Recappery
Hey there 'Redheads... I hope everyone had an enjoyable weekend. Mine was chock full of recappable eventitude (look it up...if you find it, call me). I ventured out on my first couple road gigs for '07, bathed my senses in playoff football, and offered up my Mondays as a sacrifice to the gods of suspended disbelief. Oh, and I had pancakes.
As most of you know, comedy takes me to all sorts of exotic locales. In order to balance things out, comedy decided to take me to Morgantown, West Virginia and Marietta, Ohio. Oh, the glamour. I'd been looking forward to this trip for a little while, mostly because of the room in Marietta, which is in a historical riverboat hotel. I mentioned balance before, so in order to get to that happy Saturday place, I had to first endure a crappy Friday place. I'd been to this place a couple times before, a lounge in a Ramada Inn, and whether it's a gift or a curse, my memory refuses to store the less-than-average experience from the previous times. Don't get me wrong, the staff at this place is great, and I'm sure the audience means well, but they're that rare combination of drunkard and dullard that makes extracting laughter with anything but dick or shit jokes like trying to yank a wisdom tooth with a pair of salad tongs (did that run on? I think it did). They stunk, except for one couple in the back of the room. Apparently, the aerodynamics of my jokes were such that they sailed over the heads of the first few tables and landed in this couple's laps like a badly bent Nerf boomerang.
Then the headliner goes on and proceeds to crush with the following poorly executed and carbon dated impressions:
- Bill Clinton as a rapper, complete with Monica Lewinsky stained dress reference
- Cheech and Chong giving weed to Forrest Gump
- Sling Blade talking to the Water Boy
His closer, which involves two puppets of Barney and Elmo fucking, began with him asking any parents in the room what their kids watch that drives them nuts. The audience barked back, "Spongebob!" "Dora!" and pretty much everything else besides Barney, because I'm pretty sure the purple foam satan isn't on television anymore. The two puppets slam into each other, while he sings "I Love You, You Love Me" and "My Bologna Has A First Name," then, from out of the Barney puppet pops a stuffed Cartman and he launches into "Kyle's Mom is a Bitch"...not a parody of the song, the song from South Park. Aaaaaaaand scene. Applause. He bows. I start thinking about my career choice.
As potentially soul crushing as Friday night was, Saturday night was, thankfully, a complete 180. The show was sold out and the room was filled with lively, smart, and responsive people. Friday was work. Saturday was fun. I had a great time on stage and I was able to take the audience on a 30 minute tour of my head, even with a small collection of drunk idiots trying to puke over the guardrail. After I got done, I went up to my room to watch the Saints/Eagles game. As you can probably tell, the headliner's show was already pretty much etched in my brain. I turned on the TV to see this beauty of a hit...
24 is shaping up to be another banner day of terror suspects dying just before vital information can be extracted from them (DAMMIT!), big explosions shown on a fake FOX NEWS, and feats of badassery that are rarely seen outside of John Wayne's id. In just the first 4 hours, Jack went Lost Boys on a terrorist, shot one of his best friends to preserve the greater good, and cried. He's human, people. In one scene, Jack confides to his new ex-terrorist partner, Assad, "I don't remember how to do this." I wanted Assad to say, "It's just like blowing up a bicycle."
Got nothing to do Tuesday night? Fuck American Idol in its tone deaf ear, and come out to the latest DC Improv showcase showdown. It'll be hosted by one of the funniest guys in DC, Erik Myers, and myself and Jon Mumma will be doing guest sets after the competition. Should be fun. See you there.
To be continued...
As most of you know, comedy takes me to all sorts of exotic locales. In order to balance things out, comedy decided to take me to Morgantown, West Virginia and Marietta, Ohio. Oh, the glamour. I'd been looking forward to this trip for a little while, mostly because of the room in Marietta, which is in a historical riverboat hotel. I mentioned balance before, so in order to get to that happy Saturday place, I had to first endure a crappy Friday place. I'd been to this place a couple times before, a lounge in a Ramada Inn, and whether it's a gift or a curse, my memory refuses to store the less-than-average experience from the previous times. Don't get me wrong, the staff at this place is great, and I'm sure the audience means well, but they're that rare combination of drunkard and dullard that makes extracting laughter with anything but dick or shit jokes like trying to yank a wisdom tooth with a pair of salad tongs (did that run on? I think it did). They stunk, except for one couple in the back of the room. Apparently, the aerodynamics of my jokes were such that they sailed over the heads of the first few tables and landed in this couple's laps like a badly bent Nerf boomerang.
Then the headliner goes on and proceeds to crush with the following poorly executed and carbon dated impressions:
- Bill Clinton as a rapper, complete with Monica Lewinsky stained dress reference
- Cheech and Chong giving weed to Forrest Gump
- Sling Blade talking to the Water Boy
His closer, which involves two puppets of Barney and Elmo fucking, began with him asking any parents in the room what their kids watch that drives them nuts. The audience barked back, "Spongebob!" "Dora!" and pretty much everything else besides Barney, because I'm pretty sure the purple foam satan isn't on television anymore. The two puppets slam into each other, while he sings "I Love You, You Love Me" and "My Bologna Has A First Name," then, from out of the Barney puppet pops a stuffed Cartman and he launches into "Kyle's Mom is a Bitch"...not a parody of the song, the song from South Park. Aaaaaaaand scene. Applause. He bows. I start thinking about my career choice.
As potentially soul crushing as Friday night was, Saturday night was, thankfully, a complete 180. The show was sold out and the room was filled with lively, smart, and responsive people. Friday was work. Saturday was fun. I had a great time on stage and I was able to take the audience on a 30 minute tour of my head, even with a small collection of drunk idiots trying to puke over the guardrail. After I got done, I went up to my room to watch the Saints/Eagles game. As you can probably tell, the headliner's show was already pretty much etched in my brain. I turned on the TV to see this beauty of a hit...
>
KA-BLAMMO! Reggie Bush got de-cleated. Impaled. Annihilated. His momma started crying, he got hit so hard. Never have I seen a football player crawling on his hands and knees after a hit, trying to recover. He got knocked into pre-school. Absolutely awesome.24 is shaping up to be another banner day of terror suspects dying just before vital information can be extracted from them (DAMMIT!), big explosions shown on a fake FOX NEWS, and feats of badassery that are rarely seen outside of John Wayne's id. In just the first 4 hours, Jack went Lost Boys on a terrorist, shot one of his best friends to preserve the greater good, and cried. He's human, people. In one scene, Jack confides to his new ex-terrorist partner, Assad, "I don't remember how to do this." I wanted Assad to say, "It's just like blowing up a bicycle."
Got nothing to do Tuesday night? Fuck American Idol in its tone deaf ear, and come out to the latest DC Improv showcase showdown. It'll be hosted by one of the funniest guys in DC, Erik Myers, and myself and Jon Mumma will be doing guest sets after the competition. Should be fun. See you there.
To be continued...
posted by Jared at 11:06 PM
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