Year: 2012

Last night I did a show benefitting the Connor Senn Memorial Scholarship Fund.  Great cause, Connor was an OSU soccer player that had a rare heart condition and passed away on the field.  Credit to all involved, they raise money to avoid this and help OSU soccer.  Very similar to my buddy Quincy Conner, who passed from a heart condition years back – thanks to Rob for starting that up also.

The show went very well, with me, Travis Hoewischer, Bill Arrundale, and Josh Sneed headlining.  Sneed actually gave me a great “callback” regarding my Justin Bieber joke that I will definitely use.  (If you want to know what, come to my goddurn shows….)  Everything was gravy…until the end.

Post show, I wandered out to have a smoke and I ran into “I’m thinking about doing comedy, but I’ve never been onstage” guy.  There is no worse curse than this.  He ran his “bits” by me as I chugged my full beer, hoping a tornado or terrorist attack broke out.  “I’ve written 30 minutes!”  Me: How about you focus on five?  “Let me tell you this part, it’s about Maury Povich!”  Me:  Oh, that sounds great!  (Fuck!!!  Fuck!!!)  “Blah blah blah, blabbity bloo”  Me: Oh man, I have Crohn’s disease!  I am going to shit my pants!  See ya!  Thank my blessed Father, I escaped the cycle of bad routines never done onstage.  Small victories, small victories.

Why would I?  Good: I hold the baby and nothing happens.  Bad: ANYTHING ELSE.  My pal Dan has a great joke that I couldn’t get out of my head today.  My friends just had their first child and I took my gf to see the lil’ fella, fresh off his circumcision – thank God I missed that.

As my chica was holding the baby, she said, “Oh, he’s tooting!”  Then about 30 seconds later, do you want to hold him?  No.  First off, I don’t want to drop the kid and have that haunt me.  I was pushing my niece on a swing, the rope slid and down went my niece full speed.  She was fine, but I thought I was going to puke.  Second, he just shat.  No thanks.  Third, that morning I awoke to find my dog had carpet bombed (literally) my place with runny shit.  I washed vociferously, but I’d rather not hold the kid after that and give him a weird shit disease.

Lastly, I was told when I was born, my grandpa refused to hold me because men holding babies, in his mind, made them weak.  I agree.  Look at how I turned out – sensitive, caring, empathetic and very humble.  Actually, I’m a hot-tempered alpha male who would rather get shot than be seen crying in public…maybe I should hold the baby.

PS – three shows this week in Columbus, check out the “SHOWS” tab for details.

Just found out today I picked up a benefit show Monday for a cool cause, plus the Bill Arrundale taping Wednesday next week – check out www.columbusfunnybone.com for tickets and details.  Also, I am doing an interview with Columbus Alive! Tuesday.  It’s a free newspaper, but I bet if they put me on the cover, they’ll charge $35 a paper because I was voted “Best Legs and Butt” in Frankfort, Indiana among a group of girls in 1992.  I have all this comic talent and some nice gams, too.  It’s good to be me.

You can tell I’m super famous from this picture I took Monday at my show in Beavercreek, Ohio.  Look at the throngs of screaming fans that mobbed my car in the parking lot.

 

 

Thanks to everyone that reads my dumb blogs – for those of you that got affected by the virus, as of Monday it is fixed.  This website is virus free now.  People that create viruses on free websites have a special place in hell.  I have had one pisser of a week (bad) and am in about as good a mood toward virus douches as I am for pedarests.

Another new open mike in the books.  Everyone was fine, except one new ass who literally asked the crowd if they smoked weed…12 times.  12!  No one responded, even once.  12 painful, awful dead body reactions.  Hey, moron.  MOVE ON.  If you saw someone on the street and asked them if they liked fish sandwiches, and they didn’t respond, why would you ask 11 more times?  Because you are dumb.

To end on an uplifting note, my show Friday may be off.  How do I know?  I don’t!  The sack of shit cancelled the facebook event, but won’t call us back because he is a pussy.  Hey no balls, be a man and tell us the show is off, because if I show up there (I won’t) and you cancel the show, I will toss your barstools through your window.

(Side note, I am furious, but tomorrow’s blog will be about cupcakes to ease the tension)*

*no cupcake blog tomorrow

I finally got around to watching this show because I heard there were crazy people on TV.  One guy I saw could filter his pee and drink it, in case the shit went down.  More amazingly, his wife was on board and took a nice gulp of the slightly yellow pee water.  He’s a little crazy, but must have been one hell of salesman.  It’s one thing to ask your better half to drink some filtered urine if a nuke has just detonated, it’s another to get her to chug it on a trial run.

Another guy got wiped out by the 2008 stock market crash…so he responded by spending $70,000 building an “urban bombshelter”.  If you have $70 grand, who needs the stock market?  Then another lady was freaking out about Avian flu – she was the craziest loon (get it?) because she was tracking local geese populations, as if her random counting was scientific proof of anything.

Sadly, I did give them some props, because on day two I would be drinking out of my toilet and looting grocery stores.  That’s my prep – find a Doomsday Prepper and shoot up their house, taking it over.  Better to be armed than prepared!

Easter was great with my family, except the food.  It was delicious, but I spent the week losing 8 lbs.  After ham, cheesy potatoes, and give or take about 12 pies, I pretty much gained back all the weight in three hours.  Oh, and taking a huge shit is not a doctor recommended way to lose the poundage, but it is fun to weigh yourself before and after.  Yes, I’m weird.

The worst for me was our frat cook.  She was a really wonderful lady, but one summer I busted my ass and went from 209 to 171 in just 11 weeks.  I was pretty cut, thanks to healthy eating and being too poor to drink every night.  School started and our cook promptly made hot pockets and pizza burgers, all soaked on the range with this magical shit called “Whorl.”  It made everything tasty, but added around 1800 calories per ounce.  Strangely, everyone’s farts smelled the same too.  Someone would rip ass and we were scientifically unable to tell who the death merchant was…because everyone had the same flavor.  Within three weeks, I was back up to 200.  Oh well, it’s not as if chicks were swarming my drunken ass anyway.  “You know, that Chris Coen is looking good…oh, he just did a flip off the top rail of the staircase and knocked himself out.  Well, it is seven pm, after all.  That’s normal.”