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I've authored (gay!) a new piece at The Morning News today. It's called "How to Hang a Cabinet" and it's about how to hang a cabinet. I wouldn't want to mislead you.

In addition, you can see me perform comedy the entertainment industry's most respected and coveted medium: the cell phone. Comedy Central is responsible for it and, though I have no idea how it all works, you might. Here are the instructions, as given to me by someone smart at Comedy Central:

For Verizon Vcast subscribers, go into Vcast, then into Entertainment, then into Comedy Central, and The Clip Joint will be a channel.

For Sprint subscribers, you need a Power Vision plan, then you must subscribe to the Comedy Central video channel, and again, The Clip Joint will be a channel.

Additionally, The Clip Joint, and my performance on it, will soon be available online, at Comedy Central's Motherload. I'm not sure what I'll be doing in the video, as I recorded two distinct "bits" for the live show. But I can assure you I will be doing it bearded. Heavily so.

[If you're interested in more video stuff, you can visit I'm less shy about posting that kind of thing there.]


I also appeared at the Wolf Parade show at Webster Hall last night, as an audience member. I think it might have been "free camera" night at Webster Hall because nearly every person in attendance was armed with some kind of digital looky-loo device. During the show, a woman standing in front of me was "schooling" her friends about all the great new music they should love. Despite her obvious enthusiasm, it all was very boring and non-specific. The monologue sounded like this: "BAND NAME and also BAND NAME and have you heard BAND NAME because BAND NAME is so good. Just really, really GOOD. They sound sorta kinda like BAND NAME mixed with SECOND BAND NAME. Hi! BAND NAME!!" I wonder of that's how music PR people talk all the time.

The BAND NAME woman was wearing those very dangerously pointy shoes that creep me out for some reason. I don't know what they're called but they're pretty popular and they look like one sharp, narrow hoof sticking out from beneath a slightly flared blue jeans hem. They make a lady foot seem as though it's three full sizes longer than it really is. Why would anyone do that on purpose?

She was also incredibly territorial. She had a spot right against the center balcony ledge (where old people stand during shows), just to the right of the sound booth. When we approached from behind, to afford ourselves a better view of the show, I saw her fur momentarily stand on end. Then she began "stretching" out her left leg, effectively creating a little psychological gate between her body and the wall of the sound booth. She was blocking the space to the right of her with not-so-much subtlety, in case we had the idea that we might want to squeeze in beside her.

I quickly assessed the situation, and figured she was holding that spot for a boyfriend or girlfriend on bathroom break, and the whole thing became really fascinating to me. She obviously knew that general admission concert etiquette does not permit you to tell a perfect stranger, "I'm sorry. You can't stand next to me, because my friend was standing next to me and he just stepped away for a second." You just can't do it. She knew this, so she tried to extend her physicality in the absolute most awkward way, with her leg jacked all the way out to the left. She looked like a still frame of the money shot in Basic Instinct (and, I imagine, Basic Instinct 2.) When her leg grew tired, she would casually stretch out her left arm and grip the sound booth with her hand. I was enjoying it very, very much.

I hated her instincts, because it's just incredibly self-important and childish to think "maybe if I just stick my leg up against this wall, no one will try to pass." But to sustain that position for as long as she did—about 7-8 minutes in all (p.s. that means your boyfriend was probably taking a tremendous shit. just fyi.)—must have been so stressful and weird for her. It took a tremendous amount of self-control to resist my immediate (then nagging) urge to point out the awkwardness of the situation in the plainest of terms. I wanted to say, "Excuse me, but I'd like to stand here. Or are you stretching your leg out in this very weird way because you're actually trying to hold a spot for someone else?" Or "You know, I teach yoga, and that's a really bad stretch for opening up your pelvic bowl. You should really work with a stronger base. You are performing a yoga stretch, right? And not actually hiking your leg up there to block other people from standing near you, the way a small child might extend his arms as far apart as possible and declare, 'this is all my private property.' Please tell me you're not doing that because that would be CRAZY."

Instead of doing any of those things, I wrote this. Curse you, Internet!

[P.S. I can always tell when Heather has linked to me. My site traffic jumps like crazy, plus many of dooce's regular readers will write me saying, CONGRATULATIONS. YOU HAVE BEEN DOOCE'D. THANK DOOCE FOR ALL YOUR VISITORS. So I'm saying thanks, dooce.]

WE FIRST MET ON 04.11.2006

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