I have no problem with using steroids for business-related reasons. It's odd though, because how many other 62 year-old action stars are there? Gotta stay on top I guess, even when you own the mountain.
His new joint, The Expendables, in addition to his participation, features names like Rourke, Bullock, Kingsley, Lundgren, Knepper, Li, and Whitaker. The entire synopsis? "A group of mercenaries travel to South America on a mission to overthrow a dictator." This may very well be the greatest popcorn action flick ever!
The Republican party elected their first black national party chairman. Now to do something about all that poverty, inequality, and prejudice they've been perpetuating for the last three decades. On a less cynical note, I guess Barack is already getting black people jobs! Wheee!
I just saw "one guy, one cup." Google it if you dare! It's definitely NSFW.
Mandatory overtime tomorrow. So much for a fun Sunday watching the game. Super pissed.
Somedays your alarm goes off at 3:30 in the morning, and you're all like, "fuck this shit" and you pick up your phone and call in sick. Even though you're just a little sick. Sick time rules!
Girly man!
Can some explain to me why Indians love big dance numbers so much? Every Bollywood movie I've ever seen... HUGE dance numbers! Why?!
I shave in the shower, usually once a week. Easy kids, just my face. I will not encourage your dirty thoughts today. It's just that I don't ever even look in the mirror while shaving anymore. Just drag and rinse. Drag and rinse. Oh, the joys of an Eastern European/Irish gene pool. No real hair growth to speak of on the face or legs, but a lot on the back and in the nose. Sexy like Mr. Bean.
I'm rather excited about the possibility of winning Superbowl tickets. The normalcy of my daily activities is quite horrifying to me sometimes.
Not one, not two, but, wait... yeah, TWO shows tomorrow night! Look for me in Lawrenceville at The New Amsterdam, and in a suburb/township/borough/whatever right outside of Pittsburgh at Sunny Jim's with Billy Elmer. I don't know why every comic in Pittsburgh puts "with Billy Elmer" when they do one of his shows, but I'm not one to challenge the eons old traditions of comedy. I go with the flow, because in this game, you're either moving or dying. You can move upstream, but why fight? The New Amsterdam is FREE! Sunny Jim's is affordable, because, after all, in this economy, you can't afford NOT to laugh a bit. Elmer needs to pay his mortgage, yo.
After those two shows, I'll be out dancing it up with the kids, homies, and friends of Ben Kenny worldwide! If you don't know where, you're nowhere. Wordplay rules.
What do Ted Haggard and Rod Blagojevich have in common? Hair and steel balls.
All you are. Everything. Give totally of yourself.-BK
Two of the worst drives of my life yesterday. Appalling road conditions both to and from work. Cancelled appointment, show goes on, look, a puppy!
Show went well. A surprisingly young crowd. Performed with a few newish-to-me comics, which is always nice, as seeing new material/performers is SO welcome in/around this scene.
I do wish though, that our little comedy corner of the U.S. had a little more diversity to it. So many white guys in their twenties from the suburbs. Too few performers of color, vagina, and creed. Those who get it, get it. Those who don't... fuck 'em.
I'm back into Radiohead in a big fucking way as of late. Thom Yorke's solo joint, The Eraser, as well. Find me another group of musicians who collectively strive to evolve and further themselves and their art with a similar lack of fear and lack of desire to make easy money from stupid gimmicks. I dare you to.
Yesterday, while minding my own business at Target, I almost had to throw a mentally retarded/disturbed man a beating.
He was following me around the store and making really weird comments. I mean weird, even by my standards. He was pushing a wheelchair, which I assumed to be his mother or father's, but they were nowhere to be seen. I was ignoring him, but soon began to envision getting violent in my head.
Finally, as he got closer, I turned, and kicked the wheelchair back into him. I made eye contact with him, took a step toward him, and told him that if he didn't leave me alone right now, I'd break his nose with the scented candle in my hand. He made the smart choice, as did I. The candle was cinnamon, which is too effeminate for my tastes, so I put it back, leaving Target candle-free, but heavily laden with toilet paper.
Snow in store for Pittsburgh. I, and I alone, must get those motherfucking planes to TPA. Gotta get one for the other thumb!
Did no one tell him Goth is dead? I'm happy they didn't. He has Brad Skelly hair.
Show tonight at Gorman's. None of you are coming, or likely to come, ever, but I'm excited anyways. I love doing shows in new venues and with people I don't normally do shows with.
Two shows Saturday night, in addition to the always awesome Super Secret Dance Party. It's gonna be fun.
Big game on Sunday.
Probably more home shit on Monday.
I've been browsing home-related stuff and stores a lot lately. Furniture, power tools, appliances, area rugs, pictures and framing, paint, etc. I saw a 4,000 dollar recliner yesterday. A chair that demanded more than a month of my income to own. It didn't even come with an integrated piss hose or anything. Crazy.
More house viewings in store for the afternoon. Gotta find that diamond buckle for the Rust Belt I live in. I may have found it already. Taking a second look at it later. Pictures being taken. Lots of them.
Christ, I imagine this is what it would look like if Nazis became commercial loggers. Brutally efficient!
A crisp, refreshing, sort of cold about the Burgh today. Regardless, I ran the heat in my car for ten minutes before getting in and driving anywhere.
Saw The Wrestler last night. It was really well done. Mickey Rourke deserves the credit he's getting.
Back to the cold tundra of the Ramp tomorrow. It was a sweet four days off. I did a lot of house-related stuff, and as a result, drank more heavily than usual.
In anticipation of the upcoming film adaptation, I've spent my week rereading Watchmen. The uncouth call it a comic book, nerds refer to it as a graphic novel, but I think it transcends the genre and stands with few others. It's depth and scale are pretty much totally insane. It takes longer to read than a traditional novel because you have to pause, and look at the action in the panels. It's kind of like reading a really long children's book, but to yourself.
I especially like the uncompromising artistic integrity of the author, Alan Moore. He steadfastly refuses to see(or work on) film adaptations of his work, and usually defers all of his royalties to the other artists involved in creating the original piece. Check out his stuff. It's great.
A late night was had last night, but fun abounded, as it usually does. Dancing, drinking, socializing, just a plain old good time with good people.
Eagerly awaiting their new album. DM, whose members are well over forty, still rock harder than most any band around. They still create valid, interesting music, and sell out most of their shows. This about as perfect as music can possibly get.
Some big shows coming up. Actually, every show is a big show. Every show "matters" because this is what I live for. I always find it somewhat out that comics are so picky about what rooms they choice to grace with their presence, especially in this town. Every time there's a mic and a stage, and I can be there without missing work or stepping on the host's toes, I'm there. Period. Every time.
Somedays, it seems like you're just laying upon your mattress reading about comic books when something wholly unexpected happens, and it makes your whole day, natch, your whole weekend.
I'm not gonna tell you what it was, but when I got the news, I smiled from ear to ear. A few select readers will know exactly what I'm talking about, and I know they all got a laugh out of it too!
Thanks for the calls and emails of concern. I'm fine. Just busy with things somewhat more important than blathering on and on everyday. I mostly write this as a form of intellectual stimuli, but my genius has been away on more pressing matters as of late. It was nice to know that I've been missed in some small way.
Sometimes I slow dance in my head when this song comes on. The heart is wrenched.
I never used to care about football, or team sports in general. I still don't, for the most part. I don't sit and watch countless hours of ex-players and former coaches analyzing an inherently simple game. I don't have a Sunday routine. I don't read the sports section except in July, for the Tour de France.
That hasn't changed in the past few months for the most part, but with a small exception. I now care about only one professional sporting team, in only one professional sport. I'm on the bandwagon, and waving a yellow towel with vigor.
PITTSBURGH'S GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL!!!!
Tomorrow the nation switches presidents. That's as simple as it is. It isn't complicated. It isn't an ushering in of new ideals or a goodbye to virtual tyranny. America will be in the same situation it's been in for decades, and the lack of significant reform and change will not be Barack Obama's fault. It will be yours. It will be mine. It will be ours.
If you really, truly, deeply want to change America, burn it the fuck down and start over.
That's a good song, but not my favorite song of theirs by a long shot.-BK
It's been a few days. I've been doing stuff and very tired.
We have been in a cold snap here in PA for the past few days. I have been working long hours outside in said cold, and it is sucking the life out of me. I'm probably more exhausted than I would be if I'd been working in 90 degree heat. I needed to eat way more food. The body works overtime to warm itself, and must be fueled accordingly. I was so exhausted that I paid to have a pizza delivered from a place that is literally 4 blocks down the street. The meal was soured by this fact, but pizza is pizza, which still made it pretty fucking good.
I spent a Best Buy gift card I got for Christmas on MGMT's Oracular Spectacular and Lady Gaga's The Fame. Both are shining beacons of hope for the future of electronic music, if somewhat poppy for my exquisite taste.
Don't even act like you aren't laughing like a third grader at this...
Move to New York, or buy a house? Buy a house, or move to New York? One thing is for sure, either way, my parents are going to worry.
While I'm still quite motivated to move to Le Apple Grand, I also know that I'll have to work exceptionally hard to sustain my existence there, and I'd really like to be a little bit more comfortable financially. I would like my focus to be on doing shows and going on auditions, not "do I have enough money to pay rent?" I want to give 100% of myself to it, and I'm not entirely sure I'm in the position to effectively do that right now.
And believe it or not, I really, really like living in Pittsburgh. This town is what it is, and it is what and how you make it to be. I have friends and familiarity here, and perhaps purchasing a home would be advisable.
Although my future residency is in limbo, I know that I'm very likely not ever going to live in Chicago again. I've been there, done it, and have more to see. And you know what? I never even lived in Chicago! I'm from the suburbs. Going into the city to see shows and living in the city are two different things, and people always fail to see that.
Went out dancing two nights in a row this week. Fun. Sweaty. Somewhat sore.
Dane Cook was on last night at the bar. Nobody really laughed, because it was closed captioned. When forced to read his material, even laypersons realize how banal and uninteresting it really is.
I have a weird zit. It's located squarely on the "overhang" of my gut, right about 5 inches above the "power rod." As I do with all things zit, I popped it. It gushed more "zit pus" than I'd ever seen come out of my body. Shit was disgusting. I should have held a tablespoon underneath it. Then it started bleeding. It was half pus, half blood at first, but turned to regular blood after a bit, and it just continued to bleed. I even stained a t shirt! I'll just tell anyone who notices that it's a pen stain, I guess.
Lunch at the Quiet Storm yesterday. Delicious. My stomach decided to wait until we were in the middle of watching The Omen to tell me that the milkshake wanted out. So I hit pause, walked to the bathroom, and evacuated so thoroughly and well that I should consult on hurricane preparedness for large coastal cities.
Two or three of you are probably wondering which version of the film I was referring to. Two or three more of you know goddamn well that it's the original, and in my(our?) opinion, only, version that I was speaking of.
Extra hours at work today. Sweet.
Very, very good at their chosen genre.
I may be at the Moose tonight. I may not. You should be though. You really should be. I'd love to see you there! If I come. Which I might. Maybe.
Weird snow fell all weekend in and upon the Iron City. "Movie snow" if you will. The kind of snow that falls at movie funerals, or when a couple is proclaiming their love or breaking up. Big, fluffy, floating, gentle snowflakes. Kind of romantic, until that muthafuckin' wind starts blowing. Then, not so cool.
Steelers victory! Advancement! I hooted and hollered along with the gridiron minions in the break room at work. "We" are going to fucking destroy the Ravens next week.
It's funny how folks refer to a town's sports teams in a manner suggesting they're a part of them. They're not. Not even the coaching staff. Especially not the coaching staff.
I found myself in an AT&T store looking at an iPhone yesterday. As a committed devotee of all things Mac, I'm very seriously considering purchasing one in lieu of my long-awaited new iPod. It's a marvelous little piece of technology, and for someone like me, who has a serious addiction to perusing the vast wasteland of the Internet, very appealing. All I can say is that it's good I keep my one credit card hidden away at home, and not in my wallet. In addition to the iPhone, I'd probably find myself also owning dozens of puppies, a few suits, and more DVDs.
Gran Torino, like all of Clint Eastwood's films, is very straightforward and direct in it's storytelling, and acted quite well. I was a little disappointed with the ending though. I thought the twist was predictable, but then again, I see a lot of fucking movies.
Sweet.
I had cereal for dinner last night. Three bowls. Each bowl was a different kind of cereal. I even changed out the soy milk so as to not alter the flavors. Bachelorhood rules.
Double shift yesterday was exhausting, but there was a dance night too hot to miss last night, so I hit that up too. I was awake for over 24 hours, and my body is mad at me today.
At this point in my life, knowing my credit score is kind of moot.
Work Christmas party tomorrow night. I will be restrained, personable, and holding myself to one drink an hour. Why is my work Christmas party in the middle of January? Because I'm in the travel industry, that's why.
Listing some shit on craigslist and going to see the new Clint movie. Too busy and important to write much more today.
Trish and Steve are holding my copy of this movie hostage. They keep it next to their copy of The Aristocats. Their children are at horrible risk.
People never ask me what my favorite Kevin Bacon movie is, which makes me a very sad little panda. Just in case you were wondering...
I know it's weird for a fat, seemingly lazy dude to post videos about bike riding all of the time, but it's something I really enjoy doing, and stemming from that, watching. In fact, next to being on the stage, it's pretty much the best feeling in the world for me.
Yesterday, something happened to Ben Kenny that never, ever, happened to Ben Kenny before. Ben Kenny "had" to turn down a show. Now, you all know good and well that Ben Kenny is normally down for time in any form and at any forum, but he could not change his work schedule on such short notice. Ben Kenny could not do a 9 o'clock show last night when he had to be at work at 5 in the AM this morning. With travel times considered, this would have provided him with about three hours of sleep at the very best, and he's on a double shift today. Ben Kenny knows he made a health-conscious choice, but is chiding himself for being such a fucking pussy anyways. Ben Kenny also knows he was about the eighth or ninth person called for the show, but still.
Speaking of shows, here's a picture of your beloved author in action back on Tuesday night:
(By the way, I know what you're thinking, and you're entirely right.)
A friend of mine, who sinks ships with her lips when not otherwise occupied with training dogs and fighting three chicks at one time, took that photo. Thanks to her for wasting the memory space on her camera.
Some people think of changing sheets as a mundane task, but for me, it's a highlight of the week, and I actually sleep much easier for that one night. One day, when I'm hella-wealthy,(or just not super lazy) I'll sleep on fresh sheets every night!
Isn't it weird how I mentioned sheets? It's almost like I was about to make a pun on how this is such a great cover...
Went on a nerd frenzy at my local used music/video store the other day. Found copies of The Omen, Hitman, Batman Begins, and The Last Man on Earth, which stars Vincent Price and is way better than I Am Legend.
A pen exploded in the laundry yesterday. Not to worry though, because most of my clothes already sport spots from previous pen-related laundry tragedies.
I may go see Lisa Lampanelli on Saturday night. It's forty bucks, which is a lot of money considering her act and my bank account, but she makes me laugh, so who knows.
In truth, that money will be better spent being saved for New York. I can almost smell the subway. I'm so ready. Everyone thinks it's super expensive to live there, but for the most part, none of them have ever seriously thought of moving there. They haven't done the research, they just repeat what they hear. New York is affordable with sacrifice, and I'm prepared to make those sacrifices. I'll sell my blood plasma, work as a nude model for the New York School for the Blind, or, if it comes to it, start writing jokes for Jimmy Fallon's television show. I'm versatile like that.
"Alrighty then" is taken from his stage act. Did you know that?-BK
What is this resurgence of men wearing hats to (and during) their weddings? I can understand the appeal and tradition of a top hat with a classic, three piece tuxedo, but a fedora? You've got to be fucking kidding me! A groom's outfit is supposed to compliment the bride's gown in a subtle, classy way, not outshine it! I just don't know anymore. I don't even know where this little rant sprouted from! Unless you're a rapper, a gangster, or a gangsta rapper, don't wear a hat to your wedding! This goes double for people from Long Island!
Got back on the stage tonight after a holiday hiatus of a few weeks. Instead of doing my normal act, I hosted, which is both good and bad. Good, because it's a break from the sometimes monotonous feeling one gets working material over and over. Bad, because it's hosting, and it's very hard for me to discern between having fun with the comics and being a dick to the comics, which forces me to be cautious, especially because it's not my room. Either way, I'd say the Smiling Moose is fast becoming a great place for Pittsburgh comics of all backgrounds to work material. The crowds are often sparse, but sometimes it's not about much more than drinking with your funny-ass friends and having repeated laughs about 9-11 and not feeling uncomfortable for laughing about it.
The highlight of the evening for me was the relative success of my John Travolta's chin/richter scale joke. I was stoked on the isolated but loud laughs. Seems there's smart folks about Pittsburgh after all!
I went to see Marley and Me yesterday. As it is with every film adaptation, it wasn't as good as the book. I did find the storytelling and acting quite proficient, and it crushed me to see the dog getting older, and eventually dying, on screen.
It hit a little close to home, because I'm not sure if I'm going to see my dog alive, in person, ever again. In fact, during my visit home for the holidays, I said a private goodbye to him while everyone else in the house was asleep, and it broke my heart. It was one of the hardest, most emotional things I've ever had to do.
People who've never had a relatively sentient pet, i.e. a dog, cat, parrot, ferret, etc.. will never be able to understand and respect the connection some of us have to our animals. My dog, Otis, was my best friend throughout my pubescent years. When I had a hard day or some inconsequential problem, playing ball with him or taking him for a walk was often my way of overcoming it. A human will never bond with another human in the way they bond with an animal. When he passes, it's going to be very, very hard for me to deal with, but such is life.
I may attempt to make a pizza today. I will mostly likely just saute some vegetables and throw them on top of a plain cheese frozen pizza when it's about halfway done cooking instead.
I'm currently listening to the first Britney Spears album. I don't know what else to say.
Sometimes you hear songs you haven't heard in what seems like a generation, close your eyes, and get totally lost in the moment. If you're driving, this can be a problem.
Everybody says there's no place worse than the DMV. Everybody does not work at the airport. The airport badging office. Christ. If the people at the DMV are stupid, picture all of them afflicted with retardation and high on mushrooms, on what seemingly is their first day on the job. It is hell.
Absolutely fearless. If I believed in the concept of idolization...
Wisconsin is good for truck stop porno stores too!-BK
I was looking forward to going out last night. Since I had time to kill, I decided to take a nap at 7:30, setting my phone's alarm for two hours later. I left my phone downstairs, and as a result, slept until 1:15. So much for fun.
On the job training tonight for the second job. I wonder if I should wear my long underwear or not? I know for sure that I'm going to the Quiet Storm for some tasty goodness for lunch today. Can you say "Spicy Peanut?" I'm salivating right now!
Not only am I too lazy to work out as hard as I need to, I'm too lazy to walk across the room to my workout journal and document my failures. Laying prone is better than moving.
OMG, I totally rock my khakis with a cuff and a crease too! I don't rock a Nina though. Only a .45 resides in this gangsta's waistband. Hydrostatic shock, yo.
I'm somewhat of a fighter, but in a lot of instances, just knowing(along with your friends) that you're "better" can end a battle before it begins, and you can all eat from a victory platter of nachos while you have a good laugh.
Goddamn I love nachos. People should really be more aware of nachos' influence and presence in their lives. Nachos are food's Jesus. Remember that one sporting event? That great concert? That night of drinking that's only comparable to 300 in terms of excellence? Chances are nachos were there. Nachos would die for you.
Out of respect to my partners, I do not discuss the relationships I'm in or have been in here on the ol' blog. Suffice to say, I've been entirely single, i.e. no dating, no barroom hanky panky, no nothing for a few months now, and have really enjoyed life sans any romantic entanglements whatsoever. One could even say the time away and alone has helped to center me, and I know for sure that it's sharpened my focus and strengthened my resolve. Hopefully, I'll find myself someone more suited to life with me(I'm very weird, both mentally and physically) in New York. I don't even have a "type" really, people just seem to come in and out of my life at will. As I get older, I think I should have asked some of them to stay around a bit longer, and done more to keep them around, but I can't rebuild what I've always made sure to totally destroy.
In addition to all of that, being single means no shaving my back. It seriously looks like a baby jungle right now.
Double shift at the job yesterday. Somewhat worn out, but I picked up hours today anyways. Bankers hours actually, nine to five-thirty, which allowed for almost seven glorious hours of sleep last night.
When I came home, I peeled off most of my layers of clothing, took my socks off, sipped a beer while reading a magazine, and promptly collapsed. I'm either ready for anything or too exhausted to move. There is rarely a "normal" for me it seems.
I'm still looking for some time this month. Holla at me! My abortion material is cutting edge! Mostly because it's literally about cutting babies out of the womb with an Exacto knife I shoplifted from a 24 hour Wal-Mart. I had to shoplift because I only had enough money to get a pack of Marlboro Reds and the new Taylor Swift album.
Although I'm sick of the recent cultural resurgence of "Don't Stop Believin'" I've come the realization that Journey is, always was, and always will be, totally fucking awesome. If you meet someone who claims to hate Journey, chances are they're a hipster douche, and they probably secretly dance to "Open Arms" while they're all alone in their close-to-gentrified neighborhood apartment. I should know, as I used to publicly profess a hatred for Journey, but always went "Perry" while showering. I've aged though. Matured, I guess you could say. Journey is awesome when used in sound dosages, but like anything, when it's overdone, it's unpleasant.
My skin is cracked at the base of my fingernails. I think I bled lightly but steadily for about an hour yesterday, as the back of my hand and fingers were covered in dried blood when I took my work gloves off for lunch. I had Boca chicken with swiss microwavable sandwiches. They weren't terribly good. I will not be buying them again, as two dollars for a premade sandwich is pretty steep.
Holy shit! It looks like we're actually getting our money's worth from this little government project! More than a billion people on this planet do not have readily available clean water, medical care, or electricity, but we can put robots on planets that are literally years away. Absurdity beyond belief. We have intimate knowledge of Martian terrian, but the other side of our planet is a foreign galaxy we'll never understand, except that those people aren't white and Christian, so they hold no value, apparently.
Hell of a voice on this guy. Good songwriting too. The chorus is killer.
I haven't pooped in three days, even considering the four Mexican meals and cups of coffee. I'm getting a little worried. I'm sure it will happen today, probably while a plane is on the ground, because my bowel is a prick.
I'm trying to write some long form comedy. You know, like a humorous story or seven about my wacky daily adventures as a working twentysomething. It's not working out so well, because I don't find my daily life terribly funny or relatable. Dick jokes and pretension will have to cut it until I discover that totally hacky, yet golden comedy goose egg. I'm leaning towards becoming a catch phrase comic, a Myspace celebrity, or a Roastmaster. I think I'd be good at that. Really good. I'm talking Chuck Norris in The Octagon good. I grew up watching Dean Martin, and I love Jeff Ross, and I find insulting people easy enough, so why not?
I saw a super weird looking labrador puppy this morning. It was bred to be beige. You read that right, beige, like the interior of a luxury SUV or something. It was 1500 dollars. It was at the freight house, no doubt headed for greener pastures than Pittsburgh. The police drug and bomb dogs seemed quite jealous of the attention all of the surly uneducated blue collar folk were lavishing on it. It was fucking c-u-t-e!
Dinner preparation went much, much better last night. Fake chicken nuggets, little carrots with ranch dressing, and tortilla chips and salsa. Water to drink. I've been trying to deny myself the pleasure of caffeine after about four in the afternoon if I can help it.
Just a little more than two weeks from now until the Biggie movie comes out! Are you as excited as I am?
I know I need to get the fuck out of Pennsylvania. Why do I need to get the fuck out of Pennsylvania? How do I reaffirm this opinion? Well, maybe because there was a man on my street dragging a King or Queen-sized mattress down the sidewalk while his wife/girlfriend/lover was screaming and crying, walking along behind him. That's why. I might become that one day.
The seem to have an East Coast version of Deadliest Catch now. It's quite lackluster. Actually, that's far too nice. It just sucks. Compared to killer waves, the bitterest of cold, and the amount of work of Alaskan crab fishing, lobster fishing just looks sorta gay. Sure, the personalities are interesting, but let's face it, they just aren't Sig Hansen and his brother. Everyone at work watches it, no matter how many times it's been on before, the channel remains on Discovery. I bet a lot of Seattle/Alaska fishing community people are tired of idiots showing up looking for work as a deckhand. I'm one tough bastard, but I know when I'm not cut out for something. Fishermen are badass. Except for the harvesting and killing of animals. Not cool.
Looks like John Travolta's son has been called home to Xenu. That's what he gets for making Battlefield Earth. Kelly Preston is so very hot.
There's way more to DEVO than just Art Deco hats and "Whip It." Way, way more.
I took my bed apart. Completely apart. I have no plans to put it back together in the near future. I'm tired of constantly making minute adjustments and then having to get used to them.
A fine walk was had last night. It was about forty degrees, and I ambled around for about an hour, entertaining thoughts of several robberies I've always thought would be super easy to commit around my neighborhood. Perhaps another night and some other time, but most likely not ever.
We are all far too introverted. We have the Internet, many, many TV channels, and, for some, even a spouse and/or family to keep us entertained and busy, but how many of us try to experience instead of just learn? I know I've been lacking.
Down from birth!
You guys are probably aware of my distaste for the "underground" label sometimes applied to me, but did you know I also hate being called both "local" and "amateur?" Well, now you do.
A. I'm not "local" in my act. I am not a native of this town or region, and I rarely do more than thirty seconds of things even remotely Pittsburgh-related. Local jokes are great for local rooms and for the many funny local comics, but I'm not training myself for local rooms. They don't know about Primanti Brothers at the Punchline in Atlanta or at Zanies in Chicago, but I think they know about Barack Obama and go to the movies. Feel me?
2. I do not make a living as a comedian... yet. I am not, however, an amateur. Amateurs do things as a hobby. Comedy is a love, not an escape or a stress reliever. I no longer put down comedy and come back to it like it's a paperback or jigsaw puzzle. Maybe I could've been considered an amateur when I was first starting, but I now have begun to develop a voice, work on various skills, and have set myself on an as of yet to be determined path. Amateur. Pssh.
Beautiful Heidi Klum, or beautiful Delta Burke? Clear it up for me.-BK
I WILL NOT BE SATISFIED UNTIL SOMEONE DIES IN AN EXTRAORDINARY, SPECTACULAR, RED BULL LOGO-COVERED FASHION!!!!!!! The drop was incredible though. Maybe the straight-up craziest thing seen on a motorcycle since Pastrana's double backflip.
This is the first time I've ever began writing a blog in a coffee shop. I'm so modern it's scary. I've taken to a mid-afternoon coffee on days I work. It's a nice way to boost the old energy level, as waking up at 3:30 AM leaves me quite "sleep friendly" by 2 or so. It doesn't matter how much or how little sleep I've gotten the night before, I always feel a shade tired after an early morning shift.
I am sitting here(here being the Fox Chapel Caribou Coffee) in my work uniform, so I look sort of like a Smurf in a hunting lodge.
There is a woman sitting in my peripheral vision who seems to be deep into something on her own computer screen. I don't want to crane my neck/turn my head, but I'm fairly sure she's biting her lip and I know she isn't rubbing her neck/upper chest in a casual manner.
From somewhere behind me: "<Asian words, asian words, asian words,> Barry, <asian words.>"
Going to see Brad Pitt in a David Fincher movie. More later.
Five or six hours later...
Back.
Wow. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. Magical and awe-inspiring. I cried a few times. This is possibly the best Fincher film, which says a hell of a lot, because he also directed Se7en, Fight Club, and The Game. The theater was pretty crowded, it being a holiday and all, and it was dead silent throughout the movie, save for moments of laughter. Everyone in that theatre was transfixed, and things like that are the reason I believe most movies should be seen in movie theaters.
I totally fucked up two grilled cheeses last night, which sucked. The coup de dat was the undercooking of my french fries. Surly dining.
However, I went out and stumbled upon some veggie tortilla soup, and it was oh so very good, and I was content. Then I realized I'd eaten dinner three times in one day, and grunted forlornly.
Talked with a bar owner about a possible night. More or less information to come.
Brief vacation booked in late February as a quarter century birthday gift to myself. Hotel and car for two days for about a hundred bucks. I vacation simply, but I live to the max. Vegas is gonna feel me!
I stopped into the porn store today because uh... I um... enjoy visual masturbation aids... and the friendly and knowledgeable clerk gave me a free sample of lube that had Aloe vera in it. Ladies and gents, if you're bumping, tugging, and/or grinding hard enough to need holistic medicine in your viscosity aid, give me a shout. I'd like to meet you. We can get some pizza and a hotel room off of a turnpike exit somewhere. I promise not to take any pictures! Unless you'd be into that. You wouldn't be into that, would you? OK, cool. It's cool. I'm just saying, I think you could be a model. I'm serious. You really should let me take those pictures. Think it over.
The best marketing strategy of all time. I'd buy one! It's four hundred dollars, and worth every goddamn penny!
You're thinking of Dick Van Dyke, not Dick Van Patten.-BK
I hate pissing in cups. No matter how much fluid I drink beforehand, I still have monumental, epic trouble doing it. Mind you, I'm the type of dude who will rarely piss at urinals, and usually attempt to hold in my stool until I get home, so pissing in a cup is something I'm happy I almost never have to do. Oddly enough though, I will actually look for crowded rooms(populated only by males and/or old women) and make efforts to pass nasty vegetarian gas in them.
Maybe it's because I'm a fan of quick, orderly, concentration camp-style disposal of bodily fluids, maybe it's because I don't support/agree with any sort of mandatory drug-testing. Call me a prude if you must, but remember, I'm a liberal prude.
Of course, they only need a wee little bit of urine, which left me hyper-hydrated and pissing almost every hour yesterday. I had to piss again on my way home from the testing, about an hour after I got home, at Taco Bell before shopping, and during my shopping trip!
I'm a firm believer in the "eat before food shopping" theory. Somehow though, I still managed to spend fifty-eight dollars at Giant Eagle like it wasn't no thang. I've got a few double shifts on deck for the week, so I will be eating heartily, and in large quantity, so that may be why.
In an average week, I go through 5 tortillas, a can of vegetarian refried beans, a green and/or red bell pepper, a fair amount of salsa, roughly 3/4 of a pound of cheese, 2 quarts of soy milk, a box of cereal, half a loaf of white bread, two to four cans of spaghetti o's or ravioli, 4 packets of Easy Mac, several gallons of Mountain Dew, etc.
I sort of envy people who diet. It's not that I lack the ability or motivation, it's just that my job requires that I eat! The average weight of a bag is thirty pounds. I put 83 bags on a plane yesterday morning. I work anywhere from 7-20 planes a day. Dieting is not an option.
No "best of" list from me this year. Everyone else is doing it, and besides, I share enough of my excellent tastes with you sumbitches as it is.
Speaking of my excellent taste... Look below! It's Ms. Kylie Minogue! I like how here voice is always slightly nasally, and how she can change her image so drastically from video to video. Definitely one of my favorite "pure dance" artists of all time. I am also of the opinion that she is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. The proportion of her body and the lines of her face just really, really, really do it for me. It's not even always sexual in nature, I often just view her as simply an object I find incredibly beautiful. Plus, she's older, which is always a plus in the book of Ben Kenny. Five years ago, I would never have owned up to liking her, but things change.
Did Kylie influence Kanye, or was it the other way around?
I'm aware of the fact that she's a gay icon, and find it odd and somewhat funny that virtually no one truly hates most gay icons in such a homophobic society. Find me someone who despises Elton John! How about Cher? Grace Jones? Breeders may not fully understand them, but we don't hate them like some of us hate "average Joseph" gay people. If you support your black friends' right to equality, if you support a legal immigrants' right to work, and if you let your wife vote for who she wants to vote for, there is no reason for you not to support equality for LGBT people. I'm not talking about just marriage either. Housing, employment, etc... People need to get vocal about this, and keep religious zealotry out of the legislative process!
It breaks my heart to see Rick Warren giving the invocation at Obama's inauguration. Just because he's a friendly, polite, kind-hearted Evangelical does not make his views, and the views of his ilk, acceptable. Christ Himself seems like the kind of guy who'd be totally down with gay people, but many of His fervent followers seem to conveniently overlook this fact. Although gay people would've still likely crucified His ass. No one wears white after Labor Day!
Microsoft's Zune players seem to have crashed. This affects what, maybe three or four thousand people? I don't know even one person with a Zune. In fact, I'm willing to bet that no one in history EVER has asked for a Zune for their birthday or Christmas... "Oh gee, a Zune. It's just about as expensive as the iPod but without the killer user interface or design features. Thanks Carl, thanks a lot." Never happened. Ever. (FYI, my made up stepdad's name is Carl.) Microsoft probably donates semi trailers full of Zunes to kids. Poor kids of course, without the means or equipment to legally download music, both urban and rural. They then put their cool new Zunes on train tracks, hide in the bushes, and wait for the crush show.
I thought there would be way more drunk people on the road as I drove into work this morning. I think I saw one for sure, and was on the fence about a few others. People don't party hard anymore. I am not "people." I party like a god.
They're now playing jazz over the PA at the airport. Better than Christmas music and endless Chopin.
