Everything's Comin' Up Milhouse!!

So OK. All you optimistic bastards out there that have very calmly been telling me that "everything will work out" with my move to NYC were right. It took a while for everything to fall into place, but now it's looking like it has.

I have secured a very nice apartment in a very cool neighborhood of Brooklyn. I have a job possibility at last-and if that doesn't work out I have resigned myself to the fact that my true calling may be bartending anyway. I am tying up loose ends here in DC, and by "tying up loose ends" I mean "tying one on" with anybody who is willing to have one more drink with me before I leave.

For the first time since this whole crazy move was put into motion, I'm getting excited. A new city, a new chapter, new possibilities, and an apartment a decent size to accomodate all my douchebag friends who come up to visit.

So what has been going on? RECAP!:

On Friday night one of my bosses had a dinner in my honor at his place in Georgetown. It was a really nice evening, and I'm very happy to report that even after my 3 glasses of wine and 1 glass of whiskey-I didn't embarass myself with too many tasteless jokes.

Then Saturday night came, and it was party time. A good number of people showed up to get me drunk, and their efforts proved fruitful. Shortly after swearing I would not do any shots because I had to be on a bus to NYC at 7:30am the next morning, I realized that I have no control over my own destiny. Instead my booze-pushing friends and co-workers tell me what to do and I abide by their instructions.

Let me put it this way-Bailey's, Cuervo, Grand Marnier and plenty of vodka does not a coherent person make. Especially after 10 beers. Fast-forward to 7am the next morning and me rushing out the door in the clothes I wore the night before and REEKING of alcohol to try and make my bus. I made it-just barely. The poor guy sitting next to me on the bus was hospitalized with alcohol poisoning through osmosis 4 1/2 hours later.

Anyhoo-got an apartment, walked off my hangover all over Brooklyn, and headed back to DC on the bus. 20 minutes outside of the city the bus blows a tire. I watched in admiration as our very handy bus driver got out to inspect the damage, kicked the axle, and then got back into the bus and proceeded to drive on it anyway. The smell of burning rubber and smoldering metal was an intoxicating aroma. I vomited 6 times.

And now, as my last official week in DC draws to a close, I feel like waxing philosophical about some great experiences I will never forget (not unlike the list Danny Rouhier made of things that make him tingle downstairs):

-The one (and ONLY) time I got fired. I was supposed to lock and unlock doors in the Student Center at GWU, and I missed a few shifts. My boss called me into his office, made me sit there in silence while he printed something out, and then handed it to me. "You're fired" was written on it. He never said anything. It was surreal.

-When my friend Pete stole a pizza guy's car and tried to run it into the Potomac. Why? Because it was something to do on a Tuesday night.

-Watching people cheat at the AIDS walk around the Mall. I know that's a Paul Schorsch joke-but I was there that year too, and just as horrified.

-Meeting Teddy Kennedy, Sandra Day O'Connor and George Mitchell.

-Making out with Teddy Kennedy, Sandra Day O'Connor and George Mitchell.

-Totally kidding about that last one.

-Doing a Christmas show with Frank Hong as my comedy partner and realizing that I was in the presence of greatness. Then, while watching Frank take off his shirt and jump around, realizing I was in the presence of sexy greatness.

-Night after night of nudity at the DC Improv.

-Attending the VP Inaugural Ball in '05 with Zach Toczynski where we proceeded to swim in top-shelf booze and dance the two-step.

-Attempting to bar-crawl around Annapolis MD with 3 good friends, one of which had a broken leg and a very cumbersome crutch. She still got hit on more than the rest of us combined. Atta girl, Meg.

-All my nights spent at Townhouse Tavern, Lindy's Red Lion, the Ugly Mug, Lucky Bar, Biddy Mulligan's, and a million other places where I had my mail delivered for a while.

-Picking at least 2 fights in each of the above-mentioned bars.

-Joining and inevitably quitting the DC Improv softball team EVERY SUMMER SEASON.

-Every show I ever did at every back-ass dive bar, coffee shop, college cafeteria, seafood restaurant, bowling alley and random bachelorette party in the Greater Washington Area.

-Every comic that was right there with me, and the friendships I have with them, and respect and admiration I have for all of them: Chris White, Frank Hong, Larry XL, Jared Stern, Erik Myers, Larry Poon, Ryan Conner, Justin Schlegel, Rory Scovel, Danny Rouhier, Jon Mumma, Doug Powell, Dawan Owens, Marshall Henry, Sean Gabbert and too many more to mention.

-Knowing that wherever I went-I could count on Melissa to suffer alongside me. ("Where in the hell are we?!?! The Blair Witch Forest?!?!")

-Once in a while getting really great stage time at legitimate venues.

-The DCStandup All-Stars. You guys are awesome-thanks for letting me be a part of something great with you.

-My "bad trip" to the IHOP in Crystal City with my boy Mikey back in 2001. Oh man, those cops were totally onto us.

-Knowing Chris Duncan.

And that's it for today. I might throw some more down tomorrow. It's hard to think of the nonsense that has taken place for the last 7 1/2 years that I've been here in our Nation's Capital. Suffice it to say, DC has been home-and I have met some of the best friends I could ever dream of having. A lot of you I won't see before I head off to NY-but you've got my e-mail. So let me know when you're coming up to visit. I'll cut up some hot dogs to mix into the macaroni and cheese.

King Kong

So I've had a hell of a week. Sick sick sick. And then all this BS with my apartment in NY, which is forcing me to return there on Sunday to work some shit out. This means that I will be travelling up to NY with an UNBELIEVABLE hangover, because my par-tay is tomorrow night. Odds are 5 to 1 that I will puke on my broker. Any takers?

But enough complaining. Now it's time to focus on the spirit of the season, and the Baby Jesus, and the fact that my last day at work is next Friday and I haven't even BEGUN to clean out my desk. I can forsee a large garbage bag and a visit with the shredder in the basement in my near future. I can also forsee the final score of Superbowl XL, and I'll share the information with anyone willing to move all my stuff to NY for me. Because I don't feel like doing it.

My days in DC are numbered now, and I am very conscious of the fact that I should be taking advantage of this town and all it has to offer while I still can. See the monuments, visit the museums, push a hippie down an open Metro grate. You never really appreciate the place you live in until you leave it, I think. Just like you never really appreciate your friends until they come through with some homemade ether and a polaroid camera.

Life is funny like that.

You Know What's Awesome???

The New York City real estate market. No, it is. No-I'm serious. It's the best thing since the Beatles and licorice combined, and when I grow up-I'm going to marry it.

More later.

In Your Face, Hugh Hefner. You too, Pamela Anderson.

So that's it. My last show in DC is over. And it was a very fun show as well! Turns out it was a roast of sorts-with almost every comic that went on stage poking a little fun at me. Nothing says "everyone here in the comedy community respects and appreciates you" like joke after joke about my apparent alcoholism and inability to practice monogamy. I love you too, guys!!

It was actually a hoot. (Note: I don't think I've referred to anything as a "hoot" since I was 12 years old. I'm as worried as you are.) I tried some new stuff out on stage and it went over well. Great crowd, good vibe, and I got to ask Pete Bergin how his vagina was doing. Good guy, that Pete.

I ventured out to Bowie this past Sunday to beg assistance from Larry Poon and Nate Diamond regarding the work that needs to be done on my website. They agreed to help, but only after forcing me to watch 3 back-to-back episodes of MTV's "Made". I almost didn't make it.

I was talking about Christmas traditions with some co-workers yesterday, and one unfortunate person brought up the oranges she got in her stocking every year. Oranges! Mandarin oranges!!! That's terrible. You hear about people getting fruit in their stockings-but it's almost an urban legend. You don't think that ever really happens to anyone. It's like hearing about that really unlucky person who gets a giant tub of caramel popcorn delivered to their house every year from a relative or co-worker. Tubs of popcorn might be the new fruitcake. This country just might be that fat.

In our Christmas stockings, my sister and brother and I would always get candy, maybe a CD or book, and then a bunch of lottery tickets. We'd each get about 15 lotto tickets and scratch-offs, and we'd all go to the kitchen table after presents and scratch away and see if anyone won any money. According to my office-mate here at work, that's bizarre. But I think it's quite appropriate:

The holiday season is a time for dreams and wishes, right? What better way to celebrate the spirit of the season than to sit around the table with your family, ferociously attacking scratch-off after scratch-off, clinging to the desperate hope that the next ticket would be the money ticket. The ticket that would guarantee you enough cash that you could move away, buy a huge house, and never have to see any member of your family again. Enough money to write those judgemental bastards off altogether. Money that would guarantee you would never have to hear another phrase like, "Erin, maybe you should cut back on your drinking and get a job" or "You need money for a back-alley what?!?!". So much money that you could change your name, your face, your whole life-so as never to be associated with those smarmy, self-assured, condescending, increasingly demanding, high and mighty sonsabitches........

But then you're done with your scratch-offs and you realize all you've won is a Big Gulp of Mountain Dew at the gas station down the street; and you also realize that everything you were thinking privately, you were also voicing quite publicly. The inevitable awkward silence sets in, and you come to the realization that you have indeed "ruined another Christmas", just like your 3-year old nephew predicted you would the night before.

So my point is this: oranges suck as stocking stuffers. Lotto tickets don't seem to be a great idea for everyone either, so I guess my official holiday gift recommendation is chewing tobacco. Get the mint flavored Skoal-it's more festive.

Well, that's it for today. Oh, and if my 80's buddy is reading this: best of luck on the move back to Detroit, watch the bumps of Coke, and remember who the most important person in the world is: YOU.

And I left some money on the dresser for you. Nice.

Awkward F---ing Encounters

When two people break up, I believe that there should be a dividing of all assets. And I'm not talking just the tangible properties acquired during the tenure of the relationship-but public spaces as well.

Like bars. If there is a bar you both frequented while together, one of you gets to continue going there on a semi-regular basis, and the other gets visitation rights. That way you each still get to rock a bar stool in your own time, and you never have to see each other again.

This would have saved me the awkward drama I suffered through last night when I ran into my last serious long-term boyfriend. And his new girlfriend. Awesome! After the mandatory "Hey. How are you?" bullshit and the uneasy fidgeting that lasted about 30 seconds, I went back to my section of the bar and my friends-who all proceeded to tell me how much they hated him.

Isn't that great? How your friends always turn into great, mystic sages as soon as you end a relationship? Telling you shit you always kind of knew, and trying to make you feel ten times worse for not ending it sooner than you did? And they always say they were only nice to the person because "you really liked him". Oh really? Then why did you guys go golfing together? Oh, because you're a liar-that's why.

Anyhoo-I promptly downed a few more beers and shots. This seemed like the rational thing to do at the time, and now in the harsh light of day...I still agree with that logic. But with great amounts of alcohol comes a great desire to say things that shouldn't be said. That don't need to be said. Things that should really be kept under lock and key. Up in the attic with all those old "Highlights" magazines.

So long story short-I read him the riot act about things that bothered me from our relationship, and things that were slightly less relevant. For example, I'm not so sure he has anything to do with Joe Thornton being traded to San Jose. But I made sure to voice my disappointment with the Bruins management.

It is my hope that in NYC there will be a smaller chance of running into any exes and cringing my way through any sort of detente conversations. It's a clean slate, that city! A fresh canvas just begging me to ruin it with more casualties of romance.

Rest assured-I will not disappoint.

My Co-Worker Hates Corn

It's true. She went off on an unprecedented rant yesterday for about 5 minutes about how much she despises corn in all it's forms: on the cob, from a can, decorating festive Holiday cornucopias. I was simultaneously terrified and amused by the ferocity of her statements, and when she was finished I reminded her that she also hates celery.

She then punched me in the stomach.

So, more glorious show cancellations!! The Thursday December 8th show that was scheduled to take place in the Wooly Mammoth has been cancelled. Details why are rather sketchy, though I am quite certain that Mothra was involved somehow.

So that leaves the Nanny O'Brien's show this Tuesday, December 6th. This will most likely be my last show in the DC area before I move. It also happens to be the night of my work Christmas Party. Hosannah in the highest!! This means I will have to limit my alcohol intake at the party so as not to stumble all over my jokes at Nanny's. As soon as I'm off stage, however-smashed. Good times.

I think I will be getting my website up and running this weekend. (That's the plan anyway) So keep your eyes peeled for erinconroy.com to take flight soon. For it will be a website of unparalleled beauty and witty rhetoric.

Today is my friend Sara's birthday. I've known Sara since I was 18 years old-she was my roommate freshman year of college. Those were crazy days-Sara had an unhealthy addiction to sleep ("I'll suck your dick for some sleep"), and I was obsessed with Jenny Jones. And why shouldn't I have been? Jenny was classier than all the other daytime trash talk shows. Because her show titles always rhymed. For example:

"You must be trippin', if you think you can be strippin'!!"

Genius. Those bitches were trippin'.

Happy Happy Birthday, Sara!!!