FASHION SHOW

A couple of days ago, I saw an elderly man wearing a skipper hat. That's kind of an underappreciated look, isn't it? A skipper hat says, "I'm in control. I can handle any situation. Either that, or I'm mentally retarded." I actually found the hat kind of comforting, seeing as this particular elderly gent was sitting across the aisle from me on an airplane. I figured if shit started to go down--terrorism, mechanical failure, et cetera--I could turn to him and yell, "DO SOMETHING, CAP'N!!!"

So the skipper hat was a bold choice, but what really made this guy's outfit was his sweatshirt. It was plain white, with a couple of random spaghetti sauce stains. But on the front was printed, "IT'S NOT AN EMPTY NEST UNTIL THEY GET THEIR STUFF OUT OF THE BASEMENT!" Yeah, you said it, grandpa! Zing! Take that, whippersnappers! What is the age where one completely stops giving a shit about he looks in public? When do you stop picking out clothes that you think "make a statement" and start wearing sweatshirts that actually make statements? I want to think this guy simply doesn't care about what he wears, and not that he picked that sweatshirt out on purpose. I don't want to imagine this guy walking into Spencer Gifts and declaring, "Yes! I have found the sweatshirt I've been looking for all these years! This garment aptly describes what it's like to have adult children who have moved out of your home and yet still don't display the proper level of responsibility! THE WORLD MUST KNOW!!!"

Then again, I'm currently wearing a "Where's the Beef?" t-shirt, so who am I to judge?

PHOTO ETIQUETTE

I've never understood the things people do in photographs. A friend of mine went to Disneyland recently and he had his picture taken with Goofy. This, in and of itself, is a strange decision for a 34 year old man. But what I really found strange is that my friend felt the need to give the thumbs-up sign in the picture. Why do people do that? What is the message you're trying to get across there? That's like something politicians do. "Ladies and gentleman, I approve of Goofy. Goofy, you're doing a bang-up job. Keep up the good work! Goofy and me, working together for a better America!" The only possible reason I can imagine for a non-politician to give the thumbs-up sign in a picture is if you're trying to let people know you're not being kidnapped. I mean, if you're seven years old and "Goofy" is taking your picture in the back of his windowless van, by all means give us a thumbs-up. "It's okay, mommy and daddy--I'm here of my own free will! Goofy invited me back to his apartment for a wrestling match and if I win I get a Jolly Rancher! Yayyyy!"

Another thing people do in photos is point at the other person in the picture. They'll throw one arm over you in a "he's my bestest buddy in the world" kind of fashion and with the other hand, point at you. This is a an axtremely arrogant and douchebaggy thing to do, as the subtext here is, "Look, I know you're all looking at me, but don't forget...there's somebody else in this picture. Don't forget about this guy. He's cool, too! I mean, probably not as awesome as me, but...well, you get the idea."

And every once in a while, you'll still get people doing the horns-behind-the-head thing. When was that ever funny? It must be a remnant of some distant era, because in the entirety of my life I've never seen it elicit anything but faint disgust and annoyance. In the middle ages, it must have been hilarious for someone to stand behind you while you were having your portrait painted. Then people could by your castle and have a good laugh. "Everyone, gaze upon Duke of Yorkshire! It appears as if he has horns growing out of his skull! Ha ha ha! Oh, how droll! Why, he looks almost like...like...the Devil! Burn him!" So maybe it wasn't a "joke" back then--maybe it was a passive-agressive form of revenge. I guess the modern day equivalent would be if someone was having his picture taken and you somehow slipped a Ku Klux Klan banner in the background.

Actually, that is kind of funny.

BLOG READERS, HEED MY CALL!

Um...hello? Testing... Is this thing on?

Greetings, internet personages. It is I, Christian Finnegan, returning to you after my long self-imposed e-Exile. I have missed you, insomuch as someone can miss snarky anonymous comments about his career, appearance and general demeanor. If you are someone who has been reading this page since "back in the day" (as all the kids are saying), thanks for sticking around--your patience is astounding and perhaps bordering on creepy. If you are someone who stumbled upon my website and wondered what the hell "Tower of Hubris" meant, welcome. This is the page where I used to post lots and lots and lots of random jokes and attempts at profundity. Then it became the page where I would sporadically post random jokes and attempts at profundity, interspered with apologies and promises to write more often. Then it became the page I abandoned utterly, like a pathetic frat boy ducking some homely girl he fucked after a pep rally. And yet, even over the past few months, as I've actively avoided going to my own website for fear of reminding myself of the e-comic I used to be, this page continued to call out to me, like my very own "Telltale Heart". "Chrissstiannn.... Chrisssstiannnn...", it would howl in the night. "Why have you forsaken meeeeeee...? Post somethinnnnnng... Annnythinnnng.... Even one of those stupid pseudo-funny lists you used to do all the timmmmme... Stooooop beeeeeing a diiiiiiiiiick!"

Well, I'm back now. And what has inspired me to post again? I want you all to come out to a show, of course! Silly you for thinking I had no ulterior motive. But in this case, I think you'll forgive me--that is, unless you have no compassion for those affected by Hurricane Katrina (SHAME ON YOU!).

The show in questions is Northern Hospitality: A Benefit for the Bayou. It will be held tomorrow, September 14th, at the beautiful Kraine Theater and all of the proceeds will go directly to the Red Cross. I REALLY REALLY encourage you to come out. The lineup is stellar (including Andres DuBouchet and Co., performing a condensed ten-minute version of "Giant Tuesday Night", the very best sketch comedy show in NYC), and there are going to be some majorly kick-ass raffle prizes, including: a brand-new iPod mini, tickets to The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, tickets to Drumstruck, a Comedy Central media & swag basket, t-shirts, a messenger bag and lots, lots more.

If you have been wanting to make a contribution to the relief efforts but just haven't had the time or wherewithal, this is a great and easy way to chip in. For a measley $20, you'll get to see a great show, maybe take home some valuable stuff and know that every penny of your money is being sent to those in need.

Here are the specifics:

NORTHERN HOSPITALITY: A Benefit for the Bayou
Wednesday, Sept. 14th
The Kraine Theater
85 E. 4th Street (btwn 2nd & 3rd Aves.)
New York, NY
212.460.0982

8:00 PM
Admission: $20 at the door

RSVP to rsvp@ballyhoopromotions.net

Please come. Failure to show up will be taken as a sign that you are pro-Hurricane Katrina (you inhuman bastard).

Christian was on The Today Show on August 26, 2005, for a Best Week Ever (VH1) segment. Here are a few things he said to Matt Lauer:

On Brad & Angelina Marriage Rumours
"I'm pretty sure when Brad hooked up with Angelina he wasn’t thinking marriage. She screams, 'transitional relationship'. But with all the negative press, marrying Angelina is the only way to salvage his reputation. It's what is commonly known as 'Soon-Yi Syndrome.'"

On Jerry Seinfeld's New Baby
"Jerry Seinfeld just named his baby 'Shepherd' which is Hebrew for 'Please give me a wedgie.'"

On the topic of "Girl Crushes," Matt asked if guys can have "Boy Crushes":
"Sure I have a boy crush. I'm not going to tell you who it is but his name rhymes with Bal Broker."

On Britney's Baby:
"Britney wants to name her baby 'Charlie' while Kevin Federline wants to go with 'Meal Ticket.'"

LOOKIE HERE, KIDS!

Anyone who picked up the September 2005 issue of Penthouse saw a nice two page feature interview with Christian. Besides being great exposure (sorry, no pun intended), it's quite possibly his best interview to date. Congratulations, Christian!

Click above for the scanned article.

SET THOSE DVRs

On Tuesday, August 30th at 7:30 PM Comedy Central re-airs Christian's 1/2 hour special. Here's their blurb:

Comedy Central Presents: Christian Finnegan
Christian gets philosophical about Monopoly and gives us his rendition of the "birds & the bees" talk in this half-hour stand-up special.

Christian was on The Today Show back on July 20, 2005. Here are a few things he said to Katie Couric:

On Jude Law having an affair with his children's nanny:

"Getting mad as Jude Law for seducing women is like getting mad at a hamster for running on a wheel. It's what he does."

"What's really sad is somewhere in America a morning radio DJ is putting together a really awful parody of the song 'Hey Jude'."

On Tommy Lee & Pamela Anderson getting married for the 3rd time:

"The question here isn't 'Will the bride be wearing white?'- it's 'Will the bride be wearing anything?'"

Entertainment Weekly ran a shortened version this quote from Finnegan commenting on Cameron Diaz having posed for topless photos:

"At this point, I'd be more surprised to find out a star hadn't taken topless photos. I mean, what were we expecting to find out, that Cameron Diaz is secretly a member of Mensa? That someone uncovered her long-lost college thesis?"

[View the Entertainment Weekly scan.]
[Vote for your favorite quote on EW.com.]

Be Part of a Studio Audience!

TV Land Presents: Game Time

TV Land offers what no other network can - TV Satisfaction. Why waste your valuable time flipping around the dial? There's always something on -- time-tested and audience-approved, 24 hours a day.

Be part of a live taping of Game Time, hosted by your favorite comedian, Christian Finnegan.

Monday, August 8, 2005

The Supper Club
240 West 47th Street
New York, NY 10036
2:45pm & 6:15pm

Audience members will be invited on stage, to participate in a series of Jeopardy styled questions focusing on classic TV trivia, shows like I LOVE LUCY, THREE's COMPANY, BEWITCHED, THE DICK VAN DYKE SHOW, THE MUNSTERS, I DREAM OF JEANNIE, LEAVE IT TO BEAVER, THE BRADY BUNCH and ALL IN THE FAMILY. Participation is optional.

The day is broken down into two shoots. The first episode shoots from 2:45-6:00- Snacks and soft drinks provided

The second episode shoots from 6:15-9:30pm Snacks, soft drinks and alcohol provided.

RSVP to me (Kambri) via email at kambri@ballyhoopromotions.net. Include your full name & which taping you'd like to attend. NOTE: Guests MUST be 21 years of age or older.

HOLA, BATFUCKERS!

Hello, honored friends. If/when you go see Batman Begins (and you should--it's pretty damn good), you may be lucky enough to pick up an issue of FLIcK Magazine (available at all Loews, Cinemark and Carmike theaters), which features a gloriously stupid piece by yours truly. Or, you could just go read it online. Here it is:

LESSER KNOWN ITEMS ON BATMAN'S UTILITY BELT

Of course, the editors of FLIcK made some cuts. Here are the gems left out of the final piece:

THE BAT ALLEN WRENCH -- This is used primarily to assemble inexpensive Scandanavian furniture. You'd be surprised how often that comes up.

BATWIPES -- Batman's enemies aren't just evil--they're also dirty. Seriously, have you ever seen the Penguin's secret lair under a black light? Eww. Luckily, Batman has sanitized handwipes to rid himself of those tiny supervillains known as "germs". They also give his latex bodysuit a sexy sheen.

THE BATT-EE CUSION (they included this one in the article, but trimmed it down) -- When you spend your life living in a cave and battling the dark side of human nature, you need a cheap giggle every once in a while. So when Batman wants to lighten the mood, out comes the Batt-ee Cushion. And it doesn't hurt that Robin is so gullible. It usually goes something like, "Holy demolition, Batman! We've got to get to the Batmobile! With that much TNT, the Riddler could blow up the entire--FFRRRRRIPPPPP! ...Okay, you got me. Good one."

THE BAT GUN -- This is just a gun, basically. Not everything has to be some super-wacky gadget, you know. Sometimes Batman just has to shoot some dude.

THE BAT BAT -- For use in the Hall of Justice Intramural Softball League. Some of the other heroes have complained about Batman's high tech equipment, but until a certain you-know-who agrees to stop stealing signals with his x-ray vision, The Dark Knight ain't budging.

MY FATHER, THE TELEVISION STAR

I know this page has been increasingly plug-heavy (and humor-light) over the past few months, but this is one thing I have to mention:

As you may or may not know, Comedy Central airs three and half hours of stand up comedy every Friday night (shows like "Premium Blend", "Comedy Central Presents", etc.). They promote this block of programming under the name "Friday Night Stand-Up"--the same way NBC used to label their Thursday night lineup "Must-See TV". Anyway, Comedy Central often has a comedian or comic actor "host" this Friday night lineup--and by "host", I mean "show up on screen for a minute or two in-between shows and occasinally after commercial breaks to do a bit of schtick". For instance, when my episode of "Comedy Central Presents" premiered a couple of days before St. Patrick's Day, "Friday Night Stand Up" was hosted by the incomperable (and very Irish) Tom Shillue. And just last week, it was hosted by the extremely comparable Cedric "The Entertainer" and Mike Epps, who were promoting their "Honeymooners" re-make (I can't wait to see it!!!!!*).

For this week's installment of "Friday Night Stand Up", Comedy Central decided to go for a father/son angle (being that it's two days before Father's Day, and all). Luckily for me, it appears that I am the only comic in New York City who's on speaking terms with his father. Three cheers for being semi-well adjusted! So a few weeks ago my dad and I were sent out to a miniature golf course in Connecticut, where we filmed all sorts of goofy shit. It all airs tomorrow night (June 17th), starting at 8:30pm and continuing on at various times up until midnight. I've seen the footage and I think it's all really funny. My dad is a very good sport and a surprisingly good straight-man.

In many ways, working on this was the greatest moment of my "career", if for no other reason than how much it seemed to delight my dad. He's always been extremely supportive (emotionally and at times monitarily), so it was cool to kind of return the favor in some small way. And I think he really enjoyed seeing how the TV world operates--granted, at the most spratan, basic-cable level. He's now a bit of a diva, to be honest--he's constantly hanging out at Bungalow 8 and doing blow with Lindsay Lohan's dad

My favorite moment: My dad was kind of overwhelmed at how many people there were milling around the "set". There were probably 15-20 people involved, which really isn't very big at all for a "location shoot". But I think my dad was just expecting it to be me, him, and some guy toting a camcorder. At one point while they were setting up for a shot, he whispered in my ear, "You see that woman who's been standing there all day? The one with the orange scarf? What is her JOB?!" He wasn't being malicious--it was just an innocent question. I then very quietly reminded my dad that he was wearing a lapel mic. We turned towards the crew and everyone wearing a headset started laughing. Sweet.

Anyway, if you's suffering some sort of head trauma and find yourself at home on Friday night, flip over to Comedy Central and check it out. I think there's some genuinely funny shit there.


* Yes, this is a joke.

HOT HOT HEAT (My bi-ennial TOH Posting)

Did you ever notice how short the interval is between "Boy, I can't wait for Summer!" and "Fuck THIS shit."? In New York, I think that "Hooray for warm weather" period lasted about five days this year. Now it's all just a sweaty malaise. I don't know what the weather has been like where YOU live, but here in New York City, it's been like a marathon runner's nutsack for at least two weeks. The heat makes me loathe every thing and every one. And yet I'm too exhausted to actually do or say anything about it. So I just sit around all day in a near-vegetative state, occasionally showing my faint disgust for people, places and things by rolling my eyes--like Terri Schiavo with a bad attitude.

I don't even try to look nice when I leave the house anymore, because I know that by the time I get wherever I'm going, I'll look like I just escaped a Vietnamese P.O.W. camp. Weather like this is never good for your self-esteem. You're never going to look in the mirror and say "Yes! That's the look I was going for! I want to look like I just rubbed bacon all over my face! More sweat stains, please!"

Its even worse for me because I live with my girlfriend. So not only do I have to deal with my self-loathing, I have to navigate hers as well. We'll be on our way to some sort of party or get-together in this godforsaken heat, covered in sweaty filth, and she'll give me that "I look disgusting right now, don't I?" crap. There's never a suitable answer to a question like this--your choice is pretty much "Do I want to sound like an asshole or a liar?" I wish I could just be honest and say, "Well, sweetheart. Are you more beautiful at this moment that I've ever seen you before? Well, no. ...But I'd still fuck you. Sure I would! Yeah, I've slept with lots of women uglier than you look right now!" Something makes me think that wouldn't go over too well.

I desperately need a vacation. And it just so happens that Kambri and I are going away next week...to the Caribbean. Yep, that's my solution for beating the heat: head someplace even fucking hotter! But the heat in the Caribbean is different--you're on the beach, you're drinking rum punch, you're able to convince yourself that all of the resort workers don't secretly want you to die, etc. It's hot, but relaxing--like a sauna. Not like New York, where you spend the Summer months basting in urine vapors and body odor.

I'm actually taking Kambri on this little vacation for her birthday (it's June 22nd, people--we're registered here). We went to Anguilla last year and loved it, so I knew we wanted to go back to the Caribbean, but I wanted to pick someplace cool. The Caribbean is full of cheesy shit to be avoided at all costs--limbo contests, the Buster Poindexter song "Hot Hot Hot", etc. So I started to make a checklist of all the places I defintely didn't want to go: Aruba, Jamaica, Bermuda...basically, any place that's mentioned in the song "Kokomo" is to be avoided, I would think. we ended up settling on Turks and Caicos, an island I'd never heard of and know very little about. I was initially drawn to the name because it sounds kind of Dungeons & Dragons-y. Like maybe the place is inhabited by bugbears and/or a githyanki.

Have I revealed too much? Perhaps.

Christian will appear with Rachael Harris & Paul Scheer on the Today Show tomorrow at 7:40 AM.

Also, if you read today's NY Post, you'll see a spread about "indie" comedy which features some quotable quotes by Christian with his pic on the internet version. Unfortunately, they give the wrong credit for the photo, but I'm not too miffed by it because, hey, they included his pic in the first place!

REVENGE OF THE SITH & FLIcK MAGAZINE

With the premiere of Revenge of the Sith, came the launch of FLIcK Magazine with a column by none other than Christian Finnegan. Pick up your *free* copy at any Loews, Cinemark or Carmike Cinemas or avoid the geek scene altogether by downloading the whole darn thing here. Don't want to sift through the whole thing? Well, I'm all about choice, so here's another option: get only Christian's contribution by clicking here.

I'M SO 'TARD

There are so many things I could post right now, so many things I want to write about. And yet, all of my weak-hearted attempts at artistic excellence seem so pointless in the face of...this.

Click on rosie. You know you want to.

DARN TOOTIN'!

I recently saw a guy purchasing a copy of Playboy. In itself, not so extraordinary--Playboy has a large circulation, and that means that somebody somewhere is buying it. But it seems like if you're buying Playboy nowadays, you probably are reading it for the articles. Why else would you bother? Christ, now that we have the internet, the idea of buying a nudie magazine seems almost, I don't know...quaint. Old-timey, even. Like you'd walk a three miles down to the general store to buy some sasparilla, a container of Ol' Doc Haggerty's Purifying Hair Tonic and a copy of Hustler Magazine. And yet, I'm old enough to remember a day not so long ago when a lad's nudity choices were limited to scrambled Cinemax After Dark and said nudie magazines. It makes me feel old. It makes me worry that, one day, I'll be siiting down some young whippersnappers and saying something like:

"You know, back when I was twelve years old, we didn't have this whole worldwide interweb of yours. No, if we wanted to look at naked girlies, we had to go over to T.J. Ethier's house and sneak them out of his older brother's closet! You kids just give your mousies a clickety-clack, and you gots a whole treasure trove of naked boobies and behinds to slap your baloney to! But back in my day, you had to learn how to beat off with one hand and flip pages with the other! It was hard work--something you kids wouldn't know nothin' about! We didn't have no "MPEGs" and "Quicktime". The best we could do was when you'd flip the pages really fast, like it was one of them cartooony books! But that wat okay by us--we got along just fine. What you kids got goin', it just ain't special no more! These days, any Tom, Dick or Harry can have himself a live, one-on-one chat with a horny sorority slut in his area. In my day, we had to read about other people doin' it. It was a little something called "Penthouse Forum"--something you wouldn't know about, since kids these days don't like to read!"

This really is the kind of sparkling insight that makes me one of comedy's brightest minds.

YES, I'M NOW THAT ASSHOLE

A couple of weeks ago, my palm pilot shit the bed on me. So in order to prove to the world that I am an extravagant douchebag, I purchased the Treo 650, which is a Blackberry kind of thingy. Now I can look important by obsessively checking my Email in all sorts of awkward, hassle-inducing situations. God forbid I go twenty minutes without knowing that one of my friends has sent me a picture of his baby son wearing a Burger King crown. Anyone need a stock quote? Anyone?

I really have no idea what this damn gadget is capable of--no shit, the user's manual is 349 pages long. How am I supposed to get the most out of my impulse purchase and stick to my strict no-reading regimen at the same time? Well, I've broken down and started to plow through this ridiculous tome, and it's pretty amazing, all of the things my new phone/calendar/web browser/dick compensator can do. For instance, I can take up to twelve minutes of goddamn, bonafide motion picture footage on this thing. Eventually, I'll figure out how to post these mini-movies on this site, and then you'll get the pleasure of watching my girlfriend making a drunken 311 call to complain about some guy who was driving a Hummer and talking on his cell phone. Here's a teaser quote: "What do you mean he's not being reckless? He's driving a Hummer? Do you know how much fuel a Hummer uses...? He's endangering the lives of everybody!" Slur every third word and throw in a few hiccups and you're halfway there.

I also shot some footage just last night of Unchained, the "Mighty Van Halen Tribute", who were performing live at my favorite shitty bar here in Astoria. You may be saying to yourself, "Wow, you really got lucky, going to a bar where there just happened to be a cheesy cover band playing! How gloriously kitschy and ironic!" Truth is, this is the third (yes, third) time Kambri and I have gone to see Unchained (It should be noted that this was the first time the band actually played. The first time the show was cancelled because the bass player broke his ribs and the second time there wasn't enough of an audience, so they bailed.), and there was absolutely no ironic distance involved. These guys totally rocked, in a way that only four dudes from Jersey ripping through "Ain't talkin' 'Bout Love" can. Pseudo Eddie Van Halen totally knew his shit and Pseudo David Lee Roth was spot on--the voice was perfect, he did all the wonderfully silly kick moves and he had that weird David Lee Roth yelp/shriek thing down pat. The audio on the footage I have is pretty unintelligible, but it's still pretty sweet. Sadly, I accidently deleted the crown jewel of my digital collection: a bit of between-song banter, where Pseudo David Lee Roth exhorts the crowd to take advantage of the bar's drink specials.

...Okay, maybe there was a little bit of ironic distance involved.

Point is, aren't you jealous of my stupid new phone?

BEST WEEK EVER LIVE

Hey there, peoples.

As probably anyone who didn't mistakenly find my website whilst Googling "christian+fingering" knows, I appear regularly on the VH1 show "Best Week Ever". This is the television show where, every week, gifted and brilliant people not unlike myself find new and exciting ways of calling Britney Spears a whore. You may have watched this show and thought to yourself, "I wonder how funny these idiots would be without all the fancy graphics and strategic editing..." Well, now's your chance to find out!

Tomorrow night (Thursday, April 27th), the first evert two performances of "Best Wek Ever Live" will take place at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater, right here in New York City. The show will feature Paul Sheer, Jessi Klein, Sherrod Small and myself (you can read all about us here) and I think it's going to be a really great show. There will be stand-up, clips from the show, topical musings and all sorts of other wacky shit. The idea is for us to put this show together and then bring it on the road. So if you can't get to NYC tomorrow night, fear not--hopefully, we'll be bringing it to a club/college/homeless shelter near you sometime soon.

If you ARE in New York, it would be really great if you could come out to see the show. We won't really know what he have until we put it up in front of an audience, so we're hoping for as big a crowd as possible at both of the show. The 8:00pm show is already sold out (I just now found that out), but there are still tickets avaialble for 10:00pm.

You can get all of the pertinent info about this show at the UCB website. But just in case you're link-shy, here it is in plain print:

BEST WEEK EVER LIVE
Thursday, April 27
Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre
307 West 26th St (just West of 8th avenue)
New York NY 10011
10:00pm
Tickets: $8.00
Reservations: 212.366.9176

That is all.

MORE OF AMERICA'S LEAST POPULAR CITIES

Transgender Bluffs, OK

Melanoma, NM

Unpaid Child Support Falls, OH

Bloody Stool, AK

Tuberculonia, KY

Bagels-in-Conference-Room, NY

Dicksweat, ND

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Weaponized Virusville, FL

Bad Touch, IN

Asian Babies For Sale, IL

Kutztown, PA (where Adam Ace happens to be performing tonight. By the way, that dude is going seriously bald. Makes me kind of feel bad for ragging on him. And yet...)

This show promises to be a good one.

Laugh Lounge
151 Essex St
8:00
$5 + 2 Drinks
For Reservations call 212-614-2500

HOSTED BY: Craig Baldo (Premium Blend, Late Friday) and featuring your very own Christian Finnegan.

Also with:
* Claudia Cogan (UCB, the PIT)
* Anthony DeVito (VH1's "All Access: Celebrity Showdown 2")
* Todd Levin (How to Kick People)
* Liam McEneaney (Premium Blend, Best Week Ever)

And more!

YOU LUCKY, LUCKY FOOLS

Move over, Staten Island dude. Now there's something smarmier!

Check THIS shit out.

Thanks to Victor for the link.

There are so many ridiculous things about this wonderful piece of video, I honestly wouldn;t knbow where to begin. But one thing I adore is the bizarre way he sings "A-MER-UH-CA". Also, remember the days when having long hair meant you were going against the establishment? (sigh) Those were the days...

IT LIVES!

Okay, so much to discuss. I'm just going to plow through a whole bunch of shit.

* Yesterday was my birthday. Yes, I know--I was born on April Fools Day. No lame-ass jokes, please. So how did I spend my special day? On a train to Saratoga Springs, NY where I made an atempt to entertain the young men and women of Skidmore College with fellow comedian Kyle Grooms. The audience was great, and Kyle was very funny. As for me, I felt a bit off my game. I'm not sure if the audience could tell, but I felt a bit distracted. Maybe it's because I couldn't help but count all of the puka shell necklaces and sailor bracelets in the audience. Seriously, college students, what's the fucking deal with that retarded neo-Ocean Pacific shit? Retro is fine, but not every fucking fashion era needs to be resurrected. Maybe they're supposed to be "ironic" now, but I felt like I was looking out into a sea of everyone who I hated from high school. Who knew James Spader's "Pretty in Pink" character would the model for the 21st Century college hipster? Still, the show was fun and the students activities people were nice enough to get me a birthday cake, which was genuinely thoughtful.

So tonight Kambri and I are going out for a post-birthday birthday dinner, and then it's on to meet some friends--not a party, just communal drinking. But then, is there really a difference anymore? Once you pass the age of thirty, what IS a birthday party, other than simply a designated night of drinking. You know, I was about to write a long spiel on this topic, but then a feeling of deja vu swept over me and I realized that I already did write about this last year. So, um...enjoy that.

* I was in Miami last week, where I spent the week slathered in SPF 70. No, I'm not exagerrating. I am a pasty, mayonnaise-tinted man and I'm never again going to make the same mistake I made in Anguilla, also known as the 'White Seal' incident (see June 14, 2004). But wait, it gets even dorkier: I reached a new plateau of pathos last week, as I actually brough my Playstation with me on the trip. Yes, I spent four days in Miami, perhaps the most notorious "party" city in the United States, fighting digital monsters. Because that's how I roll, dawg.

* As Kambri mentioned, we did this weird thing on Staten Island public access TV a couple of weeks ago. These guys were attempting to break the Guinness Book talk show record for continuous hours on the air and, as far as I know, they succeeded. Of course, to do that, that means lots of very strange guests. I don't really have the energy to describe them all, so I'll just focus on this dude:



I know what you're thinking: Holy shit, that guy rules. Well dear friends, let me assure you: you have no fucking idea. Before we move on, let's get one more view of my man, this time from the back:



SWEET!

I simply can't explain how awesome this dude was. He sang an orginal song, which he dedicated to his mentor, Joe Franklin (who you can see visibly squirming in the background of that first photo). This gist of the song was that, no matter how famous he got and how much his music moved people (the song actually included lines like "After the roar of the crowd, after the spotlight fades..."), he would never forget the one who has was always there for him. Presumably, this is meant to be a woman, but he sang the song entirely to Joe (with his back squarely to the camera half the time, as seen in photo #2), reaching out to him as if he might at any minute he might give Joe's cheek a soft caress. It gave giving the whole thing a fascinating and tender prison rape vibe. There were also a lot of wonderful closed eyes/clenched fist moments, where you could almost see the guy saying to himself, "I am blowing these people's minds--hell, I'm blowing my own mind..."

My favorite moment was probably when he got to that "After the roar of the crowd..." line. In the musical vamp between verses, he told the audience that he was going to require our participation. Now I should mention that, in order to break the world's record, a small studio audeince was required at all times. In this case, the "audience" conisted of a few surly Staten Island firemen and some doughy middle aged folks who I assume were relatives of the guys producing on the show (very nice and industrious fellows, by the way). They appeared to have been there for hours and were a subdued group, to say the least. So when the magnificent singer dude got to his line, "After the roar of the crowd", he gestured to the audience with a majestic sweep of his hand. At this point, the 12-15 people in the room forced out a half-assed cheer/moan that sounded not unlike a group of zombies being shown a third grade magic trick. Ah, the roar of the crowd indeed...

That's it for now. Time to shower for my birthday dinner. I know Kambri and I aren't technically married, but I think tonight might be the night I get to Third Base! DOWN THE PANTS, BABY!

Christian had an unexpected trip to Florida and will be appearing at the various Improvs in W. Palm Beach, Ft. Lauderdale and Miami through the 26th. Buy tickets for the Miami Improv shows here.

While he soaks up some much needed sun (see post below for evidential photo), I am battling snow and freezing rain to bring you the following press updates:

-- My hometown paper, The Houston Chronicle, ran this interview today by Lana Berkowitz.

-- The Jeff Foxworthy Roast aired and Comedy Central has published clips of Christian interviewing the comics backstage before the show and at the after party. Here are the links:

Jeff Foxworthy Roast Interview with Jeff Foxworthy Video Clip

Jeff Foxworthy Roast Interview with Northern Comics Video Clip

Jeff Foxworthy RoastInterview with Southern Comics Video Clip

-- Christian and I both appeared on MoranoVision hosted by Frank Morano during his attempt to claim the Guinness World Record for longest televised talk show. (Current record is 29 hours, I think. MoranoVision taped for 33.) Other guests included Joe Franklin, Curtis Sliwa, Bernard Goetz and countless others. Read about it in Page Six. I'll let Christian tell you the surreal / funny parts if he ever gets around to writing again.

THE NIGHT TIME IS THE RIGHT TIME

So folks, this is a very special day in Finnegan-land. Comedy Central is airing my episode of Comedy Central presents tonight (Friday, March 11th) at 10pm. Yes, that's right--one full half hour of me doing my glorified dick jokes on your televsion screen. Don't believe me/ Check out the Time Warner Cable program guide:



Dear Christ, am I white...

Anyway, I know most people don't sit in on a Friday night to watch stand-up comedy on TV, but it's still far more meanginful to me than anything else I've done. So much so that I'm having a hard time being snarky about it. It's a genuine milestone in my little universe, and it goes a way toward making up for all of the drunken hecklers, the ego battles, the latenight subway debacles, the shows cancelled due to lack of audience, the threatening calls from collection agencies and the other, thrice weekly humiliations associated with being in this "business".

Interestingly, I started doing stand up exactly eight years ago this week. I'm not sure what I would have thought if someone told me I'd one day have a half hour on Comedy Central. Being a naive twat, I probably would have said, "Eight fucking years?! For one lousy half hour? Screw that." And then I would have settled into my publishing job and been eternally miserable for it. Thank god I'm no Nostradamus.

Anyway, check out the show tonight, if you can. If not, no worries--Comedy Central tends to air those over and over again. As a teaser, you can enjoy this little clip and interview from the Comedy Central website.

My next post will be funny. So let it be posted, so let it be done.

PAINFULLY SOBER

Greetings, friends. I'm currently in a hotel room in the DC area, back from performing at the glorious George Mason University. A strange gig, to say the least. The show took place in a massive food court kind of area, in a building that also housed the library (some students watched from the various floors above. The lights were neon and the ceiling was about a hundred feet high--it felt like performing in Superman's ice palace. Even better, situated next to the stage was a massive arts and crafts table. Yep, nothing makes a comedian feel professional like looking stage left and seeing thirty people playing with clay and construction paper. Definitely the proper setting for my glorified dick jokes. Don't get me wrong, the school was great and the kids seemed to really enjoy the show (except one woman who sat in the front row and sternly shook her head whenever I said anything that might be interpreted as 'off-color'). But a tad surreal, to say the least.

So I get back to the hotel a couple of minutes after midnight and I swing by the bar, hoping to grab a beer or three. The bar is just about to close up, which is not too surprising for a hotel bar. But that was fine, as I'd only planned to bring them up to my room anyway. But then he told me that it is against the law for a hotel to let you bring a beer from the bar up to you room? What the fucking fuck? How the hell am I supposed to develop a legitimate alcohol problem if these namby-pamby states won't allow me to get drunk while sitting on an uncomfortable king-sized bed, watching "In the Line of Fire" on the Superstation?

You know, hotels often host business conventions. I only mention that as an excuse to include a link to this. Enjoy.

I'VE GOT TO BE A MACHO MAN

So it appears that Kambri and I are reasonably situated in our new apartment, at long last. Over the past few days, I've been extremely manly. Holes have been drilled, various things pounded with a hammer and earlier today I actually acquired a slight tinge of body odor. This is a big deal for me, you see. Due to my fair Irish coloring and overall lack of body hair (my underarms look like Prince's upper lip), I hardly ever get that pungent pastrami-and-burnt-onions scent commonly known as "B.O.". Generally speaking, this is a good thing. But every once in a while it's nice to get a whiff of my pits and feel reassured that I'm not some neutered, overweight Powder.

Anyway, the reason I bring this up is that I think I'm slowly but surely climbing out of my creative fox hole and I think I'll start posting on this site more often. Yes, I know--I say that all the time. And it's quite possible I'm totally full of shit. Only time will tell. I think the secret is learning how to keep these things short. Often times, I'll let a week (or three) go in between posts and I'll feel like I have to account for everything that has gone on in the meantime. Well, not anymore. No, for the forseeable future, all postings will be "fun size".

But as an added bonus for checking in today, here's a special message I've composed just for you.

Christian will return some day soon. Meanwhile, enjoy this interview with him posted on CollegHumor.com.

Also note some new tour dates have been added to his Calendar.

Where, o Where has Christian Gone?

He's been busy, okay!

He has been working. He has been writing. Just not for this site. What, you ask, has kept him away from you?

Besides performing all over this great nation of ours, he wrote a guidebook for men for 1-800-Flowers. Here is an excerpt of the Thoughtless Male Survival Guide from Jest Magazine.

Or get the whole darn thing here and here.

Are you a Frog or a Prince? Take the quiz, here.

Meanwhile, why not just see Christian perform live? Check his calendar for dates. Don't live near any venue? Then watch Comedy Central on March 11th for his very own 1/2 hour special premiering at 10:00 PM EST.

TO AIR IS HUMOROUS

I'm currently sitting at scenic Gate C6 of the Northwest Airlines terminal at Detroit/Wayne County airport, alternately known as "hell", "purgatory" or most commonly, "fuck this place". I have been sitting here for three and a half hours, waiting to board a prop plane that will take me to a small airport in Moline, MI, at which point a young man will pick me up to drive me 45 minutes to Knox College, where I will be performing what better be a fun show, else I might be forced to take lives.

I won't go into why I've been stranded here, as I've learned that travel horror stories are interesting no one, and should be endured only by family members and significant others (sorry, Kambri!). Suffice to say, fuck Northwest Airlines. Also, no matter how eloquently or hilariously I might describe how miserable my day has been, when it gets right down to it, I'm still a comedian making airplane jokes. Nay.

It's no mystery to me why jokes about airplane food and the airline industry in general have become the universally recognized sign of hack stand up comedy. If you're doing comedy as a "career", chances are you spend more time flying than, say, an algebra teacher or a Starbucks barista. And it's always stressful, even when it's not, and those are the kinds of situations that eventually strike one as funny. Just about every time I travel by plane, something happens to make me think "Hey, this would make a funny stand up bit". Eventually, though, I see the error of my ways before I take my hilarious new "What's up with those tray tables?" material to the stage. Trust me, you don't want to hear it.

I will say that I consider all of my nascent airplane material as a sign that I am, ever so slightly, moving up in the world. Why, I remember the days when I'd only come up with public bus and subway material. After a few years, I moved up to Amtrak jokes, and now finally, planes. Someday, I hope to have 20 solid minutes of material about travelling by private helicopter, a la "Man, don't you hate it when you're going out on a hot date and your hair gets all messed up from the gusts of wind generated by your private helicopter? When are they going to make a styling gel that can deal with that, am I right? 'Extra Hold', my ass!" You know, everyday observational stuff like that.

CUT TO:

Okay, it's the next day. Thursday, to be exact. I couldn't get onto the internet from my hotel room last night, so I had to wait to come back to the airport to finish this groundbreaking post. Luckily, I knew I'd have some extra time here at the Moline airport becasue...you guessed it, I'm waiting through another flight delay. Did I mention "Fuck Northwest"? Yeah. Okay. Onwards and upwards.

The show last night was fun, and the students of Knox college seeme to be a fine young bunch of men and women. But this has definitely been one of those Murphy's Law kinds of trips (and by that I mean that this entire trip has reminded me of a defunct punk rock band). Since I've spent this entire post basically bitching and moaning, I'd like to toss out another heart "F You" to the staff of the Galesburg Ramada Inn, who are among the stupider people on the planet. I'm okay dealing with idiots every now and then, because for the most part stupid people are quite friendly. But the folks at the Ramada displayed a stunning mix jaded apathy and Down Syndrome, two traits that aren't usually found together. When I checked in, I asked them if they had a highspeed internet connection and it was as if I were trying to discuss German philosophy with a bucket of poo. Actually, that would actually make sense on some metaphorical level, but you get my point. Okay, it looks like my plane to Detroit is about to board, so I'll just go ahead and post this. But I've already missed my connecting flight, so I'll probably have time to write about my experience sitting around a country-western karaoke bar after the show last night. Lucky you.

BELTWAY INSIDER

Howdy, peoples. I'm writing to you from glorious Washington DC, where people venture from all corners of the world, primarily to go see Fonzi's jacket at the Smithsonian. I am here all week, performing at the DC Improv, which has been pretty damn sweet so far (I've done two of seven shows so far). Among stand up comics, the DC Improv has a reputation as one of the best clubs in the country, and I'm happy to say that it has not disappointed. The crowds have been substantial (for weeknight shows, at least) and better yet, enthusiastic. Most everyone seems to be in the 20-40 age range, and the crowds have seemed unusually bright--yet not so bright that they refuse to laugh at my glorified boobies-and-poo material (thank god).

It's interesting--earlier tonight, I heard someone refer to Washington DC as "Hollywood for ugly people". And while the people here don't seem notably hideous, the assessment does make some sense. This city seems to be full of wide-eyed young people who've moved here from some small town, dreaming of the bright lights of CSPAN. It's not like these kids are hoping to become senators, necessarily. They just want to be part of the glitzy machine that is Washington DC--the lawfirms, the media, the non-profits, etc. Yesterday, I was making use of the WiFi connection at the Borders Books cafe and I silently observed two relatively dorky twentysomethings chatting each other up. In a way, it was your typical boy-hits-on-girl situation. The difference was, these two kids were trading anecdotes about doing volunteer work around the world, subtly trying to one-up each other. And it wasn't "Wow, you were in the Peace Corps?!!", it was more like "Of course you were in the Peace Corps. Who wasn't? But how many tours did you do?" I don't know if the dude ever got the girl's number (or more likely, her Gmail address), but as I was packing up, he did drop perhaps the best "socially conscious guy" pick-up line I've ever heard: "Well, in the village where I was staying, there were fourteen different species of monkeys, so that was nice." Come on ladies, that's got to be worth a handjob, right?

Well, that almost all for now. I'm going to be posting something again tomorrow (no, seriously), if that means anything to you. I've been doing some morning radio here in DC to promote the comedy shows (it's kind of part of the gig), so I'll probably write something about that. And in the meantime, check out this bizarro interview thingy I did for Scene Missing Magazine. A couple of my answers were lifted from this very webpage, but the rest of it is brand new and at least a tiny bit checkle-worthy.

Oh and I probably don't need to say this, but if you live in the DC area, by all means come on out to a show. You can find showtimes on the DC Improv website.

See Christian *Live* Tonight!

Wow, Christian has posted so little on Tower of Hubris that I have two entries on one page. He is still alive, however, and you can see for yourself tonight at this month's installment of Sob Stories. The details are below. If you are still in need of a Christian FiXegan, check out his New Year's resolutions published on collegehumor.com. (Scroll down a bit to see Christian's contribution.)

Sob Stories Plug
When the booze beckons or the Nicorette wears off, you're in for another year of low-self esteem. Join us for stories from comics who set themselves up to fail over and over again.

The Marquee
356 Bowery (btwn Great Jones & E. 4th St)
8:00 PM
$5.00 - NO drink minimum!

Christian Finnegan ("Chappelle's Show", "Best Week Ever!") hosts guests Matt Higgins ("Centralia", "Second City"), Liam McEneaney ("Premium Blend"), Marta Ravin ("Premium Blend"), John Hodgman ("Little Gray Books" reading series) and more!

FGUJJUYOIP248TYNPV NW9R9V-W=JCN;QC;KENV

Okay, so let's just skip the part where I apologize for not posting in two weeks, okay? Life is short, and none of us need another round of soul searching, I-promise-I'm-going-to-post-every-day-from-now-on bullshit. I've been on vacation from my brain and that's that. Rather than re-hash my almost completed (thank christ) holiday season--maybe I'll do that sometime soon, maybe not--I want to talk about another couple of random things.

First off, what does it say that the feeling of dizzying euphoria I used to get from spotting a woman with a fantastic ass is now reserved for the moment when I open my mailbox and seeing the new Pottery Barn catalogue? Oh wait, I know exactly what it says: I've metamorphasized into a middle-aged queen. That's what being in a longterm relationship does to you, fellas--it turns you into a fag.

In other news, there was an item in today's Daily News about two Long Island women who were using their hot dog van as a de facto whorehouse. In between selling hot dogs, french fries and knishes, they would invite dudes into the back of the can and perform sex acts upon them. Pretty funny, eh? You probably think I could have a field day with a story like this, being that I am a stand-up comedy professional. Well...not necessarily. You see, this kind of story is what I like to call "Comedic Fool's Gold". A story about two chicks using a "weiner wagon" (the Daily News' term, not mine) as a...well, weiner wagon is so ridiculous, so immediately comedy-ready, that it becomes too easy a target. You see, the role of a comedian is to take a topic that's universal, mundane, or even tragic and find the humor in it. It is this ability that separates the gifted social satirist from Jay Leno's opening monlogue on The Tonight Show. Sure, maybe you can get laughs out of it for a day or two, but before long you're competing with Kevin, the guy from Accounting who thinks he's hilarious. Of course, there are many comics (the cast majority, really) who ignore this unspoken rule. They say "fuck it, a laugh's a laugh". In the stand up comedy business, we call these people "hacks". A hack is a comic who spends the bulk of his time on stage telling jokes that any corporate drone/TV anchorman/Jay Leno is capable of telling, or has in fact already told. He'd so a bit wher the punchline would be something like, "Hey, nothing a lady likes more than a foot-long!" or perhaps "For an extra ten bucks, they put your weiner inbetween a couple of buns!". Or, if you're someone's dad, maybe you'd go the pun route, a la "Wow, there's an opportunity I'd relish!"

Hey...wait a minute...that's genius! Watch out, world--someone's just added a new bit to his A-List!

I WANT THINGS

Look, I realize there are only eleven or so shopping days left until Christmas and you guys are probably saying to yourselves, "What does Christian want? How will I show him how important he is to me during this very special holiday season?!" Well, fear not, kids--allow me to take the guess work out of it for you. I know it's a bit tacky, but rather than end up with a bunch of stuff I don't want, I've taken the time to list a few of the items I'm hoping to receive from...well, you. So get buying, people!

MY 2004 CHRISTMAS LIST:

* Sharper Image (tm) Ballsack Demagnetizer

* A signed copy of "Fuckstain Heart Attack: The Collected Poems of Huey Lewis"

* "Undead Noregian Assholes III: Blood Spurten" for Xbox

* Apple's new "iBong"

* $50 Gift certificate from "Functional Dildo Mart"

* One year subscription to "Office Bathroom Stall Nap Enthusiast" magazine

* "Mr. Dialysis" Home Kidney Failure Kit (Ages 3 and Up)

* Candycane codpiece

* 18" of actor Rene Auberjonois used dental floss

* A faithful rendering of Van Gogh's "Waterlillies" using only earwax and boogers

* The book-on-tape version of The Holy Qu'ran, read by a drunken Nick Nolte

* Perspective

THE MOST EFFECTIVE PLUG OF ALL TIME

Look, I ain't gonna beg. I'm just going to say that if you miss tonight's installment of 'Sob Stories" (see below for details)...well, you're a bad person. The theme is "Holiday Cheer" so if you don't show up, I guess we'll be left to assume that you have some sort of problem with the holliday season--a time when families, friends and loved ones put aside their petty grievances and join together in our common hope for peace on earth and goodwill towards men. . "But I live in Wisconsin," you're saying. "Surely you can't expect me to fly to New York for a comedy show!" And to this, my answer is: if world peace and goodwill toward men meant a goddamn fucking thing to you, you'd find a way to be there.

Thanks for ruining Christmas, asshole.

We Interrupt Your Regular Broadcast

Hello Tower of Hubris readers. Kambri Crews, here. Here is an update on two upcoming shows in which you can see your beloved Christian Finnegan perform in chronological order:

My Coolest Years premieres this weekend on VH1. Christian Finnegan will appear in the episodes Summer Vacation and First Time, premiering Sunday, December 5th at 12:30 PM and Saturday, December 11th at 10:00 PM, respectively. Click here for additional air dates/times.

Sob Stories, with Christian hosting, will feature guests Lizz Winstead (creator of The Daily Show with Jon Stewart), Rob Huebel ("Inconsiderate Cell Phone Man" and a million commercials -- a most excellent story-teller), Ophira Eisenberg (Premium Blend, Us Weekly Fashion Police) and Seth Morris (UCB all star).

Here's the promotional blurb that subscribers received along with this picture that ran in Time Out NY:

Going home for the holidays? Get a preview of the horrors that await you at this month's Sob Stories, as comics recount tales of undercooked turkeys, humilating family reunions, lame presents and a host of other holiday disappointments.

The Marquee
356 Bowery (btwn Great Jones & E. 4th St)
8:00 PM
$5.00 - NO drink minimum!
This month's theme: Holiday Cheer

We're really hoping to pack the audience this time around for this consistently excellent show. So grab a friend and come on down.

If you want to be notified of updates like these, please join the list. We won't sell your information and you'll receive about two or three emails a month. Check out the last newsletter which has information on a free movie screening and more.

And, just for fun, my new favorite photo of me and Christian taken at the Jeff Foxworthy Roast after party at Strata which will grace the front of our Christmas cards:

We now return to your regularly scheduled programming.

PLEASE...MAKE IT STOP

I...can't...go on any longer. It has me and it won't let go. Two and a half hours today. Over six hours yesterday, at least three the day before. My health is failing, my hands are shaking and I feel as if the slightest incident may bring me to tears. When I close my eyes, I can see apparitions calling me, taunting me. Cruelty, thy name is "Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas".

Why oh why did I allow this beast into my life? I feel like Frodo, doomed to shoulder an unholy force (in this case, a Playstation controller) that is slowly driving me insane. Yes, just in case my admitting to being completely obsessed with a video game wasn't dorky enough, I just threw in a "Lord of the Rings" reference to boot.

Anyway, it's been a banner weekend in the life of Christian Finnegan. Over the course of the last 48 hours, I've left my home for a grand total of 40 minutes. The only people I've spoken to are Kambri, the dude who makes my deli sandwiches and a couple of delivery men. What HAVE I done? Well, a lot. First of all, I rooted out the traitors in the Grove Street Family street gang (I never did trust Ryder and "Big Smoke"). Then I did a bit of dirty work for corrupt police officers Tenpenny and Pulaski--they've framed me for a muder, you see. Earlier today, I took a flamethrower to Mr. Truth's marijuana fields and shot down a police copter with a rocket launcher. I'm currently working as a freelance "soldier" for a pimp named Jizzy B, but that's just a ruse so I can get to the REAL players and make some serious shit go down. Silly you, you probably thought I hadn't posted because I'd gone away for the holiday weekend! Get your head out of your ass!

I am a sad, sad man.

Speaking of the holiday, I trust you all had a pleasant Thanksgiving? Or, if not "pleasant", I trust that none of you said anything to a family member that can't be taken back? No? Ugh. Well, don't feel too bad about it--we all kind of already knew that Aunt Karen was a "Donut Bumper" (nice wording, btw). As for me, I stayed in town, primarily because visiting my family would entail dealing with Penn Station. And on the day before Thanksgiving, Penn Station takes on a distinct "Pacers vs. Pistons" vibe. Seriously, people gather around the big board waiting for their track number to come up and once it does, all holy fucking hell breaks loose--punching, screaming, babies getting trampled, teenagers looting Hudson News and Bennigan's. F that.

Instead, Kambri and I inaugurated what we both hope will become a holiday tradition: Thanksgiving dinner at The Rainbow Room. It was pretty sweet--great food, unbelievable views and the rare opportunity to feel like I have something resembling "class". If you are so inclined, you can see a picture of us dressed up all fancy-like on Kambri's site. She looks ungodly beautiful, I look like a pasty, heavyset member of the Putterman family.

Okay, I suppose that's all for now. In case you're racking your brain, I give you this photographic reminder of the erstwhile Duracell pitchmen known as "The Puttermans". Enjoy:

THE LEAST POPULAR NATIVE AMERICAN NAMES, Part II

Coyote With Adult Acne

Chief Buffalo Who Mounts Other Male Buffalo

50 Wampum

She Who Will Not Trim Pubes

Runs for Comptroller

Fights Bravely With Spear...IN BED!

Fisted Owl

Princess Ticking Biological Clock

Wears Sacred Goggles While Drinking

Hates Puerto Ricans

Chief Embarassing Puka Shell Necklace

Hangs Nagel Painting in Teepee

Thunder Thighs

Little Sparrow Who Calls Big Sparrow Fifteen Times A Day Even When She Knows He's Busy (What Does She Think, Big Sparrow Has Nothing Better To Do With Afternoon Than Listen To Little Sparrow Babble On About How Copy Machine in Office Have Paper Jam? Give Big Sparrow Break!)

Toilet Paper Stuck To Moccasin

Crazier Horse

HEY, I THINK I JUST SAW IT MOVE!

I'm going to get back to posting shit on a regular basis, I swear. Today marks the very last day in my much whined-about "busy period". And what am I going to be so busy doing today? Sleeping. For you see, it is currently 8:03am and I have pulled what the young folks like to call an "all-nighter" to finish up some work for that 1-800-FLOWERS project I mentioned on this site a few weeks ago.

It's strange, I used to pull two or three all-nighters a week, but now that I'm older my body is starting to fail me. My hands have begun to shake my head feels as if, were I to tilt my head to one side, brain-matter would drip out of my ear. Back in my youth, I would never get this feeling until mid-afternoon. Part of me digs it, as it's as close as I'll ever get to knowing what it feels like to do hard drugs.

To give you an idea of how tired I am, I just spent a solid eight minutes staring at the screen after typing that last sentence. I'm not even sure what I was thinking about.

Okay, time for beddie-bye. Like I said, as of tomorrow, my schedule is looking pretty relaxed until Christmas, so that means I'll be beck to writing on a regular basis--maybe not EVERY day, but enough to make it worth wasting a few moments of your workday every now and then. Have a nice day, winners!

HIP HIP HOORAY FOR PRESIDENT BUSH'S SECOND TERM!!!

(sigh) I just wanted to see how it felt to type that. Ugh. I need to put my head in between my knees for a moment.

I don't even know what to say about this fucking situation. It's down to Kerry's lawyers trying to wring 125,000 provisonal ballots out of Ohio, and you know what? It ain't gonna happen. Me, I'd rather swallow the bitter pill and just sulk in private. I'm sure there are a few million people who are currently pounding the shit out of their keyboards, decrying the state of our nation, planning their exoduses (exodi?) to Canada, so I think I'll just sit this tragic moment in history out. Suffice to say, fuck this noise.

This week has already been a real doozy for me and it's about to get moreso. First (and most importantly), this election nonsense. In a few hours, I get on a plane to Sonoma, California for a college show. Sixteen hours later, I'll be flying back to NYC for the very last episode of "Tough Crowd" and the accompanying sure-to-be-melancholy wrap party. The next morning I go into my office to clear out my shit, and then get into a car to drive to Malborough, Massachusetts for a "NACA" conference. This is where you mill around a suburban Best Western for a couple of days, trying to impress nineteen year-old college students, so that they'll offer you work. Three cheers for whoring!! Yippee!!

Fuck it. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight, America.

I LEFT MY HEART ON AMERICAN EAGLE FLIGHT 3130

Fun show at Fresno State earlier tonight--good turnout, friendly audience. It was such a good show, in fact, I really have nothing to say about it. It's funny how I can write paragraph after paragraph about a shitty gig, but have nothing to say about the relatively good ones.

But enough about that. The important thing is that, sitting across the aisle on the plane from me this morning, was legendary crooner and national treasure Tony Bennett. I have no idea why Tony Bennett would need to take a 35 seat, coach-only puddle jumper from Los Angeles to Fresno, but there you have it. Even cooler, he was nattily dressed in an expensive suit, with a ruby red pocket square and slightly-too-large-for-his-face tinted sunglasses. I like it when celebrities go the extra mile to be who they "are" in public, even if it means sacrificing a bit of comfort. You think Tony Bennett, you think classy suit and pocket square--to see him farting around in sweat pants and a Cookie Puss t-shirt would just seem...I don't know, not right.

Seeing Tony Bennett look so "Tony Bennett" makes me think that maybe I should start to cultivate a "look". Sure, I look hot as hell in my pastiche of Old Navy and The Gap, but maybe it's time for more memorable performance-wear. Here are a few ideas for my new "look":

* Urban Pirate
* Breakdancing Satanist
* Faggy Spaceman
* Hooker with a Heart of Gold
* Native American Jello Wrestler
* Lobster Boy Chic
* Grunge Barrister
* Stroke Victim Nouveau
* "Brendan", that creepy neighborhood kid who tortures small animals

If you have any suggestions, speak now or forever hold your peace.

THE BASEBALL, THE GLAMOUR

As I've mentioned here on a number of occasions, I am not a Boston Red Sox fan, despite my having spent the first 18 years of my life in Massachusetts. Still, I must say that I am very happy for Red Sox fans everywhere, including my family and childhood friends. I watched the game tonight with a few transplanted New Englanders, including one dude who is easily the most intense baseball fanatic I will ever meet. And when the game finally came to an end, my friend was crying, jumping up and down, screaming to the heavens and basically having a religious experience in front of my eyes. I must say, it was pretty amazing. Of course, if I was cynical I could mention that ten seconds later he started an enthusiastically received chant of "Yankees suck", thereby proving that even in a moment of supreme glory, Red Sox fans (and the city of Boston in general) will always need feel the need to measure themselves in terms of how they relate to the Yankees (and New York in general). But I won't.

In all seriousness, congratulations to everyone from my prodigal hometown.

And on a completely different note, I should briefly mention that beloved character actor John C. Reilly told me he enjoyed my set last night. An old friend of mine from NYC now lives out here and produces a really hip monthly vaudeville show. Apparently Jay Mohr was supposed to make an appearance, but he bailed, so my friend asked me if I wanted to swing by after what turned out to be a semi-lackluster USC show. I did and it was definitely surreal in that bizarre L.A. kind of way. Apparently, people were upset because famous photographer Bruce Weber had reserved the majority of the tables, meaning that other movers and shakers folks were actually made to stand (Heaven forfend!). Luckily, they found a seat for Marisa Tomei (WHEW!) and someone named Samantha Ronson (should I know who she is?), but John C. Reilly was forced to mill around by the bar, where sightlines to the stage were extremely limited. But I guess he saw enough of my set that he felt compelled to give me props--either that, or he just felt awkward that I happened to be standing there next to him and tossed me one of those "Good Job comments that I wrote about a couple of weeks back. Still, it was pretty neat.

In other strange "celebrity" sightings, members of the seminal punk band The Misfits were staying here at the Best Western Sunset Plaza last night, and I saw some weird looking dude I recognized from "Melrose Place" (Grant Show, maybe?) sitting in the window of a shitty Mexican restaurant. Hollywood glitz, baby!

ROLL FOR DAMAGE


I'm not sure how many of you know this, but last week marked the 30th anniversary of Dungeons & Dragons. That's right, 30--which, incidentally, is the age at which most D&D players lose their virginity. But seriously, it's hard not to feel a tad nostalgiac. If you were a suburban teenager in the 1980's chances are you have, at some point, sat in some kid's basement with the "Monster Manual" (or "Fiend Folio", if you were more advanced) and a pad of graph paper, weilding an imaginary broadsword with one hand and a far-more-real bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in the other. Of course, the fascination for most of us lasted only a brief time--I think I lost interest after about six weeks. But for some, like my older brother (Hi, John!), D&D was less a passing trend and more an all-encompassing way of life. It seems like only yesterday that the living room of my house was filled every Friday night with my older brother's ragtag collection of greasy-haired, scoliosis-wracked, B.O.-laden friends, fighting over who was weilding whatever fucking amulet or how much damage a +3 mace would do against a neutral evil Drow Elf wearing ringmail. Ah, memories.

Anyway, there's no debating that 30 years is something of an accomplishment for a game that consists of kids sitting around a table and pretending to do shit. I plan on celebrating by coming back to my hotel after tonight's gig, buying a six-pack of Lonely Inebriation potions, using my Wand of Remote Control to flip channels and treating my penis like a melee weapon.

Happy aniversary, Dungeons & Dragons! We raise up a flagon of mead in your honor.

HERE IS SOMETHING!


Alright, enough of this non-posting shit--I'm back...and as marginally funny as ever!

Rather than try and think of some grand p[ost that would somehow make up for the fact that I haven;t written shit lately, I'm just going to type for a while and that will hopefully get me on a roll for the week. I'm probably going to have a good bit of downtime this week, so I plan on posting something every damn day, even if it's nothing funny. Anyway, where do I start...

In a few hours, I'll be headed to Los Angeles. This will be second of three trips to California I'm taking over the course of three weeks. I'm doing a little mini-tour of West Coast colleges, sponsored by FHM Magazine. I still have very high hopes for the three gigs I have this week and the one or two more I have in the weeks following. But the first one, last Tuesday at Cal State San Marcos, was...well, very odd. Cal State San Marcos is a very tiny school that was founded less than a decade ago, and less than 10% of the students live on campus. Already, that didn't bode well for a huge turnout. But then, the clincher: it was pouring rain. Now I know what you're thinking: So what? A little rain never hurt anyone! Well, someone should spread the word to Southern California, because in the greater San Diego area, you would have thought this light drizzle was a biblical plague of locusts. I've actually written on this subject before, the LAST time I did a college gig in Southern California.

The upshot is, in a performance space that was designed to seat 250 people, a mere 30-35 students actually showed the fuck up. Behold, the mighty drawing power of Christian Finnegan! Oh, but wait--it gets better: the "performance space" I speak of? It was a lecture hall. Yes, a lecture hall. Now you're probably thinking, "Surely he doesn't mean, like, a classroom!" Yes, I mean that I performed a full show in a fully lit classroom, standing in front of a projection screen, playing to a smattering of kids in tiered seats with mini-desks attached. It was a truly bizarre aligning of the shitty-gig planets.

Strange thing is, I actually had a lot of fun. The situation was so surreal, I couldn't even be bummed by it. and this kids who DID show up were a pretty cool group and I ended up doing a full hour and ten minutes, which is probably the longest set I've ever done, and there was still a good bit of material I never got to. I guess you could call that a "moral victory", right? That said, I sincerely hope that this week's shows won't fall into the same category--I've had enough character-building experiences to last a fucking lifetime. I'm not even going to TELL you about the horrifying gig I did two days later, at the Columbia University Computer Science Department 25th Anniversary Banquet (no, I'm not kidding). Tonight, I'm at Cal State Long Beach, tomorrow I'm at USC and on Thursday, I head upstate to Cal State Fresno. I've been told that one of the shows (I can't remember which) is going to be taking place in a 1300 seat theatre, so I have reasonably high hopes. We shall see.

Alright, I'm going to get some shut-eye before I drag my ass to JFK. I'll have my brand-spanking-new laptop with me, so I'll be posting from sunny California.

AMERICA'S LEAST POPULAR HALLOWEEN COSTUMES, Part II

Jesus in a Wheelchair

Homeless Wizard

King Bloodfart

Stem Cell Manny

Wankenstein

Spewbeard the Pirate

LONG TIME, NO WRITE

So I don't write for an entire week and then as soon as I come back I ask for a favor? Jeez, what a dick.

I've been hired to write this Valentines Day promotional booklet for 1-800-FLOWERS, whicvh is the main reason I haven't posted in a week. It's called the "Thoughtless Male Survival Guide" and I'm sure my girlfriend would claim it's the tome I was born to write. I know it sounds kind of silly, but I'll be getting a good deal of press for it, come February (barring unforseen catastrophes). Anyway, part of this little booklet is going to be me explaining to guys the right and wrong ways to deal with various relationship oriented fuck-ups. I'm supposed to come up with 25-30 different scenarios, and then write a little funny DO/DON'T thing about each. Problem is, coming up with the scenarios is proving more difficult than I would have thought. I was hoping you guys might have some ideas--ways you've screwed up (gentlemen), things boyfriends/husbands have to piss you off (ladies), etc.

Here are a few examples:

* You girlfriend catches you checking out another woman's ass on the sidewalk.
* A friend inadvertently reveals that you've been sharing the intimate details of your relationship with outsiders.
* You fail to notice your girlfriend's new hairdo.
* You mistakenly call your wife by an ex-girlfriend's name.
* Your girlfriend opens up your internet browser and discovers your porno habits.

Anything spring to mind? If you would be so kind as to let me know, I'd be oh-so-grateful. As an early reward, I present to you this 14 clip of a pretty amazing kids show that's supposedly been picked up by MTV. If it makes it past two airings, I'll be suprised and impressed.

GIVING BACK TO THE COMMUNITY

Every once in a while, I like to share a bit of wisdom with those just starting out in the world of stand-up comedy. So I offer you new comics some advice: when you bomb (and trust me, you bomb--repeatedly), other stand up comics will react to you in a variety of ways. It's important you learn to decipher these "friendly" comments, so as to determine what is well-intentioned critique and what is bitter, self-centered assholery. So I will now provide you short list of things a fellow comic might say to you after a not-so-spectacular set, followed (in italics) by what each comment truly means. Please keep in mind that I am guilty of having used all of these bullshit platitudes at one time or another, and I'm sure plenty of people have used them on me. Anyway...enjoy!


COMMENT: "Good job."

TRANSLATION: You were a forgettable part of a lackluster evening. I am complimenting you only because I have a vague notion that you performed and now we've found ourselves standing around the bar, socializing with the same group of people. I remember that you weren't offensively bad, but if you asked me right now what I liked about your set, I'd probably say something vague, like "You said something up top that I really loved," and then excuse myself to go to the men's room.


COMMENT: "The audience really sucked tonight."

TRANSLATION: I like you as a person, so I am going to help you shift the blame for what just transpired off of your either half-written or over-written jokes and non-existent stage presence to a group of people whose only crime was to spend their hard-earned money and time trying to be entertained by you.


COMMENT: "Hey, how much time are we supposed to do?"

TRANSLATION: Thanks for going way over your allotted fucking time, asshole. There are seven other comics on the lineup, you goddamn prima dona, including ME! And with every moment that passes before I go up, the chances of the already-dwindling audience calling it a night increases, thereby robbing me of the opportunity to validate my pathetic excuse for a comedy career. And don't give me that 'I didnt see the light' bullshit--I saw you acknowledge the light, and you went ahead and did another ten minutes. Just because your closer didn't get laughs, that doesn't mean you get to keep toggling through bits until you elicit a chuckle substantial enough for you to slink offstage. You went way over your time and I want to let you know it. Of course, I'm putting in the form of a questions, so as to deny accountability.


COMMENT: "You've really been getting better lately."

TRANSLATION: Despite my having written you off as someone who will do nothing for the world of comedy other than clog up the works, tonight you somehow managed to make me laugh in spite of myself. Still, because of my deep-seeded resentment for anyone trying to succeed in my chosen field, I'm unable to pay you a straightforward compliment. Therefore, I will subtly imply that, for you, being funny is not the norm, while simultaneously positing myself as someone whose respect and judgment should mean something to you.


COMMENT: "You brought out the classics tonight."

TRANSLATION: When the fuck are you going to write some new material? I just wasted eight precious minutes of my life listening to you tell jokes I heard you tell four years ago. And let's be honest, here: your 'gold' ain't all that golden, something I hope to underscore by my use of the mock-grandiose "classics".


COMMENT: "A couple of those bits I hadn't heard before."

TRANSLATION: When the fuck are you going to write some new material? The fact that I isolated a "couple" of new bits is meant to convey just how rarely you come up with anything new. Also, note that I never suggested that these "new bits" were the least bit funny.


COMMENT: "I didn't see your set. How did it go?"

TRANSLATION: I absolutely saw your set and you bombed horribly. In fact, getting a blowjob in front of my mother would be less awkward than the comedic dirty bomb you just unleashed on the audience. Luckily, I'm reasonably confident you didn't see me standing in the room, so I can get away with claiming not have seen you perform, rather than force us both to acknowledge how awful you were (and are, if you want my honest opinion). I'm also asking how your set went because I'm curious to see what your response will be. I'm kind of hoping you'll claim it went really well, so when I meet up with my friends at the bar later, we can have a good laugh at what a deluded fuck you are.


Hope this helps, Mr. and Ms. Young Comedian. Now get out there and make America laugh!

IT'S NEVER TOO LATE TO PLUG

I realize this is a tad late in the game, but those of you in the New York area should really consider coming out to tonight's installment of Sob Stories at the Marquee. It's a wicked awesome (to use my native Massachusetts-ian dialect) lineup, including DC Benny, Tom Shillue, Jackie Kashian and The Onion's Andy Selsberg. Tonight's theme is "Performance Anxieties", which should lend itself to laughs galore. That's right, galore. GALORE!

The 'deets':

PSNBC presents Sob Stories
The Marquee
356 Bowery
(btwn Great Jones/E. 4th St.)
Doors 7:30; Show at 8:00 PM
$5.00 - NO drink minimum!

For more info, click here.

Come on out and feel the love. You shan't regret it.

AMERICA'S LEAST FAVORITE CHILDREN'S BOOKS

Who's in Bed with Mommy This Week?

Where the Mild Things Are

Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Jonathan Silverman Movie

If You Can't Remember It, It Didn't Happen!

Jesus Let Your Hamster Die

James and the Giant Bee-atch

Cedric and Cindy's Kooky Crazy Custody Hearing

One Day You'll Wake Up and Feel Genuine Disgust at Who You've Become

The Protocols of the Elders of Sillyville

Everybody Poops (Blood)

Garrett Gopher and the All-Male Bookstore

Make Way for Racist Ducklings

Integrating Ivestments and the Tax Code: Using the Tax Code to Enhance Returns and Add Value

Horton Hears a Very Funny AIDS Joke

Learn How to Throw a Baseball, You Goddamn Fairy!

INERT

I know I haven't posted in nearly a week, and I don't want to pretend that this is a genuine entry, 'cause it ain't. This is just a bold-faced plug to let you all know that I'm going to be appearing on "Tough Crowd with Colin Quinn" tonight. Should be interesting. For those of you who don't already know, I've been on the writing staff there for over a year, but I've never actually appeared as a panelist. The thing about Tough Crowd is, the format is very tricky--it looks likes it's just a bunch of silly banter, but I've seen many a great comic come off looking bad on the show. When people suck on Tough Crowd, it's usually for one of three reasons: they don't prepare enough (and don't have the charm and charisma to pull of "winging it"), they prepare too much and spend the whole show awkwardly trying to cram their jokes in, or they simply freeze up and stare into the camera, aka "Cindy Brady Syndrome". I've seen it happen time and time again and told myself "Boy, if I ever get to do the show..." Well, I guess now we'll find out.

The show tapes this evening and then airs tonight at 11:30pm (in NYC, at least), right after "The Daily Show". Check it out, if you're so inclined.

Oh, and as far as posting some actual "comedy" goes, I'll be posting something relatively weighty very soon, probaby tomorrow evening.

DESERT ISLAND DICKS

I keep seeing ads for this show Lost, which appears to be a mixture of Survivor. ER and The X Files (I know what you're thinking: Finally!). To my eye, this show has the makings of a show that everyone pretends to love for two months and then gets cancelled after one season. There's such a thing as too much "drama", and I think a show about a group of people (all with their own personal issues and plotlines, of course) who crash land on an deserted island and then discover it just happens to be home to some sort of...well, monster. That seems like one premise too many. I am happy, though, that network TV has finally found another I-didn't-ask-for-this-responsibility-but-somehow-I-will-shoulder-the-weight role for Matthew Fox, aka The Man Who Holds Americas Hair Back.

I'm not sure how well I would handle finding myself on a deserted island, especially under stressful circumstances (like, say, a plane crash/monster type situation). My current way of dealing with stress is to lock myself in my apartment and play Madden 2005 until the feeling passes. That seems rather impractical on a deserted island. Plus, I get really cranky if I don't give my hair a good shampooing every day. I'm sure that I'd end up being that guy who'd bitch and moan and get on everyone's nerves. Eventually me and my fellow survivors would be trudging through the trees, searching for some sign of fresh water and/or civilization, when the sound of a snapping branch breaks the silence. All of the castaways stop and look around, worriedly. All of them except me, of course. "Did you guys just hear something?", the requisite hot-babe-who's-been-through-hard-times says. "WHAT'S THE DAMN HOLD UP?!" I turn back and bellow, displaying the ill temper that's made me the least-liked person on the island. The Matthew Fox type guy takes a cautious step towards me and whispers, "Christian...don't...move..." I stand there facing them, with my back towards a dense thicket of bushes and trees. "LOOK," I shout. "YOU GUYS CAN PUSSYFOOT AROUND AS MUCH AS YOU WaNT, BUT I'M GOING TO GET THE HELL OFF OF THIS DAMN ISLAND! YOU HEAR ME? I'M GETTING OUT OF HERE!!!" It's at this precise moment that an unseen force grabs me and I disappear into the bushes. What follows is fifteen seconds of terrified screaming and pleas for help. One of the other survivors begins to step forward to help me, but he he is held back by the more sensible among them. There is no helping me--I'm already dead. The hot-babe-who's-been-through-hard-times collapses into Matthew Fox's ever-capable arms.

And now, a word from our sponsors.

AMERICA'S LEAST FAVORITE AUTOMOBILES

The Pontiac Deathrattle

The Bentley Pretense

The Plymouth P.O.S.

The Lexus DUI Series

The Audi Hatecrime

The Isuzu Ennui

The Geo Bone Cancer

The Peugeot Stench

The Chevy Airbags-are-for-fags

The Kia Cockblock

The Mercedes-Benz Reichmobile

The Ferrari Orphanmaker

The Maxi Cooper

The Land Rover Overcompensator

The Volkswagen Gunt

DERISION 2004

I've had e-fucking-nough with the presidential election. I'm so fucking sick of of campaign-related horsepoop, I'm tempted to move to Brunei. Can we just go ahead and vote now? We're ready, right? We should amend the constitution so that, in years like this, we the people can look around at each other and say "Are we good? Okay, let's do this." But no, we have to endure seven more weeks of hokey sloganeering, make-believe anecdotes about "real" Americans (e.g. "I was recently talking with Edna May Jensen from Terre Haute, Indiana and she told me that her prescription drug costs blah blah blah blah bleeccch...") and around-the-clock punditry. And for who's benefit? The "undecided" voters? The most jelly-brained 2% of the American population? Anyone who doesn't know who he/she's voting for this far along in the game is someone who's vote we, as a nation, probably don't need.

I think Bush is an fucking embarassment, but it's no mystery to me why so many people like him. Bush and Kerry personify the perpetual (and very American) battle between "Common Sense" and "Intellectualism". In a nutshell, if you think that life is simple (good, evil, right, wrong, etc.), Bush is probably your guy. And if you think that life is very complicated and that what might be "right" for one person isn't necessarily right for another person, you're probably voting for Kerry--or, to be more specific, against Bush. The point I'm trying to make is, I understand why someone would vote for Bush, loathe him though I do. But the difference is pretty damn stark--how could anyone still be undecided? It's not a complicated menu, people--Christ, there are only two entrees. Pick one! (Okay, technically speaking, I there is a third entree, but do us all a favor and don't pick that one.)

What could you possible be expecting to learn between now and November that's going to make up your mind? Nothing good, that's for sure. Trust me, you already know every single good thing about about Bush and Kerry. In fact, had that shit drilled into your head for the past six months. And don't give me that crap about the debates. The presidential debates prove nothing, save how good a candidate is at memorization. How are you supposed to size someone up when they're just reciting their "talking points"? I wish we could insert some genuine spontaineity back into the debate process. Hell, what's stopping Kerry from just turning to Bush and asking, "Okay, George. Quick: what's nine times nine?" I would give three to one odds it would take bush at least ten seconds to answer. And to be fair, Bush could turn around and say "Okay, John Kerry, perhaps you can explain to America why in the world anyone would want a president who looks like the Scream mask."

BE COOL TO YOUR SCHOOL

So tomorrow, being the Wednesday after Labor Day, is the traditional "back to school" day. At least, that's the way it was in my youth. It's funny, I'm 31 and this week still gives me a restless, excited feeling. Much more than January 1st, I think of the Wednesday after Labor Day as being the true start of the new year. Just to make tomorrow feel extra special, I picked up a new Dukes of Hazard Trapper Keeper (my old one was worn aropund the edges) and I've laid out a sassy new outfit next to my bed--say hello to Chess King, baby!

If you're still in high school or college, you should get down on your knees and kiss the sticky cafeteria floor. I'm not going to tell you that these are the best days of your life--only douchebags say that. But I will say that you're in the midst of the most dependable days of your life. Being a student gives gives your vapid, meaningless life the illusion of structure. There are classes to be attended, homework to be done, pop quizzes to stress over. Shit needs to get done, and if you don't come through, there are consequences--bad grades, detention, etc. Even if you rebel and decide not to do what's expected of you, the educational system will drag your ass along and continue to give you a nice, sturdy framework against which to rebel. Compare that to the relatively weightless world of adulthood, where I'm expected to create my own reasons for getting up in the morning. Fuck that noise.

So enjoy it while it lasts, etudiantes. And if you're out of school but want to spend an hour or so reliving the highs, lows, triumphs and embarrassments of scholastic life, come out to tonight's installment of Sob Stories at The Marquee. The theme, obviously, is "Back to School" and the show will feature lots of fantastic guests, including Todd Hanson (head writer for The Onion), Todd Levin, Bob Powers and more!

Here's the relevant info:

SOB STORIES, hosted by Christian Finnegan (that's me)
The Marquee
356 Bowery
(btwn Great Jones & E. 4th St)
8:00 PM
$5.00 - NO drink minimum!
This month's theme: BACK TO SCHOOL

Please show up. Funny will be made.