The best things in life are $5

So how do I even begin to sum up the experience that was "The Dave Hill Explosion" at the UCB last night? Normally, I would just say, "two words: Sandra Bernhard." But I wouldn't want to do anything to discredit the awesomeness of Mr. Hill himself.

I could add two more words, "Rufus Wainwright," but he didn't really do anything to contribute to the overall greatness of the show. He was just there, and spotting him in the crowd put a big ol' smile on my face that didn't leave for the rest of the show, particularly because I was laughing so hard.

So let me go back a bit: the Dave Hill Explosion is a monthly improv talk show of sorts put on by one Dave Hill, a Daily Show-meets-Ali G. type with a kitchen cabinet of delicious web shorts on his official site (davehillonline.com) and an impeccable ability to book New York's finest and gayest as his celeb guests.

The theme song alone was worth the unspeakable bargain-priced admission ($5). He started out just speak-singing his name, then an electric guitar kicked in, which then prompted him to pogo across different parts of the stage and jerk his body into weird contortions at random moments.

Then, without warning, a bubble gan goes off, a chiuaua runs out on stage, Dave's shirt magically disappears and the music goes from shrieky electric guitars to "Hips Don't Lie." Genius, I tell you, genius!

To top things off, Little Michael Jackson then comes out to the sounds of "Beat It" and does a whole dance routine while Dave composes himself hilariously in the background. I was wondering if anyone else would find the humor in one of New York's oddest subway attractions, but leave it to Dave Hill to discover who's on N.Y. entertainment's short list (pun intended.)

The rest of the show continued in the opening's random footsteps, particularly throughout the entirety of Sandra Bernhard's appearance. The unflaggable star of stage and screen (which she rarely gets hired for these days -- shame on you, Hollywood!) was the very definition of off-the-cuff. She informed the audience that the zipper of her specially tailored suit would cost $2,200 to fix, made liberal use of the "n" word in reference to Star Jones (defending it by saying she came of age in Arizona...) and did a totally wild interpretive dance when Dave Hill improvised a song about her and her crazy life in showbiz.

The musical guest for the evening was Joan as Police Woman, who I saw two years ago when she opened for Rufus in Cleveland. Dave had a piano set up for her with a mirror facing her ("it was Rufus's idea!" she insisted) but it was too weird for her to go through with it. Joan was significantly less candid than Sandy, but just as fabulous. She's playing a show on Tuesday at Tonic that my new work buddy Dan the copy editor and I might check out...

All in all, last night's show was the epitome of what I love about this city and all its opportunities. I mean, where else do you find yourself -- as I did -- following Rufus Wainwright in a crocodile hat walking unaccompanied down the street for two blocks on the way to your subway stop? Lord knows that shit just doesn't happen in Ohio...