This week, a writing sample from my professional blog was featured in a National Award submission.  It was too cool.

So last night, I sat down to the premier of NBC’s Thank God You’re Here, a show loosely based in improv.  I was excited to see this show since, after all, I am the best improv-er in the face of what we now refer to as the improv. (Yes, you can say it with a french accent.) And while I knew that I would not be impressed by anyone on the show, I figured it would make for some worthwhile entertainment while I plugged away on my other site.

There are some highlights to the show: namely, Dave Foley is the judge.  This far surpasses Whose Line is It, Anyway?, which I grew up on, and is hosted here in America by the talentless hack Drew Carey.  The most painful part of that show is when the winner is “allowed” to do a scene with Drew.  It almost always promises to be excruciating.  Dave Foley is, on the other hand, a comedian who has cut his chops in sketch and improv comedy.  I trust Dave. 

David Allen Grier is the host, and really, all I can say about that is: David, congratulations on not being lost in obsecurity.  Considering we have not heard of Tommy Davidson or any of the Wayans recently, you’ve now moved to 2nd place of “In Living Color” alumni. (First place, of course, is reserved for Jim Carrey.)

The main critique I have of the show and its premise is that it sets the guest actors up for EASY improv.  The guest actor (usually some character actor that you’ve seen in a dozen movies, none of which actually afforded them a part with a name) walks through the door and into a scene.  The script has already been written, with open-ended questions and prodding exclamations thrown at the guest actor.  There is no surprise, for the most part.  There is no genius.

I guess that was what I found so incredibly amazing about Ryan Stiles and Colin Machery on Whose Line is It, Anyway?.. they had to create the entire sketch.  Without a set, without a costume, without a script.  Thank God just allows actors to step in and be the missing piece.  Quite frankly, it feels like a Theatre 101 course at a very ritzy prep school. (Make no mistake, the costumes, lighting, and set design are astounding.)

And it’s not to the fault of the actors that everything was boring; they literally could not escape the strict parameters they walked into.  Their character had been sculpted for them.  There was no fun to be had.

Maybe they will gain steam as they work out their formula.  Maybe they will find a way to let these talented actors do more than they’re currently allowed.  But maybe I won’t watch that long.

I have no idea what has happened in my house, but all of a sudden, all of my animals have lost their damn minds.

It started yesterday morning, when Charlie viciously attacked Mabel over breakfast.  I couldn’t separate them.  There is no sound worse than a dog being attacked, none.  Finally, I pulled them apart and consoled Mabel while I locked Charlie inside.  Charlie, however, showed no sign of remorse when I went back inside.  He’s usually smarter than that.  So I berated him around the house until he finally tucked his tail and slicked his ears back.

I AM THE ALPHA DOG, DAMNIT.

All day long, they snipped at eachother yesterday.  And while they normally will play-fight quite a bit (especially when there’s something really good and quiet on tv), yesterday, there was no play about it.  They were just all-around ornery.

The cats even got into it.

WHAT IN THE HELL IS HAPPENING IN MY HOUSE?

(so, it might be all of that Easter candy they got into on Sunday.)