I woke up at eleven today, much to my surprise, but hey, bank holidays are usually quiet. Started watching an episode of Takin' over the Asylum (David Tennant and Angus Macfadyen á la 1994). Had brunch (Chinese leftovers from two days ago, no less). Watched another episode. Surfed the net for a bit. Started watching Glory, which I know isn't good for me, but it's such a wonderful film and it's been about a decade since I last saw it. At 3.30 we went downtown to have an early dinner at TGI Friday's. The food was surprisingly bland, which was a huge disappointment because I normally like it there.

At 5.30 we joined The Comedy Store Queue (TM), which was even longer than last time, even though we were there a whole 15 minutes earlier this time. Within minutes about 14 people had joined the queue behind us. Now, people, I have to point out that you really, really should buy tickets in advance. Because, basically, what happens is that you will be ushered in ahead of everyone else in the queue, meaning you get first pick of the seats. It's called VIP. Vastly Impertinent Pricks.

So this time we got seats in the middle of the second row; moving three rows forward from our last two visits. I ended up next to Amazingly Broadshouldered Geek Boy, who wiggled about in his seat about a million times, brushing against me every fucking time. Then there were the three people on the row behind us who, when asked by the usher to move towards the middle of the row so that two of the five seats they occupied would be available for other patrons, said 'but we're playing cards!' I think I'm losing all hope.

Anyway, about 150 minutes after we first entered The Comedy Store Queue (TM), the show started, surprisingly (to me) with a rather excellent Richard Vranch (bear with me; as a Comedy Store novice my only knowledge of him comes from the fleeting moments he is shown playing the piano or the guitar during the UK version of Whose Line, and so I just didn't know he did verbal improv as well) trying to get the audience to snap out of their catatonic state. The other players were Lee Simpson, Steve Steen (yay!), Andy Smart (yay!), Steve Edis on the piano, and of course Greg Proops (duh--otherwise I probably wouldn't have been there). It was fun. We got to flex our abdominal muscles again. Very healthy. I'll live till I'm 100+, I'm sure. ;-)

My flatmate, whom I had dragged along again (this time I actually paid for the ticket, I was that desperate to see The Proopster again before he went back to Pico-Robertson), went out for a cigarette, and for once this proved to be fruitful rather than detrimental, as she came back with Greg's autograph with my name on it. Cheeky bitch. :p However, since this was the highlight of the show/year without a doubt, the rest of the show kind of went by in a blur, so I cannot really report on it, other than mention that they did this fabulous musical rendition of a Jane Austen novel, called Sweat and Perspiration. I never knew her novels could be so raunchy! You learn something new every day.

Anyway, back to watching Glory. I'll listen to the show again some other time (shhh!)

Labels: comedy, greg proops, personal, TV