Alexander Hamilton

On Saturday I saw Hamilton in the Big Apple. My friend Natalie had invited me to go with her after she scored some tickets by swearing her soul to the devil. Hashtag worth it. Hashtag, not that we know what the devil is.

I arrived in New York City two days in advance of the production because I'm a generally paranoid person and I'm 1,000 percent convinced that impossibly-amazing things like me going to see Hamilton on Broadway are not going to work out.

For this reason, I was positive that a catastrophic event would occur before the Paul Simon concert last year as I waited a few months for the big day to arrive. I routinely checked all of the ticket information twice a day, every day, for eight straight weeks. I even practiced a conversation in my head over 100 times wherein a ticket taker would tell me my tickets weren't valid and I had to explain how important Paul Simon was to me so he would still let me in.

I'm not a fun person to be with.

Natalie invited me to go to Hamilton with her a few months ago. She was visiting Salt Lake City and she casually asked me if I had ever listened to the soundtrack. This prompted me to perform the entire musical, every single part, even the female roles, for the next three hours. By the time I concluded the closing number, there were tears. I mean, they were mine, but tears nonetheless.

My Conversation with Laura Linney

Natalie: Oh my gosh. That's Laura Linney ten feet in front of us.

Eli: WHAT?! WHERE?

Natalie: . . . ten feet in front of us.

Eli: I'VE NEVER MET HER!

Natalie: Should that be a surprise to me?

Eli: She's just standing there! Right. There.

Natalie: Yeah. So she can probably hear you. Because you're talking super loudly.

Eli: What are we supposed to do in this situation?! HOW DO I EVEN LOOK OMG MY BREATH!!!?

Natalie: I'm guessing from the tone of your voice and the fact that your words aren't making sense that you like Laura Linney?

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Conversation with someone at Impact Hub while we were setting up for our Strangerville Live show:

Woman: What's all this for?

Eli: Oh, it's for a storytelling show happening tomorrow.

Woman: The Moth!?!

Eli: No. It's called Strangerville Live.

Woman: Oh. Is that like The Moth?

Eli: Kind of. It's a show I started in conjunction with my blog.

HD is the Future

Woman: Comcast, how can I help you?

Eli: Yes. Good day. HD does not work.

Woman: Excuse me?

Eli: I turn on the television and there is no high definition.

Woman: So . . . you are not experiencing HD? Are you certain?

Eli: Quite. For a while I just thought it was because I wasn't wearing my glasses. But then I remembered that my glasses are basically just for show anyway so that didn't really make sense. But then I put them on just to test the theory anyway and NO HD.

Woman: Ok. How long have you noticed the problem?

Eli: Well, it started when I was watching Full Hou--NEVER YOU MIND WHAT I WAS WATCHING--but when I switched it over to Naked and Af--NEVER MIND--I noticed that the 1992 program I was watching looked the same as the 2016 one.

Weirdest Birthday Party Ever

It was my birthday last week ("oh em gee eli no way you look so young you never age!" stop it you guys).

I was informed by friends that they would be giving me a birthday party at Matt's house on Saturday. I was excited about this, assuming that there would be balloons and cake and several clowns. You know. Normal adult birthday party stuff.

I knew something was strange when Skylar picked me up and started driving me to Matt's house because he seemed very pressed for time. And Skylar is never concerned about the time. Not even when he needs to fly somewhere and he's like "can you take me to the airport?" and I'm like, "sure, when does your flight leave?" and he's like "20 minutes ago" and I'm like "WHY DIDN'T YOU LEAVE FOR THE AIRPORT 2 HOURS AGO?!" and he's like "I'm sure I'll make it" and then he tries to get me to take the scenic route to get there.

My suspicions that something strange was happening were confirmed when we arrived at Matt's house.

The curtains were all pulled shut. The house was dark. We walked in and I saw these things:

Pictures from my Phone & Weekly Distractions

Meg went out of town but before she did she asked me if I would watch the premiere of The Bachelor next week and recap it on TV & Jelly. You guys. I, Eli Whistletown McCann, have never watched one second of The Bachelor. I feel like I'm going to need therapy after Monday. The only thing I know about the show is what I've read from Meg's recaps. And those aren't exactly informative. Are there rules? Do they follow the rules? Meg tried to send me a few links to some sites that apparently explain what the hell but I told her if she assaults me with any more Bachelor material, I will block her on Facebook.

Also, it's my birthday. So tell me you love me or I'll send you Tami in a box. I have all of your addresses.

And now, your Pictures & Distractions:

Teddy is really stealing the show here. 

What are you wearing?

A barely-exaggerated transcript of a conversation that happened today at work:

Woman: What are you wearing?

Eli: Oh I see what this is! Brianne put you up to this! Listen, I can wear the same t-shirt two days in a row. That doesn't make me a bad attorney.

Woman: But--

Eli: Not everyone has to wear a suit all the time. Get with the picture. This is 2017, ma'am.

Woman: I mean--

Eli: And another thing! What makes you think it's ok to walk up to someone and criticize the way they choose to dress?! Do I ask you why you're wearing those shoes?!

Woman: No--

Eli: Exactly! I leave you alone! I don't judge you for looking like a homeless person in a work environment so why do you think it's ok to judge me?!

Episode 16: The World of Strangerville Live II

It wasn't without its drama, but we pulled our second show off this weekend. It was a wonderful time. It began with Cathie walking in the door and handing me a sandwich baggy full of coupons, despite the fact that the vein in my forehead indicated that 10 minutes before the start of the show was not the best time to try to convince me to save money on curbing this summer.

We had a great turnout for the show. There was even a June Snapple supporter in attendance.

So that was awesome.

Here's The Thing About Parenting

Strangerville Live is this Friday! Grab your tickets if you haven't already. It's shaping up to be a great show. FYI also, you don't need to bring a printed ticket to the door. We will check you in by name.

My baby sister and her husband are out of town right now so I was put on a sign-up sheet of sorts for child care for their three children. They needed someone to come and stay the night. I was signed up for two consecutive nights. Essentially 48 hours. Or, as it turns out, 1200 years in child care time.

This didn't seem like a big deal. I mean, how much trouble could these three be?

Guess Who Happened To Be On My Flight Home

My body is jet-lagged and I'm not sure anymore what day or time it is, but I'm told by a thing that the kids are calling "the calendar" that Strangerville Live is happening THIS WEEK.

THIS WEEK, Y'ALL.

I decided that for this show I would finally tell a story I've alluded to on Stranger many times over the years, but one which I've abstained from sharing because I wasn't sure whether all 1,200 relevant statutes of limitations had passed yet. 

Does this count as a teaser? Do you feel teased?

Hungary Might Actually be a Magic Land

Skylar and I took a train a few days ago back to Budapest to gather a vehicle for more adventuring, but this time not by getting tuberculosis on trains.

In their usual fashion, the Eastern European car rental company handed us a car that only barely survived World War II after informing us in no uncertain terms that we would be charged astronomical fees if we returned it with so much as a dead bug on the windshield.

We pointed the car south to a place called "Lake Balaton," which has so many vineyard surrounding it that you are all drunk for having just read this sentence.

We've discovered that Airbnb is supremely unreliable in the blessed nation of Hungary. Exactly 100% of the 17 times we have attempted to book a place here, the host has canceled the booking and sent us some variation of "WHO IS THIS HOW DID YOU GET THIS NUMBER." But in much more broken English.

So we gave up on that, and instead decided to try to book a place the old-fashioned way: by using what the grandparents are calling "the telephones."