Saturday, August 21, 2010
Ron Howard and the Sand Castle
Massive epic huge failure on my part...devastated by myself.
How did I let Thursday and Friday drift by without jotting a single word down on interpaper about what I was up to? I was doing so well with my egocentric intentions to indulge myself in the blogosphere daily. But I did fail.
Twas because I was out having fun. Oh yeah! That's right - take that in the face loyal reader. I selfishly decided it was more important to me to go out and do some stuff than to sit here and pretend I've done stuff so that you can read it and pretend you wanted to. Ha.
If there's anyone out there who can shed some light on the situation as to why the hell people blog and get me some perspective back I'll happily go with it. But for now I've gone Jacob's (crackers) and so I am sitting with a towel on my head, having just eaten a pop tart, insanely tired and trying to remember what I've been up to that meant I didn't come to my little cosy hole of chatty stuff and make use of the online pensieve.
I MCd a lovely little gig at The White Horse on Thursday lunchtime, Mirth of Forth twas called. It's a delightful little room to play and really lets you play with new stuff and enjoy getting to know a good sized crowd. I wa very happy but then it all went a bit wrong after that...
I was kidnapped for a short while which was difficult. Although my captors said it was ok to blog, the wireless was a little bit up and down in my cell and if I was going to type I needed to sit right up against the window which I didn't really want to do because the bed was comfier. So, my fault really. They let me go when someone put up the ransom for me which was half a cucumber (split lengthways not sliced in the middle) and an empty bucket. It was all very strange but sometimes life is and that is a lesson you should have learnt at puberty if you'd been listening.
When I'd been released I made the most of my freedom by drinking my body weight in alcohol on Thursday night! Helluva night that was. I believe I left Brooke's bar sometime after 4:30am and then wandered home getting very angry with everything that wasn't my bed. There are some nights where you think you've gotten away with being very drunk until you get to the next day and people just keep giving you very knowing looks and telling you you look tired. That was my yesterday. Sheesh though, if you'd been kidnapped and then ransomed for less than a fiver you'd have had an excuse to get drunk too. A good cucumber is rarely more than £2 even in Waitrose so I think I can be forgiven.
This all meant that Friday morning was a bit of a hungover mess. Brief contact with the ex was ill advised and caused a sandstorm of mental headfuckery which has yet to abate. It's incredible that in the same week as getting kidnapped I have also had to deal with the complete unexpected from that corner of the wibbly wobbly world. Will I ever learn? I'll certainly learn not to get kidnapped again that's for darned sure. My wrists still hurt from the handcuffs and I don't think I'll ever eat a salad again without retching. As for buckets, well...
Friday pushed on, I flyered. That was painful. I hate flyering more than anything - although I do really enjoy the friends you make on the mile. My favourite at the moment is 'curly haired guy'. Lord knows what his show is but I do enjoy his flyering technique. Although he has a tendency to plagiarise the calls we've invented for Flyering for Quiz In My Pants. These have so far included -
"Free fliers - all four corners included in the price."
"Free fliers - it's bendy but not too bendy."
"Get your free origami kit here"
"Free unfolded paper aeroplane just for you"
"Craft kits, free, incredibly basic, craft kits..."
Then I went off and did QIMP. Our usual walk from the mile to the venue was not as spritely because I was too hungover to sing, but we did pass the teapot shop and the dead pig shop. The tea pot shop has lots of tea pots of all different colours and shapes and sizes. The dead pig shop just has the one dead pig but it's giant and gross and sits in the window and if you pass it later in the day so much of it has been eaten that it's bones poke out. I don't enjoy passing that shop but I always look in the window for some reason. G-R-O-S-S.
Quiz In My Pants was great fun - Sam Pacelli of Noise Next Door fame is our first guest so far to actually WEAR the pants properly. Hell. They are currently in for decontamination from Improv tomfoolery and we'll have to see if today's guests survive!
After all that merriment I had dinner. Uber boring, you don't need to know the details. But it was pasta and it was tasty.
Then I went to The Invisible Dot Club gig By The Sea. It was weird and cool and ever so slightly funky. We all had to get coaches and they took us to Portobello beach and then we walked to the townhall and watched an amazing line up. I guess far and away the best bit was Daniel Kitson Mcing...utterly phenomenal talent and too incredible for words. The whole gig had a really cool vibe and you felt a little bit accepted into a cool gang just for being there. Except for the morons at the back who didn't understand Stewart Lee. The great SL responded to this by refusing to say anything for several minutes...nothing at all. I've never felt such tension as when he went quiet and the whole room just wondered whether he would do as he threatened and not speak for the rest of his set. Thankfully for those of us that understand the concept of jokes that aren't necessarily knock knock jokes, he carried on and stormed the gig.
After that I raced back to C venues to do improvaganza and sadly went out in the first round AGAIN. I have never made it past the first round. Potentially I should just give up but it's too much mighty fun to consider that! Watching The Showstoppers girls kick absolute arse on the singing rounds was one of the best improv moments I've ever watched and rounded off an exhausting but thoroughly satisfying day.
Thank you Edinburgh fringe for everything except the kidnap. Utter horrors they were and they made me watch The Holiday over and over again until I promised to attempt to believe in love. But I don't think I ever shall. I told them to bugger off and that my favourite quote is "Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence" which is one of the most appropriate phrases I've come across in my 23 years. I got a kick in the solar plexus for that and they told me to stop being such a girl and get on with having romance back in my life. I performed a flying scissor kick and said that even if I was going to consider it, Jack Black would not be the one to teach me anything. For my troubles I was made to eat sand for hours.
Today my day is busy busy again. But good busy busy. Very good. Lots to achieve and accomplish and a police line up later to identify my captors. It should be easy. They were all velociraptors.