So here's us, on the raggedy edge.

Like all of my human relationships, my relationship with the Fringe Festival is complicated.

It began with brief flirtation. Then intense infatuation. Then a whirlwind courting period in which everything moved so fast, but felt so right. Our benefit to one another seemed unlimited, the future was ours for the taking.

Slowly, we both realized that what you saw, was what you got, and our acts grew stale in one anothers eyes as quickly as had convinced ourselves that fate had finally brought us our other half. Then the bitter fights, both drunken and sober. The inevitable split-up, the seeing of other Fringe Festivals and venues. The jealously and anger of realizing the other was moving on faster than you.

Then the Fringe and I show up at the same party, and the Fringe has to awkwardly explain the tension, but qualify it with a "He's a great guy, and he's capable of so much. He just needs to find whatever it is he's looking for. And sure, let's make-out."

I use the word complicated, but it's a fairly open and shut case that the Fringe just hates me and wishes I would take the constantly being sent to voicemail as a hint, but I just keep on hanging around.

That was my quirky way of telling you that I've been Fringing over the weekend, and here are some of my reviews and thoughts of what I've seen thus far:

Waking in Minneapolis
This show is a symphony of maybes and almosts. It's cute, fun, oftentimes funny, but doesn't come together as a whole. The shift in tones is often jarring and whiplash inducing, as is the constant use of blackouts, or what I like to call "Momentum Cancer"

However, there's talent behind the show, and I've no doubt that a great show is in the future for the creative team involved.

When I saw this show, I sat next to St. Paul Pioneer Press critic Dominic Papatola, who seemed excited to see me, despite telling me I should have a shredder near me the next time I wanted to produce a play. I watched him as much as I watched the show, and his intense expression, furrowed brow, and feverish note-taking inspired me to warn my friends in the production to brace themselves, as those acts foreshadowed not only a bad review, but one of his "funny" ones.

Both came true.

An Intimate Evening With Fotis: Part 2
Mike Fotis is a great writer, and engaging story-teller. I hope one day to purchase a collection of these stories in novel form, though despite his skilled verbage, the power of the piece would be lost without his delivery. The book-on-tape would sell like fucking hot-cakes though.

While watching the show, I found myself thinking "Man, hanging out with this guy is probably a laugh riot 14/7." I then realised that I consistently hang out with him, and he hates attention, so usually just blends into the background. Huh.

Mortem Capiendum
Another stellar piece of work from the always consistent Four Humor's team. Their love of theatre and daring is infectious (in the good way) and only matched by their ability to crank out juggernaut-after-juggernaut that is embraced by brows both high-and-low.

Musical The Musical!
I didn't really know what to expect from this show, aside from a musical. I've long said that the surefire way to a successful Fringe show is including the word "musical" after some random noun. If that random noun is also "musical," you're either going to create the greatest success story the Fringe has ever seen, or rip a hole in the dimension, allowing all other dimensions to bleed into one another, and destroy everything.

I'm happy to report this show was one of the most delightful surprises I've ever seen at the Fringe. A brilliant script from two hilarious people, Dough Nethercott and Hannah Kuhlman, that doesn't shy away from telling all the jokes that most shows would just allude to, as well as the most, forgive the somewhat unintended pun, pitch-perfect cast I've ever seen assembled at a Fringe show.

If you don't get a chance to catch this show in it's Fringe run, no worries, there's no doubt in my mind, that it will have a long healthy life afterwards.

[SIDE NOTE: After the show, Doug was giddy with excitement, which not to sound all Nethercotty was worth the price of admission alone. Anyhow, he jokingly ran up to me and announced, "I wrote a hit play! This what you felt like!" I told him that he can ride this feeling out for the next three years, it's at that point you realize you only had the one in you, and you'll ever be chasing the dragon that is the aftermath of your first show. Then we patted each other on the back, pretended we had monocles, and repeated the names of our plays to each other.]

ACK! Look at the time, I've gotta' run. More Fringe stuff later as I'm not done Fringing yet, and I didn't even get a chance to write about all the rumors I heard about myself waiting in line for these shows.

APARTMENT UPDATE:

- I have twenty-year olds who like to move it, move it directly under my bedroom. That means they party and drink all night, not humping. Haven't heard that yet. They kept me up most of Saturday, and the only thing that prevented me from walking downstairs and asking if they had any beers to spare was opening the bar at six am.

- I bought some of that egg-cartony foam stuff and it's the most uncomfortable bed in the world into a real bed. One that lets me sleep on it now.

- 1986 Lady apparently has a policy with the cable company that cable and Internet* cannot be installed without her written consent. This would've been great news to hear from anyone other than the cable guy explaining why I wasn't minutes away from having cable or Internet. All the more frustrating is the fact that 1986 Lady specifically asked me if I planned on getting cable, to which I replied yes.

Adding another element of shady to the entire ordeal, the cable guy and I attempted to find out where the cable could be installed, and from our brief investigation, it looks as though the cable can be installed via The Forbidden Cave of Mystery and Danger.

Will Josh get his cable, or is he going to have to keep going to coffee shops, kicking off his shoes, and sprawling out on the couch like he owns the place? Stay tuned.

*I just wanted to point out that I didn't feel the need to capitalize Internet, but spell check did. The computers are not only going to take over one day, they're pretty pretentious about it.