Big Money, No Whammies

Hey gang. I’ll pretend you both noticed and cared that this entry is late and apologize accordingly. I just got back from a fun show at the Bucks County Playhouse in quaint New Hope, PA. I had the pleasure of working with my good buddy and frequent comedy co-star, Kelly Terranova, the funniest comedian in his price range. A good time was had by most.

Everybody dreams about having a dump truck full of cash emptied in front of their house. Sure, earning money is fine, but we’re a nation of dreamers, and dreaming takes no effort. Over the past couple weeks, I’ve missed out on a possible $1,400,001,500. Let me break that figure down for you. Many of you may have heard that Warren Buffett has offered up $1 billion for anyone who can fill-out a perfect bracket. Through the first four days of the tournament, only one bracket is still eligible for the prize. Some guy named Biff Tannen. That guy has a bright future.

I filled out a bracket, hoping to take my 1 in 9.5 quintillion shot at the contents of Scrooge McDuck’s couch cushions. My chances disintegrated after the first game, when Ohio State lost by one point to Dayton. $1 billion out the window. I’m horrible at picking these games. I had a couple 12 over 5 upsets, but those are easy to pick when 3 of the 4 5-seeds crap in their hat and get bounced. The tournament is great theater. The plucky underdog vs. the national powerhouse, over and over again. Once my brackets got busted for gambling purposes, I just started rooting for chaos. If I can’t be right, let’s see if I can be the least wrong. And sometimes it’s great to be wrong. I had Duke getting out of the first round and I’ve never been happier to watch my incorrectitude. The sun shined just a little bit brighter after the Duke, the Cobra Kai of college basketball, took a crane-kick to the mush and got ousted by a 14-seed. Yeah, so what if UMD didn’t even make the NIT? Shut up!

One digit down from the billion, the $400,000,000 was the size of the recent MegaMillions jackpot. I’m starting to think the numbers you get from fortune cookies don’t mean anything at all. And it turns out the numbers of my anniversary and my birthday aren’t that special after all. It’s hard to maintain a sense of self-importance when the universe seems so oblivious to your demands.

A couple zeroes down the line was my most realistic missed opportunity to cash in. I meant to bring this up in the previous entry. A couple weekends ago, I got a call from a comedian buddy of mine. Someone had cancelled last-minute for a show at a synagogue and he thought I might be a good fit. Unfortunately, I was already booked that night, so I told him I couldn’t do it. His reply, “That’s too bad, because they’re paying $1500 for 30 minutes.”
“Give me the number,” I said. “I’ll find a way to make it work.” I gave the lady organizing the event a call and, unfortunately, they had just filled the spot before I got to her. I was still in disbelief, so I asked her, “How much were you offering again?”
“We have a $1500 budget. Why, how much do you charge?”
“Significantly less,” I said. I told her to keep me in mind for anything they have going on in the future. Congrats to the lucky bastard who snagged it. It’s just crazy how much people outside of comedy think our services are worth is in stark contrast to the money we get at actual comedy venues. Just sayin’ is all.

 For those of you who enjoy pro-wrestling, do me a favor and mark June 19th on your comedy calendar. I’ll be opening for the hardcore legend, Mick Foley when he comes to the DC Improv. The stage will be surrounded in barbed wire. Have a nice day.

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Inbloguration

Hey there ‘Redheads… It’s cold outside. The kind of cold that makes people deny global warming because they’re personally freezing. Remember kids: Think Globally, Bitch Locally. I don’t even need to step outside to know it’s cold, because everyone on Facebook is instagramming pictures of their thermostats with captions like, “Wow, that’s cold!” Kind of an Ansel Adams by way of Topper Shutt. C’mon, people, show me, don’t tell me. Snap me a picture of a bobsled on the beltway or a penguin migration down Pennsylvania Ave. Your numbers are not interesting. Snow is in the forecast for Friday, which will no doubt send people screaming frantically to loot grocery stores for necessities, lest they never see the sun again. A word of advice for those of you who plan to ransack your local Harris Teeter for bread, milk, and toilet paper. If they’re out of toilet paper, just buy more bread. I’m not easily fazed by the idea of snow, since my gal left town for a business trip, I’ve been playing a ton of Skyrim, so 3 to 5 inches isn’t terribly impressive unless I’m absorbing the soul from a dragon husk.

This past weekend, I took my first comedy road gig of 2013 up to scenic Harrisburg for a slate of shows at the 2nd St. Comedy Club. I had the privilege of working with Caroline Rhea, who could not have been nicer. It’s rare when a big name headliner takes a genuine interest in the feature’s set and offers advice in a non-condescending (nondescending?) way. She was also very gracious to the 4 sold out crowds that came to see her, taking pictures with half the population of downtown Harrisburg… and me…



I also had another unexpected brush with celebrity. Apparently, Caroline met up with a friend who she hadn’t seen in 10 years who now lives in Harrisburg. That friend was none other than Terry Farrell, who played Dax on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine…

This sent a Trill down my spine…

While I was sitting in the downstairs lounge between shows, I took a moment to check out the pictures of some of the comedy greats they had adorning the walls. There was Steve Martin, Rodney Dangerfield, Bill Cosby, and there was this curious picture…

 
At first glance, it didn’t seem out of place. That’s Richard Pry…oh, wait. Yeah, whoever decorated their lounge thinks Smokey Robinson was hilarious. They probably think he was the star of Smokey and the Bandit. He did sing Tears of a Clown, so maybe that’s the connection. Either way, I’m sure none of the drunk Harrisburgers noticed.
 
Before I sign off, I’d like to call your attention to a couple things that are very me-centric. First, please VOTE FOR ME FOR BEST COMEDIAN IN DC in the CityPaper’s Best of DC 2013 Reader’s Poll. It was an honor just to nominate myself, really. Please feed my ego. It hungers.
 
Also, I’ve got a very cool show coming up on Feb. 2nd in the DC Improv Comedy Lounge with three hilarious friends of mine, Tim Miller, Rob Maher, and Jon Mumma. Do yourself a favor and get your tickets now. 

The Blog Rises

Hello, ‘Redheads… It’s been too long. I apologize for my dormancy and I can only hope that you can find your way to pretend to care about my musings again. I realize those muscles have atrophied in the year and change of my negligence. It’s 2013, and with a brand new year I figured why not resolve to bring back the blog and give my imaginary fan base a chance to once again splash around in the refreshing waters of Lake Me. I’m going to be taking baby steps, so this installment will be to serve the main purpose of rehashing some of my pithier Facebook statuses as a half-assed year in review. I promise to provide fresher blog innards as we move forward… If we move forward.

Before I get to that, how about that ‘Skins/Seahawks game? The story of that game was downright Shakespearean. Two rookies carrying their teams to the playoffs. The ‘Skins started off quickly, gutting the vaunted Seahawks defense for two quick scores. Then the Seahawks managed to hobble RG3 and they began to creep back into the game. By halftime, the score was nearly even, with the momentum in Seattle’s corner. The legendary sports surgeon, Dr. James Andrews was on the Redskins sideline and I was hoping he’d be able to clap his hands together and pull a Mr. Miyagi on RG3’s knee. The final turd in the Redskins’ playoff punch bowl came when RG3 fumbled when he twisted his knee on a muffed snap. The Seahawks picked up the ball and scored on the ensuing possession. Kirk Cousins came in, but he just didn’t have the juice to bring Washington back. Fittingly, Seattle took a knee to end the game. I’ll be rooting for Seattle to beat Atlanta in the next round, so the NFC Championship game will hopefully be a rematch of the replacement ref debacle with the Green Bay Packers. If I can’t have Peyton Manning vs. the Colts, please let me have this.

Ok, as half-heartedly promised, the best of me (as judged by me) from 2012:

I’m trying to make more adult decisions, like going to the gym, but it’s hard to feel like an adult when I see Bullwinkle Moose in the sweat stain on my shirt post-workout…

Just had lunch at Five Guys… On my soda cup, one of the accolades reads, “Voted Best New Restaurant in Cincinnati”… I think that says more about Cincinnati…

I’m confused by Paula Deen’s Diabetes diagnosis because I thought she WAS Diabetes, the buttery 5th horseman…

Irony: Getting trapped inside your Ford Escape…

Irony: Filling up your TiVo with episodes of Hoarders…

I have a friend who’s a mystery writer, but to pay the bills, he works for a pharmaceutical company… He wrote a twist ending to the side effects on a bottle of Tylenol… “Wow… Violent diarrhea… I did not see that coming…”

Someone asked me why there’s no Russia-themed casino in Vegas… I’m guessing the roulette…

Here’s my idea for Fajardo, Puerto Rico’s new tourism slogan: Hey, who Fajardo?

Encyclopedia Britannica has announced they will cease production of hard copies… Someone should update their Wikipedia page…

Today, I’ll be getting a Spaceman Spiff t-shirt and a Muppets lunchbox… Age is relative and, right now, that relative just happens to be my 5-year old nephew…

Someone at my show last weekend commented that my comedy was “top drawer”… I keep my underpants in the top drawer, so that’s a fairly accurate description…

Now that Andrea and I are engaged, there are some serious decisions to make… I’ve been giving it a lot of thought… I think we’re going to register at SkyMall…

A friend of mine said he saw Kathleen Turner on Californication and that she “looked terrible”… I told him, she didn’t look terrible, she was just drawn that way…

I wish I figured this out before I ordered my current batch of comedy business cards, but I know what I want on the next batch: Jared Stern, Antidepressant…

Just got done with a Mother’s Day mini-bbq on the roof deck… As my parents were leaving, my mom said, “Thanks for having us.” No, Mom… Thanks for having me…

A headline in the Washington Times reads “Woman Killed in Love Quadrangle”… So, that’s four people involved… I think I would’ve gone with “Love Rhombus” or “Para-love-ogram”… Maybe if two of the people were in a long distance relationship, it could be a “Love Rectangle”…

North Carolina has voted to further amend their constitution to redefine Words With Friends as Words Between a Man and a Woman…

Robin and Maurice Gibb are gone and Barry is living with the irony of the group’s biggest hit…

The Department of Education has announced that all History textbooks will now contain the phrase, “Spoiler Alert”…

Toyota has announced a recall for all Highlanders… Except one…

I’ve run into so much road construction lately, it feels like Orange Cone Pride Week… I saw a big orange “END ROAD WORK” sign and assumed it was a protest sign…

There’s a place in Bethesda called Stop Aging Now that offers “natural solutions” to halt the aging process… I can think of one natural way to stop aging and I’ll only charge half of what they’re asking, but I’m gonna need that money up front…

Katie Holmes and Tom Cruise are getting a divorce… That’s what happens when your storybook marriage is written by a crappy sci-fi author…

So, we’re packing up the tent and the sleeping bags and other equipment, and I remarked to Andrea, “That’s a lot of stuff, honey”… She replied, “Well, we want to be comfortable”… THEN WHY ARE WE GOING CAMPING?

Harrison Ford is 70 today… HE BELONGS IN A MUSEUM!

When I get really bored, I like to go to the Hirshhorn museum, put an empty McDonald’s cup against the wall, then sit back and count how many people try to interpret it…

I read a study that said mothers can pass on neuroses to their children… I have a friend who’s pregnant that’s claustrophobic… That kid must be going nuts…

Man, it’s hot outside… I walked past the outdoor display over at Madame Tussauds… Abe Lincoln looked like he opened the Ark of the Covenant…

Kids are growing up too fast these days… The other day, I saw a little girl doodling in a coloring book called 50 Shades of Crayola…

It’s getting late and cut and paste carpal tunnel is starting to set in, so I’ll leave you with an audition video that my buddy Joe and I made for a food challenge show last year. Bon appetit…

  

Sunday Bloggy Sunday

Hey there, ‘Redheads… I’m back from whatever arbitrary hiatus I imposed on myself. Thanks for pretending to care. I’m sitting on the couch, watching the Heat/Mavericks game. I’m not usually a big NBA guy, but it doesn’t take much to get me interested in a potential championship-clinching tilt. Besides, I’d be lying if I told you I haven’t gotten caught up in the manufactured villainy of the Miami Heat. LeBron took his talents to South Beach, now the heat are the Legion of Doom. It’s halftime right now and Dirk Nowitzki is apparently trying to rebuild the Berlin Wall with all of the bricks he’s putting up. I’ll give you my favorite stat in situations like this: Dirk has only made one more shot than me. If the Mavs end up winning, I want a ring. Y’know who else should get a ring? Ted Leonsis. There are three former Wizards on this Mavs team. Washington knows how to build a championship team, just not theirs.

I’m torn about who I want to win. It’s mostly a question of which NBA fossil I’d like to see win a championship before they retire. I always root for professional athletes who are older than I am. Juwon Howard was drafted when I graduated from high school. His defensive technique is mostly just yelling at the younger players to get off his lawn.

Just to see a Game 7, I’m rooting for the Heat to win this thing. Ok, back to game. I’ll have another blog tomorrow to recount my weekend getting laughed at. Again, thanks for pretending to care.

Catching Up

Hey there, ‘Redheads… My streak of regular bloggery is sputtering through May. If I was smarter, I would’ve taken advantage of my usual monthly stunt blogging and called it “I May Blog”, but I’m not, so I’m just going to chalk it up to a general May-laise. For now, I’ll just blog when the mood strikes. It just takes awhile for the mood to strategize. Anyway, I hope everyone had a fun weekend. I got to check out the Anti-Social Network Tour, over at Constitution Hall on Friday. The combined forces of Jim Norton, Bill Burr, Jim Breuer, and Dave Attell formed a bitter Voltron of comedy. Local comic done good, Seaton Smith, opened up for them. I was very jealous and very impressed. Top to bottom, it was a great show in front of a packed house of about 2500 people. Before the show, I got a chance to hang out backstage for a meet and greet with the guys. They spent a few minutes glad handing and posing for pictures. I always feel like a jackass asking for pictures, but I was able to get one with the most approachable of the group, Jim Breuer…

Of course, the big news that fell from the sky today, like a gift from the comedy gods, is the revelation that Arnold Schwarzenegger fathered a child with one of his house staff ten years ago. Start filling sand bags and brace yourselves for the flood of hack Sperminator jokes and shitty Ahnold impressions that’ll come from this. I wish I could take credit for it, but my favorite joke I’ve heard so far came from Marc Unger, who wrote, “And the child’s name is John Conner.” I’m not condoning his actions, but I can’t blame Arnold for straying from Maria Shriver, who’s so bony, it must be like having sex with a wire hanger. Hey, Maria, those aren’t rock hard abs…that’s your rib cage. I wouldn’t be shocked if they were sleeping in separate places, him in his bedroom and her in her sarcophagus.

That’s all for now.

Big Fish

Hey there, ‘Redheads… Welcome back from an eventful weekend. I’m waiting on some pictures so I can fully convey the spirit of adventure…and also so I can pad the blog. In the meantime, I have a quick bit of bloggage for you. Today, I spotted this bumper sticker on my way to work…


Is there a lox lobby I’m not aware of? Now, I did not check to see if the driver was a bear. I can only assume the driver was not a bear because A) bears don’t drive and B) bears do not have the right to vote…they only have the right to bear arms. Whoever they are, the driver does think their vote carries enough weight to sway any major fissue. It’s nice to see there’s a middle ground in the partisan red fish/blue fish world we live in. If you’re voting based on a candidate’s opinions on fish, then I’m curious about your position on Roe vs. Wade. If I had to bet, I’d say they have pretty strong opinions about spawning.

That’s just about all of the political fish puns I can think of.

See you Tuesday.

Post Sportem

Hey there, ‘Redheads… Happy Cinco de Mayo to one and all. It’s always nice when it falls on May the 5th. I hope everyone is enjoying your day with a hint of lime. Just please don’t squeeze that lime into the paper cut that has been sliced between the fingers of the DC sports landscape these past two days. It is turning into a monumentally shitty week for DC area sports. First, the Caps, the city’s only hope for a championship, laid a giant turd on the ice and got swept out of the playoffs by a hockey team from Florida. Florida? I’m not sure they even have ice in their arena. It’s just cold plexiglass. Their zamboni is a guy on a tricycle with a bottle of Windex. It’s kinda like getting beat in beach volleyball by a team of Eskimos.

Now, word has come out of the University of Maryland that not only has their best player, Jordan Williams, decided to jump ship for the NBA, but coach Gary Williams is retiring. That’s a Williams a day. As a Terp for life (I have a key chain to prove it), this sucks out loud. When I saw the news on the ESPN crawl, I was so despondent I almost set fire to my couch. I understand that Gary was probably getting tired of the game that college basketball has become, trying to squeeze everything he could from players that didn’t have what it took to leave early and go to the NBA. I’m actually curious which came first. Did Gary decide to retire because Jordan left prematurely or did Jordan bail because he found out Gary was leaving? Either way, it’s a bad scene for the Terps.

For as long as I was there (and I was there awhile… just short of tenure), it was Garyland. The students fed off of his fuming energy. It won’t be the same without him chewing out the bench when a player on the floor makes a dumb mistake, threatening to cut off a pinky if they do the same thing. Not only is this bad for UMD, but it’s catastrophic for his dry cleaner. I hope that guy doesn’t have any gambling debts, because that business is going under. He probably bought a 40 foot racing sloop and named it Gary’s Pits. When Gary Williams broke a sweat, they had to sand bag the sideline. One of those kids with the mops just followed him around during the game. Hopefully, the school will do the right thing an build a commemorative fountain, with the water cascading down his back. We’ll miss you, Gary. Thanks for the memories, for the tirades, and for the title.

See you soon. Maybe not Friday, but soon.