the ocean

Just in time for Christmas, I've published a new book! This one is a collection of two decades worth of sketch comedy (and two songs!) that run the gamut from material developd through improvisation during that magical period in the early '00s when it briefly seemed Mischa Barton was going to make the transition to legitimate actress to pieces I wrote at a bed desk during the height of COVID. It also includes some very fine full-color public domain images and illustrations, since copyright theft is very wrong. You can purchase it for yourself or your loved ones (why not both?) on Amazon at the following link: Sketchy AF.

Of course, my prior work, some short personal essays about my clearly fascinating life is still available as well, if you are a real sadist: Pandemic Vanity Project. And just like that, all of your holiday shopping is done.

I'll donate any proceeds to charity, of course. I don't want to cheapen my incredible art by getting it tied up in commerce.

I am not one of those people who considers every minorly unpleasant public encounter to be a sign of the fall of civilization. As a general matter, I understand that we as a society have some serious problems we have not historically addressed in a super productive way, and they tend to be more visible in places where there are more people, such as the city I live in. So, for example, when my mother emails me links to breathless online articles about crime in Chicago, I like to point out that the small town I grew up in has had two high profile murders that became Dateline episodes within the past decade. We can extrapolate that per capita if we must. 

That all being said, I did have a particularly colorful CTA trip Thursday afternoon on my way back from work that further underlined the work we as a society have left to do. When I got on the train, there was a gentleman listening to music loudly, occasionally rapping along, and violently rocking back and forth in his seat. Since I am uninterested in transit theater, I took a seat elsewhere in the car. Then at the next stop, a man got on the car actively smoking a cigarette. He did not put it out, but instead positioned himself in the handicapped seating and began puffing aggressively. Although I think smokers are jokers, I vigorously continued on my course of not getting involved. At this point, a man entered our car from the one behind it and started accosting the passengers one by one to ask them for money. I turned up the volume on my earbuds and became intensely interested in the contents of my phone.

Then it was my stop. I got off the train and reminded myself that I'm a very fortunate person to have had the background and opportunities to live and work the way that I do. So I'll be sure to include some charitable contributions in my celebration of America's traditional year-end spending extravaganza. But I will also allow myself my desire to be left the fuck alone on public transit.

This time into the heart of my colon! 

I had my first ever colonoscopy this week, and I don't want to brag, but I had no polyps and don't have to do another one for ten years. Also I received the top score on the Boston Bowel Preparation Scale. Is it weird to put that on my resume? I'm intensely proud of my clean colon.

It was definitely a process, and by that I mean awful. A full day of a clear liquid diet, which meant the most substantive food I got was 90 calories worth of chicken broth. And then I had to drink all the prep liquid, which resulted in me calling my mother in a panic to ask if she thought I really had to finish it. She did, and I did, with the help of Ginger Ale, which I actually don't even really like. But boy did it help with the nausea. My love and admiration to Ginger Ale forever for that.

And yes, I spent a lot of time on the toilet during the prep. I have never been so current on Instagram. It seems like the cast of One Tree Hill had a lot of fun at their get together.

The procedure itself was surreal. I had no sense that I was "going under," and yet my memory jumps straight from them prepping the IV to them telling me it was almost over and I was doing great. (Obviously.) And then the recovery room, where I napped for half an hour and then they gave me apple juice and pretzels. Again, not even a huge pretzel fan (though I do love huge pretzels) but I will remember and love those pretzels for the rest of my days.

Anyway, I've got an amazing colon and you should all be jealous. Take that, America.

I think back to regular programing after this. Assuming I can think of anything else to write about. I'll work on having an interesting life.

We climbed up the clock tour (which was authorized) and got a great view of the square and Tyn Church. I heard another tourist complaining about how there are other buildings in front of the facade of the church. Seriously, what were they thinking like 700 years ago?

These little guys live inside the clock and circle around when it chimes on the hour. But they won't let me live in there with them, I asked.

This was part of the National Museum and super amazing. So much great modern and contemporary art. Like, six floors of it.

See, lots of art. And not completely mobbed with people unlike, say, the Vatican Museum. People ruin everything, as you know.

I had a poster of this Klimt painting on my wall in college. Yeah, I was weird as a college student, too.

This is church at Vsyehrad, a hilltop fort that dates back to like the 10th century. To put it in perspective, that's older than Cher.

It's pretty! Though I think they could stand to install an infinity pool or a hot tub or something.