BabyQ

Hey there 'Redheads... We're in the home stretch with Day 25 of Blog-A-Day in May, and I was worried that I wasn't going to have anything to blog about in this installment. Then something struck me. I went to three BBQs this extended weekend, and there was a baby at all of them...and there was baby news that broke at two of them. That's a 1 to 1 baby to BBQ ratio. I think it's grounding to have a baby in close proximity while you're gorging yourself, because you and the kid share the same baseline thought process. Eat 'til you cry, belch, get sleepy, maybe poop, then repeat step one. I ate myself into a slight stupor, taking breaks only to coat my screaming skin in a thin aloe glaze. All in all, a fun weekend.

As for the baby news, wish a mazel tov in my sister's general direction. She's got another bun in the oven...any more buns and she'll rival the Pillsbury Doughboy. On the plus side, you guys will have some cute baby pictures to coo at by the end of the year. On the minus side, my sister may have to move into a shoe.

I hope you did your part to remember the sacrifices our military men and women have made and continue to make so that we have the freedom to do trivial three-day weekend stuff. Even if it was sitting on your couch watching the NCIS marathon.

See you tomorrow...

Gravy

Hey there 'Redheads... I wanted to shoehorn one more installment into Yesvember, before the last couple days were lost to food coma. So consider this a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade of gaudy, over-inflated, and poorly expressed ideas to help distract you from candied yams, Detroit Lions football, and the awkward interaction with the sap of your family tree. A big fat thank you for tolerating me thus far. And away we go...

I just got back from the bris for my buddy Seth's new little munchkin, Ethan Perry...who will eventually be a member of the cast of the 2028 (when our already insipid retro ironic self-referential pop culture is hip again, ripping a hole in time...get all that?) revival of 90210, with a name like that. This was the second winky snipping that I've witnessed. Only slightly less cringe-inducing than the last one. The kid put up a bit of a fight, when he peed on the mohel right before the circumsnippage (look it up) occurred. For some reason, the mohel had a bluetooth in his ear the whole time, I guess in case of a last minute pardon from the governor.

On Saturday, I took a trip down to the newly re-opened American History Museum. The cosmetic overhaul was well done, but I found the content of the place to be a bit lacking, particularly the pop culture representation. Sure, the regular history stuff is cool, but I was looking forward to seeing Fonzie's jacket, Archie Bunker's chair, or Herve Villechaize (coulda sworn he was there). Well, none of that is there anymore. Here's a sampling of what was on display...you tell me if I'm being unfair. One case was devoted to women's basketball...you heard me. The next case over was hip-hop themed, with Grandmaster Flash's turntable and Fab Five Freddie's boom box. Across from that was a case with boxing gloves from Muhammad Ali, Jack Dempsey, and, of course, Rocky. Then there was a case that had Apolo Anton Ohno's speedskates...c'mon, this is the American History Museum, not a silent auction for the ice capades. Next to that, was something that actually belonged there, Kermit the Frog. The next case contained another muppet, Oscar the Grouch, the puffy shirt from Seinfeld, and the ventriloquist dummy from the 70's tv show, Soap. Then there was the centerpiece of the exhibit, the ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz. It was a pretty paltry hodgepodge. No mention of pop culture heavyweights Superman, Elvis, The Beatles, or Mickey Mouse. Luckily, the museum didn't completely slight Star Wars. They had C3-P0 by the main entrance of the museum among a general sampling of historical trinkets. There was also an appearance by R2-D2, who rolled and beeped through the halls of the museum under remote control, courtesy of the DC chapter of the R2-D2 Builders Club. According to their brochure, they're an internet based fan club (shocker) with over 5000 members...cluttering parents' basements worldwide. The droids they had on display were pretty impressive...give 'em a click and check it out. While we're on the subject, please enjoy this chunk of dork meat...

And while we're at it, here's a second helping...

Ok, enough of that. Here are some random processed joke-like product that's been kicking around in my head the last couple days...

The inventor of the slinky died. He fell down the stairs...slowly. Actually, he got stuck with three steps left to go and someone had to push him the rest of the way down...

I have a Siamese twin-size bed. It's two beds, connected at the headboard.

I'm bothered by the phrase "take a nap". Like it's not yours. Where are people taking these naps from?
"Jeez, Bill, you look like crap. You get enough sleep?"
"No, somebody took my nap."

Thanks.

Sit In My Lapse...

Hey there 'Redheads... Well, it's official. After a valiant two-weekish effort, JOKE/BIT/PREMISE/TAG-A-DAY IN MAY is dead. A week between installments kinda defeats the whole daily thing. Great timing too. The stunt-blogging gets a mention on DCStandup.com, then I decide to let it stagnate. I have the follow through of a thalidomide baby's golf swing. I think I got a couple decent comedy nuggets out of the enterprise. As my inevitable apology, I offer you a piping hot batch of cutie pie...






...now that I've reduced you to a puddle of goo, let's get this installment rolling, shall we?

Now for some horn tootage. Tuesday night, I won a poker tournament. I made my way through a field of 80 fellow degenerate Texas Hold 'Em players and won a buy-in to a tournament at the Borgata in Atlantic City next week. The top prize is in the neighborhood of $30,000. I hope to trick or treat through that neighborhood. That kind of money almost makes it worth it to visit Atlantic City. That place is a wretched hive of scum and villainy. One place I have to make sure I stop by on the way up...the HQ of Spencer's Gifts. I need to take that tour.

A big thanks to Matt, Tonia, Jeanne, and the rest of the groovy staff at LOL Comedy Club in Clayton, NC for a great weekend. The crowds were small (some shows, they felt more like drunk focus groups) but fun. I got a chance to work with the round mound of profound, Mo Alexander.

Here we are, filling a quota...

Comics in Clayton luxuriate in the lavish accommodations of Jeanne's house. Which has a 60-inch big screen TV...that can vote, it's so old. It's one of those rear projection jobs. This one takes about a half an hour before it warms up and holds a steady picture. Oh, and the cable wasn't working. You haven't seen scrambled snow, until you've seen it on a big screen. I felt like Carol Anne from Poltergeist. And the feature's room is pink. Pepto Bismol pink.

While we were tooling around Clayton, Mo and I stopped at a local drive-thru bbq joint, Smithfield BBQ. We pulled up to the menu to check out the bill of fare, when the lady behind the speaker popped on to take our order. We had no idea what we wanted, so we asked her what was good. She said everything was good. We weren't satisfied with what seemed like the company line, but she backed up her statement with, "I'm a 200 pound woman. I know about good barbecue." She was right. The bbq and cole slaw sandwich was pork-tastic.
The last night in the house, Mo, Jeanne, and I were lounging on the couches in the den, discussing various mysteries of life. The conversation turned to religion, then turned into me answering questions about Jewish stuff. Jeanne then asks the loaded question, "Can I ask you something without offending you?" Well now she had to, regardless of the outcome, "Go ahead," I said. I prepared to clear up some misconception about bar mitzvahs or having sex through a hole in a sheet. The question she chose was, "Are you really cheap?" WHA?? That was her burning question. Am I a stereotype. It was like asking Mo, "What's your stance on grape soda? For or against?" I thanked her for the new material then, after she went to bed, I took this picture with her camera...


No promises on the next bit of bloggage, but I'm gonna try not to veer too far off the path of regular updates.

To be continued...

Drafty

Hey there 'Redheads... Wow, another month has flown past. September is on the horizon, and with it, some nice little nuggets of fun. None of those nuggets are comedy work, unfortunately. I appear to have shot my wad in the first 3 quarters of the year. My next 3 months is so thin, it makes Nichole Richie look like...less of a pregnant skeleton. I'm gettin' desperate...


This week marks my second year here at Stately Stern Manor. I moved in right around when Katrina hit. I still have yet to host an official housewarming party. At this point, it'd be a house re-heating party. When I finally get around to it, you're all invited...bring a bundt cake. Speaking of parties, there's another one on the way. I turn 32 on Sept. 24th. At the very least, a candle will be stuck in the blowhole of a Fudgy the Whale. I have pretty high expectations for this year, though, as I've discovered that I share my birthday with a couple people that can stand to be around me...so, perhaps a mega-party can be arranged.

Of course, the big deal in September is the start of football season and with it, fantasy football season. This year, I'm playing in a league with a bunch of other comics, including a couple local favorites, Mike Shader and Kelly Terranova. We had our draft earlier this evening...I'm pretty happy with my team. The draft went as expected...except the yuck-a-puck with the first pick came out of left field and drafted Drew Brees. Here is your starting line-up for Team 2007...Shit's Crazy:
QB: The Golden Boy, Tom Brady (NE)
RB: Rudi Johnson (CIN)
RB: Maurice Jones-Drew (JAX)
WR: Reggie Wayne (IND)
WR: Donte Stallworth (NE)
TE: Vernon Davis (SF)
K: Josh Brown (SEA)
DEF: New England
Yes, it's very Patriot-heavy, but you can't go far wrong riding that horse. The season can't start soon enough. Let's play some imaginary pigskin.

Before I go any further, I would be remiss if I did not thank the entire staff at Banana's Comedy Club in Hasbrouck Heights, NJ for a great weekend. It started off slow as the ride up to the club was stretched out by a jack-knifed tanker truck that turned the last 4 miles of my drive into a 2+ hour crawl. Anyone who's been to Jersey knows it has a distinct bouquet. I made the mistake of having my windows rolled down as I hit the meat of the turnpike. I think I singed my eyebrows. I was reminded of this classic scene from Kentucky Fried Movie...

...cracks me up every time.

On the way home, I stopped off in Philly to engage in my new favorite pastime, playing with my impossibly cute nephew, Mo. Brace yourself for the ensuing adorability...



Just when you think he's reached the plateau of cute, BAM, he hits a new high. Buy stock in this kid's dimples...it's fiscally responsible...send the money to me.

To be continued...

Live Free Or Blog Hard

Hey there 'Redheads... Long time, no type. Sorry about that. Summertime, and the living is easy and whatnot. Luckily, the blog lag has given me a backlog of crap to spread on cracker and feed you (yummy). So far, June has been a pretty clean month for me, in that it's been uncontaminated by comedy work. Business picks up in July and August. For your stalking convenience, feel free to print this on the back of a t-shirt...

July 13-14 @ the Funny Farm in Youngstown, OH
July 19-21 @ the Baltimore Comedy Factory
July 27 @ the Mid-Atlantic Comedy Smorgasbord in Frederick, MD
August 10-11 @ Cozzy's in Newport News, VA
August 24-25 @ Banana's in Hasbrouck Heights, NJ

Follow me like Phish...I'll try to fit in a 30 minute jam session somewhere during my show.

Where do I begin... Well, let me start off by saying to anyone who was on I-95S between Delaware and Baltimore on Sunday night, FUCK YOU, YOU BRAKE TAPPING WINDOW LICKERS. Allow me to elaborate. I was on my way home from an extended visit with my impossibly cute nephew, Mo (pictures soon to follow) up in Philly. I was caught in the expected snarl of traffic that bottle necks at the toll right as you get out of Delaware. I was passing the time by doing shadow puppetry on the tailgate of the truck in front of me (that's what YouTube was when I was a kid...damn whippersnappers). Y' know that feeling of liberation as you get out of that kind of traffic? You pay the toll and there's nothing but open road in front of you....BOOOOOOOOOORNNNN FREEEEEEEE...you hit the gas and you feel like Chewie just made the jump to lightspeed as the lane lines blur past you. Cruise control is set, you're ready to make up some lost time, and then you SLAM ON THE GODDAMN BRAKES because some doddering shmuck is doing 65 in the left lane. Hey, putz in the Chevy Impediment, move over or I'll find a way through you. If you're going the speed limit in the left lane of a major thru-way, you're a hazard. And what's worse, is these puttering malignancies don't look in their rear-view mirror, because objects are larger than they appear and they'll just look like a bigger twit, so they can't see me closing in. Now, I'm pretty mild when it comes to highway driving...my rule of thumb is 10mph over whatever is posted...not life-threatening. I'm happy to abdicate my patch of pavement if someone is coming up behind me at a faster clip...it's the courteous thing to do. You move over, the flow of traffic keeps flowing, and everyone's happy. Instead you get these rolling blockades that tap their brakes like Savion Glover on meth with nothing in front of them but their own bleak futures.
Aaaah...catharsis. Here's a double dose of cute to take the edge off of that bit of road rage...

Seriously, you can't dispute the cute of this particular patootie. Much peek-a-boo was played. I got so good at it, that even I didn't know where I was. For a little while, my parents and I were left with the task of feeding the little guy while mom and dad ran a couple of errands. A sumptuous meal of strained sweet potatoes and vitamin-enriched yogurt was on the menu. We put on his bib and put him in his baby butler and proceeded to make a complete mess trying to guide the nummy nummy airplane into the hangar. We thought we were doing pretty well...until Mo decided it was time to get cranky. Wow, did he pitch a fit...contorting his little face into something out of an Edvard Munch rough draft. So, off with the bib and I picked him up to calm him down...as soon as he was up, he started smiling. The little faker was playing us like a fiddle...or a rattle anyway. So it went. We'd put the bib back on, get a few more spoonfuls in, then he'd wig out and I'd pick him up again. I like the kid's policy...eat 'til you cry. Try it sometime...it takes longer as an adult.

Before I forget, I'd like to extend a big thanks to the fine folks at the DC Improv for including me in their first ever Variety Showcase. It featured stand-up, improv, sketch, and multi-media comedic endeavors. They showcased two of the videos that I did with comic compadre, Chris White. It was very cool to see Never Can Say Goodbye and Good Directions (both conveniently linked to your right) played in front of a nearly packed house and hearing them laugh loudly. Warmed my cockels. The evening was hosted by international raconteurs, Larry Poon and Jim Marsdale. Good guys. Larry had a bra thrown at him. It was that kind of night.

Also, please join me in wishing a bon voyage to the man of 1000 voices (and at least 5 kinds of facial hair), Danny Rouhier, who's heading off to seek his fortune in the Big Apple. Fear not, though, he'll be popping back up in the area...like funny herpes. The DC area will get flare ups over the coming months, but shouldn't stop us from canoeing or hot-air ballooning or biking. Although, we should be more careful, seeing as how we just gave him to NY. We're a dirty dirty comedy community. Supportive, but dirty...we should get checked out. I had the pleasure of seeing Danny off at a little not-quite-surprise get together over the weekend. Jay Hastings, Kojo Mante, Larry Poon, and myself represented the comedy circle of Danny's massive Venn diagram of friends. One of the larger circles in there was of chicas mas caliente. In a sea of hot ladies, we were an island of awkwardness. It was like a study in social dysfunction. We just found a patch of floor and huddled around it while we drank and talked shit. Somebody intervene.

By the way, if you're not busy this Thursday night, go check out the debut of a brand new comedy showcase in Adams Morgan, cleverly titled The Bomb Shelter. It's at 18th & Red. It'll feature 4 or 5 of the area's best doing solid 15 minute sets. I'm not sure what time it starts, but 8 is a safe bet. Best of all, it's FREE. So, your good time is guaranteed or...your...time back. I'll get to work on the flux capacitor, you just go have a good time.

That's all for now. I'll try not to keep you waiting for the next one. If we don't talk before the holiday, may the 4th be with you.

To be continued...