Me Olde

Hey there ‘Redheads… We’re on the back end of September, which seems like it’s only a week long. With time on an out of control rocket sled toward the future, I find myself reflecting on my life and a piece of it that I’ll never get back. That’s right, I just got done watching The Jay Leno Show. Wow, what a clunky pile of dreck that thing is. I realize it’s only in its second week, and it may still be looking for its comedy stride, but holy crap. It’s tough to find your stride with a charlie horse in one leg and polio in the other. His guest on tonight’s show was Pee Wee Herman. Nice to see Jay burnt through his celebrity Rolodex in the first week. They talked about when he got bit by the acting bug, and then he made Jay a salad. I wish I was kidding… I wish they were kidding… I almost euthanized my TV.

Speaking of finding your stride in the second week, howabout them Redskins, huh? They sputtered through another 60 minutes of football and narrowly beat the hapless Rams 9 to 7. And they were roundly booed by the home crowd. I can’t imagine why. It’s week two and your punter has more touchdowns than your starting running back. To the Redskins, the endzone is a mythical place, and the two members of the team that’ve crossed its magical threshold tell the tallest tales of the creatures that frolic there. I’m not one to boast about my athletic prowess but, through two weeks, I have comparable stats to Redskin wide receiver, Santana Moss. I only have 5 fewer catches, 41 fewer yards, the same number of touchdowns, and I haven’t fumbled. I’m expecting a contract offer from the team any time now. I’m no Cowboy fan either, but that monstrosity of a stadium that Jerry Jones built is pretty impressive. That place is so huge, the bathroom attendant is a Minotaur. After they lost to the Giants, I expected Jerry’s withered visage to show up on that massive jumbotron, give the thumbs down, and release the lions to eat Romo. By the way, Jerry Jones should never ever be in HD. He looks like he chose the wrong grail.

By the way, Happy 5770 to everybody. That’s right, Jews control show business and time travel. Wow, 5770…shit’s crazy. Anyone else think we’re way overdue for…

Keeping with the theme of lost time and wasted potential, it’s my birthday on Thursday. I’ll be 34…17 again…the 13th anniversary of my 21st birthday…the combined maturity of 17 two-year-olds. At some point this week, I’ll be plunging a candle into the blow hole of Fudgy the Whale. I’m not treating 34 like it’s old or anything. You’re only as old as you feel, so I’ve been 80 for a couple years now anyway. I got a small taste of life’s fragility earlier this week. I hit a bird with my car on my way to work. It just flew right out in front of me. What a way to start the morning. Just my luck. It didn’t have insurance and it didn’t speak English…

On the off chance any of you were thinking about buying me a birthday present, allow me to drop this subtle hint…

Huge show coming up this Saturday, in the DC Improv Comedy Lounge

Jason Weems
Steve Coltrain
Doug Powell
Erin Jackson
…and me.

Even if you’re sick of me, this show is gonna be awesome. Miss it at your peril. Click here for tix.

To be continued…

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Four… Score.

Hey there ‘Redheads… This introductory part of every installment, where I apologize for not blogging in awhile, then make a few witty self-deprecating statements designed to lower your expectations, while piquing your curiosity to read further… Yeah, I’m having some trouble with that. Let’s just take it as a given and move on, shall we? There’s alot to get to. Where to start? Didja see those VMA’s? Howabout that rabble rousing upstart, Kanye West ruining poor Taylor Swift’s big moment, huh? Wow, and then Beyonce graciously giving Taylor a chance to finish her acceptance speech. Oh, and howabout anybody still giving a shit about MTV? Really, people. Get a hold of yourselves. Arguing over who is more deserving of a video music award is kinda like arguing over who would be faster in a race, if they were both gerbils. It’s arbitrary and irrelevant. And it was probably staged anyway. If this incident proves anything, it’s that Kanye West doesn’t care about white people. I think my feelings can best be expressed in song…written and sung by Adam Dodd

Now that I’ve gotten that out of my system, on to stuff that matters… Like fantasy football. I went 2-2 over the weekend. My four fantasy teams had me crunching numbers like Rain Man on meth. Again, I won’t bore you with all the statistical minutiae, but the Minnesota Vicarious are going to be a hypothetical force to be virtually reckoned with this season, with a passing attack that includes Drew Brees, Randy Moss, Reggie Wayne, and Santonio Holmes. Just sayin‘…

In real NFL goings on, I’d like to thank Jake Delhomme for his 5 turnover performance on Sunday, because it gives me an excuse to trot out one of my favorite lines… *ahem* I’ve seen fewer balls thrown away in a dog neutering facility. And scene. Howabout those Redskins, huh? That offense is a garbage fire. If you go into halftime and your punter has scored your only touchdown, I think it’s time to stop basing your game plan on a previous night’s bar bet. The defense didn’t do much better. I’ve heard of the bend-but-don’t-break defense, but this squad did the kind of bending that is usual reserved for Cirque du Soleil. It’s a long season, and this was just the first game, but the ‘Skins appear to have more holes than the Penthouse Invitational golf tournament.

The inevitable zombie uprising got a little more rhythm, as we lost Patrick Swayze yesterday. He finally got put in a corner by pancreatic cancer. Of course, he’ll be remembered for his iconic roles in Dirty Dancing, Ghost, Road House, Red Dawn, and Point Break, but I’ll always remember him for this little number…


Swayze, we hardly knew ye…

For those of you who give a crap and are curious about this installment’s title, today (or yesterday now) marks this blog’s 4th anniversary. I started this exercise in self importance shortly after moving in to Stately Stern Manor. Thanks for reading…and for not impeaching me.

To be continued…

To the Nines…

Hey there ‘Redheads… It’s 9/09/09 (at least it was when I started writing this), a once in a hundred years event. So, I figure why not write a blog that is just as mediocre as the last hundred? Somehow, it got to be September already, when I’m pretty sure it was June a couple weeks ago. Right on cue, after Labor Day, a shroud of gloom has swept across the land. It’s cold and gray and downright dismal outside. Allow this beacon of mild amusement to be a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day. I just bought new ribbons for my 1000 monkeys’ typewriters…time to rattle their cage.

For me, these last couple days have been consumed with circumventing reality. I’ve had four fantasy football drafts in the last week, and I’m itching to let the stats fly on the delusional gridiron. I won’t bore you with in-depth analysis, I’ll just share my favorite of my four team names…The Minnesota Vicarious. I’m just happy that the NFL is back in all of its grass stained glory. I’ve had enough of tennis and soccer and baseball. Let’s kickoff and hit something.

I’m also pretty excited because I found evidence to disprove gravity…

Someone give this guy a mascot contract…or a ninja outfit. And let me take this time to emphasize that the videos I slap on this blog are to enhance the overall blog experience. Watch them. Just a public service message, because I think alot of you just skim and leave the links and videos alone. They’re eye candy for you to suck on. Just saying is all…

Speaking of sour eye candy, while channel surfing the other day, I landed on the SyFy opus, Mega Shark Vs. Giant Octopus. The movie had some pretty innovative concepts, like using a cardboard stand-up of Lorenzo Lamas for all of his scenes. If Lamas was any more wooden, they could’ve used him for kindling. I know the economy is tight, but they’ve gotta find some way of bumping up these SyFy effects budgets. I’ve seen better visual effects on a Lite Brite. I could’ve concocted more compelling action sequences with a flip camera, a Jaws poster, and a wacky wall walker. It did offer one pretty cool visual, though…

Enough with the bad acting. I present to you a genuine adorable 3-year-old who has it all figured out. She has taken the phenomena of Facebook and Twitter and distilled them to their essence with a song…

That’s pretty much what it is. We are all 3-year-olds clamoring for attention without really knowing why.

Quick reminder: I’m opening for God’s Pottery @ DC9 on Sunday, the 13th. I’m hoping to see some friendly faces out there, because DC9 is primarily a music venue. Music crowds don’t know how to behave when stand-up hits the stage. I need you guys to keep those chattering hipsters in line. Click here for tix and info. See you there…

To be continued…