Monday, December 06, 2004  

Effluvia

What a weekend. Great shows, but I am so sketchy from sleep deprivation that I'm expecting a call from the HR lady at my day job to "just let me know" about the company's substance abuse policies. All I had last night was soda water and a butterscotch, so you can chalk this particular set up shakes up to parenthood.

Great shows. Friday in Hyannis was a blast. Tom Dustin gets dirtier and funnier every time I see him. Tim Kaelin is indeed the dark lord (and funny hissown self). I met a new comic named Tony Pike for the first time; funny guy and truly nice. He also has a girlfriend who is so hot...well, I won't say that she could cure the blind, but after seeing her on Friday, I think my astigmatism's better. After the show, despite the fact that I really did want to go back to my room and sleep, Kaelin and Dustin dragged me to a sketchy bar named Harry's, which, surreally, had a Doctor Who theme in the men's room. After they got their fill of playing catch and release in the stocked skank pond at Harry's, the boys and I retired to the hotel for a nightcap, and Kaelin and I talked shop until the wee hours while Dustin went night night.

Four hours later, I was back in Medford for a long, but fun, day of daddyhood. Then E.J. Murphy and I scooted out to Agawam, which was shockingly good. It was like Bizarro Agawam -- the crowd was polite and well-dressed, and the local opener didn't make me want to choke him. They all got the good jokes and it was easy pickings. E.J. absolutely slaughtered them...the kid's got a bang/bang delivery that's relentless. Then it was a two hour drive home capped by getting a little lost in Southie. I was in bed by 3:00, and then kicked out of bed by 3:20 by Jude, who then proceeded to wake me up on the couch again at 6:00 by sticking his bedroom clock in my face and yelling, "Daddy! It's Six-Oh-Oh! Get up! I want bananas!"

We had fun all day, and I took a quick two-hour Christmas shopping trip, but by the time I was ready to head out for my Montreal audition, I was dicey from sleep dep. I got to the club way early, drew my number for the show (third) and then avoided the club by walking around Cambridge and listening to loud music. I can't be around other comics at those things; their energy drives me batshit and right out of my groove. I felt really good about my set, though. I'm certain I won't be heading back to the land of poutine because of it, but it was exactly what I wanted to do. Everyone did well, including a tiny little Kelly MacFarland, and this new kid Alissha something-or-other[edit: his name is Elisha Yaffe], who's unbelievably talented in the kind of way that's restores your faith in good comedy and makes you want to have him clipped all at the same time. I gave him the address of a good diner on Rue de St. Catherine; he'll need it. He's made, mark my words.

Stayed to the end to do the schmooze, and then finally got home about 11:00. I was dead asleep by 11:10, and woke up around 6:30 this morning by Jude crawling into our bad at about the same time Camden woke up. Spent twenty minutes under the covers listening to them crack each other up. Jude's got this great huckleberry gut chuckle, and Cam's finally got smiling mastered and is trying to learn how to laugh. So he'd laugh and gurgle, Jude would guffaw, which would make Cam laugh, and the cycle would repeat.

Sleep deprived and dreading work, I was reminded just why I'm doing everything I do. I wouldn't trade that 20 minutes for all the Comedy Festivals in the world. It even makes this here necktie choke less.

Miscellany

Jesus God, how do other people with jobs and kids find the time to write so goddamn much in their blogs? I have exactly 45 minutes of free time a day, and lately, that time has been spent screaming at my Playstation2 while trying to complete the incredibly fucking shitty airplane missions in Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas.

Note to Rockstar Games: I will find out who put the airplanes in your game, and I will fucking kill them. Watch your backs. I mean, if I wanted to fly a goddamn BIPLANE around, I wouldn't have bought a game with the word "AUTO" in the title! And it's impossible to fly the fucking things with your clunky-ass controls. So far your shitty airplane interface has cost me one PS2 controller (smashed) and quite possibly my marriage.

Other than that, the game rocks, though.

I will be at the Comedy Lounge in Hyannis this Friday night (yay!), at Goodfellaz in Agawam, Mass. on Saturday night (the opposite of yay!), and auditioning for the Montreal Comedy Festival for the 138th time this Sunday at the Comedy Studio in Cambridge. Then Monday's Laughing Gas at the Milky Way. UPDATE: The Milky Way just put the kibosh on Laughing Gas; trust me, it was a mercy kill.

And finally, welcome to John Rogers, a friend of a friend and a hell of a nice guy who has a new blog and who has already name dropped everyone I might someday want to hang out with for reals. He is on the front lines of preventing the blogosphere (dumbest word ever!) from becoming nothing but ivy league fuckfaces linking to each other in a neverending cyber-circle-jerk.