I dedicate this post to my friend Christina, who is the only person who will read this and get it.
Yesterday I looked at web pages of random UCB theater actors, so naturally I had a crazy ass dream about them.
I was at the UCB theater for the Del Close Comedy Marathon. For some reason I was already in New York and was supposed to go home but randomly stumbled into the theater. Whatever, not important.
Anyway, the first show I saw involved four male actors; the only two I remember where Michael Ian Black and Rob Riggle. [I just fixed this. Spellcheck changed his name to "Rob regale." Sorry about that.] The four men pranced around on stage yelling, "Cock!" while wearing shiny gold speedos. Comic gold! Three of them left, leaving Michael Ian Black on stage. He removed his speedo and began to read children's books. In the nude.
Some people in front left during the show (I can't imagine why), so I crept up there to get a seat. After Michael Ian Black finished, the next show started to set up. Who was the director? Why, George Carlin of course.
Now, I have absolutely no opinion on George Carlin. I never watch his shows, but I'm sure he was in my dream because I saw another commercial for his 8935th stand-up comedy hour on HBO. Whatever.
So while his show is setting up, he comes to the front row and sits in the seat next to mine. And kind of starts to crowd up my seat, so that I'm pushed into the woman next to me. He starts to yell out orders to the stage, and when he catches me looking at him uncomfortably, he goes, "Eh, what's the mattah? You're a little guy, you don't need much room!" Hey, what a surprise, I think, George Carlin is an asshole in real life! I start to pull out my phone to check the time, and he yells at me again. "Don't be an asshole, turn your fuckin' phone off!"
So I sit uncomfortably, waiting for his show to start, and a weird selection of celebrities start walking by us and saying hello to George Carlin. Kevin Kline and Pheobe Cates. Liam Neeson. Michael York, dressed as a Revolutionary War general (maybe he came straight from a shoot?). Then Richard Lewis comes by, sees me getting squashed by Carlin as he talks to famous people, and his comes over to me, mimicking the fake hellos and hand shakes Carlin receives. (How strange is it that Richard Lewis is in my dream, and he's actually kind of funny?)
So then the show finally starts. I'll describe it as modern dance, with puppets. Basically, it was like I was watching Julie Taymor's version of Fiddler on the Roof. And it went on foreeevvveeerrr. Of course, the woman next to me starts asking, "Who directed this?" and I try to whisper the answer to her, but George Carlin hears me and punches me. It's like I'm in fifth grade again and George Carlin is my teacher.
When the show ends, Carlin jumps on stage and bows to the crowd, who is giving him a standing ovation. He starts giving a speech about "his vision," and all I think is, "Jesus Christ, when am I going to see Amy Poehler already?"