comedy open mike tonight was pretty spectastic. yeah comedy open mikes and work and coke are all i do now. just kidding, about the work. ugh, who threw that tired joke in there? raise your hand so you know which one to slap your face with, like momma showed you. OW. slap whatcher mama also gave ya.
so i was up first after the MC guy, who called himself sensei. speaking of which, i think i need a stage name. i’m not ashamed of my heritage by any means, but my last name needs a little more tang and a little less length. speaking of which, remember Tang Drink Mix? tang was awesome. it was purely concentrated powder that when added to water made you go berserk and made your tongue orange. AWESOME. of course, they make it FDA-approved now. but the eighties, man. those were some timmmmes.
time to stir some shit up. in water.
anyway, i didn’t waste any time getting into my set, and i use that term loosely. i started talking about pears. i have to work on my pears joke. my set went ok. not as great as my past few. i was feeling rather deflated about it but the other comedians are always nice. and if you can’t use an experience to improve, weeelll you need to shoot some silly string into your head and stage a coup d’etat on your brain.
i don’t know about you guys but this looks like pear porn to me.
apparently a good way to improve at comedy is watch a video of yourself performing. now i know that’s a great idea. but somehow the idea of watching myself on tape is mortifying. at some point, i imagine (or hope) a big wooden cane will come out of stage left and whisk me away to thunderous appreciative applause. even though there were only ten people in the audience at the time. now that i’d watch.
come on. self-deprecation? everyone’s doing it. i didn’t like it the first time either.
on one another note, i think i’m pulling an all-nighter tonight. worst decision of my post-college/more-or-less-real-world life. why, you ask? why not, i challenge.
reading certain celebrity blogs really make you feel disgusting. like you just dug through someone’s trash and ate some of it. gross. if there’s anyone’s life to be ridiculed, it should be mine. and i should be the one doing it. never throw any higher than you can catch. i just made that up. it’s highly possible i didn’t. but it’s 3am and i’m feeling foolishly confident.
if you see something, say something. like celebrity baggage. that shit is toxic.
playing dumb is a useful useful skill until you actually forget that you’re in the know. because then you’ve just got a problem on your hands. three problems actually. the first one. and then the other two are you.
i like to save up emails from people who interest me. save them up slowly after sorting through the other crap i get. savor them carefully. read them once quickly, once more slowly, pick them apart, but not obsessively, just in an amused and patient way, and then close them, mark them as new, and come back to them five seconds later, and pretend all that first stuff never happened, and just pretend that i have a deep and psychic connection with people. it’s 3am, i beg you leave your judgment at the door. oh, well where the door used to be.