Pre-orders now available! http://www.andthensomethinghappened.com/#!offerings/c1enr
My first book is now ready for pre-orders! “Stuff to Read While You Shit” (or S#!t, for the purposes of not having a naughty word on my cover) is ready to roll. I have to get some thanks out first of all. Thanks to Bill Arrundale, Dan Swartwout and Rick Tempesta for the great blurbs/reviews, Laura Sanders for the amazing cover art, my wife Hope for the help with editing and of course Paul Fuhr at And Then Something Happened for doing the heavy lifting and unfun stuff that goes with books. He came to me with the idea and after a lot of work was able to put together a nice presentation of my disorganized mess of writing. NOW I’M IN YOUR BATHROOM, AMERICA!
I basically was able to write this book one blog post at a time…well, the good ones. I was told I needed to get a website. My buddy Todd DeHays has helped me with everything from the fun of dealing with hackers to site updates and changes. Comedian Jake Iannarino told me one of the keys was to offer something of value to get traffic to your site. So I started blogging five days a week because I didn’t want to make videos left and right. I learned a lot early on – mostly, if you have nothing good or funny to blog about, just don’t do anything. Also, keep after it. There were a lot of times I wound up staring at a blank computer screen for over an hour before I got an idea to blather on about. So that’s how this book was written; one chapter at a time, one show at a time, one horrible interaction with the human race at a time. I’ll bet you 80% of the book was written after 10 pm the night before I released the attempts at humor or profundity to the internet.
Of course, I have a couple go to hells also. The Ohio proficiency test writing portion said in 1996 I wasn’t a good enough writer to pass the test until my third try (looking at my title, maybe they were right) and of course to Ms. Bowen, my “gifted” class teacher in Indiana that once gave me an award for being “Least Elaborate”. You can least elaborate my ass! I wroted a reading story! How’s that for original? (It wasn’t very original, but least elaborate my ass anyway).
Oh, and for checking out my blog, enter “Freedom” for the special code to get 10% off on signed copies until this Sunday! I hope you enjoy it, but if you don’t, I’ll still sleep OK. Give me your money.
My wife’s high school crew stopped in to see the baby/watch the Ohio State game. One of those happened. I realized that my definition of party has now forever changed…but not in the ways I thought. The first couple guests that showed up were immediately told the baby was sleeping, so we sat in the room and whispered for about 25 minutes. Off to a crazy start!
At the end of the game, I had seen about twelve minutes of actual football. There was icing on my door, half-full Capri Suns all over my house and underwear was left in the bathroom Sounds chaotic, but then I realized this was about twice as good as an average party I used to have. My buddy had a “party” at his parents’ house in college and someone puked on his door, there was ketchup on the ceiling from a condiment fight and a kid’s underwear is a lot better to deal with than anything a 20 year old drunk guy leaves there.
Also, when kids fight, no one goes to the emergency room or jail, except maybe the parents. Lastly and most importantly, no kids steal your beer. Well, not normally. If they do, those pussies can drink one or two anyway, so you’re probably OK.
Let’s face it, being a parent is great. You feel tremendous love that words truly can’t describe. Love so strong it makes up for not sleeping, stress to the point of nervous breakdown, and the disappearance of all that is social interaction. Even my DVR is so full right now it will take a month to clear it out if I just delete stuff, let alone watch the actual programs.
There are other benefits, though, I’ll explain.
1) You get to say things you always hated people for in the past. I can’t wait to bust out a “DON’T TELL ME HOW TO RAISE MY KIDS!” at a stranger in a grocery store. It’s the most white trash thing you can say other than “NOT IN MY AMERICA!” I know this, because I say it about 14 times a week myself.
1a) “You wouldn’t know, you don’t have kids.” I bristle with anticipation dreaming of dropping this on people at a party when I can go to one in five years. “Man, I’m busy.” (I butt in) “Oh you have NOOOOO idea. Wait until you have children!” Then everyone makes that shut up, we get it face.
2) Never commit to anything ever again! “Hey, can you volunteer for the” NO! I HAVE A KID NOW! SEE YA! But all we need is 22 seconds of your time (Fingers in ears) LALALALALALA I HAVE A KID NOW!
3) I can now drop Facebook hate on people for not liking my baby pictures.
4) Have an excuse for my fat, worthless body. I don’t have time to workout, I’m a father! “Are you drinking cheese?” “YOU DON’T HAVE CHILDREN, YOU’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND!” See how this works?
I did a show this past weekend during Independent’s Day Festival in Columbus. It’s a grab bag of small business, booze, art and music where they block off the street and toss it all together. Basically, it’s a great excuse for people to get drunk in the street. I like it.
Good news – a lot of people at the show. Bad news – a lot of people barge into the show, order a beer, yell randomness and leave. It’s not unexpected, so at least you have that going for you. I heard one comic lament asking for the crowd’s opinion as garbled nonsense was hollered from the back. The only thing worse than being heckled is being heckled by a drunk mushmouth because you can’t formulate a decent counterattack when you hear what is either “Your mom is cheese!” or “Heyahfartensteinen!”
The other strange dynamic about that format – open to anyone – is the ebb and flow. I got up to a smaller crowd, but the tables were completely full and engaged. They paid enough attention to send up a shot when I announced I was a new father. That’s a strange ritual that happens in comedy too sometimes. I did a show in rural Michigan once and had four shots sent up in 30 minutes. I asked the bartender if they kept a taxi on retainer for the comics. “There ain’t no taxi in this town!” I then asked if they got a kickback from DUI convictions on comedians. She just giggled. I drank water the rest of the show.
The only thing worse than pumpkin flavored everything is people bitching about pumpkin flavored everything, but I had a profound thought last year that came back to me recently. I’ve had a lot of head injuries, so this happens. I remembered Blueberry Hubba Bubba last month for no reason. Who says multiple concussions are all bad? Oh, I did forget my wallet two days in a row, but blueberry gum, right?
As I was carving a pumpkin with an obscenity on it for the neighbor kids I decided to eat some of the pumpkin goop just to try it. It was like eating a vegetable form of worms. I would rather eat snot rockets that were recently smeared under kindergarten desks than this vile plant and I’m fat. I’ll eat damn near anything mixed with cheese, beef or alcohol. Pumpkin is indeed the new bacon. It is everywhere. Bacon is OK. I like it on burgers, but let’s face it, if it’s too crisp it tastes burnt, under cooked will give you food poisoning. Overrated, but that bacon shit is everywhere, like pumpkins or bacon just got released with the iPhone 6. It’s fine as is, no need for chocolate covered bacon.
Sometimes stuff is popular for no reason other than it’s popular. Like the Kardashians or Honey Boo Boo. Food wise, I think the best example of a food popular for no good reason is grits. Grits by themselves are like eating large grain sand off a beach. “But Chris, they’re great with butter and cheese!” So is everything. Give me the butter and cheese without having to go to an oral surgeon right afterwards.
Throughout history, humankind had dreamed of flying. Just over 100 years ago, it was achieved…and it’s awful. I had to fly recently and had nearly forgot how awful – luckily everyone did their part to remind me!
1) Check a bag, lose something. I think it’s a rule that if you check a bag, federal law requires that someone smash something or lose something. Last flight, TSA rummaged through my crap and smashed a bottle of olive oil from Italy all over my clothes. This time, they managed to lose a notebook I had in a side pocket. It wasn’t important, it only had all the notes I had taken during my training session.
2) The airplane. Right as we leveled off, I was waiting for the seat belt light, as my two coffees were ravaging my kidneys. Don’t worry, I thought, there’s almost no one on the flight. No one, except the guy with IBS that nearly knocked me over flying down the aisle. I stood there for 20 minutes until the flight attendant looked at me and said, “Don’t go in there.” Great, I guess I’ll just bust a kidney, piss my pants or try and go into the air sickness bag. Some people are born under a constellation for greatness, I was born under one that meant I was damned to a life full of awkward restroom interactions.
3) Other people. On the way down, someone across from me was staring at the same spot in front of themselves and not blinking. I thought they were dead, but thankfully he finally moved. I can’t imagine how long I would’ve been delayed with a dead body on the plane.
This was for a 90 minute flight. If someone can invent a tube system for traveling like the bank has for your money, please do it quickly. I can’t take another flight. Unless I have drink tickets. Then I can fly to Mars.