December 29, 2009
That jackass on the phone has been fired from multiple gigs for fucking up.
Americans hate their jobs, we grew up wanting to play point guard for the Lakers, guitarist for Motley Crue, hotshot lawyer that tells a judge to suck it, yet still win the case.
You had false hope too many people reinforcing your dreams with structures of balsa wood, too many pass/fail classes at some pussy liberal arts school.
You thought you would make it, you didn't; you took a job settling for less, you take a job short term to get you buy until you are doing what you want, before long you've been there long enough to be vested in the 401k profit sharing. It's almost enough motivation to make you care..."Lehman Brothers does well, I'll do well too" whatever....
You cope, you start drinking coffee, lots of it. Coffee to get you by so you can justify rolling ot of bed for a substandard wage to buy the shit you don't need, and mistakenly try to impress the friends that you don't have.
Coffee has replaced religon as the opiate of the masses. I grew up in Oklahoma, and there is a church on every corner, and even in my backwater peniswrinkle of a town, there are 2 starbucks on those same street corners.
Want to see the influence of coffee?? Go to a manufacturing plant, and demolish the coffee machine with a ball peen hammer.
By the first union sanctioned break, the foreman will be hung from the rafters, fully gutted; any marketable body parts will have been harvested and sold with a paypal reciept in a dockworker's hand by from Ebay.
So yeah, I've had a few shitty jobs.
December 23, 2009
A lot of comics think I will book them based on clever conversations we have on Facebook or whatever. I can appreciate optimism.
I will give credit, sending a Youtube or a FunnyOrDie link is better. But, I don’t do webcast shows. I am not sure if many comics realize it. I am not a television producer, I am not a movie maker, I do produce live stand-up comedy shows.
I know demo reels can be doctored edited all that stuff. I would rather watch you live. Here’s an idea, invite me to a live show. Or go wherever I am, I am a fairly easy guy to find. I’m not Waldo. I’m not Jon Gotti. I’m not Keyzer Soze.
Open mics I frequent:
Tuesday: Amsterdam Café
Wednesdays: Pig N Whistle
Thursdays: Sunset Grill or Comic Bug
Friday: Sunset Grill or UCB Theater or Amsterdam Café
Saturdays: Icehouse (Afternoons)
Sunday: Comedy Store or Lovitz
I am not promising to be anywhere. I don’t owe many people anything. If you’re funny, I’ll find time for you. If you’re not I’d suggest talking to somewhere where you may fit better.
December 18, 2009
OK, So first of all, did anyone bother to ask 50, what the hell a pocket full of dub was. None of my black friends could make a good logical reasoning out of it. And all my white friends, (well the ones that like hiphop) were too chickenshit scared of sounding condesending to ask what that mumbling, target practice-torsoed, bullet magnet monkey was saying.
If you get shot 10 times, you likely deserved some of the lead.
And no not all black people are monkeys, but you are a racist when a black person looks like a monkey and you don't point it out.
I suppose it's the charm of being almost killed, somewhat charismatic, relatively goodlooking. Suburban wannabes won't do anything that would make them feel whiter than they already are to ask, "What a pocket full of 'dub is."
Always brilliant to start a blog off on a sidenote.
I went to a nightclub recently, and it wasn't as bad as I thought. I went because I had girls in from out of town, and I have a hookup at a rather posh nightclub in tinseltown.
It wasn't as bad as I thought, mainly because I bypassed the line with the guestlist, and got to avoid that collection of narcissistic optimistic sexual deviants who were wearing their best "fuck me" clothes. I don't have the need for acceptance or attention. I am in love, and don't really care for the attention getting mode.
I am not sure if Ed Hardy has a scent, perhaps a staler version of Teen Spirit mixed with desperation, and the mint leave from a $12 Mojito. But that was the vibe I got. Lots of grinding foreshadowing the future regret.
I went with a friend, and fellas, if you ever want a great wingman at a club Brian Swineheart is your boy. He was pulling numbers from the parking lot. I'll get more in depth on this later.
Anyways, had a nightclub experience and it wasn't God-awful, but if you do that Hollywood nightclub shit every weekend, you're soul will be devoured like Tiger Woods' legal fund.
I like to drink, but I'd much rather have a pub over a club anyday. I like people that consume beer and nachos, not fake compliments.
Look at the Calendar at the top and come see my shows.
December 9, 2009
Better late than never.
I wanted to have a blog up for December, and I have actually been killer busy at both the day job and the night job. It's made me a relatively angrier person than regular.
Sidenote: I despise like a cancer the insincere bulk texts I get on Thanksgivings. It's cool you remembered to say thanks, but it comes off as genuine as an Ed Hardy shirt.
I believe my thoughts become my words, and my words become my beliefs. So , I am going Oprah-esque and putting the good vibes out again.
Here's some shit I am thankful for:
-My day job, I bitch and moan alot about it, but there are alot of people unemployed right now. Thanks to the managers and owners of my day gig.
-Rick Shapiro, meeting Hurricane Rick was something of a trip. we met out the Improv, one night. He was impressed with my knowledge of Sean Penn movies. He motivates and inspires me to go deeper and not be content with horseshit sets.
-Mike Gundy, It's very gay I have my college football coach up here this high, especially after getting his ass handed to him my Mack Brown and Bob Stoops, but he does give a shit. He just needs to work smarter instead of harder.
-My bank, Oklahoma Central Credit Union, They approved my loan, I got my Jeep, and life has been easier ever since. They are also a bank staffed by Americans not customer service reps in some third world shithole who barely speak the language.
-Frank Kelley, he gave me a job at Jon Lovitz Comedy Club (likely against his better judgement), he's let me earn stage time, I've made him money, and he's made me a better comic.
-Mustafa Ahmad, Jason LaCour, Angelo Bowers, Josh Adam Meyers, Scott Bowser, Rodney Wade, Justine Marino, Leisa Mills, King Anyi Howell, and Chris Putro; These are LA Comics I see grind every continously and are always blowing me away with new shit. They are funny demons and they push me to be better comics. I'd give them all hugs, but they would all try to grab my dick....except Justine and Leisa.
-My parents, they put up with my horseshit, and still love me unconditionally. It's kind of wicked retarded that I left them this low on the list, but they know how ADD I am.
-A special girl, she motivates me like a motherfucker to write and be funny. Her praises encourage me. Her scowls make me work harder. She sometimes drives me nuts. We'll probably end up like Mickey and Mallory. I am not saying her name, because it isn't nessecary, and she knows who she is.
Anyways, I'm not as angry as I sound all the time. But I am just always busy.
If anyone asks, I'll just say I started from least important to most important.
If I left you out, get over yourselves...FUCKERS!