Beach Blog Bingo

Greetings from beyond North Cack-a-lackey, ‘Redheads… Just got back from a 4-day comedy vacation on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Many thanks to Ed, Leslie, and the rest of the staff of The Comedy Club for an amazing week of shows. Ed and Leslie are a rare breed of club owner, allowing 4 comics into their home EVERY WEEK. Given the off-balance nature of comedians, this is alot like giving a monkey 4 hand grenades (or, is that one hand grenade and 4 monkeys?) EVERY WEEK. Luckily, the arrangement has worked out so far without their house collapsing in on itself like in Poltergeist.
I mentioned 4 comics. They run two rooms during the week, so the headliner and feature from both rooms stay at their house, a really cool place right on the Albemarle Sound (I’m pretty sure I didn’t spell that right but, I’m still kinda in vacation mode). Along with me, was the very funny and super cool Greg Lausch and the equally cool Chad EO (I have it on good authority that he’s funny, but I never got to see him on stage…no relation to Captain EO). Ok, that’s only 3…unfortunately, the other headliner, the hilarious Sonya King, is allergic to dogs, and couldn’t cope with Buddy and Sadie, the club owner’s pooches (that was an assload of commas).
So, what do three swingin’ comics unleashed upon the beaches of Nags Head, NC do? Not a whole hell of alot. Highlights include:

-Lunch at the Nags Head H(.)(.)ters… Nothing like cracking jokes with a really hot waitress…who doesn’t understand sarcasm. She won the looks lottery, I guess it’s too much to ask that she know when someone is kidding…ever.
While we’re talking about the Maxim of restaurants, a moment of silence for Robert H. Brooks, who, as the self-styled “Worldwide Wing Commander” of Hooters restaurants, died on Sunday at his home in Myrtle Beach, S.C. He was 69(…figures). Apparently, God needed a franchise. Kudos to you, Mr. Brooks for providing the world with two things: 1) day jobs for strippers and Hawaiian Tropic models and 2) yet another forum for fat slobs to think they have a shot with hot waitresses who know better. As per his wishes, his body will be breaded, fried, and slowly lowered into a vat of bleu cheese dressing. There will also, of course, be a 21 tit salute.

-Poker. Apparently, Ed is a bit of a cardshark. He introduced us to a whole new world of poker, beyond the milquetoast Texas Hold’em. Our poker nights, which went to about 5am one night, were all about the wild cards. Variants on 7 card stud like Low Hold Wild, Night Baseball, High Chicago, and, the game that grows the pot faster than your college Ultimate Frisbee team, No Peek. Screw the World Series of Poker, ESPN needs to televise four comics shootin’ the shit over a pitcher of margaritas and freshly baked tollhouse cookies. You want drama? Here’s how one hand played out…Greg shows four-of-a-kind Jacks…Chad shows four-of-a-kind Kings…after seeing both hands, I got to say, “Well, gentlemen, that’s a damn shame,” and showed my four-of-a-kind Aces. I felt like Doc Holliday. I’m your huckleberry.

-Lunch at Five Guys. One of the greatest burger joints has extended its reach past Va. If you’ve never had a Five Guys burger, do yourself a favor. The basic burger is two patties thick. Nothing but the finest toppings. I bit into a jalapeno so green, Lex Luthor could’ve used it to take out Superman. Delicious, yes. The bathroom aftermath it caused hasn’t been seen outside of Fat Man and Little Boy (look it up).

The weather was sunny and spectacular for the most part. Except for Thursday night. At around 6pm, I looked off into the northern sky and saw darkness. This darkness slowly got bigger as it skulked down the coast and swallowed the sky. As Greg and I drove toward the club, the stormcloud followed close behind. If you’ve seen The Neverending Story, essentially The Nothing was chasing us to the club. Once it settled over the ocean, the storm was an amazing sight. Massive lightning strokes. Rain blowing sideways. Like God was putting on a seaside Gallagher show (be careful in the front row…you will get wet).

There are some other details I’m leaving out…alcohol + heatstroke = fuzzy memories…

To be continued…

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