Walking unsteadily to my car after Eighties night yesterday, I passed a girl coming the opposite way. I nodded. She tightened her grip on something in her hand. As I turned back to look at her ass, I noticed that "something" was a canister of pepper spray. If I had said a muttered "hello" I might have had to spend the morning in the Emergency Room. My life is constantly on the razor's edge of complete shit. Her ass wasn't even that good.
The evening was fun. People were in costume. I was not, as I'd just worked sixteen hours. There were even two Annie Lennox appearances, both very good and spot on. I had taken four aspirin beforehand, and somehow, they boosted my buzz quite a bit. Good times.
There are two fake chicken patties sitting on a baking tray right beside me. I am warming up the oven, but I brought them into the room because I am very hungry. I am visualizing eating them, because that is my goal in this particular endeavour. Visualize your goals, kids.
I am looking most forward to tomorrow evening's show. Working a new venue with different people is always a welcome change. Comedy in this town is soul crushing, no doubt about that, but maybe this time it will only step on my toes and rub pepper under my nose while forcing me to call it Mistress. There is no safeword in comedy. Do or die.
Happy Halloween. This is how I view children, and how you should too. They are merely sources of entertainment, not the future. Worry not, I am not ready to "invest" in my own source of entertainment. Not for a long, long, long time, if ever.
Back to a relatively normal 9 to 5 schedule next week. I don't know how I feel yet. I fucking hate traffic though, I know that.
My iTunes is randomly selecting The Cure, HIM, and Fiona Apple for me to listen to today. I think it might be slowly becoming sentient. I can't bring myself to kill it, even if mankind's future is at stake. I love it, ok? I love it!
Yeah, I'm posting late today. I had to sleep for thirteen hours. Well, I didn't have to, but it wasn't like I had anything penciled in.
Totally sweet.
I found a porno mag I'd thought I had thrown away. I can now fill about twelve minutes of my day. Tiffany likes men who know what they're doing.
I just wrote a joke about Mel Gibson.
This song is an all time favorite. It sounds absolutely fucking perfect on headphones, a radio, or on the floor. The lyrics are fantastic, and every note is perfect. Way better than "I Ran."
I might make myself a smoothie today. Probably not, since banana-apple is not high on my list of favorites.
It is very fun in here tonight.-BK
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Vietnam 2
My goodness, winter sure seems to have tea-bagged us hasn't it? I walked out of Ben Kenny World Headquarters yesterday in my usual hoodie and was surprised to find myself slowly being covered in frozen particles of water, and a little cold to boot! There were even spotty little patches of ice on the roads of the fair Iron City this morning. Everyone knows danger is sexy, but it's hard to feel sexy if you leave your house for work at four am. I still manage to pull it off everyday, but it's no fucking cake walk, that's for sure!
The Dark Lord has shined upon me once again, providing me with an unexpected double shift today. Surprisingly, my phone was in the same room, and actually turned on, when the call came in. I was trying to figure out what the funny noise was, but then I remembered what my ringtone sounds like.
I'm sad. I was unable to make it to November 1st without turning my heat on. Two nights ago, I gave in. My house is now a balmy sixty-five degrees, and I'm turning into the Steve Irwin of "draft hunting." So far, I've gotten two windowsills and a door. I sure hope that I don't get stabbed in the heart by something while casually bothering it.
I'm pulling some strings and desperately attempting to secure some sort of half-day type action for tomorrow. We'll see. I want to make it out to Eighties night. I need to buy my friend a drink, as he did comedy for the very first time the other night. I would've bought for him at the show, but I had other priorities at that moment.
I think I'm going to forgo a second job for the winter. I have time to save, I've been budgeting much better as of late, and I frankly don't need the additional stress in my life right now. Besides I need to keep focused on the only thing that validates my existence, comedy.
I know I've been talking a bit about coffee lately, but damn. This coffee is so good. It's really the Barack Obama of beverages when you think about it. It gives me hope for my day. I think his Presidency is pretty much guaranteed at this point, but what will America do when Barack gets cold and just doesn't seem to perk you up like he used to? I'm waiting for the backlash. I give it six months to a year. I think these young idealistic folks, quite a few of whom have never had to sacrifice much for anything, don't realize what is being asked of them, and are they willing to start doing the real work? Americans and American businesses never used to get bailed out by their government. We've never paid such high taxes with so little to show back. We need to push government out, and bring local communities back. Yes, Wal-Mart may be the only place to get that new AC/DC album, but every time you shop there, every single time, no matter what you're buying, you're killing America. Voting isn't enough. Patriots make sacrifices, whether they're fighting an unjust, unnecessary war abroad, or just volunteering at their local park district! America was great because people worked hard to make it great. Let's all work harder out there!
John Daly is probably my favorite mainstream professional athlete. It's been rumored that he can hit an 800 yard golf drive. That's not why I like him. I like him because he still dedicates so much of his time to drinking and gluttony. He's the best. He handed my dad a beer from his own personal cooler once. That's how cool my dad is. Anyways, here's a little example of John Daly's consummate professionalism.
Looks like I'll finally have a chance to get my "obligatory Improv picture" taken. I will be performing November 5th. Come out, and mention my name at the door for a discounted admission! That's just the kind of power I wield in this town, folks.
I like to sing it in the shower.
No time to rest. Gotta keep on living it up.
Black Labs only care about food. They don't love you, they love food.
Of course I want to make a better living.-BK
The Dark Lord has shined upon me once again, providing me with an unexpected double shift today. Surprisingly, my phone was in the same room, and actually turned on, when the call came in. I was trying to figure out what the funny noise was, but then I remembered what my ringtone sounds like.
I'm sad. I was unable to make it to November 1st without turning my heat on. Two nights ago, I gave in. My house is now a balmy sixty-five degrees, and I'm turning into the Steve Irwin of "draft hunting." So far, I've gotten two windowsills and a door. I sure hope that I don't get stabbed in the heart by something while casually bothering it.
I'm pulling some strings and desperately attempting to secure some sort of half-day type action for tomorrow. We'll see. I want to make it out to Eighties night. I need to buy my friend a drink, as he did comedy for the very first time the other night. I would've bought for him at the show, but I had other priorities at that moment.
I think I'm going to forgo a second job for the winter. I have time to save, I've been budgeting much better as of late, and I frankly don't need the additional stress in my life right now. Besides I need to keep focused on the only thing that validates my existence, comedy.
I know I've been talking a bit about coffee lately, but damn. This coffee is so good. It's really the Barack Obama of beverages when you think about it. It gives me hope for my day. I think his Presidency is pretty much guaranteed at this point, but what will America do when Barack gets cold and just doesn't seem to perk you up like he used to? I'm waiting for the backlash. I give it six months to a year. I think these young idealistic folks, quite a few of whom have never had to sacrifice much for anything, don't realize what is being asked of them, and are they willing to start doing the real work? Americans and American businesses never used to get bailed out by their government. We've never paid such high taxes with so little to show back. We need to push government out, and bring local communities back. Yes, Wal-Mart may be the only place to get that new AC/DC album, but every time you shop there, every single time, no matter what you're buying, you're killing America. Voting isn't enough. Patriots make sacrifices, whether they're fighting an unjust, unnecessary war abroad, or just volunteering at their local park district! America was great because people worked hard to make it great. Let's all work harder out there!
John Daly is probably my favorite mainstream professional athlete. It's been rumored that he can hit an 800 yard golf drive. That's not why I like him. I like him because he still dedicates so much of his time to drinking and gluttony. He's the best. He handed my dad a beer from his own personal cooler once. That's how cool my dad is. Anyways, here's a little example of John Daly's consummate professionalism.
Looks like I'll finally have a chance to get my "obligatory Improv picture" taken. I will be performing November 5th. Come out, and mention my name at the door for a discounted admission! That's just the kind of power I wield in this town, folks.
I like to sing it in the shower.
No time to rest. Gotta keep on living it up.
Black Labs only care about food. They don't love you, they love food.
Of course I want to make a better living.-BK
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Karma Police
I'm not even sure where to begin in regards to last night.
It was either the absolute best, or absolute worst, show I've ever been involved in. Three and half hours. Twenty comics. Six of whom were funny. It was the emcee's last PGH show before his move to the Big Apple, and needless to say, a lot of people came out to support him, and of course, in Pittsburgh, we "support," and show love for our friends with shot upon shot of Jaegermeister. Needless to say, but Rocco, by all accounts a champion, seasoned drinker, got totally smashed and had to retire somewhat early. I escorted him to the bathroom and it had to be one of the Top Five pukes I've ever seen in my degenerate, aimless life. It would have been impressive if it wasn't happening to such a damn fine individual. Rocco will live to fight another day. He was literally carried out of the bar.
The owner of the bar bought me a drink after my set. It is always cool to "get paid" for making someone laugh with an ice-cold beer.
The Moose was about as dirty as I'd ever seen her after the show, and that says something, because if the Moose was a broad, you'd surely "double bag," even on the best of days. Thanks to Rocco's friends, Travis Walling, and a few others who stuck around a bit and helped clean up the clumps of silly string, cigarette butts, and bottles and glasses. I'm still amazed that this didn't happen at some point...
Before all that radness, I found myself at the "B-level" comedy club, as the comedic wolves I was rolling with wanted to stop in there for a bit. Of course, this being Pittsburgh and the club requiring paid admission and drink minimums, the show was cancelled. These clubs need to bite the bullet and spend some real coin on promotion and advertising, and maybe, just maybe, not charge eight dollars for chicken fingers. The best, hardest hitting, jokes aren't always on stage at a comedy club.
The Government is cutting interest rates again today. Great idea. Let's all take on even more fucking debt.
I'm sitting here, and I realize that I don't even have a slight headache. According to my wallet, I drank about fifteen dollars worth of beer yesterday, in addition to the shots I bought Rocco. I didn't even smoke any cigarettes! Another flawless victory.
I'm totally making fake steak sandwiches for lunch today. I'm not sure if my stomach can get an erection, but if it could, it certainly has one right now.
Even though this is based on a book series aimed at teenage girls, many of whom are probably fat with braces and acne, I'm still kind of excited about seeing this movie. I love vampires!
Rolling Stone magazine/Obama campaign tool changed it's format and layout. It now looks and feel more like a rock and roll version of People, and seems even less legit. It's a parody of what it once was, and what it once meant. I read an interview of one of the fucking Jonas brothers talking with Elvis Costello and I wanted to kill myself.
You hear a lot about bands from New York. Many are heavy on style, but sorely lack significant substance. This is not one of them. This is the only one that matters at the moment.
It says six dollars, but no one's ever there.-BK
It was either the absolute best, or absolute worst, show I've ever been involved in. Three and half hours. Twenty comics. Six of whom were funny. It was the emcee's last PGH show before his move to the Big Apple, and needless to say, a lot of people came out to support him, and of course, in Pittsburgh, we "support," and show love for our friends with shot upon shot of Jaegermeister. Needless to say, but Rocco, by all accounts a champion, seasoned drinker, got totally smashed and had to retire somewhat early. I escorted him to the bathroom and it had to be one of the Top Five pukes I've ever seen in my degenerate, aimless life. It would have been impressive if it wasn't happening to such a damn fine individual. Rocco will live to fight another day. He was literally carried out of the bar.
The owner of the bar bought me a drink after my set. It is always cool to "get paid" for making someone laugh with an ice-cold beer.
The Moose was about as dirty as I'd ever seen her after the show, and that says something, because if the Moose was a broad, you'd surely "double bag," even on the best of days. Thanks to Rocco's friends, Travis Walling, and a few others who stuck around a bit and helped clean up the clumps of silly string, cigarette butts, and bottles and glasses. I'm still amazed that this didn't happen at some point...
Before all that radness, I found myself at the "B-level" comedy club, as the comedic wolves I was rolling with wanted to stop in there for a bit. Of course, this being Pittsburgh and the club requiring paid admission and drink minimums, the show was cancelled. These clubs need to bite the bullet and spend some real coin on promotion and advertising, and maybe, just maybe, not charge eight dollars for chicken fingers. The best, hardest hitting, jokes aren't always on stage at a comedy club.
The Government is cutting interest rates again today. Great idea. Let's all take on even more fucking debt.
I'm sitting here, and I realize that I don't even have a slight headache. According to my wallet, I drank about fifteen dollars worth of beer yesterday, in addition to the shots I bought Rocco. I didn't even smoke any cigarettes! Another flawless victory.
I'm totally making fake steak sandwiches for lunch today. I'm not sure if my stomach can get an erection, but if it could, it certainly has one right now.
Even though this is based on a book series aimed at teenage girls, many of whom are probably fat with braces and acne, I'm still kind of excited about seeing this movie. I love vampires!
Rolling Stone magazine/Obama campaign tool changed it's format and layout. It now looks and feel more like a rock and roll version of People, and seems even less legit. It's a parody of what it once was, and what it once meant. I read an interview of one of the fucking Jonas brothers talking with Elvis Costello and I wanted to kill myself.
You hear a lot about bands from New York. Many are heavy on style, but sorely lack significant substance. This is not one of them. This is the only one that matters at the moment.
It says six dollars, but no one's ever there.-BK
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Bologna sandwiches in the sky!
If you're not doing anything tonight, and you live in Pittsburgh, come on out to The Smiling Moose. It promises to be one helluva good time! Plus, my friend and fellow dance fiend and High Life drinker, Brandon, is making his comedy debut!
The final round of the Slapsticks! competition takes place at 8pm, Friday, November 28th. This is the day after Thanksgiving. You're going to be in need of a good laugh after yet another barely tolerable holiday with your family, or even worse, your spouse/mate's family. It's only eight bucks, and it would warm the cockles of my cold black heart to see you out in the audience.
Finally got around to seeing W. yesterday. While not bad by any measure, it just didn't live up to expectations. I wanted more out of this movie. I wanted it to go farther, dig deeper, and bite harder. To be fair, the movie is a biography, and it does a fine job of examining the life of George W. Bush and how he came to be defined, both as a man, and as the President. The cast is superb. A lot of big, respected names took a lot of supporting roles in this movie, and they all did really understated, subtle work that strengthened the film. James Cromwell is really great as Bush Sr. You cannot deny Josh Brolin's W. He made a man most people only know through sound bites and TV speeches come alive, and he made him human. Great work. I just wish the film had the courage to SAY something. Oliver Stone should have been let off of whatever leash they kept him on. Regardless, this film would have been more complete and had more to offer had it been made five or ten years down the road.t
I'll probably be seeing Saw V too. Gotta see how they top themselves this time. I must admit though, I really, really liked the original film. Might be my favorite "torture porn" film. This is my favorite "challenge" out of any of the films. This makes me physically cringe. I'm not even afraid of needles, I just think this is brutally violent and utterly genius in a simplistic way...
Cool like smoking cigarettes behind the gas station after school while you call your friend's older brother to see if he can score you some weed for later. Shiny Toy Guns. Le Disko.
My neighbors were outside arguing, about drugs, parenting, and stereo equipment for most of the night. I know this because their arguing kept me from getting anywhere near the eight hours of peaceful sleep I was so ready to get. Fucking baseball was on, which preempted Sarah Connor, so I decided to go to sleep at eight, but they just couldn't let me.
I still haven't gotten a haircut. I need to do that soon.
Although I can't afford it, I feel morally and spiritually obligated to travel to some city, likely Las Vegas, to see the Smashing Pumpkins' 20th Anniversary tour.
"You don't play Guitar Hero when you are a guitar hero." - B. Corgan
I need to buy tortillas and maybe some green peppers today.
I need to clean out my car.
I need to write my set for tonight, polish some shit out/up.
I need to slow down.
I need to work faster.
I need to stop this, and start that.
I need it all, but want for nothing.
Bazooka Joe is the best.-BK
The final round of the Slapsticks! competition takes place at 8pm, Friday, November 28th. This is the day after Thanksgiving. You're going to be in need of a good laugh after yet another barely tolerable holiday with your family, or even worse, your spouse/mate's family. It's only eight bucks, and it would warm the cockles of my cold black heart to see you out in the audience.
Finally got around to seeing W. yesterday. While not bad by any measure, it just didn't live up to expectations. I wanted more out of this movie. I wanted it to go farther, dig deeper, and bite harder. To be fair, the movie is a biography, and it does a fine job of examining the life of George W. Bush and how he came to be defined, both as a man, and as the President. The cast is superb. A lot of big, respected names took a lot of supporting roles in this movie, and they all did really understated, subtle work that strengthened the film. James Cromwell is really great as Bush Sr. You cannot deny Josh Brolin's W. He made a man most people only know through sound bites and TV speeches come alive, and he made him human. Great work. I just wish the film had the courage to SAY something. Oliver Stone should have been let off of whatever leash they kept him on. Regardless, this film would have been more complete and had more to offer had it been made five or ten years down the road.t
I'll probably be seeing Saw V too. Gotta see how they top themselves this time. I must admit though, I really, really liked the original film. Might be my favorite "torture porn" film. This is my favorite "challenge" out of any of the films. This makes me physically cringe. I'm not even afraid of needles, I just think this is brutally violent and utterly genius in a simplistic way...
Cool like smoking cigarettes behind the gas station after school while you call your friend's older brother to see if he can score you some weed for later. Shiny Toy Guns. Le Disko.
My neighbors were outside arguing, about drugs, parenting, and stereo equipment for most of the night. I know this because their arguing kept me from getting anywhere near the eight hours of peaceful sleep I was so ready to get. Fucking baseball was on, which preempted Sarah Connor, so I decided to go to sleep at eight, but they just couldn't let me.
I still haven't gotten a haircut. I need to do that soon.
Although I can't afford it, I feel morally and spiritually obligated to travel to some city, likely Las Vegas, to see the Smashing Pumpkins' 20th Anniversary tour.
"You don't play Guitar Hero when you are a guitar hero." - B. Corgan
I need to buy tortillas and maybe some green peppers today.
I need to clean out my car.
I need to write my set for tonight, polish some shit out/up.
I need to slow down.
I need to work faster.
I need to stop this, and start that.
I need it all, but want for nothing.
Bazooka Joe is the best.-BK
Monday, October 27, 2008
Some people need to help somebody.
I did not get overtime today. When you're a 24 hour party person, it's not the evenings you're concerned about having free, it's the mornings. You don't ever, EVER, burn a free morning. Shit, that's grounds for exclusion! Having a free morning to use for potential recovery and sleep, I went out last night.
It was a party I was not planning to make, so I was up shit creek as far as a costume was concerned. I just dressed in slightly more formal black clothing. I almost threw together a quick version of this crazy ass bitch, but I was really tired.
The Gothsicles were playing at the party and had a really cool set. They write songs solely and entirely about old school first generation Nintendo games. My favorite is "The Konami Code Song," as Contra is one of my favorite games, and the chorus is the code for getting "thirty guys." They, whoever "they" are, need to make Contra into a big budget action flick with great one-liners and epic gore. That would rule.
I left before one, as I was just too exhausted. I could barely hold a conversation, let alone my drink(s), and dancing was out of the question.
I will actually be home to watch the Sarah Connor show tonight. Stoked on that. Even if it does seem like a giant Dodge truck advertising campaign sometimes. I hope baseball doesn't kick it off. Baseball sucks!
Went out to the Giant Eagle, as my fridge was looking pretty barren. I got some frozen veggies, Triscuits, fake steak, fake chicken patties, cheese of many(three) varieties, soy milk, and a bag of Halloween candy for the kiddies, and for the Ben. I was totally gonna make a steak burrito for breakfast/lunch, but I neglected to buy tortillas. Right now, in person, I am still frowning. Know that even if you read this two hours, two days, two weeks, or two months after it was written, I am frowning.
My friend said I should name my blog "Christine," as we appear to be have some sort of unhealthy symbiotic relationship. If you don't understand this joke, you need to read more Stephen King and/or watch more AMC/TBS at two in the morning.
Jerry Seinfeld himself is coming to town in January. If it's under fifty bucks, I'm going. I don't particularly care for his style (dry observational) of comedy, but he must be doing something right, as he owns, like, 50 Porsches, and I can't afford a desktop model of a Porsche.
Jim Norton might be able to buy a Porsche these days, but he should still tuck in his shirt. Even when forced to work clean, he's still funny. He is not afraid of letting any aspect of his self into his act. A fearless comic genius.
I absolutely hate getting out of a hot, relaxing, cleansing shower and realizing that I have to poop. I guess it's my body's way of being counterproductive. Not really, I guess. It's just my body's way of laughing at me.
This one's just gratuitous.
I found the above because I was thinking about Jennifer Hudson's dead family. Jennifer Hudson was in Dreamgirls, with Beyonce. Beyonce is married to Sean Carter, who is known professionally as "Jay-Z." Whenever I think, even remotely, of Jay-Z, the above song plays in my head for hours. So fucking catchy.
Got a big day of nothing ahead. Time to get started.
You see, no one cares what you say. You're a joke to us.-BK
It was a party I was not planning to make, so I was up shit creek as far as a costume was concerned. I just dressed in slightly more formal black clothing. I almost threw together a quick version of this crazy ass bitch, but I was really tired.
The Gothsicles were playing at the party and had a really cool set. They write songs solely and entirely about old school first generation Nintendo games. My favorite is "The Konami Code Song," as Contra is one of my favorite games, and the chorus is the code for getting "thirty guys." They, whoever "they" are, need to make Contra into a big budget action flick with great one-liners and epic gore. That would rule.
I left before one, as I was just too exhausted. I could barely hold a conversation, let alone my drink(s), and dancing was out of the question.
I will actually be home to watch the Sarah Connor show tonight. Stoked on that. Even if it does seem like a giant Dodge truck advertising campaign sometimes. I hope baseball doesn't kick it off. Baseball sucks!
Went out to the Giant Eagle, as my fridge was looking pretty barren. I got some frozen veggies, Triscuits, fake steak, fake chicken patties, cheese of many(three) varieties, soy milk, and a bag of Halloween candy for the kiddies, and for the Ben. I was totally gonna make a steak burrito for breakfast/lunch, but I neglected to buy tortillas. Right now, in person, I am still frowning. Know that even if you read this two hours, two days, two weeks, or two months after it was written, I am frowning.
My friend said I should name my blog "Christine," as we appear to be have some sort of unhealthy symbiotic relationship. If you don't understand this joke, you need to read more Stephen King and/or watch more AMC/TBS at two in the morning.
Jerry Seinfeld himself is coming to town in January. If it's under fifty bucks, I'm going. I don't particularly care for his style (dry observational) of comedy, but he must be doing something right, as he owns, like, 50 Porsches, and I can't afford a desktop model of a Porsche.
Jim Norton might be able to buy a Porsche these days, but he should still tuck in his shirt. Even when forced to work clean, he's still funny. He is not afraid of letting any aspect of his self into his act. A fearless comic genius.
I absolutely hate getting out of a hot, relaxing, cleansing shower and realizing that I have to poop. I guess it's my body's way of being counterproductive. Not really, I guess. It's just my body's way of laughing at me.
This one's just gratuitous.
I found the above because I was thinking about Jennifer Hudson's dead family. Jennifer Hudson was in Dreamgirls, with Beyonce. Beyonce is married to Sean Carter, who is known professionally as "Jay-Z." Whenever I think, even remotely, of Jay-Z, the above song plays in my head for hours. So fucking catchy.
Got a big day of nothing ahead. Time to get started.
You see, no one cares what you say. You're a joke to us.-BK
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Dedication. Devotion.
I'm once again in "total work exhaustion" overload. I worked about 12 hours yesterday, will be working 16 today. I hope to work, on overtime, at least 8 tomorrow, and will try to work double shifts on Thursday and Friday as well. I am doing this because my insurance rates have gone through the roof. I'm not telling you how much I'm currently paying for the "privilege" of street legality, but rest assured, I will be continuing to subsist on basic starches and scuffed fruit for a long, long time. Also, I'm going to Columbus to see NIN. I plan to sleep in my car, but the financial outlay is still going to be significant. The shittiest part of this weekend is that I'm totally missing all of the Zombie goodness!
You didn't think I'd mention NIN without a video did you? Fool!
I can only imagine the rush they must feel before walking out onstage every night. I can only hope I will one day be "playing" theatre shows in front of 2,000 people, but to play an arena, wow. I doubt they get nervous. Once you've been performing somewhat steadily for a while, and have confidence in your ability and your material, nervousness is replaced with excited energy. I love the feeling. No drug I've ever used can compare to it. When people make noise after you've been intro'd but before you perform, when they yell out for you, that's the best feeling in the world for a performer. It's been happening for me a bit lately, and it's fucking beautiful.
My toe still hurts. I think the nail is torn between staying on and falling off. As more skin around it dies, I'll start hacking away bit by bit at it. I still clumsily hit/kick/tap something the wrong way about five times a day, causing a sharp inhalation and visible flinch as well as a nice wave of pain. I try to "air it out" but the fibers of my socks get in the wound. If you've ever had this happen, you know it is not pleasant.
I am quite looking forward to going to see Mushroomhead next Sunday evening. Loudness and black clothing shall abound. I suppose you could consider them "indie metal," as there is absolutely zero compromise in their music. They are 100% energy and passion. I've seen five of their shows, and am really looking forward to this next one. Like a few other bands in this genre, they wear uniforms, make up, and masks to lessen the individual presence and reinforce the idea of a cohesive unit. You probably think this is a bit silly, but if you were to see them play live, you'd understand fully.
Next Saturday I have a show at Stinky's in Lawrenceville. It's a late show. We'll be getting started around ten. I have no further information, but I'm looking forward to it. Brad Ryan said he was going to buy me a beer!
It's not as cold as I had thought it was going to be. I had to take off a layer.
I think I write about and post videos of music here as often as I do not only because I love it so, but also because I never had the true ability to play it, or understood how to write it. I just think a group of musicians coming together to compose something is really one of those super extraordinary things we all take for granted until we try. Then again, if Avril Lavigne can get writing credits, maybe it isn't too hard after all...
They've used songwriters for most of their career. Think of that what you will. It's cool with me. Gotta pay that scarf, coke, and child support bill somehow!
We both should have payed more attention during deicing class. It's cool, it's not like it's gonna get any colder as they head towards Orlando.-BK
You didn't think I'd mention NIN without a video did you? Fool!
I can only imagine the rush they must feel before walking out onstage every night. I can only hope I will one day be "playing" theatre shows in front of 2,000 people, but to play an arena, wow. I doubt they get nervous. Once you've been performing somewhat steadily for a while, and have confidence in your ability and your material, nervousness is replaced with excited energy. I love the feeling. No drug I've ever used can compare to it. When people make noise after you've been intro'd but before you perform, when they yell out for you, that's the best feeling in the world for a performer. It's been happening for me a bit lately, and it's fucking beautiful.
My toe still hurts. I think the nail is torn between staying on and falling off. As more skin around it dies, I'll start hacking away bit by bit at it. I still clumsily hit/kick/tap something the wrong way about five times a day, causing a sharp inhalation and visible flinch as well as a nice wave of pain. I try to "air it out" but the fibers of my socks get in the wound. If you've ever had this happen, you know it is not pleasant.
I am quite looking forward to going to see Mushroomhead next Sunday evening. Loudness and black clothing shall abound. I suppose you could consider them "indie metal," as there is absolutely zero compromise in their music. They are 100% energy and passion. I've seen five of their shows, and am really looking forward to this next one. Like a few other bands in this genre, they wear uniforms, make up, and masks to lessen the individual presence and reinforce the idea of a cohesive unit. You probably think this is a bit silly, but if you were to see them play live, you'd understand fully.
Next Saturday I have a show at Stinky's in Lawrenceville. It's a late show. We'll be getting started around ten. I have no further information, but I'm looking forward to it. Brad Ryan said he was going to buy me a beer!
It's not as cold as I had thought it was going to be. I had to take off a layer.
I think I write about and post videos of music here as often as I do not only because I love it so, but also because I never had the true ability to play it, or understood how to write it. I just think a group of musicians coming together to compose something is really one of those super extraordinary things we all take for granted until we try. Then again, if Avril Lavigne can get writing credits, maybe it isn't too hard after all...
They've used songwriters for most of their career. Think of that what you will. It's cool with me. Gotta pay that scarf, coke, and child support bill somehow!
We both should have payed more attention during deicing class. It's cool, it's not like it's gonna get any colder as they head towards Orlando.-BK
Saturday, October 25, 2008
Aphex Twin Sister
Last night, something happened to me that pretty much made my month, if not my whole quarter. I stopped into Wendy's for a quick french fry fix before the show, got bumped into, and spilled the entire contents of my medium drink directly into some broad's purse.
It was the lady's own damn fault. Like many females of a certain age common to the tri-state region, she was overweight, unattractive/slovenly in appearance, and had multiple sweatpants-clad children in tow. She talked very loudly, had a difficult order, and treated the staff poorly. She was just offensive by any definition of the word.
Anyhow, as I'm picking my tray up off of the counter, one of the kids bumped into her right side, sending her left side into my right arm. It gave out, and I watched with fascination as the cup slowly fell towards the edge of the counter. When it hit, the top popped off, and a glorious spray of amber fluid and ice cubes commenced. I couldn't help but smirk.
For a second, she looked as if she might yell at me, but since I was dressed in all black and have a surly demeanor, I think she thought better off it.
Karma is a bitch. More so, if you happen to be a bitch.
-----
Quick shout out and thanks to The Chuck, who now can be considered my number 1 fan, having been to an astounding three, count 'em, three, shows of mine. This is the most shows of mine ever attended by someone I am not fucking, was fucking, or had the intention, at some point, of fucking. Thanks Chuck.
Here is a picture of Chuck:
There are literally thousands of pictures of him on his Myspace. It wood be kind of freaky, if he wasn't so awesome. Chuck definitely marches to the beat of his own drummer. That drummer is probably a bit slow, and has only played the drums for a day or two, but still. I'm stoked that in this day and age, people like Chuck, who search for nothing more than a good time and a break from the norm, still exist. I'm happy to have him as a fan, and as a friend.
So yeah, where in the blue fuck were the rest of you sons a bitches yesterday? It doesn't even matter, because I am fucking unstoppable. I managed to make it into the finals, scoring decent on the judge's cards, but WINNING the audience vote. Mind you, only Chuck and his boy Rizzo showed up specifically to see me. This means that thirteen other people(out of twenty) thought enough of me to put a checkmark by or circle my name on a ballot. I was stoked beyond words on this. So excited.
I know you bastards are coming to the finals. "Mona Lisa Tim" Dimond will be there as his alter-ego, Travis Walling. Travis, you should've come out yesterday man. You should've come out! No one actually brought five people.
Additional props go out to Sean Rush. Last night was only the second time I've ever seen him, but I really like his stuff.
People seem to forget that The Strokes are one of the only bands that can put up the "ultra cool" front and actually make it work. This is because they're actually ultra cool. The guitar solo in this song is so good that Jesus Christ Himself would learn it and use it to impress college freshmen from rural Ohio after He's gotten them drunk on Milwaukee's Best Light.
The Killers are also really, really good. They don't get enough credit for the strength of the material they put out. Great albums, if a little cliched and heavily "influenced." This song makes me think of summer vacations and throwing rocks at Metra trains. Like Springsteen fronting the world's best Duran Duran cover band. The Killers are worth seeing live.
It's 6 o'clock in the morning. I don't get out of here until 9. I'm gonna need the hopes and prayers of millions. I want sleep like I want pussy, i.e. I'll take what I can get, when and if I can get it.
People talk about stylized violence like it's a bad thing or something. They've obviously never seen The Warriors.
When the song comes on.-BK
It was the lady's own damn fault. Like many females of a certain age common to the tri-state region, she was overweight, unattractive/slovenly in appearance, and had multiple sweatpants-clad children in tow. She talked very loudly, had a difficult order, and treated the staff poorly. She was just offensive by any definition of the word.
Anyhow, as I'm picking my tray up off of the counter, one of the kids bumped into her right side, sending her left side into my right arm. It gave out, and I watched with fascination as the cup slowly fell towards the edge of the counter. When it hit, the top popped off, and a glorious spray of amber fluid and ice cubes commenced. I couldn't help but smirk.
For a second, she looked as if she might yell at me, but since I was dressed in all black and have a surly demeanor, I think she thought better off it.
Karma is a bitch. More so, if you happen to be a bitch.
-----
Quick shout out and thanks to The Chuck, who now can be considered my number 1 fan, having been to an astounding three, count 'em, three, shows of mine. This is the most shows of mine ever attended by someone I am not fucking, was fucking, or had the intention, at some point, of fucking. Thanks Chuck.
Here is a picture of Chuck:
There are literally thousands of pictures of him on his Myspace. It wood be kind of freaky, if he wasn't so awesome. Chuck definitely marches to the beat of his own drummer. That drummer is probably a bit slow, and has only played the drums for a day or two, but still. I'm stoked that in this day and age, people like Chuck, who search for nothing more than a good time and a break from the norm, still exist. I'm happy to have him as a fan, and as a friend.
So yeah, where in the blue fuck were the rest of you sons a bitches yesterday? It doesn't even matter, because I am fucking unstoppable. I managed to make it into the finals, scoring decent on the judge's cards, but WINNING the audience vote. Mind you, only Chuck and his boy Rizzo showed up specifically to see me. This means that thirteen other people(out of twenty) thought enough of me to put a checkmark by or circle my name on a ballot. I was stoked beyond words on this. So excited.
I know you bastards are coming to the finals. "Mona Lisa Tim" Dimond will be there as his alter-ego, Travis Walling. Travis, you should've come out yesterday man. You should've come out! No one actually brought five people.
Additional props go out to Sean Rush. Last night was only the second time I've ever seen him, but I really like his stuff.
People seem to forget that The Strokes are one of the only bands that can put up the "ultra cool" front and actually make it work. This is because they're actually ultra cool. The guitar solo in this song is so good that Jesus Christ Himself would learn it and use it to impress college freshmen from rural Ohio after He's gotten them drunk on Milwaukee's Best Light.
The Killers are also really, really good. They don't get enough credit for the strength of the material they put out. Great albums, if a little cliched and heavily "influenced." This song makes me think of summer vacations and throwing rocks at Metra trains. Like Springsteen fronting the world's best Duran Duran cover band. The Killers are worth seeing live.
It's 6 o'clock in the morning. I don't get out of here until 9. I'm gonna need the hopes and prayers of millions. I want sleep like I want pussy, i.e. I'll take what I can get, when and if I can get it.
People talk about stylized violence like it's a bad thing or something. They've obviously never seen The Warriors.
When the song comes on.-BK
Friday, October 24, 2008
Aretha Franklin Mint
I slept until ten-thirty today. Yuengling/Miller High Life power! Not like I had much on the agenda for this morning anyways.
This is someone I always pay attention to. Back in Denver, when I was just starting, finding a direction, etc.. he would always take the time to encourage me after particularly bad shows, of which there were many. The words "you're funny, keep coming," were crucial in my early "career." He is in L.A. now, living the dream. He pretty much always looks like he does in the video.
The ol' blog has had a record week numbers wise. Thanks for discovering, reading, commenting, and telling your friend(s).
This song was in my head all day yesterday. This guy dances slightly better than me. Must be the cane. He is one ugly bastard though.
I am getting Wednesday off so that I can recover from Tuesday night at the Moose. It's Rocco Supreme's last night in PGH, as he's moving to NYC with stars in his eyes and Hard Rock Cafe pins on his lapels. Be there!
My phone is starting to lose it. The screen is cracked, and the battery life is not what it once was. I've been thinking of getting a new one. Possibly the G1. This will allow me to take pictures of random things, post them here, and comment on them, all in real time. I always think of you guys. I will probably wait until/if I move to Minnesota though. I am really looking forward to having a phone with the same area code as the city I actually reside in! "Yeah sure, my phone number, it's 7...0...8...5...2...2...6..9..."
I have a double shift tomorrow. The thought is not being shined upon by positive light.
For the first time in literally years, I've bought and used a comb. Hair!
The contest is tonight. I shouldn't give two shits, but I do. There will probably only be twelve audience members, which, for Pittsburgh is actually respectable, but you still gotta act like you're on Premium Blend. Only five minutes to make the magic happen, too. Can you hear me growling?
I might seriously need to purchase a coffee maker for my home. Coffee is so good.
I bought new underwear yesterday. Boxer Briefs. Comfort Soft waist. I am the kind of person who has to wash clothes before he wears them. It doesn't matter if it's jeans, t-shirts, or hoodies. Underwear is the exception. Nothing is as nice as a brand new, starchy as shit pair of underwear, and I have FOUR to wear! I will wear a pair tonight. It's going to r-o-c-k in the USA.
If laughter could make you come, this might be a comedic vibrator. This fucking kills me every time I watch it.
Chef Cooks 'Dream Omelet' From Recipe That Came To Him In A Dream
I plan to eat some Asian food today.
Ambridge? Isn't that, like, the Forbidden Zone?-BK
This is someone I always pay attention to. Back in Denver, when I was just starting, finding a direction, etc.. he would always take the time to encourage me after particularly bad shows, of which there were many. The words "you're funny, keep coming," were crucial in my early "career." He is in L.A. now, living the dream. He pretty much always looks like he does in the video.
The ol' blog has had a record week numbers wise. Thanks for discovering, reading, commenting, and telling your friend(s).
This song was in my head all day yesterday. This guy dances slightly better than me. Must be the cane. He is one ugly bastard though.
I am getting Wednesday off so that I can recover from Tuesday night at the Moose. It's Rocco Supreme's last night in PGH, as he's moving to NYC with stars in his eyes and Hard Rock Cafe pins on his lapels. Be there!
My phone is starting to lose it. The screen is cracked, and the battery life is not what it once was. I've been thinking of getting a new one. Possibly the G1. This will allow me to take pictures of random things, post them here, and comment on them, all in real time. I always think of you guys. I will probably wait until/if I move to Minnesota though. I am really looking forward to having a phone with the same area code as the city I actually reside in! "Yeah sure, my phone number, it's 7...0...8...5...2...2...6..9..."
I have a double shift tomorrow. The thought is not being shined upon by positive light.
For the first time in literally years, I've bought and used a comb. Hair!
The contest is tonight. I shouldn't give two shits, but I do. There will probably only be twelve audience members, which, for Pittsburgh is actually respectable, but you still gotta act like you're on Premium Blend. Only five minutes to make the magic happen, too. Can you hear me growling?
I might seriously need to purchase a coffee maker for my home. Coffee is so good.
I bought new underwear yesterday. Boxer Briefs. Comfort Soft waist. I am the kind of person who has to wash clothes before he wears them. It doesn't matter if it's jeans, t-shirts, or hoodies. Underwear is the exception. Nothing is as nice as a brand new, starchy as shit pair of underwear, and I have FOUR to wear! I will wear a pair tonight. It's going to r-o-c-k in the USA.
If laughter could make you come, this might be a comedic vibrator. This fucking kills me every time I watch it.
Chef Cooks 'Dream Omelet' From Recipe That Came To Him In A Dream
I plan to eat some Asian food today.
Ambridge? Isn't that, like, the Forbidden Zone?-BK
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Orlando
Remember a week or so ago how I talked about my stubbed toe? Well, I re-stubbed my toe last/night this morning, but it's much worse this time. The initial pain of doing so washed over me like a wave. I screamed out loud and collapsed onto the floor. Picture, if you will, a car. Now picture said car crashing directly into a wall at forty miles per hour. You're probably seeing all the front end damage, and maybe the hood(my toenail!) even popped/got pushed about halfway open. That is my fucking toe right now. I am limping heavily, and I am in PAIN. I bled for a few hours, and couldn't get back to sleep at all. I took some Ibprofin and my coworkers/health advisors recommend I start treating it with whiskey and Coke as soon as I get home. I believe it's sound advice. If I'm still hurting tomorrow, I'll just drink straight whiskey. I am not a happy camper right now. I am begging my boss to let me leave early. I may have to show him the toe.
I bought not one, but two pairs of Chuck Taylor Converse shoes this week. I am stoked, as one pair is of the black on black nature that I've been searching for, and the other is black with red stitching and the traditional white bottoms. Styling and profiling.
Look for me at 80's night in new kicks of some sort. I will be drunk as fuck. I may not be dancing too much. Putting weight on the toe hurts!
For a long time, I could not figure out why it is that I like Scrubs so Goddamn much. I think the cast, especially John C. McGinley(Dr. Cox) and Neil Flynn,(Janitor) have something to do with it, but I think it's mostly because the show seems to be written for someone with a thirty-five second attention span. It's nice to watch TV that doesn't make you think much, at all, ever.
Are you all coming to Slapsticks! tomorrow? It's going to be gloriously fun.
Bill Paxton's characters have been killed by an Alien, The Terminator, and The Predator. That's some prestige! He rules, and adds something memorable to every movie he's ever done. So good in True Lies. I was just thinking that. I don't have a video or anything.
I listened to this while I was treating the toe. It calmed me down a bit. Love this video. So rare to seem them play live, without lip syncing.
I will be there opening day. Daniel Craig has the potential, in time, to make Sean Connery look effeminate and weak.
I've rekindled my red-hot love affair with nachos. I've been making them at home, and eating them on the rare occasions I go out. They are a perfect finger food, and you get a sense of accomplishment from eating them one chip at a time.
Everybody's working for the weekend, including me. Cash Rules Everything Around Me! Get that money, dolla-dolla bill, y'all.
Our plane is in range, let's get ready to slay.-BK
I bought not one, but two pairs of Chuck Taylor Converse shoes this week. I am stoked, as one pair is of the black on black nature that I've been searching for, and the other is black with red stitching and the traditional white bottoms. Styling and profiling.
Look for me at 80's night in new kicks of some sort. I will be drunk as fuck. I may not be dancing too much. Putting weight on the toe hurts!
For a long time, I could not figure out why it is that I like Scrubs so Goddamn much. I think the cast, especially John C. McGinley(Dr. Cox) and Neil Flynn,(Janitor) have something to do with it, but I think it's mostly because the show seems to be written for someone with a thirty-five second attention span. It's nice to watch TV that doesn't make you think much, at all, ever.
Are you all coming to Slapsticks! tomorrow? It's going to be gloriously fun.
Bill Paxton's characters have been killed by an Alien, The Terminator, and The Predator. That's some prestige! He rules, and adds something memorable to every movie he's ever done. So good in True Lies. I was just thinking that. I don't have a video or anything.
I listened to this while I was treating the toe. It calmed me down a bit. Love this video. So rare to seem them play live, without lip syncing.
I will be there opening day. Daniel Craig has the potential, in time, to make Sean Connery look effeminate and weak.
I've rekindled my red-hot love affair with nachos. I've been making them at home, and eating them on the rare occasions I go out. They are a perfect finger food, and you get a sense of accomplishment from eating them one chip at a time.
Everybody's working for the weekend, including me. Cash Rules Everything Around Me! Get that money, dolla-dolla bill, y'all.
Our plane is in range, let's get ready to slay.-BK
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Cat fur.
Went out to Howler's last night. Not much seemed to be going on, so I cruised across town to the Smiling Moose, where I had a very satisfying set. Good times. I just wish I could've stayed to watch the other comics, and one of the bands that was playing after our show. The Cheats are really good. Go see them.
I hate having to go to bed relatively soon after a show. Especially a good show, like last night's was. The adrenaline rush and energy coursing through the veins in is not good for falling asleep.
With the exception of Down Periscope, this is probably the best movie ever made about submarines. You shouldn't watch the dubbed version. Watch the subtitled version. You can hear the excitement and terror in their voices much better when it's in German. The camera work is astounding, especially if you've ever actually been on a submarine. I slept overnight on a sub once. They used to store potatoes in the secondary hatches. This movie is too obscure for how good it is. Das Boot is the name of the film.
Winter's rancid breath is upon us. It is definitely "hoodie season" at work, i.e. I will wear a hoodie as part of my layering system until about April first. Right now, it's just a hoodie. Soon, it may be a thermal layer and the hoodie for a month or two. Come December, it's the base layer, the hoodie, and my insulated vest. I also know it's getting cold because my ear plugs, which are normally very pliable foam rubber are getting stiff. It's like putting a cold french fry into your ear. Drab.
I am torn on something. I normally either eat an entire pizza, or less frequently leave myself three pieces for the next day. Yesterday I left only one piece. I feel like a deadbeat dad. I can picture it now, sitting all alone on a big ceramic plate in my fridge, covered in blue Saran Wrap, wondering if and when I'm coming back. Fret not, my cheesy friend, because come 3 o'clock, you will be on your way to meet your family in doughy eternity. Speaking of the pizza I ate yesterday, it seems to have formed a semi-solid mass of some sort, which is currently working it's way toward my rectum. Picture a boa constrictor that just consumed a rat superimposed over my belly and you get the basic gist. It's not terribly pleasant. Not one bit.
I laughed and laughed. Then I watched more clips.
As the campaign winds down, Sarah Palin seems become more and more of a joke, and an embarrassment to the GOP. She should move to Chicago. She could give Daley a serious run for his(the mob and Unions') money. If you paid consultants hundreds of thousands of dollars for advice, and hired someone like Palin on their advice, you'd be terminating your relationship with said consultancy. Folks, this woman is in line for the Presidency, and if that doesn't scare you to fucking death, then perhaps you'd like to join me in a tag team cage match. We'll be fighting Wilford Brimley and Chuck Norris.
Man what a great song. I actually meant to post this a few days ago, but mistakenly posted another jam of theirs. Great band.
Overtime seems to be drying up again. I am not pleased. I am quite seriously considering picking up a second job at my local Wendy's, as I've done it before. It's not that hard, and my pride and sense of self worth is long dead anyways.
New bid comes out later today. We will see what hours I'm working, and if I will be "home" in Chicago for Thanksgiving this year.
Artie Lange was apparently in town last week. Tickets ranged from 43 to 70 dollars. You know his back on the smack if he's got the balls to charge that much. That's like, "Carlin money" right there!
This is excerpted from the http://www.pittsburghcitypaper.ws/gyrobase/index. It made me laugh out loud. Everyone in the coffee shop looked at me. Awkward.
CP: Have you picked up any new vices to fill in the gaps, or just hitting the remaining ones harder?
AL: I love these people that say 'you know what, Art, do you know what I replaced drugs with, running, hiking, I'm addicted to fitness.' I just want to punch them in the face. I don't understand that. It's like I was in a rehab once with these crackheads and they'd say to the guy, 'look, we want some crack, we're crackheads.' And the guy would say to them, 'well, at two o'clock we're playing scrabble;' and the crackheads would say, no you don't understand, we're not scrabble heads, we're crackheads.' The guy tells you scrabble is fun and you can't make the guy understand that getting a triple word score on the word zipper, while an amazing experience for a guy into scrabble, doesn't compare to crack.”
Rickles rules.
Abortion may be wrong, but it should be kept out of the Constitution. That space is reserved for the gays.-BK
I hate having to go to bed relatively soon after a show. Especially a good show, like last night's was. The adrenaline rush and energy coursing through the veins in is not good for falling asleep.
With the exception of Down Periscope, this is probably the best movie ever made about submarines. You shouldn't watch the dubbed version. Watch the subtitled version. You can hear the excitement and terror in their voices much better when it's in German. The camera work is astounding, especially if you've ever actually been on a submarine. I slept overnight on a sub once. They used to store potatoes in the secondary hatches. This movie is too obscure for how good it is. Das Boot is the name of the film.
Winter's rancid breath is upon us. It is definitely "hoodie season" at work, i.e. I will wear a hoodie as part of my layering system until about April first. Right now, it's just a hoodie. Soon, it may be a thermal layer and the hoodie for a month or two. Come December, it's the base layer, the hoodie, and my insulated vest. I also know it's getting cold because my ear plugs, which are normally very pliable foam rubber are getting stiff. It's like putting a cold french fry into your ear. Drab.
I am torn on something. I normally either eat an entire pizza, or less frequently leave myself three pieces for the next day. Yesterday I left only one piece. I feel like a deadbeat dad. I can picture it now, sitting all alone on a big ceramic plate in my fridge, covered in blue Saran Wrap, wondering if and when I'm coming back. Fret not, my cheesy friend, because come 3 o'clock, you will be on your way to meet your family in doughy eternity. Speaking of the pizza I ate yesterday, it seems to have formed a semi-solid mass of some sort, which is currently working it's way toward my rectum. Picture a boa constrictor that just consumed a rat superimposed over my belly and you get the basic gist. It's not terribly pleasant. Not one bit.
I laughed and laughed. Then I watched more clips.
As the campaign winds down, Sarah Palin seems become more and more of a joke, and an embarrassment to the GOP. She should move to Chicago. She could give Daley a serious run for his(the mob and Unions') money. If you paid consultants hundreds of thousands of dollars for advice, and hired someone like Palin on their advice, you'd be terminating your relationship with said consultancy. Folks, this woman is in line for the Presidency, and if that doesn't scare you to fucking death, then perhaps you'd like to join me in a tag team cage match. We'll be fighting Wilford Brimley and Chuck Norris.
Man what a great song. I actually meant to post this a few days ago, but mistakenly posted another jam of theirs. Great band.
Overtime seems to be drying up again. I am not pleased. I am quite seriously considering picking up a second job at my local Wendy's, as I've done it before. It's not that hard, and my pride and sense of self worth is long dead anyways.
New bid comes out later today. We will see what hours I'm working, and if I will be "home" in Chicago for Thanksgiving this year.
Artie Lange was apparently in town last week. Tickets ranged from 43 to 70 dollars. You know his back on the smack if he's got the balls to charge that much. That's like, "Carlin money" right there!
This is excerpted from the http://www.pittsburghcitypaper.ws/gyrobase/index. It made me laugh out loud. Everyone in the coffee shop looked at me. Awkward.
CP: Have you picked up any new vices to fill in the gaps, or just hitting the remaining ones harder?
AL: I love these people that say 'you know what, Art, do you know what I replaced drugs with, running, hiking, I'm addicted to fitness.' I just want to punch them in the face. I don't understand that. It's like I was in a rehab once with these crackheads and they'd say to the guy, 'look, we want some crack, we're crackheads.' And the guy would say to them, 'well, at two o'clock we're playing scrabble;' and the crackheads would say, no you don't understand, we're not scrabble heads, we're crackheads.' The guy tells you scrabble is fun and you can't make the guy understand that getting a triple word score on the word zipper, while an amazing experience for a guy into scrabble, doesn't compare to crack.”
Rickles rules.
Abortion may be wrong, but it should be kept out of the Constitution. That space is reserved for the gays.-BK
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Twenty years gone.
Last night. Comedy show. Cancelled. Not because of a death or fire, but because of a lack of audience. This hurts worse than a bad set, worse than an audience of three people. It sucks looking around a room at other comics, everyone of us talented, everyone of us funny, and knowing that Pittsburgh does not care about us. We need more Schtiller and Natty Light jokes apparently, but none of us seem to be interested in those things, as we much prefer to observe and question the world around us. I'm not going to dwell on it anymore.
Instead of going home and getting shitty, I went out for coffee with three other comics and talked about a myriad of interesting things for a few hours. It was nice to break out of my normally solitary pattern of existence for something social and low pressure. We were all wearing hooded sweatshirts without logos, three of us had glasses, two of us could be considered overweight. It kind of looked like a child molester/weirdo version of The View. We were near a college campus, and quite out of place. I felt like asking girls what color panties they were wearing, and if they wanted to see my windowless van, but I figured the room was too well lit to try anything. Probably had cameras too.
At one point, I kicked the center pole of our table, causing coffee to spill on Mitch's notebook. I felt something I hadn't honestly felt in what must be years: I felt bad. I was genuinely concerned for the well being of his notebook, as a comedian's notebook is often a very important possession. It is a potential future away from the life they currently lead. Mitch said it was cool, but I still felt down about it.
This hypothetical map was sent to me by a friend. I'm not going to say where I live on it, but just know that I have an ocean view. Where do you live?
I seem to have a lot of friends that I can just sort of "pick up where I left off" with. We're not prone to talking about mundane bullshit every other day. When we converse, it's about bigger things and lesser evils. They are conversations worth having.
This makes me smile broadly.
People will never stop trying to make their own version this movie. People are not smart.
Off to the races.
It's a pubic wig, you know.-BK
Instead of going home and getting shitty, I went out for coffee with three other comics and talked about a myriad of interesting things for a few hours. It was nice to break out of my normally solitary pattern of existence for something social and low pressure. We were all wearing hooded sweatshirts without logos, three of us had glasses, two of us could be considered overweight. It kind of looked like a child molester/weirdo version of The View. We were near a college campus, and quite out of place. I felt like asking girls what color panties they were wearing, and if they wanted to see my windowless van, but I figured the room was too well lit to try anything. Probably had cameras too.
At one point, I kicked the center pole of our table, causing coffee to spill on Mitch's notebook. I felt something I hadn't honestly felt in what must be years: I felt bad. I was genuinely concerned for the well being of his notebook, as a comedian's notebook is often a very important possession. It is a potential future away from the life they currently lead. Mitch said it was cool, but I still felt down about it.
This hypothetical map was sent to me by a friend. I'm not going to say where I live on it, but just know that I have an ocean view. Where do you live?
I seem to have a lot of friends that I can just sort of "pick up where I left off" with. We're not prone to talking about mundane bullshit every other day. When we converse, it's about bigger things and lesser evils. They are conversations worth having.
This makes me smile broadly.
People will never stop trying to make their own version this movie. People are not smart.
Off to the races.
It's a pubic wig, you know.-BK
Monday, October 20, 2008
Find yourself a back door and use it.
Colin Powell endorsed Barack Obama yesterday, which all but puts nails in the coffin of the legitimacy of the McCain campaign. He fucking slammed Palin too, which was refreshing and desperately needed, especially from someone who carries as much weight and has earned as much respect as he has.
I'm giving McCain one last chance though, because, much like Fox News, I believe in being thorough, fair, balanced, and loud and obnoxious.
The last chance? Halloween costumes of course!
Which candidate will dress up? Will it be homemade, or store bought? Is it going to be in theme with their spouse or children? It probably shouldn't involve a suit, that's for sure. Maybe one should be World Trade 1 and the other should be World Trade 2, and they could have another debate? That would be awesome, and I'm sure the mere suggestion has moved my name up on Hell's VIP list. We have a saying down at the Smiling Moose: "9-11: It's ALWAYS too soon!" Hey, if they can whore out the memories of the dead, I can poke a little fun too.
Big day today. Gonna do some banking, eat some tasty-ass food at The Quiet Storm, buy tasty-ass food for home consumption, do laundry, maybe take in a movie, and do my show at the Shadow Lounge. Mad frantic.
This was jammed to in the car last night.
I've recently been into watching boxing when it's on at work. It's so much more enjoyable to watch than Ultimate Fighting, which has rechristened itself "Mixed Martial Arts," in an effort to not look as stupid as it does.
Anyways, boxing. Boxing is really cool to watch. Not only is it a test of endurance and physical strength, but it's heavily mental and technique based as well. Although the rules are regimented and strict, every fighter has individual likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, etc.. I love it for the brutality and the intelligence required to be able to fight well, and over a span of many years. Most people can only really punch "straight out," from their chests, but a boxer can, and has to, throw out punches from above, below and around his body. He must "step into" the punches he throws. It's a science. I couldn't even imagine how much it would hurt to take a punch from George Foreman, even today. Most dudes know this, but for the female readers,(both of you) boxing gloves are not worn to protect the face of the "punchee," they're worn to protect the hands of the puncher. That's how hard boxers hit! They break bones in their hands. Think about it. It's just massive athleticism and years of training and sacrifice on display every time a boxer steps into the ring. Good stuff. I don't know shit about baseball, football, soccer, volleyball, hockey, horse racing, fencing, fishing, or knitting, but I'm starting to pick up on the nuances of boxing, and it feels good.
I was humming this to myself in the shower today, and I could not figure out what it was, or where it came from for about ten minutes. Then I figured it out, shrugged a little, and continued with my day. Geri was always my favorite. Posh was a close second, but she doesn't wear much latex anymore.
One of my favorite "current" bands. I don't feel the need to explain why. Just good.
Gotta put on some clothes now.
For a second, just a second.-BK
I'm giving McCain one last chance though, because, much like Fox News, I believe in being thorough, fair, balanced, and loud and obnoxious.
The last chance? Halloween costumes of course!
Which candidate will dress up? Will it be homemade, or store bought? Is it going to be in theme with their spouse or children? It probably shouldn't involve a suit, that's for sure. Maybe one should be World Trade 1 and the other should be World Trade 2, and they could have another debate? That would be awesome, and I'm sure the mere suggestion has moved my name up on Hell's VIP list. We have a saying down at the Smiling Moose: "9-11: It's ALWAYS too soon!" Hey, if they can whore out the memories of the dead, I can poke a little fun too.
Big day today. Gonna do some banking, eat some tasty-ass food at The Quiet Storm, buy tasty-ass food for home consumption, do laundry, maybe take in a movie, and do my show at the Shadow Lounge. Mad frantic.
This was jammed to in the car last night.
I've recently been into watching boxing when it's on at work. It's so much more enjoyable to watch than Ultimate Fighting, which has rechristened itself "Mixed Martial Arts," in an effort to not look as stupid as it does.
Anyways, boxing. Boxing is really cool to watch. Not only is it a test of endurance and physical strength, but it's heavily mental and technique based as well. Although the rules are regimented and strict, every fighter has individual likes and dislikes, strengths and weaknesses, etc.. I love it for the brutality and the intelligence required to be able to fight well, and over a span of many years. Most people can only really punch "straight out," from their chests, but a boxer can, and has to, throw out punches from above, below and around his body. He must "step into" the punches he throws. It's a science. I couldn't even imagine how much it would hurt to take a punch from George Foreman, even today. Most dudes know this, but for the female readers,(both of you) boxing gloves are not worn to protect the face of the "punchee," they're worn to protect the hands of the puncher. That's how hard boxers hit! They break bones in their hands. Think about it. It's just massive athleticism and years of training and sacrifice on display every time a boxer steps into the ring. Good stuff. I don't know shit about baseball, football, soccer, volleyball, hockey, horse racing, fencing, fishing, or knitting, but I'm starting to pick up on the nuances of boxing, and it feels good.
I was humming this to myself in the shower today, and I could not figure out what it was, or where it came from for about ten minutes. Then I figured it out, shrugged a little, and continued with my day. Geri was always my favorite. Posh was a close second, but she doesn't wear much latex anymore.
One of my favorite "current" bands. I don't feel the need to explain why. Just good.
Gotta put on some clothes now.
For a second, just a second.-BK
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Didn't know what to do.
I am so thankful for laptop computers. Well, my laptop computer, at least. In a stroke of more genius than usual, I set mine next to my bed last night before retiring for the evening. I still haven't turned on my heat, and according to my helpful little widget fellow, the outside temperature is thirty-one degrees. I sleep with very little clothing on, so you could probably imagine me cocooned here in my comforter, reading Kylie Minogue's Wikipedia page without shivering, or even needing to sit up. I sort of look like some sort of maggot or larva, but with arms and a half dome of noggin popped out of one end. I don't need to move for another hour or so. Oh, what about peeing, you say? Well, I did that about half way through my twelve blissful hours of sleep, so, Ha Ha! The floor was really cold though. Especially because I'm currently washing my "floor towel" and mats. Chilly.
Here is a picture of Ms. Minogue:
Mmmmm... nice.
Looks like I might be off on Tuesday. If I am, I'm going out on Monday night after my show. Probably just to a movie, as movies are now five bucks on weeknights at "my" theatre. Probably W. You know how to get in contact if you're down. Though I may perhaps just order a pizza, purchase a case of my preferred beer, in bottle form of course, and attempt to make friends with oblivion.
I say this because I haven't gotten "Nolte drunk" in a long time, and it's not like I have standards or people's expectations to meet or anything. Fuck it all. Except for the exceptions. Meh.
I'm sort of pissed we're only being given five minutes in the upcoming competition. I'm much more comfortable, and frankly, better, after about a three minute "break in." I really do hate comedy competitions. You do it for exposure, which, considering Pittsburgh, might actually be the greatest joke of the evening. I also DO NOT believe in judging one comic against another. It isn't even close to fair, and to be frank again, it's not needed. We all have individual voices, and our audiences have individual tastes, making all judging/voting inherently flawed. Regardless of my reservations, I'm still going to bring "it," and "it" shall be brought in enough quantity as to warrant the offering of seconds. Be there!
I lost most of the rest of this in "post," so just deal for today.
How do you do it?-BK
Here is a picture of Ms. Minogue:
Mmmmm... nice.
Looks like I might be off on Tuesday. If I am, I'm going out on Monday night after my show. Probably just to a movie, as movies are now five bucks on weeknights at "my" theatre. Probably W. You know how to get in contact if you're down. Though I may perhaps just order a pizza, purchase a case of my preferred beer, in bottle form of course, and attempt to make friends with oblivion.
I say this because I haven't gotten "Nolte drunk" in a long time, and it's not like I have standards or people's expectations to meet or anything. Fuck it all. Except for the exceptions. Meh.
I'm sort of pissed we're only being given five minutes in the upcoming competition. I'm much more comfortable, and frankly, better, after about a three minute "break in." I really do hate comedy competitions. You do it for exposure, which, considering Pittsburgh, might actually be the greatest joke of the evening. I also DO NOT believe in judging one comic against another. It isn't even close to fair, and to be frank again, it's not needed. We all have individual voices, and our audiences have individual tastes, making all judging/voting inherently flawed. Regardless of my reservations, I'm still going to bring "it," and "it" shall be brought in enough quantity as to warrant the offering of seconds. Be there!
I lost most of the rest of this in "post," so just deal for today.
How do you do it?-BK
Saturday, October 18, 2008
Sounds broken.
Last night ruled like Nero. Not only did my ass get to sleep for almost eight hours, but I also hung out/reconnected with a very old, dear, close personal friend. Good times.
I'm still very tired today though. If I dressed like a 1950's housewife, swept the floor, served coffee, and "kept my figure up," do you think it'd be alright for me to use meth/uppers? I mean, Millvale has a lot of meth available, but I'm afraid of how society will judge me. Also, I dislike open sores, and I twitch enough as it is already.
This is one of those bands that never got super big, which is sad on the surface, because they rule, but it kind of makes me privately happy. They're like a secret sonic handshake for the hip. Not the hipsters, the hip. Big fucking difference there, kids.
It's looking like I'm going to have disposable income come payday. Instead of "enhancing my collection of erotica," I think I'll buy some clothes. I need some new t-shirts. I'm thinking pseudo-vintage horror movie shirts, or perhaps just solid colors. I need new underwear. Boxer briefs. Non-white, and name brand. My junk deserves the best, as it's relatively dormant, and deserves comfortable rest if I can provide it. Some black on black Chuck's or P.F. Flyers would be nice, but they seem to be so exceeding rare these days. A new pair of jeans, in dark navy or pure black. Dress shirts. Ties. Slacks. Maybe a badass leather biker jacket I've had my evil eye(both eyes, actually) on for about a year now. Don't worry, mom and dad, I'm not going to buy all of the above, just some of it.
Which reminds me, I still need to buy a suit, but I'd like to drop some more weight first. I don't want full custom, but I'll certainly be getting it tailored, i.e. shirt cuff showing, a nice break in the pant leg, and possibly odd-colored buttons. That's so rare. Oddly colored buttons are very challenging to pull off, but when I see people do it well, it's breathtaking. That "reads" weird so I'll explain it better. By "odd-colored;" I mean every button has the same color, but doesn't necessarily match the jacket to a T. This gives you ways to play with shirt, tie, and pocket square color is so desired. It's hard for a man like me to buy a suit. My waist is fairly easy to fit, but I've been told my torso length is just short of "tall" and my shoulders (46-48 jacket) are not found in "casual" suits, only in dreary business suits. My rather muscular yet portly friend told me to check out the Men's Wearhouse, I actually wore a shirt and tie to the movies last week, just because I could. I like dressing well, and I like learning how to do it better. One of my favorite blogs on earth is The Sartorialist. Good stuff. If I make it to old(er) age, I hope to have a percentage of the style that some of the older men pictured have. Take this example. Boss.
Yessss!!!
Breathtaking.
If you're a man, and you think dressing well and having a personal style is "gay," you will never be able to acquire the kind of woman you see yourself with. Polo shirts and khakis will only get you so far, and let's be honest, you're not that charming.
----
I plan on getting a haircut at some point this week, as in, paying for a haircut. Haven't paid for a trim in about two years. I'm excited! Maybe I'll dye it black too.
Coffee again today. Coffee everyday. But just a cup... usually. Three at the most.
I like how TSA agents act like they're police officers in front of passengers. They don't pull that shit with us. They're just walking numbers with eternal job security.
I believe abortion is a personal, private choice. "The right to life" doesn't deserve a place in the Constitution. There are 200 million people in America. How many have had an abortion? There are more important things for politicians to talk about. Abortion is a nasty, dirty thing, but it won't lead to a bank or tax lien. Not if you do it right. I'm just saying I know a guy, that's all.
I believe in(and if asked, would support) assisted suicide. I believe in the right to die as peacefully and painlessly if possible, if you so choose. Bravo to the Swiss.
My leg is sleeping because of the serenity found in a Saturday at the airport. Or maybe it's a lack of consistent blood flow.
Several of us at work know every line in this film. We never stop dropping quotes over the radio. Never.
I'm going to rock the fuck out of mics this week.
You're right, it is spicy.-BK
I'm still very tired today though. If I dressed like a 1950's housewife, swept the floor, served coffee, and "kept my figure up," do you think it'd be alright for me to use meth/uppers? I mean, Millvale has a lot of meth available, but I'm afraid of how society will judge me. Also, I dislike open sores, and I twitch enough as it is already.
This is one of those bands that never got super big, which is sad on the surface, because they rule, but it kind of makes me privately happy. They're like a secret sonic handshake for the hip. Not the hipsters, the hip. Big fucking difference there, kids.
It's looking like I'm going to have disposable income come payday. Instead of "enhancing my collection of erotica," I think I'll buy some clothes. I need some new t-shirts. I'm thinking pseudo-vintage horror movie shirts, or perhaps just solid colors. I need new underwear. Boxer briefs. Non-white, and name brand. My junk deserves the best, as it's relatively dormant, and deserves comfortable rest if I can provide it. Some black on black Chuck's or P.F. Flyers would be nice, but they seem to be so exceeding rare these days. A new pair of jeans, in dark navy or pure black. Dress shirts. Ties. Slacks. Maybe a badass leather biker jacket I've had my evil eye(both eyes, actually) on for about a year now. Don't worry, mom and dad, I'm not going to buy all of the above, just some of it.
Which reminds me, I still need to buy a suit, but I'd like to drop some more weight first. I don't want full custom, but I'll certainly be getting it tailored, i.e. shirt cuff showing, a nice break in the pant leg, and possibly odd-colored buttons. That's so rare. Oddly colored buttons are very challenging to pull off, but when I see people do it well, it's breathtaking. That "reads" weird so I'll explain it better. By "odd-colored;" I mean every button has the same color, but doesn't necessarily match the jacket to a T. This gives you ways to play with shirt, tie, and pocket square color is so desired. It's hard for a man like me to buy a suit. My waist is fairly easy to fit, but I've been told my torso length is just short of "tall" and my shoulders (46-48 jacket) are not found in "casual" suits, only in dreary business suits. My rather muscular yet portly friend told me to check out the Men's Wearhouse, I actually wore a shirt and tie to the movies last week, just because I could. I like dressing well, and I like learning how to do it better. One of my favorite blogs on earth is The Sartorialist. Good stuff. If I make it to old(er) age, I hope to have a percentage of the style that some of the older men pictured have. Take this example. Boss.
Yessss!!!
Breathtaking.
If you're a man, and you think dressing well and having a personal style is "gay," you will never be able to acquire the kind of woman you see yourself with. Polo shirts and khakis will only get you so far, and let's be honest, you're not that charming.
----
I plan on getting a haircut at some point this week, as in, paying for a haircut. Haven't paid for a trim in about two years. I'm excited! Maybe I'll dye it black too.
Coffee again today. Coffee everyday. But just a cup... usually. Three at the most.
I like how TSA agents act like they're police officers in front of passengers. They don't pull that shit with us. They're just walking numbers with eternal job security.
I believe abortion is a personal, private choice. "The right to life" doesn't deserve a place in the Constitution. There are 200 million people in America. How many have had an abortion? There are more important things for politicians to talk about. Abortion is a nasty, dirty thing, but it won't lead to a bank or tax lien. Not if you do it right. I'm just saying I know a guy, that's all.
I believe in(and if asked, would support) assisted suicide. I believe in the right to die as peacefully and painlessly if possible, if you so choose. Bravo to the Swiss.
My leg is sleeping because of the serenity found in a Saturday at the airport. Or maybe it's a lack of consistent blood flow.
Several of us at work know every line in this film. We never stop dropping quotes over the radio. Never.
I'm going to rock the fuck out of mics this week.
You're right, it is spicy.-BK
Friday, October 17, 2008
What aisle?
This is the seventh consecutive morning I've drank coffee. I guess that makes me a coffee drinker. I take mine with a half of a packet of hot chocolate. Manly. I don't drink any of the silly, hoity-toity store-bought or boutique coffee either. I drink work coffee. Coffee dark, powerful, and with viscosity similar to the engine oil in a locomotive. Coffee is good.
Managed to get about five hours of sleep. Working 11 hours or so today. When I go home tonight, I am going to shower, change my bedding, light a scented candle or three, put on some Josh Groban, and just sleep. I hope to be in bed by 8:30. Obviously, Friday nights aren't really that important to me. Fuck your bar.
Late addition to the comedy calendar involves a show on Tuesday night, at Howler's, in Bloomfield. I've never done this show before, so I'm hoping it doesn't suck. Even if it does suck, who would really notice? This is Pittsburgh. I love Pittsburgh.
Late reports drifting in from the minions tell me my potential situation in Minneapolis might not be to my ideal standards. We shall see. Time always tells, and it never lies.
I would be remiss if I did not comment on this...
This is Tim Dimond. With or without his guitar, he is one of the funniest, most creative comics around. He recently got headshots. This is his headshot. Make an effort to see Tim Dimond (<-- MUST CLICK AND WATCH!)as you will laugh at his witty observations on the trials and tribulations of everyday life. (Sorry for the shitty bio Tim.)
Below is Mona. Or a picture of a painting of Mona. Some guy they mentioned in Hudson Hawk painted a portrait of her. The portrait lives in France, in a massive museum full of beautiful, astounding works of art that Americans visit only to see this portrait.
Do you notice the striking similarity, or is it just me?
Tim could seriously be Mona for Halloween. It would be perfect!
----
I'm off Monday, which means I may be going bat-shit insane on Sunday night. Or not. I'm not sure. I really have been tapering off on the drinking front.
I must see W at some point, soon.
Not doing anything Monday night? Get your ass, and your friend's asses out to Shadow Lounge. I'm hosting a show which is sure to include 8-13 of the Burgh's most available and mobile comics. It's only five dollars, but it's occasionally free. It all depends on the whim of Mo. They have beer to drink as well. Come out!
This was on the TV early this morning, as I came into work. Sam Raimi is the George Lucas of horror comedy.
Shit I'm tired and my fucking finger still hurts.
Don't even want to discuss that at this point.-BK
Managed to get about five hours of sleep. Working 11 hours or so today. When I go home tonight, I am going to shower, change my bedding, light a scented candle or three, put on some Josh Groban, and just sleep. I hope to be in bed by 8:30. Obviously, Friday nights aren't really that important to me. Fuck your bar.
Late addition to the comedy calendar involves a show on Tuesday night, at Howler's, in Bloomfield. I've never done this show before, so I'm hoping it doesn't suck. Even if it does suck, who would really notice? This is Pittsburgh. I love Pittsburgh.
Late reports drifting in from the minions tell me my potential situation in Minneapolis might not be to my ideal standards. We shall see. Time always tells, and it never lies.
I would be remiss if I did not comment on this...
This is Tim Dimond. With or without his guitar, he is one of the funniest, most creative comics around. He recently got headshots. This is his headshot. Make an effort to see Tim Dimond (<-- MUST CLICK AND WATCH!)as you will laugh at his witty observations on the trials and tribulations of everyday life. (Sorry for the shitty bio Tim.)
Below is Mona. Or a picture of a painting of Mona. Some guy they mentioned in Hudson Hawk painted a portrait of her. The portrait lives in France, in a massive museum full of beautiful, astounding works of art that Americans visit only to see this portrait.
Do you notice the striking similarity, or is it just me?
Tim could seriously be Mona for Halloween. It would be perfect!
----
I'm off Monday, which means I may be going bat-shit insane on Sunday night. Or not. I'm not sure. I really have been tapering off on the drinking front.
I must see W at some point, soon.
Not doing anything Monday night? Get your ass, and your friend's asses out to Shadow Lounge. I'm hosting a show which is sure to include 8-13 of the Burgh's most available and mobile comics. It's only five dollars, but it's occasionally free. It all depends on the whim of Mo. They have beer to drink as well. Come out!
This was on the TV early this morning, as I came into work. Sam Raimi is the George Lucas of horror comedy.
Shit I'm tired and my fucking finger still hurts.
Don't even want to discuss that at this point.-BK
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Spandau Lyric Opera
Sorry for all of the political rhetoric as of late, but this blog often mirrors what I'm thinking about in real life, so bear with me until a few days after November 4th.
It kind of sucks when politicians apologize for things they're right about.
This is an official from the parent group my union is associated with. This is ballsy like Maverick in Top Gun.
Hollywood: Gutsiest move I ever saw, Mav.
As a "working man," I sometimes get turned off when I see and hear politicians use the term. I feel like my peers, whether they work in factories, drive trucks, work construction, etc.. are being used for political capital. And I think a lot of us don't realize it. Politicians have been doing it for years.
We're all Americans, some of us like belonging to a Union, and knowing we have a voice stronger than our own. Some of us would rather strike out on our own, so to speak, which is fine too. But if you like having paid holidays, a forty hour work week, overtime pay, a safe work environment, and a fair wage, chances are that a Union of some sort set the benchmark for your standard of living. Those Unions continue to fight for things you'd be fired for, if you fought on your own.
I spent a lot of my weekends in and around this town growing up. My grandparents are summer residents, and my family, parents included, own weekend properties near it. Sadly, for the most part, it is about to die. GM is closing it's plant, you see. Not only are 2400 people losing their jobs, but the ripple effect will hit other "feeder" factories, local stores, restaurants, and banks. Janesville was as close to perfect as a town in America could get. I would live there if I could. Now it's going to have to fight the cancer that GM left it. I don't even want to wish it good luck. Janesville is just plain fucked.
As an apathetic bastard, I always sort of shrug and go on with my life when I hear these kinds of stories, but this one hit me hard. This one kills a little more of the ideal of The American Dream, or what's left of it, that lives inside of me.
I'm currently on a two and half hour break from work. I got overtime, but not directly following my shift. Money's money, and I'll do what I gotta do.
Overtime tomorrow, and I picked up hours on Saturday. Exhaustion is knocking at my door already.
I'm still going out to Eighties night, I think. If I show, I'll have to jet early, but I'll do my best to get sweaty. My very best.
I don't post a lot of ads up here, due to the "pretentious dick" tone I like to set, but this one made me crack a smile. I hate the little beeps these phones make. Just make a fucking call already!
Went out to karaoke at a gay bar yesterday. Although I did have a good deal of fun, I was a little let down. I just thought karaoke at a gay bar would be a little more "fabulous" than it was. (I didn't sing at all. Too sober.)
One of the very, very, very, exceptionally rare "college bands" that does not suck. Motherfucking Guster! Their albums are actual albums. As in, they're meant to be listened to from start to finish! Great stuff.
I suppose I'll get four hours of sleep tonight, if I'm lucky. I'd rather be out living than sleeping. What about you?
I'm not doing comedy right now.-BK
It kind of sucks when politicians apologize for things they're right about.
This is an official from the parent group my union is associated with. This is ballsy like Maverick in Top Gun.
Hollywood: Gutsiest move I ever saw, Mav.
As a "working man," I sometimes get turned off when I see and hear politicians use the term. I feel like my peers, whether they work in factories, drive trucks, work construction, etc.. are being used for political capital. And I think a lot of us don't realize it. Politicians have been doing it for years.
We're all Americans, some of us like belonging to a Union, and knowing we have a voice stronger than our own. Some of us would rather strike out on our own, so to speak, which is fine too. But if you like having paid holidays, a forty hour work week, overtime pay, a safe work environment, and a fair wage, chances are that a Union of some sort set the benchmark for your standard of living. Those Unions continue to fight for things you'd be fired for, if you fought on your own.
I spent a lot of my weekends in and around this town growing up. My grandparents are summer residents, and my family, parents included, own weekend properties near it. Sadly, for the most part, it is about to die. GM is closing it's plant, you see. Not only are 2400 people losing their jobs, but the ripple effect will hit other "feeder" factories, local stores, restaurants, and banks. Janesville was as close to perfect as a town in America could get. I would live there if I could. Now it's going to have to fight the cancer that GM left it. I don't even want to wish it good luck. Janesville is just plain fucked.
As an apathetic bastard, I always sort of shrug and go on with my life when I hear these kinds of stories, but this one hit me hard. This one kills a little more of the ideal of The American Dream, or what's left of it, that lives inside of me.
I'm currently on a two and half hour break from work. I got overtime, but not directly following my shift. Money's money, and I'll do what I gotta do.
Overtime tomorrow, and I picked up hours on Saturday. Exhaustion is knocking at my door already.
I'm still going out to Eighties night, I think. If I show, I'll have to jet early, but I'll do my best to get sweaty. My very best.
I don't post a lot of ads up here, due to the "pretentious dick" tone I like to set, but this one made me crack a smile. I hate the little beeps these phones make. Just make a fucking call already!
Went out to karaoke at a gay bar yesterday. Although I did have a good deal of fun, I was a little let down. I just thought karaoke at a gay bar would be a little more "fabulous" than it was. (I didn't sing at all. Too sober.)
One of the very, very, very, exceptionally rare "college bands" that does not suck. Motherfucking Guster! Their albums are actual albums. As in, they're meant to be listened to from start to finish! Great stuff.
I suppose I'll get four hours of sleep tonight, if I'm lucky. I'd rather be out living than sleeping. What about you?
I'm not doing comedy right now.-BK
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Metaphysical Education.
First, Margaret Beaston(sp?), if you're reading this, your party is waiting for you at the Curbside Check-In.
So I went to the Moose last night, but left before the show began, as I've been fighting off a slight flu, and I really needed the extra sleep. Apologies to a fan of mine who wanted to surprise me.
Seriously, can you believe it took them this long? The "woman" doesn't seem fit to live, let alone take care of a child.
Remember to vote kids. In all honesty, your vote probably won't matter either way, because you can't vote for five hundred congressmen, and a hundred senators. But your vote could count a little. Things won't be getting better anytime soon, but I suppose we'd be fools if we gave up on hope. If you truly want to affect social and political change in this country, in the world, I fear that, soon, the only way to do so may be through organized physical revolution, Fight Club-style. American Democracy is at the height of it's power. Like Rome and the Bee Gees before it, perfect system is doomed to eventually become flawed, and implode. I think, in our lifetime, we will see worldwide change on a scope we have not seen in centuries. Will it be good, or bad? As long as Christian Bale keeps making movies, beer stays cold, and bicycles aren't outlawed or destroyed, I think I'll manage. Will you?
YouTube is a rocky coast of shitty talent(ever seen my vids?) and overinflated egos, but every once a great while, the virtual ship I captain finds a lighthouse, and heads toward it. I, along with a lot of other people, occasionally watch this girl's videos. She's pretty talented in a "girl next door" kind of way, which is not meant to be backhanded or rude. You can kind of tell she's not coached or prodded. It's her raw talent, and it's impressive.
As I was walking up the stairs to write this blog, I stumbled, and then tripped. Don't worry, the computer is ok. My toe now hurts more than it did yesterday, my right palm has a baby-sized scrape on it, and I sprained my left ring finger. My job is dangerous even when jet engines aren't running.
We all have cool friends who become super-annoying when they "talk music." For many of you, I am that friend, but at least I'm virtually always right about good tunes... Anyways, if your friend starts trumpeting some shitty new act in tight pants and shaggy hair, but lacking melody and form as "awesome," show them this. It's arguably the finest song of their "early" era, and one of the seminal songs of the Nineties. Rocket.
That was great. I watched it three times myself. Like a sonic syringe of radness that goes straight to the pleasure centers of the brain.
This movie is still better than virtually anything out today. It's not about making a statement or an allegory, it's all about storytelling. This is fantastic!
Time for me to fly. Somewhere for a day. Just to do it.
I'm not concerned with the outcome. Fuck em' both.-BK
So I went to the Moose last night, but left before the show began, as I've been fighting off a slight flu, and I really needed the extra sleep. Apologies to a fan of mine who wanted to surprise me.
Seriously, can you believe it took them this long? The "woman" doesn't seem fit to live, let alone take care of a child.
Remember to vote kids. In all honesty, your vote probably won't matter either way, because you can't vote for five hundred congressmen, and a hundred senators. But your vote could count a little. Things won't be getting better anytime soon, but I suppose we'd be fools if we gave up on hope. If you truly want to affect social and political change in this country, in the world, I fear that, soon, the only way to do so may be through organized physical revolution, Fight Club-style. American Democracy is at the height of it's power. Like Rome and the Bee Gees before it, perfect system is doomed to eventually become flawed, and implode. I think, in our lifetime, we will see worldwide change on a scope we have not seen in centuries. Will it be good, or bad? As long as Christian Bale keeps making movies, beer stays cold, and bicycles aren't outlawed or destroyed, I think I'll manage. Will you?
YouTube is a rocky coast of shitty talent(ever seen my vids?) and overinflated egos, but every once a great while, the virtual ship I captain finds a lighthouse, and heads toward it. I, along with a lot of other people, occasionally watch this girl's videos. She's pretty talented in a "girl next door" kind of way, which is not meant to be backhanded or rude. You can kind of tell she's not coached or prodded. It's her raw talent, and it's impressive.
As I was walking up the stairs to write this blog, I stumbled, and then tripped. Don't worry, the computer is ok. My toe now hurts more than it did yesterday, my right palm has a baby-sized scrape on it, and I sprained my left ring finger. My job is dangerous even when jet engines aren't running.
We all have cool friends who become super-annoying when they "talk music." For many of you, I am that friend, but at least I'm virtually always right about good tunes... Anyways, if your friend starts trumpeting some shitty new act in tight pants and shaggy hair, but lacking melody and form as "awesome," show them this. It's arguably the finest song of their "early" era, and one of the seminal songs of the Nineties. Rocket.
That was great. I watched it three times myself. Like a sonic syringe of radness that goes straight to the pleasure centers of the brain.
This movie is still better than virtually anything out today. It's not about making a statement or an allegory, it's all about storytelling. This is fantastic!
Time for me to fly. Somewhere for a day. Just to do it.
I'm not concerned with the outcome. Fuck em' both.-BK
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Like a hawk.
Old Style is the greatest. My grandfather drank it all the time. He was in World War 2. For the Polish. As a good friend of the family always says, "How can it be so good for so cheap?" I usually drink mine in an undershirt, boxer shorts, and loafers.
I'm debating staying in tonight. I'd really like to try and get eight glorious, uninterrupted hours of sleep. But then again, I like to make people laugh. Decisions are tough. I totally know how that guy who had to cut his arm off because a rock fell on it must have felt.
I saw Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist. It was just uninspired. Not necessarily bad, and certainly not great, but definitely uninspired. It was not very exciting, and not very original.
Are you old school? Green Jelly/Jello is! Ben Kenny is as well. For all my class and culture, I still find this awesome and eternally entertaining.
I heard Bjork on the in-store radio at Taco Bell the other day. It wasn't even a popular Bjork song. Someone at Taco Bell goes against the grain, that's for sure.
Snow Patrol has a new album out. If I had more money, I would exchange the money for the album. I like this song. It sounds a little "1985," but still has that cool melody that Snow Patrol tends to always find without sacrificing their writing.
Doing anything October 24th? Yes? Well, cancel your plans. Ben Kenny is performing in the contest at Slapsticks!, so you all should come out and have a laugh. It's a mere ten dollars, there's no drink minimum, and you need to laugh. Especially if you've checked your 401(k) lately, which I did, yesterday. It's a good think I'm young, or I'd be totally fucked!
A bird just flew into the window. Ha!
Who is Wood? Where is Wood? What is Wood?
Who is WOOD?
I'm happy I can wear shorts for a few more weeks. My legs are so sexy,
I stubbed my toe. It hurts, and I'm limping. Two people have asked me if I hurt me knee. I just sort of "psuedo-nod," because I don't have the heart to tell them I'm a big pussy.
There was a fire in Millvale yesterday. The house was a total loss. In Millvale, that's roughly 1200 dollars worth of stuff, and almost twice that in drugs and/or alcohol. What a tragedy.
A living legend. You can't even come close. Don't try. It just looks pathetic. I've seen it enough times to know. I might have even done it once or twice myself.
So much for watching Sarah Connor.-BK
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Vikings did it first!
I did not go out to my usual Sunday haunt for the first time in months. I hate to be at work at 5am for four hours of sweet ass double overtizzle. I did actual work for roughly forty minutes of the four hours, and made jokes about the handicapped to kill the rest of the time. Pimp juice.
I stopped at a place I used to frequent for a paper and a cup of coffee, and low and behold, I saw John McCain's campaign bus parked in a hotel parking lot. I don't think he (or "Le Cunt") were around, as there was no discernible media presence. I wanted to do something not very nice to the bus for a moment, but I stopped to reconsider, as the Secret Service no doubt has several portable hard drives' worth of information on me and my activities already.
They can monitor our thoughts from space you know. The Man, that is. This is based on fact:
I plan to nap today. Napping is the physical equivalent of saying "blow me, chores and responsibilities!" The longer you nap, the louder you say it. Say it loud. Say it proud.
Holy shit, I almost forgot to mention it! I saw a plane this morning, a large plane, a Boeing 757, with the tail number "666." That, my friends, is pretty bad ass, even if it is just a relatively unknown commercial airliner. I'm surprised no one has offered to buy that registration. Useless fact: the Heinz corporate jet has the tail number "57."
Working new material tomorrow at The Smiling Moose. John McCain dance joke making a debut. You know it's going to be hilarious. Be there.
By now, you guys are probably well aware that I really like Louis C.K. In the past year, I've really become a fan of his. I believe his thought process is similar to the one I have. I very rarely say "I wish I'd thought of that," but I pretty much fucking screamed it after I saw this. I laughed so hard. Period. In my opinion(which, depending on who you are, is worth between 4 and 1.3 million of your opinions) he is, and has been for a while now, the "next great American comedian."
I need to buy shampoo. My hair has returned, but only to remind me of my genetic short comings. I expect to be horribly bald by thirty. My hairline is going already, I'm thinning up top too, and Goddamn it, I'm only 24! I think I should keep it at about the length it is now. If it gets any longer, I'll look like a lesbian, and I'm not suited to give people advice on motorcycle engines and feminist literature. If I keep it shaven, I'm told I look older than I am, and I give off quite the "rapist" vibe. I'm OK with it being shaven, I love it, actually, but I am not a fan of forced sex. I want it to be the right time for my right hand and I. Ugh. Sorry. Too late to delete now.
This, is the best song in their catalog. They, are possibly the greatest "party band" of all time. I know, I know, but I don't count P-Funk as a party band! P-Funk is a lifestyle!
I'm gonna be pounding overtime. I say "pounding," because I checked the value of the dollar, and had a good laugh.
(What other comedian who blogs drops currency double entendres? Too fucking good, bitches!)
If you don't understand Kanye West, you were never meant to understand much of anything fun, or anything real, or anything alive.
Extra video today. Mostly because iTunes just spat this out at me and you know I'm with it. The goal is soul.
At the end of a long, beautiful day, I support getting down.
Oh come on, Jesus would totally crush a beer can with His head!-BK
I stopped at a place I used to frequent for a paper and a cup of coffee, and low and behold, I saw John McCain's campaign bus parked in a hotel parking lot. I don't think he (or "Le Cunt") were around, as there was no discernible media presence. I wanted to do something not very nice to the bus for a moment, but I stopped to reconsider, as the Secret Service no doubt has several portable hard drives' worth of information on me and my activities already.
They can monitor our thoughts from space you know. The Man, that is. This is based on fact:
I plan to nap today. Napping is the physical equivalent of saying "blow me, chores and responsibilities!" The longer you nap, the louder you say it. Say it loud. Say it proud.
Holy shit, I almost forgot to mention it! I saw a plane this morning, a large plane, a Boeing 757, with the tail number "666." That, my friends, is pretty bad ass, even if it is just a relatively unknown commercial airliner. I'm surprised no one has offered to buy that registration. Useless fact: the Heinz corporate jet has the tail number "57."
Working new material tomorrow at The Smiling Moose. John McCain dance joke making a debut. You know it's going to be hilarious. Be there.
By now, you guys are probably well aware that I really like Louis C.K. In the past year, I've really become a fan of his. I believe his thought process is similar to the one I have. I very rarely say "I wish I'd thought of that," but I pretty much fucking screamed it after I saw this. I laughed so hard. Period. In my opinion(which, depending on who you are, is worth between 4 and 1.3 million of your opinions) he is, and has been for a while now, the "next great American comedian."
I need to buy shampoo. My hair has returned, but only to remind me of my genetic short comings. I expect to be horribly bald by thirty. My hairline is going already, I'm thinning up top too, and Goddamn it, I'm only 24! I think I should keep it at about the length it is now. If it gets any longer, I'll look like a lesbian, and I'm not suited to give people advice on motorcycle engines and feminist literature. If I keep it shaven, I'm told I look older than I am, and I give off quite the "rapist" vibe. I'm OK with it being shaven, I love it, actually, but I am not a fan of forced sex. I want it to be the right time for my right hand and I. Ugh. Sorry. Too late to delete now.
This, is the best song in their catalog. They, are possibly the greatest "party band" of all time. I know, I know, but I don't count P-Funk as a party band! P-Funk is a lifestyle!
I'm gonna be pounding overtime. I say "pounding," because I checked the value of the dollar, and had a good laugh.
(What other comedian who blogs drops currency double entendres? Too fucking good, bitches!)
If you don't understand Kanye West, you were never meant to understand much of anything fun, or anything real, or anything alive.
Extra video today. Mostly because iTunes just spat this out at me and you know I'm with it. The goal is soul.
At the end of a long, beautiful day, I support getting down.
Oh come on, Jesus would totally crush a beer can with His head!-BK
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Live from the airport...
So there was a big chemical leak near the Iron City yesterday. It apparently made the air quality bad for a while, and people had to evacuate their homes. So it was pretty much business as usual in Pittsburgh, and in America. We are continually being welcomed to Hell.
I did not go out last night. I really wanted to, but sometimes you just don't have the motivation to put on pants and socks. Especially if you were wearing shoes, sans socks, already. It's very regressive to take things off, put other things on, and put things on again. At some point, I probably would've need to bathe as well, which is always a deal-breaker for going out, unless it's a Nascar race or something.
I got some overtime today, so that's good. Every hour of overtime is some sort of name brand product I will be able to afford in Minneapolis. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, here I come! Although Minnesota is relatively close to Canada, so maybe it's Kraft Dinner there. I spent most of last night on Google Maps, looking for places/areas to live in. I think it's going to come together quite nicely, much unlike the fabled Beatles reunion.
Porn Bloopers. (Adult Content, but I assure you, you'll laugh like you're me.)
Since it's Sunday and all, I figured I'd drop a video from a Christian artist. Really. No bullshit. His name is David Bazan, formerly of a band called Pedro the Lion, and he kicks ass. He writes music about his life, his choices, and how they clash with the indoctrination... oops... religion of his youth. He is one of the best songwriters around right now, besides the great Katy Perry of course... I listen to his stuff at least weekly, if not more often. Massive, moving, talent.
And then there was Slayer. Don't talk shit on thrash. Ever.
I had planned to write a bit longer today, but unfortunately, I must preempt the blog in order to poop. I ate four grilled cheese sandwiches yesterday.
I totally could see that happening.-BK
I did not go out last night. I really wanted to, but sometimes you just don't have the motivation to put on pants and socks. Especially if you were wearing shoes, sans socks, already. It's very regressive to take things off, put other things on, and put things on again. At some point, I probably would've need to bathe as well, which is always a deal-breaker for going out, unless it's a Nascar race or something.
I got some overtime today, so that's good. Every hour of overtime is some sort of name brand product I will be able to afford in Minneapolis. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, here I come! Although Minnesota is relatively close to Canada, so maybe it's Kraft Dinner there. I spent most of last night on Google Maps, looking for places/areas to live in. I think it's going to come together quite nicely, much unlike the fabled Beatles reunion.
Porn Bloopers. (Adult Content, but I assure you, you'll laugh like you're me.)
Since it's Sunday and all, I figured I'd drop a video from a Christian artist. Really. No bullshit. His name is David Bazan, formerly of a band called Pedro the Lion, and he kicks ass. He writes music about his life, his choices, and how they clash with the indoctrination... oops... religion of his youth. He is one of the best songwriters around right now, besides the great Katy Perry of course... I listen to his stuff at least weekly, if not more often. Massive, moving, talent.
And then there was Slayer. Don't talk shit on thrash. Ever.
I had planned to write a bit longer today, but unfortunately, I must preempt the blog in order to poop. I ate four grilled cheese sandwiches yesterday.
I totally could see that happening.-BK
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Dogs are lackadaisical.
So I've really been back into a groove, comedy-wise that is. It feels good. It feels great actually. The fire inside of me never actually went out while I was away from the mic for a bit, but it is burning again. Perhaps even brighter than it was when I made my first awkward attempts at comedy, in Chicago, at sixteen. Most comics say their first time onstage was "great." I don't remember my first time like that. Because it wasn't great. But it was something I'd never felt before. It was the closest to being "right" I've ever felt. It was a sense of normalcy.
In life, you have to pursue goals. Things aren't handed to you. Everyone knows this, but so few actually do it. I often get "Oh, you do comedy, I could never do it!" Well, whether it's comedy, performing brain surgery, or anal sex, you aren't going to know until you try it! So get out there and get in the game. Failure hurts, but the dull stinging pain of unanswered uncertainty is much more uncomfortable, and it's life long.
One of the most vastly underrated comedic talents in history. People talk a lot of shit on Carrot Top, most of which is unprovoked, and totally, totally undeserved. I saw him in Vegas a year ago, mostly because I didn't think he'd be funny for more than five minutes of his act. Christ, was I wrong! I say the following in absolute seriousness: Carrot Top is a brilliant comic. He has to write and conceptualize new props practically weekly. Also, he takes huge risks with them. If more than two or three in a row bomb, he risks losing the interest of the audience. Just huge balls. Huge. Probably covered in orange hair, too. So few people do what he does. Mostly because they don't have the talent. The next time you hear a comic or layperson talk shit on Carrot Top, ask them when their next Vegas residency is starting. Ask them when they're quitting whatever shitty day job they work. Ask them if they have the strength to persevere when their peers and contemporaries mock them without mercy. I love Carrot Top!*
*Chairman of the Board sucked.
Weekend of sloth continues. I ordered a large pizza last night, with the intention of saving a bit of it to eat today. That did not happen, but it did take me the entire evening to eat the pizza, so at least I'm not a total glutton.
Orange soda brings me back to childhood. Memories of mercilessly being made fun of, falling off of my bike every day, people throwing rocks at me, and desperately trying to "fit in." Thanks, orange soda. Thanks a lot!
I watched I Spit on Your Grave yesterday. It is possibly the King(or Queen?) of all exploitation movies. Some see it as mysoginistic, some see it as empowering. I don't know quite what to make of it. It's certainly nothing special, but at the same time, I wasn't so offended that I felt the need to turn it off. It is rough though. Extremely rough. Roger Ebert called this the worst movie he'd ever seen.
It's a good thing 700 billion dollars of our money managed to stabilize the stock market! Wait, it didn't? Wait, the government is buying stock in banks? Don't let them take your guns folks!
I'm looking for shows in November and December. I need shows! Shows! Let me know of them. Don't be afraid of my genius! I've even been thinking of heading down to the Improv, mostly because I really need a "this is me at the Improv" obligatory picture for MySpace. I would go to the Bone, but I have a soul, and I'm able to actually make people laugh. Funny how they call it the Improv. You don't see much improvisation in a room like that.
This is Sparta!
I'm so lazy I'm debating if putting on deodorant is even worth it today.
They shined brightest.-BK
In life, you have to pursue goals. Things aren't handed to you. Everyone knows this, but so few actually do it. I often get "Oh, you do comedy, I could never do it!" Well, whether it's comedy, performing brain surgery, or anal sex, you aren't going to know until you try it! So get out there and get in the game. Failure hurts, but the dull stinging pain of unanswered uncertainty is much more uncomfortable, and it's life long.
One of the most vastly underrated comedic talents in history. People talk a lot of shit on Carrot Top, most of which is unprovoked, and totally, totally undeserved. I saw him in Vegas a year ago, mostly because I didn't think he'd be funny for more than five minutes of his act. Christ, was I wrong! I say the following in absolute seriousness: Carrot Top is a brilliant comic. He has to write and conceptualize new props practically weekly. Also, he takes huge risks with them. If more than two or three in a row bomb, he risks losing the interest of the audience. Just huge balls. Huge. Probably covered in orange hair, too. So few people do what he does. Mostly because they don't have the talent. The next time you hear a comic or layperson talk shit on Carrot Top, ask them when their next Vegas residency is starting. Ask them when they're quitting whatever shitty day job they work. Ask them if they have the strength to persevere when their peers and contemporaries mock them without mercy. I love Carrot Top!*
*Chairman of the Board sucked.
Weekend of sloth continues. I ordered a large pizza last night, with the intention of saving a bit of it to eat today. That did not happen, but it did take me the entire evening to eat the pizza, so at least I'm not a total glutton.
Orange soda brings me back to childhood. Memories of mercilessly being made fun of, falling off of my bike every day, people throwing rocks at me, and desperately trying to "fit in." Thanks, orange soda. Thanks a lot!
I watched I Spit on Your Grave yesterday. It is possibly the King(or Queen?) of all exploitation movies. Some see it as mysoginistic, some see it as empowering. I don't know quite what to make of it. It's certainly nothing special, but at the same time, I wasn't so offended that I felt the need to turn it off. It is rough though. Extremely rough. Roger Ebert called this the worst movie he'd ever seen.
It's a good thing 700 billion dollars of our money managed to stabilize the stock market! Wait, it didn't? Wait, the government is buying stock in banks? Don't let them take your guns folks!
I'm looking for shows in November and December. I need shows! Shows! Let me know of them. Don't be afraid of my genius! I've even been thinking of heading down to the Improv, mostly because I really need a "this is me at the Improv" obligatory picture for MySpace. I would go to the Bone, but I have a soul, and I'm able to actually make people laugh. Funny how they call it the Improv. You don't see much improvisation in a room like that.
This is Sparta!
I'm so lazy I'm debating if putting on deodorant is even worth it today.
They shined brightest.-BK
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