Photos: Lindsay McIntire

Team UsedWigs, Inc. pulled off our first “live” show this past Friday night and it was a ton o’ fun. Critics raved, “They sure drink a lot, especially in a coffee house.” and “The seats were very comfortable.”

Russ, Todd and I have been doing our podcast for over four years and thought it would be a grand idea to get the hell out of Russ’s home studio for once and enjoy some humanity, interactivity and the deafening thunder of applause and fanatical adulation (we got 2 out of 3, not bad).

We chose MilkBoy Coffee in Ardmore as the venue because Russ and Todd have performed there many times (think Cirque du Soleil on a larger scale) and the owners Jamie and Tommy are great guys who are always up for something different, like a live podcast.

We had a little over a month to organize the show, which was pretty tight considering all we wanted to do: live musical performance, comedian, special guest interview, live science demonstration and some multimedia presentations all jammed packed in a 2-hour show. We envisioned an old-school Mike Douglas Show vibe. After the 3 of us conferred at a kick0ff meeting (McMenamin’s Tavern), we decided we needed some serious help. So we brought in some pros… the After School Specialists.

We enlisted the human firecracker, Kenjamin Franklin Ryzner, to create and serve up the multimedia and Machiavellian martinet, Jandek Phil Charron, to direct the whole shebang (neither asked for money up front, just a piece of the international distribution rights of the DVD and the Spanish language version). Our lovely announcer Lisa signed on too (lucky for us, Lisa and Russ are married, so she could not fib and say she was busy).

That’s a pretty solid crew to stage a performance, but every good talk show needs a house band, so Russ got on the horn and “Rusty Static and The Wig Tones” were born. Part of putting a show together is getting your talented friends involved, and lucky for us, Russell Gellman and Brian Jacobs are two of best musicians and nicest guys around (and are usually up for partaking in our nonsense).

There were rumors the Ultimate Washington Insider was going to be in town and join the show too… his legions of fans were lighting up the message boards and fan sites.

So we got the team together and then assembled a stellar line-up of super fun guests:

• live music by Philadelphia’s Audible
• literary musings by “Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook” bestselling author Josh Piven
• knee-slapping humor from comedian Don Weir
• thrilling science demonstration by PuttyWorld’s Crazy Aaron
• Philly art give-away by Michele Melcher
  

Another excuse to drink planning meeting took place (Earth Bread + Brewer) and we nailed down each show segment to specific time and doled out the duties. Everything went along swimmingly until the day before the show when the schedule band Audible (new CD is outstanding!) had to pull out due to a medical emergency. Uh oh! We’re screwed. “Can anyone do magic tricks for 25 minutes?”

I mentioned earlier about getting friends to help out, yeah, well this is one of those times when you find out just what great friends you have. I’ve been a huge fan and friends with the Philly band The Grundles for many years, so I contacted Tom Jadico (bass and surfboard) about our dilemma and he quickly got on the Grundle Hotline. Less than two hours later, Grundles Ted, Andrew and Tommy agreed to play the show. How cool is that? Very very cool, indeed. Fonzie-freaking cool.

It’s 7:00pm on June 12 and a growing crowd at Milkboy assembles while Kenjamin Franklin’s dynamic video presentation of magic, spandex and teen drinking explodes on screen. Everyone’s in a fine mood. Beers are cracked. Lattes are sipped. Cheeks are kissed. Then 8:15pm hits! Director Charron barks out orders, Ken fires up the video introduction, Lisa takes the stage for the announcing duties, The Wig Tones grab their instruments, and after 40 glasses of water (just a little dry mouth) me and the boys take the stage. Shenanigans, awkward pauses and paper shuffling ensue!

It went pretty darn well from then on. We popped some beers, chatted a bit, gave away a UsedWigs Live Swag Bag to a lucky audience member and then treated the crowd to a PowerPoint presentation on Facebook detailing “how old people (like us) have ruined it!”

At the beginning of this segment we were surprised by a cleverly-disguised SM Shrake playing maracas and wearing a creepy wig. SM, a Facebook etiquette expert, sat down and joined the lively discussion. Segment ended, a new one began.

Bestselling author Josh Piven then joined us on stage for an amusing chat about his “Worst-Case Scenario Survival Handbook” series and his upcoming book “This Green House” (September 2009). Josh was a funny guy and thankfully, tolerated his hosts who peppered him with barrage of hard-hitting questions. As Josh left the stage, Lisa presented him (and all our guests) with a UsedWigs Live “Home Version” game:

Next up, our pal Michele Melcher gave away one of her lovely illustrations to another lucky audience member while the band set up. The high-energy and charismatic Grundles rocked out as expected. They chatted with us for a bit before leaving to “wing on over to London and jam with the Stones!”

While the rocking may have ended, the rolling continued in fine fashion when comedian Don Weir made a triumphant return to his homeland from Brooklyn, NY. Don killed! 911 received numerous calls immediately after his set about severely strained laughing muscles.

Throughout the night Todd was busy drawing the guests on his trusty pad and displaying the art on a little easel for all to enjoy. The guest was then given his personalized piece of art to take home. Pretty sweet, huh? You would pay damn good money on the Wildwood boardwalk for that honor, but at UW Live… absolutely free! Rusty Static and The Wig Tones kept everything moving and grooving during the show too, creating a chill vibe to temper some of the between segment nuttiness.

UsedWigs Live inaugural show sadly had to end (a senior citizen puppet show was scheduled for 11:00pm sharp), but not before Crazy Aaron pounced on stage and administered some serious pickle electrocutions (not a euphemism) with some old-timey contraption, dazzling and endangering the excited audience who were clamoring for more pickled-fried goodness. It was a sizzling good ending to a fun-filled night.

Many thanks to the above-mentioned UsedWigs Team members; the wonderful guests; the awesome staff at Milkboy who were insanely accommodating; the many fine folks who helped us promote that crap out of the show (Chris and McG at PhillyBurbs.com, Eric at Geekadelphia.com, Dave at ComicVsAudience.com and Jon Solomon of WPRB); photographer extraordinaire Lindsay McIntire, artist Bevan McShea; Aaron and Elizabeth at PuttyWorld; wives Heather and Kelly; and of course, all you good people who came out and showed us a lot of love. As Hammer would say, “Proper!”

Enjoy some More Photos!

• Photo Slideshow
• Photos with Thumbnails
• iPhone Pix of UsedWigs Live

hugs! Jeff

Oh, and many thanks to McCloskey’s Bar (next to Milkboy) for the after party! My booming hangover was well worth it.

First of all, hiiii! I always like to give a warm Southern welcome to my readers, y’all! As some of you who follow my exploits know, I’m working like a rented mule to become the Ultimate Washington Insider (UWI), which is not easy when you’re looking down the barrel of the big Five-O, do not work anywhere near politics, have no skills professional or otherwise, and are a painfully shy introvert.

Part of my futile plan is to accept every invitation I get, within reason. (And to miss some events strategically, creating an impression of Shrake-scarcity. Oops, I just gave away my secret.) So on the last Sunday in June, I went with some girlfriends to see the saucy sex romp “Measure for Pleasure” at D.C.’s Woolly Mammoth Theatre. I spotted several frenemies there — every UWI needs frenemies — and also laughed when my friends snuck in some airplane-style mini-wines in their purses and drank during the show. D.C. is a big drinking town, case you didn’t know. We can’t even get through a two-hour play without some hooch.

Then we hit Proof for an après-théatre drinks-and-hors-d’oeuvres extravaganza. Just as I was telling my wallet to be brave, in walked a party wearing tuxes and fanciful cummerbunds (cummersbund?) and bowties, along with some girls. One had on a black felt fedora pulled down pretty far on his forehead. I immediately knew it to be my arranged lunch date for the following day: Spike from Top Chef. I had e-mailed him about a month previous to ask his zodiac sign. He responded, “I’m a Sagittarius, can’t you tell?”

Instead of running over and accosting him at Proof, I just turned back to my wines. But then Nature called. I went to the pissoir, and while I was in there someone came in. Being psychic, I thought, I’ll bet you it’s Spike. It was. We both tried to get the automatic faucets to work on the sink, then the automatic paper-towel dispenser. As we messed with those I said casually, UWI-style, “You’re Spike.” He said hi. I said, “I’m Scott. I’m coming to your [special, insiders-only, closed-to-the-public media preview] lunch thing tomorrow.” We shook hands and chatted for a while, then rejoined our groups out in the main (non-bathroom) room.

In our conversation it came out: It seems that not only is Spike helping his family open a new restaurant here, he has moved to my city.

Next day’s function: High-class luncheon. Food is served and you’re stone cold munchin’.

So, I arrive at Good Stuff Eatery (303 Pennsylvania Ave. SE, Washington, DC) and walk in. Loud ’90s music (see above) is blaring, Spike is wandering around, media folks are arriving per our appointment, we sign in. I introduce myself to some people (The Hill newspaper, Washingtonian magazine, Corks & Knives, local TV, Yelp are represented.) The girl takes our orders. I want a turkey burger; they’re offered on the real menu. NO DICE. Okay. Even though I don’t eat red meat, if Spike makes me a burger I’ll eat it, I want to be polite, and (sorry, Jeff!) a little beef won’t kill me…

We eat. It is good stuff.

What I want to talk about in the rest of this post is not the food, because I’m not qualified to do that. I just eat for sustenance.

I want to talk about reality-show celebrity, its value and meaning.

There’s something about “ordinary” people being on reality-TV shows that gives them ideas. I remember back in about 1993, running into that long-haired guy from the first season of MTV’s The Real World at Gusaline Alley, a bar in Royal Oak, MI (he was from Detroit), and one of my female friends went up to him and said hi and he was like, “Hi, I’m [X... can't remember his name! -SS] from the Real World.” And she turned on him suddenly (viciously) and said in a bored voice, “Oh, really? That’s nice.” And walked away.

They’re not famous-for-being-famous, exactly. They’re famous in the way every single one of us is famous now. As a famous (in the same way) blogger told me, “We’re all famous on the Internet.” But at least the competition show people can do something (cook, cut hair, design interiors, model, sing/dance). Jayne Mansfield, they’re not.

When I first watched this last season of Top Chef, I decided Spike was my favorite based on the look in his eyes. Now he’s my neighbor, practically. Coincidence? No, fate. Earlier this year I was seeing Sara from ANTM Cycle 6 so much in the block around my office that I wanted to buy her coffee at the Starbucks.

Spike’s sister/PR person freely admitted that the concept for this restaurant (which they want to franchise) was set before Spike even appeared on Top Chef. It’s not his “vision.” He is helping out the family enterprise by lending his “celebrity” to their restaurant, as well as some ideas.

His family already lived here. But when asked by media people, “Why D.C.?,” he gave lip service to it being the next big food city, etc. But he’s really just here to be with the fam, and I think that’s cool.

For D.C. denizens, it will be a kick in the pants to go into Good Stuff and see Spike. We take the celebrities we can get in this town. And learn to do without the rest.

Several of Spike’s Top Chef co-contestants (and maybe Padma!) are slated to appear at a “red-carpet event” at the Eatery on Bastille Day, July 14. Interesting. I like how the Top Chef kids seem to be going around helping each other out. I do! Former competitors, now just fellow chefs trying to make it with their fleeting boost from Bravo! and reality TV.

Maybe I’ll go to that event, too. With my borrowed digital camera. I want the turkey burger this time, though.

I forgot to write about this, but did you guys know I saw Karl Rove on the street in Georgetown? My archenemy?

He should get his own reality show.

Oh, wait, he already has. It’s called the catastrophe of the last 8 years.

Signing off now,

Love you,

Mean it,

SHRAKE

Read more SM SHRAKE at You Wanna Know What? and The Shrake-tionary.

The debate always seems to rise again: Is Washington, D.C., in the South?

After the last couple Bible-belt-strangled presidential elections, which gave us Bush, I said, quote, “F**k the South” — therefore I don’t want D.C. to be in the South, because I live here now. It makes me look foolish. Did I get bamboozled? Let’s look at some disturbing facts.

Fact: It’s below the Mason-Dixon line. No one has ever questioned Mason and Dixon and their line.

Fact: There was once a slave market in Alexandria, VA, right across the Potomac.

Fact: “Tobacco is forever” in Maryland and Virginny: In Md. elevators, a sign says the penalty is not to exceed $25 for smoking or carrying a lighted tobacco product.

Fact: We’ve got palm trees and bamboo growing over here.

Fact: Pansies (the flower) can survive the whole winter here. They plant them in October!

Another suspicious sign that we might be in the South is the way a lot of people talk. So many people here in the Nation’s Seat of Power are from other places that it’s easy to forget that Southern accents are endemic once you go about 30 minutes west into Ole Virginny.

Lord knows I meet enough people even here in the District who are what I call “casually Southern.” They’re not super-into being Southern, like, there are no rebel-yell outbursts, no stars and bars. And it takes me a minute to hear their accent. Their sneaky Confederate accent.

The lovely concierge in my office building here in Georgetown, Miss Gloria, is definitely Southern. She manages to call everyone (and she knows everyone’s name) honey, darling, sweetheart, AND baby in the space of the 3-second mini-conversation she has with them as they walk by. Then the other day she added a tell-tale “y’hear?” to her have-a-good-day greeting to me. You don’t get that up north.

The sandwich of the day one day at Booeymonger (a Georgetown deli) was The DelMarVa, named for a place that straddles those three states/commonwealths (Delaware, Maryland, Virginny). I think it’s out by Chesapeake Bay. As mid-Atlantic as it gets: DelMarVa even sounds like the name of a typical woman from Baltimore.

In a crabcake version of Proust’s madeleine, a sandwich made me remember driving through DelMarVa with KP and Stinky one summer maybe 10 years ago with the windows down, playing our highway time-killing game: Whoever saw the first billboard or sign with a pun based on the supposed homonyms “sure/shore” got to hit everyone else in the car really hard.

That SHORE was fun… I “shore” can’t wait to go to the “sure” again this summer.

So, with those fond memories swirling in my head, I think I’ll go with “mid-Atlantic” over “South” as a description of where D.C. is. My affinity is with the ocean.

This debate will never end, just like the Civil War never ended for some people. I’ve seen bitter arguments among people about whether this is the South. Let’s just compromise and say D.C.’s the ambivalently Southern city, kind of a Gateway to the South. Like Tijuana is to Mexico.

More Scott>

Read more SM SHRAKE at You Wanna Know What? and The Shrake-tionary.