Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Friday, October 18, 2013
Writer's Blocked: Episode 4
And just like that a perfect afternoon
was ruined. Mike wormed his way into the booth right next to Alice. He put his
arm around her and gave her a huge and very unnecessary squeeze. She looked
annoyed and tried to shrug him off. “Didn’t you already eat lunch today Mike?”
Craig said squirming in the booth trying to make more room. “I had a few bagels
earlier yes.” Mike said a little embarrassed. “You had 6! You had 6 bagels
right before we left!” Craig shouted, Mike was starting to pout, “That is
absolutely NOT true-I only had 2.”
“We all saw you Mike. You were
covered in cream cheese, and singing Lady Gaga with your mouth full of asiago
crumbs!”
“Okay guys, If Mike wants to have another lunch let’s just
let him, as long as he pays for everyone else too.” I said hoping to diffuse
the tension between Craig and Mike, and also get a little something out of it. “You
got it! Thanks Christian!” Mike said gleefully. He then proceeded to stuff a
handful of chips into his mouth. I tried
not to gag. “So this is great news right?” said Joe. He was referring to our
show getting picked up for the season. We had all been on edge since the
premier because we weren’t sure if the Network’s idea to bring Phil Armstrong
back to television was the right choice. Phil had been a legend in television
almost 30 years ago. He was the golden boy of comedy, getting his start on the
very famous very funny television show News Soup. News Soup was one of the
longest running sitcoms to date, and after 15 very successful seasons it
finally ended in 1994. “Hell yeah, I never thought that we would make it past
the pilot. Especially considering how little work we actually do.”
“Whoa Vince, back it up. I happen to work really hard. I’m
pretty much the backbone of this operation. “Craig retorted. “ What?” I have to
say something. “No you aren’t! Craig, every time we need you we can’t find you!”
“That’s a lie! That’s because I happen to have very
important things to do.”
“Everyone knows it's because you’re sleeping under your desk
Craig.”
“I have a very temperamental cat! I don’t get a lot of sleep
at night!” Craig cries.
“What? What does- how does that even make sense?”
Mike has signaled our waiter for another round of drinks. Alice
decides to chime in. “ Vince is always reading his little comic books at his cubicle.”
“They aren’t comics they are graphic novels.” Vince corrects
her. The shots come to the table and we each eagerly grab one and quickly slam
it back. “I’m pretty sure they are comics.” Says Alice as she reaches for more
chips. “Nerd!” yells Mike. He looks around the room confused as if no one at
the table had an idea who yelled that. Everyone stops eating. We all look at Mike. He
looks back at us like a sad cow next in line to be slaughtered. Before the
onslaught of insults can begin, Vince checks his watch and shouts “Crap! We gotta
get back to the office!” Mike lets out a deep sigh of relief. He is spared for
now. One by one we stumble out of the booth and make our way out of the restaurant.
“See ya tomorrow guys!” Yells Jake, as we are leaving. We seriously have to
find a new place to go…
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
Don't Forget to Bring a Towel
They say that hospitals are the most germ infested places in the world. You are more likely to get sick at the hospital than you are at home. I disagree. I say the most disgusting germ infested places in the world are gyms. Gyms harbor some of the most harmful bacteria known to man, carried into them by some of the most vile people in the world. It doesn't matter what kind of gym either; Karate dojos, MMA gyms, Crossfit centers and "Athletic Clubs." Well played Athletic Club on choosing the fancy name. You cant hide from us, we know what you really are. Let me walk you through a typical night in hell, or as I like to call it: 24hour Fitness.
Upon entering the gym my nose is greeted by the pungent aroma of sweat, alcohol and week old taco meat. That's not a racist remark by the way. Next time you're cooking up some delicious tacos on a Tuesday night, take a nice hearty whiff of the meat and tell me I'm wrong.
I like to do a little warm-up run before I hit the weights, so naturally I make my way upstairs to the cardio section of the gym. It is of course a weeknight so all of the disgruntled white-collar-nine-to-five'ers are taking up all of the treadmills. I keep looking around and finally I spot Bill, from accounting stumbling off of a treadmill. Bill[we'll call him that since I don't know his real name] weighs about five thousand pounds and from what it looks like showers once a week. His treadmill is soaked in sweat. Sweat is dripping from the buttons and the touch screen looks as if it was just rubbed with Crisco. Does Bill wipe the machine down before leaving it so the next person to use it (me) doesn't have to shower in his disgusting filth? Of course not! No, Bill walks away still angry about falling behind on his tps reports that he doesn't give wiping the machine a second thought. After unloading the whole bottle of disinfectant onto the machine I am able to get my run in. Suddenly something unmentionable and horrid worms its way into my nostrils making its way to my taste buds. Gross I can taste it. I look to my left and I am running next to none other than; taco meat guy. Yes, this guy refuses to wear deodorant or brush his teeth. He too showers only once a week. I usually do a two-mile warmup but today I can only stomach about one mile, due to the fact that I have been holding my breath for ten minutes. I can't take it anymore and pound on the stop button bringing the treadmill to a screeching halt. I muster up enough courage and oxygen to go back and wipe my machine down(because I am a good person)
Finally it is time to hit the weights. I spot an open bench press area and lay my towel down on the bench. Oh yeah, I bring a towel to the gym because I am a respectful and clean human being. I also am not a big fan of lice. Have you ever looked down at a bench that someone was using and seen that familiar sweat spot where their head was just resting? Well take a closer look and you'll more than likely see tiny little white things. Now it could be dandruff, which in that case:gross. It could also be lice. In any case I'm not taking my chances, and I opt for the wipe-down-towel-down. Everything is going fine at this point and I am grinding through my sets without problem. Until little Johnny-never-learned-to-wipe-properly-after-pooping decides to spot his buddy on the bench behind mine. I can smell the corn in his poop, that's how absolutely disgusting he is. How does his buddy not smell him when he's dangling his balls inches above his face? I've got one more set but I cant take it anymore and have to move on. Throughout the course of the night I run into Homeless Pete who likes to sit at the leg press and stare into the distance doing one or two presses every four hours. I meet Blue Jean Sam by the free weights who is unaware that not only are blue jeans inappropriate gym attire but they soak up the sweet smell of ball sweat like nothing else. I also meet a few of Snow White's missing dwarfs; Sneezy, Drippy, and Coughy. None of them cover their mouths and none of them have napkins or tissues. The whole gym at this point feels like a dirty bathhouse, but smells more like an outhouse, and no one in this gym has a freaking TOWEL!
I can't take anymore. I have to leave. I stumble past Frank who wears sweatpants to the gym and "forgets" to wear underwear, and burst through the exit doors of the gym. I feel like an escaped slave bursting up from the tunnels of the underground railroad. I feel violated in so many ways and I probably need to schedule an appointment with my doctor for a full work-up.
Here is a tip. If you stink before going to the gym, please put on deodorant and wipe yourself down with something antibacterial. Don't wear jeans to the gym, cover your mouth when you sneeze, wipe down your machines after you use them, stop screaming, and please, please bring a towel.
Upon entering the gym my nose is greeted by the pungent aroma of sweat, alcohol and week old taco meat. That's not a racist remark by the way. Next time you're cooking up some delicious tacos on a Tuesday night, take a nice hearty whiff of the meat and tell me I'm wrong.
I like to do a little warm-up run before I hit the weights, so naturally I make my way upstairs to the cardio section of the gym. It is of course a weeknight so all of the disgruntled white-collar-nine-to-five'ers are taking up all of the treadmills. I keep looking around and finally I spot Bill, from accounting stumbling off of a treadmill. Bill[we'll call him that since I don't know his real name] weighs about five thousand pounds and from what it looks like showers once a week. His treadmill is soaked in sweat. Sweat is dripping from the buttons and the touch screen looks as if it was just rubbed with Crisco. Does Bill wipe the machine down before leaving it so the next person to use it (me) doesn't have to shower in his disgusting filth? Of course not! No, Bill walks away still angry about falling behind on his tps reports that he doesn't give wiping the machine a second thought. After unloading the whole bottle of disinfectant onto the machine I am able to get my run in. Suddenly something unmentionable and horrid worms its way into my nostrils making its way to my taste buds. Gross I can taste it. I look to my left and I am running next to none other than; taco meat guy. Yes, this guy refuses to wear deodorant or brush his teeth. He too showers only once a week. I usually do a two-mile warmup but today I can only stomach about one mile, due to the fact that I have been holding my breath for ten minutes. I can't take it anymore and pound on the stop button bringing the treadmill to a screeching halt. I muster up enough courage and oxygen to go back and wipe my machine down(because I am a good person)
Finally it is time to hit the weights. I spot an open bench press area and lay my towel down on the bench. Oh yeah, I bring a towel to the gym because I am a respectful and clean human being. I also am not a big fan of lice. Have you ever looked down at a bench that someone was using and seen that familiar sweat spot where their head was just resting? Well take a closer look and you'll more than likely see tiny little white things. Now it could be dandruff, which in that case:gross. It could also be lice. In any case I'm not taking my chances, and I opt for the wipe-down-towel-down. Everything is going fine at this point and I am grinding through my sets without problem. Until little Johnny-never-learned-to-wipe-properly-after-pooping decides to spot his buddy on the bench behind mine. I can smell the corn in his poop, that's how absolutely disgusting he is. How does his buddy not smell him when he's dangling his balls inches above his face? I've got one more set but I cant take it anymore and have to move on. Throughout the course of the night I run into Homeless Pete who likes to sit at the leg press and stare into the distance doing one or two presses every four hours. I meet Blue Jean Sam by the free weights who is unaware that not only are blue jeans inappropriate gym attire but they soak up the sweet smell of ball sweat like nothing else. I also meet a few of Snow White's missing dwarfs; Sneezy, Drippy, and Coughy. None of them cover their mouths and none of them have napkins or tissues. The whole gym at this point feels like a dirty bathhouse, but smells more like an outhouse, and no one in this gym has a freaking TOWEL!
I can't take anymore. I have to leave. I stumble past Frank who wears sweatpants to the gym and "forgets" to wear underwear, and burst through the exit doors of the gym. I feel like an escaped slave bursting up from the tunnels of the underground railroad. I feel violated in so many ways and I probably need to schedule an appointment with my doctor for a full work-up.
Here is a tip. If you stink before going to the gym, please put on deodorant and wipe yourself down with something antibacterial. Don't wear jeans to the gym, cover your mouth when you sneeze, wipe down your machines after you use them, stop screaming, and please, please bring a towel.
Monday, October 14, 2013
Sunday, October 13, 2013
I Am Not Smooth
Despite what you may think I am not as smooth as it would appear. Sure I can get on a stage and make a fool of myself telling jokes or acting like a seventeenth century Shakespearean baseball player [its an improv thing] but when it comes to talking to women, I am horrible. I can go from James Bond charming a room of writers and producers, and have them eating out of the palm of my hand, to Gold Bond, medicated cream. Yes, I am aware that reference makes no sense in the analogy, however it does draw an accurate depiction of my skills at conversing with the opposite sex. It's weird and gross leaves you sticky and Shaq endorses it...see what I mean? Lets start from the beginning, and you'll soon see what I am talking about.
THE OPENING:
Most people can agree that the best opening for meeting someone is " Hi my name is-" followed by a handshake or fist bump depending on what part of Los Angeles you are in. That part is fine. Where I have trouble is what follows.
THE INTERVIEW:
" So what do you do?" is one of the most common questions in the dating world. This is where I lose people. When most people hear Comedian, I become a trained monkey, specifically there for the sole purpose of entertaining them and their friends. " Go ahead funny guy, tell me a joke!"
"Make me laugh!"
" Lets hear your set funny guy!"
" Stand on your head! Juggle! Dance monkey DANCE!" which is quickly followed by " Oh my God, you know who's funny? Kevin Hart." That's when its all over. Now for the rest of the night I'm telling jokes about my checking and savings account and talking about the kids I don't have, and going on about my father's huge penis. The second option I could go with is actor. Their follow up: " So what restaurant do you work at?" Its a losing battle. So obviously my answer is: " What do I do? Oh, I'm a doctor." Win.
THE CONVERSATION:
I once held a full on conversation with a brick for 3 days. I'm good here.
THE CLOSING:
By now hopefully I have managed to make her laugh and smile and the night is turning out to be a great success. The bar is winding down and it is time to close. Keep in mind I'm not talking about sex. A close could be a future first date, a phone number, an e-mail, a glass slipper; anything really. When it comes to closing I am like Reggie Bush; figure skating. Awkward, slow, and wearing uncomfortably revealing tights. I once had a really good two hour long conversation with a woman at a bar and when it was done she said " Aren't you going to ask me my name?" I froze. She got up shook my hand, gave me a wink and walked away. I ordered another gin-and-tonic, went into the bathroom and wept. I never know what to say. Do I ask for an email? Do people still email? Do I ask for her number and then ask her if she'd like to continue the conversation in my van? Do I ask for her Facebook or Instagram account? What are the rules? My closing skills definitely need refinement. I am about as good at closing as
THE OPENING:
Most people can agree that the best opening for meeting someone is " Hi my name is-" followed by a handshake or fist bump depending on what part of Los Angeles you are in. That part is fine. Where I have trouble is what follows.
THE INTERVIEW:
" So what do you do?" is one of the most common questions in the dating world. This is where I lose people. When most people hear Comedian, I become a trained monkey, specifically there for the sole purpose of entertaining them and their friends. " Go ahead funny guy, tell me a joke!"
"Make me laugh!"
" Lets hear your set funny guy!"
" Stand on your head! Juggle! Dance monkey DANCE!" which is quickly followed by " Oh my God, you know who's funny? Kevin Hart." That's when its all over. Now for the rest of the night I'm telling jokes about my checking and savings account and talking about the kids I don't have, and going on about my father's huge penis. The second option I could go with is actor. Their follow up: " So what restaurant do you work at?" Its a losing battle. So obviously my answer is: " What do I do? Oh, I'm a doctor." Win.
THE CONVERSATION:
I once held a full on conversation with a brick for 3 days. I'm good here.
THE CLOSING:
By now hopefully I have managed to make her laugh and smile and the night is turning out to be a great success. The bar is winding down and it is time to close. Keep in mind I'm not talking about sex. A close could be a future first date, a phone number, an e-mail, a glass slipper; anything really. When it comes to closing I am like Reggie Bush; figure skating. Awkward, slow, and wearing uncomfortably revealing tights. I once had a really good two hour long conversation with a woman at a bar and when it was done she said " Aren't you going to ask me my name?" I froze. She got up shook my hand, gave me a wink and walked away. I ordered another gin-and-tonic, went into the bathroom and wept. I never know what to say. Do I ask for an email? Do people still email? Do I ask for her number and then ask her if she'd like to continue the conversation in my van? Do I ask for her Facebook or Instagram account? What are the rules? My closing skills definitely need refinement. I am about as good at closing as
Thursday, October 10, 2013
I Totes Prom.
What has happened to the English language today? It seems like today's generation of tweens and adults [who don't want to grow up] are using short handed text message speech as part of their daily vernacular. I have heard my own sweet little sister (10 years of age) spewing out abbreviations like "totes" (totally) and "prom prom" (promise) casually during conversation. She informed me that this is the way kids speak these days and I needed to get with it or I was totes donzo. I have no idea what's going on there.
I swear if I hear another person verbally say "LOL" rather than actually laughing out loud I am going to lose it. Have we as American people become too lazy to put together proper words? Are our mouths too busy sucking down energy drinks, and cheeseburgers that they simply cannot physically form the words? Will we see classes like " Texting 101" and "Beginning Emojis" taught in our colleges and schools?
I worry for the future of our youth. With social media on the rise there is no telling how communication and speech will evolve. Ttfn, and totes reply wth ur ideas. Tnks! : )
I swear if I hear another person verbally say "LOL" rather than actually laughing out loud I am going to lose it. Have we as American people become too lazy to put together proper words? Are our mouths too busy sucking down energy drinks, and cheeseburgers that they simply cannot physically form the words? Will we see classes like " Texting 101" and "Beginning Emojis" taught in our colleges and schools?
I worry for the future of our youth. With social media on the rise there is no telling how communication and speech will evolve. Ttfn, and totes reply wth ur ideas. Tnks! : )
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