So I get dressed to go to watch the "Tiger Lily" comedy show in LA Monday. Big scene. Maria Bamford and Marc Maron were on the bill, tons of scenesters and players. Sorry, but it's true.
I'm a bit of a clothes horse, as you might know. Daffy, but attentive to style for sure. Also I'm brand-new to LA, so I want to impress and make friends and circulate and get booked, right? Right. Get in with the in-crowd. Sure I do. Of course. You would too, right?
TONS of Chicago folks at the show. Crazy. Like 15 comics. GOOD ones. We all got pretty lit and stayed late too.
Three comments on my outfit in the FIRST HALF HOUR I'm there, with (I verified later) NO coordination from the commentators:
1) Mike Bridenstine (from Chicago, in a group of three Chicago Mikes--Burns, Brido, and Holmes) smoking cigs out back as I approach:
"You look like San Francisco Jones."
2) Kyle Kinane (from Chicago, 10 minutes later, over by the bar):
"What's goin' on, Indy?"
3) Matt Braunger (from Chicago):
"You look like Indiana Jones if he looked for artifacts in thrift stores."
My question: WHY IN HELL DID I LEAVE MY APARTMENT TO GO MAKE MY MARK ON THE WORLD CLEARLY DRESSED AS INDIANA GD JONES??????
Life is an unrelieved succession of failures, humiliations, and disappointments.
I believe I'm quoting Bill Gates there.
