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.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
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!
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!
Thursday, December 30, 2004
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!
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!
Monday, December 13, 2004
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
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
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
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.
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.
Friday, December 03, 2004
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.
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.
Monday, November 29, 2004
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:
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:
Friday, November 19, 2004
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
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
Monday, November 15, 2004
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!
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!
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
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.
(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.
Thursday, October 28, 2004
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
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!
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!
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
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.
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.
Monday, October 25, 2004
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.
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.
Saturday, October 23, 2004
Friday, October 15, 2004
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.
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.
Thursday, October 07, 2004
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!
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!
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
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.
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.
Monday, October 04, 2004
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!
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!
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