Break a Leg

You ever see somebody who has a lot of nice things and a lot of money and you think to yourself "I am smarter than this person.  There are sacks full of rocks smarter than this person.  What could they posibly be doing that I am incapable of doing that they can afford all this stuff?"

I encounter these people on a daily basis.  I work in retail.

I think I have discovered something of what goes toward putting these people in a higher tax bracket: They are assholes.  They are so unpleasant to have to deal with for any length of time that other people will actually pay them to go away.  The guy who came up with the addage "The customer is always right" either never had to deal with one of these people, or he WAS one of these people.  They have no business prowess that I can discern, other than the ability to make people's lives a living hell. 

Here's an example: We were making some directional arrows for a customer.  Arrows:  Straight line with a point at one end.  Nothing complicated.  When the customer came to pick them up, the saleperson helping this lady, Kevin, in an attempt to be cute, held the arrows pointing in one direction and said "Oops!  We made them pointing the wrong way."  The lady flipped.  She started screaming and demanding a full refund and to see the manager and the first born of each and every employee that has ever been associated with any FastSigns store in the continental U.S. and so on.  Kevin, taken slightly aback and this unexpected response, simply turned the arrows the other way and says "Ma'am...I was kidding."  It took a bit more to difuse the woman and she eventually left with an embarrased grin on her face.

Here's another good one for you: We make a couple different styles of A-frame signs.  Generally, these have a business name, services provided, and an arrow directing people which way they might find such services.  Now, we design these signs so that no matter which direction you are viewing the sign from the arrow will be pointing in the correct direction: i.e.: the arrow on one side is mirrored to the arrow on the other side.  This also means that if you turn the aframe around both arrows will still be pointing in the same direction, although opposite to the direction they were just pointing before you turn the sign around.  We have had people call in and ask that we "fix their signs because we made them wrong".  After finally deciphering what these inarticulate mushheads were talking about, we usually come up with a very complicated and technically involved possible solution: Turn the sign around. Some people will STILL argue that this obviously revolutionary idea will not work because they "know what they ordered".  Then somebody, usually an assitant or a five-year-old kid will turn the sign around and show our patron that yes: it was, just that simple.  These conversations generally end, suddenly and somewhat abbreviated, with a click. 

And these people make way more moeny than I do.

So, why am I dealing with these people making just enough to live on, when I could be exploring all the fun of a 6 digit income?  Why do I settle for less than it may be actually possible for me to achieve?  Why do I prance around like an idiot at the end of Yuri's strings?

Oh, that's easy, I'm lazy.  But it's a very specialized kind of lazy.  Anyone that works for 14 hours a day isn't lazy.  It's possible that they just aren't directed.  But I DO have a direction.  The problem with trying to make a career plan as an actor is that it's like trying to nail water to the wall.  And yet we just keep hammering away, don't we.

No, the reason (at least one of them) I don't just join these mindless self-endulgent muck-dwellers is that I'm not an asshole (not that kind at least).  I don't think the suffering of others justifies my personal gain.  There is a part of my soul that demands that life be something more than a biting, kicking scramble for the top of the middle heap.  It would be nice if I could get paid to do the things I love to do (Good luck in L.A., guys!) but until that day, I think I'll have to pick the balance of doing what I enjoy doing and maybe trying to enrich the lives of others (through prancing around like an idiot, among other things) instead of hording all I can before I die.

And your dictionary.com word of the day is:

sesquipedalian \ses-kwuh-puh-DAYL-yuhn\, adjective:
1. Given to or characterized by the use of long words.
2. Long and ponderous; having many syllables.

Happy Jenday, everybody!

Socrates said "The unexamined life is not worth living." He said this while on trial for heresy, for which he was found guilty and sentenced to death.

I'm not too sure what it means, though like many things in my life I haven't thought too much about it. Seems to me like he was kind of asking for it, considering his life was on the line, but without being there myself I can't say for sure that I wouldn't have said the same thing.

No, no, I can't really imagine myself ever saying anything like that.

I know some philosophers, real ones with degrees and published papers and everything. A good friend has a Ph.D. and teaches and stuff, and I met him while he was studying at the junior college level.

I know, partying with the philosophy major in junior college.

I think a lot of people think philosophy is all about arguments, and logic, and dissecting every word you say until you want to strangle someone. Well, it is, it really is, let me tell you. But if you haven't actually read or practiced philosophy, you're really missing out.

My friend the philosophy guy studies what's called ordinary language philosophy. That's where you say something totally normal like "I really like pizza", and then he explains why you're actually completely wrong. It's exhilarating.

If you're interested in philosophy and also interested in Batman (and statistically speaking, you are interested in Batman), then you could check out Batman and Philosophy. It starts off slow and a little easy, but I can pretty much guarantee that by the end of the book you won't have any idea what the hell anyone is talking about. That's how you know you're at a philosophy party.

Socrates may have had it right though. Examining your life is essential to living it to its fullest. How else would you know whether or not you're truly happy, besides the fact that you haven't stopped laughing for 45 minutes? I'm not sure I can claim to be living an examined life per se, though I think from time to time about examining my life. I'll need to look into what exactly is involved with examining a life, it seems a bit complicated.

The other issue I have with the examined life is when you find the time to live the life you're examining?

I may have settled on the solution, but it requires some support from the outside. I think I need to hire someone to examine my life. See, they can ask questions, debate, discourse, challenge authority, etc., then break it all down for me in a nice digest format each evening so I know what I've been examining all day. Something simple and direct, all on one page like a resume, with a nice heading and bulleted lists.

This requires money, but unfortunately so do my wife and child. Yuri's started asking strange questions too while he and Vlad are working on scripts, like "How badly do you want to be in this next episode?" or "Do you know how much money printer paper costs?" So then there's that expense I'll need to absorb, though at least I think I can write it off at the end of the year.

I'll have to table this project for now, there's a Primetime special on right now about "Family Secrets". If I can't examine my life I can at least examine the lives of cold-blooded killers.

I feel very fortunate to have found the group of people that I was meant to be with.  Many people speak of finding that one special someone - the perfect match for them.  I say: why limit yourself to just one person?  I want a whole bunch of the perfect people!  A gang.  A horde.  A Crew!  I want a gaggle of friends that will not only accept my depravities and idosyncracies, but will also encourage and participate in them.  Not only that, they will come up with schemes of their own that i can participate in.  I don't want to be a better person.  I want friends that will make me feel better about being a total idiot.

And no, I'm not talking about my beloved Break A Leggers.  While we did have a sword fight on government property and almost got shot as a result, they are generally too busy to participate in such shenanigans.  Also, their tendency to want to curb my over-enthusiastic spasms of "creativity" isn't quite the direction I tend to want to flail in.

No, the group of people I refer to are my pirate crew.  A grander flock of reprobates I can't believe exists.  And what makes this group of people so fabulous?  One word: Themes.

That's right.  When we get together to hang out, we don't just gather at some pre-determined locale and while away the time with petty jabber of ecent activities.  No!  We show up in style and make everybody wish they could hang out with us.  Or hang out like us.  Or something.  Several examples of this spring readily to mind...

The first, I was, sadly, not privy to observe/experience/participate in, but I saw some of the preliminary work and some of the results, and was, if not surprised, then seriously jealous I couldn't go.  There is an annual event called "The Labrynth Ball".  Remember the movie The Labrynth?  Well, imagine a party where everybody is dressed up, not like characters from the movie, but like characters that might exist in that world.  You can see pictures from years past here: http://www.labyrinthmasquerade.com/masquerade2007/gallery.html Lots fantasy stuff, lots of pirates, lots of other cool stuff.  Well, my friends Scott and Nick MADE steampunk ghostbuster costumes and their wives MADE self-luminescent, Dickensian ball gowns, and they all paraded around that way.  I don't have any pictures yet because they didn't get many pictures themselves.  They were largely occupied with having their pictures taken by and with everybody else.  Just imagine a 6'4" guy with long hair wearing a top hat with gears on the side that he would wind up occasionally, and a vest and bow tie.  On his back is a large pack constructed mostly of brass with the stove pipe over his left shoulder flickering with internal candel light while the pipe over his right shoulder lets off the occasional puff of smoke. In his hand, connected to the pack-contraption via some rubber tubing, are some more brass pipewroks with various gauges and a lever (pronounced "LEE-ver"), which when pulled causes a blast of whitish gas to expell from the business end of the pipe.

This is all very "you had to be there", which I wasn't , but that doesn't mean it wasn't awesome. 

What I WAS there for, however, was Gail's birthday (Scott's wife).  One of the reasons I was there was that I didn't have rehearsal or a shoot or anything to do that night.  Another reason is that I am a very good friend of Gail's and she invited me to the party, as friends often do.  The other reason I was there was because the party was at my house.  As I mentioned before, we, as a group, are fond of themes.  And what was Gail's birthday theme?  English.  ANYTHING English.  I.E, everybody was supposed to dress as somebody you might find in England and speak with (their best  attempts at) an Englsih access.  Additionally, we had cucumber sandwiches, jammie dodgers, tiny British flags, and drank from a tea cup and saucer.  Granted, it was rum we we're drinking from the tea cup and saucer, but at least we held our pinkies out.  I mean, there are standards.

As you may have noticed in Episode 12, I have a bit of a beard going.  I've been growing it since February in preparation for Taming of the Shrew.  My goal is to eventually be able to braid my beard.  This makes Yuri cringe.  You may ask yourself "Why the hell are you doing that?"  The answer is as simple as can be, and in fact, quite similar to that age old question "Why do dogs lick their balls?"  Because they can, Billy.  Because they can.  And because I can.  Grow a beard long enough to braid, that is.  Not...the other thing.  That would be impressive, but...just...no.

ANYWAY...because of the awesomeness of my fantastic facial folicles, my friends have taken to calling my Lord Fancybeard on occasion and speak longingly of the day when they will be able to tie ribbons in it.  This nom de guer inspired me as to the costuming choice for Gail's Britstrvaganza.  I had planned to find a smoking jacket and cravat, and walk around smoking a pipe all night and talking through my teeth.  However, life, as it often does, had other plans. 

I had rehearsal the day of the party and had planned to go costume searching as soon I was free.  As I was driving downtown in an effort to fulfill my quest, what do I see, but a golden beacon signaling me hither: a divine providence that I ws on the correct and holy path.  That's right: a costume sale.  I had to circle the block twice to find parking, but nothing is ever easy, even divine providence.  As I perused the merchandice I quickly became disheartened, for there was no smoking jacket to be found.  I scowered the tables, I ransacked the racks, I went spelunking in bargain bins...but to no avail. 

Then, just when it seemed all hope was lost, something blue caught my eye.  This was destined to be one of those moments when you find exactly what you needed even though it wasn't at all what you were looking for.  It was perfect.  It was magnificent.  It was realtively affordable.  And it would live up to the title of "Lord Fancybeard" better than any stupid smoking jacket.  In such apparrel, I could truly be Master of the Heatherton...

I have gotten way too carried away here.  This is what happens when I have nothing to do.  Anyway...that's Scott on the left, with the hat I mentioned earlier, and yes: that's an inflatable moose head on the wall.

I was born in San Francisco. I’m a San Francisco Writer. It’s a long lineage of awesome people that I’m not even going to try to name. Anyways, I’m a San Francisco Writer, but I’m not in the San Francisco Writer Club yet. Alfred Hitchcock would eat me alive (funny story about Hitchcock – the security guard at my old job used to PA for the Big Studios, and whenever Hitchcock was on set, his job was to open the elephant doors so that Alfred could get inside a stage. I’m not kidding. Elephant doors to enter and exit. Weird. He made The Birds). So when I heard that Yuri and Vlad were doing Break a Leg in San Francisco, thus began my quest to go out to lunch or some other nonsense with them. Also, I for some reason got a little upset when I saw that, when David says “That’s San Francisco” in episode uno, it was San Jose. There’s a certain…. San Francisco—ness…. to San Fran that is native to San Fran and cannot be replicated. I’m rambling, maybe, sorry.

I’m writing this on the eve of Comic-Con, where I tried to pull for a Guild/BaL screening and meet up. Needless to say, it didn’t happen. Next year maybe. I also frequent APE and WonderCon – both in San Fran – my friends improv group from New York, Olde English, does the Comedy Festival every year,and my dad and some graduated and now more recently graduated friends live there. So I go to the city-by-the-city-of-fog a lot. That would be Daily City, the fog city. But something always happens when I city-hop.

I never meet the guys.

I’ve left countless messages on Yuri, Vlad, and even Drew’s FaceBook’s telling them of my arrival (okay, so one message on Drew Lanning’s, but let’s try to make this sound epic). I talk to Yuri and Dashiell all the time about maybe meeting up with them.  I am at the end of my rope. At some point, Yuri is going to say “cut it out, stop following us, stalker; oh, by the way, we’re no longer going to be involved in that Super Smash Brothers Brawl tournament of yours” (which would give The Guild an instant win if they say ‘sure’ at Con).

As I look to the new episodes, as we trudge towards the Babylon that is the season (series?) finale, the hope of meeting the cast and crew of this astronomical series grows dim. I at least got to know them as people, and will forever hold a place in my heart for the champions of the internet webshows (which also belongs to The Guild, God Inc., and yes, even Ask a Ninja – even though what Kent did was overboard).

So thanks, Yuri. Thanks, Vlad. You guys have brightened my life with your joy of storytelling.

David Penn is the chosen one.

~ Bryy Miller

P.S. - If I could ask one more favor of the BaL fanbase, I was wondering if we could do a little sticking-together type deal for a sec. My friend, Josh Alves, has a comic up in DC’s online webcomic competition, Zuda. It’s called Arachnid Kid, about a superhero in the old West that talks in symbols.  As of now he’s currently in sixth place, and his comic is really good, and deserves to win a DC contract. I only ask that you go to http://zudacomics.com/node/139 and vote for him as well as favorite the comic (I’m not sure if you need to sign up first). It would really help out another creative dude in the world. Let us show the world what BaLer’s can do!)

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EDITOR'S NOTE: If you guys ever want to contact any of us Break a Leg people, you can always IM Yuri: BreakaLegSitcom, Vlad: Ante31337, Justin: Jus10m82 or Dashiell: SomeonemanR

Stopping for the night, David, Larry and Chase find themselves sharing their hotel with some unexpected guests. But the ghostly patrons are just the beginning of the surreality that is "the Haunted Hotel.."

That's right, Episode 12 of Break a Leg is here, so, as per usual, please help us out by commenting, favoriting, rating and subscribing on YouTube and, of course, by doing the same, right here on our website!

Next week, we will have an in-between video, not an episode, but a video directly relating to the plotline. Remember how we promised to do that? Well, it begins next week and, we swear, it'll be fun! The episode continues the following week!

Thanks!
-Yuri