The Justin Timberlake Experience

I'm weird. As such, last Friday I conducted an experiment in which I sent text messages to a handful of my friends asking this simple question: "Do you know who Justin Timberlake is? I think he is a singer?"

For the purposes of the experiment I decided to collect and log their responses, but decided to not respond to any questions regarding the experiment, should they arise. Although a few people opted not to participate (read: fully ignored my text and have not tried to contact me since) I was able to gather a significant amount of data. And, out of this experiment, an EXPERIENCE was created for all those involved. Life: 1, Sadness: 0, am I right?

The end result is this:

The Justin Timberlake Experience
(aka JT Friday, The JT Massacre, JTrochima, The Bombing of JT Harbor, Storming the Beach at JT, 9/JT, and so on and so fourth.)

Text Question: Do you know who Justin Timberlake Is? I think he is a singer.

Brian Finkelstein: ?
Brian called me about an hour later and said, “I was talking about Justin Timberlake when you sent that. How did you know?”
Bryan Safi: The name rings a bell.
Cassie Pappas: Do you have a suitcase for the show tonight?
Doug Moe: Is that the “I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt” guy?
Drew Droege: What the fuck are you talking about?
Eric Pliner: Yes.
Eric Pliner (one hour later): Why are you being a weirdo?
Eric Pliner (one hour later): Is he coming to your show tonight?
Eric Pliner (one hour later): I hate you.
I finally spoke to Eric, who forced me to explain what was going on, and he said this, “You need to get a job.”
Glennis McMurray: THE BEST SINGER EVER.
Jackie Clarke: No. He is a 3rd wave feminist.
Jay Willoughby: Is this a for real question.
Jeff Hiller: Yes. He is Drew Barrymore’s ex-boyfriend.
An hour later I received this voice mail from Jeff, “Why are you so weird?”
Jen Kirkman: Is this a joke?
John Flynn: No, silly. Those are a type of shoes.
Julie Brister called me almost immediately and asked if I was all set for subbing her improv class the next day. I said I was. There was a pause and then she said, “I got your text. (Pause.) Okay, well, I have to go.”
Julie Klausner: Yes. He is, like, really famous.
Justin Purnell: ??? Do you mean what does he sing?
Liz Black: Why do you want to know? Are you dating him???
Paul Scheer: Haha.
Robert Lambert: Yes. He does beats for Missy Elliot.
Sam Riegel: Whaaa?
Susan Hale did not respond but later told me she forwarded it to a friend.
Taran Killam: Only from The Mickey Mouse Club. Is he still around?
Terry Jinn: You are ridiculous.
Will McLaughlin: He is also a dancer and a dream maker, Amy. Ahnodoy!

Up next: I ask the same question of my family. And they respond.

Teach Your Children Well

When I am teaching improv I like to tell my students that, whenever possible, they should end a scene by "editing on a good rape joke." I often feel that my advice falls upon deaf ears. But today I got this email from one of my students:

***
To: Amy Rhodes
Subject: rape

I made up a missed class last night and, boy,
did I show off what I've learned in your class! Always go for the
rape joke! Especially if it takes place at
Disneyland! That's right, Mama Hen, beam with pride.
From,
Larisa, gold star recipient.
***

I really, really loved getting that email. Honestly before I opened it I got a little nervous seeing the subject line as "rape" and knowing it was from a student. I actually thought it was just going to say, "I will not be in class next weekend because I got raped." So this was a nice surprise. Because I hate it when my students miss class.

Uh... I bet not.

Just keep livin', man.

The Coming writes up Three Companeros again!

So does LA City Beat!

Go ahead and make reservations. It's fun and easy.

Bitch, please.

Thanks to Pete & Lauren for this gem.

Lunch

I overheard this conversation while eating lunch at a place called Salad 2000 yesterday. It feels worth noting that one of the secretaries was wearing a flowery silk scarf slung over one shoulder and held in place with a pin of some sort.

Secretary #1: What did you do last night?
Secretary #2: Gary rented “The Departed” so I watched that with him.
Secretary #1: Which show is that one again?
Secretary #2: The one with Jack Nicholson.
Secretary #1: I love him.
Secretary #2: And Leonardo DiCaprio.
Secretary #1: Leo. He is very good.
Secretary #2: Yes. And Matt Damon.
Secretary #1: Whom I love. That’s the one about drugs, right?
Secretary #2: Well, yes. And cops. And the mafia. The mob. It’s complicated.
Secretary #1: Sounds it. How was it?
Secretary #2: Very violent.
Secretary #1: I can only imagine.
Secretary #2: VERY violent.
Secretary #1: Hmmmm… You know I loved Leo DiCaprio in “Titanic.”
Secretary #2: Who didn’t?

I assume these two ladies spent their afternoon IM'ing about how good the Ali girl was on the season premiere of "Dancing With The Stars," online shopping for sensible pumps at Zappos.com and thinking about the quickest, most painless way to commit suicide. But I'm just guessing here.

This is basically why I love comedy.

Last night my friend Drew and I hosted a show at UCB. We were supposed to plan a bit to intro the show but we’re both kind of above planning ahead. So, when five minutes before the show, we couldn’t decide what to do I started running around backstage screaming, “I am scared. There are people out there!” while Drew chased me, telling me I was going to be okay. When we stopped I said I thought that might be a good way to open the show. And Drew goes, “You know what would make it funnier? If when you were running around you just had blood coming out of your asshole.”

So we went into the UCB office and asked Seth (the Artistic Director) if he had any fake blood. Seth spent a good five minutes looking through his desk and his backpack before saying, “You know what? I do have some but it’s at home. Sorry.”

I am actually shocked that Seth did not have any fake blood on his person. I once ran into Seth on the street and he was carrying a small suitcase. When I asked him what was inside the suitcase he goes, “My mustaches.” He has, like, hundreds of them.

Guess Who's Back...

Back again.

She's a lady.

Last night I was putting Keely to bed and she let one fly. It could not be overlooked.

Me: Jesus.
Keely: I know, Amy. I know.
Me: That stinks.
Keely: I know. I'm sorry.
Me: Just don't do it again.
Keely: Listen, Aim.
Me: Aim?
Keely: Yes. Can I call you Aim?
Me: Sure.
Keely: Okay, Aim, listen. I can't help that stuff. It's just what I do.
Me: Fair enough.
Keely: But I am sorry.

I'm tornalicious.

Love the music.
Hate the packaging.