Hey there ‘Redheads… I hope everyone can still count to ten on both hands after the alcohol-fueled celebration of our nation’s independence. I got a chance to enjoy multiple fireworks displays from my friend Pam’s rooftop. Usually, the 4th of July’s combo of beer, humidity, and loud bangs are the recipe for a big ass migraine. This time, after a brain-pain free evening, my luck was ruined by a screeching five-year-old on the metro. The kid had alot in common with a certain kind of firework…the one that makes alot of noise, calls a bunch of attention to itself, but ends up fizzling and not doing much with its life.
I finally saw Superman Returns last night. I was not disappointed. I can understand why some people were. Essentially, it is a carbon copy of the original Superman: The Motion Picture. Deliberately paced, focusing more on the dramatic than the bang for the buck. So, if you went expecting an action flick, it probably left you wanting. There was no epic fight scene. What this movie did was reestablish Superman as an iconic character in the hearts and minds of movie-goers. Brandon Routh is, no pun intended, a dead ringer for Christopher Reeve in look and performance (and bears an eerie resemblance to DC comedian, Paul Schorsch). Sure, if you want to nitpick, the plot has plenty of holes, but lighten up people…it’s a comic book movie.
This blog has reached a mini-milestone: 5,000+ hits…as of a couple days ago. Now that it has reached that mark, I’ve done some calculations to give myself a rough idea just how many of you read this. Ok…as of right now, the blog counter is at 5057 (minus the hit I just used to check it). Not counting this post, there’ve been 53 posts since I installed the counter. To account for the amount of times I check the blog, let’s subtract 3 hits for every post…that’s 5057 – 159 = 4898. So, we take the remaining hits and divide by the number of posts…4898 / 53 = 92 and change. 92 hits per post. Even if that’s 46 people checking it twice, that’s still very encouraging. It ain’t an Oscar, but you like me…you really sort of like me. May this be the last time I ever use math in this blog.
It may be the last time, only because my mental faculties are slowly slipping through my fingers, like so much sand (thanks Chris). Here’s the evidence of my descent into dementia. As alot of you know, before I started doing stand-up, I spent 2 1/2 years as the associate producer of DC101’s Elliot in the Morning Show. I got a chance to meet a bunch of big names…Bobby Slayton, Jim Gaffigan, Jay Mohr once called me an idiot for my fantasy football picks, I drank Sam Adams Summer Ale with Jim Cook. Here I am with Lord Stanley’s Cup…
What I’m getting at is, I have alot of vivid memories from my short time there. So, on Saturday morning, on my drive to work, I turned on the Best Of Elliot to liven up the commute. There was an interview, live in studio, with Dave Chappelle. Pretty cool. You’ve got my attention. As the interview goes on, I hear clues that this is a vintage segment from maybe a couple years ago…pre-Chappelle’s Show. Then I hear me (yes, the trademark “HA!”). I was in studio, with Dave Chappelle (who, granted, wasn’t as famous back then…this was from roughly ’99), AND I DON’T REMEMBER IT. Not a lick of it. And I edited this interview for Best Of. I’m one step shy of being the guy from Memento. I going to have to take pictures of my friends and write footnotes in sharpie that say, “Be nice to these people, they’ve put up with you for this long.” I’ll be tattooing my closer on my chest. I need a vacation.
Luckily, comedy has come to my rescue. On Tuesday, I hit the road for four nights of sun and pun in Nags Head, NC. This’ll be the furthest south I’ve ventured to be paid for my services (I did a showcase in Charlotte and auditioned for LCS2 in Nashville). This’ll also be the most exotic locale that comedy has taken me to…although, when Buffalo and Erie are your main competition, that’s not saying much. The past two days have been spent looking for my swimtrunks, some sunscreen, and the courage to take my shirt off on a public beach. The hairy puff-pastry that is my torso isn’t exactly something I like to show off in broad daylight…especially since my gut is close to being broader than daylight. I’m looking forward to a couple days of beach bumming, then hitting the stage after being freshly stroked by the sun.
To be continued…