Classic

On my walk to the gym today I nearly slipped on a banana on the sidewalk! There it was, all mushy and glistening, begging for me to wipe out on it. I avoided an embarrassing moment, but I'm kind of disappointed, because I missed out on one of the most classic comedic bits.

It reminded me of my favorite joke from my musical-nerd childhood:

- How is a banana peel on the sidewalk like music?

- If you don't C sharp, you'll B flat.

Ha Ha! That slayed me as a kid! Good stuff.

It's 5:00 AM!

I can't ever sleep. No wonder I'm so exhausted and impatient all the time. Sorry for all the times I've pretended to be listening. It happens alot. Assume I've done it to you at least 4 times, and increase that estimate if I see you often.

The following are things that keep me up at night:

How do celebrities decide to be friends? There are some weird combos out there. I know this because I read US Weekly religiously. Tom Hanks and Bruce Springsteen! Did you know that? They recently vacationed together in The Caribbean. I looked it up, and apparently they've been friends "since youth." Sorry I don't have more info, I lost interest. How about Gweneth Paltrow and Madonna? That's better known. What's the deal? They get together and talk about being married to sexy Brits? The pitfalls of being ex-patriots? How the macrobiotic diet makes them gassy? And c'mon: the ink is still dry on the contractual Katie Holmes-Victoria Beckham "friendship." It's really none of my business, but I just feel like I know them, you know? Like we're bonded forever because I read Rachel McAdams likes gouda. I like gouda! I'm sitting outside Mark-Paul Gosselaar's house right now. He should be due for his morning run in about 8 minutes. I'm gonna follow him and gather sweat drippings for the DNA clone I'm making of him.

I was recently sitting in a car downtown waiting for someone, and to pass the time I started singing The Star Spangled Banner to the tune of Amazing Grace. Ever tried to sing the notes of one song with the lyrics of another? It's super hard. For me, it's easy to remember the tune, but hard to remember the words. You try it. I'm curious to hear which is more challenging for you to remember, the tune or the words. I think it's a good mental challenge, like patting your tummy while rubbing your head. My personal record for that nonsense is 7 seconds.

I don't know what kind of mom I'm gonna be, but I'm gonna try my damnest to not be condescending or pushy. I've recently started seeing these parents that don't seem to know what the hell they're doing, to the detriment of the kid.

I've noticed the skittish parents tend to ask alot of questions. "What do you want? Milk or Sprite? Billy? Billy? Billy! Listen to Mommy... what do you want? Milk? Sprite? Billy!" Where's the line between respecting your child's desires and being a push-over? When did the kids become the ones in charge?

One example includes a soccer mom sitting behind me on the train home to Michigan: she was answering the sweet innocent questions her child was asking like the kid was actually some aero-physicist and why is he wasting her time asking what my DVD player is. I know kids can be annoying, but guess what lady? That's your fucking job now. Do it well. All the while some other hellions tore up and down the aisles, throwing wadded up pieces of paper at people. Seriously? If I did that as a kid - wait - I DIDN'T do that as a kid because I had attentive (and terrifying) parents.

I don't remember being granted the leisure of deciding between drinks at dinner. I drank what they put in front of me. I also respected adults and their space, did my homework and was kind to other kids, all to their credit. Now, I know kids don't come with a manual and it must be terrifying to be a parent. But I really believe if you treat your kids with simple kindness, intelligence and boundaries, they will develop into a pretty cool adult. Bottom line, I hope I don't become one of those parents that talks to their kid like some kind of asshole. How embarrassing.

Speaking of bad parents, how about that kid that shot up Virginia Tech? I've seen the word "bloodbath" used to describe the killings in major publications. Is that appropriate? It seems like a gratuitous word. It sounds like it belongs in the trailer for its inevitable movie, not on CNN.com.

If I was I Virginia resident I would vote for Gov. Tome Kaine next term. He responded to people complaining Virginia Tech should've locked down campus after the first burst of gunfire by warning them against making snap judgements. He said he had "nothing but contempt" for those who might take the tragedy and "make it their political hobby horse to ride." Amen. I like his candor. I also like that he's covering his ass.

There's nothing I hate more than self-righteous people that pontificate on what "should" have happened. It's on par with the football fan that get pissed at the TV and insist they wouldn't have chosen that play when the quarterback gets sacked. Really Coach? What are doing on this couch? Get that pizza off your chest and get to those sidelines, you're late!

I know nothing about football.

The city's waking up and the Cosby show is on. Let's see what Theo's up to.

Brother, Can You Spare a Dime

There is an enormous wealth of talent in Chicago. Actors, musicians, artists, improvisors, etc... If you're lucky you can make a living at it. One of the things I love about living in a large city is that everywhere you turn is an opportunity to be entertained.

If you don't like paying for your entertainment, I recommend the musicians that camp out at El stops. Some of the most talented people I've ever heard sing and play have been at the Grand and State stop on the red line. One woman had the most gorgeous gospel pipes I have ever heard. Last week 2 guys played and sang an awesome rendition of Sam Cooke's "Wonderful World" - you know it: "don't know much about history... don't know much biology..." These people should be selling tickets for major money instead of accepting dimes, buttons and paper clips in their guitar cases from stupid CTA passengers and having to stop their songs because the rumbling of the approaching train is too loud. Who knew that under their dirty clothes and saggy demeanor hides a raw talent more impressive than those EMI artists could ever hope to have?

Every so often, I'm bowled over by a performance. It doesn't happen frequently, but when it does, it's the most powerful thing to experience. As I'm sure you can tell by that last statement I've had a pretty uneventful life; I'm hoping having a child or pledging a lifelong commitment to a guy will be impressive, but we'll see.

For those who don't mind forking over a few bones for some Friday night entertainment, read on. Most recently, I've discovered The Improvised Shakespeare Company at iO Chicago. They take an audience suggestion for a title of a never-produced Shakespearean play and from that create a 90 minute long-form improvised romp. These guys are so smart! They intimidate me as a performer. I can only pray I'll be that good one day. And, it's hilarious. I can count on both hands the amount of times in my life I've laughed so hard I cried. This show is responsible for at least 3. Any improv group that can work in an impromptu shout-out to He-Man using iambic dialogue is OK with me. Wow, I'm a nerd. I'm a groupie for Shakespearean improv. Check it out if you can: http://www.myspace.com/improvisedshakespeare

Speaking of making a living as an actor, I just shot a national commercial for KFC. Here's hoping they air the hell out of it. Then I can buy those boobs I've always wanted.

Eat it, enemies from my past and present! I'm on TV!

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.