Now, I want to tell you a true story. In 1991, I was interning in the business office of Manhattan Theatre Club in New York City. The offices and rehearsal studios at the time were on West 16th or 17th Street, and I would walk from my sublet on East 15th Street every morning. The theatre would sometimes rent its studio space out to other groups, and this new, avante-garde group called "Blue Man" was renting one of the studios. No one I worked with really knew much about them, but there was a bit of a buzz in town about them as they prepared a new show that would open in the Village. All I knew was that nearly every day, these guys would haul more garbage into the studio. I glanced in the studio one day and there were piles of trash... old toasters, a rusty old oven, mountains of scrap metal and lots of PVC pipe. At least, that's how I remember it.
One day, there was a huge typhoon that came through Manhattan and everyone arrived at the studios soaking wet. My lunch was in a paper sack that was thoroughly destroyed, so I bought something that I needed to heat up in the microwave in the small kitchenette. As I opened the microwave, I was surprised to find a pair of soaking wet Levi's neatly folded inside. I realized that someone had thought they could actually dry their jeans in the microwave oven (brass zippers and all).
I took the soaking wet, neatly folded denim out, which was kind of gross, especially since I needed to cook my food in the wet microwave.
I stood there for a moment and then opened the freezer and put the wet jeans on the ice tray.
Later that day, I checked on the jeans. They were rock hard. And soon I noticed a member of the Blue Man group dressed in his coveralls, looking for his pants. I didn't say anything, but I probably should have.
Only a member of the Blue Man group was imaginative enough to think he could dry his jeans in the microwave.
Today's Full Strip
15 comments:
Is Liza with a Z planning a wedding with the good doctor? Because I hear there's an administrator in that hospital with wedding planning experience.
This whole endless blathering by annoying airheads makes me blue, but it's not love that I'm feeling right now.
Foiled again - Giella has cleverly removed our exit sign, thereby blocking our escape from this story.
Clearly Liza is planning her whole life around Dr. Drew, after having this meaningful cup of coffee. Run like the wind, Drew, before it's too late! You're still being appreciatetively attractivating to a certain someone across the table.
My word today is 'saness', which clearly does NOT describe this story today.
Speaking of the missing exit sign, that guy in the tan jacket is trying to escape by passing through the drapes. Or maybe he's just trying to hide behind them so he no longer has to listen to this conversation.
My word is "inksfix." Maybe that's what Giella needs.
"I wuv you, I wuv you said the Little Blue Man." If anybody recognizes this lyric you are as old as I am.
Oh my! Wanders, I thoroughly enjoyed your Blue Man story and video, but WHAT would the Charterstone Board and Mary herself, have to say about such a far-out, radical video!?
I mean...did you SEE the mess the blue men made? The board would certainly find this waste of catsup, mustard, and toilet paper highly objectionable! What if the easily influenced youth of Santa Royale took this sort of behavior to say..."Three Trees" or even the "Bum Boat"!
I'd keep a close eye on that blue man in the hospital cafteria, yesireee!
The FUTURE with you?! Did I miss something? Have Liza and Drew already ridden horseback together?
Funny link Wanders - blue guy, cafeteria, and "I feel Love" Perfect.
If I ever saw a stalker in the making it's Liza with a "z". It's a shame she doesn't bear a resemblance to Glenn Close.
liza if dr drew had any interest in you wouldnt you be in the supply closet by now ?
Wow, this Liza character has not had a non-libido-related thought in her head since she first appeared in this strip. I think someone has been indiscriminately nipping at her patients' meds - it's the only explanation for the wild-eyed stare and (unfortunately for we readers) hair-oil-provoked idee fixe.
In the words of my favorite comedy group: "Man, she is hornier than an early Chicago album!"
Wanders: Your description of the panel sounds like part of the synopsis for a Twin Peaks sequel.
Is David Lynch ghost-writing under the alias "Karen Moy"? Or is he whispering ideas into a sleeping Joe Giella's ear?
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