Month: October 2011

I had a lovely day at the BW3’s near my place.  For some inexplicable reason, the NFL decided to schedule the Browns, Bengals, and Steelers at the same time, which covers 89% of Ohio’s football fanbase.  Thank God, though, at one, they aired the Miami/New York Giants game, for the hordes of people who needed to see that.  So off to the bar…

I went to the bar while I waited for a table to open.  The guy at the bar was a Ravens fan.  He felt it was necessary to clap after every positive play.  After a three yard gain, 12 claps, very loud.  This was always followed by a “Let’s Go!  Let’s Go Baltimore!”  Thoughts of violence went through my brain, not because I hate the Ravens (I do), but because of the loudness.  His claps pierced my ears and my blood pressure was up.  Finally, as I got to the point of saying something, my buzzer went off.  I sat on the other side of the bar, but I could still hear him.

My table was between a guy who looked like Lurch from the Addams Family, an asexual person (my bet?  Man, but not with much confidence), and a guy with those lobe stretcher things in his ears.  At that moment, I realized my experience would be so much better if no one else was there.  I resolved to start working on accelerating the zombie apocalypse, but then surmised sports would be first to go.  Damnit, zombie disease.  I guess I’m stuck with the clapping guy for at least one more week.

My friend from out of town called me up recently and we had a nice conversation…until the end.  He said, “You seem to be dong alright now, much happier.”  What?  Based on when I was living in my car?  Weird thing to say to someone whose situation is largely always the same.  Then he said, “I’ll be home soon.  Don’t book any shows that week unless they’re close.”  Of course!  Why make money?  I’ll just tell my agent (I don’t have an agent) to set up my central Ohio tour that week.  If it were that easy, I’d be doing shows every night 15 minutes from my house.

I was talking to a couple pals the other night.  Some guy to my right said, “If Brandon Phillips doesn’t win the Gold Glove, I’m blowing up stadiums.  I’m starting with Busch Stadium.”  Fellow comic Joseph Ivan said, “The terrorists’ demands sure are dropping.”  Genius.  The drunk then looked at us and said, “I’m dead serious.”  No, no you’re not…but we’ll never hang out.  That’s true.

I have always loved Halloween, so I dress up every year.  My top costumes –

– One year I was a nearly six foot penis.  I had a bald skin cap (with a black dot), a red sweatband, and a flesh colored warmup suit with blue veins front and back, plus two flesh colored pillowcases w/ balloons in the front and an afro wig in the back.  Good costume, but bad for drinking.  I had to piss every 25 minutes and lift two balloon bags w/out dribbling down my leg.

– My best was Britney Spears.

This was on her comeback in ’08.  I copied the outfit.  My addition was the pink balloons I used to show her worn out labia and the tramp stamp.  The best was when I was shopping at Kohl’s, holding up the sports bra.  I looked up and saw an elderly woman staring at me, mortified.  Excellent (rub hands together).

 

I had a show at WVU last week.  Crowd was good, room was set up well, and I got two free beers.  That’s right, haters.  Two.  Afterwards, a college student approached me and said, “What got you into comedy?”  Alcohol and dumb friends.  We went through the normal back and forth, then he told me this – “I think I’d like to do comedy professionally.  It sounds fun.  I listen to podcasts and those guys are hilarious.”

I didn’t want to break his heart, but I neglected to tell him is was nearly 11 and I had to drive back to Columbus.  Oh, and work the next day on less than four hours’ sleep.  Oh, and headline a show the next night.  Not complaining, just saying.  I had to ask – “Have you ever done comedy before?”  His answer?  “No, but in high school, I played the banjo for a show and tell speech and it was pretty cool.”  Well, you never told me THAT!  Go for it!  Become a professional comic!

I was headlining a show last week.  It was supposed to start at eight, but no one was there except a German soccer player and the bartenders.  This is always a great sign for a good night o’ laughs!  Eventually, about 12 people were there, so it looked like go time.  Yet another delay, though, as the drunkest couple I’ve ever seen showed up.  They tried to get them to leave.  They were dancing, not well by the way, and making out viciously.  At one point, the chick, who I thought had a bum leg, stumbled up to the bar and demanded her and her winner of a boyfriend got to get onstage.  They were denied, so went back to PDA.  I quit watching when he started rubbing her button publicly.

Show started at nine.  One guy decided to yell out something everytime the feature said anything at all.  Then the four ADD girls to the left of the stage got up, all at once to smoke, making a hell of a racket doing so.  By the time I got up, there were five people left.  One chick got up FIVE TIMES during my 50 minute set.  Her dude only got up two times, you think he would have passed some manners along…oh wait, he made a cell phone call during one of my jokes.

There is nothing more demoralizing than knowing no matter what you do, no one gives a shit.  At one point, a girl complained that I looked at my watch.  Just counting down the seconds until this show is over or I start shooting, stupid.  Luckily, I was paid in cash, which covered my fantasy football leagues’ entry fees.  Excellent.