Here's a tip...

Dear Clueless Male Bar Patron,

That female bartender is not in love with you!

Now, I know it's been said a million times, but I'm going to lay it out here, because apparently it hasn't reached the correct channels. Or maybe you've heard it, but can't possibly believe it applies to you. Trust me, sir. It does.

I'm not being mean. Just honest. The following holds true for any venue where drinks are served by chicks. In this case, I am said chick.

We are not on a date. I didn't agree to come here with you because I'm interested in where the evening might take us. I was already here when you walked in the door. Doing my job. Don't be fooled by the candlelight and music. I do this for everybody.

I understand your confusion. I am giving mixed signals. Keep this in mind: I have to smile at you and try to genuinely laugh while I try to think of a neutral response to your gay-ass inappropriate joke. Look closely for the strain around my eyes. See that?

Oh no! For God's sake, did you just wink? Don't do that! Under any circumstances! Your eye doesn't really want to do it. Feel the uncomfortable tug when just one shuts? That's your eye trying to subtly tell you not to be a douchebag. Listen to your body!

Please just let me get my shit done, because other people that aren't annoying me need their martini. Believe it or not, standing here with one hand on my hip is not a flirting stance, I'm poised to escape to the urgent conversation the waitress and I will pretend to have at the end of the bar.

And don't be upset when my shift is over and I don't stay to have a drink with you. We've just spent a minimum of four hours together much to my vexation. That wonderfully huge tip you left doesn't buy my time after I walk out from behind the bar. But it does help me justify this job that helps me maintain while I pursue an alternative career. That's right! This isn't all I do! No, I don't want to talk about it. And no, you can't have it back. Sucka!

Never yours,
Sarah

I'm Famous!

Finally it's been documented! For anyone who hasn't seen me at the bar (and there aren't many of you left... where ya been?) this is pretty much how it goes. Twirling an empty glass, wistfully contemplating past regrets and hoping one of the buffoons behind me will indulge me in another cocktail. What are they laughing at???

OK, not really. This is from a shoot last Thursday. The Improvidate cast got together with some dudes from Popcorn Island Productions and shot one of our sketches. It was alot of fun, and judging from their level of professionalism, the amount of equipment (so many lights!) and some of the other stills I've seen, it's gonna be pretty great. Hurray for making stuff.

This also answers a special request for more pictures. Here's another of me and Freddie Sulit on a date. I just called him a Minority (is that supposed to be capitalized?) This is awkward!

Look, there's more!

A personal favorite: my buddy Christopher McConnell (AKA B-Unit) eating a Jenga piece. Why not?

That's the lovely Jessica Joy and uncomparable Ben Munro in the background. There are no small parts, just tiny heads.

Mayhaps I'll post it here when it's done. If not, I'm sure you'll catch it at the Chicago Film Festival. Yeah!

James Taylor Makes Poop Jokes

Recently I was fortunate enough to watch James Taylor do a sound check a few hours before his concert. We were surreptitiously escorted into the ballroom/banquet hall and approximately 20 feet away from the man himself. He played quick versions of his songs from the set that evening while joking with his band as they experimented with new versions. These people were real professionals. One of them would throw out an idea, the others would instantly pick it up on their respective instruments, and it sounded like gold. Amazing.
The crew started to wrap things up so they could scram before the guests arrived, when it happened: Mr. Taylor got the attention of the stage manager, and referring to the seat that had been provided for him said, "Is this my actual stool, or a stool sample?" Ba-zing! Oh, James Taylor... not only did you bring me to tears with your melodies, but you made me spit Cherry Coke with your witticism. Bravo.

Where was I when all this went down? Vancouver, BC (British Columbia... Canada... Get an atlas) I was there last week with Dave & Co. to do some funnies. The highlights include:

1) Real hookers! I saw them on my way to the hotel. They were hanging out on the corners, waiting for the next John to give them Hepatitis, or vice versa. They were all I could have hoped for: butt-skimming skirts, stripper heels and the stench of dashed dreams. The cab driver saw me looking on with my jaw hanging open, so he initiated a very candid conversation about hooking and how it works. I liked him.

2) A real hockey game! The Vancouver Canucks vs. The Chicago Blackhawks. I lost it over the mascot, which, by the way, was a whale. If you figure it out let me know. He was great! I nearly choked to death on my Sizzlin' Smokie - a hotdog infused with cheese. Yum - when he bit the head of one of the fans. Chomp! Apparently this is something they do, but it was new to me! Even better, I was gifted a puppet of said mascot by Dave. That puppet was biting heads all night. Thank you!

3) The OK Go treadmill dance routine. You know what I'm talking about. You saw it on You Tube. We learned a shortened version and recorded it for one of the shows. I thought I was going to die and have a closed-casket wake due to the extensive tread burns on my face. But once I barely mastered the art of walking sideways from treadmill to treadmill it was smooth sailing from there. You will see it posted here as soon as I get my hot little hands on it.

4) The death of Anna Nicole. Now before you get all pissy, here's why - the TV in Canada SUCKS. Worse than England. Anyone who's visited or seen Nat'l Lampoon's European Vacation knows what I'm talking about. They're not all "The Office." Thank goodness she kicked the bucket. I swallowed my hatred for 24 hour news channels and was grateful I had something to watch while getting ready for bed.

5) Oh yeah, the shows! They were fun. It was a great group of folks: Dave, Ross Bryant, Joey Bland and Phil Ward. I had a blast. My favorite was doing a silly lounge act wearing a big blonde wig and lots of sparkles. My blouse (ew) was of the grandma variety... let's just say it had alot of gold on it. Hilarious. I was transporting it from costumes on a hanger as an older woman walking beside me said (without a shred of irony), "what a lovely blouse!" Yeah, it was.

All in all, a great week.

I can't believe you read all of this.

Life Lessons

I met an interesting character today at the bus stop. I shall call her Old Lady. OL for short.
I was minding my own in the blistering cold when OL broke the cardinal rule of ignoring your fellow man while waiting for public transportation. She sidled up to me, looked me up and down, and said:

OL: What's your name?

Me: (slightly aback) Sarah. What's yours?

OL: Anne Marie Murphy.
From here on she will be known as AMM

AMM: You should be wearing a hat.

Me: I suppose so. Thanks.

AMM: You see that guy over there?
She motions to an unfortunate-looking dude, also waiting for the bus

Me: Yup.

AMM: He's shifty. I have a six-sense about these things. You watch out for rapists.

Me: Good call. I forgot about that.

At this moment the bus pulled up with its signature screech, and we went to our respective seats without so much as a "take care." But I'll never forget this crazy lady that may have saved my chastity from rape at 10:30 in the morning on the deserted intersection of Belmont, Lincoln and Ashland.

I love this city. And miss my car.

Absconding: My Favorite Pastime

Today I did the unthinkable. Hold onto your seat: I saw two movies for the price of one. Take that Kerasotes Chicago Webster Place 11!! I am a buccaneer! It was exhilarating. Don't get me wrong, I'm no innocent. But I've always had a partner in crime while sneaking into theaters between movies, and this time it was a solo operation.
On the negative side, it was a slight blow to the ego. I mean, seriously, am I that forgettable? C'mon, you bored, minimum-wage-collecting theater employee! You just tore my ticket for "Little Children" two hours ago! Remember my luxurious flowing locks and intoxicating scent as I glided past you? No? Ok, that's cool. I'll be in "The Good Shepherd."
Both movies were fantastic in case you were wondering. Five hours and twenty minutes of fantastic. Thanks Oscar Contenders, I'm all set.
On a final note, I have to touch on a pet peeve of mine: people that cushion an extreme emotion with a wimpy precedent. For example, I'm "kind of enraged." How is that possible? If you're enraged, be enraged. If you're not, then be "mad as a wet hen," or something equally lame. Just own up to your lame convictions.
Next week: girls that end every sentence with a question mark.

Finally!

I have a blog! And I did it all on my very own. I didn’t nag my friends with questions, I figured it out for myself! Generally, I'm terrified by computers and websites and all that hullabaloo, but who knew? I’m a technical wizard!

Yeah, I’m going to be honest, this whole ordeal took about 3 hours, so I’m gonna cash in my chips. But before I go, I’d like to give a shout-out to the lovely Jessica Joy, who said, “I can't wait to read your blog obsessively and look to see if I'm mentioned. Which, let's face it, is why we read blogs. Stalking!” She's right.

So, thank you to you folks who have provided me hours (perhaps days) of entertainment with your shameless chronicling. I salute you, and humbly join the ranks.