I went to a wedding last weekend. It was the shortest Catholic wedding I’ve ever been to, which means it was still 30 minutes longer than any non-Catholic wedding I’ve been to. There sure is a lot of sitting, kneeling, and standing, says hacky 80′s clean comedian! On a side note, the priest mentioned them having babies and starting a family about 17 times, reinforcing a lot of stereotypes. That, or the grandparents to be slipped him a $20 bill to drop some hints.
I was very glad that the couple didn’t smash cake in each other’s faces. That move lost its shock factor sometime around the fourth wedding I went to. Now if they jammed prime rib in each other’s grills, I would applaud the originality. I also must use this forum to call out the assholes that tap their glasses. The couple kisses…then there are always about one or two douchebags that have to ding their glasses every minute and a half like they want to see a high school make out session. Calm down, pervs, how about you let them eat their salads before you call for smoochies? More importantly, how about I enjoy my seventh Maker’s and coke without the deafening tinging of glasses two feet behind me? Of course, if they gave shots everytime, I would be hitting glasses like Keith Moon.
Paris Hilton is about to release a new album. I think it should be called, “Surprisingly still alive despite all these STD’s!” or “Why in the hell did you buy this?”
When politicians are calling the NSA leaker a traitor, I have a strong inclination to like him a lot more. How dare he leak the info that the government is listening to our calls! What a scumbag! Not that I need to worry – my calls are 90% bitching about comedy shows or in-depth discussions of Game of Thrones topics.
Amanda Bynes/Miley Cyrus/Lindsay Lohan did something weird. Fill in the blanks. In sports news, Lebron James/Tiger Woods got criticized and everyone took sides. Fill in the blanks.
Finally, people in the Middle East are killing each other. We’ll probably get involved and regret it. Don’t worry, whichever side wins in Syria, they’ll hate us! You’re welcome, I just saved you 20 minutes of watching the news.
Sometimes things happen that are cool, but being rather sarcastic and a bit of a curmudgeon in my 30′s, I wait for the catch. Last week, my lovely lady decided to buy, yes I’m being serious, some custom artwork for the basement. Artwork of Captain America. For in the house. For people to see. There must be a terrible toll soon to be extracted…I must look out for a kitchen remodel in my near future…
Well, with this, the most amazing piece of art this guy has ever seen, I now have to build a moat around the house, since everyone with an eye for beauty will try and steal my shit. Trust me, I know art. I used to have dogs playing poker AND dogs shooting pool on my walls. We went to Michael’s to get a frame for it when I saw a nice frame. Frames always have a dumb nature pic or some white people laughing, in case you’re too stupid to know what frames look like with pictures inside. That’s when it happened.
I saw one that said memorial display. It was recessed and the insert was of a retriever, three pictures, including one with a little boy. Underneath it said, “Duke, 1998-2012.” I felt a strange thing inside that wasn’t anger or a buzz and I didn’t like it. This must be what humans refer to as “sadness”… Damn you, cheap picture frame! Now I have to go out and punch a stranger to get my groove back. This ruined my night. OK, punch an innocent person and run over a bicyclist. I hope you’re happy, memorial display makers. A lot of good people are going to get hurt over this.
I ran in my first real 5K race last weekend. I did the Hell Run, which was basically a run with obstacle courses and drunk people in costumes, so I don’t know if I can count that one. The race I just got into was called Color Mania. It was a race, but with color!
As I got into it, I found out they just throw powered color dust on you. There was supposed to be some back story connected to the Hindu religion, but it was just jackasses throwing pink, orange, purple and green dust in my face as a ran. The dust entered my lungs, got in my eyes (which I couldn’t wipe, because my arms had the shit on them also), and and put a weird taste in my mouth. The packet said “edible” on one part, but on the other? “Non-edible.” Well, I may have stomach cancer and I look like a unicorn jicked all over me. God forbid I just run in a normal race. Thanks for the cancer.
I did a show recently on short notice. Usually, when you promote a show, or someone else is pumping up your short and miserable resume, they ask for some things. Here’s how that breaks down -
Head shot. I hate smiling for photos…or in general. Maybe it’s my crooked tooth, but probably it’s my dark, dark soul. I got my head shots the morning after a show w/ no hotel room. The headliner got into a fight onstage with a drunk, the pay took forever and on the way home a train broke down. My head shot is one of five salvaged pics from the 100 she took that don’t show the bags from four hours’ sleep.
Bio. Every comic has to flop their head into their own lap and write a bio. It stinks and you feel dirty afterwards putting such a self serving description on paper in third person. “Chris loves to make people laugh!” See? I feel like a douche, and that was me joking around about writing a bio.
Then you get the weird stuff. The booker the other night asked me to describe my act in one sentence. My DVD is called American Drunk…how about that? “No, more descriptive!” We went back and forth, he asked me what jokes I told, where I was from and then he said something and the call dropped. By the time I got back to him, I was known as Chris Coen, the Appalachian Sensation. Motherfucker. Someday I won’t have to put up with this shit.
I walked into the show Monday night and it was pretty packed. Most of the crowd was there to see a new comic who had written his entire set list on his arm. It beats someone reading out of a notebook onstage, I guess. The focus, however, went to a guy with a greaser haircut and his very drunk ladyfriend. I would say they were ruining the show, but like complete hillbillies, they thought they were helping.
I introduced myself to start the show and Johnny Rockets yelled, “What are we doing?” I don’t know what you’re doing, other than destroying my opening, but I’m about to tell jokes. Over the next 40 minutes, the woman got into a screaming match over her cell phone, they yelled “Eastside!” or “Westside!” about a dozen times, and he mumbled incoherently while she bellowed answers to comedy questions. The last part is the ultimate sin. There’s nothing worse than asking, “So anyone like movies?” and having someone yell, “Actually, I enjoy sci fi! It’s cool that Star Trek came out, but I really hope they get the Kahn character right…blah blah blah…” OK, WE GET IT.
Mercifully, they left, which made me angry at the comics that didn’t have to deal with them, but thankful for the silence. I knew it was getting out of hand when a comic said something about white power and the guy cheered a little too loud, like he wasn’t laughing, but about to start the meetin’. Thanks for reinforcing a stereotype, white trash.