Author: Chris

I did a headline gig this past weekend where I was asked to do 60 minutes.  Comedy basically works in stages – 5 minutes for most open mikes, 20-30 to feature and 45-60 to headline.  If you’re doing anything over 45 minutes, you are earning your money.

I got to the show and guy stopped me.  “I looked for you on YouTube, but didn’t see you.”  I told him putting free videos is a lot of work and people just want more free comedy without ever coming to your shows.  He seemed satisfied with the answer, then proceeded to subscribe to my unused YouTube channel and left before the show started.  You know what’s better than a six year old YouTube clip?  SEEING ME LIVE FOR AN HOUR.  Oh well.

The show went pretty well, I knew I was near the end of my set because every five minutes you’re on stage the temperature goes up three degrees.  Or at least you sweat like it does.  Afterwards, the music act Terry fired back up and I sold some books to the patrons.  I misheard one, signed the book incorrectly and had to write – “I’m deaf” next to his scratched out wrong name.  The next lady bought a couple for her sons.  The bar was whiter than than Alaska in December – country music, Busch Light on ice, and hunting camo abounded.  For some reason, I thought the lady said her son’s name was DeSean.  It was Sean.  Yes, I’m dumb and years of loud metal haven’t helped.

I was at work when a co-worker came in and immediately said, “I had a weird night last night.”  I was interested, and boy was it worth paying attention to.  Sometimes when people say that, they proceed to tell you boring things like “My internet went down for no reason!”  Then you’re all, “Oh wow!” (continues typing without eye contact).  Not the case – here’s the story.

“I was riding bikes with my girlfriend and we ran into a group.  They asked if we wanted to ride along to their event – free beer and a movie.  We said sure.  The group was a little different – a lot of curly mustaches and purple haired girls.  We got to the end of the run and a guy talked about his new movie while they passed out free beer.  Someone said “Have you heard of bikesmut?  No?  You can leave if you’re uncomfortable.”  Then they played a movie that had pornos mixed with people riding bikes, sometimes naked bike riding, sometimes not.  We left pretty quickly then.”

I had to ask, “I have a question.  Actually several questions.  A lot of questions.  Who in the hell needs to add a bike to sexy time?”  Seriously.  I’ve never heard of someone in the throes of passion and been like, “We need a bicycle immediately.”  Then I said, “Why didn’t you leave when the guy with the handlebar stache said you can leave if it gets weird?”  He replied his radar was on, but he had a beer.  That’s a fair answer.  I get that.  Free beer is a powerful lure.

I then had to ask, and I wish I hadn’t.  “What kind of porn?  What in the hell mixes with bike riding?”  He said everything – all girls, all guys, etc.  Dear sweet Ulysses Grant’s ghost.  A pansexual bike group with alt film interests.  Better play the powerball.  He then asked the million dollar question – “Is this a thing?  Am I just out of the loop?”  No.  Well, you’re out of that loop, and that’s probably good.  I tend to be well versed in the weird and I hadn’t heard about this in the darkest fringes of the internet.  The lesson is this – if someone says “You can leave if it gets weird.” then you get the blue hell out of there and don’t look back, lest you become Lot’s wife looking back on Gomorrah and turn into a pillar of salt.  This also reinforces Coen’s rule of life #14.  When you can wear headphones or earbuds over talking to a stranger, you always come out better.

I don’t do political comedy often, if ever.  At least a third of the room will hate you, a third love you and a third will be too nervous to do anything.  That said, I am have a psychic capacity, so I must share with everyone exactly what will happen in the debates.

Moderator: “Secretary Clinton, what’s your economic plan?”  HRC: “I’m going to create good paying jobs – tech jobs!”  M: “How?  Didn’t you claim to not understand email?”  HRC:  “I have pneumonia!  Fair share!  Tax returns!”

M: “Mr. Trump, you have shown a quick temper and penchant for personal attacks.  How can you be president and maintain diplomacy?”  DT: “The media is so biased against me.  I only attack when attacked.”  M: “You called one opponent pathological like a child molester and accused another’s dad of killing JFK and his wife ugly and that was the primary of your own party.”  DT: “Stupid media bias, your mother is a street whore.  Oh and Hillary has brain tumors.”

M: “You said the Clinton Foundation would stop taking money from foreign sources if elected, yet half of your meetings led to donations to the Foundation while you were Secretary of State and tens of thousands of your emails disappeared before the investigations were complete.  How can you be trusted?”  HRC: “Sexism!  1%!  Income inequality!  Bathroom break!”  (Runs off)

M: “Mr Trump, you’ve changed your positions on immigration, minimum wage and endorsements.  You’ve also railed against trade imbalance when your clothing line was produced overseas.  How do Americans know where you stand?”  DT: “My opponent is a harpy.  Build a wall.  Make America great.  You’re biased.”  (Takes timeout to be on Bill O’Reilly show)

No one is left at debate.  Camera pans to Ted Cruz and Bernie Sanders drunk from playing drinking debate game together.  Gary Johnson and Jill Stein raise hands.  “Can we debate now?”  America: “Hahaha, that’s cute.  See you around.  Let’s post on Facebook and change everyone’s entire political views instantly!”  (Absolutely no one’s views change afterwards).

I had a comedy first the other night – I had to leave during a show due to a family emergency.  I did my set and my phone blew up.  It was the worst case scenario.  There was a mouse in the house.  “But Chris, there’s much worse things than that!”  Have you met my wife?

Our wonderful murder cat, who has brought me about seven dead mice, 2 live chipmunks, a dead snake and my favorite, a live bird that I thought was dead until I went to pick it up, had another surprise.  It was likely dead, but that means nothing to my better half.  Terrorist attack?  No sweat.  Mouse that is 94% likely already dead?  Four alarm fire.

I got home and the ante was upped by the fact my kid was asleep, the cat was sans mouse and my bride was barricaded on the couch with her cell flashlight scanning the floor like a prison spotlight.  After 45 minutes, I was unable to find the 3 inch menace, so I had to run right back to the show.

On the return home, I was told “If you can’t find that mouse, I can’t be in this house.  I’ll have to leave.”  Using what I thought was reason I said, “That mouse is more scared of you than you of it.”  The cold glare back made me realize that was incorrect.  So I did find the damn thing and it was stone dead.  Long story short, if want to burgle my house, tell me there’s free beer down the street and throw a mouse at my wife – you would have squatter’s rights by the time we came back.

The traditional gift for a first anniversary is paper.  So I got my wife Janet Jackson tickets about a year ago.  The concert got postponed in January, then rescheduled to July – when we had our non-refundable vacation planned.  I asked for my money back, but was told they couldn’t until Janet actually cancelled, not postponed.  Then they postponed again.  Turns out Janet got preggers at 62 or however old she is, so basically, Janet Jackson stole my money.  That’s the way love goes, eh Janet?

So as a backup, I decided to get my wife Dixie Chicks tickets instead.  The concert was pretty good, they are very talented and I knew more songs than I thought.  Surprisingly, I wasn’t too annoyed being around that many people, but there were a few.  I was standing in a beer line about 14 deep.  They had three types of beers.  Three.  The line was slow and the guy in front of me finally got up – “Do you guys have Miller Lite?”  No, we have these three beers.  “Oh.  Let me think about it.”  We were in line for 12 minutes, stupid.  You couldn’t process that decision earlier?

Then there was drunk lady in front of me.  She was between airplane runway and jackhammer noise level most of the night.  How do you know she was drunk, Chris?  Because she was dancing before the music even came on.  She must have seen something shiny, because she left and didn’t come back.

I did notice it was rather female heavy in the crowd.  Mostly semi-fake country girls about my age or older.  Here’s some perspective.

Actually, maybe the reason it was empty was that some guy with explosive diarrhea covered the back and top of the toilet like he was making modern art.  I about gagged, but of course found time to snap a pic and text my wife, because I’m romantic and it was too funny not to share.  I hope he sat on the end of the aisle or brought an extra set of Wranglers or he was in for a longer night than whomever had to drive that drunk lady home.

As our daughter gets older, we notice certain traits she gets from mom and others from me.  She sleeps like my wife (aka can wake up if the winds shift in the Tropic of Capricorn) and has my patience (aka waits .01 seconds, then plows through all obstacles with furious rage).  One I hope she skips is dad’s OCD tendencies.

1) If I sweat and am not working out or doing physical labor, I HAVE to shower.  There are worse OCD traits, for sure.  I have a buddy that has to shower every time he drops a deuce.  If I had both those problems, I would be typing this blog in the shower.

2) Try getting through your 20’s as me when you can’t walk past a couch and not adjust the throw pillows.  Don’t get me started on rug tassels.  I’m straight, by the way.

3) If someone is talking to me and has a pimple on their face, I can’t physically listen to anything they are saying.  If someone comes in and tells me the secret to eternal life or the winning Powerball numbers and have a pus filled zit on their nose, my brain shuts off all sensory functions and tries to find a way to pop the thing without directly assaulting the person.

4) One time my so called buddy pointed out I missed a spot shaving and I pulled on the stubby hairs for the next 2 hours of the road trip until we stopped and I dry shaved with gas station Lady Bics.

I think she’ll be fine, but the other night she did make us grab every single toy, one by one, before she went to bed.  Not bad, until you realize my kid has 8 Elmos.  In the living room alone.  And Elmo’s not her favorite anymore.  Better keep your zits out of her face.