Monthly Archive for July, 2004

July 30, 2004

Monday, Wednesday, Friday and Saturday are the days I cruise the farmers market in Union Square looking for some fresh meat and produce to seduce and pick up for a shady ride back to my apartment in the back of my backpack. It starts with a me walking by early in the morning and pricing all the fruits and vegetables, making a mental note as to what the best prices are before moving in on my prey right at the end of the day. I do this because I have had a few organic tragedies occur in the back of my backpack due to me gathering my prey too early in the day and forgetting that they get beaten to hell against such items as my lap top, books and not to mention the sharp daggers of my pens and pencils poking the snot out of them. No, the best time to hunt and gather is right at closing time.

I do know that’s the best way to ripen a banana. I can’t believe how fast a green banana can turn yellow, then jet black when you leave it in your backpack for a few hours.

There are two middle-aged Middle Eastern men selling bubble guns across the street from me. Bubble guns not bubble gum. For the longest time I was wondering where all those bubbles were coming from and then I looked over at a table of multicolored battery operated bubble guns and a couple guys pointing them over their heads, firing off thousands of rounds of harmless bubbles into the air. Ohhhh, but are they harmless or are they filled with terror? Something to think about. What a great way to set off bio hazards into the crowded New York City air with these bubble guns. We don’t know what are in those bottles of suds… People are buying the hell out of them for their kids… Little do they know that they are spreading millions of contaminated bubbles that could wipe out the greater five boroughs of New York…

I’m on edge… I have to admit that I am constantly thinking of the possibilities of another terror attack… OKAY!! I’m not kidding, there is a postal worker guy in his late fifties buying a bubble gun! Okay…. Now it is making sense to me. Go to work, fill your “bubble solution” with nerve gas and wipe out all the blue demons that have made you mad for all these years. “Hey look. It’s Chuck bringing out his sensitive side with that cute little bubble maker. And I always thought he was on the verge of killing his grandchildren- Oh! I can’t breathe… Something is messing… with my nerves all of a sudden…”

My mind is racing right now. I feel like I should question these guys and ask if they are terrorizing the world as we speak. Just go up to them and say, “Hey I noticed that you guys are Middle Eastern looking and I was just wondering if you have biological weapons in those bottles that are marked ‘bubbles’?” And then when they get horribly offend, which they should if I racially profiled them that way, I would just pat them on the back and say that I was just joking and buy ten of their guns as a token of brotherhood. “Excuse me sir, could you turn to the side so I can see your racial profile?… Thank you. You can carry on with shooting bubbles into the air”

People are really gathering around that table now, pulling out cash from everywhere. What a great idea for a movie that would be. I need to write that idea down before someone steals it from me… You know, the idea of making a movie about a group of terrorists that destroy the world with toxic bubble guns. Yeah, that idea! I will definitely write that idea down and hide it away so no one can read it and steal it away from me, making millions from M. Night Shamilamalamadingdong, the director of “The Sixth Sense” after he directs it for his next blockbuster.

But on a serious note, it is a pretty clever way to advertise by literally making it impossible to avoid your bubbly product. I’ve noticed that the majority of the reactions from passerbyer’s is just plain old annoyance. They wave the bubbles from their face as if to say, “Friggin bubbles!… Get that shit out of my face!!” Only the parents with small children or repressed postal workers are able to let the bubbles pop where they may and tolerate thousands of attacking suds.

You could actually use that as a self defense mechanism. If someone bothers you or harasses you on the street, a bubble gun to the face is just annoying enough to drive the attacker away… OR, going back to my original top secrete idea of adding toxic poison to the solution, just add hot pepper sauce to the bubbles and you are home free… I’m going to go over there now and see how much one of those guns will set me back… be right back!

Where in the hell is my digital camera! I wish you could’ve seen the guy talking to me. First of all, the guns are really elephants with the bubbles oozing out of their trunks and second of all, they are only five dollars. Batteries included in the package!!! The whole time I was talking to the guy he had the elephant gun pointing about a foot from my face with hundreds of bubbles hitting me everywhere. It was a bit annoying to say the least but he had this little grin on his face that made it charming… kinda. I still had that WMD thought in the back of my head…

He just couldn’t put the gun down for one minute to chat with me. I asked him if he was coming back to this location again and like a typical bubble making salesman he tells me no and he will run out of the guns in the next hour or so. Oh shit! I better stop everything that I’m doing right now and run to the bank and get back just in time to buy one of his last bubble guns before he runs out in an hour!!!… I wanted to tell him that for the last hour, he sold about ten guns at the most and that if he sold out of the guns in an hour, I would give him a couple hundred dollars. (That’s about all I could suck off my credit card)

“Only five dollars… You can’t beat that price.”… You’re right. Out of all of my elephant bubble gun searches I’ve made over the years I’ve never found a price lower than five dollars. “Sure I can beat that price. Four dollars”… He had nothing to do with me after that, turning his gun towards another possible customer… I asked him how long he was gonna be at this location and he told me till 6:30. I need to get a hold of a digital camera ASAPossble!

The last thing he shouted to me as I ran back to my stuff here in the coffee shop was, “I’m on Canal on Saturday and Sunday!”… So there you have it!

Hopefully I can capture this guy later today or if not, I will get a shot of these guys over the weekend…. Oh well, we can only wait and see what will happen next!!!

July 25, 2004

A woman is nursing the shit out of her baby right smack dab in front of me! Nothing subtle about this at all. I love nature and babies, especially when the mother is super proud to be a mother and has that, “Not only do I have one milk bag that is being used right now, but while I’m at it, I might as well show my other one to all the patrons of Starbucks as well.”

I would be proud too. I think if I were to have a baby, be it a baby girl or a baby boy, I would make sure that the whole world knew that I was a happy young mother… I would let it be known. If I were to enter this Starbucks, this is what I would do… I would ferociously kick open the door and hold my new baby over my head like a trophy and yell, “Look at meee! I’m a mother! A young motherrrrr!” Then I would gesture towards some people close to me and shout, “I need a table because I’m a young motherrrrr!!!!” People would clear me a nice two-top in a jiffy, for they know now that I am a proud young mother and I need some space to operate.

“Everyone! Can I have your attention!? I’m a young motherrrrrr…. and my baby is hungry for my mother bags!!!” Then I would set my baby down on his or her cute little yoga mat that I demanded for free at the yoga store, take off my shirt, and hover over my child and say, “Take a look at these babies, baby!” The baby would be pretty hungry at this point. He or she has a couple gallons of goodness just barely in reach and it’s eyes would really be glued on the food targets dangling in front of him…Okay, it’s a boy. I had a baby boy, are you happy now? A baby boy named Rachel.

Anyway, the baby knows that this is how we make our money, so Rachel acts accordingly, stretching out those neck muscles good and hard for my captive audience. “You’re not gonna touch these babies, baby!” This is the part that gets everyone out of their seats. I pull out a 16 ounce rib eye steak from my Donna Karen bag and wave it around the air while screaming, “Baby want some steak!? You want some of this, baby?”

People would start to freak out at this time. They know good and well that a three month old baby can’t eat a steak, no way in hell!… “Baby Rachel wanna steak?!” I dangle the dripping meat over his body making him giggle and coo, kicking his little arms and legs at the steak like a little Rocky Balboa training for an important fight.

I then pull out a large steak knife that was hidden in my jumper bottom and cut off a half inch piece of steak. “Can I have your attention please!!! I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” The crowd is deathly quiet, which was exactly what I wanted for my finale. “What I’m about to do has never been attempted on a baby at this age before!… I CAN’T HEAR YOU!!! … I am about to feed my baby a chunk of beef large enough for an adult man to eat!!!”… Then, with a medium amount of force, I slap the rest of the steak against the window, put the chunk of steak on my right teat and hover about an inch from Rachel’s face. Then, in one quick bite, the three month old baby cobbles the steak into his mouth like a pit bull would a piece of bacon. “There will be no need for any type of maneuvers at this point, and I’m talking about the Heimlich maneuver!”

Baby Rachel would rip into the steak, chewing for a few seconds and swallow without a hitch. Then I’d pop a bottle in his mouth labeled “Mommy’s Milkshake” and let him peacefully nurse it down to himself.

I was very lucky to have a dentist for a husband, for it was he who developed the concept of baby dentures, a set of baby chompers that starts babies on solid food as early as two months old, thus eliminating baby food all together. You can only image the savings!

The concept is brilliant. When the baby is toothless, pop in the dentures and when a real baby tooth comes in, it pops the fake tooth out. Then it’s under the baby’s pillow for the denture fairy to get a hold of. It’s much like those stacking point pencils that we grew up on where you have a bunch of those little lead missile-like guys lined up in the center of the plastic body, and when the pencil tip is dull, you pull it out and put it in end of the pencil, pushing out a brand new replacement lead tip that was next in line. You remember those pencils don’t you? Yes you do!! Those plastic things all in a row… I wish I could explain it better.

Anyway, that is what I would do if I were a proud young mother. I want a baby now… No, maybe I want a steak.



Bocce Photos – July 13, 2004

The New York Red Ants vs The New York City Fire Ants



Image-55B50E0AD59D11D8 Image-55B526B2D59D11D8
Image-55B5395ED59D11D8 Image-55B54AB8D59D11D8
Image-55B55BC2D59D11D8 Image-55B56CA4D59D11D8
Image-55B58E24D59D11D8 Image-55B59EAAD59D11D8


Michael Showalter had to go, he became very tired… During this game, which was the best out of seven, we ended on a three game to three game tie. This means in the next few days or so, we have to meet for a decisive game seven… AGAIN!!! It was great fun and even better competition… I will keep everybody posted. PLUS, look for one of my hand crafted New York Red Ant ties to be on the auction block soon.

July 16, 2004

Can I just make a bold prediction at this very moment. It is now 12:48 in the afternoon on a Thursday. I just got out of a Reeses peanut butter cup audition and I will put it in writing at this very moment that I will book this commercial. I say this because I need to tell the universe that I Bobby T, living in NYC, am ready to land another commercial to pay for my rent another six months. Time to send out the energy!

I’ll tell you why I feel so confident in booking this fella. For one, it’s a Thursday which means that I am very tired and I’m in silly talk mode. I find myself very funny when lacking the necessary sleep that makes me normal. Here is how it went down. (Note… I wish I was talking about something more exciting, like a movie audition or a fist fight with a hooker, but all I’ve got going for me are these commercial things… Still kinda interesting for the kids.) Okay, the copy says. “Keep it real. We will ask you what you like about Reeses and have you eat a Reeses cup during the audition. Talk about what it is like to eat one and keep it real and not silly… NOTE! If you don’t want to eat a Reeses cup, leave the audition at this time.”… Wow! They weren’t kidding around. Keeping things real and as I’ve mentioned before is one of my favorite pastimes. No holds barred, just me and Real walking hand-in-hand into the audition ready to kick some character-free ass!

CASTING LADY: “Please sit down at the table and go ahead and start off by telling me what you like about Reeses.”

The casting director seemed very sweet. As sweet as the pile of Reeses cups sitting in front of me. It’s a comforting feeling when casting people are nice and not assholes. (But when is that not the case with everything in life? Sometimes I just want to punch myself on the wrist for saying such stupid things like that!!!)

Anyway, back to the great story…

BOBBY: What do I like about Reeses… peanut butter… cups. (Dramatic beat) Where do I even begin… (Another dramatic beat) Nostalgia! Brings me back to a warm place in my heart as a child. Watching those commercials where so-in-so bumps into so-in-so with the bucket of chocolate and the peanut butter…

She was nodding her head in approval. I think she was expecting me to just dive right into the chocolate cup head first and not touch on the lighter side of Reeses. Although I was lying through my teeth about the nostalgia crap, it sounded very real and honest.

BOBBY CONT: Remember those old commercials?

Her eyes light up as to say “Right! I do remember those silly commercials of yesteryear! What great memories we once had.” From her reaction, I really think I was the only one to talk about the old commercials. I mean come on now, those things were classic! Was I really the only one to talk about them so far in the casting session? Her eyes were not lying to me… Someone had to mention the commercials already… Whatever… I did gain some wonderful confidence off her look.

BOBBY CONT: I tell you my favorite thing about these things. (I grab one from the bucket) Do you mind? (She welcomes me to have one) It’s to eat them! But not just how they are now… Absolutely not.

She had a puzzled look in her eyes after I said that, as if to say “Do What?
I don’t understand? What is wrong with how the cups are right now? Were is he going with this?”

BOBBY: Frozen. I think the best way to eat them is frozen, right out of the freezer.

Now she gets it.

BOBBY CONT: First thing I do is unwrap the wrapper and eat each one of the little frozen ridges, one frozen bit at a time. Then I pop the peanut buttery center out from the top like so…

I attempt to pop the peanut center out but it was way too melted and it just smushed in my hand. She laughed a little, which is a good sign. I of course never popped the center out of a frozen cup as a child. Mainly because my mother didn’t allow sweets in the house and if I ever snuck any candy into the house, it went straight to my underwear drawer and into hiding (chocolate and underwear equal the perfect cover up)… I wouldn’t dare put anything into the freezer that housed all the other desserts, such as seaweed roll-ups, sesame honey bars, carob chips- no way in hell was a bright orange package of Reeses cups heading into freezerland. Might as well set off a flare.

Anyway, with the peanut butter and chocolate all over my hands, I continued my improvisation.

BOBBY: Ya see, if this was frozen, it would’ve just popped out without a hitch, leaving a chocolate ring that if broken in half…(which I successfully did) you are left with two half moons that can stick to your teeth like a mouth piece.

I don’t know where in the hell that came from but it worked. Worked quite well I must say. I just started digging out the peanut butter with my tongue and was left with this chocolate mouth piece. Thinking quickly on my feet, I threw it on my chompers and smiled like a lucky kid who was allowed to have real sweets in his youth.

She was really laughing at this point. I think she enjoyed our short time together. She turned off the camera and thanked me for coming in. She had a stack of napkins for the talent to use on the way out. I passed on the offer and licked my fingers clean. I was going to tag the session off with this little joke, “Do you have the number to the hospital, I’m allergic to peanuts”, but I played it safe. You never know if someone she knows died from that joke.

On the walk to the coffee shop where I am now, it kinda hit me that by the end of the day, the chances are good that someone will have made chocolate mouth pieces like I did during my audition. I’m fine with that. Kids do the darndest things with candy…. I assume.

July 14, 2004

This is a true story. I feel like sometimes I have to say that so some people, like my mother, will not get a fake short story confused with the real thing. So, what I’m about to write is a fantastic true story that is about to take place tonight!

Last week, Thursday to be exact, I invited myself to play Bocce Ball with my pal Matthew Ballard. It was one of those lazy, post-”Invite Them Up” days where I struggle to match the energy that was expended the night before. Most Thursdays I wake up around six or so in the morning after going to bed around four… I have difficulty sleeping after a big show. My mind is racing all night and I decided long ago to make Thursdays my lazy Sunday, filled with foggy thoughts and sleep-deprived laughter fits that I try to find along the way.

That Thursday started off with an egg sandwich around nine in the morning followed by a trip to Starbucks to get a sweetened black tea and exercise my talented fingers on my laptop to write a dear diarrhea, much like I am doing now. Anyway, just a foggy Thursday until my friend Matt called. He was in the neighborhood meeting Joe and his new girlfriend at Circuit City to look for headphones. Ya see, Joe was going to LA that night and wanted good headphones to hook up to his DVD player on the plane ride up there…

“I’m there in five!”

I looked down at my computer screen and glanced at what I had written in the last hour. Tell ya what, let me just go to my pile of started diarrheas and show you exactly what I wrote that day… I’ll get it now…

———————————————————————–

Dear Diarrhea 07-08-04

When a baby smiles at you it is the best feeling in the world. “You had me at “No hablo Espanish.”, that’s what the little Spanish girl on the train must’ve been saying to herself as we smiled at each other for a solid 20 seconds. That is a long time to smile at someone and the only way that can happen without looking stupid or psycho is if it is a baby, or a very old person that can’t see that well. It sucks when a baby speaks more Spanish than I do…. The little girl said something to me in Spanish that made her and her parents smile and laugh. It not only made me feel stupid that a two year old knew more Spanish than I did, but she was getting laughs at my expense… All I could do was smile another 20 seconds or so and say, “Awe, she’s so cute. Look at all those little teeth!”… I hate Spanish kids now…

———————————————————————–
As you can see, I wasn’t exactly writing the next Holy Bible or anything, so you can see why I jumped at the opportunity to procrastinate and watch my friend watch our friend look at headphones at the City… Circuit City that is. So, three-and-a-half minutes later I find myself in a group hug on the second floor of the City, smiling and laughing with my friends knowing that an adventure was to come my way any minute now.

After Joe made his purchase I had a choice of things to do. Either walk with Joe and his friend Beth to see a movie or take the train up to the upper west side to watch a DVD with Matt. I chose to walk with Joe and Beth and said my goodbyes to Matt, wishing him the best of luck on his trip to the west side.

So off the three of us go. It was pushing 2:30 so if we were to get to the movie in time we had to book it. (What Joe and Beth didn’t know was that I was gonna back out of seeing the movie right before I was to purchase a ticket. I told the gang at the City that I wanted to see a movie with them, but in actuality, I just wanted to hang out and walk for a few minutes. Now it makes sense why I turned down Matt and his bid for me to see a rental movie at his house. Looking back at it, I guess I wanted a little bidding war for my friendship services that day. Felt good for my ego after it was stroked profusely the night before by a packed audience at my show. I wanted attention and I found it in Joe and Beth… One day I will title a chapter in my book after them called, “Chapter so-in-so, The Joe and Beth walk to remember”)

So anyway, the 12 block walk was filled with laughing and silliness, not to mention some hard knock questions directed toward me that I was expecting on the way. Stuff like, “So what kind of stuff are you working on?” and “How was the show last night?” I answered both questions the way I always do, “The show was really fun. I don’t have a job and after Wednesday night, I have nothing else to do until the next Wednesday. Besides that, I’m very busy.”

Anyway, after the three of us found out that the movie we all desperately wanted to see wasn’t playing at the theater, we settled on eating a late lunch. That was fun and after our veggie dogs it was sad to see them go.

They asked me what else I was going to do that day and I told them I was going to take a nap in Central Park. That was the first thing that came to mind and a much needed nap was in the works, plus I would be closer to Matt’s house if I needed to use his restroom for the Jazz Fest that was brewing in my stomach.

I made it to the park and went straight to a patch of grass in Sheep’s Meadow, a large pasture in the park where hundreds of people lay out to catch some rays… Sun rays that is…

I woke up an hour-and-a-half later, refreshed and eager to engage in some friendship, upper west style. I get on the horn with Matt and you would not believe my luck. I was two blocks away from his house and he tells me he was on his way down town to play Bocce Ball and asked me if I wanted to tag along. ” Um… Hello! How does 60 seconds sound to you..”

We met a minute later and took the train to Washington Square Park to meet up with Randy and Michael Showalter. The playing field wasn’t up to par there so we took our game to west side pier number 46, a new pier on the Hudson river with a smooth Astroturf field waiting for our bocce balls and asses to get there.

Both Michael and I had never played the game before, so we were paired with the pro rollers- me with Randy, Michael with Matt. Matt and Michael declared that their team was called the “New York City Fire Ants”. I matched that name and called our squadron the “New York Red Ants”. If you haven’t played the game before it is a shame. Fun as hell!

All you do is throw a small ball out a few yards and try to get your other balls closer to the target ball. The team with the closest ball to the target ball wins a point. You can get a point for every ball closer to the target ball. The first one to 11 wins the game. We played a best of seven game series and it was one of the best sporting situations I’ve ever been involved with in my life. To make a long story short, it came down to the last ball in the seventh game to win the series. My last throw got the Red Ants closest to the target ball… It was tied at ten apiece, everyone’s eyes are on Michael… He had one chance to win the game…. He did it, he knocked my ball away and landed his closer to win the series!!!!…

We all exploded and ran around the field like children with their heads cut off!!! It capped off one of best days of my life. We were hooked on Bocce! Even though our team lost it was the best competition I have ever encountered… So this brings me to the point of the story that happens tonight. We are meeting for a rematch at 8:30 tonight and the best part is that each team has to wear uniforms.

I heard that the “New York City Fire Ants” already have t-shirts made with their logo and everything. What I have to do is make our uniforms. I don’t want to give it away because it’s to be a surprise but I will tell you this… We will be wearing ties and tape measures on our waist. I will leave it at that and after tonight, I will post pictures of both uniforms on my web-site as soon as possible….

I have to go know and hit K-Mart for some fabric paint!!! I’ll let you know what happens later this week!!!

GO RED ANTS!!!

July 7, 2004

One of the lowest times in my life was when I decided to go to Los Angeles California to “get away” from the city for a couple of years. I lost my apartment that I was living in on Ludlow and Stanton in the East Village so I decided to drive across country with one of my best friends to live with my other best friend in Santa Monica. It was right after the Christmas holidays in 1999

Note…In the middle of writing this, a little girl no older than four, just came up to me, asked me what I was doing, and then pulled my laptop screen down to her mouth and started chewing on it. I looked around for an adult parent or guardian, but no one claimed her or called her down for chewing on my computer… I wanted to slap her hand and say, “Do you know how many people have had my computer in their mouth? Run along now” But I just ended up staring at her in awe as she slobbered on my screen. I finally ended her teething by saying, “Let’s stop now. This is really dirty I think… Is someone with you?” She just said she was playing and stood behind me for a few seconds and ran to another table, chatting up a couple of snobby looking ladies with a stack of wedding magazines as high as the little girl herself.

I don’t know how parents can get away with letting their kids just go up to a stranger and chew on their laptop, especially in New York City. Okay, I just spotted her father… He is sitting right behind me and low and behold, he is typing on his laptop! I see where she got it from!

She is all over the place now… Pulling coffee mugs on the floor… Great job young lady! Geez! The staff here at Starbucks is gonna take real kindly to your game of stack the breakables… I was wrong! The guy behind me is NOT her father! I spotted the parents a few tables away, sipping on a massive frozen beverage with a monster dollop of whipped cream sliding halfway down the gallon sized cup… She looks like a redneck mother from South Carolina with her racing t-shirt wrapped around her extra large frame… From here I can’t tell who the driver is- which is a miracle because those things are written in a super large neon colored font…let me scroll down my font list on my word processor and see if I can’t locate it… There it is!! “Racin’ Redneck semi-bold.”.. Sandwiched between “Helvetica” and “Times New Roman”… Now that’s a font that looks fast and efficient!!!

I love those shirts, it reminds me of my home town in North Carolina. All that racing stuff and the old-school trucker hats saying stuff like, “Cold beer and fishin’! Beatin’ my wife with a tire iron”… I just made that one up but I think I’m on to something here… I should make a line of t-shirts that randomly combine stereotypical redneck sayings in sort of a retarded collage… something like this… Have a shirt with a guy pushing a Ford pickup with a rebel flag sticking out of his back pocket, a fishing pole in his mouth and a deer playing a guitar jumping over a lighting bolt and the caption saying, “I’d rather push a Ford…My wife is a bitch…I hate Chevys… The south will rise again…Buck you! I’m gone fishin’ !” Just listing what is on the shirt, nothing else… Here is a good one, have a picture of a Chevy and Ford pickup truck facing each other in a wrestling ring, both trucks have professional wrestlers painted on them and the caption simply saying, “Fords are better than Chevys, by god!” The name of my clothing line will called “Stupid Redneck T-shirts, Hats and whatnot”…
“100% guaranteed to be the stupidest t-shirt ever made or half of your money back!”

I would buy one… The more random the better… Have a mud wresting girl in a muddy bikini holdin a shotgun up to a television with the caption saying, “I’d rather shoot a TV than drive a Chevy”… So stupid it just might work!!! People would see the shirt and say to themselves, “Shouldn’t it say “My TV” instead of “A TV”, man, that was the dumbest t-shirt I’ve ever seen in my life! Were can I get one?!” Well, I’ll tell you where you can get one, from ME!!! Just give me another two years to finish all of my other brilliant money making ideas first and you’ll be the first one in line for a Stupid Redneck Shirt! Send me a check for 700 dollars, because not only are the shirts stupid, the prices are insane!!!

Anyway, back to the redneck family… No, back to the story about moving to LA… No, how about just ending this very random Dear Diarrhea as it is now… I have some ideas to write down, stuff like this- Have a hat with a snake drinking a budweiser and the caption saying, “Wine me! Dine me. Shoot my boss for me… because my wife is a whore!!!”

July 2, 2004

I had an audition today for one of those commercials where they piece together five to ten people saying different statements. Kinda like a United Benneton commercial. They had a list of about a hundred sentences to choose from and you were told to memorize four to five of them. For example, “I want a bank with free checking!”…”I want an ATM closer to my office!”…”I want friendly and fast service.”… Stuff like that. I love these commercials because they want REAL people. It was written on top of the list to be “real” and “have fun with it!”, which to me equals- make up your own lines. So on my sheet of paper, I took the first half of their sentence and added a better ending. I only needed four, so I decided that my first one would be verbatim, keep it “real” for the writer’s sake.

So I go in and slate my name, show them my profiles so they can get a better look at my imposing nose from every possible camera angle, then it was time to blow this casting lady a new and improved asshole, better than her original one.

CASTING LADY: So, don’t look at the paper. Let me take that and do four or five from the list. Have fun and rant if you want to.

ME: (Trying to remember what I wrote down) Sure… Just have fun with it.

Then I remembered my first one, which was very easy and a good starting point.

ME CONT- : I want a bank that has free checking! Absolutely free! F-R-E-E!

She liked my energy, she was smiling.

ME: I want a bank that doesn’t charge me two dollars for getting money from another ATM!

Good one. I added the two dollars… Nice touch. She’s enjoying my improv.
Time to amp it up a little and do what I like to call, “Shock and remember”, which is to keep it really real, with curse words and lines that I would actually say if I were to keep it “real” in real life.

ME CONT- I want an ATM that says “I love you” if you have more money than you thought you had and “Hatin’ it!” if you don’t have enough funds in your account!!!

Sold! She was laughing and loving me. One more for good measure!

ME: I want a teller that is quick and efficient! And one that won’t call me an asshole or faggot!

Tears! I won this audition. She was in tears I tell you. Sometimes it backfires and the casting people just sit there and don’t say a thing. Not this time. I kept going even as she was turning off the camera.

ME: I want a bank that allows me to wear a ski mask and carry a gun as I make a deposit!!!

Too bad that one didn’t make the tape, the folks making the decisions would’ve loved it. Now it’s just wait and see.

That put me in a good mood and I was repeating my funnies in my head as I walked to the subway. DAMNIT! You know what I just thought? I left that sheet of paper at the agency. I wanted to keep it and throw it away so nobody could get any ideas from me! Damn it! Someone is reading it right now saying to themselves… “Hummm. That just gave me an idea… I think I’ll do the same thing that this cleaver guy did and switch the words to be funny…” Then again, I don’t think anyone is gonna say, “When I make a deposit at an ATM, I want the machine to say, ‘Put that money all up inside me!’…” I’m fine now…