Let Me Eat Cake

I've seen a ton of stand-up comedy since arriving here in Edinburgh. Half of it has been by UK men. These guys make jokes about poop and this crazy phenomenon of the apparent scaling back of sexual activity once one is married. Revelatory. The other half has been by Americans. And according to my highly unscientific, bigoted survey, the Americans are funnier. The funniest has been Maria Bamford and her one-woman show, "Plan B", which details her family and friends' reception to her move back to her hometown in Minnesota. To borrow the style of Scottish critics, "What follows are robust yet astute characterizations, which plunge Miss Bamford into an amusing vortex of the uncanny - she is back home, yet utterly not at home. Altogether, a most welcome romp of untold hilarity." The woman is flippin' funny, with the kind of talent and intelligence that makes you want to inhale the vapors of her personal space.

On an ego bathing note, The Civilians received a Fringe First Award from the local paper of record, The Scotsman. So this morning, at 10:15am, a little ceremony was held for us and the other honored productions. With this distinction came a plaque, a quasi-guarantee of sell-out houses, and free coffee and croissants. I don't know about you, but to me, "free" translates to "open to abuse". By the time we all march up to receive the thing, I had drank so much espresso that my jaw had developed it's own personality and began counting all the patient heads in the audience. Of course, I didn't have to say a word (that job was left to our director), but my effect must have been menacing.