Geek Weekly #9

Russian Speaker's Guild of Austin put on the show and it was dedicated to Charlie Chaplain.

The first thing I learned is that cats are from outer space. Yep, apparently they came to this planet to bring happines to humans (or something, all this exposition was given in broken English). The second thing I learned is that you CAN train a cat, you just can't train them very well. Many a time would a cat halt while standing on some poor child's back and just stare out into the audience while Kouklachev waved a treat in its face to try and get it movinng again. Which brings me to the third thing I learned: the only way you cn gett a cat to do any sort of trick is to immediately give it some sort of treat. Here's the thing, I've never in my life seen a cat so into a treat that it would climb a three meter pole and hang out on top or jump from one child's back to another while persuing one . Not that I have ever tried, This leads me to believe that the only way he could possibly get the cats to so vigorously persue thhe treats is by not feeding them for two or three days before hand. It's just a suspicion, but hey, it fits.

let's get to my main complaint. There was far more circus than there was cat. A good two-thirds of the show consisted of Kouklachev and his human cohorts doin wacky clown stuff with occasional cats. And the clown stuff was really really strange too. I'm talking access TV-meets-Univision-caliber. The first half of the show was pretty mych just Kouklachev (playing a hobo type clown) fending off two crook clowns and constantly getting harassed by a cop clown (remember kids, cops don't want you to have fun) with the occasional cat. I learned cops are bad. This half ended with Kouklachev and another clown getting into a cat spaceship and going to the cat home world to live in happiness.

Spring 2001

The next and started with the cat spaceship flying through space saying that the clowns were going to the cat planet. But all of a sudden, out pops Kouklachev to explain in a poorly DUBBED monologue that it was a joke, really he wasn't going anywhere. Needless to say, the audience seemed very confused (including the Russian speakers), not just because what he was saying didn't match the way his lips were moving but also because we didn't get the joke and wanted to see the damn cat planet.

Fortunately, the second half has more cat action. We got to see cats walk upside down, cats on disco balls and a cat balance precariously on the aforementioned three meter pole. This was especially amusing because Kouklachev would tip over the pole and the cat would struggle desperately to hold on while hanging over the heads of screaming children. Ahhh, cat torture at its finest. The second half was also when things got just . . . plain . . . weird.

The particular sketch that comes to mind is "Kouklachev and the Lightbulb". In this case, our hobo hero decides he is so tired he must get some rest so he turns out a light on a little coffee table using a big switch that wasn't actually on the lamp, but hey, whatever. Anyway a cat runs out and turns it back on while Kouk has his back turned. This goes on for a while, on/off, on/off ,on/ off. Easn time he turns the light off, he deposits a treat, and each time the cat turns it on, it stops for a mommrnt to eat. Finally, Kouk gets fed up and removes the bulb. Cat comes up and the bulb lights up again. At this point he pauses and shows the bulb to the audience and points at it. "Hey, look, it's still lit and it's not on the lamp! Aren't I a genius? Applaud me, you bastards!" He then takes the bulb and drops it in a bowl and "steps" on it (sound of breaking glass heard), then a dog walks up (oh, did I mention there are three dogs in the show?) and

Geek Weekly #9

eats the crushed bulb (more breaking glass). As the dog exits stage left, its anus starts glowing. And the audience gasps -- not for the last time.

We have not yet mentioned the odyssey into the child pornography business that we were about to take. Oh, yes, they had controtionists -- in thongs, no less. Twelve-year old girls captured our fascination with ... well, their thongs. We watched, half embarrassed, as barley (if that) legal girls did a risqué show for us. The first time, we watched as two men took the contortionists's legs and ran in a circle around her. They twisted her legs in a fashion not unlike the Charleston and yet unlike the Charleston as she was laying on her back and her legs moved in an orbit that couldn't have been natural. To this we said "Ohhh" and "Ahhh". Then she stood and turned her back to us and we stared into her twelve-year-old ass. The audience gasped. After this we thought the pornographic bit, which was slightly questionable as a kid's event, had ended, but no. We were treated to two more acts of unholy body manipulation, which we did not expect. These women folded themselves in half in a way that would snap the spine of an ordinary person. Perhpas we were inexperienced in the field of contortion, as it was our first time to see such a thing live. It's impossible to describe the series of twists that followed. Needless to say, the audience gasped many more times, occassionally due to the amazing feats and occassionally due to ... well the thongs. Twelve-year-olds, dude. All in all, it was not what we were expecting to see. It was advertised as a 56 cat, three dog show. We saw 20 cats, max. We expected juggling cats or at least cats getting juggled. At best, cats jumping through fire hopps, cats in costumed glory begging for our cheers. But what we came out with was educational (sort of) and strangely entertaining. Surreal, to say the least, and in the end, isn't that what really matters?

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Still Life with Actor's Ass Jackie Belvin

Monday, January 22, 2001

I have my first audition with my new agent today! It is a print job and a cattle call, but beggars can't be choosers. Luck is on my side: It is almost directly across the street from work! I am just going to run across the street, put my name on the list, go back to work and check the list in about half an hour (tick tock, tick tock...half an hour passes. So I check back at the audition. A man steps out from the audition room into the thong of hopefuls inthe waiting area. He looks around, sizing each person up in .5 seconds, and begins pointing at each person while interspersing "You can go," "Stay," "Go," and "Sorry." I get a "You can go" and turn on my heel to head outside, hoping my face isn't actually turning red (a hazard with the translucent skin). My mind races for about forty seconds "Why?" "I am not pretty enough- thin enough- and the worst...ethnic enough." Talk about things you can't hlep. Then I realize that it wasn't that at all. based on whome they asked me to stay to Fuzzy picture of Jackie, cute audition for this computer brochure, I was probably too pretty (said with a pinched face, squinty eyes and tight lips) i.e.: too actressy and too young ...and not ethnic looking. So I put away the mental wooden paddle, whip, and chain. I note how good this turned out. Not only did I not have to drive for an hour each way to get to this audition, but also I didn't have to sit around for two hours either when I wasn't going to get the job anyway.

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Tuesday, January 23, 2001

I worked. PSSI, Production and Satellite Services, Inc., owns the greater part of my day. The people are a pleasure to work with (for the most part) and I have health insurance for the first time in my adult life. We have beer Fridays and my boss's brother grills ribs or hamburgers or hotdogs about four or five times a year. He is one of the coolest gents I know despite his money. (What a snob I am turning out to be! I have cornered a new market on snobbery -- I am a poor snob.) You know I have met some wealthy people who have actually been good people - I haven't met many of them but I have met some. Anyway, I am working. I am lucky; although I am seriously overdue for a raise ( am interviewing for a weekend job this Thursday), they let me off for auditions with only a minimal guilt trip.

Wednesday, January 24, 2001, mid-afternoon) I have to leave work again to go to my second audition this week! It's for print work again, but this time it's for a waitress or young mom for IHOP, so I actually have a shot. I just got this agent last Thursday and within two days he had my first audition and two days after that, my second. My former agent, who I had been with for six months, got me a total of (drum roll please)...zero auditions. The one before that...two in six months. Luckily, I got a handful of non-paying jobs last year to keep me from sticking my head in the sleek, black, top-of-the-line gas stove (which matches the fridge) in my sleek, top-of-the-line, please someone kill me, Santa Monica house. I live in the hood so it keeps me sane. The house I live in is the only one that has been remodeled in the last twenty years. And the beach is just down the street (!), except it's polluted and not fit for humans. There are signs that warn not to go into the water, but the city of Santa Monica only puts it up after tourist season. Those of us that live here are aware of the open sewer lines that ran into the ocean until early last year, so we stay clear.

Wednesday, January 24, 2001 PM Left aft 8:30 to head down to Hollywood to see the Upright Citizens Brigade at ImprovOlympics Theatre. The place is packed to the gills. The theatre seats 80 people. About 150 people have shown up to see this infaous improv troupe. They pack us into the seats and then on the stairs and then on wooden boxes standing in the back. The show is a hit. I realize that I really like Hollywood, the seedy-young-"hip" sloppy area of LA where underground theatre reigns right along with old-underground-theatres-that-are-now-famous-but-haven't-losttheir-underground-sensibilities like The Actors Gang where Jack Black (Tenacious D, High Fidelity) got started. Hollywood, the antithesis of where I happen to live- Santa Monica, the "professional" 9 to 5, Ivy League, khaki pants and black turtleneck, fancy car, Darwinist, trendy, intellectual pit-of-hell (hell being

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