Break a Leg

Wooo!  Wooo!  Oh man!  What a week!

And yes: I understand that going "woo woo" is generally not a grammatically correct way to start a blog, but it was the only way I could begin to help you understand about WAR.  I am physically and mentally exhausted and I loved every single minute of abuse...well, maybe not the packing up and leaving part, but the rest of it was...I..I need more words here...

All of this actually started last Sunday for me.  That was Packing Day.  Now, the thing about packing for a trip is that you get so excited about the trip that you think you might forget something and then you work yourself up into such a tizzy that OF COURSE you're going to forget something.  Even though your focus is nigh microscopic in areas, you still miss something.  So, going around with the feeling that I was forgetting something, I got my car packed for the trip.  Now, this was my first time actually driving to one of these events, so I was a bit worried about fitting everything I needed to fit, and then fitting everything everybody else needed me to fit.  Plus, I was worried whether my car would even make the trip or if I would die in some horribly stupid and totally avoidable accident and end up burning in a ditch having taken all the home-made camp tables with us.  However, since I am writing this blog, you may assume that didn't happen.  Thankfully, the car got packed, everything fit, that part was good to go.  I had to work the Monday before we were leaving, which is the reason I packed on Sunday. 

I also packed on Sunday because I was planning to stay at my captain's house Monday night so that we could leave at 4:30 in the morning on Tuesday, which meant we would want to get a fairly decent amount of sleep.  I always like to reduce the actual amount of time I have to take before I am where I need to be.  For instance: I have to be to work by 9:00am.  So I set the alarm for 8; when 8 rolls around I hit that snooze button once (twice I'm feeling especially lazy); shower, brush, and (occasionally) shave, and then I'm off to work by 8:40.  If I found I woke up early enough and was moving fast enough I might squeeze in a coffee and a bagel.  Maybe toast.  Who knows?  My point is expediency: make the best use of your time that you can.  Since I consider sleeping to be one of the greatest uses of my time, I generally try to plan ahead to fit more of it in. 

So: captain's house...hmmm, I don't think I fell asleep until about 11pm...which sucks because I didn't get enough sleep as I would have liked.  It's very hard for me to shut my system down like that.  If I'm used to going to bed around 11, then I can't fall asleep before then.  If I don't adhere to a pretty strict sleep schedule it takes me days to catch it up, and then I just keep falling father and farther behind...and now I'm just permanently exhausted.  And you might think: Exhausted?  Didn't you just take a week vacation?  Jerk?  And the answer is: Yes, but this is not your typical vacation.  There's a lot of work involved for us to relax this hard.

So, by 5am Tuesday morning we are on our way.  Energy drink in hand, early boarding party caravan in tow, off we sail to adventure.  Including breakfast at Denny's and temporarilly loosing one of the cars in our caravan, we made it to our destination in about five hours, which was pretty good time.  The problem way that it wasn't very good timing.  We got there two hours before the gate opened.  So, there we sat, in the middle of the desert, slightly before the middle of the day.  Fortunately we were in line right behind one of our friends from So Cal: Nick, which gave us a chance to catch up and the time went rather quickly.  I should mention now that Nick works in L.A. making all kinds of cool stuff for various production companies and a lot of cool things for himself to sell, which will be mentioned later.

Now, to get in on Tuesday like we were obviously planning to do, you had to have pre-registered either on line or through the mail.  We had 3 people in our advanced crew who had done neither.  For two of them it was excusable because it was there first time going.  So we had to kinda sneak them into camp...which was depressingly easy to do: they just drove in.  Now when you officially enter the campground, i.e., going to the registration tent and signing stuff and verifying you're supposed to be there, they give you a sight token that comes in necklace form.  Sometimes these are elaborate: like last year they were wrought pewter, and sometimes it's just a colored chit of wood on a string which is what we got this year.

Now, another important thing for all the people coming to the event to do was to land allocate, which means they go online, look at the sight map, say who they're camping with, and where they want to camp.  We had about 46 people do this for our group, which is a prety big group, though I think we only had about 30 people actually show up.  We were having everybody allocate for this specific site which was right on a corner of the lake and had a lot of shady trees and was really nice, and occupied by some viking last year.  But when we showed up, the autocrat in charge of the land allocation had put us on the complete opposite side from where we wanted to be.  The captain and Nick went to try and argue for the spot we wanted while I escorted the people who were not supposed to be there into the campground.  Eventually the captain and Nick came back in a small golf cart driven by who turned out to be the autocrat in question.  And it turned out that the camp she had allocated to be in the spot we wanted was being claimed by a lady that the autocrat didn't like, so she just switched our numbers on the map.  We offered her much booze for this and plied her with hugs.

Then to set up: as I mentioned before we had been sitting out in the sun for about two hours before we came in.  It was about another half hour by the time we got to our site.  Setting up a campsite as elaborate as ours is not easy.  So it was that I quickly became sick to my stomach and was in danger of getting heat exhaustion.  After about a gallon of water and quick sit-down I was back up helping everything get set up.  Once that was done, it was off to Taft for provisions.

I have mentioned that this is the middle of the desert.  I mean what could be out there of such great interest that people would actually consider building a town out there and living in it?  Well, that would be the oil fields.  You can see the oil pumps slowly bobbing their massive iron heads like those like devices that look like birds and "drink" water out of a cup.  They haven't seemed to have caught on to the notion of sidewalks in Taft and dirt predominates most of the yards.  Anytime you see a lawn it seems blaringly incongruinous.  It is something of a hick town, if you'll pardon the phrase.  So, when a group of pirates come walking into the local Albertson's and start piling the contents of the Wine & Spirit section into handcarts, it causes a bit of a spectacle.  Of course, being a spectacle is what I do, so I payed the curious stairs little interest...unless she was cute... Now, with a camp the size that we had there was no way that we would be able to stock up for the entire week, so this would be one of many provision runs.  Loaded down with our goods, it was back to our temporary home.

The rest of this account won't be as detailed or specific in it's scope as it happened over a week's worth of time that was spend almost entirely under the influence of alcohol.

The next day we swam out to one of the islands that we had so piratically claimed last year by erecting a make-shift flag pole out of a stick and then attaching somebody's underwear to.  When we got there the stick was nowhere to be seen, but my underwear was still there caught up in some brambles, which we all thought was pretty neat.  We got a new stick and re-staked our claim of the island.  Nick sliced his thumb open trying to open a beer bottle with a glass jar we found on the ground.  Silly bastard.  I also managed to gouge my shin on some rocks when we were coming ashore, so i guess we were even. 

Later we discovered that another pirate camp had swam out and stolen the by this time quite crusty pair of boxers.  And you know what they did with them?  They added them to their collection.  Tradition is one thing, but toting a pile of used underwhere year after year from event to event speaks little for a camp's sense of style and/or good taste.  The part that really got my britches up was that they didn't even stake the island for themselves.  Now that is just inconsiderate, in my opinion.  But it's ok because we don't like that crew very much anyway.

People trickled into camp over the next few days and much time was spent catching up, singing songs playing games, and, of course, drinking.  At one point Nick broke out some boffer weapons that he had made and we decided that swinging them at each other would be really, really fun.  There was this big foam mallet, a big foam wrench, and a couple of plastic swords that had triggers in the hilts so you could squeeze water out of the ends.  Excitement ensued.  At one point I tried to trip a girl, but she knew enough self defense to throw me over backwards as we went down.  At this point I did one of my patented combat rolls and ended up on my feet, and now with one of the swords in either hand.  Shortly afterwards, the self-same girl hit me in the eye with the mallet, bruising my eyelid and effectually bringing an end to our rough-housing.

Another really neat thing that happened was this: Nick has these friends Joel and Casey whom we met last year and been fast friends with ever since.  Joel is known as a master brewer: he makes all these cordials and meads and things which are just absolutely delicious.  The currect queen of The West (the SCA is broken up into all these little kingdoms) loves this drink Joel makes called Apple Piety.  It's mostly vodka, but it tastes just like apple pie.  It's amazing.  Because of the queen's fondness for this drink, Joel got her to get the king of The West to give us, The Crew of the Dreadship Black Rose, a Letter of Mark, which officially give us the right to annoy the enemies of The West.  Now, the funny thing here is that where we were camping is in the kingdom of Caid (kai-EED).  So the king gave us permission to annoy his enemies right in front of their faces.  See, there was one night where we all got decked out in our finest clothing...or at least most of us: this is the point where I realised I forgot my boots and my good pants, and we went to Court where all the official awards and commendations and things were being given out for things like good service and stuff like that.  Both the kings and queens of the West and Caid where there holding court.  We got called up and payed homage to the king, and I gave him some rum, and he read off this speech (during which he quite clearly said "annoy" several times) and gave us this piece of paper.  After all was said and done and we were standing to leave, as we turned around and because I couldn't help myself, I called out, in front of the Court, mind you, "Unlike some other pirates, we still know where our rum is!"

The rest of War was largely the same: there was drinking and bacon singing and drumming and wenching and gaming more drinking and more bacon, there was the grilled cheese sandwhich competition,  there was getting conscripted to help move hay bales, there was finding the girl I met last year and being called "suprisingly gentlemanly", there was waking and breaking down camp, there were goodbyes, and there was, sadly, going home.  At this point I was so exhausted, but the time I got home I had nearly reached the outer limits of my endurance and was closer to literal physical exhaustion than I have been since basic training.

And I'd do it all again in a heart beat.

Of course, after I sit down for a minute...

And if anybody ever wants to come with us, just let me know and we'll see what we can work out.

Happy Jenday

Posted late due to Vlad's birthday blog to me, which, due to it being nice AND about me, I had to keep up a bit longer.

Now back to your regularly scheduled Jenday....

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I'm sorry to the three people that read my blog that I didn't get one up last week.  I have many fantastic excuses and even more really poor ones.  I'll address some of them now.

1.) The Thank You  Video: I got an email from Justin last Jenday while I was at work asking if we could shoot some stuff for the video that night, so I was preoccupied with that, as well as being busy at work.  And now you may ask yourself: "But Jennifer, shouldn't you write your blog the night before like Jimmy does so that it will be ready to go when I log on first thing in the morning to see new content?"  To which I answer: SOME people like to be prepared and plan ahead.  Personally, I prefer the organic experience of writing the Jenday blog ON Jenday.  It's like...when you read it, I've just written it, so you're closer to my mind state at the time.  Or I could say: I'll write it when I'm goddamn good and ready!  Or I could say: I was busy playing WoW and I forgot and now I'm bored at work so here's some tripe.  Anyway, the blog slipped my mind.

2.) WAR!!! I'm sure you're all bored of hearing the tales I spin of going camping in pirate garb.  Anyway, I'm going to another one of these events and I think we have the largest group of people going ever...which is about 30.  Usually it's about half that number.  With that many people we've been trying to get things organized well in advance so there will be as few logistical problems as possible when we get there.  As one of the crew veterans and one of the people that captain trusts (for some odd reason) I've had a bit more responsibility thrust upon me, which has distracted me from other things, like the blog.  Any way, the blog slipped my mind.

3.) Red Tape: I got a speeding ticket a couple months ago and about that time my registration was suspended because I didn't have proof of insurance when I got pulled over.  I HAVE insurance, I just didn't have the card with me.  So I've been spending a lot of mental energy and time on getting a hold of my insurance card, finding out how not to pay the Sonoma County Court $1000, getting my registration updated which required a Smog Check though I got the car from my grandfather and apparently there was something funky about the pipes and I had to take the car to this one guy that my aunt has known since high school to get the test done but he doesn't do that anymore so he gave me the number of the guy HE takes his car too and I had to take a half hour off work which changed into an hour because the test took longer than expected...Anyway, the blog slipped my mind.

By the way, did you know that if you get a speeding ticket and you opt to go to traffic school to keep the point off your record you can now do it online?  I signed up for this one course that I can work on whenever I want.  I just have to get 100% on each test, they mail me a thing, and I send it to the courthouse, and I'm done.  No fuss, no muss.  I just have to finish it before December 18th which is super easy, so less stress for me, which is good.

So, despite that whole thing I said earlier about the organic process and sharing a moment with you, my reader, I'm writing this on Monday because by Jenday I will be far, far from civilization.  That's right:  I'm going to Bakersfield.  Well, near Bakersfield.  Taft, actually.  It's still the middle of nowhere...or rather, just to the left of the middle of nowhere.  And I will be in pirate garb with a horn full of ale surrounded by women in corsets.  I tell you: it's a grand life.

So, enjoy the Thank You Video, which is one of the raddest things the BaL crew has ever done, and I'll see you all next week.

Happy Jenday!

Roughly 25 years and a week ago I was woken up in the middle of the night to be told that I have a little brother. My five year old self had been understandably leery of little sisters with their dolls, and dress up, and complete lack of understanding of the intricacies of toy soldier warfare, so needless to say, this was a relief. Still, I was cautious. Little brothers are notoriously annoying. From throwing stuff that's fragile at hard surfaces, to crushing, usually needlessly, objects that are important – let's face it, they don't have much of a reputation. What I didn't know at the time was that as far as older brothers go, I was to be one of the lucky ones.

Don't get me wrong, I too have lost many a toy. Lines have been cut from scripts. It hasn't always been easy. But then there are moments like this: My eight year old self is asked "what do you want to be when you grow up?" The aforementioned self being in a certain kind of phase replies "A train conductor!" Three year old Yuri standing next to me is asked: "And what about you?" Without any hesitation (and as befitting a future comedy writer) he replies: "A passenger!"  And that's just the kind of brother he is– loyal to the end, even if it means a career in a Russian train car.

Having since grown up and abandoned all desire to be a kind of Soviet hobo, Yuri's instead decided to become a professional writer. With three (excellent) published plays, lots of articles, and one very strange internet sitcom under his belt all before his 25th birthday, I'd say he's well on his way. You see, aside from just the way with words and the powerful funny that's on display here week after week, Yuri's also got an enviable work ethic (to give you an idea, he skipped his last birthday to work on Break a Leg), maddening attention to detail, an impressive ability to shmooze and, most importantly, an all-consuming drive to succeed. These are the kinds of things that separate the proverbial men from the proverbial boys. Incidentally, they are also the kinds of things that separate the starving artist from the artist shopping at Whole Foods.

So I'd like to take a moment to wish Yuri a very happy quarter century. I think I speak for all of us here on the Break a Leg team when I say that any success this project has had owes a lot to Yuri's drive, dedication, and talent -- not to mention his famously nebbish good looks. My hope is that this is the year that all those long nights spent working for free finally pay off and that we all move to Hollywood -- only to very quickly move back to San Francisco, having made our many millions. Happy birthday bro!

--Vlad

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Oh. And because this is Late Again films, of course this blog is late. Yuri's birthday was actually on the 28th of September. Also, our mom's birthday was on the same day, which was then followed by our grandmother's birthday on the 30th. Maya turned 8 weeks yesterday, and even though that's not really officially a birthday, she's too cute to leave out. So happy birthday mom! Happy birthday grandma! Happy birthday Maya! And... Last but not least, happy birthday Dustin! 

Do you remember voting for us in the Yahoo! Best Web Series Contest? Do you remember emailing us your name? Do you remember us promising you that Mint would write you into his song?

Well, he did, because he's Mint and he loves you guys. That's right! The Mint (and Break a Leg) Thank You song is out and you can finally hear the man himself sing your name and dozens more in the hippest music video on this side of the real side!

Check it out on our website or right here on the YouTube. Please, please, please leave a comment and tell us what you think!

Also, the last two Episodes of the Season - Ep 16 and 17, will be out on Oct. 20th and 27th, respectively. So stay tuned!

Also, thank you for being the best fans ever!

-The Break a Leg Team

The title to this post is known as Zall's Second Law.

Every week it seems like Thursday arrives without any warning, and I find myself frantically typing in search of something of any value to write about.

Yesterday I asked someone at work how his day was going, and he said "five minutes ago it was 8 o'clock". When he said that it was 2:30.

Everyone talks about how time flies when you're having fun, but the reality is that time flies no matter what you're doing, and in all contexts and time scales. 

Your day can be half over before you know it, and you haven't gotten a small fraction done that you had hoped. 

The week can blow by while you're not paying attention, and now you have to put everything on hold to write a blog post.

Every holiday season doesn't someone say to you "Doesn't it just seem like Christmas just ended?"

Then you wake up one morning and this almost three-year-old is digging his feet into your back while you scramble to cling to the last 6 inches of mattress you have left before falling to the floor. And it's a pretty long drop.

Tying into what I was talking about last week, how can you maintain the discipline necessary to always be doing something worth doing? Worth doing is a tricky concept, interpreted differently by different people. What I find worth doing you may not; what I find worth doing today I may not tomorrow.

Think about how your priorities shift from one day to the next. Screw that, think about how they shift within the same day, absent any external influence. I mean it's obvious why you rush to the ATM to withdraw money that you weren't planning on spending: you just found out Jack Johnson is playing a cash-only club in town tonight and you need the money. But that's an external influence, some new information that causes you to re-evaluate your priorities. 

How about this: every train ride to work and back I evaluate what to read, and it can change each time based on no new information. In the morning I might read The Crossing, but then on the way home I might read from the script for the play I'm rehearsing. Why? Because I have rehearsal that night and I need to get off book. At 7 AM rehearsal is a distant commitment, some hazy fog-shrouded whatever that may or may not happen because let's face it: the world can end at any moment. As I head home from work and it slowly dawns on me that with each passing minute the likelihood of the world ending diminishes, I realize I'd better damn well get off book.

With that in mind I've taken my own advice seriously and started on a few of those projects I talk about but never really get going. I've taken my guitar out of the the closet (what?), tuned it, and started reminding my hands how to form those chords I used to know years ago. I bought a quality microphone and recorder so I can get going on that podcast I've been thinking about. I've come up with a lousy idea for a movie that BY GOD I'm just going to work on, despite the little bits of throw  up I may have to force back down my throat.

That's life, gang. Forcing the little bits of throw up back down your throat, so you can look back later and realize that you tried to accomplish something and didn't just play another round of Dogfight 2: The Great War.

OK, I played that for about 30 minutes last night too. I'm working on it.