Every Breath I Take…

Hey there ‘Redheads… Welcome to Day 16 of Blog-A-Day in May. Boy howdy am I draggin’ ass today. Normally, when I’m playing a club in town, I try to work my schedule so I’m not working the day job on Saturday. No such luck this time around, so I had to be up at 7:00am after getting to bed at around 2:00am.

A bit about what I do to pay the bills. I work at an auto parts and supply store. Nothing glamorous, but I can pay my mortgage on Stately Stern Manor, and they give me time off for road gigs. One of the primary services we offer is custom mixing car paint for body shops. So, the bulk of my day is spent in the paint room, breathing in technicolor. Think Fantasia meets How Green Was My Valley (I’ll wait while you click over to IMDB). Of course, we have giant exhaust fans to help disperse the vapors, but for the most part I spend my day huffing paint fumes. I’ve been doing this for awhile and it hasn’t pancakes accordion doorstop to me yet. When I die, I plan to donate my lungs. I’m going to have them backlit and hung up at the Hirschhorn…it’ll be trippy.

Another great pair of sold out shows at the Improv last night. I’m being spoiled rotten by the crowds. Seriously, the audience at the DC Improv is a gift. I’m going to try to get some video of tonight’s shows and hopefully I’ll have some clips for you guys on Monday.

See you tomorrow…

Two Weeks

Hey there ‘Redheads… We’ve hit the two week mark of Blog-A-Day in May. Thanks for sticking around so far. Not a whole lot to tell you. Just got back from a sold out show at the DC Improv with Jeff Ross. I’m told the rest of the weekend is pretty much sold out except for Sunday, so get your tickets while the gettin’ is good. Go to DCImprov.com for all of your ticket-buying related activities. In lieu of actual content, may I offer you some seafood…?

Lorenzo Lamas AND Debbie Gibson. That stink isn’t the fish.

See you tomorrow…

Maddening

Hey there, ‘Redheads… Greetings from beyond the flowing rivers of green beer and vomit. I hope everyone had a Happy St. Viviana’s Day…never heard of it? That’s probably because I just made it up. She’s the patron saint against hangovers and headaches…so, who better to name the day after St. Patrick’s Day for? I’d like to nominate someone else for patron sainthood (can a Jew do that?). I think Jack Bauer should be the patron saint of badasses. I watched Jack kill a man, then start up a truck with the same bloody screwdriver. Somebody call Vince from the ShamWow and SlapChop commercials, because I’ve got a feeling the StabStart is gonna be bigger than the Snuggie. By the way, if the blog seems mintier than usual, it’s because this blogging session is being fueled by Girl Scout Thin Mints. That’s right, Thin Mints, making poops smell like altoids since 1980.

So, I should break a small bit of crappy comedy news to you. You may remember in an earlier installment, when I was touting an upcoming feature spot at the DC Improv. Yeah, well…turns out I’ve been bumped from that stratosphere back down to earthly hosting duties. The headliner is bringing his own guy to feature. No worries, though…it’ll still be a fun slate of sold-out shows…just less of me. Me concentrate. So, come check out less of me May 14-17 with Roastmaster General, Jeff Ross. Click the link for tix and info.

And thanks to everyone who came out to the shows at the Baltimore Comedy Factory last weekend. Apparently, people that I don’t know either read the blog or stalk me on Facebook, because plenty of printed out coupons with my name on them showed up and I didn’t recognize any of the drunken masses as they filed past me and ignored my attempts to sell CDs. So, here’s to my supposed fan base.

Congrats to my Terps for squeaking their way into the big dance. They kick off what’ll hopefully be a deep run in the tourney on Thursday. Here’s the thing with having them in the tourney…I have to try to fill out my brackets without seeming disloyal. If they play up to their potential, they can beat anyone in the country, so it might be easy to justify a national title run, but I have to bet with my head instead of my heart. I’d love to see a UMD/Morgan St. rematch in the championship game, but that’s just not gonna happen. The 2009 brackets might as well be pinned on a dart board this year. Any one of about ten teams could conceivably win it all. Once the games tip off, I fully expect my brackets to collapse like a game of Jenga in the Parkinson’s ward. Heck, this year the tourney could be won by Stone Cold Steve Austin, who will be playing Syracuse 5 on 1…he gets a steel chair, of course. And this year, President Obama has filled out a Baracket. I think he picked UNC to win it all. As a country, we better hope they do because I think he bet the bailout money on it.

In case you care, here’s my Final Four prediction:


MIDWEST REGION: WAKE FOREST
WEST REGION: MEMPHIS
EAST REGION: PITT
SOUTH REGION: SYRACUSE
CHAMPIONSHIP GAME: WAKE vs. SYRACUSE
NCAA CHAMPION: SYRACUSE


Book it. Let the games begin.

Fast Forward

Hey there ‘Redheads… I hope everyone has adjusted to the quantum leap forward into a dystopian future where our economy has crumbled. If only we had that one hour back, you would be able to…read this earlier. Well, get your heads straight, people. The next couple of months, the calendar is going to turn into a flip book. My apologies to whoever’s job it is to govern the laws of space and time. Whenever I have things to look forward to, they approach at warp speed. I’m just saying, if you have stuff to do between now and June, you should get your ducks in a row. In two weeks, I’m going back to Vegas…in time for the Final Four. And when I get back, I kick off eight straight weeks of comedy work…including a week at the DC Improv, May 14-17, featuring for Jeff Ross. And the night before that, I’m going to the Spinal Tap Unwigged & Unplugged concert at the Warner Theater. Check your watches…it might already be April. Confused? Maybe this can clear things up…

Before my 1.21 gigawatt expectations accidentally leave me stranded two months from now, waiting for anyone who gives a goddamn to catch up with me, let’s focus on the present and not too distant past.

First, for the ‘Redheads in Charm City… I’m back at the Baltimore Comedy Factory this weekend. Three nights, seven shows, and zero dollars for drinks. Because I’m funnier when I’m blurry around the edges, I’m offering a bailout from your senses…DRINKS ARE ON ME. Just print out this handy dandy coupon…


Baltimore has always been beddy beddy good to me, so I’m looking forward to a fun time up I-95.

Speaking of fun times in a northerly direction, I had a blast up at the Lake Ontario Playhouse to finish off February. It was a last minute gig, and I’m glad it luckily fell in my lap. Big thanks to the great staff up there and the cool folks in the town of Sacket’s Harbor, NY. I drove up there with Marc Unger, who was nice enough to bring me along. The place was right out of a Stephen King rough draft…quaint, but with slightly foreboding undertones. If the walls bled, I wouldn’tve been completely shocked. The playhouse itself is a former military dance hall from the 40’s that was converted into a comedy club. Very cool place…it had a Cheers vibe to it. Can’t wait to go back in the summer.

We got back to town just in time for it to snow nine inches. Barely a week later, it’s sunny and 70. This isn’t me. My ego can only warp time. If you’d like to feed my ravenous need for constant validation, I suggest you check out my Facebook Fan Page.

I wish I could affect the play of my Terps, who managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory over the weekend. Nothing is ever easy with this team…they dangle a glimmer of hope in front of us, then clang our hearts off the front end of the rim as the buzzer sounds. Mix enough metaphors for ya? Here’s hoping Gary Williams can wring every bit of talent juice from the ShamWow he uses to dry off with after every game. It’s be nice to fill out an NCAA bracket with a local team in it.

Ok. It’s late and I’m rambling. To be continued…

Great Expectorations

Hey there ‘Redheads… Greetings from inside a NyQuil-induced haze. Oy vey, these last couple days have stunk out loud. I’ve been a sniffly, sneezing, coughing basketcase. I’m currently enjoying a particularly long streak of breaths without my lungs seizing up, so I wanted to sneak in one last blog before February finally fritters away. A couple quick things to hit before a chorus of codine-winged angels sing me softly to sleep.

Big thanks to the DC Improv for having me judge the UMD round of their District’s Funniest College contest. It was nice to see my alma mater bare its comedic chops, clamp down on a packed house, and rip it apart. The comedy scene on the campus has evolved since I was asked to leave. When I first got there as a freshman, there was only one comedy outlet on campus, the resident improv troupe, Erasable Inc. After a couple years of trying and failing to join their ranks, a group of disgruntled cast-offs (myself included) formed a new comedy group, the sketch comedy group, Sketchup. Well, that same circle of bitter jealousy has spawned a new group that was tired of being kicked around, The Bureau…which in turn, pissed off another bunch of upstarts enough to take the collected chips on their shoulders and form another group, called Off The Wall. All of these groups now regularly rumble like the news teams in Anchorman. This new atmosphere of competition has made the wit pool on campus olympic-size. Representatives from each group, and a few folks that I’m sure feel snubbed in some way by them, all rocked the mic…very few awkward lulls in the proceedings. Go Terps. Speaking of which, it’s nice to see the men’s basketball team scrap their way back into the NCAA tourney conversation. The UNC win and hanging tough with Duke has given fans like myself a glimmer of realistic hope this season…keep hope alive. One sweet moment from the Duke game I would like to share. Watch as Duke’s Nolan Smith hits the white brick wall known as Dave Neal…

Keeps getting funnier every time I see it.

By the time most of you read this, I’ll be on the road to a gig in upstate NY at the Lake Ontario Playhouse. If any of you loyal ‘Redheads find yourselves in Sacket’s Harbor, NY this weekend, come check out the show. This is my first real comedy road trip of 2009, so I’m looking forward to being nostalgic about it in the next installment. My apologies if that last sentence ripped a hole in the fabric of time.

Like what you’ve been reading? Care to declare your…like? Oscillate on over to my Facebook fan page and be my fan. Let me into the parking garage of your heart…validate me.

To be continued…

‘Weener

Hey hey ‘RedheadsBlogtober is just about dried up and ready to fall off the babbling tree, so this’ll most likely the last chance to squeeze in some mediocre bloggage. And away we go. Big thanks to the fine folks at the DC Improv for an amazing show in the Comedy Lounge. I had the pleasure of sharing the stage with some of DC’s finest, Nora Nolan, John McBride, Joe Robinson, and Erik Myers. Great sets and good times were had by all. I did something that went slightly against type for me…I gave some untested topical material a whirl. I know, be still your beating hearts, but I rarely go off-script without testing the punchlines with a control group and a placebo. I took some of the flat, two dimensional words from the last blog, and inflated them into out loud jokes with appropriate pauses. These specifically…

I have some problems with McCain, which are purely superficial, but that’s how I roll. First, he says “Warshington“. Learn to pronounce it first, then maybe we’ll let you live there. Also, he whistles his esses when he talks…irks the everloving crap out of me. When I close my eyes, Obama sounds presidential…McCain sounds like a cartoon squirrel. And have you seen Cindy McCain? She creeps me right the fuck out.

Obviously, I couldn’t use the pictures to illustrate Cindy McCain’s inherent creepiness on stage, so I came up with this verbal substitute…

She looks like someone spackled the Crypt Keeper.

The audio is up on my MySpace page, if you’d like the audio book version. After the show, some friends and I adjourned to the nearby Melting Pot to go wade in a chocolate jacuzzi. Everything tastes better dipped in lukewarm chocolate. The table conversation drops off a bit when the dipping is going on. It gets limited to the phrases “Wow, this is delicious”, “Holy crap this is good”, and “Someone pull Jared’s face out of the fondue pot.” The fondue magic was sullied toward the end of the evening, when I looked down to see two cockroaches scurry across the floor…they were delicious. The conversation turned to city vermin which eventually led to rats. The following sentence was then uttered by a young lady at our table, “Let me tell you how disgusting rats are. So, I was taking a piss in this alley in Boston…” She kinda trailed off when the rest of the table stared at her with our heads tilted slightly. Take your time and let it sink in. While you’re at it, riddle me this. What’s wrong with this item…?


Make sure to congratulate this young couple. Apparently, they have a time machine on their gift registry.

Wells-Fargo recently bought ailing bank, Wachovia. They’ll be opening a new bank called Well-Fachovia. I’ll be here all week. Tip your waitstaff.

Here’s one last bit of political video before we yank the levers on Tuesday…a blast from the roughly 8 years past…

Enjoy your ‘ween…

Blog-o-ganda

Hey there ‘Redheads… Wow, two whole entries in Blogtober…this thing is really picking up pile of steam…yep, it sure is a steaming pile. I was hoping to find time to hammer out some fresh bloggage and luckily, my cable went out…so here we are. As of the last installment, the economy was in shambles. The Dow sunk like a turd after a beef dinner. And just to show you that no one is immune to this financial faceplant, I found this story the other day…

Playboy to eliminate 55 jobs in cost-cutting move

Playboy Enterprises Inc disclosed in a Wednesday regulatory filing that upcoming cost-cutting measures will include eliminating 55 jobs at the Chicago publishing and entertainment concern. Playboy also included in the filing a copy of a “Dear Fellow Employees” letter sent out to workers Wednesday, in which Chairman and Chief Executive Christie Hefner said the economy’s deterioration make it “unavoidable that we reduce our cost structure to reflect current economic realities.” Hefner’s letter spells out a number of cost-cutting moves, including consolidating facilities and reducing travel outlays and overtime. “Unfortunately,” she continued, the changes will also mean the elimination of about 80 positions in the company…”

Wow. 80 positions. I hope they hang on to Reverse Cowgirl…that one’s a keeper. You know things are crappy when people can’t even afford to jerk off anymore. These are dark times we live in. Which is why it’s so important to vote. See, this is the kind of public (I said “public”) service announcement that’ll get people to the polls…use one hand to pull the lever, so the other may yank the crank (message pending approval).

I found a couple bits of video that’ve helped me make up my mind. Check out Obama at the Alfred E. Smith Memorial Foundation dinner. It’s ten minutes long, but it’s an engaging ten minutes…stick with it…

He crushed. I expected him to drop the mic and walk off stage when he was done. I’m not a big issue guy. When it comes to picking a presidential candidate, I’m like a girl on Match.com…sense of humor is, like, sooo important. I think it shows a capability for abstract thought that is important in a leader. Besides, in order to be effective, you have to be, at the very least, charismatic. I have some problems with McCain, which are purely superficial, but that’s how I roll. First, he says “Warshington”. Learn to pronounce it first, then maybe we’ll let you live there. Also, he whistles his esses when he talks…irks the everloving crap out of me. When I close my eyes, Obama sounds presidential…McCain sounds like a cartoon squirrel. And have you seen Cindy McCain? She creeps me right the fuck out. She looks like Goldie Hawn from Death Becomes Her



And don’t get me started on Sarah Palin…

Ok, enough politics. Here’s one thing we can all agree on, Bruce Campbell is a bad ass. He’s got a new flick coming out soon, called My Name Is Bruce. I’ll let the trailer speak for itself…

It’s coming to DC for one night and one night only at the Landmark on E St. on November 15th. Save the date.

Before I go, I must plug the big comedy show at the DC Improv Comedy Lounge on Saturday. Myself, John McBride, Erik Myers, and Joe Robinson will be on stage for your viewing pleasure. The weather is supposed to be wet and miserable, so let a smile be your umbrella and come laugh at us. Click the link for tix and info.

To be continued…

Kung Foolin’

Hey there ‘Redheads… Welcome to April. I hope everyone had a Fool’s Day full of prank and free of personal injury or embarrassment resulting from any backfiring of said prank. Here’s hoping you didn’t have any real serious information to convey to someone…reaction time is slowed exponentially when everything you say is met with, “Yeah, right…good one.” It’s why there’s a glut of obituaries on April 2nd. A good buddy of mine tried to tell me that his wife is pregnant with their second child. I was genuinely happy for him…until I hung up the phone and I remembered what day it was. My happiness turned to mistrust and betrayal. How dare he use his wife’s uterus for such a lark. I called him back to try to salvage my April Fool street cred and left a message on his voicemail. It took his wife calling to corroborate the story to set things right…let’s just say I’ll feel better when I see a sonogram. Other than that false alarm, my day was prank free.

This also is not a joke…

LOS ANGELES, California (AP) — A Southern California McDonald’s restaurants official says Egg McMuffin inventor Herb Peterson has died in Santa Barbara at age 89.

Even though he shuffled off this mcmortal coil, he has a spot in all of our hearts…that we should have examined immediately by a cardiologist, in case it’s malignant.

Ok…enough of that. A big thanks to Allyson, Red, and the rest of the crackerjack staff of the DC Improv for another great week of shows. After taking the tequila shot of shucking and jiving for dullards in Hanover, PA, it was nice to suck on the refreshing lime wedge of appreciative DC crowds. I had the pleasure of working with two cool guys from the west coast, Ian Bagg and Reggie Steele. It was alot of fun to watch Ian work. His style is predicated on great crowd work interwoven with his written material. Essentially, he does a different show every time. I’m horrible at talking to the crowd, which is a pisser because I like to think I’m a decent conversationalist. On stage, my brain likes to stick to the script and rejects crowd interaction like a bad kidney. I don’t know if you read the other comedy blogs, I appreciate the brand loyalty if you don’t, but you should give them a looksee. Anyway, Erin Jackson had a link to a Bill Burr interview in one of her recent blogs. In it, he talked about how it felt like he was “reading from a teleprompter” when he was starting out. That pretty much crystallizes the gear that I’ve been stuck in. If I read from a teleprompter, Ian Bagg is the on the scene investigative reporter. A long way to go for the metaphor, but it’s an accurate comparison.

A word on proper audience etiquette when at a show like Ian’s, that contains crowd work. Let the show come to you. Don’t try to interject yourself. Speak when spoken to. I mention this because I encountered a putz who may well be coming soon to an open mic near you. About a third of the way into Ian’s set on Thursday night, a guy sitting toward the back of the club leaves his seat and introduces himself to me. He says he’s a former “teaser writer” for CBS and that he wants to start telling the jokes he’s been writing all these years. He seems nice enough. I give him my card and point him toward DCStandup.com for open mic opportunities. Then he eyes an empty seat on the right side of the stage and asks me, “What do you think he’d do if I sat down over there?” I shrug, “He’d probably keep going with his show.” He nods and waddles over to the spot he picked out. Sure enough, Ian acknowledges him. Everyone in the front couple of rows has had a piece of the action. Then this guy starts loudly piping up while Ian is talking to other patrons, acting as a giant sweaty impediment to comedy. This goes on for the rest of the show. Every time any comedic momentum is built up, this guy throws a handful of rusty nails on the road and blows out the tires. After the show is over, he comes back to where I’m sitting, looking for a high five. Normally, when a heckler comes up to me after a show, I nod and smile to keep the encounter as short as possible. But this guy, who planned on being on a stage at some point, needed to know how many pages of the comedy rulebook he had just wiped his ass with. “You weren’t helping,” I started. This stopped him in his tracks and he looked at me like a dog who just rolled over but was refused a snausage, “Wha?” “You contributed nothing to the show and you tried to be the show,” I continued. At this point he was too drunk to process what I was saying to him or coherently defend himself. “If you’re planning on doing stand-up, just know that what you did tonight is not cool. I’m not trying to be a douche. I’m just letting you know.” Then I awkwardly started talking to someone else and he shuffled out of the showroom.

Another big thanks to the crew at DCComedy4Now.com for having me on the latest Top Shelf show at Solly’s Tavern. Comedians in suits not worn since an aunt died or a parking violation was overturned. They had a great turnout for the show and a good time was had by all…aided by Pabst Blue Ribbon…oh, and tater tots…I dare you to have a shitty time with that combo in play…even if it’s your last meal.

A couple shows to let you know about. I probably should’ve led with this, but on Friday night (tonight, considering it’ll be Friday by the time I hit the publish button) I’m part of the kickoff show for the 3rd Annual Baltimore Comedy Fest. Besides me, the line-up is top-notch, including Erin Jackson, Mike Aronin, Mike Way, and Larry XL. The Fest benefits Autism research, so come check out the show and do some good while having some good done to you. Click the link for details. Also, on April 8th, I’ll be back up in Baltimore at the Comedy Factory for a Comcast OnDemand taping. That line-up will be stacked too…and you can get your mug on TV in a carefully planned spit-take reaction shot. See you in Charm City.

To be continued…

Quickie

Hey there ‘Redheads… Just a quick installment to freshen things up. First, thanks to everyone who voted for my digital self in that YouTube TurboTax contest. Unfortunately, I don’t think it got me to the next stage of the competition. C’est la vie.

Tonight through Sunday, you can come support me live and in person at the DC Improv. I’m hosting the week’s slate of shows with headliner, Ian Bagg. Thumb your nose at Mother Nature and come enjoy some comedy and burritos in a dark basement. Click the link for tix and info.

If you don’t have plans for Friday night. One of the finest funk virtuosos on the planet is in town at the State Theatre. Do yourself a favor and check out Victor Wooten as he slaps is electric bass silly. Here’s a small sample of him on el quatro stringendo solo basso profundo de electronique

And it’s not often I tell you to check out an SNL sketch, but this one tickled me as a drifted to sleep in my Hanover, PA hotel room. You have to have seen There Will Be Blood for it to be funny…just sayin‘ is all…

See you at the Improv

To be continued…

Marching In…

Hey there ‘Redheads… Welcome to the month of madness. Sadly, my Terps turned purple choking on a 20 point lead and lost a game that’ll probably keep them out of the NCAA tournament. Degenerate gambling just isn’t the same without a real rooting interest to pin your hopes to. It turns out, everything I know is wrong. I just found out that one of ingredients of the miracle cold fighter, Airborne, is bullshit, apparently. You might as well pop a Pez when you feel a cold coming on. They lost a class action lawsuit for false advertising that’ll have them cutting checks like Steve Martin at the end of The Jerk. I also ran across this depressing item…

MILWAUKEE (March 4) – Gary Gygax, who co-created the fantasy game Dungeons & Dragons and helped start the role-playing phenomenon, died Tuesday morning at his home in Lake Geneva. He was 69. He had been suffering from health problems for several years, including an abdominal aneurysm, said his wife, Gail Gygax.

I’ll put this in terms that the bereaved geeks will understand. He was losing hit points and was finally unable to make a saving throw vs. death. May a chorus of Umber Hulks sing thee to thy rest… His spirit will live on…in the hearts of people who have no life.

Originally, I wasn’t going to make this an official blog. I was futzing around, putting some ideas down in cyberspace to use for a YouTube contest that’s being sponsored by TurboTax, and I figured I post it for feedback. They want entrants to come up with tax jokes, with the eventual message being that TurboTax is the easy way to do it. So, I put together a small tax bit, in the style of a Dennis Miller rant (they’re fun to do…once you figure out the formula, it’s sardonic Mad-Libs). Here’s what I have so far…

Tax time is coming up soon. Taxes are a sticky time for most comedians because we ride the poverty line like a bear on a unicycle in the Russian circus. Unless IRS stands for Internal Ramen Noodle Service, there’s not a whole lot I can kick back to the government. Alot of times, I’m paid in free drinks. I can’t exactly put a stamp on a shot of Jager and expect to be square with Uncle Sam. Although last year, the Anheuser Busch brewery claimed me as a dependant. And deductions are tough to figure out. What about all the times I’ve donated my services and was charming and witty without proper compensation? What’s the blue book value of a fart joke?

For most people, doing their taxes is so horrific they get the same gut wrenching reactions as when they watch 2 Girls, 1 Cup. It doesn’t help that the tax code is so complicated, it makes Macbeth in Swahili read like the Cliff Notes to See Spot Run.

If you think you’ve got it bad, pity my friend, the accountant. Every year around this time he becomes so reclusive, he makes Dick Cheney look like Rachel Ray. He locks himself in a bunker and starts crunching numbers like Cookie Monster let loose in a Thin Mint factory.

All is not lost, though. Our push-button age that lets us google our youtubes has also brought us TurboTax. You plug in all of your information and suddenly you’ve gone from Laurel and Hardy to Ernst and Young.

Lotsa so *blank* it makes *blank* look like *blank*. It needs tweaking. I’m not trying to write Twain over here. I just want a passable entry into a YouTube contest. Not the loftiest of goals, but it’ll divert my deficit of attention for the time being.

Quick programming note: Turns out that I won’t be working with Judah Friedlander when I return to the DC Improv, March 26th-30th. Instead, Ian Bagg will be the headliner. His name is a much smaller score in Scrabble, but don’t let that keep you from checking out the show.

Switching gears to a serious matter, please take the time to follow the link and read about a plight that has befallen comedy comrade, Ryan Conner.

To be continued…