• 17 things in my car right now (you won’t believe #9!)

    Posted by on May 31, 2018

    I asked for topics to blog about and Nick Glaser, fellow comic and certified trivia and burlesque host by the American Stand-Up Board, suggested this topic!  Here we go.

    WeatherTech floor mats.  They’re filthy, but boy underneath is clean!

    Captain America air freshener.  Hasn’t produced smell in a year, but it’s going nowhere, commies!

    Raffi CD.  For kid emergencies…and easy listening grooves.

    Gas.  In the tank AND the car!

    A gym membership.  It’s even still valid!

    Boxing hand wraps.  You know, for all the last second boxing I need to do.

    Print samples from a $112,000 UV Flatbed printer.  (The printer won’t fit in the car.)


    An unsigned copy of “Stuff to Read While You Shit!” by Chris Coen.  Someone did buy my book; it was me, mostly, thus the copies.  Please buy my book…I have a lot of them.

    Chap Stick.  Dry lips sink ships.

    A pen.  Not to write with, to crack my jaw as I have low level TMJ!

    A rare collection of napkins from all over the world.

    A HUMAN HEART!  (Not verified at time of blog.)

    Kid’s car seats.  I sit in the big boy seat now!

    Beer coozies.  Not used when driving, because a man finishes his beer before it gets warm.

    Satellite radio pretty much stuck on Ozzy’s Boneyard.

    A rare collection of unregistered rewards cards I’m going to activate “someday” when I have time.

    Not in car – my comedy notebook I think I left at my last damn show.

  • You’re not helping yourself

    Posted by on May 25, 2018

    This week, I had to use a half day to watch my kids, since our sitter couldn’t watch them.  Turns out, my mother in law stopped by, so I was able to run some errands.  I took her car to the dealer for the free service that was almost expired.  I didn’t have time to eat, so I ran to a gas station and got a coffee and double decker oatmeal creme pie, because they had literally nothing other than sugar treats and chips.  I walked back to the waiting room and saw the dealership had free coffee, bagels, even a snack station with yogurt and sausage gravy.  Strike one.

    I then sat down and set my coffee down while I put in my earbuds to drown out Good Morning America’s senseless ramblings.  Or was it Rachel Ray?  Who cares.  Suddenly, I felt the hot coffee burning my ass raw.  Ah, even better.  Now my wet, boiling hot shorts stuck to me like glue.

    I went to Sam’s Club next, soaked, and bought groceries.  On the way out, a drug addict approached, full cigarette burning as she invaded my personal space.  “Excuse me good sir, so you have a couple dollars.”  I didn’t actually, not one.  “No, sorry, I don’t have cash.”
    “Oh sir, the Lord blesses those who help others.  Can you buy me a meal or take me to a restaurant?”  I had to be at work in under two hours, with a shower and unloading a trunk full of Sam’s groceries, plus I tend to not pick up druggies for joy rides.  She was really strung out.  “Don’t have time, sorry.”  More Bible verses or variations thereof from her and she continued to blow smoke in my grill.  My limited nice was all dried up.  “Can you give me some food?”  “No, this is for my kids and wife, I’m not able to help.”  “But I could use something sir and it looks like the Lord has blessed you.”  “He has blessed me because I work my ass off.  If you’re hungry, don’t spend money on cigarettes.”  “Oh this was given to me.”  More smoke in my face.

    I have a rule, if you’re homeless or portraying yourself as such, and also smoking or wearing nice brand name clothes, I’m not helping you.  If you blow smoke in my face or invade my personal space, I’m not helping you and you’re getting the verbal wrath.  “Someone gave you a full cigarette?  I saw you walk across the street and it’s full, which means you just lit it.  I know how cigarettes work.”  She was unaffected by my logic.  “Give me one of them beers.”  “No.  Go bother someone else.”  More Bible verses as she shuffled away.  The sad thing was, I really did have no cash and probably would have handed her food, but the rudeness was too much.  It’d be like if I was helping my kid sell stuff for a school fundraiser door to door and spilled a mixed drink on everyone’s rug that opened the door.  That’s why her mother will help her with those things.  Because that’s what will happen.

  • Training videos don’t win Oscars

    Posted by on May 22, 2018

    My summer job in college was a steel mill, so we had to watch the same four safety videos every year.  One was basically a really bad actor saying “I don’t have time for safety!” then a Good Samaritan type stopping before he jammed his head in a machine press or grabbed a power line, followed by “Wow!  Safety really is important!”  I was always cheering for the dude to grab the power line so there was more excitement.  Even the video about the guy who didn’t turn his truck off and had a gas leak hit the engine, which burned 90 of his body was boring.  The story was horrific and he went into pained detail about the burn unit, but he talked so calmly, three of five people fell asleep in my first training day.  Of course, we were all college students, so being hungover didn’t help.

    I had to watch harassment videos recently.  The ironic thing is that my manager, regional manager, regional VP and national sales manager are all women and no one is harassing this dad bod.  The videos were pretty bad and they even had a game at the end, so they tried, they really did.  I just realized that as ridiculous as some of it was, it meant that someone did the things in the videos.

    As I was watching, I was told not to make sexually explicit gestures to my co-workers.  Guess no more Degeneration X crotch taunts at the coffee pot!  I have a picture in my head of the guy doing those by the way and he looks exactly like what you’re thinking.  They also had a point of view video of a man telling another man, “It’s great that we have a sales dinner, but you and your partner are going to ruin the boy girl, boy girl seating arrangement.”  I realized someone probably actually said that too.  What adult says boy girl to another human adult and who is really upset by that?  “Well, I’m not a homophobe, but I have crippling OCD and I demand gender balance at my dinner table.”  They also covered age discrimination, which is good, because I haven’t watched Logan’s Run in a while and I might make a wrong turn heading for the exit.

  • What your choice of music says about you

    Posted by on May 17, 2018

    I see these types of surveys/psychoanalysis forms all over social media.  “What Harry Potter character are you?” or “What kind of pie would you be if you were a pie?”  OK, I may have not seen that last one, but whatever.  Here’s my stab at it.  Oh and my answers are 1) I have no idea and 2) Black Raspberry.

    “Everything” radio stations – We play everything!  You’re a political independent.  You’re actually independent on everything because you wouldn’t want to upset anyone.  When it comes on, you look around the room with an empty smile and nod your head.

    Classic rock – You definitely spent the weekend painting or mowing and you have six pairs of jorts.  You ride with the windows down and smoke way too close to no smoking signs.

    Rap – I’ll speak for white people that listen to rap.  You talk to other white people about the coolest latest rap song and it’s hard to keep up, because you know so little about it, you’re constantly scouring the rap scene for the latest hot song.  You like all rap that’s new and talk about how all old rap used to be good, but really isn’t anymore.  I hate your guts, btw.

    Pop – You will literally listen to a cat being electrocuted if it has auto-tuned lyrics and a catchy beat.  90% of the music you listen to is sung by an anorexic girl and the lyrics were written by a fat white guy in his upper 40’s.  I really hate your guts, btw.

    Techno music – You have no soul.  You don’t exist to me.

    Nu-metal – You really like arguing with people you don’t know.

    Motown – You have good taste in music.  You also go to concerts where you’re surprised that many people in the band are still alive.

    Classical – You have a cat or five.  You have a bookcase full of books and you’ve read all of them twice or more.  You have no kids or they live very far away.

    Heavy metal – You are cursed to never be able to play your music at a party without someone complaining.  You appreciate guitar riffs and tolerate drum solos, but you put up with some garbage singing.  You’ve been in multiple fist fights and your favorite color is black.

    Alternative – For every good song you listen to, you listen to three that are pure trash.  Your favorite band’s name is stupid and makes no sense.  You make all your friends listen to the complete album and lose them by overreaching.

    Grunge – You definitely got cheated on in the 90’s or burned yourself with a cigarette at a party.  You hate most other music and your iPod hasn’t been updated in years.

  • Why do these people talk to me?

    Posted by on May 14, 2018

    I seem to be a magnet for odd or awkward conversation.  Recently, I was relieving myself when my daughter walked in, stood about six inches from me and said, “Dada’s pooping!”  “Well, I’m peeing…”  Any explanation was overridden with fear that at any second a sudden movement would have very disastrous consequences.  And that’s not even as bad as the rest of this list and she’s two.  These other people, adults.

    I called a business once to place an order.  I threw in the ol’ “How’s it going today?”  “My niece died.”  I was dead silent for about three seconds.  “I’m sorry to hear that, that’s terrible.”  “Did you need to order?”  He went from my niece died to did you need to order in one sentence.  I ordered just to move along past it.

    I did a show in a small town in the middle of nowhere.  A man, smashed, stumbled up.  “You need to do more racist jokes!”  Well, by more, you’re implying I did one in the first place.  His daughter, closer to my age, grabbed him.  “He’s not racist, only when he drinks.”  No, sounds like he’s always racist, stupid, it just comes out louder when he’s drunk.  Oh, and he looks like he drinks a lot.

    I was running with my dog years ago and a neighbor on the other side of my complex had her dog in the yard.  Her dog was a slobbering mess and unfixed.  As her dog and mine sniffed each other, she began talking.  “You should take your dog to a dog park!  There’s a nice one about 40 minutes from here.”  The whole time, her dog is trying to mount mine and slobbering all over his head and back.  “Yeah, that’s pretty far.  That’s why I am jogging with him now.  Exercise…hey can you grab your dog?”  She was impervious.  “I like the dog park.  Do you go to other ones?”  “No, never been once.  Hey, can you grab your dog now?”  “I found out about one that’s supposed to open soon.”  “OK, I’m out of here, nice talk.  Enjoy the dog park!”  I started jogging again with my dog; her dunce dog kept following us and she had zero interest in pursuing.  This happened about 11 more times, word for word, until one day, blocking the sidewalk yet again, she told me they had to move due to complaints against their dog, but maybe we should have our dogs meet to play.  I told her I didn’t remember my number and started running again.

  • The Ten Commandments of communication

    Posted by on May 10, 2018

    Yesterday, I had a serial violation committed against me that should have wound up with someone in jail.  I was emailed, then immediately called before the ink was even dry on the email.  That’s a metaphor, but you get it.  With modern technology, there are more ways than ever to contact people, so here are the rules that must be followed.

    Thou shalt not email, then immediately call.  Just call.  Or just email and wait, oh, maybe like more than 94 seconds.

    Thou shalt not end a line of communication, then strike up another.  Many moons ago, when I was single, I was talking to a girl and the conversation was dead in the water.  I was mercifully able to kill it off and jumped on Facebook to send a message.  I immediately saw her IM me on Facebook – “Hey, saw you’re online!”  Another 30 minutes of mundane nothingness later, I permanently disabled the IM feature.

    Honor the method of communication used.  Don’t Facebook message me, then text me follow up and leave a voice mail.  When I try to remember what I’m supposed to follow up on, I now have to search 12 different areas of conversation to find what the hell we were talking about.

    Thou shalt not delete text messages with 24 hours of receiving them and ask for the information again.  I HOPE MY WIFE READS THIS ONE COUGH COUGH.  Ok, that wasn’t subtle.


    Thou shalt not send a read receipt email for an email that says “Thanks!” or “Cool!”

    OK, there is only six commandments, but feel free to comment your own and maybe I’ll add more.

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