Leave a present for the future.
Leave some cammants all up in dat (sweet, chocolate-covered peanutbuttery Reese’s) piece, lest I harangue you further.
If you thought you were sick of my puns before, well then, get ready to vomit nonstop because it’s the glorious return of STUMP. THE. PUNNER. (*cue game show audience applause and The Price Is Right levels of excitement*)
Not here. But over here.
Still! I’ve committed to something for two consecutive weeks. That’s progress.
GIMME MORE PUNS FOR NEXT WEEK NOM NOM NOM.
I will post again as soon as I regain feeling in my crone face (CALLBACK ATTACK), but in the nicetime, here goes.
I am now hosting a semi-regular challenge over at my friend Karin’s HILARI-MAZING blog called STUMP THE PUNNER.
Check it out and leave some feedback on the inter-mic.
And I’m out!
Malcolm XOXO and/or Jackie OXOX,
Raparnzel and/or RaPUNzel
Unforgivable. Only four blog posts in February so far. Unspeakable.
That’s the sound of the Internet sucking up unused and dusty domain space.
Check out these sad abandoned Geocities pages, like remnants of an old civilization. Actually, there is no link. That was a trick. I couldn’t even find any old Geocities pages. The only clear artifact that came up when I googled Geocities pages was someone’s bibliography on their paper on the history of rape. Google, tsk tsk. There’s no need to get fresh with those that came before you. For an even bigger gasp, remember Angelfire? How can you not? Take a gander here, but wear sunglasses and make sure you’re past puberty. Pink on pink was actually a weapon used in ancient warfare, and can singe your eyes off.
The truth is I’ve been traveling. It might as well be an illegal move in basketball because it has led to a few tiny mind complexes but even more big, strong bodybuilders of ideas. That’s the problem with getting out of town. You suddenly get inspired and foolhardy, and see the world as one big oyster metaphor.
Take Lewis and Clark for example. Not the indie garage duo, the old-timey adventurer-explorers! They got going westward, and inspired the whole East Coast-West Coast hip hop rivalry that peaked in the mid-90s. I headed west as well. I was in LA last week. City of Angels, son. I took quite a gander to the place. It gets a bad rep for various reasons, but I like it. It’s sunny. It’s money. It’s oh, honey! It’s phunny (even funnier than funny). For Pete & Pete’s sake, people dress up like trees there and no one minds! (see last post)
I got to stay with my friend in comedy and life Hari Leigh at her artists’ compound. Well, sort of. Her roommate is also a comedian, and the animal residents are free spirits. Bukowski the frenetic puppy and Bill Murray the rebellious but gentle adolescent cat. Oh the times we had. It was amazing enough having a rent-a-car with a mouthy GPSass Machine, but LA is just chock-full of food-centric experiences including (caution: incoming bullets), but first Bukowski:
- a flooded neighborhood street, and a tide of questionable water coming in through the open car windows like in a commercial for…Tide.
- eating delicious veggie-friendly Italian food at a restaurant named Masa (no I don’t know why it’s called that), and having a waiter who would only acknowledge the boobier of us two ladies (i.e., not me) the entire evening to the point where he put both dessert forks on my friend Hari’s side of the plate as if I wasn’t even there! I get it! I am a popular hangout for recessive genes!
- the brioche french toast at Square One. I still dream about it.
- eating sushi with Adam and discussing grown-up topics like (gasp!) grown-ups. What kinds of topics? Well, surfing concussions!
- thinking of a sketch idea with Hari on the night before I had to leave, getting excited, filming it, and ending up in panda/skeleton makeup right before having to perform at a comedy show. It ended up coming off after a split-second decision that may or may not have saved my “career.”
- thrift store shopping. There are thrift stores all over LA, and identities for sale everywhere!
- getting to visit some network studios for general meetings, and admiring their office kitchen set ups. One network looked like it was in Narnia.
- eating lunch at the Grove with Cissy, an open-air Farmer’s Market and bevy of shops and restaurants where if you lose your parking ticket, you have to pay $15 (I just happen to know that somehow).
- “hanging” in a cool coffee shop waiting for my friend to get off work and “soaking” up the alternative culture. i was so caffeinated by the time i had to pick her up that the local artwork was shapeshifting.
comedy! shows! at! coffee! shops! and! video! stores! and! clubs! and!theatres! some starting at midnight!
I like to talk about eating. But honestly, that’s how I remember trips. I remember grilled vegetable stack lunch, late night pizza dinner with beer, and then watching Gargoyles at three in the morning, and wondering whether it was worth sleeping before an early morning breakfast, which included Seckel pears (disappointing) and cinnamon bun french toast (surpassing expectations). The wind chill in Missouri is so cold that three days later, I still can’t feel my face. That’s all I got, ReCap’n. Over and out.
To read further about my recent comedy experiences on the road, clickety here.