How long has it been now?

A long time. Bad blogger! Bad! No treat!

So let's see. What have happened to me in the last month or so...

We closed the Ganza. All our friends went home and it was sad. Sentimental hugs and vows of palship abounded. Final trysts were conducted with extra intimacy and mumbled promises which for all I know, are still being kept. Bleary eyed artists got unto this plane and that, dealt with customs or had the yummy hug of a direct flight.

But did I wallow at home in post partum depression? Oh no.

I got on a plane and went to Toronto. Such a quick trip it was, so tight to the Ganza indeed, that I met Kurt and Becky in the airport and we shared a cab around.

Once there, me and Jania checked into the Castle Westin, which we paid for with airmiles instead of our flights. (ever do that? it's a great deal, cause airmiles always wants to put you on the worst flights and hotels costs just as much sometimes more. travel hints from crad!)

The next day, after some shopping (I bought a fancy new shirt) we went to the Doras. A rather glittery event, where my efforts were honored with three awards, and I was happy and proud. At teh party I smoked a giant cigar I had been saving and we watched the CN tower play hide and seek in the smog on our oh-so-miami-vice roof top patio. I got to hang out with Matt Barum (late of Edmonton, early of Second City Toronto). Good times.

Matt was kind enough to invite us to his home for brunch the next day and we were all over that. The next day I went and saw him in his second city show and me and becky did an improv set with them after. It was awesome.

On the street after we ran into Sheldon Elter, who is a pal, in town doing the Canadian Idol thing. What a star. We ran up to him screaming "SHELDON! SHELDON!" and for a minute he was sure we were the real thing. At the time he was voted off, he had the third largest internet fan club in the game. Watch out for him, famewise. He's gonna do awesome.

Then what. I came home. Chilled out a while.

Then I got this wierd gig. I am a writer on a show for OLN called "The Rig" which is like a doc series about this oil rig tht drills for oil. It pays TV, which is good, even in Canada, but very odd, as it is a reality show. So the writing done pre shooting is very hypothetical. To make matters crazier, they were without a director for a shoot, and they were so desparate, they asked me. So of I went (about two hours after my friends wedding) on a plane to grande prairie, which deserves its ironic E.

(what married you say?) Yes, my pals Brad and Caroline totally got completely married at the Rutherford house. I was not a best man, but I had jobs. I took wine places. And cheese. I can be counted on.

The rough and tumble camera crew and I drank with aplomb at the grand prairie college bar, where people were actually quite young and attractive. Our PA Krishna got so drunk we were almost asked to leave. We were asked to "corral our buddy" which was easier said than done.

We went to the actual oil rig and shot the guys goofing off. "Rig watch" they called it. These guys are funny and nice, but crass and all get out. They spoke openly about the "fat girls' they had bedded the night before, how much they had drank, experiences on mushrooms when they thought they had wet their pants. What would you do at 22 with 100K a year as your income? Bang (and I quote) "fat girl pussy" in Fox Creek Alberta? Me neither. But oddly, there are no oil rigs in Manhatten, so they can not be blamed for their location.

All in all, the trip left me tired and a bit more materialistic. TV people and rig guys drink about the same amount and make similar money. Good thing money doesn't matter. Right?

Right?