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

Himmler City, UT

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!

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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!