At least once every month I try to make my way over to the Upright Citizen’s Brigade Theatre to catch some type of comedy show. Whether it’s an improv troupe, or sketch show in Chelsea or a stand-up special at UCBEast, it’s always worth the $5 or $10 I spend on a ticket. Truthfully, it’s worth much more as UCB is the top comedy school in the nation and the seriously insane level of talent that it houses is unreal.
A crowd favorite, and one of (if not the) longest running shows at UCB is ASSSSCAT 3000, which is offered at 7:30pm and 9:30pm each Sunday. It’s always a fully improvised show (they play off the stories of a guest monologist) and usually features some of the greatest people in the industry. Some of my fav ASSSSCATers [I’ve seen] are: Zach Woods, Adam Pally, Gavin Speiller, Fran Gillespie, Neil Casey, and the always hilarious Shannon O’Neil. I consistently pray to the comedy gods that one of these Sundays, I will cross paths with the beautiful and glorious UCB founder, Amy Poehler. So far, no cigar, but I remain hopeful.
If you live in NYC, like to laugh (or just generally smile and/or not be a terrible person), SHAME if you haven’t gone to a UCB show. If you’re visiting New York, attending a performance – any performance – really should be on your tourist to-do list, right up there with seeing Lady Liberty and eating at the Times Square Applebees.
I’ll likely never be one of the top actresses, improvisationalists (a word I made up) or sketch writers in the industry, but anytime I’m at a UCB performance, I break out of whatever world I’m spinning in for an hour or 90 minutes, and just laugh. And any place that can get someone like me out of my head that quickly and reliably in the heart of NYC deserves some serious accolades. Book those show rezzies here!
Happy Monday! Hope everyone had a great weekend. Me? I’m still riding the Golden Globes high from last night, naturally.
Is it weird that I feel like [for the most part] everyone that should have won, won? I was especially elated at both Amy and Cate’s win, 12 Years a Slave‘s last-moment award and, of course, all things Breaking Bad. And joke-wise, from Matt Damon’s garbage man, the soon-to-be-infamous George Clooney joke to the Randy appearance, Tina + Amy slaughtered, per usual. I wouldn’t hesitate to call the night a wild success for my two favorite people on this earth them. If you didn’t watch already, do yourself a favor and enjoy a few laughs to begin your week:
I’ve been avoiding this “Oh hey, I’m back from that weirdly long vacation I never told any of you I was taking from the blog” post for quite some time–a month and 21 days to be precise. I knew it had to be an epic return, so it took me a hot second to find something inspiring enough to blog about. A few days ago my good friend BreexyK this random person whose blog I happen to follow wrote about her “F*cket List.” Which as she so beautifully explains:
Instead of stressing out and feeling bad about ourselves, why not just make a list of all the things that society tries to force upon us that piss us off, and vow to simply not give a f*ck about them?
If I lived in Canada, I SWEAR I would “accidentally” bump into her at so many places we would be besties. Anyways, onto my very own the F*cket List!
These are the f*cks I no longer vow to give:
That red meat is bad for you.WHATEVER I hardly eat meat as it is. When I indulge, I go by the “go big or go home” philosophy. Do you really think a cutlet of grilled chicken satisfies ANYONE’S meat cravings EVER? C’mon–fork over the filet/ribs/cheeseburger.
How big your GD uterus looks at 4, 5, 6 (…etc.) months pregnant. I mean, seriously. SERIOUSLY. Stop with the Facebook pictures. Why does anyone care how fat pregnant you are? It is gross, no one cares but you, and whatever happened to PRIVACY?! 95% of people I am “friends” with on Facebook I haven’t talked to in over a year–so why would they care about how many centimeters I’m dilated? AND WHY WOULD I WANT THEM TO KNOW? Consider yourself “defriended” if any more of that ish happens on my newsfeed.
Saving money.Stupid. Just like sleep, I’ll open that Roth IRA when I’m dead, thanks.
Your Instagram username. I like Instagraming photos of myself duck-facing in the mirror and my steak caesar salad I ate for lunch as much as the next guy, but unlike most, I know that no one else needs/cares/wants to see it. Privacy settings exist for a reason, “friends.”
Taking vitamins. Meh.
Light beer. Because I am no longer a college student. And I mean, it tastes like piss, no?
Reading “50 Shades of Grey.” Sorry, but I can’t get onboard with reading a phenomenon that was started by a Twilight fanfic. I’d rather spend the money on handcuffs and stilettos. Like, #amIright?
Running a marathon before you die. A) I f*cking hate running with a malicious passion. B) Running a marathon is actually HORRIBLE for your joints (and I am an old wench battered-ex dancer at heart), and C) That does just not sound like fun in any degree for someone who does not regularly enjoy running. More power to you, if you think so (some of the bloggers I religiously follow have run multiple marathons–but it’s just something I don’t think the light-hearted not-exercise-obsessed would want to do).
But really, who is with me? What is on your “F*cket List”??