October 20, 2005

WE are Darlings!

Sat, Oct. 22; Sketch Fights: The Royal We vs. Cubicle People's Improv Theater 11pm, $8.

New York's original comedy competition returns to the PIT for a night of funny fisticuffs. Comedy scene darlings the Royal We battle it out with newcomers Cubicle for the title of "New York City's Best Comedy Writers."

-TimeOut New York, This Weeks Critics Pick.

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Hometown Favorites, The Royal We, are comedy scene darlings. Who knew!?

We are not the first, but we are the latest to join a long line of famous Darlings...

Lets Recap:

First and Foremost we have RON DARLING

1986 BITCH

Ron Darling, as we all know, was one of the unstoppable Met aces to lead the NY Mets to the World Series in 1986. Although I was only 7 years old, this was the greatest day of my life...I peaked. It's all been downhill since then.

Second we have CLARISSA DARLING

GREATEST SHOW OF ALL TIME

Clarissa Darling, AKA Melissa Joan Hart, was the star of possibly the greatest TV show of all time...Nickelodeon's "CLARISSA EXPLAINS IT ALL." I spent many an afterschool watching Clarissa get into wacky situations which all ended with hilarious results. She also had a younger brother who used a lot of big words...yes, their own Matt Johnson!

In third we have WENDY, MICHAEL and JOHN DARLING

YUMMY PEANUT BUTTER AS WELL

Yes, the kids from Peter Pan! Nothing sums up Childhood wonder and amazement more than the billions of movies, stories and whatnots about Peter Pan. Sure Petey Pan gets all the street cred, but the story is truly about the Darling kids...and rightfully so! Peter Pan the man-boy is overrated...I mean, he wears tights, and has probably been responsible for more kid suicides than any other character in the history of the arts. No, not all boys can fly...I had to learn that the hard way.

Um....Fourth...SARAH DARLING

REMEMBER WHEN SHE DID PORN

Who can Forget this, um, classic character from, um, American cinema...Jenny McCarthy as Sarah Darling in the soon-to-be timeless classic SCREAM 3. The third, and probably best of the Scream trilogy. People think that all Jenny McCarthy is is a pair of tits and gaggle of fart noises...but shes more than that. She''s tits, fart noises, and, well, yea, maybe thats it. Anyway, she played Sarah Darling. So yea, Darling.

FIFTH! Yes, MAURICE COSTELLO...aka THE DIMPLED DARLING!

WILL NUNZ ALSO HAS DIMPLES

b. 1877 d. 1950. Star of silent films, Maurice Costello, was nicknamed The Dimpled Darling. Did you know he discovered Moe of The 3 Stooges fame? Neither did I till I looked him up on IMDB.com. This just in...he's also the Great-grandfather of actress Drew Barrymore. Pretty cool....pretty darling. I guess he had dimples. And people in the 1920's like their alliteration, like I like my cocaine...aplenty!

Sixth...and apparently last, THE ROYAL WE.

ARENT WE DARLING
The Comedy Scene Darlings of New York City.

Need i say more...I think our company of Darlings speaks for itself.

Oh WE BLOG, you are Darling!


-will

Posted by Will at 09:41 AM

October 09, 2005

The Avian Flew...

If you know me in person then there is a good chance that you know this about me...I'm kinda deathly afraid of animals. Sure I'm scared of Vampire Bats and Hippopotamuses and stuff, that’s a given, but I also freak out if squirrels get too close to me. The day when a squirrel maul-rapes my face is the same day in which I'll get to say "told ya so."

"Well, Nunziata, looks like I'm canceling our date at the Zoo." Says my imaginary friend.

No. Zoo's I can handle. I can deal with animals in their natural environments; behind Plexiglass and steel bars...it’s those pesky ones that walk the earth/NYC that freak me the fuck out.

Today’s story is totally truth.

On Monday I had a very important meeting with some TV people; the details of that meeting will be a post of its own in the future...hopefully. I knew I had to look nice, so I decided to break out the "nice shirt." Sadly, the nice shirt was located under a pile of not-so-nice shirts and it exited that dirty-laundry scrum quite wrinkled. Having no time to get myself to a dry cleaners, and also no knowledge of how-to iron, let alone owning an iron or an ironing board, I decide to "steam it up."

"Steaming-it-up" involves turning the shower on super-scalding-magma hot and hanging the shirt on the shower rod, letting the steam take over and in turn flattening out all the wrinkles. Works like a charm, plus it doubles as a ghetto sauna. Nothing funny or scary happened during the steaming process besides me slipping on the slick floor and nearly cracking open my head on the toilet...so I guess something funny and scary did happen, hmmm? Shall we call this foreshadowing?

Anyway, after about 15 minutes of steamy goodness I go back into the bathroom and its sauna-rific. I grab the shirt, and it looks better than ever before. Perfect. I think to myself "You know, everything is working out alright." I put it on and I look dapper. I crack open the window, to let the steam out and I shut the bathroom door behind me. I soldier on into my room and continue the "getting ready."

15 minutes elapse and I need to look in the mirror. I head back to the bathroom. A Hitchcock movie is playing on the TV as I pass it. I open the bathroom door, and am comforted by the still steaminess of la bano. All this moisture makes me want to pee, so I lift the seat and begin to stream liquid waste. Then, in that moment of mid-pee, a fucking sparrow flies from behind the shower curtain and starts having a shit-fit all around the bathroom. Here I am, penis in hand, freaking out and screaming with my pee-pee squirting everywhere like a drunken firefighter all alone on the hose.

And when I scream, I scream like a bitch. We're talkin' high pitch banshee wails. I pee all over EVERYTHING!!! The bird is flying in crazy criss-cross patterns all over the ceiling. The brunt of the pee-damage was the box of Maxim Magazines next to the toilet. If you were in the next room, you'd think I was being mauled by a liger. Just at the moment that I was done peeing on everything (combs, new rolls of toilet paper, toothbrushes), the bird flew out the crack of the window. A calm fell over me. My nice shirt was ruined, yes I peed on it.

In retrospect, I feel bad a.) for myself, and more importantly, b.) for the bird. This poor bird was flying by and noticed some nice steam coming out a window and needed some of it. The pre-historic caveman part of his bird brain was attracted by the steam, as if it was a sparrow in BC times in the Amazon. Then I had to come in there waving my penis and screaming and ruining the birds day.

The bird also shit in my bathtub.

As I walked to my meeting, in my not-as-nice backup shirt, I felt as though all of nature was laughing at me. The squirrels were gossiping on the telephone wires, the birds were tweeting "piss-bitch" to me as they passed in the air. Even the neighborhood dogs were shaking their heads in disapproval as I walked by.

Luckily, there were no fauna at the TV meeting.

Oh WE BLOG, I told my roommates that I had to get rid of the Maxims because they were old, and we were running out of room...not because i stained them yellow.


Will

Posted by Will at 01:27 PM