Month: March 2012

I was at my other job (the less fun one that actually allows me to eat and not live in my car) when a co-worker asked if I wanted in on the Mega Millions, now at $540 million.  My answer?  Of course!  Not because I think we’ll win, but because if everyone in my office left multi-millionaires and I was sitting there with my pride and $10 I didn’t toss in the pot, I would have to murder at least three people on principle.  Can you imagine the boiling rage of knowing you could have paid $10 for $22 million?  I have to calm down just thinking about how mad I would be, let alone if it actually happened.

One’s mind always begins to wander when thinking about that sweet, delicious money.  I would probably react like Big Ern McCracken on Kingpin after the million dollar tourney – “I’m above the law!  I can buy my way out of anything!”  My goal in life is to live far enough from other humans I could poo in my yard and no one could complain.  Not that I would, but dreams are dreams.  I would build a huge house and a barn with a brewery so I could whip up my own beer.  That’s about it, oh and the never working again.  I beat Skyrim in two months last year.  That’s 120 game hours in two months, not counting loading, early deaths, and restarts, all while working 40+ hours a week and doing comedy 1-3 shows a week.  Oh the joy of staring at a schedule if I was a multi-millionaire…Wake up, eat chili for breakfast, start in with some fun summer drink like a Pina Colada or Old Milwaukee around noon (this assumes I woke up by noon), and play video games until the stress of it all caused me to slumber, probably around four pm.  Upon awakening, a lovely dinner of double cheeseburgers and drunkenly buying friviolous things on the internet, like an eight foot Captain America statue made of Legos, signed Iron Maiden concert posters and weaponry from past eras.  Hmm…I always wanted a morning star…only $4000?  Ha ha ha, why not?  I’m rich!!!  Maybe it’s better I never get rich.

I had a great show Tuesday (I would have capitalized that, but I’m not a douche like Kanye West) and followed it up with an open mike Wednesday.  Open mikes are great, both for the fun comedy stuff and the horrible newbs.  A black gentleman hit the stage dressed in a kilt to reinforce his joke comparing the Girl Scouts to the Crips and Bloods.  Are they (Crips and Bloods) still around?  I thought Biggie Smalls and Tupac ended that debate/murder orgy.  I don’t know, I’m from Appalachia.  The only gang I know is One Man Gang, an obscure wrestler from the 80’s.  Don’t make me go all Blue Meanie on your ass (more dumb WWE references).

One of the staff made his debut tonight and did pretty well, especially for a new comic.  Even if he didn’t, I would say so, mostly because I don’t need a pube in my next beer.  Or want one, for that matter, but I digress.  Post-show, a guy I met a few months ago came up to a gaggle o’ comics and said, “I just got busted by the cops for smoking weed in the parking lot!”  Me:  “That sucks, did you get a ticket?”  Him: “No, bro, I’m white.”  That was awkward, because my Indian pal Sumukh was right next to me.  He deadpanned, “Well, now I better not smoke pot in the parking lot!”  This is funny, first because he wasn’t offended.  Second, because racial profiling doesn’t apply to Indians (Asiatic or Native American).  I know this because of the afore mentioned Applachian background.  Trust me, I have heard some racist shit in my day…but never “Those Goddamn Indians…”  And if I had, it would probably be the wrong Indians, because hilljacks are fucking stupid.  Now about those Goddamn Samoans…

it’s fine.  Don’t worry.  A lot of people do.  In fact, I got to see the fine incarnation of “Khloe and Lamar” while I was at the gym.  A young lady had it on.  It was so awful, I cut my workout short by half.  Even though every scene she was fully done up with makeup (seriously?), the dialogue was as entertaining as listening to someone with a massive head wound talk to an invalid, and the human interest level I had was zero, like I was staring at a pile of dog shit, waiting for it to do a trick…this young lady was soaking it all in.  My ears were nearly bleeding trying to drown out the drivel with my iPod, but it penetrated my brain like the worm on Star Trek 2: Wrath of Khan.

You know, a lot of people enjoy these shows, so don’t feel bad.  Of course, a lot people steal people’s identities and ruin their lives forever.  A lot of people won’t stop and help another person who is hurt.  A lot of people are devoid of humanity and are bringing our society to a screeching halt.  Therefore, if you like these shows, just realize you are a net negative to the civil structure of America.  At least, please never vote in a general election, or to borrow a line – vote the first Wednesday in November!  At best, take a nap in your garage with the car running.  And a tube running from your exhaust into your barely cracked window.  It’s just less painful than actually living as such an uninteresting pile of cell matter.

I got to the show way earlier than planned to watch the NCAA games and sat down at the bar.  I ordered a water and the bartender ID’d me.  Not because water needs ID, but because she thought I was a cop.  It reminded me of college where this way too overweight and old guy wearing a too small Tiffin sweatshirt walked up to our frat house.  “Hey dudes, can I come in and party?”  Even heavily saturated, I knew something was amiss.  “Hell no, get out of here.”  He went next door, was let in, and busted a bunch of kids for underages.  There’s your ATF at work – busting 20 year old college kids drinking.

I was in the mood to fly through my set, since Ohio State was battling Syracuse tooth and nail, but work is work so I got through it fine.  The staff was great, the crowd bought a lot of shit afterwards and I received my first written check for a T-shirt.  A lady asked if I took credit cards (I need to work on that, I’m just out of sight, out of mind for setting that up).  No, sorry.  Then it got fun.  “Do you take checks?”  People still carry check books?  That’s amazing.  Sure, I’ll take a check.  “Do you need my ID?”  Yes, I thought, because if this check bounces, I’ll have to fire myself from selling my own shirts…and in this economy (I hate when people say that) who can fired?

I had to book my own room for the show last weekend, but I got a “bonus” to pay for it.  Nice, but small, so my options were limited.  I found one that accepted pets, so I was all over it, since finding a dogsitter is a pain in the ass.  Mostly because I feel guilty asking, not due to the dog.  Stringbean is almost nine years old and about as intimidating as a Precious Moments figurine.

I got in and the lady was nice.  “Would you like this on your American Express card?”  I stupidly said, “I don’t have an Amex card.”  There goes the free motel room…shit.  I pulled around the parking lot and realized that six rooms in my block of rooms had their doors open and were partying in the parking lot like Michigan City, Indiana was Panama City.  My dog got out and promptly wandered over to the pit bull on a leash outside the meth lab room across the way.  He’s so nice and innocent, unlike me, he just meandered over.  A fat, tattooed broken condom of a woman ran out – “He attacks!”  I dashed over to save my dumb dog and grabbed his collar about three inches before he got murdered by this nearly feral beast.  FYI, hilljacks – I will kill your dog.

Thankfully, I got in the room just in time for the OSU/Syracuse tipoff.  Then I realized for no reason, CBS was not available in the room.  This makes sense, since CBS is such a fringe channel.  I quickly pulled the game up online…but the internet lag froze up the feed after about 45 seconds.  Guess who got to the show 90 minutes early?

I was watching the “Funniest Person in Columbus” contest several years back and there was guy who looked like Mitch Hedberg, except fat and drunker.  He had never done a show before and I noticed pre-show he was hammering Long Island Iced Teas and Buds (this is common, I had nine beers in an hour and a half before I did my first show).  I was watching the show and the emcee said his name to bring him up.  He didn’t move.  “Hey, I think that’s you.”  He looked over and said, “Sweet.”  He then took about two uncomfortable minutes to meander to the stage.

Once up, he went into a nice bit about shaving his pubes with a butter knife to make his dick look bigger.  It was about 3-4 minutes and I pretty much just recapped it 100% for you, minus the dry heave where I thought he was going to yorf.  At the four minute mark, he realized he had no other “jokes”.  He proceeded to repeat the first joke.  Word for word.

I lost my shit and was laughing so hard, I hit the ground and was crying.  A table of young guys spun around, incredulous that I was laughing.  I told them they would never watch something so awful and they should enjoy it.  By the end, we were high fiving and laughing our asses off…and the entire crowd was staring at us.  He finally got physically removed from the stage and passed me.  From his lips to God’s ears – “I fucking killed it!”  He then walked into the glass pane and dropped his drink, breaking the glass.  He was booted.  I never saw him again.