SuperBlog Returns Part One

When it rains, it pours. If wetness is the essence of beauty, then the last 7 days have been fuckin’ beautiful. ‘Redheads, it has been too long. My apologies for contributing to the delinquency of my blog. I received this response to the placeholder Coming Soon blog I put up: WEAK….Hella WEAK…seriously? Seriously I loaded this page for that…..what a waste of all that Al Gore created for us. WEAK….I can’t believe my comments are longer than your blog. That is just plain sad.
It won’t happen again. We good? Ok then. Let’s get on to the business of retelling the good, the bad, and the downright tragic. Poppin’ a recap in your ass.

Let’s begin where I last left you. Your homework was to go check out my fellow Guys Watching 24 (still conveniently linked to your right) co-stars, Chris White and Danny Rouhier at the DC Improv with Adam Ferrara. I went ahead and did the assignment too. Turned out to be an awesome night on a few levels. Level 1: Danny and Chris had great sets in front of a sold-out crowd. It was also a pleasure to finally see Adam Ferarra live. He is a great example of what separates a true headliner from a guy who can do 45 minutes. To me, anyway, a headliner needs to leave the audience with something. He or she should lead them down a rabbit hole and give them a glimpse of something they haven’t thought of or seen before. Adam Ferrara did just that, and had the crowd hanging on his every word. Very cool. Level 2: When I got to the club, they were slightly understaffed. So, rather than simply freeload, I got put to work. I was put in charge of the light…the signal that tells the comic on stage how much time they have left. There’s a delicate art to giving somebody the light. You need to make sure they see it, but, at the same time, you don’t want to be distracting to the performer. It takes a certain amount of poise on the comic’s part to see the light mid-joke and not break stride. That comes with experience. Most open-mikers don’t know to look for the light, and when they do see it they treat it like the neuralizer from Men In Black. It was a fun bit of responsibility…I wasn’t drunk with power, but I was sipping it…especially when I lit Adam Ferrara. Level 3: The DC Improv is going through some renovation and expansion. The bathrooms are now fully functional and a wall has been erected behind the curtain that drapes the walkway from the green room to the stage. For those of you that’ve been there, this means the patrons are no longer able to back up their chairs into the walkway. Unfortunately, the air conditioning wasn’t functioning. This made the evening sticky, sweaty, and otherwise swampy. Pardon this imagery, but by the end of the night, my nutsack was stuck to my inner thigh like a wacky wall-walker…and my asscrack could breed mosquitoes. Secret Level: One of the cool things about a club like the DC Improv, is that every once in awhile a big name will show up unannounced. Dave Chappelle has done it recently. Well, this night we got a surprise visit from SNL alum, Kevin Nealon. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to meet him…or light him.

Before I went inside the club, I spotted a homeless guy begging for change…not so much begging as bugging. He had an empty Coke cup that he held outstretched, and when the inevitable passer-by shrugged him off, he followed behind them for about 100 feet, clearing his throat. Now, I have never been homeless. I have, however, been locked out of my house. That was frustrating as hell (I’m not trying to diminish their situation, I’m just saying there but for the grace of God go I). So, these people have to deal with that frustration every day. If I was homeless, and my survival depended on the charity of strangers, I’d like to think I could give them a reason to part with their change. Por ejemplo, the homeless guy I encountered the next night as I was going to meet my family for dinner. I was about to parallel park, and this guy began waving me into the spot. I didn’t need the help, but he was willing to offer it. Putting forth an effort. I was more than willing to give him a couple of bucks after he offered to watch my car. Comics sing for their supper on a nightly basis, so I can appreciate when a guy in need does what he can to sway an otherwise indifferent stranger.

Editor’s note: I’ve decided to break this entry up into two parts. For those of you clamoring to know how I did in the finals of the Funniest Jewish Comic contest, that will be posted in a day or so.

When you hear about the weather related fatalities from the past week, more often than not, they’re anonymous, but for the mention in the paper. Unfortunately, this time, I was not so lucky. Marlie Griffin, a local actress who I had the privilege of sharing the stage with, died in a car accident in Sunday night’s storm. She was 43. In every creative endeavor that I’ve entered into, I’ve been fortunate to be surrounded by talented people. She was one of them. Marlie, you will be missed.

To be continued…soon, I promise…

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