Hey there, ‘Redheads… This one is just to keep the streak alive. Not sure what’s going to fill the space, but I’ll come up with something. I’m typing this from the third floor and heat rises. I’d like to think it’s just the heat and not that I’m horribly out of shape that’s making me break a sweat while I type. Speaking of being a sweaty tub of goo, I stepped on a scale for the first time in awhile and I saw a one in the hundreds place. That gypsy curse is starting to pay off. Looks like having three flights of stairs in my house is having a positive effect. I can’t lose too much weight, though. If I start looking svelt, I lose five good minutes worth of fat jokes. It’s a delicate balance I’m trying to maintain. I want to be in shape, but my self-deprecation needs to be believable. As my buddy Jerry Thomas always says, “Verisimilitude.”

Tomorrow, I’m going to be reminded of how old I am too. I’m going to the 15th anniversary show of Sketchup, UMD’s sketch comedy group that I was a founding member of back in 1996. What’s really going to make me feel ancient is the after party. Nothing makes 35 feel like 70 like attending a college kegger. I’ll have a full recap at some point. I hit the road for a gig in Warwick, Rhode Island on Friday, so my blogging schedule will be all screwed up.

‘Til then. See you Thursday.

Hot Hot Hot

Hey there, ‘RedheadsUrp. Excuse me. I am stuffed. I just got done having hipster fish n’ chips: sushi and tater tots. Do yourself a favor, if you ever get to Sticky Rice on H St, order the Bucket of Tots. Food is always better when served in a bucket. That’s sage advice from the Colonel to me to you. I hope everyone is enjoying this sudden onset of beautiful weather in the DC area. Savor it. Drink it in. It’ll probably snow next week. Remember, if you don’t like the weather in DC, wait a minute. There’s a scientific reason why we’re heating up. No, not global warming, silly. The sun is trying to kill us…

A magnitude X2.2 solar flare that occurred on Monday will reach Earth during the late hours of February 17th, with the potential for geomagnetic storms and spectacular views of the aurora borealis, or the northern lights. This latest solar flare happens to be the strongest unleashed by the sun in nearly four years.

Yeah, so enjoy the sixty degree weather, because apparently we’re being preheated. Somebody call Michael Bay, Bruce Willis, and Steven Tyler. They’re the only ones that can save us. The flare could potentially wreak havoc with GPS satellites and electronic devices. Thanks for not letting that havoc keep you from reading the blog, by the way. You guys are real troopers. One thing I’m sure of, somebody’s getting superpowers out of this.

Speaking of things trying to kill us, Watson, IBM’s gameshow murderbot, took the first step toward overthrowing humanity and crushed two of our biggest nerds on Jeopardy. The last three days was just so IBM could show off their vast improvement on the Magic 8-ball. All that was missing was someone putting a top hat on it and having it sing “Puttin‘ on the Ritz.” With defeat imminent, Ken Jennings took it all in stride…I think Ken then challenged Watson to a foot race. Or thumb wrestling. We’re doomed.

But, at least tomorrow is Friday. ‘Til then.

Cold Hearted

Hey there ‘Redheads… This one is just a quickie to vent a little and take care of a few odds and ends. Let me start with the good news. I got my truck back. It’s fixed and shiny and all that other good stuff. One of the pluses of having it stolen and repaired is the spiffy scrub job that it got. And believe me, it was dirty when they found it…it didn’t just feel dirty because it had been stolen. I don’t remember if I told you guys or not, but the perp took it four wheeling. It looked like a Jackson Pollock during his mud and shit phase. I keep going back, in my head, to the scene in Ferris Beuller’s Day Off, when the parking attendant went joy riding in the Ferrari. Other than the mud bath, there wasn’t much other major damage to it. Just a busted window and a popped ignition. Steps are being taken to ensure that it stays in my possession. For starters, I’m getting a club. I’m also looking into the cost of hiring a ninja or other sundry henchpeople to beat potential car thieves about the head, neck, and chest with the club. Times are tough, and henching is an easy way to earn some extra income.

And now, the bad news. When I got home in my shiny car, I discovered that the heating system in my apartment took a shit…again. So, after spending a bunch to repair it, it looks like I’m going to have to replace it barely a month later. Good thing revenge is a dish best served cold. Revenge and gazpacho. So, yeah…it sucks bunches.

Speaking of bad news, and revenge, the world lost yet another pop culture icon with the passing of Ricardo Montalban. Sure, he’ll be remembered for Fantasy Island but, for scads of dorks around the world, he will always be Khan. He and Shatner chew more scenery than a swarm of termites on the Warner Bros. back lot. Here’s a sample…

Ricardo, may your place in heaven be clad in fine Corinthian leather. Quienes mas macho? Nobody.

In the last installment, I mentioned that I test drove some new material, but I neglected to actually include the joke. Here ya go…

I think that selling hair color called Touch of Gray is like selling condoms called Smidge of Herpes.

Also, please remember to check out my fan page on Facebook and pledge you digital devotion to me…you can find a handy dandy link on the top right-hand side of the blog. I’ll warm myself with the faint glow of the screen.

To be continued…

Home For The Holidays

Hey there ‘Redheads… I hope everyone is having a very merry and a holly jolly. Since the last installment, things for me have been less than cheery. Thankfully, things are on the upswing and I no longer feel like someone has a voodoo doll of me with a pin stuck in the ass. If you’ll remember, my car got stolen last week. Well, the most recent dollop of sour cream on that shitburger is that the blower motor on my heating system went kaput on Tuesday night. If you’re keeping score (and I do), that’s the hassle of a stolen vehicle and the inconvenience and expense of having no heat during the coldest time of the year. Apparently, I have some exotic heating system that uses a motor that was first sketched out on DaVinci’s doodle pad…so that has to be special ordered. The repair company has top men working on it right now…top men. I’m subletting my apartment to a family of penguins until everything gets found and fixed. Where am I living in the meantime? Glad you asked…with my parents…in their guest bedroom…on a day bed. I’m lucky they live close. I don’t have to worry about a hotel and they don’t have to go far to nag me, so it works out for both parties. I’ve been eating better the last couple of days, too. I had Wheaties this morning. The breakfast of champions…somebody get me a trophy with a couch on it. So, like I said, things are looking up…from a long way down…things got a crick in their collective neck from trying to look up. I got the call on Tuesday that the cops found my car in DC. Something about it trying to throw its brake shoes at the President. It’s in a tow yard, awaiting the insurance adjuster to assess the damage. Again, since it’s the holidays, that won’t be ’til next week. Here’s hoping it’s not a burnt out husk when we finally do get to it. Who knows? Maybe it’ll have more stuff in it than when I left it…like last time. If you’ll refer to to the vehicular retrieval post from 3 years ago…

Well, I’m happy to report that all is not lost…not yet. The powers that be recovered my vehicle, with minor damage, in SE DC. Apparently, it was involved in a robbery, then the assailants were nabbed and the perps realized there’s no reset button in the real-life version of Grand Theft Auto. I couldn’t believe my Jeep was involved in a robbery… I mean, you think you know a car. It’s out of my sight for a couple of hours and it turns into Patty Hearst. Alot of the machinery I own have criminal tendencies. My PC is constantly performing “illegal operations”…dealing heroin out of the hard drive.

So, I went to investigate the damage to the Jeep. The ignition: gone…well, not so much gone, but in the cup holder. There was also minimal damage to the driver’s side door, where they used the hobo’s skeleton key, a screwdriver. When I inventoried the contents of the vehicle, I found that, not only did they not take anything…they left a bunch of stuff. A pile of CD’s, a couple packs of children’s pajamas, and a Batman playset. I’m petitioning to add this as a Hanukkah Miracle, but the Torah revisionists haven’t gotten back to me yet. Armed with this evidence, I’ve put together a profile of the ruffian who took my car. I was jacked by a narcoleptic toddler with a hero complex and a burnt out subscription to Columbia House.

On the good side, I’ve had two stellar shows in the past four days. The first was on Sunday at The Birchmere, helping Good For The Jews kick off their “Putting the Ha in Hanukkah” tour. I had a very nervous stomach before that show. The guys did a fine job hiding their disgust while my gut was riffing backstage. My insides sounded like a drunk didgeridoo player. Not sure if it was nerves or if I carry stress in my duodenum, but it was not welcome as I was going over my material before the show. Big thanks to GFTJ and the fine folks at The Birchmere for having me.

The second show was on Christmas Eve at Magooby’s Joke House. It was billed as Comedy with Lobster Sauce, four Jewish comics, an all-Jew-can-eat Chinese food buffet, and an open bar…the menorah wasn’t the only thing getting lit that night. The inflatable dreidel hung from the ceiling with care, with hopes that our jokes would get more than a stare. I was joined by newcomer Dave Madow, Andy Kline (who looks Jewish, but isn’t), and Marc Unger. The place was packed and the crowd was surprisingly non-judgy. Good times.

I’ll squeeze another installment in before ’08 fizzles out…’til then.