Monday, April 05, 2004  

Comedy Under the Cross; Manchester; Miscellany

Wow. Fun shows on Saturday. If you'll dig the picture to the left, you'll see Our Blessed Virgin Mother in statue form. A lovely piece of art, and a lovely theological concept. Not, however, what you want to see at the entrance to your comedy gig. Seems our agent forgot to mention to all three of us that this show was to be in the Parish Hall of St. Joseph's Church in Amesbury. Picture three comics standing in the back of the room staring at the massive crucifix hanging over the microphone, our jaws hanging open, and a collective, "Oh, there's no fucking way..." Turns out, a different group had rented the hall from the church, and for the first time in my comedy career, the thought, "Oh, thank God-they're Rotarians" went through my mind. Then it was a quick drive up to Manchester for the show at the Chateau, where it was packed to the rafters with one of the best crowds I've ever had. I did close to an hour standing on my head, though the YELLOW lights sure made me look like I had advanced liver disease. Brisk album sales and a generous bartender made for a lovely aftershow conversation.

Smoke-free for 2 days so far, thank you very much. I've been wrestling with this for months now. I'll smoke for a few days, quit for a week, then get lazy and start up. Well, I'm serious this time, and it's a good thing, because I was such an insufferable prick due to nicotene withdrawal yesterday that I think my wife's support and goodwill is all used up. Since I've been smoking on the downlow, I've been trying to quit on the downlow, so essentially, as far as she knew, I've just randomly been being a prick. I finally had to confess so she didn't divorce me on general principle. It was a good call, because I was an asshole without peer yesterday, thanks to the detox. We tried to go out to lunch, but Jude was in full two-year-old mode, and threw such a tantrum trying to get back into his car seat that I had to walk away from the whole ordeal simply in order to keep a stranger from calling DSS when I lost my freaking mind. Toddler petulance + nicotene fit = blind, red, rage. The fact that I was seriously considering throwing him across the street like a football is providing much needed incentive to stay quit, thank you very much.

And the baseball season is upon us. Since Sam Walters was my sponsor for citizenship in Red Sox Nation, I spent last night at the Hong Kong with him watching Pedro bean people and getting reassured that losing the opener is good luck.