Sorry to be away yesterday. I just got back from the planning summit for the Glorious Stalwart People's 73rd International in Leningrad. And no, I don't mean St. Petersburg -- those of us in the know call it Leningrad. Wink wink.
Lots of great news all around, with the pillars of capitalistic oppression steadily eroding underneath the porcine crapulence of the sneering bourgeoisie. There are also strong indications of the tumultuous stirrings of the universal bond of brotherhood linking all those who toil in chained dignity, and once "The King of Queens" is finally off the air this May we're pretty sure that energies devoted to that show by the masses will be redirected toward the brilliant righting of the social order.
Plus we got a great deal from a bulk pitchfork supplier -- it's going to be one hell of a revolution! And for all you haters out there, we'll have you know that Fidel looks and sounds great. I personally saw him Indian-wrestle Lenin Jr. to a draw.
The Truth Hurts
Tour buses in D.C. are like clown cars for fat Midwesterners. "There's no way they have another 250-pound guy in that bus! It's impossible!" you say. But then a 300-pound guy appears in the doorway. Miraculous.
Also, a fashion note to fat tourists: T-shirts tucked into jeans with a belt really only works if you're skinny. I like shopping at Marshalls as much as the next guy, but you still gotta wear it well. They're doing great things with Bermuda shirts these days. Please consider it.
In the early '90s they had a series of national studies released, with each successive study indicating that running was a) the greatest thing you can do for your health; or b) worse than invasive butt cancer where the cancer cells are made out of burning napalm.
Did we ever decide which one was right? I'm rooting for B. I jogged 4.5 miles yesterday and I'm not feeling all that great today. I believe I have mentioned in the past that I do not have "runner's willpower." I stop whenever I start to hurt even a little. Instead, I have "eater's willpower": confronted with the "full" sensation, I will push through the pain and do whatever is necessary. So, I would not be a good candidate to escape a lion, but if I was buried under one ton of cooked hamburger, I'd survive. I'm OK with this. Considering how I've lived my life thus far, I think the second scenario is far more likely.
I'm especially against jogging outside, because I'm pretty sure my boobs bounce when I run. And quite frankly, I don't appreciate the staring. I'm more than just meat, fellas.
They're pulling the plug on "Gilmore Girls." It's time. We've watched the gals grow from plucky, lovable fighters into successful and impressive megababes.
That was by the end of season 4. After that they just started getting progressively more annoying. I'm totally in favor of more shows depicting women as the headcases they actually are, but the tolerance for snarky yapping goes down as the crazy level goes up.
If there's anyone at the CW with common sense they'll immediately greenlight a spin-off in which Emily and Richard start a detective agency and hire Kirk and Brian as their lead investigators. You can have that idea for free, CW. It's my gift to American culture.
Baltimore
I am clocking in at the Baltimore Comedy Factory this weekend. Avoid the markup on most of my jokes and get them straight off the assembly line.
Get it? Because it's a factory.
I do this for a living.
Get Ready ...
Sunday is 5/6/7. Celebrate accordingly.
He Arrives Just in Time
Spider-Man is here. I hope it's good. "Spider-Man 2" was better than the original, but I don't think they have anywhere to go but down. The fact that there are three villains makes me wary.
The most pressure is on the next "Pirates of the Caribbean," though. If it's awesome, it makes the second movie worthwhile. If it sucks, I have to go back and retroactively hate "Dead Man's Chest" even more than I did after watching it the first time. It's like "The Matrix Revolutions" all over again. Sigh.
Read This (Not Funny)
It's a column by Charles Krauthammer. He's touching on one of my biggest peeves -- people's total willingness to selectively remember things to support their politics.
I was working at the Washington Post the whole year before the Iraq War; I was there for a few years after it started. I read the paper every single day. A lot of people from all parts of the political spectrum thought invading Iraq was a pretty good idea. The administration definitely based part of its argument on WMD (basically the whole world thought they existed, because Saddam wanted people to think that), but it also laid out a pretty interesting case for democratization. Sept. 11 was still fresh in everyone's mind so people were really open to the idea of a new paradigm in international relations. They said about a billion times that going into Iraq would mean something like a decade-long commitment.
If you don't like the way stuff has panned out, go ahead and change your mind, but don't act like this whole thing was some evil enterprise from the word go. Not to belittle the horrors of war, but you don't invade a 25-million person country in the most volatile region in the world without any hitches. Most of the people yapping about Iraq seem to have a limited sense of history -- what came before and what could be in the next 25 years.
Paris Hilton is going to the big house! They really, really, really need Nicole to share a cell with her so they can film "The Simple Life: Prison." If they need something to arrest Nicole on, I'm pretty sure participating in "The Simple Life: Interns" was a crime against humanity.
Speaking of Which ...
If my evil plans go smoothly, you'll have the chance to see TWO new exciting pilots by the end of May. The first one, "House of Representatives," should be ready by the end of next week. Start sending me money now, TV people!
Happy Cinco De Mayo
I think under NAFTA rules that we're allowed to party just as hard as Mexico on this one.
I like the Baltimore Comedy Factory. For whatever reason it's always fun to work there -- the crowds understand the premise that you're supposed to laugh out loud at a comedy show. That may sound dumb, but in a lot of clubs people smile and stare -- it's bizarre. There's always a neat mix of races, ages, classes ... plus I'd say that about 50 percent of every audience is sloshed. Sometimes that blows up in your face, but not always. Nice staff, intriguing crowds ... thanks to everyone up I-95 for a fun weekend.
Small world department: a girl in the audience from Kansas, in town for the weekend, had actually seen me perform before ... in Cincinnati. Huh.
Shake It
A guy at the 9 p.m. Saturday show was drunk, and maybe high on top of that. He was down front, and he really enjoyed something -- either the show on stage or the roundtable discussion going on with the people in his head. I'd describe him as a middle-aged black guy, a little bit thugged out. He kept on trying to chat -- he told me I was "The Man" and also that I was "Bad," and in both cases I'm pretty sure it was the positive meaning of those terms. Toward the end of the show, in response to one of my jokes, he leapt out of his seat and ran up to the stage to shake my hand. As a white guy, this is where the alarm bells start going off. Not because a black guy is walking toward me -- we're all pink on the inside, baby -- but because I might have to do a multi-part handshake in front of a live audience.
You must understand that everyone wants to look cool. But white guys are born with very little street cred, and it's impossible to look cool when you're totally flubbing an authentic street handshake. Everything after the initial grasp is basically a blur -- side grip? arm wrestling grip? hot potato? If you go in for the half-hug/back thump combo and they aren't expecting a half-hug/back thump, some s*** is going to go down.
That's why some genius invented the "pound." It looks vaguely urban, it shows that you're making an effort to be cool, and it's easy; there's no gripping involved. It's where white guys and cool black guys meet halfway. The pound is the Esperanto of handshakes.
Sadly, I only remembered the pound after my second botched transitional grip. I did disengage and get it in there before going for the half-hug. It was just the right amount of awkward to make the crowd laugh, and the drunk guy went on to tell me that he "loved me," although, in fairness, he was bombed enough to think that I was Rick Astley. And everyone loves that guy.
Meridian Hill park on 16th St. used to be a crack-dealing mecca back in the day, when D.C. was still a fun city. Now it's just sort of sketchy, mostly because of the James Buchanan monument. Seriously, why would anyone make a monument to James Buchanan? It doesn't add up. It's probably the secret entrance to a CIA torture facility. You read it here first.
I was walking through the park Sunday afternoon with ye olde girlfriend. We were at the top of a long staircase, and on the landing below us were three women dressed like whores. And not in a, "oh my god, that's a slutty top" kind of way. Actual "I've made a lot of horrible life decisions and I'll have sex with you in exchange for drugs or money" kind of way. They were sitting on a bench, wearing black minidresses (barely covering the naughty parts) and gold shoes. There was a group of people with them. No one seemed to be negotiating a group rate, so it wasn't clear what was going on.
Any watcher of Animal Planet knows that, faced with whores in the wild, showing fear can be a fatal mistake. So naturally we walked straight at them. By the time we rounded the corner of the landing, here was the scene:
Two of the women standing nearby, one drinking a Big Gulp. A very sketchy looking photographer in a crouch next to them, with no lighting equipment or anything other than a camera. And on another bench, the third woman flat on her back mounted by a large guy in white pants and a gold metallic shirt that matched her shoes. He was between her legs, which were straight up in the air. There was hip-to-hip contact and he was looking at the camera. The girl didn't look too happy to be there. This was in broad daylight, with children walking past every now and then.
I do not know what that photo shoot was for. It didn't look classy enough for the "Whores of D.C." 2008 wall calendar. I'd guess it was some kind of entertainer posing for promotional material, but I'm not sure who gains street cred by dressing like a coked-up Solid Gold dancer and dry-humping whores on a stone bench in broad daylight. All that leaves is "novelty Christmas card photo."
Happy holidays! Jingle those bells, ho ho ho.
Movie Review: Spider-Man 3
This movie cost $253 million. I'm pretty sure I could have made a better movie for $100 million, and then just blown the rest on kick-ass craft services. There are ice swans and lobster tails every day when you work on a Chris White movie. CLASSY!
Seriously, this was a lame flick. There are about 73 plots, and as a result none of them get enough time to be all that interesting -- too much story, not enough character. It's watchable, but after "Spider-Man 2" it's a huge letdown. They should have cut Venom. Streamlining the story would have made all this stuff workable and left a big bullet in the chamber for another sequel. I do not understand how you start production a $250 million project when the script is this weak. But what do I know, I'm poor!
LIST OF DORK GRIEVANCES (SPOILERS)
Apparently spider-sense no longer exists. Peter can't pick up any blind-side attacks, and he also failed to notice a meteorite landing within 100 feet of his location. To be fair, at the time of the meteor strike he was making out with Mary Jane, so maybe boners block spider-sense.
The black costume alien crashes to Earth in the meteorite, and it just happens to crash next to Spider-Man. I know this is a comic book movie, but COME ON. In "Spider-Man 2" they introduced an astronaut -- he was Mary Jane's fiance and the son of Peter's boss. How about this: the astronaut brings the alien ooze back from one of his missions, they study it at the science labs at Peter's school, and since he's a science student it latches on to him. Is this gaytarded? Absolutely. But I'd bet about $253 million dollars that this was the original story they had planned, before they cut it to cram in another chance for Kirsten Dunst to sing. Yeesh.
True fans know that in the comic book Spider-Man got the alien from a vending machine while being held on a secret planet created by the Beyonder for the specific purpose of a war between good and evil superbeings. This would be tough to fit in a 2 1/2 hour movie, however, and therefore the absence of this story is acceptable.
Harry Osborne has a butler who: 1) knew all about the Green Goblin. 2) Knows what Harry is up to. 3) Never bothered to tell Harry the truth about the Green Goblin's death, even though it drove Harry insane. It's so hard to find good help these days.
Early in the movie, with a construction crane out of control and destroying a skyscraper, sending debris raining down on the streets, Spider-Man saves one falling girl and then leaves the scene. The crane was shown, seconds before, tearing a huge hole in the side of the building. It's so hard to find good help these days.
At the end of the movie, with four super-beings (including one that is about 100 feet tall) battling in front of a huge skyscraper construction site, a large crowd gathers on the sidewalk below to watch. They aren't passersby -- it's a situation that develops over hours. No police try to clear the area. These people deserve to be crushed with debris. Darwin demands it.
Sandman's plan seems to be to steal cash for his daughter's medical expenses, apparently assuming that no one in law enforcement will wonder where a very poor girl who is related to a known super-villain got so much cash.
Here's a story on public diary readings as a comedy event. Intriguing. But what's missing from this story?
I'll wait ... (whistling) (twiddling thumbs) (playing with one of those paddles that has a rubber ball attached)
Ingrid Wiese was a contestant on "Joe Schmo II." Not relevant to the story, and also not the most popular reality show, but you'd think they'd get that fact in there somehow. She used to live in D.C. -- all three contestants on that show did.
If you have Netflix and you've never seen the first "Joe Schmo," get it. It's only about 8 episodes and it's probably the most clever reality show ever made -- only one person is a true contestant; the rest are actors trying to fool him into thinking he's on a show called "Lap of Luxury." It's played for comedy, but the actual contestant is phenomenal -- by the end you're actually cheering for him. Brilliant stuff.
Not much blogging last week because I was busy doing consulting work for this amazing new sitcom. I think this is one alien puppet character away from winning an Emmy.
It only took 30 years but as of Sunday night I am no longer a karaoke virgin. This was a big step for me, and while I will probably spend the next few days recuperating both physically and mentally, here are my initial impressions:
1) Know your limits. My initial plan was "Can't Get Next to You," while trying to impersonate the voices of each Temptation. Also very intriguing: "We Are the World," which would feature my tour-de-force Stevie Wonder, Bruce Springsteen, Cindi Lauper and Ray Charles impressions. But considering I had never sung in front a live audience before, the safer play was for the Doobie Brothers, "What a Fool Believes." Good choice -- I know the lyrics, and almost no one else on the planet actually understands the lyrics, so there's no one to actually call me on any mistakes. Reading the monitor becomes optional. Control the game, make it one dimensional -- then you can dominate. Also, I have an unusually high voice for a guy, so doing the Michael McDonald wail isn't that challenging. As I was leaving the stage, the girl running the show said I had a nice falsetto, not understanding that I was using my normal singing range.
2) Pick a good costume. This was actually "Costume Karaoke," where you have an assortment of hats, wigs and other garments to wear when you get on stage. I could have gone with the dashiki or gladiator outfit, but why? It would take away focus from the music. I went with an Uncle Sam hat. That way, even if I can't find the notes, the crowd knows that I love America. This is very important in karaoke -- GET THE CROWD ON YOUR SIDE. Stay away from the "Joy Division" songs or any novelty T-shirts implying that the person looking at the shirt is stupid. It's a long 4 minutes. You're going to need some friends to get you through.
3) If there's anything with a long instrumental part, either have a drink with you, or learn to pop-lock. You need to fill that time. My friend Allyson did George Michael's "Monkey" (which George Michael probably sings in the mirror every day) and while her dance moves definitely helped smooth over the parts with no lyrics, some beat-boxing probably would have blown the roof off the place. Food for thought.
4) Don't be that guy. Someone decided to sing the Beatles version of "Hey Jude," which is seven minutes long. Karaoke has many of the same properties as a black hole, so this seven minutes actually gets bent and stretched to four and half weeks, and no joy can escape its grasp. From the time the song started to the fade out, me and my friends had three rounds of drinks, came up with a workable plan for Middle East peace, flew to the Middle East, negotiated it, presented our findings to the United Nations, formed a Tears for Fears cover band, toured Western Europe for three weeks and then broke up when we caught Jared Stern doing a four-foot line of coke off the back of his personal shaman's boa constrictor. We reconciled, filmed an episode of "Behind the Music" and then flew back to DC in time for the end of the song. Talking to the nice girl running the show, she mentioned that she specifically axed "Freebird" from her catalog for exactly this reason.
Side note: why do people love "Freebird"? I'm guessing it's because of "this bird you cannot change." It's a cop-out song. If you a depressive drunk this is probably exactly the kind of message you want to hear -- it puts the entire problem on the other person. If the lyrics were, "I'm as free as a bird now, free to work harder to understand your point of view and sincerely try to strengthen this relationship by tackling my personal demons," I'm pretty sure no one would ever request this song ever again.
Side note II: Don't ever request "Piano Man" at a piano bar. If you want strangers to hate you there are less obnoxious and hurtful ways to do it.
Two Eyes
Sad postscript to karaoke -- my glasses broke. I had them in my chest pocket while singing, and when I pulled them out afterwards the left side of the frames had somehow snapped in half. Apparently the awesome power of my voice broke my glasses. Those glasses have taken a stunning amount of abuse -- once at a friend's wedding, I took them off to dance; sitting on the bus back to the hotel after the reception, I realized I had left them inside and ran back to get them. I found them under a table, where it looked like someone very, very, very fat (800 lbs. plus) had been riverdancing on them for about an hour. I bent them back into shape within 10 seconds. I actually chipped my glasses the first week of wearing them, but after that initial goof they never got a single chip or scratch for the next decade. They were awesome.
This is a big deal. I've had exactly one pair of glasses for the last 9 years, so it's a big part of my look. I recently discovered that I don't enjoy getting on stage at a comedy club without them -- I actually felt almost naked. So: is it time for a change? Right now I have gold wire rims with orange earpieces. The obvious contrast is the Elvis Costello look. Or a monocle. Any suggestions?
The Lenscrafters.com Frame Personality Quiz, With Slight Adjustments to Possible Answers to Better Serve the General Populace
1. What's your idea of a dream vacation?
a) Mimosas every morning on the shores of Maui
b) Exploring the ruins of ancient Greece by day, sensual massage by night
c) Hoping your parents can't hear you having awkward mostly clothed sex with your soon-to-be ex-girlfriend on the sofa bed in the living room of the five-room Delaware beach house they get each summer
d) Being drunk for a week
2. Which shoe best reflects your style?
a) Anything leather and more than $500
b) Trail runners
c) Penny loafers purchased at the Salvation Army which were really quite a deal, because they had dimes in them
d) One flip-flop and decorative duct tape for the end of your peg leg
3. What's your idea of the perfect night out?
a) Deciding what's art, then mocking those who don't get it
b) Arriving late to a sporting event, people-watching while talking on your bluetooth and leaving 2/3 of the way through the game
c) Any activity paid for by other people, especially buffets with lax Tupperware policies
d) Waiting in an alleyway for the evening to come to you
4. If you won the lottery, what's the first thing you would do?
a) Fly straight to the fashion capital of the world
b) Gild my diploma from Dartmouth
c) Pay off dog-track debts, then invest in 4 million scratch-off tickets
d) Methodically plan the death of everyone else in the office pool who might get a cut
5. Your wardrobe is mostly:
a) Hand-made by small Mediterranean men who measured your crotch a suspicious number of times
b) Ironic
c) A reflection of your parents' neglect
d) Military surplus
6. If you were a car, what kind of car would you be?
a) A really expensive car polished five times a week by my butler, assuming that as a car I could still have a butler
b) The Lotus submarine from "The Spy Who Loved Me"
c) A 1971 Dodge Dart
d) Christine, but with more flame decals and a beaded seat cushion
7. When you're at a social event, you are:
a) Handing out business cards that list your title as "Chief of Awesomeness"
b) Leading discussions on world events even when people really want you to stop, because it's a party
c) Pretending that the odor didn't come from you
d) Wishing with all your heart that the guards couldn't see you crying when your son touches the plexiglass
8. It's a Friday night and you're staying in to watch a movie. What are you going to watch?
a) Belle de Jour
b) Anything with Zach Braff
c) The home movie of you tripping at your graduation, in which your dad almost chokes laughing
d) The Incredible Mr. Limpet
9. Which of the following statements best reflects your style philosophy?
a) "I am better than others and I think accessorizing should prove it."
b) "I want to act like I don't care what others think, even though I clearly do."
c) "I am cheap."
d) "We are all clothed in a wardrobe of lies."
Mostly (a): You are a power player! You want the classic, bold lines of a metal frame, attached to a monocle.
Mostly (b): You are a bohemian! Enjoy the arty freedom and exciting colors of a plastic frame, preferably something with a designer name written in rhinestones on an earpiece.
Mostly (c): You are frugal, and quite frankly a little bit sad! Please take your business elsewhere.
Mostly (d): You are a sociopath who thinks he is a pirate! Anything from the Donna Karan collection will work.
You must WATCH THIS VIDEO. It is only 17 seconds long, and it is safe for work.
Once you have watched it, I'd like your opinion: is it wrong to laugh at this? I personally laughed very, very hard. Then I rewatched the video about 10 times and laughed EVEN HARDER. I think it's OK to laugh because you don't have to watch the aftermath. Or, to quote Homer Simpson watching a driving school crash movie, "It's funny because I don't know them!"
Speaking of Videos ...
Have you watched House of Representatives yet? If not, you should. It will probably get a full-season pickup once the public access channels start doing their upfronts.
Here's the new Thursday anchor for my fall programming schedule. It's a sitcome about a couple living in a building with a hilarious surprise. Please watch it and then send me money.
Movie Review: Hot Fuzz
This was a great movie. Really, really great. It features 90 percent of the actors in England, the plot is hilarious and at one point the hero karate kicks an old person. For the love of god, go see this movie. It deserves to make more money than any of the buddy action-cop movies it's parodying.
The last two "Pirates" movies are so incoherent it boggles the mind. It's like the two writers took turns from scene to scene, and each guy hated the other and tried to write him into a corner. There are about 12 different people double-crossing each other, and it's never clear who is or isn't in on each double-cross. I can hardly remember the plot from the second movie but I'm sure they contradicted about 10 premises that they set up in that installment.
How do you screw up a movie about SUPERNATURAL PIRATES? Please do not see this movie to find out. Do not reward this crap. Disney doesn't need the money and you have better ways to spend an afternoon.
It was not funny. The action was not gripping.
Please do not go see this movie.
Yo Ho Ho
I think it's kind of lost in the shuffle that most pirates were murderers and rapists. The first movie they walked that line pretty well -- the only "good" pirate was Jack, and he was sort of ambiguous. Now for some reason the British are the bad guys, and pirates are civil libertarians. Yee.
Dear god don't go see this movie. Please. I beseech thee.
Things My Guests Should Know: The Rules of Fisticuffs (1885)
Disputes between my guests, of any nature, must be settled through the Gentlemanly and Proper Art of Fisticuffs.
1. An argument begins o'er the day's political rhetoric, or mayhap the sullying of a lady's name.
2. The wronged party must rise to his feet, approach his tormentor, and strike a glancing blow across the left cheek. Minor grievances merit nothing more than a silk glove; a substantial grievances, such as those over grammar, must begin with a strike from the abridged Oxford English Dictionary. The blow being delivered, the striking gentleman must twirl his moustache at least once, then loudly present the Declaration of Sullyance for all in attendance to hear: "Sir, you wound me, and such sullyance must be answered through a significant restructuring of your orbital ridge by the righteous and divinely guided masons that the common man would deign to call my fists," etc. etc.
3. Both gentlemen must, in respect of their host, finish their beverages in no more than one swallow; within one minute they must strip to the waist, though suspenders may be raised in such a way as to prevent the indecent sagging of the pantaloons. Assembled guests should assist in the removal of any furniture as needed to prepare a room for battle. Both men must assume the ready position: fists cocked, with the dominant fist and foot forward; the toes of the leading feet must be precisely at a distance equal to the span from the nose to the navel of the land's regent, emperor or viceroy.
4. Fists must be waggled as each man stares into the eyes of his foe, divining the temperament of his soul.
5. The offending party must initiate the battle with a verbal prompt: "Have at Thee!" "Odd Bob's Hammer and Tongs!" or "I Beg That When You See Lucifer You Extend My Thanks, Via Him, to His Mother, for Having Calved His Sister, Whom I Have Enjoyed Ravaging On Many Occasions, That is to Say, When I Was not Otherwise Occupied Gaining the Carnal Knowledge of Your Closest Lady Kinfolk and Wife, All of Whom Found the Experience to be Delightful Even Though I Myself Have Enjoyed Much Better," etc. etc.
6. The parties rain furious vengeance upon each other, observing the following rules: no striking below the waist; no striking of a downed opponent; no pulling or manipulation of an opponent's moustache; no bleeding on any surface the host may deem of excellent value.
7. Points shall be awarded as follows: one for a well-struck jab; three for a sidewinding cross; five for the crunching impact of the Queen's Uppercut; seven for the Queen's Uppercut with a full windup; three for a blow to the solar plexus or any other area in the abdomen such that a man thus struck might appear to have been informed of a sizable growth within his visceral tract. Two points for the jarring loose of a man's tooth; four points for a blow causing significant cosmetic facial damage, such that a passerby might laugh or be tempted to throw loose bits of masonry at the hideous visage.
The first combatant to reach 500 points is the undisputed winner; though after an opponent has amassed 480 points a fighter may withdraw with no loss of honor.
8. The victor is, in the eyes of Providence and Justice, indisputably in the right; the defeated party must prepare and deliver, within in no more than two days, a letter to the editor of the most widely-read local publication admitting the facts of the dispute and conceding the error of their ways. Gentlemen who defeat opponents by a margin of more than 150 points are entitled to trim two inches from the moustache of their foe; by a margin of more than 200 points they may have their way with any female in attendance.
I have been carefully scouring cultural offerings throughout America in the last few weeks, and now you benefit from my exquisite taste! You're welcome!
Bodies the Exhibit, Roslyn, Va. This is a museum exhibit of disturbingly well-preserved human bodies. It costs $26.50. I learned a great deal, including that fact that I do not think extensive knowledge of the human body is worth $26.50. If the bodies were posed in karate stances? Maybe then. But sadly, they are not. Recommendation: Avoid, unless you are a girl who can convince someone to pick up the ticket price for you. Showing interest in anatomy and cadavers will send some very strange signals to your date, but hey, $26.50.
Dale Chihuly at the Phipps Conservatory. If you are in Pittsburgh (and true sophisticates often are) you can check out this intriguing exhibit which combines glass sculpture with plants. The glass sculptures look like plants, and you will often find yourself trying to eat them, only to discover, hey! That is glass, and not a plant, and that would explain why my mouth hurts so much. Then you will laugh and laugh and laugh. I honestly found this to be a fantastic exhibit, even at $12. I was not interested in the $5,000 "museum quality" glass bowls for sale in the gift shop, but if you are a girl who can convince someone to pick up the tab for you, go for it. Such a purchase will undoubtedly send mixed signals to your date, but hey, $5,000. I admire Dale Chihuly, who looks a bit like Peter Jackson, if Peter Jackson stuck a fork in a socket and was also a pirate:
Love's Labour's Lost at the Carter Barron Amphitheater. This is a fine rendition of Shakespeare's most depressing comedy -- it does not end in a wedding, but with a bunch of guys getting blueballs for a year. By many standards this makes it a tragedy. The tickets are free, but if you are a girl, you can probably convince a guy that the tickets are $50 each and have him front you the cash to buy two of them. If this works, you're dating an idiot, but hey, $100.
Legal Stuff: If you have questions about this Web site, why? You should spend your time questioning the moral nature of any god who would let Chris White exist. But anyhow ... copyright 2009, Chris White Sucks Inc.
Sorry to be away yesterday. I just got back from the planning summit for the Glorious Stalwart People's 73rd International in Leningrad. And no, I don't mean St. Petersburg -- those of us in the know call it Leningrad. Wink wink.
August 2009: Jefferson.
Fall 2009: comic interviews on the podcast. 
