Like most if not all of you who read my blog, I felt a little down when I learned of the passing of President Hinckley. Only a little, though: my faith in life after death, his age, and some other factors tempered any sad feelings that his death brought on. He was a great man, and I will miss him (though I probably won't realize how much I miss him until the next General Conference).
I believe, in life or death, prophets are deserving of great honor and respect. That being said, some of you may be interested in this clip from The Colbert Report, the best show on TV prior to the writers' strike (when I posted this the video I'm referring to was 2nd in the queue).
Be forewarned: many church members are likely to find this quite irreverent, and most would at least describe it as disrespectful. But it's funny, and in a roundabout way is a tribute to Pres. Hinckley's memory.
I'm of the opinion that, in a general sense, there's no such thing as bad publicity for the church. Some individuals might be put off investigating by jokes or rumors or lies or whatever they hear about the church, but overall anything that draws attention to the church, its leaders and its doctrine will ultimately lead more people to hear the gospel taught accurately and with the Spirit, and have a legitimate opportunity to accept it.
The fact that the church is prominent enough to be satired, and that people know enough about it that they don't just have to resort to jokes about polygamy or the Osmonds, is quite encouraging to me, clear proof that we are rising out of obscurity and darkness.
Yes, I probably feel an obligation to defend this clip since it comes from my favorite show; but it's also a testament to how successful Pres. Hinckley was in making the church more prominent in mainstream American media and culture.
Oh, and I bet he would've got chuckled after hearing the joke about his age.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Six degrees (literally) of separation
The blasts from the past keep rolling in. Here's a picture of me with my friend Amy, who came up from Boston for the 3-day Martin Luther King weekend.
Amy and I were FHE buddies from freshman year (1998-99; I can't believe it's been that long). I may have seen her once or twice my first year back from my mission, but I can't remember for sure--this may have been the first time we'd seen each other this millennium! It had definitely been at least six years.
Amy looks as fantastic as ever, but I've made some changes since our last meeting, most notably the extra layer of flab around my face (the three extra layers of belly fat are not pictured). Alas, my spare blubber was not sufficient to keep me warm as we walked the entire length of Central Park (about 65 blocks) in bitterly cold weather. But we had a good time.
I've also recently bumped into Doug Ellis, who ran the HFAC scene shop when I worked for KBYU, and I've since discovered that at least two people in my ward out here also worked in that area at the same time. It's like the HFAC tunnel circa 2003 has been transported to modern-day New York. If Rebecca Cressman or some weird MDT kids show up, I'll really start to freak out.
Amy and I were FHE buddies from freshman year (1998-99; I can't believe it's been that long). I may have seen her once or twice my first year back from my mission, but I can't remember for sure--this may have been the first time we'd seen each other this millennium! It had definitely been at least six years.
Amy looks as fantastic as ever, but I've made some changes since our last meeting, most notably the extra layer of flab around my face (the three extra layers of belly fat are not pictured). Alas, my spare blubber was not sufficient to keep me warm as we walked the entire length of Central Park (about 65 blocks) in bitterly cold weather. But we had a good time.
I've also recently bumped into Doug Ellis, who ran the HFAC scene shop when I worked for KBYU, and I've since discovered that at least two people in my ward out here also worked in that area at the same time. It's like the HFAC tunnel circa 2003 has been transported to modern-day New York. If Rebecca Cressman or some weird MDT kids show up, I'll really start to freak out.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
I have learned for myself that Presbyterianism makes great burritos
I could keep this blog going for 20 years and probably never be more amused by a post's title than I am by this one. It is, of course, a paraphrased version of a well-known Joseph Smith statement, but also refers to one of my favorite lunch destinations here in the city.
The Local Flavor burrito shop operates out of the Broadway Presbyterian Church from 11 to 3 every Tuesday and Thursday--or at least it used to, which is why I'm bringing it up now.
I haven't been to my favorite burrito joint since before Christmas. I went by one day in early January, and there was a sign up that said Local Flavor would be back later in the month. So this past Thursday, I got excited--it was time. I got to the church, only to find a new sign stating there would be no burritos until the spring, due to renovation at the church! Boo!
These burritos are good. You can get a chicken burrito for $5, steak for $6, or veggie or bean and cheese for $4. This is a phenomenal deal for New York City. Guacamole costs $1 extra. I stingily left it off the first few times, but I tried it once and now I always get it. It makes the burrito so much better (probably because, when guac is prepared and sold at a church, it automatically becomes "holy guacamole").
They have a few tables and chairs set up inside the foyer, so I usually eat in there, partly because it's cold outside, and partly because it's fun to eat burritos in a church. The proceeds from Local Flavor go to some good cause, which I can't recall right now, but that's another good reason to frequent this place. I hope it opens again before I leave the city.
(By the way, the church burritos are not affiliated with "Jesus' Taco," a restaurant a few blocks from my apartment that I've been to several times. I recommend the enchilada. And I know it's probably pronounced "Hay-ZOOS' TAH-ko," but it's comforting to me to think that all of my favorite Mexican food has strong ties to Christianity. Borderline sacrilegious jokes end...now.)
With Local Flavor no longer an option, that means I've been going to Pinnacle, a shop on the same block as the church, for lunch almost every day. I would consider bringing my own lunch, but: 1) I'm lazy; 2) I'm not allowed to eat in my work area (can't get the documents dirty); and 3) I have a per diem! I can afford to eat out every day if I want! (If you can get yourself hooked up with a per diem, I highly recommend it.)
Pinnacle is one of many multi-purpose a la carte-type places in the city. There's one called Strokos which is a little closer, but I prefer Pinnacle because it's usually less crowded, the food is better, and best of all, in their upstairs seating area they have a water cooler with plastic cups, which saves me from having to spend a dollar or more for a soda or a bottle of water (both places take credit cards, which is great. The biggest culture shock for me in coming to New York wasn't its enormity, or its poverty, or its lack of vegetation, or anything like that--it was how many places of business only accept cash).
I've tried their wraps, their panini, their soup (the seafood gumbo is great), their sausage rolls, and lots of other stuff, and it's always good or even great (the big cookies are kind of hit or miss, probably because sometimes I get one that's a few days old). I usually end up getting pizza, though. Their combo (pepperoni, sausage, peppers, onions) is probably my favorite pizza I've ever had. Whenever I have that thought, I feel very lowbrow, because this place is not even remotely fancy or authentic, and they don't even specialize in pizza. But it's really, really good.
So, that's how I usually spend my lunch break. There are a few other places around I could try; a few blocks farther down Broadway is Tom's Diner, made famous in the Suzanne Vega song of the same name and made legendary by becoming "the Seinfeld restaurant," but only the exterior of the place is used on the show, and the food is very mediocre. A few blocks past that you've got Koronet, which sells the biggest slice of pizza I've ever seen, and it's pretty good. But I'll probably just keep going to Pinnacle and, hopefully, the Presbyterian Church. Because I'm a creature of habit, and that habit is eating lots and lots of greasy food. Did I mention how awesome it is to have a per diem?
The Local Flavor burrito shop operates out of the Broadway Presbyterian Church from 11 to 3 every Tuesday and Thursday--or at least it used to, which is why I'm bringing it up now.
I haven't been to my favorite burrito joint since before Christmas. I went by one day in early January, and there was a sign up that said Local Flavor would be back later in the month. So this past Thursday, I got excited--it was time. I got to the church, only to find a new sign stating there would be no burritos until the spring, due to renovation at the church! Boo!
These burritos are good. You can get a chicken burrito for $5, steak for $6, or veggie or bean and cheese for $4. This is a phenomenal deal for New York City. Guacamole costs $1 extra. I stingily left it off the first few times, but I tried it once and now I always get it. It makes the burrito so much better (probably because, when guac is prepared and sold at a church, it automatically becomes "holy guacamole").
They have a few tables and chairs set up inside the foyer, so I usually eat in there, partly because it's cold outside, and partly because it's fun to eat burritos in a church. The proceeds from Local Flavor go to some good cause, which I can't recall right now, but that's another good reason to frequent this place. I hope it opens again before I leave the city.
(By the way, the church burritos are not affiliated with "Jesus' Taco," a restaurant a few blocks from my apartment that I've been to several times. I recommend the enchilada. And I know it's probably pronounced "Hay-ZOOS' TAH-ko," but it's comforting to me to think that all of my favorite Mexican food has strong ties to Christianity. Borderline sacrilegious jokes end...now.)
With Local Flavor no longer an option, that means I've been going to Pinnacle, a shop on the same block as the church, for lunch almost every day. I would consider bringing my own lunch, but: 1) I'm lazy; 2) I'm not allowed to eat in my work area (can't get the documents dirty); and 3) I have a per diem! I can afford to eat out every day if I want! (If you can get yourself hooked up with a per diem, I highly recommend it.)
Pinnacle is one of many multi-purpose a la carte-type places in the city. There's one called Strokos which is a little closer, but I prefer Pinnacle because it's usually less crowded, the food is better, and best of all, in their upstairs seating area they have a water cooler with plastic cups, which saves me from having to spend a dollar or more for a soda or a bottle of water (both places take credit cards, which is great. The biggest culture shock for me in coming to New York wasn't its enormity, or its poverty, or its lack of vegetation, or anything like that--it was how many places of business only accept cash).
I've tried their wraps, their panini, their soup (the seafood gumbo is great), their sausage rolls, and lots of other stuff, and it's always good or even great (the big cookies are kind of hit or miss, probably because sometimes I get one that's a few days old). I usually end up getting pizza, though. Their combo (pepperoni, sausage, peppers, onions) is probably my favorite pizza I've ever had. Whenever I have that thought, I feel very lowbrow, because this place is not even remotely fancy or authentic, and they don't even specialize in pizza. But it's really, really good.
So, that's how I usually spend my lunch break. There are a few other places around I could try; a few blocks farther down Broadway is Tom's Diner, made famous in the Suzanne Vega song of the same name and made legendary by becoming "the Seinfeld restaurant," but only the exterior of the place is used on the show, and the food is very mediocre. A few blocks past that you've got Koronet, which sells the biggest slice of pizza I've ever seen, and it's pretty good. But I'll probably just keep going to Pinnacle and, hopefully, the Presbyterian Church. Because I'm a creature of habit, and that habit is eating lots and lots of greasy food. Did I mention how awesome it is to have a per diem?
Wednesday, January 23, 2008
The Isiah chapters
So I emerged unscathed from my encounter with the scalpers--ticket brokers, I mean--and made my way into the Garden. I stopped at a concession stand before finding my seat, and only had to wait behind one person even though it was just a few minutes until tip-off. So far so good.
I got a jumbo dog (excellent), a big pretzel (not bad), and ordered a small drink, but was informed that all drinks cost the same at MSG, regardless of size. Slightly stunned, I felt obligated to upgrade to a medium, a decision that would haunt me come the 4th quarter.
I got settled in my seat just in time to stand back up for the national anthem, performed by Broadway star Naturi Naughton. It was, um, kinda weird. Very over the top, not really my cup of tea, but the crowd ate it up (even though they all seemed to be foreigners, as I saw very few people put their hand on their heart).
I then had some time to take in my surroundings. My seat was actually really good, near the front of the third of five seating levels, behind the Jazz bench. MSG isn't nearly as steep as the Dump, either (that's what I like to call Energy Solutions Arena). I gazed up at the legendary New York sports figures who've had their numbers retired at MSG: names like Earl Monroe, Walt "Clyde" Frazier, Mark Messier, Billy Joel...
Billy Joel?! And Elton John too? Seriously? As good as their music is (Storm Front was the first album I ever purchased), seeing their "jerseys" cheapened the entire experience for me a little bit.
I had my camera with me, the first time I was planning on using it after more than two weeks in the city. Had I tried to take pictures of less-exciting things earlier, I would've noticed that there were no batteries in my camera. D'oh!
I wondered how I would be treated by the NY fans as I cheered for the Jazz. I stood and applauded as the Jazz starting lineup was announced, and I heard a "Hey, wrong team" from somewhere behind me, but that was the full extent of the vitriol directed towards me. Several reasons for this: midway through the 1st quarter, the Knicks took the lead for good, so the fans probably didn't mind my cheering; the Jazz played poorly for three quarters, so I didn't have much to cheer for; but most of all, because I seemed to be in the center of a section of eastern Europeans who were all cheering for Andrei Kirilenko.
The Knicks' fans certainly weren't shy about booing, though. During the introductions, the fans were merciless when the names of Stephon Marbury and head coach Isiah Thomas were announced; Marbury would get plenty of cheers later on, as he had a great game, but nobody likes Isiah. Eight weeks after the game, I can't believe he hasn't been fired yet. The fans also booed a guy who bricked several free throws in one of those layup-free throw-three pointer timeout promotions. That was pretty funny.
My night at MSG included several "celebrity" "sightings" (no big names, and I didn't actually see them--they were shown on the Garden Vision scoreboard). The "stars" in attendance included Rev Run of Run DMC, a few guys from HBO shows (Sopranos and Entourage) that I've never watched, and New York Ranger Sean Avery, who used to date Elisha Cuthbert of 24 fame (I've still got my fingers crossed that she gets back together with that cougar from season 2). I'm pretty sure Spike Lee wasn't there; maybe he can't afford courtside seats any more after She Hate Me bombed at the box office.
The Jazz refused to play defense, a problem that's plagued them on the road all season, but made a furious rally in the 4th quarter and had a chance to take the lead with about a minute left, but they blew it and the Knicks held on for the win. It was a high-scoring, entertaining game, but I believe Utah is now 1-7 or something like that in games I've attended. I'm the bad luck guy.
The 4th quarter drama was intensified by my battle with my bladder; why did I have to get the medium? I played through the pain, though, and made it all the way back to my apartment--111 blocks on the subway--before obtaining relief. Based on MSG's standards, that feat should get me a number hanging from the rafters someday.
I got a jumbo dog (excellent), a big pretzel (not bad), and ordered a small drink, but was informed that all drinks cost the same at MSG, regardless of size. Slightly stunned, I felt obligated to upgrade to a medium, a decision that would haunt me come the 4th quarter.
I got settled in my seat just in time to stand back up for the national anthem, performed by Broadway star Naturi Naughton. It was, um, kinda weird. Very over the top, not really my cup of tea, but the crowd ate it up (even though they all seemed to be foreigners, as I saw very few people put their hand on their heart).
I then had some time to take in my surroundings. My seat was actually really good, near the front of the third of five seating levels, behind the Jazz bench. MSG isn't nearly as steep as the Dump, either (that's what I like to call Energy Solutions Arena). I gazed up at the legendary New York sports figures who've had their numbers retired at MSG: names like Earl Monroe, Walt "Clyde" Frazier, Mark Messier, Billy Joel...
Billy Joel?! And Elton John too? Seriously? As good as their music is (Storm Front was the first album I ever purchased), seeing their "jerseys" cheapened the entire experience for me a little bit.
I had my camera with me, the first time I was planning on using it after more than two weeks in the city. Had I tried to take pictures of less-exciting things earlier, I would've noticed that there were no batteries in my camera. D'oh!
I wondered how I would be treated by the NY fans as I cheered for the Jazz. I stood and applauded as the Jazz starting lineup was announced, and I heard a "Hey, wrong team" from somewhere behind me, but that was the full extent of the vitriol directed towards me. Several reasons for this: midway through the 1st quarter, the Knicks took the lead for good, so the fans probably didn't mind my cheering; the Jazz played poorly for three quarters, so I didn't have much to cheer for; but most of all, because I seemed to be in the center of a section of eastern Europeans who were all cheering for Andrei Kirilenko.
The Knicks' fans certainly weren't shy about booing, though. During the introductions, the fans were merciless when the names of Stephon Marbury and head coach Isiah Thomas were announced; Marbury would get plenty of cheers later on, as he had a great game, but nobody likes Isiah. Eight weeks after the game, I can't believe he hasn't been fired yet. The fans also booed a guy who bricked several free throws in one of those layup-free throw-three pointer timeout promotions. That was pretty funny.
My night at MSG included several "celebrity" "sightings" (no big names, and I didn't actually see them--they were shown on the Garden Vision scoreboard). The "stars" in attendance included Rev Run of Run DMC, a few guys from HBO shows (Sopranos and Entourage) that I've never watched, and New York Ranger Sean Avery, who used to date Elisha Cuthbert of 24 fame (I've still got my fingers crossed that she gets back together with that cougar from season 2). I'm pretty sure Spike Lee wasn't there; maybe he can't afford courtside seats any more after She Hate Me bombed at the box office.
The Jazz refused to play defense, a problem that's plagued them on the road all season, but made a furious rally in the 4th quarter and had a chance to take the lead with about a minute left, but they blew it and the Knicks held on for the win. It was a high-scoring, entertaining game, but I believe Utah is now 1-7 or something like that in games I've attended. I'm the bad luck guy.
The 4th quarter drama was intensified by my battle with my bladder; why did I have to get the medium? I played through the pain, though, and made it all the way back to my apartment--111 blocks on the subway--before obtaining relief. Based on MSG's standards, that feat should get me a number hanging from the rafters someday.
Monday, January 21, 2008
Wow! This is where the New York Liberty play!
This Sunday, the Royal Rumble emanates live from Madison Square Garden, the world's most famous arena. In honor of this momentous occasion, here's the story of my pilgrimage to the arena appropriately nicknamed the Mecca.
Monday, November 26, 2007, got off to a pretty rough start. I woke up at about 3 AM with an unbearable ache in my back, but managed to get some sleep after moving to the couch. At work I discovered I would need to redo nearly all of the scanning I had done to that point (almost two weeks' worth) because of a stupid mistake I had made. Plus, I finally got up the courage to ask Dave Ortiz, the Columbia digitizing specialist I work with, if he ever got hassled by New Yorkers because of his name, and he didn't have any good stories to tell.
So I was very pleased to leave work, even more so because I knew where I was going. The Jazz were in town to play the Knicks at MSG that night, and I wanted to cheer on my team. I got a little lost trying to make my way out of Penn Station, but I eventually found the arena and the people I was looking for: the scalpers.
I said "yes" to the first guy who asked me if I needed a ticket, and he walked me across the street away from the cops to try and make a deal. He tried selling me a courtside seat, but that was just a LITTLE out of my price range (season tickets for those seats go for about $1500-$5500 PER GAME). I told him I wanted to get the best seat I could for $40, since that's all I had (which was true, not counting my snack money). He seemed pretty put out, and kept trying to get me to buy a pricier ticket. I told him I couldn't afford it, and that I'd just go and buy a nosebleed seat at the box office for $11. He told me the game was sold out, which I knew wasn't true.
As this was going on, other scalpers started gathering around me and offering their seats. My guy kept trying to shoo them away, and I kept getting more and more worried that all these scalpers were in on some scam together and I was going to get taken advantage of somehow. At one point, a guy in a wheelchair offered me a really good seat for my $40, and I took the deal, as much to get out of there as anything else. Then the other scalpers started yelling about how I was taking advantage of a crippled man, and they took the ticket back from me. "Yep, here's their scam," I thought. But they did actually give me my money back.
I told them I didn't want to deal with it anymore, and started to walk away. The first guy caught up with me and offered me a $95 seat for $40. I took it gladly and walked towards the arena. So I played a little unintentional hardball (if he had a $40 seat I would've been glad to pay full price for it) and got a great deal--assuming the ticket was authentic. I had no idea what the real tickets looked like.
It was legit, thank goodness. For the first time in my life, I was actually inside Madison Square Garden.
I'm making a concerted effort to keep my posts shorter, so it looks like we've got another to-be-continued here. Check out my next post for all the details from the game: celebrity sightings, hostile New York fans, low standards for jersey retirement, my review of MSG concessions, and of course, in-depth game analysis for the thousands of hard-core hoops fans who read my blog.
Monday, November 26, 2007, got off to a pretty rough start. I woke up at about 3 AM with an unbearable ache in my back, but managed to get some sleep after moving to the couch. At work I discovered I would need to redo nearly all of the scanning I had done to that point (almost two weeks' worth) because of a stupid mistake I had made. Plus, I finally got up the courage to ask Dave Ortiz, the Columbia digitizing specialist I work with, if he ever got hassled by New Yorkers because of his name, and he didn't have any good stories to tell.
So I was very pleased to leave work, even more so because I knew where I was going. The Jazz were in town to play the Knicks at MSG that night, and I wanted to cheer on my team. I got a little lost trying to make my way out of Penn Station, but I eventually found the arena and the people I was looking for: the scalpers.
I said "yes" to the first guy who asked me if I needed a ticket, and he walked me across the street away from the cops to try and make a deal. He tried selling me a courtside seat, but that was just a LITTLE out of my price range (season tickets for those seats go for about $1500-$5500 PER GAME). I told him I wanted to get the best seat I could for $40, since that's all I had (which was true, not counting my snack money). He seemed pretty put out, and kept trying to get me to buy a pricier ticket. I told him I couldn't afford it, and that I'd just go and buy a nosebleed seat at the box office for $11. He told me the game was sold out, which I knew wasn't true.
As this was going on, other scalpers started gathering around me and offering their seats. My guy kept trying to shoo them away, and I kept getting more and more worried that all these scalpers were in on some scam together and I was going to get taken advantage of somehow. At one point, a guy in a wheelchair offered me a really good seat for my $40, and I took the deal, as much to get out of there as anything else. Then the other scalpers started yelling about how I was taking advantage of a crippled man, and they took the ticket back from me. "Yep, here's their scam," I thought. But they did actually give me my money back.
I told them I didn't want to deal with it anymore, and started to walk away. The first guy caught up with me and offered me a $95 seat for $40. I took it gladly and walked towards the arena. So I played a little unintentional hardball (if he had a $40 seat I would've been glad to pay full price for it) and got a great deal--assuming the ticket was authentic. I had no idea what the real tickets looked like.
It was legit, thank goodness. For the first time in my life, I was actually inside Madison Square Garden.
I'm making a concerted effort to keep my posts shorter, so it looks like we've got another to-be-continued here. Check out my next post for all the details from the game: celebrity sightings, hostile New York fans, low standards for jersey retirement, my review of MSG concessions, and of course, in-depth game analysis for the thousands of hard-core hoops fans who read my blog.
Friday, January 18, 2008
A picture is worth almost half of one of my regular posts
So I'll give you two.
I really like this bridge. I wonder who owns it, and if they'd be willing to sell it?
The Brooklyn Bridge is a pretty cool landmark. Considering the job that brought me out here involves taking hundreds of high quality pictures with a digital camera every day, it seems like my photography skills should be better.
Here's a few shots of the view from the bridge.
You can hear the music, can't you? Duh-da-da-duh. Duh-da-da-duh. Duh-da-da-duh. Duh-di-da-duh. "Everywhere around the world.....they're comin' to America!"
"Today!"
I love that song.
I actually rode the subway to the Brooklyn side of the bridge so I could try the pizza at Grimaldi's, which came highly recommended by Kristina, then walk back over the bridge.
When I got there, it was obvious that Grimaldi's was at least very popular; I had to wait outside for about 45 minutes before I got in. Fortunately, just like at the Apollo, two guys got in line behind me who ended up being fun to talk to.
They were locals who complained that there wasn't a side entrance for "regulars." They described themselves as "pizza nerds" and recommended a few other places for me to try. (When they found out I was from Utah, one of them talked about the two Phish concerts he's been to at USANA.)
But the conversation really picked up when they started talking about a party they were at the night before, and one of them mentioned the bouncers were bigger than the wrestler Zeus, co-star of the "hit" movie No Holds Barred, which came out just after I started watching the WWF. I don't know which was more impressive: the fact that he knew who Zeus was, or the fact that he brought him up in a conversation in 2008.
This led us on to talk about American Gladiators, including the new incarnation of the show. We tried to name all of the original Gladiators. I don't think we got them all, but we did recall this immortal moment from all-time Gladiator great Malibu. Good times.
Postscript: the pizza was pretty good, especially the pepperoni, but there were some mitigating factors. For one, I generally prefer regular pizza to brick-oven style, as Grimaldi's is. Also, I don't know that it was worth waiting that long for, and it wasn't particularly fun eating by myself (especially since they don't sell individual slices like most pizza joints, and I had to buy a small pizza. I'll refrain from saying whether or not I needed a to-go box or not). But I'd probably go again if I had friends with me.
After crossing the bridge, I headed home...belly full and a greasy face...Jeffy's heart burning warm, Jeffy's heart burning warm...
TODAY!
I really like this bridge. I wonder who owns it, and if they'd be willing to sell it?
The Brooklyn Bridge is a pretty cool landmark. Considering the job that brought me out here involves taking hundreds of high quality pictures with a digital camera every day, it seems like my photography skills should be better.
Here's a few shots of the view from the bridge.
You can hear the music, can't you? Duh-da-da-duh. Duh-da-da-duh. Duh-da-da-duh. Duh-di-da-duh. "Everywhere around the world.....they're comin' to America!"
"Today!"
I love that song.
I actually rode the subway to the Brooklyn side of the bridge so I could try the pizza at Grimaldi's, which came highly recommended by Kristina, then walk back over the bridge.
When I got there, it was obvious that Grimaldi's was at least very popular; I had to wait outside for about 45 minutes before I got in. Fortunately, just like at the Apollo, two guys got in line behind me who ended up being fun to talk to.
They were locals who complained that there wasn't a side entrance for "regulars." They described themselves as "pizza nerds" and recommended a few other places for me to try. (When they found out I was from Utah, one of them talked about the two Phish concerts he's been to at USANA.)
But the conversation really picked up when they started talking about a party they were at the night before, and one of them mentioned the bouncers were bigger than the wrestler Zeus, co-star of the "hit" movie No Holds Barred, which came out just after I started watching the WWF. I don't know which was more impressive: the fact that he knew who Zeus was, or the fact that he brought him up in a conversation in 2008.
This led us on to talk about American Gladiators, including the new incarnation of the show. We tried to name all of the original Gladiators. I don't think we got them all, but we did recall this immortal moment from all-time Gladiator great Malibu. Good times.
Postscript: the pizza was pretty good, especially the pepperoni, but there were some mitigating factors. For one, I generally prefer regular pizza to brick-oven style, as Grimaldi's is. Also, I don't know that it was worth waiting that long for, and it wasn't particularly fun eating by myself (especially since they don't sell individual slices like most pizza joints, and I had to buy a small pizza. I'll refrain from saying whether or not I needed a to-go box or not). But I'd probably go again if I had friends with me.
After crossing the bridge, I headed home...belly full and a greasy face...Jeffy's heart burning warm, Jeffy's heart burning warm...
TODAY!
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Nostalgia and newstalgia
Do you ever watch those nostalgia shows on VH1? I Love the 80s (the original and best), its two sequels and other decade spinoffs, When Star Wars Ruled the World, etc. I LOVE the format of these shows, although the quality varies widely. A good rule of thumb: if Michael Ian Black is involved, it's gonna be good; if not, it's a crapshoot.
I'm a sucker for nostalgia, espcially if it's connected to pop culture from the 1980s. My sister Julie made me an '80s time capsule for my Christmas present, and it was amazing. It included a He-Man t-shirt, greatest hits CDs from Bonnie Tyler and Berlin, some WWF colorforms, and lots of other cool stuff.
I enjoy reminiscing about the past so much that in the summer of 2004, my former roommate Will and I (and later other friends joined in) began making plans for a show called The 40 Most Outrageous Members of the 130th Ward, or alternately, I Love the 130th Ward (both of us were in the BYU 130th Ward for several years).
We made our list of 40; "outrageous" was taken from some countdown show that VH1 was airing at the time (the countdown show is a related genre to the nostalgia show, and I get sucked into watching them all the time) with a similar title, and we definitely were using it as a compliment to describe some of the more memorable characters from that great ward--people like Bill Petrosino, Chris James, Greg Wall, the Brittany 2 guys (Al, Dave, and Barth), Ashley Hawkins, and of course Dovy all were featured prominently on our list and the ensuing e-mail "commentary" it inspired as we reminisced about these legends' greatest moments.
So why bring this up now? Well, in case I haven't made myself clear enough, I love nostalgia, but also because on my first Sunday in my new singles ward in New York I saw not one but two of the women from our list! This fact is even more amazing when you consider that our male-heavy top 40 only included about ten Sisters.
That Sunday, I arrived pretty early at church because I had never been to that chapel before and wanted to make sure I had enough time to find it. I was the first one sitting in the chapel, but one of the very next people to walk in was none other than Debbie Bartholomew! Debbie earned her spot on her list through her small size and obvious nickname ("Little Debbie"), her outgoing nature, and being one of the few (my sister being another) who continued attending our ward after moving out of its boundaries, along with other "outrageous" qualities.
Debbie had just arrived in town and would only be there for a week; apparently she comes to NYC fairly often--this time she was cat-sitting for a couple who were on vacation, so Debbie had to buy a plane ticket but had a free place to stay (which is the offer all y'all have from me, and I don't even have a cat to take care of). So I was pleased to have someone to sit with, and even more pleased to have someone to hit the town with that week as I invited myself along on her adventures with her friend Nancy, who was assisting Debbie with the feline care (thanks for letting me tag along, Debbie). I'm sure I'll end up blogging about some of the stuff we did together.
After sacrament meeting ended, I started as I heard another familiar voice behind me.
"Jeff Hofmann, what are you doing here?" asked, Jessica Allred, the top-ranking lady from our 40 Most Outrageous list, a spot she garnered by making a documentary about people's obsessions, developing her own obsession with China, getting Jeremy Weber to dance, teaming up with Ashley for the infamous "How does Snoop Dogg get his clothes clean?" joke at the ward talent show, and, as demonstrated earlier in the paragraph, being one of those people who calls you by your first and last name. She's now an elementary school teacher here in the city; I had no idea that she was living out here. We've hung out several times, mostly at ward activities and FHE and such, but I was very pleased to find out I already had a friend in my new ward.
That first Sunday I also bumped into Tiffany Smith, an acquaintance from the BYU Comms Department. So three people at church that first Sunday that I already knew.
It's tempting to describe these reunions as random, but when you think about it, it's really not very random. While the specific people I've bumped into have been surprises, I fully expected to see some familiar faces when I came out here, since most of the people I know are Mormons, and many of the things I'd be doing here outside of work would bring me in contact with other Mormons. (I described a similar kind of predictable randomness when I blogged about seeing Scott Owen at the airport on my way out here.)
And there have been quite a few more of these incidents since that first Sunday, including the KBYU connections: Luke Stay, who worked in KBYU master control when I worked in the HFAC studio, was in my ward in December (but not there that first Sunday) but has since moved out (I think he got married, actually); at Institute last week I saw Josh Francia, who came in all the way from Connecticut for the class. Josh was in the same mission as me for about two months until I got sent home (not early, it was just time), and he started working at KBYU not long after I graduated. Basically, he's been riding my coattails. At the Lingos, the singles wards' film festival that I still need to blog about, I saw Anna Robinson for the first time in years. Anna worked in the HFAC studio with me way back in '02; she'd be in my ward here if she wasn't so old (just kidding, Anna (but she does go to the family ward)). Neal Lutz, who I had several classes with, was in town on business that week and also attended the Lingos.
There's also been people whose names I recognize but are actually my sister Lori's friends. One of those Lingos featured an appearance by Mark Broschinsky, and I met him at church a few weeks later. Then, one week at FHE, I ended up at the apartment of Jill Cecil (her roommates are in my ward but Jill also attends the family ward). She even called me Adam (my older brother) once; I hadn't been mistaken for my brother since about the 4th grade.
More recently, though, I've made some connections that could be more easily classified as random, although there's still the overarching "we're all LDS" factor that prevents them from being completely unpredictable. (This, I guess, would be the "newstalgia"--copyright Jeff Hofmann 2008--I referred to in the title.)
My friend Larissa, whose blog you can read by clicking the link to the right, called me last week to find out when and where church was for a friend of hers that was going to be in New York for a month. As we discussed where I live and where her friend Katie would be staying, we discovered that we'd be very near each other; when I met Katie the next day on the way to church, we found that we were literally next door neighbors! I live in 307 and she's in 307A. Now that's at least semi-random. So now I have a new friend very close by, and Larissa (who I first met when I came to New York four years ago) will basically HAVE to hang out with me when she visits NYC sometime in the next month or so, which she keeps telling me she's planning to do.
And finally, the coolest one of all...I was at FHE this week, and a girl in the ward named Rachel Smith pointed out that I spell Hofmann the "right" way--not the way of Oscar winners, but the way her relatives spell it. We began going back on the family tree, and soon discovered that we're second cousins! Her grandma and my grandpa are brother and sister. Plus, she's a fun, cool girl. I was always jealous of the McCunes and other people I know who have close relationships with cousins; I haven't had any semblance of a relationship with any cousin since I was about 14, and even then I never thought any of them were people I'd hang out with outside of family vacations or reunions. So now I have family in New York City!
That's all of the "random" connections I've had so far in the city, but I'm sure more are coming. If you've ever wanted to visit New York but find it too intimidating, don't stress too much about it; there's so many people here, you're bound to run into someone you know!
I'm a sucker for nostalgia, espcially if it's connected to pop culture from the 1980s. My sister Julie made me an '80s time capsule for my Christmas present, and it was amazing. It included a He-Man t-shirt, greatest hits CDs from Bonnie Tyler and Berlin, some WWF colorforms, and lots of other cool stuff.
I enjoy reminiscing about the past so much that in the summer of 2004, my former roommate Will and I (and later other friends joined in) began making plans for a show called The 40 Most Outrageous Members of the 130th Ward, or alternately, I Love the 130th Ward (both of us were in the BYU 130th Ward for several years).
We made our list of 40; "outrageous" was taken from some countdown show that VH1 was airing at the time (the countdown show is a related genre to the nostalgia show, and I get sucked into watching them all the time) with a similar title, and we definitely were using it as a compliment to describe some of the more memorable characters from that great ward--people like Bill Petrosino, Chris James, Greg Wall, the Brittany 2 guys (Al, Dave, and Barth), Ashley Hawkins, and of course Dovy all were featured prominently on our list and the ensuing e-mail "commentary" it inspired as we reminisced about these legends' greatest moments.
So why bring this up now? Well, in case I haven't made myself clear enough, I love nostalgia, but also because on my first Sunday in my new singles ward in New York I saw not one but two of the women from our list! This fact is even more amazing when you consider that our male-heavy top 40 only included about ten Sisters.
That Sunday, I arrived pretty early at church because I had never been to that chapel before and wanted to make sure I had enough time to find it. I was the first one sitting in the chapel, but one of the very next people to walk in was none other than Debbie Bartholomew! Debbie earned her spot on her list through her small size and obvious nickname ("Little Debbie"), her outgoing nature, and being one of the few (my sister being another) who continued attending our ward after moving out of its boundaries, along with other "outrageous" qualities.
Debbie had just arrived in town and would only be there for a week; apparently she comes to NYC fairly often--this time she was cat-sitting for a couple who were on vacation, so Debbie had to buy a plane ticket but had a free place to stay (which is the offer all y'all have from me, and I don't even have a cat to take care of). So I was pleased to have someone to sit with, and even more pleased to have someone to hit the town with that week as I invited myself along on her adventures with her friend Nancy, who was assisting Debbie with the feline care (thanks for letting me tag along, Debbie). I'm sure I'll end up blogging about some of the stuff we did together.
After sacrament meeting ended, I started as I heard another familiar voice behind me.
"Jeff Hofmann, what are you doing here?" asked, Jessica Allred, the top-ranking lady from our 40 Most Outrageous list, a spot she garnered by making a documentary about people's obsessions, developing her own obsession with China, getting Jeremy Weber to dance, teaming up with Ashley for the infamous "How does Snoop Dogg get his clothes clean?" joke at the ward talent show, and, as demonstrated earlier in the paragraph, being one of those people who calls you by your first and last name. She's now an elementary school teacher here in the city; I had no idea that she was living out here. We've hung out several times, mostly at ward activities and FHE and such, but I was very pleased to find out I already had a friend in my new ward.
That first Sunday I also bumped into Tiffany Smith, an acquaintance from the BYU Comms Department. So three people at church that first Sunday that I already knew.
It's tempting to describe these reunions as random, but when you think about it, it's really not very random. While the specific people I've bumped into have been surprises, I fully expected to see some familiar faces when I came out here, since most of the people I know are Mormons, and many of the things I'd be doing here outside of work would bring me in contact with other Mormons. (I described a similar kind of predictable randomness when I blogged about seeing Scott Owen at the airport on my way out here.)
And there have been quite a few more of these incidents since that first Sunday, including the KBYU connections: Luke Stay, who worked in KBYU master control when I worked in the HFAC studio, was in my ward in December (but not there that first Sunday) but has since moved out (I think he got married, actually); at Institute last week I saw Josh Francia, who came in all the way from Connecticut for the class. Josh was in the same mission as me for about two months until I got sent home (not early, it was just time), and he started working at KBYU not long after I graduated. Basically, he's been riding my coattails. At the Lingos, the singles wards' film festival that I still need to blog about, I saw Anna Robinson for the first time in years. Anna worked in the HFAC studio with me way back in '02; she'd be in my ward here if she wasn't so old (just kidding, Anna (but she does go to the family ward)). Neal Lutz, who I had several classes with, was in town on business that week and also attended the Lingos.
There's also been people whose names I recognize but are actually my sister Lori's friends. One of those Lingos featured an appearance by Mark Broschinsky, and I met him at church a few weeks later. Then, one week at FHE, I ended up at the apartment of Jill Cecil (her roommates are in my ward but Jill also attends the family ward). She even called me Adam (my older brother) once; I hadn't been mistaken for my brother since about the 4th grade.
More recently, though, I've made some connections that could be more easily classified as random, although there's still the overarching "we're all LDS" factor that prevents them from being completely unpredictable. (This, I guess, would be the "newstalgia"--copyright Jeff Hofmann 2008--I referred to in the title.)
My friend Larissa, whose blog you can read by clicking the link to the right, called me last week to find out when and where church was for a friend of hers that was going to be in New York for a month. As we discussed where I live and where her friend Katie would be staying, we discovered that we'd be very near each other; when I met Katie the next day on the way to church, we found that we were literally next door neighbors! I live in 307 and she's in 307A. Now that's at least semi-random. So now I have a new friend very close by, and Larissa (who I first met when I came to New York four years ago) will basically HAVE to hang out with me when she visits NYC sometime in the next month or so, which she keeps telling me she's planning to do.
And finally, the coolest one of all...I was at FHE this week, and a girl in the ward named Rachel Smith pointed out that I spell Hofmann the "right" way--not the way of Oscar winners, but the way her relatives spell it. We began going back on the family tree, and soon discovered that we're second cousins! Her grandma and my grandpa are brother and sister. Plus, she's a fun, cool girl. I was always jealous of the McCunes and other people I know who have close relationships with cousins; I haven't had any semblance of a relationship with any cousin since I was about 14, and even then I never thought any of them were people I'd hang out with outside of family vacations or reunions. So now I have family in New York City!
That's all of the "random" connections I've had so far in the city, but I'm sure more are coming. If you've ever wanted to visit New York but find it too intimidating, don't stress too much about it; there's so many people here, you're bound to run into someone you know!
What is a quince?
This has been by far my busiest and most stressful week since I came out here, so I haven't had much time for blogging, unfortunately. But I wanted to get something up, so here's this:
If you've ever wanted to try out for Jeopardy!, here's your chance.
I've actually auditioned for the show 3 times. I took the online test once and once they came on their touring test bus to SLC, and both times I failed. The first time, though, I came SO close.
Back in 2002, I convinced my freshman roommate Kyle to drive me to LA so I could audition for the College Tournament (he paid for gas, I paid for everything else). I had always dreamed of being in the College Tournament, since they get the hardest clues besides the Tournament of Champions (it goes, from most hardest to easiest: T of C, College, regular, teen, kid, and celebrity. I passed the first test, a 50-question short answer exam similar to what you'll get if you take the online test.
Then I got to play in a mock game, where I got to use an actual Jeopardy! buzzer (although the entire audition took place on the set of Wheel of Fortune, which was kind of cool but kind of weird. There were no winners and losers of the mock game, but the producers used that to make the final list of 15 participants--and they didn't choose me. I came as close to making the show as I could've without actually making it. I was nearly Ken Jennings before Ken Jennings was Ken Jennings.
But I will not be denied this time!
If you've ever wanted to try out for Jeopardy!, here's your chance.
I've actually auditioned for the show 3 times. I took the online test once and once they came on their touring test bus to SLC, and both times I failed. The first time, though, I came SO close.
Back in 2002, I convinced my freshman roommate Kyle to drive me to LA so I could audition for the College Tournament (he paid for gas, I paid for everything else). I had always dreamed of being in the College Tournament, since they get the hardest clues besides the Tournament of Champions (it goes, from most hardest to easiest: T of C, College, regular, teen, kid, and celebrity. I passed the first test, a 50-question short answer exam similar to what you'll get if you take the online test.
Then I got to play in a mock game, where I got to use an actual Jeopardy! buzzer (although the entire audition took place on the set of Wheel of Fortune, which was kind of cool but kind of weird. There were no winners and losers of the mock game, but the producers used that to make the final list of 15 participants--and they didn't choose me. I came as close to making the show as I could've without actually making it. I was nearly Ken Jennings before Ken Jennings was Ken Jennings.
But I will not be denied this time!
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Broke into the old apartment, 42 stairs from the street
It's actually 48 steps...
When my manager chose me to come work out here, he told me to find a place to live, and that I had a budget of up to $2500 a month to work with. It's weird to think that's more than I spent on rent in an entire year when I lived at the fantastic Brittany Apartments, but it's really not that much by New York standards (when I was here in '03, I paid about $700 a month for a dorm room--bed, desk, closet and that's it, plus one bathroom for about 30 people).
After checking out Craig's List for a few days, I ultimately found the place I'm in now for $2000 (unfortunately, my employers aren't letting me pocket the difference). I found some places that seemed better (closer to work, in better neighborhoods, more expensive--the higher the price, the better the quality, right?--and some other reasons that I'll get into shortly), but those subletters didn't respond to my e-mails.
But I'm happy with my apartment. And now I'm going to take you on a virtual tour. I'm sure this is the post my mom has been waiting for (actually, she's probably still waiting for the first post to load; my parents have a ridiculously slow Internet connection).
A view of those 48 steps I have to climb every time I come home. This is the first photo to appear in my blog (not counting that beautie of me in a hoodie there in the sidebar). Worth the wait, eh?
My door. As you can see, I'm trying to "take care of that Tigers hat", and its new BYU counterpart. I fasten the chain for aesthetic reasons; if some unsavory character managed to get past the deadbolt, I don't think that chain would offer much resistance.
The bathroom is immediately to the left upon entering the apartment. I have a low-flow toilet, and it's kind of strange; after my frequent fast food meals, I inevitably have to use it, and it almost inevitably doesn't, um, go down right; sometimes I have to flush a second time, sometimes I have to do more unspeakable things, but it eventually works and it NEVER overflows, which is even more important because that half of the apartment is sloped (you can't really tell from the picture)--more on that later. Now that you're all thoroughly disturbed, let's move on...
If I want to shave or do anything else that requires hot water, I have to turn the tap on and let it run for about five minutes. Fortunately, once I've got hot water in one place (bathroom sink, shower or kitchen sink) it doesn't take long to heat up in another. (Not pictured: soap.)
When my manager chose me to come work out here, he told me to find a place to live, and that I had a budget of up to $2500 a month to work with. It's weird to think that's more than I spent on rent in an entire year when I lived at the fantastic Brittany Apartments, but it's really not that much by New York standards (when I was here in '03, I paid about $700 a month for a dorm room--bed, desk, closet and that's it, plus one bathroom for about 30 people).
After checking out Craig's List for a few days, I ultimately found the place I'm in now for $2000 (unfortunately, my employers aren't letting me pocket the difference). I found some places that seemed better (closer to work, in better neighborhoods, more expensive--the higher the price, the better the quality, right?--and some other reasons that I'll get into shortly), but those subletters didn't respond to my e-mails.
But I'm happy with my apartment. And now I'm going to take you on a virtual tour. I'm sure this is the post my mom has been waiting for (actually, she's probably still waiting for the first post to load; my parents have a ridiculously slow Internet connection).
A view of those 48 steps I have to climb every time I come home. This is the first photo to appear in my blog (not counting that beautie of me in a hoodie there in the sidebar). Worth the wait, eh?
My door. As you can see, I'm trying to "take care of that Tigers hat", and its new BYU counterpart. I fasten the chain for aesthetic reasons; if some unsavory character managed to get past the deadbolt, I don't think that chain would offer much resistance.
The bathroom is immediately to the left upon entering the apartment. I have a low-flow toilet, and it's kind of strange; after my frequent fast food meals, I inevitably have to use it, and it almost inevitably doesn't, um, go down right; sometimes I have to flush a second time, sometimes I have to do more unspeakable things, but it eventually works and it NEVER overflows, which is even more important because that half of the apartment is sloped (you can't really tell from the picture)--more on that later. Now that you're all thoroughly disturbed, let's move on...
If I want to shave or do anything else that requires hot water, I have to turn the tap on and let it run for about five minutes. Fortunately, once I've got hot water in one place (bathroom sink, shower or kitchen sink) it doesn't take long to heat up in another. (Not pictured: soap.)
The apartment came "fully furnished", and everything is in decent or better shape...except this. The shower is also low-flow, but I've gotten used to it, and I try to ignore the disgusting mess on the wall, but that's hard to do when pieces of plaster fall in the tub while you're in it. As a result, it gets quite dirty, and I frequently have to use Drano and wipe out the tub to get rid of the dirt and dust that collects. This is by far the 2nd-most disturbing sight in the apartment...
...and this is the most disturbing. That's right, an entertainment center with nothing in there to entertain me. For virtually every apartment I looked into renting, "fully furnished" usually included a TV with cable, and usually wireless Internet, but not this one. Instead, I use it as an ironing board and takeout menu holder. On top you can see the juice box I got upon my spelling bee elimination.
Here's my living/dining room. As you can see, I don't always hang my jeans up. Seeing them in the photo means I was either wearing my Homer Simpson pajama pants, dress slacks, or was not wearing pants. Hopefully it wasn't the latter, since there are no curtains in this room. The big couch isn't very comfortable, neither is the desk chair, but the love seat isn't bad. I spend most of my time in the apartment sitting in the chair, staring at my computer (the apartment didn't come with Internet, but I've been able to piggyback on an unsecured wireless network pretty effectively. Thank you, dlink, whoever you are).
Many of the apartments posted on Craig's List had "lots of light" as a big selling point, which I found amusing at the time, but it turns out it's a pretty big deal. This is the view from the window near the desk, which isn't great, but at least I can see a little bit of sky and a little bit of Jackie Robinson Park.
Next to the desk is the master bedroom. You'd better believe I'm the master around these parts.
I once heard one of my favorite comedians say making your bed after you get out of it is like tying your shoes after you take them off. That makes a lot of sense to me...except it makes it sound like you should make your bed while you're in it.
There's another bedroom on the other side of the living room. I wanted to get a 2-bedroom place, so I could more easily have friends stay over. (Spots are filling up fast! Reserve yours today!) I slept here the first few nights, because my manager Jeremy was here with his new wife (they were married last summer). Surprisingly (and very thankfully), it didn't end up being awkward, and I slept ok on this bed despite the lack of a boxspring.
There's a pretty fancy armoire in the smaller bedroom, including a snazzy picture of a Chicago water tower. Unfortunately, no soup recipes inside.
With an armoire, it's all about the details. In the center of the bottom drawer (which my fine photography skills managed to not capture in the previous picture) is the design on the left, which looks just like a poodle's head. However, the handles are the same design, but flipped upside down, which makes it look like Mer-Man. Or maybe Krusty the Clown.
Finally, we have the kitchen. Here, the slope of the apartment seems more pronounced. You could actually thwart an intruder Home Alone style by opening the microwave door as they run into the kitchen, as gravity gives it some pretty good natural spring-loaded action. I haven't tried baking a cake yet (I don't usually put forth that much effort in the kitchen), but I don't think it would turn out very well. More often than not, the sink is filled with dirty bowls and spoons (I don't have a dishwasher, and breakfast is the only meal I consistently eat in the apartment).
When I moved in, I was given a key to the roof, but I'm a busy man and haven't had time to check it out yet. I wonder if there's a pool up there. That would be awesome.
There you have it...my swingin' bachelor pad. It's not a studio or a loft or anything really "New York-y", but it's home. And you're all invited to crash here when you come to town. Leave trash on the curb for pick-up Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Thursday, January 10, 2008
If I Can Make It There, I Can Make It Anywhere
I did make it here 2 months ago today, so it's probably past due that I blog about my journey (sounds like I just got eliminated from American Idol and they're about to roll my highlight reel).
This trip caps off what has been by far the most travel-filled 18 months of my life. In August '06 I went to Scotland for 10 days (for work), then that December went to the Las Vegas Bowl with David. In January I made a quick trip to LA to go to Disneyland and audition for VH1's World Series of Pop Culture, then in May made an even quicker trip out there with my brother Adam to check out Dodger Stadium's new all-you-can-eat section. In the summer I spent 2 weeks in Orlando working on an independent film with my friend John (and checking out the Bon Jovi tribute band at Epcot), and also made trips to Idaho, Wyoming and Lake Powell for various comedy shows, hitchhiking adventures and near-shipwrecks.
Basically, what I'm saying is that my life is so interesting I should've started blogging years ago!
No...what I'm saying is I've travelled a lot more lately than I'm used to doing, and I don't really enjoy it. Airports are really annoying (hey, I sound like every stand-up comedian! Air travel jokes never get old).
There were a few things that stood out on this trip. At the airport in SLC, I ended up in line with Scott Owen, who is in my ward in Provo. Can't really say it was a random coincidence, since that's the only airport in Utah--if I saw him at the airport in Singapore, where he was flying to, THAT would've been random--but it was unexpected.
The other was the pilot for the Chicago to New York leg of my flight. As I boarded, he noted the Detroit Tigers cap I was wearing and started telling me about a time he got his picture taken with Gates Brown and Denny McLain. Many people know about McLain because of his 30-win season and many white-collar crimes (and I know him from my Earl Weaver Baseball battles against my brother--if anyone knows how to get me a copy of that game that would work on my laptop, that would be the coolest birthday present I could get), but it was a pretty big stretch for him to assume I know who Gates Brown is. (I do, but it was a stretch.)
As I was walking off the plane, the pilot emerged from the cockpit and said, "Take care of that Tigers hat." He must have worried I was going to throw it in the trash or something, because if you've seen my hat you know I don't take good care of it. It's not quite at Craig Biggio level, but it's pretty sweat-stained.
Well, me and my hat made it to NYC, and I had my first ever New York taxi ride. The cabbie was from Jamaica and lives in Harlem, so I picked his brain for a while on how safe it was so I could give a report to my mom. He described to me how bad Harlem used to be, how he used to be afraid all the time, but then in the '90s when Giuliani became mayor things started to change. The police cleaned up Harlem so much that he even got arrested once for peeing on the street, he told me. He claimed that Harlem is now the safest neighborhood in New York. I was glad to hear that, and VERY glad to hear that the days of unchecked public urination are long gone.
Just before we pulled up to my new home at 146th and Frederick Douglass, I saw a car parked on the side of the road with a bunch of bumper stickers on it. Most said things like "Read the Quran" and "I Heart Islam", but there was also a "Kiss 98.7" sticker. It's good to let people know what you're most passionate about.
So if any of you were worried about me when you heard I was living in Harlem, you can stop; Harlem isn't so bad (I know Lavell Edwards and his wife did a lot of work in Harlem too, when they were here on their mission). Plus, on my first Sunday here, when I told people at church where I'm living, one girl said, "That's not the real Harlem. You need to come visit 'Harlem Harlem' sometime" (i.e., the area around the Apollo; I've been to "Harlem Harlem" a few times now).
She has a point, though. I haven't felt uncomfortable in my neighborhood yet, except one time at the laundromat that I may blog about soon. We've got a Starbucks, a good-sized supermarket, and lots of other businesses that probably wouldn't have dared open in Harlem in its seedier days. I live across the street from Jackie Robinson Park, which is nice to walk through when the weather's ok.
So that's how I made a brand new start of it in old New York. Leave some comments. Or don't. It's up to you, New York, New York!
I'm so lame.
This trip caps off what has been by far the most travel-filled 18 months of my life. In August '06 I went to Scotland for 10 days (for work), then that December went to the Las Vegas Bowl with David. In January I made a quick trip to LA to go to Disneyland and audition for VH1's World Series of Pop Culture, then in May made an even quicker trip out there with my brother Adam to check out Dodger Stadium's new all-you-can-eat section. In the summer I spent 2 weeks in Orlando working on an independent film with my friend John (and checking out the Bon Jovi tribute band at Epcot), and also made trips to Idaho, Wyoming and Lake Powell for various comedy shows, hitchhiking adventures and near-shipwrecks.
Basically, what I'm saying is that my life is so interesting I should've started blogging years ago!
No...what I'm saying is I've travelled a lot more lately than I'm used to doing, and I don't really enjoy it. Airports are really annoying (hey, I sound like every stand-up comedian! Air travel jokes never get old).
There were a few things that stood out on this trip. At the airport in SLC, I ended up in line with Scott Owen, who is in my ward in Provo. Can't really say it was a random coincidence, since that's the only airport in Utah--if I saw him at the airport in Singapore, where he was flying to, THAT would've been random--but it was unexpected.
The other was the pilot for the Chicago to New York leg of my flight. As I boarded, he noted the Detroit Tigers cap I was wearing and started telling me about a time he got his picture taken with Gates Brown and Denny McLain. Many people know about McLain because of his 30-win season and many white-collar crimes (and I know him from my Earl Weaver Baseball battles against my brother--if anyone knows how to get me a copy of that game that would work on my laptop, that would be the coolest birthday present I could get), but it was a pretty big stretch for him to assume I know who Gates Brown is. (I do, but it was a stretch.)
As I was walking off the plane, the pilot emerged from the cockpit and said, "Take care of that Tigers hat." He must have worried I was going to throw it in the trash or something, because if you've seen my hat you know I don't take good care of it. It's not quite at Craig Biggio level, but it's pretty sweat-stained.
Well, me and my hat made it to NYC, and I had my first ever New York taxi ride. The cabbie was from Jamaica and lives in Harlem, so I picked his brain for a while on how safe it was so I could give a report to my mom. He described to me how bad Harlem used to be, how he used to be afraid all the time, but then in the '90s when Giuliani became mayor things started to change. The police cleaned up Harlem so much that he even got arrested once for peeing on the street, he told me. He claimed that Harlem is now the safest neighborhood in New York. I was glad to hear that, and VERY glad to hear that the days of unchecked public urination are long gone.
Just before we pulled up to my new home at 146th and Frederick Douglass, I saw a car parked on the side of the road with a bunch of bumper stickers on it. Most said things like "Read the Quran" and "I Heart Islam", but there was also a "Kiss 98.7" sticker. It's good to let people know what you're most passionate about.
So if any of you were worried about me when you heard I was living in Harlem, you can stop; Harlem isn't so bad (I know Lavell Edwards and his wife did a lot of work in Harlem too, when they were here on their mission). Plus, on my first Sunday here, when I told people at church where I'm living, one girl said, "That's not the real Harlem. You need to come visit 'Harlem Harlem' sometime" (i.e., the area around the Apollo; I've been to "Harlem Harlem" a few times now).
She has a point, though. I haven't felt uncomfortable in my neighborhood yet, except one time at the laundromat that I may blog about soon. We've got a Starbucks, a good-sized supermarket, and lots of other businesses that probably wouldn't have dared open in Harlem in its seedier days. I live across the street from Jackie Robinson Park, which is nice to walk through when the weather's ok.
So that's how I made a brand new start of it in old New York. Leave some comments. Or don't. It's up to you, New York, New York!
I'm so lame.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Spells Cast on Broadway 2: Spell Harder
If this is your first time on my blog, check this out first.
If you missed the first part of this post, it's right after this one, which is counterintuitive, but what are you going to do?
After the opening musical number, the "principal" called the four audience volunteers up on stage. We got to wear yellow placards, just like the socially backward super geniuses in the National Spelling Bee. We sat down on the bleachers with the other spellers (the actors).
Then the vice principal came out to serve as the 2nd judge. I found out later (by reading the blog of the actress who plays the principal) that over the summer, this part was played by Darrell Hammond of Saturday Night Live. The guy we had was really good, but I would've loved to have my word read to me, ask for the definition, and have Darrell bust out his Bill Clinton and say it "depends on what your definition of 'is' is".
A couple of the actors went first, and then my name was called, the first of the audience spellers. As each speller, whether professional or amateur, makes their way to the microphone, a tidbit of "background information" is given about them.
"Jeff ran for class president using the slogan, 'When you think white guys, think me.'"
I'm pretty sure I didn't write that on my volunteer form, which means that parts of the show are improvised, which I can certainly relate to and appreciate.
My first word was "jihad", and I nailed it. I was very pleased not to have been eliminated on the first word, and was hoping that I wouldn't be the first audience member forced to return to their regular seat.
My "biography" and first word should give you an indication of the tone of the musical. It was much more political and much more adult-oriented than I had expected it to be. There's some political, racial, religious, and sexual references that might make some people uncomfortable, so keep that in mind if you're planning on checking it out (if you are, you'd better do it quick; it closes in less than two weeks).
A lot happened between my first and second words. Little Kevin/Kyle walked up to the mic ("Kevin/Kyle intimidates her opponents by beating the crap out of them") and got the word "cow". The actor-spellers flipped out because of the simplicity of the word, but K/K was unflappable, and asked for the definition.
"It's a cow," deadpanned the vice principal.
"Can you use it in a sentence please?"
"Spell cow."
And she did.
The other spellers were ticked, though, and began rioting. That rioting involved us volunteers sitting on the bleachers while the actors quickly spun them around, then getting up and linking arms with the actors and dancing around the stage. At the end of the song, they had the four of us just spinning in a circle as fast as we could. I imagine we looked pretty ridiculous.
(I had my camera there, and Julianne was there and could've used it, but unfortunately you're not allowed to take pictures inside any theater in New York.)
Eventually, everything calmed down, and we were back to spelling. One of the other guys missed his first word--thank goodness! Soon it was my turn again.
"When Jeff grows up, he wants to sell Subway sandwiches with his older brother Jared."
Remember in part 1 when I said I couldn't spell crap? My 2nd word was something related to camel dung, which when pronounced sounded like the last name of my former roommate Hardy Kuebitz, so I tried spelling it that way. It was wrong. Thanks for nothing, Hardy.
(I can't remember exactly what the word was or how it was spelled, no matter how many letter combinations I Google. Does anyone know what the word might be? It might've been made up; they certainly used some fake words later on.)
Being eliminated was disappointing, but my sendoff was probably the highlight of the night for me. When a speller spells incorrectly, the bell rings, and the actors serenade you with their "Goodbye, goodbye" song as "grief counselor" Mitch Mahoney (a burly 6'5" black guy with dreds going all the way down his back (a wig)) comes out and takes your placard, gives you a hug and a juice box, and sends you back to your seat as everyone cheers. It was great.
As I expected, the actors take steps to insure the last audience member is eliminated just before intermission, then the 2nd half (likely) proceeds in the same way in every performance, with the nerd coming out on top in the end (oh wait, they're all nerds).
The singers and musicians were talented, but there were only a couple of songs that stood out, but it was still very funny and entertaining, in spite of the aforementioned PG-13/borderline-R content. I plan on seeing several more Broadway shows before I leave New York, but I doubt any will be as memorable as this one.
Hundreds of people move to New York every year with dreams of a career in showbiz. A career might be hard to come by, but, for me at least, amateur showbiz gigs come pretty easy. I've already done comedy, acting, singing, and dancing. There's only one thing left: I think I'll get me a spot in some kind of orchestra. Fortunately, I already know how to get to Carnegie Hall.
If you missed the first part of this post, it's right after this one, which is counterintuitive, but what are you going to do?
After the opening musical number, the "principal" called the four audience volunteers up on stage. We got to wear yellow placards, just like the socially backward super geniuses in the National Spelling Bee. We sat down on the bleachers with the other spellers (the actors).
Then the vice principal came out to serve as the 2nd judge. I found out later (by reading the blog of the actress who plays the principal) that over the summer, this part was played by Darrell Hammond of Saturday Night Live. The guy we had was really good, but I would've loved to have my word read to me, ask for the definition, and have Darrell bust out his Bill Clinton and say it "depends on what your definition of 'is' is".
A couple of the actors went first, and then my name was called, the first of the audience spellers. As each speller, whether professional or amateur, makes their way to the microphone, a tidbit of "background information" is given about them.
"Jeff ran for class president using the slogan, 'When you think white guys, think me.'"
I'm pretty sure I didn't write that on my volunteer form, which means that parts of the show are improvised, which I can certainly relate to and appreciate.
My first word was "jihad", and I nailed it. I was very pleased not to have been eliminated on the first word, and was hoping that I wouldn't be the first audience member forced to return to their regular seat.
My "biography" and first word should give you an indication of the tone of the musical. It was much more political and much more adult-oriented than I had expected it to be. There's some political, racial, religious, and sexual references that might make some people uncomfortable, so keep that in mind if you're planning on checking it out (if you are, you'd better do it quick; it closes in less than two weeks).
A lot happened between my first and second words. Little Kevin/Kyle walked up to the mic ("Kevin/Kyle intimidates her opponents by beating the crap out of them") and got the word "cow". The actor-spellers flipped out because of the simplicity of the word, but K/K was unflappable, and asked for the definition.
"It's a cow," deadpanned the vice principal.
"Can you use it in a sentence please?"
"Spell cow."
And she did.
The other spellers were ticked, though, and began rioting. That rioting involved us volunteers sitting on the bleachers while the actors quickly spun them around, then getting up and linking arms with the actors and dancing around the stage. At the end of the song, they had the four of us just spinning in a circle as fast as we could. I imagine we looked pretty ridiculous.
(I had my camera there, and Julianne was there and could've used it, but unfortunately you're not allowed to take pictures inside any theater in New York.)
Eventually, everything calmed down, and we were back to spelling. One of the other guys missed his first word--thank goodness! Soon it was my turn again.
"When Jeff grows up, he wants to sell Subway sandwiches with his older brother Jared."
Remember in part 1 when I said I couldn't spell crap? My 2nd word was something related to camel dung, which when pronounced sounded like the last name of my former roommate Hardy Kuebitz, so I tried spelling it that way. It was wrong. Thanks for nothing, Hardy.
(I can't remember exactly what the word was or how it was spelled, no matter how many letter combinations I Google. Does anyone know what the word might be? It might've been made up; they certainly used some fake words later on.)
Being eliminated was disappointing, but my sendoff was probably the highlight of the night for me. When a speller spells incorrectly, the bell rings, and the actors serenade you with their "Goodbye, goodbye" song as "grief counselor" Mitch Mahoney (a burly 6'5" black guy with dreds going all the way down his back (a wig)) comes out and takes your placard, gives you a hug and a juice box, and sends you back to your seat as everyone cheers. It was great.
As I expected, the actors take steps to insure the last audience member is eliminated just before intermission, then the 2nd half (likely) proceeds in the same way in every performance, with the nerd coming out on top in the end (oh wait, they're all nerds).
The singers and musicians were talented, but there were only a couple of songs that stood out, but it was still very funny and entertaining, in spite of the aforementioned PG-13/borderline-R content. I plan on seeing several more Broadway shows before I leave New York, but I doubt any will be as memorable as this one.
Hundreds of people move to New York every year with dreams of a career in showbiz. A career might be hard to come by, but, for me at least, amateur showbiz gigs come pretty easy. I've already done comedy, acting, singing, and dancing. There's only one thing left: I think I'll get me a spot in some kind of orchestra. Fortunately, I already know how to get to Carnegie Hall.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Spells cast on Broadway
If this is your first time on my blog, check this out first.
No, I didn't go to see Wicked. I hear good things, though. I'm hoping to see that one, along with several others (Young Frankenstein, Spamalot, The Drowsy Chaperone (starring Bob Saget!), etc.) before I leave. It would've been more appropriate to add a comma to make it "Spells, cast on Broadway", because that describes two things that I did a couple of weeks ago. And it turns out I can't spell crap (I'm not being crass; just keep reading).
When I first came out here, the two managers of my department came with me to help me get the equipment set up and make sure I knew what I was doing (if I ever decide to blog about the work I'm doing out here, you'll see they failed--I still don't know what I'm doing), and told me they planned to have one of them come out every month or so for a few days to check up on me and help me out.
My manager Julianne made the last visit in mid-December. It was the same week as our company's Christmas party back in Utah, and I came up with a plan: since I would be missing the party (which entailed seeing A Christmas Carol at Hale Theater), and also wouldn't be around to collect my Christmas present (every year they give us money and we buy ourselves something, wrap it, and stick it under the tree in the breakroom, then there's another smaller party right before Christmas where we open our presents so everyone can see what we got--it's usually pretty fun, although it would be even more fun if we added some Office-style Yankee swap), I proposed that we get tickets to a Broadway show and apply the money that would've been spent on me to make them more affordable. Dazzled by my logic, Julianne agreed to my plan.
We made our way to TKTS, the discount theater ticket booth that sells leftover day-of-performance tickets for half-price. There were none for shows we really wanted to see (the ones I mentioned above are too popular and sell out at full-price), but several we were mildly interested in, and we ultimately settled on The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, which we didn't really know anything about but assumed was a quirky comedy mocking spelling bee culture (we were right).
We made our way to the Circle in the Square theater (not the squared circle theater, sorry Aaron and Jerrett), which had a big picture of Al Pacino right inside the door but otherwise was decorated to look like the inside of an elementary school. They had handmade posters advertising sporting events and after-school clubs, lockers near the bathrooms where you could keep your coats, and pictures of the cast members as children all over the place. It was pretty cool.
In the main lobby, there was a table that said "Spellers Check In Here". Intrigued, I visited the table and learned that 4 audience members are selected to appear onstage as "finalists" in the spelling bee. I eagerly signed up, keeping mum about my improv background since I figured they wouldn't choose anyone who they suspected would try to upstage the actors (I wouldn't have, but I can understand why they might think I would). Signing up at the same time was a young girl, probably 7 or 8, who was also from Utah. Her name was Kevin or Kyle or something, some typically male name that begins with a K.
Kevin/Kyle and I joined the 15 or so other hopefuls in the lobby a few minutes before showtime, and both of us were chosen to spell on stage. The four of us (there were two other guys who appeared to be about my age, one maybe a few years younger) were taken into a control room and given some instructions: we were to be ourselves, and not try to play a character or make jokes; we were told how to adjust the microphone and to be ready for the bleachers we'd be sitting on to spin from time to time; and they told us to ask for a definition and for the word to be used in a sentence, no matter what the word was, then to do our best to spell the word correctly without thinking about it for too long. They also told us what would happen when we missed a word, but I'll get to that later.
I was slightly hurt that, what with my 5th grade win in the Viewmont Elementary spelling bee and back-to-back 2nd place finishes in 7th and 8th grade at Riverview Jr. High (go Rebels!), plus my participation in dozens of fake spelling bees in Laugh Out Loud shows, they assumed that I would miss a word at some point. As I made my way to my seat, I wondered if I would be given a permanent spot in the cast if I won (not really, but as I saw Julianne sitting there I realized how comparably boring my job is--Julianne's not boring, but the work I do out here every day is tedious at best. Anyway...). Our seats were really good, on the front row on the side of the stage. There didn't seem to be any bad seats, though; it was an intimate theater, much smaller than any of the five I went to back in '03.
The lights went down, the opening number began, and I prepared to make my Broadway debut...
Boy, these posts can get lengthy quickly! I'll leave off here for now. Multi-part posts makes it easy to figure out what to write about next, but they make it hard to catch up when you started your blog 7 weeks late. I don't think any other single experience I've had out here so far (besides the two I've written about so far, of course) will warrant the to-be-continued treatment, but with my writing style you never know. Anyway, my next post will cover what I actually did on stage in Spelling Bee, so come back soon to read all about it!
No, I didn't go to see Wicked. I hear good things, though. I'm hoping to see that one, along with several others (Young Frankenstein, Spamalot, The Drowsy Chaperone (starring Bob Saget!), etc.) before I leave. It would've been more appropriate to add a comma to make it "Spells, cast on Broadway", because that describes two things that I did a couple of weeks ago. And it turns out I can't spell crap (I'm not being crass; just keep reading).
When I first came out here, the two managers of my department came with me to help me get the equipment set up and make sure I knew what I was doing (if I ever decide to blog about the work I'm doing out here, you'll see they failed--I still don't know what I'm doing), and told me they planned to have one of them come out every month or so for a few days to check up on me and help me out.
My manager Julianne made the last visit in mid-December. It was the same week as our company's Christmas party back in Utah, and I came up with a plan: since I would be missing the party (which entailed seeing A Christmas Carol at Hale Theater), and also wouldn't be around to collect my Christmas present (every year they give us money and we buy ourselves something, wrap it, and stick it under the tree in the breakroom, then there's another smaller party right before Christmas where we open our presents so everyone can see what we got--it's usually pretty fun, although it would be even more fun if we added some Office-style Yankee swap), I proposed that we get tickets to a Broadway show and apply the money that would've been spent on me to make them more affordable. Dazzled by my logic, Julianne agreed to my plan.
We made our way to TKTS, the discount theater ticket booth that sells leftover day-of-performance tickets for half-price. There were none for shows we really wanted to see (the ones I mentioned above are too popular and sell out at full-price), but several we were mildly interested in, and we ultimately settled on The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, which we didn't really know anything about but assumed was a quirky comedy mocking spelling bee culture (we were right).
We made our way to the Circle in the Square theater (not the squared circle theater, sorry Aaron and Jerrett), which had a big picture of Al Pacino right inside the door but otherwise was decorated to look like the inside of an elementary school. They had handmade posters advertising sporting events and after-school clubs, lockers near the bathrooms where you could keep your coats, and pictures of the cast members as children all over the place. It was pretty cool.
In the main lobby, there was a table that said "Spellers Check In Here". Intrigued, I visited the table and learned that 4 audience members are selected to appear onstage as "finalists" in the spelling bee. I eagerly signed up, keeping mum about my improv background since I figured they wouldn't choose anyone who they suspected would try to upstage the actors (I wouldn't have, but I can understand why they might think I would). Signing up at the same time was a young girl, probably 7 or 8, who was also from Utah. Her name was Kevin or Kyle or something, some typically male name that begins with a K.
Kevin/Kyle and I joined the 15 or so other hopefuls in the lobby a few minutes before showtime, and both of us were chosen to spell on stage. The four of us (there were two other guys who appeared to be about my age, one maybe a few years younger) were taken into a control room and given some instructions: we were to be ourselves, and not try to play a character or make jokes; we were told how to adjust the microphone and to be ready for the bleachers we'd be sitting on to spin from time to time; and they told us to ask for a definition and for the word to be used in a sentence, no matter what the word was, then to do our best to spell the word correctly without thinking about it for too long. They also told us what would happen when we missed a word, but I'll get to that later.
I was slightly hurt that, what with my 5th grade win in the Viewmont Elementary spelling bee and back-to-back 2nd place finishes in 7th and 8th grade at Riverview Jr. High (go Rebels!), plus my participation in dozens of fake spelling bees in Laugh Out Loud shows, they assumed that I would miss a word at some point. As I made my way to my seat, I wondered if I would be given a permanent spot in the cast if I won (not really, but as I saw Julianne sitting there I realized how comparably boring my job is--Julianne's not boring, but the work I do out here every day is tedious at best. Anyway...). Our seats were really good, on the front row on the side of the stage. There didn't seem to be any bad seats, though; it was an intimate theater, much smaller than any of the five I went to back in '03.
The lights went down, the opening number began, and I prepared to make my Broadway debut...
Boy, these posts can get lengthy quickly! I'll leave off here for now. Multi-part posts makes it easy to figure out what to write about next, but they make it hard to catch up when you started your blog 7 weeks late. I don't think any other single experience I've had out here so far (besides the two I've written about so far, of course) will warrant the to-be-continued treatment, but with my writing style you never know. Anyway, my next post will cover what I actually did on stage in Spelling Bee, so come back soon to read all about it!
Friday, January 4, 2008
A star born and a legend made? Part 3
If this is your first time on my blog, check this out first.
If you missed the first two installments of this post, click here for part 1, here for part 2, or you can, you know, click the down arrow at the bottom right of your screen.
To make a long story even longer, here is (probably) the final installment of my Amateur Night audition saga...
If you checked the link from the last post to my LOL blog post from a year and a half ago, you've already got a taste of the routine I did for my audition. It was all about People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" issue, and how when I was in high school people would tell me I look like George Clooney, the SMA in 1997 and again in 2006.
I performed a 5-minute routine on this topic before a Laugh Out Loud show in December '06, horrifying Fred's mother because I kept saying the word sexy. I had several BYU-specific jokes in that routine, including a great one about Karl Maeser's chalk circle, but I managed to salvage about 80 seconds of more general-appeal stuff to use in my audition. (I made it relevant by mentioning how upset I was to see Clooney's reign end, as the new Sexiest Man issue was then on sale, with Matt Damon as the new king. I'd take more time arguing People's pick if I didn't keep getting lost in Damon's eyes...sorry, what was I talking about again?)
I didn't actually say anything about Matt Damon's peepers in my audition, but I got some laughs from the usually stoic judges the first time I mentioned that I used to get compared to George Clooney. It probably is a little funny, but it's actually true; back in high school I was unbelievably handsome. What the heck happened? Anyway, after that first laugh, my confidence soared, and I delivered my short routine better than I ever had when rehearsing it over the previous two days. I got virtually no reaction from the other auditioners in the room, but they were probably too focused on their own auditions. But I seemed to amuse one judge in particular, and after I finished she called me over and told me...
I MADE IT! I was really excited (I said in the previous post that I wasn't nervous because I didn't expect to be chosen; that didn't mean I didn't want to make it). She gave me a sheet of instructions with my performance date, and suddenly my accomplishment seemed less impressive: I'm in the Amateur Night show for April 16. Apparently they were casting several months' worth of shows at once, which means that most people were probably accepted. Plus, at the time I was expecting to be back in Utah by early March, although the way things have been going with work it's becoming more and more realistic that I could still be here in mid-April. Still, if I can get my Amateur Night routine finalized, I'm going to call and see if I can get into an earlier show (I don't want to call before I'm ready, in case they say "we have an opening this week" or something like that).
So you all have plenty of time to book your flights to come out here and watch me. The winners are determined solely by audience voting, which I think you can do online, but it will be much more enjoyable if you see my live, I'm sure. I can't decide if winning or getting booed off would be more memorable, but I'm pretty sure I know which would be more satisfying. I get 3 minutes to impress the crowd, and I'm not going to use the Sexiest Man Alive bit, since it won't be at all timely in April. Right now I'm working on one bit about pizza, and another about Mormon dating customs (particularly the high school ones). I'm hoping to work up 3-minute routines on both topics, then maybe do a test performance at FHE or something to see which is funnier.
So that's my audition story. After the audition the day became even more memorable, as I sampled "the best pizza in the planet earth", went bowling with the Elders Quorum, and attended the Lingos, the annual film festival of the 4 Manhattan-area singles wards, but I think I'll save commenting on those fun events for later posts.
So I'll soon be performing at Amateur Night at the Apollo. But that's kind of a niche theater. My desire to be the center of attention soon led me to more mainstream venues. Next time, I'll detail my Broadway debut. Seriously--in the short time I've been out here, I've appeared in a Broadway show. You're interested, aren't you?
If you missed the first two installments of this post, click here for part 1, here for part 2, or you can, you know, click the down arrow at the bottom right of your screen.
To make a long story even longer, here is (probably) the final installment of my Amateur Night audition saga...
If you checked the link from the last post to my LOL blog post from a year and a half ago, you've already got a taste of the routine I did for my audition. It was all about People Magazine's "Sexiest Man Alive" issue, and how when I was in high school people would tell me I look like George Clooney, the SMA in 1997 and again in 2006.
I performed a 5-minute routine on this topic before a Laugh Out Loud show in December '06, horrifying Fred's mother because I kept saying the word sexy. I had several BYU-specific jokes in that routine, including a great one about Karl Maeser's chalk circle, but I managed to salvage about 80 seconds of more general-appeal stuff to use in my audition. (I made it relevant by mentioning how upset I was to see Clooney's reign end, as the new Sexiest Man issue was then on sale, with Matt Damon as the new king. I'd take more time arguing People's pick if I didn't keep getting lost in Damon's eyes...sorry, what was I talking about again?)
I didn't actually say anything about Matt Damon's peepers in my audition, but I got some laughs from the usually stoic judges the first time I mentioned that I used to get compared to George Clooney. It probably is a little funny, but it's actually true; back in high school I was unbelievably handsome. What the heck happened? Anyway, after that first laugh, my confidence soared, and I delivered my short routine better than I ever had when rehearsing it over the previous two days. I got virtually no reaction from the other auditioners in the room, but they were probably too focused on their own auditions. But I seemed to amuse one judge in particular, and after I finished she called me over and told me...
I MADE IT! I was really excited (I said in the previous post that I wasn't nervous because I didn't expect to be chosen; that didn't mean I didn't want to make it). She gave me a sheet of instructions with my performance date, and suddenly my accomplishment seemed less impressive: I'm in the Amateur Night show for April 16. Apparently they were casting several months' worth of shows at once, which means that most people were probably accepted. Plus, at the time I was expecting to be back in Utah by early March, although the way things have been going with work it's becoming more and more realistic that I could still be here in mid-April. Still, if I can get my Amateur Night routine finalized, I'm going to call and see if I can get into an earlier show (I don't want to call before I'm ready, in case they say "we have an opening this week" or something like that).
So you all have plenty of time to book your flights to come out here and watch me. The winners are determined solely by audience voting, which I think you can do online, but it will be much more enjoyable if you see my live, I'm sure. I can't decide if winning or getting booed off would be more memorable, but I'm pretty sure I know which would be more satisfying. I get 3 minutes to impress the crowd, and I'm not going to use the Sexiest Man Alive bit, since it won't be at all timely in April. Right now I'm working on one bit about pizza, and another about Mormon dating customs (particularly the high school ones). I'm hoping to work up 3-minute routines on both topics, then maybe do a test performance at FHE or something to see which is funnier.
So that's my audition story. After the audition the day became even more memorable, as I sampled "the best pizza in the planet earth", went bowling with the Elders Quorum, and attended the Lingos, the annual film festival of the 4 Manhattan-area singles wards, but I think I'll save commenting on those fun events for later posts.
So I'll soon be performing at Amateur Night at the Apollo. But that's kind of a niche theater. My desire to be the center of attention soon led me to more mainstream venues. Next time, I'll detail my Broadway debut. Seriously--in the short time I've been out here, I've appeared in a Broadway show. You're interested, aren't you?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
A star born and a legend made? Part 2
If this is your first time on my blog, check this out first.
If you missed part 1 of this post, click here, or, um, scroll down.
Sorry for the delay, but the Internet connection went down at work AND my apartment for a while (not a city-wide disaster, just bad luck for me). I'm just 2 posts in, and my blog is already rife with mistakes. My sister Lori was born to be a blog copy editor, and as my fabulous friend Natalie pointed out, I was last in New York in 2003, not 2004. Hey, I promised spelling accuracy, not historical accuracy. Anyway...
When we last left Jeff, it was 6:30 AM, Saturday, Dec. 1. He (well, I; I don't think I could pull off the third person thing, even if I wanted to) had just arrived at the Apollo for Amateur Night auditions, and saw that the line was already stretching around the block (auditions didn't start until 8:00). It was really, ridiculously cold (the first snow of the season came the next morning, so it could've been worse).
Within a few minutes, a few more would-be stars had joined the line, and I struck up a conversation with Sebastian, the guy directly behind me. He's 18, from Buffalo originally, but has been living in North Carolina and DC recently. He's a singer, been training for years, he told me. He was SO nervous--more nervous about whether or not we'd get to audition, I think, than about how he'd do on the audition itself.
As we talked, my ears perked up as I heard the word "Mormons". I had caught the end of a polygamy joke, I think, from the two comedians in line right behind Sebastian. I introduced myself as a Mormon to David and Joe, aka "Francis and Weiss", a comedy duo and therefore some of my direct competition in the auditions. They were already drinking. To stay warm, of course.
The four of us did our best to fend off the cold and keep some enthusiasm as the time slowly ticked away. It was the closest thing I've had to a missionary experience since I've been out here, as David kept asking me how a Mormon could be a comedian, since Mormons aren't allowed to laugh (he also asked a few more commonly asked questions about Mormons' views on topics like drugs, alcohol, and monogamy). At one point he mistakenly called me a Mer-man, and from time to time the rest of the day he called me Aquaman. I only saw him have one beer, but I have no idea what he did before he showed up at the theater. But he was definitely in a good mood.
We kept trying to estimate how many people were ahead of us in line, then trying to figure out how many of them were groups, how many were just there as cheering sections, etc. We figured we would get to audition but weren't sure. Finally, just after 8:00, the line started to move...slowly...very slowly...we finally made it into the building around 8:45. By that time, some people were already emerging with American Idol-style golden tickets (thanks, Lori!). We reached a room where we were given numbers (156! I was definitely going to audition!), filled out applications and had our pictures taken. Then we were sent to the balcony area of the theater to wait. And wait. And wait. And wait some more. They were taking 10 acts in at a time to audition; the first group taken after I reached the balcony was 41-50, and each auditioner was only allowed 90 seconds, but somehow 151-160 didn't get the call until just before 2:00.
Unfortunately, I've never been very good at taking naps, even when I'm really tired. Sebastian found a corner to warm up his voice, and Joe and David took frequent smoke breaks, so I spent the next few hours reviewing my routine in my head, listening to lots of bands and singers rehearse, and observing my fellow waiters get more and more anxious (some were extremely confident, a lot were pretty nervous, and most--me included--were just really antsy because of how long we had to wait). I wasn't nervous at all, because I never planned on having a successful audition; I just wanted to say I had done it.
Every few minutes, one of the Apollo employees would start yelling, and everyone would pay close attention, hoping they were calling out more numbers, but usually they were just getting people to stop leaning on the balcony railing (not because they're anal, but because it's not sturdy and the theater is steep--if you ever go to the Apollo, DO NOT lean on the brass railing). The employee that was most vocal was this really funny black lady who, when I looked at her, in some way that I can't describe, reminded me of Diane Romrell (definitely a compliment to this lady; Diane is a babe). She was constantly making fun of people who came up to her with their sob stories and asking if they could go audition now even though their number was 207 or something (I think they let around 230 acts audition, which means probably everyone in line got a chance), or she would make the less-talented bands stop practicing because she didn't want to listen to them. I was glad she wasn't auditioning, because she would've definitely taken one of the comedy spots.
By the way, this isn't the first time I've made unexplainable mental connections between people of different races (I used to post occasionally on Laugh Out Loud's on-again off-again blog). I also think of Brett Weber whenever I see the wrestler Chavo Guerrero.
Finally, mercifully, my group of 10 got the call. We went into a final holding room, where I saw someone reading an Orson Scott Card book, yet another random Mormon-Apollo connection. When we had been getting our numbers earlier, I had been in the bathroom, which allowed Sebastian, David and Joe to step ahead of me. But I was cool with that, because I got to see my line buddies audition.
After a few kid dancers that were pretty good and some so-so teenage gospel singers (and one weird, bad, super-intense poet, the only auditioner I saw get cut off before their 90 seconds were up), it was time for the comedy stylings of Weiss and Francis. I was surprised to see that David was wearing a sleeveless shirt beneath his winter coat. Kind of an odd look.
They, um, weren't funny. They got a small laugh from the judges' table on a joke about David being pregnant (he drinks beer at 7:00 in the morning, remember; hey, what's my excuse then? oh yeah, it's the cookies at 11:00 at night), but the room was pretty silent for the rest of their audition. But they made it! I didn't know if the judges just do their best to keep a straight face the whole time, or if they put them through for Hung-ian reasons. All I knew was Weiss and Francis had taken one of the spots I was going for; so props to them (plus, they're good guys who unlike me are actually trying to make a living with comedy; they gave me their business card, which has the address for their YouTube page on it, where you can see a video of the same stuff they used for their audition, but I'm not going to link to it because it's semi-raunchy and, well, it's not particularly funny. Sorry, guys.)
Then Sebastian was up. He poured his heart and soul into Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered", and the head judge pointed out that that was what had landed him an Amateur Night spot (he sounded pretty good at the beginning but faltered when he tried to hit a high note). I was unable to catch his eye to congratulate him as he gathered his stuff and left, but there wasn't much time left for anything like that anyway, because #156 was up next...
Coming soon...the thrilling conclusion! Will Jeff impress the judges? Will he decide at the last minute to skip stand-up and audition as a breakdancer? Will he ever keep a blog post under 1000 words?
Stay tuned!
Every few minutes, one of the Apollo employees would start yelling, and everyone would pay close attention, hoping they were calling out more numbers, but usually they were just getting people to stop leaning on the balcony railing (not because they're anal, but because it's not sturdy and the theater is steep--if you ever go to the Apollo, DO NOT lean on the brass railing). The employee that was most vocal was this really funny black lady who, when I looked at her, in some way that I can't describe, reminded me of Diane Romrell (definitely a compliment to this lady; Diane is a babe). She was constantly making fun of people who came up to her with their sob stories and asking if they could go audition now even though their number was 207 or something (I think they let around 230 acts audition, which means probably everyone in line got a chance), or she would make the less-talented bands stop practicing because she didn't want to listen to them. I was glad she wasn't auditioning, because she would've definitely taken one of the comedy spots.
By the way, this isn't the first time I've made unexplainable mental connections between people of different races (I used to post occasionally on Laugh Out Loud's on-again off-again blog). I also think of Brett Weber whenever I see the wrestler Chavo Guerrero.
Finally, mercifully, my group of 10 got the call. We went into a final holding room, where I saw someone reading an Orson Scott Card book, yet another random Mormon-Apollo connection. When we had been getting our numbers earlier, I had been in the bathroom, which allowed Sebastian, David and Joe to step ahead of me. But I was cool with that, because I got to see my line buddies audition.
After a few kid dancers that were pretty good and some so-so teenage gospel singers (and one weird, bad, super-intense poet, the only auditioner I saw get cut off before their 90 seconds were up), it was time for the comedy stylings of Weiss and Francis. I was surprised to see that David was wearing a sleeveless shirt beneath his winter coat. Kind of an odd look.
They, um, weren't funny. They got a small laugh from the judges' table on a joke about David being pregnant (he drinks beer at 7:00 in the morning, remember; hey, what's my excuse then? oh yeah, it's the cookies at 11:00 at night), but the room was pretty silent for the rest of their audition. But they made it! I didn't know if the judges just do their best to keep a straight face the whole time, or if they put them through for Hung-ian reasons. All I knew was Weiss and Francis had taken one of the spots I was going for; so props to them (plus, they're good guys who unlike me are actually trying to make a living with comedy; they gave me their business card, which has the address for their YouTube page on it, where you can see a video of the same stuff they used for their audition, but I'm not going to link to it because it's semi-raunchy and, well, it's not particularly funny. Sorry, guys.)
Then Sebastian was up. He poured his heart and soul into Stevie Wonder's "Signed, Sealed, Delivered", and the head judge pointed out that that was what had landed him an Amateur Night spot (he sounded pretty good at the beginning but faltered when he tried to hit a high note). I was unable to catch his eye to congratulate him as he gathered his stuff and left, but there wasn't much time left for anything like that anyway, because #156 was up next...
Coming soon...the thrilling conclusion! Will Jeff impress the judges? Will he decide at the last minute to skip stand-up and audition as a breakdancer? Will he ever keep a blog post under 1000 words?
Stay tuned!
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
A star born and a legend made? Part 1
If this is your first time on my blog, check this out first.
Happy New Year everybody! And thanks for reading and commenting on my blog; that'll help keep me motivated to post often.
I figured it would be a good idea to explain the title of my blog, and at the same time describe what has been by far my most memorable day in New York--so memorable, in fact, that it will probably take me several posts over several days to adequately describe it.
A few weeks before I left for NYC, I decided I wanted to start a blog when I got out here. I wanted my blog to have a theme and a catchy title, something related to Harlem, the area of Manhattan I'm living in (I'll have lots to say about Harlem, including its now-undeserved reputation as a scary place to live, in future posts).
My only experience in Harlem on my previous New York adventure (I did a summer internship at NBC back in 2004) was going to Amateur Night at the Apollo with my friend Natalie. That, combined with my strong interest in live comedy (as most if not all of you know, I've been performing in an improv troupe in Provo for over 5 years now), made the Apollo a natural choice for my blog theme. Long before I started blogging, I chose a name for my blog and decided that the title of each post would be related to the Apollo or performing generally, or perhaps a song lyric or TV/movie quote that is cryptically connected to that post's subject matter. Whatever the title is, you can be assured of one thing: I spent WAY too much time picking it out.
So, my first weekend here, while looking for pictures on the Apollo's website to use on my blog, I saw that there was an open audition for Amateur Night on Dec. 1--just 3 weeks away! I decided to go for it.
The Apollo's slogan is "Where stars are born and legends are made." If you're not familiar with Amateur Night at the Apollo, you should know that it launched the careers of the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Stevie Wonder, and James Brown. They have a lot of comedians on, but it's mostly singers and dancers. Clips like this one should give you a good idea of how into the show the audience gets, and let you know that I don't exactly fit the bill of a typical Apollo performer (I don't think I can avoid discussing race on this blog from time to time; I can probably count on my fingers the number of black people I've known in my life that aren't LDS and/or British, and the "typical" Harlem resident has, in many ways, a VERY different lifestyle than anything I've experienced before. When the topic comes up, I'll try to be sensitive about it).
But if you want to know how the careers of most Amateur Night performers turn out, check out Down to Earth, Chris Rock's remake of Heaven Can Wait (hey you other bloggers out there--do I use italics or quotation marks for movies?), or watch one of these videos. If the crowd doesn't like you, they let you know it, and they keep letting you know it until the Executioner (a role originated by tap dance legend and "Cosby Show" guest star Sandman Sims) comes and chases you off the stage in his costume du jour, wiping your shame off of the Tree of Hope (the golden tree stump that every performer rubs for luck when they come on stage).
So that's what I was up against when I decided to audition. Add to that the fact that I'd only written and performed one 5-minute stand-up routine in my life, and it was very BYU-centric, and I had my work cut out for me. Oh, and auditions started at 8 AM, and the website said only the first 200 acts in line would get to audition. The odds didn't seem to be in my favor. Would I even get to audition? Would my audition flop? Would I get passed through because they wanted a William Hung for each show? Tune in next time for answers to these questions and many more!
In Part 2...Jeff waits in line! Don't worry, it IS as exciting as it sounds!
Happy New Year everybody! And thanks for reading and commenting on my blog; that'll help keep me motivated to post often.
I figured it would be a good idea to explain the title of my blog, and at the same time describe what has been by far my most memorable day in New York--so memorable, in fact, that it will probably take me several posts over several days to adequately describe it.
A few weeks before I left for NYC, I decided I wanted to start a blog when I got out here. I wanted my blog to have a theme and a catchy title, something related to Harlem, the area of Manhattan I'm living in (I'll have lots to say about Harlem, including its now-undeserved reputation as a scary place to live, in future posts).
My only experience in Harlem on my previous New York adventure (I did a summer internship at NBC back in 2004) was going to Amateur Night at the Apollo with my friend Natalie. That, combined with my strong interest in live comedy (as most if not all of you know, I've been performing in an improv troupe in Provo for over 5 years now), made the Apollo a natural choice for my blog theme. Long before I started blogging, I chose a name for my blog and decided that the title of each post would be related to the Apollo or performing generally, or perhaps a song lyric or TV/movie quote that is cryptically connected to that post's subject matter. Whatever the title is, you can be assured of one thing: I spent WAY too much time picking it out.
So, my first weekend here, while looking for pictures on the Apollo's website to use on my blog, I saw that there was an open audition for Amateur Night on Dec. 1--just 3 weeks away! I decided to go for it.
The Apollo's slogan is "Where stars are born and legends are made." If you're not familiar with Amateur Night at the Apollo, you should know that it launched the careers of the likes of Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holliday, Stevie Wonder, and James Brown. They have a lot of comedians on, but it's mostly singers and dancers. Clips like this one should give you a good idea of how into the show the audience gets, and let you know that I don't exactly fit the bill of a typical Apollo performer (I don't think I can avoid discussing race on this blog from time to time; I can probably count on my fingers the number of black people I've known in my life that aren't LDS and/or British, and the "typical" Harlem resident has, in many ways, a VERY different lifestyle than anything I've experienced before. When the topic comes up, I'll try to be sensitive about it).
But if you want to know how the careers of most Amateur Night performers turn out, check out Down to Earth, Chris Rock's remake of Heaven Can Wait (hey you other bloggers out there--do I use italics or quotation marks for movies?), or watch one of these videos. If the crowd doesn't like you, they let you know it, and they keep letting you know it until the Executioner (a role originated by tap dance legend and "Cosby Show" guest star Sandman Sims) comes and chases you off the stage in his costume du jour, wiping your shame off of the Tree of Hope (the golden tree stump that every performer rubs for luck when they come on stage).
So that's what I was up against when I decided to audition. Add to that the fact that I'd only written and performed one 5-minute stand-up routine in my life, and it was very BYU-centric, and I had my work cut out for me. Oh, and auditions started at 8 AM, and the website said only the first 200 acts in line would get to audition. The odds didn't seem to be in my favor. Would I even get to audition? Would my audition flop? Would I get passed through because they wanted a William Hung for each show? Tune in next time for answers to these questions and many more!
In Part 2...Jeff waits in line! Don't worry, it IS as exciting as it sounds!
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