Despite a thorny work project being thrown at me today, I was cheerful. Know why?
Fact is, my comedy improv group, The Rodents of Unusual Size kicked major ass last night at our monthly show. Mind you, due to various circumstances, there were only three of us left to play. So Jeff, Christa and I did what any cornered rats would do, we stole a monkey.
Matt Krupa, from that other improv group, Monkey's Uncle, kindly offered his comedic services. Together, we KILLED! Good Lord, my stomach hurt just trying to do scenes.
We play one game called "Back in My Day" which has several of us (we often invite fellow improvers from the audience to join) lined up. The host gathers words from the audience - holidays, nouns, food, whatever - and each one is put to us. When comedy lightening strikes, we hobble forward, playing a grumpy old person, bitching about days gone by with the starter phrase, "Back in my day ... !"
So, the phrase was 'grape juice' and Matt hobbled forward and exclaimed, "Back in my day ... we didn't have grape juice ... our grapes were full of wrath!"
Okay, maybe you had to be there but holy shit, ... laugh? I thought I'd die.
That improv, I'm telling you, it's like a drug. Like flying without a net. Like being on a roller coaster. With a strange wig. And sunglasses. It felt really, really, really fantastic.
Improv and horses: The two main components of my mental health care plan.