......And we're off.

This last weekend I was fortunate enough to go to the Kentucky Derby. Sounds like fun, right? Something you can cross off your bucket list and tell your kids about years from now. Well that's half right; at the very least, I have a story to tell.

This trip was a Christmas gift from my cousins to my sister and me. We all hopped in a truck on Friday and drove towards Kentucky. Friday night we stayed in a nice hotel in Cincinnati and had a lovely time there.

Then Derby day came. We awoke around 6 and took turns showering. I woke up at 5, little insomniac that I am, and began researching our upcoming day. We had tickets in the infield. Now, when you think of the Kentucky Derby you think big hats and clean bleachers and beautiful people with loads of money. Well, the infield is not like that. The infield is like Mardi Gras or Jamboree in the Hills: a drunken mess.

Now I don't mind a drunken mess. But I originally had brought nice dress pants and a shirt to wear to said derby. After viewing pictures of mud wrestling in the infield and reading stories about people dancing on port-a-potties, I opted for a pair of jeans.

So we left Cincinnati for Louisville. As we approached, it started to rain. I brought nothing for the rain (you can't take umbrellas in with you). We stopped at a gas station nearby and I bought a poncho. It was easily the smartest decision I made the whole day.

So we parked the truck and started to head towards the field. It was a decent walk, and it started to rain. This was maybe a little before 11 AM. We got in, got scanned by metal detectors, and entered the infield. It wasn't as packed and we found a place near the first turn to put our chairs down. It continued to rain.

I can't state that enough: it RAINED. It rained for 4 consecutive hours without ever pausing once. We were quickly soaked clear through and shivering because it was also cold in addition to raining.

But we had high hopes: this was the Kentucky Derby, damn it. Let's do some stuff! So we bought a mint julep. If you've never had one before, it's bourbon. And there's some mint. But it's bourbon. I didn't love it, but everyone else HATED it so I drank it.

My friends Nick and Nate (both of whom are fantastic) did a drawing of me enjoying a mint julep when I told them I was going. This is it:

And here's the reality:

Then I decided I wanted to place a bet. Not on the derby, not yet. We had all day for that. I took a bet on the 6th race. I bet on horse #8, Icon Ike. I figured since we share a name somewhat ("Ike" being a nickname my family uses) this was one of those "go for it!" signs. So, not checking any stats, I placed a bid on Icon Ike to win his race.

Icon Ike up on the scoreboard.

After waiting a hour or so (it's a long process) race 6 happened. From the infield we saw roughly 3 seconds of horses running past.

Turns out Icon Ike runs about as fast as this Ike, and he came in 7th. Gambling sucks. I will never have a gambling problem, because I hate losing much more than I like winning. Also our racing program quickly turned into a sponge, so we had to make up our minds quickly.

Our program, near the end.

After that race we decided to have a look around (it hadn't stopped raining). So we walked under the track through a tunnel to enter the area under the "rich seats". Everyone and their mother was there, to stay out of the rain. It was pretty heinous: thousands of people in a small enclosed space. I had a slight claustrophobia fit as we pushed deeper and deeper into the hoard of people.

What a mess. The hat in the front left belongs to my sister.

As we walked around, it was clear that everywhere was essentially the same: there were places to bet, eat, and buy mint juleps. And that's pretty much it. Your options were: A) to stand out in the rain, freeze, and see a glimpse of a horse race, or B) stand inside where it's warm, not see a horse race, and be crushed by a mass of people.

It was roughly 3 o'clock and we were in our fourth hour of rain. The actual Derby race started at 6:30. At this point I realized there was no way I was staying for that. A text conversation with my mother went something like this:

ME: It hasn't stopped raining. I think we all want to leave.
MA: If you leave you can't get back in.
ME: Yeah. Why would we want to?
MA: To see the parade of roses!
ME: ......I don't think you quite understand what's happening here.

My cousin's coworkers collected money and had her place a large bet on a horse to win the Derby. She did, so we were worried we'd have to stay and watch the damn thing in case they won. But, lo and behold, we learned that if you leave you can mail your winning slip to collect the prize money. Upon learning this, my shivering sister and I cheered and we took a vote: "Who wants to leave?"

It was pretty much unanimous.

So we left. As we sloshed our way out we walked by a drunken gentleman who had laid down a tarp on a small hill and was yelling "SLIP N SLIDE! SLIP N SLIDE! SLIP N SLIDE!". I was too tired to yell "We're ALL wet, asshole! The point of a slip n slide is to cool down in the sun! You may as well be yelling FALL DOWN! FALL DOWN! FALL DOWN! because that's what we'd be doing, ya jagoff."

It was a long walk back to the truck. And we kept passing people going in as we were going out. The drunk college kids I hated when I was in college were still around, just as annoying and stupid as ever. Large masses of people just aren't my thing.

We retreated to our hotel in Lexington. I took a bath, my cousins went to the hotel hot tub. Afterwards we went out to eat at Billy's BBQ. It was delicious: meat that came right off the bone, and it came with a huge slice of cornbread and I tried cheese grits and liked them (so there!).

My meal. Not pictured: the green beans.

I should say that although this sounds like a terrible time, we still kept our spirits about us. My cousin who'd bought the tickets would often break our soaked silences with a hearty "MERRY CHRISTMAS!" and I would laugh every time. Next year she said she was going to chain us to a sturdy tree during a hurricane.

So that was my trip. I got to experience the Kentucky Derby, which involved getting drenched for four hours and watching the actual Derby on TV at the hotel. Congratulations to Orb, the horse that won, although he probably didn't know he was racing. Because he's a horse.

 I'm not terribly upset, I got a decently funny story out of the whole thing. Had it not been raining, I'm sure we would've had a blast but that's the way it goes sometimes.

I should mention it kept raining as we left Kentucky THE NEXT DAY. I don't think I'll ever return to Kentucky, since apparently it likes to rain as long as I'm there. But oh well, there are 49 other states where the weather may be more welcoming. I'll stick to trying those.

Take a Chance on Missed Connections

At the risk of sounding incredibly shallow, let me just say this: I would love to see myself appear on the “missed connections” page of Craigslist.

Hear me out.

Nothing would make me happier than clicking through those links and seeing a description of me. I just want to know that there’s someone out there willing to put the effort in going online, writing an anonymous description of me, and then sending it for all the world to see in the hopes that I’ll stumble across it. I mean, seriously, it seems like a huge compliment.

I know 98% of those ads are just people cruising for sex, and well done for them for being so bold. I can’t say I’m someone who would ever write the words, “You were a really good waiter, Doug from Olive Garden. Would love to get together sometime and see what else you serve up.” What can I say? I play hard to get.

But some of those people have got to be looking for love. Someone saw me taking a nap on the bus or spilling pizza sauce on my shirt and thought “Wow. That’s the one.” I don’t know why you’d need anything else to go on. You can pretty much guess how a person’s going to be just by watching them. “Oh, he seems cool, he has stains on his clothes and doesn’t give a damn!”

And what a great story to tell your friends when they ask, “how did you guys meet?” You can say “well, I was using the port-a-potty at the street fair and he saw me from across the street. He didn’t say anything, but that night he went on Craigslist and wrote about me in the “missed connections.” Luckily I was on the verge of suicide so I was on Craigslist looking for some fast action. I saw his post and thought “what the hell?” and we agreed to meet in a very public location.”

Then there are the ones that have loved already, and they go to Craigslist as a final plea for their loved one’s heart. “Oh Kyle, (name changed for this story) I miss our long text talks together. The few weeks we’ve known each other have been the best of my life. I wish you’d return my calls, I can’t imagine life without you. We have so much to learn about each other: Our dreams, our biggest fears, our last names. Please call. –XOXO You know who”

Damn it, Kyle, just do it!! DO IT!

Granted, some missed connections seem a bit lazy on behalf of the posters. Like “I sucked you off in the park, you seem like a cool guy, would love to get together some time.” Really? Couldn’t have asked that in person? You’re sucking him in the park, THE ICE HAS BEEN BROKEN. Take a chance on love!

Buy anyway; perhaps I’m just desperate for the attention. But once, just ONCE, I would like to go on Craigslist any random day and discover that I’m reading about myself. I’m not saying I’ll respond; in fact I may change the locks to my house. But it would give a great spring in my step to know that someone cared enough to make a useless gesture on the Internet.

In fact, I may make a posting of my own. Something like this:

“You were reading my blog the other day. You probably found it by accident, or perhaps you’re just a virus going around. Anyway, I seem like a cool guy and you’d like to get to know me better, but you’re too shy. Or maybe you read the rest of my postings and thought, “he’s a lunatic”. Either way I encourage you to take the first step. Send me a reply with your name, age, and stats (height, weight, level of attractiveness).”

What? I’m not that desperate.

Future Cult Classic: Hamlet 2

I'm bringing back an idea I had a while ago: talking about films I love that I think may gain some recognition years after they were released. I started with RV, a film constantly shown on TBS. And while I like RV well enough, let's move on to a film I adore: Hamlet 2.

Hamlet 2 is the product of Andrew Fleming, who brought us The Craft and Threesome and Pam Brady, a writer for South Park.  The story is about a high school theater director, Dana Marschz (played by the severely underrated Steve Coogan), who desperately needs to make money for the theater program or the school board will cut it. Sound like a tired and familiar storyline? Well it turns out that in the less-than-happening town of Tuscon, Arizona, no one really cares if theater gets cut.

With a class suddenly full (lots of other arts classes were cut, so many students were forced to take theater for an arts credit), Dana decides to write and mount his own production: a sequel to Shakespeare's Hamlet.

Sounds stupid right? Well that's kind of the point. Hamlet 2 is an absurd concept and an absurd movie. Take it too seriously and you won't find it funny at all. We never learn what's actually going on in Dana's play because we only see snippets of it. It involves Hamlet going back in time to undo Ophelia and everyone else's death. This time machine is given to him by (wait for it) Jesus, who apparently feels bad about what Hamlet had to go through.

Sounds like a movie built around shock value, right?  Well that's only half-true. While Dana's play involves a lot of risque material, we don't see much of it, so the film itself doesn't rely on cheap gags. Here are some of the reasons why Hamlet 2 deserves more recognition.

1. This has got to be Steve Coogan's greatest role

I'll be honest; Dana Marschz would probably be painful to watch if anyone else were playing him. If he's done too seriously, he'd be boring. If he was too over-the-top (like Jim Carrey or Will Ferrell) he'd be annoying. But Steve Coogan is simply amazing as Dana. He's a very passionate and eccentric man, but you never get annoyed with him. Mostly because his life sucks: his wife is a bitch, his job is a joke, and he's a recovering alcoholic. Even though you may not agree with his methods, you just want Dana to succeed because he has nothing else going for him. He's a loveable loser, through and through.


2. The supporting adult cast is solid

While Coogan and his students dominate most of the screentime, the rest of the characters in Dana's life are just as entertaining. First of is Catherine Keener as Dana's wife Brie. Brie isn't kind to Dana and for the most part he doesn't notice or care. Her delivery is so cute and bitchy you can't help but laugh. A highlight is when Dana, Brie, and roommate Gary (a quiet David Arquette) are at a Mexican restaurant and Bree proposes a toast: "To Dana, my loving husband...what the fuck was I thinking?" It's a simple line, but Keener's drunken delivery makes me laugh every time.

Then there's Amy Poehler, a comedy goddess who was just on the edge of huge populairty when this film was made. Poehler plays Dana's determined and dirty-talking attorney Cricket Feldstein (if you're wondering about the "Feldstein", she married a Jeew). She only appears in a few scenes, but has some really great lines and, really, Amy Poehler just automatically makes a film better.

And finally we have Elisabeth Shue playing herself. In the film, Shue has retired from acting and is working as a nurse. Like the high school students in the film, I never heard of Elisabeth Shue before but I LOVED that this actress was in a movie that made tons of pot shots at herself. Dana angrily lists off her movies to his class "Karate Kid?!? Adventures in Babysiting?!? Dreamer with that fucking horse?!??" but still no one knows her. I officially love this actress for this movie and jump at the chance to see her in things.

3. The kids in the play are great as well
What's great about these kids in the film are that most of them don't really care if the arts get cut. This isn't Fame: these kids are just trying to get their arts credit, damnit. From "bad boy" Octavio (Joseph Julian Soria) to jokester Chuy (Michael Esparza) to "cool girl" Ivonne (indie queen Melonie Diaz), these kids offer a great foil to the overeager Dana. Mix in the unlucky Yolanda (Natalie Amenula) who constantly gets hit in the head and the stoner Vitamin J (Arnie Pantoja) and Dana has quite the team to work with.

Standing out from this crowd are Dana's "star" pupils, Epiphany and Rand (played by Spring Awakening stars Phoebe Stole and Skylar Astin). Both are the acting kids no one wants to meet: they're kiss-asses, over-dramatic, and think way too much of themselves. And they're also a little bit racist (Epiphany states "I keep praying in my circle group for more tolerance, but I'm still uncomfortable around ethnics.") These two are easily the funniest of the group of kids, and their vocal skills are wonderfully shown off when Hamlet 2 finally is shown onscreen.

4. The film is basically a giant "fuck you" to other high school theater movies

When I saw this movie in theaters, I was a theater major in college. While my best friend and I loved it (I never laughed so hard) I found a lot of other people, mostly acting majors, did not. And I think the reason is, it's the exact opposite of what they want people to see. Both Dana and his theater pupils are seens as losers by the rest of the world. While Dana claims he wants to make art, he unfortunately relies on cliches such as his personal feelings towards his father and the ever present shock value. The portrayal in this film can make theater people come across as losers, douchebags, and people you may not want to be around.

But that is why I love it so. Because after four years of theater school, let me just say that not everyone is as cool as Jennifer Lawrence. There are plenty of douchebags in the field who need to be taken down a peg or two, and Hamlet 2 does that successfully with it's portrayal. Side note to my acting friends: I don't think you guys suck. I just want you to acknowledge the people who do. Love ya.

5. The last half hour is just perfect
So after a big buildup we finally get to see various scenes of Hamlet 2 and holy crap is it great.  Don't try to follow a plot, because it makes little to no sense. We start with a humorous number, "Raped in the Face" which features the main cast singing lines such as "I know the topic of rape isn't nice/don't bring it up when you're breaking the ice". From then we go on to the show-stopping "Rock Me Sexy Jesus", a number based on the fact that if Jesus were to come back in modern times he would have to sell himself as a celebrity. The song is catchy, offensive, and hilarious all at once. Plus the great vocals by Strole and Astin (who would eventually do Pitch Perfect and 21 and Over) are the cherry on top.

The play ends with Hamlet going back in time, preventing the death of his mother and lover, and then battling his enemy in a harness that flies over the stage. All this is set to the musical's background accompanists, the gay men's chorus of Tuscon, as they sing "Someone Saved My Life Tonight." It's beautiful.

So there we have it: one of my all-time favorite movies that most people don't know/care about. Hopefully my raving reviews mixed with these clips have interested you in giving it a chance.

I'd also like to do other movies people consider "future cult classics". I have my own list, but I'd like to hear input from you readers. If I haven't seen something I'll happily view it and give it the treatment I just did. So leave me a comment, y'all.

She Was Never There: A Short Story

 Last night I was struck with a pretty bad case of insomnia, so I wrote a little story. It's inspired by the recent "controversy" regarding Notre Dame football player Manti Te'o. If you haven't heard, basically Te'o claimed his girlfriend died, either in a car accident or from leukemia. But it turns out that girlfriend was never real, and Te'o is claiming to have been the victim of an internet hoax.

I have no idea what's really going on there, although a new internet fad is to take a picture with your arm around your invisible girlfriend (it's called Te'oing and I love the interent). But I wrote a tale similar to this, giving my own explanation for how something like this could have happened. It's purely fiction, meant to entertain. Enjoy it.

"She Was Never There"

by Isaac Crow

They met in the summer at a party. Eve was a friend of a friend of Manuel’s cousin Skylar. It was a fun party, but Manuel had promised Skylar he’d drive home. Hating being around drunk people unless he too was obliterated, Manuel had reserved himself to standing along the back wall, watching people dance. That was when Eve had approached him.

She was quite the vision. She had long blonde hair, a beautiful face, and was the only girl at the party who didn’t have a fake tan. Manuel was instantly smitten as the two struck up a conversation. He learned she went to school far away; she was just in town visiting a friend. He told her about football and, unlike most girls who obviously weren’t listening, her face lit up a bit as they talked about it. She said she was sure he was going to have a good year in the fall, despite how nervous he felt.

They talked for hours, until one of Skylar’s friends vomited on a girl’s shoes. At that point Manuel decided it was time to call it a night. Before he left the party Manuel made sure they were Facebook friends. She shot him a sly, sad smile as he left the party, rounding up Skylar and his baboon friends into his car.

Eve had gone home shortly after that. A few days after the party Manuel struck up a Facebook chat with her. Eventually it became a nightly ritual, them chatting online or texting each other. Manuel was really falling for this girl, which felt crazy because he’d only met her once. But it also felt right; he was never able to open up to anybody like he could with her.

Before school started back up in the fall, he called Eve and asked her to be his girlfriend. She said “yes” but requested they not make it Facebook official. “It’s just so tacky,” she said dismissively over the phone. Manuel smiled even though she couldn’t see him. “Yeah,” he agreed, “it’s so dumb.”

And that was that: Manuel had a great girlfriend, albeit a long-distance one. His grades were good and the team was doing great, no small thanks to him. Girls at school would hit on him all the time. He enjoyed the attention he was getting, but he’d brush them aside gently. And every night, either after classes or practice, he’d text Eve. Sometimes they’d just make small talk, but it always made Manuel feel better and was his favorite way to end the night.

Manuel made plans to travel up to Eve’s college the weekend before Thanksgiving break. She happily agreed and sent him directions to her apartment. “My roommate will be outta here ;-)” she texted him. His interest peaked, Manuel started the upcoming countdown to his weekend away.

The day before he was going to leave to see her his cousin questioned him. “I don’t understand…who is this girl?” Skylar asked.

“I told you she was at that party. The one you were too shitfaced to see straight at?”

“Yeah, I remember that. But I don’t remember seeing any girl there talking to you.”

“Well yeah, but you were drunk. Remember in the car you told us all how badly you were gonna miss Whitney Houston?”

Skylar flushed a little. “I meant that.” He admitted. “But like I don’t know how you can have a girlfriend after this one party. I mean I haven’t even seen a picture of her on Facebook.”

“She’s a very private person. I like that about her.” It was true, Manuel liked that Eve wasn’t one of those girls who posted their lives on the internet for the world to see.

“Well whatever, just be careful okay? I mean what do you know about her?”

Manuel felt his face get hot with anger. “I know a lot about her, asshole. We talk all the time. She’s really great. Get over it.”

He stormed away from his cousin, no longer wanting to talk about it.

The drive up to Eve’s college took a while, but eventually Manuel made it there. It was a beautiful campus, very large with big buildings and trees everywhere. Eve’s apartment complex looked a lot nicer than his own shabby residence back home. He took it as another good sign that this weekend would be great.

He got to Eve’s apartment following the directions she’d texted him. He knocked on the door and she opened it. She was just as gorgeous as he’d remembered. It was if time had frozen for her after that party; her hair was even the same length.

“You look great,” he said. He leaned in to kiss her. It was awkward; not because it was their first kiss, but her lips were so cold it made him gasp. But he kept kissing her, making a silent vow to warm her lips up. She smiled appreciatively as he pulled his face away.

“It’s so good to see you again” she said in a quiet voice. “I’ve missed you.”

Manuel laughed. “We talk all the time.”

“I know that,” she said, pulling her blonde hair back. “It’s just so good to see you again.”

This time she pulled him into a kiss; her lips were much warmer now, Manuel noted. His whole body ached as they stood their kissing. After months of talking, she was finally right here in his arms. Life was good.

The rest of the weekend went by way too fast. They went out dancing at the clubs full of college kids who hadn’t left for break yet. They’d dance til late in the morning, then go back to Eve’s apartment. The first night there, the two of them had sex. Manuel was sure it was the best he’d ever had and, judging from the noises, Eve seemed to enjoy it too.

For the rest of his visit the two of them mostly stayed in. They ordered food (Eve didn’t want to buy new groceries right before the break), watched movies on the couch, went out dancing again, then returned home for another round of lovemaking. The last thing Manuel wanted to do was leave that Sunday morning.

She kissed him goodbye in the doorway of her apartment.

“Bye,” she whispered lovingly.

“I love you.” Manuel said it without really thinking. But he found he meant it.

Eve’s face looked sadder. Oh shit, Manuel thought, I scared her. What kind of douchebag drops the love bomb this early?

            A smile eventually formed on her sad face. “I love you too.” She said. They kissed goodbye again, and he left. He felt corny just thinking it, but Manuel was confident he’d never been this happy before.

           Manuel’s life was wrecked two weeks before Christmas. He received an email from someone at Eve’s college. Apparently Eve had been hit by a car one night and was killed on impact. Manuel couldn’t believe it; how could this have happened? How could the one thing that brought him so much joy now be taken from him?

         Manuel called his family and told them what had happened. He said they had to get a hold of someone, get information about the viewing and the funeral. He wanted to talk to Eve’s parents, tell them who he was and how much he’d loved her. His parents had nodded along, agreeing to do anything they could to help their heartbroken son.

        However, when he went home to see them he was greeted with a surprise. His parents brought him in and they all sat down on the couch. With them in the living room were his cousin Skylar and a woman dressed in nice black dress clothes with a police badge on her shirt.

       “Manuel,” the woman said, “I’m Detective Collins. I’d like to talk to you about Eve.”

       “Are you in charge of finding the bastard that ran her over?” Manuel asked angrily.

         His parents share a nervous glance with each other as Detective Collins continued. 

        “Eve wasn’t hit by a car” the woman said.

        A small light of hope swelled in Manuel’s chest. “She’s alive.”

        Collins shook her head. “Well, no.”

       “So…how did she die?”

       Collins bit her lip before answering. “She didn’t die, Manuel. She was never alive in the first place.”

        That really threw Manuel. “What? I-I don’t understand.”

        His mother reached over and patted his leg affectionately.

        “We ran a check on this Eve when your parents called. There are no records of her in any morgues or hospitals, nor is she even enlisted at the college.”

       “What? They sent me an email-“

       “Could I see it?”

       Manuel got out his phone and looked through his emails. He searched for that horrible email that wrecked his world, but couldn’t find it. He looked over all his files; it was nowhere to be found.

       “I must have deleted it.” He said unsurely.

       “No traces of her were found on Facebook or anything like that.” Detective Collins informed him. “Nobody with her last name lived in that town. Your cousin here got a hold of the people that went to that party; nobody said they knew an Eve.”

      “But-“

      “There’s more,” the policewoman kept going. “The police were called out to the Nichols Apartment at “Eve’s” college the week after you went up there to visit. Did you stay in room 231?”   

      Manuel nodded.

     “The girl who lives in that room said she came home after break and found her bed had been messed up, like it had been slept in and-excuse me-fucked in. The pictures she kept out on her desk and nightstand had been stuffed into a box in her closet.”

     “Wait, what are you saying?” Manuel was about to lose it.

      His mother was crying now, rubbing her son’s leg sadly.

      His father spoke up. “Son, we think you made Eve up.”

     “What!? That’s crazy!”

     “No kidding,” Skylar muttered.

     “Eve was real! I saw her there, I kissed her, we went out!”

      Collins spoke up again. “Security cameras on campus captured you walking around by yourself that weekend. You were looking at someone who wasn’t there and you kept talking to it.”

      Manuel was breathing hard now, tears welling up in his eyes. “But she was real, she-“

     “Did Eve cook anything for you?” Collins inquired.

     “No, we ordered out.”

    “Did she pay the deliverymen?”

    “No, I did, what difference-“

    “Son,” his dad said calmly. “Eve wasn’t real. You didn’t visit anybody. You broke into a stranger’s apartment and messed up her room. Then you went all over the campus talking to yourself. Manuel, we think you might have schizophrenia.”

    His mother burst into a fresh round of tears after that was said.

    “I’m not crazy!” Manuel yelled, getting up from the couch angrily. “How can you think that about me?!?”

    “Manuel, these things can happen to anybody-” Detective Collins started.

    “Fuck you guys! I’m not crazy! I’ll find her!” Marius screamed as he stormed out of his house, his family and the policewoman yelling after him.

    Manuel’s search for Eve came up empty. He looked all over her college campus, closely monitored by the police. He tried to find her texts, her Facebook profile, any proof of her existence. There was nothing.

    But how could that be? Manuel had kissed her, had sex with her, had loved her. How could she just not have ever existed? She was gone without a trace.

    He had become a laughingstock at his school. His friends, his teammates, they all said he’d gone crazy looking for a girl none of them had met and who had never been real. Eventually it was too much for Manuel: he dropped out of college. A week afterwards, at the urging of his parents, Manuel agreed to go somewhere to receive psychiatric care.

 

     Eve watched from the trees as Manuel’s parents helped him load up their car. She cried softly as observed, feeling guilt for the pain she’d caused him. As she watched she became aware of the cloaked figure that had appeared next to her.

    “Hello Eve,” the Judge said.

    “Hello,” she said glumly.

     The Judge held a black clipboard in its hands and read off of it.

     “Got a bit careless this time, didn’t we Eve?” the Judge asked in its creepy ambiguous voice.

     Eve nodded a response.

    “Let’s see…the terms were you could make yourself visible and corporeal to one mortal at the party, with the intent of having a quick hookup.” The Judge read lazily from the sheet. “You would also be allowed to posses a phone to continue a “long-distance” relationship that would not last more than a month.”

    Eve nodded again.

    “But it went on, didn’t it? You possessed his phone and kept talking to him. He eventually wanted to visit you, so you found an empty apartment, stole a key from one of its residents, hid any sign that resident lived there, and invited him into it. Continuing to take corporeal form, you had sex with said mortal- that’s a huge offense, by the way- and got him to fall in love with you.”

    “That’s all true.” Eve said softly.

    The Judge looked up from its clipboard and held it against its body.

    “So did you love him?” it asked her curiously.

     “I did.” Eve said.

      The Judge clucked a little. “Well I hope it was worth it. Once your sentence passes in the Courts I can guarantee you’ll be in purgatory for a long time.”

      Eve nodded solemnly. It was worth it, she decided. She had loved him but had also wrecked him. She could now only hope he’d recover from the mental scarring she’d given him. And hope that purgatory wasn’t as bad as she’d heard it was.

       “Come,” the Judge said. It held out a cloaked arm. Eve grabbed it lightly, and the two faded away from this world.

The Fool Does Standup

This last Tuesday I got back into my old habit of doing comedy open mic nights at crowded little bars. It's something I haven't done a lot lately, but also something I enjoy doing. So Tuesday I went down to the Smiling Moose (located in South Side, Pittsburgh) and signed up to do some comedy.

My friend Jodi came and recorded it on my little iPhone (thanks Jodi!). It's a small room and the bar was packed, so there's a lot of background noise. It's also not the BEST open mic I've ever done, but the point of doing these is to experiment with your jokes and see what works and what doesn't. So I show this to you as my way of saying "I'm gonna try to do this a lot more now so that I can get better at it". Thanks for indulging.

The content is mostly family-friendly, although I curse a bit (eh, whatcha gonna do). The content consists of falling asleep while driving, personal space on the bus, listening to other people's music, and my opinion of The Scissor Sisters and their Kiki. I also close with a joke I was told my recently-passed Grandfather once said.

The Fool Writes: "The Luckiest Girl"

Now for something a little different: I challenged myself to write for an hour and see what happened. This is a little thriller short story I wrote, inspired by a girl I saw downtown one day and decided to completely fabricate a story for her. Read and enjoy!

“The Luckiest Girl”

by Isaac Crow

Sarah Tulsey was a lucky girl, although you would never be able to tell by looking at her. Sarah was at least one hundred pounds overweight and had a flat face. Her brown hair was always stringy and greasy, and she usually kept it up in a ponytail.

Her personality wasn’t very attractive either. She had very poor social skills and never had any friends in high school. Sarah was a rather mean girl. She wasn’t a bully, but she never took advantage of people who tried to open up to her and be her friend. She was a loner mostly all her life.

So why was Sarah a lucky girl? For one thing, she always wore a bright yellow t-shirt that said “Lucky Girl” in bold pink letters across the front. But just because something is written on a t-shirt doesn’t mean it’s true. Although if someone’s t-shirt says “I’m with Stupid” and has an arrow pointing up a themselves, that one is probably true.

But Sarah was a lucky girl long before she found that t-shirt. She was actually a lucky girl from the moment she was born.

Sarah’s mother, Elaine, was not loyal to her husband Edgar. She would cheat on him left, right, and sideways despite the fact that he was a devoted husband. Shortly after marrying him Elaine realized she didn’t love him but, worried about never finding love again, she stayed married to him. She had her affairs but they never lasted long.

One night Elaine lay with another man, Simon. Simon was a hard-working man and (according to Elaine) a very passionate lover. Unfortunately, he was also careless. Simon’s wife came home and found him in bed with Elaine. Which is bad enough in most cases, but Simon happened to be married to a woman who claimed to be a witch.

The witch was furious. As Elaine scurried around the bedroom picking up her clothes, the witch screamed at her. She said, “May your first born child be doomed to die. Every five years of your child’s life, Death will come for it and try to take it. Death will only leave her be if It takes another in her place. If It does, it will return five years later to try again, until it succeeds.”

Elaine was not a very superstitious person, but the witch’s words got to her. As it happened, a few weeks later Elaine learned she was pregnant. She tried to contact Simon, but no one had seen him in weeks, and his wife had left town. Elaine managed to convince Edgar the child was his, and from then on she remained loyal to him.

Elaine gave birth in a hospital, like any respectable woman would. For the nine months she spent preparing she worried about the words the witch had said. Would her baby have problems? Would it die in her womb? Would it be stillborn? Sometimes these thoughts kept her awake at night. Other times she would sleep and dream of the witch, and wake up in an icy sweat.

The doctor who delivered Sarah was an old man. Dr. Williams had delivered over a hundred babies in his lifetime, and it was rumored he could do it blindfolded. All his nurses and patients loved him, and said they never had a better doctor to help them through their childbirth. Elaine loved him as well, and she was happy he was able to successfully deliver Sarah.

After he cut the cord, Dr. Williams put Sarah in Elaine’s arms. “Congratulations, Mrs. Tulsey,” he said, “It’s a beautiful baby girl.” And then he fell over and died.

That event traumatized Elaine. Dr. Williams was old, for sure, so a heart attack wasn’t that uncommon. Still Elaine couldn’t help but think his death was the reason her Sarah survived. Although she still worried, she decided to push it to the back of her mind as she took care of her lucky baby girl.

Almost five years went past and Elaine couldn’t have been happier. She had made peace with her marriage to Edgar and loved taking care of Sarah. Although the little toddler was chubby, she had no health problems and all the specialists said she would live a happy life. For many years Elaine never even thought about the witch.

But then one week before Sarah’s fifth birthday the nightmares returned. The witch would be standing there, fire burning in those dark eyes. She would be pointing an accusing bony hand at Sarah and repeating her curse. Again, Sarah found herself waking up in cold sweat and, one time, screaming.

By the time Sarah’s birthday rolled around Elaine was convinced death would come for her baby once more. The panic caused her to never let Sarah out of her sight for fear something would happen. So she began to make plans.

For Sarah’s birthday, Elaine and Edgar got her a cake and had a small celebration as a family. It was one of the only (and the last) times Elaine would feel like she had a perfect family. Elaine put Sarah to bed as Edgar sat in his favorite chair to watch television. Worried about Sarah’s “allergies” Elaine made her daughter take a dose of Benadryl. When she was sure her daughter was out like a light, Elaine calmly walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. Silently, she went into the living room and cut her husband’s throat.

And lucky Sarah lived another five years.

Those next five years were particularly rough on Elaine. She felt guilt over all the abuse she had given Edgar over the years, not to mention murdering him in cold blood. She was always worried she’d be found out, too. Disposing the body had been scary, but she managed to get Edgar into the trunk of her car and later bury him in the woods.

The nightmares were more frequent. Sometimes the witch would be there, pointing and screaming at her. Sometimes it was Edgar, blood still pouring from the large gash where his throat used to be. Sometimes both of them would be in the dream. Other times Death would appear, wearing a long black cloak and reaching a cold dead hand out to grab her.

By the morning of Sarah’s tenth birthday Elaine was almost completely deteriorated. She hadn’t slept or eaten in at least a week and her face looked hollow and full of pain. That morning after she sent Sarah off to school and wished her Happy Birthday, Elaine began to write her a note. In that note, she explained everything: her affair, the witch, Dr. Williams’ dying, and the murder of her father. After finishing the note and putting it in an envelope addressed to “My Lucky Girl”, Elaine called an ambulance. Immediately after hanging up the phone, Elaine hung herself from the ceiling of her living room. The paramedics didn’t make it in time.

And, Sarah lived five more years.

Foster care was a rough time for Sarah, especially since she was a rude little girl who got teased because of her weight. Even worse was that she thought her mom was crazy, going on about witches and what not. Sarah learned the murder was very true (police found her father’s skeleton buried where Elaine’s note said it was), so she was convinced her dear, sweet mother was clearly mentally unstable.

As Sarah grew into a surly teenager she began to have weird dreams. Her parents would appear to her and tell her to be careful. Sometimes a woman she’d never met would point and scream at her. Other times she would dream it was just pitch black, but then she would realize she was in a coffin and had to dig her way out.

Despite being a rude loner, Sarah did manage to get herself a boyfriend of sorts. Rory was your typical “badass” foster care kid who also didn’t have a lot of friends. Eventually the two formed a sort of bond where they would sneak out to get drunk and smoke together. Upon learning it would be Sarah’s fifteenth birthday, Rory made plans for them to sneak out and go to their favorite hangout on an abandoned wooden bridge.

Sarah was excited to be going out with Rory that night, pushing all the thoughts of her horrible nightmares out of her mind. They got to their favorite spot, split a bottle of Jack and a joint and spent the night holding each other. It was the first perfect night Sarah remembered having since her mother died.

When the sun started to rise Rory told her they had to get back. As Sarah pulled herself up she lost her footing and fell against the railing of the wooden bridge. It broke beneath her weight and Sarah suddenly found herself falling towards the rocks below. Luckily, Rory was fast enough to see her fall and strong enough to catch her and pull her back up.

“Shit, that was a close one.” He said, stroking her dirty hair out of her face.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Thanks.”

The two walked off the bridge and started through the woods. They didn’t get too far before Rory realized he left his jacket on the bridge. “Stay here, I’ll go get it.”

Sarah waited for him in the silent woods for a few minutes. A loud crack and then an even louder crash made her heart jump to her throat. Running as fast as her fat legs could carry her, Sarah ran back to the bridge. When she got there, she couldn’t see it. At the bottom of the rocky ravine was a pile of planks that used to be the bridge and, somewhere amongst them, Rory’s body.

Sarah lived another five years, the lucky girl.

Sarah had managed to get a job at a department store. It was all she could get, education wise, and all she could handle mentally. One of her managers, Tina, was a real bitch to Sarah everyday. She would tell her to be nicer to the customers and to move faster on the sales floor. Sarah hated her, but tolerated her enough to get her job done. It was actually at this department store Sarah bought her  “Lucky Girl” t-shirt. She hoped wearing it ironically would cheer her up and maybe allow her to make friends. It didn’t.

Life had gone even further downhill for Sarah by the time she neared twenty. Rory’s death had scarred what little sanity she had left. Nightmares happened every night. Sometimes that bony woman would appear. The witch, Sarah though, although she still didn’t want to believe in witches. Other people would appear with the witch. An old doctor she never knew. Her father with dried blood caked down the front of him. Her mother, rope burns on her colorless neck and sadness in her dead eyes. Rory, almost unrecognizable with all the pieces of him that were missing. It was hell.

The nightmares happened almost nightly three months before her twentieth birthday. Sarah couldn’t get them out of her mind…did this mean the curse was actually real? It couldn’t be, could it? It was two freak accidents, one murder, and one suicide…it’s definitely a lot of bad luck, but surely Sarah wasn’t cursed.

To convince herself she wasn’t cursed, Sarah had made plans to stay home alone on her birthday. Nothing would happen and she’s live the next day and no one else would’ve died. That was, until Tina schedule her to work the midnight shift at the store.

“They’ve upped our trucks this week, Sarah, and this shit needs to get unpacked and put away. Everyone has to do their part.” Tina would tell her before running into her office to do “her part” sitting at a nice cushy desk.

Sarah worked hard all night by herself, just Tina sitting in the office. At about two in the morning Tina came to the backroom and told Sarah she had to dump her trash in the compactor before they went home. As Tina unlocked the compactor, Sarah began to get horrible chest pains. She clutched at her flabby chest and said “oooh damn”.

Tina rolled her eyes. “Quit being a huge baby, Sarah, and throw your trash away.”

But Sarah’s pain wasn’t going away. It was coursing all through her body, and her world began to spin wildly. The lights felt like they were flashing, but Tina wasn’t reacting like they were. Her manager was saying something to her but Sarah couldn’t make out what she was saying. The pain finally got so intense Sarah was sure she was going to collapse.

Oh my God, she thought, Death is coming for me!

Not willing to die, Sarah tried with all her might to gain her wits and finally succeeded. In a rash moment of lucidity, Sarah grabbed Tina and rammed the smaller woman’s head against the metal door of the compactor. Again and again she slammed it, blood flying everywhere. Did Tina scream? Or was that her? Sarah wasn’t sure. The pain in her chest went away as she looked at Tina’s body in a puddle of blood on the floor.

Sarah tucked Tina into the compactor and closed the door, but couldn’t bring herself to press the “crush” button. Instead, Sarah raced off into the night, never to be seen by anyone in the area again.

Sarah is now an urban legend. Some people say they see Sarah wandering around cities in her Lucky Girl t-shirt. Some speculate she is simply on the run from the police for killing her boss. Others suggest she’s trying to track down the witch to get her curse removed. Others still say she’s hunting for whoever Death is going to take on her twenty-fifth birthday.

Sarah Tulsey is now a wanted woman. She is a confirmed murderer, a former juvenile delinquent, and a possible psychotic. But she is also a very lucky girl.

Zombies and Ho's

Happy Sunday everybody! Also, Happy Halloween. I know it's Wednesday, but everyone already celebrated this weekend. Plus I don't have a lot to say about the holiday because I don't care about it a whole lot, so trick or treat and what have you.


I did get somewhat into the spirit last night, however. After working a double shift at the PPT (last chance to see Born Yesterday this afternoon!) I went with my friend Jodi to see the original Night of the Living Dead. It was a return trip to The Manor movie theater for me and this was the last of their four-part Vintage Horror Movie series.

I had never seen the horror classic before so I was really excited about it. A nice little surprise was that Russell Streiner, a producer and actor in the film, was at the Manor last night. He was taking pictures with fans and did a Q&A after the movie (we didn't stay, we had to work in the morning). Mr. Streiner has done a lot of work with bringing film production to Pennsylvania, and is chairman of The Pittsburgh Film Office.

Anyway, I thoroughly enjoyed Night of the Living Dead. I was surprised at some of the gore (zombies arguing over eating intestines was a nice surprise) and that the main hero was African-American, which was a huge deal at its time. However, there were a few clear anti-feminist themes in the film. Our main heroine, Barbara, spends the movie in a cationic stage which annoys the other heroes (and, frankly, the audience). But it was a different time then, so I suppose I'll overlook it.

In other news, I know I haven't blogged about books in a while, but I just finished a good one. It's Pimp, the autobiography of reformed pimp/author Iceberg Slim (real name Robert Beck). Sounds like an odd choice, probably. I decided to read it after a recurring joke at the PPT had people calling me Iceberg Slim. Since Slim was a rough, famous, black pimp and I am none of those things, the nickname is a bit ironic. But the book intrigued me.

Published in 1969, Pimp recounts Slims life up to the age of 43, when he stopped pimping. He talks about the love for his mother, his first experience pimping, multiple trips to jails and prisons, doing hard drugs, and building a "family" of whores. The slang is a bit hard to get into, but eventually I got used to it all. Slim has quite the way with words, making phrases that can be incredibly graphic while also oddly poetic. Here's an excerpt: "He looked at me and made that clacking sound against the roof of his mouth with his tongue. You know, that mischievous, weirdly joyful sound that a young kid makes the instant before he rams a hat pin into your ear drum" -Iceberg Slim, Pimp.


The term "pimpin ain't easy" proves very true here: Slim had a rough life during the pimp game, and in the end of the book he admits he'd have died much earlier if he had kept it up (Slim died in 1992). Here are one of the final thoughts he has about the subject:

"I had spent more than half a lifetime in a worthless, dangerous profession. If I had stayed in school, in eight years of study I could have been an M.D. or lawyer. Now here I was, slick but not smart, in a cell. I was past forty with counterfeit glory in my past, and no marketable training, no future. I had been a bigger sucker than a square mark. All he loses is scratch. I had joined a club that suckered me behind bars five times." -Iceberg Slim, Pimp.

So that's what I've been up to, friends. Hope everyone has a lovely Halloween week. I'll probably have nightmares about undead prostitutes, but then that's normal isn't it?