Those Italians possess some serious animal hide tanning skills. My leather bag looks as dandy as it ever did. My bag said "I got ya rain swingin, fagheddaboutit, I couldn't give an oogatz about ya friggin rain.".

Was complimented on my bag Saturday night as I pulled out my cd case for intro and audience sitting ambience music. Can't take credit for it, the bag gets the props.

Saturday night commenced the month long stint of sharing our improv spot with Cardboard Follies, an all girl improv team. Double happiness is involved. First happy is that they are all on an established team at the UCB. So connects, connects. Bringin in the faithful crowd. Is good. Second happy is that they are all fucking chicks. A bunch of yummy looking muffins too. My monkey was dancing all in his cage that night.

Annnnnnnd, they think I'm funny and cool and all that shiznit. During the third segment of the show, the improv orgy, I busted out a character that had all the ladies on the back line pissing themselves. I actually had no idea till one of my fellow soldiers pointed it out at Bar 138 on Ludlow, hangin after the show. Which, after he told me, explained why one of the chicks had tears on her face when she hopped into the scene.

Moments man. Those little fucking moments, briefly making you feel like king shit. A few of the girls came up to me while the house was clearing out. "We are going to get some drinks, you're coming right?" Fear not fair maidens, you have my sword. Manhood increases by another notch when a posse of chicks, whom you've never met before, want nothing else but to party with you. Moments dude, moments.