I emceed an open mike the other night. The lineup was strong and even better, there was a very attentive and yet hard drinking crowd. I also got to remember another story between comics. A girl several years ago in a bar overheard one of my buddies call me Coen. “Oh, your name is Coen? Are you named after the O.C. character?” Yes, my mom got a time machine before I was born and watched the popular series on Fox 25 years in the future, went back, and named me after one of the lead actors. “You’re a dick!” You’re dumb. Then we parted, never to speak again.
The highlight of the night, though, was a guy asked me to mention his son’s birthday. I got his son’s name…then he reached in his wallet and handed me $20. I would’ve have done it for free. Hell, for $20, I’ll dress up like a woman and tap dance for your ass. It was the first time I have ever been tipped. I should’ve felt guilty, but luckily I have no soul and it was an easy thing to do. It was great. Now I’m going to charge for everything I would’ve done for free. Thanks, birthday dad!
Splash may be the worst show on TV. It makes me want to bring back public executions. Louie Anderson can’t walk without hurting himself, now I’m supposed to watch him dive in a yellow suit.
Anyone who thinks the devil from “The Bible” looks like Obama has a lot of free time. It’s not like he was dancing around Jesus saying, “Turn this rock into bread and I’ll give you free government run healthcare, mwa haha!”
I had an ex make me watch Grey’s Anatomy. I never thought I could hate a show that much. Then I watched Glee. I think I would have to watch a show called “America Sucks” starring the reanimated corpse of Osama bin Laden to hate a show more. However, if commercials qualify, any Jared spot wins. I would buy a blood diamond before I took a free anything from them for making such a dog shit commercial.
If you want a new show on TV, be a hillbilly or a mountain man. That’s the ticket right now. I am set on being white trash, but unfortunately, I can’t fix anything, have no use outdoors other than drinking beer around a fire, and have never wrestled a gator. I have punched a dog, ran over a squirrel and been in the same room when my buddy hit a raccoon with a snow shovel…does that count, History Channel?
It seems like the older I get the more I see races, runs, and the like popping up all the time. I was supposed to run in one this week, but I missed the deadline to get free running shoes by about 30 minutes and then forgot to sign up anyway. So instead of running in 32 degree temps, I got to do something worse, watch. Running in freezing weather is tough. Standing in it is worse, but then again, I wasn’t running, so it kind of balanced out.
I understand the desire to get in shape, the need to compete, and the thrill of an event. What I don’t get are the people that have to do weird shit at races. Example – a guy was running with no shirt on. In 32 degrees with a 10 mph wind. Why? No idea. Best case, nothing happens. Worst case, you get hypothermia or your nipples get frostbite and then you have no nipples. As a guy, you don’t need them. They serve no purpose, but try being guy with no nipples and realize how much you wish you had them.
Ah, the NCAA Men’s Tournament. The greatest, most frenzied sports orgy of the year. 64, I mean 68 teams vying for the title. Those extra four annoy me. If you have to pick those play in games for your bracket, your league commissioner hasn’t had sex in at least two years.
This is the time of year some dipshit you work with fills out nine brackets, then brags about picking the 13th seeded Saint Martin’s Cathedral A&M’s upset over West Virginia State on the one stupid bracket that is mathematically eliminated by the second day. I also hate ESPN calling it “Bracketology” like it’s some kind of science. Every other year a story breaks about someone winning by picking mascots or letting a chicken shit on one of two school names – it’s not science. I got second out of 157 people last year and won $70. Almost enough to pay for the 24 times I haven’t won. So, sit back, skip work, pound beers and try not to get a DUI before the late games start…oh, and keep your yam shut about your psychic powers and basketball genius.
I used to not care about recycling, then I moved. Now, I have free recycling. That doesn’t mean I care, but you’re welcome EPA, you’re welcome. You can now cut your budget and save the taxpayers at least 40 million dollars. That’s a good amount of cans.
Now I have convinced myself every beer I pound is a baby seal being saved, so I have a lot of beer to drink. I don’t want to, but it’s for the seals! Don’t worry, friends, I still hate hippies. I may recycle, but I’ll still slap hemp wearing guy trying to get me to sign a petition while his body odor invades my nostrils. Unless they are trying to save bald eagles…then I’ll go after lumberjacks or whomever.
I had a show Friday night, where I happened to be the emcee. The worst two parts of emceeing are not only do you have to make the funny happen, you also have to announce stuff and remember the other comics’ intros and whatnot. Announcements stink – “Hey everyone, are you ready to laugh? Great! Oh by the way, here’s the next show info (which you’ll forget), here’s the drink list (which you’ve already heard from the waitress) and so on and so forth…now I have to be funny.”
I met both the other comics before the show and knew one pretty well. The other I had never met, so I had to get all her info, but I had two people come up to me and start chit chatting. Long story short, I misheard her last name as Peacock, which it clearly was not. I did a set, good not great, then proceeded to ask if everyone was ready Carolyn Peacock? OK, terrific! That wasn’t her name. She proceeded to give me about 30 seconds worth of abuse, which she should have. I apologized for my bad hearing and general retardation afterwards, but she said it worked to her advantage so she had no issue with me. Luckily, no one will remember my name either way, so water under the bridge I guess.