199

Hey there, 'Redheads... How was your collective weekend? If you filled out an NCAA bracket, part of your weekend was spent spitting expletives at a television. It all started out so well. I was perfect for the day games on day one. Then, I lost two upset picks by one point each and one of my Sweet 16 teams went down. On day two, the bottom dropped out when the ACC collectively shit the bed, including Wake Forest, who I had in my championship game, fuck you very much. So, ka-flooey, my brackets went up in smoke. With my brackets busted, my hopes then rested on my Terps, who had a nice win in the first round with 2 seed Memphis in their way in round two. And wow, did we get clobbered. The Terps got so thoroughly stomped, the school is considering changing the school logo to a Memphis sneaker print. We got Memphisted. They shot something like 70% in the first half. They were shooting golf balls into a 55 gallon drum and we were firing proton torpedoes into a two meter vent shaft. Not only did we get outgunned, but we were completely outsized. The Memphis players were cartoonishly huge...it was like we were up against the alien team from Space Jam. It was a miracle that we only lost by 19. Too bad that had to be the deflating end to an otherwise great season. Back to the brackets, aside from my Wake Forest prediction, my other three picks are still kickin'. I stand by my pick for Syracuse to win the whole thing...until they get bounced next weekend.

So, I'm coming to grips with the harsh truth that I have allergies. To what, I have no idea, but nature seems to have it out for my lungs. So, rather than cough between every other breath, I have turned to the healing power of Zyrtec. It takes a unique approach to tackling allergies. It makes you so drowsy, you forget to be allergic. You just stumble around in an arid haze.

In reference to the blog's title, this is the 199th post. So, the next one will be a Super Double-Deluxe 200th Post Spectacular...or something. I have nothing in particular planned, but expect alot of padding with clips from previous blogs.

'Til then...

Maddening

Hey there, 'Redheads... Greetings from beyond the flowing rivers of green beer and vomit. I hope everyone had a Happy St. Viviana's Day...never heard of it? That's probably because I just made it up. She's the patron saint against hangovers and headaches...so, who better to name the day after St. Patrick's Day for? I'd like to nominate someone else for patron sainthood (can a Jew do that?). I think Jack Bauer should be the patron saint of badasses. I watched Jack kill a man, then start up a truck with the same bloody screwdriver. Somebody call Vince from the ShamWow and SlapChop commercials, because I've got a feeling the StabStart is gonna be bigger than the Snuggie. By the way, if the blog seems mintier than usual, it's because this blogging session is being fueled by Girl Scout Thin Mints. That's right, Thin Mints, making poops smell like altoids since 1980.

So, I should break a small bit of crappy comedy news to you. You may remember in an earlier installment, when I was touting an upcoming feature spot at the DC Improv. Yeah, well...turns out I've been bumped from that stratosphere back down to earthly hosting duties. The headliner is bringing his own guy to feature. No worries, though...it'll still be a fun slate of sold-out shows...just less of me. Me concentrate. So, come check out less of me May 14-17 with Roastmaster General, Jeff Ross. Click the link for tix and info.

And thanks to everyone who came out to the shows at the Baltimore Comedy Factory last weekend. Apparently, people that I don't know either read the blog or stalk me on Facebook, because plenty of printed out coupons with my name on them showed up and I didn't recognize any of the drunken masses as they filed past me and ignored my attempts to sell CDs. So, here's to my supposed fan base.

Congrats to my Terps for squeaking their way into the big dance. They kick off what'll hopefully be a deep run in the tourney on Thursday. Here's the thing with having them in the tourney...I have to try to fill out my brackets without seeming disloyal. If they play up to their potential, they can beat anyone in the country, so it might be easy to justify a national title run, but I have to bet with my head instead of my heart. I'd love to see a UMD/Morgan St. rematch in the championship game, but that's just not gonna happen. The 2009 brackets might as well be pinned on a dart board this year. Any one of about ten teams could conceivably win it all. Once the games tip off, I fully expect my brackets to collapse like a game of Jenga in the Parkinson's ward. Heck, this year the tourney could be won by Stone Cold Steve Austin, who will be playing Syracuse 5 on 1...he gets a steel chair, of course. And this year, President Obama has filled out a Baracket. I think he picked UNC to win it all. As a country, we better hope they do because I think he bet the bailout money on it.

In case you care, here's my Final Four prediction:

MIDWEST REGION: WAKE FOREST
WEST REGION: MEMPHIS
EAST REGION: PITT
SOUTH REGION: SYRACUSE
CHAMPIONSHIP GAME: WAKE vs. SYRACUSE
NCAA CHAMPION: SYRACUSE

Book it. Let the games begin.

Addendum

Hey there 'Redheads... I was thinking that the last blog installment was self-absorbed and self-important. What's that? ALL of the installments are self-absorbed and self-important? Well, in any case, I was so wrapped up in the flour tortilla of my impending business (pronounced "busy-ness"), that I neglected a few dollops of random guacamole. So, here's a super happy bonus installment...enjoy.

Apparently, March 10th was National Day of Appreciation for Abortion Providers. What, you might ask, is an appropriate gift for National Day of Appreciation for Abortion Providers? Well, I have no idea, but I did come up with a couple inappropriate gifts...
--A simple bouquet...of wire hangers
--A plate of scrambled eggs
--A Cabbage Patch Kid...with a gift receipt

I caught part of the World Baseball Classic, and by "part", I mean one play out of the the corner of my eye on a tv in my periphery while I was screaming at the Terps on the tv directly in front of me. Anyway, I believe it was America vs. Canadia (you heard me). One of the U.S. players' last name was Putz. I want that jersey. It got me to thinking about my favorite sports names...in no particular order:
1. D'Brickashaw Ferguson
2. Nook Logan
3. Miroslav Satan
4. Radek Bonk
5. Ruben Boumtje-Boumtje
6. Sarunas Jasikevicius (yes-you-kaveshus)
7. God Shammgod

I ate turtle soup for the first time on Saturday night. It joins the list of other exotic animals I've consumed: alligator (in omelet form), shark (in fried nugget form), and human (I bit my lip). The turtle soup was delicious...the flavor was slow and steady. My one regret was that it wasn't served in the shell. C'mon, the turtle is the only animal that has a natural bowl (nod to Jerry Thomas).

Ok, that's enough random crap. Back to me. Remember, if you enjoy the blog, you should extrapolate that to liking me and check out my Facebook fan page. Declare your undying...like. Also, starting Thursday night, I'm kicking off another can't-miss fun weekend at one of my favorite clubs, the Baltimore Comedy Factory. And if you don't enjoy sobriety, then have I got a deal for you: See me, drink free. Just print out this handy-dandy coupon to pickle you, whilst I tickle you...

See you in Charm City.

To be continued...

Fast Forward

Hey there 'Redheads... I hope everyone has adjusted to the quantum leap forward into a dystopian future where our economy has crumbled. If only we had that one hour back, you would be able to...read this earlier. Well, get your heads straight, people. The next couple of months, the calendar is going to turn into a flip book. My apologies to whoever's job it is to govern the laws of space and time. Whenever I have things to look forward to, they approach at warp speed. I'm just saying, if you have stuff to do between now and June, you should get your ducks in a row. In two weeks, I'm going back to Vegas...in time for the Final Four. And when I get back, I kick off eight straight weeks of comedy work...including a week at the DC Improv, May 14-17, featuring for Jeff Ross. And the night before that, I'm going to the Spinal Tap Unwigged & Unplugged concert at the Warner Theater. Check your watches...it might already be April. Confused? Maybe this can clear things up...

Before my 1.21 gigawatt expectations accidentally leave me stranded two months from now, waiting for anyone who gives a goddamn to catch up with me, let's focus on the present and not too distant past.

First, for the 'Redheads in Charm City... I'm back at the Baltimore Comedy Factory this weekend. Three nights, seven shows, and zero dollars for drinks. Because I'm funnier when I'm blurry around the edges, I'm offering a bailout from your senses...DRINKS ARE ON ME. Just print out this handy dandy coupon...

Baltimore has always been beddy beddy good to me, so I'm looking forward to a fun time up I-95.

Speaking of fun times in a northerly direction, I had a blast up at the Lake Ontario Playhouse to finish off February. It was a last minute gig, and I'm glad it luckily fell in my lap. Big thanks to the great staff up there and the cool folks in the town of Sacket's Harbor, NY. I drove up there with Marc Unger, who was nice enough to bring me along. The place was right out of a Stephen King rough draft...quaint, but with slightly foreboding undertones. If the walls bled, I wouldn'tve been completely shocked. The playhouse itself is a former military dance hall from the 40's that was converted into a comedy club. Very cool place...it had a Cheers vibe to it. Can't wait to go back in the summer.

We got back to town just in time for it to snow nine inches. Barely a week later, it's sunny and 70. This isn't me. My ego can only warp time. If you'd like to feed my ravenous need for constant validation, I suggest you check out my Facebook Fan Page.

I wish I could affect the play of my Terps, who managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory over the weekend. Nothing is ever easy with this team...they dangle a glimmer of hope in front of us, then clang our hearts off the front end of the rim as the buzzer sounds. Mix enough metaphors for ya? Here's hoping Gary Williams can wring every bit of talent juice from the ShamWow he uses to dry off with after every game. It's be nice to fill out an NCAA bracket with a local team in it.

Ok. It's late and I'm rambling. To be continued...