Monthly Archive for August, 2004

Monday August 23

I think that Imax theaters should keep it real and show some classic tear-jerking dramas on their massive screens. Just imagine how they would advertise it… “Coming to Imax theaters everywhere! “Breaking the Waves”, starring blah blah and blah blah blah… Now you can experience a roller coaster of emotions on a massive 120 foot screen with over 75 speakers blasting every inch of your body with drama!” Then they would have interviews with people after screening the movie…

(19 yr old Stephanie) “I felt numb and depressed like never before!! It was overwhelming to see such a sad movie in such a massive theater… It felt like someone was punching me in the heart with a sledgehammer!!!”

(48 yr old Tommy) “And I thought “Breaking the Waves” was sad the first time I saw it on video!… Wait till you see it on Imax! I just can’t tell you how suicidal I feel right now!… Amazing!”

That would be interesting I think…

I can see about twenty construction workers peering over their two story perch overlooking Astor Place, the heart of Cutegirlville, NYC… Oh how the ladies love to be reminded of how attractive they are and how lucky their husbands and boyfriends must be to have them in their lives. I always wondered what these verbal abusive construction workers do as the floors pile up. I’d say that about after the tenth floor it would be pretty hard to yell at women walking down the street. They would have to use a bull horn to get their point across… “Hey hey heyyyy… Baby baby babyyyy…. You you youuuu… look look looook… fine fine fineeee!!!!!!” (As you can see by how I wrote that, can’t you just hear it echoing throughout the city streets?)… For the big sky scrapers I’d imagine that the construction workers would have to throw notes down that would be timed perfectly as a girl walked by. A girl would open up the note and it would say, “Hey baby. I bet you look HOT in that jean-dress-skirt-jumper, or whatever you are wearing. From where I am honey, you look like you need a real man to take care of you. You miniature looking babe!… Look up from where you are. That’s me dropping nails at you from seventy stories up…”

What’s this coming in on my new personal AP ticker? (Which stands for Associated Press)… I just bought a news ticker device at a store called Radio Hut that is awsome!! Anyway, got some news for ya hot off my press that looks to be straight from Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Here, I’ll just cut and paste it for ya now…

Bee beep bee beep bee beep beep beep!!… A Bob Hope Impersonator caught in a hail of gunfire…. A Bob Hope look-a-like was shot at as he was attempting to entertain troops in South Carolina….. “Last thing I know, I was walking into the dining hall and shots rang out from everywhere. “, says a terrified Rob Help, a twenty-something actor from Los Angeles…. According to staff sergeant Edward Thompson, apparently the soldiers thought it was the ghost of Bob Hope and there is a ban on ghosts on the military base. One soldier was quick to defend the near-death moment. “I was eating some meat loaf and I look up and see this young looking Bob Hope waving at everybody in the mess hall. I realized that Bob Hope died a few months ago, and since I was trained not to believe in ghosts, I open fired on it!”… Asked if a gun would do any damage to a ghost the soldier replied, “It would damage his spirit, I’ll tell ya that right now, by god!”…

I am sooo excited to have a live news ticker in at my disposal!! Just think about the fresh news I can give to you now!!!

Wait! Another news flash is coming in!!! Oooohhhh, this is gooood!!! I’ll tell ya later what just happened! I’ll put it this way, there is a new boy band out there called “OS 10″ that is about to knock your socks off!!!

August 17, 2004

I got a camera finally. I am pumped to finally get a camera to take some pictures for BobBay and for Dear Diarrhea. Now it is a matter of figuring out how to use the little bastard. Give me six months and I’ll master it for sure…

I was looking through some of my old comedy that was stuck in a suitcase that I had intended to take to my folks’ house the last time I was in North Carolina. I was suppose to organize and log it all into my computer whilst visiting the parents, but you know how it is, shit happens. I end up messing around in the yard with the dogs and build camp fires and crap like that. Who was I fooling. I get nothing done when I go home. Oh well…

Boy how I wish I had a writing assistant that would sit with me and type in all this crap for me as I read it aloud. I am such a slow ass typist it drives me crazy. If anyone is reading this and wants to be my writing assistant let me know. This is what I can offer you… A great time of laughter and extreme waves of depression, the opportunity to see my room, unlimited snacks ranging from ice-cream to seaweed, a paragraph dedicated to you in my new book, free rounds of darts and nerf basketball during the six to eight guaranteed breaks during the day… What else?…. Hummm, oh, I don’t know, a good old time, me and my silly brain as well as a massive sprinkling of good karma!! I can also give you a guest Dear Diarrhea which you can do with as you please… Maybe something special you want to write or with my new camera, show all the readers a special trick that you can do…. Anyway, you know where to e-mail me if you are interested.

Looking at all of this stuff, I have to say, I had some classic jokes come to think about it. Let me just randomly pick out a piece of paper here in my stack and see what we got… Here are a couple oldies but oldies that one day will go on the auction block. I’ll give you an example of some of my classic stand-up from yesteryear.

“Old Noah was some kind of smart guy back in the day, huh? Am I right or am I right? Having the knowledge to gather all of those animals and build a boat like that? I mean geez, that guy was smart!… I bet all his friends use to call him, oh, I don’t know…. Mr. Noah-it-all!!! Am I right or am I right?! You guys with me or what?…. Yeah, Noah was something wasn’t he? Some of the animals, though… I have to question why in the hell he wanted to save some of these guys. Like the flea and the roach? Uh, Noah? Hello? Thanks but, uh, I don’t knowww…NO THANKS!!! BUTT HEAD!!!! Ha ha haaaa… Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh, Noah Noah Noah Noah Nooooaaaaahhhhhh…. Speaking of Noah, I hate that I’m dyslexic. It sucks! I get turned around with everything. Especially at work. Almost everyday on my way out of work I screw up in front of my boss. I’ll drop off some papers for him and it’ll be like, “Here’s the Douglas file I was told to do today… You frigging asshole.” Then on my way out the door I’ll say under my breath, “See ya tomorrow.” You know what I’m saying?… Guess who lost his job?…Dyslexia sucks!! Man, speaking of being jobless, I find myself sitting on the couch every afternoon watching All My Children… I’m thinking to myself, I’ve gotta get a damn job! I can’t afford these kids!!”

(Note: I had to write All My Children in caps so you would think I was talking about the soap on television. If I wrote it like this… all my children, you would’ve taken it literally, which would be giving away the joke too early. See what I’m saying? That’s why it’s hard to write stand-up comedy… literally!)

“Uh, huh… What were we talking about again? Oh, these kids of mine. Yeah, they are excited because I think I’m close to selling a television drama to people in Hollywood. The idea is based on the old sit-com, Leave It To Beaver. It takes place a couple of years before The Beaver was born. The show is called… Let Wally Take Care Of It…. Ohhhhh, that Wally… Wally Wally Wally Wally Waaaaalllyyyy… Everybody doing all right? Let’s see what I can close with tonight… Here is my impression of an Indian chief born and raised in South Carolina that’s greeting you. (Hold my hand up and out to my side like a typical Indian would greet you) HOW!!!….. Ya’ll doin’?… Get it… Ha ha haaaa, anyway that’s my time tonight. You’ve been great and I hope to see you at Caroline’s in a couple years!!!”

I did my best to piece together that set with three old jokes I had on an old piece of paper that read… “Stand-Up NY Comedy Club… Feb 14th, 1997″ I’m sure I bombed like I just did in front of you guys, sitting in front of your computer and all. When I get more memory on my web-site, I’ll do some daily audio for ya… Then you can hear the funny inflections that I was unable to convey to you via written word. (Example- The dyslexic bit. You have to hear my inflection and see my facial expressions to truly GET that joke) Oh, I’m looking at the other side of the paper from 1997 and it has written, “Harry Lips McGee and Diarrhea Song. Do for Luna Lounge!!” And you know what, I remember doing both of those things with great success at Luna Lounge. Maybe in a couple Diarrheas down the road, I’ll recap them for ya.

For now, I am gonna file some of this old comedy magic down in this computer of mine. I’ll be waiting to hear from my little helper soon!! I’ll even buy a new Nerf ball?

August 15, 2004

I got a good nights sleep last night for the first time in about a month.
Hurricane Charles was knocking around outside of my window with a pleasant downpour and my box fan was chiming in as well. I had a good book and no alcohol in my body, which was nice considering it was a Saturday night and early in the night. 11:45pm that is, which is very early for a NYC weekend night. I was just imagining all the single girls out there sitting in a dark bar with their other single friends waiting for a single guy like me to brave the weather and get cozy and hang loose with them, all dry and happy to be alive. That was the first thought that came to mind as I read a few pages of the book I was reading. I do that a bunch, think of about a million other things while reading words in a book. I eventually reread the pages after I assured myself that those girls that I was talking about, the single ones, were not about to get out in this weather to sit in a dark bar to search for single guys like me. No, they had already planned to rent the last season of Sex and The City and drink wine and eat a ton of ice-cream and crackery snacks. I had nothing to worry about. So I didn’t… Which was nice for a change.

I was tempted to turn off my fan and only listen to Charles but I looked down from my loft and decided that it wasn’t worth the effort. I’ve heard rain before, at least a half dozen times before so I just accepted the fact that it was raining and it was there if I needed it later in the night. “All night”, said the weather woman on Channel 4 news. I believed her. My sleep has been so screwed up lately so I was prepared for other sleep aiding options. It was cozy and I was excited to get a good chunk of my book out of the way. Not like it was required reading or anything, I just wanted to prove to myself that I could concentrate on something other than comedy or bills for more than an hour. Ya see, I have a problem- never mind, I don’t want to get into it. I was just happy that I got a good night of sleep.

This weather is kinda cool if you run with it a little. The greatest thing about this city is all the amazing things to do when it rains. Like what I’m doing right now. Sitting in a warm and dry coffee shop and writing about the rain. I want to see a movie later but I don’t know if I can really afford it. I’m waiting for a check from this movie I was in early this summer… About two months ago, which is too friggin’ long to wait for a check. This is what I love about this life style I chose for myself. Wait for random checks to come so you can cash them and go to the movies to day dream about cashing in on more checks from the movies that you are day dreaming about being in. It’s a vicious cycle. I actually have a few checks that I am waiting for. I don’t want to get into it because it is quite boring.

I spoke with the director of the movie that I mentioned earlier a couple of nights ago and he asked me if it was all right if they kept one of my classic comedy bits in the movie. It was flattering as all get out. “Are you kidding me? Of course! What else am I gonna do with that stuff.” Ya see, in the movie I was able to improvise and act like a blue-collared redneck at work. I do these silly southern play dramas on my show from time to time where I act out all the characters in a scene because my other actors couldn’t make it to the show. (Which is not true, I just like doing all the characters myself) One of my plays is called “Incest Blues”, a southern drama that takes place in a trailer-park in South Carolina about a brother and sister fighting about getting a mini-dish instead of basic cable. By the way, I always choose South Carolina if I ever do a stupid southern character. I am from NORTH CAROLINA and don’t forget it!… Anyway, I start off with the brother complaining that the cable was out… Here, I’ll just do it for you…

BROTHER: Damnit! Cable’s out… Shit!

SISTER: I wanna mini-deesh! I hate basic cable!

BROTHER: Shut-up, bitch!

SISTER: (A little more whiny) I wanna mini-deesh!!!

BROTHER: (A little more deliberate) I said….Shut-up, bitch!!!

SISTER; (Crying and stomping her feet like a baby) I wanna mini-deesh!!!! I hate you!!!

BROTHER: (Really pissed off) I said, SHUT-UP, BITCH!

And then he leans in and kisses her. That’s the big shocker that gets the audience into a frenzy… This is most definitely the case of “You HAD to be there!”

Anyway, I did a version of that in the movie, which is called JuneBug and promises to be a huge hit!! I mainly say that just in case my friend and director is reading this… Not to mention the positive affirmation I am sending out to the universe which I am a firm believer of more than ever. My mother and sister reminded me to say my affirmations everyday and for the first time, starting last week, I started doing them. Here is a great story for me- I mean you. Last week I started to write on a piece of paper, “I will book a commercial this week. I will book a commercial this week…” and so on for about twenty times each day. The same thing the next day, about twenty times. So anyway, on Friday, after I wrote my affirmations down on the paper, I decided to say it out loud to myself as I walked a few blocks to Best Buy to look for a digital camera. Anyway, I said to myself that I will repeat “I will book a commercial this week” until I get to the store, stopping of course to ask the camera helper questions, and then picking up where I left off until I got to the subway to get home. That’s what I did and when I got off the subway, as I was walking to my door, I felt my phone vibrate saying that I had a new message. I’m not kidding, I knew it was my agent leaving me a message even before I looked at the missed incoming number. There was a message saying, “Hey, Bobby. This is Tracy at Abrams…” I knew that if it was Tracy it was something good because she was the head commercial agent at the agency and I never hear from her on the phone, only her many assistants that give me bad news saying that I DIDN’T get a commercial. So, my heart started to beat like crazy hearing her voice. I just smiled because I knew what would happen next. I couldn’t believe how perfect it would be that the first time in my life that I ever actually acted upon doing positive affirmations that it would come true what I asked for. She continued… “Hey listen, Bobby. I am calling to tell you that we are going to have to part ways with you and not renew a contract with you for the coming year. Have a great year and good luck with your show and stuff like that…” WAIT!!! That’s not what happened! Noooooo!!! That is what would’ve made that story sad but funny. What really happened is what I was building up to all along. I booked the commercial! Yeayyyy! It friggin’ worked!!! Sold! I will never, NOT do my affirmations from now on. So, it looks like I will be waiting for more random checks so I can hit a few more movies this year. Maybe even a movie called JuneBug with this one small but powerful scene with a redneck looking guy that looks exactly like myself doing this crazy mini-dish thing that is almost exactly what I do on stage!

Hang on. I need to do something before I get too carried away with this…

Talk with you guys soon!!

I will say “Shut-up, bitch!” in a hit movie this year. I will say “Shut-up, bitch!” in a hit movie this year. I will say “Shut-up, bitch!” in a hit movie this year. I will say “Shut-up, bitch!” in a hit…

August 10, 2004

5:11 in the morning… Can’t sleep. I forced myself to dream about a young child that was in my care, being attacked by a pack of yellow jackets. That’s the bee of all bees if you ask me. Pardon the rhyme, I do that a lot this time of morning.

I’m sitting by a couple of wildly flickering candles due to my box fan sitting in my window, blowing the light and sound around my tiny little room. My room is eight by nine, maybe ten. Sure, let’s say ten to put me in a better mood. I haven’t measured it but I do know that the ceilings are ten footers. I know that for a fact because I stare at the ceiling all night long… most of the time.

Writing under these conditions reminds me of what the staff of Little House on the Prairie must have gone through if ever they woke up in the middle of the morning to write about bees. Yes, this is midmorning. Five something now.

This flickering is driving me about as crazy as that dream. I feel like I’m in a rave back in the 1700′s, or whenever LH on the P was shot. Which reminds me of a thing that I did on my show a few months ago called A Little House and Larry, it was insane and funny ‘ta boot and you know what, I didn’t tape it. Another thing that I am anxious about right now and have been for the last two years of not taping my show. Dumbest thing I’ve ever done. Just stupid, stupid, stupid!!!

Shit, I had to turn my light on. The candles were starting to drive me crazy with all that crazy flickering, I felt like I was being haunted by a heavy breathing ghost that was puffing away on my candles. It’s gone now, I blew the ghost out.

Anyway, my eyes are adjusted to the bright light by my bed now. I do kinda miss that warm feeling of sitting by candle light, I could’ve easily just turned off my fan while I was down from my loft but it was too late. I already climbed down once to pee in that 16 ounce plastic cup and that was my last trip for a while. Why did I pee in a cup and not just walk to the restroom? First of all, we don’t have a restroom in this apartment, it’s a bathroom because there is a bath in the room, no bed or cot or even a comfy chair to relax on-just a toilet and a tub, not even a sink- that’s another thing to talk about later. If I am anxious, I pee in a cup so I can waddle in my anxiety and I can look at the cup in the morning and say to myself, “Shit, I peed in a cup again. I must be anxious about something.” I mainly do it so I don’t break up the thought that was on my mind and I can hurry and write it down like I’m doing right now. This story could’ve been dramatically different if I took that extra travel time to muddy up the bee story that I wanted to talk about in the first place. I could’ve ended up talking about why the fuck we have roaches with a cat in the house. Aren’t they supposed to kill everything? I mean what are we feeding you for? Scare them off at least! See what is happening now? I am about to get carried away about a couple roaches just thinking about the trip to the bathroom. Man, I’m tired. Anyway, back to the point. Bees.

I was dreaming of bees. No… I want to take that back, I was never asleep.

I did a set last night that was just sloppy and stupid as all get out. I got some laughs and it was fun at the time, but damn if I can’t get that shit out of my head of what I could’ve and should’ve done. I hate this feeling. I woke myself up shouting, and this is no joke and I do it almost every time after any show, be it good or bad- I woke up shouting, “Bobby! Shit… Bobby! Boobie! Eat it! Bobby!…Grapes! Sqiurrel-bird!” Just random shit like that. These little releases of stress in the form of nonsensical shouting of names and nouns. Stuff that would scare the living snot out of a possible girlfriend or roommate. Poor Craig. I know I wake him up all the time by doing this. It’s like a retarded alarm going off but he can never turn it off… What was I getting at? Oh, the bee day dream slash midmorning dream. Anyway, if ever I am sleepless, I try to think of possible movie scenes that would be interesting for me to be in. That’s when this whole yellow jacket thing popped into my head.

I can just hear the baby scream now… Actually I can’t because it was too hard for me to worry too much about going into the back yard to save the toddler because I was too busy thinking about how I can get a good baby actor to scream as if it were being attacked by yellow jackets… You have to show the horror on the baby’s face in order to be as effective as I wanted it to be. That’s the thing that bugs me the most, which I do with everything: over analyze the shit out of stuff, making it impossible to finish the thought at hand. I had a baby to save, forget how authentic the scream is. Go save the baby from the bees! We can dub in a wild scream later. Go get the baby! Thataboy!… Shit, I’ll do the scream! I’m getting stung as much or more than the baby because I’M the one with his hands full, knocking the bees off of HIM. Yes, it’s a baby boy. Sure, why not.

The bees are stinging the shit out of me! One hits my lip, causing me to have a MASSIVE COLD SORE! Ouch! We then jump into the ice cold swimming pool and for a brief moment the pain stops… But not for long. I know this for a fact because I have been on the receiving end of some angry yellow jackets, the pain will come back and it will throb like crazy. I hate yellow jackets more than anything. I love the hell out of hornets or any other bee for that matter because at least you can see a hornet’s nest in a tree or on the roof of a house. You can see honey bee hives for the most part. You can’t see a yellow jackets nest because they are in the ground. They dig about a quarter sized hole in the earth and you find were they live the hard way after you step on the hole by accidentally walking in the woods or mowing the yard. That’s one of my old childhood memories with the yellow jacket. I ran over a nest of those yellow fellow’s with the mower and they got after my ass in a hurry. I must’ve been stung six to ten times. It hurt like hell. Kinda like after my standup sets, I often ponder about what I could’ve done that lawn-mowing day as a kid. I thought that instead of running away, I should’ve just left the mower over the hole and as the assholes came flying out to get me, they would get some serious blade action. Of course, I would get nailed by the guys that were out of the house in the first place. They would return home to a screaming, wild, skinny redheaded freak killing off their brothers and sisters with a bright red machine. Knowing that the color red attracts them even more than any color, they would be pretty pissed at me and the red mower. I’d take a few hits, but at least I would’ve sliced the majority of the pack into pieces. God, I hate those things more than any other animal… Where was I again? SWIMMING POOL! Getting stung on my head now! Stinging the hell out of my wet noggin. But for me to be the hero here, I have to suck it up… Too bad I had to get popped in the mouth, stung me right through my cheek! DAMNIT, THAT ONE HURT!!!

I’m saving the shit out of this baby’s life! Not just once with the bees, but twice after I dropped it into the deep end of the pool so I could rub Carmex on my exploding lip. I think the near drowning took its little mind off the stinging pain of the bees. Remember, this is only a movie. It didn’t really happen. Okay? Still with me?

Anyway, the ambulance soon arrived after my incredibly attractive girlfriend called 911 as she heard my screams. But the problem was that after one look from the Paramedic, I was in love.

“How long has it been since your child was stung?” the beauty queen asks me with a needle poking into the child’s arm.

“His name is Feather Alexander! He is a darling child indeed.” That was the first hippy, new aged type of name I could come up with. I wanted her to think I was very earthy and spiritual.

“She didn’t ask for his name, Pal” Her ugly partner Hank must have heard it all with this chick.

The baby’s make-up was amazing looking. With a swell suit that looked horrifying in a good way, I was very happy with that effect… And when I mean swell, I mean that in a swollen way. That scene put the audience in a riveting mood. If I were to see this movie I would definitely grab whoever was sitting beside me, which would be my agent or manager, whichever I was closest too. Might be a family member, I would’ve invited them to a screening so I would be near them as well… I would remind them that… “It will get better… Shhhhh! Just watch… It’s not all this dramatic. It gets funny really soon!”

During the Q and A after the screening, people would keep harping over the random dramatic scene. I would answer their question like this, “What made me put a baby being attacked by yellow jackets in a comedy? I will answer that question with another question. Have you ever been attacked by yellow jackets? Next question?”

It is turning light outside. Time to get my black ass to sleep. I have a lot to do. I get to remind myself about how my set went last night for the rest of the day. I love this job!!!

You know? I wonder if I had a great set last night if I would be dreaming about saving a child from killing a butterfly… Something more peaceful… Probably not.

I better go empty out this cup of urine. It’s only natural. Turning thirty-four in a month and a half!!

August 9, 2004

There was a distant shouting match a couple hundred yards on the seventh green side bunker. Sounded like someone made a bogie or something and didn’t like the way his score was larger than his partner’s. All Teddy Fripplister could do was wait and listen before he could tee off. Which teed him off more than he was in the first place. Teddy was having a hell of a hard time getting the sticky watermelon off his arms and legs and this argument needed to end soon before he pulled out his 2 iron and launch a worm burning missile to clear things up.

Paul Veeps, Teddy’s partner, had pulled off the golf prank of the year.
Right in the middle of Teddy’s back swing, Paul secretly replaced his golf ball with a baby watermelon, and I’m not talking about an immature watermelon with a green and tasteless center. No, I’m talking about the ripe and delicious type of miniature watermelons that are popular with parents because they are much easier for children to handle. And in Paul’s case – easier to hide in a golf bag.

Teddy was really upset at this point. Three out of the six holes they played started or ended with a prank at the hands of Paul Veeps, and with eleven more to play, he had little patience for a time consuming disagreement ahead of them.

“Pickup and get off the green!!… Come on now!!! “Ted’s yelling voice was good and broken in, especially after the old squirrel in the pants trick on the third hole.

“Get out of the way!!”

“Calm down Teddy. They are just having an incredibly loud argument at the moment. Probably need to hash things out so they can continue to play without all of the stress built up inside them.” Paul’s little speech didn’t seem to help matters at all.

“What in the hell are you talking about? Is this leading to another prank or gag? Are you in cahoots with those guys or something?”

“No, I just think that things happen for a reason and if people just went with the flow and stopped forcing things to happen, we would be a much happier society. Maybe there is a reason that we have to wait…. I can think of one right now, oh I don’t know, maybe you can use the extra time to dab up a certain sticky substance that is matting down your leg hair?”

Teddy nearly flinched out of his golf shoes as Paul threw him a box of wet-wipes from behind his back.

“Jesus! That scared the shot out of me! You sure these are just wet-wipes and not some kind of acid wipes or something?”

“No. Those are just good old fashioned wet dabbing prank removers. They also might get that motor oil out of your shirt from the first hole.”

“I thought you said it was slow onset disappearing ink?” Teddy was trying unsuccessfully to remove a quarter sized oil stain from his collar. “This shit isn’t coming out, man! Look at my shirt!!”

“No, that was a joke. There is no such thing as slow onset disappearing ink that I know of. Get it? Funny, huh? Listen, here is the deal. You are three under par after three pranks so I wouldn’t be complaining about a little acid or about some oil stains. I mean, you have a terrible golf swing. You should be thanking me… What did you get on the first hole?”

Teddy knew he was right. He was a terrible golfer who had never had a birdie in his life. “A birdie… But dude! Exploding golf balls filled with old motor oil?! I mean, come on!”

Paul snaps right back. “What did you get on the second hole!?”

“A double bogie”

“Exactly. And.. oh, I don’t know, what did you happen to make on the next hole? When I pulled out mister hungry squirrel? Huh? See if we can’t find a little pattern here.”

“Okay, okay. I see your point. It is just shear luck that’s all. And how in the hell did you capture a squirrel like that?”

“Never tell. A master prankster never reveals his secretes. Unless, of course, one of my pranks is carrying rabies, which was not the case here.”

This is how Paul pulled off the trick if you are interested. Before the round of golf, Paul set out a live trap in the woods off the third hole, about two hundred yards away from the tee box, which is about where he normally slices his ball into the woods. The art of this trick is to bait the trap with bubble gum wrapped around a roasted almond. The squirrel can’t resist the smell of the almond and is forced to chew off the bubble gum to get to the nut. Once they start on the gum, that’s all they concentrate on. Finish the gum to get to that smelly nut. According to Paul’s calculations, the average adult squirrel will chew a piece of gum for upwards to three and a half hours before they realize it isn’t going anywhere, plenty of time to reach any of the first nine holes on even the busiest days on the course. Once you have a gum chewing squirrel at your disposal, let the games begin. In this case, when Teddy was getting ready to hit his approach shot to the green, Paul put the roasted almond in Teddy’s back pocket and released the beast. The rest is history.

“Do you see the irony here, Teddy? All this talk about a couple of people holding up our round of golf with a silly argument and look what we are doing now. Ha Ha haaa. Ain’t life funny?”

When they finally teed off on the next hole, Teddy shanked his drive about a hundred yards into the woods. His next shot was even worse, hitting a tree and bouncing another twenty yards further into the jungle. Paul noticed he was up the creek and decided to rub it in a little bit.

“Hey Teddy, looks like you’d be a good lumberjack if the golf doesn’t work out for ya. Wait a second, look over there! It’s a deer wearing a poncho!”

When Teddy looked around, Paul replaced the club he had in his hand with a rolled up poster of Jack Nicholas posing with his green jacket after winning the 1886 masters.

“I didn’t see any deer wearing a poncho. Oh well, better focus on getting out of the woods here… Why is my club so light- Wait a second! This is a rolled up poster not my three iron!”

“Gotcha Teddy! I switched it when you were looking for the “deer”! Ha ha ha haaa! Here is your three iron. Ha ha haaa!”

“Damnit PAUL!”

Then, like a miracle from up above, Teddy hit his shot through all of the woods and it rolled onto the green, about three feet from the hole. Teddy just looked at Paul in disbelief at what just happened. Paul winked at Teddy and walked toward the green.

“Looks like someone is about to save par. Hummmm, I wonder why?”

Something special was in the works from that hole on. Teddy was an incredible nine under par going into the eighteenth hole. If he birdies the last hole, he would break the club record for the lowest score on the back nine. They both knew that the eighteenth tee shot was huge. After ten straight pranks, everything came down to the last hole.

Teddy looked like he signed up for rodeo clown classes. He was covered in mud, Jell-O, silly string, eggs, tar, macaroni and cheese and blood from the last three pranks dealing with throwing stars, but the look on his face was filled with determination. One more hole!

“Paul, I have to tell you something. When we were first introduced in the locker room this morning and you popped me with that wet towel as I tried to pick up the dollar you glued to the floor, I hated every inch of you. And the thought that I was going to be paired up with you for a round of golf made me hate you even more. I mean after you pranked a complete stranger on the very first hole? That… well, that was just very strange to me… But now, I can’t tell you how lucky it has been for me to be around you today. I mean, aside from the cuts and bruises… All this other stuff will wash right off. And I’m about to break the course record!!! I can’t believe how lucky you have made me!!!”

“Well, like I said on number seven, things happen for a reason. If you just go with the flow- let the eggs and motor oil and stuff like that fall where it may, good things will happen. I am equally blessed to have you around to pull all of these fast ones on today. I’ve never seen suck luck, and I have a huge surprise for you on this last hole…”

“What is it? What could it be? A snake or something that will bite me? I’ve just gotta know!”

“How about hitting your tee shot first and we’ll see what happens.”

Teddy smiled and set up to his ball. He was very eager to see what kind of shenanigan would take place on his back swing…. Nothing. Teddy hit the ball perfectly down the middle of the fairway.

“I guess a little surprise might happen on the next shot. You never know, the way things have been going lately.”

Paul didn’t respond. He was too busy digging through his bag.

“Did you hear me Paul? I guess a little surprise might happen on the next shot… right?”

They go straight to Teddy’s ball. Teddy stands over it and takes a few wild practice swings, digging up chunks of grass in the process. Teddy knows that a prank is coming. He squints his eyes as he takes the club back, anticipating something like a burrito or a knife to come slinging his way… Nothing. He hit the ball perfectly on the green, about ten feet from the pin.

Teddy was frustrated. “What happened to the surprise? This is the last hole, Paul! What the hell?”

“Are you ready for your final surprise?” Paul said with a very serious look on his face.

“Hello? YES. I have one last shot for the record. Please let it happen any time now.”

“Well, the surprise is that I don’t have any pranks left. I used them all up on the sixteenth hole. I was lucky enough to find that rape whistle at the bottom of my bag on the seventeen hole. I’m all out buddy. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“What the hell am I going to do?! I have a ten foot putt for birdie! I’ll never do it, Paul! What am I gonna do? SHIT!”

“Get a hold of yourself, Teddy! You hit two perfect shots just anticipating that I was gonna pull out another prank on you. Just go with the flow and think on this last putt that I will do the same. Mind over matter. You can do it!”

The two are standing beside Teddy’s ball on the green. It was a very tough putt with a lighting fast down hill break to the left by about four feet. Even a pro would have a difficult time with this putt. Teddy was shaking violently as he hovered over the putt with catsup mixed with sweat dripping all over the ball.

“You can do it Teddy. Remember the squirrel Teddy. Remember the broken bottle Teddy. You can do it…. For the course record! Come on and sink it my new friend!”

Teddy slowly pulled his putter back and tapped the ball towards the hole. It slowly rolled and rolled down the slope, gaining speed every inch of the way. It was dead on line with the hole but it would all come down to the speed of that runaway ball.

“It’s looking good!! IT LOOKS GOOD TEDDY!”

Just about a foot from the hole, with Teddy and Paul screaming for victory, Paul kicked Teddy as hard as he could in his nuts, sending him to the ground and knocking him out from the pain. The ball did just what Paul had predicted, it ran right over the hole and rolled about twenty feet off the green and into the heavy ruff.

Paul ran and got the ball and just as Teddy slowly came too, Paul put his ball in the cup, jumped up and down with his hands in the air.

“You did it!! YOU DID IT!!! You broke the course record!!”

Teddy had just enough energy to smile then he passed out again.

A few days later after the surgery to repair his genitals, Paul walked into the recovery room and brought him lunch.

Teddy was playing a golf video game and looked to be in good spirits, especially with his new friend over for a visit.

“Will you ever tell me what that last prank was? I can’t remember anything after the fifteenth hole. You have to tell me.”

“It will always be a secret. Maybe one day I’ll tell you but first you need to eat some of this meat loaf sandwich that I made for you. Put the game on pause and eat some lunch.”

Teddy puts his game on pause, freeze framing his little computer golfer in the middle of his back swing. Teddy takes the meat loaf sandwich and takes a large bite.

“What in the hell is this!” he says with a laugh. “I knew it was a shit sandwich! I knew it!! You little bastard!!

Paul was a little sad. “It’s not a shit sandwich! It’s my home made meat loaf that I made last night. I thought you would like it?”

Just as he said that, the golf game started back up again and the computer golfer finish his swing- sailing the ball into a water hazard.

Teddy put the sandwich down. “Oh, I guess you’re right”

August 4, 2004

If I had to choose between having a scorpion or a copperhead as a mascot for a professional team, I would choose the scorpion. Depends on the colors though. Maybe the copperhead would present better colors than a creamy, half transparent looking scorpion. If you had a gay professional sports team, I think the coral snake would be a good mascot with all of its rainbow colored stripes. Plus the coral snake doesn’t have fangs and isn’t a vicious animal at all. It has to slowly chew on its pray with its small teeth to inject its deadly poison into its victim. I might very well be making this up, but I think the coral snake does an apology dance before and after it kills his victim. That’s a sweet deadly snake if you ask me. The perfect mascot for a squadron of fighting gays.

Last Wednesday on the trip to the theater I decided to talk about only the stuff I observed on my train ride to the show. I will let you know what I observed and you can hear for yourself what comedy magic was in store for all those who saw me live and uncensored. Here was the first thing that caught my eye. While waiting on the platform, I saw a mightily large thug-looking-like fella whipping around a yo-yo like nobody’s business. I decided to turn it into my personal business because I knew that I had to come up with something clever and fast! Who knows, this might be the only thing I will have to observe worth any kind of comedic interest. It was interesting though, and worth talking about because this fella had some serious yo-yo skills that needed to be reckoned with. Looked like he knew all the tricks and then some. Walk the dog? No problem? How far and what color leash. I was indeed putting words in his mouth because I was too nervous to ask him any questions due to the very aggressive nature of his tattoos, I couldn’t actually see the tattoos but I did notice that one looked homemade and was on his right wrist, which tells me that he was a left handed prisoner with time to kill. The operative word here is kill. He was a cold-blooded killer that just got out of prison and picked up the yo-yo. At least that is what I wanted him to be.

(Note: Half of this I didn’t actually say on stage and I am a bit upset that I’m just now thinking these things.)

This is all I said on stage- “I saw this big guy with a bunch of tattoos playing with a yo-yo while waiting for the subway. He was doing all sorts of tricks. Walk the dog? No problem! How far would you like me to walk it? What’s that triangle thing were they make a triangle with the string and have the yo-yo rock back and forth between the thingie?” (Then someone shouts out the trick which I temporarily forgot just like I did Wednesday night…what it is? Shit… Anyway let’s say “Jacob’s ladder” for the sake of time and if it comes to me later in this diarrhea, I’ll let you know. I hate that I forgot the name of the trick because it is right on the tip of my tongue. Oh well, back to the story…) “So I’m all like… He looks tough as nails and at the same time he is dominating a multicolored yo-yo like somebody’s business. People use the term, ‘Don’t be a yo-yo’ , but after watching this guy it should be more like, ‘DO be a yo-yo’,… because it’s pretty cool!”

There, that’s what I said on stage as my observation on the train ride to the show. Now that I am analyzing it, the “Don’t be a yo-yo” phrase could easily be used for other individual sporting games. Like you could say to a lady that constantly goes back to her abusive husband, “Hey Karen! Yes you KAREN!! Don’t be such a BOOMERANG!! Why are you being such a boomerang, Karen?!” That would work with yo-yo as well. Much better use for the yo-yo if you ask me. Let’s say that Karen continues to go back to her abusive mate and you really need to drive the point home. You could use something a little more emphatic such as this. “Karen? Karen?… Pick up the phone Karen! I know you’re at home with Carl, your abusive husband, so pick up the phone!!… Listen Karen, don’t be such a BASKETBALL! Don’t be a basketball and constantly return to Carl, your abusive husband!!! Come on now and pick up the phone so we can talk about it.”

I feel like I need to have an example of an abusive wife to balance this whole point out. Let’s say that Phil is being physically abused by his massive wife Karen. I know, I know, I used Karen already in the earlier example. Well, this is a different Karen and if it makes it easier, I’ll spell her name differently in this example.

Okay, let’s say that Phil just got punched in his Kidney by Caren for not rubbing her feet hard enough. This is what I would say to Phil as his best friend and coworker. (Phil works down at the Chicken packing plant and his best friend Karl has experienced the same type of abuse from his girlfriend, Kiran) “Phil! Why don’t you take five from that cage of chicken and let’s talk about something for a minute… Listen to me Phil and listen to me loud and clear. Don’t be such a golf ball and let her beat the living snot out of you all the time… Not goof ball, GOLF BALL, PHIL. Get with the program! Listen, as your best friend and fellow coworker here at the plant, I just don’t want you to be a golf ball and get seriously injured by that crazy bitch Caren anymore. Here, use this salve for your kidney. Mine healed already and I don’t need it anymore.”

Now we are evenly balanced in the example department. Well, it goes to show that improv can become IMPROVed with a little time and energy to flesh it out. I should do that with everything and then I would have about twenty hours of material for you and all of my loved ones out there who enjoy comedy.

Rock The Cradle!!! That is the name of the trick! I knew I would call someone to help me remember it!!