Thursday, December 9, 2010
Getting Organized for 12/10
This is a placeholder for the jokes I plan to use at Timeout Sports Bar and Grill. I'm also going to be writing at least two new ones expressly for the show! I'm going to be doing this DURING WORK tomorrow because I have to wake up at 5am!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Competitive here too? fuuuuuuuuuuuu
It never fails: I always wind up being hyper-competitive in something that I do. I blame my self-worth as a child being defined by how much I can win at whatever sport I'm playing in whatever sport-season. Most of the compliments I received when I was younger revolved around winning or competing in something. Don't get me wrong, I know how messed up this is, but it's a tough conditioning to shake.
One of my peers in stand-up has been far more proactive than I have about getting his face out there, and as a result has been invited to do stand-up in New York venues, and has been meeting popular comedians, there. It feels like he is starting to take off, and all I'm doing is pithy shows in Baltimore and DC. I need to step things up, here.
This comic's name is Ben Rosen, and I have performed alongside him twice. Prior to even doing stand-up for the first time, I went and watched all the videos of prior performers at Magoobys, just to see what my competition was like. He was the only one that I was remotely concerned about at the time. After performing next to him twice, and drinking with him once, we established a tacit rivalry. In that we both started cold-turkey and were immediately accepted into the Baltimore scene as rising talent.
I want to be better at stand-up, because it is what I want to do. More than that, though, I want to be better than Ben Rosen. I think I already am, I just have to make more people think that, also.
One of my peers in stand-up has been far more proactive than I have about getting his face out there, and as a result has been invited to do stand-up in New York venues, and has been meeting popular comedians, there. It feels like he is starting to take off, and all I'm doing is pithy shows in Baltimore and DC. I need to step things up, here.
This comic's name is Ben Rosen, and I have performed alongside him twice. Prior to even doing stand-up for the first time, I went and watched all the videos of prior performers at Magoobys, just to see what my competition was like. He was the only one that I was remotely concerned about at the time. After performing next to him twice, and drinking with him once, we established a tacit rivalry. In that we both started cold-turkey and were immediately accepted into the Baltimore scene as rising talent.
I want to be better at stand-up, because it is what I want to do. More than that, though, I want to be better than Ben Rosen. I think I already am, I just have to make more people think that, also.
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Cashing In
I was recently online reading about Justin Bieber, because I'm looking to be topical and really capture the 14 year-old-girl demographic in my audience. And it turns out Justin Bieber and I have a lot in common! Ha-ha, no: we don't both have vaginas!
Justin Bieber, and I am not making this up, is releasing his own line of nail polish. I can think of fewer masculine actions than that, you bunch of naysayers.
We both always look confused regardless of what we are doing.
We both have caught every pokemon imaginable. I'll sign autographs after the show.
We both have caught every pokemon imaginable. I'll sign autographs after the show.
And we both like making money.
Justin Bieber, and I am not making this up, is releasing his own line of nail polish. I can think of fewer masculine actions than that, you bunch of naysayers.
He is calling his range of nail polishes: "One Less Lonely Girl."
Which is nuts, since I was in the process of marketing a collection of nooses with that exact same name.
Which is nuts, since I was in the process of marketing a collection of nooses with that exact same name.
Now I can't release that collection, because someone stole my title! But I'm a man who can appreciate irony, and I think it's a little funny that I'm leaving my customer's hanging, heh.
The Truth, all of it
TheTruth is an advertising campaign that makes all those informercials which go out of their way to convince people that tobacco companies are evil and making products that kill them. You all may be most familiar with the Shards of Glass commercials.
They're pretty looney, because people know what will happen if they smoke, but they do it anyway.
If you made tons of commercials about cinnamon rolls making you fat, and there were warning labels on every box of cinnamon rolls that said: "Surgeon General's Warning: Consumption of Cinnamon Rolls may lead to crippling fatness," I would still eat a pack a day. Consequences be damned, they're delicious.
I'd pass by all the posters and billboards that have a picture of some blimp with cinnamon buns rolling out of his hand as he wallows in a gutter. The message: "1 out of 4 cinnamon rollers suffer from chronic unattractiveness and sugar lung."
I'd like to fill you in on some of the hard-hitting facts that theTruth uses to get people to quit:
17.5% of white U.S. high school students smoke cigarettes.
9.9% of African American high school students smoke cigarettes.
10.8% of Hispanic high school students smoke cigarettes
6% of Asian American high school students smoke cigarettes.
It looks like white people need the most help looking cool, thank you truth.com
I can make that joke, I have white friends.
Nicotine has been found in the breast milk of animals exposed to tobacco.
If I hung out with a smoker and tested my breast milk, only to find traces of nicotine in it, the nicotine would not be my chief concern.
They're pretty looney, because people know what will happen if they smoke, but they do it anyway.
If you made tons of commercials about cinnamon rolls making you fat, and there were warning labels on every box of cinnamon rolls that said: "Surgeon General's Warning: Consumption of Cinnamon Rolls may lead to crippling fatness," I would still eat a pack a day. Consequences be damned, they're delicious.
I'd pass by all the posters and billboards that have a picture of some blimp with cinnamon buns rolling out of his hand as he wallows in a gutter. The message: "1 out of 4 cinnamon rollers suffer from chronic unattractiveness and sugar lung."
I'd like to fill you in on some of the hard-hitting facts that theTruth uses to get people to quit:
17.5% of white U.S. high school students smoke cigarettes.
9.9% of African American high school students smoke cigarettes.
10.8% of Hispanic high school students smoke cigarettes
6% of Asian American high school students smoke cigarettes.
It looks like white people need the most help looking cool, thank you truth.com
I can make that joke, I have white friends.
Nicotine has been found in the breast milk of animals exposed to tobacco.
If I hung out with a smoker and tested my breast milk, only to find traces of nicotine in it, the nicotine would not be my chief concern.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Innuendo
I was opening a box for a customer, recently, and before I opened her merchandise for her, I said: "I'd better get a razor for this; I don't want to mangle your box." My co-worker next to me started laughing. He said "yeeeeah, you mangle lots of boxes because you're so rough."
Now I didn't know at this time that a "box" actually means a woman's eye-socket. In which case yes I have turned a lot of "boxes" in my time.
Ever since then, this co-worker has been constantly taking everything I say, and turning it into some kind of innuendo:
-"You have to turn on the phone for me to transfer the contacts." He'd say: yeeeeah, you know all about turning things on, don't you, sir?
-"I'm going to go stock the cabinet." He would interject: you're awesome at "filling up" things right?!
-"If this phone had an asshole, I would tear it to shreds by cornholing it without lubricant."
Stuff like that I mean seriously?! Nothing sexual at all about any of that!
Now I didn't know at this time that a "box" actually means a woman's eye-socket. In which case yes I have turned a lot of "boxes" in my time.
Ever since then, this co-worker has been constantly taking everything I say, and turning it into some kind of innuendo:
-"You have to turn on the phone for me to transfer the contacts." He'd say: yeeeeah, you know all about turning things on, don't you, sir?
-"I'm going to go stock the cabinet." He would interject: you're awesome at "filling up" things right?!
-"If this phone had an asshole, I would tear it to shreds by cornholing it without lubricant."
Stuff like that I mean seriously?! Nothing sexual at all about any of that!
Friday, October 15th
I will be doing my first show at a club that is decidedly not-comedy. I honestly expect this to be the biggest bomb of all time. I will have to do 15 minutes of time before a band without that big of a following goes on. Who knows what sort of people will be there, from all different demographics? I know what most of them will be, though: drunk as shit.
Don't get me wrong, drunk is can be a double-edged sword for a comic. On the one hand: everything I say will be funnier than it otherwise would have been if the drunk audience is receptive to me and my jokes. On the other: if the drunken crowd is not receptive to me and my jokes, they will be far more verbal and ruthless about it.
Whenever I have been at a music club waiting for a band to go on, and bear in mind that I'm the least patient individual on the face of this fucking planet, I get pissed when the band is delayed, or the band could go on, but don't. When I'm drunk, and I get pissed about something trivial, I am more of a dick about it than I otherwise would be.
Bottom line: I doubt people will give two shits about comedy, and I will probably get my shit heckled to bits.
I think that this is a good thing, however. Of all places to get booed off the stage, a punk/metal music club is not one that will leave a lasting blight on my stand-up career. If the club hates me and never wants to see me again then that is completely fine; it's a music club that probably has never had stand-up there before. The showing will be tiny, I'd suspect, so only a few people will think to themselves: "what a waste of my 15 minutes, I could have been dropping a deuce or trying to fuck some bald chick."
I don't want to bomb, I've made that abundantly clear. I will do all that I can to make this a successful show. I plan to attempt to work the crowd in this room, because otherwise I'm dead in the water. A crowd like this, at the time I will be going, needs to have you remind them that you exist like every 20 seconds. I know, because I've drank with this sort of crowd after this band's shows, and they pride themselves on how "raw" they can be at all times. Good for them, I don't.
Don't get me wrong, drunk is can be a double-edged sword for a comic. On the one hand: everything I say will be funnier than it otherwise would have been if the drunk audience is receptive to me and my jokes. On the other: if the drunken crowd is not receptive to me and my jokes, they will be far more verbal and ruthless about it.
Whenever I have been at a music club waiting for a band to go on, and bear in mind that I'm the least patient individual on the face of this fucking planet, I get pissed when the band is delayed, or the band could go on, but don't. When I'm drunk, and I get pissed about something trivial, I am more of a dick about it than I otherwise would be.
Bottom line: I doubt people will give two shits about comedy, and I will probably get my shit heckled to bits.
I think that this is a good thing, however. Of all places to get booed off the stage, a punk/metal music club is not one that will leave a lasting blight on my stand-up career. If the club hates me and never wants to see me again then that is completely fine; it's a music club that probably has never had stand-up there before. The showing will be tiny, I'd suspect, so only a few people will think to themselves: "what a waste of my 15 minutes, I could have been dropping a deuce or trying to fuck some bald chick."
I don't want to bomb, I've made that abundantly clear. I will do all that I can to make this a successful show. I plan to attempt to work the crowd in this room, because otherwise I'm dead in the water. A crowd like this, at the time I will be going, needs to have you remind them that you exist like every 20 seconds. I know, because I've drank with this sort of crowd after this band's shows, and they pride themselves on how "raw" they can be at all times. Good for them, I don't.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
I want to talk about customer service
Hello I want to talk about customer service. I want to talk about customer service, because there are few instances in my life I can remember where I can walk into a room, be instantly uncomfortable, but not be able to pinpoint the source of it. When I walk into a retail store, it is a race between what is going to ruin my day first: the customers I have to talk to, the coworkers that I hate, the management team I can't stand dealing with, or new company policy that was seemingly generated by a retarded kid after he was spun in circles on a playground for six hours.
I can't talk about this for stand-up comedy, though. You know why? Because I would have a really difficult time making people relate to how much we all suck. I would in essence have to stand on stage and say: "hey fuck-ups, did you ever have a time where you were a huge fuck-up and ruined some innocent person's day because you felt entitled?" Then the whole audience would be lost while I hurf durfed my way through some angry diatribe about retail. Here is that diatribe:
Screwed if you do, screwed if you don't.
I had developed this awesome coping mechanism of "not giving a shit" when I sold things. The whole, like, "I'll give it my all, but if my all doesn't work, I'll relax and let it be." But when I do that, the management calls me into the office and says "hm, well you know we have noticed that you're not Mr. Happy-go-lucky anymore, can you tell us why that is?" I don't know, it could be because I'm in a professional environment, being identified by management as "Mr. Happy-go-lucky?" And it was announced like they had uncovered some grand espionage by me. I would walk into work everyday looking like the most depressed guy on earth for six months straight, and they finally decide "hey folks, maybe something is up here?"
They are keen, so very keen. I can't slip anything past these people. I tried really hard to conceal the rain-cloud that was following me around by wearing one of those fuckin' bearskin grenadier hats that a british royal guard wears, and I only polished my suicide-revolver during my break, but somehow they were still able to figure it out that I wasn't too happy. Even my more subtle indicators like attempting to relocate to another store for five months while simultaneously requesting certain shifts on certain days that would make my life a hell of a lot easier.
I can't imagine a person choosing this life, which is probably why they look miserable most of the time, as well. It could be that, or maybe it is the constant stream of shit-kickers that walk through the doors high on the idea that if they have a bad experience, they are allowed to treat other people like dirt. "My [whatever dumb shit I bought] doesn't do [whatever dumb shit I expected it to do] and because of that, I am entitled to take my anger out on you."
I get tired just ranting about it, I can't imagine someone enjoying jokes about it.
I can't talk about this for stand-up comedy, though. You know why? Because I would have a really difficult time making people relate to how much we all suck. I would in essence have to stand on stage and say: "hey fuck-ups, did you ever have a time where you were a huge fuck-up and ruined some innocent person's day because you felt entitled?" Then the whole audience would be lost while I hurf durfed my way through some angry diatribe about retail. Here is that diatribe:
Screwed if you do, screwed if you don't.
I had developed this awesome coping mechanism of "not giving a shit" when I sold things. The whole, like, "I'll give it my all, but if my all doesn't work, I'll relax and let it be." But when I do that, the management calls me into the office and says "hm, well you know we have noticed that you're not Mr. Happy-go-lucky anymore, can you tell us why that is?" I don't know, it could be because I'm in a professional environment, being identified by management as "Mr. Happy-go-lucky?" And it was announced like they had uncovered some grand espionage by me. I would walk into work everyday looking like the most depressed guy on earth for six months straight, and they finally decide "hey folks, maybe something is up here?"
They are keen, so very keen. I can't slip anything past these people. I tried really hard to conceal the rain-cloud that was following me around by wearing one of those fuckin' bearskin grenadier hats that a british royal guard wears, and I only polished my suicide-revolver during my break, but somehow they were still able to figure it out that I wasn't too happy. Even my more subtle indicators like attempting to relocate to another store for five months while simultaneously requesting certain shifts on certain days that would make my life a hell of a lot easier.
I can't imagine a person choosing this life, which is probably why they look miserable most of the time, as well. It could be that, or maybe it is the constant stream of shit-kickers that walk through the doors high on the idea that if they have a bad experience, they are allowed to treat other people like dirt. "My [whatever dumb shit I bought] doesn't do [whatever dumb shit I expected it to do] and because of that, I am entitled to take my anger out on you."
I get tired just ranting about it, I can't imagine someone enjoying jokes about it.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Illusions Setlist
Opening:
-"So I know people usually do magic, here, so I'd like to stick with the theme, and for my next joke, I am going to make my sex appeal DISAPPEAR."
-"Hey everyone, how's it going? Neat. I am Matt Caron and I am new to stand up.
-"I'm more nervous now than I was..." has to stay. It got laughs.
-"Similarities/someone laughed" is good. I'm expanding it, however: "thank you for laughing at that joke, by the way; it went over really well with my test group...which was my grandma. She said 'oh Matthew that is funny because it is true!' And I said, 'you're an asshole, grandma.'"
-"She was correct, though; she was there when it happened. And just so you all are aware, there is nothing that downright slays a boner quite as much as your grandmother walking in on you as you make out with an invisible person."
Start Segment: Relationships
-"Who here has ever been dumped?" Is staying. If the audience doesn't respond as loud as they did at Magooby's then I'll need a different line than "woah, it's a room full of losers."
If I get nothing but indifference I'll probably run with: "Maybe you all misheard me; I didn't ask: 'who wants to see me naked, I asked 'who here has ever been dumped.'"
-"I was recently dumped, and I could see it coming, because she was sending me those subtle signs that you women send. Signs like starting every conversation with 'I dreamt that I cheated on you.'"
-"I don't blame her for dumping me because I would ruin potentially sexy moments pretty much habitually, as you all are no doubt aware, by now."
-One time we were making out, right, we were kissin'--this guy knows what I'm talkin' about--hi5, man. I don't know how to high five really well because I'm uncool."
-"She asked me to talk dirty to her, and that's not something I'm usually comfortable doing, because I feel like I'd really fuck it up. You know, she'd say something like 'tell me the craziest thing you'd do with me,' a-and that is my impression of her she sounded just like me it was eerie, and I would just zone out and answer honestly: I'd be like 'oh my God, baby, I would...burn down a Hollister."
-"The moral of this story is that honesty ruins relationships."
-"I'm not very good at relationships because I got kind of a late start. I didn't actually kiss a girl until my senior year of high school..."
"I caught on to kissin' pretty quick though. I was the Luke Skywalker of making out. By the end of my senior year I was bullseyein' fat chicks resembling womp rats no wider than two meters. That's a little private joke between me and everyone else who isn't getting laid tonight."
End Segment: Facebook
-"Anyone here use facebook, anybody, facebook? Cool."
-"Facebook has been getting a little annoying to me lately with all of its suggestions everytime I log on. 'maybe you should friend such and such,' or 'reconnect with such and such,' or the similar-hobby suggestions, which really drive me nuts. Because it's always something embarrassing: it's like, 'people who like dungeons-and-dragons...are also big fans of angry masturbating.'"
-"Facebook recently made the news and I don't know if any of you read this online, but: a 15 year old kid posted on another 15 year old kid's wall calling him a pussy. Which is a pretty harsh toke."
-"The kid that was called a pussy did the only thing a thinking, reasoning human being could do in that sort of situation...uh he stabbed him. He said the reason he stabbed him was because he felt belittled and had to protect his street cred."
-"What's ridiculous here is not that a kid stabbed another kid over a facebook comment, interestingly enough, but that this kid had apparently never been called a pussy in his life before this time?!"
-"Let me tell you all from personal experience: I have negative street cred, that is a debt I will never be able to pay off. I have been called a pussy so many times...If I stabbed a person for everytime I'd been called a pussy I wouldn't be up here being hilarious right now, they would have electrocuted my ass by now."
-"I'd be wanted in every state, have a mass grave...in front of my house...I wouldn't have a dad."
-"I couldn't hate him for it, because if I watched my 9-year old fat son pretend to be a power ranger in the back yard and then, I can't stress this enough: accidentally lose a fight to the swing set, I'd be hardpressed to not call him a pussy, too."
-"It would be an involuntarily reflex action, like jerking your leg if your knee if tapped, flinching when someone fake-punches you, or projectile vomitting when you walk in on your parents doing it."
Final Bit:
-"I grew up a fat kid."
-"Skittle Soup."
-"Kids get away with things."
Closing: Sign off
-"Alright thanks everybody! I'd love to stay stay on longer but I have a long night of angry masturbating ahead of me."
Alternative Bits:
-"Uncomfortable-off."
-"So I know people usually do magic, here, so I'd like to stick with the theme, and for my next joke, I am going to make my sex appeal DISAPPEAR."
-"Hey everyone, how's it going? Neat. I am Matt Caron and I am new to stand up.
-"I'm more nervous now than I was..." has to stay. It got laughs.
-"Similarities/someone laughed" is good. I'm expanding it, however: "thank you for laughing at that joke, by the way; it went over really well with my test group...which was my grandma. She said 'oh Matthew that is funny because it is true!' And I said, 'you're an asshole, grandma.'"
-"She was correct, though; she was there when it happened. And just so you all are aware, there is nothing that downright slays a boner quite as much as your grandmother walking in on you as you make out with an invisible person."
Start Segment: Relationships
-"Who here has ever been dumped?" Is staying. If the audience doesn't respond as loud as they did at Magooby's then I'll need a different line than "woah, it's a room full of losers."
If I get nothing but indifference I'll probably run with: "Maybe you all misheard me; I didn't ask: 'who wants to see me naked, I asked 'who here has ever been dumped.'"
-"I was recently dumped, and I could see it coming, because she was sending me those subtle signs that you women send. Signs like starting every conversation with 'I dreamt that I cheated on you.'"
-"I don't blame her for dumping me because I would ruin potentially sexy moments pretty much habitually, as you all are no doubt aware, by now."
-One time we were making out, right, we were kissin'--this guy knows what I'm talkin' about--hi5, man. I don't know how to high five really well because I'm uncool."
-"She asked me to talk dirty to her, and that's not something I'm usually comfortable doing, because I feel like I'd really fuck it up. You know, she'd say something like 'tell me the craziest thing you'd do with me,' a-and that is my impression of her she sounded just like me it was eerie, and I would just zone out and answer honestly: I'd be like 'oh my God, baby, I would...burn down a Hollister."
-"The moral of this story is that honesty ruins relationships."
-"I'm not very good at relationships because I got kind of a late start. I didn't actually kiss a girl until my senior year of high school..."
"I caught on to kissin' pretty quick though. I was the Luke Skywalker of making out. By the end of my senior year I was bullseyein' fat chicks resembling womp rats no wider than two meters. That's a little private joke between me and everyone else who isn't getting laid tonight."
End Segment: Facebook
-"Anyone here use facebook, anybody, facebook? Cool."
-"Facebook has been getting a little annoying to me lately with all of its suggestions everytime I log on. 'maybe you should friend such and such,' or 'reconnect with such and such,' or the similar-hobby suggestions, which really drive me nuts. Because it's always something embarrassing: it's like, 'people who like dungeons-and-dragons...are also big fans of angry masturbating.'"
-"Facebook recently made the news and I don't know if any of you read this online, but: a 15 year old kid posted on another 15 year old kid's wall calling him a pussy. Which is a pretty harsh toke."
-"The kid that was called a pussy did the only thing a thinking, reasoning human being could do in that sort of situation...uh he stabbed him. He said the reason he stabbed him was because he felt belittled and had to protect his street cred."
-"What's ridiculous here is not that a kid stabbed another kid over a facebook comment, interestingly enough, but that this kid had apparently never been called a pussy in his life before this time?!"
-"Let me tell you all from personal experience: I have negative street cred, that is a debt I will never be able to pay off. I have been called a pussy so many times...If I stabbed a person for everytime I'd been called a pussy I wouldn't be up here being hilarious right now, they would have electrocuted my ass by now."
-"I'd be wanted in every state, have a mass grave...in front of my house...I wouldn't have a dad."
-"I couldn't hate him for it, because if I watched my 9-year old fat son pretend to be a power ranger in the back yard and then, I can't stress this enough: accidentally lose a fight to the swing set, I'd be hardpressed to not call him a pussy, too."
-"It would be an involuntarily reflex action, like jerking your leg if your knee if tapped, flinching when someone fake-punches you, or projectile vomitting when you walk in on your parents doing it."
Final Bit:
-"I grew up a fat kid."
-"Skittle Soup."
-"Kids get away with things."
Closing: Sign off
-"Alright thanks everybody! I'd love to stay stay on longer but I have a long night of angry masturbating ahead of me."
Alternative Bits:
-"Uncomfortable-off."
Monday, September 6, 2010
Consolidation and editin' post
I've come up with a good amount of feasible material since the Magooby's show, and this post's purpose is to lay them out, pick and choose between potential bits, and then trim/edit the wording on them. Any input on your favorites, the ones you feel have more potential than others, or the wording of them: please let me know. In addition: if you think I'm approaching the joke from the wrong angle, that is the sort of input I need.
The point of doing all of this, besides just having new jokes I can turn to if my others are failing, is that I want to be able to build a completely alternate routine that I can practice, so that if I want to, I can find a way to seamlessly integrate the two.
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You do Stand-up?
Most of my close friends are pretty cool about me doing stand up. All one of him.
Occasionally, however, I'll let one of the sorta-friends know, and I'll get this: "Oh yeah, you're doing stand-up? Well make me laugh."
And like, I don't think that is really a fair demand.
You know? If one of my friends said: "I'm getting into the adult film industry," my first reaction would not be to say: "Oh yeah? Well be my only comfort eight times a day." - edit
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Mistargetted Advertising
You know the first time one of your friends shows you something online and you think to yourself: "well, now I know about it, but I can't ever see myself using one?" Like a she-male or deodorant?
Well, Colgate Wisp is a little mini toothbrush that you can take with you, on the go, to freshen up your breath. The ad goes like this: two really attractive people are playing volleyball on the beach, and the guy thinks "aha, I need to go freshen up," so he takes a step aside and uses his Colgate Wisp in the middle of the game.
Then, afterward, he finds himself in a situation where he has to flirt, face to face, through the net with the hot girl on the other team. We've all been there.
Listen: the attractive, successful guy who used that Colgate Wisp could have had breath that smelled like a cat's lemony asshole and probably still gotten laid.
I propose a different sort of commercial, where they market it to someone who desperately needs some Colgate Wisp. Picture this:
There is a fat, sweaty, unwashed nerd eating pizza rolls in his mom's basement while he plays WOW, and jerks off to cartoon porn in between applying to jobs at local Gamestops.
Have a commercial where he has to swing by Taco Bell at 1am, and the girl behind the counter is pretty...if you ignore the huge mole on her eye-lid, trucker-mustache, and hook hand on her left arm. -edit
He looks at her and nods like a playa, but then breathes on his hand to sample his breath. His head recoils, offended, as if someone hit him in the face with a phone book. The hair on his arms begins falling off, his skin changes to a yellow color as if he had jaundis, his eyes involuntarily tear up, and his nose starts to bleed.
He steps off to the side and opens his backpack. He brushes his Magic the Gathering cards out of the way and gingerly reaches for his rape-hammer, but it's gone. In its place is a Colgate Wisp, with a small note attached: "Love Mom." - edit
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Dick-sucking Customers
I'd like to talk about dick-sucking hypotheticals.
You know how occasionally you'll be bored when you're hanging out with friends and have the "how much would someone have to pay you" conversation? For those of you unfamiliar with this "game:" it is where one guy comes up with something that another guy would typically not do, and then asks how much you'd need to be paid to do it.
Inevitably this will lead to one guy asking all other guys: "Ok dude, so how much would it cost for you to suck another dude's dick?" All guys are repulsed, and always say something like: "oh bro not even if I could fuck a mountain made of bitches, afterward" or some nonsense.
Because if they say "yes," then they'll be ridiculed for being gay.
Unless there was like a gay "sleeper agent" in the game where you say "a dick," and he asks: "well I dunno, whose dick are we sucking about, here?"
I wonder if gay guys ever sit around and have this conversation. Not regular, reasonable gay guys, I mean like the dude-brah equivalent of gay guys. Lets just call them turbo-gays. All like: "Listen up bitch, how much would it cost for you to lick some vagina?"
All the gay guys are repulsed and respond with similar hypotheticals and feigned outrage: "oh my goodness that is filthy. I would never stoop that low, even if the vagina were attached to Adam Lambert's glittering nut-sack."
What if someone threw something into that game and said: "How much would someone have to pay you to go to an awful place where everything you do makes you miserable, all the people are terrible, and anyone else that visits is allowed to treat you like shit for no reason. You have to act like you enjoy it. Every. Damn. Day."
For me, the price is about 11.50 an hour.
Never before retail or food service has a person ever been able to be so ignorant, so belligerent, and go so unpunished for it. The employees can't do a thing about it!
That shit would not go unpunished in a group of friends. If some dude is being a stupid dickhead in a conversation, his friends will shut him down. If some girl is an unreasonable bitch, we are at liberty to let her know.
In retail or food service, your sales clerks and wait-staff can't do that.
You may be that customer who is a dick which customer service people have to reluctantly suck. Those of us that ring up your purchases are not getting our dream homes for deep-throating your complaints and then taking your bullshit in the face.
So be gentle, finish quick, and tip your waitress really well.
--------------
Lets Talk About My Boners
I miss the days when my biggest concern was whether or not I'd get a boner in high school math class.
I still remember the day my boner snuck up on me in Algebra 2. We were discussing mathy-stuff that I didn't understand, the bell rang, I stood up, excited to get to lunch and: "bonk." The desk shudders, heads turn, and a single tear rolls down my cheek.
Lets not kid ourselves, guys: that is something we have all had to deal with. I cannot tell you the number of times I'd be sitting in class, the topic of discussion is decidedly-not-sexual, and my boner thinks: "now is the time."
I'm sure some of you are getting boners right this instant and you're, hopefully, completely oblivious as to why.
Getting called on to solve a problem on the board is the WORST in this sort of situation, because then you have to hold your book over your groin when you walk up to the front of the room, and try to pretend that you always hold books that way.
And how do you get a boner like that down? Usually men can think of something non-sexual and get our inconvenient hard-ons to retreat...but what the hell is less sexual than Algebra 2? There is nothing less sexy than that! Thinking about history is more sexy than thinking about math; at least there are people in history. Granted Elizabeth the Great wasn't a choice peace of ass, but at least she had boobs.
I would get truly stumped. "Maybe I could think about a less-sexy equation," I would reason, but then I'd realize, "no no no that is just validating the fact that my boner is here!"
I came up with a term for when your boner takes over and acts against all reason: "Hulking." We've all seen The Incredible Hulk, right? Bruce Banner would say: "you wouldn't like me when I'm angry" and then he would unintentionally turn into the Hulk and do things he was later embarrassed about and could not stop doing by thinking of other stuff that would ordinarily calm down my erections.
"Hulk" is of course a relative term. In my case it isn't necessarily the "Incredible" Hulk so much as the "not-bad-for-a-white-guy" Hulk.
--------------
The LOL IRL
I think I could do something with how people say "lol" in phone conversations when they don't know what else to say to a person's last text, and how awkward that would be if it were used to carry on an otherwise boring or dead conversation.
Like someone tells you "my mother just died in a tragic garbage truck accident." You wouldn't know what to say to that. You'd say, "I'm sorry," by default, but you wouldn't really know what else to get across. So they'd respond, "she lived a full life." Rather than silence, you could start busting out laughing.
--------------
"For Women of Color"
I don't think things through very often. That is a quality that I get from my mom.
My mom recently colored her hair. This hair-coloring coincided with her need for some new shampoo. So while she was perusing the shampoo store for some shampoo, she came across a bottle that said "for women of color."
My mom thinks to herself: "well, I just colored my hair! I'm a woman of color," and picks up the bottle.
She saw that there was a black lady on the bottle.
Then when she gets in the shower and begins applying the shampoo, she thinks, "w-wait a second, I suddenly feel louder and sassyer..."
After the shower when the family is watching a movie during dinner, she won't shut up.
I'm always afraid of this sort of thing happening, that is why I only use shampoo labelled "for men-decidedly-not-of-color." Every time I use it my ability to both dance and jump get worst.
--------------
That is enough to edit for now. There are others that I'm more familiar with that I can put on the backburner (cars, uncomfortable off, ghost adventures, etc.) at the moment.
The point of doing all of this, besides just having new jokes I can turn to if my others are failing, is that I want to be able to build a completely alternate routine that I can practice, so that if I want to, I can find a way to seamlessly integrate the two.
--------------
You do Stand-up?
Most of my close friends are pretty cool about me doing stand up. All one of him.
Occasionally, however, I'll let one of the sorta-friends know, and I'll get this: "Oh yeah, you're doing stand-up? Well make me laugh."
And like, I don't think that is really a fair demand.
You know? If one of my friends said: "I'm getting into the adult film industry," my first reaction would not be to say: "Oh yeah? Well be my only comfort eight times a day." - edit
--------------
Mistargetted Advertising
You know the first time one of your friends shows you something online and you think to yourself: "well, now I know about it, but I can't ever see myself using one?" Like a she-male or deodorant?
Well, Colgate Wisp is a little mini toothbrush that you can take with you, on the go, to freshen up your breath. The ad goes like this: two really attractive people are playing volleyball on the beach, and the guy thinks "aha, I need to go freshen up," so he takes a step aside and uses his Colgate Wisp in the middle of the game.
Then, afterward, he finds himself in a situation where he has to flirt, face to face, through the net with the hot girl on the other team. We've all been there.
Listen: the attractive, successful guy who used that Colgate Wisp could have had breath that smelled like a cat's lemony asshole and probably still gotten laid.
I propose a different sort of commercial, where they market it to someone who desperately needs some Colgate Wisp. Picture this:
There is a fat, sweaty, unwashed nerd eating pizza rolls in his mom's basement while he plays WOW, and jerks off to cartoon porn in between applying to jobs at local Gamestops.
Have a commercial where he has to swing by Taco Bell at 1am, and the girl behind the counter is pretty...if you ignore the huge mole on her eye-lid, trucker-mustache, and hook hand on her left arm. -edit
He looks at her and nods like a playa, but then breathes on his hand to sample his breath. His head recoils, offended, as if someone hit him in the face with a phone book. The hair on his arms begins falling off, his skin changes to a yellow color as if he had jaundis, his eyes involuntarily tear up, and his nose starts to bleed.
He steps off to the side and opens his backpack. He brushes his Magic the Gathering cards out of the way and gingerly reaches for his rape-hammer, but it's gone. In its place is a Colgate Wisp, with a small note attached: "Love Mom." - edit
--------------
Dick-sucking Customers
I'd like to talk about dick-sucking hypotheticals.
You know how occasionally you'll be bored when you're hanging out with friends and have the "how much would someone have to pay you" conversation? For those of you unfamiliar with this "game:" it is where one guy comes up with something that another guy would typically not do, and then asks how much you'd need to be paid to do it.
Inevitably this will lead to one guy asking all other guys: "Ok dude, so how much would it cost for you to suck another dude's dick?" All guys are repulsed, and always say something like: "oh bro not even if I could fuck a mountain made of bitches, afterward" or some nonsense.
Because if they say "yes," then they'll be ridiculed for being gay.
I wonder if gay guys ever sit around and have this conversation. Not regular, reasonable gay guys, I mean like the dude-brah equivalent of gay guys. Lets just call them turbo-gays. All like: "Listen up bitch, how much would it cost for you to lick some vagina?"
All the gay guys are repulsed and respond with similar hypotheticals and feigned outrage: "oh my goodness that is filthy. I would never stoop that low, even if the vagina were attached to Adam Lambert's glittering nut-sack."
What if someone threw something into that game and said: "How much would someone have to pay you to go to an awful place where everything you do makes you miserable, all the people are terrible, and anyone else that visits is allowed to treat you like shit for no reason. You have to act like you enjoy it. Every. Damn. Day."
For me, the price is about 11.50 an hour.
Never before retail or food service has a person ever been able to be so ignorant, so belligerent, and go so unpunished for it. The employees can't do a thing about it!
You may be that customer who is a dick which customer service people have to reluctantly suck. Those of us that ring up your purchases are not getting our dream homes for deep-throating your complaints and then taking your bullshit in the face.
So be gentle, finish quick, and tip your waitress really well.
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Lets Talk About My Boners
I miss the days when my biggest concern was whether or not I'd get a boner in high school math class.
I still remember the day my boner snuck up on me in Algebra 2. We were discussing mathy-stuff that I didn't understand, the bell rang, I stood up, excited to get to lunch and: "bonk." The desk shudders, heads turn, and a single tear rolls down my cheek.
Lets not kid ourselves, guys: that is something we have all had to deal with. I cannot tell you the number of times I'd be sitting in class, the topic of discussion is decidedly-not-sexual, and my boner thinks: "now is the time."
I'm sure some of you are getting boners right this instant and you're, hopefully, completely oblivious as to why.
Getting called on to solve a problem on the board is the WORST in this sort of situation, because then you have to hold your book over your groin when you walk up to the front of the room, and try to pretend that you always hold books that way.
And how do you get a boner like that down? Usually men can think of something non-sexual and get our inconvenient hard-ons to retreat...but what the hell is less sexual than Algebra 2? There is nothing less sexy than that! Thinking about history is more sexy than thinking about math; at least there are people in history. Granted Elizabeth the Great wasn't a choice peace of ass, but at least she had boobs.
I would get truly stumped. "Maybe I could think about a less-sexy equation," I would reason, but then I'd realize, "no no no that is just validating the fact that my boner is here!"
I came up with a term for when your boner takes over and acts against all reason: "Hulking." We've all seen The Incredible Hulk, right? Bruce Banner would say: "you wouldn't like me when I'm angry" and then he would unintentionally turn into the Hulk and do things he was later embarrassed about and could not stop doing by thinking of other stuff that would ordinarily calm down my erections.
"Hulk" is of course a relative term. In my case it isn't necessarily the "Incredible" Hulk so much as the "not-bad-for-a-white-guy" Hulk.
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The LOL IRL
I think I could do something with how people say "lol" in phone conversations when they don't know what else to say to a person's last text, and how awkward that would be if it were used to carry on an otherwise boring or dead conversation.
Like someone tells you "my mother just died in a tragic garbage truck accident." You wouldn't know what to say to that. You'd say, "I'm sorry," by default, but you wouldn't really know what else to get across. So they'd respond, "she lived a full life." Rather than silence, you could start busting out laughing.
--------------
"For Women of Color"
I don't think things through very often. That is a quality that I get from my mom.
My mom recently colored her hair. This hair-coloring coincided with her need for some new shampoo. So while she was perusing the shampoo store for some shampoo, she came across a bottle that said "for women of color."
My mom thinks to herself: "well, I just colored my hair! I'm a woman of color," and picks up the bottle.
She saw that there was a black lady on the bottle.
Then when she gets in the shower and begins applying the shampoo, she thinks, "w-wait a second, I suddenly feel louder and sassyer..."
After the shower when the family is watching a movie during dinner, she won't shut up.
I'm always afraid of this sort of thing happening, that is why I only use shampoo labelled "for men-decidedly-not-of-color." Every time I use it my ability to both dance and jump get worst.
--------------
That is enough to edit for now. There are others that I'm more familiar with that I can put on the backburner (cars, uncomfortable off, ghost adventures, etc.) at the moment.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Fate
Whenever I feel like something is not going so great in my life, my mom tries to console me by saying "things aren't that great now, but it's all part of God's plan."
I mean you could justify that for something like not getting a job in a certain area, but what about the time at my 10-year old birthday party that my dad broke a stinkbomb in my bedroom and locked me and all my friends in? Jeremiah puked all over my Batman trashcan! It was ruined! How could having that trashcan intact affect my life adversely?!
What about the time I was going number 1 in the urinal at my college's dining hall and then number 2 was like "SURPRISE!?" How does having to throw away my christmas-fun boxer shorts in my school's cafeteria fit into your plan, God?
God must just get kind of bored and think to himself: "ha-ha, they totally buy this whole 'plan' thing." I think God is that bully that would give you a wedgie and then stuff you in a locker when you were a kid.
Speaking of predestination:
[AT&T commercial bit in the works]
I mean you could justify that for something like not getting a job in a certain area, but what about the time at my 10-year old birthday party that my dad broke a stinkbomb in my bedroom and locked me and all my friends in? Jeremiah puked all over my Batman trashcan! It was ruined! How could having that trashcan intact affect my life adversely?!
What about the time I was going number 1 in the urinal at my college's dining hall and then number 2 was like "SURPRISE!?" How does having to throw away my christmas-fun boxer shorts in my school's cafeteria fit into your plan, God?
God must just get kind of bored and think to himself: "ha-ha, they totally buy this whole 'plan' thing." I think God is that bully that would give you a wedgie and then stuff you in a locker when you were a kid.
Speaking of predestination:
[AT&T commercial bit in the works]
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Importance of Improv
I recently played at a bar show, my first bar show to date. I rambled in a coffee house for about 7-8 minutes, but a couple huffy old people who want to see their grandkid suck at guitar is nothing compared to about 20 sweaty drunks with no attention spans.
I followed a guy who couldn't tell a funny joke to save his life, and how he ever got started is beyond me. When he first stood up he started with: "ahem, I am also a sculptor and musician in addition to my comedy." If the rest of the audience was anything like me, they were confused the entire time. Listening to that guy was a time-sink. It was like being roofie-raped. I have never been roofie-raped, but I imagine it is something like this: staring, befuddled at some really tan douche-bag, wondering how he got this close to you.
The room was dead. They did not like this guy one bit. I don't blame them; I didn't like him, either. He went over his five minute time-limit by six minutes. Which is ballsy, but completely terrible unless you're gut-bustingly funny. And even then the other comics would be a bit put-off by it, probably.
Dave Shofer leaned over and told me "start hot." I was tremendously nervous as it was, without having to worry about picking up some chump's slack in a bar room. On the one hand this was terrible, because I was knotted over whether or not my material was actually going to work in this sort of environment. On the other, being this nervous made it really easy for me to stay in-character on stage with my semi-nervous nerdy persona. Which is really the most natural delivery I could think of.
As an aside: I may end up modifying that voice in the future when I become more comfortable on stage, but at the moment it allows me to keep my pacing in check with little effort. Simply because I can't speak fast with that voice.
I did extremely well. The room was laughing the entire time, jokes got laughs where expected, and the show room owner invited me back. So I didn't have to face the bomb, yet, but I know that I will, at some point.
What I learned from this experience was how completely crucial it is to engage the audience at a venue of this size. It's one thing to say "how is everyone doing tonight," but it's quite another to follow that up, run with it, and make unique jokes about the room, the audience as a whole, or the immediate area. I improv'd about a minute and a half of observations about the room, myself, and my relation to the audience. And aside from one other open micer and the headliner, no other acts went over quite that well.
I concluded based on the material ran, that it was because of how we engaged the audience. The headliner's actual bit went over far less well than him making fun of random drunks or hitting on girls half his age. One of the comedians I had been dreading competing against at Magooby's, Ben Rosen, was there. His bit was well received, as it should be since it's a really solid set, but I noticed a difference in audience reaction to his jokes here vs. a comedy club. It was drastic. My random bullshitting before I launched into my routine went over better than the rest of my routine, sans the Luke Skywalker of makin' out bit.
I'm digressing, though: what I thought about following a show like that was how intimate it is versus a comedy club, and how the audience has to be given a reason to give a shit about you. When people go to a big event for someone famous, they are going because they know they like that comedian and they're just hoping for a different sort of experience or to see new material. A lot of people have no idea why they even show up to these bar shows. At any given time I'd say a quarter of the audience were just nomadic drunks aimlessly wandering around.
Then I got to thinking about what would happen if I walked up to a customer in my store, just hypothetically, and started telling that person jokes that worked in my bit. The person would be confused. He/she would look at me like I was some sort of stupid jackass, and that assumption would not be inaccurate. What reason does that person have to care about my dumb jokes? Does that person have another agenda for being at the store? Yeah, definitely.
I know a bunch of guys (like, two) that just go to bars to find some chick with low self esteem that they can poon. I have to give those faggots some sort of reason to pay attention to me rather than some slut's soggy rotting vagina. If/when I ever hit it big, I can just ask: "how is everyone tonight" and then not care. Until that time, I need to make my routine for bar shows more conversational, and get audience input at any juncture where it makes sense.
My best joke at Magooby's was definitely my "I wouldn't have a dad" punchline. It went over about as well as a couple half-hearted improv jokes at the beginning, and it didn't do anything to get the audience on my side, other than make them laugh. Which yeah, is the point, but the audience was laughing at the moron that went over his time eventually, too.
I followed a guy who couldn't tell a funny joke to save his life, and how he ever got started is beyond me. When he first stood up he started with: "ahem, I am also a sculptor and musician in addition to my comedy." If the rest of the audience was anything like me, they were confused the entire time. Listening to that guy was a time-sink. It was like being roofie-raped. I have never been roofie-raped, but I imagine it is something like this: staring, befuddled at some really tan douche-bag, wondering how he got this close to you.
The room was dead. They did not like this guy one bit. I don't blame them; I didn't like him, either. He went over his five minute time-limit by six minutes. Which is ballsy, but completely terrible unless you're gut-bustingly funny. And even then the other comics would be a bit put-off by it, probably.
Dave Shofer leaned over and told me "start hot." I was tremendously nervous as it was, without having to worry about picking up some chump's slack in a bar room. On the one hand this was terrible, because I was knotted over whether or not my material was actually going to work in this sort of environment. On the other, being this nervous made it really easy for me to stay in-character on stage with my semi-nervous nerdy persona. Which is really the most natural delivery I could think of.
As an aside: I may end up modifying that voice in the future when I become more comfortable on stage, but at the moment it allows me to keep my pacing in check with little effort. Simply because I can't speak fast with that voice.
I did extremely well. The room was laughing the entire time, jokes got laughs where expected, and the show room owner invited me back. So I didn't have to face the bomb, yet, but I know that I will, at some point.
What I learned from this experience was how completely crucial it is to engage the audience at a venue of this size. It's one thing to say "how is everyone doing tonight," but it's quite another to follow that up, run with it, and make unique jokes about the room, the audience as a whole, or the immediate area. I improv'd about a minute and a half of observations about the room, myself, and my relation to the audience. And aside from one other open micer and the headliner, no other acts went over quite that well.
I concluded based on the material ran, that it was because of how we engaged the audience. The headliner's actual bit went over far less well than him making fun of random drunks or hitting on girls half his age. One of the comedians I had been dreading competing against at Magooby's, Ben Rosen, was there. His bit was well received, as it should be since it's a really solid set, but I noticed a difference in audience reaction to his jokes here vs. a comedy club. It was drastic. My random bullshitting before I launched into my routine went over better than the rest of my routine, sans the Luke Skywalker of makin' out bit.
I'm digressing, though: what I thought about following a show like that was how intimate it is versus a comedy club, and how the audience has to be given a reason to give a shit about you. When people go to a big event for someone famous, they are going because they know they like that comedian and they're just hoping for a different sort of experience or to see new material. A lot of people have no idea why they even show up to these bar shows. At any given time I'd say a quarter of the audience were just nomadic drunks aimlessly wandering around.
Then I got to thinking about what would happen if I walked up to a customer in my store, just hypothetically, and started telling that person jokes that worked in my bit. The person would be confused. He/she would look at me like I was some sort of stupid jackass, and that assumption would not be inaccurate. What reason does that person have to care about my dumb jokes? Does that person have another agenda for being at the store? Yeah, definitely.
I know a bunch of guys (like, two) that just go to bars to find some chick with low self esteem that they can poon. I have to give those faggots some sort of reason to pay attention to me rather than some slut's soggy rotting vagina. If/when I ever hit it big, I can just ask: "how is everyone tonight" and then not care. Until that time, I need to make my routine for bar shows more conversational, and get audience input at any juncture where it makes sense.
My best joke at Magooby's was definitely my "I wouldn't have a dad" punchline. It went over about as well as a couple half-hearted improv jokes at the beginning, and it didn't do anything to get the audience on my side, other than make them laugh. Which yeah, is the point, but the audience was laughing at the moron that went over his time eventually, too.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Flushed-out set, Sunday
I have to keep this sketch between 5-7 minutes. So what I'm going to have to do is stream-line my already trimmed-down set that I did at Magoobys. I gave a skeletal construction of what I would be going with for Sunday earlier in the week, but I need to elaborate on that.
Opening:
-"Hey everyone, how's it going? Neat. I'm feeling great, also. I practiced a lot for this, and even shaved my unibrow before I drove over, so I'm hoping that is a good omen."
-"I'm more nervous now than I was..." has to stay. It got laughs, and I think it got the audience on my side to some extent. Following it up with "similarities/someone laughed" is good. That joke wasn't a laugh-riot, but it kept the audience on track and was quick. Worst case scenario, it is easy to move on from.
Start Segment: Relationships
-"Who here has ever been dumped?" Is staying. If the audience doesn't respond as loud as they did at Magooby's then I'll need a different line than "woah, it's a room full of losers."
If I get nothing but indifference I'll probably run with: "Maybe you all misheard me; I didn't ask: 'who wants to see me naked, I asked 'who here has ever been dumped.'"
-"I was recently dumped, and you know what, I don't blame her for dumping me because I would ruin potentially sexy moments pretty much habitually. Look at me."
-One time we were making out, right, we were kissin'--this guy knows what I'm talkin' about--hi5, man. I don't know how to high five really well because I'm uncool."
-"She asked me to talk dirty to her, and that's not something I'm usually comfortable doing, because I feel like I'd really fuck it up. You know, she'd say something like 'tell me the craziest thing you'd do with me,' a-and that is my impression of her she sounded just like me it was eerie, and I would just zone out and answer honestly: I'd be like 'oh my God, baby, I would...burn down a Hollister."
-"The moral of this story is that honesty ruins relationships."
-"I'm not very good at relationships because I got kind of a late start. I didn't actually kiss a girl until my senior year of high school..." (Potential, depending on how well it is going) "and I think the only reason I actually got a kiss the first time was because she was an equestrian and mistook me for a horse. It's an easy mistake to make; I was eating hay near the fence at the bottom of my hill at my house." (/potential)
"I caught on to kissin' pretty quick though. I was the Luke Skywalker of making out. By the end of my senior year I was bullseyein' fat chicks resembling womp rats no wider than two meters. That's a little private joke between me and everyone else who isn't getting laid tonight."
End Segment: Facebook
-"Anyone here use facebook, anybody, facebook? Cool."
-"Facebook has been getting a little annoying to me lately with all of its suggestions everytime I log on. 'maybe you should friend such and such,' or 'reconnect with such and such,' or the similar-hobby suggestions, which really drive me nuts. Because it's always something embarrassing: it's like, 'people who like dungeons-and-dragons...are also big fans of angry masturbating.'"
-"Facebook must be reading my diary."
-"Facebook recently made the news and I don't know if any of you read this online, but: a 15 year old kid posted on another 15 year old kid's wall calling him a pussy. Which is a pretty harsh toke."
-"The kid that was called a pussy did the only thing a thinking, reasoning human being could do in that sort of situation...uh he stabbed him. He said the reason he stabbed him was because he felt belittled and had to protect his street cred."
-"What's ridiculous here is not that a kid stabbed another kid over a facebook comment, interestingly enough, but that this kid had apparently never been called a pussy in his life before this time?!"
-"Let me tell you all from personal experience: I have negative street cred, that is a debt I will never be able to pay off. I have been called a pussy so many times...If I stabbed a person for everytime I'd been called a pussy I wouldn't be up here being hilarious right now, they would have electrocuted my ass by now."
-"I'd be wanted in every state, have a mass grave...in front of my house...I wouldn't have a dad."
Closing: Sign off
-"Alright thanks everybody that's my time, my name is Matt Caron and I'm tremendously aroused."
Alternative Bits:
-"Growing up a fat kid."
-"Kids get away with all sorts of shit."
-"Uncomfortable-off."
Opening:
-"Hey everyone, how's it going? Neat. I'm feeling great, also. I practiced a lot for this, and even shaved my unibrow before I drove over, so I'm hoping that is a good omen."
-"I'm more nervous now than I was..." has to stay. It got laughs, and I think it got the audience on my side to some extent. Following it up with "similarities/someone laughed" is good. That joke wasn't a laugh-riot, but it kept the audience on track and was quick. Worst case scenario, it is easy to move on from.
Start Segment: Relationships
-"Who here has ever been dumped?" Is staying. If the audience doesn't respond as loud as they did at Magooby's then I'll need a different line than "woah, it's a room full of losers."
If I get nothing but indifference I'll probably run with: "Maybe you all misheard me; I didn't ask: 'who wants to see me naked, I asked 'who here has ever been dumped.'"
-"I was recently dumped, and you know what, I don't blame her for dumping me because I would ruin potentially sexy moments pretty much habitually. Look at me."
-One time we were making out, right, we were kissin'--this guy knows what I'm talkin' about--hi5, man. I don't know how to high five really well because I'm uncool."
-"She asked me to talk dirty to her, and that's not something I'm usually comfortable doing, because I feel like I'd really fuck it up. You know, she'd say something like 'tell me the craziest thing you'd do with me,' a-and that is my impression of her she sounded just like me it was eerie, and I would just zone out and answer honestly: I'd be like 'oh my God, baby, I would...burn down a Hollister."
-"The moral of this story is that honesty ruins relationships."
-"I'm not very good at relationships because I got kind of a late start. I didn't actually kiss a girl until my senior year of high school..." (Potential, depending on how well it is going) "and I think the only reason I actually got a kiss the first time was because she was an equestrian and mistook me for a horse. It's an easy mistake to make; I was eating hay near the fence at the bottom of my hill at my house." (/potential)
"I caught on to kissin' pretty quick though. I was the Luke Skywalker of making out. By the end of my senior year I was bullseyein' fat chicks resembling womp rats no wider than two meters. That's a little private joke between me and everyone else who isn't getting laid tonight."
End Segment: Facebook
-"Anyone here use facebook, anybody, facebook? Cool."
-"Facebook has been getting a little annoying to me lately with all of its suggestions everytime I log on. 'maybe you should friend such and such,' or 'reconnect with such and such,' or the similar-hobby suggestions, which really drive me nuts. Because it's always something embarrassing: it's like, 'people who like dungeons-and-dragons...are also big fans of angry masturbating.'"
-"Facebook must be reading my diary."
-"Facebook recently made the news and I don't know if any of you read this online, but: a 15 year old kid posted on another 15 year old kid's wall calling him a pussy. Which is a pretty harsh toke."
-"The kid that was called a pussy did the only thing a thinking, reasoning human being could do in that sort of situation...uh he stabbed him. He said the reason he stabbed him was because he felt belittled and had to protect his street cred."
-"What's ridiculous here is not that a kid stabbed another kid over a facebook comment, interestingly enough, but that this kid had apparently never been called a pussy in his life before this time?!"
-"Let me tell you all from personal experience: I have negative street cred, that is a debt I will never be able to pay off. I have been called a pussy so many times...If I stabbed a person for everytime I'd been called a pussy I wouldn't be up here being hilarious right now, they would have electrocuted my ass by now."
-"I'd be wanted in every state, have a mass grave...in front of my house...I wouldn't have a dad."
Closing: Sign off
-"Alright thanks everybody that's my time, my name is Matt Caron and I'm tremendously aroused."
Alternative Bits:
-"Growing up a fat kid."
-"Kids get away with all sorts of shit."
-"Uncomfortable-off."
Friday, August 27, 2010
Mistargetted Marketing
**EDIT**
You know the first time one of your friends shows you something online and you think to yourself: "well, now I know about it, but I can't ever see myself using one?" Like a she-male, a sybian, a pumpkin gun, or deodorant?
I saw an advertisement, recently, where I got that feeling. Let me tell you about Colgate Wisp.
Colgate Wisp is a little mini toothbrush that you can take with you, on the go, to freshen up your breath. The ad goes like this: two really attractive people are playing volleyball on the beach, and the guy thinks "aha, I need to go freshen up," so he takes a step aside and uses his Colgate Wisp in the middle of the game.
If only that guy were aware of breathe mints!
Then, afterward, he finds himself in a situation where he has to flirt, face to face, through the net with the hot girl on the other team. I can't tell you the number of times I've been in this situation.
I'd think to myself: "man, again? This always happens to me after I eat crabs and cornbread for breakfast! I wish I had something I could use on the go so I could plow this bitch after the game! Who hasn't been there?"
Listen: the guy who used that Colgate Wisp could have had breath that smelled like a cat's lemony asshole and probably still gotten laid. Attractive, successful people do not need the services that Colgate Wisp has to offer.
I propose a different sort of commercial, where they market it to someone who desperately needs some Colgate Wisp. Picture this:
There is a fat, sweaty, unwashed nerd eating pizza rolls in his mom's basement while he plays Super Nintendo emulators, posts on World of Warcraft forums, and jerks off to cartoon porn in between applying to jobs at local Gamestops.
Have a commercial where he has to swing by Taco Bell at 1am, and the girl behind the counter is pretty...with the exception of the huge mole on her lip, lopsided chin, and hook hand on her left arm.
He looks at her and nods like a playa, but then breathes on his hand to sample his breath. His head recoils, offended, as if someone hit him in the face with a phone book. The hair on his arms begins falling off, his skin changes to a yellow color as if he had jaundis, his eyes involuntarily tear up, and his nose starts to bleed.
He is understandably distressed!
He steps off to the side and opens his backpack. He gingerly reaches for his rape-hammer, but it's gone. In its place is a Colgate Wisp, with a small note attached: "Love Mom."
You know the first time one of your friends shows you something online and you think to yourself: "well, now I know about it, but I can't ever see myself using one?" Like a she-male, a sybian, a pumpkin gun, or deodorant?
I saw an advertisement, recently, where I got that feeling. Let me tell you about Colgate Wisp.
Colgate Wisp is a little mini toothbrush that you can take with you, on the go, to freshen up your breath. The ad goes like this: two really attractive people are playing volleyball on the beach, and the guy thinks "aha, I need to go freshen up," so he takes a step aside and uses his Colgate Wisp in the middle of the game.
If only that guy were aware of breathe mints!
Then, afterward, he finds himself in a situation where he has to flirt, face to face, through the net with the hot girl on the other team. I can't tell you the number of times I've been in this situation.
I'd think to myself: "man, again? This always happens to me after I eat crabs and cornbread for breakfast! I wish I had something I could use on the go so I could plow this bitch after the game! Who hasn't been there?"
Listen: the guy who used that Colgate Wisp could have had breath that smelled like a cat's lemony asshole and probably still gotten laid. Attractive, successful people do not need the services that Colgate Wisp has to offer.
I propose a different sort of commercial, where they market it to someone who desperately needs some Colgate Wisp. Picture this:
There is a fat, sweaty, unwashed nerd eating pizza rolls in his mom's basement while he plays Super Nintendo emulators, posts on World of Warcraft forums, and jerks off to cartoon porn in between applying to jobs at local Gamestops.
Have a commercial where he has to swing by Taco Bell at 1am, and the girl behind the counter is pretty...with the exception of the huge mole on her lip, lopsided chin, and hook hand on her left arm.
He looks at her and nods like a playa, but then breathes on his hand to sample his breath. His head recoils, offended, as if someone hit him in the face with a phone book. The hair on his arms begins falling off, his skin changes to a yellow color as if he had jaundis, his eyes involuntarily tear up, and his nose starts to bleed.
He is understandably distressed!
He steps off to the side and opens his backpack. He gingerly reaches for his rape-hammer, but it's gone. In its place is a Colgate Wisp, with a small note attached: "Love Mom."
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Set for Sunday
Ok so this is a preliminary set-list for Sunday, the 29th at "Drink Till We're Funny." It is subject to change, but I want to try AT LEAST one new joke to see how well it goes over with the crowd. The rest of my routine will remain unchanged, save for wording, since I know it's solid. And even though I want to use open mics to try out new material, I also want to make sure the club owner likes my bit.
------------------
Opener: "Way more nervous" + "Similarities"
Segway to first joke: "Since I started doing stand-up" joke. I feel like it is quick enough and decent enough to merit slipping into the routine, and it doesn't interrupt the flow of the act, since the transition to the first joke is just a question that is unrelated to the opener. I feel like it needs to be something more innocuous and less obvious than "lick my butthole" as the punchline, though. My routine is built around me being a bit socially awkward, so I need to run with that and establish it at the beginning.
Maybe something along the lines of, "my first reaction would not be to say: 'oh yeah? Well put me in an awkward situation where my parents walk in on me naked and masturbating.'"
I scratched the new joke, here. Dave Shofer raised an excellent point, which I kind of mentioned in my opening paragraph: "Brad doesn't know you, yet. You want to put on a good show for him, and make sure that he wants to invite you back."
First Segment: "Why I'm bad at relationships." Includes: how I habitually ruined sexy moments ("one time we were making out"), how I got a late start ("Luke Skywalker")
Nothing new here. This stuff all worked really well when I did it at Magooby's, so I'll count on it being good and use it again. At subsequent open mics I'm going to try to swap out "burn down a Hollister" with "your sister."
Second Segment: "Facebook suggestions," "The Great Facebook Stabbing,"
-----------------
I'm going to practice this stuff and see how long it times. I have to fill between 5-7 minutes. I have jokes I know will work if I need to fill more time. I think that this stuff will fill that time slot just fine, though. Update coming.
------------------
Opener: "Way more nervous" + "Similarities"
I scratched the new joke, here. Dave Shofer raised an excellent point, which I kind of mentioned in my opening paragraph: "Brad doesn't know you, yet. You want to put on a good show for him, and make sure that he wants to invite you back."
First Segment: "Why I'm bad at relationships." Includes: how I habitually ruined sexy moments ("one time we were making out"), how I got a late start ("Luke Skywalker")
Nothing new here. This stuff all worked really well when I did it at Magooby's, so I'll count on it being good and use it again. At subsequent open mics I'm going to try to swap out "burn down a Hollister" with "your sister."
Second Segment: "Facebook suggestions," "The Great Facebook Stabbing,"
-----------------
I'm going to practice this stuff and see how long it times. I have to fill between 5-7 minutes. I have jokes I know will work if I need to fill more time. I think that this stuff will fill that time slot just fine, though. Update coming.
Something I'm Coping With
There is a stigma I always had with using and reusing jokes in conversation: friends have heard them, and I feel less and less clever every time I would tell the same story or use the same joke with my friends. As a result, I could not deliver the same punchline with as much excitement and emotion as I did the first time, because while I know that it is a good joke, I've already heard it. It's like I'm selling myself short when I do that.
Something reassuring to me when I was thinking about entering stand-up was that I could come up with a solid set and just use and reuse it until I could interject more stuff. This reassurance is actually becoming something of a hindrance. Because while I realize I need to stick with what works, I also want to constantly be mixing it up. I write a new joke more or less every day, or at least generate the concept for a new joke, and I'm concerned that I won't be able to keep living up to previous sets.
The solution to this problem is of course to just do open mics and risk failure every now and then, but at the same time be allowed to try new material where, ultimately, there is no real consequence. The quagmire, here, is that I've already managed some measure of success. I'm in touch with a promotor, and he already has me on his "list" so to speak, for comics that he would allow to participate at his shows. This is huge for me, having only done one open mic.
What this has created isn't a situation where I want to drift off the small victory I've had, but rather a personal pressure on myself to do even better than before. Before I had validation that my bit worked, I already was very rough on myself in regard to what I considered good material. And something that makes things more difficult is that I know that people will like the material I already have, but I'm already very familiar with it, and it is the only measuring stick that I have with which to gauge my new jokes.
See what my problem is? To me, a fresh joke is more appealing than an old one even if it's not quite as clever. I want to just completely re-do my routine for open mics, but since I have something that works, I'm a bit worried about failure. It's not something insurmountable; I will fail if I have to--I was prepared to fail at the get-go, and it is not something that I have ruled out of future performances. There are different crowds in different places, and some of them may downright loathe what I have to bring. This is something that will always hang over me.
I don't want to fail, though. In baseball when I was a kid, I hated striking out after I'd hit a homerun. In swimming, I hated losing to someone that I had previous out-raced, or, conversely, getting a slower time than I had in the past. I would insist on mentioning how good I was at a video game if my best friend would comment on how good someone else was at it without recognizing how good I was. For christs-sake, sex is a competition to me.
I'm competitive to a fault, even with myself. I'm competitive even when I don't care about the competition. I can force myself to stop being competitive at times, but at the end of the day, I'll wonder if I "won" at whatever I was doing.
This, I think, is going to make me a much better comedian. I will always want to be funnier than the others, and I will always want to outdo myself. I won't be able to "Ron White"-it, and just use the same routine over and over and over until I die, alone, of cirrhosis. No offense to Ron White; he is the only one of the Blue Collar comedy tour whose bit I actually like.
I'm digressing. Key points:
-I don't want to fall into a repetitive routine.
-I want to constantly explore my options.
-I am unnaturally competitive and this could be a help or hindrance.
-I like freshness, but I'm afraid of it.
-I really, really, really want to succeed.
The bottom point will likely override any other. I'll do what I have to in order to make my routine amazing. I'll fail over and over again as long as I ultimately succeed.
Something reassuring to me when I was thinking about entering stand-up was that I could come up with a solid set and just use and reuse it until I could interject more stuff. This reassurance is actually becoming something of a hindrance. Because while I realize I need to stick with what works, I also want to constantly be mixing it up. I write a new joke more or less every day, or at least generate the concept for a new joke, and I'm concerned that I won't be able to keep living up to previous sets.
The solution to this problem is of course to just do open mics and risk failure every now and then, but at the same time be allowed to try new material where, ultimately, there is no real consequence. The quagmire, here, is that I've already managed some measure of success. I'm in touch with a promotor, and he already has me on his "list" so to speak, for comics that he would allow to participate at his shows. This is huge for me, having only done one open mic.
What this has created isn't a situation where I want to drift off the small victory I've had, but rather a personal pressure on myself to do even better than before. Before I had validation that my bit worked, I already was very rough on myself in regard to what I considered good material. And something that makes things more difficult is that I know that people will like the material I already have, but I'm already very familiar with it, and it is the only measuring stick that I have with which to gauge my new jokes.
See what my problem is? To me, a fresh joke is more appealing than an old one even if it's not quite as clever. I want to just completely re-do my routine for open mics, but since I have something that works, I'm a bit worried about failure. It's not something insurmountable; I will fail if I have to--I was prepared to fail at the get-go, and it is not something that I have ruled out of future performances. There are different crowds in different places, and some of them may downright loathe what I have to bring. This is something that will always hang over me.
I don't want to fail, though. In baseball when I was a kid, I hated striking out after I'd hit a homerun. In swimming, I hated losing to someone that I had previous out-raced, or, conversely, getting a slower time than I had in the past. I would insist on mentioning how good I was at a video game if my best friend would comment on how good someone else was at it without recognizing how good I was. For christs-sake, sex is a competition to me.
I'm competitive to a fault, even with myself. I'm competitive even when I don't care about the competition. I can force myself to stop being competitive at times, but at the end of the day, I'll wonder if I "won" at whatever I was doing.
This, I think, is going to make me a much better comedian. I will always want to be funnier than the others, and I will always want to outdo myself. I won't be able to "Ron White"-it, and just use the same routine over and over and over until I die, alone, of cirrhosis. No offense to Ron White; he is the only one of the Blue Collar comedy tour whose bit I actually like.
I'm digressing. Key points:
-I don't want to fall into a repetitive routine.
-I want to constantly explore my options.
-I am unnaturally competitive and this could be a help or hindrance.
-I like freshness, but I'm afraid of it.
-I really, really, really want to succeed.
The bottom point will likely override any other. I'll do what I have to in order to make my routine amazing. I'll fail over and over again as long as I ultimately succeed.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
UFC
Something happened to me recently, on a date: I went to the bathroom to piss out some alcohol, and I got to watch UFC on a flatscreen as I peed. As I watched , I began to feel only-slightly more gay than I currently was.
Listening to the announcer on UFC was as if a gay porn was being read aloud to me: "what he is trying to do is put his opponent in a position where he has no power. Where he can pound on him until he submits."
And the entire time I was thinking "makes sense."
Taken out of context, however...here is a man, watching two other men attempt to make one another submit, while he pees.
Thia entire story is such a lie: I wasn't on a date I was playing old school super nintendo. But the more drunk I became the more attractive that slot looked.
Listening to the announcer on UFC was as if a gay porn was being read aloud to me: "what he is trying to do is put his opponent in a position where he has no power. Where he can pound on him until he submits."
And the entire time I was thinking "makes sense."
Taken out of context, however...here is a man, watching two other men attempt to make one another submit, while he pees.
Thia entire story is such a lie: I wasn't on a date I was playing old school super nintendo. But the more drunk I became the more attractive that slot looked.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Sept. 16th
I will be appearing at Illusions Magic Bar and Lounge on Sept. 16th along with five other comedians, a feature act, and a headliner. Dave Shofer is the agent behind the clown, but he does not own the bar. He filled me in on the situation and how I may not make pay this time, since only the feature and the headliner typically make money--this fits with what I've read, as does what he said regarding it: "the fact that you're participating in a show that isn't open mic after your first show is extremely rare as it is."
He claimed that when he hires a comedian that person does an audition show before being allowed into a showroom. Again, that meshes with what I have heard.
I'm looking forward to it, but I feel like I need to improve my whole routine a bit, still. I plan to hit at least three open mics before this if I can.
He claimed that when he hires a comedian that person does an audition show before being allowed into a showroom. Again, that meshes with what I have heard.
I'm looking forward to it, but I feel like I need to improve my whole routine a bit, still. I plan to hit at least three open mics before this if I can.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Set rearrangin'
I like the suggested altering of the "dreams come true" line. I feel that it would mesh with other jokes a whole lot better if it came after the facebook bit.
Mainly because then I can reference my previous jokes later in the bit. Which. for whatever reason. seems to own at comedy shows.
--------------------
Here is a good example of why I'm not good in relationships: I was recently dumped, and...
I knew we were on our way out. She started to tell me about her dreams, which is the first sign that we were running out of things to talk about.
I think the worst dream she had was one where I murdered her. Murdered her! That's ridiculous!...I asked her if she called me a pussy on facebook in the dream, because that makes it slightly more believable.
No, she hadn't. Her subconscious was telling her that I was bad for her life, though. So I thought, "Matt C. you have to do something, quick." and came up with one of the best romantic lines I could and layed it on thick:
"Baby, I have the power to make all your wildest dreams come true."
I realized, instantly, that I should have thought that one out a little bit better.
/maybe
So the next day I had a dream that she broke up with me in a Wal-Mart. The entire time she kept telling me: "this isn't a dream, this isn't a dream--I really am breaking up with you."
I'm a pretty lucid dreamer, though--I know when a dream is a dream. Certain things give it away. So I said to her: "heh, oh yeah? Then explain why I'm not wearing pants!"
/maybe
Mainly because then I can reference my previous jokes later in the bit. Which. for whatever reason. seems to own at comedy shows.
--------------------
Here is a good example of why I'm not good in relationships: I was recently dumped, and...
I knew we were on our way out. She started to tell me about her dreams, which is the first sign that we were running out of things to talk about.
I think the worst dream she had was one where I murdered her. Murdered her! That's ridiculous!...I asked her if she called me a pussy on facebook in the dream, because that makes it slightly more believable.
No, she hadn't. Her subconscious was telling her that I was bad for her life, though. So I thought, "Matt C. you have to do something, quick." and came up with one of the best romantic lines I could and layed it on thick:
"Baby, I have the power to make all your wildest dreams come true."
I realized, instantly, that I should have thought that one out a little bit better.
/maybe
So the next day I had a dream that she broke up with me in a Wal-Mart. The entire time she kept telling me: "this isn't a dream, this isn't a dream--I really am breaking up with you."
I'm a pretty lucid dreamer, though--I know when a dream is a dream. Certain things give it away. So I said to her: "heh, oh yeah? Then explain why I'm not wearing pants!"
/maybe
Thursday, August 12, 2010
I am talking!
Most of my close friends are pretty cool about me doing stand up. All one of him.
Occasionally, however, I'll let one of the sorta-friends know, and I'll get this: "Oh yeah, you're doing stand-up? Well make me laugh." And like, I don't think that is really a fair demand.
You know? If one of my friends said: "I'm getting into the adult film industry," my first reaction would not be to say: "Oh yeah? Well lick my butthole."
Occasionally, however, I'll let one of the sorta-friends know, and I'll get this: "Oh yeah, you're doing stand-up? Well make me laugh." And like, I don't think that is really a fair demand.
You know? If one of my friends said: "I'm getting into the adult film industry," my first reaction would not be to say: "Oh yeah? Well lick my butthole."
I have low prices!
How many of you have ever worked in customer service of any kind? Ever deal with that one dogshit customer that just ruined your day?
Cool thank you for answering.
I'd like to talk about dick-sucking hypotheticals, now.
Inevitably this will lead to one guy asking all other guys: "Ok dude, so how much would it cost for you to suck another dude's dick?" All guys are repulsed, and always say something like: "oh bro not even if I could fuck a mountain made of bitches, afterward" or some nonsense. Because if they say "yes," then they'll be ridiculed for being gay.
Unless there was like a gay "sleeper agent" in the game where you say "a dick," and he asks: "well I dunno, whose dick are we sucking about, here?"
I wonder if gay guys ever sit around and have this conversation. Not regular, reasonable gay guys, I mean like the dude-brah equivalent of gay guys. Lets just call them turbo-gays. All like: "Listen up bitch, how much would it cost for you to lick some vagina?" All the gay guys are repulsed and respond with similar hypotheticals and feigned outrage: "oh my goodness that is filthy. I would never stoop that low, even if the vagina were attached to Orlando Bloom's glittering nut-sack."
What if someone threw something into that game and said: "How much would someone have to pay you to go to an awful place where everything you do makes you miserable, all the people are terrible, and anyone else that visits is allowed to treat you like shit for no reason. You have to act like you enjoy it. Every. Damn. Day."
For me, the price is about 11.50 an hour.
Never before retail or food service has a person ever been able to be so ignorant, so belligerent, and go so unpunished for it.
That shit would not go unpunished in a group of friends. If some dude is being a stupid dickhead in a conversation, his friends will shut him down. If some girl is an unreasonable bitch, we are at liberty to let her know.
In retail or food service, your sales clerks and wait-staff can't do that.
In retail or food service, your sales clerks and wait-staff can't do that.
I guess what I'm saying here is that whenever you're in these situations, remember that you may be that customer who is a dick which customer service people have to reluctantly suck. Those of us that ring up your purchases are not getting our dream homes for deep-throating your complains and taking your bullshit in the face.
So be gentle, finish quick, and tip your waitress really well.
So be gentle, finish quick, and tip your waitress really well.
Thank you.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Sometimes I *am* a pussy
I removed bandages from my hands to work out, today. My gym instructors suggested that I rub powdered chalk into my wounds to dry them out for the work out. I did and it hurt!
I couldn't get any bandages to stay on my hands following last nights pull-up wounds, so I tried this stuff called "New Skin" by band-aid. It's a spray. I don't like spraying my open wounds with things, but this stuff did not say anything along the lines of: "this will be mildly uncomfortable," so I thought "the hell with it, I'll just lay it on there!" It hurt so bad. It felt like I'd just sprayed acid on my hand and it was trying to eat through.
I was bouncing around in front of CVS like a huge baby while this shit worked its way into my blisters. My friend Amy helplessly watched and did a sort of laugh/empathetic-cringe hybrid. To my credit I did not cry.
This isn't a bit it is just me being me.
The cool thing about this stuff is that after it stops burning a hole in your cut, it feels great. It forms a film over the cut itself, and smells like bubble gum. The difficult part was spraying it on the other hand's cut now that I knew how it felt. The other one isn't as deep, though, so it wasn't as bad.
I couldn't get any bandages to stay on my hands following last nights pull-up wounds, so I tried this stuff called "New Skin" by band-aid. It's a spray. I don't like spraying my open wounds with things, but this stuff did not say anything along the lines of: "this will be mildly uncomfortable," so I thought "the hell with it, I'll just lay it on there!" It hurt so bad. It felt like I'd just sprayed acid on my hand and it was trying to eat through.
I was bouncing around in front of CVS like a huge baby while this shit worked its way into my blisters. My friend Amy helplessly watched and did a sort of laugh/empathetic-cringe hybrid. To my credit I did not cry.
This isn't a bit it is just me being me.
The cool thing about this stuff is that after it stops burning a hole in your cut, it feels great. It forms a film over the cut itself, and smells like bubble gum. The difficult part was spraying it on the other hand's cut now that I knew how it felt. The other one isn't as deep, though, so it wasn't as bad.
Relationships, take two!
[Following the "I've been dumped." Just some spit-balling.]
I believe her. The alternative is that I have to take some kind of responsibility for my own personal life.
She softened the blow with the most comforting thing someone can tell someone else when it is over: "its not you, it's me." You know how I knew that was a line and not the truth? You should, you've been listening to me talk for a little over a minute, now. (alt joke: gesture at self and say nothing)
That's only slightly more comforting than saying "no you didn't do anything wrong, I'm just not attracted to you."
It doesn't matter what the situation is, both sexes use lines. Some girl could be dating a guy that still wears propeller hats, dropped out of middle school, drools on her during intimacy, and smells like a cat's lemony asshole, and she would still say it. (Easily modified to be family safe)
You probably think "why would she date such a goon in the first place?" Stay on topic.
It's not that one gender uses a certain line more, either; both genders are equally guilty. And when I was listening to her tell me that "it's not you, it's me," I felt like it was a word scramble, and I had to use an answer-key to figure it out.
"Ok so if she says: 'I need some time to sort out my feelings.' And the decoder says that all 'e's are 'a's, verbs are nouns, and that every first consonant is two letters back in the alphabet, what she really means is 'I want to bone the trainer at the gym more than I want to bone you.'"
People don't like to deal with pretense like that! It's like dating The Riddler from Batman! Holy shit it must be impossible to know why he would break up with you. By the time you figure it out he's already moved on and robbed a bank. I couldn't think of a sexual analogy for this statement, but believe me: I tried.
Edit: I'm still unhappy with this bit. I just don't think I'm approaching it from the right angle. Either that or I sound too bitter for it to be tongue and cheek. I can't figure which, but my plan is to just rewrite it over and over with different approaches until I figure it out.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Hi it is me: Caron
The Crossfit that I did today has completely torn the skin off my palm. I already cleaned the wounds and applied bandages. It still stings whenever I make a fist, and I don't think that I'm going to be doing anymore pull-ups for a while. That isn't the quagmire, however:
Now I can't jerk off!
I can't undo the bandages, because then everything I touch will hurt. Even when air hits these blisters it hurts. But I also can't leave them on, because then it will be like taking sand paper to my dong.
What a cruel world. Doesn't God know that I have nothing to offer a woman and that this is my nightly refuge? I am positive that Santa Clause knows. Maybe him and God should ease up on ol' Matt C. or stop being voyeurs.
In lieu of doing some tearful jerking off I'm going to update this with some potential jokes, instead. Something that I realized about the relationships bit that I did at Magoobys was that it was actually my "weak" bit. In that it didn't get as many laughs.
Laughs aren't always indicative of enjoyment, but its the best I've got to go with now. To me, at least, the "dreams come true" and "girlfriend had a dream about dumping me" seemed the most contrived of my bits. Mainly because they were the least true. Everything else I wrote about, with minor exceptions, was true.
The girlfriend part was some lies. I was told by her that she had a dream that she cheated on me, but it was in the form of a text, and it was after I told her the same thing, first. The "wildest dreams come true" is a bit witty, but only in conversation. The whole "so I said this" isn't really funny to me, and I think I could do better in my bits. So effective immediately I'm scrapping that bit, and going to come up with another one.
Now I can't jerk off!
I can't undo the bandages, because then everything I touch will hurt. Even when air hits these blisters it hurts. But I also can't leave them on, because then it will be like taking sand paper to my dong.
What a cruel world. Doesn't God know that I have nothing to offer a woman and that this is my nightly refuge? I am positive that Santa Clause knows. Maybe him and God should ease up on ol' Matt C. or stop being voyeurs.
In lieu of doing some tearful jerking off I'm going to update this with some potential jokes, instead. Something that I realized about the relationships bit that I did at Magoobys was that it was actually my "weak" bit. In that it didn't get as many laughs.
Laughs aren't always indicative of enjoyment, but its the best I've got to go with now. To me, at least, the "dreams come true" and "girlfriend had a dream about dumping me" seemed the most contrived of my bits. Mainly because they were the least true. Everything else I wrote about, with minor exceptions, was true.
The girlfriend part was some lies. I was told by her that she had a dream that she cheated on me, but it was in the form of a text, and it was after I told her the same thing, first. The "wildest dreams come true" is a bit witty, but only in conversation. The whole "so I said this" isn't really funny to me, and I think I could do better in my bits. So effective immediately I'm scrapping that bit, and going to come up with another one.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Lets talk about my boners
I don't like having responsibility--bills, job, sensitivity. I really miss the days when there was so much less to worry about. Like when my biggest concern was whether or not I'd get a boner in high school math class.
I still remember the day my boner snuck up on me in Algebra 2. We were discussing mathy-stuff that I didn't understand, the bell rang, I stood up, excited to get to lunch and: "bonk." The desk shudders, heads turn, and a single tear rolls down my cheek.
Lets not kid ourselves, guys: that is something we have all had to deal with. I cannot tell you the number of times I'd be sitting in class, the topic of discussion is decidedly-not-sexual, and my boner thinks: "now is the time."
I'm sure some of you are getting boners right this instant and you're, hopefully, completely oblivious as to why.
Getting called on to solve a problem on the board is the WORST in this sort of situation, because then you have to hold your book over your groin when you walk up to the front of the room, and try to pretend that you always hold books that way.
And how do you get a boner like that down? Usually men can think of something non-sexual and get our inconvenient hard-ons to retreat...but what the hell is less sexual than Algebra 2? There is nothing less sexy than that! Thinking about history is more sexy than thinking about math; at least there are people in history. Granted Elizabeth the Great wasn't a choice peace of ass, but at least she had boobs.
I would get truly stumped. "Maybe I could think about a less-sexy equation," I would reason, but then I'd realize, "no no no that is just validating the fact that my boner is here!"
I came up with a term for when your boner takes over and acts against all reason: "Hulking." We've all seen The Incredible Hulk, right? Bruce Banner would say: "you wouldn't like me when I'm angry" and then he would unintentionally turn into the Hulk and do things he was later embarrassed about and could not stop doing by thinking of other stuff that would ordinarily calm down my erections.
"Hulk" is of course a relative term. In my case it isn't necessarily the "Incredible" Hulk so much as the "not-bad-for-a-white-guy" Hulk.
I still remember the day my boner snuck up on me in Algebra 2. We were discussing mathy-stuff that I didn't understand, the bell rang, I stood up, excited to get to lunch and: "bonk." The desk shudders, heads turn, and a single tear rolls down my cheek.
Lets not kid ourselves, guys: that is something we have all had to deal with. I cannot tell you the number of times I'd be sitting in class, the topic of discussion is decidedly-not-sexual, and my boner thinks: "now is the time."
I'm sure some of you are getting boners right this instant and you're, hopefully, completely oblivious as to why.
Getting called on to solve a problem on the board is the WORST in this sort of situation, because then you have to hold your book over your groin when you walk up to the front of the room, and try to pretend that you always hold books that way.
And how do you get a boner like that down? Usually men can think of something non-sexual and get our inconvenient hard-ons to retreat...but what the hell is less sexual than Algebra 2? There is nothing less sexy than that! Thinking about history is more sexy than thinking about math; at least there are people in history. Granted Elizabeth the Great wasn't a choice peace of ass, but at least she had boobs.
I would get truly stumped. "Maybe I could think about a less-sexy equation," I would reason, but then I'd realize, "no no no that is just validating the fact that my boner is here!"
I came up with a term for when your boner takes over and acts against all reason: "Hulking." We've all seen The Incredible Hulk, right? Bruce Banner would say: "you wouldn't like me when I'm angry" and then he would unintentionally turn into the Hulk and do things he was later embarrassed about and could not stop doing by thinking of other stuff that would ordinarily calm down my erections.
"Hulk" is of course a relative term. In my case it isn't necessarily the "Incredible" Hulk so much as the "not-bad-for-a-white-guy" Hulk.
Next Competition
I've been invited to compete at the Baltimore Comedy Factory's open mic competition. This is slightly more serious than Magooby's, since it is to determine future weekend show performers. The winners will get paid appearances on weekend shows.
There are more rules, as well. This is not a "bringer" show, the amount of people that show up does not determine your minutes on stage; that is capped at five minutes. Time limits are strictly enforced, and going over them results in point deduction. They recommended bringing people to vote for and cheer for you at the show, but did not require it.
Its awfully soon following the first show, but I think I'm going to sign up regardless. I need to trim down my good stuff. The show would be on Sept. 1st. As always I'm going to try to generate new material every week, but I really need to pick and choose carefully. So I'll be counting on feedback from you all to tell me when I'm not being funny!
There are more rules, as well. This is not a "bringer" show, the amount of people that show up does not determine your minutes on stage; that is capped at five minutes. Time limits are strictly enforced, and going over them results in point deduction. They recommended bringing people to vote for and cheer for you at the show, but did not require it.
Its awfully soon following the first show, but I think I'm going to sign up regardless. I need to trim down my good stuff. The show would be on Sept. 1st. As always I'm going to try to generate new material every week, but I really need to pick and choose carefully. So I'll be counting on feedback from you all to tell me when I'm not being funny!
The LOL IRL
I think I could do something with how people say "lol" in phone conversations when they don't know what else to say to a person's last text, and how awkward that would be if it were used to carry on an otherwise boring or dead conversation.
Like someone tells you "my mother just died in a tragic garbage truck accident." You wouldn't know what to say to that. You'd say, "I'm sorry," by default, but you wouldn't really know what else to get across. So they'd respond, "she lived a full life." Rather than silence, you could start busting out laughing.
Like someone tells you "my mother just died in a tragic garbage truck accident." You wouldn't know what to say to that. You'd say, "I'm sorry," by default, but you wouldn't really know what else to get across. So they'd respond, "she lived a full life." Rather than silence, you could start busting out laughing.
Monday, August 2, 2010
I plan to market this vid as pornography to girls with hilarious fetishes
This is my first stand-up performance in a comedy club. I'd welcome any criticisms that you all have on timing, wording, pacing, voice, etc. The voice I used, I planned. It was a shaky version of my normal voice in order to endear myself to the audience. I really wanted my act to come across as a conversation not just me standing onstage ranting.
Anyway!
Let me tell you about 7/29/2010
For those of you following this blog and my "career" in general, you'd know that 7/29 was a big day for me. It was my first appearance at an actual comedy club, and it was in an open mic competition. Now, I would have been really happy to just do my routine and get laughs. Things went much better for me; I took second place of all the comedians there, and many thought I should have taken first, most especially the audience member who stood up and yelled "that's fuckin' BULLSHIT" after the decision had been made.
After I did my set I was offered work by a showroom owner at Magooby's. All in all, a very successful night. Now to get critical...
What worked:
-Stuff about being dumped
-Taking any possible opportunity to interact with audience. Meet hecklers without attacking back. Best defense against a heckler is to turn their interruption into a joke that does not focus on them.
-Facebook jokes owned here, the audience loved them. The "I wouldn't have a dad" line needs to follow several examples of what would happen had I stabbed my bullies, because while not initially intended to be the big punchline of the joke, it was.
-Stuff about kids worked well.
-Always play off other comics, and always reference the past. It makes the audience feel a part of the act and helped in all kinds of ways.
What didn't work:
-Dad calling me fat thing was unnecessary. People laughed but not as much as expected.
-When interacting with audience, get one laugh and move on. Its great to joke with an audience member, but keep it brief.
-Need to be more aware of posture and direction I look. Oftentimes there was "energy" more in one direction than another. I need to learn to focus on the laughter.
-Fix timing on "punch in the dick" joke. It was good, but it could be better; something is missing.
After I did my set I was offered work by a showroom owner at Magooby's. All in all, a very successful night. Now to get critical...
What worked:
-Stuff about being dumped
-Taking any possible opportunity to interact with audience. Meet hecklers without attacking back. Best defense against a heckler is to turn their interruption into a joke that does not focus on them.
-Facebook jokes owned here, the audience loved them. The "I wouldn't have a dad" line needs to follow several examples of what would happen had I stabbed my bullies, because while not initially intended to be the big punchline of the joke, it was.
-Stuff about kids worked well.
-Always play off other comics, and always reference the past. It makes the audience feel a part of the act and helped in all kinds of ways.
What didn't work:
-Dad calling me fat thing was unnecessary. People laughed but not as much as expected.
-When interacting with audience, get one laugh and move on. Its great to joke with an audience member, but keep it brief.
-Need to be more aware of posture and direction I look. Oftentimes there was "energy" more in one direction than another. I need to learn to focus on the laughter.
-Fix timing on "punch in the dick" joke. It was good, but it could be better; something is missing.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
"For Women of Color"
My mom is a bit slow, that is where I get it from.
She told me recently: "I colored my hair, so I had to get some shampoo that would work for the sort of coloring I had done. I saw this shampoo that said 'for women of color' so I assumed that it would work for me. Turns out that is not what the bottle meant."
...
She told me it had a black lady on it, as well.
The process for discovering this wasn't the right shampoo went something like this: "Oh, for women of color. Well, I DID color my hair, that is probably what they mean. Oh, a black lady on a 'for women of color' bottle--I could be black, right?" Then when she gets in the shower and begins applying the shampoo, she thinks, "w-wait a second, I suddenly feel loud and sassy..."
After the shower when the family is watching a movie during dinner, she won't shut up.
I'm always afraid of this sort of thing happening, that is why I only use shampoo labelled "for men not-of-color." Every time I use it my ability to dance gets worse and worse, and I like Fox News more and more.
She told me recently: "I colored my hair, so I had to get some shampoo that would work for the sort of coloring I had done. I saw this shampoo that said 'for women of color' so I assumed that it would work for me. Turns out that is not what the bottle meant."
...
She told me it had a black lady on it, as well.
The process for discovering this wasn't the right shampoo went something like this: "Oh, for women of color. Well, I DID color my hair, that is probably what they mean. Oh, a black lady on a 'for women of color' bottle--I could be black, right?" Then when she gets in the shower and begins applying the shampoo, she thinks, "w-wait a second, I suddenly feel loud and sassy..."
After the shower when the family is watching a movie during dinner, she won't shut up.
I'm always afraid of this sort of thing happening, that is why I only use shampoo labelled "for men not-of-color." Every time I use it my ability to dance gets worse and worse, and I like Fox News more and more.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Dont Mind Dis Post
Cars
-----------
I recently splurged and purchased my first brand new car. Oh, man, I never knew what I was missing! The ability to stop when you want and open your doors from the inside used to be a luxury to this guy, right here.
My first car was a 1992 Ford Aerostar van. It was brown and the alignment was completely off. Just picture a giant turd on wheels with no brakes and you've got it.
Let me tell you something about the ladies and the 1992 Ford Aerostar van: If there is one thing women absolutely LOVE, it is...to reject men that drive around in 1992 Ford Aerostar vans. Nevermind that even now, at 24, I look like I'm 12. Back then, if I hit on girls after I cruised up in this thing, they wouldn't know if they should reject me, offended, or ask where my parents were, confused.
One big perk to the Ford Aerostar van is that a police officer would never pull me over for speeding.
Me getting a ticket in that thing was just about as probable as Lady Gaga rappelling through your bedroom window in the middle of the night to offer you some fresh-fried chicken strips.
This thing had a difficult time getting up to 40, nevermind breaking the speed limit at 65. If the officer saw me blow by at 80 in the 1992 Ford Aerostar van, he would probably think for a second "wait...hold on...did I just see a 1992 Ford Aerostar van...moving forward?" He'd check again, to make sure that he isn't going nuts, and then just sit there, and convince himself he MUST be mistaken.
-----------
Fat (Kind of) + Kids
-----------
The Aerostar van made sense on some levels. I grew up a fat kid, so it was nice to have all that extra space.
I didn't grow up fat because I had a slow metabolism, which is the popular excuse, I grew up fat because I would eat gross crap. For example: [skittle soup]
Kids are a lot more forgiving than adults are. The crap we used to get away with doing to our friends as kids, and still keep them as friends, would never fly as adults. For example I punched my best friend in the balls when I was in 4th grade. We still talk.
If I punched my friend Jessi in the balls, SHE and I would totally not be friends anymore!
As kids we don't read anything into actions, we just accept it. We didn't waste our time getting pissed about "could be"s. If I don't reply to a text from some girl, she will get all worked up making assumptions like I'm mad at her, or ignoring her, and get all indignant. You know what she'd do if we were kids? Get distracted by Nickelodeon and instantly forget. It would be AWESOME if that worked on women at my age. "Well yes I know that I forgot your birthday but hey look Ninja Turtles is on!"
-----------
Ghost Adventures (Short)
-----------
Speaking of shows that make people dumber: I recently saw something that I just HAVE to share with you all. A show called Ghost Adventures. Now, for those of you not familiar with the show, it is a solid 30 minutes of absolutely nothing.
It follows "Ghost Expert" Zak Bagans and his two frat brothers around, as they video tape chairs in the dark, and claim that they are ghosts. That being the case, my house is full of ghosts every night.
You can tell that Zak is a true Ghost Expert. I knew after the first thing that I heard him say on the show:
"You have to understand, when you're dealing with ghosts, you're dealing with people who were once alive."
~Zak Bagans, ghost expert.
It makes sense to me. Hell I've seen the movie "Ghost" starring Patrick Swayze. The most authoritative Ghost-documentary to date. And Zak has a Bachelors degree in "Ghostology," granted the University of Michigan labeled it a "Film" degree, but don't focus on that! Just like how I have a degree in "Werewolf Hunting" but my college calls it "English."
It's cool that re-stating what something is in a different way is all it takes to be considered an expert though. Which I'm cool with, because I've always considered myself an expert in every subject matter.
"What? You don't think I'm an expert on women? Well, sir, what you have to understand, when you're dealing with women, you're dealing with creatures that never give me their phone numbers."
-----------
I recently splurged and purchased my first brand new car. Oh, man, I never knew what I was missing! The ability to stop when you want and open your doors from the inside used to be a luxury to this guy, right here.
My first car was a 1992 Ford Aerostar van. It was brown and the alignment was completely off. Just picture a giant turd on wheels with no brakes and you've got it.
Let me tell you something about the ladies and the 1992 Ford Aerostar van: If there is one thing women absolutely LOVE, it is...to reject men that drive around in 1992 Ford Aerostar vans. Nevermind that even now, at 24, I look like I'm 12. Back then, if I hit on girls after I cruised up in this thing, they wouldn't know if they should reject me, offended, or ask where my parents were, confused.
One big perk to the Ford Aerostar van is that a police officer would never pull me over for speeding.
Me getting a ticket in that thing was just about as probable as Lady Gaga rappelling through your bedroom window in the middle of the night to offer you some fresh-fried chicken strips.
This thing had a difficult time getting up to 40, nevermind breaking the speed limit at 65. If the officer saw me blow by at 80 in the 1992 Ford Aerostar van, he would probably think for a second "wait...hold on...did I just see a 1992 Ford Aerostar van...moving forward?" He'd check again, to make sure that he isn't going nuts, and then just sit there, and convince himself he MUST be mistaken.
-----------
Fat (Kind of) + Kids
-----------
The Aerostar van made sense on some levels. I grew up a fat kid, so it was nice to have all that extra space.
I didn't grow up fat because I had a slow metabolism, which is the popular excuse, I grew up fat because I would eat gross crap. For example: [skittle soup]
Kids are a lot more forgiving than adults are. The crap we used to get away with doing to our friends as kids, and still keep them as friends, would never fly as adults. For example I punched my best friend in the balls when I was in 4th grade. We still talk.
If I punched my friend Jessi in the balls, SHE and I would totally not be friends anymore!
As kids we don't read anything into actions, we just accept it. We didn't waste our time getting pissed about "could be"s. If I don't reply to a text from some girl, she will get all worked up making assumptions like I'm mad at her, or ignoring her, and get all indignant. You know what she'd do if we were kids? Get distracted by Nickelodeon and instantly forget. It would be AWESOME if that worked on women at my age. "Well yes I know that I forgot your birthday but hey look Ninja Turtles is on!"
-----------
Ghost Adventures (Short)
-----------
Speaking of shows that make people dumber: I recently saw something that I just HAVE to share with you all. A show called Ghost Adventures. Now, for those of you not familiar with the show, it is a solid 30 minutes of absolutely nothing.
It follows "Ghost Expert" Zak Bagans and his two frat brothers around, as they video tape chairs in the dark, and claim that they are ghosts. That being the case, my house is full of ghosts every night.
You can tell that Zak is a true Ghost Expert. I knew after the first thing that I heard him say on the show:
"You have to understand, when you're dealing with ghosts, you're dealing with people who were once alive."
~Zak Bagans, ghost expert.
It makes sense to me. Hell I've seen the movie "Ghost" starring Patrick Swayze. The most authoritative Ghost-documentary to date. And Zak has a Bachelors degree in "Ghostology," granted the University of Michigan labeled it a "Film" degree, but don't focus on that! Just like how I have a degree in "Werewolf Hunting" but my college calls it "English."
It's cool that re-stating what something is in a different way is all it takes to be considered an expert though. Which I'm cool with, because I've always considered myself an expert in every subject matter.
"What? You don't think I'm an expert on women? Well, sir, what you have to understand, when you're dealing with women, you're dealing with creatures that never give me their phone numbers."
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
This is me being funny
That "this is not me being funny" was apparently kind of funny. It is too long, though. I need to trim it down, and so I'm going to try that, now. Let me know if there is anything that can be cut without detracting from the story.
The point of this post is to identify the parts of the story that actually pertain to what happened in a way that effects the story's comedic effect. For example: does it set up a joke, is it necessary explanation for a later joke, etc.
---------------
The term "open mic" implies that there is a mic which is open for those who would dare to use it, right?.
When I speak to the organizing comedian of an open mic in Arlington, he claimed "well actually this is not a place beginners can come. This is for local comics trying to work in the area. Its not so much an open mic as it is a comedy showcase." I could have said "well you see I'm an MD resident trying to work as a comic," but I didn't. Anyway, semantics aside: it is called an OPEN MIC. If it is a comedy showcase then call it "Saturday Night Comedy Showcase" not "Saturday Night Open Mic."
If I were running a confession booth, I would not call it a peep show for kicks. Because then some jackass like me would show up expecting to see some chick fuck herself in the booth next to me, and instead I'd have some priest like "yeah well it is less of a peep show and more of a place where local men can come to offload their shame."
I listened and pretended to be understanding while this frosted chode told me that I had no chance of going on stage. I asked him: "So is there like a 5% chance that I'll be able to go up on stage?" And he said: "well actually it is 0% because of time constraints and blah blah blah." So I reluctantly resign myself to not being funny that night, and just start drinking.
As I'm getting up to leave, that same head guy comes over to me and says "ok so we are going to put you on after the next two guys and we are giving you about three minutes so just do the choice parts of whatever you have prepared."
WHAT THE FUCK?!
I'd been drinking for the last hour and a half, which is something an unestablished comic should not do, but I did, because I was told there was a 0% chance that I'd go on stage. Having this dickhead tell me "ok you're going on in 10 minutes and you only have three on stage, be sure to condense it" (paraphrase) would be like me going swimming in a freezing cold lake, only to have Olivia Wilde stroll up and say, "so hey I'm waiting for my husband to finish taking a shit, can you fuck me for like three minutes? Get ready really fast and make it worth my while."
Rather than putting me on, he puts on a guy who has been there the past two weeks and did the same material he did those past weeks.
I was so pissed that I got a "hate boner." It's the most ruthless kind of boner a man can have.
Its like a regular boner, only rather than blood filling your penis, it's full of spite and it cums malice. And the only thing that you'd feel right fucking with it is someone's skull. Particularly the goddamn host that jerked me around the entire night.
One of the wonderful acts that went on was a fat chick who claimed men like to cat call her constantly. The entire routine it took every shred of willpower I had to not jump up and yell "what a goddamn liar holy shit." That would be like me claiming that when I walk through ghettos black guys ask me to freestyle rap with them before we all go shoot some hoops together. All comics have their set-ups to their routines, but its somewhat believable. The only reason that a guy would call this chick is if she were wearing a yellow shirt and he mistook her for a taxi cab.
The point of this post is to identify the parts of the story that actually pertain to what happened in a way that effects the story's comedic effect. For example: does it set up a joke, is it necessary explanation for a later joke, etc.
---------------
The term "open mic" implies that there is a mic which is open for those who would dare to use it, right?.
When I speak to the organizing comedian of an open mic in Arlington, he claimed "well actually this is not a place beginners can come. This is for local comics trying to work in the area. Its not so much an open mic as it is a comedy showcase." I could have said "well you see I'm an MD resident trying to work as a comic," but I didn't. Anyway, semantics aside: it is called an OPEN MIC. If it is a comedy showcase then call it "Saturday Night Comedy Showcase" not "Saturday Night Open Mic."
If I were running a confession booth, I would not call it a peep show for kicks. Because then some jackass like me would show up expecting to see some chick fuck herself in the booth next to me, and instead I'd have some priest like "yeah well it is less of a peep show and more of a place where local men can come to offload their shame."
I listened and pretended to be understanding while this frosted chode told me that I had no chance of going on stage. I asked him: "So is there like a 5% chance that I'll be able to go up on stage?" And he said: "well actually it is 0% because of time constraints and blah blah blah." So I reluctantly resign myself to not being funny that night, and just start drinking.
As I'm getting up to leave, that same head guy comes over to me and says "ok so we are going to put you on after the next two guys and we are giving you about three minutes so just do the choice parts of whatever you have prepared."
WHAT THE FUCK?!
I'd been drinking for the last hour and a half, which is something an unestablished comic should not do, but I did, because I was told there was a 0% chance that I'd go on stage. Having this dickhead tell me "ok you're going on in 10 minutes and you only have three on stage, be sure to condense it" (paraphrase) would be like me going swimming in a freezing cold lake, only to have Olivia Wilde stroll up and say, "so hey I'm waiting for my husband to finish taking a shit, can you fuck me for like three minutes? Get ready really fast and make it worth my while."
Rather than putting me on, he puts on a guy who has been there the past two weeks and did the same material he did those past weeks.
I was so pissed that I got a "hate boner." It's the most ruthless kind of boner a man can have.
Its like a regular boner, only rather than blood filling your penis, it's full of spite and it cums malice. And the only thing that you'd feel right fucking with it is someone's skull. Particularly the goddamn host that jerked me around the entire night.
One of the wonderful acts that went on was a fat chick who claimed men like to cat call her constantly. The entire routine it took every shred of willpower I had to not jump up and yell "what a goddamn liar holy shit." That would be like me claiming that when I walk through ghettos black guys ask me to freestyle rap with them before we all go shoot some hoops together. All comics have their set-ups to their routines, but its somewhat believable. The only reason that a guy would call this chick is if she were wearing a yellow shirt and he mistook her for a taxi cab.
Monday, July 19, 2010
Lets have an "uncomfortable-off"
Potential bit
-----------------
Something that can completely ruin my grocery store experience is when I'm waiting in line at the pharmacy and the two people in front of me are rounding the bases with reckless abandon.
How do you react to that?! You can't tap him on the shoulder and say "hey dry off those fingers, buddy, this is neither the time nor the place." You can't pull her aside and say "you are a beautiful women, and you have to respect yourself...you slut." All you can do is stand there in line, eyes clamped shut like the ark of the covanent is waiting in line next to you.
What sort of household were these people raised in where they think it's fine to dry hump each other up and down my waiting line? Their parents couldn't have constantly done it while they were growing up. It wouldn't get them "used" to it, it would make them afraid of it.
If my parents constantly fondled each other infront of me in the living room for seventeen years I would never want to touch a woman again! I'd never want to touch a man again! I would never want, sexually, ever again!
And they're not even subtle about it. This isn't some guy brushing against her boob when no one is looking, this dude is raw! He is open-palm slapping her ass in the line while she giggles like a used-up whore. "Oh my God you are...so hot." And he smirks like an idiot all like "hu-hu, yeah baby dat ayass." Isn't this something people can get arrested for? You can't be drunk in public without the cops giving you a hard time, can't we bring in the long arm of the law here and tazer these motherfuckers?
Sometimes when I see this sort of crap I want to go up and do stuff to make them uncomfortable too, just to see which side gives up first:
-He kisses on her neck sensually, in public, and that makes me uncomfortable. So I slide up next to them and start idly scratching my balls while I stare.
-That guy starts to rub his girl's ass and comment on it, all "oh yeah girl, I love that ass." That sort of thing is not socially acceptable. So I start indiscriminately letting farts slip and then congratulating myself. "Oh yeah man, that fart smells like shit! Great job butthole." Also not socially acceptable.
-They begin pawing at each other and putting one anothers hands in each other's pockets. Everyone is looking at them just wishing that they'd stop, and asking themselves "do they have no shame?" In turn, I take of my shirt, start yelling at the top of my lungs, and start doing jumping jacks.
At the point where they ask me to stop...I win.
-----------------
Something that can completely ruin my grocery store experience is when I'm waiting in line at the pharmacy and the two people in front of me are rounding the bases with reckless abandon.
How do you react to that?! You can't tap him on the shoulder and say "hey dry off those fingers, buddy, this is neither the time nor the place." You can't pull her aside and say "you are a beautiful women, and you have to respect yourself...you slut." All you can do is stand there in line, eyes clamped shut like the ark of the covanent is waiting in line next to you.
What sort of household were these people raised in where they think it's fine to dry hump each other up and down my waiting line? Their parents couldn't have constantly done it while they were growing up. It wouldn't get them "used" to it, it would make them afraid of it.
If my parents constantly fondled each other infront of me in the living room for seventeen years I would never want to touch a woman again! I'd never want to touch a man again! I would never want, sexually, ever again!
And they're not even subtle about it. This isn't some guy brushing against her boob when no one is looking, this dude is raw! He is open-palm slapping her ass in the line while she giggles like a used-up whore. "Oh my God you are...so hot." And he smirks like an idiot all like "hu-hu, yeah baby dat ayass." Isn't this something people can get arrested for? You can't be drunk in public without the cops giving you a hard time, can't we bring in the long arm of the law here and tazer these motherfuckers?
Sometimes when I see this sort of crap I want to go up and do stuff to make them uncomfortable too, just to see which side gives up first:
-He kisses on her neck sensually, in public, and that makes me uncomfortable. So I slide up next to them and start idly scratching my balls while I stare.
-That guy starts to rub his girl's ass and comment on it, all "oh yeah girl, I love that ass." That sort of thing is not socially acceptable. So I start indiscriminately letting farts slip and then congratulating myself. "Oh yeah man, that fart smells like shit! Great job butthole." Also not socially acceptable.
-They begin pawing at each other and putting one anothers hands in each other's pockets. Everyone is looking at them just wishing that they'd stop, and asking themselves "do they have no shame?" In turn, I take of my shirt, start yelling at the top of my lungs, and start doing jumping jacks.
At the point where they ask me to stop...I win.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
This is not me being funny
I drove to Arlington Cinema and Draft House tonight under the impression that the open mic there is an opportunity for any comedian to stand up and try to be funny. Based on the previous two open mics I've gone to there, there did not seem to be any particularly stringent requirements in terms of how funny you have to be. To put it another way: lots of them suck, really, really bad. Never mind the fact that the term "open mic" implies that there is a mic which is open for those who would dare to use it.
So I show up 45 minutes early tonight to speak with the two guys that organize it, as per instruction I'd received from e-mailing the owner of the Draft House, and when I speak to the head guy (who is one of the two organizing comedians), he says "well actually this is not a place beginners can come. This is for local comics trying to work in the area. Its not so much an open mic as it is a comedy showcase." Semantics aside, I could have said "well you see I'm an MD resident trying to work as a comic," but I didn't. Anyway, semantics aside: it is called an OPEN MIC. If it is a comedy showcase then call it "Saturday Night Comedy Showcase" not "Saturday Night Open Mic."
If I were running a confession booth, I would not call it a peep show for kicks. Because then some jackass like me would show up expecting to see some chick fuck herself in the booth next to me, and instead I'd have some priest like "yeah well it is less of a peep show and more of a place where local men can come to offload their shame." That would be understandably disquieting!
I didn't want to step on any toes, so I listened and pretended to be understanding while this frosted chode told me that I had no chance of going on stage. I asked him: "So is there like a 5% chance that I'll be able to go up on stage?" And he said: "well actually it is 0% because of time constraints and blah blah blah." So I reluctantly resign myself to not being funny that night, and just start drinking.
I don't know if it was bitterness or the fact that most of the comics at that place fucking blow but I just couldn't seem to laugh at any of their jokes. So as I'm getting up to leave, that same head guy comes over to me and says "ok so we are going to put you on after the next two guys and we are giving you about three minutes so just do the choice parts of whatever you have prepared."
WHAT THE FUCK?!
I'd been drinking for the last hour and a half, which is something an unestablished comic should not do, but I did, because I was told there was a 0% chance that I'd go on stage. Having this dickhead tell me "ok you're going on in 10 minutes and you only have three on stage, be sure to condense it" (paraphrase) would be like me going swimming in a freezing cold lake, only to have Olivia Wilde stroll up and say, "so hey I'm waiting for my husband to finish taking a shit, can you fuck me for like three minutes? Get ready really fast and make it worth my while."
I've practiced my routine a lot. I have a terrific memory when I need it, and I knew what bits would work and which wouldn't. Basically in the time given to me, I came up with what I would say and what I wouldn't. I managed to mentally prepare myself for going on. But rather than putting me on, he puts on a guy who has been there the past two weeks and did the same material he did those past weeks. Afterward he came over and said "oh by the way sorry Lafayette came in last minute and wanted to try some stuff out, you know what its like, right?" At this point I was getting a bit snarky. I said: "actually, no, I do not know what it is like, since I have never been there."
I was so pissed.
I resigned myself to not going on, and was upset about it. Then I am told I'm going on, but given regulations. I plot a cognitive map to get around it, and modify my routine on the fly to accommodate last minute changes--this is not something I'm bragging about, but I don't think a lot of beginners could do it. Especially since the shitheads here have supposedly been doing this for years and still read prompts on notebooks that they hold on stage.
I got a "hate boner."
Its like a regular boner, only rather than blood filling your penis, it's full of spite and it cums malice. And the only thing that you'd feel right fucking with it is someone's skull. Particularly the goddamn host that jerked me around the entire night.
And why? To put on shitty comics that are a part of some Arlington comic-fraternity. One of the wonderful acts that went on tonight was a fat chick who claimed men like to cat call her constantly. The entire routine it took every shred of willpower I had to not jump up and yell "what a goddamn liar holy shit." That would be like me claiming that when I walk through ghettos black guys ask me to freestyle rap with them before we all go shoot some hoops together. All comics have their set-ups to their routines, but its somewhat believable. She could say something like "a lot of guys mistake me for a taxi when I wear yellow shirts," and I'd get it, but not that guys cat call her.
She said that people assume because she is fat that she is great at blowjobs and then said "yeah and it's because we take classes in high school haw haw." No, it is because you eat lots of hot dogs you fucking pig. With that much phallic experience how could you possibly be bad at sucking dicks? I wouldn't want her to suck my dick regardless; she looked like Danny DeVito for Christ's sake! If I wanted the Penguin from Batman to suck my dick, there are plenty of look-a-likes at a gay club, and the only thing I have to do to get a blowjob there is make myself available.
Abridged version: three hour round-trip to see shitty comedians do the same shitty jokes they've done for two weeks, was jerked around, didn't get to do stand-up, myself, and am angry about it.
Going to bed now. Fuck an Arlington.
So I show up 45 minutes early tonight to speak with the two guys that organize it, as per instruction I'd received from e-mailing the owner of the Draft House, and when I speak to the head guy (who is one of the two organizing comedians), he says "well actually this is not a place beginners can come. This is for local comics trying to work in the area. Its not so much an open mic as it is a comedy showcase." Semantics aside, I could have said "well you see I'm an MD resident trying to work as a comic," but I didn't. Anyway, semantics aside: it is called an OPEN MIC. If it is a comedy showcase then call it "Saturday Night Comedy Showcase" not "Saturday Night Open Mic."
If I were running a confession booth, I would not call it a peep show for kicks. Because then some jackass like me would show up expecting to see some chick fuck herself in the booth next to me, and instead I'd have some priest like "yeah well it is less of a peep show and more of a place where local men can come to offload their shame." That would be understandably disquieting!
I didn't want to step on any toes, so I listened and pretended to be understanding while this frosted chode told me that I had no chance of going on stage. I asked him: "So is there like a 5% chance that I'll be able to go up on stage?" And he said: "well actually it is 0% because of time constraints and blah blah blah." So I reluctantly resign myself to not being funny that night, and just start drinking.
I don't know if it was bitterness or the fact that most of the comics at that place fucking blow but I just couldn't seem to laugh at any of their jokes. So as I'm getting up to leave, that same head guy comes over to me and says "ok so we are going to put you on after the next two guys and we are giving you about three minutes so just do the choice parts of whatever you have prepared."
WHAT THE FUCK?!
I'd been drinking for the last hour and a half, which is something an unestablished comic should not do, but I did, because I was told there was a 0% chance that I'd go on stage. Having this dickhead tell me "ok you're going on in 10 minutes and you only have three on stage, be sure to condense it" (paraphrase) would be like me going swimming in a freezing cold lake, only to have Olivia Wilde stroll up and say, "so hey I'm waiting for my husband to finish taking a shit, can you fuck me for like three minutes? Get ready really fast and make it worth my while."
I've practiced my routine a lot. I have a terrific memory when I need it, and I knew what bits would work and which wouldn't. Basically in the time given to me, I came up with what I would say and what I wouldn't. I managed to mentally prepare myself for going on. But rather than putting me on, he puts on a guy who has been there the past two weeks and did the same material he did those past weeks. Afterward he came over and said "oh by the way sorry Lafayette came in last minute and wanted to try some stuff out, you know what its like, right?" At this point I was getting a bit snarky. I said: "actually, no, I do not know what it is like, since I have never been there."
I was so pissed.
I resigned myself to not going on, and was upset about it. Then I am told I'm going on, but given regulations. I plot a cognitive map to get around it, and modify my routine on the fly to accommodate last minute changes--this is not something I'm bragging about, but I don't think a lot of beginners could do it. Especially since the shitheads here have supposedly been doing this for years and still read prompts on notebooks that they hold on stage.
I got a "hate boner."
Its like a regular boner, only rather than blood filling your penis, it's full of spite and it cums malice. And the only thing that you'd feel right fucking with it is someone's skull. Particularly the goddamn host that jerked me around the entire night.
And why? To put on shitty comics that are a part of some Arlington comic-fraternity. One of the wonderful acts that went on tonight was a fat chick who claimed men like to cat call her constantly. The entire routine it took every shred of willpower I had to not jump up and yell "what a goddamn liar holy shit." That would be like me claiming that when I walk through ghettos black guys ask me to freestyle rap with them before we all go shoot some hoops together. All comics have their set-ups to their routines, but its somewhat believable. She could say something like "a lot of guys mistake me for a taxi when I wear yellow shirts," and I'd get it, but not that guys cat call her.
She said that people assume because she is fat that she is great at blowjobs and then said "yeah and it's because we take classes in high school haw haw." No, it is because you eat lots of hot dogs you fucking pig. With that much phallic experience how could you possibly be bad at sucking dicks? I wouldn't want her to suck my dick regardless; she looked like Danny DeVito for Christ's sake! If I wanted the Penguin from Batman to suck my dick, there are plenty of look-a-likes at a gay club, and the only thing I have to do to get a blowjob there is make myself available.
Abridged version: three hour round-trip to see shitty comedians do the same shitty jokes they've done for two weeks, was jerked around, didn't get to do stand-up, myself, and am angry about it.
Going to bed now. Fuck an Arlington.
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