Author: Chris

After the alumni game, my lower back was so stiff, I couldn’t take off my cleats w/out sitting down.  Here’s my arm –

My arm was lumpy and red from field turf scratches.  So I did the smartest thing I could.  I went to Eaglesticks bar and drank 20 beers.  When I woke up, I was in a hell of a state.  My girlfriend, a physical trainer, had to “release” my back and hips b/c I couldn’t function.  If you’ve never been “released” (no happy ending jokes, please), it’s like Spanish boots or being put in an Iron Maiden.  I realized therapy is like a tube of toothpaste.  The hurty part gets fixed, but the pain just leaked into my neck and shoulders.  I am fine now, so her snake oil worked.  Perhaps drinking on top of dehydration is not the best course of action…

I realized that I need to pull rosters and find a backup center if this alumni game goes down again next year.  If not, I have to put razor blades in my wristbands and hope for the best.  Sportsmanship is for those who are athletes.

Kickoff and the game was underway.  I was playing center only.  When one of my teammates dislocated his kneecap early in the second half, I was glad I made that decision.  The first half for our offensive juggernaut produced four turnovers and zero points.  I didn’t blow any plays, but a linebacker came from nowhere and blasted me.  My cheating instincts were still sharp, though, b/c I grabbed his jersey and pulled him down.  Offensive linemen under 200 lbs. do what we have to do.

On one pick tossed deep, I immediately put my head on a swivel.  If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that defensive players are filthy scumbags and they love to cheap shot people on turnovers.  This linebacker took off for me, but I got lower and even though he had momentum, I knocked him on his back.  Since it was 40 yards from the action, no one saw it and the DVD didn’t film it.  I might as well mention this, b/c I know not a soul will believe this.  Unfortunately, I think this is where my back started to hurt.  At least this action shot was taken which looks cool (I’m in the middle, blocking).

The second half we got the ball and thanks mostly to our 19 year old, still in shape, former all-league receiver, we scored.  I ran into the end zone, mostly b/c I knew the DVD would capture the shot and I wanted to appear like I did something.  Of course, the PAT was blocked.  Although they made it interesting with a late deep ball, that was it.  Maysville wins, 6-0, in a game with 10 turnovers, pass drops, missed blocks, injuries, late hits, and missed calls.  I was too f/n tired to really enjoy it, but it’s in the books.  This is the real shot of my contributions to the game…

Saturday the day of my alumni football game finally arrived.  So powerful were my nerves, I actually woke up about 10 times before getting up for good.  Because I am stupid, I had mini-burgers and fries for breakfast, following up that garbage meal with pizza for lunch.  I drove in for one final walkthrough at 2, then we broke.  I realized I needed more food, so a bunch of us went to Tat’s and I topped my nutritional nightmare w/ a salad w/ about two handfuls of cheese and spaghetti w/ meatballs.  At least I didn’t drink beer (they didn’t serve beer, thank God, or I probably would have).

Back at the HS, I had to get equipment.  My huge melon and virtual mullet barely fit into a large, but I got it.  I also hadn’t worn a cup in quite a while, so that was a hoot.  Mushing my junk into support shorts and a plastic banana was quite the life experience, but it beats getting a cleat in the jumblies.  I went out to the field for a look.  It was weird, b/c I had never actually been there.  They built the school and field after I graduated.  Nothing like defending the “home” turf.

The pregame involved me snapping (the other emergency center forgot to come out for pregame activities until half over).  My hand began to ache after about 40 snaps due to arthritis from punching a lot of things.  The other linemen came out and for the first time since my freshmen year in college (Fall 1997), we did some hitting drills.  My technique was a little off, but so was everyone else’s.  Finally it was go time.  We had to line up on the 40’s facing the John Glenn Fighting Muskies.  They introduced us w/ year of graduation, number and name.  I, of course, did the double hand motion for the championship belt b/c I am a huge douche.  I felt better, though, when they announced the oldest player on the field was our backup guard, a 1984 grad.  Mid-40’s?  Maybe 32 is not so bad, after all.  Now for the game…

Had my showcase at the Cbus Funny Bone tonight – ladies and gentlemen, I am in the ol’ loop.  I have passed the test and will get 1-3 weeks in 2012 somewhere in the United States.  Hell yeah.  My foot is in the door.

Maybe five years from now I will have 47 kids or be dead, but right now, I’m the happiest princess at the dance.  Chris Coen on the move.  Thanks to everyone that came out tonight, I don’t have time to tell the tale, but you guys rock.  I will pour out a beer at your funerals.  Enter Bone Thugs N Harmony – I miss my uncle Jah Jong!

In all seriousness, I had buddies drive from Kentucky, Zanesville, Logan, and everywhere.  Plus my family made it.  My dog stayed home, he’s a jealous dick…oh well.  He always wanted more bones.  My family and friends rock – God Bless America.  Thank you all!  (Especially my g/f Hope.  She bought me a watch and a t-shirt with Captain America on it.  I now have to kidnap her, she is a national treasure.)

Last night, for the first time in a while, I reverted back to my roots of preparing for a show and walked around endlessly with the remote in my hand practicing my set for tomorrow.  I haven’t done that in over a year.  12 mins, 15 mins, and 20 mins – I have no idea what I’ll have to do.  I am ready to roll.  Tonight is my “showcase” show where it is determined whether my act is OK to present as a feature (the guy before the headliner) at clubs across the fruited plain.  I am ready.

When I first started comedy four + years ago, it was for fun.  Now it is becoming something more…or not.  Whatever happens tomorrow, I believe that life sucks.  Your reaction can be, “Oh well!” or it can be “Get the fuck out of my way, I will kick your ass, life.”  I have rewritten jokes, typed every line and reworked it, videotaped my stupid ass, voice recorded myself and spent HOURS listening to every tick.  I have done anniversaries, HS reunions, dive bars, strip clubs, clean corporate shows, parties, movie theaters, clubs, benefits, and God only knows what else.  I am tired of doing shows to fill the gaps for $20 and an “atta boy!”  Daddy is angry and motivated (I think that’s what I should say).  My hand motions are down, my eye contact perfected, my material stage tested, and my attitude razor sharp.  If I blow it, it’s my fault.  I don’t care if the crowd is straight or gay, old or young, white or black, Christian or atheist…OK, Christian might be a problem…I love Jesus, but I am not in the business of telling “Kids are funny!” jokes or magic.  Come out to the www.columbusfunnybone.com and see me tell jokes like a gun is to the head of my wife and kids (I don’t have a wife or kids, use your stupid imagination).  AMERICA!  (Cue heavy metal).  If I do well, awesome.  If not, I will probably murder someone at the alumni football game this Saturday at Maysville HS.  Then I will try again and light it up.

A country singer named Sammy Kershaw had a song in the 90’s called “Politics, Religion, and Her.”  This referred to the only things off topic he would not discuss.  I think, ironically, music is the other pillar in that premise.  I HATE pop music.  If pop music is Josef Stalin, though, to me techno is Adolf Hitler plus Satan with John Wayne Gacy tossed in.  I literally get a rush of rage at dance music made w/ synthetic instruments.  I also think people that listen to that garbage are generally mindless assholes that want beats to replace rational thoughts.  God in heaven, that felt good to type.

That said, I realize I don’t have to jam my music down the proverbial throats of my pals.  I love outlaw country (new country generally sounds like pop, yuck) and metal.  Even there, Nu-Metal largely stinks.  What is amazing to me, however, is how music defines our lives.  I listen to metal (Pantera, Machine Head, Iron Maiden) when I work out or am in a foul mood (a lot).  I love old outlaw country (Hank Jr., DAC, Waylon) when I am relaxing, reflective, and usually drinking.  Of course, I am usually drinking…but I digress.  That’s why I generally don’t judge people’s music tastes (except techno, those people suck at life).  Even this old bastard likes to play some Phil Collins, John Denver, or sappy crap on occassion.

I even used to play a lot of guitar.  I got a Fender at 7, traded it for a BC Rich acoustic at 10, which I still have.  I have written about 12 songs, mostly about dirty things and of course, they all suck ass.  Playing funny songs was actually my intro to comedic writing, so I hate guitar comics.  1) Usually not funny or horrible at guitar or 2) I never wrote a song that funny.  I rarely play anymore, but my proudest song is “Ol’ Stinky” based on my dogs Joe Camel and Stringbean.  Just b/c I like to mix up the blogs, here it is.

D A C G – Guitar chords

Ol’ Stinky wandered in my yard, he came from God knows where.  He smelled like a 70 lb. asshole, covered in dirty, mangy hair.

I tried to teach him how to run or stay or play or sit, but the only that dog ever learned was how to always smell like shit.

I put Ol’ Stinky in the back o’ my truck, went to the nicer end of town.  He caught a whiff of pussy, was moving when he hit the ground.

For on the other side of the fence you see, was a purebred poodle bitch.  Ol’ Stinky didn’t know nothing, but he knew he had to scratch that itch.

The poodle’s owner was in the garden, and she let out a deafenin’ scream.  Ol’ Stinky was gonna give her the ugliest litter she’d ever done seen.  (Very country spelling, FYI.)

She turned the hose on Stinky, but there wadn’t no stoppin’ him.  If that chick had the jaws of life, Ol’ Stinky was still goin’ to win.

She hit him w/ a rake so hard, it broke the stick in two.  But Ol’ Stinky’s dumb, he’s gonna cum, fill that poodle w/ his goo.

Well the police eventually showed up, but the scene was still the same.  I tried to get that dog to stop, but he didn’t even know his own name.

The police they pulled their guns and fired, shot Ol’ Stinky, tween the eyes.  They blew his goddamn head off…but they couldn’t stop his thighs.

If something is that horny, let give you all this warning.  Ol’ Stinky died at half past three…but kept fucking til’ the morning!  (Flourish!)

I will probably never do that again on the blog, so enjoy.  August 25th – www.columbusfunnybone.com.  I will NOT do that song.