Yes, there is such a thing

An open letter to The Format
Re: Your newest album "Dog Problems"

Dear The Format,

You are listening to entirely too much Queen.

Sincerely,
Timmy Tapeworm

Ah, the old "Davidson Sweep..."

Big ups to the ladies of Cheetara, who won their first-round match in the World Series of Pop Culture. Erin Davidson really came through for them with a little technique I call "The Davidson Sweep." Take that, guy wearing girls jeans! Take that, shoegazer!

I was watching with a ton of people at Fizz after ComedySportz rehearsal, which was super fun. Everyone cheered whenever a Cheetara member was even briefly pictured and booed the other team. It was just like watching a melodrama, except no one got tied to the train tracks. I felt bad booing the two girls on the other team because they seemed pretty nice, if a little pretentious. But I could boo that knob Colin for all eternity.

The message boards have already lit up (and by that I mean 3 posts and 2 replies) with people saying how obnoxious they find Cheetara's exuberance. You say obnoxious, I say infectious. Plus, you're posting on the Internet about someone you just saw on TV and decided you didn't care for. Which one is really obnoxious here?

Go Cheetara! Take out those Laser Wolves!


P.S. I don't know (and neither do they) when their next episode airs, but I'll let you know. For those of you keeping track, this is about the third ComedySportz ensemble member to be on a nationally televised game show in the past 9 months. We're smart people. And gamey.

Giant Jug o' Water, copyright 2006

Everyone has something that they're kind of known for at their place of employment.

There's the "crossword guy," the "neverending coffee guy," or, if you work in my office, the "bird lady." This is the lady who brought her pet bird into work one day and had it sit on her shoulder all day long.

The bird was wearing a diaper. The bird had many little outfits, including a Cubs jersey and a tuxedo with removable tails. The bird freaked out during lunch when the lady went to Chili's.

This lady no longer works in my office.

But anyway, I figure if you're going to be assigned an identity anyway, I might as well beat people to the punch and choose mine so I don't get something stupid.

That's why I decided to be "Giant Jug o' Water guy."

Check it out:

This is what you get when you order the "Family Meal Deal" at Six Flags Great America. They filled that sucker with Sprite and I drank the whole thing. I guess they just assume that everyone in the family wants the same thing and is okay with using the same straw.

If you'll notice, there's a removable compartment on the bottom for additional ice storage. That's right, the Coke cups are partly obscuring the bottom portion of the jug. It's that big.

So now I keep that mofo at my desk. I fill it once in the morning (making sure to fill the removable compartment with ice) and I never have to refill it. I just drink it all day. I'm super-hydrated now, which I hear is healthy.

Plus, getting up to go to the bathroom 8 times a day really breaks the monotony.

edit: Be sure to check out "World Series of Pop Culture" on VH1 tonight. One Chicago team, Cheetarah, is made up of three female improvisors, two of whom play at ComedySportz. So cheer 'em on!

Married to the C above high C

I figure that if I can't entertain you daily, the least I can do is point you to something that can. In that vein, I highly recommend you check out one of my new favorite webcomics:

Married to the Sea

Old-timey pictures + modern-day captions = constant hilarity.

Found a brick and I'm drowning slowly...

When my dad was investigating my bathroom last weekend (as he has been known to do), he commented that our toilet was running more than it should.

Thus began my quest. To Find a Brick: a Ryder's Tale.

You all remember those crazy environmentalists who used to tell you to put a brick in your toilet tank to conserve water. Well, screw those guys. I just wanted to save us money. But I needed a brick nonetheless.

This led me to the following dilemma: where does one buy a brick? I mean, AH brick. One brick. To the best of my understanding, these things are normally bought in bulk or fired in one's own kiln. (Josh, correct me if I'm wrong.) I checked Walgreens, but they didn't stock bricks. So I was pretty much out of ideas.

td recommended we just steal one from the construction site next door or even the old ComedySportz theatre. That would have been fun, now that I think about it. A little piece of comedy sitting in our toilet tank. Anyway, I went to our back alley to poke around.

Found one in 30 seconds.

Thanks, City of Chicago and guys building things, for making bricks accessible and affordable for all of us!

I can't even see the balls when I'm playing

Just gonna ease back into it...

There's a TV in the lunchroom at my workplace and often when I bring my lunch, I like to play a game. (I'm almost always the only one in there, so it's not like I'm bothering anyone.)

I like to find the most obscure ESPN channel that's offered and watch whatever's on it. Today, and I'm not making this up:

The United States Paintball Championship.

Aside from my sheer amazement that such an event is televised, I have only one comment:

Worst. Spectator sport. Ever.

Uh...metablogging? For reals?

This blog sucks, you guys.

Seriously. Two weeks without a peep? This is a debacle of a magnitude not seen since the infamous There and Back Again incident of 2004.

But don't worry - I've figured out why this happened. I've apparently made my entire life unbloggable.

Every weekday I get up and go to work. But I don't want to be one of those idiots who gets fired for blogging about his job. Frustrating as it may be sometimes, my job is pretty okay and it pays the bills. It beats unemployment, that's for sure. So that's a big chunk of my life that's off limits.

Most nights I have something improv-related. Either rehearsal, a class, or a show. And relating improv stories, especially hilarious things that you yourself did onstage, is about the most self-indulgent and...I'm trying to think of a different word for masturbatory, but I can't*. Relating improv stories is simply a masturbatory exercise. So that's out.

And most of my free time is spent with my very special lady friend**. Obviously I don't want to share my private life with the Internet public at large.

So what's left? Racist cookie jars?


That seriously is something to talk about soon. Man, I miss that guy.

Or does it mean a lot of silly cat pictures?


Heh heh. Come on, that's funny. I mean, he's a funny cat. I sometimes think about dressing him up in funny costumes. OH GOD PLEASE NEVER LET ME DO THAT

I also think that the creative need that blogging once fulfilled is now being fulfilled by other things. Besides, if I give the Internet all the good bits, I'll have nothing left for the stage.

So what does this mean for "Not All Who Wander Are Lost"? Don't worry, I'm not about to abandon it completely. There's too much history to just walk away***. But at the moment, I just can't justify giving it a lot of time, so you loyal readers might have to deal with some time in between posts.

Hopefully not two weeks though. Geez, all kinds of things have happened since two weeks ago.

But that, my friends, is a topic for another day...****


*Sorry people who are upset by the word masturbatory.
**I have a special lady friend now.
***This sounds like a break up?
****I doubt I'll ever get to it.

Something happened with the hatch, maybe? I think there's a hatch?

Oh man, did you guys see who won American Idol*?!

How about the season finale of Lost**?!

And ohmigosh, can you believe what happened on Grey's Anatomy***?!


It's okay if you don't, I have no idea what happened on any of these shows. And that's why I have absolutely nothing to contribute to any of my coworkers' conversations.

I'm kind of okay with it.



*It was apparently the 50-year-old man.
**Some questions were answered, some were not. Additional questions were raised.
***Someone died and two people got it on.

It's pretty indie, I doubt you've heard of it

Oh my gosh, you guys.

I discovered the most amazing album the other night. If you consider yourself a fan of music in any way, you NEED to hear it.

It's called "The White Album."

Have you heard it? You have to hear it.

I really think it's going to change music as we know it.

It would upset people

I bet they'll never show "Snakes On a Plane" on a plane.

An epilogue

Thanks a lot, you guys. I'm so impressionable that your prodding forced me to use the fancy-schmancy toaster on my Pop-Tarts this morning*. Either I'm not smart enough to understand it or I wasn't paying attention, but they ended up overtoasted and not pleasant.

I think I'll stick to raw Pop-Tarts from now on, thank you.

The lesson learned from this escapade: "Never listen to your mother or Joanna. At least not when it comes to toaster pastries."


*>use toaster on pop-tarts
"I'm sorry, I do not understand 'pop-tarts'"
>take boat

In the raw

I was eating my normal mid-morning snack of two Pop-Tarts straight out of the bag at my desk the other day when a coworker stopped by to ask about something.

"Eww," she said. "Are you eating those Pop-Tarts raw?"

"Yeah," I replied. "I guess I am. I should be more worried about salmonella, but I live on the edge."

This was really funny to me and not even in a what-a-stupid-thing-to-say kind of way. I suppose, in the most technical sense of the word, she's absolutely correct. The Pop-Tarts are uncooked and therefore, quite raw.

I just found the perspective pretty hilarious. I guess I've been eating a lot of things raw without even knowing it. From now on, I'm cooking everything.

One cannot be too safe.


EDIT: Okay, I know I link to it a lot, but today's Dinosaur Comics made me laugh so hard I rocked with silent laughter in my cube, lest someone become curious. Plus, if you scroll down on this page a bit, you'll see an automatic updater for Dinosaur Comics. Man, obsess much?

Red, White and Blaine

(Disclaimer: I started this post on Friday afternoon when it was pretty slow at work. Strangely, my weekend was quite busy, so I am now finishing it on Monday because it is pretty slow at work. It is not quite as topical anymore, but at least it is something.)

Holy crap, The Office. Not only did you give us one of the funniest episodes of the season, you provided not one, but two "make-Tim-gasp-like-a-little-girl" moments in the last 10 minutes. We're talking actual hand-to-mouth gasps, people. That's impressive. A tip of the cap to you, my good friend*. It will be a long summer without your company.

But now to the main focus of today's post...

An Open Letter to David Blaine (with apologies to Rico Diablo)

Dear David Blaine,

You are a failure. An absolute, miserable, utter failure.

You might assume that I mean this in the most topical, up-to-the-minute sense because you failed in your attempt to break the world record for holding your breath. Of course, you did that. You didn't even come close. You failed pretty hard.

But you are a failure in so much more than that.

You are a failure in every sense of the word. You have failed at life, sir.

Remember when your first TV special came out? The year was 1997 and your "Street Magic" took the world by storm. While your so-bland-as-to-be-almost-dead persona was grating to some, none could deny the effect you had on the general public. People were excited.

Not long after that, you completely blew it.

Apparently, something caused you to completely forget that you are a magician. An illusionist. Not a freaking miracle worker/survivalist.

Allow me to break this down for you.

Levitating while standing 4 feet away from a stranger on the street is exciting. Making the name of some lady appear in ash on your forearm is exciting. Even card tricks are fairly exciting, when done in your trademark creepy fashion.

Fasting for 44 days while suspended in a clear plastic box is not exciting. It takes 44 days. Encased in ice, you say? Don't care. 61 hours is still about 61 hours too long. You got a little warmer with this whole breath-holding stunt, but what you've got to realize is that trying to hold your breath for 9 minutes is still 9 minutes of you just floating there.

Now if, at around the 8 minute mark, you had started flailing wildly and then DISAPPEARED, that would have been a magic show.

But no, no one does those kinds of magic shows anymore. Not even the great David Copperfield, who walked through the Great Wall of China and made the Statue of Liberty disappear. Nope, you've even ruined things for him. His latest special was something awful involving a "Tornado of Fire." He was trying to be like you because apparently that is was passes for magic these days. It was just sad, really.

Thanks a lot, David Blaine**. Thanks for ruining magic forever***.



*Notice here I have personified an entire television show.
**Finally, the title of your latest special was "Drowned Alive." I'm not even going to start on how stupid that is.
***Man, I really have a lot to say about David Blaine.

I won't quote Hamlet for this one, jerks

Ugh. Tell me about it, T-Rex.

Sorry for the lack of updates recently. I didn't mean to linger for almost a week on the whole "cognate" fiasco, but sometimes these things happen. And language is important. I feel very strongly about this.

I've been pretty busy moving all of my things down the hall to my new room. Now that Beth has left for Denver, I'm moving on up. And now that I think about it, it really is to the east side of the apartment. Huh. How about that.

My new room is pretty sweet and as much as I hate having things all jumbly and out of place, it's slowly coming together. I'll put up some pictures as soon as it's all put together.

It now strikes me that I never really posted pictures of my old room, so there are very few of you who will ever know the difference. To the vast majority of you, I might as well have lived in this new room since October. The only people who will know the difference are those privileged few who have actually stepped foot in my room (I'm looking in your direction, long line of broken-hearted ladies*).

I'm excited about my new room because it's got a big closet that I don't have to risk head injury to get into and a window so I can know exactly what time the bars close each night. These things are very important to me. And oh yes, did someone say beanbag chair left by the previous resident that's going right in front of the Playstation? I think they did.

Get excited, people. It's a new era.



*read: Andy, Scotty, and Niles the Cat. None are ladies and one isn't even human.

Me gusta comprar

People, I need your help. I'm wracking my brain to try to remember this, but I can't, so it's driving me nuts. Also, it's proving quite impossible to look up.

What's the term for a word that's almost exactly the same in a foreign language? Like supermarket and supermercado. There's a very specific term for those easy ones and I can't remember for the life of me.

Come on, you crazy blogosphere, if that is your real name. I need you to come through on this one.

It's also my wallpaper at work

I got my shirts from Dinosaur Comics last week, but I just remembered to bring them home from work today. I got a three-pack. Check it out.


If you do not answer Y to that question, we can no longer be friends. Similiarly, if you do not find this a totally awesome shirt, we can no longer be friends. Some might call this unfairly harsh, but I have my values and I will not sacrifice them for you. Exits are NORTH, SOUTH, and DENNIS.


I got this one as well. It is heartbreaking and poignant, but scientific. I like all my shirts to be this way.


Oh Dinosaur Comics. Not only have you improved my worldview, vocabulary and life in general, you have now improved my wardrobe.

However, I am concerned that I have unconsciously reversed my opinion on message T-shirts. Do these count? I maintain that they do not on account of their awesome graphics and overall radness. If you disagree, feel free to leave a comment, but please know that I do not care.

Good night, sweet theater

As of late, the universe has apparently found it hilarious to tear down many physical structures that hold great meaning in my life.

First my old high school, then my childhood home (okay we only sold that, but pretty much the same thing.) Now this:


This is the ComedySportz Theatre at 2851 N. Halsted St. in Chicago. It's been a historic Chicago theatre for many years, home to such influential groups as Steppenwolf, the St. Nicholas Players, and Organic Touchstone.

And in the summer of 2004, a wide-eyed college student walked through the doors and got his first glimpse into a world he'd never seen before.

He lives in that world now, and couldn't imagine what his life would have been like if not for this place.

On Saturday night, the players took their final bows and the curtain came down for the last time. Sometime in the next month or so, the building will be demolished and a whole block of godawful condos will be built.

ComedySportz will persevere, as it always has. We're in a temporary space for at least the next two months and hope that our new permanent space will be ready for the fall.

But the place has a lot of great memories attached to it and it's hard to see it go. Tara D sums it up much better than I could here and here.

Saturday night was an amazing experience. So many ensemble members just hanging out and watching the shows, such amazing playing, and just a great sense of community as we collectively remember the past and look to the future.

Plus, they started demolishing the stage in the middle of the midnight show. And afterwards, the ensemble did quite a bit of the wrecking crew's work for them. Seriously you guys, it was great.

"Good night, sweet prince.
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest."

Words of wisdom

"Sure, hindsight is 20/20. But it's hard to see things when they're far away - doesn't matter if you're looking backwards or not. I actually bet it's harder because then you're trying to look over your shoulder while walking forward and that's just awkward. In summary, hindsight is all well and good, but the rear-view mirror only shows so much."

I'll be publishing a page-a-day calendar for 2007. I don't see how the world has survived without my special brand of wisdom for as long as it has.

From zero to Guitar Hero

Hey, remember a month ago when I bought a PS2 and Guitar Hero on eBay? Yeah, I do too.

Call me crazy, but when two weeks passed after my payment cleared and I hadn't heard from the seller or gotten my package, I started to get a little worried. I wrote the guy once just to ask what the deal was, but hadn't heard from him. So Friday, I got a little terse and wrote a strongly-worded message that basically threatened to get eBay involved and make things "a little less pleasant" if I didn't hear from him very soon.

People who know me know that I rarely do this. I am about the most mild-mannered dude this side of Metropolis and avoid conflict like the skin-festering plague. So it takes a lot to make me get harsh with somebody.

So imagine how I felt when I got this response just a few hours later:

"hey man, i'm really sorry about taking so long, but i just got out of the hospital. belive it or not i got in a pretty bad wreck and have to have surgery. once again i really do apologize i'll be sending it out on monday i promise. sorry again man."

I am the biggest jerk of all time. Of course he couldn't send me my PS2. HE WAS IN THE HOSPITAL.

Ah gee.

Don't worry though. This story has a happy ending. Specifically, this story ends with me getting a nice big package from Swan Cleaners yesterday afternoon. Everything was nice and bubble-wrapped - the only thing missing was the guitar strap. (He still gets positive feedback. The dude WAS IN THE HOSPITAL.) So what does a resourceful young guitar student do?


He gets his own Two-tone flavored guitar strap out of the case and puts it to use. If they ever put out a ska expansion pack for the game, I'll be ready.


I rock my Guitar Hero on the upbeats, fool. RUDEBOY!!

April showers bring stupid pop culture

Scary Movie 4 won the weekend box office with an estimated $41 million gross.

There is a song on the just-released NOW That's What I Call Music 21 compilation by Trace Adkins called "Honky Tonk Bodonkadonk." It is about exactly what you think.

Deal or No Deal is the highest rated show on NBC.

America, I'm worried about you. Call me, okay?



P.S. I saw The Wild this weekend, mostly for the koala voiced by Eddie Izzard, but also because...um...okay, entirely because of the koala voiced by Eddie Izzard. He did not disappoint.