Friday, April 20. 7:51 p.m.-Dateline, Chomondley's. The forces are gathering for a full day of antics; a full day of zaniness; a full day of improv-comedy. Weeks of planning (logistics, not scripts!) and anticipation have come down to this: the Third Annual 24 Hour Improv-a-thon. False Advertising, To Be Announced, Bad Grammer and the newest group, Crowd Control, put aside petty rivalries for 24 hours of awesome. In order to raise more money for charity, we're also doing a reverse-kissing booth, for which audience members (and ourselves) will pay one dollar to make two improvisers kiss. That'll be nice.

9:44 p.m.-Comedy Sports Hour I is going in full force. An improv-off between two groups of improvisers, with judges for style and technique, hilarity, character development and Frenchness in tow. Comedy Sports kept the crowd, such as it was, in stitches. Not even New Orleans was taboo enough. well, a little. There was singing, death, tears and inappropriate behavior that would probably be censored in this newspaper.



Saturday, 12:38 a.m.-Musical Hour! Deniz Cordell '07 paid us a little visit so he could tickle the (plastic) ivories while we perform an improvised musical. The first half saw the battle between intelligent design and evolution in song; the second, an all-out ninja war on the French. It's not like they deserve better.



2:07 a.m.-Well, the masses are starting to filter out. Now's when the improvathon gets good, because we get to perform for ourselves alone. The only problem with a 24-hour improvathon is that certain people think they don't have to pay attention because they can later, except that the murmuring coursing through the room is a real downer. Note for next year: three-strike rule.



4:32 a.m.-Spin the bottle + truth or dare + IMPROV=Sleepover Hour. Some of these scenes have been really tricky Things are getting really strange now. We're halfway through Scary Hour, and I'm well past the point of caring whether or not anyone does "good" improv, so long as enough people are up so I don't get bored of watching the same people make jokes that not even those of us who are high on sleep-deprivation find funny. My eyes are starting to hurt. Great.



8:29 a.m.-Sleep is nice.



10:10 a.m.-Senior Hour: bittersweet, poignant, hilarious. I got teary-eyed, but that could have been from the staying-awake-too-longness. Or their impending departure. It was probably both.



11:18 a.m.-As of now, we've raised $452.59, 1.2 Euros and 4 pence. And Hannaford is matching us, so yay!



12:03 p.m.-So at the beginning of Men's Hour, a tour group walked by, and we roped them in. I think we may have scared them away. Oh well, if they can't stand the fire, they should get out of the Chum's-en.



2:35 p.m.-The only reason Bad Suggestion Hour works so well is because we've all gone crazy. CRAZY. DeLoreans, surfaces of the sun, inside human bodies, robot camps, moonrakers and taquerias galore. Jeez, there's so much time left.



4:46 p.m.-Music Hour. Well, we've devolved into a crazy dance party. It happened later than I had expected, but that's no bother, because the crazy dance party always happens, there's no stopping it. And now that our energy's up, there's still three hours of improv left!



6:39 p.m.-Coming down the home stretch, History Hour. Brandeis students being too intellectual for our own good, it's just been a series of puns (i.e., John Wilkes Booth in historical pick-up lines: "you may have seen me in Richard III. also, I killed the president." I'd sleep with him).



8 p.m.-24 hours down, 24 hours awesome! That's all I've got, I'm going to sleep.