Wednesdays. Tell Me About It.

Hump day- am I right? If I had a job somewhere I imagine I would be walking around the office trying to figure out my fantasy football picks or something. But since I don’t have a job to go to, I am just sitting here in a coffee shop plotting, planning, and not really knowing how fantasy football or any of that stuff really works. I say all of this not to criticize going to a workplace or being involved in fantasy football. I say this more to point out that I wasn’t even wearing pants until about a half hour ago. What the point of pointing that out is, however, remains to be seen. I am a sad little man who is just sitting here typing.

The past couple days have been action-packed as far as Mondays and Tuesdays generally tend to go. On Monday night, I hosted the popular CBS/NYC show at the popular Mo Pitkins nightclub over there on Avenue A. It was a fun show with a great lineup that included Amelie Gillette, who did a great powerpoint presentation that included a molestery pony; Kurt Braunohler, who did an awesome communist cat-themed bit; Kevin Williams, who was hilarious and hates Sandra Oh; Larry Murphy and Greg Johnson doing an excellent Marlon Brando sketch that involved Larry in a bathrobe; and an abbreviated version of Children of the Unicorn that had Phil and Jake singing and playing along to a CD. Adding to the mayhem of the evening was that my friend Holly brought her two-legged Chihuahua to the show again, making it the second show in less than a week during which I had a two-legged Chihuahua on stage with me and was not really sure what to do about all of that. Two-legged Chihuahuas- will we ever really understand them? After the show, Holly and her friend explained to me that the Chihuahua (named Roo in reference to her kangaroo-like appearance) was soon to be fitted with prosthetic front legs. That seemed like a great idea to me until they told me the guy fitting Roo with the prosthetic legs goes by the name of Mangina. As names of people I would trust to fit me with prosthetic legs go, Mangina is pretty far down on the list. I say this not to knock Mangina’s prosthetic leg-fitting capabilities in any way. I just think he should go by the name of Dr. Richard Metzger, M.D. (a really good doctor name I just came up with) or something if he’s going to be doing that sort of thing. Anyway, I hope everything works out great for everybody and soon Roo is running around and having fun on her little Mangina legs as if she had come into this world that way.

In other news, last night I filled in at the last minute as the DJ/sidekick on Seth Herzog’s popular “Sweet” show at the Slipper Room. The popular actor Justin Long was supposed to do it but then had to cancel at the last minute so Dave to the rescue like a motherfucker, dammit! It was fun times and a really funny show that included Dan Levy, Reggie Watts, Eric Andre, and Rob Cantrell, Seth, and, of course, Seth’s mom. I had never seen Dan or Rob before and they were both great. Reggie and Eric were also great as usual and easily had better hair than anyone else on the bill. After the show, I got to hook up my iTunes to the sound system and totally be the DJ for the rest of the night. I did my best to play some sweet jams. I hope I succeeded.

In still other news, here is a nice review of my Explosion show last week at the UCB Theatre. Thanks to Hy (at HyReviews.com) for coming to the show, liking it, and then totally writing about how he came to the show and liked it. It’s that sort of thing that keeps me off the ledge. Well, that and knowing that we live a world where there is a guy named Mangina making fake little Chihuahua legs somewhere as I type this. Life is beautiful.

Dave Hill

The Birthday Party

Here is a new funtime video for you to watch in your spare time. I hope you enjoy it so much!

Dave Hill

An Interview With Me, Dave Hill

Hello. Hey. Hi. How are you? Wednesday- am I right? Anyway, I'm not sure what you're up to right now, but if you don't have anything better to do, why not read an interview with me, Dave Hill, right here? As interviews with me, Dave Hill, go, I have to say that I am pretty boring in this interview now that I've gone back and read it. What the hell is wrong with me? Anyway, it's always good to practice reading, so keep that in mind when you read it in case you find yourself not really entertained by what I, Dave Hill, have to say in the interview. Gosh, I guess I really haven't sold this one very well. Actually now that I'm thinking about it it is pretty great and you will really learn something from it.

Dave Hill

Princeton Fever

It’s Saturday and I am mostly in a vegetative state as I sit in a coffee shop typing, drinking coffee (a popular activity in such places), and contemplating mostly nothing other than my desire to strangle some of the other people in the coffee shop for talking on their cell phones and engaging in other non-Dave-approved activities. As far as my plot for world domination goes, recent excitement includes spending Thursday night in scenic Princeton, New Jersey, where I opened up for my friend Tig at a comedy show for approximately 704 Princeton undergraduates/future leaders of America. My dad went to Princeton several decades ago, so it was nice to go there and be all like “My dad went here!” to pretty much anyone who would listen. I had been to Princeton once or twice before for one of my Dad’s class reunions but I didn’t remember much other than all the big gray buildings and the free ice cream (a common distraction device used on ten year-olds at college reunions), and stuff.

As shows go, I’d put my Princeton debut maybe in my top 3 worst shows ever. I blame this not on the audience but just on my inability to make the magic happen that night for some reason. Even before I said a word I could sort of tell it just wasn’t gonna happen for me that night. Something in the air, I guess (or maybe it’s just the fact that 18 year-olds in general would rather be out drinking beer or fingering each other than listen to me talk in the dark generally speaking. I know I would. And 18 passed me by long ago) or maybe that I just kind of suck or something. I still managed to have a fun time despite, you know, probably not winning many new MySpace friends or anything though. Tig was really funny as always and I had a good time sitting and watching her too. It was a strange night though. The show was in a gym so the sound echoed all over the place. As I spoke it felt like a I had a delay on my voice or that I was speaking at a Nazi rally in olden times or something. And I may as well have been saying Nazi stuff because my material went over about as well as that would have. However, I did meet one nice person after the show who actually knew who I was and everything so that kept me from wanting to cut myself or run into the traffic (of which there was not much since it was late at night and whatnot).

Before the show, one of the deans at the school took Tig and me to dinner with his wife at the Blue Bottle, a really good restaurant about a ten minute drive from the school. I had the wild boar trio (I think that was the name but can’t be sure. If it is not, the restaurant should consider it- it’s catchy), which- as hinted in the name- involved wild boar in three different formats- sausage, steak, and something that resembled pulled pork. It was pretty delicious. In fact, I would go as far as to say that the Blue Bottle is a boar lover’s paradise (even though I had never had boar before that night and admittedly am not qualified to speak on the topic). If someone from the Blue Bottle is reading this right now and wants to quote me and totally put that in their newspaper ads or something, I have no problem with that. I am happy to create a spike in sales. It is my way of giving something back.

After the big show in the echoey gym, Tig and I headed back with the dean to the palatial guest house on campus that they were nice enough totally let us stay at for the night. It was a cool old house with rooms that looked not unlike the one on the box for the board game Clue (lots of old books, plaid, and chairs best occupied by large balding men in three-piece suits). Our friend Lucy had just finished playing a show nearby and stopped off to visit on her way back to the Big City, so the four of us sat up and talked about such things including but not limited to students on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the filming of the popular Russell Crowe vehicle “A Beautiful Mind,” and whether or not there would be a Continental breakfast until it was totally late and we were super tired. Then we went to sleep in big rooms with high ceilings and adjacent bathrooms that were almost as big as my entire apartment. Good times.

The next morning we woke up, drank the fuck out of some coffee, and headed back to the Big City. I also ate a croissant with bacon, egg, and cheese- a rare occurrence for me- and I now have a better understanding of the popularity of the popular breakfast snack.

In other news, the plaguelike symptoms mentioned in recent entries seem to be returning. I wonder if I should go out and save a baby or something today so people will remember me as having been heroic just before my death. Or maybe I will just call people on the phone and say highly quotable things of great importance. Or maybe I will just take a nap. It is tough to say as of this writing.

Dave Hill

Fucking Up Toronto

I have just returned from a few days in scenic Toronto (pictured above courtesy of my cellular telephone. Not sure what that building is though), the popular Canadian city, where I was shooting stuff for the premium cable television channel Cinemax during the futuristic Toronto International Film Festival. Since I am 1/4 Canadian and all (my grandfather was from Ontario), it was really great to be back in the motherland.

I have been to Toronto a number of times in my life and it never fails to deliver, especially if you are easily entertained like me. This time around I was mostly busy interviewing show business people and also some totally regular people about movies and stuff, but I still managed to squeeze in a little distinctly Canadian excitement while I was at it. On Saturday, I made it the Hockey Hall of Fame, something I’ve pretty much wanted to do my entire life. It was pretty awesome. If you are the kind of person that likes to look at old hockey jerseys and equipment and stuff, this place is pretty much one for the “Holy Fucking Shit” files. The picture above is of a handpainted goalie mask worn by former Cleveland Barons goalie Gilles Meloche, who was one of the greats. It’s pretty sweet if you ask me. I imagine it’s harder to shoot a puck past a guy that has his face painted all crazy like this.

Above is a picture of me totally standing next to the Stanley Cup, which is pretty much the most incredible trophy ever, hockey-related or otherwise. It was pretty dark in there but if you look closely you can sort of tell that I’m all like “Wow, I can’t believe I’m totally standing next to the Stanley Cup.” It was really something. I thought about holding my finger up in the “number one” sign or maybe giving a thumbs up or something but in the end I just decided to stand there and do nothing.

Usually when I’m in Toronto, I try to stuff myself with as much Asian food as possible as the Chinatown there is pretty solid. If you like Chinese, Thai, Korean, and Japanese food, you could do a lot worse than to go to Toronto and eat stuff. This time however, I mixed things up by eating some totally non-Asian food. One night I ate a big steak at an old school steak place called Barberian’s. I ate the fuck out of a steak and some oysters and then for dessert I ate the fuck out of a bunch of chocolate mousse that came in its own chocolate house (pictured above). Man, are those Canadians ahead of us or what? For the record though, the roof tasted much better than the rest of the house.

The food highlight of this Toronto visit, however, came in the form of my visit to Gretzky’s. As hinted at in the name, it is the restaurant owned by hockey legend Wayne “The Great One” Gretzky. It’s kind of like Ruby Tuesday’s or something only with Wayne Gretzky stuff all over the place instead of old license plates and stuff. This place was pretty much a Gretzky lover’s paradise. In fact, I think maybe they should change the name of the restaurant to Gretzky’s: A Gretzky Lover’s Paradise. I wonder if this will come up in the next shareholders meeting. It should.

The food at Gretzky’s was pretty average chain restaurant type food, but when you’re surrounded by Wayne Gretzky’s old shoulder pads and stuff, pretty much anything tastes delicious if you ask me. Pictured above is the Great One burger, which comes with Gretzky’s number (99, as hinted at in the photo) burned into the bun. How awesome is that? They say you can taste the difference. Also, if you rotate the plate 180 degress, you can have a Mario Lemieux burger instead. You may not realize it, but that is a hilarious hockey joke that I just made. Trust me on that one.

On the movie front while in Toronto, I saw “The Assasination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford,” starring Hollywood’s Brad Pitt, and “Juno,” which was directed by Hollywood’s Jason Reitman. “Jesse James” was pretty good but roughly 9 hours long, which some people think is maybe too long. Still if you like horses, gunplay, and Brad Pitt, this movie pretty much has everything. Also, Nick Cave sings a song in a bar toward the end of the movie, which was a nice touch. If I ever get magically transported to the Old West, I hope he is there then too. I would probably be slightly less freaked out about things.

“Juno” was a really good movie starring Canadians Ellen Page and Michael Cera. I don’t want to get all Siskel and Ebert on your asses or anything, but I predict this movie is going to be very popular. I really liked it and I hate most things in life. Dave Hill says walk reasonably fast to see this movie.

Anyway, now I am back in New York City and trying to adjust to the non-Canadian lifestyle. It is going okay so far. I will keep you posted on this and other topics in the very near future. Brace yourself.

Dave Hill

Andrew Andrew, Stuff I Had To Eat, And Other Topics

It has been an action-packed past couple of days despite my continued state of being almost dead. On Tuesday, I walked all the way over to First Avenue and First Street where I joined the futuristic Andrew Andrew for their (Andrew Andrew are two guys in total) radio show on the popular Eastvillageradio.com. It was good times. It is exciting to talk into a microphone and know that someone, anyone somewhere is listening and maybe liking it enough so as not to find you and stab you. I am hoping I accomplished that on my visit to their show. Decide for yourself by downloading the show by clicking here here. Don’t worry- it is not a virus, just an mp3. I show up at about the 46 minute point and, well, then things really start to heat up like a motherfucker.

After I was totally on Andrew Andrew’s radio show, the three of us walked south to a bar I had never been to called Marshall Stack, which was far less annoying than its name implies. At Marshall Stack, we ate a delightful cheese plate and Cuban sandwiches and drank a couple beers, of which there was a nice variety. Somewhere during our time there though my allergies kicked in like a motherfucker and I was all sneezing and sniffling and stuff. Andrew Andrew said they thought there might have been a cat lurking nearby, which would pretty much do it for me in the sneezing department if it were the right kind of cat (the kind that causes me to need a tracheotomy despite being adorable). We finished most of our big sandwiches and headed for the train, which was great for us.

Yesterday, I kept the mayhem coming by shooting something for the soon-to-exist Barry Diller/Arianna Huffington juggernaut 236.com, which was good times despite my continued deathlike symptoms. Then last night, my friend Matt totally called me up out of the blue and was all like “Let’s get some dinner!” and- since I hadn’t eaten yet or anything even though it was totally getting late and stuff- I was like “Fuck yeah, let’s get some dinner!” I met him on the street near my apartment and we walked over to a restaurant right by my house called Fatty Crab, a delightful place I had never been before for some reason still unknown to me. When we got there, I totally ran into my friend Doug from Cleveland who was sitting out front. I was like “Hey, Doug- what are you doing here? Your house is in Cleveland!” and he was all like “I was gonna eat some food! Oh yeah, and I am visiting town for a couple days!” and then Doug, Matt, and I all ended up eating some food together and that shit was fucking crazy. We ate a bunch of pork and duck-like products and it was seriously good. I will totally go to that place again sometime like a motherfucker.

Now it’s Thursday and I am trying to sort out how much ass to kick today by sitting here in a coffee shop and typing a bit. There is a band on the stereo (is that what it’s called these days? I don’t even know anymore) that sounds totally like the Strokes but it totally not the Strokes. The singer sings so much like the singer from the Strokes that he should be hunted down and kicked in the nuts so it won’t happen anymore. I can’t believe no one else in this band doesn’t just say to the singer “Dude, why don’t you just go blow the singer from the Strokes dude? You, like, totally love him or something.” And then he’d, like, throw his bass down and just totally walk out of their practice room. It’s not even like I like the Strokes all that much, but I’d much rather hear them than some other band in tight jackets trying to sound just like them. Geez.

Dave Hill

Fighting Death And Other Topics

It is Tuesday after Labor Day and my plaguelike symptoms seem to be back slightly. I am kind of a walking snot museum, which is slightly less attractive than it sounds. Despite approaching death, I did manage to go visit my sister, her husband, and their universally adorable (as in it cannot be debated) 19 month-old son (who is also my godson) for a few days in Madaket, which is a part of the popular Nantucket, Massachusetts region. They were totally hanging out there for a while this summer. As far as my visit went, I mostly just hung out and ate stuff and talked and stuff. It was good times. I am practically a local at this point. I almost even bought a bright-colored belt that had whales on it and stuff but then I decided against it in an 11th hour decision that shocked both me and the staff of the store in which I saw it as well as most of the other people shopping in the store.

Today I am mostly kicking ass at the home office and plan on running a few life-altering errands later. I hope to squeeze in a killer workout at some point too. I might do some reps. F it.

Over the weekend I watched some of the U.S. Open and- not surpisingly- it really got me thinking about the great game of tennis, which I used to play a lot (I was on the JV tennis team for two years in high school. Deal with it) but don’t so much anymore (I am thinking of coming out of retirement). As part of my thinking about tennis, I got to thinking about the greats, people like John McEnroe, Jimmy Connors, and Bjorn Borg, who is from Sweden. Those are probably my three favorites of all-time. When I was a kid, I liked Bjorn Borg the best but over the years I have shifted more toward McEnroe since he is so entertaining in addition to being seriously great at tennis. Here is a good clip of McEnroe in his prime playing Ivan Lendl and swearing at the ref and stuff. And I’m pretty sure that’s Billie Jean King talking in the background. In short, this clip pretty much has everything. I hope you enjoy it so much.


In other news, I was watching the popular David Letterman program last night and Nick Cave’s new (at least to me anyway) band Grinderman was on. They were really good and had awesome facial hair too. Here is video of them playing on the Jools Holland show. I wish bands like this were more popular in America. In a perfect world bands like Fall Out Boy would be pumping gas for Grinderman’s tour bus. Or something like that anyway. Anyway, I hope you see my point.


Dave Hill