Relz, Bella, and Sierra are 6-year-old girls who dream of going to the X games. The BFF trio make up the Pink Helmet Posse.
These rough and tumble girls were profiled in their matching pink helmets in a short Op- Doc by The New York Times. Every minute of this doc is seriously more adorable and badass than the last. One moment the girls are painting their nails in the middle of the sk… Read More
Last year at the Del Close Marathon, TCGS put together a show where you were able to enter a series of tents to hang out one on one with your favorite members of the TCGS family. It was interactive and weird and super fun.
This year we’re upping the ante by linking you up with cast members so you can FIGHT other cast members and other AUDIENCE members. It will be a tournament unlike anything the world’s ever seen, with your favorite public access absurdist goofballs honoring Del Close in a series of competitive trials.
It’s going to be interactive theater of the most competitive and perhaps physically risky caliber.
I don’t know if anyone else in America feels this way, but the past few years I’ve been into this TV show called Game of Thrones, and the book series it was spawned from. And that gave me an idea – why can’t we try to live for one night in a world that works like that world? Why can’t we layer the TCGS universe on top of a pseudo-medieval society, then hold a tournament where actual audience members compete in a tournament where they face off for an ultimate prize?
“I’ve said this a million times: there should be no limitations on comedy. Anything you wanna fucking do - do. But it should be “why do you want to?” When you learn someone’s story, you might not want to. You still can, but you might not want to. If you really learn what a transgendered person goes through, how scary it is, and how brave they are - you might go “you know, I might wanna make fun of the people that make fun of them.””—
“Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you’re 65, or 75, and you never got your memoir or novel written; or you didn’t go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfortable tummy; or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space like when you were a kid? It’s going to break your heart. Don’t let this happen.”—Anne Lamott (via jerfreyy)
To the middle aged man who started asking me, a girl walking alone, if I had just come from UCB/questions about improv on the street - I know something about you:
you are a huge gross creep and/or the dumbest man on the planet.
I nauseously ran away from you and got a cab after some random angry guy, in your words, “ruined” our [non-existent, one-sided - you] conversation.
Whether or not you’re actually a threat - even if you were genuinely just trying to make conversation - you’re an idiot. You and everyone like you are the stupidest people alive. Because either you are so self-obsessed, power-hungry, and disrespectful that you would start being creepy to a girl or you are completely ignorant to the fact that girls have to constantly fear that some dude will be like that to them.
People like you are wearing away at any energy that I have, any sanity that I have, and any positivity I believe in, and fuck you for that.
When I was a freshman in high school, I made a series of battle plans along with my older brother and his friends that detailed how we’d take out our entire school once we obtained guns and bombs.
This happened while huddled over my dining room table, and it was funny. We drew blueprints. We made maps. We organized lists of ammunition and inventory and all the different things we’d need to make our military raiding of our own school a success. We figured we’d all have cyanide pills to take ourselves out before we got arrested. We knew we had to take over the nurse’s office first – it’s where all the medical supplies were and it also had no windows, which made it a perfect place for our final showdown when we were inevitably backed in by police as we burned out in a blaze of glory in our bold last stand.