When you drop away from the world, off the face of the Earth, "coming back" becomes less important the farther away you go. My Facebook/Twitter dispatches serve their purpose in letting people know I still draw breath, the rest is just frosting on the vegan cake.
While not opposed to conflict, I tend to avoid it, as I come out firing with the most powerful weapons in my arsenal. It's not prudent to nuke a simple uprising, but I err on the side of caution. Best to level the village than be shot in the back twenty years later by an orphaned son.
When did "error" become "err" by the way? Grammar is weak, yo. Mad weak.
Unfortunately, my conflict is internal, and it's something I am now only facing, at least ten years too late.
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Work on the house continues at a retarded, ADHD-afflicted snail's pace, but it's still progress of some sort, which is something, however minor it may be to the outsider's eye.
Bought a "new" car. Infinitely happy to no longer give up three hours of my day to Port Authority Transit, but I do miss the smell of urine in the morning, and playing "new stain, or old stain" on a daily basis.
Been doing comedy here and there when the mood strikes. Material is the same, but the approach differs. Most comedians get pigeon-holed into the "I hate everything and everyone" category, which makes it hard to stand out when you really do. I hate being told that my material is nothing like who/what I am when I am offstage. I. Fucking. Hate. It. Here's news for you: When I'm onstage, I am totally free, uninhibited in ways I simple can't be otherwise, and I force myself to "lower the blinds" offstage. I am only showing courtesy to you and yours because you are an innocent, undeserving of the pure stream of my consciousness, not because I am friendly or warm.
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I have been giving some thought to becoming "vegan at home." After 3 years of vegetarianism, I feel ready to take this next step towards a healthier me, healthier animals, and a healthier planet. Maybe after the year turns. I miss nacho cheese already. Cheese will be the crux.
Felt the need to shit out some literature. As always, my half-assed thanks for your time.
"Watching those guys makes my job look easy. Well, easier, I guess."-BK
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Death Row is the label that pays May.
Decided to get my ass a rollin' on the whole "new tattoo" ideas brewing in my ol' brain pan. Got it narrowed down to about 4 choices, and the left forearm is where it's going. Hope you like M.C. Escher. Aim to have a nice sleeve by October or so.
Listening to Portishead right now. Way better than the shit the clerk was telling me to buy at The Exchange today. Way fucking better. I picked up a "pre-owned" iPod, in addition to some tunes. Hurrah! No more audible craziness and screaming bastard children on my commute! Unless I run out of battery power because I left it in my bag the night prior instead of charging it, which has never, ever, happened to me, not even once. I swear.
Yes, it's dumb to buy CDs, go home, upload the CDs, and then download them to your iPod instead of purchasing music online, but I'm refreshingly old school, with just a twinkle of modern flava.
I'm off tonight, a Friday, for what seems like the first time in decades. Instead of going out and trying to meet someone, and establish a connection that eventually leads to some sort of permanent, fulfilling for me/who cares about her sexual relationship, I'm typing this. If I'd only put on pants at 8pm or so, things might've been different.
Looked at suits at Macy's yesterday, because I saw a dude rocking a three piece with crazy-ass, Boy George-like style that made me do a triple take. Need to lose a few more pounds and get some better shoes.
Saw Inglourious Basterds earlier. I was very underwhelmed by this movie. I like war action-adventure flicks, but this one was just "off" in a few different ways. Most prevalent is the subject matter. I thought it would be really cool to see a bunch of Jews murdering Nazis, but the fact is that the Holocaust was real, and adapting the deaths of millions of people just doesn't sit right with me. The movie had the trademark QT dialogue that we all know and love, but Brad Pitt delivered none of it, his performance was weak. The star of the movie was the actor who played the SS Colonel. He was really, really a pleasure to watch. Finally, the movie, if you can believe it, just wasn't violent enough. I'll stick with the Sixties-era war action movies, thanks.
This song played as a stunningly attractive petite blond girl seductively put on makeup. It was my favorite scene in the movie, probably because I am a fucking voyeuristic pervert. I'd heard this song before, back in my heavy Bowie Period, but hearing it again made my grin from ear to ear in the theatre.
A local blogger known as "PittGirl" recently "outed" herself to the city. She worked in anonymity, and said a few not so nice(but funny) things about the Mayor, etc.. Turns out, she works for a nonprofit which relies heavily on city funding, and she got canned. Her own fault, and I'm angry that she now has the chance to make money from the experience. Posting anonymously is cowardly, not brave. You all know who I am, but there are aspects of my life that I do not share here, most notably, my romantic and work-related adventures. I don't tell you about the relationships I'm in or not in because that is a private, personal, matter between myself and my "flavor of the month." I don't talk about my job, or things related to it, in anything more than a vague occasional reference because it's MY FUCKING JOB! I need to eat. She should of taken a similar route, but chose not to. Too bad.
(Shit, not so fast there, Ben Kenny. Remember that time in high school?)
Ah yes, how can I forget. Myself and a co-conspirator were suspended for two weeks for a few blog postings made from the shadows of the internet. So what if I did leak the home address of a teacher. Youthful indiscretions. It was hard to smoke pot all day, everyday, for those two weeks, but I persevered!
Looking for a new car. Cashing in some profit-sharing dollars. Saab, BMW, or Volvo wagon. Less than 100k miles, and less than ten years old. Under 5k. Holla if you got a lead for me.
Plans for tomorrow include laundry, grass cutting, maybe scrape a little paint and of course, The Smiling Moose and dance fun.
I've been here for a while, but not long enough to care about Big Ben's ankle weeks before the regular season begins.-BK
Listening to Portishead right now. Way better than the shit the clerk was telling me to buy at The Exchange today. Way fucking better. I picked up a "pre-owned" iPod, in addition to some tunes. Hurrah! No more audible craziness and screaming bastard children on my commute! Unless I run out of battery power because I left it in my bag the night prior instead of charging it, which has never, ever, happened to me, not even once. I swear.
Yes, it's dumb to buy CDs, go home, upload the CDs, and then download them to your iPod instead of purchasing music online, but I'm refreshingly old school, with just a twinkle of modern flava.
I'm off tonight, a Friday, for what seems like the first time in decades. Instead of going out and trying to meet someone, and establish a connection that eventually leads to some sort of permanent, fulfilling for me/who cares about her sexual relationship, I'm typing this. If I'd only put on pants at 8pm or so, things might've been different.
Looked at suits at Macy's yesterday, because I saw a dude rocking a three piece with crazy-ass, Boy George-like style that made me do a triple take. Need to lose a few more pounds and get some better shoes.
Saw Inglourious Basterds earlier. I was very underwhelmed by this movie. I like war action-adventure flicks, but this one was just "off" in a few different ways. Most prevalent is the subject matter. I thought it would be really cool to see a bunch of Jews murdering Nazis, but the fact is that the Holocaust was real, and adapting the deaths of millions of people just doesn't sit right with me. The movie had the trademark QT dialogue that we all know and love, but Brad Pitt delivered none of it, his performance was weak. The star of the movie was the actor who played the SS Colonel. He was really, really a pleasure to watch. Finally, the movie, if you can believe it, just wasn't violent enough. I'll stick with the Sixties-era war action movies, thanks.
This song played as a stunningly attractive petite blond girl seductively put on makeup. It was my favorite scene in the movie, probably because I am a fucking voyeuristic pervert. I'd heard this song before, back in my heavy Bowie Period, but hearing it again made my grin from ear to ear in the theatre.
A local blogger known as "PittGirl" recently "outed" herself to the city. She worked in anonymity, and said a few not so nice(but funny) things about the Mayor, etc.. Turns out, she works for a nonprofit which relies heavily on city funding, and she got canned. Her own fault, and I'm angry that she now has the chance to make money from the experience. Posting anonymously is cowardly, not brave. You all know who I am, but there are aspects of my life that I do not share here, most notably, my romantic and work-related adventures. I don't tell you about the relationships I'm in or not in because that is a private, personal, matter between myself and my "flavor of the month." I don't talk about my job, or things related to it, in anything more than a vague occasional reference because it's MY FUCKING JOB! I need to eat. She should of taken a similar route, but chose not to. Too bad.
(Shit, not so fast there, Ben Kenny. Remember that time in high school?)
Ah yes, how can I forget. Myself and a co-conspirator were suspended for two weeks for a few blog postings made from the shadows of the internet. So what if I did leak the home address of a teacher. Youthful indiscretions. It was hard to smoke pot all day, everyday, for those two weeks, but I persevered!
Looking for a new car. Cashing in some profit-sharing dollars. Saab, BMW, or Volvo wagon. Less than 100k miles, and less than ten years old. Under 5k. Holla if you got a lead for me.
Plans for tomorrow include laundry, grass cutting, maybe scrape a little paint and of course, The Smiling Moose and dance fun.
I've been here for a while, but not long enough to care about Big Ben's ankle weeks before the regular season begins.-BK
Thursday, August 20, 2009
They can charge what they want.
Hey. What's up? I know, I know. No, I don't want to talk about it. Especially with you. Because. I. Just. Don't. OK?!
Did comedy a few nights back. Was the first time in a few months. There is no way to tentatively lower yourself back into stand-up. It is not a fucking swimming pool. You either nut up and do it, or you don't. I had one of the better sets of the night(as I am one of the better comedians, always) but that wasn't what made the night good. The most memorable part of the evening was seeing (500) Days of Summer again and having a mushroom sub at South Side Steaks. Goddamn that was a good sandwich. Might even eat one again, on Friday, when I go see an obscure, under-the-radar war movie that I'm sure you've all heard absolutely nothing about.
Wink.
I can't even really say I'm happy to be back, shitting thoughts onto the keyboard for you to read in anonymity, but it's something, I guess.
Spent about three weeks washing my clothes in a sink, agitating them with a toilet plunger, and hang-drying them in the musty, dank basement of Casa de Ben. It took the repairman exactly nineteen minutes to fix my washing machine. Two weeks of waiting for nineteen minutes. It was under warranty, and hence, free, but I should've just bit the proverbial bullet, and shelled out the change for the repair. B.O. doesn't come out of clothing with a mere hand wash, even if you're as strong as I am.
Very little has been done to the house lately. Working what extra hours I can schedule in, with the bus and all, to, somewhat ironically, be able to buy a car.
Lied through my teeth at my DUI counseling session. One weekend of classes. Flawless victory. Seriously. The "flawless victory" sound effect from the first Mortal Kombat Super Nintendo game was audible in my head as she told me. Wanted to celebrate with a drink, but didn't. I whistled a tune(Tears for Fears) to myself on the elevator ride down, but then I stepped on a homeless person's leg as I exited the building. Almost tripped over it. Wanted to go back later, and hit him very hard, with something very hard, multiple times. Not for almost tripping me, just because I was angry that a white, young, most likely educated person would make the conscious decision to become, and remain, homeless. It was terribly aggravating. I was actually enraged, and no words were even exchanged between us. God help society if I get a gun.
The best movie I've seen this summer is stillStar Trek, and it pains me, as a hardcore, lifelong Star Wars fan, greatly, to say that. District 9 is a very close second. Especially after I found out that it was the lead actor's first acting job.
Time to work. Must keep self liquid.
It's the 20th. Until midnight tonight.-BK
Did comedy a few nights back. Was the first time in a few months. There is no way to tentatively lower yourself back into stand-up. It is not a fucking swimming pool. You either nut up and do it, or you don't. I had one of the better sets of the night(as I am one of the better comedians, always) but that wasn't what made the night good. The most memorable part of the evening was seeing (500) Days of Summer again and having a mushroom sub at South Side Steaks. Goddamn that was a good sandwich. Might even eat one again, on Friday, when I go see an obscure, under-the-radar war movie that I'm sure you've all heard absolutely nothing about.
Wink.
I can't even really say I'm happy to be back, shitting thoughts onto the keyboard for you to read in anonymity, but it's something, I guess.
Spent about three weeks washing my clothes in a sink, agitating them with a toilet plunger, and hang-drying them in the musty, dank basement of Casa de Ben. It took the repairman exactly nineteen minutes to fix my washing machine. Two weeks of waiting for nineteen minutes. It was under warranty, and hence, free, but I should've just bit the proverbial bullet, and shelled out the change for the repair. B.O. doesn't come out of clothing with a mere hand wash, even if you're as strong as I am.
Very little has been done to the house lately. Working what extra hours I can schedule in, with the bus and all, to, somewhat ironically, be able to buy a car.
Lied through my teeth at my DUI counseling session. One weekend of classes. Flawless victory. Seriously. The "flawless victory" sound effect from the first Mortal Kombat Super Nintendo game was audible in my head as she told me. Wanted to celebrate with a drink, but didn't. I whistled a tune(Tears for Fears) to myself on the elevator ride down, but then I stepped on a homeless person's leg as I exited the building. Almost tripped over it. Wanted to go back later, and hit him very hard, with something very hard, multiple times. Not for almost tripping me, just because I was angry that a white, young, most likely educated person would make the conscious decision to become, and remain, homeless. It was terribly aggravating. I was actually enraged, and no words were even exchanged between us. God help society if I get a gun.
The best movie I've seen this summer is stillStar Trek, and it pains me, as a hardcore, lifelong Star Wars fan, greatly, to say that. District 9 is a very close second. Especially after I found out that it was the lead actor's first acting job.
Time to work. Must keep self liquid.
It's the 20th. Until midnight tonight.-BK
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Hangin' like Jesus on the cross.
Working the job, working(ever so slowly) on the house, and just general living got put aside for a bit as I took a little overnight trip to Vegas. It was sorely, sorely needed and super fun. I was a little upset that the movie theater I often go to closed, but overall, the trip was a success, as I gambled for about eight hours, and made a profit of 182 dollars, after I deducted the cost of my room, cab fare, and meals. I used to take the bus in Vegas, as it's cheap and reliable, but since I take the bus all the time at home, I figured splurging on a cab ride or three would be worth it, and boy oh boy, was it ever! So much easier than the Deuce bus, even if you don't have anyone to split the cost with.
It is ever so rare these days to see a band with some decent lyrics and a semi-unique sound. Shitty name though. The Airborne Toxic Event. So shitty.
There is an Adam Sandler/Seth Rogan/Judd Apatow movie about comedians coming out. I saw the preview when I saw Bruno with a fellow comic and friend. This movie is going to launch waves of dumb, overconfident people into comedy. People who don't understand and don't care to learn the subtle nuances of comedy. People who don't want to put in the time it takes to become "good" and mind you, motherfucker, there is a HUGE difference between "funny" and "good." A lot of famous and local comics, obviously, are "funny" but so few, so very, very few, are "good." Well, at least in my "comedy hipster" eyes.
The carpeting in my house was actually really easy to remove, but the padding underneath is another story entirely. I conservatively estimate it to be about 30 years old, and it was compressed over that time to something that breaks apart and leaves dust/residue that looks like the powder from mac and cheese. It clogs my vacuum cleaner, and doesn't come up via broom and dust pan too easily either. But I put in a half hour a day on it or so, and I make progress, however slow. I have a three day weekend coming up, and I hope to get it all up, wash the walls, and maybe throw down a layer of paint or two.
I think I've found my pizza place, as the wait is always at least an hour, but the pie is always hot and totally worth it when it finally gets to my crib. I plan on ordering pizza most of the weekend, as I loathe preparing/cooking food when I'm being all handy about the house and shit.
I've never heard of an Asian guy named Oscar before this, but that's not why you should watch it. It's fantastic!
A Mormon missionary said hello to me at the bus stop this morning. I just said "No!"-BK
It is ever so rare these days to see a band with some decent lyrics and a semi-unique sound. Shitty name though. The Airborne Toxic Event. So shitty.
There is an Adam Sandler/Seth Rogan/Judd Apatow movie about comedians coming out. I saw the preview when I saw Bruno with a fellow comic and friend. This movie is going to launch waves of dumb, overconfident people into comedy. People who don't understand and don't care to learn the subtle nuances of comedy. People who don't want to put in the time it takes to become "good" and mind you, motherfucker, there is a HUGE difference between "funny" and "good." A lot of famous and local comics, obviously, are "funny" but so few, so very, very few, are "good." Well, at least in my "comedy hipster" eyes.
The carpeting in my house was actually really easy to remove, but the padding underneath is another story entirely. I conservatively estimate it to be about 30 years old, and it was compressed over that time to something that breaks apart and leaves dust/residue that looks like the powder from mac and cheese. It clogs my vacuum cleaner, and doesn't come up via broom and dust pan too easily either. But I put in a half hour a day on it or so, and I make progress, however slow. I have a three day weekend coming up, and I hope to get it all up, wash the walls, and maybe throw down a layer of paint or two.
I think I've found my pizza place, as the wait is always at least an hour, but the pie is always hot and totally worth it when it finally gets to my crib. I plan on ordering pizza most of the weekend, as I loathe preparing/cooking food when I'm being all handy about the house and shit.
I've never heard of an Asian guy named Oscar before this, but that's not why you should watch it. It's fantastic!
A Mormon missionary said hello to me at the bus stop this morning. I just said "No!"-BK
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Somewhere deep inside.
Trish, this is a million, billion times better than the Jonas Brothers.
Trish and I were discussing the lack of depth in modern pop music over mac and cheese. She persuaded me to come over and meet her dog, Cooper, with an offering of food. It worked. I'm most likely going to adopt him, but I need to see him again, and make sure he isn't high on Advantix. I've been wanting a dog of my own since the day I drove away from my parents' house towards Colorado in 2006, and now it's(probably) happening. I rule.
A dog is such a great companion, and until you live without one, and worse, mourn the death of one, you don't realize how much of your heart you give to them. I got a lot of heart to give as of late too.
Live performance of Abba. Even more impressive.
We didn't even specifically discuss Abba, I just fucking love Abba.
By the way, if you don't like pop music, you're a faggot. I know that doesn't make sense to you, but I live in my own world, and it makes sense to me. Perfect sense.
Making more progress on the removal of random stuff from the house. Expect another picture of a big pile of garbage sometime this week. Pulled out all of the carpet anchoring strip stuff too. Might start that project tomorrow, as it was hot all weekend and I hate profuse sweating on my days off.
Will probably rent a car next Sunday to pick up flooring and paint from Lowe's. Unless, of course, one of the six or seven loyal readers wants to ferry my ass around. Pizza, gas, and gratitude if you're down. You don't even need a big car or anything! No heavy lifting either! Email me right the fuck now at kennbenny667@gmail.com.
This is just brutally funny. I've watched this about ten times. I used to play this game for hours upon hours upon hours.
Off Tuesday, which means I'm venturing out to see Bruno, and then actually dragging my ass back onto a stage to tell some jokes. It has been far too long, and I am far too funny to allow for the far too longness of things.
Also have a court-mandated class/interview to determine how much of a drinking problem I have. I'm hoping for "Irish Chicago cop, circa 1972" but I'll settle for "Bret Michaels on a Tuesday." Hope that doesn't mean I have to inject myself with herpes.
Caught Manhunter on TV the other day at work. Although it sounds as if it would be homosexual pornography, or worse, a reality television program, it is actually one of the lost gems of Eighties cinema. It was directed by Michael Mann and stars Tom Noonan, Brian Cox, Dennis Farina, Joan Allen, and William Petersen. Everything about this movie works well with the other aspects of the movie. The set design, music, cinematography, acting, and direction are perfect. See it. My favorite thing about Mann films is the way he lights and uses cityscapes and horizon, and his outstanding soundtracks.
What the fuck, let's do four videos today! You only live once. Just as good, if not way better, than Norton and Hopkins.
(That little reality TV joke I threw in was cute, don't ya think? I liked it. Patted myself on the back. Got fingernail caught in tuft of back hair. Somewhat painful.)
I've taken to washing my clothes with cold water in an attempt to save some money. Unfortunately, I take forty minute showers, so I think I'm just gonna break even on this one.
Watched somebody stall out a late model Ferrari downtown today. Pointed and laughed as loudly as I could, which is quite loud. Called them a douche, too. If you can't listen to an engine, what good is a three hundred thousand dollar car?
Do I look like I play basketball?-BK
Trish and I were discussing the lack of depth in modern pop music over mac and cheese. She persuaded me to come over and meet her dog, Cooper, with an offering of food. It worked. I'm most likely going to adopt him, but I need to see him again, and make sure he isn't high on Advantix. I've been wanting a dog of my own since the day I drove away from my parents' house towards Colorado in 2006, and now it's(probably) happening. I rule.
A dog is such a great companion, and until you live without one, and worse, mourn the death of one, you don't realize how much of your heart you give to them. I got a lot of heart to give as of late too.
Live performance of Abba. Even more impressive.
We didn't even specifically discuss Abba, I just fucking love Abba.
By the way, if you don't like pop music, you're a faggot. I know that doesn't make sense to you, but I live in my own world, and it makes sense to me. Perfect sense.
Making more progress on the removal of random stuff from the house. Expect another picture of a big pile of garbage sometime this week. Pulled out all of the carpet anchoring strip stuff too. Might start that project tomorrow, as it was hot all weekend and I hate profuse sweating on my days off.
Will probably rent a car next Sunday to pick up flooring and paint from Lowe's. Unless, of course, one of the six or seven loyal readers wants to ferry my ass around. Pizza, gas, and gratitude if you're down. You don't even need a big car or anything! No heavy lifting either! Email me right the fuck now at kennbenny667@gmail.com.
This is just brutally funny. I've watched this about ten times. I used to play this game for hours upon hours upon hours.
Off Tuesday, which means I'm venturing out to see Bruno, and then actually dragging my ass back onto a stage to tell some jokes. It has been far too long, and I am far too funny to allow for the far too longness of things.
Also have a court-mandated class/interview to determine how much of a drinking problem I have. I'm hoping for "Irish Chicago cop, circa 1972" but I'll settle for "Bret Michaels on a Tuesday." Hope that doesn't mean I have to inject myself with herpes.
Caught Manhunter on TV the other day at work. Although it sounds as if it would be homosexual pornography, or worse, a reality television program, it is actually one of the lost gems of Eighties cinema. It was directed by Michael Mann and stars Tom Noonan, Brian Cox, Dennis Farina, Joan Allen, and William Petersen. Everything about this movie works well with the other aspects of the movie. The set design, music, cinematography, acting, and direction are perfect. See it. My favorite thing about Mann films is the way he lights and uses cityscapes and horizon, and his outstanding soundtracks.
What the fuck, let's do four videos today! You only live once. Just as good, if not way better, than Norton and Hopkins.
(That little reality TV joke I threw in was cute, don't ya think? I liked it. Patted myself on the back. Got fingernail caught in tuft of back hair. Somewhat painful.)
I've taken to washing my clothes with cold water in an attempt to save some money. Unfortunately, I take forty minute showers, so I think I'm just gonna break even on this one.
Watched somebody stall out a late model Ferrari downtown today. Pointed and laughed as loudly as I could, which is quite loud. Called them a douche, too. If you can't listen to an engine, what good is a three hundred thousand dollar car?
Do I look like I play basketball?-BK
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Nothing but violence all day.
I think all the speculation and whatnot about Michael Jackson's death is growing rather tiresome. They did blood work. It will come back. It will most likely tell us all what we all already know. He was a physically tortured man who played a dangerous game and lost, big time. He should be remembered as more than a tragic figure, and I fear he won't be.
Working six days a week, saving what I can, surviving. Hope to accomplish a lot on Sunday with the house. Have to cut the grass soon, too. That's a sure sign of adulthood, cutting grass, your own fucking grass. The little things about home ownership hit you in the oddest ways.
GM looks to be coming out of bankruptcy protection after only thirty-nine days. Kind of amazing what the government can accomplish when it sets it's mind to it. Unfortunately for a lot of Americans, GM did not have AIDS or live in poverty. If only...
Lots of interesting shit left in the house that I will either be putting up on Ebay or giving away for free. Stay tuned.
Been eating a lot of cheese lately. Way more than usually. Inside of batter, inside of pretzels, sliced, upon sandwiches, in cube form, shredded, on bean burritos, and liquid, on nachos. Conclusion: Cheese is fucking good! I would never be able to go fully vegan. Never. My vegan wallet and clothing choices will just have to do, I suppose.
I have been out of aluminum foil for a month now. I have been to the grocery store at least four times in that space of time. I need to make a prison tattoo gun, like in Memento, and get my shit in line.
My Facebook friends count is fast approaching, and, I suspect, will ultimately eclipse and surpass my MySpace friends count. What does this mean for you, dearest reader? Not much. But you should follow me on Twitter, as my Twitter friends count is far lower, and it feels lonely sometime. Plus, I'm a fucking genius, and my Tweets will rock your socks.
That's a dumb expression, "rock your socks." What does it even mean, really?
Makes me laugh.
My sister has a Boxer. She is a traitor to the Lab.
Jimmy Fallon has a billion times the budget of Craig Ferguson, but about 1% of the talent.-BK
Working six days a week, saving what I can, surviving. Hope to accomplish a lot on Sunday with the house. Have to cut the grass soon, too. That's a sure sign of adulthood, cutting grass, your own fucking grass. The little things about home ownership hit you in the oddest ways.
GM looks to be coming out of bankruptcy protection after only thirty-nine days. Kind of amazing what the government can accomplish when it sets it's mind to it. Unfortunately for a lot of Americans, GM did not have AIDS or live in poverty. If only...
Lots of interesting shit left in the house that I will either be putting up on Ebay or giving away for free. Stay tuned.
Been eating a lot of cheese lately. Way more than usually. Inside of batter, inside of pretzels, sliced, upon sandwiches, in cube form, shredded, on bean burritos, and liquid, on nachos. Conclusion: Cheese is fucking good! I would never be able to go fully vegan. Never. My vegan wallet and clothing choices will just have to do, I suppose.
I have been out of aluminum foil for a month now. I have been to the grocery store at least four times in that space of time. I need to make a prison tattoo gun, like in Memento, and get my shit in line.
My Facebook friends count is fast approaching, and, I suspect, will ultimately eclipse and surpass my MySpace friends count. What does this mean for you, dearest reader? Not much. But you should follow me on Twitter, as my Twitter friends count is far lower, and it feels lonely sometime. Plus, I'm a fucking genius, and my Tweets will rock your socks.
That's a dumb expression, "rock your socks." What does it even mean, really?
Makes me laugh.
My sister has a Boxer. She is a traitor to the Lab.
Jimmy Fallon has a billion times the budget of Craig Ferguson, but about 1% of the talent.-BK
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Do you know what it is to feel the light of love inside of you?
The titles of my blog entries are sometimes random song lyrics that bounce around in my head from time to time.
The title of today's blog is, no bullshit, a Dave Matthews Band lyric. I've always had a lukewarm(at best) view of their music, but as a live entity, they are impressive to watch. It's not all dark prose and witty banter in Ben Kenny's head all of the time. Thought you might need/like to know that. If I could pick one venue to start a stampede in though... I mean, not that I'd want to, but the amount of "bro," khaki, and bad weed I could eliminate from the planet... I might get a medal or something...
Lots of shady ellipsis action above. Sorry...
(Did you catch the intentional written joke? Goddamn I'm witty.)
They need to tour again.
Watched a chef argue with a young tweaker couple on the bus today. I sided with the chef, silently, in my head, as I tend to "go to eleven" in conflicts. It's not a good thing for anyone involved. Anyways, meth addict women shouldn't really talk about how much they love dick when there are a bunch of children on the bus. Meth addict women shouldn't really talk, period, I guess. I know she represented Mt. Oliver though, which is more than I ever really wanted to know to begin with.
Daily bus/bus stop conversation:
Random fellow- You work at Southwest? Are they hiring?
Ben Kenny- No. Please pull your pants up.
There were furries on the bus yesterday too. Good people, those furries. Salt of the earth type of folks. Let your freak flag fly, this is fuckin' America!
Holy shit!
Watched a bunch of luminaries, icons, and legends eulogize Michael today. The most touching, poignant, and accurate eulogy came from his eleven year-old daughter. One sentence said it all. I teared up a little. Had to leave the break room.
Oh man, you scared the shit out of me!-BK
The title of today's blog is, no bullshit, a Dave Matthews Band lyric. I've always had a lukewarm(at best) view of their music, but as a live entity, they are impressive to watch. It's not all dark prose and witty banter in Ben Kenny's head all of the time. Thought you might need/like to know that. If I could pick one venue to start a stampede in though... I mean, not that I'd want to, but the amount of "bro," khaki, and bad weed I could eliminate from the planet... I might get a medal or something...
Lots of shady ellipsis action above. Sorry...
(Did you catch the intentional written joke? Goddamn I'm witty.)
They need to tour again.
Watched a chef argue with a young tweaker couple on the bus today. I sided with the chef, silently, in my head, as I tend to "go to eleven" in conflicts. It's not a good thing for anyone involved. Anyways, meth addict women shouldn't really talk about how much they love dick when there are a bunch of children on the bus. Meth addict women shouldn't really talk, period, I guess. I know she represented Mt. Oliver though, which is more than I ever really wanted to know to begin with.
Daily bus/bus stop conversation:
Random fellow- You work at Southwest? Are they hiring?
Ben Kenny- No. Please pull your pants up.
There were furries on the bus yesterday too. Good people, those furries. Salt of the earth type of folks. Let your freak flag fly, this is fuckin' America!
Holy shit!
Watched a bunch of luminaries, icons, and legends eulogize Michael today. The most touching, poignant, and accurate eulogy came from his eleven year-old daughter. One sentence said it all. I teared up a little. Had to leave the break room.
Oh man, you scared the shit out of me!-BK
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Songs of Faith and Devotion.
Downtown was a madhouse yesterday. I knew I would spend money on overpriced food, but had no idea I'd wait an accumulated hour and a half in line to buy three items. I will say this though, all three were very good, and two were nice and hot, the third(actually, first) being ice cream. It's weird though. I cannot honestly remember the last time I've eaten ice cream that did not have some incarnation of peanut butter in it. I'm not upset by that, I'm just saying.
Then I went to the Moose. No Eighties music on account of the holiday, but some pretty decent bands were playing for free, and my bartender bought me a drink, so no complaints.
By the way, I'm drinking again. Since I'm no longer driving, fuck it, you know?
Plans for the rehab are coming into focus, and I am making much better progress than I thought I would. Whether or not I get much, if anything, done during my work week remains to be seen. Next Saturday is carpet tearing up day, which shouldn't be too difficult, but I'm sure something will pop up and fuck me in the ass.
Here's 20% of what needs to be thrown out.
It's mostly light and manageable, but it's so very, very dirty and the work is tedious. But I found a radio, and it helps to pass the time.
So there's been a lot of shitty, low-brow Michael Jackson stuff as of late. Not this though. Although in relative bad taste, this has to be the funniest thing I've seen about his death. The "It's Tito!" kills me!
Work tomorrow after my glorious days off. Blughr.
I think I may buy an iPhone, for real this time, finally. Although I have few friends I call, the mobile abilities and sheer radness of the device make it something I can no longer turn my selectively elitist nose up at. Yes, I think it will happen. There might even be a corporate discount on the rate plan. Gotta check on that.
This guy is just an outstanding, amazing talent. Unfortunately for his career, he happens to be gay, which means he's somehow unmarketable to a lot of the mainstream. Such a unique and original voice.
No, you fucking cut the line, and me and more twenty-five friends don't take kindly to it, bitch.-BK
Then I went to the Moose. No Eighties music on account of the holiday, but some pretty decent bands were playing for free, and my bartender bought me a drink, so no complaints.
By the way, I'm drinking again. Since I'm no longer driving, fuck it, you know?
Plans for the rehab are coming into focus, and I am making much better progress than I thought I would. Whether or not I get much, if anything, done during my work week remains to be seen. Next Saturday is carpet tearing up day, which shouldn't be too difficult, but I'm sure something will pop up and fuck me in the ass.
Here's 20% of what needs to be thrown out.
It's mostly light and manageable, but it's so very, very dirty and the work is tedious. But I found a radio, and it helps to pass the time.
So there's been a lot of shitty, low-brow Michael Jackson stuff as of late. Not this though. Although in relative bad taste, this has to be the funniest thing I've seen about his death. The "It's Tito!" kills me!
Work tomorrow after my glorious days off. Blughr.
I think I may buy an iPhone, for real this time, finally. Although I have few friends I call, the mobile abilities and sheer radness of the device make it something I can no longer turn my selectively elitist nose up at. Yes, I think it will happen. There might even be a corporate discount on the rate plan. Gotta check on that.
This guy is just an outstanding, amazing talent. Unfortunately for his career, he happens to be gay, which means he's somehow unmarketable to a lot of the mainstream. Such a unique and original voice.
No, you fucking cut the line, and me and more twenty-five friends don't take kindly to it, bitch.-BK
Friday, July 3, 2009
The broken light.
Negotiated some deals at work and found myself with five days off.
Hold on a minute. Ice cream man coming down block.
(Hero/Author Ben Kenny goes to get ice cream. He assures his third person narrator, who, sadly, cannot enjoy the taste of said ice cream, that it is fucking delicious.)
Where were we... oh yes, five days off of work.
I'm using the time to help the person I bought my home(a duplex) from move his 70 years' worth of possessions out. Everything he wanted to take with him is pretty much gone, leaving me with an empty first floor and a basement filled to the brim with odds and ends that I'm either carrying to the curb, putting into the "maybe" pile, or saving for personal use.
I hope to have the upstairs apartment, where I currently reside, on the market by September 1st, giving me about two months to do "light rehab" work on the first floor apartment, which I intend to make my permanent abode. I need to paint things to my liking, and will attempt to replace or refinish the floors, as the carpeting is ancient, and needs to come up and out. Should be fun, David Carradine style.
Homeownership is a real motherfucker, that I know for sure. The "worth it" part is a few decades down the line, I guess.
Used my first day off to take in Public Enemies, which is a really fantastically made and acted film. The camera work and editing still stick out in my head. See that shit, yo.
That apartment by the way? I'm renting it out for 420 bucks, plus utilities. Maybe less if you're a friend and/or associate of mine. Two bedrooms, new appliances, semi-pet friendly, in a quiet, residential neighborhood. Get the word out on that shit, yo.
Oh milky-white-skinned emo girls, how I pine for thee. Until I have a conversation with you. Great band. Rainer Maria.
I am tearing through pizza places in an attempt to find my "home" parlor. There have to be at least a dozen independently owned pizza places within five miles of my place. My stomach is having it's own personal Summer of Love.
More to come when it warranted. Even equal or maybe better, if it's got a warrantee.
Later, paralyzed crazy lady.-BK
Hold on a minute. Ice cream man coming down block.
(Hero/Author Ben Kenny goes to get ice cream. He assures his third person narrator, who, sadly, cannot enjoy the taste of said ice cream, that it is fucking delicious.)
Where were we... oh yes, five days off of work.
I'm using the time to help the person I bought my home(a duplex) from move his 70 years' worth of possessions out. Everything he wanted to take with him is pretty much gone, leaving me with an empty first floor and a basement filled to the brim with odds and ends that I'm either carrying to the curb, putting into the "maybe" pile, or saving for personal use.
I hope to have the upstairs apartment, where I currently reside, on the market by September 1st, giving me about two months to do "light rehab" work on the first floor apartment, which I intend to make my permanent abode. I need to paint things to my liking, and will attempt to replace or refinish the floors, as the carpeting is ancient, and needs to come up and out. Should be fun, David Carradine style.
Homeownership is a real motherfucker, that I know for sure. The "worth it" part is a few decades down the line, I guess.
Used my first day off to take in Public Enemies, which is a really fantastically made and acted film. The camera work and editing still stick out in my head. See that shit, yo.
That apartment by the way? I'm renting it out for 420 bucks, plus utilities. Maybe less if you're a friend and/or associate of mine. Two bedrooms, new appliances, semi-pet friendly, in a quiet, residential neighborhood. Get the word out on that shit, yo.
Oh milky-white-skinned emo girls, how I pine for thee. Until I have a conversation with you. Great band. Rainer Maria.
I am tearing through pizza places in an attempt to find my "home" parlor. There have to be at least a dozen independently owned pizza places within five miles of my place. My stomach is having it's own personal Summer of Love.
More to come when it warranted. Even equal or maybe better, if it's got a warrantee.
Later, paralyzed crazy lady.-BK
Monday, June 29, 2009
Champagne from a paper cup.
So I've been riding the bus for a while now. Although I can (barely)afford to buy another car, I think I'm going to stick to public transport for the next month or six.
In actuality, "the bus" is generally not all that bad. I am saving money, both on transportation and eating out, and am so much more organized than I ever was before. I know EXACTLY what time I need to be at the stop, and my life revolves around that time, no matter where I may be going to or coming from. I carry much less shit with me. No more lugging my laptop around, or a plethora of notebooks, etc.. It's just my food for the day, a single notebook, a simple house key, maybe a rain jacket, etc.. I am also losing weight, as I walk almost three miles home from the busway nightly, as the buses don't run towards my neighborhood that late. I get to do a lot of thinking on those walks, as my iPod shit the bed, and I've got more pressing ways to spend dollars.
Lately, I've been going back and forth about the status of my life, i.e. direction or lack thereof. The thing is, I've never, as long as I've been alive, really felt the need to move my life in any sort of direction. I am content to take things a day at a time, and to make the most of most everyday I can. I define "the most" as anything from catching up on sleep and watching South Park on DVD, to cleaning my place from head to toe and riding my bike twenty miles.
Well, not really. I never clean my place.
Anyways, something that's been fucking killing me lately is comedy, and my relation to it. You see, comedy is the only thing in my life that I feel "home" doing. This kills me, because I have been in a severe creative rut lately. I am not writing as much or as well as I was in years past, and I do not want to bring shit to the stage. I never, ever, force myself to write. I let it come to me, and it just hasn't been coming like I want it to, and it's so confusing.
Also, I've sort of reached a breaking point with the Pittsburgh scene. As a creative person, I draw inspiration from the people, as well as the things, around me, and quite frankly, the majority of Pittsburgh comics don't really... uh, just "ugh" I guess. I'm not going to insult people I've come to respect.
If you don't like them, you deserve to die a horrible death and an IRS audit.
Unions aren't Socialist at all.-BK
In actuality, "the bus" is generally not all that bad. I am saving money, both on transportation and eating out, and am so much more organized than I ever was before. I know EXACTLY what time I need to be at the stop, and my life revolves around that time, no matter where I may be going to or coming from. I carry much less shit with me. No more lugging my laptop around, or a plethora of notebooks, etc.. It's just my food for the day, a single notebook, a simple house key, maybe a rain jacket, etc.. I am also losing weight, as I walk almost three miles home from the busway nightly, as the buses don't run towards my neighborhood that late. I get to do a lot of thinking on those walks, as my iPod shit the bed, and I've got more pressing ways to spend dollars.
Lately, I've been going back and forth about the status of my life, i.e. direction or lack thereof. The thing is, I've never, as long as I've been alive, really felt the need to move my life in any sort of direction. I am content to take things a day at a time, and to make the most of most everyday I can. I define "the most" as anything from catching up on sleep and watching South Park on DVD, to cleaning my place from head to toe and riding my bike twenty miles.
Well, not really. I never clean my place.
Anyways, something that's been fucking killing me lately is comedy, and my relation to it. You see, comedy is the only thing in my life that I feel "home" doing. This kills me, because I have been in a severe creative rut lately. I am not writing as much or as well as I was in years past, and I do not want to bring shit to the stage. I never, ever, force myself to write. I let it come to me, and it just hasn't been coming like I want it to, and it's so confusing.
Also, I've sort of reached a breaking point with the Pittsburgh scene. As a creative person, I draw inspiration from the people, as well as the things, around me, and quite frankly, the majority of Pittsburgh comics don't really... uh, just "ugh" I guess. I'm not going to insult people I've come to respect.
If you don't like them, you deserve to die a horrible death and an IRS audit.
Unions aren't Socialist at all.-BK
Saturday, June 27, 2009
The Glove will never fit another.
I cannot believe Michael Jackson is dead. I was born in 1984, and he was the first person I ever idolized. When I was six or seven, I had a black leather jacket with zippers all over it, just like the one he wore in the Bad video. As simply as it can be put, his work wasn't merely part of pop culture, it was pop culture.
It's an easy time to take shots at the man, but, for the most part, I'm not doing it. His life was extraordinary in every aspect, both good and bad. He was a flawed person, probably a tortured soul, denied his youth and ostracized for attempting to reclaim a part of it. He helped tens of millions of people through his music, charity work, and simple presence.
Find me one album with the production level and general start-to-finish awesomeness of Thriller, I fucking dare you to.
Thanks for the music Michael, you gave more of yourself than you could handle, and I will cherish your memory always.
I guarantee you Weird Al sees a rise in sales.-BK
Monday, June 8, 2009
You can't catch the 21F today.
Where the fuck have I been?
Well, I decided to take a bit of time away from blogging in order to dedicate more of myself to Tweeting.
Christ, that might be the most depressing sentence I've ever written, and yes, I'm including my early comedy material in that conclusion.
Twitter, though addictive, is pretty fucking dumb. Stike that. Twitter isn't dumb, it's users, however, seem to be, by and large, very stupid. I'm no Steven Wright, but I'm far and away better in short form than the majority of "Tweeters" comedians, both famous and non, included.
The thing is, just because something is short does not mean it's okay to be thoughtless! Stop, stand back from your thought, and make it interesting! Twitter is just proving that we're a dull, television obsessed, lazy society.
Ugh.
My life has pretty much been almost total shit this last month or so. Yes, I have my house, but in acquiring it, and dealing, in my own "barely-functioning alcoholic" way, with the stress(es) involved, I've pushed away, seemingly permanently, a few people who I value and respect much more than I let on. It's not fair to them, and if they happen to read this, maybe the previous words can say more than my mumbled phone voice could. Sorry, but it's best for both of us. Well, I really only care about me, ok? It's best for fucking me.
This sentence's purpose is to let you know that Sammy Hagar is/was the best singer of Van Halen.
I stopped drinking. The hard way. For the time being. Hopefully for an entire year, but time, stress, and my addiction to fun will tell. When you wake up behind the steering wheel of a crashed car, you're forced to face the hard truth about your lifestyle, and your lack of self control. Luckily, I did not injure or kill anyone, but I very easily could've, and I know for a fact I would not have been able to go on living if that had happened, so, logically, I can't let that happen. Because I aspire to get into idealized Christian heaven, and suicide is wrong, yo.
Look for me to be "stepping my blog game up" in the future. Maybe not to my former daily posting self, but a few times a week.
"And all I remember, was how hard we tried, only to surrender."-BK
Well, I decided to take a bit of time away from blogging in order to dedicate more of myself to Tweeting.
Christ, that might be the most depressing sentence I've ever written, and yes, I'm including my early comedy material in that conclusion.
Twitter, though addictive, is pretty fucking dumb. Stike that. Twitter isn't dumb, it's users, however, seem to be, by and large, very stupid. I'm no Steven Wright, but I'm far and away better in short form than the majority of "Tweeters" comedians, both famous and non, included.
The thing is, just because something is short does not mean it's okay to be thoughtless! Stop, stand back from your thought, and make it interesting! Twitter is just proving that we're a dull, television obsessed, lazy society.
Ugh.
My life has pretty much been almost total shit this last month or so. Yes, I have my house, but in acquiring it, and dealing, in my own "barely-functioning alcoholic" way, with the stress(es) involved, I've pushed away, seemingly permanently, a few people who I value and respect much more than I let on. It's not fair to them, and if they happen to read this, maybe the previous words can say more than my mumbled phone voice could. Sorry, but it's best for both of us. Well, I really only care about me, ok? It's best for fucking me.
This sentence's purpose is to let you know that Sammy Hagar is/was the best singer of Van Halen.
I stopped drinking. The hard way. For the time being. Hopefully for an entire year, but time, stress, and my addiction to fun will tell. When you wake up behind the steering wheel of a crashed car, you're forced to face the hard truth about your lifestyle, and your lack of self control. Luckily, I did not injure or kill anyone, but I very easily could've, and I know for a fact I would not have been able to go on living if that had happened, so, logically, I can't let that happen. Because I aspire to get into idealized Christian heaven, and suicide is wrong, yo.
Look for me to be "stepping my blog game up" in the future. Maybe not to my former daily posting self, but a few times a week.
"And all I remember, was how hard we tried, only to surrender."-BK
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Little Jesus are you watching me?
Saw a hipster kid on my way out of the bank. Plunging v-neck shirt revealing some retarded phrase tattooed across his breastbone, cardigan, ridiculous sunglasses, expensive haircut, tight jeans, etc. I have never felt the need/desire to commit a random act of violence before this morning. I wanted to turn around and just hit him until I got tired, or arrested, but I didn't, as I needed to get to Taco Bell before the lunch rush hit.
I had a cheese roll-up, triple layer nachos, and a bean burrito. It was spectacular. Haven't even been farting more than I normally fart, which is more than enough already.
I'm now a homeowner. Closing on a house is pretty much the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever done. Well, that, and watching the body to make sure it was going to sink. Think I'll stick with acquiring property, as the scheming is so much more intense and adrenalizing, Fret not, I'll still kill people, but I'll keep to the forest(s) of PA for disposal-related matters.
There is a huge pile of clothing that I am either too fat, too skinny, or too tasteful to wear in the center of my living room. Some lucky hipster's going to hit it big at the Red, White, and Blue Thrift Store sometime next week. To those midwestern folks reading this, the RWB blows both Salvation Army and Goodwill thrift stores out of the water. It's like a regular store, but full of awesomeness and groovy, groovy deals.
That's right. I'm bringin' "groovy" back, both as a word, and a vibe.
I know I've been away from long form life status updating for a bit. Just imagine how awesome you think it was, and then add Slayer, and you might have a close approximation.
The made-up is way funnier than actually subtitling it.-BK
I had a cheese roll-up, triple layer nachos, and a bean burrito. It was spectacular. Haven't even been farting more than I normally fart, which is more than enough already.
I'm now a homeowner. Closing on a house is pretty much the most nerve-wracking thing I've ever done. Well, that, and watching the body to make sure it was going to sink. Think I'll stick with acquiring property, as the scheming is so much more intense and adrenalizing, Fret not, I'll still kill people, but I'll keep to the forest(s) of PA for disposal-related matters.
There is a huge pile of clothing that I am either too fat, too skinny, or too tasteful to wear in the center of my living room. Some lucky hipster's going to hit it big at the Red, White, and Blue Thrift Store sometime next week. To those midwestern folks reading this, the RWB blows both Salvation Army and Goodwill thrift stores out of the water. It's like a regular store, but full of awesomeness and groovy, groovy deals.
That's right. I'm bringin' "groovy" back, both as a word, and a vibe.
I know I've been away from long form life status updating for a bit. Just imagine how awesome you think it was, and then add Slayer, and you might have a close approximation.
The made-up is way funnier than actually subtitling it.-BK
Friday, May 1, 2009
Purchased Music.
Goddamn. Old school alternative. Fucking killer! Thank you Terry Jones!
So the Wolverine movie was a substantial disappointment. The visuals were cool, if somewhat cartoonish, but the writing was oh so horrible! The one-liners fell flat(in a packed theater), the actors seemed restricted instead of hammy, and the audience could not get behind Logan, probably because he had too many enemies to juggle.
Sabretooth is a great villian, as are Stryker and Weapon X. Any of the three could provide a great nemesis to Wolverine, but all three together are too distracting and don't give the audience a chance to really get to hate any of them.
What they did to Deadpool is inexcusable, and Gambit has to be getting set up for a bigger role in the sequels.
Ate veggie lasagna yesterday. I now have a severe gas leak. No tangible visual results as of yet. It was delicious though, and I'd eat it again.
I wear down tires way too fast on my car, even by my aggressive driving standards. Gotta get an alignment check or some shit.
These are all hilarious! Little Britain over any other sketch show out today! Even though I don't have cable...
Alright folks, I am fucking tired of the double standard women put forward! I had the misfortune of encountering a bachelor party at, of all places, the Smiling Moose a few weekends ago. Chicks drunk on light beer collectively adorned with more phalluses than the entire inventory of many adult stores. However, I am uncouth in my "the boss let me borrow the work van, wanna fuck in it?" approach(es)? I think I need to move to another era. 1950's, I'm lookin' at you!
Sign of adulthood #381: While strolling through Millvale, I noticed a young man smoking a cigarette. As a youth, and currently, when drunk, I myself have been known to take a puff or two. But I made a mistake today. Without even thinking, I look at this kid and say "what are you, fucking twelve!?" and keep walking the opposite direction. I've become the Man. God help me. Gold help us all.
God probably wouldn't help me until He's helped all of you though, on account of my atheism. But I have kept quiet about a certain Father Klinger all these years, so you never know. He owes me a solid.
I smoke whatever's available when I'm drunk, by the way. Cigarette wise, I mean. All smoke tastes the same, i.e. bad, but it's an orally pleasant activity, and swine flu is going to kill us all, so fuck it, ya know?
I may have listened to INXS in excess! (Yes, I'm that good.)
One thing at a time, hombre.-BK
So the Wolverine movie was a substantial disappointment. The visuals were cool, if somewhat cartoonish, but the writing was oh so horrible! The one-liners fell flat(in a packed theater), the actors seemed restricted instead of hammy, and the audience could not get behind Logan, probably because he had too many enemies to juggle.
Sabretooth is a great villian, as are Stryker and Weapon X. Any of the three could provide a great nemesis to Wolverine, but all three together are too distracting and don't give the audience a chance to really get to hate any of them.
What they did to Deadpool is inexcusable, and Gambit has to be getting set up for a bigger role in the sequels.
Ate veggie lasagna yesterday. I now have a severe gas leak. No tangible visual results as of yet. It was delicious though, and I'd eat it again.
I wear down tires way too fast on my car, even by my aggressive driving standards. Gotta get an alignment check or some shit.
These are all hilarious! Little Britain over any other sketch show out today! Even though I don't have cable...
Alright folks, I am fucking tired of the double standard women put forward! I had the misfortune of encountering a bachelor party at, of all places, the Smiling Moose a few weekends ago. Chicks drunk on light beer collectively adorned with more phalluses than the entire inventory of many adult stores. However, I am uncouth in my "the boss let me borrow the work van, wanna fuck in it?" approach(es)? I think I need to move to another era. 1950's, I'm lookin' at you!
Sign of adulthood #381: While strolling through Millvale, I noticed a young man smoking a cigarette. As a youth, and currently, when drunk, I myself have been known to take a puff or two. But I made a mistake today. Without even thinking, I look at this kid and say "what are you, fucking twelve!?" and keep walking the opposite direction. I've become the Man. God help me. Gold help us all.
God probably wouldn't help me until He's helped all of you though, on account of my atheism. But I have kept quiet about a certain Father Klinger all these years, so you never know. He owes me a solid.
I smoke whatever's available when I'm drunk, by the way. Cigarette wise, I mean. All smoke tastes the same, i.e. bad, but it's an orally pleasant activity, and swine flu is going to kill us all, so fuck it, ya know?
I may have listened to INXS in excess! (Yes, I'm that good.)
One thing at a time, hombre.-BK
Thursday, April 30, 2009
You know that I could use somebody.
Swine flu mania strikes the Iron City! Saw my first medical mask-wearing dummy at the airport today. I'm fairly sure they were wearing the mask as a cute, but utterly useless deterrent, because run of the mill germaphobes are not morbidly obese, and they sure as hell don't pick up newspapers.
Christ, Westerners are pathetic! Do you know how many people in the Third World have some sort of respiratory influenza right now?? How many are getting antibiotics? We should follow their example and just go away for a few days, and if we don't die, come back to our houses, which aren't, coincidentally, made of dung and four miles from a well. Man up, America!
I've been thinking of growing a hipster mustache. Or a child molester mustache. I'm not really sure what difference, if any there is, but I don't think I have the long term commitment required to pull it off. It would take me literally six weeks to grow any sort of discernible mustache, and even then, half the kids in your average middle school could put me to shame. Besides, I don't really need the mustache to look like the kind of dude who might be prone to twittering a kid or three. Genetics took care of that quite well already.
Now that the Kings of Leon are famous, the hipsters have abandoned them, which is good for people like you, and people like me. Notice how I didn't say "people like you and me?" It's because very few people are like me. This is both good and bad, often at the same time. Anyways, Kings of Leon are really good, and worthy of your music-buying dollar. White boy soul never gets old or cliche. Michael McDonald would be proud.
Speaking of Michael McDonald... RECOGNIZE! Fucker can s-i-n-g!
I put fake Italian sausage in some pasta last night. It was very good. The Dr. Pepper only made things better.
I would like to start drinking wine with the meals I am getting more into cooking, but I know my palate is not sophisticated enough, and if I'm paying that kind of money for booze, I'd prefer to hang with my tried and true friend, Mr. Daniel's. Jack is like a dog that never runs away and always sticks his head out of the window while you're driving. (Don't worry, it makes sense to me.)
I still have much to learn in this life.
Re-emerging myself in the music of The Beatles, in particular, Rubber Soul and Revolver. How did four men and various side musicians and producers make such great music happen as amazingly as they did? Worse than The Riddle of Steel, this is. Less than three minutes in length, but entirely timeless.
Seriously, close your eyes and play the video above again. If you don't understand that you're insignificant immediately, kill yourself.
It's not like a fetish or anything, I mean, I don't NEED you to be covered in nacho cheese or anything...-BK
Christ, Westerners are pathetic! Do you know how many people in the Third World have some sort of respiratory influenza right now?? How many are getting antibiotics? We should follow their example and just go away for a few days, and if we don't die, come back to our houses, which aren't, coincidentally, made of dung and four miles from a well. Man up, America!
I've been thinking of growing a hipster mustache. Or a child molester mustache. I'm not really sure what difference, if any there is, but I don't think I have the long term commitment required to pull it off. It would take me literally six weeks to grow any sort of discernible mustache, and even then, half the kids in your average middle school could put me to shame. Besides, I don't really need the mustache to look like the kind of dude who might be prone to twittering a kid or three. Genetics took care of that quite well already.
Now that the Kings of Leon are famous, the hipsters have abandoned them, which is good for people like you, and people like me. Notice how I didn't say "people like you and me?" It's because very few people are like me. This is both good and bad, often at the same time. Anyways, Kings of Leon are really good, and worthy of your music-buying dollar. White boy soul never gets old or cliche. Michael McDonald would be proud.
Speaking of Michael McDonald... RECOGNIZE! Fucker can s-i-n-g!
I put fake Italian sausage in some pasta last night. It was very good. The Dr. Pepper only made things better.
I would like to start drinking wine with the meals I am getting more into cooking, but I know my palate is not sophisticated enough, and if I'm paying that kind of money for booze, I'd prefer to hang with my tried and true friend, Mr. Daniel's. Jack is like a dog that never runs away and always sticks his head out of the window while you're driving. (Don't worry, it makes sense to me.)
I still have much to learn in this life.
Re-emerging myself in the music of The Beatles, in particular, Rubber Soul and Revolver. How did four men and various side musicians and producers make such great music happen as amazingly as they did? Worse than The Riddle of Steel, this is. Less than three minutes in length, but entirely timeless.
Seriously, close your eyes and play the video above again. If you don't understand that you're insignificant immediately, kill yourself.
It's not like a fetish or anything, I mean, I don't NEED you to be covered in nacho cheese or anything...-BK
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Gilbert Grape Juice.
He is too fearless and true to his heart to be as famous as he deserves to be. Definitely one of the torch bearers for me.
I put these bastards together for dinner last night. Morningstar burgers with melted American and Cheddar cheese diced up so the buns could better receive them. Fried up some peppers for them too. Very, very good.
I've been trying to motivate myself to start exercising again, in small doses, but even that seems too much to ask of me. Maybe I've been drinking too much instead of dancing. I used to dance for at least two hours a few nights a week, but I've cut that down and refocused that energy on booze. Best to turn the tables. By the way, I don't just "sway" when I dance. I get physical. I like to wave my arms, stomp my feet, spin/twirl around, and be a sweaty, carefree manbeast out there. I gotta find that fire again! Just writing about it makes me miss it!
This blew my mind. Soooooooo creative. Last clip is incredible!
Friday is Wolverine. Which means Terminator is on the horizon, growing steadily larger. It's going to be a great movie summer!
Speaking of Terminator, "they" cancelled TTSCC! This makes me very made. It's really shitty for networks to change a program's timeslot to Friday nights. Especially a science-fiction/action program. It's demographic of 18-40 year-old men is out doing things on Friday nights, and the nerd core is not strong enough to draw advertising dollars with it's meager Nielson numbers! Oh well, guess I'll just drink on Fridays now. Friday night used to be the traditional Ben Kenny night of rest, but unless and until some other show captures my heart, booze will work it's way back onto the scene.
Twitter is popular because it's easy. It's not some revolution, or a new era. It's just easy and quick, the way Americans, and from our influence, the world, likes it.
So this Swine Flu seems to be a real bad ass motherfucker. Better stock up on ginger ale and make sure I have saltines and toast. I ain't scared if I got saltines! Do your worst!
Running both at the same time is not advisable.-BK
I put these bastards together for dinner last night. Morningstar burgers with melted American and Cheddar cheese diced up so the buns could better receive them. Fried up some peppers for them too. Very, very good.
I've been trying to motivate myself to start exercising again, in small doses, but even that seems too much to ask of me. Maybe I've been drinking too much instead of dancing. I used to dance for at least two hours a few nights a week, but I've cut that down and refocused that energy on booze. Best to turn the tables. By the way, I don't just "sway" when I dance. I get physical. I like to wave my arms, stomp my feet, spin/twirl around, and be a sweaty, carefree manbeast out there. I gotta find that fire again! Just writing about it makes me miss it!
This blew my mind. Soooooooo creative. Last clip is incredible!
Friday is Wolverine. Which means Terminator is on the horizon, growing steadily larger. It's going to be a great movie summer!
Speaking of Terminator, "they" cancelled TTSCC! This makes me very made. It's really shitty for networks to change a program's timeslot to Friday nights. Especially a science-fiction/action program. It's demographic of 18-40 year-old men is out doing things on Friday nights, and the nerd core is not strong enough to draw advertising dollars with it's meager Nielson numbers! Oh well, guess I'll just drink on Fridays now. Friday night used to be the traditional Ben Kenny night of rest, but unless and until some other show captures my heart, booze will work it's way back onto the scene.
Twitter is popular because it's easy. It's not some revolution, or a new era. It's just easy and quick, the way Americans, and from our influence, the world, likes it.
So this Swine Flu seems to be a real bad ass motherfucker. Better stock up on ginger ale and make sure I have saltines and toast. I ain't scared if I got saltines! Do your worst!
Running both at the same time is not advisable.-BK
Monday, April 27, 2009
Peen.
This month's GQ has a great interview with Jay Leno. I never liked Leno when I was younger, in part, probably, because he is so damn likable without looking to be liked. What I used to think was hacky I now realize is smart business, and Jay Leno and his staff are very good at that business. This is a group of people who write and perform wide ranging stand-up comedy that is performed nightly for tens of millions of people, and they've been doing it for almost twenty years.
Contest happened. I'm not even sure if I can say I did bad or good. I was there, existing, and that will have to be enough.
One of the best frontmen ever. Genre unimportant.
If I were a pro wrestler, this would be my entrance theme.
Woke up this morning. Used the washroom. Retired to bed until 2:30 PM. Yes!
I'm thinking Arby's as well.-BK
Contest happened. I'm not even sure if I can say I did bad or good. I was there, existing, and that will have to be enough.
One of the best frontmen ever. Genre unimportant.
If I were a pro wrestler, this would be my entrance theme.
Woke up this morning. Used the washroom. Retired to bed until 2:30 PM. Yes!
I'm thinking Arby's as well.-BK
Friday, April 24, 2009
If you only hear it in the night.
This house is going to fucking be mine, and it's both exciting and utterly terrifying.
It takes roughly, 4:13 to get home from Belvedere's whilst drunk at 1:24 in the morning with, in the words of the Konkdaddy, "a mighty poo a-brewin'." Thought you might like to know that. Don't know how long it will take with the new place. It's further, and by common logic, longer, so I may need to locate, field test, explore, and refine, "emergency" option(s.)
Hey fuck-suck! Yes, you! Got nothing to do on Saturday night!? Well, you and your associate(s), family members, pussy/cock connection(s), and life-long friends should come out to the Royal Place, and watch me win the comedy contest. That's right, I intend to dominate the fuck out of it! This is where lesser comedians (i.e. every comedian not Ben Kenny) would beg you to vote for them, but I know that you will anyways, as I'm going to be miles above and kilometers further than any other comic there. That's a guarantee you can take to the motherfucking bank! Please use PNC though, as I hate service fees.
Seriously, my beloved bitches, it's only five bucks, and the drinks are about as cheap as you're ass is gonna find in the Iron City on a Saturday night. Besides, it would mean a significant amount of a lot to me if yinz folks could make it out. Tell them you came to see Ben Kenny, and make sure your bring protection. It's going to be like a Gallagher show, circa 1987, but with slightly less blood and screaming. Contact me for more info and directions, or just if you're feeling lonely and need a friendly finger or two to ride. I offer the fingers, because I'm drunk on the weekends, and I get mad whiskey dick.
I used to have khaki Dickies. Sometimes, in the middle of the night/early morning, like when this was written, I sigh, and miss them with all of my heart.
Here's a song that is not heard nearly enough these days.
Eighties was pretty "off" feeling last night. Or perhaps it just felt that way because I was sober.
Anyone dumb enough to let family manage their career deserves to lose money.-BK
It takes roughly, 4:13 to get home from Belvedere's whilst drunk at 1:24 in the morning with, in the words of the Konkdaddy, "a mighty poo a-brewin'." Thought you might like to know that. Don't know how long it will take with the new place. It's further, and by common logic, longer, so I may need to locate, field test, explore, and refine, "emergency" option(s.)
Hey fuck-suck! Yes, you! Got nothing to do on Saturday night!? Well, you and your associate(s), family members, pussy/cock connection(s), and life-long friends should come out to the Royal Place, and watch me win the comedy contest. That's right, I intend to dominate the fuck out of it! This is where lesser comedians (i.e. every comedian not Ben Kenny) would beg you to vote for them, but I know that you will anyways, as I'm going to be miles above and kilometers further than any other comic there. That's a guarantee you can take to the motherfucking bank! Please use PNC though, as I hate service fees.
Seriously, my beloved bitches, it's only five bucks, and the drinks are about as cheap as you're ass is gonna find in the Iron City on a Saturday night. Besides, it would mean a significant amount of a lot to me if yinz folks could make it out. Tell them you came to see Ben Kenny, and make sure your bring protection. It's going to be like a Gallagher show, circa 1987, but with slightly less blood and screaming. Contact me for more info and directions, or just if you're feeling lonely and need a friendly finger or two to ride. I offer the fingers, because I'm drunk on the weekends, and I get mad whiskey dick.
I used to have khaki Dickies. Sometimes, in the middle of the night/early morning, like when this was written, I sigh, and miss them with all of my heart.
Here's a song that is not heard nearly enough these days.
Eighties was pretty "off" feeling last night. Or perhaps it just felt that way because I was sober.
Anyone dumb enough to let family manage their career deserves to lose money.-BK
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Personal Legend.
I thought about Taylor Swift's pubic hair grooming habits today. It's best not to ask why, and just accept, like with Dane Cook. Mostly because my lack of an answer would force me to spin into an uncontrollable, Hulk-like rage.
Departed work early to see a baseball game. Sat in the absolute front row, on the baseline, trying not to stare at the asses of the first base coaches. These were the best seats I've ever had. We were literally close enough to see players flinch a little when others in our section heckled them, and at least twenty balls were thrown to our area of the course of the game.
Being this close does give one a new respect for the athleticism and skill required to play the game at the level they play, but they still make too much money!
Here are a few crappy cell phone pictures. The stadium was empty because it was fifty degrees and raining, and because it was the Pittsburgh Pirates against the Seattle Mariners.
I found myself at a Mazda dealership the other day, and a salesperson approached me. I hurled my feces at him. It's my subtle way of telling him I really am "just looking." The Mazda3 hatchback is a tight car though. Very tight. Sexy, yet attainable, much like Jenna Fischer. If I had to choose though, I'd take the car. Women don't come with steering wheel audio controls, something I miss dearly from my Saab era. Although it broke down all the time, it was still the most fun car I've ever had, and Mazda's engineering is comparable.
Recently, Rolling Stone actually ran a story about a legitimate musical talent, a man by the name of Kris Kristofferson.
Over the course of his life, the man has been an Army officer, a helicopter pilot, a singer/songwriter, actor, father to eight kids, daily drinker, political activist, and above all, a free spirit. He is America. Good, bad, ugly, and beautiful. He is a national treasure, and he'd probably punch you in the face for calling him one.
He wrote what I consider to be the best "country" lyric of all-time, quintessential, in fact:
"An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day."
He's written countless songs for countless artists, and I chose this version of one especially because it is so drastically different from the popular version. Janis sang it with a lot of soul, which is great, but Johnny sat back a little, and let the weight of the words, the hurt and longing, sink into your heart.
I very much like Tweeting/Twittering. At least for the moment. Seems to be a tasty cultural flavor of the month. Easier than blogging, and twice as futile and stupid. Not onboard yet? Click right fucking here, or just look to your right if your reading this via Blogspot.
I know what you mean, except I've been asleep all day.-BK
Departed work early to see a baseball game. Sat in the absolute front row, on the baseline, trying not to stare at the asses of the first base coaches. These were the best seats I've ever had. We were literally close enough to see players flinch a little when others in our section heckled them, and at least twenty balls were thrown to our area of the course of the game.
Being this close does give one a new respect for the athleticism and skill required to play the game at the level they play, but they still make too much money!
Here are a few crappy cell phone pictures. The stadium was empty because it was fifty degrees and raining, and because it was the Pittsburgh Pirates against the Seattle Mariners.
I found myself at a Mazda dealership the other day, and a salesperson approached me. I hurled my feces at him. It's my subtle way of telling him I really am "just looking." The Mazda3 hatchback is a tight car though. Very tight. Sexy, yet attainable, much like Jenna Fischer. If I had to choose though, I'd take the car. Women don't come with steering wheel audio controls, something I miss dearly from my Saab era. Although it broke down all the time, it was still the most fun car I've ever had, and Mazda's engineering is comparable.
Recently, Rolling Stone actually ran a story about a legitimate musical talent, a man by the name of Kris Kristofferson.
Over the course of his life, the man has been an Army officer, a helicopter pilot, a singer/songwriter, actor, father to eight kids, daily drinker, political activist, and above all, a free spirit. He is America. Good, bad, ugly, and beautiful. He is a national treasure, and he'd probably punch you in the face for calling him one.
He wrote what I consider to be the best "country" lyric of all-time, quintessential, in fact:
"An' I shaved my face and combed my hair,
An' stumbled down the stairs to meet the day."
He's written countless songs for countless artists, and I chose this version of one especially because it is so drastically different from the popular version. Janis sang it with a lot of soul, which is great, but Johnny sat back a little, and let the weight of the words, the hurt and longing, sink into your heart.
I very much like Tweeting/Twittering. At least for the moment. Seems to be a tasty cultural flavor of the month. Easier than blogging, and twice as futile and stupid. Not onboard yet? Click right fucking here, or just look to your right if your reading this via Blogspot.
I know what you mean, except I've been asleep all day.-BK
Monday, April 20, 2009
I've jumped from every rooftop.
I did something I haven't done in literally years the other night. I went out to a local comedy show merely to watch. It was Terry Jones' DVD taping, and it was a really fun time. I don't have any recent recollection of being as happy for someone as I was for Terry that night. The room was absolutely packed with his friends, family, and even a few fellow comics out to support him. He is the hardest working comic I know, and his natural comedic ability combined with that work ethic is going to take him very far in this game. He's only twenty-two, and he's far, far better than people who've been around for a decade. What makes Terry a unique and rare comic talent is the fact that he is a genuinely nice, pure soul. He likes life, and himself, and I think, no, I know, a lot of comics in this town are jealous of him for that.
Although our styles couldn't be much more different, we've become great friends based on our shared opinions about comedy. We are both students of the great Masters, and we try to apply their lessons in our art.
And we're both artists. The other night, Terry talked about comedy as an art in his webcam chat, and he was spot on.
Stand up is the hardest performing art. You have no band, usually no collaborator or visuals, and it's expected that you're writing the material in addition to performing it. We both want to see comedy get it's due as an art form. Great art, regardless of medium or form, moves the public watching it. Comedy does that through laughter, which somehow makes it seem less legit than painting or reciting lines that you have no emotional investment in.
Terry is like a Terminator. Others sleep and he's out killing.
What do you mean you've got no more chips!?-BK
Although our styles couldn't be much more different, we've become great friends based on our shared opinions about comedy. We are both students of the great Masters, and we try to apply their lessons in our art.
And we're both artists. The other night, Terry talked about comedy as an art in his webcam chat, and he was spot on.
Stand up is the hardest performing art. You have no band, usually no collaborator or visuals, and it's expected that you're writing the material in addition to performing it. We both want to see comedy get it's due as an art form. Great art, regardless of medium or form, moves the public watching it. Comedy does that through laughter, which somehow makes it seem less legit than painting or reciting lines that you have no emotional investment in.
Terry is like a Terminator. Others sleep and he's out killing.
What do you mean you've got no more chips!?-BK
Friday, April 17, 2009
Let's see a frown!
Sometimes the world is against you, and you've got no one to rely upon but yourself, and you let it rip regardless. She seems like too polite of a woman to hold up both hands, middle fingers raised, but she has every right to. People like her inspire me to no end. I was truly moved by this. Sometimes, inherent goodness can triumph. Look for the reaction shots of Simon Cowell smiling. That says it all. The embedding codes on all the videos have been disabled, but click the link if you've ever had a dream.
I was looking forward to living it up yesterday, but I got a call from work, informing me that my presence was required at 5 AM this morning. Shit fuck!
I've driven past Dairy Queen about 8 times without ordering anything. I think that may change in the very near future.
What I would give to have been 17 years old instead of 1 year old in 1985.
It's the best movie about arm wrestling ever made.-BK
I was looking forward to living it up yesterday, but I got a call from work, informing me that my presence was required at 5 AM this morning. Shit fuck!
I've driven past Dairy Queen about 8 times without ordering anything. I think that may change in the very near future.
What I would give to have been 17 years old instead of 1 year old in 1985.
It's the best movie about arm wrestling ever made.-BK
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Bogo?
Went to see Observe and Report yesterday. Fittingly, I will now report my observations about the movie to you.
What a horrible movie. Movies, and storytelling in general, are only effective when we can sympathize and identify with the characters, especially the leads. Their was nothing likable or endearing about the Seth Rogen character in this movie, and if he has to be extremely likable to be watchable, as he doesn't have looks to compensate for weak writing. This movie had no villain or main challenge, either, which, in movies is akin to setting a lifeboat adrift in an ice flow. Just dumb all around.
I can understand the intent of this movie, the writer/director wanted to win the audience over, Bad Santa-style, but his talent is not grand enough to support his vision. The new breed of comedy film is incredibly disgusting, but none forget to include the underlying sweetness of the human relationships involved. This one did, and the only reason it got put out there is because of the star power of the headliner.
Show last night didn't materialize due to hockey.
Looks like I'm hitting St. James like Tyson hit Givens. Maybe 80's night too. I don't have a fighting simile for that one, sorry.
Just awesome.
Here's some more animation. Just because Ben Kenny loves you, and wants you to have a smidgen of happiness in your day!
Saw the back of my head in a mirror yesterday. Shit. Just "Shit.". I am going bald. I have a bald spot. I am not "thinning." I am fucking "balding." I am twenty-five years old, and my body is dying on me already. This is why I'm reluctant to quit drinking. I do not want to get started on my back hair, which seems to have become sentient. Again... Shit.
Sixty cents off of every gallon of gas at some point this week. Cashing in my Eagle Fuel Perks is a monthly highlight. It don't take much to make me happy folks.
I am still waiting for my camera to get back from the shop. Then I will tape myself drunk, and you will never see it.
Up the hill a ways.-BK
What a horrible movie. Movies, and storytelling in general, are only effective when we can sympathize and identify with the characters, especially the leads. Their was nothing likable or endearing about the Seth Rogen character in this movie, and if he has to be extremely likable to be watchable, as he doesn't have looks to compensate for weak writing. This movie had no villain or main challenge, either, which, in movies is akin to setting a lifeboat adrift in an ice flow. Just dumb all around.
I can understand the intent of this movie, the writer/director wanted to win the audience over, Bad Santa-style, but his talent is not grand enough to support his vision. The new breed of comedy film is incredibly disgusting, but none forget to include the underlying sweetness of the human relationships involved. This one did, and the only reason it got put out there is because of the star power of the headliner.
Show last night didn't materialize due to hockey.
Looks like I'm hitting St. James like Tyson hit Givens. Maybe 80's night too. I don't have a fighting simile for that one, sorry.
Just awesome.
Here's some more animation. Just because Ben Kenny loves you, and wants you to have a smidgen of happiness in your day!
Saw the back of my head in a mirror yesterday. Shit. Just "Shit.". I am going bald. I have a bald spot. I am not "thinning." I am fucking "balding." I am twenty-five years old, and my body is dying on me already. This is why I'm reluctant to quit drinking. I do not want to get started on my back hair, which seems to have become sentient. Again... Shit.
Sixty cents off of every gallon of gas at some point this week. Cashing in my Eagle Fuel Perks is a monthly highlight. It don't take much to make me happy folks.
I am still waiting for my camera to get back from the shop. Then I will tape myself drunk, and you will never see it.
Up the hill a ways.-BK
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Fake chicken nugget time!
Well, I fucking did it. Finally.
www.twitter.com/benkennycomedy
Subscribe, and follow virtually constant updates about the banal aspects of my daily "life." I'm going to "tweet" the fuck out of this town! This will make my Facebook status update frequency look pathetic. Be warned.
George Michael is like the Superman of the entertainment industry. Only one thing can kill him, but no one seems to know what it is. As an entertainer, I idolize the guy. Killer style, great voice, and unshakable confidence. Cool for thirty years now. Think about that for a second. Thirty fucking years in an industry as picky as music! Massive ability. Massive!
Seether's cover of this song is absolutely horrid, but everyone in Pittsburgh is too stupid to realize it.
Mmm... that George Michael was pretty tasty. Best to chase him with some Meat Loaf.
Meat Loaf is one of those performers whose art is only really effective when he's going full bore, 100%, no mercy, kill em' all, no fear style. Great art is about sweat, passion, heart, and flair. Meat Loaf had it in troves. He had(still has) a surplus of ass kicking talent.
---
Speaking of extraordinary talent, I put on pants, and went out in the rain to perform for about six people tonight. A lot of comedians are too "big" for a room like that, but fuck them. I had a great time, and more importantly, I was funny! I'd rather be performing for six people than no one, any night of the week, any place, anytime.
I think comedians who think a show is below them are fucking stupid. Especially in Pittsburgh. Blow me if you disagree, but please, be classy about it. By "classy" I mean no teeth.
Two days off. What to do?
I know! Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Eat some cookies, maybe make a little mac n' cheese, and sleep.
Being in Chicago for Easter kind of reaffirmed how lame the town is. It doesn't suck or anything, but it's not the greatest place ever. People are always surprised to find out I'm from the Windy City, and have willingly moved away from it. It's just a town, a place. It is the kind of place you make it out to be, I guess. I just didn't really want to live there forever. So I moved. Simple, right?
Honestly though, I will never move back to Chicago. Too much to see. Too much to do.
Been frying up some eggplant as of late. Shit's really good.
Monday, in addition to being the anniversary/remembrance of the Oklahoma City bombing, Waco massacre, Hitler's birthday, and pot smoker day, is the Shadow Lounge! I'll be there talking about all/some/none of the above, and I'll be worth watching. As if I wasn't enough to draw you away from whatever bullshit network reality television you watch every Monday, other comedians will be there too! I guarantee at least one good joke that sexualizes food. I think that's the Columbine anniversary too, but I celebrate that every hour of every day, so I'm not certain.
It's kind of weird, scary, and disturbing how much common ground I can find with a lot of the "extremists" in the world today. I think my atheism and relative lack of views based on race/ethnicity keep me on the other side of the river from most of them, and I'm pretty thankful and happy for that.
Politically, I firmly believe that the government's role and influence in the daily lives of Americans should be severely reduced, but I don't believe government itself is evil by default. I think once any entity gets too big and too old, it starts to die, and attempts to validate itself through domination. I also believe peanut butter anything is delicious!
It's not "gyro" you douches! A gyro stabilizes something. When's the last time you didn't have to shit within hours of eating one?! The Defense rests, Your Honor.-BK
www.twitter.com/benkennycomedy
Subscribe, and follow virtually constant updates about the banal aspects of my daily "life." I'm going to "tweet" the fuck out of this town! This will make my Facebook status update frequency look pathetic. Be warned.
George Michael is like the Superman of the entertainment industry. Only one thing can kill him, but no one seems to know what it is. As an entertainer, I idolize the guy. Killer style, great voice, and unshakable confidence. Cool for thirty years now. Think about that for a second. Thirty fucking years in an industry as picky as music! Massive ability. Massive!
Seether's cover of this song is absolutely horrid, but everyone in Pittsburgh is too stupid to realize it.
Mmm... that George Michael was pretty tasty. Best to chase him with some Meat Loaf.
Meat Loaf is one of those performers whose art is only really effective when he's going full bore, 100%, no mercy, kill em' all, no fear style. Great art is about sweat, passion, heart, and flair. Meat Loaf had it in troves. He had(still has) a surplus of ass kicking talent.
---
Speaking of extraordinary talent, I put on pants, and went out in the rain to perform for about six people tonight. A lot of comedians are too "big" for a room like that, but fuck them. I had a great time, and more importantly, I was funny! I'd rather be performing for six people than no one, any night of the week, any place, anytime.
I think comedians who think a show is below them are fucking stupid. Especially in Pittsburgh. Blow me if you disagree, but please, be classy about it. By "classy" I mean no teeth.
Two days off. What to do?
I know! Nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Eat some cookies, maybe make a little mac n' cheese, and sleep.
Being in Chicago for Easter kind of reaffirmed how lame the town is. It doesn't suck or anything, but it's not the greatest place ever. People are always surprised to find out I'm from the Windy City, and have willingly moved away from it. It's just a town, a place. It is the kind of place you make it out to be, I guess. I just didn't really want to live there forever. So I moved. Simple, right?
Honestly though, I will never move back to Chicago. Too much to see. Too much to do.
Been frying up some eggplant as of late. Shit's really good.
Monday, in addition to being the anniversary/remembrance of the Oklahoma City bombing, Waco massacre, Hitler's birthday, and pot smoker day, is the Shadow Lounge! I'll be there talking about all/some/none of the above, and I'll be worth watching. As if I wasn't enough to draw you away from whatever bullshit network reality television you watch every Monday, other comedians will be there too! I guarantee at least one good joke that sexualizes food. I think that's the Columbine anniversary too, but I celebrate that every hour of every day, so I'm not certain.
It's kind of weird, scary, and disturbing how much common ground I can find with a lot of the "extremists" in the world today. I think my atheism and relative lack of views based on race/ethnicity keep me on the other side of the river from most of them, and I'm pretty thankful and happy for that.
Politically, I firmly believe that the government's role and influence in the daily lives of Americans should be severely reduced, but I don't believe government itself is evil by default. I think once any entity gets too big and too old, it starts to die, and attempts to validate itself through domination. I also believe peanut butter anything is delicious!
It's not "gyro" you douches! A gyro stabilizes something. When's the last time you didn't have to shit within hours of eating one?! The Defense rests, Your Honor.-BK
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Terrifying.
Relaxing at home, or, in actuality, merely the house I grew up in. Ahhh.
Back in the swing of things in PGH next week. It's gonna be a big fucking week, too.
Tuesday, I'll be at the Smiling Moose, as regular as rain in Portland.
Wednesday, I'll be at The Obey House, with Brad Ryan, cracking wise and eating fries.
Thursday, maybe the St. James Place. Even though I may not make it, you should still go, as it's a good time.
Saturday is Terry Jones DVD taping. Be there for that shit. Fucking be there!
The 25th is the competition finals. Information on the will be forthcoming.
And now, some observations about DirectTV:
Hmmm. Patrick Swayze dying of cancer doesn't really justify the shitty-ass TV show he's in. It blows.
Dennis Quaid is a far better Doc Holliday than Val Kilmer, but Kurt Russell is a more badass Wyatt Earp than Kevin Costner.
Pale Rider is still better than both of the films alluded to above. Fiction kicks ass.
Superbad rocks too.
Quite possibly the best photo ever taken. At least the best non-sexual photo. Although I suppose somewhere, someone, is or will be getting off to it. This photo makes the April cover of the Life magazine in my head.
Only in Germany!
This is the best ever!-BK
Back in the swing of things in PGH next week. It's gonna be a big fucking week, too.
Tuesday, I'll be at the Smiling Moose, as regular as rain in Portland.
Wednesday, I'll be at The Obey House, with Brad Ryan, cracking wise and eating fries.
Thursday, maybe the St. James Place. Even though I may not make it, you should still go, as it's a good time.
Saturday is Terry Jones DVD taping. Be there for that shit. Fucking be there!
The 25th is the competition finals. Information on the will be forthcoming.
And now, some observations about DirectTV:
Hmmm. Patrick Swayze dying of cancer doesn't really justify the shitty-ass TV show he's in. It blows.
Dennis Quaid is a far better Doc Holliday than Val Kilmer, but Kurt Russell is a more badass Wyatt Earp than Kevin Costner.
Pale Rider is still better than both of the films alluded to above. Fiction kicks ass.
Superbad rocks too.
Quite possibly the best photo ever taken. At least the best non-sexual photo. Although I suppose somewhere, someone, is or will be getting off to it. This photo makes the April cover of the Life magazine in my head.
Only in Germany!
This is the best ever!-BK
Friday, April 10, 2009
...a part of the cure, or am I part of the disease?
I'm not writing as often because I'm "over" it, as the kids say. Everyone assumes I'm sad because I'm not shitting onto a keyboard everyday, but I'm still me, just with less of a general interest in electronic shitting at the moment.
What am I going to do this upcoming weekend in Chicago?
Good question. So glad you asked:
1. Eat pizza. Probably Phil's.
2. Drink.
3. Maybe head to the city, go dancing, call a girl I know who has a "coke dealer" apartment in a high rise that overlooks Lake Michigan, dance with her, grope her, et. al.
4. See my extended family, but not my parents, as they will be spending their Easter in Arizona, as they are old.
5. Probably hit a Noodles and Company. That place is fucking good!
6. Drink.
The consensus seems to be that my post about my disregard and lack of respect for police officers was overly aggressive and wrong. Well, the crowd is not always right.
This is a "pants pisser" of a good commercial. Memorable, and funny. Tears from the eyes of the Ben Kenny.
Eighties Night(nite?) was super fun yesterday. Quite drunk even before I rolled in. Met up with Steve and Trish, who're both old enough to remember Boy George with zero sense of irony. No dancing though. Had a sportcoat on, and sweat don't suit it very well.
Donora. A breathtaking local band that should no longer be local. They should be huge, and scoff and sigh pretentiously when interviewers mention their Pittsburgh roots. Cross the bridge out of this town slowly, while spreading an accelerant, and set it alight. Never look back, and never acknowledge it's existence. Keep Pittsburgh secret!
Relatively rare. The Great getting physical. Pryor doing "regular" comedy. Still crazy good, and better than virtually every comedian ever!
Bip, bop, bip, bop, bip, bop, bip, sha, la, la, te, da, la!-BK
What am I going to do this upcoming weekend in Chicago?
Good question. So glad you asked:
1. Eat pizza. Probably Phil's.
2. Drink.
3. Maybe head to the city, go dancing, call a girl I know who has a "coke dealer" apartment in a high rise that overlooks Lake Michigan, dance with her, grope her, et. al.
4. See my extended family, but not my parents, as they will be spending their Easter in Arizona, as they are old.
5. Probably hit a Noodles and Company. That place is fucking good!
6. Drink.
The consensus seems to be that my post about my disregard and lack of respect for police officers was overly aggressive and wrong. Well, the crowd is not always right.
This is a "pants pisser" of a good commercial. Memorable, and funny. Tears from the eyes of the Ben Kenny.
Eighties Night(nite?) was super fun yesterday. Quite drunk even before I rolled in. Met up with Steve and Trish, who're both old enough to remember Boy George with zero sense of irony. No dancing though. Had a sportcoat on, and sweat don't suit it very well.
Donora. A breathtaking local band that should no longer be local. They should be huge, and scoff and sigh pretentiously when interviewers mention their Pittsburgh roots. Cross the bridge out of this town slowly, while spreading an accelerant, and set it alight. Never look back, and never acknowledge it's existence. Keep Pittsburgh secret!
Relatively rare. The Great getting physical. Pryor doing "regular" comedy. Still crazy good, and better than virtually every comedian ever!
Bip, bop, bip, bop, bip, bop, bip, sha, la, la, te, da, la!-BK
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Double-sided marital aid.
In comedy, at the end of a set, an engagement, a career, and a life, only one thing ever truly matters. Making them laugh. PERIOD! It doesn't matter what "they" think of you after. Just make them fucking laugh DURING! If you can do that, no matter how you do it, you walk away a winner. No one can take that away from you. If they try, fucking stab them with something.
Been listening to Mastodon's new joint, Crack the Skye, pretty much nonstop. It's the best album I've heard in a long ass time, probably since NIN's With Teeth. Get on it.
One of the best songs ever, and incredible creativity and ability.
I grow fond of Jack and Gingers. Smoked two cigarettes last night. Naughty!
So many comedians yesterday. Not a whole lot to do about it.
Possibly the most underrated comic out there today.
I'm going upstairs for a pretzel, yo.-BK
Been listening to Mastodon's new joint, Crack the Skye, pretty much nonstop. It's the best album I've heard in a long ass time, probably since NIN's With Teeth. Get on it.
One of the best songs ever, and incredible creativity and ability.
I grow fond of Jack and Gingers. Smoked two cigarettes last night. Naughty!
So many comedians yesterday. Not a whole lot to do about it.
Possibly the most underrated comic out there today.
I'm going upstairs for a pretzel, yo.-BK
Monday, April 6, 2009
I know your mind is made up.
Shit, Goddamn, Velveeta is now making single serving sizes of their venerable shells and cheese. They cost a buck thirty-five, and instead of requiring you to mix powder like Easy Mac, come with a packet of cheese sauce. They are sooooo fucking good. Just the thing to nosh on at 5 AM before descending into Hell, AKA the bag room, for a fun-filled day of hurling luggage around.
Three Pittsburgh cops were recently killed in the line of duty, and I'm just sick of hearing about it!
Just because a cop got killed on the job does not make him a hero. It isn't a "tragedy" either. While it's certainly a shitty thing, cops aren't innocents. Cops are very well paid to do what they do, and the majority of their time, they aren't doing shit. Most cops go through their entire career without ever firing a round.
Let's be honest, the vast majority of police officers are dickheads. I'm a 25 year-old white guy with a clean description and newer car, and even I feel hassled by these pricks. Cops don't have the willpower or balls to take control as individuals, so they use a law enforcement career as some sore of gigantic bolster.
Cops write tickets to pay their salaries and partially finance the department's operations, not to keep you or the public safe. Cops don't care about you or me.
I guess what I'm trying to say has best been said already, so I'll drop the quote. In the words of the immortal O'shea Jackson, "Fuck da police!"
Forgot to mention a pretty kickin' rock show I attended the other evening after my pretty kickin' comedy show. I caught the end of The Cheats, a seminal PGH punk act, whom I enjoy quite a bit and the entire set by The River City Rebels, who I initially received poorly, but soon warmed up to. They played incredibly tight and basically impressed me, even if they're of the "Irish drinking song" punk ilk.
I used to totally hate punks, still keep my distance from them. Punk rock is inherently hypocritical in nature. Everyone has different definitions of what's punk, what isn't, what selling out is, what isn't, edge vs. drunk kids, skins, queers, etc... Just shut your fucking mouths, look towards the stage, and have a good time!
Had I been around and about town in the later seventies and early eighties I would most likely have been wearing leather pants instead of leather jackets, bracelets instead of tattoos, and a black or purple button up shirt instead of a wife beater. My hair would have been spectacular.
I may even make it out to Belvedere's this week. It has been too long since I sweated through my jeans. Too many goddamned hipsters there though.
Ben Kenny: "So what do you do?"
Douchebag Hipster Chick: "I'm an artist."
BK: "Uh huh... but how do you pay the rent and afford those laughable glasses?"
DHC: "Banquet waitress."
(BK stands silently. Drinks his High Life tall boy. Wants a flamethrower badly.)
END SCENE.
This show is cancelled while the entirety of ABC remains on the air. Proof that God is dead.
Beautiful weather today. Not really.
House drama continues. No mistakes on my part.
One of my favorite song quotes, especially because this is so purely pop. "And now you tell me that you're having my baby. I'll tell you that I'm happy if you want me to."
I think I'm going eat mashed potatoes for dinner. An entire box. Should be starchy, to say the least.
Been writing a lot lately. Feeling good about the new material.
Anal bleaching is the new obsession at work. We're a filthy lot. Seriously. I'm not much for it, but my coworkers take pictures of their bowel movements and text them to each other. It's mildly hilarious to see/hear people's reactions. I keep my poop private, although I'm still an occasional "proud papa" giving names to go along with descriptions. Ask me about "The Pentagon" sometime. I love my job.
I'm serious dude, it was just like that part in Wild Things!-BK
Three Pittsburgh cops were recently killed in the line of duty, and I'm just sick of hearing about it!
Just because a cop got killed on the job does not make him a hero. It isn't a "tragedy" either. While it's certainly a shitty thing, cops aren't innocents. Cops are very well paid to do what they do, and the majority of their time, they aren't doing shit. Most cops go through their entire career without ever firing a round.
Let's be honest, the vast majority of police officers are dickheads. I'm a 25 year-old white guy with a clean description and newer car, and even I feel hassled by these pricks. Cops don't have the willpower or balls to take control as individuals, so they use a law enforcement career as some sore of gigantic bolster.
Cops write tickets to pay their salaries and partially finance the department's operations, not to keep you or the public safe. Cops don't care about you or me.
I guess what I'm trying to say has best been said already, so I'll drop the quote. In the words of the immortal O'shea Jackson, "Fuck da police!"
Forgot to mention a pretty kickin' rock show I attended the other evening after my pretty kickin' comedy show. I caught the end of The Cheats, a seminal PGH punk act, whom I enjoy quite a bit and the entire set by The River City Rebels, who I initially received poorly, but soon warmed up to. They played incredibly tight and basically impressed me, even if they're of the "Irish drinking song" punk ilk.
I used to totally hate punks, still keep my distance from them. Punk rock is inherently hypocritical in nature. Everyone has different definitions of what's punk, what isn't, what selling out is, what isn't, edge vs. drunk kids, skins, queers, etc... Just shut your fucking mouths, look towards the stage, and have a good time!
Had I been around and about town in the later seventies and early eighties I would most likely have been wearing leather pants instead of leather jackets, bracelets instead of tattoos, and a black or purple button up shirt instead of a wife beater. My hair would have been spectacular.
I may even make it out to Belvedere's this week. It has been too long since I sweated through my jeans. Too many goddamned hipsters there though.
Ben Kenny: "So what do you do?"
Douchebag Hipster Chick: "I'm an artist."
BK: "Uh huh... but how do you pay the rent and afford those laughable glasses?"
DHC: "Banquet waitress."
(BK stands silently. Drinks his High Life tall boy. Wants a flamethrower badly.)
END SCENE.
This show is cancelled while the entirety of ABC remains on the air. Proof that God is dead.
Beautiful weather today. Not really.
House drama continues. No mistakes on my part.
One of my favorite song quotes, especially because this is so purely pop. "And now you tell me that you're having my baby. I'll tell you that I'm happy if you want me to."
I think I'm going eat mashed potatoes for dinner. An entire box. Should be starchy, to say the least.
Been writing a lot lately. Feeling good about the new material.
Anal bleaching is the new obsession at work. We're a filthy lot. Seriously. I'm not much for it, but my coworkers take pictures of their bowel movements and text them to each other. It's mildly hilarious to see/hear people's reactions. I keep my poop private, although I'm still an occasional "proud papa" giving names to go along with descriptions. Ask me about "The Pentagon" sometime. I love my job.
I'm serious dude, it was just like that part in Wild Things!-BK
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Where in London to find you.
Made me laugh.
Getting warmer. Have been sleeping naked in preparation for full time naked sleeping season, which is coming up soon.
Not a lot of sleep last night. Two hours. Pants/drawers would not have helped.
I found a bottle of green Tabasco sauce in on my shelf, and a copy of Se7en in my fridge. Go figure.
Oh shit. Company party in Las Vegas. Oh shit.
Big time moment of clarity at yesterday's show. It hit me onstage, during my set. I make people laugh. In doing so, I feel like I'm worth something, like I actually have something to offer to the world. As I've said before, it's not about being famous, or "making it." It's as simple as doing it. Any venue, any time, any audience. I never worry about money. I care much more, so much more, about exposure. I want hundreds, thousands, and millions of people to see me, and I want 80% of them to laugh, and to laugh from their fucking bellies. I never want to walk into a room and make everyone laugh. It's a sign of compromise, of weakness. I don't want to water down my material. I don't give a flying fuck if you're offended by my retard bit because you second cousin, "Special Jimbo" was born with a disability. I'm not making fun of him. I'm not singling him out. I make fun of society, and the inherent weaknesses we have as a group. 2 out of 10 may not be able to take it. Fuck them!
Great song. Makes me sniffle a little. Even if it's associated with Cruel Intentions.
Adam Duritz, lead singer of the Counting Crows, is an inspiration to ugly dudes everywhere. He makes me want to become a millionaire. The list of famous/hot chicks he's banged is impressive, even by "Bruce Willis" standards. His secret can't be in the hair. It just fucking can't be, because if it is, I'm fucked.
My work schedule this week is shit-fucked, but I'll be in Chicago this weekend.
What're you gonna do, strong-arm me?-BK
Got a Ben Kenny? You're in Luck.
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Getting warmer. Have been sleeping naked in preparation for full time naked sleeping season, which is coming up soon.
Not a lot of sleep last night. Two hours. Pants/drawers would not have helped.
I found a bottle of green Tabasco sauce in on my shelf, and a copy of Se7en in my fridge. Go figure.
Oh shit. Company party in Las Vegas. Oh shit.
Big time moment of clarity at yesterday's show. It hit me onstage, during my set. I make people laugh. In doing so, I feel like I'm worth something, like I actually have something to offer to the world. As I've said before, it's not about being famous, or "making it." It's as simple as doing it. Any venue, any time, any audience. I never worry about money. I care much more, so much more, about exposure. I want hundreds, thousands, and millions of people to see me, and I want 80% of them to laugh, and to laugh from their fucking bellies. I never want to walk into a room and make everyone laugh. It's a sign of compromise, of weakness. I don't want to water down my material. I don't give a flying fuck if you're offended by my retard bit because you second cousin, "Special Jimbo" was born with a disability. I'm not making fun of him. I'm not singling him out. I make fun of society, and the inherent weaknesses we have as a group. 2 out of 10 may not be able to take it. Fuck them!
Great song. Makes me sniffle a little. Even if it's associated with Cruel Intentions.
Adam Duritz, lead singer of the Counting Crows, is an inspiration to ugly dudes everywhere. He makes me want to become a millionaire. The list of famous/hot chicks he's banged is impressive, even by "Bruce Willis" standards. His secret can't be in the hair. It just fucking can't be, because if it is, I'm fucked.
My work schedule this week is shit-fucked, but I'll be in Chicago this weekend.
What're you gonna do, strong-arm me?-BK
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Make it or die.
300 dollar speeding ticket the other day. Constuction zone. 25 over. 4:15 AM. Fuck you Officer. Guess who needs to get more money from his parents so he can afford his house? (Me. It's me.)
Check me out Friday night somewhere's in Ambridge with Billy Elmer and his gang of motley comedy friends. I'm going to tell jokes about the disabled, but I'll wink right afterwards so that everyone will feel justified for laughing, but still be all awkward when that intellectually disabled guy aggressively buses your table at Wendy's. I am a genius.
Spent a considerable amount of time looking into getting my boobies removed last night. I saw a surgeon about it when I was 22, and she advised me to wait until I was 25. Well, I'm 25, and about 35 pounds lighter than I was when I was 22, and they haven't gone anywhere. They even seem bigger, because I have so much less weight around my midsection. Bench presses don't make them go away either. So next winter, I'm going to take on significant debt to have flesh cut, burned, and sucked from my body. Medical Leave of Absence here I come! More expensive than killing myself, but I'm slowly coming around to daily existence on this planet, and want to stay a bit longer. Maybe have sex with the lights on AND my shirt off too. Maybe even with another person in the room. Maybe.
Listened to Ozzy while looking at before and after pictures. Not Sabbath. Ozzy. He should've died around 1995 or so. That way, he wouldn't of had to be remembered as a total fucking joke.
Tonight and Saturday you should head to the Moose and check out some comedian chick. It's ten bucks, and the drinks are cheaper than anywhere else on the South Side, although it being the Moose, you may get herpes from any or all of the people in attendance. Don't go Friday though. You've gotta drive out to Ambridge and see me bring the funny with Elmer and friends!
(Hey comics, notice how I promoted shows I'm not on? Imagine the promotion Ben Kenny can bring to you if YOU FUCKING BOOK HIM! I know you're scared everyone will notice how much funnier than you I am, but fucking deal with it. Just joking. Or am I???)
When I am forty, I am going to be the most jaded comic of all time. I'm basically going to be a droopy shouldered fatter/drunker version of myself, but without the fire of my fleeting youth, and hopefully, if things go according to plan, the tits too.
And now, ways I respond in my head to typical comments about my comedy endeavors:
"You do comedy!? Man, I couldn't do that." - - - No shit. Half the comedians in this room can't do it either.
"You do comedy!? Where at?" - - - Where do you think you stupid fuck!?
"You do comedy!? How long have you been doing it?" - - - Long enough to have seriously considered quitting. Several times.
"You do comedy!? Say something funny./Tell me a joke!" - - - It's five dollars upfront. You wouldn't fix my garage door or lance this boil for free, would you? Same concept applies.
"You do comedy!? Who's your favorite comedian? I think Paul Rudd is hilarious!" - - - You're not smart enough to warrant exposure to my favorite comedians. It would be a disservice to them.
"Man, you're really funny." - - - Please hit me in a crosswalk while drunkenly piloting your Trailblazer, douchebag.
That last comment just irks the everlovin' shit out of me. It's so generic that it isn't worth saying. If you're going to complement and/or critique a performer, any kind of performer, you need to be more specific. It let's us know what to keep, why to keep it, and how to make it better.
Super pissed I didn't do my new abortion stuff last night. It's cool though, as abortions never really go out of comedic vogue.
This is a long post.
Let's keep the Coldplay streak alive. This is one of the better songs off of their second to last album.
I have an abnormally large zit on the back of my neck. I think it may actually be a bite of some sort. The worst thing about it is that I can't watch pus fly out when I'm poking it. Major bummer.
Still one of the loudest bands I've ever seen. Perfect sound clarity though. Tool is a band you can't listen to 24/7. If you did, you risk losing the impact their music has. I'll catch flack for this, but they're better than Rush. If only slightly. Love how MJK performs from the back, strengthening the fact that the band is a unit.
I'm not going to get into this with you. You see, I'm smarter, more articulate, better educated. Most importantly, I'm right!-BK
Check me out Friday night somewhere's in Ambridge with Billy Elmer and his gang of motley comedy friends. I'm going to tell jokes about the disabled, but I'll wink right afterwards so that everyone will feel justified for laughing, but still be all awkward when that intellectually disabled guy aggressively buses your table at Wendy's. I am a genius.
Spent a considerable amount of time looking into getting my boobies removed last night. I saw a surgeon about it when I was 22, and she advised me to wait until I was 25. Well, I'm 25, and about 35 pounds lighter than I was when I was 22, and they haven't gone anywhere. They even seem bigger, because I have so much less weight around my midsection. Bench presses don't make them go away either. So next winter, I'm going to take on significant debt to have flesh cut, burned, and sucked from my body. Medical Leave of Absence here I come! More expensive than killing myself, but I'm slowly coming around to daily existence on this planet, and want to stay a bit longer. Maybe have sex with the lights on AND my shirt off too. Maybe even with another person in the room. Maybe.
Listened to Ozzy while looking at before and after pictures. Not Sabbath. Ozzy. He should've died around 1995 or so. That way, he wouldn't of had to be remembered as a total fucking joke.
Tonight and Saturday you should head to the Moose and check out some comedian chick. It's ten bucks, and the drinks are cheaper than anywhere else on the South Side, although it being the Moose, you may get herpes from any or all of the people in attendance. Don't go Friday though. You've gotta drive out to Ambridge and see me bring the funny with Elmer and friends!
(Hey comics, notice how I promoted shows I'm not on? Imagine the promotion Ben Kenny can bring to you if YOU FUCKING BOOK HIM! I know you're scared everyone will notice how much funnier than you I am, but fucking deal with it. Just joking. Or am I???)
When I am forty, I am going to be the most jaded comic of all time. I'm basically going to be a droopy shouldered fatter/drunker version of myself, but without the fire of my fleeting youth, and hopefully, if things go according to plan, the tits too.
And now, ways I respond in my head to typical comments about my comedy endeavors:
"You do comedy!? Man, I couldn't do that." - - - No shit. Half the comedians in this room can't do it either.
"You do comedy!? Where at?" - - - Where do you think you stupid fuck!?
"You do comedy!? How long have you been doing it?" - - - Long enough to have seriously considered quitting. Several times.
"You do comedy!? Say something funny./Tell me a joke!" - - - It's five dollars upfront. You wouldn't fix my garage door or lance this boil for free, would you? Same concept applies.
"You do comedy!? Who's your favorite comedian? I think Paul Rudd is hilarious!" - - - You're not smart enough to warrant exposure to my favorite comedians. It would be a disservice to them.
"Man, you're really funny." - - - Please hit me in a crosswalk while drunkenly piloting your Trailblazer, douchebag.
That last comment just irks the everlovin' shit out of me. It's so generic that it isn't worth saying. If you're going to complement and/or critique a performer, any kind of performer, you need to be more specific. It let's us know what to keep, why to keep it, and how to make it better.
Super pissed I didn't do my new abortion stuff last night. It's cool though, as abortions never really go out of comedic vogue.
This is a long post.
Let's keep the Coldplay streak alive. This is one of the better songs off of their second to last album.
I have an abnormally large zit on the back of my neck. I think it may actually be a bite of some sort. The worst thing about it is that I can't watch pus fly out when I'm poking it. Major bummer.
Still one of the loudest bands I've ever seen. Perfect sound clarity though. Tool is a band you can't listen to 24/7. If you did, you risk losing the impact their music has. I'll catch flack for this, but they're better than Rush. If only slightly. Love how MJK performs from the back, strengthening the fact that the band is a unit.
I'm not going to get into this with you. You see, I'm smarter, more articulate, better educated. Most importantly, I'm right!-BK
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
At worst, I feel bad for a while.
What do you think of the Obama Administration asking the CEO of GM to resign? Is it fair to ask for regime change if you're financing the company, or is it overstepping a bit? Are car salesmen taking less of a commission? Are hourly workers(who make, on average, 93k a year) working overtime for straight time pay? I don't fucking think so. People throughout GM are not effective or capable of doing their jobs as well as they should be. Just because the public face is gone doesn't mean the body is rehabbed. They'll hang the next CEO out to dry too. We're going to pay the bill. With our tax dollars.
85 million views. Talk about reaching people with your art. I saw him from twenty-five feet away once. Thought I was watching four people. He's that good, and an absolute master of a rare and hard talent. I think his writing is hacky, but his ability more than covers that weakness. Polished to a high sheen. Perfect.
That being said, I'd still rather watch this any day of the week.
Pound for pound and dollar for dollar, Bill Hicks was the greatest comedic mind of all time. Absolutely no fear of, or pandering to, his audience. He did things other comedians, famous or non, only dream about doing.
Speaking of great comedic minds, I had an unusually good time at the Moose last night. Some friends from work came out to see myself and The Chuck throw down, and we both managed to have good sets. My new jokes worked way better than expected, but maybe they were just laughing at me because they know me. That's why a rarely broadcast what I do to friends and coworkers. I don't want people who like me to come to shows. I want it hard.
Goals for spring: Get work at the Improv and oral sex at a movie theater. Doesn't have to be while a movie is playing necessarily, or even in the theater. I'll settle for stationary road head in the parking lot. It's just time to scratch some shit of off the list.
As far as work at the Improv, I need to start playing to bigger audiences and networking. I could give a shit about the talent I'm working with. Some are good, few are great, and most are forgettable. As a comedian, maybe it's more apparent to me when people are "phoning in" a show, but playing big rooms is not a sure sign of talent, it's a sign of drive.
Dairy Queen is open!
The Gmail April Fool's was awesome. Awesome!
Go ahead and pray for me. Doesn't change a thing.-BK
85 million views. Talk about reaching people with your art. I saw him from twenty-five feet away once. Thought I was watching four people. He's that good, and an absolute master of a rare and hard talent. I think his writing is hacky, but his ability more than covers that weakness. Polished to a high sheen. Perfect.
That being said, I'd still rather watch this any day of the week.
Pound for pound and dollar for dollar, Bill Hicks was the greatest comedic mind of all time. Absolutely no fear of, or pandering to, his audience. He did things other comedians, famous or non, only dream about doing.
Speaking of great comedic minds, I had an unusually good time at the Moose last night. Some friends from work came out to see myself and The Chuck throw down, and we both managed to have good sets. My new jokes worked way better than expected, but maybe they were just laughing at me because they know me. That's why a rarely broadcast what I do to friends and coworkers. I don't want people who like me to come to shows. I want it hard.
Goals for spring: Get work at the Improv and oral sex at a movie theater. Doesn't have to be while a movie is playing necessarily, or even in the theater. I'll settle for stationary road head in the parking lot. It's just time to scratch some shit of off the list.
As far as work at the Improv, I need to start playing to bigger audiences and networking. I could give a shit about the talent I'm working with. Some are good, few are great, and most are forgettable. As a comedian, maybe it's more apparent to me when people are "phoning in" a show, but playing big rooms is not a sure sign of talent, it's a sign of drive.
Dairy Queen is open!
The Gmail April Fool's was awesome. Awesome!
Go ahead and pray for me. Doesn't change a thing.-BK
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