My day begins waiting for my elevator to take me to the basement, as all fine days of theater do.
I have to go to my scary storage room. I put out a book a few years back and they've been selling well at the merch table after our show so I have to bring more.
The storage area under my building looks like a murder set from Dexter.
Each box of books weighs close to 50 pounds. I was going to bring two, but it's raining, so I'm only going to make one trip.
I decide to drive. Last time I brought books I carried a 50 pound box on the train from Queens down to the Lynn Redgrave. Today I will risk a parking nightmare to not have to do that again.
I want to get my mind in a good place before the show. No better way than to rock out to my friends' band Pwr Bttm.
Traffic on the Williamsburg Bridge is stressing me out. May cut this close.
Luckily I find a spot right on Elizabeth Street. This spot is probably too small, but luckily I have always been a prodigy at parallel parking.
I will never get used to this. (Also it's weird to see an image of my face in a noose this beat up by the elements.)
My dressing room. Lots of honey and lozenges and too many things with pictures of my face on them.
My producer Mike Lavoie got me these granola bars that taste like Girl Scout cookies. I have been living off of them.
My costume barely made it back from being cleaned before the show. My costume is just this one t-shirt that I own. It's a few years old and we've had trouble finding doubles, so it needed a last minute cleaning. Smells great now!
My costume sneakers. Eerily similar to the sneakers I already wear every day.
Whenever the house music starts, these backstage Christmas lights come on and I know it's close to go time.
One of the most surprising things about this day? No one is napping on this couch before the show. That's usually a given.
We've been having sound issues all week. Mic is taped on - will the mysterious echo finally go away?
Post show, feeling good. My buddies Neil and Mike, who I play basketball with, came to watch. I call them Facemask and Gluck on the court. Gluck just got married and this is my first chance to congratulate him and his wife. I feel bad doing that directly after 75 minutes of suicide themed comedy.
We have this cool on stage seating that everyone's been loving. But the lady in the chair on the left did NOT dig the show. Too dark or scatalogical is my guess. A standing ovation happened around her as she grumpily sat. I do not begrudge her this right.
I scarf down a portobello mushroom burger between shows, trying to time it so I have time to digest before the next show. The burger is good. (Fries are just ok.)
My wife's cousin sent this picture of my wife and I kissing on the altar for my dressing room. It's a good calming thing to have on hand.
My buddy Colt, a pro wrestler, texts me to tell me another pro wrestler whom I don't know is coming to my show. I flip out, as Zack Sabre is great and I'm nervous to meet him.
Second show goes down, I'm extremely happy with it. After the show my friend Allison who I haven't seen since 1998 stops by the dressing room to say hi. It's nice to catch up.
