In Praise Of: Improv Hangovers

I have three minutes in which to write and post this. So let’s make it quick, shall we?

Ugh. Maybe I shouldn’t have written that last sentence, the one about us taking it quick. Because in the time I spent writing that sentence I could’ve written the sentence I wanted to write, the one I need to write, which is this:

Improv hangovers are a glorious gift.

Ugh. That’s so dumb. Glorious gift? That’s just a terrible way to phrase it. Golly gee, I’m a stupid fuck. Back on topic now:

Doing a whole bunch of improv in a row can result in a hangover. You’re still buzzing from what you saw/did/performed, but you’re also a little overwhelmed. You want a greasy breakfast taco, not more improv.

But they don’t last long. They disappear one day, and you’re ready to leap once again onto the horse. Or is it the “wagon”? Or maybe I should’ve done a Churchill thing and said, “Once more into the breach!”

Or is it “breech”? And was that even Churchill who said that? Maybe it was Shakespeare. Or Norman Mailer.

I bet none of those guys ever had improv hangovers.

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