Experiments in Calling My Improv Team a "Band"

To literally no ones surprise* and to a few people's enjoyment I do improv comedy. To me, improv is one of the most fascinating and viscerally satisfying types of performance. On the surface it engages the immediacy and importance of emotional behavior and if you dig further into improv theory (HELLO IMPROV TUMBLRS!) it really speaks to productive communication and honest/shared experiences of humanity.**

But I think one of the most important parts of doing improv/identifying as an improvisor is that you MUST understand that a huge part of the population has zero to negative interest in what you find so fulfilling. In fact, they will often just ask if you've heard of Improv Everywhere of if Drew Carey is your idol (yes, both, duh.) If they don 't ask those questions they will try and immediately change the subject or look at their sneakers or wonder aloud if you are financially stable (no, duh, whatever.)

So in this installment of my blogspot (which TexEdit** will autocorrect to say 'bloodspot', cool…) in an attempt to please more people and come across as hopefully a little less not cool, I will call my improv habit "band practice" and refer to my teams as "this band that I've started" because for god knows what reason the public isn't pissing themselves to download my hilarious improvised one womyn podcast but are getting themselves into legal binds torrenting entire albums. What gives?!?!

The following are trials in which the first occurrence exists in a reality that I have musical talent/am in a band and the latter is my reality. 

Trial 1:
Can't make it to your birthday dinner, I have practice. We're gearing up for a show that could really launch us.

Can't make it to your birthday dinner, I have practice. We're gearing up for a show that might allow me to perform somewhere that would give me a free beer afterwards. 

 Trial 2:
 ~just like hardcore jammin with disco lights swirling above me and I'm wearing a leather mini skirt and I make eye contact with the cutie I invited to my performance and wink/bite lip/be overall super sexy~

~just like hardcore playing a sad dentist who can't finish a routine exam because his wife just left him and I'm wearing a Hey Arnold get-up because it is conducive to sweaty theater, doesn't make eye contact with cutie I invited to my performance because that would be breaking the fourth wall/I am nervous~

Trial 3
Hey mom, come see my band play this weekend. I've been practicing a ton so I know this show will probably go great. Yeah, I'm a little low on cash, but picking up some dollars performing on the subway. Luckily people appreciate my art.

Hey mom, I'm a little low on cash. I've spent obscene amounts of money on sitting in bar basements pretending to be a firefighter reliving his dream to be Prom King and the coaches that are helping me do this are sort of expensive. Any way you could lend me some money? Will I be able to pay you back? Actually, funny story. The theater that I've formed a cult like following towards has just announced, to my delight, that they will absolutely continue to not pay people for performing there. No, no, this is actually a good thing and something I fully support.

Trial 4
Hey, I'm in a band

Hey, I'm in an improv comedy troupe.  

*aaannnnd SCENE!*

*except my mom's friend who when she learned I dabbled in comedy, said, "Kady? But she is so somber."
** yeah, fuck you, whatever.
** yeah, fuck you, whatever.



Today, a bunch of old nerds are making a big decision on what shouldn't be a big decision.

In doing a little bit of research* I came across the above picture. It looks like a fourth grade class photo. All they are missing is the little letter board that the person in front holds and gets to feel like a king for the day. But upon closer inspection, there is something else sort of funny going on and that is I'm about 97% sure both Anthony Kennedy and Ruth Bader Ginsburg are dead in this photo. That or they were interrupted half way through an episode of Bad Girls Club and totally ticked off.**

Continuing under the assumption that they are indeed taxidermied puppets of their former selves, I'm going to go ahead and blame Roberts (front row, center.) You can tell from his smug grin that he has successfully eliminated one definite and one possible left leaning vote through his creepy maniacal taxidermy hobby (it came in handy, ma!) Also, Scalia (front row, second from left) knows he is next despite being politically aligned. Look at the horror on his face.*** (Fun Fact: Roberts is more passionate about decorating his walls with the mounted trophy heads of others than SCOTUS brotherhood.)

So, if Roberts has committed unprecedented manslaughter of three Justices, that, by law, should eliminate him, leaving Thomas (jury is still out if he is in fact alive), Kagan, Alito, Breyer, and Sotomayor.

With this standing, Prop 8 should be overturned and Sonya Sotomayor will have more reason to smile like the beauty queen that she is.

*searched the hashtag #scotus
** Other possibilities include: reading through Amanda Bynes' twitter, reading through the arguments for Prop 8...
*** could be farting?



I am not the wisest owl on the owl farm, but one thing I've come to realize about being a social twenty-something (Thought Catalog, hire me! Please!)* is that the difference between leaving a party at midnight and staying until 4 is if you're 'tryna.'

tryna [trahy-nuh]verb- like, you wanna, you gonna

God bless the US of Tryna because it makes us all do very silly things like stay up until 4 in the morning watching a boy play video games (I have since realized this might be an indication he is NOT tryna) or casually mention you play a musical instrument that you do not even own/are able to pronounce. Sometimes I believe that the world is simply being held together by the sheer energy of people tryna at any given time.

Not tryna.
Not tryna.
On the train the other day I heard a girl pretend to not know what French Toast was and then the dude pretended to believe that this girl he was romantically interested in truly did not know what French Toast was. He then proceeded to explain what French Toast was and she giggled and giggled and I'm sure they went home and put their mouths on each other and I sat there with my jaw on the floor thinking, vhat. ze. fug. (jk I was like, OH! THAAAAT'S what French toast is!)

Of course there is nothing wrong with tryna, but perhaps we have all taken it a little too far, to the point we are sacrificing what is actually unique, interesting, and charming about us. Sometimes all we wear are giant tags of MADE IN TRYNA, and we can afford to buy local.** I'm sure we have instruments we can actually play. I'm sure there is more to talk about on a 7 minute train ride than how cute your gluten allergy is. And for goodness sake, the other person is also probably tryna so go watch Netflix and fall asleep together at 11:00 pm because that is truly the happiest you can ever be,

*I imagine Thought Catalog paying people in those free Itunes samples from Starbucks. 
**That is by far the worst pun/metaphor/sentence  I have ever written. Feel free to trip me next time you see me...


How To Find Your Boyfriend

There is nothing worse than being in a crowded place and trying to figure out where your boyfriend went. Even worse, is when you don't even have a boyfriend and you are in the crowded place aimlessly asking people if they are your boyfriend or not. 

You're on the subway. This is your view.
1) This woman is probably not your boyfriend. 
2) This woman is actively looking through her purse to avoid being your boyfriend.
3) This empty space can be used to imagine what your boyfriend looks like. Keep this one in your pocket.
4) Also a good candidate, though is sitting suspiciously too far away to be your boyfriend.
5) This is a foot.

Okay, so once you've focused in on who you think your boyfriend is. These are the important questions you need to ask to really make sure. 
  • How much money do you make?
  • Can I sit next to you?
  • Cats or dogs?
  • What are your feelings on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict?
  • Oh wow, I don't mean to come across as rude, I just didn't think a foot had so many feelings on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

How to make sure you don't lose your boyfriend who doesn't exist again.
Put a shoe on that foot.