Mission IMPROVable

We just returned from an oh-so-fun-but-all-too-short tour across this great land of ours. We traveled first to my homeland of Indiana, where we rocked the city of Kokomo (we got there fast, then we took it slow). From there it was just a fifteen-hour jaunt up the road to Andover, just outside of Boston (Massachusetts' state motto: Yankees Suck). We rounded out the trip with a stop in Cobleskill, NY and one in Easton, PA. Pennsylvania is a beautiful land, but I have a theory it's run by five-year-old children, because it's the state from which we get all our Hershey chocolate and all our Crayola crayons.

But the highlight, for this agent, was a stop in Salem, Massachusetts, home of those selfsame witch trials. While we were there, we visited two haunted houses and one "witch museum."

It was in Salem in 1692 that 150 people were accused of witchcraft and 19 of them were hanged. One man, a Mr. Giles Corey, was actually tortured to death by being "pressed." A wooden board was placed on top of him, and then rocks were piled on top one by one. The stubborn Corey refused to confess to being a witch. He did, however, have the following things to say:

Unh... stop... I left my keys in pocket...

You guys are dicks! You said we were gonna get
stoned!

Do you know what I think? I think you have a crush on
me.

Is this what you'd call a rock Corey? But seriously, guys,
thanks a ton.

Hey, who am I? "Yo, Adrian!"

Is this a pilates class? 'Cause you sure did 'pilates' rocks
on me! Heh... heh... it hurts to laugh.

I had one day decided with some friends at work to resurrect the phrase "jag" which was a term from growing up out east that was slang for calling someone a jerk off. It is a light hearted name to call someone when they are teasing you or causing you grief, i.e. "you're a huge jag" or "cut it out jag". This had morphed into finding fun ways of calling each other a jag like "you're a jaggamuffin" or a "jag and the beanstalk". This has led to the pictures you see above, I used my own image so as not to make anyone else feel like a jag. I hope you enjoyed them and if you can think of other movies this would work with, add them here.

Agent Masquerade

The past few days, the five of us have been staying in Duluth, MN. It's a gorgeous port city on the edge of Lake Superior, with so much to offer. We performed at both U of M Duluth and St. Scholastica College. The shows were only two hours apart, UMD at 6pm and Scholastica at 8pm. It was so much fun to run from one great audience to another without time to breathe. What we do before and after shows can be so entertaining as well. During the Scholastica show we got a suggestion of "Scary Mary", which is a statue somewhere on campus. Not fully knowing what "Scary Mary" was all about, we used it in the show. The results were just shy of Genius. After the show some students took us on a "Stand By Me" quest to the statue of "Scary Mary". 12 of us walked in clusters past the residence halls, past the soccer fields, into the woods, under the blanket of night. About thirty feet into the woods, where not a single light from campus shined, was a clearing. There in front of us floated a hazy statue that seemed to be glowing (simply because it was white). Had I been alone I would more than likely have shit my pants. Turns out old "Mary" is Jesus with his arms spread open, and the "Scary" part comes from the upper classmen who jump at you from behind the shadows. Nonetheless, the statue served its purpose of scaring religion into me, the good old Catholic church.

So... It's Thursday May 19, 2005 and I have a day off from work. I recently got hired at Navy Pier in Chicago as a Barker/Greeter for a boat company. We give tours around Chicago. Architectural tours, Skyline tours, Water Taxis. All those things that you pay about $7 more than you think you should. I don't know about all you people out there in computer land, but i hate working. Like hate it hate it HATE IT. At Navy Pier we only work for about 6 hours at a time, but by the end of it, i'm ready to shoot myself in the head. I get tired and cranky and i really just want a Gatorade, a pack of smokes, and a beer, know what i mean? BABY WANTS HIS BOTTLE!

So my birthday was a couple of weeks ago. That's right, i am now a proud 17 year old- i'm a big boy and i'm going to get my drivers liscence soon. As soon as i stop stalling first gear in the clown car. I had a pretty big party on May 5th. A lot of the Mission Improvable folks showed up and it was a pretty good time. See, i live in Wicker Park in Chicago. and for those of you not from Chicago, Wicker Park (the WP as we call it) is not really the same as the Josh Hartnett movie would have you believe. What's that guy doing now (besides coke off a fourteen year old malaysian boy)? Wicker Park is one of the newly gentrified areas of Chicago. So there's knitting stores, but at the same time there's lots of homeless people too; including Pigeon Man, this guy who puts a shit ton of pigeon feathers in his hair. A couple of days ago, i was walking down Division and Pigeon Man got right up in my face and said, "Coo, Coo" and i looked at him and said "Coo to you too" and then we both started laughing and tickling each other, it was a moment. So me and Pigeon walk into this bar, and Pigeon's like, "How many crows does it take to screw in a lightbulb" and i'm like, "Pigeon Man, i have no idea" and he's like, "Nine. One to screw it in and eight to fuck themselves". I burst out laughing and get the bar keep's attention, "Hey, more Wild Turkey over here, you fuzzy bastard! Take the glasses, leave the bottle, 'cuase me and Pigeon are doing this here and now like there's no tomorrow, because there may not be"

At some point Pigeon asked me how i wanted to die, and i told him drunk and well laid. And then he says, "Totally, Kennedy-style, but hey, hey man, how do you want to live?" And that's when i had my epiphany. I grab an empty bottle of Wild Turkey, smash it on the bar, stab the bar-keep and we're off. Don't ask me how the plan was formed or what we thought its conclusion would be, but the next thing i know, we're singing "Brown Eyed Girl" in the back of a flat bead, barrelling north on I-90 towards Wisconsin. And in a BraveHeart-like stupor, we decide we're going to invade Wisconsin and take it over.

And i keep asking myself why i'm doing this. I have a great life. I can do the Times Crossword through Thursday. I can play a Chopin Pollonaise, and order off a menu in Mandurin Chinese. I grab Pigeon by the feather sticking out of his right lapel pocket, and through the screaming wind, i yell, "Pigeon, I got a lot to live for! We gotta turn back" But Pigeon just cracks another handle of Wild Turkey and says, "Gobble Gobble bitch! Pigeon is dead! Long live the Turkey!"

Four handles of Wild Turkey and three packs of newpors later, Pigeon, now the Turk-man, and I are climbing a water tower in Kenosha Wisconsin. We're pretty much naked, except for the labels and packaging from the smokes and the booze which are pasted to our privates, nipples, and belly buttons. When i ask why the belly buttons, Turk-man gives me a crazy look through his good eye and whispers, "'Cause that's where they lay the eggs" I'm too intoxicated to think about anything. The higher we go, the smaller the world gets, and the more it starts to spin. First the ground swings soothingly, like a rocking chair outside of a Cracker Barrel. But the higher we ascend, the more i realized just how much the alcohol is affecting me. By the time we reached the top, i felt a little like Pat Robertson in Greenwhich Village: sick my stomach, yet strangely turned on. But we did it. I turned to Turk-man, "I feel great. Thank you." Turk-man winks at me. We held hands. We cried. We laughed. We cried some more. We drank the last of the Wild Turkey. We split the last Newport. And then darkness surrounded me.

I woke four hours later to find Turk-man standing on the hand-rail. I leapt to my feet and ran to the rail, but I was too late. Arching back, Turk-man allowed gravity to take him. I tried to save him, but all i could do was grab the feathers. As he fell the the six stories to his death, i screamed "Turkeys can't fly! TURKEYS CANT FLY!" He didn't make a sound. The echo of his body's impact hung in the air, and then Turk-man was no more. In my pocket i found a note which read:

Burn Wisconsin to the ground. And Minnesota. Leave the Upper Penninsula of Michigan. It's beautiful there. Do you remember when, we used to sing: Sha lalalalalalalala lala teda?

I wrote it on his gravestone.

Needless to say, I didn't burn Wisconsin and Minnesota to the ground. That's illegal, and i had a show in Ohio that i had to get to. But every time i walk down Division, i think about Pigeon/Turk-man. I think about him, and i smile.

This past February we toured around Colorado and Wyoming. Denver was where I was born, and where a number of my relatives still live. Two of my cousins, Mark and Tim, have had the most amazing jobs since I've know them. They have worked and still work in the production side of major events such as concerts, and this year, NBA all-star game. I am not a fan of basketball, I can appreciate it for the athleticism, that's all. Put it this way, if they all died in a plane crash tomorrow, I wouldn't be upset. Regardless, my favorite cousin Tim was working the All-Star game and had the ability to sneak M.I. into the event, as volunteers, before the game started. We were going to help focus cameras for that evenings game. Unfortunately, we were never assigned to any job and spent most of the time watching the rehearsals' for the musical acts. The first group to perform was Destiny's Child followed by Big and Rich at halftime. Did you know they have a 6'7" black rapping cowboy who proclaimed himself to be "Cowboy Troy", and a little dancing man who was literally half Troy's height? We sat for about an hour and a half watching the jobs promised to us, being performed by people who weren't us. With a sudden "Fuck this!", a frustrated Colin Sweeney disappeared from our sight only to appear, ten mins. later, on the players entrance performing a mimed version of the Canadian National Anthem. His image was immediately on the enormous screen center court. He had worked himself into the rehearsal for the players entrances'. We joined him after his second take, backstage. Budging into the line of rehearsal volunteers, we were given specific directions: enter the arena through the players' entrance when our assigned player's name was called (I was Tim Duncan) , walk to the mark, stop, continue, when instructed by "James" at the end of the ramp, to the court. When the announcer shouted "Tim Duncan": I walked to the mark counting $1 dollar bills exuberantly, paused to flash the four bills I carried, and continued down the ramp in a "hip -hoppy" fashion. Bopping my head I took the court and looked hungrily toward my opponents, twelve techies. Behind me, down the ramp came "Kevin Garnett" (Chris Gorbos) receiving a phone call that was clearly catching him at a "bad time." Fortunately, our schtik was well received, there was sporadic applause amongst the tech people.

We stayed late into the day, playing around in the press area holding a post game Q&A. I had the chance to be next to Shaq and Yao Ming when they arrived to the stadium. Unbelievable, super humans, holy shit they were tall! Soon after, the accessibility of our passes were questioned, we decided it best to not get Tim fired for letting a bunch of hoodlums backstage. So we went across the street straight to the bar! 103.5 the fox, was doing a live feed from the bar, giving away tickets to the All-Star game to the winner of a skills contest. That day I discovered a new skill by combining two of my favorites, juggling and beer drinking. Mom, you'd have been so proud! I juggled two basketballs in one hand while drinking a glass of beer in the other. Needless to say, my skills crushed the competition, (3rd place was some 9 year old, and 2nd was a 7 year old boy with chocolate all over his shirt). The prize was two upper deck tickets worth $200 bucks a piece, which we scalped for $200 total. Wow! What a crazy day I almost forgot.

During the Mission Improvable hiatus, I have been earning a buck here and there with promotions work. For anywhere between 17 and 25 dollars an hour, I will spread the good name and cheer of corporate conglomerate "Citibank" to the 9-5'ers of downtown Chicago. Perhaps you may find me talking about how important amino acids are to an exercise enthusiast, while I am not (clearly) in shape. Oh what's that you say, you can't stand those messy coffee makers, with their pods and their mess. Let me show you the latest baby Jesus of the Braun/Kraft hybrid Corp. I'm not bitching by any means, I love not having regular hours and not having to wear a suit to work. It's not the most secure way to live, but for now it works. Granted, I do have a sugar momma that takes care of me, and gall darn, can she cook! This summer is going to be a huge learning experience for me. It's a wonderful world, promotions, not the most prosperous, but the most fun. If you like standing in gay bars handing out Bacardi bandanas for 20 bucks an hour. Super!

Surprisingly David was never into girls.

Hello all, ( or anyone that has stumbled across this link)

Mission Improvable's touring show is officially on hiatus for the summer. Currently, we are rehearsing for a long form show, to be performed at Donny's Skybox. I know very little of Second City, other than they gave us an excellent slot and space to perform "The Trip". I'm very excited to know that I'll soon be performing the form that cracked my shit up when I saw the old guys do it in Minneapolis. I was blown away by the amazing group work of these six dudes. Luckily, I have since become a member and had two rehearsals, so far, for my chance to perform the "Trip". I'm not enjoying that fact that I have to enter the work force that I scoffed at a mere month ago. Finding jobs sucks, but eating food and living in an apartment kicks ass, so I have to suck it up.

So, we are nearing the end of Mission Improvable's touring season. Granted, it's not over yet as I'm reminded by my tearfull girlfriend everytime I leave, but the end is in sight. I have been having the time of my life. I've performed in front of and experienced so many different audiences, in size and taste. Yes, you read it correctly, I ate some of the college students. Remember that kid that you were lab partners with...what was his name...Charlie....Charlie Diery. Remember that last conversation you had with him:
CHARLIE: "I'm going to see that group Mission Improvable tonight. They're really hot right now. Especially agent Knighthawk he combines brain and beauty."
YOU: "Are you trying to tell me something Charlie? Like why your vanity plate says QRGUY"
CHARLIE: "I enjoy the show. No, I'm trying to tell you how awesome they are. Ok, see you after the show. We'll go get sodas together at the "Max"
But you never got that soda did you. Becuase he's digesting, in my comedy stomach acid.

heyyy..I'm rockin' the fox mon.