusp)... Hopefully he will have time in his copious schedule to create this gem of a piece suitable for wall framing by every improviser in the world.

We get to the grocery store and we buy food.  I pull out my wallet and my credit card is not there.  I don't panic, because I know EXACTLY where it is:  At the bar of Brave New Workshop where I had started a tab to not only drink myself and McShane...but to buy one for Mr. Mark Sutton of Bassprov, as it was his birthday.

I'm an idiot.  I don't even have my phone on me to get the text from Jill Bernard saying that my Debit card is there.  They make an announcement after the Saturday show onstage to remind patrons to CLOSE OUT THEIR BAR TABS.

Yup.  I set the stupidity level and pass the savings on to other people who are not as stupid as I am.

We get home and I start a monster marinade "soak" of the things that we (and Margy...because they are super nice) bought. 

• Pork Loin in a 24 hour soak of beer, basil, garlic, salt and pepper with hickory smoke
• Chicken in a 24 hour soak of Jack Daniel's, fresh squeezed lime, garlic, salt and pepper, cilantro and a touch of chili powder.
• Strawberries in a 24 hour soak of sugar, orange juice, lime zest and fresh cinnamon sticks.

I also pre-pre the BBQ Skewers and make sure everything is together for the Potato Salad. 

I'm not playing here.  I have eaten so far at KFC and Mall of America.  We are really eating on Sunday.

In between all of this we attend the wedding of Mr. Nate Melcher and his new lovely wife.  We head to the church and see bits of the Muppets singing we are going to get married!  and listen to John Williams music completely taken out of context.  It was beautiful.  We got our church in and seeing an improviser get married all at once.  How often do I go to a wedding where the words "Improv" are actually said by the pastor?  Never.  We both got our churching in for the trip.  We do not attend the Reception.  Off to see more improv at TCIF.

Which was wonderful.  I listen to Bassprov like radio. The Armando with Bernard at the end of the night was fucking hilarious.  The dirge to Sutton by Bill "IT'S YOUR CELL PHONE.  IT'S YOUR CELL PHONE" made me cry little tears of joy.

Guns and Zombies.  Are you kidding me?  Where is this genius COMING FROM.  What is in the water in Minneapolis?!?

We head to the Onion Party and start drinking there.  Everyone is reminding me to hold on to my Credit Card.  I'm an idiot.  I leave McShane's expensive camera behind under the table for the wait staff to pick up and to freak both of us out.  I'M AN IDIOT.

I'm good and drunk when I leave.  I'm now going into "Old Behavior Pattern"  Finding a place to relieve myself.  Going to White Castle and ordering too much food.  Seeing White Castle magically disappear from the car but not in my tummy.  Wanting more booze at the house.

Nope.  It's all normal the moment I step in the house.  I'm not going to wake these kind dear people being loud.  I'm not going to hurl in this room.  Nope.  I turn on the Persuasions (not the Zappa album...the GOSPEL album) and fall asleep to Black Baptist music.

It's so nice and normal.

And wonderful.

Sunday The BBQ: - I could do this.  I really could.
McShane said to me at some point that I would probably kill myself if I lived in an area like this.  At that point I retorted true: 

Me: Yeah.  I would find myself never being here and in a car in Minneapolis...or sleeping with neighbors for drama.

After the Sunday BBQ?  No.  I could DO THIS.  No.  I could seriously honestly DO THIS.

I had so much fun cooking for Kevin's family it was silly.  All of the kids...all of the casual beer and wine.  Little six year old Ana and her being so sassy.  She is a lovely Miss Thing.  We hit it off immediately.  She wishes to be a vet.  We talk about animals as she had just come back from the zoo.

I break out in hives (I do this when my body overheats) and sure enough one of the parents has meds for it (her son is allergic to stuff)  So there I am at a party with two glasses of wine, a beer and Benadryl in me.  It was GOOD TIMES.  I play tag with the kids.  and run for a bit and find myself out of breath.  I do Heart Attack Ron for Kevin.

(Bending over) OH JEESH.  (breathing heavy) DO I TASTE COPPER?

They name the Potato Salad I mad after me: Landry's Potato Salad.  I had a sliver of chicken on the grill and I asked for a plate for it.  One of the younger boys piped up quick:  No, I'll take it!  Cool by me.

I guess this kid never eats chicken.  Well Good on HIM!

Improv. Cooking. Sex.  All (if done right) should have other people feeling good at the end of it all.  Especially guys: A big belly laugh from a guy.  Guys with their belts undone sleeping on the couch smiling.

Guys with no clothes on sleeping next to you smiling.  Best thing in the world.

The silence that shuts down a conversation right in the middle from a good meal.  I love that silence as much as I love the wave of laughter rushing over the stage as much as I love the deep throttle groan of my own name in bed.

My day was made with that shut down conversational silence.  That is all the thanks I need when I cook.

Sunday: The Last shows.  The Doggy.  Goodbye
We head full on food to catch Arthur and his dog perform.  We were also lucky enough to catch the Mustache Rangers.  That show made me chuckle.  Two guys in the same clothes with big fake mustaches.  Droll.  Dry.  Funny.  WHAT IS IN THE WATER HERE?

Then we see Arthur from Austin.  I don't kiss ass that often, but goddamn it..after the show I sat on the ground with his dog and scratched a dog like he has never been scratched.  That is the only way I could communicate to that dog that he is one hell of an improviser.  And Arthur is quiet genius.




We go to the Green Mill for drinks.  And I sit full, exhausted and happy.  But not like regular festival tired where I feel like I have been hit with a truck full of ugly.

I still had my voice.  I still had my integrity in tact even with the left behind credit card.  I felt happy and full and joyous.

Jill Bernard comes up to the window of the place with a sign that says Thank You For Everything from an improviser who left it behind in her dishes.  I wish I had a million signs like this one that I could have left behind at her place, Butch's Place, all of the staff at BNW, Dave home, Margy and Pat's Home (instead of the SOMA bottle we bought)

I wish I had that sign to put on the back of that rental car and drive around Minneapolis for a while and back through that White Castle.

God, I had a good time.  It was wonderful.  It was joyous.

It was fantastically normal for me.

It is almost at this point to express The Chicago Improv Festival Experience, as a lot has been said other places, but I will try.

It was incredible.  Wonderful moments.  Strange moments.  Joy, bewilderment.  Great shows, emotional shutdowns fits of laughing all mixed with Viva Las Vegas, The Rat Pack, it being on like Donkey Kong  all wrapped in Midwestern Sushi.

We did it.  We ruled the day.  The Irish Mutts are hot sexy bitches even when we are hurling, doing back up as Ike and a dancer to someone's Tina Turner...or waking each other up to have use of the bedroom to sleep in.

Did I mention our show was good.  No?  Our show was good.  There I said it.  Goddamnit, I said it.

Saving Money the Peapod Way.

Before I even arrived in Chicago I got online to Peapod and ordered a bunch of food.  Beef, chicken, pork, pasta, bacon, eggs, milk...etc.  I figured I could share this with Jonathan Pitts roomie along with Kevin.

Well the food arrives and I find out putting it away that not only do these guys barely use the kitchen (I had to buy "Super Essentials" like flour and butter later)...that two of the roomies are what I call "Eating Impossible"

One is a straight on Vegan.  The other informed me that he does not eat anything "That walks on four legs"  I swear to god nothing that "Walks on four legs"  He informed me that he eats Fish and Chicken.

"And apparently humans" I quickly responded.  He is also allergic to ONIONS.  How nightmarish for him and the poor souls who have to cook for him.

This meal would have made him wince.  McShane and I (when he got into town) had a grown up dinner with nice plates at the dining room table.  That is a pork loin (FOUR LEGS!) with pasta spinach, roma tomatoes garlic and ONIONS.  Jeepers.  One room mate would leave the meat like it was Satan Spawn...and the other would break out in a rash.  The other roomie stayed at his lady's house.

He was the non allergic meat eater.  A really swell fellow who would eat his own mom with a side of fries if push came to shove.  Oh well.  His bad.  He gets the extra food left behind.

We rule the day.

There are so many shots of the Irish Mutts performing (and hosting) at The Chicago Improv, that it is really hard to choose which one to throw up here.  I'm sure the two of us have varying opinions on which one is the coolest? 

But it is this one that I like the most.  For a lot of reasons.  The main one is the emotional context of the picture and only the people who were there can still laugh at it.

A very serious, warm and tender moment (and it was, really)

The context:  We are getting ready for our child's graduation and I remember how I thought that she was RETARDED!  I just made this character so happy that their kid was not retarded and "Only had a lisp"

What is even personally funnier to myself is I find myself going to "Source material of my life" for comedy.

My mother told a friend of mine and my husband during a Thanksgiving Dinner at my grandmom's house (around the table when my aunts were so happy about me being in Second City and all the accomplishments I had) that they thought I was retarded.  It was sort of like "You know all of us thought Shaun was retarded (awkward silence by everyone but my mother) can you pass the cranberry sauce, baby?  My mom thought this because I did not speak much when I was a kid and indeed had a lisp. 

She always thought I was retarded because I would not speak.

I don't think she realized until much later that I did not speak BECAUSE I had a lisp...or the idea that if I said something, she in return would say something awkward and hush me back into silence.

Thank god for some fucked up shit.  I would have no source of comedy whatsoever.

So many moments of that show:  The Cougar.  The Emotionless Fiance and her even more emotionless father at the funeral of her dead boyfriend.

And the McShane Strip that brought the house down.

There are a million pictures located on Flickr

It was a wonderful time.  A good wonderful time for a Mutt who is originally from Chicago.

Next stop, Minneapolis.

It all starts off with this poster:

Pretty simple. Nice. We look sort of hot. If you get close to the poster it reads: "Improv Legend Shaun Landry"

Now tell me. How is a girl supposed to get laid by 18-21 year olds after doing a show with the Tag Improv Legend attached? How do you live up to that? It's a master plan by my partner: Making posters to insure that my husband never gets a three thirty phone call by some heartbroken 19 year old saying they had sex with me.

Because who wants to be all intimidated going *into* sleeping with an *improv legend*

And I can't live up to that. It's an evil plan. Damn McShane.



We get into Oberlin and are greeted by the organizers (Ian and Avi) who are gracious and wonderful. We take them to the Fez (the local Oberlin College watering hole) for drinks.

A gin and tonic. A vodka cranberry. A Past Blue Ribbon (when did this stuff become POPULAR?) and a pale ale: Eight dollars.

WHAT? I have now hit Magic Economy mystic land. A place that seems very reasonable in price. My vodka cranberry in San Francisco would have been three dollars less alone.

Battle cry every time we bought something: WHAT?!?

Thursday night at Cat in the Cream (an adorable space with a large stage...great piano and tables about the place) we performed with the beyond talented I Eat Pandas. We opened. Thank god for that. No one...and I mean no one wishes to Headline for I Eat Pandas.

Travis (The Pandas Piano Player) played for us. How wonderful. It added so much dimension to the show to have him there. And picking the right person to do our lights (Ian. You can just spot who is going to be good. He was the guy) also was a huge boon.

McShane played really fun. At one point I was playing terrified at a character he was playing watching him skip in a circle happily causing me extreme torture on wanting him to be "His mother"

Just those moments in fucked upness. And him playing that joyously. It was a really good show.

Saturday found me in a classroom with University students from all over the country teaching Improvised Monologues and an Harold Explosion.

There is nothing more satisfying when your teaching becomes just *tweaking* and your class whips out the hardest Harold Opening that very few do: The Invocation. Well holy crap. This is a two hour class of being entertained and giving specific actor notes.

How lovely.

One show I ended up watching (The Party from New York) before I promised myself I would be back to see Oberlin's The Sunshine Scouts (the ensemble that Kevin Founded). This was not to be. Jet lag and six hours of classes found me waking up at midnight only to check my email for the suggestion I got to write a seven minute piece for Daytrippers.

But that was okay...because everyone came back to our adjoining hotel room. 4/20 on college campus. Me at a computer writing. It was the Hunter Thompson of Improv Comedy for me for a brief shiny moment.

Sunday was our final day of doing nothing but enjoying the food at the Hotel...hitting the Methodist Church (to see what that was all about) and ending up with an original piece of artwork from a dear man everyone calls Auntie. Loud boisterous conversations on politics. A drunken trip to the comic book store across the street...because I use to own one and loved the set up of the racks.

Falling asleep to the television. Surreal dreams...only to be awaken by McShane in silhouetted darkness telling me it was time to go home.

Such good times. Pictures of the event soon.

Shaun Landry