Between the karate grunts and the fifteen minutes Jackie Chan spent yelling "Jacket off!" at Jaden Smith, anyone who overhears me watching this movie most likely assumes it's Asian porn.
I’m watching the new “Karate Kid” movie right now. It’s not nearly as bad as you guys made it out to be. I’m not saying it’s good. It’s really not. But it’s got me thinking about whether the first one actually was either. I’m sorry, sentimentarians, but on logic alone this one has the original defeated with more than a wimpy crane kick.
Imagine for a few moments that the versions were reversed. Read these synopses, then tell me how you’d feel about your precious classic if it had been the remake.
(NEW) ORIGINAL: A black kid and his mother move to Beijing where he struggles to adapt and develops an antagonistic relationship with a group of Chinese kung fu students. Attempting to protect himself from the bullies, the black kid begins studying a unique style of martial arts with his building’s handyman, an unsuspected kung fu master played by a popular Chinese martial artist. After extensive training and a substantial period of time, the black kid faces off against his nemeses in a martial arts tournament.
(NEW) REMAKE: A white kid and his mother move to suburban Los Angeles where he struggles to adapt and develops an antagonistic relationship with a group of local kung fu surfers. Attempting to protect himself from the bullies, the white kid begins studying a unique style of martial arts with his building’s handyman, an unsuspected kung fu master played by a bit character on a popular American sitcom. After minimal training and an insubstantial period of time, the white kid faces off against his nemeses in a martial arts tournament.
The Miyagi one, when you think about it, doesn’t make a lot of sense. Again, I’m not saying the remake is good. And I’m certainly not saying it’s better. But it begs a couple questions about the original. Like, when did we start defending Ralph Macchio and Arnold from “Happy Days” as good actors, let alone kung fu masters. That shit was ridiculous.
I loved the classic, just like you loved the classic: Because we didn’t know what “quality” meant yet. The remake being stupid doesn’t make the original smart. It just means it wasn’t smart to remake the stupid original. But that said, the remake won’t pimp out your soul or cause brain suicide if you choose to watch it. The cocky asshole getting kicked in the face still elicits a cheer, even when Jaden Smith is kicking him.
And if you think that was a Spoiler you already have too lofty of expectations for this flick.
I'm sorry, you're right. These two make a much more believable kung fu duo.
My name is Ben and I’m the Jackie Chat of Tongue Fu.
New York and the tri-state area, provided you like longform improv in strange locations at all hours of the day and night (raise your hand, dickhead who doesn’t), have I got a treat for you. This weekend all over the borough of Manhattan, the Upright Citizens Brigade presents the Del Close Marathon!
The Del Close Marathon is a weekend-long celebration of . . . aw hell, I’ll just show you this promotional video:
Okay, that didn’t help at all. DCM is a giant improv festival held in New York each year celebrating the founder of longform improvisation Del Close and featuring the best and brightest from the UCB theaters in New York and LA. Many of your favorite stars from film and TV got their starts at this theater and at this festival and many of them will be returning to join in the celebration alongside some of the future stars of those very same media. It’s a great time and if I was on the East Coast I would sure as shit be there.
I’ve been told $25 will secure you a pass to all the festivities, or you can but tickets to individual shows if you’re just looking for a taste. Many of our friends including Convoy, Arts & Athletics, Fat Magic Bear, The Midnight Show, DERRICK Comedy, and many others will be performing shows that could otherwise only be seen in Los Angeles. I encourage you to get a glimpse of the other coast, though don’t sleep on the New York teams either. Here’s a schedule of the 150+ performances between Friday and Sunday.
Let me take a minute now to speak to some of the performers; friends of mine who will be doing dunken, unconscionable for the next 96 hours:
To all my drunk female friends, put down that dick. It’s not a champagne bottle and you won’t like what comes bubbling out when you pop the cork.
To all my drunk, gay-curious male friends, don’t even think about doing that with that champagne bottle. It’s not a dick, and you won’t like what comes shooting out when you put it in your ass.
To all my gay, fabulous friends . . . You do you, guys. This is like Improv Mardi Gras. I encourage you to fuck all the straight guys.
My name is Ben and what happens at DCM stays at DCM untul it’s brought back from DCM and told to everyone.
There’s definitely some truth to this Tosh fellas words. When you move from a seasonal climate to the ceaselessly “sunny and seventy” Southern Californian coast you do so, often, because ceaselessly sunny and seventy sounds super sweet.Think about it: If you were gonna pick a description for the day’s appearance you would probably choose sunny, right? And if somehow, someway you were given the chance to set the thermostat for your entire surrounding area, seventy would probably be a well-received number. But the thing they don’t tell you about sunny and seventy everyday is that eventually everyday feels like any day until one day you look out the window and have the once improbable thought, Hmmm, it’s sunny and seventy today. Must be July. Or is it December?Who’s President?
Look, when December rolls around and it’s sunny and seventy I won’t be complaining. I know better than to talk shit about a beautiful day while you’re freezing your man tits and lady balls off in Snowsville. But while we’re all soaking up the Summer sun during the month I am reasonably convinced is July, let’s take a moment to acknowledge the one thing that’s good about season changes: If you’re living in Chicago, say for instance, every inch of your body knows when it’s December. Your body hates it, but it knows it. Here, I’ve described things that happened six months ago as having happened yesterday and vice versa. If I hear about a Christmas sale on the radio I have to wait to hear if they say “in July” because I honestly don’t know. Look, I’m not asking again, who’s President?
Climate shifts can indicate more than just the passing of time. If you’re one of the people living in Chicago from the last example and suddenly it starts snowing in July you have it on good authority the apocalypse is coming. No such luck here. On the day of the apocalypse it will be sunny and seventy in Los Angeles and we’ll all wake up, walk out to cars and unknowingly drive off into certain death. Is it better to enter into the endless abyss ignorantly? I answer that question with a question: Who’s President?
Seriously, I just want to know the name of the President of the United States. This has nothing to do with the seasons anymore. That was a feeble attempt to cover for my own ignorance. I haven’t picked up a paper in like six years. Is it Taft? No, that’s the street I live on. Really?! It’s the black guy? Yeah, right. You’re just fucking with me. Fine then, don’t tell me ya jerk. Your city blows.
My name is Ben and I’m gonna start my Christmas shopping now, just in case.
Comedy takes many different forms at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre in Los Angeles. If you’ve spent an enjoyable evening there over the past couple years it might’ve been to see improv or sketch; an open mic or talk show; stand-up spotlight or one-person show. No matter what you saw, though, it had one thing in common with every other show at the burgeoning theater: It was booked by Neil Campbell. As the UCB-LA’s Artistic Director Neil has his hands full balancing the schedule between established comics and an ever-growing slew of youngsters working their way through the UCB Training Program. On top of the full-time work he puts in as AD, Neil gets his hands dirty on the creative side as a writer, director and performer in at least two shows every week. To say he spends a lot of time at the theater is like saying prisoners spend a lot of time in prison. He was away from the theater for an hour to give this interview and was reported missing. He has “PROPERTY OF UCB” tattooed on his back. Neither of those last two sentences are true.
As the UCB prepares to celebrate five years in LA next month, Poop or Chocolate sat down with Neil to talk all things pertaining to his home away from home.
How did you get started at UCB?
Scott Aukerman from Comedy Deathray had seen Paul Rust and I do some sketches at Garage Comedy and gave us a spot on Comedy Deathray. That was the first time we got to perform in front of people we really admired and loved. When UCB was opening Scott recommended us to Matt Besser and we got a show the first month. And then there was this show, Not Too Shabby, every Friday at midnight, same time it is now, and by the third week Paul and I were the only people that had shown up every week to perform sketches. We were in line and Besser came up to us and was like, “I can’t host a Friday midnight show every week, do you guys want to take this over?” That was August of 2005 and we still host that show every Friday now.
How much time do you spend at the theater?
Artistic Director is a full-time job, but it really varies how much time I spend there during the week. I’ll work from home a lot, partially because I can and partially because I’m one of three people sharing two desks. I do office hours every Thursday from 2-5 where anyone can come in to talk about doing a show. And then I’m there at night a lot to watch the shows. Over the past few weeks I’ve watched every Maude Night and I’m there most Harold Nights. If there’s a new show I try to see it. And then there are the shows I perform in: Last Day of School is my improv group, we perform Thursday nights at 11 with another great group, Convoy. Then Friday nights Paul and I do Not Too Shabby at midnight. And A Kiss from Daddy, my sketch group, performs the first Wednesday of every month with the Birthday Boys. I’m there a ton, I can’t even start to add it up.
Here is Neil in a video from A Kiss from Daddy.
What about the Artistic Director job interested you?
The reason I took the job to begin with was because I’m a pretty analytical guy, whichever brain that is, I forget, so I talk to my friends about comedy and what I like and what I dislike. When I got the job I knew a big part of it was looking at who was doing well and who deserves a run. And I already had all the opinions; I just didn’t have any need or cause to share them without just being the guy who says his opinion without anyone asking. The job just gave me a reason to share them. I’m really confident in my ability to pick funny stuff out and choose which performers and writers to showcase. I think I can just kind of tell when someone has a point of view and when people are just trying to get it right for the industry. You see groups like the Birthday Boys now or Hendershaw before them, groups who have such a strong voice, and those are the type of people I want to see succeed. And I think I’m pretty good at picking them out.
What are your favorite things about the job?
My favorite thing is seeing someone go from student, to getting representation, to getting work. That’s when I’m most proud. I mean, I didn’t do anything, it was all their talent, but I provided them a forum to showcase their talent. I like getting involved as early as possible with these shows. Getting my hands dirty, helping to make them the best they can be. That’s what makes some of the less fun stuff worth it. Any job is going to have a mix of crap and good stuff, and at this job, that’s the good stuff. Not everyone comes in for help, and it’s not a requirement to pitch to me, but I love when t people do. Some people come in and I get really involved, but there can be a negative to that too. Sometimes there can be people who are trying to safeguard. And they just want to make sure that every step is okay. But in the end it’s going to come down to execution. And if I see it and all just seems aimed to please me, as opposed to having something to say or expressing a strong comedic point of view, then they were coming in for the wrong reasons. They were coming in to try and “get it right” as opposed to using me as a sounding board. But I love helping do whatever I can to make shows as good as possible.
What do you look for as a show booker?
There aren’t a preset series of things that I’m looking for, but I usually know when I see it because I’m laughing at it. Something I like in comedy is when people are confident in themselves, so they don’t need to use comedy to prove anything. Stuff that’s about proving how smart or cool the writer is, that’s not why you get into comedy. Or maybe that IS why you get into comedy, but it’s not what comedy’s about. Comedy’s about making people laugh. I’m into a bit of unpredictability. I definitely don’t like it when people are unprepared, but I’m into a bit of controlled chaos. There are certain shows that are so polished, and that’s great, but I also love shows like Badger’s Promise that can just kind of go off the rail. And I love that. But I don’t like to tell people how to be funny. UCB is more about a method of communicating what you personally find funny. That’s what I really responded to and that’s what I try to teach. Show me what you think is funny and I’ll try to help you to find the clearest way to put that out there.
If you want to see yourself on the UCB stage what’s the best way to accomplish it?
Taking the classes is step one. We’re not a stage that’s pay to play. You don’t have to take the classes to get on our stage. But that said, I think sometimes people just want to circumvent the system. They don’t want to take the classes but they want to perform at “UCB.” If you really want to get involved, all the people that you love who are doing the Facebook show or Asssscat, they all went through the program. Harold Night, Maude Night, they went through the program. They took the classes and that’s a great way to get involved. And then there are all those open mikes, shows like Not Too Shabby. Any opportunity you have to go out and make people laugh, take it. What I really like about Not Too Shabby is that sometimes you’ll see people do great, but sometimes we’ll get randoms and weirdos and crazies, or sometimes people will bomb, or they’ll have an agenda beyond making people laugh, but they can always learn something from the experience.
Can UCB be a substitute for the traditional college experience?
I don’t know if I would argue UCB necessarily as a substitute for college, just because I think one of the things that is great about improv and sketch is that you get to take all the stuff you know and use it at your disposal. And it’s good to have a period in your life where you’re just learning and absorbing stuff so that you have fuel. Also, it’s nice to go off and make your dumb mistakes not in the eye of the industry. I went to college at University of Iowa and did this weekly open mike sketch show in Iowa City called “No Shame” with Paul Rust and Michael Cassady and some other guys where I got to do some of my worst, most pretentious stuff and get it out of my system. And through it I learned what I like and what I don’t like through trial and error. I’d be a little intimidated to try that in front of this theatre of people who don’t know you’re story, who don’t know this is your first time. To use a baseball analogy, someone can have a ton of talent, but only occasionally does an 18 year-old get to jump to the majors and make his mistakes on a national scale. It’s good to have the minor leagues in your plans also. That said, there are some really savvy 18 year-olds who are ready to take to the stage.
What qualities make UCB the preeminent training center and comedy theater right now?
A few things. We’re not like a factory for a specific type of performer. You can get so many different voices and there’s so much you can do with those voices, so much of what the program teaches you to do is express what you think is funny. It really is about communicating what you think is funny. So you get to see a lot of individual personalities. In art in general I think that’s what people respond to: Someone who has a strong point of view; that isn’t just doing things to try to please other people. So I think that’s part of it. Another thing is that we have stand up and sketch and all this stuff that other theaters don’t have because their stages are entirely the product of their classes. Which is a fine model, but just not how we do it. Also, we don’t pay anyone, we don’t charge anyone. And you might say, “Why would you charge anyone?” Well, if you want to put up an hour-long show in LA at a theater they’re going to charge you for the space and a tech guy and all of that. And those are things we provide for free. So a lot of the people who use our space maybe aren’t making a lot of money, so renting out a space is maybe a tougher proposition.
Working largely with young comedians, what’s the best general advice you can offer?
I say it all the time, if someone is moving to LA the best thing to do is find a community. In these big towns it’s so easy to get isolated. At UCB, there’s a community for ya. You’re going to meet friends in your classes; you’ll meet people at shows and at the bars after shows. I’ve met a ton of people through the theatre who are some of my closest friends. And maybe UCB won’t take for you, maybe it’s not your scene, but then you try some place else. But I think that’s the most important thing, finding a community of people to riff and joke with. And then another thing is, I talk to managers and try to get people shows and something I hear a lot, especially amongst comedy managers, is there’s not as much interest in someone who just does one thing or another. Of course, if someone is amazing at it, there’s gonna be interest, but I’ll recommend someone who has an awesome one-person show that they wrote and perform in, and then the person will be like, “I really just wrote it so I can perform it. I don’t really see myself as a writer.” Don’t say that! Tell them you love to write. They want people who can not only go out on auditions but also pitch ideas. Don’t ever limit yourself. When I started I thought I’d be one of the sketch guys and there would be improv guys, and I quickly found out, no, you can do it all.
There’s been much to do over the tent city that’s being built by hoards of Twilight fans near the Nokia Theater in downtown L.A. To prepare for the upcoming Twilight: Eclipse premiere, upwards of 10,000 “people” (girls that range from age fourteen to embarrassingly old and prefer to think of themselves as “not yet turned”) have slept outside the theater since as early as Monday of this week.
I don’t know what it was, but I couldn’t help myself from weighing in on the pop culture phenomenon, so I traveled to downtown L.A. in search of this “tent city”.
It’s not as nice as I anticipated.
I found myself in a much sadder, scarier place—one where the name Edward Cullen is as meaningless as a social security number, or, as one resident put it, “Eckerd-Mullen-was-my-uncle-but-I-kill’t-‘em-‘n-now-he’s-in-space-heaven-with-Michael-Jackson”. Until I arrived, I was unaware that Tent City—the traveling circus of homeless people’s tents that relocate within downtown from year to year—existed long before the arrival of the Twihards. The indigenous population of Tent City is somewhere below the sewer rat on the social ladder, placing them only a rung or two below the throngs of young woman at the Nokia Theater. They are resourceful, resilient, viciously angry, tender, God fearing and loving, fragrant and, above all, homeless as hell.
However, as I learned from the residents of Tent City during the seven minutes I was willing to spend there, they are not happy about the new tent community that’s risen.
“Look, man, I’m just trying to make my millions and these taxmen gotta come in and shut me down?” said one frightening human. “What’s with that? I ain’t no vampire. Shit, I’m a mummy. Yeah, and I’ve got super powers. Good ones. Can I bum a smoke?”
Eventually I was able to talk to the official spokeswoman of Tent City, who would only be referred to as Mama Madonna. She said of the situation:
“Tent City is a peaceful, respectful community that embraces different cultures, socio-economic backgrounds, creeds, and any other surface level difference that might set us apart based on social norms. However, we are greatly troubled by the presence of these Twihards. They’ve taken our land and mocked our culture by sleeping in tents and using screen-printed novelty blankets for warmth. These people have homes they can go back to, and we in Tent City simply can’t understand what force could possibly compel them to act this way. Furthermore, I am a rain goddess and also your sister, Brenda. Remember old Brenda? Maybe you could loan her a couple dollars.”
In the new “Tent City”, it would seem that the tackier your blanket is, the bigger fan you are.
There’s no real telling what will come of the conflict between the residents of Tent City and the newcomers of the Nokia Theater. Perhaps they are at a stalemate, both sides’ strengths cancelling each other out. The residents of Tent City have knowledge of the streets and numerous bags of recyclables, where the Twihards have cell phones and the ability to receive police assistance.
However, though tensions are high, a unique perspective trickles its way through the Nokia Theater camp that suggests the Twihards might feel more interested than threatened.
“I don’t know, there’s something about them,” said one customarily oblivious Twihard. “There so dark and mysterious, always lurking around like they don’t want to be seen. My heart starts racing every time one of them is near and, well, the other day, I’m almost certain I saw one sparkling like diamonds reflecting the sun.”
My name is t.j. and I may or may not be waiting outside the Nokia Theater right now.
This weekend I’m going to a comedy show with some friends. Afterwards, we’re planning to attend a party. All agree it should be a joyous and festive engagement, so it’s only natural that we’d like to extend our enjoyment as much as possible. To that end, my friend Joe asked us to drop by his new apartment (which is not-so-coincidentally Ben “Buzz” Axelrad’s new apartment; which is not-so-coincidentally-not-really Ben’s new nickname) for drinks before the show. He said we could do some “pre-drinking”.
I had never heard the non-word “pre-drinking” before I moved to Los Angeles and, frankly, I don’t like it. The core concept of pre-drinking is that before you start drinking (i.e. the comedy show we’re going to) you should gather somewhere and, well, drink. Logically, that doesn’t make sense to me. There is no difference between drinking and pre-drinking. It’s still beer or cocktails or moonshine or whatever. When I arrive at Joe’s apartment before the show, I don’t anticipate being asked, “Hey, man, you want a pre-drink,” and then being tossed a beer. A beer is a drink, period, and the only thing “pre” about it is my predisposition to consume roughly a dozen of them over the course of the evening.
Furthermore, if pre-drinking is, in fact, something people do together prior to drinking, then I don’t want to be a part of it. Feel free to eat, nap, take a shit, buy the booze, jerk off, or do whatever it is your need to accomplish before drinking without me. Call me when you’re back in the present tense, because that’s where I’ll be. I can’t handle the mental schedule of pre-drinking, drinking, post-drinking, and possibly future-drinking (which I believe is what happens when you get loaded and watch the “Beyond the Infinite” portion of 2001: A Space Odyssey.) I’ll just drink, thank you.
Disagree with me? Well then let’s use some comparative reasoning to boil pre-drinking down to what it really is. I give you. . . drinking versus medicine.
Pre-med is to pre-drinking as an MD is to drinking. In pre-med, you learn about practicing medicine, but you don’t actually do it. No one in pre-med is given a scalpel and told, “Go ahead and make a couple cuts, then we’ll really get started later.” If anything, the pre-med student is given a cadaver to practice on, which is the drinking equivalent of the non-alcoholic beer. So, by this logic, pre-drinking would be the study of drinking, wherein you would learn how to mix cocktails, pour beer, and stomach the shots you’re planning to consume later that evening. Best case scenario, you’d get an O’Doul’s and a panic attack induced by the keg stands (residency) you’re going to face in the years to come.
So that’s that. From now on, if you want to have a drink with me, leave out the hyphenate. And don’t think that’s an excuse to create new non-words like “dwink” (tantamount to “tween”) because it isn’t. Drinking is for the present, people, and when we look to the future, we shouldn’t be able to see very far.
My name is t.j. and there is no such thing as a pre-blog, either.
Behold two men that most likely uttered, "Thank god for plastic codpieces" around 20 times in one day. The current world record.
The internet, relentless in its new role as being the sole entity to remind you of cool shit you missed over the weekend has proven itself infallible by bringing images from the Slave Leia Car Wash that transpired this past Sunday in Los Angeles.
Here’s what’s wrong with this:
As much as G4 or Tech TV or the Video Game Network (or whatever the hell its calling itself these days) wants you to believe that hot chicks have nothing else to do but fulfill your every nerd fantasy, 9 times out of 10 these women are simply trying on this persona much like porn stars fit themselves into nurse costumes and sexy schoolteacher garb.
Though I’m sure they exist because, as we all know, in this modern world, generalizations toward nerd culture cannot be definitive. Their Star Wars fanatic counterparts are often bespectacled diehards whose knowledge of sexual positions is the antithesis to their understanding of Han Solo’s posture while frozen in carbonite.
A trip to San Diego’s Comic Con will illicit salacious portrayals of X-men characters and seas of sexy Star Wars females, though it should be unsurprising that a large chunk of these women are paid for their fake nerd representation.
These females seem to be no more fictional than the characters they’re costumed in; a modern unicorn for the myths of hot geeks. To me, they’re just as make-believe as hot, toned women who speak at lengths about their love of fast food and yet harp about their non-existent exercise routine.
Despite the fact that the ladies comprising the team of Slave Leias may in fact enjoy a good game of Halo in their downtime and have sexual fantasies involving Han Solo, they inexplicably weave the standard that in order to be a nerd nowadays, you gotta have toned abs.
I didn’t feel the ice-cold slap of this concept until last Comic Con when, while walking around the perimeter of the Convention Hall I ran into some harsh reality.
“Yeah, that ass is about a 7.”
That ass was mine. Though the speaker of this douchebag line was not in fact, a brethren of the ‘Con, it still hit me with the glaring tide of change aided fully by geek chic spreads in Playboy and porn parodies of The Big Lebowski.
I used to relish in the fact that my defining qualification for being a “hot nerd” was simply having a vagina and understanding an Admiral Akbar quote from a mile away. Gone are the days of being sexy while feasting on large quantities of food and letting my love-handles show through a DEVO t-shirt.
You can label me jealous and competitive and catty for expressing my disgust with these Playboy centerfolds donning Padma costumes, but hopefully some of you will begin to reconsider the video game-loving G4 stars and the legitimacy of their geekdom.
I can’t help but wonder who will save the sanctity of our nerds?
Who will resist indulging in the fantasies that place the geek bar impossibly high?
Aren’t nerd boners already an epidemic?
This chick was Playmate of the Year. She's not gonna fuck you, bro.
My name is Julia Prescott and my ass is AT LEAST an “8 1/2”.
I’m not sure why I’m attracted to pot-bellied pop culture aficionados, geek chic twenty- and thirty-somethings who wear their not-so-closeted interests on their sleeves or nerdlingers who choose to spend half their lives nocturnally, sandwiched between theatre aisles of their favorite local cinemas – but I am.
Perhaps this is why I have a not-so-secret history of being a geeky chubby chaser, or that a Wednesday night spent stuffing my face and retiring into a pot coma while “Muppets Take Manhattan” blares loudly on the TV screen is not beneath me. But most importantly, I suppose this would explain my attraction to The Big Lebowski as my single-favorite Coens movie (Raising Arizona, O Brother! Where Art Thou? and Fargo come in as close competition), and why a weekend and a half ago I spent my Saturday night clad in nothing but a unitard bedecked with the Dude’s “Business Papers” and becoming impossibly better at bowling as I became tipsier and tipsier.
The ‘fest’ as I’m sure some of you may have easily deciphered, is a celebration in all things Lebowski. Originally created 9 years ago by ‘Founding Dudes’ Scott Shuffitt and Will Russell in Louisville, Kentucky, the fest has visited Los Angeles a total of 5 times, and will hopefully be returning for more.
My enthusiasm for this event easily seeps into every facet of my life in the days leading up to it (and I’d like to take this time to apologize to those I may have annoyed with my talk of it). There is definite ‘street cred’ awarded to the few who construct the most creative costumes, and I was hungry for that recognition like that “Bacon is good for me!” kid consistently desires some deep fried ham and ‘cheeze’ in a can.
There’s something oddly gratifying about suiting up and walking down the aisles and having random nerdlingers want to take your picture. It’s like being Spencer or Heidi without all of the exhausting douchebaggery; or Miley Cyrus with a single shred of dignity.
One of the best accomplishments in costuming occurs in the form of Bro's dressing up as the lead chicks. I give you, "The Maude Squad."
Besides the chance to get crafty, many ask me why I’m so infatuated with the fest and I could easily summarize it in a list:
1. I love big burly guys.
The fest is littered with the kind of dudes who call themselves, “A Bro’s Bro” in the truest sense of the term. Not a high-truck/Sandals-lounging Orange County kind of bro who can recite their Beer Pong victories with triumphant recollection like it was a legitimate sports match, but the kind of bros that would high-five a plate of nachos while lifting toasts of White Russians to anything they deemed victorious. The kind of guys that would play bass with Duff Goldman from the Food Network’s “Ace of Cakes” and find Adam Richman from “Man v. Food” a visionary to their counterculture.
2. I love the movie.
Lebowski is layered with complexities that become increasingly enjoyable with each viewing. The Coens really struck it out of the park this time with not only weaving their literary genius into a plot that’s part Big Sleep crime noir, part stoney dark comedy but creating a world that exists in a vibrant urban fantasy – one that all ‘Achievers’ strive to be a part of in any capacity they find. Hence, the fest.
3. I love bowling.
I’m the kind of person that throws rocks down bowling lanes. I’m horrible. The more drunk I get, the strangely better I get. Though, much like those big burly Bro’seph’s that high-five plates of carb-loaded junk food, I’m the kind of girl to leap in triumph over gutter balls. It’s just my style.
4. I love geek fests.
Comic Con, Aquabats shows, Lebowskifest. Do you sense a pattern? I love arenas where like-minded nerds can participate in their geekdom together. It becomes a sort of religious experience where everyone speaks the same language and regales in the same silly absurdities of their fanaticism. And when there’s costumes involved and line parties that follow – Brother, you’ve already got me.
In the days leading up to the event I encountered many ‘Non-Achievers’ who couldn’t seem to comprehend it all. For these people, I have no words. They obviously have never tried to roll while a guy dressed up like John Goodman’s character threw a dog carrier down the bowling lane as strategic distraction all while another John Goodman-type bellowed, “Over the line!” and yet another cat-called, “Mark it zero!” on the sidelines.
Until they experience that sweet sweet surreal satisfaction, we’ll never understand each other.
Bringing the counterculture with the mainstream full circle: TMZ took a break from stalking Kate Gosselin to catch some Achievers. Observe the tipsy bliss on my face.
My name is Julia Prescott, and I sometimes roll on Shabbos.
True to their history, the team at MT only hire men whose testosterone radiates strong enough to seep through their otherwise bland polyester onesies, producing a glistening effect. Look it up.
For my Mother’s birthday my Aunt had the bright idea of taking a trip to Medieval Times, a decision that I’m sure was motivated out of the want of satisfying her seven year old more than anyone else – but we all played along.
I had the romantic idea that I would be revisiting a part of my childhood I had rightfully left behind, and my sister seconded that with a mighty “Yes!” We imagined an epic strobe-light “Knights” on horses show that would leave our mouths equally agape while we feasted on only the best chicken, ribs and garlic bread.
What people don’t realize about MT, is that it’s more or less a glorified Chuck E. Cheese for grown-ups, not in the obvious way that Dave & Buster’s borrowed the Mouse House’s concept and just added pints of beer and a bar menu on top of it, but within the way that once inside you feel your longing for your past slowly drift and fade much like the murals that coat the insides.
We walked in and were instantly greeted by the Renaissance-costumed employees, who comprise a sea of bored Cal State Fullerton students that missed the boat on Disneyland Open Call auditions. They wear this disdain for the near and imminent future much like their flashy metallic eyeshadow or their messy ponytails (details that encompass a scroll’s length of historical inaccuracies in the Middle-Ages themed kiddie attraction).
Don’t ask them why there’s Pepsi and not forks in the Medieval arena. Don’t test them on their knowledge of the Queen’s English, though these queries will most likely be met with the same enthusiasm and memorized speech that a Fast Food employee has during their Drive-Thru shift.
But rather, the best way to enjoy this dinner theatre is walking in with the notion of faking your way through loving it the entire time. This includes raising your hands in triumph when your Knight makes it into the arena, holding your paper-folded crown in pride any time you see fit and cat-calling the other Knights with the same concentrated intensity as one might have left at the playground all those years ago.
This fake-enthusiasm is the only way to properly enjoy yourself. The moment any reality filters into the Medieval sports-plex it’s easy to see that the Lord Chancellor of the ring has only a robe and a codpiece separating him from being a strip club DJ; Both characters speak in the same heightened suavity that makes the most menial things seemingly epic. Or that the Princess looks a lot like Lauren Conrad’s blander, larger friend that lurked in the background on every episode of “Laguna Beach.” Or that the King has a striking undertone of a Boston accent.
Or that the team at MT know their audience so well that right at the moment of carb-loaded delirium from the “King’s Feast” each patron indulges in, they strategically place a man riding around on a horse to strobe lights for a reason no one (especially not the employees) can justify.
Yes, just like every other relic from our collective childhood the Renaissance romp that is Medieval Times stands to disappoint. Though, at the end of the day fake-enthusiasm’s parameters aren’t a far cry from real-enthusiasm, a sentiment that rings most true in the midst of a, “Red Knight’s Going Down!” passionate battle cry.
Behold: A King that vaguely resembles Patton Oswalt, a Princess that could never be Lauren Conrad's BFF and the most bored looking 11 year old boy in the world.
My name is Julia Prescott, and I once wanted to work at Medieval Times if for the simple sake of being called “Princess” without a sarcastic tone for the first time in my life.
I’m sick, dog, so I’m letting the youngins do most of the heavy lifting ’round these parts this week. But I came out of my Nyquil coma to wish a HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY! to Poop or Chocolate’s own Julia Prescott, who turns 46 today. 46 is the new 22, so celebrate your second youth in epic fashion. Hell, if you wanna tell people you’re 22 I won’t reveal your secret. The secret that you’re actually 46. And lying. About being 22. I’ll never tell. 46.
If you’re in Los Angeles this weekend, Julia is having a birthday bash at the Ramada Inn Basement in Hollywood on Saturday night and all are invited. The Poop or Chocolate fam will be in attendance, so come on out and show a girl some b-day love.
That’s all from Big Bloggy, dog. Time to fetch some shut-eye. Nyyyyyyyquil will help you get some zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.
