Low Key – March 21, 2010
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How to Choose Vegetables
Another in the "How Do...?" instructional video series. In this installment, we discus tips on how to choose the freshest, healthiest vegetables.
Belly of the Beast
You know how in cartoons, they show the belly of a whale as empty and cavernous? It’s not like that at all. It’s actually very cramped. And wet. There’s a musky dampness to it, even with a dehumidifier running full blast. I’ve heard that the economy makes now a good time to move. All my friends are switching places, but I guess I’m torn.
Because, after a while, you get used to living in a tight space. Proud even. There’s comfort in all the little systems and workarounds. For instance, if I need the blender, I simply slide the desk chair over to the counter and pull a bin down from above the cabinets. Or, I move the hamper out of the way to get to the folding chairs in the back of the closet. And, I know my umbrella is always tucked into the baleen next to the trashcan.
Sure, I could break my lease and probably find more room for less rent, but would moving so soon be worth all the work I put into this whale? Laying furniture out was a huge process. I was literally on my hands and knees measuring the tongue to make everything fit. Forget feng shui; just getting it all in was a hassle. I had to take the legs off the bed to fit it through the mouth. The kitchen table is this ugly IKEA thing, but it folds down into a compact sideboard. Ultimately, I had to sell my tall bookcase, because it kept tipping over whenever we dived.
All that’s not to say I don’t like my place. Everybody who comes over finds it really charming, especially my college friends who commute in from McMansions. There’s a romanticism to it--the pink, fleshy walls, the thick shag taste buds, the constant undulation. I’ll tell you this, a whale is not a bad place to bring back a date. It’s right on the water, and the songs at night are so soothing compared to my last apartment above a fire station. I do wish it got a little more natural light, since the blowhole only opens for a few seconds every ten minutes or so. The trick was to angle mirrors on the mantle to bounce light up towards the large, dangling uvula.
I don’t know, maybe I should just bite the bullet and look for a new place. Every summer, the whale migrates north to gorge on krill, and thousands of the little things flood through the living room. I don’t mind the stains on the curtains, since they’re secondhand, but I have to keep my magazines in Ziplock bags. And, forget about suede shoes. Plus, it’s cold. If you see wall-to-wall blubber in a listing, take that with a grain of salt, because Arctic sea water is freezing. I would rather have a hissing radiator than blubber. Honestly.
So, I guess I’ve made my decision. I’m calling my landlord. Maybe. I’m eighty percent sure. The belly of the whale was my first place without a roommate, so maybe that’s what I’m in love with. I guess I could try for a studio in Morningside Heights. Sigh. I’ll probably just end up staying through the mating season.
How Cities Work
It’s amazing how cities work, don’t you think? Millions of people come together to create communities that support and provide for each other.
Nurses and doctors care for the sick. Teachers watch over our children. Construction workers inform our women if their skirts are too short or if their breasts are the correct size.
Firefighters protect our homes from tragedy. Postal workers bring us our Entertainment Weekly magazines. Mole people eat our subway intruders.
Cities are like giant, intricate clocks, and citizens are the gears. Everyone has their function, and only together do we create a livable society.
Policemen patrol the streets. Hot dog vendors fill us with pig anuses and bits of raccoon. Chiropractors pretend they have meaningful credentials. Our mayors put their names on signs.
Sanitation workers clear away our waste. Freelancers keep our coffee shop tables occupied. Street performers get the Titanic theme stuck in our heads. Dentists put us under anesthesia and then make sure our penises are clean.
It makes you think, where do I fit in? What do I contribute? Whose penis do I keep clean? I mean, besides my own. How did we get started talking about penises? I thought we were talking about cities.
St. Patrick’s Day Limericks
In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I decided to write a few limericks for yourselves. This was probably the most fun I've had in a long while, so expect more down the line.
Along the Saint Paddy’s parade
A few drunken friendships were made;
We’d let out a cheer,
Spilling pints of green beer
And then vomit the color of jade.
When a newlywed couple got bored
They attempted at something untoward;
They began on the stairs
But were caught unawares
By the pressure on her spinal cord.
There was a young man, last name Riddle
With a pain deep inside of his middle;
It was from a disease,
And whenever he’d sneeze,
He’d shit in his pants just a little.
There was a shy freshman named Lee,
Whose crush threw a dorm room orgy;
When he wasn’t invited,
Lee stayed up all night ‘nd
Thought of her while he played with his Wii.
Tess McNeil was a bit of a runt;
Her stature had always been stunt;
What she lacked in her height
She made up for at night,
For she had her the world’s largest bed.
My Passwords
They say you should change your passwords randomly to guard against identity theft. That’s why I change all of my passwords every day.
Like yesterday, my password for Amazon.com was honkytonk33, but today I changed it to luche_l!bre. Tomorrow, I’m going with boyz2men. Then, next week, I’ll change it to each one of the Brady Bunch kids, except with the number 7 in place of any vowels.
Sure, it takes a ton of time and energy to change every one of my passwords every day. Especially because I have so many different sites that I go to. Like, Facebook (password: gr!ff!n_f*ck3r) or flickr (password: 0ingoB0ingo) or twitter (password: purp1ebanana_fart) only to have to change each of those tomorrow. But, when it comes to your identity, you can never be too careful.
It’s a pretty secure strategy. Although who can be sure? I always think my passwords are safe, but as soon as I post my passwords online, somehow somebody steals my identity. I mean, it’s crazy. Can’t a guy be proud of his online banking password – bank_of_4mer1ca_custom3r – without some jerk breaking into his account? What has the world come to?
And, don’t forget all the pin numbers. That adds a whole ‘nother layer of security. For those, I just use my birthday.
Elevator Pitches
If I ever get a chance to pitch movie ideas to the head of a studio, these are at the top of my list:
- The story of an adorable ragamuffin who loves pudding so much it comes to life.
- Thanksgiving on a runaway blimp.
- A darkly comic film about a man whose bathroom sink is too small to wash his bloody hands. (12 min runtime. In Czech with subtitles.)
- Behind-the-scenes at an independent book bindery where everyone gets along except on the finer points of Foucault.
- A parrot that plays billiards somehow. Nothing in the rulebook says that a parrot can’t play billiards.
- A biopic about a financially over-privileged Olympic fencer who goes on to win gold despite no obstacles.
- A British movie about a mining town ravaged by Thatcherism, only to find redemption through their plucky band of something somethings.
- A cop who is secretly a spy who is secretly a superhero.
Low Key – March 14, 2010
You can now see Low Key two days early each week. It will be featured every Friday afternoon on The Apiary, a terrific blog covering comedy in New York and Chicago. But, I'll still be putting it up here every Sunday.
And, for anyone clicking through from The Apiary, please check out the rest of this blog by clicking "Home" above. There is a new piece of comedy every day, not just Low Keys. Hope you like it.
Bow Tying
How to tie a bow tie, from the instructional video series "How Do...? With Andy Ross."
Boggle Tournament
I’m sorry, but I can’t make it to your baby shower at the end of the month. I’ll be in Las Vegas for the National Boggle Tournament. I know, you’re thinking, “I didn’t know Andy was a champion-level Boggle player.” Well, I’m not. I’m actually more of what you might call a Boggle groupie.
“Groupie.” That’s such a weighted term. I guess I’m more of a Boggle supporter. I go and cheer on all of the players, not just some but all. Because, I’ve seen the hard work and discipline needed to reach that level of Boggle success. And, it is so sexy.
Woman or man, I don’t care. You reach that echelon of National Boggle Tournament, and I just get wet. I can’t tell you how many convention hall janitor’s closets I’ve crammed into with two, three, five Boggle champions at once. Just sucking and fucking until it all becomes a blur, and we can’t even spell two-letter words, let alone three- or five-letter ones.
Technically, I get back the night before your baby shower. But, believe me, I will be in no shape to attend. I’m usually walking sideways for a week after the NBT in Vegas. Last year, I went straight back to work and had to explain all the dice-shaped bruises on my neck.
So, again, congratulations on the upcoming baby! Let’s have coffee sometime, so I can see pictures. I’ll bring ones of my trip. Wink wink.