Blunderful

Got an email. Lewis Black, the legendary comedian, at the Majestic Theater, free to students. Sweet. Free. Freeeee.

Let me preface this tale with some back story. I'm a country bumpkin. I'm now living in a big city. Fire engines pass by my window in the middle of the night - I'm talking strobes, siren, the works - and I'm startled awake believing the aliens have finally arrived. This change ain't easy. There have been many instances where I've been inches from dashing across the children's wading pool in Boston Common (now closed for the season) in a fit of madness.

But on the particular day that this particular email came bounding into my inbox, I was feeling good. I had just signed up for some collegiate clubs. The sun was shining. The birds were chirping.

So, I went to see Lewis Black with a little pep in my step, whistling the theme to Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood.

I took a seat beside some lovely girls, my hair had the perfect ratio of volume:gel:slickness. So there I was.

Mr. Black then gave advice to aspiring entertainers, and it was funny. I laughed. I cried. Finally, question and answer time. One by one, students stood before a microphone and asked Mr. Black questions along the lines of, "Mr. Black I love you and I wanna be a comic just like you and please can you give me advice I want to be you and blah blah blah."

Remember, the melodies of Mr. Rogers are floating around my cerebrum. I stood up with some confidence and approached the mic.

I thought maybe I could be funny in front of 300 people, one of the nation's best comics. After all, I'm sitting beside some lovely girls.

Me: "Hey, mind if I call you Lou?"

Silence.

Me: "Ok, well see Mr. Black I have this problem that I just can't shake. I can't seem to get over it. I grew up in a small town in Maine and well, I don't know how to cross the street."

Silence. Oh man. The delivery... not good.

Me: "Well any advice would be greatly appreciated."

Silence. Shit.

Lewis Black: "Well uhh, hmmmm. Hang on now. Well first of all, I don't think college is a good plan for you."

Laughter.

So. Hundreds of my new peers, my new professors, lovely girls, Lewis Black, all know now to stay away from the blonde kid who thought he could be funny. He can't even cross the street.

Remember the wading pool? Oh, I didn't just think about doing it.


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Burgundy Strip

Well I made it out alive.

Oh you're not happy?

Oh you've been waiting?

I was just INCARCERATED in a Chinese prison for months! I've been surviving off of week-old lomein! FOR MONTHS. Not one egg roll! NOT EVEN A DUMPLING! No General Tao's chicken!

Somehow I made a brilliant escape using a curling iron and some wet bandaids. But I'm here. In Boston. Making another go of it. Gee, I'm valiant.

So after sitting in a cold cell for months-I'll refer to that experience from now on as codename 'Wong'-I have regained my freedom and am blogging yet again.

Since Wong, I've decided to take up some new hobbies. It's a way of appreciating the finer things in life, since I came deadly close to losing it all... with not one rich, burgundy strip of terriyaki beef. Note to self- FIND CHINESE BUFFET!

One of those finer things? Gardening. I have a flower window box outside of my bedroom that faces the street. Mark my words. Before the snow flys those fricken flowers will be so colossal-they'll be seen from Google Earth. They'll create their own weather systems. I'm going down to the hardware store and nabbing some Miracle Grow.... Super Premium.

I'm also cooking now. Wong really made me appreciate the delectable entrees that are within my ability to fire up for myself. It's easy, really. For example, all I gotta do is find General Tao, and force him to make me chicken.

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Start checking back, more to come.

Wong.

The Haunted Hula

I own a hula lamp.

After a trip to Hawaii, Santa miraculously knew to put one under my Christmas tree.

I remember seeing them, sensuously displayed in the window in paradise. Hips gently swaying - elegantly shaped - flowing grass skirts - boobs incandescently accentuated under an amber bulb.

She is bodacious.

Today, she sits on my night stand. Still a-swingin'- though she has a bit of a squeak when she rocks to one side. Her fingers have long since busted away from the wear and tear of traveling between dorm to home. I wrapped her in swaddling clothes, but alas, she could not weather the storm.

I want to pass her down to my offspring and make sure she becomes a generational heirloom.

When I'm on my death bed I'll hire a witch doctor to encapsulate my spirit within her bosom. That way if anything happens to the lamp I'll have an excuse to haunt some bitches.

I'll be all like "I'm a genie".

Chafe

There are times in life where it is necessary to sleep fully clothed. Last night was one of those times.

Ask me why.

I was cold, mostly. And because I didn't feel like taking them off. I just lifted the blankets and put my body between them. Nothing else. Cotton on cotton. Like cheese on cheese crackers, which are so much better than cheese on peanut butter.

I was at my friend Jeff's house, which is haunted. I needed the security of a good chafe. Sleeping in corduroy pants will do that to you. Vertical ribs.

At the dawn of a new day you are prepared to freely rise and shine without the worry of dressing the bod. It gives a sense of attachment to your clothes- a sweaty bond that freshly laundered threads could not give.

I wore a hoodie sweatshirt. I had this terrible dream that I was in the deep south being hung.

I think tonight I'm going naked. Like a stallion.


I'm home for the summer now. Which means posts will be much more frequent.

Stay tuned.

Citizen Swift

So I watched Orson Welles' infamous Citizen Kane for the first time. It's ranked as the #1 greatest movie of all time by the American Film Institute.

I want a palace, just like Kane, atop a mountain with dizzying towers. You see, I'm a simple soul.

I've taken it upon myself to start shopping- accessorizing a palace is no easy feat. Kane was an amateur, he bought statues. What? Last night I bought a Tyco ELXTRO-ST@IC 3.01 beta lightning machine off of eBay.

I'll need significant bolts to crack the sky when I'm pissed off pacing beside my roaring fireplace.

Crucial.

The seller claimed that it's in mint condition, yet needs to get rid of it because the neighbors were complaining. Lucky for me I won't have any, I'll have subjects. I'll use my machine to keep them in line, or maybe I'll let 'Dennis' out of his chamber. Haven't decided- I'll get back to you.

Also, I'm gonna need servants. Criteria are listed below:
-hunchbacks preferred
-can give a monocle a glossy, streak-free shine
-know Jack Johnson (I need to meet him)
-fart on command
-free willy

I'm a simple soul. Donations appreciated.

Momma's Boy

My Dad is a crazy guy.

My Mom is pretty crazy too. She married him.

I mean she is a nut case.

You know why I know? She does weird stuff.

Like staging a hot dog cooker prank / christmas present fiasco. Yeah. Here are the details for that:
* Mom keeps asking me what I want for Christmas. I tell her I dunno, a hot dog cooker as a joke. She keeps asking, I keep joking-a hot dog cooker.
*Mom plants an email from grandma in her inbox. She knows I snoop around. I found it. It is all about the hot dog cooker: "Its the only thing he'll get because it was a little more than we usually spend on him." A hot dog cooker. For Christmas. I was ruined.

Yeah Mom was behind that one. She was. The damage I sustained. She's a maniac. She drove a motorcycle to Alaska with a long haired wrench. These people are nuts.

But I love 'em. And its my Mom's Birthday. So, happy B - Day Mom. Yeah, I'm not sorry. But are you are the best mother in the whole world... god damn it.

I Need You

Ok Folks.

This is where I need you. I need you to help me. I'm stooping down, on one knee, and begging. Please, won't you vote for my video- Violence on Television?

If you enjoyed my video, please give it a 'greenlight - (in the video window bottom right corner)' at the following address:

http://www.current.tv/studio/media/2356466

Thank you kindly.