I Let My Fists Do The Talkin’

My Wife, the Ghost’s final episode

(it’s an mp4 so some people won’t be able to play it. Update your quicktime player if in doubt)

I went to the Channel 102 Panel last night… the first I’ve been to despite being a prime-timer 4 times over. Bill came too.

It went pretty fast for being 3 hours.

Most of them were pretty bad, but there weren’t any gut-wrenchingly terrible ones. I feel cheated really.

The absolute worst ones were guilty of being made by junior high school boys and being meta in an annoying way (and focused on channel 101, to boot).

I went down to DC last weekend for my parents’ ‘Welcome Back to DC” open house they threw for themselves. They seemed oddly interested in me coming down for it, despite the fact I was just down 6 weeks before. It’s a medium sized trip, NY-to-DC, and a hefty $200 ticket as well.

They moved back to DC after eight years in Manhattan/Connecticut for work. I grew up in DC but have practically no fond memories of it at all… it’s kind of a non-place. I think someone (Dan Goldstein, Erik Tanouye?) once mentioned he thought about doing a MD-DC-VA regional-prov show (like the Bostonian “Wicked Fuckin’ Queeyah”) since so many NY-based improvisers have roots there but there’s NO REGIONAL CHARACTERISTICS about this area. Even the dirtbags are just generic dirtbags. I think part of that is the majority of the population is from somewhere else or just “passing through” (like political/government workers, military folks, lobbyists). My parents are from California originally.

I’m uncomfortable at parties of my own peers, so my parents’ deal was par for the course. Less pressure, I suppose. At a certain point I just started bussing the dirty dishes and wine glasses to be useful. Most of the people I had met when I was in grade school and still don’t know what their names are. A lot of the men now have mustaches, I was surprised. Three people were now seeing people they met on the internet (one a widower, one a divorcee, and one perrenially single family friend who told my mother, “I bet you thought I was a lesbian all these years.”).

I was happy for them, though, since their complaint in New York is they had no friends to do things with and now they have a new-old social scene. It’s really hard to meet people in NY and doubly hard when all the people they WOULD hang out with are riding the MetroNorth home everyday when they’re staying in Manhattan.

They we’re pretty occupied with their party while I was there so we didn’t do much. We went out to G-Street Fabrics though, which is a surprisingly stocked fabric place for the suburbs… it used to be downtown, and I got some cool printed fabric for some new dresses (probably for next summer). They had a big stock of yukata/kimono-prints from Hawaii, probably meant for quilters.

On Sunday after the party, their friends Vicky and Joel (who live in Rowaton) stayed the night and the next morning we went to the National Gallery and the FDR memorial, which went up after I had left for college.

The trend in monuments seems to be “walk through” and appropriately, the FDR momument is very wheel-chair oriented… long twisty paths. They actually make a pretty huge deal about his Polio. I wonder how FDR would feel about that being touted so heavily in his legacy. The first sculpture is actually probably the best thing about it… it’s a really cartoony… like minimalist New Yorker cartoon… FDR sitting in a wheel chair, lifesize. Then there’s lots of random walls of rough-hewn pinkish granite carved with notable quotables and waterfalls (a TVA reference? or just showing off?). One section as a touchy-feelly wall for blind people… reliefs and things written in braille with no English translation.

The last thing is a super giant FDR in his Lord of the Rings cape with Fala the terrier at his side. Fala’s about 3 feet high and as we got there a kindergartener was doing what every kid of his generation will be doing—getting his picture taken riding Fala. Just like my brother and I both have pictures of us riding the chunky bear statue in the National Zoo and the triceratops in front of the Smithsonian Natural History museum (which is gone now… too many lawsuits? That thing was BIG.). Every monument maker and public sculpter must have that in the back of their mind… what can children ride and have their pictures taken atop.

Fala also is the spitting image of Jeff Koons’ “Puppy”

Last week I beat the final mission of Katamari Damacy (The Moon). I found it to be an enjoyable game with the unfortunate side effect of headaches. I think I would prefer the game in hat form rather than for PS2.

I’m having those move-away-from-New-York-forever moments. The biggest issue of living here that drives me up the wall is housing (take note Democratic Primary candidates with the ability to reverse time and thus, get my vote yesterday)... we pay astronomical rent and yet, live like animals. My apartment in particular is comically lacking in things like running water, heat, ammenities and competantly-assembled carpentry.

The latest lacking now is the oft-broken shower, which we’ve been living with for two weeks (from time of complaint to the appearance of the “plumber”... before the complaint… several odd weeks of clangling pipes and errant water delivery). Fixing it has become even more of an ordeal since the management keeps sending the same trollish fellow to “fix” it. He’s already been here 3 times to fix it… previously ripping out the wall. He’s doing it again now and with his typical laissez-faire approach, stretches it out as long as possible. We haven’t had a wall in our bathroom for three days now, nor a faucet. This is better than the time when he removed our toilet for two days, meaning any shitting or pissing options in the vicinity were limited to Renaissance/St Patrick’s Day style (out the window) or going down then up 6 flights of stairs. I still would like a shower… I stink of blood and desperation.

The first day he strolled in at the crack of noon, banged on the wall for an hour. Soldered some pipes. And then left at 5 PM with no wall, no faucet. I expressed irritation that it was not done and he burbled and rambled—he speaks no human tongue I can identify—and then left. The next day desiring to make a good impression, he appeared at 11:45 and asked for a key.I said I would wait in the apartment and I didn’t want to give the plumber a key and he started rambling and I have no idea what he was saying. Sounded like his delivery guy was coming and he needed the key to get the supplies in (which I suppose COULD makes sense… multiple trips downstairs)? Anyway, he started demanding I make him a key and I had just had it at that point and went out and got it, really mad.

I got the key and gave it to him and he sat around for like an hour as far as I could tell. I went in my room and fumed by the AC but when I checked outside for the lack of noise, I discovered he had just taken off… left my front door wide open too. He didn’t come back, he didn’t even touch the shower. I guess having his own key now allows him to do WHATEVER HE WANTS. He didn’t say anything about leaving or coming back or WHEN he was coming back.

The gallingest element is Trollo keeps saying “one day job… one day job” whenever he starts these.

I wish NASA would perfect maintainence droids so we would mulch all organic plumbers into pigfeed and axle grease.

Yesterday, Labor Day, Kirk and I went out to Hallie Unlovable’s mom’s house for a barbecue. She’s housesitting the house for the summer, in Croton Harmon on the Metro-North. It was a pretty easy trip and although I didn’t really know any of the people there, it was pretty ok.

The day turned awesome when we went down to the Croton river—where the local high school kids go to drink as evidenced by the broken beer bottles admist the rocks. The lifeguard on duty was pretty unhappy that 30+ people showed up 10 minutes before he was going to end his last shift of the season, and we ended up illegally swimming another hour after he took off (we hid in a different part of the river, away from the sandy beach) until it got too dark. Despite warning that the water was going to be really really cold, it was fine… brisk and clear. We had the whole river to ourselves in the middle of this wooded park. So lovely..

Today Kirk and I went to the Bronx Zoo.

People are assholes. People with children are big assholes with smaller assholes to continue their legacy of assholry. People who work at the Bronx Zoo, being on the receiving end of said assholry, trump all with (debately-righteous) supreme assholry. So many unpleasant humans amidst the 4000 species of animals (and Bug Carousel).

We also saw a baby snow leopard. And a mustachioed tiny monkey called an Emperor Tamarin. That was a ridiculous animal.

My Wife, The Ghost got an offer from Comedy Central to make MWTG for their new broadband channel (online only) and I’m knee-deep in negotiations right now. Dan Powell, of the development dept, referred me to a guy at William Morris to represent us in the contract stuff. He’s the same guy who represents Katie Dippold and a guy who used to produce for the Daily Show but now is writing for the Greg Giraldo show.

The contract is still being debated but the idea of it is Kirk and I will write two 2-minute episodes for them and get their notes. After the scripts are done, they have the option of green-lighting a “season” of 9-13 2-minute episodes. Comedy Central has the option to renew the show for up to 4 “seasons.”

We will continue to make the show ourselves, as we did for 102, but Comedy Central must approve all scripts and will give notes and such. We get a budget… it’s tiny, but more than we’re used to. Once the expenses (including getting a new apartment location!) and paying the cast and Bill (and whoever he wants to work with him) are covered, Kirk and I are going to keep the rest as our “salary.”

The best side-effect of this deal is getting an agent. Since this process started two-weeks ago I’ve mostly been preoccupied with updating my Girl Crush 2040 pitch kit. (And a little birdie told me that Cartoon Network has opened up to live-action shows and is seeking them) Fuck My Wife, The Ghost, man… I’m so over it.

I’ve gone eBay crazy! Relatedly, I have gone regular crazy!

In the past three days I’ve won four things and tomorrow morning at 8 AM that might go up to five. I’m an eBaying fool!

I also have insomnia, my gums bleed, and I find myself crying four or five times a day while watching television.

Hooray for eBay!