Author: Chris

My buddy started up an open mike just a couple weeks ago.  There was no promo other than me and him posting on Facebook.  10 comics showed up and entertained the 25 patrons.  Next week?  Three comics for seven drunks.  After the show they cancelled it.

No flyers, no announcements.  Hey everyone, we’re having U2 this Saturday!  Don’t tell anyone!  It would ruin the spontaneity!  Comedy doesn’t work everywhere.  Outdoors?  Done.  During a bar night with no notice?  Done.  Hey everyone, let’s put up a show at the Watts riots!  I know a good idea…the G2 summit is in Seattle this year.  How about a comedy show?  We’ll put it up right after the prison breaks!

I have a microphone and no one wants to stop the music during their Toby Keith marathon.  Guess what?  Not good for anyone.

Today’s feature is the movie Swingers.  I like this movie, but as always have internal dialogue and thought I would share.

Vince Vaughn is really thin and looks young, but the pompadour like hair can’t be pulled off much longer for ol’ Vince.  I’ll bet he has had something done.

Jon Favreau does a good job playing an unsmooth guy, but there’s no way a comic has that bad of crowd work who used to work in New York City.  Holy shit is he awkward.

He handled getting interrupted during sex pretty well.  That’s the most unrealistic part of this movie.  I would have probably left Mike’s body in the desert.

They should have got some better looking actresses for several of these scenes.  The cigar chick is a five and the girl that asks what type of car he drives looks like Marilyn Manson’s sister.  His ex is downright a possible three.  Plus two out of every three girls has red or strawberry blonde hair.  That’s not real.

Why are the “House of Pain” guys going to the Dresden in the first place?  There’s an old couple playing the Beegees.

This phone scene is so awkward I can’t look.  Stop calling.  Nope.  He’s still calling.  This reminds me of every phone call to a woman I made in high school, only I never had an ex to get over.

I may regret typing this, but I kind of like the music of Big Bad Voodoo Daddy.  I’ll bet that will pass.  OK, it passed.  I think it was the reference to drinking in their first song.  I still however, want to play Sega hockey.  The Pens were bad ass that season, but they made Rick Tocchet so slow he was unusable.

Ah, redemption.  Take that, ex-girlfriend, now he’s with Heather Graham.  Until she puts on roller skates and gets into porn.  Damn you, Hollywood.  Next up?  Whatever I watch next!  Stay tuned with that great teaser!

I went to Comfest in Columbus to see my buddy’s band (I missed the band, thanks to the 30 minute wait to get a beer and 1.4 mile walk).  Comfest is a little Columbus version of Woodstock, chock full of hippies, potheads, the political left, and most importantly, weirdos.  I played this game with my friends – “What does that freak do for a living?”  I saw a guy, shirtless, wearing leather pants and S&M boots.  I saw a girl with a chest tattoo that said “SPECIAL”.  I saw a shirtless woman with a silver mohawk and men’s jorts driving a golf cart.  And in case you’re wondering, saggy.  Fried eggs on nails saggy.

I hate people that are “different”, but hang out en masse with other “different” people.  It’s like when goth kids popped up like locusts in the late 90’s and talked about cutting themselves, but had 9 best friends that wore the same thing.  Yuck.  Plus, if you want to be different, write a book, paint something, dance, start a discussion group, etc.  Dressing like a cat at 27 years old does mean you’re different.  And a mega-douche.  (Yes, I saw that as well).  How about you jump off a building and see if you land on your feet?

For my entire HS life, I had a high and tight.  First combed w/ a part, then straight forward.  Then, I decided to let it flow and did a modified buttcut, but with short bangs.  Imagine the middle part with a paintbrush, but very greasy.  After college, I got lazy and found out I have these lucious locks, curly and thick, soon to be thinning on the crown.

Why is it, though, that every time I get my mane trimmed, the chick tries to make me look like an angry lesbian?  Tease the front, hair spray, slick the sides down.  Did you see what I looked like upon arrival?  Not a sapphic princess with a wallet chain!

The worst ever though, was when my Mom took me to the salon at age nine to get a spike…and apparently, a “body wave”, which meant perm in the back.  I came home and ran out to join the neighborhood wiffleball game and Brad, the dickhead 15 year old called me a “half a fag.”  The next day at school I fought two kids who rightfully taunted my fruity locks.  After the activator ran its course, I destroyed all pictures, save my UAW team photo from Y City Little League (champs, FYI).  I swore then to leave my birth mother in a nursing home and paint clown makeup on her upon senility to exact my dark revenge.  Now excuse me, I have to shave my back.

Playboy’s cover this month debuted America’s Princess (Bimbo): Mrs. Crystal Hefner!  Unfortunately, she bailed on the living corpse five days before the ceremony.  My problem?  He let her keep the $90,000 ring and a Bentley.  WHY?  Last I checked, the ring was for the promise of marriage.  Then again, she probably had to bang him, so I guess that has a price.  God, the sights and sounds…

Also, this may surprise some, but I absolutely support the right of a woman to keep her own name.  I also fully then support the right of a man to take back the ring in that case.  I get to bang one woman, give her a ring worth 2-3 months’ labor, AND I lose half my shit if it doesn’t work out?  Even if it’s her fault?  Tell you what, take my balls too.  I won’t be needing those!

A discussion came up recently about tattoos.  I joked that my next tattoo would be me riding a bald eagle with a beard wearing a Viking helmet, shooting two Uzis, with “Freedom isn’t free.”  A blonde asked me, “Why do you have that?”  First off, I don’t have that, dunce, it’s called sarcasm.  Second, I would never wear a Viking helmet.  But that tatty would be badass…  The worst tatties I’ve ever seen?  When people get their own names, I hate it.  Especially with a basketball or a Papa Smurf or something stupid.  Do you need a reminder?  “My name is Steve!  Look!”  Good job, dummy.  By the way, that’s a sweet Irish family crest blended with the Thundercats logo.