Things I found in my storage unit today PART II

• A green glass head
• A green headless dressmaking doll
• An apparent history of questionable taste

I just had a really good checkup with my psychiatrist

She thinks I'm stable enough that she's not going to adjust my meds. And she gave me more free samples of the new med that's been working so well for me. When she said the samples don't expire until 2020, I said that's awfully optimistic for a drug that prevents suicide ideation. 

She didn't laugh.

This, people—THIS!—is why you’re coming to see our last weekend of Fuddy Meers:

It's not because of our endlessly inventive fold-and-change set (though it IS pretty awesome). It's because of our almost-too-referential-to-be-in-good-taste house music (please register all complaints with someone else). It's not because of my Grammy-nominated, Canadian-trade-war-breaking, delicately nuanced portrayal of an honorable-but-faintly-flawed, unfairly stunning man who’s cruelly afflicted with alarmingly spiky hair and perhaps a mildly unsightly blemish or two (though thousands of ancestors of fallen Korean War soldiers are begging me from their graves to bring their children home based on the singularly stirring power of my comforting skin and my collective acting choices).

NO! None of that meaningless garbage is why you’re coming to see the last weekend of our show! Because THIS is why:

See these stairs? They go DOWN. To the BASEMENT. Of the THEATER. Where it’s NICE AND COOL. And these are just the actors’ stairs; yours have CARPET. And HAPPINESS. And OTHER CAPITALIZED THINGS.

And THEY’RE why you’re coming to see our show this unbearably hot Iowa weekend.

So get your hot, sweaty selves to our nice cool show NOW. You have only three more chances to see us before my Grammy nomination and my mildly unsightly blemishes are gone for good.