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…

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In The Pendence

Hey there ‘Redheads… This installment is a quickie. I’ve got a couple things I wanted to say to no one in particular. Since no one in particular reads this blog, the message has a medium. Happy 4th of July, first of all. Go celebrate freedom. Colorful explosions set to music seems like the popular way to go. I myself will be heaving a giant crate of Lipton Iced Tea into my neighbor’s pool…let those redcoats know we still mean business.

Big thanks to Chip, Jeff, Shannon, and the amazing staff of the Baltimore Comedy Factory for a great slate of shows last weekend. Once again, Charm City treated me well. I got a chance to work with the very cool Vince Morris. ‘Twas a pleasure. Not only was he funny, but he took the time to listen to my act and gave me a great tag for a joke. And we got drunkity-drunk drunk.


Tyler Richardson was the MC for the weekend. He is a strange strange fellow. I use that adjective twice because his mission statement for the weekend was to get “some Baltimore strange”. Did I mention they changed the city motto to “Baltimore: It burns when we pee”?

By the by, belated congratulations to Erin Jackson, who made it to the semis of Last Comic Standing and got flat out robbed of a spot on the show. Really NBC? God’s Pottery over Erin? Good luck with that. Check out the clip of her set and you tell me you wouldn’t want to watch her weekly…

And now IRONY IN THE NEWS

Irony – a state of affairs that is the reverse of what was to be expected; a result opposite to and in mockery of the appropriate result.
He hopped two fences to get his hat and got decapitated. Not sayin’ it’s funny…just a real life example. That one’s for you, George.

In 24 hours, I’ll be in Las Vegas. With Jon Mumma, Justin Schlegel, Jay Hastings, and Sean Gabbert. Send bail money.

May the Fourth be with you…

Independency

Hey there ‘Redheads… I hope everyone had themselves a festive 4th of July. While watching the rocket’s red glare from the Key Bridge, I definitely felt less dependent. I heaved a case of Lipton iced-tea into the Potomac to give the celebration that little something extra…my apologies to the poor saps in the kayaks below. So, with the oddly placed holiday, it seems like it’s been awhile since the last installment (yes, I know, the waiting is the hardest part…especially when you’re waiting to put up with me). Quite a bit of fun was had on my behalf since then that I’ll be more than happy to share. First though, congratulations to local funnymen Chris White, Rob Maher, Marion Kendrick, and L.A. transplant Dawan Owens for being picked to compete in Comedy Central’s Open Mic Fight. They’re part of a group of 72 that were selected from a nation-wide online search…I’m pretty sure more than 72 people submitted, so it’s a pretty big deal. Sadly, I did not make the cut, despite sending them a dynamite set for their consideration. I’d like to think I was number 73 on their list (and number one in your hearts…five, at least). Here is what they chose to pass on…

Freakin’ dynamite…blowin’ up…they thought it just blew. Anywho, enough about me…let’s downshift into 3rd person and get into the great couple of days had by Jared Stern, shall we?

FRIDAY: I returned to my alma mater, Springbrook High, to check out a fellow alum, Lewis Black. I was class of ’93. He was class of ’66. Pretty cool, eh? It was a sold out auditorium with alumni from every previous class from ’66 to now represented in some way or another. What was amazing to me was they were able to dig up his math teacher, who probably could’ve been carbon dated. I’d never seen Lewis Black live before, and despite some high school AV issues, the show was amazing. And did he tone things down at all for the elderly or school administration in attendance? Noooo. About a minute in, he told anyone who didn’t get a joke to go fuck themselves. This is what high school math class daydreams are made of. After he closed the show to a standing ovation, he was presented with a football jersey. And he did the show gratis, all the proceeds going to scholarships. I’m sure they’ll name a bathroom after him, or something.

SUNDAY: What a gorgeous day. The first in several weeks which the air wasn’t chewable. Luckily, I was able to take advantage of it by going to a park party in Dumbarton Oaks, complete with frisbees, sport-related balls, and all sorts of other tools for recreation. It was a chance to bask in the joys of being nine again…except for the sangria. The other major stumbling block in our trip back to recess, was that our late-twenties, early-thirties bodies just don’t quite bounce back the way they used to. This was evidenced primarily in our game of Spud. Remember Spud (click the link if you don’t)? It’s a dodgeball variant that involves a lot of full-speed running and sudden stops then more full-speed running. After playing two spirited games with nine-year old reckless abandon, my body slowly began to rust. I’m not in great shape (I’m getting winded typing this), but I’d like to think I can handle a little bit of activity. Turns out, nope. The next day, I was one giant cramp. Pretty much crippled from the neck down. I was very close to renting a rascal to get around in.

MONDAY: I found out about a freakin’ sweet bit of promotional to-do going on right in our backyard. Turns out that twelve 7-11’s across the country have been chosen to be converted into Kwik-E-Marts in order to promote the up coming Simpsons Movie. Aside from the facelift, these stores will be selling Buzz Cola, Krusty-O’s, Radioactive Man comic books, and Squishees in collectible cups. In cities like New York, L.A., Denver, Chicago, and…Bladensburg, MD…about a block from where I work. Here’s a little video tour of the one in Burbank, CA…

I’ve been drinking an Squishee a day since Monday…eventually these collector’s items will be worth…at least half of what we over-zealous nuts are paying for them.

TUESDAY: I’ll just say it…I went to Drag Bingo. My friend Allyson wanted to go for her birthday, so a group of us headed down to Club Chaos in Dupont Circle for bingo…hosted by drag queens. Drag bingo. Sure, it sounds like fun. That’s what we thought too, but there wasn’t quite enough bingo and it was kind of a drag. I never thought I’d leave a place saying, “If they only played more bingo…” We played 4 games total in about 3 hours time, the balance of which was taken up by our three hosts strutting their…*ahem*…stuff and essentially demanding dollar bills. One guy looked like a Klingon in an evening gown. Another actually had boobs, showcasing the kind of plastic surgery that harkened back to this scene…

Of the three of them, only the Tina Turner look-a-like displayed any real showpersonship.

THUNDERDOME!! She entered. We left.

It was just plain odd. Now let us never speak of it again.

To be continued…