Fat Pig.

We went to see Lucky Apple's production of Neil Labute's Fat Pig at the IFCC on Thursday night. I am friends with the two girls who make up half of the four-person cast, and I always love to see people I know performing (especially acting), so we were excited to go.

And, it was a great show. I've seen it (the play itself, not this specific production of it) referred to as a comedy, but I suppose that's subjective. I definitely laughed, and so did the rest of the audience, but there was an uncomfortable undercurrent to some of the laughter that, to me, made it very clear that the material (and the acting) was hitting the mark. It's some dark shit, but it's also very genuine. Everybody was talking amongst themselves when they walked out, and though some of them seemed to have problems with the material, they were certainly affected by it. So, mission accomplished.

It hit me somewhere, for sure. I'm left with that same feeling I get when I see a good film and it finds a way to follow me around for a few days. Parts of it are still rattling around my head. Though I have no idea what I'm thinking specifically, other than I really liked it, and I need to go out and see more legitimate thea-tuh.

I feel so cultured.

Late Fall Dodgeball: Week...Seven? (Playoffs)

Not a strong showing in the postseason.

We lost our first match to a team we'd never played before; a team that wasn't that great except for this one dude with a rocket arm and a beer belly. The word on the street (from a guy from one of the other teams) is that the chap used to be a pitcher in college. Sounds about right. So, he dominated as we got pegged. It wasn't a blowout, but it wasn't real close either.

We lost our second match as well, but not before some dong-strangler on the opposing team winged a ball at our sidelines following a controversial call, got promptly ejected (from an Underdog Dodgeball game–how's your life going, man?), laughed and refused to leave, then eventually left only to try and sneak back into the game about four minutes later. I'm assuming we'll see him on a Wheaties box by the end of the year.

So, that's that. I got sweaty, so I'm good. Plus, there's a new season starting either next week or the week after.

Now I'm free to whore myself out for my music (see below).

Thanks to Erin/Joy for the photo.

It's Been A Long Time Coming.

But the CD I've been working on for almost two years is finally an actual product.

Our MySpace page is here.

It's for sale on CD Baby here.

Check that shit out.

I Got Here And I Came To Win Big Bob.

We went to Value Village this weekend, and while Joy perused the flatware for wedding-worthy accessories, I hit the t-shirts. I found this gem nestled between the standard hooray-for-America and let's-drink-shitty-beer numbers that always populate the racks at the SE 82nd Value.

I am choosing to believe it was once worn by a Barker-era "The Price Is Right" hopeful, but it seems like it's never been washed. I would think most folks would wash something before applying iron-on letters. However, if they were only going to wear it that one day, they might not bother. Clearly, this is causing me much consternation. Let me know if you ever saw this shirt on television, and if possible, please link to the appropriate YouTube clip. I await your reply. Thanks in advance!

I also scored this hot piece o' shirt:My crack research team tells me it's the official shirt of this station, which doesn't mean much to me, but it does make me feel very Pump Up the Volume.

Here's a question: when you're writing (or typing, as it were), do you italicize the names of TV shows, or do you put them in quotes? I've always put them in quotes (I think it's maybe because this is what IMDb does), but now I'm wondering if I've been handling it all wrong. I'm finding conflicting information online. One site suggests the name of the show should be italicized, with individual episodes in quotes. This makes quite a bit of sense, as that's what you do with albums and songs.

Let me know what you think.

Wii Fit Ain't No Joke.

I have to say, I'm pretty impressed with this thing. I've worked up some towel-worthy sweat, done weird strength training moves I've never tried before, apparently improved my balance quite a bit, and best of all: I've lost about ten pounds since Christmas.

Of course, I've also been running at the gym, playing dodgeball, and dieting like a chick. But still.

Nintendo, you've done it again.

People thought I was going down with the ship when I remained a Nintendo purist all these years. "They'll make a comeback," I said. "XBoxes are for assholes and Playstations are for ninnies," I said.

And as usual, I was right.

Birthday = Good.

Yeah, I got cupcakes with sour Skittles on 'em. And yes, it was a taste explosion.

We also finally went to La Isla Bonita, this Mexican restaurant we had been meaning to try for about six months now, partly because it shares a name with a Madonna song, and partly because our old fave Fandango turned into some weird house of Mexican seafood (just like the Nirvana song!) Of course, we were idiots for not going there a long time ago. I got a veggie burrito the size of my forearm for six bucks, and it was quiet and the people were nice. And the iced tea they gave me was at least 50oz. Nice.

Then we went to the Boiler Room where I got those cupcakes, got to see some friends, and got to sing some karaoke:Nothing gets the crowd fired up like Prince's "Sign o' the Times." Nothing. That guy on my left would not stop screaming along with me on some of the more "rocking" songs I sang and I wanted to kick him a little bit.

Joy got me a new VCR/DVD recorder, which I had been wanting for months, and Guitar Hero III, which is already causing me terrible frustration and haunting my dreams.

But, it's hilariously brotastic, so I shred on.

Late Fall Dodgeball: Week Six.

Complete with a photo I jacked from the Underdog site. And those clueless bastards will never know it's missing. Advantage: my blog.

Coming off our split decision last week, we decided to play like we meant it tonight, and it paid off big time. We won both contests by healthy margins, bringing our season W-L record to a not-too-shabby 8-4. I managed to take one for the team in our first game, eliminating the final dude on the opposing squad by means of allowing him to bean me in the forehead/face area. Now that, my friends, is dedication.

To backtrack briefly: my arm injury was not a tear, but a strain. I went to my chiropractor (a former dodgeballer himself; long story), who stretched the shit out of my arm in ways I would have never been able to do myself. The pain was plentiful, but it ended up being worth it. He also advised me to "not throw so hard," saying that I don't always have to be the "big man" out there, suggesting I "aim for the little girls' legs" instead of their "windpipes." Additionally, he encouraged me to throw sidearm, which, in addition to looking cool, is also less work for a lazy man such as myself. I took it a step further, developing a Kent Tekulve-esque submarine-style throw as the games went on.

It proved to be effective, causing a lot less wear on my arm and not demanding that I sacrifice much in the way of accuracy. Think I'm going to stick with it. We have next week off for the MLK holiday, and then it's playoff time. Because of the weather, and now this holiday, this is turning into a marathon season. Lucky for me, I'm a cool-headed workhorse.

This week off will just give me more time to lift weights while listening to Dokken bootlegs. It's the only way I can get fired up anymore.

Late Fall Dodgeball: Week Five.

Once again, I failed to take a photo, so here's a picture of one of our many cat statues that I took with my new camera. Richard Avedon is shaking in fear. Or he would be, if he were alive.

We won one and lost one last night, and while we should have won two, I'm not going to complain. About that, at least. We hadn't played in almost a month, and we were a little rusty. But not too bad, considering. I had a personal victory over this knee pad-wearing long-stockinged dude who had mouthed off to me at an open gym last week (he apparently takes pick-up games very seriously), so that was something. Drilled him in the bread basket and caught the shit out of a ball he winged at me with all his Napoleon-complexed might. The little whinny he let out (coupled with a dual-arm flail) when I caught the ball was quite satisfying. Not as satisfying: his team beating us.

Really not satisfying: I fear I've torn my rotator cuff. Seriously. On my first hard throw of the night, my arm went numb for a few seconds, followed by pain that traveled the length of my arm and felt like it was jutting out the end of my pinkie. Not good. Even worse, here's what my half-assed online research yielded:

"Normally a person with a torn rotator cuff will feel pain over the top and outer side of the shoulder. The pain may radiate down your arm. This is more obvious when you raise or extend your arm, or when you lower your arm to the side after you have moved your shoulder backward and raised your arm."

That's summing up my current state pretty accurately. I'm seeking out treatment tomorrow. Fun times.

In other news, we saw Milk this past weekend and it was swizzity sweet.

And I finally, finally got an original copy of Elliott Smith's Figure 8 on vinyl. And for a decent price, to boot. I had been looking for it for about seven years, hoping to pay less than two hundred dollars. I paid way less than that. This economy (not to mention this past year's reissue of the album) is doing wonders for my eBay bids.

Twenty Aught Niner.

Yeah, I got a Johnny (John) Wockenfuss game-used bat for Christmas. Jealous? As always, they were a hot item, but my wife-to-be (!) managed to track one down for me. Now I just have to find a proper way to display it. That may have to wait until we move. Besides, I'm having a fine time practicing my various batting stances.

We also got a Wii Fit for Christmas. I'll tell you what, if you want someone to really tell you how out of shape you are, don't bother with actual human beings. The pixie-voiced balance board that helps you through your "training" will give it to you straight. Turns out I am one step away from washing myself with a rag on a stick. Here's a picture of me watching Joy slalom......taken with my new camera, which was also part of my Christmas loot.

I was still rocking my 3.2mp point-and-shoot, so this 10.1mp is a step up. It has a lens cap, for chrissake. Don't make me get all Ansel Adams in this piece. 'Cause I'll do it. I got a bunch of other cool shit, including a book about the '86 Mets that I've been wanting to read for like two years now. Turns out those guys weren't the clean-cut heroes we made them out to be. Shocking.

We spent New Year's Eve with my old friends the Supersuckers. Read all about it here.