Month: August 2014

I have played softball 11 straight years, one year I did two leagues.  I guess it’s the hillbilly gene.  Hillbillies LOVE softball almost as much as dip, sleeveless shirts and decals of Calvin peeing on another vehicle’s manufacturer symbol.  After many runner-up seasons, we finally won it all.  That’s right, you’re not only reading the blog of an unknown comedian, you’re also now reading the blog of the ninth or tenth best player on the Field 3 Hilliard City League champions.  You may want to change your underwear.

I used to pitch.  I had no really good pitches other than a one inch breaking curve when the wind was blowing, but I did get creative.  I would do an old timey wind up, move around the mound and about once a game, I threw the honeydipper.  This is where I rubbed the softball on my grundle and toss it from the nether zone.  It never worked.  We got a real pitcher, so I usually played on the right side of the field and prayed no one hit it to me.

Enough about my taint.  We pulled out the miracles and won 13-9.  Afterwards, we all agreed the trophy shouldn’t go to the bar because someone might steal or break it.  Then we all realized there was no chance in hell anyone’s wife would let them put a big ass ugly trophy on the mantle.  It’s by the pool table at the bar.  I decided to retire and take up something more my speed.  Are there any Magic the Gathering leagues sponsored by bars?  I don’t think you can pull a groin doing that.

I don’t have kids, and no, I won’t do the hacky follow up line that almost every comic does after saying that.  That said, I can’t really say how they should or should not be raised…mostly.  Some people, however, totally drop the ball.

I was at a soccer tournament this past weekend to watch my soon to be nephew play.  Nature called, so I went to find the boys’ room, which was a free standing port-a-john.  As I waited my turn, a red haired boy of about five to nine (I’m not good at guessing kids’ ages) came out of the booth of stink.  I looked down – he wasn’t wearing shoes.  No flip flops, crocs, or even just socks.  Barefoot.  His mom said “OK, let’s go back to the field.”  I nearly puked.

First off, I don’t think you should go to a public park barefoot period.  More importantly, you never, and I mean never, enter the cleanest public restroom on earth in your bare feet.  Now take the worst bathroom you’ve ever seen.  Imagine it’s smaller, hotter, and there is poop and pee festering in a blue juice cocktail right there in your face.  That’s a port-a-john.  I would’ve called children’s services, but I don’t know protocol on bathroom standards.  Sorry ice bucket challenge, I think you may have to take a back seat to my new petition to Congress – outlaw barefoot public bathrooming.

Time to update my blog with things I hate right now – part comedy, part therapy, occasionally funny.  Thanks for reading.

– The media.  I read about an internal memo that leaked from a news manager congratulating the team on using great “buzz” words to get people to look at their site for news about Robin Williams’ death, then they have fallen all over themselves to piss off everyone involved in Ferguson while trying to act they give a shit.  Just admit you want ratings.  America will hate you, but at least you won’t be hypocrites.

– My dog’s paint stripping breath.  The older my dog gets, the more vile his breath gets.  The more vile, the more I have to brush his teeth, which makes him drool, which causes more stench.  Not only is his breath foul, it comes out at around 112 degrees.  What’s worse than the smell of a dead turd?  A burning hot dead turd cooked in the mouth of a 90 pound animal.

– Customer service.  I bought something online.  My bank thought there was a security breach and shut my card off.  The problem?  They didn’t actually call, email, or notify me through the website I log into five times a week.  So my card declined three times.  I went to two managers, a rep and a member of the security team before they told me to get a new card, which took a week to get.  If you want to block me from myself, bank, where were you when I went to Vegas six years ago?  Thanks for nothing.

I took my first boxing class this week, about 20 years too late, but I did it.  I don’t know if I ever had a chance to be a good pugilist, but I suck at the drills that the good ones do.

Jump rope – My hot streak was about eight or nine.  Speed bag – This was outright awful.  Some teenager next to me was boxing this around like Sugar Ray Robinson, I hit my hand off the top of the speed bag frame three times.  Heavy bag – I was supposed to punch this for 30 seconds straight; six total rounds.  I looked like a T Rex by session five.  In the midst of this, I was supposed to do 20 pushups.  I did them girl style and hoped no one was looking.

Granted it was the first class, so I can only get better in theory.  Then again, maybe I should take a ninja class or buy a stun gun.  Sounds great, until I can’t lift my arms to fire the stun gun and get my ass kicked anyways.

Here’s the latest and greatest podcast I did.  A genius idea, Dustin Meadows hosts (or lets others host) a podcast in which one or more of the podcastees has not seen a rather well known movie.  Here’s our take on the classic action film Road House.

http://howhaveyounotseenthis.podomatic.com/entry/2014-08-18T02_47_19-07_00

And remember, pain don’t hurt.

 

I’m friends with a lot of comics on social media (and real life) so I saw a ton of posts about the passing of Robin Williams.  I think the guy was a great and underrated actor, really skilled at improv comedy and I’m not qualified to comment on someone’s suicide that I didn’t know, so rather than try and figure out why or how, I’ll leave it alone.

The surprising offshoot that came from his death was the question that kept coming up over and over – are comedians damaged people?  I used to play a game when I started comedy where I tried to figure out problems other comics had.  Luckily, I don’t have any, other than drinking, lack of tact, aversion to strangers, temper…OK, a few.  Most comics have issues, but then again so do most non-comedians.  They just talk about them in front of strangers, so it’s a little more obvious.  If a comic takes their life or hits rock bottom, you don’t have to be a medium to divine they had some demons – you probably figured it out when they flat out told a room of people or posted their act online.

I generally think people misunderstand a lot comedians.  I constantly get asked if I pick on the crowd (not unless I’m being heckled, which happens about once every 100 shows) or tell old truck stop jokes (nope, just stuff I write).  I was told once at a show in Georgia by a crowd member that comedians were the most miserable people he’d ever met.  I laughed pretty hard at that one.  The truth is that comedians aren’t robots programmed to do nothing but giggle like schoolgirls all day and night.  Why was I a little grumpy offstage that night?  I drove all the way south, only to find out the venue forgot to reserve a room at the hotel on Labor Day weekend and then didn’t pre-sell tickets, so there were about eight people there.  Sorry, all out of yuckity yucks, cowboy.

Due to the fact comics are people, we have shitty days, problems and opinions.  I just think the surprise when any emotion other than happy fun time comes out, some people are shocked and think it’s not possible.  Putting people in a big group as damaged just isn’t quite accurate.  I know comedians that are clean, dirty, conservative, liberal, gay, straight, religious, atheist, loud, quiet, you get it.  Long story short, seeing a funny person go through some really non-funny times is shocking because the reality doesn’t match the perception, but it doesn’t mean the second someone picks up a mike they go bat shit crazy.  I was there long before I started comedy.  RIP Robin and I hope his family finds peace in such a dark time.