Hello

I haven't blogged in ages. And I'm sorry about that. I'm also sorry for setting your beloved birdhouse on fire. At the time it seemed like the only way to get your attention. I so desperately wanted you to notice my new hat; to tell me I looked modern. But now you won't even look at me without threatening legal action. For what?? It was a crummy old birdhouse filled with crummy old bird furniture that happened to be on top of a stack of papers with things like "DNR" and "Last Will And Testament" and "Map to One Eyed Willie's Treasure" written all over them. And who cares about some moldy old papers? Papers can be replaced. But do you know what can't be replaced? The wonderful feeling one gets when a neighbor or paramour compliments how modern they look in their nice new hat.

Let's All Go To The Lobby...

My friend Sara and I went to the movies last week and saw "No Country For Old Men". Yikes. Javier Bardem is a scary sonofabitch in that flick. But it's an awesome movie, and I highly recommend it.

In other movie news; how 'bout that Golden Globe awards telecast last night? Someone please bring me the head of Billy Bush. What a colossal douchebag.

It has been brought to my attention that I need to start working on my inner monologue more. Things that I assume I'm only saying in my mind, are actually coming out and offending jerks and squares.

Por ejemplo; the Subway stop in midtown that I use every day has 2 escalators with a set of regular stairs in the middle. Sometimes people take the stairs - especially if the escalator line is moving particularly slow. But Tuesday morning of last week it seemed everyone wanted to take the escalators. Except for one dude, who sprinted onto the stairs and began the laborious trek up them with nothing short of heroic enthusiasm. And every step he took echoed throughout the station, as he was literally the only one jogging up the stairs. I found his footfalls to be extremely annoying, and the closer he got to me, the more agitated I became. Until finally he was passing me on the stairs and I found myself saying (rather loudly), "Yeah, CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP. You're a HERO."

I got a look of hurt surprise from the dude, that quickly changed into righteous indignation. He finished his climb and was out of the station in a flash - leaving me a little shocked that he had been able to read my mind. Until the guy in front of me turned around laughing a little and just said, "Seriously".

Haha! I'm a National Treasure.

2008

And a new year has begun! A year so full of promise and opportunity, I should probably have changed the format of my blog to emphasize it! But I didn't.

This year - and I'm pretty sure I said this last year - I really want to focus on comedy and nothing else. Except of course my Blue Ribbon watermelons. Best in three counties!!!

And not just stand-up. I'm gonna try my hand at writing too. Any kind of writing - stories, sketches, monologue jokes, etc. Just to see what I come up with. I really want to step out of my comfort zone and try new things.

I know - I'm really brave.

This is something I wrote in the Onion "News in Brief" style:

Thanksgiving Leftovers Metaphor for Dying Father
CEDAR RAPIDS, IA: A week after Thanksgiving, local legal assistant and divorcee Donna Redman has begun drawing subconscious comparisons between the leftovers from her holiday meal and her 86 year old father; currently staying with her and losing his battle with pancreatic cancer. "I don't know if any of this is any good anymore; if it's even worth trying to save." Redman muttered to herself in front of the open refrigerator. "I can't eat this all by myself, it's too much for one person. And I can't ask the kids for help...they have their own lives and their own meals to plan. Besides, it would only upset [daughter] Karen to see the turkey this gray and flimsy."

After 20 minutes of gazing silently out the kitchen window, Redman reverently emptied the remaining turkey and mashed potatoes into the garbage can under the sink. "It was a good meal. A great meal. I'm actually surprised it's kept this long." Redman then dumped the last of the gravy down the drain, and went into the living room to tell her father how much she's always loved him.


It's my first attempt at that kind of writing structure, and there is certainly room for improvement. But it's a start! And I thought I'd post it for all to see and comment on, leaving myself totally vulnerable to criticism and spirit-breaking ridicule. Because nothing motivates me to succeed like the desire to prove someone wrong and make them rue the day they doubted me.

Ah, revenge. How many Blue Ribbon watermelon-growing competitions have we won together? Oh, that's right - all of them.