Sporting Chance

Hey there, ‘Redheads… Wow, two blogs in a row. Don’t get excited, I’m going to try to kick things back into the blogularity I spoiled you with for the first couple months of the year but, as usual, no promises. When I left you last night, the second half of Game 6 of the Mavs/Heat series was just getting started and it turns out all of the star wattage on the Heat burnt itself out. Here are some sample headlines I was hoping for in the Sports section this morning…

Heat Stroke

The Agony of the Heat

Mavs Take Talents to South Beach, Take Title

Dry Heat

Decision Made: Mavs Win

With the storyline that played out in the NBA, with the Cobra Kai of the league getting crane-kicked in the face, the schadenfreude is rampant among fans and analysts who were galled by LeBron and the pomp and circumstance of his “Decision” last summer. People are happy that the flashy superstars got taken down by the Johnny Punchclocks. Good triumphed over precieved evil. Roll end credits. Once hockey concludes, that interminable dead zone of sports will fall over the land. Normally, we’d have the happy distraction of off-season NFL speculation, but with the lockout, who knows how long we’ll have to suffer meaningless baseball and women’s soccer. What will fill the void? I’m hoping this catches on…

That’s Botaoshi, or Japanese Pole Toppling. Rugby meets Iron Chef meets a Walmart on Black Friday. And don’t act like you wouldn’t watch it, either. That’s the alchemy of ratings gold, my friends: the spirit of competition, the hint of controlled chaos, and flailing foreigners. Game on.

I was going to regale you with tales of my weekend gig in North Carolina, but my laptop crashed and I don’t feel like retyping it right now. So, maybe tomorrow. Just in case I don’t get back to the blog this week, I wanted to let you know about a great show on Saturday in the DC Improv Comedy Lounge. My buddy, Chris White is recording his new CD and I’ll be opening up the show and getting some stuff recorded too. Click here to get tickets and provide us with the necessary rousing live crowd atmosphere.

See you soon.

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Everlasting Blogstopper

Hey there ‘RedheadsBlogust is just about over and, once again, I’m just about overdue. But, since we had a clog in the blog supply lines, there’s been a build-up of content…a bountiful corny-copia of anecdotes and witticisms await you. Sound the feasting horn. I’m just getting back to the grind after six straight days of shows and roughly 1300 miles driven.

I’ll get to that timeline in a bit, but first let’s wind the clock back 10 days to tell you about the show I did in Indian Head, MD with my good buddy, Chris White. I don’t know if you realize this, but Indian Head is a place of great historical significance. Maybe you read the book when you were a kid. Indian Head is where the sidewalk ends. There wasn’t much out there, except for the building excitement for the comedy cluster bomb we were about to drop.
We descended upon the Black Box Theater armed with good intentions and middling expectations. The place seated 85. We drew 23, elevating the show to rumor status. Those in attendance saw the premiere of our latest video sketch, which, if you’ll dim the lights at your desk, I’ll now show you. Enjoy The International Guilt-Off

Please to make us viral. Or at least bacterial. Make it worth a handi-wipe.

On to my week-long mild amusement tour of North Carolina. My trip was kicked off by my truck’s air conditioning compressor going kablooey, costing me roughly what I’d be making for the week. Good thing I don’t do this for the money…oh wait. With the repair done just in time for me to make the initial 6 hour schlep, I made my way to the first stop, Lake Norman. The show was above a fun little Irish pub called The Galway Hooker. Located directly across the street was a pole dancing school. There’s a recital I want to attend. I peeked in the window to take a gander…very clean mirrors. We had a surprisingly packed house for a Tuesday night. Good times. After the show, I got to talking to one of the hostesses at the bar downstairs. The conversation turned to future plans and she mentioned that her dream was to be an underwater welder. Add a midget playing bocce ball, and that would be an actual dream I once had. Apparently, underwater welding is a highly paid vocation. Probably because they know how to light a torch underwater. It makes me wish I had pursued that underwater basket weaving degree…to have a skill to fall back on.

Wednesday was a night off from the slate of shows, but I still wanted to be comedically productive. Luckily, my buddy John Betz Jr. lives in Raleigh and was able to to get me on a showcase he was headlining at Charlie Goodnight’s. When I got to Raleigh, I had some time to kill before meeting John at the club. Turns out, Goodnight’s is a stone’s throw from NC State, so I figured why not take a stroll through campus and see just how tough it is for a 33 year old to blend in. It’s back to school time, so there was a huge outdoor poster sale going on for the disaffected youth to adorn their dorms. I took a look at the selection. They were the same goddamn posters they sold when I was in college 12 years ago. Reservoir Dogs, Scarface, Pulp Fiction…don’t these kids have any cultural references of their own that’re worth slapping on a wall? After about a half hour of walking around in the heat, my ass crack became more of an ass creek, so I retreated to the car for an much needed blast of air conditioning. I scanned through the local radio stations and landed on a gospel station. They went to their station meteorologist for a weather report. I half expected him to say, “Whatever happens, it’s God’s will. Back to you.” It finally came time for the show, which was an open mic all stars show. A collection of the club’s finest regular local comics…and me. If you’ve never had the pleasure, do yourself a favor and get down to Goodnight’s. The Wednesday showcase was sold out and the crowd was amazing. Can’t wait to get back there.

After basking in the warm glow of Raleigh, it was off to Greenville for a show at the Comedy Zone. I’m a big fan of any place where you perform in the same location as your accommodations. It makes it easier to stumble to bed without risking injury. Good thing, because in Greenville I was introduced to sweet tea vodka. Holy crap, could I get into alot of trouble with that stuff. Not since somebody gave a baby a hand grenade has a combination been so dangerous. My one complaint about this trip through NC was the lack of sweet tea guzzling. The last time, with all the sweet tea I drank, I brought home a great souvenir of the trip…diabetes. The show went ok. A bit too much slack-jawed gawkery for my taste, but they can’t all be winners.

The rest of the trip went great. I’ve exhausted all the major tidbits, and I’m a smidge exhausted myself. Before I finish up, I’d like to unabashedly plug a few local shows I have coming up…

Friday, Aug. 28th – I’ll be making my return to the late night Bar Bacon Fun Time Comedy Show up in Baltimore. The line-up is pretty stacked… Andy Kline, Hampton Yount, Aparna Nacherla, and possibly Dr. Doom…you heard me.

Saturday, Aug. 29th

Sept. 13th – I’ll be opening up for the musical comedy duo, God’s Pottery, at DC9…more info to come, but mark your calendars accordingly.

To be continued…

Blog #243

Hey there ‘Redheads… This installment is going to be a placeholder for a bigger blog that’ll get written this weekend and will include the debut of a brand new video sketch collaboration with comedy super friend, Chris White. Be sure to check out our previous work, conveniently linked on the right-hand side of the page. In the meantime, I’m going to go ahead and whore this space out to plug a big show on Saturday…

See you there…

And here with all of the aftershow afterglow…

Blocked 2: Electric Blockaloo

Hey there ‘Redheads… Once again, I’ve allowed sloth to trip me up with its three toes of sluggishness and keep me from bringing you timely bloggage. In fairness, I do suffer from OFS… Occasional Fatigue Syndrome. Plus, I was busy celebrating the 40th anniversary of the lunar landing and had a wicked tangover.

As promised, here’s part two of whatever I felt like was worth continuation. Before I get things started, please direct your attention to the shiny new widget on the right hand side of the page. I know, they don’t like to be called “widgets”…they prefer “little windows”. That right there is a digital portal to my fan page on Facebook. So, when you check out a new installment of the blog, you can check out the fan page…telling you to check out the new installment of the blog. Ain’t technology neat? It also gives you easy access to other news that I’ll probably put on here anyway… Looks cool, though…right?

Speaking of way cool technology that can keep you in a perpetual loop, let’s hop in the fuzzy recollection machine and take a trip back to July 4th to strain our eyes at the blurred and hazy events. To celebrate our nation’s independence, my intrepid band of friends and I took a trip to Coney Island to witness the gluttonous grudge match known as the Nathan’s Famous Fourth of July International Hot Dog Eating Contest


Fellow spectator, Chris White, also wrote a crackerjack blog about the experience, so please to be checking that out after you get done here to get the full processed meat mosaic. So, as you can tell from the picture, we got a pretty good spot among the huddled masses to check out the action. In order to get that spot, we had to get there early. Getting there early meant waiting in the hot sun while event MC George Shea whipped the crowd into a feeding frenzy. Check this guy out…

There was plenty of pregame entertainment to keep the mob in check. The circus was in town, and they lent their trampoline artist to wow the crowd with some death defying…bouncing really high…
…which was made all the more treacherous, because she could’ve been blinded by the sun glinting off that guy’s head. Back off, Lex, it only looks like she can fly. There was also music…and guys dressed in giant hot dog costumes dancing to that music…

Then it came time for the ESPN cameras to swoop in to cover these masters of mastication. If you’re wondering what caliber of sportscaster the Super Bowel of competitive eating draws…

You may’ve noticed that it’s called the international hot dog eating contest, in much the same way the house of pancakes is. Really, the only competitor that made the contest international was former six time champion, Takeru Kobayashi of Japan. Which is mildly ironic since the atomic bomb we dropped on Japan is probably indirectly responsible for his superhuman eating abilities. Kobayashi’s story is actually quite inspirational. Apparently, one of the characters from Dragon Ball Z wished to be a real boy…but I digress. This year, though, another combatant from abroad entered the fray, from Italy. But really, the other competitors were a gassy afterthought. This was a showdown between Kobayashi and reigning champion, Joey Chestnut…
It was 10 straight minutes of brutal buffet. When the crumbs settled, Joey Chestnut emerged the victor, having crammed 68 buns and dogs down his gullet. He also took about ten years off his life. God bless America.

One thing I couldn’t understand was other peoples’ reaction when I told them I went to Coney Island for the contest. Invariably, their response was, “Did you compete?” Yeah, I was going to, but I had to back out…damn TMJ.

If you have nothing to do on Sunday, the 26th, might I recommend a great FREE comedy show? 7:30 at Union Jack’s in Bethesda, Will Hessler, Bey Wesley, Jimmy Merrit, and Rob Maher will take the stage for your amusement. I’ll be your host. Come laugh at us. Click here for all the details…

More to come…

AV Squad

Hey there, ‘Redheads… Happy Father’s Day to everyone out there…for all you bastards and orphans, Happy Sunday…sorry for rubbing it in. I gotta think of another blog gimmick for June, or else this month is going to fall woefully short of the standard set in May. Two mediocre entries in two weeks…I had 14 mediocre entries at this point last month. I bring good news with this fresh batch of banality. Wish me a mazel tov. I’m an uncle again. Mo got himself a little sister. Which is nice because I didn’t have to get dressed up to watch a winky get snipped again. Instead, there was a special naming ceremony for her a couple days after she popped out. So, when I found out she was born, she didn’t have a name yet. I called her Moesha. Her actual name is Riva Chaya. I might still call her Moesha. Here she is, for your cooing pleasure…




Can’t wait to start makin’ funny faces at her in person…

I was just watching Tiger Woods eke out a playoff at the US Open. A buddy of mine was marvelling at how much he gets paid just for his Nike sponsorship. I’m sure the figure is off, but he said, “50 million dollars to wear a hat.” For a tenth of that money, I’d sell out faster than bags of glitter at the Pride Parade (I need a better line for that joke, but that’ll do in a pinch).

Now, on to the titular portion of the blog (heh…titular). Feast your eyes and ears on the latest bits of twisted sketchery from the duo of Chris White and myself. Eyes first…here’s a video about the power of imagination…and rum. Enjoy my crappy acting…

And now you can close your eyes (to help stop the burning) and give a listen to this audio sketch that answers the famous hypothetical question about being stranded on a desert island. My acting is only slightly less crappy in…

Just so you know, if I was stranded on a desert island I would want to be with all of you…because you’re buoyant.

I just flipped channels to Comedy Central and one of the perpetual Mind of Mencia reruns is on. Have you seen the promos for this season of this douchebag’s show?

He’s pushing the boundaries…He’s shattering expectations…

The sketch he just did was a Scarface parody where his “little friend” was a midget. Way to go there, Carlos. The only thing you’re doing is lowering the common denominator. You’re not Dave Chappelle…you’re not even Dave Coulier. Safety scissors are edgier than you. Keep screaming those stereotypes real loud, ya posing putz. Sorry…that sounded petty. Correct, but petty. Seriously, America, demand better.

To be continued…

Viva, Part 2: A Fuzzy Recollection

Hey there ‘Redheads… Happy Hanukkah to you and yours. Have a latke, some vodka, and blow your paycheck on some high stakes dreidel. You’ll have to excuse my usual blog lag. I’ve been a runny mess for the last week. With a schnoz like this, believe me when I tell you the last couple days have been my own personal Double Dare physical challenge. I’ve collected the bulk of my nose-leavins to sculpt a giant snot replica of The Thinker (enjoy your meals, folks). Ok, so before I try to scrape the account of my trip to Vegas off the bottom of my brain barrel, I want to get some quick plugs and thank yous out of the way, lest you check out on me in the middle of my stories of high rolling hobnobbery (look it up).

First, a big thank you to my good friend Chrissy (#1 on MySpace) and the DC Firefighters Burn Foundation for including me in their benefit for Children’s Hospital last week. Fellow funnyman, Rob Maher and I provided the comedy portion of the entertainment for the evening. There was a great turn out and they raised a bunch of money so some kids can have a happy holiday. Hopefully, this good deed will be enough to offset all of the petty crap I’ve done this year. Also on the bill, was a great local band, Rome In A Day. They rock…I’m holding up my lighter and swaying side to side as I type this. Do yourself a favor, click the link, and give them a listen. Rob and I took turns swooning over their lead guitarist, Ali, throughout the evening…for the kids.

On to the pluggage…
COME SEE ME AT WISEACRE’S IN TYSON’S CORNER
FRIDAY, DEC. 7TH @ 9:00
WITH HEADLINER MARK MATUSOF
ONE NIGHT. ONE SHOW. ONE…NEW JOKE.

or…

COME SEE ME AT THE COMEDY SPOT IN BALLSTON
SATURDAY, DEC. 15TH @ 7:30
WITH ADAM RUBEN, BEN ISAAC, AND LEO GOODMAN
JEW MAN GROUP

TIX ARE $14…and we’ll be picking up loose change off the floor.

For those of you clamoring for a local Jared fix, there ya go. I assume the rest of you have the patch. Now, finally, three weeks later, let’s get to my trip to Sin City. For those of you who would like a well-written account of most of it, please to be checking out Chris White’s blog (conveniently linked to your right). What you’re going to get from me is some basic detail with some cough-syrup enhanced embellishment and some pictures. Cool? Let’s light this menorah.

First, big thanks to the DC Improv and Chris White, who’s free hotel room in Caesar’s Palace I crashed in for the duration of the trip. Chris was one of 3 finalists from the DC regional bracket competing in Ziddio.com’s Lucky 21 contest. I was a close 57th. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em. I got into Vegas around 9 on Thursday night, just in time to drop my stuff off in the room and check out Chris’ first showcase. Also on his show were local favorites, John Betz Jr. and Al Goodwin. I went to take a quick bathroom break after Chris’ set and had my first celebrity sighting of the weekend, Brian Posehn from The Sarah Silverman Show. It was particularly surreal because I had just seen him on the plane ride in on a celebrity edition of The Weakest Link. It took every ounce of restraint to not accost him and tell him this. That restraint would come in handy later. After the show, we adjourned to the special VIP lounge that the festival had set up for those associated with the comedic goings-on (again, thanks to the DC Improv for getting me on the list). Who do we see heading to the lounge? Chris Rock and Jeff Ross. I got a good idea that restraint was going to be the theme of the weekend when dealing with the various famous and semi-famous people, when we saw Chris Rock rebuff a request for a picture by a random bystander. That will explain why there are no famous people in my collection of pictures. Instead, here’s one of me and my friend Becca just happy to be there…


The lounge was a sweet set up. Free food. Free booze. A foozball table. Plenty of vague high-ranking showbiz muckety-mucks to suck up to…it was a comic’s wet dream. It was also, as was the bulk of the festival, sponsored by Twix, so the thing might as well have been built out of candy. Here’s a quick run down of the rest of the celebrities we spotted, gawked at, and otherwise pretended not to give a flying fuck about: Nick Swardson, Bobby Lee, Bill Burr (shook hands with him, nice guy), Carrot Top, more VH1 talking heads than I can count, Marc Maron, Kevin Pollak, Patrice O’Neal, and Jim Breuer. For the most part I mixed and mingled with some familiar faces, Tony Deyo and Andy Hendrickson. We also ran into recent DC export Adam Jacobs. It was a cavalcade. So, that was the scene in the VIP lounge.

My first morning in Vegas, we had breakfast at a cafe in Caesar’s Palace. I had peanut butter and banana stuffed french toast, in tribute to The King. Then I continued my tribute by passing out on the toilet. After recovering from breakfast, on a suggestion from Chris, we trekked out to the Atomic Testing Museum and Casino.

Nothing like a little bit of historical destruction to temper your future gambling losses. The coolest thing in the museum was footage of houses on the test site being obliterated shot by cameras that can capture a 1000th of a second. You could wind the video back and forth, frame by frame. It was an apocalyptic flip book. They also had the list of every code name used for nuclear tests. My favorite: Ferret Prime. Sounds like the greatest band ever or the shittiest Transformer ever. They also had a timeline of the history of nuclear discovery as it related to moments in pop culture and regular historical events. It was what they chose for the pop culture that got me. Most made sense…see which one jumps out at you as out of place…

1980: John Lennon is shot.
1987: Bobby McFerrin’s “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” is popular.
1989: The Simpsons and Seinfeld debut.

That puts things into perspective. 1987 stunk. Moving on. On our way back to the strip, we stopped for coffee. Keep an eye peeled, folks, because this drive-thru sensation is gonna sweep the nation…

SexxPresso. Coffee served by scantily clad vixens who got tired of working the day shift at Pizza Slut. The drinks have naughty names with double and triple entendres, and come in either A, B, or DD cups. A refreshing surprise was that these gals took being a barista seriously. The coffee came first (get your head out of the gutter). One word, people: franchise.

We also took in a Vegas show. So many to choose from, we wanted to have a truly unique experience, so the dart we threw landed on the bullseye of…Topless Vampire Revue. That makes it sound so tawdry. Yeah, sounds about right. We went to see Bite at the Stratosphere. Chris does a great job of crystallizing the show in his recent blog entry. The only thing I’ll add is never has a show been so accurately described by its title. It had its moments, but for the most part, it was laughable. The vampiresses writhed to such rock anthems as “Welcome to the Jungle”, “Cat Scratch Fever”, and “Stairway to Heaven”. They did so under the direction of the Lord Vampire, who looked like he didn’t make it past the table read at WWE auditions for The Undertaker. Overall, the set looked like it was out of Ed Wood’s high school musical. Yes, I realize I’m critiquing a show that basically revolves around undead boobs (thumbs up on those, btw). The one redeeming part of the show were the most convincing audience plants I’ve ever seen. They were brought up on stage and “bitten”. They turned out to be amazing acrobats. Check out the video…

The other great audience plant was an unassuming guy who had a gimpy hand. Well, after he got bitten, he kept his gimp hand strong and turned out to be a better than average singer. If it weren’t for those performers, it would’ve been a wash.

Be sure to look for my east coast topless vampire revue, Suck. Chris also came up for another great monster-themed topless revue…shaved werewolves. Hot.

Once again, my poor blog time management is getting the better of me, so the last thing I’ll mention, in a bit of horn tootage, is that I took 3rd in a poker tournament my last day there. It started at 3pm…I played ’til 8:30. My winnings ended up paying for my trip.

Good times.

To be continued…