As I mentioned here, the campus sketch comedy show for which I’m a writer will be taping a live show this Friday night. Somehow, I got roped into playing a small part. (The producer asked; I said, um, okay.) Which seemed fine until they decided we needed more rehearsal, and that said rehearsal should happen every night two nights this week at 12:30. Given that I have to be at work every morning at 8 am, I’m starting to have second thoughts.
Month: October 2003
Although there are no classes this Monday and most of the students have probably gone home for the weekend, a few of us still decided to have an informal Monty Python Society meeting this weekend and try our hands again at a little improv. Except that a “few of us” turned out to be only three, which really wasn’t enough for much of anything. So, after about half an hour of nervously pacing the room and making jokes about trying to round up the building’s janitors or random passersby to join us, we called it a night and went our separate ways. Which is a shame, since I was really looking forward to doing some improv this evening, since I really haven’t had the opportunity in quite awhile. I’m not especially good at it, and it terrifies me, but it’s still a lot of fun.
When I got home, coincidentally enough, I ran across something I’d written about a year ago. I wrote
I miss the improv we did at meetings more than anything else. I miss thinking on my feet, the challenge of making something like “Two-Line Vocabulary” funny, and the energy that comes from thinking you’re going to fall flat on your face and instead making somebody laugh.
That’s still very much the case. Hopefully, we’ll be able to convince the rest of the club that improv can be fun.
Oh, and I’ve uploaded the pictures (but no information or index yet) of this year’s Homecoming Parade. You’re free to wade through all thirty-six of them if you like, starting with me as “Graham Reaper”.
From my in-box this morning:
I am Chamberline Ozobia (Esq.), a Solicitor. I am the Personal Attorney to Mr. Fredrick Coppersmith, a national of your country, who is an oil merchant in Nigeria.
I realize these Nigerian finance spams don’t have to be smart to succeed — if just one in a million people send them money, they’re ahead of the game — but isn’t it kind of stupid to use the name of the person to whom you’re writing? After all, last I checked, I wasn’t an oil merchant in Nigeria. (And they misspelled my name.)