It’s over. Well fuck, Emily. What do I do with my life now? Oh that’s right, there were things before my evenings were consumed by guffaws, titters, snickers and cachinnation. I started developing weird pains. My neck was sore from craning it in the front row of every Kindler show (excepting last night). My jaw ached and my facial muscles were overworked. By the time the last few shows rolled around, I was some kind of comedy zombie. A comebie? Zomedie? Some wretched creature in any case. I still have my write up to work through, but that’s tomorrow’s business. No point cheapening the entire point of my festival access with the sub-par scribblings of an exhausted mind. So, how was yesterday?
Started things up with the Doug Loves Movies podcast. Doug Benson, Kyle Kinane, Aparna Nancherla and Sean Cullen took their spots and played through the assortment of games. Wow, was there ever a blander sentence constructed? This is why I’m waiting for tomorrow. My Air Bud franchise obsessed mind was giddy to hear Cullen regale the crowd with detailed plot analysis of the Santa Paws trilogy his kids are so enamoured with. This Air Bud Pawedcast is still in the works. Watch this space (which is useless for podcasts, which require listening. Unless they’re live like this one was) for eventual details when my pawedcast partner and I actually get off our asses and watch the films. One of the central perks of the live podcast is being able to make a pun filled movie poster with your name inserted. My friend contorted Amélie into a spectacular AméLeon one. Neither her nor I got picked, but one of my friends had constructed some elaborate chicken wire contraption for an Ex Machina tribute. She got picked. As well as a piece of corn. Nobody questioned what the corn was meant to represent. Sean dominated the mic and the games and emerged victorious. Listen out for it when the podcast drops.
My energy was depleted by the time Dr Katz live therapy sessions begun, with a caffeine headache in full wrath. Still, as someone who didn’t grow up with the show, Jonathan Katz’ clever wit and quick quips won me over. Doug Benson, Andy Kindler, Sean Cullen, Chris Gethard Kids in the Hall’s Scott Thompson all took their turns in the hotseat, with some real revelations coming out. Gethard learned he’d been pronouncing “stress” as “shtress” his whole life, while Andy Kindler contemplated whether his lack of commercial success was due to the lack of a good catch phrase. The show was neat, but I just couldn’t concentrate through my pounding headache.
I felt washed up and thrashed after the podcast. Hannibal and Kindler’s shows were looming, but I felt ill and ill equipped to handle either. I resolved to begrudgingly give away my Hannibal ticket and head home to bed. I put up my offer on Facebook, giving 30 minutes for any friends to reach the Sony Centre in order to gift them my ticket. No bites. I tried giving it away to random strangers, but no dice. Everyone already had one or couldn’t find friends who’d want them fast enough. With 5 minutes till the opener, I looked hard at the ticket and thought doubly hard. My brain felt like it was being slowly and methodically crushed in a vice. I was in no condition to watch it. Still, I’d been wanting to see Hannibal for years and I was about to walk away from my chance because of some paltry illness? Not on my watch, buddy. I marched over to a convenience store and bought an overpriced jar of advil extra strength. I hurried to a Subway and bought a 6 inch sub. With a cup of water I scoffed down 4 advil and lined my stomach with food. What’s the worst that could happen?
A fucking outstanding show, apparently. With 2 openers and a set of over 90 minutes, it was one huge laugh after another. A relentlessly clever dude with a ton of sass, Hannibal stacked the show with bizarre observations on the inane, sports reflections and unpacking of prominent rap lyrics. An onstage DJ allowed for a slew of audio gags, including a thorough breakdown of why the beat from Iggy Azalea’s Fancy is the dumbest, most simplistic and catchy beat out there. He threw out a few pairs of fake glasses to the crowd, showing off his newly purchased lasik vision, lamenting how he now resembled “one of those Millhouse looking motherfuckers”. Some of the best handling of a dipshit entitled heckler ensued and the mammoth show closed out with a gibberish rap number, complete with full noise bass, lights and backup dancers. Jumping offstage to high five and handshake with the front row crowd, he took the stage again and walked off victorious.
Of course I went out to celebrate having given the last 10 days of myself to the festival. Comedy Bar was packed and I got a chance to thank a few of the performers for their great bits and solid sets. You know what? After another 5am rest I even got a good 4 hours sleep. Can I sleep forever now? Or at least until Montreal’s Just for Laughs?
I kid. Maybe.
I have my doubts 