Earlier this week, I engaged in some obsessive behavior. I was home alone on Monday night, and instead of doing something productive, I watched a marathon of Black Books. And after the marathon of Black Books, I engaged in further obsessive behavior by listening to the commentary for several episodes, including the series 2 finale episode, which had me laughing so hard I couldn't breathe.
This led to me once again becoming all moony over the genius and hotness of Dylan Moran. As one LisRock will attest, the man is sex on legs. And you know what? I don't have a boyfriend, nor do I have any prospects for a boyfriend; so what if I indulge in a little celebrity fantasy with a hot snarky Irishman? Don't judge me.
So come Tuesday, I was listening to some of his standup bits and thinking, damn, I'd love to see him perform. I mean, come on:
Right? So I do a search and I found a website and then looked up information on tours. And all I come up with is this show, which, as much as I love London, is no help to me right now. Ces't La Vie. I forgot about it and moved on with my life.
Until about 20 minutes ago, at 11:30pm when my brother calls me. To tell me that he just met Dylan Moran. In Philadelphia. At the Troc. Where he was performing. Tonight.
"I shook his hand," my brother told me. "I don't think I'll be washing my hand for awhile."
Of course my first question was WHY DID YOU NOT TAKE ME WITH YOU?! For which my brother did not really have an answer.
See, it's times like this I feel like the Universe is trying to tell me things and I was just clueless. I mean, really, what are the odds that I go on a Black Books/Dylan Moran kick and two days later he's in town? If I had dug a little deeper, I could have found out he was currently touring, doing a show, gone, and met him my damn self. Instead, I gave up after the first snag and missed out. I was a quitter, I guess. I come from a long line of quitters. It's amazing I'm here at all. But then, there's the guilty party of my brother, who, I would like to point out again, did not take me.
"Kate, he was so cool," Tom told me. "I told him I directed Mark Doherty's play, Trad and then we had, like, a thing."
It was then that I made my brother promise me that he was going to track down Dylan Moran's agent and get Mr. Moran to star in one of his shows. And then I could take lots of pretty pictures of Dylan and die a happy woman.
My brother was pretty star struck himself, telling me "I'm 99.9% heterosexual, but I would totally go gay for Dylan Moran."
"Tom," I replied. "I am heterosexual and I can't believe you didn't take me to see Dylan Moran."
"I got a poster at the show. You could look at it, I guess."
I would like to reiterate, for those of you that just joined us, that after everything I've done for my brother – photography, rides, fetching, carrying, coding websites, making brochures, supporting him at every turn – let the record show that he did not take me with him to meet Dylan Moran. Instead he called me to gloat. Piss midget.
This led to me once again becoming all moony over the genius and hotness of Dylan Moran. As one LisRock will attest, the man is sex on legs. And you know what? I don't have a boyfriend, nor do I have any prospects for a boyfriend; so what if I indulge in a little celebrity fantasy with a hot snarky Irishman? Don't judge me.
So come Tuesday, I was listening to some of his standup bits and thinking, damn, I'd love to see him perform. I mean, come on:
Right? So I do a search and I found a website and then looked up information on tours. And all I come up with is this show, which, as much as I love London, is no help to me right now. Ces't La Vie. I forgot about it and moved on with my life.
Until about 20 minutes ago, at 11:30pm when my brother calls me. To tell me that he just met Dylan Moran. In Philadelphia. At the Troc. Where he was performing. Tonight.
"I shook his hand," my brother told me. "I don't think I'll be washing my hand for awhile."
Of course my first question was WHY DID YOU NOT TAKE ME WITH YOU?! For which my brother did not really have an answer.
See, it's times like this I feel like the Universe is trying to tell me things and I was just clueless. I mean, really, what are the odds that I go on a Black Books/Dylan Moran kick and two days later he's in town? If I had dug a little deeper, I could have found out he was currently touring, doing a show, gone, and met him my damn self. Instead, I gave up after the first snag and missed out. I was a quitter, I guess. I come from a long line of quitters. It's amazing I'm here at all. But then, there's the guilty party of my brother, who, I would like to point out again, did not take me.
"Kate, he was so cool," Tom told me. "I told him I directed Mark Doherty's play, Trad and then we had, like, a thing."
It was then that I made my brother promise me that he was going to track down Dylan Moran's agent and get Mr. Moran to star in one of his shows. And then I could take lots of pretty pictures of Dylan and die a happy woman.
My brother was pretty star struck himself, telling me "I'm 99.9% heterosexual, but I would totally go gay for Dylan Moran."
"Tom," I replied. "I am heterosexual and I can't believe you didn't take me to see Dylan Moran."
"I got a poster at the show. You could look at it, I guess."
I would like to reiterate, for those of you that just joined us, that after everything I've done for my brother – photography, rides, fetching, carrying, coding websites, making brochures, supporting him at every turn – let the record show that he did not take me with him to meet Dylan Moran. Instead he called me to gloat. Piss midget.
Labels: British Acting Mafia, Dorkdum
1 Comments:
Ha! I was there! It was great. (more glee than gloat) Loved him.
I would be in love with him, but I'm married, he's married...it would never work out.
The one frustrating thing was that he came with Ardal O'Hanlon (who I love) and Tommy Tiernan. Don't care for Tommy Tiernan. He's from the "give them what they want" school of comedy I think, rude crude, lacking in subtlety.
Dylan's rants felt a little more from rote than some of the stuff I've seen of his on CD. But he was working in the confines of a very short set.
I was surprised how "grounded" he felt. I think of him as being more off in his head somewhere, but he was really present, with his feet planted on the ground. He seemed much more in charge of the situation than I expected.
Loved him.
(BTW, I use google alerts to keep up with people I know I want to see performing. It was a Google Alert which clued me in to the show. I would have hated to have missed it.)
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