jog left at greenland

a couple weeks back we were in toronto for the catch23 tournament of wonders, a first time festival of improvisational theater. it was attended by an amazing cast of characters from around north america. also, they had the baddest of the bad ass logos, which unfortunately you can barely make out on their website. it's a unicorn's head mounted like a trophy and spattered with blood. maybe it's still alive?
one approach that i've seen a few times recently that i'm dick van dyke-ing over a coffee table for is this: 2 person show with 1 person on guitar. now, the couples (theater*in*a*box, crumbs, catch23) are so fluid and funny, i wonder how can it get better. add a guy on git-box to underscore and segue every few beats with poetry and lyrical abstractions in and out of context, that's how.
rene and i went to a strip club downtown called the brass rail. yeah, it's famous, and yeah becky said ecch when she found out we went. but! i left rene for a few moments and when i came back a young, vibrant girl in stripper gear was hitting him up for lapdances. rene politely, almost ashamedly, said "no thanks." to this she replied, "that goes against the rules of improv, you're supposed to say 'yes, and take me in the back room and get me hot.'" only in toronto would you find a stripper who's completed the first four levels of second city classes.