Trophy Wife

New Year's Eve in the Bunker

It’s New Year’s Eve and, in an overabundance of caution, I’ve sequestered myself in Trophy Wife’s bunker. I don’t think there will be any civil unrest tonight, but you never know. They are, after all, adding a leap second to ‘08. And Microsoft Zunes are going all haywire because of the leap year.

Our bunker is an interesting story in itself. We wanted it to be underground, near the iO West theater, and have good parking. After an exhaustive search, we gave up on the parking requirement and signed a lease on a former sex dungeon. A few of the bunker’s features:

• A stockpile of 100 suggestions that could be used to start an improv show. We began secretly assembling these suggestions in 2007. This stockpile will enable us to put on shows even in some post-apocalyptic world where the audience is not allowed to speak.


• 30 copies of the book Truth In Comedy, translated into many different languages, including Esperanto and some comic book, story-board edition. Kevin assures us that version will be intelligible even in some post-apocalyptic world where no one knows how to read.


• A red phone that connects us directly to an improv group in Bejing. I just picked it up to test the line and, yes, the Hey, Fred Schneider warm-up has made it to China.


• A popcorn machine and a keg of Pabst Blue Ribbon. In some post-apocalyptic world where the iO West Theater has been closed down (or, in some pre-apocalyptic world where an SUV has crashed into the theater), the good times can continue in our bunker.

That’s all I can say without compromising the bunker’s security. Please, have a happy and safe New Year’s Eve. And come see us perform next Wednesday (1/7/2009) when we return from a two-week hiatus.

Tips for a Kountry Khristmas: Mind Games

Sometimes I go from a big city (Los Angeles) to a small town (Mooresville, IN) over the holidays. This seems like it’d be relaxing, but sometimes I get stressed out from inactivity. This is because Mooresville is “quieter” than Los Angeles, and I’ve gotten used to loudness.*

So this year I’ve decided to keep myself amused by playing a new little game every day.

Today’s game was called Answer My Sister When She Is Talking to Her Cat As Though She’d Been Talking to Me.

Sample conversation:

—————————
MY SISTER:
Come on, fatness! Get off my mattress!

ME:
Oops, sorry about that.

MY SISTER:
No, I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the cat.

ME:
Oh.
————————

(Please note that I was nowhere near the mattress – in fact, I was in a different room)

Second conversation:

————————
MY SISTER:
Come on, fatty, it’s time to eat your dinner.

ME:
Yay! What am I having?

MY SISTER:
No. I am talking to the cat.

ME:
Oh.

————-

If you decide to play this game, and I highly recommend it, nonchalance is key.

• “loudness” = hobos, smog, desperation, partial nudity

Behind the Scenes at a Trophy Wife rehearsal

Ever wanted to know what a Trophy Wife rehearsal was like? Well, last night, our coach Rich Talarico took these photos of us improvising blindfolded. That’s right, we improvise blindfolded. That’s like some Jedi-level shit right there.

Audish Talk: The Good, the Bad, and the Totally Fat

So today I went on an audition for a well-known product we’ll call “Popular Diet Shake That Is In Fact Probably the Only Diet Shake You Know About.”

The audition consisted of me walking in, making it clear through body language and facial expression that I am LOVIN’ LIFE, then remembering the delicious Diet Shake in my purse. I stop on the busy street*, yank out Diet Shake, shake it in a whimsical way (see above re: lovin’ life) then slam it down. I’m so satisfied, y’all. Then! Oh no! From out of nowhere comes a shitload of evil donuts! They’re flying… they’re attacking me! I kick! I punch. I high kick again! I’m gonna fucking pound you to a pile of sugar, donuts!

Suddenly – my badass kicks have worked. The donuts have been defeated! With a satisfied look (satisfaction is key) I brush off my hands, tighten my belt (literally, they had a belt for me to wear) and walk off, loving life again, NOT AT ALL FAZED BY THE FACT THAT SOME DONUTS ATTACKED ME. In real life I’d think, “Well, Kirk Cameron was right all along, it IS the end times,” and probably wander along the streets bloodied and dazed while cars ran into each other, babies screamed, sirens blared and dogs barked under the sudden donut assault. There’d be fires. Sobbing. Gunshots. Maybe I’d take part in some looting but I doubt it.

What I’m saying is, if drinking Diet Shake causes Flying Donut Attacks then I want no part of it. I will not drink Diet Shake. No sir.**

*the busy street was in my mind’s eye. In actuality I was in an audition room with a surly bearded dude! Imagination is MAGICAL.

**also, if i actually drank Diet Shake I might lose weight and never get called in for the fat-girl auditions for Diet Shake.

what life should look like, if you are “loving it” properly. If this isn’t you then you’re doing something wrong. Fix it.

Farewell Opus

Last Wednesday, we said goodbye to Opus Moreschi with the following video tribute. If you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Opus, you can leave your wishes in the comments. He still reads this site (we think).

Great Photos from SFIF

Check out these great photos from disco dancing party fun times at the San Francisco Improv Festival. Want more Wife for your spank bank? Check out Shaun Landry’s photos and my photos.

Tribute To Eric Hunicutt

Last Wednesday, we said goodbye to Eric Hunicutt with our first full-cast show in months and the following video tribute afterwards. Enjoy:

Looks Like We Made It (This Far): 3 Years of the Wife

Do you know how hard it is to stay married in LA?

It’s hard. Really hard. Whoever says marriage isn’t work is full of crap. Don’t get us wrong, there are good times too. But then what about the times when Eric Hunicutt stalks grouchily off to bed without taking out the trash, or Mike Coen leaves his socks lying around, or Rachael Drummond eats all the spaghetti Bolognese we made without a “thank you” or even an “eeehngh” of pleasure!? Huh? And don’t even get us started on those nights when Kevin McShane turns a cold shoulder in the conjugal bed because he has a “headache” (Kevin ALWAYS has a headache, these days, and if his head is hurting then MAYBE he shouldn’t flounce around in those little scraps of lace like he’s asking for it).

But, like we said, there are also good times. And those good times, if you wait for them, can make you forget the bad times. Like the time when Opus Moreschi packed us a surprise picnic lunch and we took it up in the hot air balloon, then when we came down Jill had camels waiting to carry us to the Arbor Day Parade, and then Tim handmade us all little decoupaged cards telling us which parts of our bodies were his favorites and he said we couldn’t show them to anyone else because they were PRIVATE, and we all played footsie under the wrought-iron table before running down to the beach and getting our pants all full of sand.

Those times are pretty awesome. And it’s those little things that remind us why we stay married.

Which also reminds us – hey, this Wednesday is our THREE YEAR anniversary show! Yes, three whole years. We’ve been faithful, too. Not that we haven’t looked at other improv teams… but you can look as long as you don’t touch, right?

P.S. the three year anniversary is the SCADS OF CASH anniversary which means you should give us money. But if you don’t want to do that, you could always just come to our show Wednesday night at 9:30 (after DHT at 9). What do you think?

The Wife Celebrates Three Years

The Wife celebrates three years together at the Cat & Fiddle

Three years ago this week, eight of us met for the first time (along with coach Mike O’Hara) at the round table at the Cat & Fiddle and decided on the name “Trophy Wife” for our new Harold team. Runner-up names were “Awesometown,” “Stately Wayne Manor,” and “Foxy Chocolate Robots.”

Last week, we all gathered at the Cat & Fiddle once again. Ostensibly to celebrate Tim’s birthday (and Rachael and Opus’ birthdays, which flank it). But once seated at that exact same round table, we realized there was another birthday to celebrate – our beloved Trophy Wife was 3 years old. That’s nearly 5 times older than the average iOWest Harold team.

The three-year anniversary of our first show is April 9th. Please join us.

A VERY SPOOOOOOOKY TROPHY WIFE HALLOWEEN

The wife loves a pagan holiday. Except for Eric Hunnicutt. He hates all holidays. And other days.

But the rest of the wife haunted it up on Halloween Eve.

Coen swang with the Clintons.

Jim Morrison looked lovely with Mail Order Bride of Frankenstein.

Cookie Monster hung out with Dr. Death.

Friends of Trophy Wife Horse’s Ass and Victim of Jack the Ripper partied hard with Rue McLanahan

John Abbott was there in spirit.