Month: October 2012

Summer is pretty rough for comics at my level.  A lot of the one-nighters dry up due to summer breaks and vacations.  As a comedian looking for work, you hang on every opportunity.  I picked up a show in Ohio on a Thursday and it was a nice add to a rather bone dry schedule.  Then, three days before it, I got a call for a college show that paid more.  Shit.  Not being a scumbag, I had to turn it down.

The very next day I applied for a comedy festival that is hard to get into.  The day after that, I got offered a week in Alabama.  I took it, because I’m not an idiot (in that category, I’m quite the idiot in others).  I emailed the festival to take me out of the running and was promptly informed I would’ve definitely been in…for a chance to win $1000.  Son of a bitch!

I was rather sour, but went to the original show with all this double opportunity crap in my head.  After the show, the headliner told me he liked my stuff and got me three dates in December.  It pays well and it’s not too ridiculous on the travel end.  Yay!  I guess sometimes it works out.  Now I wait to get hit by a car with my shit luck.  Try not to run over my face, karmamobile, I’m very good looking.

Now the race was done and the fun party could begin.  That’s right – Tone Loc was back up.  He actually started the first of two concerts at 11:25, right when I was starting the race.  They showed him so much respect, they refused to turn off the pop mix blaring at us in line, which was about 40 yards from the stage.  I know when people do that to me during a comedy show, I walk.  (OK, I need the money.  I’ll stay.)

I then made a command decision to hit the “showers” over watching Tone Loc, since I was covered in wet mud and it was 60 degrees when the sun was behind a cloud.  The “showers” were six hoses, spitting out freezing cold water.  Mmmm…hypothermia…  Of course, several hundred people were in line and most decided to treat the hose like a professional spa treatment.  I then looked over a saw a chick about 250 in her underwear and regular bra hosing down.  I would’ve rather watched an orphanage fire than that 80’s hair metal video moment gone horribly wrong.

I saw Tone Loc hitting the stage from a distance and realized the only thing worse than headlining a race is being the guy warming up the crowd at a race for the guy headlining a race.  He tried like hell, but not much excitement.  Then Mr. Loc came out and did four songs – of course Funky Cold Medina and Wild Thing…and two others I’m pretty sure he stole off other rappers.  Bravo!  Bravo!

Amazingly, I finished 87th out of almost 2300 runners.  Not too shabby.  Remind me, though, never to run in a real race where people aren’t dressed like the Aqua Teen Hunger Force, drunk or knocking on the door of morbid obesity.  If I do, then this false sense of athleticism may quickly fade.  In honor of my “still got it” moment, I have listed my high school accomplishments to rub it in the faces of all my haters.*

* All-MVL in football as a center in 1996, that is about it.  Oh, and I once struck out three batters my sophomore year in baseball, but the paper falsely said I struck out 13 in 7 innings.  Where’s my Nike commercial, you sons of bitches?!

The “race” was on.  I looked around and realized the average body mass index was equal to a Denny’s crowd.  True, there were plenty of fit types, but about 15% of them were drunk or wearing Justice League of America costumes.  I began passing people from the first heat by the time I was at mile one.

All was good at first, then they decided to put a huge hill followed by a military crawl, immediately followed by waist high water pits back to back.  Nothing says “I’ll just be out of shape, thanks” like trying to run with shoes and a shirt soaked to the core.  I saw a guy dressed like Jimmy Buffet pass me and that got me back on board.  I have standards after all.

Another water pit, this one an actual pond four feet deep, actually helped, as my balls reverse dropped up into my lower abdomen.  I was holding up OK, but a few more stupid obstacles and hills were a pain in the ass.  Luckily, the wooded part was blaring “Welcome to the Jungle” instead of some nightmarish Rihanna tune, so that boost was needed.  I was beginning to do that thick spit move when I realized I was nearing the end.

I determined to push it through the end and dove head first into the mud pit underneath more barbed wire.  This was a poor decision, as apparently it was too much to ask the fine race engineers to remove rocks the size of my foot from the mud.  Thanks, Hell Run!  I made it across, sweaty, wet and covered in mud.  Not unlike a typical high school party running from the cops through a wooded area.  Substitute chicken shit for mud and that is a story from the Chris Coen circa 1998 annals.  (Note: blog about the chicken shit incident sometime)

Upon entering the main area, I noticed a stage for the main perk – a concert by Tone Loc!  (You know, Funky Cold Medina and Wild Thing…from 1989ish?)  They also had a beer station and food vendors.  What food?  Obviously a burrito cart and coffee stand, because nothing goes great pre-race like a 1600 calories of grease washed down with caffeine.

A lot of people dressed up also.  I saw a ton of super heroes, movie characters and cartoon types, but the clear winner was a guy and his girlfriend in full He-Man and She-Ra outfits.  He even had the awful fur speedo thing He-Man wore, which was frightening to even glance at, but it was pretty authentic.  By the power of Greyskull, I unleash my beanbag!

Then came my turn.  This part sucked the worst.  We filed in like animals to a human corral and were blasted by the sounds of Katy Perry and Lady Gaga.  Nothing says storm the gates of Hell like Teenage Dream, after all.  More of a stab in the balls was the megaphone pump you up guy.  I wanted to run just to not have to listen to him anymore.  He had the strip club announcer cadence and worked “hell” into everything like Smurfs use smurf.  “Hey there, hellians!  Give me a hell yeah!  Are you ready for some Tone Loc?  Give me another hell yeah!”  Give me a stick to jam in my eardrum.  One for you and one for Bad Romance.  That’s better.

I had never ran a distance race in my life until last weekend.  In fact, in high school, my coach wanted me and my buddy Ship to run a 400 meter dash and we told him we would rather quit the team.  Well, then the amazing metabolism of youth ran to the hills and I went from 185 lbs. of athlete to 209 lbs. of college has-been in about two years.  Of course, the unlimited food of cafeterias and drinking like I was on commission didn’t help.  So I started running.

I got talked into signing up for the Hell Run, a 3.15 mile outdoor obstacle course by my lady.  No problem…however I did let her know I had absolutely no problem taking her out if it got to the end of the race.  Pre-race I got a cape I’ll never wear, a medal I may possibly maybe display (probably not) and a t-shirt.  I will probably wear that – it’s pretty normal looking.  Nothing is worse than a free shirt that sucks.  I got one once that was sky blue with green lettering.  Ironically, it was for volunteering, which I promptly donated to a Goodwill.

Then we walked in and saw the lunatics running in this race…