Back in Chicago at a Diplomat Motel rehearsal.

This time we were in the room with a sign on the wall that reads, "Kraft GREAT Kids Rules." The rules include things like, "follow instructions," "no eating or drinking juice or soda," and, "respect yourself and others."

As a warm-up we did a game called Five Things (sometimes Three Things or Seven Things depending on how much time is available). Everyone is given a topic to, as quickly as possibly, list off five things for. You know, like, "five made up names of world leaders," or, "five things you'd yell out if you were filled with rage." Then the person has to rattle off that list of five things as quickly as possible, whether they make sense or not.

Trupe (pictured on the right) was given, "Five OTHER Kraft Great Rules For Kids."

Here's what he yelled out as fast as he could:

"1. Don't put those markers in your pants!
"2. Don't slap Rico!
"3. Raise your hand if you farted again!
"4. Don't tell your parents anything that went on here today!"

I can't remember the fifth one.

Sherry: So, are you glad you came?
Me: Yeah. I was worried that it would be awkward, or we'd get tired of hanging out, but it's been fun. And I had more fun the times we hung out together than the times we hung out separately.
Sherry: Me too.
Me: Thanks for asking me.
Sherry: Thanks for coming.

The Cheesecake Factory in Caesar's Palace is really nice.

Headed over to the Flamingo to see the Second City Las Vegas show. I used what little contacts I have to get free tickets. I was excited to see the sketch revue that Shelly had co-written and used to perform in, and was curious to see what other ex-Chicagoans I might recognize in the cast.

As the lights came up on the show, though, I realized that I'd somehow gotten tickets to the fully improvised show that the understudies perform, and not the scripted revue. Disappointing. The show was not bad, the performers, none of whom I recognized, did a fine job, it just wasn't the show I wanted to see.

And sitting there, I couldn't get past the thought that everyone around me had paid about $50 to see old (to me anyway) improv games like, "The Dating Show" and "Dah-Doo-Ron-Ron." Everyone seemed to enjoy it, though.

As I left the theater there was already a long line waiting for the next show on that stage, a non-Second City (I assume) topless revue called, "X Burlesque."

In Las Vegas with my sister, Sherry. Her company rented out the Hard Rock Casino's club, Body English. With deep leather booths, ornate chandeliers, and hallways so dark you can't read the signs on the restroom doors, the place was sort of what I imagine Morrisey's house is like.

Since it was a corporate holiday party, you were more likely to see middle aged businessmen and their wives on the dance floor than, say, Paris Hilton. Which was just fine with me. (The closest I came to a celebrity spotting was later, when a incredibly drunk guy kept insisting that he'd just seen the Iron Sheik playing blackjack at the $10 tables) I tried my best to get dressed up enough for the party, but realized, with a shirt that was exactly the same purple as the Hard Rock employees, I looked like I worked there.

Sherry's co-workers seemed nice. A few of them awkwardly tried to figure out if I was Sherry's husband. "No. No. Just her brother. We have the same last name because we're siblings. Not married."

Until recently, I somehow made it through a half decade of Chicago improv without ever going to a Whirlyball party. Whirlyball is a combination of bumper cars and basketball (with some la crosse thrown in), and its pretty high among the improv special occasion destinations (behind karaoke and just-going-to-a-crappy-bar-near-the-theater-and-drinking-too-much).

I finally went to a Whirlyball party a few weeks ago for Meador's 30th birthday party. I learned that I am terrible at Whirlyball, although not as bad as Young who spent half a game stuck under the basket because he didn't realize his bumper car had a gas pedal.

Meador: [later, via e-mail] You and your camera left before I got stupid drunk, right? It was a rough night of which I remember little.

I left work a little early today and headed over to Second City to catch a little of their annual 24 hour improv show. It's a charity event where a core set of improvisers put on a show for 24 straight hours, with a rotating cast of sit-ins, and the occasional visiting musical act. I got there as the show was entering its final hours.

The first person I saw as I entered the theater was my friend Shelly, who'd I'd performed with in the improv group Otis. It was the first time I'd seen her since she'd moved back from Las Vegas, where she'd been for a year doing the Second City Las Vegas revue.

Me: Have you been up the whole 24 hours?
Shelly: Yep. The whole time.
Me: How do you feel?
Shelly: Good. A little loopy, which is maybe dangerous because everything seems funny to me right now.
Me: How long have you been back?
Shelly: I just got back. Great timing, huh? I drive across country from Las Vegas through terrible weather, and then I turn right around and do a 24 hour improv show.

A half hour later I took this picture from the audience. Shelly is the one on-stage nodding off.

Later, the improvisers took a break while the Blisters played. The Blisters is a Chicago band made up of four grade school age kids. For part of the set, Jeff Tweedy, the father of the drummer, sat about four seats away from me, nodding along to the music.

The Blisters play the 24 hour improv show every year, and I'd actually seen them once before, a couple years ago. Jeff Tweedy played with them that time, but he's apparently been kicked out of the band since then.

They did a good job, and everyone seemed to enjoy it. There was only one minor moment of awkwardness when a guitar had to be switched out, and the whole room sat there in silence waiting for the next song.

Then one of the improvisers in the audience (Grosz, I think) yelled out, "Banter! You gotta do some banter."

The lead singer, smiled, stepped back up to the microphone and said, "Oh. Uh... so... I was at the library the other day..."

My friend Tom, who I first met in a gifted program back in elementary school, has started working at Jellyvision. We're not working on the same project, but we work in the same office now. In fact, his desk is right behind mine. We work back to back.

Tom: I'll try to look less corpse-like in your pictures from now on.

Diplomat Motel rehearsal at Gill Park. McCrackin sat in as a substitute coach. We were given the Arts and Crafts room to practice in.

McCrackin: Hey, pipe cleaners!
Me: Pipe cleaners are easily the best craft material.

While we rehearsed scenes, McCrackin sat next to the "Please Don't Touch the Art Supplies" sign and shaped a detailed set of pipe cleaner eyeglasses.

McCrackin: I also made this heart for my daughter.

Half-way through rehearsal a woman asked us if we would mind moving upstairs to the exercise room. "They double booked the room. I have an art class about to start. I'm so sorry."

We finished rehearsal upstairs.

Meador: Were you nervous she'd see the glasses and get mad that you were using up pipe cleaners?
McCrackin: Yeah, totally. I hid 'em in my coat the whole time.

Snow.

I'm glad that I agreed to go to Las Vegas with my sister, Sherry, next weekend.

The company Sherry works for has a holiday party in Vegas every year. Free flights and hotel for employees and a guest. This year, none of Sherry's friends were free that weekend, and my other two sisters, Julie and Allie, couldn't go either. So Sherry asked me.

Sherry moved to Chicago about a year ago, and we've been getting together every month or so to have dinner and catch up, usually at the Cheesecake Factory (my Dad loves Chedders, Sherry loves the Cheesecake Factory). We talk, we eat, we run out of things to talk about, we go our separate ways. It's always nice but rarely lasts longer than the amount of time it takes to eat a meal.

Still, if someone offers you a free trip to a warm place in the winter, you take it. And I'm hoping it will be fun to spend some time together. Also, I found out later that if I'd declined, she wouldn't have gone at all, so I'm glad I said yes.

Sherry has one stipulation. "Shave the beard."

There are a number of comedy theaters in Chicago. I mostly perform at the iO Theater, which, according to its own sign, is the home of "Chicago's Best Improv Comedy."

iO was originally called the Improv Olympic, but had to change its name after threats of legal action from the International Olympic Committee. They were concerned that customers might confuse a night of semi-professional improvised comedy for an Olympic sporting event.