Following the comedic rule of threes:
1. I pulled into that weird gas station/Starbucks/Burger King across from Asia SF last night. You know the one. Immediately, I was approached by a panhandler who had two (2) guns tucked into the waist of his pants. He was wearing a t-shirt, huge, baggy khakis and had a sweatshirt tied around his waist. It was from that sweatshirt-belt I could clearly see two gun handles emerging, one on each side. He was stumbling, kinda out of it. This guy was your basic sidewalk hobo, not what I imagine a gun-wielding criminal to act like. (I have never experienced a gun-wielding criminal myself, thank God, but I imagine them not to be swaying from side to side.) I told myself the guns were fake, but I would be lying if I said I did not feel a tear creep into my left eye. I thought, "Here we go" and waited to wet my pants, because that's what happened in Red Dragon. I also couldn't imagine this guy would shoot me in a well-lit gas station at 8pm on a Tuesday, but we live in a crazy world. He asked for money and I said no, because FUCK HIM. Okay, I actually said no because I was afraid he would come closer, and he didn't seem lucid enough to get mad. If a real person with a gun demanded money, I would give them everything on Earth ever. But I just said, "No, sorry" and he said okay and walked away. In closing, they were fake right? I mean, I considered calling the cops and reporting this terrifying moment, but I was ready to get the hell home.
2. I wrote this whole dumb complaint for my #2 and then said. "I know, I know. No one else in the world cares." That could be said for most of my posts really, but anyway, #2 was dumb. So I deleted it. Moving on!
3. Finally, on New Year's Day I am flying to Chicago to take a comedy writing class at Second City. It's only for a week and it's a present from my parents, because they don't think I'm funny. (I'm kidding. That was just one of my many zingers.) Anyway, because I'll be in the building and my writing class is in the afternoon, I decided to take an improv class in the morning. I am perfectly comfortable sitting in a writing class and knocking out jokes. But the thought of showing up at Second City in 5 days, walking into a classroom and doing "warm-up exercises" so I can perform impromptu skits with strangers terrifies me. I'm worried the other students will all be 19 year-old comedy geniuses making jokes I'm too old to get, or 57 year-old insurance salesmen who are the wackiest guys in their office. But it's only for 5 days, and I'll be there a whole week, staying in a fancy hotel because the weather is so bad, it costs a dollar to go to Chicago in January. I have seven different versions of my Tina Fey costume, one for each day. I will wear scarves and knit hats and make friends with the hotel doorman, and when I return to the fancy lobby after a day of smart, timely humor creation, he'll say, "Well, look who's back. Tell me a joke, beautiful!" AND I WILL.
Anyway, that's what up with me. What's up with you...