Month: February 2012

Whitney Houston died last weekend.  That’s sad, but does anyone remember that she was drugged up and cracked out for the last two decades?  Drug addicts tend not to live very long.  (See Michael Jackson, Amy Winehouse. oh and about 700 other musicians)  Sunday, the news was acting like absolutely nothing else was going on.  Greece is in flames, Syria is having civil war, and our government and the Catholic church are knifefighting over the 1st amendment.  Eh, we’ll get to that later.  A lady that sang songs OD’d – everything else is irrelevant!

Then again, I got on facebook and saw people were really upset.  So all the benevolent news channels obliged with constant coverage, even though 90% of the facts were out within the hour.  Hell, I even saw a touching story about Bobby Brown’s emotional performance in Mississippi.  It nearly made me forget he slapped her around!  Ah, love.  It truly is eternal.  I’ll think I’ll stick with the Law and Order marathon.

“I needed a vacation from my vacation!”  This means you are just back from vacation.  I haven’t had a week off work since I lost my job in early 2009.  That was not a relaxing week.  Before that, my last week off was spent in Cabo San Lucas in 2004, where I ran out of money and survived off beef jerky and granola bars for three days until my direct deposit hit Thursday at midnight.  Kiss my ass complaining about how stressful your drunken week at the beach was.

“If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes!”  It’s February and 32 degrees.  In five minutes, will I be grilling out with a cold beer in my hand?  No.  Shut your dirty mouth.

“You working hard or hardly working?”  I doing neither, I am instead engaged in inane drivel disguised as adult conversation, if you must ask.

“There are two types of people in this world: _____ and _____.”  If that statement is not filled in with idiots and people that agree with me, I’m not interested in hearing anymore.

Every comic that has a bad set’s first reaction is “The crowd sucked.”  Well, every once in a while, they’re right.  There is a simple math equation in comedy that the smaller the crowd, the worse it goes, but sometimes, like last night, it’s just ridiculous.  One way to tell is that if there are 13 comics – black, white, female, male, young, old, gay, straight, etc. – and 10 don’t do well?  The crowd sucks.  Someone has to hit, it’s the law of averages.

Rather than focus on the bad, I will share two moments from the show (I did well, obviously…) that stood out from last evening.  I said, “Who has ever got out of a bad relationship?”  A dude said, “Me!  14 of ’em!”  That’s on you, pal.  You’re 25.  You’re a piece of shit.  He then said (in reference to me talking about crabs, not that I have them), “Hit them with a hammer!”  That explains the single state of your love life.

The crowning moment, though, was a guy came up to the group of miserable comics post-show and said, “Who did the crabs joke?”  Me: “I did.”  Him: “That was funny…who did a lobster joke?”  My buddy: “I did.”  Him: “That needs some work.”  That made my night.  And remember rule 49 of comedy – crabs are funnier than lobsters.

I’ve only had to perform totally clean a couple times before, and only once wearing dress clothes, which sucked, because I had to do both here.  The guy working with me was cool enough to go first, since I was called that day to fill in.  The show was in an old theater, so it was very throwback to walk from behind a curtain and have a pitcher of water onstage.  I’m more used to a bucket of beer.  The show went very well and surprisingly, I didn’t curse other than damn and hell, but that doesn’t count since I usually say much worse.

After the show, I had some super rich people compliment my set.  At this point, I was thinking I should have brought a cup for cannistering for change like when I was playing baseball for the Springfield Lions club.  The guy running the show then gave me a pass to go to the casino and I was all in…until he mentioned “They will provide you a jacket at the door.”  No thanks, my hypocrisy has its limits.  I’ll just drive back to the hotel and listen to outlaw country.  In ten minutes I went from the most high end hotel in West Virginia with a jacket policy to a Super 8, drinking the good part of an 18 pack of Busch Light tweeting about how Cris Carter got screwed by the NFL Hall of Fame.  Back to basics.

Check out our (me, Sumukh Torgalkar and Justin Golak) Super Bowl recap here – http://www.sagattack.com/2012/02/comedifans-episode-017.html

I did a show at the Greenbrier in West Virginia.  It has been the vacation spot of presidents, movie stars, and super rich people for a century.  And they had me there.  I was supposed to do it mid-February, but a last second emergency meant I got called at 2 pm.  I had slept in until one, because I am a sack of shit, and at the time of the call, I was sitting at a BW3’s, ready to devour some delicious wings.  I said I would do it and the race was on.

I flew home, stopping first at Arby’s – I normally wouldn’t mention that, but I hadn’t eaten since 6pm the previous day.  I actually got three sandwiches for $5.  I have never spent less than $8 at Arby’s.  It is the steakhouse of fast food…at least in price.  I was packed and ready to roll, when I realized my dog was staring at me.  Son of a bitch.  (Literally!  LOL LOL LOL, shoot me.)  Thank God the hotel was pet friendly, not that I cared at that point, I just would’ve snuk him in the back.

I arrived at the room and to my endless surprise, a valet parked my car and called me sir.  He probably felt all dirty inside having to accomodate my stupid ass and call me sir.  Fair enough.  This place was easily the highest class ever, which isn’t saying much if you read last night’s blog with the whipped cream wrestling.