So tonight was the Heeb gig at Joe's Pub and it kicked ass -- everyone was awesome, we all had a hoot and a holler, and MAN, I learned that it's possible to cram 15 minutes of text into a 7 minute slot, but it's a little tough. I met a guy after the show who said I was endearingly neurotic and he felt like he'd known me my whole life. I told a long and rambling tale about ruining Christmas for my nursery school by telling them that Santa doesn't exist, combined with my inherent confusion about the immaculate conception (due, perhaps, to firm grasp of the implications of "Where Do I Come From" at a young age and a severe inability to comprehend how, if Jesus's mother is Mary and his father is God, then how could Jesus have gotten all borneded -- because wouldn't God and Mary have to get so close that they couldn't get any closer and then God puts his penis in Mary's vagina and it feels like a sneeze, like a really good sneeze that lasted a long time, wouldn't that have to happen to make Baby Jesus?), and about epiphany and respect and other, funnier things. Mayhaps, mayhaps, I will at some point transcribe the most interesting bits.
But not right now, because I have an insanely bad headache and a fuckload of scripts to write.
In other, non-Heeb news, I saw the Roundabout's new production of 12 Angry Men on Tuesday night and it is just super-dee-duper. Stellar acting without any postmodern multimedia to distract you. I highly recommend it. I like timeless period pieces, if you catch my drift.
And then we went to Joe Allen, where I think I actually may have dined a long, long time ago. I seem to remember being 8 and going to see a Saturday matinee of Cats (now 'n' 4evuh) and my brother got really carsick on the way into the city and then he booted on Ed Asner in the restaurant. And my mom said, "Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Grant."
Anyhoodles -- no booting on anyone this time around. Oddly enough, it turned out that I know the maitre d' (He's a friend-of-a-friend -- a FOFA!) and he very nicely got us a table right quick and then we ('we' meaning my friend and i, not the maitre d' and I, niceguy though he is) talked all night about stuff like the curse-of-the-clever and petted each other's hands. Nothin' better, yo.