Ho-leeee CRAP!

Its a balmy 30 degrees today in Chicagoland. I'm starting to doubt all
the improvisers who told me to study in Chicago instead of LA.

Actually, I don't doubt them, because I believe they were right about
the level of commitment of the improv movement here. However, I'm
beginning to hate them for talking me into living through this weather.
It feels like some kind of wierd hazing/torture that improvisers have to
go through to be accepted into the national improv frat. I feel like
I'm blindfolded and standing on the edge of what I think is a ravine.
And those LA guys are laughing and shouting, "Freeze little fat girl!
Freeze!" But as soon as I get to take the blindfold off I'll discover
that I'm actually just on a platform 2 inches from the ground and the
improv guys are in lawn chairs and they have an extra PBR waiting for
me. If I can only survive long enough to get the blind fold off, I
could be sitting around with them laughing at the next guy going through
hell.
- Megan