Fighting to Stay Alively

Last night I watched SNL, then went to bed.

I had a dream that I was at the taping of last night's episode with host Blake Lively (Me-Ow!), but did not make it past the monologue. Here's how it went: Opening Bit (Armisen played the president, yada-yada-yada), intro showing the cast, and Lively walked out to the stage and proposed following her as she took us through the previous week of her first SNL experience.

At that point, I probably would have followed those stems (yeah, that's a Clueless reference) into a lion's den, which is not far from where she took me. Adjacent to stage-left there was a dark pool - This was a dream, remember. - and she dove in expecting the audience to succumb to her request. However, I was the only brave (maybe desperate) soul to take the plunge.

Know let it be known that I'm a pretty good swimmer. My dad swam for KU, I was in lessons as a baby, and used to swim a mile (multiple times per summer) in a lake for boy scouts every summer.

As I entered the water, I was aware that I did not take a very good, deep breath for an extended dive, but figured Blake would not keep me submerged for too long since this was Live television. As I followed her in the direction of backstage, there was an interesting setting of an old-timey school room with children from the 'Bodies' exhibit facing our direction, but not moving an inch. It was pretty disturbing, but what was most bothersome was that there was no air pocket at the top of the room and I beginning to need it.

Ms. Lively then grabbed my arm and pointed me in the direction of the open door further back in the room, so I motioned for her to go but she shook her head as though to say, "Don't worry about me. I am fine." I didn't know what to do, but decided that my survival was now #1 on the priority list. If Blake turns down an opportunity to live, that's her choice. So I frantically swam for the door, which was dimly lit as though there may be an exit for the air I so desperately needed. When I poked my head out the door I looked up, and my heart stopped. There was no air. I was drowning. This is how it ends.


Time
Moved
Slow


*COUGH*

*COUGH*

GAAASSSSPPPP!!!



I WOKE UP!

In the middle of the night I woke up from this nightmare coughing hysterically, gasping for air, and relieved that I was alive. This has never happened to me before, and hopefully never will again. How did it happen? How can a dream seem so real, that I will hold my breath until I awake with the most fundamental desire to breath?

Blake Lively almost killed me in my dreams.

Lil' O'Saturday Night

As many of you know, I do not have cable television, no Dish, no DirectTV, nothing but network channels. NBC, CBS, ABC, PBS, Fox, Ion (which I caught Risky Business a couple weeks ago). Therefore, pickin's are slim around Gav's household sometimes. But then there is Saturday night...

Now for a controversial statement: I think Saturday Night Live is just as good now as it was in the 90s, the 80s, and yes, even the 70s. When taking a look at the entire season as a whole, week-over-week, there were just as many 'Stinker's' (skits) as there are in the new millenium. You must remember, that comedy is cyclical. Conan O'Brien is not Jay Leno, who is not David Letterman, who is not Johnny Carson.

That being said, on Saturday nights I enjoy watching the first hour of SNL, but at 11:30* I change the channel to one of my favorite television shows: Talkshow with Spike Feresten.

I introduced Spike to my brother-in-law this weekend (after knocking down a bottle of Evan Williams), where Spike came through strong with this clip:



The show is great. Spike is a former writer for David Letterman and also wrote for 'Seinfeld'. If anybody who reads this blog is at home on a Saturday night, try and stick out the first hour of SNL and switch the channel to your local Fox affiliate to catch Talkshow on Saturday nights.

*the show may be on at 12/11c in your area